{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_57439/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_57439","id":"gutenberg_57439","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/57439","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: History - Religious","Category: Journals","Category: Religion/Spirituality","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/catholicworld09pauluoft/\n    catholicworld09pauluoft_djvu.txt\n  Page images are also available at\n  https://quod.lib.umich.edu/m/moajrnl/browse.journals/cath.html\n  To view the tables in several places use a fixed pitch font.]\n\n\n{i}\n\n        The Catholic World.\n\n         Monthly Magazine\n\n  Of General Literature And Science.\n\n----------\n\n            Vol. IX.\n\n   April, 1869, To September, 1869.\n\n----------\n\n           New York:\n\n  The Catholic Publication House,\n\n      126 Nassau Street.\n\n            1869.\n\n{ii}\n\n       S. W. Green, Printer,\n     16 and 18 Jacob St., N. Y.\n\n{iii}\n\n          Contents.\n\n\n  Aubrey de Vere in America, 264.\n  A Chinese Husband's Lament for his Wife, 279.\n  Angela, 634, 756.\n  Antiquities of New York, 652.\n  All for the Faith, 684.\n\n  Bishops of Rome, 86.\n  Beethoven, 523, 607, 783.\n\n  Catholic and Protestant Countries, Morality of, 52.\n  Catholicity and Pantheism, 255, 554.\n  Chinese Husband's Lament for his Wife, 279.\n  Council of the Vatican, The Approaching, 356.\n  Columbus at Salamanca, 433.\n  Council of Baltimore, The Second Plenary, 497.\n  Church, Our Established, 577.\n  Charms of Nativity, 660.\n  Conversion of Rome, The, 790.\n\n  Daybreak, 37, 157, 303, 442, 588, 721.\n  Duration of Life, Influence of Locality on, 73.\n  De Vere, Aubrey, in America, 264.\n  Dongan, Hon. Thomas, 767.\n\n  Emily Linder, 98, 221.\n  Educational Question, The, 121.\n\n  Filial Affection, as Practised by the Chinese, 416.\n  Foreign Literary Notes, 429, 711.\n  Faith, All for the, 684.\n\n  General Council, The Approaching, 14.\n  Good Old Saxon, 318.\n\n  Heremore Brandon, 63, 188.\n\n  Ireland, Modern Street Ballads of, 32.\n  Irish Church Act of 1869, The, 238.\n  Immigration, The Philosophy of, 399.\n  Ireland, A Glimpse of, 738.\n\n  Jewish Church, Letter and Spirit in the, 690.\n\n  Linder, Emily, 98, 221.\n  Lecky on Morals, 529.\n  Letter and Spirit in the Jewish Church, 690.\n  Leo X. and his Age, 699.\n  Little Flowers of Spain, 706.\n\n  Morality of Catholic and Protestant Countries, 52.\n  My Mother's Only Son, 249.\n  Man, Primeval, 746.\n  Moral Aspects of Romanism, 845.\n  Matanzas, How it came to be called Matanzas, 852.\n\n  New-York, Antiquities of, 652.\n  Nativity, The Charms of, 660.\n\n  Omnibus, The, Two Hundred Years Ago, 135.\n  Our Established Church, 577.\n\n  Pope Joan, Fable of, 1.\n  Problems of the Age and its Critics, 175.\n  Pope or People, 212.\n  Physical Basis of Life, The, 467.\n  Primeval Man, 746.\n  Paganina, 803.\n\n  Rome, The Bishops of, 86.\n  Ravignan, Xavier de, 112.\n  Ruined Life, A, 385.\n  Roses, The Geography of, 406.\n  Religion Emblemed in Flowers, 541.\n  Rome, Conversion of, 790.\n  Recent Scientific Discoveries, 814.\n\n  Spain, Two Months in, 199, 343, 477, 675.\n  Spiritism and Spirits, 289.\n  Supernatural, The, 325.\n  St. Mary's, 366.\n  St. Peter, First Bishop of Rome, 374.\n  Spanish Life and Character, 413.\n  Sauntering, 459, 612.\n  Sister Aloyse's Bequest, 489.\n  St. Thomas, The Legend of, 512.\n  Spiritualism and Materialism, 619.\n  Spain, Little Flowers of, 706.\n  Scientific Discoveries, Recent, 814.\n  St. Oren's Priory, 829.\n\n  The Woman Question, 145.\n  The Omnibus Two Hundred Years Ago, 135.\n  To those who tell us what Time it is, 565.\n  The New Englander on the Moral Aspects of Romanism, 845.\n\n  Woman Question, The, 145.\n\n----------\n\n{iv}\n\n            Poetry\n\n\n  A May Flower, 282.\n  A May Carol, 373.\n\n  Faith, 540.\n\n  Lent, 1869, 31.\n\n  March Omens, 97.\n  May Flower, 282.\n  May Carol, 373.\n  Mark IV., 587.\n  Mother's Prayer, A, 673.\n\n  Our Lady's Easter, 197.\n\n  Sick, 852.\n\n  To a Favorite Madonna, 564.\n  The Pearl and the Poison, 710.\n  The Flight into Egypt, 766.\n  The Assumption of Our Lady, 789.\n\n  Vigil, 405.\n\n  When, 72.\n  Waiting, 323.\n\n----------\n\n         New Publications.\n\n\n  Allies's Formation of Christendom, 283.\n  Anne S\u00e9verin, 286.\n  Auerbach's Black Forest, 424.\n  Ark of the Covenant, The, 427.\n  Ark of Elm Island, 428.\n  Alice's Adventures in Wonder Land, 429.\n  Alice Murray, 570.\n  Appleton's Annual Cyclopaedia, 719.\n  An American Woman in Europe, 856.\n  A German Reader, 859.\n\n  Brickmose's Travels, 140.\n  Bacon's False and True Definitions of Faith, 422.\n  Banim's Life and Works, 716.\n\n  Costello, John M., 143.\n  Conyngham's Irish Brigade, 720.\n  Cantarium Romanum, etc., 856.\n\n  Dublin Review, The, 426.\n  Dolby's Church Embroidery and Vestments, 427.\n  Dotty Dimple Stories, 428.\n  Die Alte und Neue Welt. 575.\n  Die Jenseitige Welt, 715.\n  Divorce, Essay on, 860.\n\n  Eudoxia, 286.\n\n  Free Masons, The, 426.\n  Fernecliffe, 428.\n  F\u00e9n\u00e9lon's Conversations with de Ramsai, 573.\n\n  Glimpses of Pleasant Homes, 423.\n\n  Hewit's Medical Profession and the Educated Classes, 423.\n  Herbert's, Lady, Love; or, Self-Sacrifice, 574.\n  Heat, The Laws of, 576.\n  Habermeister, The, 719.\n\n  Juliette, 429.\n\n  Life and Works of AEngussius, 141.\n  Little Women, 576.\n  Lover's Poetical Works, 859.\n\n  McSherry's Essays, 142.\n  Montarges Legacy, 286.\n  McClure's Poems, 288.\n  Manual of General History, 288.\n  Martineau's Biographical Sketches, 425.\n  M\u00fcller's Chips from a German Workshop, 571.\n  Mental Photographs, 576.\n  Mother Margaret M. Hallahan, Life of, 714.\n  Meditations on the Suffering of our Lord Jesus Christ, 856.\n\n  Nature and Grace, 574.\n  Notre Dame, Silver Jubilee of, 858.\n  Nora Brady's Vow, 859.\n\n  Oxenham on the Atonement, 568.\n\n  Pastoral of the Archbishop of Baltimore, 571,\n  Problematic Characters, 717.\n\n  Reminiscences of Mendelssohn, 428.\n  Report on Gun-shot Wounds, 857.\n\n  Sunday-School Class-Book, 287.\n  Studious Women, 287.\n  Salt-Water Dick, 428.\n  Sogarth Aroon, 719.\n  Service Manual, Military, 857.\n\n  Thunder and Lightning, 284.\n  Twelve Nights in a Hunter's Camp, 427.\n  Taine's Italy, Florence, etc., 574.\n  The Fisher Maiden, 576.\n  The Two Schools, 859.\n  The Irish Widow's Son, 860.\n\n  Veith's Instruments of the Passion, 141.\n\n  Wonders of Optics, The, 284.\n  Why Men do not Believe, 284.\n  Wiseman's Meditations, 421.\n  Winifred, 575.\n  Warwick, 716.\n  Walter Savage Landor, 718.\n  Wandering Recollections of a Busy Life, 718.\n  Way of Salvation, The, 859.\n\n  Young Christian's Library, 719.\n\n----------\n\n{1}\n\n       The Catholic World.\n\n----------\n\n   Vol. IX., No. 49. April, 1869.\n\n----------\n\n        The Fable Of Pope Joan.\n\n  \"But avoid foolish and old wives' fables.\"--I Tim. iv. 7.\n\n\nEvery one is more or less familiar with the story of a female\npope, which runs thus: Pope Leo IV. died in 855, and in the\ncatalogue of Popes Benedict III. appears as his successor. This,\nclaim the Joan story-tellers, is incorrect; for between Leo and\nBenedict the papal throne was for more than two years occupied by\na woman. Her name is not permitted to appear in the list of\npopes, for the reason that historians devoted to the interests of\nthe church desired to throw the veil of oblivion over so\nsacrilegious a scandal, and here, say they, is the true account\nof the affair.\n\nOn the death of Leo IV. the clergy and people of Rome met to\nelect his successor, and they chose a young priest, a comparative\nstranger in Rome, who during his short residence there had\nacquired an immense reputation for learning and virtue, and who,\non becoming pope, assumed the name of John VII., or, according to\nsome, John VIII. [Footnote 1]\n\n    [Footnote 1: And it was the most convenient one to take.\n    Before 855 there were seven popes named John, and at the\n    period when the story began to spread there had been\n    twenty-one.]\n\nNow, the pope so elected was, in fact, a woman, the daughter of\nan English couple travelling in Germany. She was born in Fulda,\nwhere she grew up and was well educated. Disguised as a man, she\nentered the monastery at Fulda, where she remained undiscovered\nfor years, and from which she eventually eloped with a monk. They\nfled to England, thence to France and Italy, and finally to\nGreece. They were both profoundly versed in all the science of\nthe day, and went to Athens to study the literature and language\nof that country. Here the monk died. Giovanna (her name was also\nGilberta or Agnes, according to the fancy of the writer)\n[Footnote 2] then left Athens and went to Rome, where her\nreputation for learning and the fame of her virtue soon spread.\n\n    [Footnote 2:  Her maiden name was for the first time given at\n    end of 14th century. It was then Agnes.]\n\nShe gave public lectures and disputations, to which she attracted\nimmense crowds of hearers, all delighted with her exemplary piety\nand astonished at her matchless learning.\n\n{2}\n\nAll the students of Rome, and even professors, flocked to hear\nher. On the death of Leo, she was elected pope by the clergy and\npeople of Rome from among many men pre\u00ebminent for their learning\nand virtue. After governing with great wisdom for more than two\nyears--there being not the slightest suspicion of her sex--she\nleft the Vatican on a certain festival at the head of the clergy,\nto walk in procession to the Lateran; but on the way was seized\nwith the pains of labor, and in the open street, amid the\nastounded bishops and clergy and surrounding concourse of people,\nthen and there gave birth to a child--and died. After this\noccurrence, it was determined that the pontiff in procession\nshould never pass that desecrated street, and a statue was placed\non the spot to perpetuate the infamy of the fact, and a certain\nceremony, minutely described, was ordained to be observed at the\nconsecration of all future popes, in order to prevent the\npossibility of any similar scandal.\n\nOf course there are numerous versions of the narrative,\ninfinitely varied in every detail, as is apt to be the case with\nany story starting from no place or person in particular and\ncontributed to by everybody in general.\n\nAs told, this incident is supposed to fill every polemical\nProtestant with delight, and to fill convicted Catholics with\nwhat Carlyle calls \"astonishment and unknown pangs.\"\n\nNow, granting every tittle of the story as related to be true, we\nsee no good reason for delight on one side nor pangs on the\nother. We repeat, conceding its entire truth, there is nothing in\nthe story that necessarily entails injury or disgrace on the\nCatholic Church. Why should it? Catholic morality and doctrine do\nnot depend upon the personal qualities of popes. In this case,\nsupposing the story true, who was elected pope? A man--as all\nconcerned honestly believed--of acknowledged learning and virtue.\nThere was no intrigue, no improper influence; and those who\nelected him had no share in the imposture, but were the victims,\nnot the participators, of the deceit practised. The cunning and\nthe imposture were all hers, and her crime consisted, not in\nbeing delivered in the streets, but in not having lived chastely.\nTrue, it was a scandalous accident; but the scandal could not add\nto the original immorality of which, in all the world, but two\npersons were guilty, and guilty in secret--for there is no\npretence, in all the versions, that the outward life of the\npretended she-pope was otherwise than blameless and even\nedifying. Those who elected her were totally ignorant of her\nsex--an ignorance entirely excusable--an error of fact brought\nabout by artful imposture. To their honor be it said, that they\nrecognized in their choice the sole merits of piety and learning,\nand wished to reward them.\n\nBut a female pope was once the head of the church! Dreadful\nreproach to come from those who call themselves Reformed,\nEvangelical, and Puritans, who have not only tolerated but\nestablished, nay, and even forced some queens and princesses to\ndeclare themselves Head of the Church or Defender of the Faith in\ntheir own dominions, and dispose--as one of them does to this\nday--of church dignities and benefices, and order other matters\necclesiastical according to their personal will and pleasure.\n\nLet us now look into the story and examine the testimony on which\nit is founded. The popess is said to have reigned two years and\nmore. Rome was then the greatest city and the very centre of the\ncivilized world, and always full of strangers from all parts of\nthe earth.\n{3}\nThe catastrophe of the discovery brought about by the street\ndelivery took place under the eyes of a vast multitude of people,\nand must have been known on the same day to the entire city\nbefore the sun had set. An event so strange, so romantic, so\nastounding, so scandalous, concerning the most exalted personage\nin the world, must surely have been written about or chronicled\nby the Italians who were there, and reported by letter or word of\nmouth by foreigners to their friends at home, and found its way\nfrom a thousand sources into the writings of the time; for it\nmust be remembered the pope, of all living men, was of especial\ninterest to the class who at that period were in the habit of\nwriting. Such testimony as this, being the evidence of\neye-witnesses, would be the highest testimony, and would settle\nthe fact beyond dispute. Where is it? Silence profound is our\nonly answer. Nothing of the kind is on the record of that period.\nAh! then in that case we must suppose the matter to have been\ntemporarily hushed up, and we will consent to receive accounts\nwritten ten, twenty--well, we'll not haggle about a score or\ntwo--or even fifty years later. Silence again! Not a scrap, not a\nsolitary line can be found.\n\nAnd so we travel through all the history which learning and\nindustry have been able to rescue from the re-cords of the past\ndown to the end of the ninth century, and find the same unbroken\nsilence.\n\nWe must then go to the tenth century, where the murder will\nsurely out. Silence again, deep and profound, through all the\nlong years from 900 to 1000, and all is blank as before!\n\nAnd now we again go on beyond another half-century, still void of\nall mention of Pope Joan, until we reach the year 1058, just two\nhundred and three years after the assigned Joanide.\n\nIn that year a monk, Marianus Scotus, of the monastery of Fulda,\ncommenced a universal chronicle, which was terminated in 1083.\nSomewhere between these dates, in recording the events of 855, he\nis said to have written: \"Leo the Pope died on the 1st of August.\nTo him succeeded John, who was a woman, and sat for two years,\nfive months, and four days.\" Only this and nothing more. Not a\nword of her age, origin, qualities, or circumstances of her\ndeath. So far it is not much of a story; but little by little,\nlink by link, line by line, like unto the veridical and melodious\nnarrative of _The House that Jack built_, we'll contrive to\nmake a good story of it yet. The statement first appears in\nMarianus. So much is certain. For during the seventeenth century,\nwhen the Joan controversy raged, and cartloads of books and\npamphlets were written on the subject--a mere list of the titles\nof which would exceed the limits of this article--every library\nand collection in Europe was ransacked with the furious industry\nof which a polemic writer is alone capable, for every--even the\nsmallest--fragment or thread connected with this subject.\nNevertheless, this ransacking was neither so thorough nor so\nsuccessful as during the present century; for, as the learned\nD\u00f6llinger states, \"it is only within forty years that all the\nEuropean collections of mediaeval MSS. have been investigated\nwith unprecedented care, every library, nook, and corner\nthoroughly searched, and a surprising quantity of hitherto\nunknown historical documents brought to light.\"\n\nComparing the so-called statement of Marianus with the latest\nsensational and circumstantial relation, it is plain that the\nstory did not, like Minerva, spring full-armed into life, but\nthat it is the result of a long and gradual growth, fostered by\nthe genius of a long series of inventive chroniclers.\n\n{4}\n\nBut where did the monk of Fulda get the story? Ah! here is an\ninteresting episode. His chronicle was first printed at Basle\n(1559) from the text known as the Latomus MS. Its editor was John\nHerold, a Calvinist of note, who, in printing the pas-sage in\nquestion, quietly left out the words of the original, \"_ut\nasseritur_\"--that is to say, \"as report goes,\" or \"believe it\nwho will\"--thus changing the chronicler's hearsay to a direct and\npositive assertion.\n\nBut the testimony of the Marianus chronicle comes to still\ngreater grief, And here a word of explanation. The Original MS.\nOf Marianus is not known to exist, but we have numerous copies of\nit, the respective ages of which are well ascertained. D\u00f6llinger\nmentions two of them well known in Germany to be the oldest in\nexistence, in which not a word concerning the popess can be\nfound. The copy in which it is found is of 1513, and the\nexplanation as to its appearance there is simple. The passage in\nquestion was doubtless put in the margin by some reader or\ncopyist, and by some later copyist inserted in the text, And so\nwe return to the original dark silence in which we started.\n\nA feeble attempt was made to claim that Sigbert of Gembloux, who\ndied in 1113, had recorded the story; but it was triumphantly\ndemonstrated that it was first added to his chronicle in an\nedition of 1513. The same attempt was made with Gottfried's\n_Pantheon_ and the chronicle of Otto von Freysingen, and\nalso lamentably failed. In 1261, there died a certain Stephen of\nBourbon, a French Dominican, who left a work in which he speaks\nof the popess, and says he got the statement from a chronicle\nwhich must have been that of Jean de Mailly, a brother Dominican.\n\nTo the year 1240 or 1250 may then be assigned, on the highest\nauthority, the period when the Joan story first made its\nappearance in writing and in history--nearly four hundred years\nafter its supposed date.\n\nIn 1261, an anonymous unedited chronicle, still preserved in the\nlibrary of St. Paul at Leipsic, states that \"another false pope,\nname and date unknown, since she was a woman, as the Romans\nconfess, of great beauty and learning, who concealed her sex and\nwas elected pope. She became with child, and the demon in a\nconsistory made the fact known to all by crying aloud to the\npope:\n\n  \"Papa Pater Patrum papissae pandito partum,\n   Et tibi tunc edam de corpore quando recedam.\"\n\nSome chroniclers relate it differently, namely, that the pope\nundertook to exorcise a person possessed of an evil spirit, and\non demanding of the devil when he would go out from the possessed\nperson's body, the evil one replied in the Latin verses above\ngiven, that is to say, \"O Pope! thou father of the fathers,\ndeclare the time of the pope's parturition, and I will then tell\nyou when I will go out from this body.\"\n\nThe demon always was a fellow who had a keen eye for the\nfashions, and he appears to have indulged in alliterative Latin\npoetry precisely at the period when that sort of literary\ntrifling was most in vogue among scholars who recreated\nthemselves with such lines as\n\n  \"Ruderibus rejectis Rufus Festus fieri fecit;\"\n\nor\n\n  \"Roma Ruet Romuli Ferro Flammaque Fameque.\"\n\n{5}\n\nA few years later, Martinus Polaccus or Polonus, Martin the\nPolack, or the Pole, (Polack is now disused, Shakespeare makes\nHoratio say, \"_He smote the sledded Polack on the ice,_\")\nwho died in 1278, the author of a chronicle of popes and emperors\ndown to 1207, says: \"John of England, by nation of Mayence, sat 2\nyears, 5 months, and 4 days. It is said that this pope was a\nwoman.\" The chronicle of Polonus is merely a synchronistic\nhistory of the popes and emperors in the form of dry biographical\nnotices. Nevertheless, from the fact that he had lived many years\nin Rome and was intimate with the papal court his book had, to\nuse a modern phrase, an immense run. [Footnote 3]\n\n    [Footnote 3: The tradition concerning the resignation of Pope\n    Cyriacus was also widely spread by the same chronicle. The\n    story ran that Pope Cyriacus resigned the pontificate in the\n    year 238, and first took its rise a thousand years after that\n    date. It was pure fiction, and was connected with the legend\n    of St. Ursula and her 11,000 virgins. No such pope as\n    Cyriacus ever existed.]\n\nIt was translated into all the principal languages, and more\nextensively copied than any chronicle then existing. The number\nof copies (MS.) still in existence far exceeds that of any other\nwork of the kind, and this fact suggests an important reflection.\nGreat stress is laid by some writers on the multitude of\nwitnesses for Joan. But the multitude does not increase the proof\nwhen they but repeat one another, and they suspiciously testify\nin nearly the same words. \"The advocates for Pope Joan,\" says\nGibbon, \"produce one hundred and fifty witnesses, or rather\nechoes, of the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries.\nThey bear testimony against themselves and the legend by\nmultiplying the proof that so curious a story _must_ have\nbeen repeated by writers of every description to whom it was\nknown.\"\n\nThe various versions that copy one another must necessarily bear\na strong family likeness. Their number can add nothing to their\nvalue as proof, and is no more conclusive than the endeavor to\nestablish the doubted existence of a man by a great variety of\nportraits of him, all--as Whately so well remarks in his\n_Historic Doubts_--\"all striking likenesses--of each\nother.\"\n\nIn this case the most ancient testimony is posterior to the\nclaimed occurrence some four hundred years, and is utterly\ninconsistent with the indisputable facts related by contemporary\nauthors. The erudite Launoy, in his treatise _De Auctoritate\nNegantis Argumenti_, lays down the rule that a fact of a\npublic nature not mentioned by any writer within two hundred\nyears of its supposed occurrence is not to be believed. This is\nthe same Launoy who waged war on the legends of the saints,\nclaiming that much fabulous matter had crept into them. On this\naccount he was called \"D\u00e9nicheur des Saints\"--the Saint-hunter or\nrouter--and the Abb\u00e9 of St. Roch used to say, \"I am always\nprofoundly polite to Launoy, for fear he will deprive me of St.\nRoch.\" The general rule (Launoy's) so important in historical\ncriticism is in perfect harmony with a great and leading\nprinciple of jurisprudence. In the Pope Joan incident the silence\nof all the writers of that age as to so remarkable a circumstance\nis to be fairly received as a _prerogative_ argument\n(Baconian philosophy) when set up against the numerous modern\nrepetitions of the story. It may be taken as a general rule that\nthe silence of contemporaries is the strongest argument against\nthe truth of any given historical assertion, particularly when\nthe fact asserted is strange and interesting, and this for the\nreason that man is ever prone to believe and recount the\nmarvellous; and in the absence of early evidence, the testimony\nof later times is, for the same reason, only weaker.\n{6}\nNow this is in strict accordance with the principle of English\ncommon law, which demands the highest and rejects hearsay and\nsecondary evidence; for scores of witnesses may depose in vain\nthat they have heard of such a fact; the eye-witness is the\nprerogative instance. This is the logic of evidence.\n\nAnd now we find that what happened to Marianus Scotus also befell\nPolonus. He was entirely innocent of any mention of Joan! The\npassage exists in none of the oldest copies, and is wanting in\nall that follow the author's close and methodical plan of giving\none line to each year of a pope's reign, so that, with fifty\nlines to the page as he wrote, each page covered precisely half a\ncentury. This method is entirely broken up in those MSS. which\ncontain the passage concerning Joan, and the rage to get the\npassage in was such that in one copy (the Heidelberg MS.)\nBenedict III. is left out entirely and Joan put in his place. Dr.\nD\u00f6llinger and the learned Bayle concur in the opinion that the\npassage never had any existence in the original work of Polonus.\n\nAnd just at this juncture the testimony of Tolomeo di Lucca\n(1312) is important. He wrote an ecclesiastical history, and\nnames the popess with the remark that in all the histories and\nchronicles known to him Benedict III. succeeded Leo IV. The\nauthor was noted for learning and industry, and must necessarily\nhave consulted every available authority, and yet nowhere did he\nfind mention of Joan but in Polonus. In 1283, a versified\nchronicle of Maerlandt (a Hollander) mentions Joan: \"I am neither\nclear nor certain whether it is a truth or a fable; mention of it\nin chronicles of the popes is uncommon.\"\n\nAnd now, as we advance into the fourteenth century, as\nmanuscripts multiply and one chronicler copies another, mention\nof Joan increases; and successively and in due order, as the\nmalt, the rat, the cat, the dog, and all the rest appear in turn\nto make perfect the nursery ditty, so the statue, the street, the\nceremony, and all the remaining features of the story come\ngradually out, until we have it in full and detailed description,\nand our popular papal \"House that Jack built\" is complete.\n\nThen we have Geoffrey of Courlon, a Benedictine, (1295,) Bernard\nGuidonis and Leo von Orvieto, both Dominicans, (1311,) John of\nParis, Dominican, (first half of fourteenth century,) and several\nothers, all of whom take the story from Polonus.\n\nIn 1306, we get the statue from Siegfried, who thus contributes\nhis quota: \"At Rome, in a certain spot of the city, is still\nshown her statue in pontifical dress, together with the image of\nher child cut in marble in a wall.\" Bayle says that Thierry di\nNiem (fifteenth century) \"adds out of his own head\" the statue.\nBut it appears that it was referred to twenty-three years earlier\nthan Siegfried by Maerlandt, the Hollander, who says that the\nstory as we read it is cut in stone and can be seen any day:\n\n  \"En daer leget soe, als wyt lesen\n   Noch aleo up ten Steen ghebouween,\n   Dat men ano daer mag scouwen.\"\n\nAmalric di Angier wrote in 1362, and adds to the story her\n\"teaching three years at Rome.\" Petrarch repeats the version of\nPolonus. Boccacio also relates it, and was the first who at that\nperiod asserted her name was not known.\n\nJacopo de Acqui (1370) says that she reigned nineteen years.\n\nAimery du Peyrat, abbot of Moissac, who compiled a chronicle in\n1399, puts \"Johannes Anglicus\" in the list of popes with the\nremark, \"Some say that she was a woman.\"\n\n{7}\n\nIn 1450, Martin le Franc, in his _Champion des Dames_,\nexpresses surprise that Providence should have permitted such a\nscandal as to allow the church to be governed by a wicked woman.\n\n  \"Comment endura Dieu, comment\n   Que femme ribaulde et prestresse\n   Eut l'Eglise en gouvernement?\"\n\nHallam (_Literature of Europe_) mentions as among the most\nremarkable among the Fastnacht's Spiele (carnival plays) of\nGermany the apotheosis of Pope Joan, a tragic-comic legend,\nwritten about 1480. Bouterwek, in his History of German Poetry,\nalso mentions it.\n\nIn 1481, \"to swell the dose,\" as Bayle says, the stool feature of\nthe story first comes in.\n\nIn the Nuremberg Chronicle of 1493 (Astor Library copy) Joan is\nput down as Joannes Septimus, and the page ornamented (?) with a\nwood-cut of a woman with a child in her arms. It relates that she\ngained the pontificate by evil arts, \"malis artibus.\"\n\nIn the beginning of the same century there was seen a bust of\nJoan among the collection of busts of the popes in the cathedral\nat Sienna. And, more astonishing still, the story was related in\nthe _Mirabilia urbis Roma_, a sort of guide-book for\nstrangers and pilgrims visiting Rome, editions of which were\nconstantly reprinted for a period of eighty years down to 1550!\n\nIn the middle of the fifteenth century we find the story related\nat full length by Felix Hammerlein, and later by John Bale, then\nBishop of Ossory, who afterward became a Protestant. He pretty\nwell completes the tale.\n\nAccording to Tolomeo di Lucca, the Joan story in 1312 was nowhere\nfound but in some few copies of Polonus. Nevertheless, it is\nnotorious that at that time countless lists and historical tables\nof popes were in existence, in none of which was there any trace\nof the popess.\n\nSuddenly we find extraordinary industry exercised in multiplying\nand spreading the copies of Polonus containing the story, and in\ninserting it in other chronicles that did not contain it. As the\neditors of the _Histoire Litt\u00e9raire e France_ aptly remark:\n\"Nous ne saurions nous expliquer comment il se fait que ce soit\npr\u00e9cis\u00ebment dans les rangs de cette fid\u00e8le milice du saint-si\u00e8ge\nque se rencontrent les propagateurs les plus na\u00effs, et peut-\u00eatre\nles inventeurs, d'une histoire si injurieuse \u00e0 la papaut\u00e9.\"\n[Footnote 4]\n\n    [Footnote 4: \"We cannot understand how it is that, precisely\n    among the ranks of the faithful soldiers of the holy see, we\n    find the most credulous propagators and, perhaps, inventors\n    of a story so injurious to the papacy.\"]\n\nDr. D\u00f6llinger answers this by stating that those who appeared to\nbe most active in the matter were Dominicans and Minorites,\nparticularly the former, (Sie waren es ja, besonders die ersten.)\nThis is specially to be remarked under the primacy of Boniface\nVIII., who was no friend of either order. The Dominican\nhistorians were particularly severe in their judgments on\nBoniface in the matter of his difficulty with Philip the Fair,\nand appear to dwell with satisfaction upon this period of the\nweakened authority of the papal see.\n\nIn 1610, Alexander Cooke published in London, \"_Pope Ioane, a\nDialogue Betweene a Protestant and a Papist, manifestly prouing\nthat a woman called Ioane was Pope of Rome: against the surmises\nand objections made to the contrarie_,\" etc. Cooke has a\npreface, \"To the Popish or Catholicke reader--chuse whether name\nthou hast a mind to;\" which is very handsome indeed of Mr. Cooke.\n\n{8}\n\nThe papist in the _Dialogue_ has a dreadful time of it from\none end of the book to the other, and Gregory VII. is effectually\nsettled by calling him \"that firebrand of hell.\" Bayle grimly\ndisposes of Cooke's work thus: \"It had been better for his cause\nif he had kept silence.\"\n\nDiscussion of the story comes even down to this century. In 1843\nand 1845 two works appeared in Holland: one, by Professor Kist,\nto prove the existence of Joan; the other, by Professor Wensing,\nto refute Kist. In 1845 was also published a very able work by\nBianchi-Giovini: _Esame critico degli atti e Documenti relativi\nalla favola della Papissa Giovanna_. Di A. Bianchi-Giovini.\nMilano.\n\nIt is doubtful if in all the annals of literature there exists a\nmore remarkable case of pure fable growing, by small and slow\ndegrees through several centuries, until, in the shape of a\nreceived fact, it finally effects a lodgment in serious history.\nTaking its rise no one knows where or how, full four hundred\nyears after the period assigned it, and stated at first in the\nbaldest and thinnest manner possible, it goes on from century to\ncentury, gathering consistence, detail, and incident; requiring\nthree centuries for its completion, and, finally, comes out the\nsensational affair we have related. All stories gain by time and\ntravel; scandalous stories most of all. These last are\nparticularly robust and long-lived. They appear to enjoy a\nfreedom amounting to immunity. Just as certain noxious and\nfoul-smelling animals frequently owe their life to the\nunwillingness men have to expose themselves to such contact, so\nsuch stories, looked upon at first as merely scandalous and too\ncontemptible for serious refutation, acquire, through impunity,\nan importance that, in the end, makes them seriously annoying.\nThen, too, well-meaning people thoughtlessly accept reports and\nrepeat statements that, through mere iteration, are supposed to\nbe well-founded. Let any one, be his or her experience ever so\nsmall, look around and see how fully this is exemplified every\nday in real life.\n\nMoreover, there was no dearth of writers in the middle ages who\nused, to the extent of license, the liberty of criticising and\nblaming the papacy. By all such the Joan story was invariably put\nforward by way of illustration; and they appear to have gone on\nunchecked until it was found that the open enemies of the church\nbegan to avail themselves of the scandal.\n\nIn 1451, AEneas Sylvius Piccolomini, (Pius II.,) in conference\nwith the Taborites of Bohemia, denied the story, and told\nNicholas, their bishop, that, \"even in placing thus this woman,\nthere had been neither error of faith nor of right, but ignorance\nof fact.\" Aventinus, in Germany, and Onuphrius Pauvinius, in\nItaly, staggered the popularity of the story. Attention once\ndrawn to the subject, and investigation commenced, its weakness\nwas soon apparent, and testimony soon accumulated to crush it.\n\nAdo, Archbishop of Vienne, (France,) who was at Rome in 866, has\nleft a chronicle in which he says that Benedict III. succeeded\nimmediately to Leo IV.\n\nPrudentius, Bishop of Troyes at the same period, testifies to the\nsame fact.\n\nIn 855, the assigned Joanide period, there were in Rome four\nindividuals who afterward successively became popes, under the\nnames of Benedict III., Nicholas I., Adrian II., and John VIII.\nDuring the pretended papacy of Joan these men were all either\npriests or deacons, and must have taken part in her election, and\nhave been present at the catastrophe, Now, of all these popes\nthere exist many and various writings, but not a word concerning\nthe popess. On the contrary, they all represent Benedict III. to\nhave succeeded Leo IV.\n\n{9}\n\nLupo, Abbot of Ferri\u00e8res, in a letter to Pope Benedict, says that\nhe, the abbot, had been kindly received at Rome by his\npredecessor, Leo IV.\n\nIn a council held at Rome, in 863, under Nicholas I., the pontiff\nspeaks of his predecessors Leo and Benedict.\n\nHincmar, Archbishop of Rheims, writing to Nicholas I., says that\ncertain messengers sent by him to Leo IV. had been met on their\njourney by news of that pontiff's death, and had, on their\narrival at Rome, found Benedict on the throne. Ten other\ncontemporary writers are cited who all testify to the same\nimmediate succession, and afford not the slightest hint of any\nstory or tradition that can throw the least light on that of the\nfemale pope. \"The time of Pope Joan,\" says Gibbon, \"is placed\nsomewhat earlier than Theodora or Marozia; and the two years of\nher imaginary reign are forcibly inserted between Leo IV. and\nBenedict III. But the contemporary Anastasius indissolubly links\nthe death of Leo and the elevation of Benedict; and the accurate\nchronology of Pagi, Muratori, and Leibnitz fixes both events to\nthe year 857.\"\n\nBut there is no smoke without fire, it is said; and the wildest\nstories must have some cause, if not foundation. Let us see.\nCompetent critics find the story to be a satire on John VIII.\n\"_Ob nimiam ejus animi facilitatem et mollitudinem_\" says\nBaronius, particularly in the affair with Photius, by whom John\nhad suffered himself to be imposed upon. Photius, Patriarch of\nConstantinople, was known to be a half-man, and yet so cunning to\noverreach John. Therefore they said John Was a woman, and called\nhim Joanna, instead Of Joannes, in that tone of bitter raillery\nconstantly indulged in by the Roman Pasquins and Marforios, and\nthis raillery, naturally enough, in course of time came to be\ntaken for truth.\n\nAnd again: Pope John X., elected in 914, was said to have been\nraised by the power and influence of Theodora, a woman of talent\nand unscrupulous intrigue. In 931, John, the son of Marozia and\nDuke Alberic, and grandson of Theodora, was said to be a mere\npuppet in the hands of his mother. \"Their reign,\" (Theodora and\nMarozia,) says Gibbon, \"may have suggested to the darker ages the\nfable of a female pope.\"\n\nAgain, in 956, a grandson of the same Marozia was raised to the\npapal chair as John XII. [Footnote 5] He renounced the dress and\ndecencies of his profession, and his life was so scandalous that\nhe was degraded by a synod. Onuphrius Pauvinius and Liutprand are\nquoted to show that a woman, Joan, had such influence over him\nthat he loaded her with riches. She is said to have died in\nchildbed.\n\n    [Footnote 5: At this period the church was as yet without the\n    advantages of the great reform effected by Gregory VII. in\n    1073, and the choice of a pope by the bishops or cardinals\n    was ratified or rejected by the Roman people, too often, at\n    that time, the dupes or tools of such men as the marquises of\n    Tuscany and the counts of Tusculum, who, says Gibbon, \"held\n    the apostolic see in a long and disgraceful servitude.\"]\n\nLong series of years preceding and following these events were\nanything but times of pleasantness and peace to the successors of\nSt. Peter. Even Gibbon says, \"The Roman pontiffs of the ninth and\ntenth centuries were insulted, imprisoned, and murdered by their\ntyrants, and such was their indigence, after the loss and\nusurpation of the ecclesiastical patrimonies, that they could\nneither support the state of a prince nor exercise the charity of\na priest.\"\n\n{10}\n\nNow, with such materials as these, a Pope Joan story is easily\nconstructed; for, with the license of speech that has always\nexisted in Rome in the form of pasquinades, it is more than\nlikely to have been satirically remarked by the Romans under one\nor all of the three popes John, that Rome had a popess instead of\na pope, and that the chair of St. Peter was virtually occupied by\na female. These things would be repeated from mouth to mouth by\nmen who, according to their temper and ability, would comment on\nthem with bitter scoff, irreverent comment, snarling sneer, or\nribald leer, and they might readily have been received as matter\nof fact assertions by German and other strangers in Rome.\n\nCarried home and spread by wandering monks and soldiers, it is\nonly wonderful that they did not sooner come to the surface in\nsome such fable as the one under consideration. Diffused among\nthe people, and acquiring a certain degree of consistence by dint\nof repetition through two centuries, it finally reached the ear\nof the individual who inserted it in the Marianus chronicle in\nthe form of an _on dit_, and so he put it down \"_ut\nasseritur_\"--\"they say.\"\n\nCertain it is that no such story was known in Italy until it was\nspread from German chroniclers, and the absurdity was too\nmonstrous to pass into contemporary history even in a foreign\ncountry.\n\nBut, it is answered, by Coeffetau and others, we do not hear of\nit for so many years afterward because the church exerted its\nomnipotent authority to hush up the story. There needs but slight\nknowledge of human nature to decide that such an attempt would\nhave only served to spread and intensify the scandal. As Bayle\nwisely remarks, \"People do not so expose their authority by\nprohibitions which are not of a nature to be observed, and which,\nso far from shutting their mouth, rather excite an itching desire\nto speak.\"\n\nThen, too, it is claimed that for a period of several hundred\nyears after 855, writers and chroniclers, by agreement, tacit or\nexpress, not only maintained a profound silence on the subject of\nthe scandal, but, in all Christian countries of the world,\nconspired to alter the order of papal succession, forge\nchronicles, and falsify historical records. And yet those who use\nthis argument tell us that in the city of Rome, under papal\nauthority, a statue was erected, an order issued, turning aside\nprocessions from their time-consecrated itinerary, and customs as\nremarkable for their indecency as their novelty were introduced,\n_in order to perpetuate the memory_ of the very same events\ntyrannical edicts were issued to conceal and blot out! Comment is\nnot needed.\n\nThe total silence of contemporary writers, and the immense chasm\nof two hundred years (taking the earliest date claimed) between\nthe event and its first mention, was, of course, found fatal.\nConsequently, an attempt was made to prop up the story by the\nassertion that it was chronicled by Anastasius the Librarian, who\nlived in Rome at the alleged Joannic period, was present at the\nelection of all the popes from 844 to 882, and must, therefore,\nhave been a witness of the catastrophe of 855. The testimony of\nsuch a witness would certainly be valuable--indeed irrefutable.\nAccordingly a MS. of the fourteenth century, a copy of the\nAnastasian MS., was produced, in which mention was made of Pope\nJoan. But this mention was attended with three suspicious\ncircumstances. First, it was qualified by an \"_ut dicitur_\"\n\"as is said.\" Anastasius would scarcely need an _on dit_ to\nqualify his own testimony concerning an event that took place\nunder his own eyes, and must have morally convulsed all Rome.\n{11}\nSecondly, it was not in the text, but in a marginal note.\nThirdly, and fatally, the entire sentence was in the very words\nof the Polonus chronicle. Naturally enough, it was found singular\nthat Anastasius, writing in the ninth century, should use the\nidentical phraseology of Polonus, who was posterior to him by\nfour hundred years.\n\nBut, in addition to these reasons, Anastasius gives a\ncircumstantial account of the election of Benedict III. to\nsucceed Leo IV., absolutely filling up the space needed for Joan.\nIn view of all which the critical Bayle is moved to exclaim,\n\"Therefore I say what relates to this woman (Joan) is spurious,\nand comes from another hand.\" A zealous Protestant, Sarrurius,\nwrites to his co-religionist, Salmasius, (the same who had a\ncontroversy with Milton,) after examining the Anastasian MS.,\n\"The story of the she-pope has been tacked to it by one who had\nmisused his time.\" And Gibbon says, \"A most palpable forgery is\nthe passage of Pope Joan which has been foisted into some MSS.\nand editions of the Roman Anastasius.\"\n\nWith regard to the early chronicle MSS., it must be borne in mind\nthat it was common for their readers (owners) to write additions\nin the margin, A professional copyist--the publisher of those\ndays--usually incorporated the marginal notes with the text.\nBooks were then, of course, dear and scarce, and readers\nfrequently put in the margin the supplements another book could\nfurnish them, rather than buy two books. Then again--for men are\nalike in all ages--those who purchased valuable books wanted, as\nthey want to-day, the fullest edition, with all the latest\nemendations. So a chronicle with the Joan story would always be\nmore saleable than one without it.\n\nBut one of the strongest presumptions against the truth of the\nstory is seen in the profound silence of the Greek writers of the\nperiod, (ninth to fifteenth century.) All of them who sided with\nPhotius were bitterly hostile to Rome, and the question of the\nsupremacy of the pope was precisely the vital one between Rome\nand Constantinople. They would have been only too glad to get\nhold of such a scandal. Numbers of Greeks were in Rome in 855,\nand if such a catastrophe as the Joanine had occurred, they must\nhave known it. \"On writers of the ninth and tenth centuries,\"\nsays Gibbon, \"the recent event would have flashed with a double\nforce. Would Photius have spared such a reproach? Would Liutprand\nhave missed such a scandal?\"\n\nWe have disposed of the absurdity of the supposition that the\npower and discipline of the church were so great as to enforce\nsecrecy concerning the Joan affair. But--even granting the truth\nof this assertion--that power and discipline would avail naught\nwith strangers who were Greeks and schismatics. In 863, only\neight years after the alleged Joanide, the Greek schism broke out\nunder Photius, who was excommunicated by Nicholas I. There was no\nperiod from 855 to 863 when there were not numbers of Greeks in\nthe city of Rome--learned Greeks too. Many of them agreed with\nPhotius, who claimed that the transfer of the imperial residence,\nby the emperors, from Rome to Constantinople, at the same time\ntransferred the primacy and its privileges. Yet not only can no\nallusion to any such story be found in any Greek writer of that\ncentury, but there is found in Photius himself no less than three\ndistinct and positive assertions that Benedict III. succeeded Leo\nIV.\n\nThe Greek schism became permanent in 1053, under Cerularius,\nPatriarch of Constantinople, who undertook to excommunicate the\nlegates of the pope.\n\n{12}\n\nWith Cerularius, as with Photius, the papal supremacy was the\nmain question, and neither he nor Photius would have failed to\nmake capital of the Joan fable, had they ever heard of it. So\nalso with all the Byzantine writers, and they were numerous. It\nwas not until the fifteenth century that the first mention of the\nstory was made by one of them, (Chalcocondylas,) an Athenian of\nthe fifteenth century, who, in his _De Rebus Turcicis_,\nstates the case very singularly: \"Formerly a woman was in the\npapal chair, her sex not being manifest, because the men in\nItaly, and, indeed, in all the countries of the West, are closely\nshaved.\" It is true that Barlaam, a Greek writer, mentioned it in\nthe fourteenth century; but Barlaam was living in Italy when he\nwrote his book.\n\nAnd now, as we reach the so-called Reformation period, we find\nthe tale invested with a value and importance it had never before\nassumed. It was kept constantly on active duty without relief,\nand compelled to do fatiguing service in a thousand controversial\nbattles and skirmishes. Angry and over-zealous Protestants found\nit a handy thing to have in their polemical house. And, although\nthe more judicious cared not to use it, the story was generally\nretained. Spanheim and Lenfant endeavored to think it a worthy\nweapon, and even Mosheim affects to cherish suspicion as to its\nfalsity. Jewell, one of Elizabeth's bishops (1560) seriously, and\nwith great show of learning, espoused Joan's claims to existence.\n\nNor were answers wanting; and, including those who had previously\nwritten on the subject, it was fully confuted by Aventinus,\nOnuphrius Pauvinius, Bellarmine, Serrarius, George Scherer,\nRobert Parsons, Florimond de R\u00e9mond, Allatius, and many others.\n\nThe first Protestant to cast doubt on the fable was David\nBlondel. A minister of the Reformed Church, Professor of History\nat Amsterdam, in 1630, he was held by his co-religionists to be a\nprodigy of learning in languages, theology, and ecclesiastical\nhistory. In his _Fable de la Papesse Jeanne_, with\ninvincible logic and an intelligent application of the true\ncanons of historical criticism, he demonstrates the absence of\nfoundation for the story, the tottering and stuttering weakness\nof its early years, the suspicions which stand around its cradle;\nand, instead of disputing how far the Pope Joan story was\nbelieved or credited in this or that century, shows that by her\nown contemporaries she was never heard of at all; the whole story\nbeing, he says, \"an inlaid piece of work embellished with time.\"\nBlondel was bitterly assailed by all sections of Protestantism,\nand accused of \"bribery and corruption,\" the question being\nasked, \"How much has the pope given him?\" Blondel's work brought\nout a crowd of writers in defence of Joan, foremost among whom\nwas the Protestant Des Marets or Maresius, whose labors in turn\ncalled out the _Cenotaphium Papessae Joannae_ by the learned\nJesuit Labbe, the celebrity of whose name drew forth a phalanx of\nwriters in reply.\n\nBut the worst for Joanna was yet to come. Another Protestant,\nundeterred by the abuse showered upon Blondel, gave Joan her\n_coup de grace_. This was the learned Bayle, who, with rigid\nand judicial impartiality, sums up the essence of all that had\nbeen advanced on either side, and shows unanswerably the\naltogether insufficient grounds on which the entire story rests.\nMore was not needed. Nevertheless, Eckhard and Leibnitz followed\nBayle in the extinguishing process, and made it disreputable for\nany scholar of respectability to advocate the convicted\nfalsehood.\n\n{13}\n\nThere was no dearth of other Protestant protests against Joan.\nCasaubon, the most learned of the so-called reformers, laughed at\nthe fable. So did Thuanus. Justus Lipsius said of it, \"Revera\nfabella est haud long\u00e8 ab audacia et ineptis poetarum.\" [Footnote\n6] Schookius, professor at Groningen, totally disbelieved it. Dr.\nBurnet, Bishop of Salisbury, said, \"I don't believe the history\nof Pope Joan,\" and gives his reasons. So, also, Dr. Bristow. Very\npertinent was the reflection of Jurieu, (a fanatical Protestant,\nif ever there was one--the same noted for his controversy with\nBayle, who was a \"friend of the family\"--so much so, indeed, as\nto cause the remark that Jurieu discovered many hidden things in\nthe Apocalypse, but could not see what was going on in his own\nhousehold,) in his _Apology for the Reformation_, \"I don't\nthink we are much concerned to prove the truth of this story of\nPope Joan.\"\n\n    [Footnote 6: \"In truth, it is a fable not much differing from\n    the boldness and silly stories of the poets.\"]\n\nThe erudite Anglican, Dr. Cave, says: \"Nothing helped more to\nmake that Chronicle (Polonus) famous than the much talked of\nfable of Pope Joan. For my own part, I am thoroughly convinced\nthat it is a mere fable, and that it has been thrust into\nMartin's chronicle, especially since it is wanting in most of the\nold manuscripts.\"\n\nHallam calls it a fable. Ranke passes it over in contemptuous\nsilence. So also does Sismondi; and Gibbon fairly pulverizes it\nwith scorn.\n\nA favorite polemical arsenal for Episcopalians is found in the\nworks of Jewell, so-called Bishop of Salisbury. Let them be\nwarned against leaning on him concerning the Joan story. Listen\nhow quietly yet how effectually both Joan and Jewell are disposed\nof by Henry Hart Milman, D.D., Dean of St. Paul's, in his\n_History of Latin Christianity_: \"The eight years of Leo's\npapacy were chiefly occupied in restoring the plundered and\ndesecrated churches of the two apostles, and adorning Rome.\n\n\"_The succession to Leo IV. was contested between Benedict\nIII._, who commanded the suffrages of the clergy and people,\nand Anastasius, who, at the head of an armed faction, seized the\nLateran, [Footnote 7] stripped Benedict of his pontifical robes,\nand awaited the confirmation of his violent usurpation by the\nimperial legates, whose influence he thought he had secured, But\nthe commissioners, after strict investigation, decided in favor\nof Benedict. Anastasius was expelled with disgrace from the\nLateran, and his rival consecrated in the presence of the\nemperor's representatives.\" [Footnote 8] Like Ranke, Milman also\npasses over the Joan story with contemptuous silence.\n\n    [Footnote 7: Sept A.D. 855.]\n\n    [Footnote 8: Sept. 29, 855.]\n\nIn his _Papst-Fabeln des Mittelalters_, the learned Dr.\nD\u00f6llinger has exhausted the erudition of the subject, and not\nonly demonstrated the utter unworthiness of the invention, but--\nwhat is for the first time done by him--points out the causes or\nsources of all the separate portions of the narrative. Thus, the\nstatue story arose from the fact that in the same street in which\nwas found a grave or monumental stone, of the inscription on\nwhich the letters P. P. P. could be deciphered, there was also\nseen a statue of a man or woman with a child. It was simply an\nancient statue of a heathen priest, with an attendant boy holding\nin his hand a palm-leaf, The P. P. P. on the grave-stone, as all\nantiquarians agreed, merely stood for _Propria Pecunia\nPosuit_; but as the marvellous only was sought for, the three\nP's were first coolly duplicated and then made to stand for the\nwords of the line already referred to--_Papa Patrum_,\netc.--much in the same way as Mr. Jonathan Oldbuck insisted that\nA. D. L. L., on a utensil of imaginary antiquity he had found,\nstood for AGRICOLA DICAVIT LIBENS LUBENS, when it only meant\nAIKEN DRUM'S LANG LADLE.\n{14}\nThe controversy concerning the\nexistence of Joan may be considered\nas long since substantially closed, and\nJoan, or Agnes, or Gilberta, or Ione,\nas she is called in the English (Lond.\n1612) edition of Philip Morney's\n(Du Plessis Mornay) _Mysterie of Iniquitie_,\nto stand convicted as an imposter,\nor, more properly speaking, a\nnonentity. Her story is long since\nbanished from all respectable society,\nalthough it contrives to keep up a\ndisreputable and precarious existence\nin the outskirts and waste places of\nvagrant literature. We are even\ninformed that it may be found printed\nunder the auspices and sponsorship\nof societies and individuals considered\nrespectable. If this be true, it is, for\ntheir sakes, to be regretted; and we\nbeg leave severally to admonish the\nsocieties and individuals in question,\nin the words of the apostle: \"_Avoid\nfoolish and old wives' fables: and exercise\nthyself to piety._\"\n\n----------\n\n      Translated From The French.\n\n    The Approaching General Council.\n\n  By Mgr. Dupanloup, Bishop Of Orleans.\n\n\n                 V.\n\n   The Help Offered By The Council.\n\nThis is the reason why that church, which is the friend of souls\nand which was never indifferent to the evils in society, is now\nso deeply moved. Undoubtedly the church and society are distinct;\nbut journeying side by side in this world, and enclosing within\ntheir ranks the same men, they are necessarily bound together in\ntheir perils and in their trials. The church has called this\nassembly, therefore, because she feels that in regard to the\nevils which are common to both, she can do much to forward their\nremoval.\n\nHowever, let us be careful, as careful of exaggerating as of\ndiminishing the truth. Does it depend upon the church to destroy\nevery human vice? No. But in this great work, in this rude\nconflict of the good against the bad, she has her part, an\nimportant part, and she wishes to perform it. Man is free, and he\ndoes good of his own free-will. But he is also aided by divine\ngrace, which assists him without destroying his liberty; for as\nthe great Pope St. Celestine said, \"Free-will is not taken away\nby the grace of God, but it is made free.\" Being the treasury of\ncelestial goods, the church is man's divine assistant, and lends\nhim, even in the temporal order, a supernatural aid. If to-day\nshe is assembling in Rome, and, as it were, is collecting her\nthoughts, it is only in order to accomplish her task, to work\nmore successfully and powerfully for the welfare of mankind.\n\n{15}\n\n\"Who can doubt,\" exclaims the Holy Father, \"that the doctrine of\nthe Catholic Church has this virtue, that it not only serves for\nthe eternal salvation of man, but that it also helps the temporal\nwelfare of society, their real prosperity, good order and\ntranquillity?\" And who will deny the social and refining\ninfluence of the church? \"_Religion! Religion!_\" an eminent\nstatesman [Footnote 9] has recently said, \"_it is the very life\nof humanity!_ In every place, at all times, save only certain\nseasons of terrible crisis and shameful decadence. Religion to\nrestrain or to satisfy human ambition--religion to sustain or to\nreconcile us to our sorrows, the sorrows both of our worldly\nstation and of our soul. Let not statesmanship, though it be at\nonce the most just and the most ingenious, flatter itself that it\nis capable of accomplishing such a work without the help of\nreligion. The more intense and extended is the agitation of\nsociety, the less able is any state policy to direct startled\nhumanity to its end. A higher power than the powers of earth is\nneeded, and views which reach beyond this world. For this purpose\nGod and eternity are necessary.\"\n\n  [Footnote 9: M. Guizot]\n\nThen, too, the Holy Father, after he has alluded to the\nbeneficent influence of religion in the temporal order, proclaims\nanew the concord, so often affirmed by him, between faith and\nreason, and the mutual help which, in the designs of Providence,\nthey are called to lend one to the other. \"Even,\" he says, \"as\nthe church sustains society, so does divine truth sustain human\nscience; the church supports the very ground beneath its feet,\nand in preventing it from wandering she advances its progress.\"\nLet those who vainly strive to claim science as an antagonist to\nthe church understand these words! The head of the church does\nnot fear science, he loves it, he praises it, and with pleasure\nhe remembers that the Christian truths serve to aid its progress\nand to establish its durability. The most illustrious scholars\nwho have appeared upon the earth, Leibnitz, Newton, Kepler,\nCopernicus, Pascal, Descartes, before whom the learned of the\npresent time, if their pride has not completely blinded them,\nwould feel of very little importance, think the same about this\nquestion as does the Sovereign Pontiff. This is demonstrated,\nadds the Pope, by the history of all ages with unexceptionable\nevidence. This too is the meaning of the well-known phrase of\nBacon, \"A little learning separates us from religion; but much\nlearning leads us to it.\" Presumptuous ignorance or blind passion\nmay forget it; but the greatest minds have always recognized the\nagreement of faith and science, the harmony between the church\nand society, and rejected this antagonism of modern times, which\nis so contrary to the testimony of history and the interests of\ntruth.\n\nBut let us not allow an ambiguous expression to become the\npretext for our opponent's attacks; how then does the church\nattempt to reform society? History has answered this question.\nPrejudice alone fancies that it has discovered some secret attack\nupon the legitimate liberty of the human mind. The Council of\nRome will be the nineteenth Ecumenical Council, and the forty or\nfifty nations which will be represented there have all been\nconverted in the same way; that is, they have been brought from\nbarbarism to civilization by the authority of her words, by the\ngrace of her sacraments, by the teaching of her pastors, and the\nexamples of her saints. Such are the ways of God and the action\nof the church, sometimes seconded, but more frequently attacked,\nby human powers.\n\n{16}\n\nInstructor of souls, the church uses the method of all good\neducation--authority and patience. Where there is doubt, she\naffirms; where there is denial, she insists; where there is\ndivision, she unites; she repeats for ever the same lessons, and\nwhat grand lessons they are! The true nature of God, the true\nnature of man, moral responsibility and free-will, the\nimmortality of the soul, the sacredness of marriage, the law of\njustice, the law of charity, the inviolability of private rights\nand of property, the duty of labor, and the need of peace. This\nalways, this everywhere, this to all men, to kings and to\nshepherds, to Greeks and to Romans, to England and to France, in\nEurope and in Australia, under Charlemagne or before Washington.\n\nI dare to assert that the continuity of these affirmations\ncreates order in society and in the human mind, just as certainly\nas the repeated rising of the same sun makes the order of the\nseasons and success in the culture of the earth. O philosopher,\nyou who disdain the church! be candid and tell me what would have\nbecome of the idea of a personal God among the nations, had it\nnot been for her influence? O Protestants and Greeks! admit that\nwithout the church the image of Jesus Christ would have been\nblotted out beneath your very eyes! O philanthropist and\nstatesman! what would you do without her for the family and the\nsanctity of marriage?\n\nWhat the church has once done, she is going to do again; what she\nhas already said, she is going to repeat; she will continue her\nlife, her course, her work, in the same spirit of wisdom and\ncharity; she will continue to affirm to man's reason those great\ntruths of which she is the guardian, and it is by this means, by\nthis alone, though by it most energetically, that she will act on\nsociety.\n\nIt has been said that the religion of the masses of the people is\nthe whole of their morality. Then since morality is the true\nsource of good statesmanship and good laws, all the progress of a\npeople must consist in making the first principles of justice\ninfluence more and more their private and public life. From this\nit follows that every people which increases in its knowledge of\nChristian truth will make substantial progress, while at the same\ntime every people which attempts to solve the great questions\nthat perplex mankind in any way opposed to the gospel of Christ\nwill be in reality taking the wrong road which can only end in\ntheir utter destruction. Who expelled pagan corruption from the\nworld, who civilized barbarians by converting them? Look at the\nEast when Christianity flourished there; and look at it now under\nthe rule of Islam! The influence of Christianity upon\ncivilization is a fact as glaring as the sun. But the principles\nof the gospel are far from having given all that they contain,\nand time itself will never exhaust them, because they come out of\nan infinite depth.\n\nNow, although the centuries have drawn from the Christian\nprinciple of charity, equality, and fraternity of man\nconsequences which have revolutionized the old world; still all\nthe social applications of this admirable doctrine are very far\nfrom having been made. It is even, as I believe, the peculiar\nmission of modern times to make this fruitful principle penetrate\nmore completely than ever the laws and customs of nations. If the\ncentury does not wander from the path of Christian truth, it will\nestablish political, social, and economic truths which will\nreflect upon it the greatest honor.\n{17}\nBut it is the mission of the church and her council to preserve\nthese truths of revelation free from those interpretations which\nfalsify their meaning.\n\nThen every great declaration of the truths of the Bible, every\nexplanation of the doubts and errors concerning it, every true\ninterpretation of Christianity by the masses of the people is a\nwork of progress, which is at once social and religious. This\nthen is why the church is using every effort, or, as says the\nHoly Father, why she is exerting her strength more and more. This\nis the reason why Catholic bishops will come from every part of\nthe world to consult with their chief.\n\nIt is in vain you say in your unjust and ignorant prejudice, the\nchurch is old, but the times are new. The laws of the world are\nalso old; yet every new invention of which we are justly proud\nwould not exist, and could not succeed, were it not for the\napplication of those laws. You do not understand how pliant and\nyet how firm is the material of which her Divine Founder has\nbuilt his church. He has given her an organization at once\ndurable and progressive. Such is the depth and the fruitfulness\nof her dogmas, such too is the expansive character of her\nconstitution, that she can never be outstripped by any human\nprogress, and she is able to maintain her position under any\npolitical system. Without changing her creed in the least, she\ndraws from her treasury, as our divine Lord said, things both new\nand old, from century to century, by measuring carefully the\nneeds of the time. You will find that she is ever ready to adapt\nherself to the great transformations of society, and that she\nwill follow mankind in all the phases of his career. The\nChristian revelation is the light of the world, and always will\nbe; be assured that this is the reason why the coming council\nwill be the dawn, not as many think the setting, of the church's\nglory.\n\n                      VI.\n\n  The Unfounded Fears On The Subject Of The Council.\n\nWhat then do timid Catholics and distrustful politicians fear?\nAh! rather let mankind rejoice over the magnanimous resolution of\nPius IX. It should be a solemn hope for those who believe, as\nwell as for those who have not the happiness of believing. If you\nhave the faith, you know that the spirit of God presides over\nsuch councils. Of course, since it will be composed of men, there\nmay be possible weaknesses in that assembly. But there will also\nbe devoted service to the church, great virtues, profound wisdom,\na pure and courageous zeal for the glory of God and the good of\nsouls, and an admirable spirit of charity; and, besides all this,\na divine and superior power. God will, as ever, accomplish his\nwork there.\n\n\"God,\" says F\u00e9n\u00e9lon, \"watches that the bishops may assemble when\nit is necessary, that they may be sufficiently instructed and\nattentive, and that no bad motive may induce those who are the\nguardians of the truth to make an untrue statement. There may be\nimproper opinions expressed in the course of the examination. But\nGod knows how to draw from them what he pleases. He leads them to\nhis own end, and the conclusion infallibly reaches the precise\npoint which God had intended.\"\n\nBut if one has the misfortune not to be a Christian and not to\nrecognize in the church the voice of God, from simply a human\npoint of view, can there be anything more worthy of sympathy and\nrespect than this great attempt of the Catholic Church to work,\nso far as it is in her power, for the enlightenment and peace of\nthe world?\n{18}\nAnd what can be more august and venerable than the assembly of\nseven or eight hundred bishops, coming from Europe, Asia, Africa,\nthe two Americas, and the most distant islands of Oceanica? Their\nage, their virtue, and their science make them the most worthy\ndelegates from the countries in which they dwell, and the\nrecognized representatives of men of the entire globe with whom\nthey come in contact every day of their lives. It is a real\nsenate of mankind, seen nowhere but at Rome. And although our\nmind should be filled with the most unjust prejudices, what\nconspiracy, what excess, what manifestation of party feeling need\nbe feared from a meeting of old men coming from very different\nparts of the earth, almost every one a complete stranger to the\nothers, having no bond of sympathy but a common faith and a\ncommon virtue? Where will we find on earth a more perfect\nexpression, a more certain guarantee of wisdom, of wisdom even as\nmen understand it? I have ventured to say that modern times,\ndisgusted by experience with confidence in one man, have faith in\ntheir assemblies. But what gathering can present such a\ncollection of the intelligent and the independent, such diversity\nin such unity? Who are these bishops? Read their mottoes:\n\n  _\"In the name of the Lord!\"\n     \"I bring Peace!\"\n     \"I wish for Light!\"\n     \"I diffuse Charity!\"\n     \"I shrink not from Toil!\"\n     \"I serve God!\"\n     \"I know only Christ!\"\n     \"All things to all men!\"\n     \"Overcome Evil by Good!\"\n     \"Peace in Charity!\"_\n\nAs to themselves, they have lost their proper names. Their\nsignature is the name of a saint and the name of a city. Their\nown name is buried, like that of an architect, in the foundation\nstone of the building. Here are Babylon and Jerusalem; New York\nand Westminster; Ephesus and Antioch; Carthage and Sidon; Munich\nand Dublin; Paris and Pekin; Vienna and Lima; Toledo and Malines;\nCologne and Mayence. And added to this, they are called Peter,\nPaul, John, Francis, Vincent, Augustin, and Dominic; names of\ngreat men who have established or enlightened various nations\nthat profess Christianity, They do not bear the names of the past\nand present only, they also bear those of the future. One comes\nfrom the Red River, another from Dahomey, others from Natal,\nVictoria, Oregon, and Saigon. We are working for the future,\nalthough we are called men of the past. We are working for\ncountries which to-day cannot boast a single city, and for people\nwho are without a name. We go farther than science, even beyond\ncommerce itself, until we find ourselves alone and beyond them\nall. When we cannot precede your most adventurous travellers, we\ntread eagerly in their footsteps; and why? To make\nChristians--that is to say, to make men, to make nations. What\nthen do you fear? Why do you object to such a council when you\nentitle yourselves, with such proud confidence, the men of\nprogress and the heralds of the future?\n\nWill it be nations who are disturbed by the council? How can\nnations be menaced or betrayed by men who represent every nation\nof the civilized globe? The bishops love their countries; they\nlive in them by their own free choice, and for the defence of\ntheir faith. Will the bishops of Poland meet the bishops of\nIreland to plan the ruin of nations and the oppression of a\nfatherland? And is there a single French bishop, or one from\nEngland, or from any other country, who will yield to any one in\npatriotism, who does not claim to be as good a Frenchman, or\nEnglishman, or citizen, as any one of his fellow-countrymen?\n{19}\nIs our liberty placed in jeopardy? What can you fear from men\nwho, from the days of the Catacombs up to the massacre of the\nCarmelites, have established Christianity only at the sacrifice\nof their life, and whose blood flowed freely in the days that\nliberty and the church suffered the same persecution? Will the\nbishops of America join those from Belgium and Holland in a\nconspiracy against liberty? Will the bishops from the East unite\nwith the bishops of France, and so may other European countries,\nin sounding the praises of despotism?\n\nNo, no; there is nothing true in all these fears; they would be\nonly silly phantoms were it not that they are the result of a\nhatred which foresees the good which will be done, and wishes to\nprevent it. What will the council do? I cannot say; God alone\nknows it at this hour. But I can say that it is a council,\nbecause eighteen centuries of Christianity and civilization know\nand affirm it; a council, hence it is the most worthy\nexemplification of moral force, it is the noblest alliance of\nauthority and liberty that the human mind can conceive; and I may\nboldly assert that it never would have conceived it by its own\npower.\n\nI am not going to mark out the limits of liberty and power. I do\nnot intend now to show the characteristics of schism and heresy,\nof English or German Protestantism, or of the false orthodoxy of\nRussia. I will say only one word, and then proceed to make my\nconclusions. It is this. If the Christian churches wish to become\nagain sisters, and if men wish to become brothers, they can never\ndo it more certainly, more magnificently, or more tenderly than\nin a council, under the auspices and in the breast of that church\nwhich is their true mother.\n\nDo you imagine that you discover different opinions in the\nchurch, and make this an obstacle? I would have the right to be\nastonished at your solicitude, but I will suppose you to be\nsincere, and I answer, You know very little about the church, Her\nenemies daily declare that our faith is a galling yoke, which\nholds us down and prevents us from thinking. And therefore, when\nthey see that we do think, they are perfectly amazed. This is one\nof the conditions of the church's life, and the greatest amount\nof earnest thinking is always within her fold. It is true that we\nhave an unchanging creed, that we are not like the philosophers\noutside of the church, who do little more than seek a doctrine,\nand endlessly begin again their searches. They are always calling\neverything in question, they are continually moving, but never\nreach any known destination. With us there are certain\nestablished definite points, about which we no longer dispute.\nAnd thus it is that the church has an immovable foundation, and\nis not built entirely in the air. Yet liberty also has its place\nin the church, Our anchors are strong and our view is unlimited;\nfor beyond those doctrines which are defined there is an immense\nspace. Even in dogma the Christian mind has yet a magnificent\nwork to accomplish, which can be followed for ever, because, as I\nhave already said, our dogmas, like God, have infinite depths,\nand Christian intelligence can always draw from them, but never\ndrain them.\n\nNo one should therefore be astonished to see that Catholics argue\nabout questions not included within the definitions of faith,\nmany of which are difficult and complex, and which modern\npolemics has only made more obscure.\n{20}\nThe spirit of Christianity was long ago defined by St. Augustine\nin these memorable words: _In necessary things unity, in\ndoubtful things liberty, in all things charity_. The course of\ncenturies has changed nothing. Besides, I have before said, and I\nnow repeat, that the council, precisely because it is\necumenical--that is, composed of representatives from all the\nchurches in the world--bishops living under every political\nsystem and every variety of social customs--excludes necessarily\nthe predominance of any particular school of a narrow and\nnational spirit and of local prejudices. It will be the great\ncatholic spirit, and not such and such particular notions, which\nwill inspire its decisions; and whatever may happen to be the\npeculiar ideas of different schools or parties, the council will\nbe the true light and unity. There will be complete liberty left\nin regard to all things not defined. But these definitions will\nbe the Catholic rule of faith, and they should not disturb any\none in advance. Again, they threaten nothing which is dear to\nyou, men of this age, they threaten only error and injustice,\nwhich are your enemies as well as ours. If you wish to know the\nreal opinions of this magnanimous pontiff, who is the object of\nso many odious and ungrateful calumnies, and of the bishops, his\nsons and his brothers; if you wish to conjecture the spirit of\nthe future council, you will find it completely stated in these\nfew words of Pius IX., which were addressed to some Catholic\npublicists, scarcely a year ago, and which have been inscribed on\ntheir standard as a sacred motto: \"Christian charity alone can\nprepare the way for that liberty, fraternity, and progress which\nsouls now ardently desire.\"\n\nI cannot repeat too often, and you, my brethren of the holy\nministry, cannot repeat too often, that great is the mistake of\nthose who denounce the future council as a menace or a work of\nwar. We live in a time in which we are condemned to listen to\nall. But nevertheless we are not bound to believe all. When, a\nyear ago, the Pope announced to the bishops assembled in Rome his\ndetermination to convoke an ecumenical council, what did the\nbishops of the whole world see in this? A great work of\nillumination and pacification--these are the precise words of\ntheir address. The papal bull uses the same language. In this\necumenical council, what does the Pope ask his brothers, the\nbishops, to examine, to investigate with all possible care, and\nto decide with him? Before everything else, it is that which\nrelates to the peace of all and to universal concord.\n\nAnd when I read the bull carefully, what do I see on every page\nand in each line? The expression of solicitude well worthy the\nfather of souls, and not less for civil society than for the\nchurch. He never separates them. He is careful always to say that\ntheir evils and their perils are mutual. The same tempest beats\nthem both with the same waves. At this time, which is called a\nperiod of transition, religion and society are both passing\nthrough a formidable crisis. There are men to-day who would wish\nto destroy the church if they could; and who, at the same time,\nwould shake society from its very foundations. And it is for the\npurpose of bringing help to them both, and to avert the evils\nwhich menace them together, that the holy father has conceived\nthe idea of a council. The reason given by him to the bishops is\nprecisely to examine this critical situation, and suggest the\nremedy for this double wound.\n{21}\nThese are his words: \"It is necessary that our venerable\nbrothers, who feel and deplore as we do the critical situation of\nthe church and society, should strive with us and with all their\npower to avert from the church and society, by God's help, all\nthe evils which are afflicting them.\"\n\nIt has been told that the Pope wished to break off friendly\nrelations with modern society, to condemn and proscribe it, to\ngive it as much trouble as lies within his power. Yet never have\nthe trials which you endure, Christian nations, more sadly moved\nthe head of the church, never has his soul poured forth more\nsympathetic accents, than for your perils and your sorrows. And\nit has been noticed by every one, pillaged of three-fourth of his\nlittle territory, reduced to Rome and its surrounding country,\nplaced between the dangers of yesterday and those of to-morrow,\nsuspended, as it were, over a precipice, the Pope seems never to\nthink of these things; he does not seek to defend his menaced\nthrone; not a sentence, not a single word, about his own\ninterests; no, in the bull of convocation the temporal prince is\nforgotten and is silent--the pontiff alone has spoken to the\nworld.\n\n\n                 VII\n\n  The Council And The Separated  Churches\n\nBut all has not yet been said, Other hopes may be conceived of\nthe future council. We delight in anticipating other great\nresults. The letters of the Holy Father to the Eastern bishops\nand to our separated Protestant brethren give us good ground for\nhope.\n\nAt two fatal epochs in the history of the world, two great\ndivisions have been made in this empire of souls which we call\nthe church--twice has the seamless robe of Christ been rent by\nschism and heresy. These are the two great misfortunes of\nmankind, and the two most potent causes which have retarded the\nworld's progress. Who does not admit this? If the old Greek\nempire had not so sadly broken with the West, it would have never\nbeen the prey of Islamism, which has so deeply degraded it, and\nwhich even now holds it under an iron yoke. Nor would it have\ndrawn into its schism another vast empire, in whose breast\nseventy millions of souls groan beneath a despotism which is both\npolitical and religious.\n\nAnd who can say what the Christian people of Europe would be\ntoday, were it not for Lutheranism, Calvinism, and so many other\ndivisions? These unhappy separations have made Christianity lose\nits active power in retaining many souls in the light of divine\nrevelation which have since been wrested from it by incredulity.\nAnd who can tell us how much they have retarded the diffusion of\nthe gospel in heathen countries?\n\nSorrowful fact! There are even now millions of men upon whom the\nlight of the gospel has never shone, and who remain sunken in the\nshadows of infidelity. Think of the poor pagans on the shores of\ndistant isles! They are vaguely expecting a Saviour; they stretch\ntheir arms toward the true God; they cry out by the voice of\ntheir miseries and their sufferings for light, truth, salvation,\nEighteen centuries ago, Jesus Christ came to bring these good\ntidings to the world, and spoke these great words to his\napostles, \"Preach the gospel to every creature!\" The church alone\nhas apostles of Jesus Christ, emulators of that Peter and Paul\nwho landed one day upon the coast of Italy to preach the same\ngospel to our fathers and to die together for the\nsame faith.\n\n{22}\n\nBut poor Indians! poor Japanese! Following the apostles of the\nCatholic Church sent by the successor of him to whom Jesus Christ\nsaid, \"Thou art Peter, and on this rock I will build my church,\"\nwe see other missionaries who come to oppose them. But who sends\nthem? Is it Jesus Christ? What, then, is Christ, as St. Paul\nasked of the dissidents of the first century, divided? Is not\nthis, I ask you, a dreadful misfortune for the poor infidels? And\nis it not enough to make every Christian shed tears?\n\nAnd union, if it were only possible, (and why should it not be,\nsince it is the wish of our Saviour)--union, especially because\nnow the way is open and distance has almost vanished, would it\nnot be a great and happy step toward that evangelization of every\ncreature which Jesus charged his apostles and their successors to\nbegin when he had left the earth?\n\nYes, every soul in which the spirit of Jesus dwells should feel\nwithin a martyrdom when it considers these divisions, and repeat\nto heaven the prayer of our Saviour and the cry for unity, \"My\nFather, that they may be all one, as you and I are one.\" This is\nthe great consideration which influenced the head of the Catholic\nChurch when, forgetting his own dangers, and moved by this care\nfor all the churches which weighs so heavily upon him, he\nconvoked an ecumenical council. He turns toward the East and to\nthe West, and addresses to all the separated communions a word of\npeace, a generous call for unity. Whatever may be the way in\nwhich his appeal is received, who does not recognize, in this\nmost earnest effort for the union of all Christians, a thought\nfrom heaven, inspired by Him who willed that his Church should be\none, and who said, as the Holy Father has been pleased to recall,\n\"It is by this that you will be known to be my disciples\"?\n\nBut will our brethren of the East and West respond to this\nthought, this wish? The East! Who is not moved before this cradle\nof the ancient faith, from whence the light has come to us? I saw\nthe Catholic bishops of the East trembling with joy at the\nannouncement of the future council, and expecting their churches\nto awake to a new life and to a fruitful activity. But will the\nEastern churches refuse to hear these \"words of peace and\ncharity\" that the Holy Father has lately addressed to them \"from\nthe depths of his heart\"? [Footnote 10] And why should they be\ndeaf to this appeal? For what antiquated or chimerical fears? Who\nhas not recognized and been deeply touched by the goodness of the\npontiff? How delicately, and with what accents of particular\ntenderness, does the Holy Father speak of our Oriental brethren,\nwho, in the midst of Mohammedan Asia, \"recognize and adore, even\nas we do, our Lord Jesus Christ,\" and who, \"redeemed by his most\nprecious blood, have been added to his church!\" What\nconsideration does he manifest for these ancient churches, to-day\nso unfortunately detached from the centre of unity, but who\nformerly \"showed so much lustre by their sanctity and their\ncelestial doctrine, and produced abundant fruits for the glory of\nGod and the salvation of souls!\" [Footnote 11]\n\n    [Footnote 10: Apostolic Letter of Pius IX., September 8th,\n    1868.]\n\n    [Footnote 11: _ibidem_.]\n\nAnd, at the same time, we must admire his gentleness, his\nforgetfulness of all his irritating grievances. The Holy Father\nspeaks only of peace and charity.\n{23}\nHe asks only one thing, and that is, that \"the old laws of love\nshould be renewed, and the peace of our fathers, that salutary\nand heavenly gift of Christ, which for so long a time has\ndisappeared, may be firmly re-established; that the pure light of\nthis long-desired union may appear to all after the clouds of\nsuch a wearisome sorrow, and the sombre and sad obscurity of such\nlong dissensions.\" [Footnote 12]\n\n    [Footnote 12: _Ibidem_.]\n\nBut let the Eastern bishops know that this deep longing for peace\nand union is not found in the heart of the Holy Father alone; the\nbishops and all the Christians of the West, how can they help\ndesiring this most happy event? Can there be any good gained in\nkeeping the robe of Christ torn asunder? And what--I ask it in\ncharity and for information--what can the churches of the old\nOrient gain by not communicating with those of the entire\nuniverse? Who prevents them? Are we yet in the time of the\nmetaphysical subtleties and cavils of the Lower Empire?\n\nI have already alluded to the infidel nations. Let my brethren,\nthe Eastern bishops, permit me to recall to them what is at this\nmoment the state of the entire world and the situation of the\nchurch of Christ in all its various parts. If in every time the\nchurch of Christ has had to struggle, is she not now more than\never before resisted and fought against? Is not the spirit of\nrevolution--and, unfortunately, it is an impious one--rising\nagainst her on every side? And you, Eastern churches, whether you\nare united or not, have you not also your dangers? Is not your\nspiritual liberty unceasingly threatened? Is not Christianity\nwith you surrounded by determined enemies--at your right, at your\nleft, on every side? And will not the storm of impiety which now\ndisturbs Europe, since distance is no more an obstacle, burst\nupon Asia, and will not the Christian races of the East become\ncontaminated by the repeated efforts of an irreligious press?\n\nIn such a critical situation, when every danger is directed\nagainst the church of Jesus Christ by the misfortunes of the\ntime, the first need of all Christians is to put an end to\ndivision which enfeebles, and to seek in reconciliation and peace\nthat union which is strength. What bishop, what true Christian,\nwill meditate upon these things, and then say, \"No, division is a\ngood; union would be an evil\"? On the contrary, who does not see\nthat union, the return to unity, is the certain good of souls,\nthe manifest will of God, and will be the salvation of your\nchurches? What follows from this? Can there be any personal\nconsiderations, any human motives whatsoever, superior to these\ngreat interests and these grave obligations? Your fathers, those\nillustrious doctors, Athanasius, Gregory of Nazianzen, Basil,\nCyril, Chrysostom, did not find it hard to bend their glorious\nbrows before him whom they call \"the firm and solid rock on which\nthe Saviour has built his church.\" [Footnote 13] If they were\nliving to-day, would they not, as Christians, and most nobly,\ntoo, trample upon an independence which is not according to\nChrist, but which is merely the suggestion of a blind pride? If\npast centuries have committed faults, do you wish to make them\neternal?\n\n    [Footnote 13: _Ibidem_; words of St. Gregory of\n    Nazianzen, quoted by the Holy Father.]\n\nBut the time, if you will hear its lessons, will bring before\nyour mind the gravest duties. You who are surrounded on one side\nby despotism, and on the other by Mohammedanism, surely, you\ncannot fail to feel the peril of isolation, and the fatal\nconsequences of disunion.\n\n{24}\n\nMay God preserve me from uttering a word which can be, even in\nthe most remote way, painful to you; for I come to you at this\nmoment with all the charity of Jesus Christ.\n\nIndeed, whether I think of those unhappy races whose souls and\nwhose country have become sterile under the yoke of the religion\nof Mohammed, or whether I turn my eye toward those great masses\nof Russians, grave in their manners, religious, who have remained\nin the faith, notwithstanding the degradation of their churches,\nand notwithstanding the supremacy of a czar whose pretended\northodoxy has never inspired even the least pity and justice for\nPoland! equally do I feel the depths of my soul moved to pray for\nthose many nations who are worthy of our interest and our sincere\ncompassion. O separated brothers of the East!--Greeks, Syrians,\nArmenians, Chaldeans, Bulgarians, Russians, and Sclavonians, all\nwhom I cannot call by name--see the Catholic Church is coming\ntoward you, she stretches out her arms to embrace you! O\nbrothers! come!\n\nShe is going to assemble, as the whole church, from all parts of\nthe civilized world. From our West, from your East, from the New\nWorld, also, and from far distant islands, her bishops are now\nhastening to answer the call of the supreme chief, to meet at\nRome, the centre of unity. But ah! she does not wish to assemble\nher council without your presence, O brothers! come!\n\nThis is one of those solemn and infrequent occasions which will\ntake centuries before its equal is seen. The church offers peace.\n\"With all our strength we pray you, we urge you, to come to this\nGeneral Council, as your ancestors came to the Council of Lyons\nand the Council of Florence, in order to renew union and peace.\"\n[Footnote 14] But, On your Side, will you refuse to take a single\nstep toward us, and allow this most favorable opportunity to\nescape? Who will venture to take this formidable responsibility\nupon himself? O brothers! come!\n\n  [Footnote 14: Ibidem.]\n\nThe heart of the church of Jesus Christ does not change; but the\ntimes change, and the causes which have, unhappily, made the\nefforts of our fathers fail, now, thank God, no longer exist.\nThen I say to you all, O brothers! come!\n\nIn regard to ourselves, we are full of hope; and, whatever may be\nthe resistance that the first surprise, or perhaps old\nprejudices, have made, everything seems to us to be ready for a\nreturn. \"Rome,\" said Bossuet, in former times--\"Rome never ceases\nto cry to even the most distant people, that she may invite them\nto the banquet, where all are made one; and see how the East\ntrembles at her maternal voice, and appears to wish to give birth\nto a new Christianity!\"\n\nO God! would that we could see this spectacle! What joy would it\nbe for thy church on earth, in the midst of so many rude combats,\nand such bitter affliction! What joy for the church in heaven!\nAnd what joy, churches of the East, for your doctors and your\nsaints, \"when from the height of heaven they see union\nestablished with the apostolic see, centre of catholic truth and\nunity; a union that, during their life here below, they labored\nto promote, to teach by all their studies, and by their\nindefatigable labors, by their doctrine and their example,\ninflamed as they were with the charity poured into their hearts\nby the Holy Spirit, for Him who has reconciled and purchased\npeace at the price of his blood; who wished that peace should be\nthe mark of his disciples, and who made this prayer to his\nFather, 'May they be one as we are one.'\" [Footnote 15]\n\n    [Footnote 15: _Ibidem_. Unity will be the eternal\n    characteristic of the true church. Every question concerning\n    the church is reduced finally to this question, _Where is\n    unity?_]\n\n{25}\n\nOh! then, listen to the language of the church, the true church\nof Jesus Christ, who alone, among all Christian societies, raises\na maternal voice, and demands again all her children, because she\nis their true mother! This is the reason why the Sovereign\nPontiff, after he has spoken to the separated East, turns toward\nother Christian yet not catholic communions, and addresses to all\nour brothers of Protestantism the same urgent appeal.\n\nProtestantism! \"Ah!\" exclaimed Bossuet, in his ardent love, in\nhis zealous wish for unity, \"our heart beats at this name, and\nthe church, always a mother, can never, when she remembers it,\nrepress her sighs and her desires.\" These are sighs and desires\nwhich we have heard from the Holy Father in an apostolic letter\nwritten a few days after the Brief addressed to the Eastern\nbishops, to \"all Protestants and other non-Catholics,\" and in\nwhich he deplores the misfortunes of separation, and shows the\ngreat advantage of the unity desired by our Lord. \"He exhorts, he\nbegs all Christians separated from him to return to the cradle of\nJesus Christ. ... In all our prayers and supplications we do not\ncease to humbly ask for them, both day and night, light from\nheaven, and abundant grace from the eternal Pastor of souls, and\nwith open arms we are waiting for the return of our wandering\nchildren.\" [Footnote 16]\n\n    [Footnote 16: Apostolic Letters of September 13th, 1868.]\n\nSee, then, what the Holy Father says, and, together with him, the\nwhole church. Shall we hope and pray always in vain? Will the\nwork of returning be as difficult as many think it? I know that\nprejudices are yet deep; and the difficulty that the work of\ntardy justice meets with in England is one proof among others;\nbut it is the business of a council to explain misunderstandings,\nand, by appeasing the passions, prepare the mind to return to the\nchurch. And, should any one be tempted to think me deluded, I\nwill answer that among those of our separated brethren who are\nnot carried away by the sad current of rationalism, there is a\ndaily increasing number who regret the loss of unity. I affirm\nthat this is true of America, that it is true of England, I will\nanswer, too, that more than once I have been made the recipient\nof grief-stricken confidence, and heard from suffering hearts the\nlonging desire for the day in which will be fulfilled the words\nof the Master, \"There shall be one fold and one shepherd.\" Will\nthis day never come? Are divisions necessary? And why should we\nnot be the ones destined to see the days predicted and hailed\nwith joy by Bossuet? Here, undoubtedly, the dogmatic objections\nare serious. But they will disappear, if the gravest difficulty\nof all, in my opinion, is removed; and that difficulty is the\nnegation of all doctrinal authority in the church, that absolute\nliberty of examination, which, willingly or unwillingly, is\ncertain to be confounded with the principles of rationalism. It\nis for this reason that Protestantism bears in its breast the\noriginal sin of a radical inconsistency, which is lamented by the\nmost vigorous and enlightened minds of their communion. And it is\nupon this that we rely, at least for numerous individual\nconversions, and, by God's grace, perhaps for the reconciliation\nof a large number.\n\nIf this essential point is solved--and the solution is not\ndifficult to simple good sense and courageous faith--all the rest\nwill become easy. Reason says, with self-evident truth, that\nJesus Christ did not intend to found his church without this\nessential principle of stability and unity.\n{26}\nHe did not propose to found a religion incapable of living and\nperpetuating itself, abandoned to the caprice of individual\ninterpretations. This is so clear of itself that it does not need\nto be supported by any text of the Bible.\n\nBut there are texts which, to persons of candid mind, and without\nany great argument, are equally convincing. I will repeat only\nthree; the first, \"Thou art Peter,\" the primacy of St. Peter and\nthe head of the church; the second, \"This is my body,\" the most\nblessed sacrament; the third, \"Behold thy mother,\" behold your\nmother, the Blessed Virgin, Are you able to efface these three\nsentences from the Gospel? Have you meditated upon them\nsufficiently, and upon many others which are not less decisive?\nThen from the Bible pass to history, and from texts to facts.\n\nDo not facts tell you plainly that the living element of complete\nChristianity is wanting in you? For, on the one hand, you have\nhad time to understand thoroughly the authors of rupture; and, on\nthe other, you are now able to consider its results. For three\ncenturies you have been reading the Bible; for three centuries\nyou have been studying history. Have not these three\ncenturies taught you a new and solemn lesson? The principle of\nProtestantism, by developing, has borne its fruits; and the\npredictions of catholic doctors in ancient controversies are\nrealized every day beneath your eyes. Contemporaneous\nProtestantism is more and more rapidly dissolving into\nrationalism; many of her ministers acknowledge that they have no\nlonger any supernatural faith; and recently a cry of alarm,\nproceeding from her bosom, has resounded even in our political\nassemblies. But a cry lost in the air! Dissolution will go on,\nnotwithstanding noble efforts and Christian resistance, always\nincreasing and ruining more thoroughly this incomplete\nChristianity, which needs the essential power that preserves and\nmaintains, and which is nothing else than authority. To lose\nChristianity in pure sophistry, this is the tendency of modern\nProtestants, whether they are willing to admit it or not. But\ngood may come from an excess of evil, And what is more calculated\nto enlighten many deceived but well-meaning souls concerning the\nradical fault of Protestantism than this spectacle of\ndisintegration by the side of the powerful unity of the Catholic\nChurch, and the council which is going to be its living\nmanifestation?\n\nThere is another hope, little in accordance with human\nprobabilities, I know, but which my faith in the Divine mercy\ndoes not forbid me to entertain, and that is, that even the Jews\nthemselves, the children of Israel, who, associating with us,\nlead to-day the same kind of social life, will feel something\ntouch their hearts and bring them, docile at last, to the voice\nof St. Paul, to the fold of the church. In the Jews, indeed, so\nlong and so evidently punished, I cannot help recognizing my\nancestors in the faith; the children of Moses, the countrymen of\nJoseph and Mary, of Peter and Paul, and of whom it is written,\nthat they \"who are Israelites, to whom belongeth the adoption as\nof children, and the glory and the testament, and the giving of\nthe law and the service of God and the promises: whose are the\nfathers, and of whom is Christ, according to the flesh, who is\nover all things, God blessed for ever, Amen.\" [Footnote 17] I beg\nthem, therefore, to believe in Him whom they are yet expecting; I\nbeg them to believe eighteen hundred years of history; for\nhistory, like a fifth gospel, proves the coming and divinity\nof the Messiah.\n\n    [Footnote 17: Romans ix. 4, 5.]\n\n{27}\n\nDo not feel astonished, then, to see me full of compassion for\nProtestant, Greek, and Jew, while I am accused of being severe\ntoward the abettors of modern scepticism. I recognize the\ndifference between errors which are nearly finished, and errors\nwhich are just beginning; between responsible and guilty authors\nwho knowingly spread false doctrines, and their innocent victims,\nwho, after centuries, still cling to them. How can I help being\nmoved to tears when I see the people of my country, its mechanics\nand its farmers, so industrious and so worthy of sympathy, young\nmen of our schools, whose active minds call for the truth, both\nfall, almost before they are aware of it, into the hands of\nteachers of error? When the reawakening of faith was so\nperceptible a few years ago, and a decisive progress toward good\nseemed to be accomplished, how quickly did the shadows gather\naround us; dismal precipices opened beneath our feet, the breath\nof an impious science and violent press became most potent, and\nthe beautiful bark of faith and French prosperity seemed ready to\nsink before she had fairly left her port! Ah! I do, indeed,\nexecrate the authors of that cruel wreck, while I feel myself\nfull of pity for the many sincere souls I see among our separated\nbrethren, living in error, it is true, but they have never made\nerror live! With warmth I extend to such captive souls a friendly\nhand. Let them come back to the church; for she it is who guards\nJesus Christ, the God of the whole truth, and invites them to\nthis great banquet of the Father of the family, where, as Bossuet\nhas well said, \"all are made one.\"\n\nMay the coming council, in its work of enlightenment and\npacification, reconcile to us many souls who are already ours by\ntheir sincerity, their virtue, and, as I know of many, even by\ntheir desires. Let, at least, this be the heartfelt wish of every\nCatholic! Yes, let us open our hearts with more warmth than ever\nto these beloved brethren; let us wish--it is the desire of the\nHoly Father--that the future council may be a powerful and happy\neffort, and let us repeat unceasingly to heaven the prayer of the\nMaster, \"May they be one, as we are one.\"\n\n\n           VIII.\n\n    The Catholic Church.\n\nAnd you, whom the duties of my position compel me to address\npersistently--in time and out of time, says St. Paul--adversaries\nof my faith, though I speak to you with austere words upon my\nlips, still know that it is with charity in my heart toward you\nall, whether philosophers, Protestants, or indifferent to all\nreligion, yea, I would wish my voice could reach the most\nwretched pagan lost in the shadow of the superstition which yet\ncovers half the globe. O brethren! I would that you could taste\nfor a single moment the deep peace that one feels who lives and\ndies in the arms of the church! Bear witness with me to this\npeace, my brethren of the priesthood, and every Christian of\nevery rank and of all ages! When one knows that he is surrounded\nby this light, assured by her promises, preceded by those sublime\ncreatures who are called saints, and whose glory in heaven the\nchurch of the earth salutes, bound by tradition to all the\nChristian centuries by the successors of the apostles, and\nfounded, at last, upon Jesus Christ, what joy! what a company!\nwhat power! and what repose in light and certainty!\n\n{28}\n\nI am firmly convinced, and each day brings forth a new proof,\nthat the enemies of the church do not really detest her. No; the\ndominant sentiment among our enemies is not always hatred. There\nis another feeling which they do not admit, which is far more\nfrequent among them, This is envy. Yes; they envy us; the\natheist, at the moment he is insulting a Christian, says secretly\nto himself, \"Oh! how happy he is!\"\n\nLet us not credit that which we hear said against the church,\nthat her majestic face has been for ever disfigured by calumny,\nand that henceforth men can only see in her a mistress of tyranny\nand ignorance. These violent prejudices certainly do have an\ninfluence; our faults and our enemies undertake the business of\npropagating them. But the church, in spite of this--and the\necumenical council will prove this again to the world--will not\nbe any less the church of Christ, \"without blemish and without\nspot,\" notwithstanding the imperfections of her children; and\nthere is not one among those that attack her who can tell us what\nevil the church has ever done to him. \"_My people, what have I\ndone to thee?_\"\n\nWhat evil! Citizens of town and country, you owe to the Catholic\nChurch the purity of your children, the fidelity of your wives,\nthe honesty of your neighbor, the justice of your laws, the gay\nfestival which breaks in upon the monotony of your daily lives,\nthe little picture which hangs upon your wall; and, more than\nthese, you owe her the sweet expectation which waits by the\ncemetery and the tomb! This is the evil she has done you--this\nenemy of the human race!\n\nAnd if you can raise your thought above yourself, above your own\ninterests, above your homes; if you allow your thoughts to soar\nhigher than the smoke which curls above your roofs, what a grand\nspectacle does the Catholic Church present! She is great and\ngood, even in the little history of our life--greater and far\nbetter does she appear in the history of the laborious\ndevelopments of human society. Inseparable companion of man upon\nthis earth, she struggles and she suffers with him; she has\nassisted, inspired, guided humanity in all its most painful and\nglorious transformations. It was she who made virtues, the very\nname of which was yet unknown, rise up from the midst of pagan\ncorruption; and souls, so pure, so noble, so elevated, that the\nworld still falls upon its knees before them.\n\nIt was she who tamed and transformed barbarians; and who, during\nthe long and perilous birth of modern races in the middle ages,\nhas courageously fought the evil, and presided over all progress.\nAnd it must be again the Catholic Church which will help modern\nsociety to disengage from the midst of its confused elements that\nwhich disturbs its peace, the principles of life from the germs\nof death, by maintaining firmly those truths which alone can save\nit.\n\nAh! we do not know the Catholic Church well enough. We live\nwithin her fold, we are a part of her, and yet we do not\nunderstand her. We ignore both what she was and what she is in\nthe world, and the mission God has given her, and the living\nforces, the divine privileges, bestowed upon her, so that she may\naccomplish eternally her task upon the earth, to maintain\nimmutably here below truth and goodness, and to remain for ever,\nas an apostle said of her, \"_the pillar and the ground of\ntruth_.\"\n\nSurely, we never hear it made a matter of reproach that a pillar\nremains unchanged; what would become of the edifice, if the\npillar were to leave its place?\n{29}\nWhy, then, reproach the church for being immovable, and why is\nnot this immobility salutary for you? What will you do when there\nare tremblings in regard to the truth like the trembling of the\nearth? While you must disperse, we are uniting. What you are\nlosing, we are defending. We can say to modern doctrines, \"We\nknew you at Alexandria and at Athens; both you, your mothers,\nyour daughters, and your allies.\" The church can say to the\nnations, when the Pope has gathered their ambassadors: \"France,\nthou hast been formed by my bishops; thy cities and their streets\nbear their names! England, who has made thee, and why wert thou\nonce called the isle of saints? Germany, thou hast entered into\nthe civilization of the West by my envoy, St. Boniface. Russia,\nwhere wouldst thou now be, were it not for my Cyril and my\nMethodius? Kings, I have known your ancestors. Before Hapsburg,\nor Bourbon, or Romanoff, or Brunswick, or Hohenzollern--before\nBonaparte or Carignan, I was old; for I have seen the Caesars and\nthe Antonies die; to-morrow I will be, for I am ever the same. Do\nyou answer that it will be without money, without dwelling,\nwithout power? It may be so, for I have endured these proofs a\nhundred times, always ready to address to nations the little\nsentence Jesus once spoke to Zaccheus, 'This day I must abide in\nthy house.' If I leave Rome, I will go to London, to Paris, or to\nNew York.\" It is only of the church and of the sun that it can be\nsaid that to-morrow they will certainly rise; and this is the\nreason that the church, in the midst of the disturbances of the\npresent time, boldly announces her council.\n\nAdmirable spectacle, that our century would wish not to admire,\nbut whose grandeur it is forced to acknowledge. Yes, many a\nwearied eye rests with irresistible emotion upon this stately\npillar, standing alone in the midst of the ruins of the past and\nof the actual destruction of all human greatness. The indifferent\nfeel troubled, surprised, attracted at the sight of the church\ntestifying her immortal power by this great act; and after they\nhave exhausted all their doctrines, they are tempted to exclaim\nto the Supreme Pontiff that which Peter, the first pontiff, once\nsaid to Jesus, \"Master, to whom shall we go? you have the words\nof eternal life.\"\n\nHear the words of life, you who doubt, who search, who suffer!\nHear them also, you who triumph, who rejoice, who lord it over\nyour fellowman! Hear the words that the church calls her little\nchildren to repeat at every rising of the sun: _Credo_, I\nbelieve! I believe in one God, the Creator. See, _savants_,\nhere is the answer to your uncertainties. _Credo_, I\nbelieve! I believe in a Saviour of the world who has consecrated\npurity by his birth, confounded pride by his precepts, rebuked\ninjustice by his sufferings, and proved his divinity and\nimmortality by his resurrection, I believe in Jesus Christ! See\nin him, poor, afflicted humanity, poor, oppressed people, an\nanswer to your despair. _Credo_, I believe! I believe in the\nHoly Ghost, in the Holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints,\nthe forgiveness of sins, in the judgment, and in a life of\neverlasting happiness to those who have fought the good battle.\nSee in our creed, O Protestants and philosophers! so divided in\nyour affirmations, so narrow in your hopes, the response to your\ndisputes. See in it, oppressive monarch, the answer to your\niniquities! And see, also, O pitiless death! the answer to your\nterrors.\n\n{30}\n\nTo love, to hope, to believe! Everything is contained in these\nwords; and it is the church who alone can preserve in unshaken\nmajesty and in the universal truth this _Credo_, that the\nnineteenth century, now in the dawn of the twentieth, is going to\nrepeat with the two hundred and sixty-second successor of the\nfisherman Peter, first apostle of Jesus Christ.\n\nBut, brothers, let us cease speaking; let us cease disputing, let\nus cease fearing, let us bend the knee and pray!\n\nO God! who knows the secret of your Providence, and who knows the\nwonders which the church will yet display to the world, if men's\nfaults and their passion do not retard her? If religion and\nsociety, leaning one upon the other, should advance, with mutual\nconcord, on their blessed course, what great steps would there be\ntoward the establishment of your reign upon the earth, toward the\nprogress of nations, toward liberty by the way of truth, toward\nthe real fraternity of men, toward the extinction of revolution\nand of war, toward the peace of the world. Then a new era would\nopen before us, and a new great century appear in history. Let us\nthrow open our souls to these hopes; let us beg these blessings\nof God, and let us foresee possible misfortunes only to prevent\nthem. Let it be known at least that Catholics are not men of\ndiscouragement, of dark predictions, or of peevish menaces; but\nmen of charity, of noble hopes, of peaceful effort, and, at the\nsame time, of generous struggle.\n\nLet us invoke St. Peter and St. Paul; let us invoke the Virgin\nMary, Mother of Jesus, the honor and the heavenly guardian of the\nrace of man; and, united to the souls of all the saints, let us\npray to the adorable Trinity reigning in heaven!\n\nLet us pray that the council may be able to fulfill its task;\nthat the Christian world will not repel this great effort which\nthe church is making to help them; that light may find its way\ninto their minds, and that their hearts may be softened! That\nmisunderstandings may be explained, prejudices removed; that\nunreasonable fears may disappear, and that Christianity, and\nconsequently civilization, may flourish with a new and more\nvigorous youth. May the return to the church, so much desired and\nso necessary, take place!\n\nLet us pray for the monarchs of the world, that the wish and\nformal request that the Holy Father made them in his letter may\nbe granted, May they cast aside all silly objections, and favor\nby the liberty they give the bishops the future assembly of the\nchurch, and let her council meet in peace.\n\nLet us pray, too, for their people, that they may understand the\nmaternal intentions of the church; and, closing their ears to\ncalumny, may hear with confidence and accept with docility the\nwords of their mother.\n\nLet us pray even for the avowed enemies of the church, that they\nmake a truce with their suspicions and their anger until the\nchurch has announced, in her council and under the inspiration of\nthe Holy Ghost, her decrees whose wisdom and charity can hardly\nfail to touch them.\n\nLet us pray for so many men of good faith, men of science,\nstatesmen, the heads of families, workmen, men of honor, whom the\nlight of Jesus Christ has not yet enlightened, that they may now\nreceive its beneficent rays.\n\nLet us pray that the anxious wishes of so many mothers, sisters,\nwives, and daughters, who, in obscurity, are maintaining purity\nand holiness in their families, often without being able to bring\nour holy faith there, may at length be heard.\n\n{31}\n\nLet us pray for the East and the West, that they may be\nreconciled; and for our separated brethren, that they may leave\nthe division which is destroying them, and answer the urgent\nappeal of the holy church, and come to throw themselves in those\narms which have been open to receive them for three centuries.\n\nLet us pray for the church, for her faithful children, and for\nher ministers, that each day may find them more pure, more holy,\nmore learned, more charitable; so that our faults may not be an\nobstacle to the reign of that God whose love we are appointed to\nmake known.\n\nLet us also pray for the Holy Father. Deign, O God! to preserve\nhim to your church, and enable this great pontiff, who has not\nfeared, even amid the troubles of the age, to undertake the\nlaborious work of a council, to see its happy issue! May he,\nafter so many trials, bravely borne, rejoice in the triumph of\nthe church, before he goes to receive in heaven the reward of his\nlabors and\nhis virtues!\n\n----------\n\n          Lent, 1869.\n\n\n              I.\n\n  We like sheep have gone astray,\n      Kyrie eleison!\n  Each his own misguided way,\n      Kyrie eleison!\n  Wandering farther, day by day,\n      Kyrie eleison!\n\n\n              II.\n\n  Shepherd kind, oh! lead us back;\n      Christe eleison!\n  Wrest us from our dangerous track,\n      Christe eleison!\n  Lest the wolves thy flock attack;\n      Christe eleison!\n\n\n             III.\n\n  Ope for us again thy fold,\n      Kyrie eleison!\n  Night approaches, drear and cold;\n      Kyrie eleison!\n  Death, perchance, and woes untold;\n      Kyrie eleison!\n\n                 Richard Storrs Willis.\n\n----------\n\n{32}\n\n\n    The Modern Street-ballads Of Ireland.\n\n\nThe home of the street-ballad, pure and simple, is in Ireland. It\nhas nearly vanished in England, destroyed by the penny newspaper,\nwhich contains five times as highly spiced food for the money. In\nIreland it still exists and supplies the place of the newspaper,\nnot only in appeals to the passion or reason, but as a general\nchronicle of every event of importance, local or national, Very\noften both are combined, and the leading article and the account\nof political insult will be run into rude rhyme together, and the\nstory of a murder be interspersed with reflections on its sin.\nThe quantity of ballads is, of course, enormous, and to expect\nthat any but a small portion should possess more poetry than a\nnewspaper article would be unreasonable. But all are not of this\nprosaic class, and some possess the genuine spirit of poetry\nunder their rude but often spirited diction.\n\nThe first question naturally asked is, Whence comes this enormous\nflood of ballads? Who are the poets who produce them on every\nimaginable subject, even the most verse-defying public meeting,\nor in praise of humblest of politicians? Like the immortal Smiths\nand Joneses, that make the thunder of the _Times_, their\nnames never appear, and though the ballad or the leading\narticle--and both have done so--may influence the fate of\nnations, it will bring to the author only his stipulated hire. At\npresent, the street-ballads of Ireland are mostly composed by the\nsingers themselves. In ancient days, the weavers and tailors and\nthe hedge-schoolmasters used to be a fruitful source of supply,\nthe sedentary occupations of the former being popularly supposed\nto foster the poetic talent, The latter class has vanished, and\nif here and there one exists, it is in the shape of a red-nosed,\nwhite-haired veteran, who is entertained in farmers' houses and\ncountry _shebeens_, in memory of his ancient glory, when\nsesquipedalian, long words and \"cute\" problems made him the\nmonarch of the parish next to the priest himself. However, the\nsinger of the ballad is, in most instances, the writer, who is\nonly anxious for a subject of interest on which to exercise his\nmuse, and generally turns out half-a-dozen verses of the\nestablished pattern in half an hour. This he takes to the\npublisher, who not only allows him no copyright, but does not\neven make a discount in the price of his stock in trade, for\nwhich he pays the same as his brother bards, who, finding his\nballad popular, will straightway strain their voices to it. But\nthen he has the same privilege with their productions, so that it\nis all right in the long run. The ballads are printed on the\ncoarsest of paper with the poorest of type, and generally with a\nworn-out woodcut of the most inappropriate description at the\nhead. Thus, for instance, I have one, where a portrait of Jerome\nBonaparte does duty over the \"Lamentation of Lawrence King for\nthe murder of Lieut. Clutterbuck.\"\n\nThe ballad-singers are of both sexes, and are very dilapidated\nspecimens. The tone in which they send their voices on the\nshuddering air is utterly indescribable--a sort of droning,\n_pillelu_ falsetto, at once outrageously comical and\nlugubrious. They sing everything in the same melancholy cadence,\nwhether lamentation or love-song. Very often, two, more\nespecially of women, will be together.\n{33}\nThe first will sing the first two lines of a quatrain alone, and\nthen the second will join in, and they rise to the height of\ndiscord together. Fair-days are their days of harvest, although\nin cities like Cork or Waterford they may be seen on every day\nexcept Sunday. A popular ballad will often have a very large\nsale, and will find its way all over the country.\n\nThe greater portion of ballads composed in this way are, of\ncourse, destitute of anything like poetry--mere pieces of\noutrageous metaphor and Malapropoian long words, for which last\nthe ballad-singers have a ridiculous fondness. The singers sing\nin a foreign language; they have lost the sweet tongue peculiarly\nfitted for improvised poetry, in which their predecessors the\nbards, down to the date of less than one hundred years ago, sang\nso sweetly and so strongly, with such dramatic diction and happy\nboldness of epithet. The language of the Saxon oppressor is from\nthe tongue, and not from the heart. As the mother of the late\nWilliam Carleton used to say, \"the Irish _melts into the\ntune_;\" the English doesn't, and so many of the finest of the\nancient melodies are now songs without words. \"Turlogh\nO'Carolan,\" \"Donogh MacConmara,\" and the \"Mangaire Sugach\" have\nnot left their successors among the \"English\" poets of the\npresent day. Among a people naturally so eloquent as the native\nIrish, not even the drapery of an incongruous language can\nentirely obscure the native vigor and strength of thought. A\nballad is sometime seen which, though often unequal and rude, is\nalive with impassioned poetry, fierce, melancholy, or tender, and\nit almost always becomes a general favorite, and is preserved\nbeyond its day to become a part of the standard stock. The songs\nof so genuine a poet as William Allingham, who is the only\ncultivated Irish poet who has had the taste and the spirit to\nreproduce in spirit and diction these wild flowers of song, have\nbeen printed on the half-penny ballad-sheets, and sung at the\nevening hearth and at the morning milking all over Ireland.\n\"Lovely Mary Donnelly\" and the \"Irish Girl's Lamentation\" have\nbecome, in truth, a part of the songs of the nation, touching\nalike the cultivated intellect and the untutored heart.\n\nThe street-ballads may be divided into five classes: patriotic,\nlove-songs, lamentations, eulogies, and chronicles.\n\nThe patriotic songs are disappointing. There are few to stir the\nheart like the war-notes of Scotland. The reason is obvious. The\ntriumphs were few and fleeting, and the song of the vanquished\nwas only of hope or despair. They must sing in secret and be\nsilent in the presence of the victors. In most of the political\nsongs allegory is largely used. Ireland is typified under the\nform of a lonely female in distress, or a venerable old lady, or\nsome other figure is used to disguise the meaning. Of course the\nstreet ballad-singers dare not sing anything seditious, and even\nthe whistling of the \"Wearing of the Green\" will call down the\nrebuke of the \"peeler.\" The ballads that express the hatred of\nthe people to their rulers are sung in stealth and are often\nunprinted. They are not usually the production of the hackneyed\nprofessional ballad-singers, and are consequently of a much\nhigher order. The following is a good specimen, It is entitled\n\n{34}\n\n     The Irishman's Farewell To His Country.\n\n  Oh! farewell, Ireland: I am going across the stormy main,\n  Where cruel strife will end my life, to see you never again.\n\n  'Twill break my heart from you to part; _acushla astore machree_.\n  But I must go, full of grief and woe, to the shores of America.\n\n  \"On Irish soil my fathers dwelt since the days of Brian Borue.\n  They paid their rent and lived content convenient to Carricmore.\n  But the landlord sent on the move my poor father and me.\n  We must leave our home far away to roam in the fields of America.\n\n  \"No more at the churchyard, _astore machree_,\n      at my mother's grave I'll kneel.\n  The tyrants know but little of the woe the poor man has to feel.\n  When I look on the spot of ground that is so dear to me,\n  I could curse the laws that have given me cause to depart to America.\n\n  \"Oh! where are the neighbors, kind and true, that\n      were once my country's pride?\n  No more will they be seen on the face of the green,\n      nor dance on the green hillside.\n  It is the stranger's cow that is grazing now,\n      where the people we used to see.\n  With notice they were served to be turned out or starved,\n      or banished to America.\n\n  \"O! Erin machree, must our children be exiled all over the earth?\n   Will they evermore think of you, _astore_,\n      as the land that gave them birth?\n   Must the Irish yield to the beasts of the field?\n      Oh! no--_acushla astore machree_.\n   They are crossing back in ships, with vengeance on their lips,\n      from the shores of America.\"\n\nThe songs which were in vogue among the young and enthusiastic\nFenians were, as might be supposed, of an entirely different\nnature. They were not peasants, but half-educated artisans. The\nproscribed _National Cork Songster_ contains probably more\nrant and fustian than any similar number of printed pages in\nexistence. The verses, of course, bear a family resemblance to\nthose that appeared in the _Nation_ for a couple of years\nprevious to the events of '48, and in many instances are\nreproductions. Those of a modern date are still more extravagant,\nif possible, than that deluge of enthusiastic pathos; for among\nthe _Nation_ poets were Thomas Davis and James Clarence\nMangan, while among those of the Fenians of 1866 there is but one\nthat deserves the slightest shred of laurel. Charles J. Kickham,\nnow under sentence of fourteen years' penal servitude in her\nBritannic Majesty's prisons, has written two or three pieces of\ngenuine ballad-poetry of great merit, which the people have at\nonce adopted as household songs. \"Rory of the Hill\" is of\nremarkable spirit. It begins:\n\n  \"That rake up near the rafters,\n     Why leave it there so long?\n   The handle of the best of ash\n     Is smooth and straight and strong.\n   And mother, will you tell me\n     Why did my father frown,\n   When to make hay in summer-time\n     I climbed to take it down?\n   She looked up to her husband's eyes,\n     While her own with light did fill,\n  'You'll shortly know the reason why,'\n     Said Rory of the Hill.\"\n\nThe love-songs, that are sung by the _colleens_ at the soft\ndewy dawn, as they sit beside the sleek cows just arisen from\nbeneath the hedge, the nimble finger streaming the white milk\ninto the foaming pail, while the lark's song melts down from that\nspeck beneath the cloud, and the blackbird and thrush warble with\necstasy in the hedge, the morning light shining across the dewy\ngreen fields; or at\n\n  \"Eve's pensive air,\"\n\nwhen the shadows are growing long, although the tops of the\nswelling uplands are bright, and the crows are winging home, and\nthe swallows darting in the still air; or, in the winter\nevenings, when the candles are lighted in the kitchen, and busy\nfingers draw the woof, while the foot beats time to the whirring\nwheel, are very numerous, and generally of a higher order of\nmerit than the patriotic songs. The pulses of the heart are freer\nand its utterance dearer in human love than in love of country.\nThe beauties in which the Irish girls excel all others--the\nblooming cheeks, and brilliant eyes, and wealth of flowing hair,\nare the main objects of compliment, and are often transformed\ninto personifications of endearment.\n{35}\n_Colleen_, the universal term for young maidens, seems but a\ncorruption of _coolleen_, which means a head of curls or\nabundant tresses. Grey and blue eyes are especially objects of\nendearment, and even in the ancient Irish poems,\n_green_-eyed is not unfrequently used, which is not so\nunnatural as the English reader may suppose, the Irish word\nexpressing the indefinable tint of some lighter blue eyes, being\nuntranslatable into English. [Footnote 18]\n\n    [Footnote 18: \"Sweet emerald eyes.\"--Massinger. \"How is that\n    young and green-eyed Gaditana?\" Longfellow's _Spanish\n    Student_.]\n\nAlthough the modern love-songs are inferior to those in the Irish\nlanguage, for the reason that has been mentioned, that English is\nnot yet the language of the Irish heart, they often possess a\nsimple power, and, though seldom sustained throughout, a touch of\nnature's genius, which the highest poet cannot reach with all his\nart. How exquisite is the following:\n\n  \"As Katty and I were discoursing,\n     She smiled upon me now and then,\n   Her apron string she kept foulding,\n     And twisting all round her ring.\"\n\nBits of poetry can be picked out of almost every love-ballad, as\nwitness the following:\n\n  \"My love is fairer than the lilies that do grow,\n   She has a voice that's clearer than any winds that blow.\"\n\n\n  \"With mild eyes like the dawn.\"\n\n\n  \"One pleasant evening, when pinks and daisies\n   Closed in their bosoms one drop of dew.\"\n\n\n  \"His hair shines gold revived by the sun,\n   And he takes his denomination from the _drien don_.\"\n\n\n  \"I wish I were a linnet, how I would sing and fly.\n   I wish I were a corn-crake, I'd sing till morning clear--\n   I'd sit and sing to Molly, for once I held her dear.\"\n\n\n  \"'Twas on a bright morning in summer,\n     That I first heard his voice speaking low,\n   As he said to the colleen beside me,\n     Who's that pretty girl milking her cow?\"\n\n\n  \"The hands of my love are more sunny and soft\n     Than the snowy sea foam.\"\n\n\n  \"My love will not come nigh me,\n     Nor hear the moan I make;\n   Neither would she pity me,\n     Though my poor heart should break.\"\n\nThere is not one, however, that would bear quoting entire, and\nnone that comes anywhere near the flowers of the ancient Irish\nlove-songs which are some of the finest in the world. The\nprincipal theme and delight of the ballad-singers are romantic\nepisodes, where a rich young nobleman courts a farmer's daughter\nin disguise, and, after marriage, reveals himself, his lineage,\nand his possessions to his bride; or where a noble lady falls in\nlove with a tight young serving-boy. Such a ballad will be as\ngreat a favorite among the _colleens_ as the novels of\nromantic love are said to be among milliners' apprentices. One\nthing is especially noticeable among the love-ballads, and that\nis the total absence not only of licentiousness, but even of\ncoarseness. The Irish peasant-girls at home are the most virtuous\nof their class in the world, owing to the influence of the\nconfessional, the strong feeling of family pride, and the custom\nof universal and early marriage. Not but there are unfortunates\nwho have made a \"slip;\" and when the ballad relates of such a\ntragedy, it shows of how deep effect is the scorn of the parish,\nand how wretched the fate of the unfortunate and her base-born\noffspring. The \"lamentations\" or confessions of condemned\ncriminals are highly popular. Premeditated murder is rare among\nthe Irish peasantry, in comparison with the records of ruffianism\namong the English laboring classes, and the interest excited by\nthe event is deeper, and extends to a larger space of local\ninfluence. These lamentations are the rhymed confessions of the\ncriminals, giving an account of the circumstances of the tragedy,\nsometimes in the third person, and sometimes in the first, always\nconcluding with a regret at the disgrace which the criminal has\nbrought on his relations, and imploring mercy for his soul.\n{36}\nThey are of unequal merit, and, as a whole, not equal to the\nlove-songs. Once in a while, there is a touch of untaught pathos;\nbut being without exception the production of the hackneyed\nwriters, they are as little worth preservation as the \"lives\" of\neminent murderers which supply their places among us.\n\nThe narrative ballads tell of every event of interest to Irish\nears, from Aspromonte to the glorious steeplechase at Namore; the\nburning of an emigrant ship, to a ploughing-match at Pilltown,\nthe same language being used for the one as the other. During the\nlate war in this country, every great battle was duly sung by the\nIrish minstrels. The sympathies of the peasantry were usually\nwith the majority of their kindred in the North, but not\nuniversally so. Thus does a bard give an account of the battle of\nNew Orleans, which would astonish General Butler:\n\n  \"To see the streets that evening,\n     the heart would rend with pain.\n   The human blood in rivers ran,\n     like any flood or stream.\n   Men's heads blown off their bodies,\n     most dismal for to see;\n   And wounded men did loudly cry\n     in pain and agony.\n   The Federals they did advance,\n     and broke in through the town.\n   They trampled dead and wounded\n     that lay upon the ground.\n   The wounded called for mercy,\n     but none they did receive--\"\n\nThe eulogies of person or place, some patron or his residence,\nare innumerable, and ineffably absurd. Some years ago, an idle\nyoung lawyer at Cork happened to be visiting Blarney Castle, when\none of these wandering minstrels came to the gate, and asked to\ndedicate a verse to \"Lady Jeffers that owns this station.\" The\nrequest was granted, and the laughter of the guests, as the bard\nrecited his \"composition,\" may be imagined. The occurrence and\nthe style of verse were common enough, but an idle banter incited\nthe gay youth into a burlesque imitation. The result was the\nfamous \"Groves of Blarney,\" that has been sung and whistled all\nover the world. Those who have not seen the originals might\nimagine the \"Groves of Blarney\" to be an outrageous caricature.\nBut it is not so. It hardly equals and cannot surpass some of the\nnative flowers of blunder. The original is still sold in the\nstreets of Cork, and some extracts, in conclusion, will show how\nmuch Dick Milliken was indebted to his unwitting model:\n\n  \"There are fine walks in those pleasant gardens,\n     And spots most charming in shady bowers.\n   The gladiator, who is bold and daring,\n     Each night and morning to watch the flowers.\n\n  \"There are fine horses and stall-fed oxen,\n     A den for foxes to play and hide,\n   Fine mares for breeding, with foreign sheep,\n     With snowy fleeces at Castle Hyde.\n\n  \"The buck and doe, the fox and eagle,\n     Do skip and play at the river side.\n   The trout and salmon are always sporting\n     In the clear streams of Castle Hyde.\"\n\n\n----------\n\n{37}\n\n           Daybreak.\n\n           Chapter I.\n\n  \"O jewel in the lotos: amen!\"\n\n\nA wide, slow whitening of the east, a silent stealing away of\nshadows, a growing radiance before which the skies receded into\nineffable heights of pale blue and gleaming silver, and a March\nday came blowing in with locks of gold, and kindling glances, and\ngirdle of gold, and golden sandals over the horizon.\n\nLouis Granger, standing in the open window of his chamber,\nlaughed as he looked in the face of the morning, and stretched\nout his hands and cried, \"Backsheesh, O Howadji!\"\n\nNot many streets distant, another pair of eyes looked into the\nbrightening east, but saw no gladness there. Margaret Hamilton\nremembered that it was her twenty-fifth birthday, and that she\nhad cried herself to sleep the night before, thinking of it. But\nshe would not remember former birthdays, celebrated by father,\nmother, and sisters, before they had died, one after one, and\nleft her alone and aghast before the world. This, and some other\nmemories still more recent, she put out of sight; and, since they\nwould not stay without force, she held them out of sight. One who\nhas to do this is haunted.\n\nThe woman looked haunted. Her eyes were unnaturally bright and\nalert, and shadows had settled beneath them; her cheeks were worn\nthin; her mouth compressed itself in closing. At twenty-five she\nlooked thirty-five.\n\nAnd yet Miss Hamilton was meant for a beauty--one of the\nbrilliant kind, with clear gray eyes, and a creamy pallor\ncontrasting with profuse black hair. The beautiful head was well\nset; something vivid and spirited in the whole air of it. Her\nheight was only medium, but she had the carriage of a Jane de\nMontford, and there were not wanting those who would have\ndescribed her as tall.\n\nWhile she looked gloomily out, a song she had heard somewhere\nfloated up in her mind:\n\n  \"The years they come, and the years they go,\n   Like winds that blow from sea to sea;\n   From dark to dark they come and go,\n   All in the dew-fall and the rain.\"\n\nIt was like a dreary bitter wind sobbing about the chimneys when\nthe storm is rising. She turned hastily from the window, and\nbegan counting the hideous phantoms of bouquets on the cheap\nwall-paper, thinking that they might be the lost souls of flowers\nthat had been wicked in life; roses that had tempted, and lilies\nthat had lied. The room, she found, was sixteen bouquets long,\nand fourteen and a half wide.\n\nWhen her eyes began to ache with this employment, she took up a\nbook, and, opening it at random, read:\n\n  \"A still small voice said unto me,\n  'Thou art so full of misery,\n   Were it not better not to be?'\"\n\nWas everything possessed to torment her? She dropped the book,\nand looked about in search of distraction. In the window opposite\nher stood her little easel with a partly finished cabinet\nphotograph on it a man's face, with bushy whiskers, round eyes,\nan insignificant nose, the expression full of a weak fierceness\nsuperficially fell and determined, as though a lamb should try to\nlook like a lion.\n{38}\nOne eye was sharply finished; and, as Margaret glanced at the\npicture, this stared at her in so grotesque and threatening a\nmanner that she burst into a nervous laugh.\n\n\"I must turn your face to the wall, Cyclops, till I can give you\nanother eye,\" she said, suiting the action to the word.\n\nA pile of unfinished photographs lay on a table near. She looked\nthem over with an expression of weariness. \"O the eyes, and\nnoses, and mouths! Why will people so misuse the sunbeams? And\nthis insane woman who refuses to be toned down with India ink,\nbut will have colors to all the curls, and frizzles, and bows and\nends, and countless fly-away things she has on her! She looks now\nmore like an accident than a woman. When the colors are put in,\nshe will be a calamity. Only one face among them pleases me--this\npretty dear.\"\n\nSelecting the picture of a lovely child, Margaret looked at it\nwith admiring eyes. \"So sweet! I wish I had her here this moment\nwith her eyes, and her curls, and her mouth.\"\n\nA sigh broke through the faint smile. There seemed to be a thorn\nunder everything she touched. Laying the picture down, she busied\nherself in her room, opened drawers and closets and set them in\norder; gathered the few souvenirs yet remaining to her--letters,\nphotographs, locks of hair--and piled them all into the grate.\nOne folded paper she did not open, but held an instant in fingers\nthat trembled as they clung; then, moaning faintly, threw it on\nto the pyre. Inside that paper were two locks of hair--both\nsilver-threaded--twined as the two lives had been; her father's\nand her mother's.\n\nThe touch of a match, and the smoke of her sacrifice curled up\ninto the morning sky.\n\nThen again she came to a stand-still, and looked about for\nsomething to do.\n\n\"I cannot work,\" she said. \"My hand is not steady enough, and my\neyes are dim. What was it that Beethoven wrote to his friend? 'At\ntimes cheerful, then again sorrowful; waiting to see if fate will\nlisten to us.' Suppose I should drop everything, since I am so\nnerveless, and wait to see what fate will do.\"\n\nHere again the enemy stood, The picture of waiting that came up\nbefore her mind was that of Judge Pyncheon in the _House of the\nSeven Gables_, sitting and staring blankly as the hours went\nby--a sight to shriek out at when at length he was found. With a\nswift pencil this woman's imagination painted a companion\npicture: the door of her room opening after days of silence; a\ncurious, frightened face looking in; somebody sitting there cold\nand patient, with half-open eyes, and not a word of welcome or\nquestioning for the intruder.\n\nA clock outside struck ten. Margaret rose languidly and dressed\nfor a walk, after pausing to rest. Raising her arms to arrange\nher hair and bonnet, she felt so faint that for a moment she was\nobliged to lean forward on her dressing-table.\n\nAt length she was ready, only one duty left unperformed. Miss\nHamilton had not said her prayers that morning, and had not even\nthought of saying them, or of reproaching herself for the\nomission--a scandalous omission, truly, for the granddaughter of\nthe Rev. Doctor John Hamilton, and daughter of that excellent but\nsomewhat diluted deacon, John Hamilton, his son. But to pray was\nto remember; and beside, God had forgotten her, she thought.\n\n{39}\n\nMiss Hamilton was not a Catholic, To her, Christ died eighteen\ncenturies ago, and went to heaven, and stayed there, only looking\nand listening down in some vague and far-away manner that was\neasier to doubt than to believe. The church into which, at every\ndawn of day, the Beloved descends with shining pierced feet and\nhands; with the lips that spoke, and the eyes that saw, and the\nlocks through which had sifted the winds of Olivet and the dews\nof Gethsemane; with the heart of infinite love and pity, yes, and\nthe soul of infinite power--this church she knew not. To her it\nwas an abomination. The temples where pain hangs crowned with a\ndolorous majesty, and where the path of sorrows is also the path\nof delights, her footsteps had never sought. To her they were\ntemples of idolatry. Therefore, when troubles came upon her,\nthough she faced them intrepidly, it was only with a human\ncourage. What wonder if at last it proved that pain was stronger\nthan she?\n\nWith her hand on the latch of the door she paused, then turned\nback into her chamber again. The society face she had assumed\ndropped off; a sigh went shivering over her lips, and with it a\nhalf-articulated thought, silly and womanish, \"If I had some one\nto come in here, put an arm around me--I'm so tired!--and say,\n'Take courage, dear!' I could bear up yet longer. I could endure\nto the end, perhaps.\"\n\nA silly thought, but pitiful, being so vain.\n\nMiss Hamilton was not by nature one of those who, as Sir Thomas\nBrowne says, looked asquint upon the face of truth. But she had\nnot dared to fully realize her circumstances, lest all courage\nshould die out of her heart. Now you could see that she put aside\nthe last self-delusion, and boldly looked her life in the face.\nIt was Medusa.\n\nOne of the bravest of soldiers has said that in his first battle\nhe would have been a coward if he had dared. Imagine the eyes of\nsuch a fighter, a foe within and a foe without, and but his own\nright arm and dauntless will between the two!\n\nSuch eyes had this woman. Of her whole form, only those eyes\nseemed to live. But for them she might have been Margaret\nHamilton's statue.\n\nAt length she moved; and going slowly out, held on to the railing\nin descending the stairs. Out doors, and down Washington street,\nthen, taking that direction involuntarily. It was near noon when\nshe found herself in a crowd on Park street, hastening through\nit, without caring to inquire what the cause of the gathering\nwas. Coming out presently in front of the state house, and seeing\nthat there was space yet on the steps, she went up them, and took\nher stand near a gentleman whom she had long known by sight and\nrepute. Mr. Louis Granger also recognized her, and made room,\nquietly placing himself between her and the crowd. Miss Hamilton\nscarcely noticed the movement. She was used to being attended to.\n\nThis gentleman was what might be called fine-looking, and was\nthoroughly gentlemanly in appearance. He was cast in a large\nmould, both form and features, had careless hazel eyes that saw\neverything, and rather a lounging way with him. Indeed, he owned\nhimself a little lazy, and used laughingly to assert his belief\nthat inertia is a property of mind as well as of matter. It took\na good deal to start him; but once started, it took still more to\nstop him. His age might be anywhere from thirty to forty, the few\nsilver threads in his fine dark hair counting for nothing. You\nperceived that they had no business whatever there.\n{40}\nHe was not a man who would catch the eye in a crowd; but, once\nyour attention was directed toward him, you felt attracted. The\ncharm of his face depended chiefly on expression; and those who\npleased him called Mr. Granger beautiful.\n\nHe stood now looking attentively at the lady beside him, finding\nhimself interested in her. Her eyes, that were fixed on the\nadvancing procession, appeared to see no more than if they had\nbeen jewels, and her mouth was shut as if it would never open\nagain. The pale temples were hollow, the delicate nostrils were\nslightly pinched, the teeth seemed to be set hard. He studied her\nkeenly, secure in her perfect abstraction, and marked even the\nfrail hand that clinched, not clasped, the iron railing. Mr.\nGranger could read as much in a hand as Washington could; and\nthis hand, dazzlingly fair, full-veined, pink-palmed,\ntransparent, dewy, with heart-shaped finger-tips that looked as\nthough some finer perception were reaching out through the flesh,\nwas to him an epitome of the woman's character.\n\nIt was the 17th of March, and the procession in honor of St.\nPatrick an unusually fine one. It flowed past like a river of\ncolor and music, with many a silken rustling of the flag of their\nadoption, but everywhere and above all the beautiful green and\ngold of that most beautiful banner in the world--a banner which\nspeaks not of dominion, but of song and sunshine and the green\nearth. While other nations, higher-headed, had taken the sun, the\nstar, the crescent, the eagle, or the lion for an emblem, or,\nwith truer loftiness, had raised the cross as their ensign, this\npeople, with a sweetness and humility all the more touching that\nit was unconscious, bent to search in the grasses, and smilingly\nand trustfully held up a shamrock as their symbol. Those had no\nneed to inscribe the cross upon their escutcheon who, in the face\nof the world, bore it in their faithful hearts, and upon their\nbowed and lacerated shoulders.\n\nA pathetic spectacle--a countless procession of exiles; yet,\nhappily for them, the generous land that gave them a home grew no\ndark willows to rust their harp-strings.\n\nThe music was, of course, chiefly Irish airs; but one band in\npassing struck up \"Sweet Home.\"\n\nMargaret started at the sound, and looked about for escape. She\ncould not listen to that. Happening to glance upward, she saw a\ncompany of ladies and gentlemen in the balcony over the portico.\nGovernor A---- was there, leaning on the railing and looking\nover. He caught her glance, and beckoned. Margaret immediately\nobeyed the summons, getting herself in hand all the way, and came\nout on the balcony with another face than that she had worn\nbelow. She had put on a smile; some good fairy had added a faint\nblush, and Miss Hamilton was presentable. The governor met her\nwith a hearty smile and clasp of the hand. \"I am glad to see\nyou,\" he said. \"Will you stand here, or take that seat Mr.\nSinclair is offering you?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" he exclaimed, as Margaret turned away, continuing his\nconversation with a gentleman beside him, \"the English treatment\nof the Irish is a clear case of cussedness.\"\n\n\"Our good chief magistrate is slightly idiomatic at times,\"\nremarked a lady near by.\n\nA poetess stood in the midst of a group of gentlemen, who looked\nat her, while she looked at the procession. \"It is Arethusa, that\nbright stream,\" she said with soft eagerness, \"Pursued and\nthreatened at home, it has crept through shadowy ways, and leaped\nto light in a new land.\"\n\n{41}\n\nMargaret approached Mr. Sinclair, who sat apart, and who made\nroom for her beside him.\n\nEven now she noticed the splendid beauty of this man in whom\nevery physical attraction was perfected. Mr. Maurice Sinclair\nmight have posed for a Jupiter; but an artist would scarcely have\ntaken him for a model of the prince of the apostles. He was\nsuperbly made, with a haughty, self-conscious beauty; his full,\nbold eyes were of a light neutral tint impossible to describe, so\ntransparent were they, so dazzling their lustre; and his face was\ndelicately smooth and nobly-featured. One could scarcely regret\nthat the long moustache curling away from his mouth, then\ndrooping below his chin, and the thick hair pushed back from his\nforehead, were of silvery whiteness. It did not seem to be decay,\nbut perfection. Mr. Sinclair used to say that his head had\nblossomed.\n\nHe smiled as Miss Hamilton stepped slowly toward him, the smile\nof a man entirely pleased with himself.\n\n\"Own now,\" he said, \"that you are wishing to be Irish for the\nnonce, that you might feel the full effervescence of the\noccasion.\"\n\nShe shook her head listlessly.\n\nMr. Sinclair perceived that she needed to be amused. \"See the\ngovernor wave his handkerchief!\" he said. \"That man has been born\ntwice, once into Massachusetts, and the second time into all\ncreation.\"\n\nShe glanced at the object of his remarks, noting anew his short,\nrotund figure, his round head with all its crow's-nest of black\nringlets, his prompt, earnest face that could be so kind. \"There\nisn't a drop of mean blood in his veins,\" she said. \"He is one of\nthose rare men in whom feeling and principle go hand in hand.\"\n\nMr. Sinclair gave his shoulders a just perceptible shrug. \"Do you\nknow all the people here?\" he asked, observing that Margaret\nlooked searchingly over the company. \"Let me play Helen on the\nwalls of Troy, and point out the notables whom you do not know.\nThat antique-cameo-faced gentleman whom you are looking at now is\nthe Rev. Mr. Southard. He is misnamed of course. He should be\ncalled after something boreal, Does not he make you shiver? He\nlives with my cousin, whom I saw you standing beside down there.\nLouis likes him, or pretends to. Mr. Southard is not so much a\nmodern minister, as a theological reminiscence. He belongs among\nthe crop-heads; I have somewhere heard that he was a wild lad,\nand is now doing penance. It is likely. One doesn't bar a\nsheep-fold as one does a prison. He appears to be a little off\nguard now, for a breath seems to have forgotten predestination.\nWhen he looks like that, I am always reminded of something pagan,\nHe'd be horrified, of course, if he knew it. Mark that Olympian\nlook of painless melancholy, and the blue, motionless eye. What a\ncold, marble face he has! Being too polished to retain heat, he\nremains unmoved in the midst of enthusiasm. That's philosophy,\nisn't it? He is one of those who fancy that ceasing to be human,\nthey become superhuman. They mistake the prefix, that's all. But\nMr. Southard bristles with virtues. I must own that I never knew\na man so forgiving toward other people's enemies.\"\n\n\"I know Mr. Southard well by reputation,\" Margaret interrupted\nrather warmly. \"He is human, of course, and so, fallible; but\nevery mountain in his soul is a Sinai!\"\n\n{42}\n\n\"Oh! he has his good points,\" Mr. Sinclair admitted tranquilly.\n\"I have known him to be surprised into a glorious laugh, for\nwhich, to be sure, he probably beat himself afterward; and he has\na temper that peeps out now and then in a delightfully human\nfashion. I have detected in him, too, a carnal weakness for\nFrench chocolate, and a taste for pictures, even the pictures of\nthe Babylonians. Once I saw him stand five minutes before a faded\nold painting of Cimabue's; I believe it was a virgin standing\nbetween two little boys who leaned to kiss each other, a hand of\nhers on either head, I don't condemn the man _in toto_. I\nlike his faults; but I detest his virtues!\n\n\"That stout, consequential person, with his chin in his cravat,\nwho as Suckling says of Sir Toby Mathews, is always whispering\nnothing into somebody's ear, is Mr. ex-councilman Smith. He was\nthrown to the surface at the time of the Know-Nothing ebullition,\nand when that was over, was skinned off with the rest of 'em. He\nconsiders himself a statesman, and looks forward with prophetic\ngoggle eyes to the time when his party shall be again in the\nascendant. He comes here to nurse his wrath, and I haven't a\ndoubt that he feels as though this procession were marching down\nhis throat. He used to be to a joiner, then a house-builder, then\nhe got to be a house-owner. Twenty years ago, my aunt Betsey, who\nlives in the country, paid him two dollars to build a trellis for\nher grape-vine, and he did it so well that she gave him his\ndinner after the family had got through. Now he has a mansion\nnear hers that dwarfs her cottage to a bird-cage. His place is\nreally fine, grounds worth looking at, and a stone house with\nbronze lions at the door. I don't know what he has lions there\nfor, unless to indicate that Snug the joiner lives within. I'm\nnot afraid of 'em. You've never heard of him here; but out there\nhe is tremendous. '_Imposteur \u00e0 la Mecque, et proph\u00e8te \u00e0\nM\u00e9dine_.'\n\n\"Still there are people even here who blow about him. Psaphon's\nbirds, of course, fed on Smith's oats, He hates me because he\nthinks that I laugh at him; but I don't doubt that it soothes his\nsoul to know that the roses on his carpets are twice as large as\nthose on mine, and that he has ten pictures to my one. The first\nthing you see when the vestibule door opens is a row of\nportraits, ten of 'em, Smith and his wife, and eight children.\nAmes painted 'em, and he must have had the nightmare regularly\ntill they were done. They are larger than life, and their eyes\nmove. I am positive that they move. I guess there are little\nstrings behind the canvas. There they hang and stare at you, till\nyou wish they were hanged by the necks. The first time I went\nthere, I shook my fist at 'em behind Smith's back, and he caught\nme at it. I couldn't help it. The spectacle is enough to excite\nany man's worst feelings. The parlor walls are covered with\nlandscapes painted from a cow's point of view, strong in grass\nand clover, with pleasant drinking-places, and large trees to\nstand under when the sun gets high. I never see such trees and\nwater in nature, but I dare say the cows do. My wife and I dined\nthere once. The eight children sat in two detachments and ate\nBlack Hamburg grapes, skins and all; and the peaches were brought\nin polished like apples. My wife got into such a giggle that she\nnearly strangled. I see, you sharp-eyed Bedouin, you want to\nremind me that I have eaten of this man's salt. True, but he made\nit as bitter as any that Dante ever tasted.\n\n{43}\n\n\"That sober, middle-aged man in a complete suit of pepper and\nsalt, hair and all, is Mr. Ames, the member from N----, Polliwog\nAmes they call him, from his great speech. Is it possible you\nhave never heard of it? It was the speech of the session. Some\none had introduced a bill asking an appropriation of ten thousand\ndollars toward building a new museum of natural history. There\nwas a little palaver on the subject, then Ames got up. All winter\nnothing had been heard from him but the scriptural yea and nay;\nso, of course, every one was attentive, 'Gentle-men,' he said,\n'while thousands of men, women, and children, in the city, and\ntens of thousands in the commonwealth, are hungry to-day, and\nwill be hungry to-morrow, and are and will be too poor to buy\nfood; while paupers are crowding our almshouses, and beggars are\nswarming in our streets; while all this poverty is staring us in\nthe face, and putting to us the problem, how are we to be fed and\nclothed and sheltered, and kept from crime, and taught to read\nand to pray? it would seem to me, gentlemen, an unnecessary not\nto say reprehensible act, to appropriate ten thousand dollars of\nthe public money, in order that some long-nosed professor might\nbe enabled to show us how polliwogs wiggle their tails.' Having\nsaid this, Mr. Ames shut his mouth, and sat down covered with\nglory.\"\n\nMargaret's only comment was to look earnestly at this man who had\nremembered the poor.\n\nThey were silent a little while; then Mr. Sinclair spoke again,\nin a lower voice. \"I am going to Europe in a few weeks.\"\n\nShe had nothing to say to this. His going would make no\ndifference with her.\n\n\"You know, and everybody knows,\" he went on hastily, \"that my\nwife and I have not for years lived very happily together. I\nthink that few blame me. I would not wish all the blame to be\nthrown on her, either. The fact is, we never were suited to each\nother, and every day we grew more antagonistic. We had a little\nsensible talk last week, and finally agreed to separate. She will\nremain here, and I, as I said, shall go to Europe for an\nindefinite time, perhaps for ever.\"\n\nAt any other time Margaret might have felt herself embarassed by\nsuch a confidence. As it was, she hardly knew what reply to make;\nbut, since he waited, managed to say that if people could not\nlive peacefully together, she supposed it was best they should\nseparate.\n\nHe spoke again abruptly.\n\n\"Margaret, you cannot, if you would, hide your misery from me.\nYou are fitted to appreciate all that is beautiful in nature and\nart, yet are bound and cramped by the necessity of constant labor\nfor your daily bread. You suffer, too, what to the refined is the\nworst sting of poverty, the being associated with, often in the\npower of, vulgar and ill-natured people, who despise you because\nyou are not rich, and hate you because, being poor, you yet will\nnot and cannot be like themselves. I know that there are those\nwho take delight in mortifying you, in misinterpreting your every\nact and word, and in prejudicing against you persons who\notherwise might be your friends. What a wretched, double life you\nlive; petted by notable people on one hand, and insulted by\ninferiors on the other! How long is it to last? You must be aware\nthat you are slipping out of the notice of your early friends.\nYou cannot accept their invitations, because you have not time,\nand moreover, are not suitably dressed. By and by they will cease\nto invite you. Do you look forward to marriage? Every day your\nchances are lessening.\n{44}\nYou are growing old before your time. I cannot see that you have\nanything to look forward to but a life of ill-paid toil, a\ngradual dropping out of the place that you were born and educated\nto fill, a loss of courage and self-respect, a lowering of the\ntastes, and at last, a sinking to the level of what you must\ndespise. If you should be taken ill now, what would become of\nyou?\"\n\n\"I should probably go to the charity-ward of the public\nhospital,\" Miss Hamilton replied coldly.\n\n\"What do you hope for?\" he asked.\n\n\"I hope for nothing,\" she answered. \"I know all that you tell me,\nand far more.\"\n\nMr. Sinclair's eyes brightened. \"What good are your fine friends\nto you? You would never ask them to help you, I know; but if you\ncould bring yourself to that, would you not feel a bitter\ndifference? It is not mean to shrink from asking favors, when\nthey are for ourselves. Walter Savage Landor was neither mean nor\na fool; yet he makes one of his best characters say that the\nhighest price we can pay for a favor is to ask for it, and\neverybody who has tried knows that. You would sink at once from a\nfriend to a dependent. Now your friends ask no questions, and you\ntell them no lies. If they give the subject a thought, they fancy\nyou in some quiet, retired, and highly genteel apartment, if\nrather near the eaves, then so for a pure northern light,\nleisurely and elegantly painting photographs, for which you\nreceive the highest prices, and thanks to boot. They don't see an\nupstartly assistant criticising your work, or a stingy employer\ntaking off part of the price for some imaginary flaw. And if they\ndid, they would only tell you that such annoyances are trivial,\nthat you must rise above them. I've heard that kind of talk. But\nthose who go down to battle with the pigmies know how tormenting\ntheir bites are. The worst of it is, too, that you cannot long\nmaintain the dignity and purity of your own character in this\npetty strife, It isn't in the nature of things, I don't care what\nmay be said to the contrary by parlor ascetics and philosophers.\nThey have no right to dogmatize on the necessary influence of\ncircumstances in which they have never been placed. Moreover,\nconstant labor is lowering to the mind, and any work is degrading\nto the person who can do a higher kind of work. It may be saving\nto him whose leisure would be employed in frivolity and license;\nbut that person is already base. The time you spend in studying\nhow to make one dollar do the work of five makes a lower being of\nyou. I can see this in you, Margaret. Your manners and\nconversation are not what they were. You have no time to read, or\nthink, or look at pictures, or hear lectures, or listen to\nmusic--none. You have only time for work, and, the work finished,\nare too weary for anything but sleep; perhaps too weary for that\neven, How long do you expect to keep up with such a life dragging\nat you?\"\n\nMiss Hamilton lifted between her finger and thumb a fold of the\ndress she wore. \"All the time I could spare from my painting in\nthe last three weeks has been devoted to the task of making this\ndress out of an old one,\" she said. \"It was a difficult problem;\nbut I solved it. I was always fond of the mathematics. Of course,\nduring those three weeks my universe revolved around a black\nbombazine centre. O sir! I know better than you can tell me, how\ndegrading such labor is. God in the beginning imposed it as a\ncurse; and a curse it is!\"\n\nThere was again a momentary pause, during which Mr. Sinclair's\nmerciless eyes searched the cold face\nbeside him.\n{45}\nMargaret did not observe that all the company had gone, that the\nprocession had disappeared, the crowd melted away. She had sat\nthere and listened like one in a dream, too dull and weary to be\nangry, or to wonder that such words should be addressed to her,\nand such bold assertions made, where her most intimate friends\nhad never ventured a hint even.\n\nWhen Mr. Sinclair spoke again, his voice was soft and earnest.\n\"Have you any friend so dear and trusty, that his frown would\nmake your heart ache yet more? In all the world, do you know one\nto whom your actions are of moment, who thinks of you anxiously\nand tenderly, for whose sake you would walk in a straight path,\nthough it might be full of thorns? Is there one?\"\n\n\"There is not one,\" she said.\n\n\"Come with me, then!\" he exclaimed. \"Think of Italy, and what\nthat name means, of the east, of all the lands that live in song\nand in story. Drop for ever from your hands the necessity for\ntoil, and let your heart and mind take holiday. 'Not one,' you\nsaid; but, Maud, you mistook, I thought of you all the time, and\ngot your troubles by heart. Leave this miserable, cramping life\nof yours, and come with me where we shall be as free from\ncriticism as if we were disembodied spirits. Forget this paltry\nBoston, with its wriggling streets and narrow breaths. Fancy now\nthat the breeze in our faces blows off the blue Mediterranean,\nthe little dome above us rises and swells to St. Peter's, that\nlast flutter of a banner over the hill is the argent ground with\ngolden keys. Or Victor Immanuel has got Rome for his own, and\nthere floats the red, white, and green of Italy. How you would\ncolor and brighten like a rose under such sunshine! Come with me,\nMargaret, come!\n\nShe looked at him with troubled, uncomprehending eyes, groping\nfor the meaning under the flowery speech. His glance dazzled her.\n\n\"It is like a fairy-tale,\" she said. \"How can it come true? I am\npoor, yet you bid me travel as only the rich can. How am I to go\nwith you? who else is going?\"\n\nHe smiled. \"O silly Margaret! since there is no other way, and\nsince in all the world there is no one to care for or to question\nyou, come with me alone.\"\n\nThen Margaret Hamilton knew that her cup of bitterness had lacked\none poisoned drop. She got up from the seat, shrinking away,\nfeeling as though she lessened physically.\n\nBut when she reached the door, Mr. Sinclair was there before her.\n\n\"At least, forgive me!\" she heard him say.\n\n\"Let me go!\" she exclaimed, without looking up.\n\n\"Remember my tenderness and pity for you,\" he urged.\n\n\"You have none!\" she said. \"Let me go.\"\n\n\"And you are not indifferent to me,\" he continued.\n\nShe lifted her face at that, and looked at him with eyes that\nwere bright, gray, and angry as an eagle's.\n\n\"Maurice Sinclair,\" she said haughtily, \"I thank you for one\nthing. Weary, and miserable, and lonely as I have been, I could\nnot have been certain, without this test, that such a temptation\nwould not make me hesitate. But now I know that temptation comes\nfrom within, not from without, and that infamy attracts only the\ninfamous. I care for you, you think? My admiration and my\nfriendships are free; but I am not a woman to tear my hands on\nother people's hedges. Let me tell you, sir, that I must honor a\nman before I can feel any affection for him.\n{46}\nI must know that, though being human he might stumble, his proper\nstature is upright. If I cared for you, I could not stand here\nand scorn you, as I do; I should pray you to be true to your\nnoble self, to give me back my trust in you. I should forgive\nyou; but my forgiveness would be coals of fire on your head. If I\ncould love a man well enough to sin for him, I should love him\ntoo well for that. Oh! it was manly, and tender, and generous of\nyou, was it not? I had lost all but self-respect, and you would\nhave taken that from me. But, sir, I have wings which you can\nnever entangle!\"\n\n\"You have nowhere to turn,\" he said.\n\nShe stood one instant as though his words were indeed true, then\nthrew her hands upward, \"I turn to God! I turn to God!\" she cried\nout.\n\nWhen she looked at him again, Mr. Sinclair stepped aside and let\nher pass.\n\nBut the strength that passion gives is brief, and when Margaret\nreached the street, she was trembling with weakness. Where to go?\nNot home; oh! not to that gloomy place! She walked across the\nCommon, and thence to the Public Gardens, every step a weariness.\n\n\"I must stay out in the sunshine,\" she thought, taking a seat\nunder the great linden-tree that stands open to the west.\n\"Darkness, and chilly, shadowed places are terrible. Oh! what\nnext?\"\n\nThough she had called on God, she yet believed not in him, poor\nMargaret! Hers had been the instinctive outcry of one driven to\ndesperation; and when the impulse subsided, then darkness fell\nagain.\n\nSitting there, she drew from her pocket a little folded paper,\nopened it in an absent way, and dreamily examined the delicate\nwhite powder it contained. More than once, when life had pressed\ntoo heavily, the enchanter hidden under this delusive form had\ncame to her aid, had loosened the tense cords that bound her\nforehead, unclasping them with a touch as light and tender as\nlove's own, had charmed away the pain from flesh and spirit. She\nrecollected now anew its sinuous and subtile ways. First, a deep\nand gradually settling quietude of mind and body, all disturbing\ninfluences stealing away so noiselessly that their going was\nimperceptible, a prickling in the arms, a languor in the throat\nand at the roots of the tongue, a sweet fainting of the breath,\nan entire and perfect peace. Then a slowly rising perception of\npleasures already in possession yet unnoticed before.\n\nHow delightful the mere involuntary act of breathing! How airily\nintoxicating the full, soft rush of blood through the arteries,\nswinging noisily like a dance to a song, never lost, in whatever\nlabyrinthine windings it might wander. How the universe opened\nlike a folded bud, like myriad buds that bloom in light and color\nand perfume! The air and the sunshine became miracles; common\nthings slipped off their disguise, and revealed undreamed-of\nglories. All this in silence. And presently the silence would be\nfound rhythmic like a tune.\n\nShe went no farther. The point at which all these downy\ninfluences became twined into a cord as potent as the fabulous\nGleipnir, and tightened about both body and soul with its soft,\nimplacable coils--that her thought glanced away from.\n\nShe carefully shook the shining powder into a little heap in the\npaper. There was ten times as much as she had ever taken at once;\nbut then she had ten times greater need of rest and\nforgetfulness. Her head felt giddy, as if a wheel were going\nwithin it.\n{47}\nCatching at that thought of a wheel, her confused memory called\nup strange eastern scenes, a temple in a gorge among rocky\nmountains; outside, the dash of a torrent foaming over its rough\nbed between the palms; not far away, the jungle, where the tiger\nsprings with a golden flash through the shadows; within, hideous\ncarved idols with vestments of cloth of gold, and silver bowls\nset before them, the noiseless entering of a gliding lama, the\nbowed form and hand outstretched to twirl the praying-wheel,\nwhereon is wound in million-fold repetition the one desire of his\nsoul, \"_Um mani panee, houm!_\" O jewel in the lotos! Rest\nand forgetfulness! So her thought kept murmuring with weary\npersistency.\n\nAs she raised the morphine to her lips, some one touched her arm.\n\n\"Madam!\" said a man's voice just behind her shoulder.\n\nShe started and half turned. \"Well, sir!\"\n\n\"What have you there?\" he asked, without removing his hand.\n\nShe shook herself loose from him. \"Will you go on, sir? you are\ninsolent!\"\n\n\"I cannot go while you have such a face, and while that paper is\nin your hand,\" Louis Granger said firmly; and reaching, took the\nmorphine from her.\n\nHer glance slid away from his face, and became fixed.\n\n\"O child! what would you do?\" he exclaimed.\n\nShe did not appear to hear him. She was swaying in her seat, and\nher breath came sobbingly.\n\nMr. Granger called a carriage that was passing, and led her to\nit. She made no resistance, and did not object, scarcely noticed,\nindeed, when he seated himself opposite her.\n\n\"Walk your horses till I find out where the lady wants to go,\" he\nsaid to the driver.\n\nWhen, after a few minutes of sickening half-consciousness,\nMargaret began to realize who and where she was, and looked at\nMr. Granger, she met his eyes full of tears.\n\n\"I have no claim on your confidence,\" he said, \"but I desire to\nserve you; and if you can trust me, I assure you that you will\nnever have reason to regret it.\"\n\nMargaret dropped her face into her hands, and all the pride died\nout of her heart.\n\n\"I was starving,\" she said. \"I have not tasted food for\ntwenty-four hours; and for a week I have eaten nothing but dry\nbread.\"\n\nMr. Granger leaned quickly and took her hand in a strong grasp,\nas we take the hands of the dying, to give them strength to die.\n\n\"I worked day and night,\" she sobbed; \"and I only got enough to\nmake me decent, and pay for my room. I have done all I could; but\nI was losing the strength to do. I have been starving so for more\nthan a year, growing worse every day. I wasn't responsible for\ntrying to take the morphine. My head is so light and my heart is\nso heavy, that everything seems strange, and I don't quite know\nwhat is right and what is wrong.\"\n\nMr. Granger's sympathy was painfully excited. He was not only\nshocked and hurt for this woman, but he felt that in some way he\nwas to blame when such things could be. He had also that\nuneasiness which we all experience when reminded how deceitful is\nthe fair surface of life, and what tragedies may be going on\nabout us, under our very eyes, yet unseen and unsuspected by us.\n\"What if my own little girl should come to this!\" he thought.\n\n\"What was Mr. Sinclair saying to you up there?\" he asked\nabruptly.\n\nShe told him without hesitation.\n\n{48}\n\n\"The villain!\" he muttered.\n\n\"No,\" Margaret replied sadly, \"I think that according to his\nlight, he had some kind meaning. You know he doesn't believe in\nany religion, that he denies revelation; yet you would not call\nhim a villain for that. Why then is he a villain for denying a\nmoral code that is founded on revelation? He is consistent. If\nGod and my own instincts had not forbidden me to accept his\nproposal, nothing else would have had power.\"\n\nShe sighed wearily, and leaned against the back of the carriage.\n\n\"Promise to trust all to me now,\" Mr. Granger said hastily, \"I am\nnot a Maurice Sinclair.\"\n\n\"Have I not trusted you?\" she asked with trembling lips.\n\"Besides, it seems that God has sent you to me, and trusting you\nis trusting him. I didn't expect him to answer me; but I called,\nand he has answered.\"\n\n\n\n         Chapter  II.\n\n         A Louis D'or.\n\n\nWith the exception of that perfect domestic circle not often\nbeheld save in visions, there is perhaps no more delightful\nsocial existence than may be enjoyed where a few congenial\npersons are gathered under one roof, in all the freedom of\nprivate life, but without its cares, where no one is obliged to\nentertain or be entertained, but is at liberty to be\nspontaneously charming or disagreeable, according to his mood,\nwhere comfort is taken thought of, and elegance is not forgotten.\n\nInto such an establishment Mr. Granger's home had expanded after\nthe death of his wife. It could not be called a boarding-house,\nsince he admitted only a few near friends; and he refused to\nconsider himself as host, The only visible authorities in the\nplace were Mrs. James, the housekeeper, whose weapon was a\nduster, and Miss Dora Granger, whose sceptre was a blossom.\n\nThe house was a large, old-fashioned one, standing with plentiful\nelbow-room in a highly respectable street that had once been very\ngrand, and there were windows on four sides. All these windows\nlooked like pleasant eyes with spectacles over them. There was a\nrim of green about the place, a tall horse-chestnut-tree each\nside of the street,\nand an irrepressible grape-vine\nthat, having been planted at the rear of the\nhouse, was now well on its way to the front. This vine was\nunpruned, an embodied mirth, flinging itself in every direction,\nmaking the slightest thing it could catch at an excuse for the\nmost profuse luxuriance, so happy it could never stop growing, so\nfull of life it could not grow old.\n\nIn the days when Mr. Granger's grandfather built this mansion,\nwalls were not raised with an eye chiefly to the accommodation of\nPyramus and Thisbe. They grew slowly and solidly, of honest\nstone, brick, and mortar. They had timbers, not splinters; there\nwasn't an inch of veneering from attic to basement; and instead\nof stucco, they had woodwork with flutings as fine as those of a\nlady's ruffle. When you see mahogany-colored doors in one of\nthose dwellings, you may be pretty sure that the doors are\nmahogany; and the white knobs and hinges do not wear red.\nCannon-balls fired at these houses stick in the outer wall.\n\nSuch was Mr. Louis Granger's home. Miss Hamilton had looked at\nthat house many a time, and sighingly contrasted it with the\ndingy brick declivity in which she had her eyrie, Now she was to\nlive here.\n\n\"How wishes do sometimes come fulfilled, if we only wish long\nenough!\" she thought, as the carriage in which she had come drew\nup before the steps.\n{49}\nMr. Granger stood in the open door, and there was a glimpse of\nthe housekeeper behind him, looking out with the utmost respect\non the equipage of their visitor--for one of Miss Hamilton's\nwealthy friends had offered her a carriage.\n\nBut as the step was let down, and the liveried footman stood\nbowing before her, Margaret shrank back with a sudden\nrecollection that was unspeakably bitter and humiliating. In\nspite of the mocking show, she was coming to this house as a\nbeggar, literally asking for bread. On the impulse of the moment,\nshe could have turned back to her attic and starvation rather\nthan accept friendship on such terms. In that instant all the\npetty spokes and wheels in the engine of her poverty combined\nthemselves for one wrench more.\n\n\"I have been watching for you,\" said Mr. Granger's voice at the\ncarriage-door.\n\nMargaret gave him her hand, and stepped out on to the pavement,\nher face downcast and deeply blushing.\n\n\"I hope I have not incommoded you,\" she said coldly.\n\nHe made no reply, and seemed not to have heard her ungracious\ncomment; but when they reached the threshold, he paused there,\nand said earnestly, \"I bid you welcome to your new home. May it\nbe to you a happy one!\"\n\nShe looked up gratefully, ashamed of her bitterness.\n\nMr. Granger's manner was joyful and cordial, as if he were\nreceiving an old friend, or meeting some great good fortune.\nBidding the housekeeper wait, he conducted Margaret to a room\nnear by, and seated her there to hear one word more before he\nshould go to his business and leave her to the tender mercies of\nhis servants. As she sat, he stood before her, and leaning on the\nhigh back of a chair, looked smilingly down into the expectant\nand somewhat anxious face that looked up at him.\n\n\"I am so cruel as to rejoice over every circumstance which has\nbeen influential in adding to my household so welcome and\nvaluable a friend,\" he said. \"I have worlds for you to do. First,\nmy little Dora is in need of your care. It is time she should\nbegin to learn something. I have also consented, subject to your\napproval, to associate with her two little girls of her age, who\nlive near, and will come here for their lessons. Besides this, a\nfriend of mine, who is preparing a scientific work, and who does\nnot understand French, wishes you to make some translations for\nhim. Does this suit you?\"\n\n\"Perfectly!\"\n\n\"But first you must rest,\" he said. \"And now I will leave you to\nget acquainted with the house under Mrs. James's auspices. Do not\nforget that your comfort and happiness are to be considered, that\nyou are to ask for whatever you may want, and mention whatever\nmay be not to your liking, Have you anything to say to me now?\"\npausing with his hand on the door-knob.\n\n\"Yes,\" she replied, smiling, to hide emotion; \"as in the Koran\nGod said of St. John, so I of you, 'May he be blessed the day\nwhereon he was born, the day whereon he shall die, and the day\nwhereon he shall be raised to life!'\"\n\nHe took her hand in a friendly clasp, then opened the door, and\nwith a gesture that included the whole house, said, \"You are at\nhome!\"\n\nMargaret glanced after him as he went out, and thought, \"At home!\nThe French say it better: I am _chez vous!_\"\n\n{50}\n\n\"You have to go up two flights, Miss Hamilton,\" the housekeeper\nbegan apologetically, with the footman still in her eye.\n\"But Mr. Granger said that you want a good deal of light. Mr. and\nMrs. Lewis occupy that front room over the parlor, and the next\none is the spare-chamber, and that one under yours is Mr.\nGranger's, and that little one is Dora's, and the long one back\nin the L is Mr. Southard's. Up this other flight, Miss Aurelia\nLewis has the front chamber. She likes it because the\nhorse-chestnut tree comes up against the window. In summer you\ncan hardly see through. It's like being in the woods. There, this\nis your chamber,\" flinging open the door of a large, airy room\nthat had two deep windows looking over the house-tops straight\ninto the eyes of the east. The coloring of this room was\ndelightfully fresh and cool, the walls a pale olive-green, the\nwood-work white, and the wide mantel-piece of green marble. There\nwere snow-white muslin curtains, Indian matting on the floor, and\nthe chairs were all wicker, except one, a crimson-cushioned\narm-chair. The old-fashioned bureau and wardrobe were of solid\nmahogany adorned with glittering brass knobs and handles, and the\nblack and gilt framed looking-glass had brass candle-sockets at\neach side. The open grate was filled with savin-boughs, and a\nbright shell set in the midst. In the centre of the mantle-piece\nwas a white vase running over full of glistening smilax sprays,\nand at each end stood a brass candlestick with a green wax candle\nin it. There were three pictures on the three blank walls; one a\nwater-color of moss-roses and buds dew sprinkled, the second, a\nchromo of a yellow-gray cat stretched out in an attitude of\nslumbrous repose, her tail coiled about her lithe haunches, her\nhead advanced and resting on her paws, her eyes half shut, but\nshowing a sly line of watchful golden lustre. The third was a\nvery good engraving of the Sistine Madonna. A large closet with\ndrawers and shelves, delightful to feminine eyes, led back from\nthis quaint and pleasant chamber.\n\nMargaret glanced around her pretty nest, then flung off her\nbonnet and shawl, and, seating herself in the armchair by the\nwindow, for the first time really looked at the housekeeper. Till\nthat moment she had not been conscious of the woman.\n\nMrs. James was hospitably making herself busy doing nothing,\nmoving chairs that were already well placed, and wiping off\nimaginary specks of dust. She looked as though she would be an\nexcellent housekeeper, and put her whole soul in the business;\nbut appeared to be neutral otherwise.\n\n\"Everything here was as clean as your eye this morning,\" she\nsaid, frowning anxiously as she stooped to bring a suspected\ntable-top between her vision and the light.\n\n\"Everything is exquisite,\" Miss Hamilton replied. \"One can't help\nhaving a speck of dust now and then, The earth is made of it, you\nknow.\"\n\nThe housekeeper sighed wofully. \"Yes, there's a great deal of\ndirt in the world.\"\n\nWhen she was left alone, Margaret still sat there, letting the\nroom get acquainted with her, and settling herself into a new and\ndelicious content. Happening after a while to glance toward the\ndoor, she saw it slowly and noiselessly moving an inch or two,\nstopping, then again opening a little way. She continued to look,\nwondering what singular current of air or eccentricity of hinge\nproduced that intermittent motion. Presently she spied, clasped\naround the edge of the door, at about two feet from the carpet,\nfour infinitesimal fingertips, rosy-white against the\nyellow-white of the paint. Miss Hamilton checked the breath a\nlittle on her smiling lips, and awaited further revelations.\n\n{51}\n\nAfter a moment, there appeared just above the fingers a\nhalf-curled, flossy lock of pale gold-colored hair, and softly\ndawning after that aurora, a beautiful child's face.\n\n\"Oh! come to me!\" exclaimed Margaret.\n\nImmediately the face disappeared, and there was silence.\n\nMiss Hamilton leaned back in her chair again, and began to\nrecollect the tactics for such cases made and provided by the\ngreat law-giver Nature. She affected not to be aware that the\nsilken locks reappeared, and after them a glimpse of a low,\nmilk-white forehead, then a blue, bright eye, and finally, the\nwhole exquisite little form in a gala-dress of white, with a gay\nsash and shoulder-knots.\n\nDora came in looking intently at the mantel-piece, and\nelaborately unconscious that there was any one present but\nherself. Miss Hamilton's attention was entirely absorbed by the\nouter world.\n\n\"I never did see such a lovely flower as there is in that\nwindow,\" she soliloquized. \"It is as pink as ever it can be.\nIndeed, I think it is a little pinker than it can conveniently\nbe. It must have to try hard.\"\n\nDora glanced toward the stranger, and listened attentively.\n\n\"And I see three tiny clouds scudding down the east. I shouldn't\nbe surprised if their mother didn't know they are out. They run\nas if they didn't mean to stop till they get into the middle of\nnext week.\"\n\nDora took a step or two nearer, looked warily at the speaker, and\npeeped out the window in search of the truant cloudlets.\n\n\"And there is another cloud overhead that has gone sound asleep,\"\nMiss Hamilton pursued as tranquilly as if she had been sitting\nthere and talking time out of mind. \"One side of it is as white\nas it can be, and the other side is so much whiter than it can\nbe, that it makes the white side look dark. If anybody wants to\nsee it, she had better make haste.\"\n\n\"Anybody,\" was by this time close to the window, looking out with\nall her eyes, her hand timidly, half unconsciously touching the\nlady's dress.\n\n\"Oh! what a splendid bird!\" cried the enchantress. \"What a pity\nit should fly away! But it may come back again pretty soon.\"\n\nSilence, and the pressure of a dimpled elbow on Margaret's knee.\n\n\"I suppose you don't care much about sitting in my lap, so as to\nsee better,\" was the next remark, addressed, apparently, to all\nout-doors.\n\nThe child began shyly to climb to the lady's knee, and was\npresently assisted there.\n\n\"Such a bird!\" sighed Margaret then, looking at the little one,\nthinking that by this time her glance could be borne. \"It had\nyellow specks on its breast,\" illustrating with profuse and\nanimated gestures, \"and a long bill, and a glossy head with\nyellow feathers standing up on top, and yellow stripes on its\nwings,\" pointing toward her own shoulders, her glance following\nher finger. Then a break, and an exclamation of dismay, \"What has\nbecome of my wings?\"\n\nDora reached up to look over the lady's shoulder, but saw only\nthe back of a well-fitting bombazine gown.\n\n\"I guess they's flied away,\" said the child in the voice of a\nanguid bobolink.\n\n\"Then I'll tell you a story,\" said Margaret. \"Once there was a\nlady who lived in a real mean place, and she didn't have a good\ntime at all. She was just as lonesome and homesick as she could\nbe. One day she brought home the photograph of a dear little\ngirl, and that she liked. And she wished that she could see the\nreal little girl, and that she could talk to her; but she had\nonly the paper picture.\n{52}\nWell, by and by she went to live in a delightful house; and while\nshe sat in her chamber, the door opened, and who should come in\nbut the same dear child whose picture she had loved! Wasn't the\nlady glad then?\"\n\n\"Who was the little girl?\" asked Dora with a shy, conscious look\nand smile.\n\nThe answer was a shower of kisses all over her sweet face, and\ntwo tears that dropped unseen into her sunny hair.\n\n\n        To Be Continued\n\n----------\n\n     Comparative Morality Of Catholic\n        And Protestant Countries.\n\n\nIt is truly refreshing to read in _Putnam's Magazine_ for\nJanuary, 1869, the article entitled, \"The Literature of the\nComing Controversy,\" written, as we now know, by Rev. Leonard W.\nBacon, a Protestant minister of Brooklyn, In it, he castigates\nmost soundly the well known anti-popery society called \"The\nAmerican and Foreign Christian Union,\" \"numbering,\" as he says,\namong its vice-presidents and directors, some of the most eminent\npastors, bishops, theologians, and civilians of the American\nProtestant churches. Some of its publications he calls \"wicked\nimpostures\" and \"shameful scandals,\" and wonders \"how they can\nstand, from year to year, accredited to the public by some of the\nmost eminent and excellent men in the country.\" Our wonder is\nstill greater how he can call men who countenance such things\n\"excellent.\" He says: \"All the time that this society has been\nrunning its manufactory of falsehoods and scandals, only the\nresolute good sense of the public, in not buying the rubbish, has\nsaved the church of Christ from a burning and ineffaceable\ndisgrace.\" The disgrace to the church, it seems to us, is the\nsame, since its chief men are implicated in this proceeding,\n\"whether the public buy the rubbish or not.\" We honor Mr. Bacon\nfor his manly, straightforward conduct, and thank him for this\nact of justice. It is the first we have had to rejoice in for a\nlong while, but we hope it will not be the last. The time seems\nto be approaching, when calumny and abuse will no longer be\nreceived with favor by the public, and the Catholic Church be\nallowed to speak in her own defence, and listened to, and judged\nof, according to her own intrinsic merits. All we ask is fair\nplay, and we are confident the truth will make itself known.\n\nBut the Rev. Mr. Bacon, after denouncing the lying and scurrilous\nattacks against the church, goes on to say: \"It is a pleasant\nrelief to take up another author--the Rev. M. Hobart Seymour, of\nthe Church of England. His two books, entitled _Mornings with\nthe Jesuits at Rome_, and _Evenings with the Romanists_,\nare models of religious controversy. The latter of the two,\nespecially, being the more popular, is peculiarly fitted to be\neffective in general circulation.\" .... \"This sprightly,\ninstructive, and interesting book has gone out of print.\" ... It\nis out of print in English; but desiring to gladden our eyes with\na copy of this model of \"courtesy, fairness, ability, and\nreligious feeling,\" we procured a translation into Spanish,\nentitled, _Noches con los Romanistas_, issued by The\nAmerican Tract Society, for the use of benighted Spaniards.\n{53}\nWe have read the opening chapter, and found it enough. We are\ntempted to exclaim with bitter disappointment, Is this all the\nfairness and justice we are to expect from one who is described\nas the \"model\" of a Protestant controversialist? We prefer the\nMcGavins, the Brownlees, or the Kirwans whom Mr. Bacon so justly\nholds up to public scorn. This man stabs you in the dark; he is a\nTitus Oates, who swears away your life by false testimony--by\ntelling just enough to convict you, when he knows enough to give\nyou an honorable acquittal.\n\nThis opening chapter has for its theme the relative effects of\nProtestantism and the Catholic religion upon the morality of\nthose under their respective influence; and to show that Catholic\ncountries, in comparison to Protestant, are sinks of crime and\nimpurity. This, if fairly proved, would be a practical argument\nof overwhelming force, sufficient to close the mind against all\nthat can be said in favor of the Catholic Church; and be a\nsufficient reason, with most people, for refusing even to\nentertain her claims to be the Church of God. We know that she is\nChrist's Church, and that just in proportion as she exerts her\ninfluence, virtue and morality must prevail; and that it is\nimpossible to prove, unless through fraud and misrepresentation,\nthat the practical working of her system produces a morality\ninferior to that of any other.\n\nWe know all the importance of the question; it is one that\ntouches our good name, and we feel indignation against any one\nwho shall attempt to rob us of it, by any mean or unfair tricks.\nLet us see how our \"model\" controversialist deals with this\nmatter. \"In order not to cause a useless waste of time by going\nover all sorts of crimes,\" he selects the greatest one, that of\nmurder or homicide. Then he selects England, and compares it with\nnearly all the Catholic countries of Europe, and shows it to be\nat least four times better than the very best of them. We do not\npropose to ferret this out; we cannot lay our hands upon the\nstatistics of this particular crime, which seem to be everywhere\nvery loosely given; but we can show shortly, that his conclusions\nare utterly false. He gives the number of persons\n_imprisoned_ on this charge of homicide in England and\nWales, during 1852, as 74, and the annual mean for three years as\n72. This will strike every one as simply ridiculous. Luckily, the\n_Statistical Journal_ of 1867 gives the following tables of\nthis crime for 1865, as follows:\n\n     Verdicts Of Coroners' Juries.\n\n  Wilful murder,  227\n  Manslaughter,   282\n  Total,          509\n\n\n       Police Returns.\n\n  Wilful murder,        135\n  Manslaughter,         279\n  Concealment of birth, 232\n  Total,                646\n\n\n      Criminal Tables.\n\n  Wilful murder cases tried,          60\n  Manslaughter, cases tried,         316\n  Concealment of birth, cases tried, 143\n  Total,                             519\n\n\n{54}\n\nIf 519 were tried, we may judge of the number _imprisoned_.\nThe author of the article in the _Journal_ says: \"The police\nreturns do not correspond with the coroners', and the discrepancy\nis so great that I can only account for it on the supposition\nthat, according to the police view of it, infanticide is not\nmurder.\" The number of coroners' inquests held in 1865, in\nEngland and Wales, was\n\n  Total                             25,011\n  Verdict of accidental deaths, . . 11,397\n\nHe continues, \"Open verdicts, as they are termed, such as, 'found\ndead,' or 'found drowned,' are rendered in many cases when a more\naccurate knowledge would have led to the verdict of 'wilful\nmurder.'\"\n\nIt is just as easy to compare the total of first-class criminals\nof all sorts, as to select homicide.\n\nAlison [Footnote 19] says, \"The proportion of crime to the\ninhabitants was _twelve times_ greater in Prussia\n(Protestant) than in France, (Catholic,) and in Austria,\n(Catholic,) the proportion of convicted crime is not _one\nfourth_ of what is found in Prussia.\" The _Statistical\nJournals_ for 1864-65 show that France is better than England.\n\n    [Footnote 19: _History of Europe_, vol. iii. chap,\n    xxvii. 10, 11.]\n\nThere were no less than 846 deaths of children under one year\nold, in 1857, in England and Wales from violent causes, [Footnote\n20] from which we may form some little idea of the extent of only\none sort of homicide.\n\n    [Footnote 20: _Statistical Journal_, 1859.]\n\nOnly 74 incarcerations for homicide in all England and Wales for\nthe year 1852! Why, it is stated in the _New York Herald_ of\nFebruary 4th, that 78 persons were arrested last year for murder\nin New York alone. We can easily imagine what the grand total for\nthe United States must be, and how much better is England, with\nits pauperism and crime, than the United States?\n\nMr. Seymour undoubtedly is \"sprightly\" enough, but only\n\"instructive\" by showing us the amount of nonsense which the\npublic is expected to swallow without examination, where the\nCatholic Church is concerned, and the amount of fair play to be\nexpected from a \"model\" of a Protestant controversialist.\n\nBut as a comparison based on \"homicide\" alone would prove\nnothing, any more than one based on drunkenness or robbery, Mr.\nSeymour institutes another, in respect to unchastity, or\nimmorality, and here he sets up as his criterion the amount of\n_illegitimacy_ among Catholics and Protestants respectively.\nIn any community, the moral condition is to be estimated by the\ngreater or smaller proportion of illegitimacy. We object to this\nas a very unreliable test. In some communities, an illegitimate\nbirth is almost unknown, and yet they are the most corrupt and\nlicentious on the face of the earth. Infanticide and foeticide\nreplace illegitimacy. A young woman falls from virtue; but in\nspite of the finger of scorn which will be pointed at her, her\nsense of religious duty restrains her from adding a horrible\ncrime to her sin. What is her moral condition in the sight of\nGod, compared with that of the guilty one whom no fear of the\nAlmighty has restrained from the commission of this crime? The\nabsence of illegitimacy may be the most convincing proof of a\nstate of moral corruption, as in Persia and Turkey, where no\nchildren except in wedlock, are suffered to see the light of the\nworld. [Footnote 21]\n\n  [Footnote 21: Storer, _Criminal Abortion_, p. 32.]\n\nThere are good reasons why more illegitimate children might be\nexpected to be born among Catholics than among Protestants, and\nyet the former be much more the moral than the latter. \"The\ndoctrine of the Catholic Church,\" says Bishop Fitzpatrick, \"her\ncanons, her pontifical constitutions, her theologians, without\nexception teach, and constantly have taught, that the destruction\nof the human foetus in the womb of the mother, at any period from\nthe first instant of conception, is a heinous crime, equal at\nleast in guilt to that of murder.\" [Footnote 22]\n\n    [Footnote 22: Ibid. p. 72.]\n\n{55}\n\nThis is understood by Catholics of all classes, and inspires a\nsalutary horror of the crime. Protestantism does not teach\nmorality in this definite way, but leaves people to reason out\nfor themselves the degree of criminality of particular offences.\nLet us listen to Dr. Storer, an eminent Protestant physician. \"It\nis not, of course, intended to imply that Protestantism, as such,\nin any way encourages, or indeed permits, the practice of\ninducing abortion; its tenets are uncompromisingly hostile to all\ncrime. So great, however, is the popular ignorance regarding this\noffence, that an abstract morality is here comparatively\npowerless; our American women arrogate to themselves the\nsettlement of what they consider, if doubtful, purely an ethical\nquestion; and there can be no doubt that the Romish ordinance,\nflanked on the one hand by the confessional, and by denouncement\nand excommunications on the other, has saved to to the world\nthousands of infant lives.\" [Footnote 23] Rev. Dr. Todd, a\nProtestant minister of Pittsfield, Mass., to his honor be it\nsaid, has had the courage to declare the same thing in similar\nwords. [Footnote 24] Dr. Storer proceeds, \"During the ten years\nthat have passed since the preceding sentence was written, we\nhave had ample verification of its truth. Several hundreds of\nProtestant women have personally acknowledged to us their guilt,\nagainst whom only seven Catholics, and of these we found, upon\nfurther inquiry, that but two were only nominally so, not going\nto the confession.\" [Footnote 25]\n\n    [Footnote 23: _Criminal Abortion_, P. 74.]\n\n    [Footnote 24: _Serpents in the Dove's Nest_.]\n\n    [Footnote 25: _Criminal Abortion_, p. 74.]\n\nTwo communities exist, in which, say, an equal amount of\nunchastity occurs. In one, religion restrains from the commission\nof further crime, and there is much illegitimacy apparent; in the\nother, criminal abortion destroys all the evidence, and though\nhorribly corrupt in comparison, the appearance is all the other\nway. Some such comparison might be made between Paris and Boston;\nwith what truth, each one can determine for himself, And there is\nanother reason which adds force to what has been said. In\nCatholic countries, foundling hospitals, established for the very\npurpose of saving infant life, exist everywhere, Knowing that the\ntemptation to conceal one's shame will, in many cases, be too\nstrong to be resisted, and thus one crime be added to another,\nthe impulse of Christian charity has caused the founding of these\nhospitals, so that the infant, instead of being killed, may be\nprovided for, and the mother have a chance to repent, without\nbeing for ever marked with the brand of shame. Scarcely any such\nexist among Protestants. To set up, then, illegitimacy as the\nbest criterion of the morals of a community, is a palpable\ninjustice to Catholics.\n\nBut let us, nevertheless, follow Mr. Seymour on his own chosen\nground, He thinks the Catholic country people may, in the absence\nof peculiar temptations, be as good as the Protestant; and that\nthe state of great cities will show more the influence of\nreligion on the morals of the people, We think the opposite; for\nin great cities there are immense masses of degraded people, who\nabandon the practice of religion, never go to church, and for\nwhom the Protestant church, at least, would be apt to disclaim\nall responsibility. The country people are within the knowledge\nand the voice of the preacher or the priest, and religion\nexercises its proper influence upon them.\n\n{56}\n\nHe selects London, on the Protestant side, as the largest city in\nthe world, the richest, and where there are \"the most numerous,\nthe strongest, and the most varied temptations;\" and, of course,\nwhere there should naturally be the most vice and crime. But\nfacts contradict theory. The percentage of illegitimate births in\nLondon is 4.2, while that for all England and Wales is 6.5, and\nin the country districts, where the \"numerous, strong, and varied\ntemptations\" are wanting, it varies from 9 to over 11. [Footnote\n26]\n\n    [Footnote 26: _Statistical Journal_, 1862.]\n\nLondon is compared with Paris, Brussels, Munich, and Vienna; and\nthe rates are given as follows:\n\n  Proportion Of Illegitimate Births.\n\n  In Paris,    Roman Catholic,  thirty-three per cent.\n  In Brussels, Roman Catholic,  thirty-five  per cent.\n  In Munich,   Roman Catholic,  forty-eight  per cent.\n  In Vienna,   Roman Catholic,  fifty-one    per cent.\n\n  In London, Protestant, four per cent.\n\nand then, to show that this fearful disproportion exists not only\nin the capital cities, but also in other smaller ones, we have\nanother table:\n\n  Protestant England.      R. C. Austria.\n\n  Bristol and\n    Clifton,   4 per ct.   Troppau,    26 per ct.\n  Bradford,    8 per ct.   Zara,       30 per ct.\n  Birmingham,  6 per ct.   Innspruck,  22 per ct.\n  Brighton,    7 per ct.   Laybach,    38 per ct.\n  Cheltenham,  7 per ct.   Brunn,      42 per ct.\n  Exeter,      8 per ct.   Linz,       46 per ct.\n  Liverpool,   6 per ct.   Prague,     47 per ct.\n  Manchester,  7 per ct.   Lemberg,    47 per ct.\n  Plymouth,    5 per ct.   Klagenfort, 56 per ct.\n  Portsea,     5 per ct.   Gratz,      65 per ct.\n\nThe inference from these figures, drawn with many exclamations of\nsurprise and horror, is, that the Protestant religion is ten\ntimes as powerful against crime and vice as the Catholic, and to\ncreate an overwhelming conviction of the essential corruption of\nthe latter. Nothing is further from the truth. London, Liverpool,\nBirmingham, etc., are as corrupt as any cities of the world. The\ncities of France and Austria need not fear the comparison, and\nthe more thoroughly it is made the better.\n\nJ. D. Chambers, Recorder of Salisbury, a Protestant, says:\n[Footnote 27]\n\n    [Footnote 27: _Church and World_, 1867.]\n\n\n  \"And here a few words on the unhappy reason why London and\n  other large towns of Great Britain and also Holland are\n  comparatively moral in this respect, and that in their cases\n  the average of this species of immorality is far below that of\n  the great cities of the continent; the fact that in this\n  respect the urban population of Great Britain appears to be\n  what it most certainly is not, comparatively pure, the rural\n  the most corrupt; whilst on the continent the reverse is\n  evident. There can be no doubt, as Mr. Lumley, in his able\n  _Poor-Law Reports_, has often hinted, that this difference\n  is owing to the prevalence of what has been justly called the\n  'social evil;' to the license, it may, in truth, be called\n  encouragement, which, in the populous districts of this\n  country, and notoriously in Holland, is given to public\n  prostitution. Of course there will be no illegitimacy among\n  Mohammedans and Hindoos, in Japan and China, or the African\n  tribes, nor also among those who live much in the same manner.\"\n  And, we might add, who practise infanticide and foeticide as\n  they do. He goes on, \"In London, the fallen women may be taken,\n  at the mean of the estimates, at 40,000. ... In Birmingham, in\n  1864, there were 966 disreputable houses where they resorted;\n  in Manchester, 1111; in Liverpool, 1578; in Leeds, 313; in\n  Sheffield, 433. [Footnote 28] And here we have revealed a\n  plague-spot in English society which runs through every grade,\n  especially the artisan, manufacturing, and lower commercial\n  classes, who, as we have seen, in general never enter a church.\n  ... There is no need, in addition, to dwell on the revelations\n  of the divorce court, which prove that Englishmen are nearly as\n  bad in this respect as the northern Germans. There is no one\n  who is acquainted with the condition of the families of\n  artisans who does not know the sad frequency with which they\n  abandon their wives, and how frequently they live in a state of\n  concubinage.\"\n\nAlison corroborates this: \"In London the proportion (of\nillegitimacy) is one to thirty-six, the effect, it is to be\nfeared, of the immense mass of concubinage which there prevails,\nunder circumstances where a law of nature renders an increase of\nthe population from that source impossible.\" [Footnote 29]\n\n    [Footnote 28: _Statistical Journal_, 1864.]\n\n    [Footnote 29: Vol. ii. chap. xvii. 122.]\n\n\n{57}\n\n\"In London, however, and the English cities, there are more\nillegitimate births than appear on the registers, because\nchildren of people who live together without being married are\nregistered 'legitimate.'\" [Footnote 30] So much for London,\nLiverpool, etc.\n\n  [Footnote 30: _Statistical Journal_, 1862.]\n\nIn Paris, a great proportion of the children reckoned\nillegitimate are born in the lying-in hospitals, or brought to\nthe foundling hospitals, and the greater proportion of the\nmothers are from the provinces, as will be seen from the\nfollowing table for 1856:\n\n  Mothers known,      3383\n  Department Seine,    551\n  Other departments,  2550\n  Foreign countries,   282\n\nChildren born in concubinage are reckoned illegitimate, and about\none-ninth of such children, on an average, are afterward\nlegitimated. The proportion of illegitimacy, then, for Paris\nproper, on the best calculations, is not over 12 per cent; and\nthat of London, calculated on the same data, would probably be\nquite as large, if not larger.\n\nThe same considerations apply to Brussels, Vienna, and Munich.\nLarge foundling and lying-in hospitals exist in al these places,\nand are resorted to by all the country round. The figures for\nthese cities are in no sense a criterion of their morals.\n\nIn Munich and Vienna, there is another important thing to be\ntaken into account, which we shall explain when we come to speak\nof countries. We see, then, how much value is to be attributed to\nthe heavenly purity of Protestant London, Liverpool, etc., in\ncomparison to the \"astonishing,\" \"horrible\" corruption of\nCatholic capitals on the continent. Moreover, in the latter the\n\"social evil\" is kept within strictest limits, and under the\ncomplete control of the government, and is not allowed to flaunt\nitself in public, as in London and New York, These considerations\nare strengthened by the case of Protestant Stockholm, where,\npublic prostitution being prohibited, the rate of illegitimacy is\nover fifty to the hundred--quite equal to that of Vienna.\n[Footnote 31] Why did not Mr. Seymour cite Stockholm, which is\nnotorious? I will answer: It was not convenient to spoil a good\nstory.\n\n    [Footnote 31: _Appleton's Cyc._, art. \"Foundling\n    Hospital.\"]\n\nNow as to the smaller cities of Austria, which, according to\nSeymour, beat the world for corruption, what is to be said?\nSimply, that they are no worse than their neighbors. What we have\nsaid of the foundling and lying-in hospitals of Paris explains\nthe whole matter. \"In Austria, excluding Hungary, there are forty\nfoundling and forty lying-in hospitals, and the number of\nfoundlings provided for by the government is over 20,000.\"\n[Footnote 32]\n\n    [Footnote 32: _Ibid_.]\n\nThese hospitals exist, without doubt, in all these cities; and if\nwe subtract their inmates who come from the country we should\nfind that they do not compare unfavorably with their neighbors.\nThey include the chief cities of the German provinces of the\nempire; and allowing only 4273 foundlings from the country to be\nin their hospitals, which is certainly a very moderate\ncalculation, their own proper rate of illegitimacy would not\nexceed ten per cent. This would be the case in Innspruck, for\nexample, if 53 only were received. Our \"model of fairness\" from\nsuch data draws his main conclusions, which prove that he is very\n\"sprightly\" at the figures, if nothing else. Shall we excuse him\non the plea of ignorance? No! he was bound to verify his\nstatements, and the conclusions from them; and if he had chosen\nto take the pains, the sources of information were open to him.\n{58}\nAn infamous calumny against the Catholic Church is invented by\nsomebody, and the whole tribe of popery-haters forthwith swear\nroundly that it is \"undoubted,\" \"notorious,\" etc., and, by dint\nof clamor, force the public to give credit to it.\n\nBut, seemingly aware that comparing London with cities so\ndifferent in climate, position, language, etc., has rather an\nunfair look, he says he will take cities of two adjoining\ncountries of the same race, and gives us the following table:\n\n  _Austria, Rom. Cath.   Prussia, Protestant._\n\n   Vienna,     51%         Berlin,          18%\n   Prague,     47%         Breslau          26%\n   Linz,       46%         Cologne,         10%\n   Milan,      32%         Konigsberg,      28%\n   Klagenfort, 56%         Dantzig,         20%\n   Gratz,      65%         Magdeburg        11%\n   Lembach,    47%         Aix la Chapelle,  4%\n   Laybach,    38%         Stettin,         13%\n   Zara,       30%         Posen,           19%\n   Brunn,      22%         Potsdam,         12%\n\nThe only thing this table proves is, that in Prussia the two\nCatholic cities of Cologne and Aix la Chapelle are better than\nany of the Protestant ones. They show excellently well in the\nProtestant column; but then the reader who is not well-posted or\nobservant might suppose that, being in Protestant Prussia, they\nare Protestant cities. We can hardly suppose Mr. Seymour, who is\na traveller, to be ignorant of so well known a fact. And how\ncomes it that Protestant Prussia makes so poor a show alongside\nof the pure and virtuous cities of Birmingham and Liverpool,\nwhere there are \"so many and varied temptations\"?\n\n\"If, then,\" he says, \"the question of the comparative efficacy of\nRomanism and Protestantism to restrain vice and immorality is to\nbe decided by the comparison of Austria and Prussia, we have as a\nbasis of a certain judgment this notable fact, that in ten cities\nof Austria we find forty-five illegitimate births in the hundred,\nand in ten cities of Prussia, sixteen only.\" We have seen what\nthis is worth. It seems to us that it would be more satisfactory\nto compare Austria and Prussia at once than to pick out cities\nhere and there to suit one's purpose. And this seems to strike\nour author; for he says, \"They often assure us that some\nProtestant countries, as Norway, Sweden, Saxony, Hanover, and\nWurtemberg are as demoralized as Roman Catholic countries. I\nshall not deny the allegation; but if a profound demoralization\nexists in some Protestant countries, that in Catholic countries\nis much worse.\" Then he goes on in this style to make his\nassertion good:\n\n  _Protestant.       Catholic._\n\n  Norway,     10%     Styria,           24%\n  Sweden,      7%     Up. & L. Austria, 25%\n  Saxony,     14%     Carinthia,        35%\n  Denmark,    10%     Salzburg,         22%\n  Hanover,    10%     Prov. of Trieste, 23%\n  Wurtemberg, 12%     Bavaria,          24%\n\nHere we have Styria, Upper and Lower Austria, Carinthia,\nSalzburg, Trieste, which are not separate countries at all, but\nsimply the German provinces of the Austrian empire, and Bavaria,\ncompared with countries so different and wide apart as Norway,\nSweden, Saxony, Hanover, and Wurtemberg. This is tricky in the\nextreme. Moreover, there is no reliance to be placed on the\nfigures which express their rate of illegitimacy, for a very good\nreason. Marriage is forbidden to great numbers in German Austria\nand Bavaria. \"No person in Austria can marry if he does not know\nhow to read, write, and cipher.\" [Footnote 33] Besides, in both\ncountries, a man, before being permitted to marry, had to possess\na sum of money quite out of reach of a great many. _Appleton's\nCyclopaedia_ [Footnote 34] says, \"In some German states the\nobstacles to legal marriage are so great that numbers of people\nprefer to live together in what would be perfectly legal wedlock\nin Scotland and America, but is only concubinage by the local\nlaws of the state.\"\n\n    [Footnote 33: _Alison_, vol. iii. chap, xxvii. 9.]\n\n    [Footnote 34: Article Europe.]\n\n{59}\n\nThey marry, but the state will not recognize the children as\nlegitimate, and the official registers are no criterion of the\nreal state of the case. Mr. J. D. Chambers says, [Footnote 35]\n\"In Bavaria, moreover, where the population is one-third\nProtestant, there exists an atrocious state of law which forbids\nmarriage unless the contracting parties satisfy the authorities\nthat they are capable of maintaining a family without extraneous\naid. This, of course, leads to many secret marriages and illicit\nconnections, so that this country ought to be excepted from the\naverage.\"\n\n    [Footnote 35: _Church and World_, 1867.]\n\nThe Bavarians are as good a people as any in Germany, and it is a\nshame to libel them. If countries are to be compared--and it is\nthe only fair and honest way to proceed--why not compare them in\na straightforward, obvious way--France and England, Prussia and\nAustria--in fact, all the countries we can get the statistics of,\nand show the result in a tabular form, so that we can understand\nthe _whole_ thing at a glance? This would effectually put a\nstop to the cry of the vice of Catholic countries, which the\n_Chicago Press_, of January 11th, declares to be \"notorious\nthroughout the country.\" It is \"notorious,\" because statements\nlike Seymour's, cooked up for a purpose, give rise to utterly\nfalse conclusions, which are easily caught up and trumpeted,\nthrough the pulpit and the press, all over the country.\n\nWe shall now, leaving out Bavaria, for the reasons above given,\ngive the latest and best statistics, in respect to illegitimate\nbirths, which it is possible to get. They are taken from the\njournals of the Statistical Society of London of the years 1860,\n1862, 1865, 1867, the principal portions being compiled by Mr.\nLumley, Honorary Secretary of the society, and contained in that\nof 1862, to be seen in the Astor Library. It will be interesting\nto the general reader, apart from its controversial bearings.\n\nIn Prussia, we have statistics according to the religious creed\nof the people. We shall, therefore, divide it into Catholic and\nProtestant. We wish the same could be done for Holland and\nSwitzerland. Where there is a large minority differing from the\nmajority, it would be most interesting; but it cannot be done\nexcept in Prussia. The number of illegitimate births in the\nhundred is as follows, according to the latest accounts given:\n\n    _Catholic Countries._\n\n  1828-37,  Kingdom of Sardinia,   2.1\n  1859,     Spain,                 5.6\n  1853,     Tuscany                6.\n  1858,     Catholic Prussia,      6.1\n  1859,     Belgium,               7.4\n  1856,     Sicily,                7.4\n  1858,     France,                7.8.\n  1851,     Austria,               9.\n\n\n    _Protestant Countries._\n\n  1859,     England and Wales,     6.5\n  1855,     Norway,                9.3\n  1858,     Protestant Prussia,    9.3\n  1855,     Sweden                 9.5\n  1855,     Hanover,               9.9\n  1866,     Scotland,             10.1\n  1855,     Denmark,              11.5\n  1838-47,  Iceland,              14.\n  1858,     Saxony,               16.\n  1857,     Wurtemberg,           16.1\n\nMixed countries, where the Catholic population approaches the\nhalf:\n\n  1859,  Holland,      4.1\n  1852,  Switzerland,  6.\n\nLest we be deemed to wish to conceal the depravity of Ireland, we\ngive what is given by Mr. J. D. Chambers, [Footnote 36] who\nprobably has access to the registrar's reports, which, of course,\nwe have not:\n\n  1865-66, Catholic Ireland, 3\n\nand these, we remark, are _mostly in the north_, which is\nProtestant.\n\n   [Footnote 36: _Church and World_, 1867.]\n\n{60}\n\nThe particulars of the statistics throw a good deal of light on\nthe morality of the different countries, for instance, in France\nand England. The rate of illegitimacy in all\n\n  England and Wales is  6.5\n  London only           4.2\n  Birmingham,           4.7\n  Liverpool,            4.9\n\nIn spite of the \"numerous and varied temptations\" of the large\ntowns, the rate is much less in them than in the country, which\nruns after this fashion:\n\n  Nottingham,        8.9\n  York, N. Riding,   8.9\n  Salop,             9.8\n  Westmoreland,      9.7\n  Norfolk,          10.7\n  Cumberland,       11.4\n\nIn France, it is just the other way. The rate is,\n\n  In all France,               7.8\n  In Paris,                   27.\n  Urban districts,            12.\n  Rural districts              4.2\n  La Vend\u00e9e,                   2.2\n  Brittany, Dep't. Cote D'Or,  1.2\n\nBrittany and La Vendee remained Catholic through the storm of the\nFrench Revolution, and at this moment are thoroughly so. In\nAustria, the rate is: whole empire, only 9; urban districts, from\n25 to 65; therefore, rural districts cannot be more than 5 or 6.\n\nPrussia gives us, perhaps, the most conclusive test of the\neffects of religion on morals; for the census has been carefully\ntaken according to creed, for many years, with uniform result\nthus. There are over 11,000,000 Protestants, and over 7,000,000\nCatholics, principally in the Rhine provinces, Westphalia, and\nPosen. [Footnote 37] The rate\n\n  Among Catholics,  6.48  Among Protestants, 10.0\n  Westphalia,       3.7   Prov. of Prussia,   6.7\n  Rhineland,        3.3   Pomerania,         10.3\n  Posen             6.8   Brandenburg,       12.0\n\n    [Footnote 37: _Historische Bl\u00e4tter_, 9th Heft, 1867.]\n\nRev. T. W. Woolsey, of Yale College, New Haven, bears testimony\nto this relative state of morals in regard to the kindred subject\nof divorce, in an address before the Western Social Science\nConvention, at Chicago, as follows: \"We have made some\ncomparisons between the frequency of divorce in this country and\nin other parts of Protestantism. Prussia had the reputation of\nhaving the lowest system of divorce laws anywhere to be found.\nBut the ratio there of annual divorces to annual marriages in\n1855 was, among non-Catholics, one to twenty-nine, or about 3.5\nper cent less than in Vermont or Ohio, and far less than in\nConnecticut, where it is 9.6 per cent. The greatest ratio nearly\nthirty years ago in the judicial districts of Prussia was 57\ndivorces to 100,000 inhabitants; the least, 16 to 100,000: nay\nmore, in the Prussian Rhenish provinces, where the law is based\non the Code Napoleon, and where the Catholic inhabitants, being\nnumerous, must have some influence on the social habits of\nProtestants, there were but four fair divorces to 100,000\nProtestants, or twenty-four in all among 600,000 of that class of\ninhabitants. I write this in pain, being a Protestant, if, as the\nApostle Paul says, 'I may provoke to emulation them which are my\nflesh, and might save some of them.'\"\n\nScotland might be supposed by our Protestant friends to be high\nup on the list, having always been so completely under the\ninfluence of the pure gospel of Calvin and Knox; but the rate for\nScotland is 10.1.\n\nIn the Lowlands, where Presbyterianism carried all before it, the\nrate is from 10 to 15. In the Highlands, which remained to a\nconsiderable extent Catholic, the average is 5.6.\n\n{61}\n\nSupposing the immorality of the large cities, Protestant and\nCatholic, to be the same, though it is pretty sure the Catholic\nare much the best, and confining our comparison to the mass of\nthe rural population, which is the fairer test, and the countries\nwould stand in the following order, beginning with the most\nfavorable:\n\n  Sardinia,            Catholic.\n  Ireland,             Catholic.\n  Holland,             Mixed.\n  Spain,               Catholic.\n  Switzerland,         Mixed.\n  Tuscany,             Catholic.\n  Catholic Prussia,    Catholic.\n  Belgium,             Catholic.\n  France,              Catholic.\n  Sicily,              Catholic.\n  Austria,             Catholic.\n  England,             Protestant.\n  Norway,              Protestant.\n  Protestant Prussia.  Protestant.\n  Scotland,            Protestant.\n  Denmark,             Protestant.\n  Sweden,              Protestant.\n  Hanover,             Protestant.\n  Iceland,             Protestant.\n  Saxony,              Protestant.\n  Wurtemberg,          Protestant.\n\nThus, to sum up, the Catholic countries of Europe, perhaps\nwithout an exception, are above the Protestant, if the number of\nillegitimate births is accepted as a criterion of morality. Could\nwe get the statistics of infanticide, and of a still more common\nand destructive crime, foeticide, and add them to the above, then\nwe could form a more just idea of the benefit the Catholic\nreligion, with her divine ordinance of Confession, has conferred\non the human race. But of course it is impossible to determine\nwith exactness the amount of this crime which hides itself in\nprofound darkness; we can only conjecture from sure indications\nthat it is one of fearful magnitude.\n\nWe need not go abroad; the evidence is at our own door. Take the\nState of Rhode Island as a specimen. The number of children\nannually receiving Catholic baptism exceeds the half of all the\nchildren born in the State, although the Catholic population does\nnot exceed the third part; in other words, there are two\nProtestants to every Catholic, and yet there are more Catholic\nchildren born than Protestant. Illegitimacy is almost unknown\namong Catholics, and the birthrate is at least 1 to 25, which\ndemonstrates that criminal abortion cannot exist to any extent\nworth speaking of. The birth-rate among Protestants is i to over\n50. What becomes of the children who ought to be born? Let Dr.\nStorer speak: [Footnote 38] \"Hardly a newspaper throughout the\nland that does not contain their open and pointed advertisements.\n... The profits that must be made from the sale of the drugs\nsupposed abortifacient, may be judged from the extent to which\nthey are advertised and the prices willingly paid for them.\" \"We\nare compelled to admit that Christianity itself, or, at least,\nProtestantism, has failed to check the increase of criminal\nabortion.\" [Footnote 39] To the same effect we have a writer in\nHarper's very anti-popery Magazine: \"We are shocked at the\ndestruction of human life upon the banks of the Ganges, as well\nas on the shores of the South Sea Islands; but here in the heart\nof Christendom, foeticide and infanticide are extensively\npractised under the most aggravating circumstances. ... It should\nbe stated that believers in the Roman Catholic faith never resort\nto any such practices; the strictly Americans are almost alone\nguilty of such crimes.\" And Bishop Coxe, of the Protestant\nEpiscopal Church, has published to his people the following: \"I\nhave hitherto warned my flock against the blood-guiltiness of\nante-natal infanticide. If any doubts existed heretofore as to\nthe propriety of my warnings on the subject, they must now\ndisappear before the fact that the world itself is beginning to\nbe horrified by the practical results of the sacrifices to Moloch\nwhich defile our land.\"\n\n    [Footnote 38: _Criminal Abortion_, p. 55.]\n\n    [Footnote 39: Page 69.]\n\n\n{62}\n\nHow is it with Protestant England? Dr. Lankester, one of the\ncoroners of London, declares that there are 12,000 mothers in\nLondon alone, guilty of infanticide. [Footnote 40] In Prussia,\nMr. J. Laing says that, \"Chastity, the index virtue of the moral\ncondition of the people, is lower than in almost any part of\nEurope.\" [Footnote 41] Let us look at home. Our attention has\nbeen so diverted to the _vice and immorality_ of our\nCatholic neighbors, that we have begun to imagine ourselves the\nmost moral, the most virtuous, the most enlightened people on the\nface of the earth, while, in reality, we are fast getting to be\nthe most corrupt and abominable. It would be well to call to mind\na little oftener the saying of our Lord, \"First pull the beam out\nof thine own eye, and then thou shalt see clearly to pull the\nmote out of thy brother's eye.\"\n\n    [Footnote 40: _Church and World_, 1866, p. 57.]\n\n    [Footnote 41: _Spald. Miscell_. p. 484.]\n\nWe have thus exposed the untrustworthiness of Mr Seymour's\n_Nights among the Romanists_. With the evidence before him,\nhe has kept back any honest and fair statement of it, and only\nput forward such portion as would serve to substantiate an\nutterly false conclusion, most injurious to us Catholics, both\nreligiously and personally; for we cannot be looked upon in the\nmass as corrupt and vicious, without a great deal of personal\nill-will and contempt and hatred being engendered.\n\nWe call the attention of the Rev. Mr. Bacon to this. He has taken\na noble stand against base and unfair practices in the\ncontroversy with the Catholic Church, and we hope he will\npersevere in spite of the opposition he has raised against\nhimself. We feel inclined to forgive him for some sins of his\nown, in this respect; for example, in speaking of the \"Tax-Book\nof Roman Chancery,\" when Bishop England has so clearly shown it\nto be a base forgery. We hope our exposure of Mr. Seymour will be\nmet in a generous and Christian spirit, and that he will promptly\ndisavow all connection with him as an _amende honorable_ for\nhaving recommended him.\n\nWe see, by _The Christian World_ of September, that the\nAmerican and Foreign Christian Union are going to reissue this\nbook, and we hope these \"eminent and excellent\" men, now that\ntheir attention is called to it, will clean this out with the\nrest of the filth of their Augean stable. And also the directors\nof the American Tract Society are requested to consider seriously\nwhether defamation is exactly the most Christian weapon to fight\nwith, or the one most likely in the long run to overcome the\nCatholic Church, and whether they should not withdraw from\ncirculation a book so damaging to their reputation as lights of\nthe pure Protestant Gospel, shining amongst the darkness and\nmoral corruptions of Popery.\n\n----------\n\n{63}\n\n      Heremore-Brandon; Or,\n    The Fortunes Of A Newsboy.\n\n\n         Chapter VIII.\n\n\nAs might have ben supposed, Dick was at Mr. Brandon's office long\nbefore that gentleman made his appearance down-town. It was a\nsultry morning, with occasional snatches of rain to make the\ngloomy streets more gloomy, and the depressing atmosphere more\ndepressing. Mr. Brandon was sensitive to heat; he had no cool\nsummer retreat to go to in the evenings, and return from with a\nrose in his button-hole in the mornings; and as, instead of being\ngrateful for the many years in which he had enjoyed this luxury,\nhe was disposed to consider himself decidedly ill-used in not\nhaving it still, so soon as he found Dick waiting for him, he\nbegan his repinings in the most querulous of all his tones:\n\n\"Pretty hard on a man who has had his own country-place, and been\nhis own lord and master, to come down to this blistering old hole\nevery morning, isn't it, Mr. Heremore? Well, well, some people\nhave no feeling! There are those old nabobs who were hand and\nglove with me, mighty glad of a dinner with me, and where are\nthey now? Do they come around with '_How are you, Brandon?_'\nand invitations to _their_ dinners? Indeed not!\"\n\n\"Mr. Brandon, I have come to talk to you about some business,\"\nbegan Dick, who had prepared a dozen introductions, all forgotten\nat the needed moment; then abruptly, \"Mr. Brandon, did you ever\nhear my name, the name of _Heremore_ before?\"\n\nIt would be false to say that Mr. Brandon showed any emotion\nbeyond that of natural surprise at the abruptness of the\nquestion; but it is safe to add that the surprise was very great,\nalmost exaggerated. He replied, coolly enough, as he hung up his\nhat and sat down, wiping his face with his handkerchief:\n\"Heremore? It is not, so to say, a common name; and I may or may\nnot have heard it before. One who has been in the world so long\nas I have, Mr. Heremore, can hardly be expected to know what\nnames he has or has not heard in the course of his life. I\nsuppose you ask for some especial reason.\"\n\n\"I do,\" said Dick, a little staggered by the other's\nunembarrassed reply, \"Did you not once know a gentleman in\nWiltshire, called Dr. Heremore?\"\n\n\"This is close questioning from a young man in your position to\nan old gentleman in mine, and I am slightly curious to know your\nobject in asking before I reply.\"\n\n\"I believe you were married twice, Mr. Brandon, and that your\nfirst wife's maiden name was Heremore?\"\n\n\"Well--and then?\"\n\n\"And that she died while you were away, believing you were dead;\nand and that she had two children,\" said Dick, who began to feel\nuneasy under the steady, smiling gaze of the other--\"and that\nshe had two children, a son and a daughter.\"\n\n\"Almost any one can tell you that my family consists of my first\nwife's daughter, and two sons by my second wife. But that's of no\nconsequence. Two children, a son and a daughter, you were\nsaying.\"\n\n\"Yes, two; although you may have been able to trace only one. She\ndied in great poverty, did she not?\"\n\n{64}\n\n\"I decline answering any questions, I am highly\nflattered--charmed, indeed--at the interest you show in my\nfamily by these remarks; and I can only regret that my fortunes\nare now so low that I know of no way in which to prove my\ngrateful appreciation of the manner in which you must have\nlabored in order to know so much. In happier times, I might have\nsecured you a place in the police department; but unfortunately,\nI am a ruined man, unable to assist any one at present.\"\n\nAt this speech, which was delivered in the most languid manner,\nand in a tone that was infinitely more insulting than the words,\nDick was on the point of thrusting his mother's letter before the\nman's eyes, to show by what means he had obtained his knowledge;\nbut the cool words, the indifferent manner, had a great effect\nupon our hero, who found it every moment more difficult to\nbelieve in the theory that from the first had seemed so likely to\nbe the real one, and so he answered respectfully:\n\n\"I assure you, I mean no rudeness to you, Mr. Brandon; but I am\nengaged in the most serious business in the world, for me. I may\nbe mistaken in you, and shall not know how to atone for the\nmistake, should I come to know it; but I hope you will be sure of\nmy respectful intention, however I may err.\"\n\nMr. Brandon bowed, smiled, and played with his pen, as if the\nconversation were drawing to a close. Dick, heated and more\nembarrassed than ever, was obliged to recommence it.\n\n\"But was not your first wife's name Heremore? I beg you to answer\nme this one question, for all depends upon it.\"\n\n\"A very sufficient reason why I should not answer it. But as you\nto have something very interesting to disclose, perhaps we had\nbetter imagine that her name was Heremore before it was Brandon.\nPermit me to ask if, in that case, I am to own a relation in you?\nI certainly cannot make such a connection as advantageous as I\ncould a year or so ago; but though I cannot prove the rich uncle\nof the romances, I shall be glad to know what scion of my wife's\nnoble house I have the honor of addressing.\"\n\nIt seems easy to have answered \"_your son_\" but the words\nwould not come. More and more the whole thing seemed a dream.\nWhat! a man so hardened that he could sit before his own son,\nwhom by this time he must have known to be his son, and talk\nafter this fashion of his dead wife's house! Impossible! If,\nthen, he should tell his tale, and tell it to an unconcerned\nlistener, what a sacrilege he would commit!\n\n\"A very near relative,\" Dick said at last. \"I know that Dr.\nHeremore's daughter married a Charles Brandon about twenty-five\nyears ago.\"\n\n\"Ah! I see! And you thought there was but one Charles Brandon in\nin the world! You see I shall have to learn a lesson in\npoliteness from you; for I could conceive that there should be\nroom in this world even two Richard Heremores.\"\n\nPoor Dick was silenced for the moment. He knew he was taking up\nMr. Brandon's time, and so the time of his employer. He walked up\nand down the little office and thought it all over. Certain\npassages in his mother's letter came to his mind. In this way,\nperhaps, had her appeals been sneered at in the olden times!\n\n\"Mr. Brandon,\" he said, standing in front of his tormentor, his\nwhole appearance changed from that of the hesitating, embarrassed\nboy to the resolute, high-spirited man--\n\"Mr. Brandon, there has been enough trifling.\n{65}\nI insist upon knowing if you were or were not the husband of Miss\nHeremore. If you were not, it is a very simple thing to say so.\nThere are plenty of ways by which I can make myself certain of\nthe fact without your assistance; but out of consideration for\nyou, I came to you first.\"\n\n\"I am deeply grateful,\" with a mock ceremonious bow.\n\n\"But if you persist in this way of treating me, I shall have to\ngo elsewhere.\"\n\n\"And then?\"\n\n\"Heaven knows I do not ask anything of you, beyond the\ninformation I came to seek. I wondered yesterday why she should\nhave given me her father's name instead of mine; now I can\nunderstand it. I had doubts while first speaking to you, but now\nthey are gone. I believe it is so. If you will not tell me as\nmuch as you know of Dr. Heremore, I can go to his old home for\nit. It would have saved me time and expense if you had answered\nmy questions; but as you please.\"\n\nHe was clearly in earnest. Mr. Brandon saw it, and stopped him at\nthe door.\n\n\"My wife's name _was_ Heremore,\" he said very indifferently,\n\"and her father has been dead these twenty years. You have your\nanswer. Permit me to ask what you mean to do about it?\"\n\n\"Dr. Heremore was my grandfather,\" said Dick, coming back and\nsitting down.\n\n\"Ah! indeed!\" politely; \"he was a very excellent old gentleman in\nhis way; it is much to be regretted that he and you should have\nbeen unable to make each other's acquaintance.\"\n\n\"When my mother--your first wife--died, you knew she left two\nchildren.\"\n\n\"One--a daughter. I think you have met her.\"\n\n\"There were two. I was the other.\"\n\n\"Are you quite sure?\" asked Mr. Brandon in the same languid\ntones; but, for the first time, it seemed to Dick that they\nfaltered.\n\n\"I am quite sure. You would know her writing.\"\n\n\"Possibly. It was a great while ago, and my eyes are not as good\nas they were.\"\n\n\"You would recognize her portrait?\"\n\n\"If one I had seen before, I might.\"\n\n\"I should say this was a portrait of the first Mrs. Brandon,\" he\nsaid, taking that which Dick handed him and, looking at it, not\nwithout some signs of embarrassment, \"or of someone very like\nher. And this is not unlike her writing, as I remember it. Oh!\nyou wish me to read this?\"\n\nDick signed assent, watching him while he read. Whatever Mr.\nBrandon felt while reading that letter, he kept it all in his own\nheart.\n\n\"This is all?\" he asked when he had read and deliberately\nrefolded it.\n\n\"It is all at present,\" answered Dick.\n\nThen Mr. Brandon arose, handed the paper back, and said very\nquietly but deliberately:\n\n\"My first wife is dead and gone; her daughter lives with me, and,\nas long as I had the means, received every luxury she could\ndesire. The past is past, and I do not wish it revived.\nUnderstand me. I do not wish it revived. I want to hear nothing\nmore, not a word more, on this subject. If I were rich as I once\nwas, I could understand why you should persist in this thing. I\nam not yet so poor that the law cannot protect me from any\nfurther persecution about the matter. Your mother, you say, named\nyou for your grandfather, not for me.\n{66}\nIf you wish paternal advice--all that my poverty would enable me\nto give, however I were disposed--I advise you to go for it to\nher father, for whom she showed her judgment in naming you. Good\nmorning.\"\n\n\"You cannot mean this! You must have known me as a child, and\nknown my name before, long, long ago, and surely consented to it,\nor she would not have so named me. Of course, it was by some\nmistake the Brandon was dropped at first, not by her, but by\nthose who took care of me when she died; she could never have\nmeant such a thing; it was undoubtedly an accident. You cannot\nmean to end all here--that I am not to know, to see, my sister!\"\n\n\"I tell you I wish to hear not another word of this matter; do\nyou hear me? Have I not troubles enough now without your coming\nto bring up the hateful past? You shall not add to your sister's,\nwhatever you may do to mine.\"\n\n\"I insist upon seeing her.\"\n\n\"You shall not. I positively forbid you to go near her. Now leave\nme! I have borne enough.\"\n\n\"But I cannot let the matter rest here; you know I cannot. The\nidea of it is absurd! If you do not wish me for a son, I have no\ndesire to force myself upon you. I do not know why you should\nrefuse to own me; I am not conscious of any cause I have given\nyou to so dislike me.\"\n\n\"I don't dislike you, nor do I like you particularly; I have no\nill-feeling against you, but I don't want this old matter dragged\nup. I am not strong enough to bear persecution now.\"\n\n\"But I do not want to persecute you. I want--\"\n\n\"Well, what _do_ you want?\"\n\n\"I hardly know. I may have had an idea that you would welcome\nyour oldest child after so many years of loss, however unworthy\nof you he might be. I may have thought that if you once were not\nall you should have been to one who, likely, was at one time very\ndear to you, it might be a satisfaction to you, even at this late\nday, to retrieve--\"\n\n\"You thought wrong, and it is not worth while wasting words on the\nmatter. I have got over all that, and don't want it revived. I\ncan't put you out, but I beg you to go; or, if you persist in\nforcing your words upon me, pray choose some other subject.\"\n\n\"I will go, since you so heartily desire it; but I warn you that\nI will not give up seeing Miss--my sister.\"\n\n\"As you please. You will get as little satisfaction there, I\nfancy; though it may not be quite as annoying to her as to me.\"\n\n\"I shall try, at all events.\"\n\n\"Try. Go to her; say anything to her; make any arrangement with\nher you choose; take her away altogether. I don't care a button\nwhat you do, so you only leave me.\"\n\n\"I will leave you willingly, and am indeed sorry to have put you\nto so much pain.\"\n\n\"Not a word, I pray you,\" answered Mr. Brandon, now polite and\nsmiling. \"You have performed a disagreeable duty in the least\ndisagreeable way you could, I do not doubt. All I ask is, never\nto hear it mentioned again.\"\n\nDick stayed for no more ceremony. Glad to be released from such\nan atmosphere of selfishness and cowardice, he hardly waited for\nthe answer to his good-morning before turning to the street.\n\nIn less than an hour he was in the dreary room, with\n_boarding-house_ stamped all over its walls, saying\ngood-morning to a stately young lady, very pale and\nweary-looking, who kindly rose to receive him.\n{67}\nThe little room was hot and close; there were no shutters to the\nwindows; the shades were too narrow at the sides; besides being\nso unevenly put up that the eyes ached every time one turned\ntoward them, and the gleaming light was almost worse than the\nheat.\n\n\"I have been trying for the dozenth time to straighten them,\"\nsaid Mary, drawing one down somewhat lower, \"but it's of no use.\"\n\n\"Are they crooked?\" asked Dick innocently.\n\n\"Well, yes, rather,\" answered Mary, smiling. \"I think I never saw\nanything before that was so near the perfection of crooked.\"\n\n\"I have seen your father this morning,\" Dick began, taking a\nchair near the table.\n\n\"There is nothing the matter, I hope?\" she questioned nervously.\n\n\"Nothing that any one but myself need mind. I made some\ndiscoveries about myself last evening that I would like to tell\nyou. Have you time?\"\n\n\"I have nothing to do. I shall be very glad if my attentive\nlistening can do you any service.\" She moved her chair, in a\nquiet way, a little farther from his, and looked at him in some\nsurprise. She saw he was very earnest, excited, and greatly\nembarrassed. She could not help seeing that his eyes were\nanxiously following her every movement, eagerly trying to read\nher face.\n\n\"I am afraid I shall shock you very much, and you are not well; I\nam sorry I came. I thought only of my own eagerness to see you;\nnot, until this moment, of the pain I may cause you.\"\n\n\"Do not think of that. I do not think, Mr. Heremore, you are\nlikely to say anything that should pain me. I think you too\nsensible--I mean, too gentlemanly for that.\"\n\n\"I hope you really mean that. I am sure I must seem very rude and\nunpolished in your eyes; but I would have been far more so, had\nit not been for you.\"\n\n\"For me?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" And he told her about the Christmas morning in Fourteenth\nStreet.\n\n\"And you remembered that little thing all this time!\" Mary\nexclaimed. \"And you were once a newsboy!\"\n\n\"Yes; I was once a great, stupid, ragged newsboy. I do not mean\nto deny, to conceal anything. I am so very sorry, for your sake;\nbut I hope you will like me in spite of it all. If just those few\nwords and that one smile did so much for me, what is there your\ninfluence may not do?\"\n\n\"Mr. Heremore, I do not in the least understand you.\"\n\n\"I don't know where to begin; this has excited me so that I do\nnot know what I am saying, and now I wish almost that you might\nnever know it; there is such a difference between us that I\ncannot tell how to begin.\"\n\n\"Is it necessary that you should begin?\" asked Mary. \"You told me\nyou wished to speak to me, of some discoveries you had made in\nregard to yourself. To anything about yourself I will listen with\ninterest; but I do not care to have anything said about myself;\nthere can be no connection between the two subjects that I can\nsee; so pray do not waste words on so poor a subject as myself;\nbut tell me the discovery, if you please.\"\n\n\"But it concerns you as much as it does me. Do you know much\nabout your own mother? She died, you told me, long ago.\"\n\n\"I know very little about her. I presume her death was a great\ngrief to papa; for he has never permitted a word to be said about\nher, and anything that pains papa in that way is never alluded to.\n{68}\nThe little I do know I have learned from my old nurse.\"\n\n\"You do not remember her?\"\n\n\"Not in the least; she died when I was a mere baby.\"\n\n\"Did you ever see her portrait, or any of her writing, or hear\nher maiden name?\"\n\n\"No, to all your questions. Does papa know you are here, this\nmorning?\"\n\n\"Yes; I went to him at once. At first he was very determined I\nshould not see you; but in the end, he seemed glad to get me\nsilenced at any price, and I was so anxious to see you that I did\nnot wait for very cordial permission.\"\n\n\"You did not talk to papa about my mother?\"\n\n\"Yes, that is what I went for.\"\n\n\"How did you dare to do it? Was he not very angry? I am sure you\nknow something about mamma.\"\n\n\"Yes, I do. I have her portrait; this is it.\"\n\n\"Her portrait! My mamma's portrait! O what a beautiful face! Is\nthis really my mamma? Did papa see it? Did he recognize it?\"\n\n\"I showed it to him. He did not deny it was hers.\"\n\n\"_Deny it was hers!_ What in the world do you mean, Mr.\nHeremore? Where did you get it?\"\n\nThen Dick, in the best way he could, told the whole story of the\nbox, and gave her the letter to read. When Mary came to the part\nwhich said, \"_Will you love your sister always, let what may be\nher fate? Remember, always, she had no mother to guide her_,\"\nshe turned her eyes, full of tears, to Dick, saying no words.\n\n\"She did not know that it would be the other way,\" Dick replied\nto her look, his own eyes hardly dry. \"She would have begged for\nme if she had known that--\" farther than this he could not get.\nMary put her hands in his, and said earnestly:\n\n\"No need for that; her pleading comes just as it should. Will you\nreally be my brother--all wearied, sick, and worn-out as I am?\nOh! if this had only come two years ago, I could have been\nsomething to you!\"\n\nBut Dick could not answer a word, He could only keep his eyes\nupon her face; afraid, as it seemed, that it would suddenly prove\nall a dream.\n\nBut the day wore on and it did not prove less real. The heat and\nthe glaring light were forgotten, or not heeded, while the two\nsat together and talked of this strange story, and tried to fill\nup the outlines of their mother's history.\n\n\"I feel as if our grandpapa were living, or, if not living, there\nmust be somebody who knows something about him,\" she said.\n\n\"I think I ought to go and see. Mr. Staffs was very particular in\nurging that.\"\n\n\"I think so; even if you learned nothing, it would be a good\nthing for you just to have tried.\"\n\n\"I know I can get permission to stay away for a few days longer;\nthere's nothing doing at this season, Would it take long?\"\n\n\"I don't know much about it; not more than two days each way, I\nshould think. There is a steamer, too, that goes to Portland, and\nyou can find out if Wiltshire is near there. The steamer trip\nwould be splendid at this season. Are you a good sailor?\"\n\n\"I don't know. You have got a great ignoramus for a brother. I\nhave never been half a day's journey from New York in my life.\"\n\n\"Is that so? Well, you must go to Portland. How you will enjoy\nthe strong, bracing sea-breezes; they make one feel a new life!\"\n\n{69}\n\nThen suddenly Dick's face grew very red, but bright, and he said\neagerly: \"Would you trust me--I mean could your father be\npersuaded--would you be afraid to go with me?\"\n\n\"Oh! I wish I could! I would enjoy it as I never did a journey\nbefore! Just to see the sea again, and with a brother! I can't\ntell you how I have all my life envied girls with great, grown-up\nbrothers. Nobody else is ever like a brother. Fred and Joe are\nyounger than I, and have been away so much that they never seemed\nlike brothers. A journey with you on such a quest would be\nsomething never to be forgotten.\"\n\n\"It doesn't seem as if such a good thing could come to pass,\"\nanswered Dick. \"I don't know anything about travelling; you would\nhave to train me; but if you will bear with me now, I will try\nhard to learn. Do you think your father would listen to the\nidea?\"\n\n\"No; he would not listen to ten words about it. He hates to be\ntroubled; he would never forgive me if I went into explanations\nabout an affair that did not please him; but if I say, 'Papa, I\nam going away for a couple of weeks to New England, unless you\nwant me for something,' he will know where I am going, what for,\nand will not mind, so he is not made to talk about it; that is\nhis way.\"\n\n\"Will you really go, then, with me? You know I shall not know how\nto treat you gallantly, like your grand beaux.\"\n\n\"Ah! don't put on airs, Mr. Dick; you were not so very humble\nbefore you knew our relationship. Remember, I have known you\nlong.\"\n\n\"I wonder what you thought of me.\"\n\n\"I thought a great deal of good of you; so did papa, so does Mr.\nAmes.\"\n\n\"You know Mr. Ames?\"\n\n\"Ah! very well indeed; he comes to see us every New Year's day;\nhe actually found us out this year, and I got to liking him more\nthan ever; he has come quite often since, and we talked of you;\nhe says you are a good boy. I am going to be _grande dame_\nto-day, and have lunch brought up for us two, unless Madame the\nlandlady is shocked.\"\n\n\"Does that mean I have staid too long?\"\n\n\"No, indeed. Mrs. Grundy never interferes with people with clear\nconsciences, at least in civilized communities; in provincial\ncities, and country towns she will not let you turn around except\nas she pleases; that's the difference. There are no bells in this\nestablishment, or, if there are, nobody ever knew one to be\nanswered, so I will start on a raid and see what I can discover.\"\n\nIn course of time she returned with a servant, who cleared the\nlittle rickety table, and then disappeared, returning at the end\nof half an hour with a very light lunch for two; but that was not\nher fault, poor thing!\n\nThen hour after hour passed and still Dick could not leave her;\nhe had gone out and bought a guidebook, which required them to go\nall over the route again, and there was so much of the past life\nof each to be told and wondered at, that it was late in the\nafternoon and Mr. Brandon's hand was on the door before Dick had\nthought of leaving. Of course he must remain to see Mr. Brandon,\nwho, however, did not seem any too glad to see him. Nothing was\nsaid in regard to the matter which had been all day under\ndiscussion. Mr. Brandon talked of the news of the day, of the\nweather, and the last book he had read, accompanied him to the\ndoor, and shook hands with him quite cordially, to the surprise\nof the landlady, who was peeping over the banisters in\nexpectation of high words between them.\n{70}\nMr. Brandon even went so far as to speak of him as a very near\nrelative, as several of the boarders distinctly heard. Mr.\nBrandon hated to be talked to on disagreeable subjects, but he\nknew the world's ways all the same.\n\n\"Come very early to-morrow morning,\" Mary said in a low voice as\nthey parted, \"and I will let you know if I can go.\"\n\nDick did not forget this parting charge, and early the next\nmorning had the happiness of hearing that her father had\nconsented to let her go.\n\n\"Papa isn't as indifferent as he seems,\" she said. \"When it is\nall fixed and settled, he will treat you just as he does the rest\nof us, only he hates a scene and explanations. I suppose he\n_was_ unkind to poor mamma, and now hates to say a word\nabout it; but you may be sure he feels it. And now you must take\neverything for granted, come and go just as if you had always\nbeen at home with us, and he will take it so.\"\n\n\"But what will people say?\"\n\n\"Why, we will tell the truth, only as simply as possible--as if\nit were an everyday affair--that papa's first wife died while he\nwas away from home, and that when he returned from Paris, where\nhe says he was then, the people told him you were dead too. I\ndon't know why that old woman should have told such a story.\"\n\n\"Nor I, but perhaps, poor, ignorant soul, she thought the boy was\nbetter under her charge than given over to a 'Protestant,' who\nhad acted so like a heathen to the child's mother; but good as\nwas her motive, and perhaps her judgment, I hope she did not\nreally tell a lie about it, so peace to her soul. Who knows how\nmuch Dick owes to her pious prayers?\"\n\nA very proud and happy man was Dick in these days, when he\njourneyed to Maine with his newly-found sister. It is true that\nthe change in Mr. Brandon's circumstances did not enable Mary to\nhave a new travelling suit for the occasion, and that she was\nobliged to wear a last year's dress; but last year's dress was a\nvery elegant one, and almost \"as good as new;\" for Mary, fine\nlady that she was, had the taste and grace of her station, and\ndeft fingers, quick and willing servants of her will, that would\ndo honor to any station; so her dress was all _\u00e0 la mode_,\nand Dick had reason to be proud of escorting her. She had,\nhowever, something more than her dress of which to be proud, or\nDick would not have been so grateful for finding her his sister;\nshe had a kind heart, which enabled her always to answer readily\nall who addressed her, to make her constantly cheerful with Dick,\nand to keep everything smooth for the inexperienced traveller,\nwho otherwise would have suffered many mortifications; she had,\ntoo, a womanly dignity, a sense of what was due to and from her,\nnot as Miss Brandon, but as a woman, which secured her from any\nincivility and made her always gentle and considerate to every\none. Dick could never enough delight in the quiet, composed way\nin which she received attentions which she never by a look\nsuggested; for the gentle firmness, the self-possession, the\nquiet composure, the perfect courtesy of a refined and cultivated\nwoman were new things to him; and to say he loved the very ground\nshe walked on would be only a mild way of expressing the feeling\nof his heart toward her.\n\nAdded to all this, giving to everything else a greater charm,\nMary's mind was always alive; she had been thoroughly educated,\nand had mingled all her life with intelligent and often\nintellectual people, whose influence had enabled her to seek at\nthe proper fountains for entertainment and instruction.\n{71}\nWhatever passed before her eyes, she saw; and whatever she saw,\nshe thought about. In her turn, Mary already dearly loved her\nbrother; although two years younger than he, she was, as\ngenerally happens at their age, much more mature, and she could\nsee, as if with more experienced eyes, what a true, honest heart,\nwhat thorough desire to do right, what patience and what spirit,\ntoo, there was in him, and again and again said to herself, \"What\nwould he not have been under other circumstances!\" But she\nforgot, when saying that, that God knows how to suit the\ncircumstances to the character, and that Dick, not having\nneglected his opportunities, had put his talent out to as great\ninterest as he could under other influences. There was much that\nhad to be broadened in his mind, great worlds of art and\nliterature for him to enter; but there was time enough for that\nyet; he had a character formed to truth and earnestness, and had\nproved himself patient and energetic at the proper times. It now\nwas time for new and refining influences to be brought to bear;\nit was time for gentleness and courtesy to teach him the value of\npleasant manners and self-restraint; for the conversation of\ncultivated people to teach him the value of intelligent thoughts\nand suitable words in which to clothe them; for the knowledge of\nother lives and other aims to teach him the value or the mistake\nof his own. These things were unconsciously becoming clearer to\nhim every day that he was with his sister, who, I need hardly\nsay, never lectured, sermonized, or put essays into quotation\nmarks, but whose conversation was simple, refined, and\nintelligent, whatever was its subject. Others greater than Mary\nwould come after her when her work was done, we may be sure; but\nat the present time Dick was not in a state to be benefited by\nsuch.\n\n\n      To Be Continued.\n\n----------\n\n{72}\n\n          When?\n\n\n  Come, gentle April showers,\n  And water my May flowers.\n      The violet--\n  Blue, white, and yellow streaked with jet--\n  Thickly in my bed are set;\n      Gay daffodillies,\n  Tulips and St. Joseph's lilies;\n      Bethlehem's star,\n  Gleaming through its leaves afar;\n  Merry crocuses, which quaff\n  Sunshine till they fairly laugh;\n  And that fragrant one so pale,\n  Meekest lily of the vale,\n  All are keeping whist, afraid\n  Of this late snow o'er them laid.\n  Come, then, gentle April showers,\n  And coax out my pretty flowers.\n\n  I am tired of wintry days,\n  Have no longer heart to praise\n  Icicles and banks of snow.\n  When will dandelions blow,\n      And meadow-sweet,\n  And cowslips, dipping their cool feet\n      In little rills\n  Gushing from the mossy hills?\n  I am weary of this weather.\n  Vernal breezes, hasten hither,\n  Bringing in your dappled train,\n  Tearful sunshine, smiling rain,\n  And, to coax out all my flowers,\n  Fall, fall gently, April showers.\n\n----------\n\n{73}\n\n\n    Translated From The French Of Le Correspondant.\n\n  Influence Of Locality On The Duration Of Human Life.\n\n\nIn every place there are influences which are favorable or\nunfavorable to the duration of human life. The nature of the\nsoil, the atmospheric changes, the variations of the temperature,\nthe position of one's abode with respect to the points of the\ncompass and its elevation above the level of the sea, act in a\npowerful manner upon the organization.\n\nA vast forest is one the grandest, most enchanting and enlivening\nscenes in nature. What an ineffable and touching harmony comes\nfrom the varieties of foliage, and what a sweet perfume they lend\nto the caressing breeze! What a soothing charm in their cool\nshade, calming the fever of life, purifying the soul from all\npassion, expanding and elevating the mind, and making man realize\nmore fully his celestial origin. All men who are endowed with\nsuperior mental faculties have a natural and powerful inclination\nfor solitude--especially the solitude of a vast forest. The soft\nlight of its open spaces, the deep shades, the endless variety of\ntones from the quivering leaves, the pungent sweetness of the\nodors, the air full of vibrations and sparkling light, surround\nand penetrate them. It seems to them a glimpse of a world of\nmystery to which they have drawn near, and which harmonizes\nperfectly with all the thoughts and feelings in which they love\nto indulge.\n\nNot only persons capable of reading the divine lessons written on\nspace, love to wander in the shades of vast forests, but great\nnoble hearts that have been wounded, also find here a balm. The\nsoothing melancholy they drink in, the divine presence they feel,\nfill up the void left by some charming illusion that has been\ndispelled. There are special places where the air we breathe, and\nevery exterior influence, tend to nourish and develop not only\nphysical but intellectual life. A beneficent spirit seems to\nwatch over the safety of humanity and to promote its happiness.\nThe fluids, the emanations that surround us, penetrate our\norganization and become a part of our being; and in consequence\nof the wonderful sympathy between the body and soul, it is\nevident that they also influence our intellectual faculties.\n\nUmbrageous forests are especially favorable to our existence;\ntrees are devoted and faithful friends that never reproach us for\ntheir benefits, and their love is susceptible of no change,\nPlants are for us a real panacea. They are the natural pharmacies\nwhich Providence has established on earth for the prevention or\ncure of our diseases. From their wood, barks, leaves, flowers,\nand fruits, are exhaled essences which strengthen our organs,\npurify the blood, and neutralize the noxious air around us.\n\nThe history of all ages shows that those regions which are\nfavored with vast forests have always been healthy and propitious\nto man; but where the forests have been cut down, those same\nregions have become marshy and the source of deadly miasmas, The\nmarsh fevers which now prevail in certain parts of Asia Minor\nrender them uninhabitable.\n{74}\nNevertheless, ancient authors speak of marshes of small extent,\nbut not of marsh fevers, because then the forests still remained.\n\nA thousand years ago, La Brenne was covered with woods,\ninterspersed with meadows. These meadows were watered by living\nstreams. It was then a country famous for the fertility of its\npastures and the mildness of its climate. Now the forests have\ndisappeared. La Brenne is gloomy, marshy, and unhealthy. The same\ncould be said of La Dombe, La Bresse, La Sologne, etc.\n\nThe following is a permanent example exactly to the point. In the\nPontine marshes, a wood intercepts the current of damp air laden\nwith pestilential miasmas, rendering one side of it healthy,\nwhile the other is filled with its destructive vapors. The places\nwhere forests have disappeared seem as if inhabited by evil\ngenii, who eagerly seek to enter the human frame under the form\nof fevers, cholera, diseases of the lungs and liver, rheumatism,\netc. For example, it is sufficient to breathe for only a few\nseconds in certain regions of Madagascar, or some of the fatal\nislands near by, for the whole organization to be instantly\nseized with mortal symptoms. The most robust and vigorous young\nman, who goes full of ardor to those shores with the hope of a\nbright future, affected by these miasmas, feels as if dying with\nthe venom of the rattlesnake in his veins; and, if he recovers\nfrom his agony, it is often to drag out in sorrow the small\nremnant of his days. How many unfortunate people of this class\nhave I not met during my voyage in the Indian Ocean. What a\nsacrilege to think of destroying these delicious and mysterious\nforests, with their atmosphere full of celestial vibrations, and\ntheir divine orchestra, where the breeze murmurs in a thousand\ntones the hymn which reveals the Creator to the creature! Every\nsorrow is soothed in the depths of those beneficent shades. There\nthe soul, as well as the body, finds a repose which regenerates\nit. The divinity descends; we feel its presence. It moves us to\nthe depths of our souls. It caresses us like the breath of the\nmother we adore!\n\nMan may live to an advanced age in almost every climate, in the\ntorrid as well as the frigid zone; but he cannot everywhere\nattain the utmost limit of human life. The examples of extreme\nlongevity are more common in some countries than in others.\nAlthough, in general, a northern climate may be favorable to long\nlife, too great a degree of cold is injurious. In Iceland, in the\nnorth of Asia--that is, in Siberia--man lives, at the longest,\nbut sixty or seventy years. The countries where people of the\nmost advanced age have been found, of late years, are Sweden,\nNorway, Denmark, and England. Individuals of one hundred and\nthirty, one hundred and forty, and one hundred and fifty years of\nage, have been found there. Ireland shares with England and\nScotland the reputation of being favorable to the duration of\nlife. More than eighty persons above fourscore years of age have\nbeen found in a single small village of that country, called\nDumsford. Bacon said that he did not think you could mention a\nsingle village of that country where there was not to be found at\nleast one octogenarian. Examples of longevity are more rare in\nFrance, in Italy, and especially in Spain. Some cantons of\nHungary are noted for the advanced age to which their inhabitants\nattain. Germany also has a good many old people, but few who live\nto a remarkable age. Only a small number are to be found in\nHolland. It is seldom that any one reaches the age of one hundred\nin that country.\n{75}\nThe climate of Greece, which is as healthy as it is agreeable, is\nconsidered now, as it formerly was, favorable to longevity. The\nisland of Naxos is specially noted in this respect. It was\ngenerally admitted in Greece that the air of Attica disposed\nthose who breathed it to philosophy.\n\nExamples of longevity are to be found in Egypt, and in the East\nIndies, principally in the caste of Brahmins and among the\nanchorets and hermits, who, unlike the rest of the inhabitants,\ndo not abandon themselves to indolence and excesses of every\nkind.\n\nA careful computation of the comparative longevity, in the\ndifferent departments of France, has been made for 1860 and the\npreceding years. The medium annual number of deaths in France, at\nthe age of one hundred years and upward, is 148. The following\nfifteen _d\u00e9partements_, given in decreasing order, are those\nwhich have the greatest number: Basses-Pyrenees, Dordogne,\nCalvados, Gers, Puy-de-D\u00f4me, Ari\u00e9ge, Aveyron, Gironde, Landes,\nLot, Ard\u00e8che, Cantal, Doubs, Seine, Tarn-et-Garonne. It will be\nseen that a great number of mountainous districts are to be found\nin these departments. It is surprising to see that of _la\nSeine_ on this list. Nevertheless these departments do not\nhold the same rank in respect to the ordinary duration of life;\nwhich would seem to prove that some examples of extreme longevity\nare not a sufficient index that a country is favorable to long\nlife. I give their numbers in order: Basses-Pyr\u00e9n\u00e9es, 7;\nDordogne, 42; Calvados, 2; Gers, 9; Puy-de-D\u00f4me, 30; Ari\u00e9ge, 48;\nAveyron, 34; Gironde, 18; Landes, 52; Lot, 33; Ard\u00e8che, 43;\nCantal, 23; Doubs, 25; Seine, 53; Tarn-et-Garonne, 13.\n\nThe fifteen departments in which ordinary life is most prolonged\nare: Orne, Calvados, Eure-et-Loir, Sarthe, Eure, Lot-et-Garonne,\nDeux-S\u00e8vres, Indre-et-Loire, Basses-Pyrenees, Maine-et-Loire,\nArdennes, Gers, Aube, Hautes-Pyrenees, et Haute-Garonne.\n\nIt is evident that places need not be very remote from each other\nto produce a different influence on the duration of life.\n\nThat cold is injurious to the nerves, remarks M. Reveille-Parise,\nis a truth almost as old as the medical art. A low temperature\nproduces not only a painful effect upon the skin, but it benumbs\nand paralyzes the nerves of the extremities, and diminishes the\ncirculation of the fluids, and this gives rise to all sorts of\ndiseases.\n\nMen of intellectual pursuits, having an extremely nervous\nsusceptibility, are particularly affected by change of\ntemperature. It is not surprising, then, to find that the mental\nfaculties have attained their utmost degree of perfection in\ncertain climates. Choice natures, such as poets and other men of\ngenius, only produce the finest fruit under the influence of an\nardent sun and a pure and brilliant atmosphere. It is only in\nwarm and temperate climates that nature and life are most lavish\nof their treasures; there we find genuine creations; elsewhere\nare imitations only, with the exception of the physical sciences,\nwhich depend on continued observation. It is remarkable that, if\nthe men of the North have conquered the South, the opinions of\nthe South have always held sway in the North. Besides, fertility\nof the soil and a mild temperature set man free, in southern\ncountries, from all present care and all anxiety respecting the\nfuture, and infuse that blissful serenity of soul so favorable to\nthe flights of the imagination. In the misty climate of the\nnorth, he has to struggle incessantly against the influence of\nthe weather, which so greatly diminishes the powers of the mind.\n{76}\nThis struggle is almost always a disadvantage to the minds of\nmen, who are particularly impressible and often reduced to a\nstate of muscular enervation. Cold, dampness, fogs, violent\nwinds, sudden changes of temperature, frequent rains, endless\nwinters, uncertain summers with their storms and unhealthy\nexhalations, are fearful enemies to an organization which is\ndelicate, nervous, irritable, suffering, and exhausted.\n\nThe state of the atmosphere, then, acts powerfully on the mental\nfaculties. There are really days when the mind is not clear. The\nthoughts, sometimes so free and abundant, are suddenly arrested.\nThe sources of the imagination are expanded and contracted\naccording to the degrees of the barometer and thermometer. The\ndifferent seasons of the year have more influence than may be\nthought, upon the master-pieces of art, upon the affections, the\nevents of life and even upon political catastrophes. History\nrelates that Chancellor de Cheverny warned President de Thou that\nif the Duke de Guise irritated the mind of Henry III during a\nfrost, (which rendered him furious,) the king would have him\nassassinated; and this really happened on the twenty-third of\nDecember, 1588.\n\nThe Duchess d'Abrant\u00e8s says:\n\n  \"Napoleon could not endure the least cold without immediate\n  suffering. He had fires made in the month of July, and did not\n  understand why others were not equally affected by the least\n  wind from the northeast. It was Napoleon's nature to love air\n  and exercise. The privation of these two things threw him into\n  a violent condition. The state of the weather could be\n  perceived by the temper he displayed at dinner. If rain or any\n  other cause had prevented him from taking his accustomed walk,\n  he was not only cross but suffering.\"\n\nWe read in the Journal of Eug\u00e9nie de Guerin:\n\n  \"With the rain, cold winds, wintry skies, the nightingales\n  singing from time to time under the dead leaves, we have a\n  gloomy month of May. I wish my soul were not so much influenced\n  by the state of the atmosphere and variations of the seasons,\n  as to be like a flower that opens or closes with the cold and\n  the sun. It is something I do not understand, but so it is as\n  long as my soul is imprisoned in this frail body.\"\n\nAsk the poets, artists, and men of thought, if a lively feeling\nof energy and of joy, prompting to action and labor; or,\notherwise, if a certain state languor--of strange and undefinable\nuneasiness--does not make them dependent on the state of the\natmosphere.\n\nIt may be considered, then, as an established principle, that a\ntemperate climate, mild seasons, and pure air constantly, renewed\nconstitute not only the highest physical enjoyment but the\nindispensable conditions of health.\n\nThe physical character of places has a truly astonishing effect\nupon man. A distinguished traveller, M. Tr\u00e9maux, has endeavored\nto prove, in several _m\u00e9moires_ to the Acad\u00e9mie des\nSciences, that man be changed from the Caucasian to the negro\ntype simply by this influence. He calls attention to the\ncoincidences that exist between the physical types and the\ngeological nature of the countries acting especially through\ntheir products. The least perfect, or rather, the type which is\nfarthest removed from our own, belongs to the oldest lands, and,\nin a subsidiary manner, to climates the least favored. The most\nperfect belongs to the countries which, within the smallest\nlimits, offer the greatest variety of formations, allowing the\nmost recent to predominate, and, in a subsidiary manner, to the\nmost favored climates. The type is also influenced by other\ncauses of a more secondary nature which are very complex.\n\n{77}\n\nThe geological chart of Europe, says Mr. Tr\u00e9maux, shows that the\ngreatest surface of primitive rock formations is in Lapland,\nwhich possesses also the most inferior people; going to the south\nof Scandinavia, gneiss and granite occupy also a great part of\nthe country, but that region is also connected with others more\nvaried. It contains many lakes, and its climate is more favored,\nas well as its inhabitants. As to the Scandinavians of Denmark,\nthey have a purely Germanic type and are, in effect, upon the\nsame soil.\n\nRussia possesses different formations of a medium age, but the\nextended surface of each kind does not permit its people to\nprofit by the resources of those adjoining, and, consequently,\nthey are but indifferently favored. If we turn to the countries\nwhich are in the best condition, we distinguish in general all\nthe west and south of Europe, and more particularly France,\nItaly, Greece, the eastern part of Spain, and the north-east of\nEngland. It is here, in truth, that civilization and the\nintellectual faculties have most sway.\n\nRace does not change while it remains upon the same soil and\nunder the same natural influences; whereas, it is gradually\nmodified, according to its new position, when it is removed to\nanother place.\n\nThe physical influences of a region, and of mixture of race, have\na distinct manner of acting. By cross-breeding, the features are\nat once strongly modified in individuals, but especially\naccording to the region in which it takes place. Thus, in Europe,\nthe mixed race is more strongly inclined to the type of the white\nman; in Soudan, to that of the negro. A type seems to be more\nreadily improved than degenerated. The physical character of a\nplace does not act in detail, but in a general manner, beginning\nby modifying the complexion more and more in each generation. It\nacts less quickly upon the hair, and more slowly still upon the\nfeatures. Cross-breeding is considered the principal modifying\nagent only because its effects are at once perceptible, but it\ncan explain evident facts only in an imperfect manner.\n\nThe elevation of a place above the level of the sea has a radical\ninfluence upon phthisis. With the design of indicating the\nregions and the degrees of elevation within which this malady is\nrare or completely unknown, Dr. Schnepp has made a compilation\nfrom a series of meteorological observations, made in the\nPyrenees and at Eaux Bonnes, and from analogous documents\nfurnished by travellers who have lived upon the elevated and\ninhabited plateaux of the old and new world.\n\nThe document on this subject which he sent to the Academy of\nSciences shows that, in the choice of a healthy locality for\ninvalids, people are too exclusively influenced by a warm\ntemperature, disregarding the more formal indications of nature\nin distributing the maladies of the human race over the surface\nof the globe. For instance, phthisis exists in the tropical zone.\nIn Brazil, it causes one fifth of the cases of mortality; in\nPeru, three tenths, and in the Antilles, from six to seven, in\nevery thousand inhabitants. In the East Indies, the greater part\nof the English physicians report, among the causes of death, two\ncases from phthisis to every thousand people. In the temperate\nzones, phthisis is one of the most devastating of diseases. It\ngenerally attacks from three to four in every thousand\ninhabitants. The three countries in which it was not to be found,\nAlgiers, Egypt, and the Russian steppes of Kirghis, have also\nbeen invaded by it, although in a smaller proportion, In Algeria,\nthe deaths from phthisis are, to those from other causes, in the\nproportion of one to every twenty-four or twenty-seven; in Egypt,\nin the proportion of one to eight.\n\n{78}\n\nThis old malady becomes more rare as we approach the higher\nlatitudes. It is supposed not to exist at all in Siberia, in\nIceland, and in the Faroe Islands. Thus, diseases of the lungs\nseem to be more rare in certain cold countries than in warm\ncountries. It is also observed that at a certain altitude the\nnumber of cases greatly diminish, and even completely disappear.\nBrockman testifies that phthisis is rare on the plateaux of the\nHartz mountains at the height of two thousand feet above the\nlevel of the sea; and C. Fuchs, stating the same fact concerning\ncertain elevations in Thuringia and the Black Forest, was the\nfirst to advance the theory that phthisis diminishes according to\ncertain altitudes.\n\nDr. Br\u00fcggens, also, has since testified to the infrequency of\nthis disease in the Swiss Alps, at the height of 4500 to 6000\nfeet in the Engaddine; nor is it found among the monks of the\nGreat Saint Bernard at the altitude of 6825 feet. According to M.\nLombard, it completely disappears among these mountains at the\nheight of 4500 feet.\n\nThe populous cities of the American continent, which are situated\nin the tropical zone at an altitude of six thousand feet above\nthe level of the sea, are exempt from lung diseases; although, in\nthe same latitude, phthisis is common in lower regions, This\nimmunity exists on the other hemisphere in the same zone--on the\nelevated plateaux of Hindostan and the Himalaya. In examining the\nstate of the climate on the heights in which phthisis is seldom\nor never found, we find there, even on the equator, a medium\ntemperature sufficiently low throughout the year; between twelve\nand fifteen degrees on the heights below 9000 feet; between three\nand five degrees on those between 9000 and 12,000 feet.\n\nIn the temperate zone it is still lower. But the warmest months\nupon tropical heights do not vary more than six or eight degrees\nfrom the medium temperature. It is the same on the plateaux of\nthe Alps and in Iceland, and is a general and common\ncharacteristic of the regions in which phthisis is not found. The\ndeviations below the annual medium, appear even to increase this\nimmunity. If sufficient observations have not been made to decide\nupon the degree of comparative humidity on the heights above\n12,000 feet, we know that the elevation at which phthisis is\nwanting, is in a hygrometrical condition more nearly approaching\nsaturation than the lower regions, and that the rains are also\nmore abundant there.\n\nIt is desirable that the heights of C\u00e9vennes, the Pyrenees, the\nAlps, and, above all, the elevated parts of our Algerian\npossessions should be carefully studied, with a view to the\ntreatment of lung diseases, which are the great scourge of the\nhuman race, and which annually cause the death of more than three\nmillions of its number.\n\nIt is useful, not only to study different countries with respect\nto their salubrity, but also to observe the different situations\nin the same locality, and the different quarters of the same\ncity. M. Junod presented to the Academy of Sciences, some years\nsince, an essay on this subject, which is full of interest. In\nconsidering the distribution of the population in large cities,\nwe are struck by the tendency of the wealthy class to move toward\nthe western portions, abandoning the opposite side to the\nindustrial pursuits, It seems to have divined, by a kind of\nintuition, the locality which would have the greatest immunity in\nthe time of sore public calamities.\n{79}\nFor example, let us speak first of Paris. From the foundation of\nthe city, the opulent class has constantly directed its course\ntoward the west. It is the same in London, and generally, in all\nthe cities of England. At Vienna, Berlin, St. Petersburg, and,\nindeed, in all the capitals of Europe, this same fact is\nrepeated; there is the same movement of the rich toward the west,\nwhere are assembled the palaces of the kings, and the dwellings\nfor which only pleasant and healthy sites are desired.\n\nIn visiting the ruins of Pompeii and other ancient cities, I have\nobserved, as well as M. Junod, that this custom dates from the\nhighest antiquity. In those cities, as is seen at Paris in our\nday, the largest cemeteries are found in the eastern parts, and\ngenerally none in the western. M. Junod, examining the reason of\nso general a fact, thinks it is connected with _atmospheric\npressure_. When the mercury in the barometer rises, the smoke\nand injurious emanations are quickly dispelled in the air. When\nthe mercury lowers, we see the smoke and noxious vapors remain in\nthe apartments and near the surface of the earth. Now every one\nknows that, of all winds, that from the east causes the mercury\nin the barometer to rise the highest, and that which lowers it\nmost is from the west. When the latter blows, it carries with it\nall the deleterious gases it meets in its course from the west.\nThe result is, that the inhabitants of the eastern parts of a\ncity not only have their own smoke and miasmas, but also those of\nthe western parts, brought by the west wind. When, on the\ncontrary, the east wind blows, it purifies the air by causing the\ninjurious emanations to rise, so that they cannot be thrown back\nupon the west. It is evident, then, that the inhabitants of the\nwestern parts receive pure air from whatever quarter of the\nhorizon it comes. We will add, that the west wind is most\nprevalent, and the west end receives it all fresh from the\ncountry.\n\nFrom the foregoing facts, M. Junod lays down the following\ndirections: First, persons who are free to choose, especially\nthose of delicate health, should reside in the western part of a\ncity. Secondly, for the same reason, all the establishments that\nsend forth vapors or injurious gases should be in the eastern\npart. Thirdly and finally, in erecting a house in the city, and\neven in the country, the kitchen should be on the eastern side,\nas well as all the out-houses from which unhealthy emanations\nmight spread into the apartments.\n\nM. Elie de Beaumont has since mentioned some facts which tend to\nprove the constancy and generality of the rule laid down by M.\nJunod. He noticed in most of the large cities this tendency of\nthe wealthy class to move to the same side--generally, the\nwestern--unless hindered by certain local obstacles. Turin,\nLi\u00e9ge, and Caen are examples of this. M. Moquin-Tandon has\nobserved the same thing at Montpellier and at Toulouse. Paris and\nLondon also present analogous facts, although the rivers which\ntraverse those two great centres flow in a diametrically\ndifferent direction. Paris increased in a north-easterly\ndirection at the time when the Bastille, the Palais des\nTournelles, the Hotel St. Paul, etc., were built; but the\ninhabitants were then influenced by fear of the aggressive\nNormans, whose fleets ascended the Seine as far as Paris, and\nwere only arrested by the Pont-au-Change. At that time, and as\nlong as this fear lasted, they must have felt unwilling to live\nin Auteuil or Grenelle, But since the foundation of the Louvre,\nand especially since the reign of Henri Quatre, the current has\nresumed its normal direction.\n{80}\nM. Elie de Beaumont is inclined to believe that, among the causes\nof this phenomenon, we should reckon the temperature and the\nhygrometrical state of the air, which is generally warmer and\nmore moist during the winds from the west and south-west than\nduring the east and north-east winds.\n\nWhat most contributes to prolong existence is a certain\nuniformity in heat and cold, and in the density and rarity of the\natmosphere. This is why the countries in which the barometer and\nthermometer are subject to sudden and considerable changes are\nnever favorable to the duration of life. They may be healthy, and\nman may live a long time there; but he will never attain a very\nadvanced age, because the variations of the atmosphere produce\nmany interior changes which consume, to a surprising degree, both\nthe strength and the organs of life.\n\nToo much dryness or too much humidity are equally injurious to\nthe duration of life; yet the air most favorable to longevity is\nthat which contains a certain quantity of water in dissolution.\nMoist air being already partly saturated, absorbs less from the\nbody, and does not consume it as soon as a dry atmosphere; it\nkeeps the organs a longer time in a state of suppleness and\nvigor; while a dry atmosphere dries up the fibres and hastens the\napproach of old age. It is for this reason, doubtless, that\nislands and peninsulas have always been favorable to old age. Man\nlives longer there than in the same latitude upon continents.\nIslands and peninsulas, especially in warm climates, generally\noffer everything that contributes to a long life: purity of air,\na moist atmosphere, a temperature often at one's choice,\nwholesome fruit, clear water, and a climate almost unvariable. I\nhad an opportunity, long desired, of traversing the ocean as far\nthe Tristan Islands, and of returning to the Indian Ocean by\ndoubling the Cape of Good Hope with a captain who wished to\nobserve the different islands on the way. I was thus able, in\ngoing as well as returning, to visit these numerous islands, and\nI can speak of them from reasonable observation. But it is\nsufficient to mention, from a hygienic point of view, the Isle of\nBourbon, (where I lived for many years,) to give an idea of the\nsanitary condition of islands in general. Like most isles, the\nIsle of Bourbon has a form more or less pyramidal. The shore,\nalmost on a level with the sea, is the part principally\ninhabited. There are few villages in the interior of the island,\nbut many private residences. The temperature on the shore, though\nvery high, is less intense than is supposed: the medium\ntemperature being between 40\u00b0 and 50\u00b0. The sea and land breezes,\nwhich succeed each other morning and evening, refresh the\natmosphere and maintain a healthy moisture. It hardly ever rains\nexcept during the winter, Besides, it is very easy to choose the\ntemperature one prefers. As the mountains are very lofty, they\nafford every season at once. On the summit are seen snow and ice,\nwhile at the foot the heat is tropical; so that it is sufficient\nto ascend for ten or fifteen minutes to find a marked change of\ntemperature, And the colonists of but little wealth are careful\nto profit by this precious favor of nature. They select two or\nthree habitations at different heights, in order to enjoy a\ncontinual spring, During the cool season, they reside on the\nsea-shore. Then they go to their dwelling a little above, where\nthe temperature is mild. And in the hot season, they ascend to\nstill higher regions.\n\nIt is impossible to express the pleasure of thus having several\ndwellings at one's choice, in some one of which desirable\ntemperature can be enjoyed in any season.\n{81}\nI had three: one at St. Denis, capital of the colony, one at La\nRivi\u00e8re-des-Pluies, and another at La Ressource. La\nRivi\u00e8re-des-Pluies, belonging to M. Desbassayns, a venerable old\nman and president of the general council, is the finest situation\non the island. It was formerly called the Versailles of Bourbon.\nI inhabited a summer-house above which the surrounding trees\ncrossed their tufted branches, forming a dome of verdure in which\nthe birds came to warble. Regular alleys, extending as far as the\neye could reach, formed by superb mango-trees, were enclosed by\nparterres, groves, gardens, woods, and all the surroundings of a\nsmall village. Each large habitation in the colony had every\nresource within itself, and was the faithful copy of the old\nfeudal castles.\n\nLa Ressource, a dwelling for the hottest season, belonging also\nto M. Desbassayns, presented another kind of beauty. There was\nless artistic luxury about it, but nature had lavished on it all\nher splendor. After dinner, admiring the panorama which was\nspread out as far as the horizon, I remarked to M. Desbassayns\nthat I did not believe it possible for the entire world of nature\nto furnish a more beautiful perspective. \"I have travelled a\ngreat deal,\" said he, \"and in truth I have never seen anything\nlike it, not even from the most magnificent points of view in\nAmerica.\" The venerable old man then took me by the arm and\ninvited me to visit his estate. He made me first look at his\nwoods, with their tufted foliage; the cane-fields; the deep\nravines; the streams, with their windings rising one above the\nother in such a manner that the lower ones were perfectly\nvisible, and extending in successive circuits more or less varied\nto the shore of the sea, which gleamed like a mirror as far as\nthe eye could reach, and upon the azure surface of which stood\nclearly out, like silver clouds, the white sails from all parts\nof the world which had given each other _rendezvous_ here,\nand were constantly approaching this isle of lava, flowers,\nshadows, and light, which they had taken as the centre of\n_r\u00e9union_.\n\nHe made me afterward notice the verdant fields which had formerly\nbelonged to the parents of Virginia, the heroine of the romance\nof Bernardin de St. Pierre. He related to me the true history of\nVirginia, who was his cousin. Her death happened nearly as\ndescribed by the celebrated romancer. He made me notice, upon his\ngenealogical tree, the branch that bore upon one of its leaves\nthe name of Virginia!\n\nM. Desbassayns had promised me some reliable notes respecting\nher, and I was glad to offer them to my illustrious friend, Count\nAlfred de Vigny, who, in giving me a farewell embrace, had\ncommissioned me to bear his most tender expressions of love to\nthe region which had inspired the touching narrative of St.\nPierre. But alas! remorseless death warns us to remember the\nuncertainty of life, even when everything disposes us to forget\nit.\n\nHe took me to one after another of the most interesting trees,\nparticularly to the _arbre du voyageur_, a kind of banana,\nthe leaves of which are inserted within one another like those of\nthe iris, so as to form, at the height of eight or nine feet, a\nvast fan. Rain-water, and particularly dew, accumulates at the\nbottom of these leaves, as in a natural cup, and is kept very\nfresh; and if the base is pierced with a narrow blade, the liquid\nwill flow out in a thread-like stream, which it is easy to\nreceive in the mouth. The venerable old man opened one of their\nvegetable veins by way of example, and I soon lanced a great\nnumber of these providential trees, and refreshed myself with\ntheir limpid streams.\n\n{82}\n\nFinally, he conducted me by a narrow path to the edge of a deep\nravine in which flowed an abundant torrent, forming capricious\ncascades as it wound its way. After passing over a rustic bridge,\nan admirable spectacle was presented to our view. An alley was\nformed through a wilderness of bamboos, so sombre, so narrow, and\nhigh, that it would be difficult to give an idea of it. It was as\nif pierced through a forest of gigantic pipes; and when they were\nagitated by a storm, they produced a harmony so plaintive, so\nlanguid, and at the same time so terrible and full of poetry,\nthat I often passed the entire night in listening to it. I am not\nastonished by what is related of these tall and sonorous\n_culms_.\n\nIn those fortunate countries that are shaded by the bamboo, it is\nsaid that happy lovers and suffering souls make holes in these\nlong pipes and combine them in such a way that, when the wind\nblows, they give out a faithful expression of their joy or their\ngrief. Nothing is sweeter than the tones that are thus produced\nby the evening breeze which attunes these harmonious reeds,\nrendering them at once aeolian harps and flutes. As soon as I\nfound out this magical pathway, I betook myself there every day\nat the dawn, to read, to meditate, and to take notes till the\nhour of dinner. The next day after this visit, I had the\ncuriosity to destroy one of the _arbre du voyageur_. It\ninundated me with its fresh stream, but I came near being\npunished for this profanation of nature, at the moment I expected\nit the least. A most formidable centipede escaped from the\nsplinters which I made fly, and only lacked a little of falling\ndirectly on my face. M. Desbassayns was greatly astonished to see\nit; for it is generally believed, he said, that these venomous\ninsects avoid this beneficent tree.\n\nThe enchanting heavens of that privileged region are always\nserene, and the air is so pure that no gray tint ever appears on\nthe horizon; the mountains, hills, meadows, every remote object\nindeed, instead of fading away in a dim atmosphere, beam out\nagainst a sky of cloudless azure. This is what renders the\nequatorial nights so resplendent. The astonished eye thinks it\nbeholds a new heavens and new stars. How charming is the\nmoonlight that comes in showers of light through a thousand\nquivering leaves which murmur in the breath of the perfumed\nbreeze! and when to that is joined the far-off moan of the sea,\nand the sounds that escape from the ivory keys or resounding\nchords, which accompany the sweet accents of a Creole voice, we\nfeel as if in one of those islands of bliss which surpass the\nimagination of the poets.\n\nOne of the things that travellers have not sufficiently noticed,\nand which gives us a kind of homesickness for that beautiful\nregion, is the enchanting harmony which results from the noise of\nthe sea and the murmur of the breeze in the different kinds of\nfoliage, a harmony which calms the agitation of the soul as well\nas the fever of the body. As there is every variety of\ntemperature, so there is a great variety of trees. There is one\nespecially remarkable, namely, the _pandanus_, which\nresembles both the pine and the weeping willow, Its summit is\nlost in the blue sky, and its numerous branches, borne by a\npliant and elegant stem, support large tassels of leaves, long,\ncylindrical, and fine as hair; and when the breeze makes them\ntremble in its breath, they murmur in plaintive melancholy notes\nthat, when once heard, we long to hear again and again.\n\n{83}\n\nThe cocoanut or palm-trees, with their leaves long, hard, and\nshining like steel, give out a sound like the clash of arms. The\ngigantic leaves of the banana are the echo of the voice of an\noverflowing torrent, piercing the air like the vast pipes of an\norgan. The bamboos, with their tall reeds which moan and grind as\nthey bend, uttering long groans which, mingling with the tones,\nthe wailing, and the murmurs of a thousand other kinds of\nfoliage, with the deep roar of the agitated sea afar off, and the\nsound of the waves breaking on the shore, form an immense natural\norchestra, the varied sounds of which, rising toward heaven, seem\nto bear with them, in accents without number, all the joys and\nall the griefs of the world.\n\nThese trees with their tall, slender stems, and thick foliage,\nare continually bending in the incessant breeze, In the brilliant\nlight of that climate their shadow looks black; and, as it is\ncontinually moving, you would think everything animate, and that\nsylphs and fairies were issuing forth on all sides.\n\nThere is a constant succession of flowers with the strongest\nperfume; and when those of the wood are in bloom, you would think\nthat every blade of grass, every leaf and every drop of dew gave\nout an essence which the wind, in passing, absorbed in order to\nperfume with it the happy dwellers in this Eden.\n\nThose enchanted regions have inhabitants worthy of their abode.\nThe hospitality of the Creoles is proverbial. Every family is\nglad to receive the stranger and soon considers him as a friend\nand brother. The Creole women have the elegance of their\npalm-trees. They are as fresh and blooming as the corolla that\nexpands at the dawn. Their kind courtesy envelops you like the\npenetrating odors which come from the wonderful vegetation that\nsurrounds them. A Frenchman who meets another Frenchman in these\nfar-off countries regards him as a part of France which has come\nto smile an him, and the intimacy, which is formed, is\nindissoluble.\n\nThe traveller can never forget the touching scenes of the\n_varangue_, the enchanting evenings passed there, and the\njoyous cup of friendship there interchanged; sweet emotions\ncontributing to longevity more than is commonly believed.\n\nOne finds one's self in that fortunate land surrounded by\nhygienical influences which are most favorable to a long life.\nLet us add that the alimentary productions are of the first\nquality. The water in the stony basins is limpid, and the\nsucculent fruits are varied enough to almost suffice for the\nnourishment of the inhabitants. How can one be a favorite of\nfortune and a prey to spleen without going to visit these places,\nwhich exhale a sovereign balm?\n\nNevertheless, under that sky brilliant with pure light, in that\natmosphere of freshness of perfume and of harmony, it seemed to\nme that a tint of infinite melancholy was everywhere diffused. I\nregarded the glorious sky, I listened to the trembling foliage, I\nbreathed the penetrating odors, but something was everywhere\nwanting. When I sought what it was that I missed, I found it was\nthe trees of my native land, which do not grow in every zone, and\nwhere they do grow are not so fine as here. I instinctively\nsought the wide-spreading oak, the lofty walnut, the chestnut\nwith its tender verdure, the tall slender poplar, the modest\nwillow, and the birch with its light shadow. I recalled the odor\nof their foliage, associated with my dearest remembrances, but in\nvain. I felt then an immense and inexpressible void that nothing\ncould fill, and tears naturally sprang from these vague and\nprofound impressions.\n{84}\nI hungered, I thirsted for the odor of the trees that had\novershadowed my infancy--an insatiable hunger, a thirst nothing\ncould satisfy. On returning from that remote voyage, especially\nduring the first weeks, I went to the nursery of the Luxembourg,\n(alas! poor nursery!) I sought the fresh shades of the Bois de\nBoulogne, and there, during long rambles, I crushed the leaves in\nmy hands and inhaled the perfume they gave out. I felt my lungs\nexpand, as if a new life was infused into them with the odor I\nbreathed. This invisible aliment which we derive from the\nexhalations of the plants to which we have been accustomed from\ninfancy, had become for me an absolute necessity, a condition of\nhealth.\n\nA climate, a country may not at all times be favorable to\nlongevity, or at all times unhealthy. The predominance of one\nindustrial pursuit over another, the choice of one material\ninstead of another for building houses, or a sudden change in the\ngeneral habits, necessarily modifies, in a great degree, the\nconditions of longevity. This is what has happened in the Isle of\nBourbon. Till within a few years, no epidemic or contagious\nmalady was known in that fortunate island; no fever, no cholera,\nno throat complaints, no small-pox, etc. But all these diseases\nhave attacked its inhabitants since our manures, our materials\nfor building, and our products in general, have been used by them\nin large quantities.\n\nThe drying up of a marsh, the cutting down of a forest, the\nsubstitution of one crop for another, may effect atmospheric\nchanges through an extended radius, which will strengthen or\nweaken the vitality of the people. Some years since, there was a\nmarsh behind the city of Cairo, which was separated from the\ndesert by a hill. It was always noticed that the pestilential\nepidemics appeared to spring from that unhealthy spot and finally\nto spread throughout the east. The Pacha of Egypt, without\nthinking of this coincidence, noticed, on the other hand, that\nthe hill behind the marsh entirely concealed the fine view which\nhe would have from his palace, if it were removed. He gave orders\nto cut the hill down and to fill up the marsh with its\n_d\u00e9bris_, so that the winds which were formerly checked, had\nfree circulation and purified the atmosphere, while the soil,\nthoroughly modified, ceased to emit the pestilential effluvia,\nSince that event the plague has not reappeared. A caprice of the\nPacha effected more than all the quarantines and all the efforts\nof science, He has freed the world, perhaps for ever, from the\nmost terrible of scourges.\n\nIt is known that the cholera comes from India. It is engendered\nin the immense triangular space formed by two rivers: the Ganges\nand the Brahmapootra. It is the East India Company according to\nM. le Comte de Waren, that should be accused of treason to\nhumanity. It is that power which has destroyed the canals and the\nderivations of the two finest rivers in the world. During the\nlast twenty-five years of English occupation the number of pools\nin a single district, that of _Nort Arcoth_, which burst or\nwere destroyed, amounted to eleven hundred. In the time of the\nMogul conquerors, a fine canal, the Doab, extending from Delhi,\nfertilized two hundred leagues in its course. This canal is\ndestroyed, and the lands, once so fertile and healthy, are now\nthe infectious lair of wild beasts, having been depopulated by\ndisease and death.\n\n{85}\n\nThe hygienic condition of different countries, then, may be\nmodified in various ways. In 1698, Bigot de Molville, president\n_\u00e0 mortier_ of the Parliament of Normandy, found, after\ncareful research, that, of all the cities of France, Rouen\npossessed the greatest number of octogenarians and centenarians.\nToward the middle of the last century this superiority was\nclaimed by Boulogne-sur-mer, which retained it for nearly fifty\nyears, and was then called the _patrie des vieillards_.\n\nIn a recent communication to the Academy, M. de Garogna remarked\nthat, in the printed or manuscript accounts we possess respecting\nthe former eruptions of Santorin, many very interesting details\nare found concerning the different maladies occasioned by these\neruptions, and observed at that epoch in the island, which\nsupport what we have said of the variable hygienic state of\ndifferent places. According to these reports, the pathological\nresult of the different eruptions included especially alarming\ncomplications, serious cerebral difficulties, suffocation, and\nderangement in the alimentary canal. He proved that morbid\ninfluences were only manifest when the direction of the wind\nbrought the volcanic emanations. The parts of the island out of\nthe course of the wind showed no trace of the maladies in\nquestion. Moreover, the sanitary condition of the places within\nreach of the wind became worse or improved according to the rise\nand fall of the wind. It should also be noticed that the morbid\ninfluence of the volcanic emanations extended to islands more or\nless remote from Santorin.\n\nFrom this report the following conclusions are to be drawn:\n\n  1. The eruption in the Bay of Santorin, while in action, had a\n  manifest influence on the health of the people in that\n  island.\n\n  2. It especially occasioned complicated diseases, throat\n  distempers, bronchitis, and derangement of the digestive\n  organs.\n\n  3. The acidiferous ashes were the direct cause of the\n  complications, while the other morbid complaints should be\n  attributed to sulphuric acid.\n\n  4. Vegetation was likewise affected by the eruption while\n  active, and particularly plants of the order _Siliaceae_.\n\n  5. The changes in the vegetation were probably produced by\n  hydrochloric acid, at the beginning of the eruption.\n\n  6. The hydro-sulphuric emanations appear, on the contrary, to\n  have had a beneficial effect on the diseases of the grape-vine.\n  It perhaps destroyed the _oidium_.\n\nIt is evident that the question of local influences upon the\nduration of life is a most comprehensive and fruitful one. Nature\ngives us some formal indications, in dividing the maladies of the\nhuman race; and the study of places and climates in a hygienic\npoint of view, although in its infancy, has already brought to\nour notice many valuable facts. This study is full of interest.\nWe shall doubtless arrive at a knowledge of the exact relation\nbetween such a malady, such an epidemic, and such a place, or\nsite, or position with respect to the points of the compass, as\nwell as of the beneficial and special influence exercised upon\nour principal organs by the exhalations from different places,\nwhich might well be called the genii of those regions.\n\n----------\n\n{86}\n\n\n    The Bishops of Rome. [Footnote 42]\n\n    [Footnote 42: _Harper's New Monthly Magazine. The Bishops\n    of Rome._ New York: Harper and Brothers, January, 1869.]\n\n\n_Harper's Magazine_, we are told, has a wide circulation,\nand some merit as a magazine of light literature; but it does not\nappear to have much aptitude for the scholarly discussion of\nserious questions, whatever the matter to which they relate, and\nit is guilty of great rashness in attempting to treat a subject\nof such grave and important relations to religion and\ncivilization, society and the church, as the history of the\nbishops of Rome. The subject is not within its competence, and\nthe historical value of its essay to those who know something of\nthe history of the popes and of mediaeval Europe is less than\nnull.\n\nOf course, _Harper's Magazine_ throws no new light on any\ndisputed passage in the history of the bishops of Rome, and\nbrings out no fact not well known, or at least often repeated\nbefore; it does nothing more than compress within a brief\nmagazine article the principal inventions, calumnies, and\nslanders vented for centuries against the Roman pontiffs by\npersonal or national antipathy, disappointed ambition, political\nand partisan animosity, and heretical and sectarian wrath and\nbitterness, so adroitly arranged and mixed with facts and\nprobabilities as to gain easy credence with persons predisposed\nto believe them, and to produce on ignorant and prejudiced\nreaders a totally false impression. The magazine, judging from\nthis article, has not a single qualification for studying and\nappreciating the history of the popes. It has no key to the\nmeaning of the facts it encounters, and is utterly unable or\nindisposed to place itself at the point of view from which the\ntruth is discernible. Its _animus_, at least in this\narticle, is decidedly anti-Christian, and proves that it has no\nChristian conscience, no Christian sympathy, no faith in the\nsupernatural, no reverence for our Lord and his apostles, and no\nrespect even for the authority of the Holy Scriptures.\n\nThe magazine, under pretence of writing history, simply appeals\nto anti-Catholic prejudice, and repeats what Dr. Newman calls\n\"the Protestant tradition.\" Its aim is not historical truth, or a\nsound historical judgment on the character of the Roman pontiffs,\nbut to confirm the unfounded prejudices of its readers against\nthem. It proceeds as if the presumption were that every pope is\nantichrist or a horribly wicked man, and therefore every doubtful\nfact must be interpreted against him, till he is proved innocent.\nEverything that has been said against a pope, no matter by whom\nor on what authority, is presumptively true; everything said in\nfavor of a Roman pontiff must be presumed to be false or unworthy\nof consideration. It supposes the popes to have had the temper\nand disposition of non-Catholics, and from what it believes,\nperhaps very justly, a Protestant would do--if, _per\nimpossibile_, he were elevated to the papal chair, and clothed\nwith papal authority--concludes what the popes have actually\ndone. It forgets the rule of logic, _Argumentum a genere ad\ngenus, non valet_. The pope and the Protestant are not of the\nsame genus. We have never encountered in history a single pope\nthat did not sincerely believe in his mission from Christ, and\ntake it seriously.\n{87}\nWe have encountered weakness; too great complaisance to the civil\npower, even slowness in crushing out, in its very inception, an\ninsurgent error; sometimes also too great a regard to the\ntemporal, to the real or apparent neglect of the spiritual, and\ntwo or three instances in which the personal conduct of a pope\nwas not much better than that of the average of secular princes;\nbut never a pope who did not recognize the important trusts\nconfided to his care, and the weighty responsibilities of his\nhigh office.\n\nWe have studied the history of the Roman pontiffs with probably\nmore care and diligence than the flippant writer in _Harper's\nMagazine_ has done, and studied it, too, both as an\nanti-papist and as a papist, with an earnest desire to find facts\nagainst the popes, and with an equally earnest desire to\nascertain the exact historical truth; and we reject as unworthy\nof the most fanatic sectarian the absurd rule of judging them\nwhich the magazine adopts, if it does not avow and hold that the\npresumption is the other way, and that everything that reflects\ninjuriously on the character of a bishop of Rome is presumptively\nfalse, and to be accepted only on the most indubitable evidence.\nWe can judge in this matter more impartially and disinterestedly\nthan the anti-catholic. The impeccability of the pontiff, or even\nhis infallibility in matters of mere human prudence, is no\narticle of Catholic faith. The personal conduct of a pontiff may\nbe objectionable; but unless he officially teaches error in\ndoctrine, or enjoins an immoral practice on the faithful, it\ncannot disturb us. There are no instances in which a pope has\ndone this. No pope has ever taught or enjoined vice for virtue,\nerror for truth, or officially sanctioned a false principle or a\nfalse motive of action. With one exception, we might, then,\nconcede all the magazine alleges, and ask, What then? What can\nyou conclude? But, in fact, we concede nothing. What it alleges\nagainst the bishops of Rome is either historically false, or if\nnot, is, when rightly understood, nothing against them in their\nofficial capacity.\n\nThe exception mentioned is that of St. Liberius. The magazine\nrepeats, with some variations, the exploded fable that this Holy\nPope, won by favors or terrified by threats, consented to a\ncondemnation of the _doctrine_ of Athanasius, that is,\nsigned an Arian formula of faith. It has not invented the\nslander, but it has, after what historical criticism has\nestablished on the subject, no right to repeat it as if it were\nnot denied. We have no space now to treat the question at length;\nbut we assert, after a very full investigation, that St. Liberius\nnever signed an Arian formula, never in any shape or manner\ncondemned the _doctrine_ defended by St. Athanasius, and\nconsequently never recanted, for he had nothing to recant. The\nmost, if so much, that can be maintained is, that he approved a\nsentence condemning the special error of the Eunomians, in which\nwas not inserted the word \"consubstantial,\" because it was not\nnecessary to the condemnation of their special error, and the\nerror they held in common with all Arians had already been\ncondemned by the council of Nicaea. Not a word can be truly\nalleged against the persistent orthodoxy of this great and holy\npontiff, who deserves, as he has always received, the veneration\nof the church.\n\nThe magazine repeats the slander of an anonymous writer, a bitter\nenemy of the popes, against St. Victor, St. Zethyrinus, and St.\nCallistus, three popes whom the Church of Rome has held, and\nstill holds, in high esteem and veneration for their virtues and\nsaintly character.\n{88}\nIt refers to the _Philosophoumena_, a work published a few\nyears ago by M. E. Miller, of Paris, variously attributed to\nOrigen, to St. Hippolytus, bishop of Porto, near Rome, to Caius,\na Roman Presbyter, and to Tertullian. The late Abb\u00e9 Cruice--an\nIrishman by birth, we believe, but brought up and naturalized in\nFrance, where he was, shortly before his death, promoted to the\nepiscopate--a profoundly learned man and an acute critic, has\nunanswerably proved that these are all unsustainable hypotheses,\nand that historical science is in no condition to say who was its\nauthor. Who wrote it, or where it was written, is absolutely\nunknown, but from internal evidence the writer was a contemporary\nof the three popes named, and was probably some Oriental\nschismatic, of unsound faith, and a bitter enemy of the popes.\nThe work is not of the slightest authority against the bishops of\nRome, but is of very great value as proving, by an enemy, that\nthe papacy was fully developed--if that is the word--claiming\nand exercising in the universal church the same supreme authority\nthat it claims and exercises now, and was as regular in its\naction in the last half of the second century, or within fifty or\nsixty years of the death of the apostle St. John, as it is under\nPope Pius IX. now gloriously reigning. [Footnote 43]\n\n    [Footnote 43: _Vide Histoire de l'Eglise de Rome sous les\n    Pontificats de St. Victor, de St. Zephirin, et St.\n    Calliste_. Par L'Abb\u00e9 M. P. Cruice. Paris: Didot Fr\u00e8res.\n    1856.]\n\nWhen the magazine has nothing else to allege against the popes,\nit accuses them of \"a fierce, ungovernable pride.\"\n\n  \"The fourth century brought important changes in the condition\n  of the bishops of Rome. It is a singular trait of the corrupt\n  Christianity of this period that the chief characteristic of\n  the eminent prelates was a fierce and ungovernable pride.\n  Humility had long ceased to be numbered among the Christian\n  virtues. The four great rulers of the Church, Bishop of Rome,\n  and the Patriarchs of Constantinople, Antioch, and Alexandria,\n  were engaged in a constant struggle for supremacy. Even the\n  inferior bishops assumed a princely state, and surrounded\n  themselves with their sacred courts. The vices of pride and\n  arrogance descended to the lower orders of clergy; the emperor\n  himself was declared to be inferior in dignity to the simple\n  presbyter, and in all public entertainments and ceremonious\n  assemblies the proudest layman was expected to take his place\n  below the haughty churchman, As learning declined and the world\n  sank into a new barbarism, the clergy elevated themselves into\n  a ruling caste, and were looked upon as half divine by the rude\n  Goths and the degraded Romans. It is even said that the pagan\n  nations of the west transferred to the priest and monk the same\n  awestruck reverence which they had been accustomed to pay to\n  their Druid teachers. The Pope took the place of their Chief\n  Druid, and was worshipped with idolatrous devotion; the meanest\n  presbyter, however vicious and degraded, seemed, to the\n  ignorant savages, a true messenger from the skies.\"\n\nThere was no patriarch of Constantinople in the fourth century,\nand it was only in 330 that the city of Constantinople absorbed\nByzantium. The bishop of Byzantium was not a patriarch, or even a\nmetropolitan, but was a suffragan of the bishop of Heraclea. It\nwas not till long after the fourth century that the bishop of\nConstantinople was recognized as patriarch, not, in fact, till\nthe eighth general council. There was no struggle in the fourth\nnor in any subsequent century, for the supremacy, between Rome\nand Antioch, or Rome and Alexandria; neither the patriarch of\nAntioch nor the patriarch of Alexandria ever claimed the primacy;\nbut both acknowledged that it belonged to the bishop of Rome, as\ndo the schismatic churches of the East even now, though they take\nthe liberty of disobeying their lawful superior. In the fifth\nCentury, when St. Leo the Great was pope, the bishop of\nConstantinople claimed the _second_ rank, or the first\n_after_ the bishop of Rome, on the ground that\nConstantinople was the new Rome, the second capital of the\nempire.\n{89}\nSt. Leo repulsed his claim, not in defence of his own rights, for\nit did not interfere with his supremacy, or primacy, as they said\nthen, but in defence of the rights of the churches of Antioch and\nAlexandria. He also did it because the claim was urged on a false\nprinciple--that the authority of a bishop is derived from the\ncivil importance of the city in which his see is established.\n\nIt is not strange that the magazine should complain that the\npontifical dignity was placed above the imperial, and that the\nsimple presbyter took the step of the proudest layman; yet\nwhoever believes in the spiritual order at all, believes it\nsuperior to the secular order, and therefore that they who\nrepresent the spiritual are in dignity above those who represent\nonly the secular. When the writer of this was a Protestant\nminister, he took, and was expected to take, precedence of the\nlaity. The common sense of mankind gives the precedence to those\nheld to be invested with the sacred functions of religion, or\nclothed with spiritual authority.\n\nThat St. Jerome, from his monastic cell near Jerusalem, inveighs\nagainst the vices and corruptions of the Roman clergy, as alleged\nin the paragraph following the one we have quoted, is very true;\nbut his declamations must be taken with some grains of allowance.\nSt. Jerome was not accustomed to measure his words when\ndenouncing wrong, and saints generally are not. St. Peter Damian\nreported, after his official visit to Spain, that there was but\none worthy priest in the whole kingdom, which really meant no\nmore than that he found only one who came, in all respects, up to\nhis lofty ideal of what a priest should be. Yet there might have\nbeen, and probably were, large numbers of others who, though not\nfaultless, were very worthy men, and upon the whole, faithful\npriests. We must never take the exaggerations of saintly\nreformers, burning with zeal for the faith and the salvation of\nsouls, as literal historical facts. St. Jerome, in his ardent\nlove of the church and his high ideal of sacerdotal purity,\nvigilance, fidelity, and zeal, no doubt exaggerated.\n\nThere can be nothing more offensive to every right and honorable\nfeeling than the exultation of the magazine over the abuse,\ncruelties, and outrages inflicted on a bishop of Rome by civil\ntyrants. The writer, had he lived under the persecuting pagan\nemperors, would have joined his voice to that of those who\nexclaimed, _Christianos ad leones;_ or had he been present\nwhen our Lord was arrested and brought as a malefactor before\nPontius Pilate, none louder than he would have cried out,\n_Crucifige eum! crucifige eum!_ His sympathies are uniformly\nwith the oppressor, never, as we can discover, with the\noppressed; with the tyrant, never with his innocent victim,\nespecially if that victim be a bishop of Rome. He feels only\ngratification in recording the wrongs and sufferings of Pope St.\nSilverus. This pope was raised to the papacy by the tyranny of\nthe Arian king Theodotus, and ordained by force, without the\nnecessary subscription of the clergy. But after his consecration,\nthe clergy, by their subscription, healed the irregularity of his\nelection, as Anastasius the Librarian tells us, so as to preserve\nthe unity of the church and religion. He appears to have been a\nholy man and a worthy pope; but he was not acceptable to\nVigilius, who expected, by favor of the imperial court, to be\nmade pope himself, nor to those two profligate women, the Empress\nTheodora and her friend Antonina, the wife of the patrician\nBelisarius.\n{90}\nVigilius and these two infamous women compelled Belisarius to\ndepose him, strip him of his pontifical robes, clothe him with\nthe habit of a monk, and send him into exile; where, as some say,\nhe was assassinated, and, as others say, perished of hunger. The\nmagazine relates this to show how low and unworthy the bishops of\nRome had become! Vigilius succeeded St. Silverus, and it\ncontinues:\n\n  \"Stained with crime, a false witness and a murderer, Vigilius\n  had obtained his holy office through the power of two\n  profligate women who now ruled the Roman world. Theodora, the\n  dissolute wife of Justinian, and Antonina, her devoted servant,\n  assumed to determine the faith and the destinies of the\n  Christian Church. Vigilius failed to satisfy the exacting\n  demands of his casuistical mistresses; he even ventured to\n  differ from them upon some obscure points of doctrine. His\n  punishment soon followed, and the bishop of Rome is said to\n  have been dragged through the streets of Constantinople with a\n  rope around his neck, to have been imprisoned in a common\n  dungeon and fed on bread and water. The papal chair, filled by\n  such unworthy occupants, must have sunk low in the popular\n  esteem, had not Gregory the Great, toward the close of sixth\n  century, revived the dignity of the office.\"\n\nWe know of nothing that can be said in defence of the conduct of\nVigilius prior to his accession to the papal throne. His\nintrigues with Theodora to be made pope, and his promises to her\nto restore, when he should be pope, Anthemus, deposed from the\nsee of Constantinople by St. Agapitus for heresy, and to set\naside the council of Chalcedon, were most scandalous; and his\ntreatment of St. Silverus, whether he actually exiled him and had\na hand in his death or not, admits, as far as we are informed, of\nno palliation; but his conduct thus far was not the conduct of\nthe pope; and after he became bishop of Rome, at least after the\ndeath of his deposed predecessor, his conduct was, upon the\nwhole, irreproachable. He conceded much for the sake of peace,\nand was much blamed; but he conceded nothing of the faith; he\nrefused to fulfill the improper promises he had made, before\nbecoming pope, to the empress, confessed that he had made them,\nsaid he was wrong in making them, retracted them, and resisted\nwith rare firmness and persistence the emperor Justinian in the\nmatter of the three chapters, and fully expiated the offences\ncommitted prior to his elevation, by enduring for seven long\nyears the brutal outrages an indignities offered him by the\nhalf-savage Justinian, the imperial courtiers, and intriguing and\nunscrupulous prelates of the court party--outrages and sufferings\nof which he died after his liberation on his journey back from\nConstantinople to Rome.\n\nWe have touched on these details for the purpose of showing that\nthe principal offenders in the transactions related were not the\nbishops of Rome, but the civil authorities and their adherents,\nthat deprived the Roman clergy and the popes of their proper\nfreedom. If the papal chair was filled with unworthy occupants,\nand had sunk low in the public esteem, it was because the emperor\nor empress at Constantinople and the Arian and barbarian kings in\nItaly sought to raise to it creatures of their own. They deprived\nthe Roman clergy, the senate, and people of the free exercise of\ntheir right to elect the pope; and the pope, after his election,\nof his freedom of action, if he refused to conform to their\nwishes, usually criminal, and always base. Yet _Harper's\nMagazine_ lays all the blame to the popes themselves, and\nseems to hold them responsible for the crimes and tyranny, the\nprofligacy and lawless will of which they were the victims. If\nthe wolf devoured the lamb, was it not\nthe lamb's fault?\n\n{91}\n\nSt. Gregory the Great was of a wealthy and illustrious family,\nand therefore finds some favor with the magazine; yet it calls\nhim \"a half-maddened enthusiast,\" and accuses him of \"unsparing\nseverity,\" and \"excessive cruelty\" in the treatment of his monks\nbefore his elevation to the papal chair. But his complaisance to\nthe usurper Phocas, which we find it hard to excuse, and\nespecially his disclaiming the title of \"Universal Bishop,\"\nredeem him in its estimation.\n\n  \"A faint trace of modesty and humility still characterized the\n  Roman bishops, and they expressly disclaimed any right to the\n  supremacy of the Christian world. The patriarch of\n  Constantinople, who seems to have looked with a polished\n  contempt upon his western brother, the tenant of fallen Rome\n  and the bishop of the barbarians, now declared himself the\n  Universal Bishop and the head of the subject Church. But\n  Gregory repelled his usurpation with vigor. Whoever calls\n  himself Universal Bishop is Antichrist,' he exclaimed; and he\n  compares the patriarch to Satan, who in his pride had aspired\n  to be higher than the angels.\"\n\nJohn Jejunator, bishop of Constantinople, did not claim the\nprimacy, which belonged to the bishop of Rome, nor did Gregory\ndisclaim it; but called himself \"oecumenical patriarch.\" The\ntitle he assumed derogated not from the rights and privileges of\nthe apostolic see, but from those of the sees of Antioch and\nAlexandria. It was unauthorized, and showed culpable ambition and\nan encroaching disposition. St. Gregory, therefore, rebuked the\nbishop of Constantinople, and alleged the example of his\npredecessor, St. Leo the Great, who refused the title of\n\"oecumenical bishop\" when it was offered him by the Fathers of\nChalcedon. It is a title never assumed or borne by a bishop of\nRome, who, in his capacity as bishop, is the equal, and only the\nequal, of his brother bishops. All bishops are equal, as St. John\nChrysostom tells us. The authority which the pope exercises over\nthe bishops of the Catholic Church is not the episcopal, but the\napostolical authority which he inherits from Peter, the prince of\nthe apostles. St. Gregory disclaimed and condemned the title of\n\"universal bishop,\" which was appropriate neither to him nor to\nany other bishop; but he did not disclaim the apostolic authority\nheld as the successor of Peter. He actually claimed and exercised\nit in the very letter in which he rebukes the bishop of\nConstantinople. The magazine is wholly mistaken in asserting that\nGregory disclaimed the papal supremacy. He did no such thing; he\nboth claimed and exercised it, and few popes have exercised it\nmore extensively or more vigorously.\n\nThe magazine is also mistaken in asserting that St. Leo III.\ncrowned Charlemagne \"Emperor of the West.\" Charlemagne was\nalready hereditary patrician of Rome, and bound by his office to\nmaintain order in the city and territories of Rome, and to defend\nthe Holy See, or the Roman Church, against its enemies. All the\npope did was to raise the patrician to the imperial dignity,\nwithout any territorial title. Charles never assumed or bore the\ntitle of Emperor of the West. His official title was \"Rex\nFrancorum et Longobardorum Imperator.\" The title of \"Emperor of\nthe West,\" or \"Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire,\" which his\nGerman successors assumed, was never conferred by the pope, but\nonly acquiesced in after it had been usurped. The pope conferred\non Charlemagne no authority out of the papal states.\n\nWe have no space to discuss the origin of the temporal\nsovereignty of the bishops of Rome, nor the ground of that\narbitratorship which the popes, during several ages,\nunquestionably exercised with regard to the sovereign princes\nbound by their profession and the constitution of their states to\nprofess and protect the Catholic religion.\n{92}\nWe have already done the latter in an article on _Church and\nState_ in our magazine for April, 1867. But we can tell\n_Harper's Magazine_ that it entirely misapprehends the\ncharacter of St. Gregory VII., and the nature and motive of the\nstruggle between him and Henry III., or Henry IV., as some\nreckon, king of the Germans, for emperor he never was. Gregory\nwas no innovator; he introduced, and attempted to introduce, no\nchange in the doctrine or discipline of the church, nor in the\nrelations of church and state. He only sought to correct abuses,\nto restore the ancient discipline which had, through various\ncauses, become relaxed, and to assert and maintain the freedom\nand independence of the church in the government of her own\nspiritual subjects in all matters spiritual.\n\n  \"His elevation was the signal for the most wonderful change in\n  the character and purposes of the church. The pope aspired to\n  rule mankind. He claimed an absolute power over the conduct of\n  kings, priests, and nations, and he enforced his decrees by the\n  terrible weapons of anathema and excommunication. He denounced\n  the marriages of the clergy as impious, and at once there arose\n  all over Europe a fearful struggle between the ties of natural\n  affection and the iron will of Gregory. Heretofore the secular\n  priests and bishops had married, raised families, and lived\n  blamelessly as husbands or fathers, in the enjoyment of marital\n  and filial love. But suddenly all this was changed. The married\n  priests were declared polluted and degraded, and were branded\n  with ignominy and shame. Wives were torn from their devoted\n  husbands, children were declared bastards, and the ruthless\n  monk, in the face of the fiercest opposition, made celibacy the\n  rule of the church. The most painful consequences followed. The\n  wretched women, thus degraded and accursed, were often driven\n  to suicide in their despair. Some threw themselves into the\n  flames; others were found dead in there beds, the victims of\n  grief or of their own resolution not to survive their shame,\n  while the monkish chroniclers exult over their misfortunes, and\n  triumphantly consign them to eternal woe.\n\n  \"Thus the clergy under Gregory's guidance became a monastic\n  order, wholly separated from all temporal interests; and bound\n  in a perfect obedience to the church. He next forebade all lay\n  investitures or appointments to bishoprics or other clerical\n  offices, and declared himself the supreme ruler of the\n  ecclesiastical affairs of nations. No temporal sovereign could\n  fill the great European sees, or claim any dominion over the\n  extensive territories held by eminent churchmen in right of\n  their spiritual power. It was against this claim that the\n  Emperor of Germany, Henry IV., rebelled. The great bishoprics\n  of his empire, Cologne, Bremen, Treves, and many others, were\n  his most important feudatories, and should he suffer the\n  imperious pope to govern them at will, his own dominion would\n  be reduced to a shadow. And now began the famous contest\n  between Hildebrand and Henry, between the carpenter's son and\n  the successor of Charlemagne, between the Emperor of Germany\n  and the Head of the Church.\"\n\nThis heart-rending picture is, to a great extent, a fancy piece.\nThe celibacy of the clergy was the law of the church and of the\nGerman empire; and every priest knew it before taking orders.\nThese pretended marriages were, in both the ecclesiastical courts\nand the civil courts, no marriages at all; and these dispairing\nwives of priests were simply concubines. What did Gregory do, but\nhis best to enforce the law which the emperors had suffered to\nfall into desuetude? The right of investiture was always in the\npope, and it was only by his authority that the emperors had ever\nexercised it.\n{93}\nThe pope had authorized them to give investiture of bishops at a\ntime of disorder, and when it was for the good of the church that\nthey should be so authorized. But when they abused the trust, and\nused it only to fill the sees with creatures of their own, or\nsold the investiture for money to the unworthy and the\nprofligate, and intruded them into sees, in violation of the\ncanons, and sheltered them from the discipline of the\nchurch--causing, thus, gross corruption of morals and manners,\nthe neglect of religious instruction, and dangers to souls--it\nwas the right and the duty of the pontiff to revoke the\nauthorization given, to dismiss his unworthy agents, and to\nforbid the emperors henceforth to give investiture.\n\nThe magazine says that if the emperor should suffer the imperious\npope to be allowed to govern at will the great bishoprics of\nCologne, Bremen, Treves, and many others, which were the most\nimportant feudatories of his empire, his own dominion would be\nreduced to a shadow. But if the emperor could fill them with\ncreatures of his own, make bishops at his will, and depose them\nand sequester their revenues if they resisted his tyranny, or\nsell them, as he did, to the highest bidder--thrusting out the\nlawful occupants, and intruding men who could have been only\nusurpers, and who really were criminals in the eye of the law,\nand usually dissolute and scandalous in morals--where would have\nbeen the rightful freedom and independence of the church? How\ncould the pope have maintained order and discipline in the\nchurch, and protected the interests of religion? At worst, the\nimperious will of the pontiff was as legitimate and as\ntrustworthy as the imperious will of such a brutal tyrant and\nmoral monster as was Henry. The pope did but claim his rights and\nthe rights of the faithful people. It was no less important that\nthe spiritual authority should govern in spirituals than it was\nthat the secular authority should govern in temporals. The pope\ndid not interfere, nor propose to interfere, with the emperor in\nthe exercise of his authority in temporals; but he claimed the\nright, which the emperor could not deny, to govern in spirituals;\nand resisted the attempt of Henry to exercise any authority in\nthe church, which, whatever infidels and secularists may pretend,\nis of more importance than the state, for it maintains the state.\nHe never pretended to any authority in the fiefs of the empire,\nor to subject to his will matters not confessedly within his\njurisdiction.\n\nDoes the writer in the magazine maintain that the Methodist\nGeneral Conference would be wrong to claim the right of choosing\nand appointing its own bishops, and assigning the pastors,\nelders, and preachers to their respective circuits; and that it\ncould justly be accused of seeking to dominate over the state if\nit resisted, with all its power, the attempt of the state to take\nthat matter into its own hands, and appoint for all the Methodist\nlocal conferences, districts, and circuits, bishops and pastors,\nitinerant and local preachers, and should appoint men of\nprofligate lives, who scorned the _Book of Discipline_,\nUnitarians, Universalists, rationalists, and infidels, or the\nbitter enemies of Methodism; those who would neglect every\nspiritual duty, and seek only to plunder the funds and churches\nto provide for their own lawless pleasures, or to pay the bribes\nby which they obtained their appointment? We think not. And yet\nthis is only a mild statement of what Henry did, and of what\nGregory resisted. The pope claimed and sought to obtain no more\nfor the church in Germany than is the acknowledged right of every\nprofessedly Christian sect in this country, and which every sect\nfully enjoys, without any let or hindrance from the state. Why,\nthen, this outcry against Gregory VII.? Do these men who are so\nbitter against him, and gnash their teeth at him, know what they do?\n{94}\nHave they ever for a moment reflected how much the modern world\nowes for its freedom and civilization to just such great popes as\nHildebrand, who asserted energetically the rights of God, the\nfreedom of religion, and made the royal and imperial despots and\nbrutal tyrants who would trample on all laws, human and divine,\nfeel that, if they would wear their crowns, they must study to\nrestrain their power within its proper limits, and to rule justly\nfor the common good, according to the law of God?\n\nWhat Germany thought of the conduct of Henry is evinced by the\nfact that when Gregory struck him with the sword of Peter and\nPaul, everybody abandoned him but his deeply injured wife and one\nfaithful attendant. The whole nation felt a sense of relief and\nbreathed freely. An incubus which oppressed its breast was thrown\noff. The picture of the sufferings of Henry traversing the Alps\nin the winter and standing shivering with cold in his thin garb,\nas a penitent before the door of the pontiff, is greatly\nexaggerated, and the attempt to excite sympathy for him and\nindignation against the pontiff can have no success with those\nwho have studied with some care the history of the times. Henry\nwas a bad man; a capricious, unprincipled, tyrannical, and brutal\nruler, and his cause was bad. The pope was in the right; he was\non the side of truth and justice, of God and humanity, pure\nmorals and just liberty. Leo the historian, a Protestant, and\nVoigt, a Protestant minister, both Germans, have each completely\nvindicated Gregory's conduct toward Henry of Germany, though\nHarper's historian is probably ignorant of that fact, as he is of\nsome others.\n\nAs to the pope's subjecting Henry to the discipline of the\nchurch, and depriving him of his crown, all we need say is, that\nall men are equal before God and the church, and kings and\nkaisers are as much amenable to the discipline of the church,\nacknowledged by them to be Christ's kingdom, as the meanest of\ntheir subjects. The pope assumed no more than the kirk session\nassumed when it sent their King Charles II. to the \"cuttie\nstool.\" The revolutionists of Spain have just deprived Isabella\nSegunda of her crown and throne, with the general applause of the\nnon-Catholic world, and no pope ever deprived a prince who denied\nhis jurisdiction, or his legal right to sit in judgment on his\ncase, nor, till after a fair trial had been had, and a judicial\nsentence was rendered according to the existing laws of his\nprincipality. We see not why, then, the popes should be decried\nfor doing legally, and after trial, what revolutionists are\napplauded for doing without trial and against all law, human and\ndivine--unless it be because the pope deprived only base and\nprofligate monsters, stained with the worst of crimes; and the\nrevolutionists deprive the guiltless, who violate no law of the\nstate or of the church, The pope deprived for crime; the\nrevolutionists usually for virtue or innocence, only under\npretence of ameliorating the state, which they subvert.\n\nBut our space is nearly exhausted, and we must hurry on. Innocent\nIII. is another of those great bishops of Rome that excite the\nwrath of _Harper's Magazine_--probably because he was really\na great pope, energetic in asserting the faith, in removing\nscandals, in enforcing discipline on kings and princes as well as\non their subjects; in repressing sects, like the Albigenses, that\nstruck at the very foundations of religion and society, or of the\nmoral order; in defending the purity of morals and the sanctity\nof marriage, and in espousing the cause of the weak against the\nstrong, of oppressed innocence against oppressive guilt.\n{95}\nThis is too much for the endurance of the magazine. It indeed\ndoes not say that Innocent did not espouse the cause of justice\nin the case of Philip Augustus and his injured queen, Ingeburga;\nbut it contends that he did it from unworthy motives, for the\nsake of extending and consolidating the papal authority over\nkings and princes. Though he admits John Lackland was a moral\nmonster, and opened negotiations with a Mohammedan prince to the\nscandal of Christendom, offered to make himself a Mussulman, and\nwould have embraced Islamism if the infidel prince had not\nrepelled him with indignation and contempt; it yet finds that\nInnocent was altogether wrong in taking effective measures to\nrestrain his tyranny, cruelty, licentiousness, and plunder of the\nchurches and robbery of his subjects. His motive was simply to\nmonopolize power and profit for the papal see. He also, for like\nreasons, was wrong in resisting Frederic II. of Germany, who, he\nsays, preferred Islamism to Christianity, as itself probably\nprefers it to Catholicity.\n\nThe article closes with a tirade against Alexander VI., and his\nchildren, Caesar and Lucretia Borgia, Roscoe, a Protestant or\nrationalist, has vindicated the character of Lucretia, that\naccomplished, capable, and most grossly calumniated woman, who,\nin her real history, appears to have been not less eminent for\nher virtues than for her beauty and abilities. Caesar Borgia we\nhave no disposition to defend, though we have ample grounds for\nbelieving that he was by no means so black as Italian hatred and\nmalice have painted him. Alexander was originally in the army of\nSpain, and his manners and morals were such as we oftener\nassociate with military men than with ecclesiastics, He lived\nwith a woman who was another man's wife, and had two or three\nchildren by her. But this was while he was a soldier, and before\nhe was an ecclesiastic or thought of taking orders. He was called\nto Rome for his eminent administrative ability, by his uncle,\nPope Callixtus III.; took, in honor of his uncle, the name of\nBorgia; became an ecclesiastic; was, after some time, made\ncardinal, and finally raised to the papal throne under the name\nof Alexander VI. After he was made cardinal, if, indeed, after he\nbecame an ecclesiastic, nothing discreditable to his morals has\nbeen proved against him; and his moral character, during his\nentire pontificate, was, according to the best authorities,\nirreproachable. The Borgias had, however, the damning sin of\nbeing Spaniards, not Italians; and of seeking to reduce the\nItalian robber barons to submission and obedience to law, and to\ngovern Italy in the interests of public order. They had,\ntherefore, many bitter and powerful enemies; hence, the\naspersions of their character, and the numerous fables against\nthem, and which but too many historians have taken for\nauthenticated facts. The alleged poisonings of Alexander and his\ndaughter Lucretia are none of them proved, and are inventions of\nItalian hatred and malice. Yet, though Alexander's conduct as\npope was irreproachable, and his administration able and\nvigorous, his antecedents were such that his election to the\npapal throne was a questionable policy, and Savonarola held it to\nbe irregular and null.\n\nThe magazine indulges in the old cant about the contrast between\nthe poverty and humility of Peter and the wealth and grandeur of\nhis successors; the simplicity of the primitive worship, and the\npomp and splendor of the Roman service.\n{96}\nThere is no need of answering this. When the Messrs. Harper\nBrothers started the printing business in this city, we presume\ntheir establishment was in striking contrast to their present\nmagnificent establishment in Cliff street. When the world was\nconverted to the church, and the supreme pontiff had to sustain\nrelations with sovereign princes, to receive their ambassadors,\nand send his legates to every court in Christendom to look after\nthe interests of religion--the chief interest of both society\nand individuals--larger accommodations than were afforded by that\n\"upper room\" in Jerusalem were needed, and a more imposing\nestablishment than St. Peter may have had was a necessity of the\naltered state of things. Even our Methodist friends, we notice,\nfind it inconvenient to observe the plainness and simplicity in\ndress and manners prescribed by John Wesley their founder. He\nforbids, we believe, splendid churches, with steeples and bells;\nand the earliest houses for Methodist meetings, even we remember,\nwere very different from the elegant structures they are now\nerecting. We heard a waggish minister say of one of them, \"Call\nyou this the Lord's house? you should rather call it the Lord's\nbarn.\"\n\nThe Catholic Church continues and fulfils the synagogue, and her\nservice is, to a great extent, modelled after the Jewish, which\nwas prescribed by God himself. The dress of the pontiff, when he\ncelebrates the Holy Sacrifice, is less gorgeous than that of the\nJewish high-priest. St. Peter's is larger than was Solomon's\ntemple, but it is not more gorgeous; and the Catholic service,\nexcept in the infinite superiority of the victim immolated upon\nthe altar, is not more splendid, grand, or imposing than was the\ndivinely prescribed temple service of the Hebrews. The magazine\nappears to think with Judas Iscariot, that the costly ointment\nwith which a woman that had been a sinner anointed the feet of\nJesus, after she had washed them with her tears and wiped them\nwith her hair, was a great waste, and might have been put to a\nbetter use. But our Lord did not think so, and Judas Iscariot did\nnot become the prince of the apostles. We owe all we have to God,\nand it is but fitting that we should employ the best we have in\nhis service.\n\nHere we must close. We have not replied to all the misstatements,\nmisrepresentations, perversions, and insinuations of the article\nin _Harper's Magazine_. We could not do it in a brief\narticle like the present. It would require volumes to do it. We\nhave touched only on a few salient points that struck us in\nglancing over it; but we have said enough to show its\n_animus_ and to expose its untrustworthiness. Refuted it we\nhave not, for there really is nothing in it to refute, It lays\ndown no principles, states no premises, draws no conclusions. It\nleaves all that to be supplied by the ignorance and prejudices of\nits readers. It is a mere series of statements that require no\nanswer but a flat denial. It is not strange that the magazine\nshould calumniate the popes, and seek to pervert their history.\nOur Lord built his church on Peter, being himself the chief\ncornerstone; and nothing is more natural than that they who hate\nthe church should strike their heads against the papacy. The\npopes have always been the chief object of attack, and have had\nto bear the brunt of the battle. Yet they have labored, suffered,\nbeen persecuted, imprisoned, exiled, and martyred for the\nsalvation of mankind. What depth of meaning in the dying words of\nthe exiled Gregory VII., \"I have loved justice, and hated\niniquity; therefore I die in exile.\" Alas! the world knows not\nits benefactors, and crucifies its redeemers!\n\n----------\n\n{97}\n\n       March Omens. [Footnote 44]\n\n    [Footnote 44: From _Irish Odes and other Poems_, by\n    Aubrey De Vere, just Issued by the Catholic Publication\n    Society.]\n\n\n  ON ivied stems and leafless sprays\n    The sunshine lies in dream:\n  Scarcely yon mirrored willow sways\n    Within the watery gleam.\n\n  In woods far off the dove is heard,\n    And streams that feed the lake:\n  All else is hushed save one small bird,\n    That twitters in the brake.\n\n  Yet something works through earth and air,\n    A sound less heard than felt,\n  Whispering of Nature's procreant care,\n    While the last snow-flakes melt.\n\n  The year anon her rose will don;\n    But to-day this trance is best--\n  This weaving of fibre and knitting of bone\n    In Earth's maternal breast.\n\n----------\n\n{98}\n\n\n    Translated From The German\n    By Richard Storrs Willis.\n\n         Emily Linder.\n\n         A Life-portrait.\n\n\nThe circle of those who were witness to the blossom-period of the\ncity of Munich, that glorious epoch of twenty or thirty years\nwhich dawned upon the Bavarian capital when Louis I. ascended the\nthrone, is gradually narrowing, and every year contracts it still\nfurther. The name of her to whom this sketch is dedicated\nbelonged to this circle, and is closely associated with the best\nof those who aided in inaugurating this brilliant epoch, and\nrendering Munich a hearthstone of culture which attracted the\ngaze of the educated world. Sunny period of old Munich! They of\nthat time speak of it with the same enthusiasm as of their own\nyouth. Yet to a future generation will their testimony sound like\nsome beautiful tradition.\n\nTo not a few, the name of Miss Emily Linder appeared for the\nfirst time, as the intelligence of her death passed through the\npublic journals of February, 1857. Yet was her life no ordinary\none; and though it never tended to publicity, she accomplished\nmore in her great seclusion than many a noisy and feted\ncelebrity. Hers was a quiet and unassuming nature; she belonged\nto those who speak little and accomplish much. It is therefore\nbefitting, now that she has gone to her home, here to speak of\nher. Not so much to praise her, for she shrank from all earthly\npraise; but to keep her memory fresh among her friends and to\npresent to a selfish, distracted age, poor in faith, the\nanimating example of a pure, faith-inspired, and symmetrical\ncharacter a life full of fidelity, unselfishness, and enthusiasm.\n\nSwiss by birth and unchangeably devoted to her circumscribed\nhome, Emily Linder little dreamed, probably, when in early life\nshe wandered to Munich, that she would yet close a long life\nthere. But over this life, swiftly as it glided along, there\nwatched a special, directing Providence; and no one could more\ncheerfully have recognized this Providence than did she. What\noriginally attracted her to Munich was Art: she probably\ncontemplated, at first, only brief and transient visit there; but\nthe metropolis of German art became a second home to her--even\nmore than this.\n\nEmily Linder belonged to a wealthy mercantile family of Basle,\nand was born at that place on the 11th of October, 1797. She\nreceived a careful religious education, (in the reformed faith of\nher parents,) and that varied instruction which rendered her\nunusually wakeful mind susceptible to topics of deeper import.\nShe seemed to have inherited from her grandfather, who was a\nlover and collector of artistic objects, a fondness for fine art.\nFollowing this predilection, the gifted girl decided to seize the\npallet and devote herself to painting as an occupation. Such was\nher entirely independent position as to fortune, that nothing but\ninward enthusiasm could have led her to this step, or have\nconfined her from thenceforth to the easel.\n\n{99}\n\nThe home of Holbein's genius offered her at first, doubtless,\ninspiration enough. But a new star had arisen in German art, and\nthe youthful Swiss was drawn powerfully by its leading away from\nhome--to Munich. The modest city on the verdant Iser began at\nthat period to prove the goal of pilgrimage to every ambitious\ndisciple of art. Miss Linder also heard of it, and, instead of\ngoing to Dresden, as she had intended, she turned for her further\nimprovement to Munich. On her arrival in this city she had\nattained to an age of twenty-seven years; but her devotion to her\nchosen profession was so earnest, that she entered as a simple\npupil the Academy of Fine Arts. In the catalogue of the academy,\nEmily Linder is inscribed as historical painter, on the 4th of\nNovember, 1824. But she frequented the studios only a few weeks.\nAt that time it was customary to accept ladies as pupils; but she\nsoon perceived that the position was hardly a becoming one,\nsurrounded by so many young people of various characters, and all\nbeginners like herself. She therefore had recourse to Professor\nSchlotthauer for private instruction. Under the guidance of this\nexcellent master, \"a veritable house-father in the painter's\nacademy,\" as Brentano characteristically termed him, she pursued\nher studies in good earnest, and, according to the representation\nof her teacher, made rapid progress in the severer style of\ndrawing, in which she had hitherto been less practised than in\npainting. She soon perfected herself to such an extent that she\nwas enabled to complete her own compositions, and thus derived\ndouble satisfaction from her profession.\n\nIt was indeed a pleasure in those days, competing with so many\nenthusiastic young artists and with the newly-appearing works in\nconstant view, to labor and strive onward with the rest. This was\nthe time, too, when Cornelius assumed the directorship of the\nMunich Academy and inaugurated, in grand style, the new era of\nGerman art. A wondrous life dawned upon Munich art at that\nperiod. Cornelius himself, in his old age, recalled with emotion\nand enthusiasm this youthful period of new German art. At Rome,\nthirty years later, on the occasion of the Louis festival of\nGerman artists, 20th May 1855, while he was delivering an address\nso celebrated for its many piquant flashes, he thus painted the\njoyous industry of those days:\n\n  \"But when King Louis ascended the throne of his fathers, then\n  began the sport. Zounds! what moulding, building, drawing, and\n  painting! With what eagerness, with what hilarity each went to\n  his work! But it was an earnest hilarity: ... nor was Munich at\n  that time a mere hot-house of art. The warmth was a healthy and\n  vital one, born of the flaming fire of inspiration, the\n  evidence of which every work, whatever its defects, bore upon\n  its very face. Those men who worked together in brotherly unity\n  knew that there confronted them the art tribunal of posterity\n  and of the German nation. It concerned them, now, that German\n  genius should open a new pathway in art, as it had already so\n  gloriously done in poetry, in music, in science.\"\n\nIn this glorious time of youthful aspiration, bold conception,\nand joyful industry, Miss Linder began her artistic career in\nMunich. Is it a wonder then that the city pleased her daily\nbetter, and imperceptibly gained a home-like power over her? Nor\nhad she, by any means, a lack of intellectual incitement. Her\nindependent position and rare culture secured to her the most\nagreeable social position. In the family of Herr von Ringseis, to\nwhich she had brought an introduction from Basle, and where\ngathered the nobility of the entire fatherland, she came into\ncontact with the most eminent artists and scholars.\n{100}\nChief among these was Cornelius, who welcomed her to his family\ncircle. The old master of German art remained a life-long friend\nof hers and warmly attached to her. Among her more intimate\ncompanions, she numbered also the two Eberhards, Heinrich Hess,\nFranz von Baader. Somewhat later, by the transfer of the\nuniversity to Munich, were added to these Schubert, G\u00f6rres,\nSchelling, Lasaulx. Also the two Boiseree, who in the autumn of\n1827 came to Munich with their art collection, which had been\npurchased by King Louis, were soon numbered among her nearer\nacquaintances.\n\nAmid so choice a circle there unfolded itself for the young\nartist a spiritual and intense life, to which she abandoned\nherself with all the joyous simplicity and freshness of an\nartistic nature; a nature which was susceptible also to the\nbeautiful and the grand in other things--in poetry, in music, and\nin science. The quiet, friendly lady-artist became everywhere a\nfavorite.\n\nBut, amid all these manifold occupations, there was ever a\ncertain earnestness, a striving out of the temporal into the\neternal. Even art was not to her a mere amusement. Genuine art\npossesses an ennobling power, and she experienced what Michael\nAngelo once said to his friend Vittoria Colonna, \"True painting\nis naturally religious and noble; for even the struggle toward\nperfection elevates the soul to devotion, draws it near to God\nand unites it with him.\" Attracted by the pure and lofty in art,\nMiss Linder gave preference to religious painting, a taste which\nwas encouraged by her sterling master: and it caused her, though\na Protestant, special gratification, while ever seeking the best\nstudies, to paint or copy, whenever she could, devotional church\npictures.\n\nIn order to become acquainted, through actual observation, with\nthe principal works of Christian art, she determined on a journey\nto Italy. Her first visit she decided to confine to the cities of\nupper Italy, and in company with Professor Schlotthauer and his\nwife, this plan was carried out during the summer and autumn of\n1825. Milan, Verona, Padua, Venice, Bologna, were visited, and,\nled by the hand of her intelligent master, they all passed under\nher examination. The goal of her travel was to be Florence. But\nthe long-continued, fine autumn weather attracted the travellers\nfurther and further, and at length they came to Perugia, the\nmiddle point of the Umbrian school, and thence to the\nneighboring, picturesque-lying Assisi. At this place a little\ncircumstance occurred which became of deep significance in the\nafter life of the artist.\n\nThe vetturino, familiar with the land and the people, called the\nattention of the travellers to the fact that in Assisi there was\na monastery of German Franciscan nuns. A colony of poor German\nwomen in the middle of Italian lands! That was enough to decide\nthe party to visit the monastery and greet their pious\ncountrywomen in the language of home. But they found the\nsisterhood in evident distress. As they stood before the lattice,\nthe history of the monastery was briefly related to them by the\nsuperior. It owed its origin to the patrician family Nocker of\nMunich, and according to the terms of its establishment was\nintended only for Germans, and more particularly for Bavarian\nmaidens. Under Napoleon I. it was suspended, and the nuns were\ncared for in private dwellings, where, hoping for better times,\nthey still continued, as well as they could, the practice of\ntheir vocation. These better times came. After the fall of the\nNapoleonic dynasty, the purchasers of the monastery consented to\nrelinquish it, and the poor Franciscans could at least reoccupy\nthe building.\n{101}\nBut it went so hard with them, that they were sometimes obliged\nto ring the distress-bell, and the number of inmates diminished.\nAt the time of the arrival of our three travellers, they numbered\nbut twelve. An increase of numbers under such circumstances was\nhardly to be hoped for, and the existence of the monastery seemed\nagain endangered. Municipal abolishment was threatened, with the\nunavoidable prospect to the nuns of being distributed among the\nvarious Italian monasteries. Now to maintain themselves as a\nGerman order was everything to these Franciscans; and thus the\nsuperior represented it to her travelling country-people, with\nall simple-heartedness, closing her narration with the entreaty\nthat, on their return to Munich, they would not forget the little\nGerman monastery in Assisi, but care for it as they might be\nable, and cause younger sisters to come to them from Bavaria, in\norder to save the establishment from utter extinction.\n\nThe three travellers took their leave filled with sympathy, and\npromising to bear in mind the petition of the superior. They\ncommenced their homeward travel from Assisi, passed through Genoa\nand reached Munich again in November. Miss Linder vigorously\nrecommenced her artistic occupations, filled with animation at\nher new experiences. But during the winter evenings the Italian\ntrip often formed the topic of conversation in the Schlotthauer\nfamily, and generally closed with the question, How shall we\nmanage to increase the number of candidates in the monastery at\nAssisi? But at that period this was not so easy. The secular\nspirit had spread itself broadly in German lands: the current of\nfresh, Catholic life flowed mostly in hidden courses. But with\nsurprise they soon learned of its continued activity. Through one\nof those invisible channels which Providence avails itself of, in\nits own good time--in every-day life termed accident--the cry for\nhelp of the superior at Assisi penetrated to to a village where\npious hearts were prepared for it. One day there came a letter\nfor Professor Schlotthauer from Landshut, addressed to him by an\nunknown maiden of the humbler class named Therese Frish, stating\nthat she had heard of the monastery at Assisi, and the request of\nthe superior: in Landshut was a goodly number of young girls who\nhad long cherished the desire in their hearts for convent life,\nand only waited for an opportunity to realize their wishes:\nseveral of them, some possessed of means, were ready at any\nmoment to leave for Assisi. This was welcome intelligence, and\nthe friends of the superior in Munich were not backward in\nperforming their part. Thus in the spring they had the happiness\nof seeing a little band of candidates departing for Assisi. The\nmonastery was rescued, and commenced from that time, through the\never-increasing sympathy in Germany, a new and beneficent career.\nFrom year to year, assisted by the people of Munich, there\nwandered true-hearted though indigent maidens to this quiet\nasylum of piety, to reach which, as Brentano wrote twelve years\nlater, (1838,) was the dearest wish of these pious children.\n\nHer art trip had thus recompensed the maiden of Basle in a manner\nlittle dreamed of or counted on. The impression which this\npeculiar experience made upon her susceptible nature could not\nwell be a transient one. The little monastery at Assisi--what\ncould be more natural?--from thenceforth lay very closely to her\nheart, and its memories became most dear to her. The personality\nof the superior herself, her simple worth and naturalness,\ngratefully appealed to her; and several years later, on making\nher second Italian trip, she gladly revisited Assisi.\n{102}\nA friendly relation resulted, which, fostered by a regular\ncorrespondence, became more intimate every year. She now began to\nunderstand the true meaning of a voluntary Christian poverty: the\ncontemplation of which must naturally make a profound impression\nupon a nature like hers. She had frequent occasion, by active\nassistance, to prove herself a warm friend of the monastery.\nParticularly at the time of the great earthquake, (1831,) when\nthis monastery of women was in great want and distress, she stood\nby the nuns most generously. Ever after, indeed, she remained a\nconstant benefactress of the German daughters of the holy St.\nFrancis; and there, in the birth-place of the saint, was she most\nassiduously prayed for. In Assisi lay the earliest germ of her\nquietly-ripening, late-maturing conversion.\n\nIn the year 1828, Miss Linder returned to her native city, Basle,\nin order to prepare for a more lengthened visit to Rome. Like\nevery genuine artist-heart, a powerful influence attracted her to\nthe ancient capital of art, to the eternal city. On her journey\nthither, she touched at Assisi, having the happiness to escort to\nthe monastery of the Franciscans a new candidate from Munich and\nto find the nuns there in happiest tranquillity. Cornelius and\nSchlotthauer reported the same of them, when they passed through,\na year and a half later. They received permission from the bishop\nto hold an interview with the German sisters in the claustral.\nThe innocent joyousness and deep peace of the German nuns was\nvery touching to them. The bishop gave the two artists the best\ntestimony of them in his assurance that he constantly presented\nthese pious Germans to their Italian sisters as an example for\nimitation.\n\nAccompanied with the nuns' blessing Miss Linder hastened toward\nthe eternal city, where a new world opened itself to her. Bright,\nblissful days did she pass in Rome, and so well did it please\nher, that she remained there nearly three years. Here again her\nassociates were the brightest spirits of the German art circle,\nand their similarity of aim induced a friendly geniality which in\nmany ways enhanced the pleasure of her stay. Scholars and artists\nof the German colony sought her society with equal delight. Here\nshe met Overbeck--that St. John among the artists--whose\nfriendship to her and to her subsequent life was of such\nsignificance. Neher and Eberle received from her commissions.\nWith the painter Ahlborn she read Dante. The venerable Koch was\ncharmed with the society of the genial Swiss, and passed many a\nwinter's evening with her. Also Thorwaldsen, Bunsen, and Platen\nwere among her intimate acquaintance in Italy.\n\nFrom Rome Miss Linder made a trip to Naples and Sorrento. With a\nparty of Germans, among whom was Platen, she passed there the\nsummer of 1830. The wondrous poetry of the landscape and skies of\nSorrento impressed with their fullest power the sensitive soul of\nthe artist. All three arts, poetry, music, and painting, were\nbrought into requisition to give adequate expression to her\nenchantment and delight. She became herself a poetess under the\ninfluence of all these glories, and described to her friends, who\nremained behind at Rome, with veritable southern warmth of\ncoloring, her \"captivating paradise.\" As in Rome she listened\nwith the veneration of an intelligent musician to the ancient\nclassic music of the Sistine chapel, so at the Bay of Naples she\nbestowed her attention upon the popular Italian ballads. Theirs\nwas a genial company, and they sang much together; of their songs\nand melodies she made a collection, and took home with her.\n{103}\nPlaten, in his subsequent letters, reminded her of those days,\nand, writing from Venice, requested of her the music of \"triads\nand octaves,\" which they had sung together in Sorrento.\n\nOn her return to Rome, late in the autumn of the same year, she\nfound Cornelius and his family there, and the friendly relations\nwhich subsisted in Munich were warmly renewed. The presence of\nthe honored master created, in the Roman art world, an animated\nand exhilarating activity, and the rest of her stay was thus\nenlivened in the most agreeable manner. The following year, in\ncompany with Cornelius, she started for home. It was hard\nparting, as finally, in July, 1831, with a wealth of beautiful\nand deep impressions, she bade farewell to the Hesperian land\nwhich had become so dear to her, to return to Basle; and we must\nnot censure the artist that she found it difficult, as her\nletters indicate, to forget the blue skies of Italy and accustom\nherself again to the gray hues of the German heaven. The\nsharpness of the contrast gradually softened, however, and the\nold home feeling asserted itself. But the life in Rome remained a\nbright spot in her memory, and even in later years, when the\nconversation turned upon it, the habitually quiet lady became\nwarm and animated.\n\nIn Rome, on the other hand, the artists were equally loth to part\nwith the aesthetic Swiss. The venerable Koch sent her word,\nthrough the the painter Eberle, how much he regretted that he\ncould no longer pass his winter evenings with her. Overbeck and\nothers held with her an animated correspondence. But she remained\nin hallowed remembrance with the German art-colony, from the\nassistance she rendered to youthful talent, and her encouragement\nby actual commissions. The historical painter Adam Eberle,\nparticularly, a pupil of Cornelius, friend and countryman of\nLasaulx--a highly gifted and lofty mind, but struggling in the\ndeepest poverty--to him she proved a generous benefactress; and\nwe can truly say, that through her goodness his last days--he\ndied at Rome, 1832--were illumined with a final gleam of\nsunshine. The letters which she received from the youthful\ndeparted, partly during her stay in Rome, partly after her\ndeparture, give ample testimony of this, and indicate the manner,\ngenerally, of her benevolence in such cases. Immediately on their\nfirst meeting in Rome, and learning of his condition, she gave\nhim a commission for an oil painting; with deep emotion he\nthanked the friendly lady \"for the confidence she had thus\nreposed in a nameless painter.\" Subsequently she purchased also\nseveral drawings of Eberle, each, like the oil painting, of a\nreligious nature; among others, one that she particularly prized,\nand afterward caused to be engraved, \"Peter and Paul journeying\nto the Occident.\"\n\nOn forwarding this drawing to Basle, together with another, the\nsubject of which was taken from the Old Testament, \"as the\nproduct of his muse since her departure,\" Eberle thus writes:\n\n  \"What chiefly attracts me to these Bible subjects is the\n  healthy and unaffected language, which I endeavor to translate\n  into my art. Regard this work of mine as a study which is\n  necessary for my taste. That which is lacking in it, I know\n  full well, without the power of supplying it. Accept it,\n  therefore, as it is. Altogether bad it is not. At a very sad\n  period was it undertaken, and many a tear has fallen upon it,\n  which, like a vein of noble metal, seven times purified in its\n  earthen crucible, glistens through it. I have, indeed, some\n  assurance that I have not fruitlessly worked, in Overbeck's\n  judgment upon it, whom you saw at Bunsen's: and this not a\n  little cheers me.\"\n\n{104}\n\nHer generous watchfulness wearied not in rescuing him, at the\ntimes of his greatest need, and Eberle, with overflowing\ngratitude, testified to these constant proofs of her goodness,\nand, even more, to the great delicacy and the kindly words which\naccompanied every act.\n\nHer personal intercourse at Rome seemed also to have exerted a\nfavorable influence upon his religious sentiments. The taste for\nmystical writings which, encouraged by Baader, she was\ncultivating at that period, grew also upon him; and when, shortly\nafter her departure, Lasaulx came to Rome, Eberle was very happy\nthat he could continue with him this favorite and elevating\nstudy. He writes to her at Basle on the 25th of September, 1831:\n\n  \"An old friend of my youth and countryman of mine, C. Lasaulx,\n  is now my almost exclusive companion: he will probably remain\n  the winter here and share my dwelling with me. He is, as you\n  know, a zealous disciple of Schelling, is deeply versed in the\n  new philosophy, and, what to me is of still more value, in the\n  mysticism of the middle ages. I rejoice to have gained in him\n  some compensation for the loss of your society; yet I cannot\n  share the expectations which he bases upon the new philosophy.\n  Although my acquaintance with him has divested me of many a\n  former prejudice, I find myself, nevertheless, attracted only\n  the more to the 'one thing needful,' assured that only at the\n  fountain of living waters, Jesus Christ, can our thirst be\n  quenched.\"\n\nHe adds, however, concerning his friend:\n\n  \"Lasaulx has nevertheless a very substantial Christian basis,\n  and if ever his _Knowing_ goes hand in hand with his\n  _Willing_, and his _Willing_ with his _Knowing_,\n  we may certainly expect something very sterling from him.\"\n\nIt was Lasaulx himself who communicated the news to their mutual\nfriend, in Germany, of the sudden death of Eberle. Eberle's plan\nhad been to pass yet a year in Rome, then return to Germany, and,\nseeking again the sheltering wing of his master, Cornelius, in\nMunich, there to close his art-wanderings. Thus he himself wrote\nin a letter of the 7th of March, 1832. But a month later he was\nno more. He succumbed to a disease of the stomach. Shortly before\nhis death, Miss Linder had cheered the invalid by a remittance.\nOn the 24th of April, 1832, Lasaulx thus wrote from Rome:\n\n  \"Our friend Adam Eberle, at five o'clock in the afternoon of\n  the 15th of April, after a hard death-struggle, recovered from\n  the malady of this life. Good-Friday morning we bore him home.\n  Three days before his death he had the great joy of receiving\n  your last letter, and that which your love enclosed with it. He\n  was one of the few whose souls are washed in the blood of the\n  Lamb, offered from the beginning of the world. The Lamentations\n  and the Miserere of the divine old masters Palestrini and\n  Allrgri which you begged our friend to listen to for you, I\n  have listened to for both of you.\"\n\nMunich had now so grown upon the affections of the artiste that\nshe again removed thither from Basle in 1832. After her life in\nRome, a residence in the German art-metropolis could not but be a\nnecessity to her, and the Bavarian capital was thenceforth her\nhome. Her house became more and more the peaceful abode of the\nfine arts. Her fortune enabled her, by a succession of\ncommissions, gradually to collect a wealth of pictures and\ndrawings in which the Corypheans of Christian art were\nrepresented. Among these Overbeck took the foremost place with a\nseries of subjects from the Evangelists, the choicest of\ndrawings, which during a period of thirty years gradually came\ninto her possession. A beautiful oil painting by Overbeck, which\nshe esteemed most highly, \"The death of St. Joseph,\" was also\nproduced at this time, an elevated delineation of the death of\nthe just. From Cornelius she secured three cartoons of the wall\npictures in the Louis-church, (\"The Creation,\") in which this\nmighty intellect was worthily represented.\n{105}\nIn like manner an altar-piece by Conrad Eberhard, one of the most\nthoughtful compositions of this admirable master, and intended\noriginally for one of the new church edifices of King Louis, took\nits place among the gems of this house--just as the venerable\nmaster himself, in all his purity of soul and pious simplicity,\ntook his place high in the friendship of the hostess.\n\nNext to painting, the two sister arts, poetry and music, were\nspecially cultivated in the home of the artist. She had a clear\nperception of the true and elevated in poetry, and kept pace,\neven to old age, with the literary productions of the new era.\nHer own poetic effusions were confined to the eye of her more\nintimate friends; but there were some poems upon which Brentano\nhimself placed high value. Her library was a choice one, and her\nknowledge of languages kept her acquainted with the best\nproductions of the modern cultivated nations. Her aesthetic and\nscientific acquirements became her well, inasmuch as the\ncultivation of the mind and of the heart with her kept even pace.\n\nMiss Linder applied herself to music in full earnest. She not\nonly practised several instruments--the aeolodicon and harp were\nalways seen in her drawing-room--but she had herself instructed\nby Ett in thorough-bass and the history of music. She followed\nhis instructions in harmony with practical exercises. In musical\nhistory it was the religious department again which most appealed\nto her: her researches went back to the earliest times, the\ndevelopment of the true church style, and for the unfolding of\nthis subject she had found in Ett the right man. Moreover, she\nstood in friendly exchange of views with Proske of Regensburg, a\nprofound student of ancient church music. Sometimes musical\ngatherings were held, to which Ett brought singing-boys from the\nchoir of St. Michael's Church: ancient religious cantatas, the\ncompositions of Orlando di Lasso, Handel, Abb\u00e9 Vogler's hymns,\nand the like, were performed. Conrad Eberhard, an enthusiastic\nadmirer of music and of the master Ett, who with Schlotthauer\nregularly attended the historical lectures on music, in his\nninetieth year spoke with loving recollection of these ennobling\nevenings at Miss Linder's.\n\nBy this varied and earnest devotion to art, as well as artistic\nand scientific enterprises, to which she constantly brought\nwilling and generous offerings, her life began to assume more and\nmore an ideal significance, and to gain that expansiveness of\nhorizon and completeness which secured for her a position in\nsociety as peculiar as it was agreeable. If we would ask what it\nwas that identified this quiet spirit with so distinguished a\ncircle and made her house a rendezvous for scholars and artists,\nin which the most brilliant and the most profound so gladly met,\nthe explanation would be just this--it was the awakened\nintelligence which she brought to all intellectual topics, the\nsimple-hearted abandonment to the views of great minds, the\nreadiness with which she recognized and admired the true and the\nbeautiful in all things. It was equally the unselfish,\nuncalculating enthusiasm, and the perfect purity of soul, which\ncompelled the respect of all. An unvarying geniality blended with\na quiet earnestness; a clear intelligence with a golden goodness;\na profound view of life in all its phases, from the very heights\nof a sunny existence--herein resided the gentle attractiveness\nwith which she drew to herself the sympathies of the noblest\nsouls and held them fast.\n\n{106}\n\nA character of such a type is best reflected in its friends. Her\nlife for the most part flowed on so quietly and evenly that it\nrose clearly to the view of only those who were nearest to her.\nIt seems, therefore, befitting that from among her many friends\nwe should select a few who, like her, are now at rest, and\nmention some of their salient characteristics.\n\nThe foremost place is due to the painter-prince of the new\nart-epoch himself, Cornelius--who was a friend from her very\nyouth, and only a few months after her, even in these latter\ndays, closed his earthly pilgrimage. The fame of the man and the\nsense of his loss, still so freshly felt, will justify us in\ndwelling somewhat more at length on him and his letters. It was,\nindeed, the opinion of Emily Linder, toward the close of her\nlife, that the letters which she had received from Cornelius\nmight some day be of use in his biography.\n\nAt the time Miss Linder started from Munich upon her journey to\nSwitzerland and Italy, her relations with the family of the\ncelebrated painter had already become so intimate, that it was\ncontinued in correspondence. Ordinarily it was an Italian-German\nor double letter, from Carolina and Peter Cornelius, which\ngreeted her; they both recall, with friendly warmth, her\nresidence in Munich, and the message, \"We miss you!\" was\nrepeatedly wafted after her as she remained longer away. Frau\nCarolina Cornelius evinced for her a very tender attachment. The\ngenial master himself honored her with confidences from time to\ntime, as to his artistic plans and undertakings. Particularly was\nthis the case when he was commissioned to prepare designs for the\nLouis-church in Munich, whereby he saw the early realization of a\nlong-cherished and favorite idea of his; when the history of\nmankind in grand outline, the creation, the redemption, the\nsending of the Holy Ghost to the church, the last judgment,\npresented itself to his mind. Then he felt impelled to open his\nheart to his absent friend, and the postscript, which he appended\nto a letter of his wife, rises into a veritable dithyrambic. He\nwrites on the 20th of January, 1829:\n\n  \"I cannot better close this letter than by communicating a\n  thing which transports me and in which you, my dear friend,\n  will sympathize. Fancy my good fortune! After completing the\n  _Glyptothek_, I am to paint a church. It is now sixteen\n  years that I have been going about with the idea of a Christian\n  epic in painting--a painted _comoedia divina_--and I have\n  had hours, and longer periods, when it seemed I had a special\n  mission for this. And now my heavenly love comes like a bride\n  in all her beauty to me--what mortal after this can I envy? The\n  universe opens itself before my eyes: I see heaven, earth, and\n  hell; I see the past, the present, and the future; I stand on\n  Sinai and gaze upon the new Jerusalem; I am inebriated and yet\n  composed. All my friends must pray for me, and you, my dear\n  Emily. With brotherly love greets you CORNELIUS.\"\n\nThe artistic heroism of this soul--this man whose ideas grasped\nthe world--breathes in these lines with certainly wonderful\nfreshness. In other letters of this happy period his natural\nhumor gains the ascendant, and he indulges in sallies of mirth,\nafterward begging her indulgence and a friendly remembrance of\n\"the crazy painter Peter Cornelius.\" Her replies were in a\nsimpler and graver tone, but full of that refreshing\nindependence, which appeared to a nature like his more than aught\nelse. She allowed his geniality full play without compromising\nher sincerity, or her dignity. He is thus both \"charmed and\nedified\" by her letters, and once made the remark of them, \"All\nthat your personality led me to fancy of the beautiful and the\ngood finds more artless, more forcible and vivid expression in\nyour letters.\n{107}\nIt becomes you uncommonly well, whenever you fairly assert\nyourself.\"\n\nIn the year 1831 the cholera threatened, for a time, to visit\nMunich. The preparations of the sanitary authorities to meet this\nuncomfortable guest were already completed. Miss Linder was in\nBasle, and sent thence a friendly invitation to Cornelius and his\nfamily to take refuge at her domestic hearth. The knightly\nresponse of the master, dated Munich, 15th of November 1831, is\nas follows:\n\n  \"Your friendly suggestion from the shelter of your hospitable\n  hearth to laugh at the cholera, and by the same opportunity,\n  perhaps, to reproduce a _Decameron_, corresponding\n  thereto, has an indescribable attraction for me, and I should\n  have acted upon it had I not been afraid to be afraid. From\n  sheer cowardice at the possible death of my honor, I must stand\n  the cartridges of the cholera. From the spot where my king and\n  so many admirable and honorable men stand their ground, must\n  Cornelius never run away. You will take in good part the\n  informality of this letter from your fanciful friend, yet he\n  craves of you an _indulgenza plenaria_ while he ends with\n  the bold declaration that he indescribably loves and honors you.\n                                        P. V. CORNELIUS.\"\n\nAt this period an idea seized Cornelius, which long occupied his\nattention, namely, to record the noteworthy incidents of his own\neventful artist-life; a plan which certainly would have enriched\nliterature by at least one original work and have proved of\ninestimable value to the history of modern art. Unfortunately,\nthe plan was never carried out; but it affords a proof of his\nhigh esteem for his friend that Cornelius intended the memoirs to\nbe written in the form of letters addressed to her, as will\nappear from the two following letters. They are written under the\ninfluence of the same exuberant spirits in which the grand\nconception of his \"Christian epic\" had placed him:\n\n       \"Munich, February 12, 1832.\n  \"Very Dear Friend: This is not meant as an answer to the\n  welcome and beautiful letter which you sent me through H.\n  Hauser; it is only a slight expression of my gratitude and my\n  great delight at the kindliness and the loyal friendship which\n  your dear letter breathes for me, unworthy. I have lately been\n  asking myself why this letter-writing, which, as you and all\n  the world knows, is a horror to me, since my correspondence\n  with you has set me back into that happy period when one can\n  write an entire library and yet not be satisfied. Had I more\n  leisure, I would carry out an old project to write the history\n  of my life in letter-form, after the manner of many French\n  memoirs, and addressed to you. Although for the present this is\n  not to be thought of, I by no means abandon the plan.\n\n  \"Heroes and artists--in the most liberal way of viewing\n  it--have their truest and clearest appreciation in the pure\n  souls of women. Only Hebe might serve the nectar to Alcides;\n  only Beatrice conducts the singer into Paradise; Tasso's\n  delirium is a vague searching in a labyrinth where Ariadne's\n  thread is broken; Michael Angelo would have been as great a\n  painter as was Dante a poet had Beatrice opened heaven to him;\n  Raphael's thousand-feathered Psyche bore a material maiden into\n  the realm of the stars; her human blood enkindled his and slew\n  him. When I write my memoirs, you will see how it has gone with\n  me in this respect. In the mean time I allow you a peep through\n  the keyhole of my private drawer--it is a poor poem of my\n  youth, which as penance you must read, because you mockingly\n  called me a poet. [Footnote 45]\n\n    [Footnote 45: It is truly a very youthful poem,\n    addressed \"To the Muse,\" commencing:\n      \"Confided have I alone\n       in thee, O Muse,\" etc. ED.]\n\n  \"I know not why I send these poor stanzas to you; it appears to\n  me as though you exercised some charm over the spirits of my\n  life, who must perforce appear before you. Perhaps one of these\n  days this letter might serve for a dedication to the book in\n  question, because, like an overture, it contains in itself the\n  leading motive. Now farewell, and take no offence at this gay\n  carnival-arabesque, The ladies of my family heartily greet you:\n  we have good news from Rome. Heaven bless you, vouchsafe you\n  cheerfulness and bliss, and bring you soon to us. Meantime,\n  however, write soon, and often send tidings\n  to your most devoted friend,\n                           \"P. Cornelius.\"\n\n{108}\n\nFour months later, he reverts to the same subject, on the\noccasion of sending to her, while at Basle, a sketch of his\nlatest composition for the walls of the Louis-church, (\"The\nEpiphany,\") accompanying which he writes:\n\n                                        Munich, June 21, 1832.\n  \"Herewith you find a little sketch of a drawing just completed\n  for a large cartoon (the corresponding piece to the\n  Crucifixion,) and instead of interpreting it to you, I beg your\n  own interpretation of it; it would have such a charm for me to\n  read in your mind my own conceptions ennobled and beautified.\n  What coquetry! I hear you laughingly say; and yet I hope to be\n  pardoned. If it be true that artists have many feelings in\n  common with women, those which prompt us to try to please those\n  we love should meet with some indulgence.\n\n  \"I occupy myself often, on my lonely walks, with the plan of my\n  intended memoirs; the material begins to assume shape; but\n  unless you apply to it the finishing touch, it will not be\n  presentable. I never could bring myself to entrust it to other\n  hands. In the retrospect of my life I find the material more\n  abundant than I had supposed. Very difficult will be the\n  shaping of much of it. How easily does many a tie and relation\n  in this life lose its true coloring and significance by\n  omissions; and yet must these very often occur, if the work is\n  to appear during my lifetime. Before beginning to write, I\n  shall communicate to you, orally, dearest friend, some portions\n  of the memoirs, and we can then discuss them at leisure--a\n  welcome plan to me, for thus will the undertaking fairly ripen.\n  With inmost respect and love, your devoted\n                                      \"Peter Von Cornelius.\"\n\nFinally, it may be allowable to make mention of a letter which he\naddresses to her from Rome, on the 12th of October, 1833, while\nhe was working on his drawing of the Last Judgment. In this\nletter we recognize his playful, working humor--and does he not\nterm these periods of creative activity his wedding time? In\nseveral remarks, however, we discern both sides of his nature.\n\n  \"My Noble Friend: It is really too bad! has he not yet written?\n  not even answered that charming letter from Salzburg? Well, I\n  must say, I am curious to see how he will justify himself.\n\n  \"Thus I hear Schlotthauer exclaim; even Schubert ominously\n  shakes his head; but you are silent and thoughtful. I should be\n  in despair for an excuse for myself, having already shot off my\n  best arrows at you on similar occasions, exhausted my adroitest\n  terms--my best rhetoric. I say I should be in despair, if that\n  stupendous, that tremendous thing, 'The Last Judgment,' did not\n  take me under its protecting wing. Never has a man, probably,\n  with more sublimity asked pardon of a lady! And now, laying the\n  universe at your feet, I await composedly my sentence. From\n  this moment is my tongue loosed; and I can say to you that I am\n  celebrating my blissfullest time--my wedding time--the harvest\n  season of my holiest aspirations. How few mortals attain to\n  such happiness! and how ill-calculated is this world to afford\n  it!\n\n   \"Gladly would I show you the work I am at present engaged\n   upon. Yet for a nature so quiet as yours, you appear to me far\n   too forcible and positive. Overbeck must love you a thousand\n   fold more than I: with me you suffer indulgence to take the\n   place of impartial justice. How I once fretted about such\n   things!\n\n  \"What a treasure is a deep, positively incurable pain! Better\n  than the most unalloyed bliss which this poor world has to\n  offer, it brings us near to the Holy One. It is more faithful,\n  far less variable. It draws us into solitude, into ourselves.\n\n  \"You surmise, doubtless, what I mean. Daily do I thank Heaven\n  that through you such knowledge was to come to me. This is\n  bitter medicine; administered, to a child, upon sweet fruit.\n  But why do I entertain you with such trivialities? In all books\n  of all nations we read the same thing; and yet when the poor\n  human heart is pressed with its heavy burthen, it feels just as\n  profoundly and acutely as in the very days of Troy itself; and\n  the utterances of joy and of love, like those of pain, are ever\n  new and their method inexhaustible; ever does one cast himself\n  upon the breast of a loving, sympathetic soul.\n\n{109}\n\n  \"Accept for the moment this confused scribble and remain\n  friendly and well-disposed toward me. Continue to peep through\n  my fingers, and leave me just five of them. I claim to myself,\n  however, the privilege of an unlimited love and veneration for\n  you. My entire household and all your friends send heartfelt\n  greeting; foremost of all, however, your\n                                           P. V. CORNELIUS.\"\n\n\nThe correspondence was interrupted when Cornelius removed to\nBerlin; but not the friendship, which endured to the end. Nor did\nthe exchange of letters cease entirely; so that the ink-shy\nmaster once asserted in Berlin, that he had written to no lady so\noften as to her.\n\nAmong the earliest acquaintances of Emily Linder, was Father\nFranz von Baader; as the nine letters indicate, which were\naddressed to her, and published in the complete works of Baader.\nThe first of these was dated as early as the 25th of May, 1825,\ntherefore at the commencement of her residence in Munich; and the\ncontents indicate the immediate cause of their mutual attraction.\nThis letter has somewhat the nature of a memorial, in which the\nphilosopher draws a parallel between the art of painting and the\nGod-like art of benevolence; closing with the following words:\n\n  \"Herewith commends himself to Miss Emily Linder--she who\n  rendered her memory so dear, so imperishable to him by an act\n  kindness performed at his request to a poor family--\n                                                  Franz Baader.\"\n\nThe tie between them therefore lay in the admirable activity of\nthat quality by which Emily Linder quietly accomplished so\nmuch--a high-hearted love for her neighbor.\n\nFrom that time forward Baader regularly sent her his pamphlets\nand works, and we can appreciate to what extent he tasked her\nintellect when he forwarded her a copy of his _Speculative\nDogma or, Social-Philosophic Treatise_. He regarded it as a\npleasant duty to acquaint her from time to time with his literary\nlabors: and she spared herself to no trouble to follow even such\ngrave and abstruse topics. He succeeded in specially interesting\nher in Jacob B\u00f6hme. Her intelligent remarks on Baader's article\nupon the doctrine of justification led him to remark that her\nletter afforded him a more satisfactory proof than many a\ncriticism that he had succeeded in reaching both the head and the\nheart. In the year 1831, Baader dedicated to her a philosophic\npaper entitled _Forty Propositions from a Religious\nExotic_,\" (Munich: Franz, 1831.) In the brief dedication of\nthis \"little work on great subjects\" we read, \"While you in\nancient Rome are dedicating heart, soul, eye, and hand to art, it\nmay not be unwelcome to you to hear over the stormy Alps a\nfriendly voice, reminding you of that holy alliance of the three\ngraces of a better and eternal life, Religion, Speculation, and\nPoetry, adding to these also, Painting.\" In the letter which\naccompanies this pamphlet he places before her the leading\nthoughts of the little work in a lucid manner:\n\n  \"When the teachers of religion say that the whole Christian\n  faith rests upon the knowledge and conviction that God is love;\n  and that in this religion the love of God, of man, of nature,\n  is made a duty; so that, in fact, a oneness of love and duty is\n  announced, it would seem seasonable this unloving and\n  duty-forgetful age so to present the identity of these two,\n  love and duty, that mankind can discern the laws of religion in\n  those of love, and those of love in religion; which, I trust,\n  has been done in this pamphlet in a new, albeit rather a\n  homoeopathic manner.\"\n\nNext to Baader is to be named his intellectual son-in-law, Ernst\nvon Lasaulx. He started, in the same year that Emily Linder left\nRome, upon his long journey through Italy and Greece, to the\nOrient. They met in Florence, the 27th of July, 1831, and he\npromised the artist a description of his travels.\n{110}\nIn conformity with this promise ensued a series of letters\nrecording his experiences and impressions in Greece and the\npromised land, fresh and warm to a degree seldom found, and full\nof classic beauty. By whom could antiquity be better realized to\nthis art-enthusiast than by Lasaulx, the zealous student of\nGrecian art-history, and equally a master of artistic prose!\nPoetic sensibility and literary clearness go refreshingly hand in\nhand in these letters; now in a description of his rides to that\n\"eloquent rock-architecture\" of Cyclopean edifices, the Titanic\nwalls of the Acropolis of Tiryns and Mikene; or his solitary\nwanderings among the prostrate, ruined glories strewn from\nCorinth to Magara and Athens. At the first view of distant\nAthens, the Acropolis and the Parthenon, the temple of Theseus\nand the city behind the dark olive-woods he exclaims:\n\n  \"Here is Greece, all of a departed glory worthy of the name,\n  which the noiseless waste of time and the insane fury of man\n  has left to the after-world. Never in my experience, and in no\n  other city, have I known such emotions. It is as though my\n  heart were turned into an AEolian harp, and the night winds\n  were sighing through its broken strings.\"\n\nDespite all his predilections, however, for the classic land, he\ndid not suffer himself to be deceived as to a new Greece by the\noccasion of the 12th of April, 1833, when he was present at the\nformal surrender of the Acropolis to the Bavarian troops, when\nOsman Effendi withdrew the Turkish forces, and the Bavarian\ncommander, Baligand, planted the Greek flag upon the northern\nrampart. He remarks, in this description:\n\n  \"It was a remarkable spectacle; the noisy, confused crowd of\n  Turks, Greeks, Bavarians and whatever other inquisitive Franks\n  had collected in the dusky colonnades of the Parthenon. As I\n  could not bring myself to any faith in the regeneration of\n  Greece, the rampant irony of this insane funeral wake only\n  added to my deep depression.\"\n\nWritten in the year 1833, and, hardly ten years later, what\nconfirmation!\n\nGlorious passages does the traveller indite to his distant friend\nover his pilgrimage through Palestine; profound melancholy at the\npresent condition of the holy land; devout emotions amid holy\nplaces. On entering Jerusalem, Sunday, September 15. 1833, he\nsays:\n\n  \"Burning tears and a cold shudder of the heart were the first,\n  God grant not the only, tributes which I offered for his love\n  and that of his Son.\"\n\nHis delineations inspired his friend with a holy longing, and she\nentertained for some time afterward the idea of a journey to the\nholy land. She had, indeed, made preparations (1836) for a\npilgrimage thither in company with Schubert, and only\nconsiderations of health compelled her at last to abandon the\nplan.\n\nSubsequently, at the close of his life, Lasaulx crowned his\nfriendship for Miss Linder with a special literary tribute. He\ndedicated to her his last great work, _The Philosophy of the\nFine Arts, Architecture, Sculpture, Painting, Music, Poetry,\nProse_, (Munich, 1860.) As though from a presentiment of his\ndeath, he felt impelled to bring his esthetic studies to a close,\nsensible as he was that here and there were still omissions to\nsupply. But the book is the thoughtful labor of many years, and a\nmasterwork of style. In the dedication, which serves as preface,\nand which was written in the Bavarian inn, at Castle Lebenberg,\nin the Tyrol, on the 25th of September, 1859, after speaking of\nthe origin of the work, he refers, in the following words, to his\nfriend:\n\n{111}\n\n  \"That I dedicate this work particularly to you will be found\n  natural enough on a moment's self-examination. I met you, for\n  the first time, thirty years ago, at Munich, in a delightful\n  circle of friendly men and women, so many of whom are\n  constantly departing from us, that those who are still left\n  have to move nearer and nearer to each other at your hospitable\n  table. A few years later, I saw you in Florence again, as you\n  came from Rome and I went thither. The death of our\n  early-maturing friend, Adam Eberle, resulted in an association\n  with you as a correspondent, and since then you have proved to\n  me, my wife and daughter, both in bright and gloomy days, so\n  dear and true a friend, that it is now a necessity with me to\n  express my gratitude to you, even with this very work, whose\n  subjects are so akin to your own studies, and in writing which,\n  at this fortress of Lebenberg, I have so often thought of you\n  and our mutual friends, dead and living, chiefest among whom\n  should to yourself this book be a tribute.\"\n\nA year and a half later, the noble and true soul of Lasaulx had\npassed, and his grateful friend founded for him a memorial after\nher own peculiar taste, the pious memorial of a stated mass for\nhis soul.\n\nAn early friend, also, and one true till death, was Gotthilf\nHeinrich von Schubert, who met Miss Linder shortly after he was\ncalled to the University of Munich. The amiable personality of\nthis _savant_ of child-like nature particularly appealed to\nher. His fundamental views of religion accorded with her own; and\ntherefore, the elements of a spiritual harmony were already at\nhand. Miss Linder was associated with his family during the\nperiod of an entire human life, in the closest and purest\nfriendship, which particularly one test safely withstood--that of\nher conversion. In his autobiography, Schubert alludes, in a few\nwords, to this friend of his household; and the comparison he\ndraws between her and the Princess Gallitzin shows how high a\nposition he accorded her. Speaking of the circle of friends in\nwhich he chiefly moved, he mentions the names of Roth, Puchta,\nSchnorr, Cornelius, Ringseis, Schlotthauer, Boisseree,\nSchwanthaler, and then remarks:\n\n  \"The gathering-point of many of these friends was the house of\n  the noble Swiss, Emily. At all times and in all places, in\n  larger as in smaller social circles, will each with pleasure\n  thus recall that grand life-picture, which was similarly\n  presented to a former generation at M\u00fcnster, in the fair friend\n  of Hamann, of Stolberg, of Claudius.\"\n\nEmily Linder was certainly the first, in her deep humility, to\ndeprecate such a comparison; but it is for both equally\ncreditable that the venerable sage felt constrained to bear such\ntestimony, even after her union with the Catholic Church.\n\nNext to the testimony of scholars and artists, we will finally\nquote an opinion from a female writer, a literary lady of the\nhigher walks of life. In the summer of 1841, came Emma von\nNiendorf to Munich. She was in friendly relation with Schubert\nand Brentano, and, several years later, recorded her\nreminiscences of those sunny days at Munich in a lively and\nimaginative little work. At Schubert's she formed the\nacquaintance of Emily Linder, and was attracted closely to her.\nShe refers to her in glowing and expressive terms, depicting this\nart-loving woman in the repose of her home:\n\n  \"A noble Swiss, and for this reason remarkable, that, fortified\n  by exterior means and the most positive convictions, she\n  presented to me an ideal existence in a ripe and unwedded old\n  age, having achieved happiness. She lived only for science, for\n  art, for all that is beautiful and good. But everything was\n  illumined with the glory of a genuine Christian spirit. And how\n  this spirit reflected itself in all her surroundings!\n{112}\n   I shall never forget it; the sitting-room, with work-basket,\n   books, flowers, harp, drawings by Overbeck; a drawing-room\n   separating these from a little house-chapel, which a painting\n   of Overbeck also embellished. And, where the organ awaited the\n   skilful fingers, a Madonna of the school of Leonardo da Vinci\n   smiled from the wall, while the little side-altar encased a\n   drawing of Albrecht D\u00fcrer. I found, also, in the house of this\n   lady a portrait of Maria Mori, in the Tyrol, admirably drawn\n   by her friend, the well-known lady artist, Ellenrieder,\n   somewhat idealized; a profile, with folded hands; long, brown,\n   down-flowing hair; the large, dark eye full of devotion, full\n   of sensibility, the _stigmata_ in the hands not to be\n   forgotten. ... This lady is a Protestant. The deepest coloring\n   of her soul is, perhaps, shading toward Catholicism; yet she\n   doubtless finds satisfying harmonies in the Gospel. By one of\n   those wonderful providences which life is so full of, this\n   earnest soul was planted between two strongly pronounced\n   natures--two opposite polarities of friendship, both deep and\n   sincere--Clemens Brentano and Schubert, who were on equal\n   terms of intimacy with her.\"\n\nAt the very time Emma von Niendorf put her work to press, she\nknew not that the lady to whom these lines referred had already\nattained that toward which \"the deepest coloring of her soul\nseemed to be shading.\" Emily Linder had sought and found\n\"satisfying harmonies\" in the faith of the one, universal,\napostolic church.\n\n          Conclusion In The Next Number.\n\n----------\n\n     Xavier De Ravignan. [Footnote 46]\n\n    [Footnote 46: _The Life of Father de Ravignan, of the\n    Society of Jesus_. By Father de Ponlevoy, of the same\n    Society. Translated at St. Beuno's College, North Wales.\n    12mo, pp. 693. New York: The Catholic Publication Society.\n    1869.]\n\n\nFather De Ponlevoy's life of his friend and colleague, the\ncelebrated orator of Notre Dame, violates many of the canons of\nbiographical composition, and is nevertheless an admirable book.\nAs a narrative, it lacks clearness and symmetry; but as a picture\nof the interior of a great and beautiful soul, it is wonderfully\nvivid. It could only have been written by one who sympathized\ncompletely with the subject, and understood the interior\nilluminations and trials, and the complete detachment from the\nworld, which distinguished the illustrious preacher whose fame at\none time filled all Catholic Europe. Father de Ponlevoy has given\nus therefore a valuable work. He has looked at De Ravignan's life\nfrom the right point of view--the only point in fact from which\nit offers any important material to the biographer. In a worldly\nsense, the life was not an eventful one. He came of a noble yet\nhardly a distinguished family, who preserved their faith in the\nmidst of the storm of revolution, and brought up their children\nto love the church. Gustave Xavier was born at Bayonne on the 1st\nof December, 1795. As a child he was remarkable for a gravity and\nintelligence far beyond his years, a warm affection for his\nparents, and a very pious disposition. After completing his\nschool and college education in Paris, he resolved to devote\nhimself to the law, and at the age of eighteen entered the office\nof M. Goujon, a jurist of some distinction at the capital. He had\nscarcely begun his studies, however, when France was thrown into\nconfusion by the return of Napoleon from Elba.\n{113}\nThe young man threw down his books, enlisted in a company of\nroyalist volunteers, and after preparing himself for the campaign\nby receiving holy communion, marched with his command toward the\nSpanish frontier. His company belonged to that unlucky detachment\nunder General Barbarin, which was surprised and cut to pieces at\nH\u00e9lette, in the Lower Pyr\u00e9n\u00e9es. General Barbarin fell, severely\nwounded, and would have fallen into the enemy's hands, when De\nRavignan rushed forward through the fire and attempted to carry\nhim off the field. It was a generous but desperate act, which\nwould have led to the sacrifice of both. Barbarin saw the danger\nof the young hero, and, freeing one of his arms, shot himself\nthrough the head. Covered with the blood of his unfortunate\ncommander, Gustave sought safety in flight, wandered afoot and\nalone through the Basque country, in the disguise of a peasant,\nand, after many hardships and escapes, rejoined the army on\nSpanish soil. He now received a commission as lieutenant of\ncavalry, and was attached to the staff of the Count de Damas, who\nsent him on a confidential mission to Bordeaux. Before he had any\nfurther opportunity of winning distinction, the war was over, and\nalthough tempting offers were made him to continue in the army,\nhe determined to adhere to the law, and was soon hard at work\nagain. The indomitable resolution, amounting even to sternness,\nwhich distinguished him in after life, was already one of his\nmost remarkable characteristics. Whatever he did, was done with\nall his might. He studied with the most intense application, and,\nnot satisfied with the reading necessary for his profession,\napplied himself closely to the German and English languages, and\nsuch lighter accomplishments as drawing and music. In due time he\nwas appointed a _conseiller auditeur_ in the royal court of\nParis, then under the presidency of S\u00e9guier. The influence of the\nDuke d'Angoul\u00eame got him the appointment--not, however, without\nsome difficulty--and his colleagues received him coldly. He\nawaited his time in patience, beginning each day by hearing Mass,\nand studying thoroughly, systematically, and indefatigably. At\nlast, one day when the advocates happened to be out of court, a\ncivil cause of a very tedious nature was unexpectedly called. The\npresident turned, rather maliciously, to De Ravignan, and handed\nhim the papers, saying, \"Let us see for once what can be done by\nthis young gentleman, whose acquaintance we have yet to make.\" On\nthe appointed day the \"young gentleman\" presented a clear and\nlogical report, and delivered it with a perfection of utterance\nwhich caused the whole court to listen with astonishment. His\nsuccess at the bar was assured from that moment, and soon\nafterward he was appointed deputy _procureur g\u00e9n\u00e9ral_.\n\nHis life at this time presents a curious and instructive study.\nHe devoted a part of each day regularly to religious exercises;\nhe was a zealous member of a Sodality of the Blessed Virgin; he\nhad already in fact formed the idea of entering the priesthood,\nif not of joining the Society of Jesus. But while he remained in\nthe world, he never neglected his professional pursuits, he\nmingled freely in society, and showed himself, in the true sense\nof the term, an accomplished gentleman. He was a great favorite\nin company. \"In him,\" says Father de Ponlevoy, \"interior and\nexterior were in perfect harmony. It would be impossible to\nimagine a more perfect type of a young man: the expression of his\ncountenance was excellent, his forehead high and full of dignity,\nhis features fine and characteristic, his eyes deep and blue, by\nturns animated and affectionate, his figure slight and graceful.\n{114}\nTo this picture must be added scrupulous attention to person and\ndress, perfect politeness, and a nameless something, the\nreflection of a lofty mind, a great intellect, and a pure and\naffectionate heart.\" Many years afterward, when he visited\nLondon, to preach at the time of the World's Fair, one of the\nprincipal Protestant noblemen of England said of him, \"He is the\nmost finished gentleman I ever saw.\" His modesty, like many of\nhis other virtues, leaned toward severity. At a great\ndinner-party one day, before he had embraced the religious life,\nhe was placed next a young lady whose dress was rather too\nscanty. He sat stiff and silent until the unlucky girl ventured\nto ask, \"M. de Ravignan, have you no appetite?\" He replied in a\nhalf-whisper, \"And you, Mdlle., have you no shame?\"\n\nHe was twenty-six years of age when, after a retreat of eight\ndays, he entered the Seminary of Saint Sulpice. The resolution\nhad been gradually formed, yet it took everybody except his\nmother and his spiritual director by surprise. His professional\nfriends and associates did all they could to draw him back to the\nworld. They sought out his retreat, and went after him in crowds.\n\"Ah!\" he exclaimed, when he saw them, \"I have made my escape from\nyou.\"\n\nDe Ravignan remained only six months in the seminary, and then\nremoved to the novitiate of the Society of Jesus, for which he\nhad made no secret of his preference. The life of a novice offers\nlittle matter for the biographer. We are only told that his\ncourse here was distinguished by a devotion which approached\nheroism, a zeal that tended toward excess, and a strictness that\nwas often too hard and stern. Throughout his life, severity\ntoward himself, far more than toward others, was his principal\ndefect; but as years went on, this rigidity of character, always\nmore apparent than real, disappeared little by little in the\nsunshine of divine love. He never spared himself in anything. He\nsurpassed all in his ambition for humiliation and suffering; the\nonly trouble was, that he sometimes went too far in attempting to\nlead weaker brethren by the hard path he himself had trodden. A\nnovice once asked somebody for advice, and was recommended to\napply to Brother de Ravignan. \"In that case,\" he rejoined, \"I\nknow beforehand what I must do: I have only to choose the most\ndifficult course.\" In the scholasticate, he was known by the\n_sobriquet_ of \"Iron Bar.\" When the time came for his\nadmission to holy orders, after nearly four years passed in the\nscholasticate at Paris and at D\u00f4le, he was sent with five other\ncandidates to the Diocesan Seminary at Orgelet, where the\nsacrament of ordination was to be administered. Before the party\nset out, Brother de Ravignan was appointed superior for the\njourney. His companions were seized with fear when they heard who\nhad been placed in charge over them; but their alarm was\ngroundless. \"Nothing,\" said one of the company, \"could exceed the\nkindness, the affability, the attentiveness to small wants, the\nsimple joy of the young superior. He availed himself of his\ncharacter only to claim the right of choosing the last place, and\nof making himself the servant of all.\" He was ordained priest on\nthe 25th of July, 1828.\n\nThe war against the Jesuits in France was approaching its crisis,\nand the ordinance which deprived them of the liberty of teaching\nand shut up all their colleges was promulgated just about the\ntime of Father de Ravignan's ordination.\n{115}\nCut off from the privilege of secular instruction, the society\nresolved to devote itself more zealously than ever to the\ntheological training of its own members. Father de Ravignan was\nassigned a chair of theology at Saint Acheul, near Amiens; for he\nwas not only a thorough scholar, but he possessed a rare talent\nfor teaching, and according to the testimony of his pupil, Father\nRubillon, fully realized \"the idea of a professor of theology\nsuch as is depicted by St. Ignatius.\" The poor fathers, however,\nwere not to be left here in peace. In 1829, they received notice\nto suspend their classes; but Father de Ravignan hastened to\nParis, saw the Minister of Public Instruction, and caused the\norder to be set aside. The next year came the revolution of July.\nLate in the evening of the 29th, a mob, led by an expelled pupil,\nattacked the college, burst in gates, and with cries for \"The\nKing and the Charter!\" \"The Emperor!\" \"Liberty!\" and \"Down with\nthe priests!\" and \"Death to the Jesuits!\" proceeded to sack the\nbuilding. While some of the fathers took refuge in the chapel,\nand others, expecting death, were busy hearing one another's\nconfessions, Father de Ravignan went upon a balcony, and tried to\nmake himself heard by the rioters. He persisted until a stone\nstruck him on the temple, and he was led away bleeding. To what\nlengths the fury of the mob would have gone it is impossible to\nsay; but fortunately, in the course of their devastation they\nstumbled into the wine-cellar, and all got drunk. The arrival of\na troop of cavalry dispersed the reeling crowd in the twinkling\nof an eye, and the Jesuits were left to mourn over the ruins. The\nnext day it seemed certain that the attack would be renewed. The\ncollege was deserted, and its inmates scattered in different\ndirections, Father de Ravignan being sent to Brigue in\nSwitzerland to resume his courses of theological instruction.\n\nIt was not until the close of 1834 that he came back to France.\nThen we find him once more at Saint Acheul, where, since classes\nwere prohibited, a house had been opened for fathers in their\nthird year of probation. Three years later, he was appointed\nsuperior of a new house at Bordeaux. There he remained until\n1842.\n\nIn the mean time he had entered, imperceptibly, so to speak, upon\nthe great work of his life. He had preached many retreats at\ndifferent times to his own brethren, and to other religious\ncommunities, but had rarely been heard in a public pulpit until,\nduring the Lent of 1835, while he was living at Saint Acheul, he\nwas selected to preach a series of conferences in the cathedral\nof Amiens. He was forty years of age when he began this\napostleship, and he had been withdrawn from the world ever since\nhe was twenty-seven; yet he had not been forgotten. There was a\nlively curiosity among his old friends to hear him; the members\nof the bar in particular were constant in their attendance; and\nthe impression produced in Amiens was not only deep, but rich in\nspiritual fruit. In Advent, he was appointed to preach a similar\ncourse at the same place; and in Lent of the next year, we find\nhim preaching in the church of St. Thomas Aquinas, in Paris.\nNothing exactly like these conferences and courses of sermons, so\ncommon in France, has ever been known to our country, and some of\nour readers may find it difficult to appreciate the magnitude and\nimportance of the labor in which Father de Ravignan was now\nengaged.\n{116}\nThe audiences whom he had to address were not only poor,\nunlettered sinners, whose consciences needed arousing; to these\nof course he must speak, but with them came hundreds of the most\ncultivated and critical listeners, who studied the speaker's\nlanguage and manner as they would a literary essay or an exercise\nin elocution. The court, the army, the learned professions, and\nthe leaders of fashionable society crowded around the Lent and\nAdvent pulpits. The appearance of a new preacher was the\nsensation of the metropolis. The newspapers criticised the\nperformance as they would criticise a play at the theatre. To\nsatisfy the exactions of such an audience as this, and yet to\npreserve that unction without which preaching is a waste of\nbreath--to please the critical ear, and yet to move the callous\nheart, required qualifications which few men combined. The most\nfamous of all the series of conferences had been those in the\ngreat cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris. Father Lacordaire had\nthere roused an extraordinary enthusiasm, and at the height of\nhis fame had abandoned the pulpit and gone to Rome for the\npurpose of restoring the Dominican order to France. He earnestly\ndesired that Father de Ravignan should be his successor at Notre\nDame, and it is interesting to know that it was partly through\nLacordaire's agency, that the Jesuit was obliged in 1837 to begin\nthat grand series of discourses, extending over ten years, by\nwhich he will be chiefly remembered. \"No one could claim to be\nthe apostle of such an assembly as met in Notre Dame,\" says\nFather de Ponlevoy,\n\n  \"unless he were first of all a philosopher. The subject chosen\n  for the first year was accordingly a kind of Catholic\n  philosophy of history, depicting the broad outlines of the\n  struggle between truth and error. This idea is analogous to\n  that which inspired the _City of God_ of St. Augustine; it\n  was carried on in the station of 1838 by an explanation of\n  fundamental doctrines, beginning with the personality and\n  action of God, in opposition to the abstractions of the\n  pantheists, the ill-defined forms of deism and fatalism;\n  proceeding on to liberty, the immortality of the soul and the\n  end of man, against materialism. For all this, it was necessary\n  to go to first principles, to recall slumbering belief to life,\n  and again to establish doctrines which had been corrupted by\n  numberless errors. Some portion of the hearers were from this\n  time forward led to embrace the last practical conclusions, and\n  already F. de Ravignan had some consoling returns to the faith\n  to report. At the end of the station of 1838, he wrote:\n\n  \"'The attendance has been large and remarkable for the great\n  number of distinguished persons, members of the present and\n  former ministries, peers, deputies, academicians, well known\n  Protestants, foreigners of rank, and a troop of young men.\n\n  \"'There have been symptoms of approval, sometimes too freely\n  manifested; conversions, a few, but not many. Moreover, no\n  expressions of hostility, either in the newspapers or among the\n  audience. God be praised!\n\n  \"'I have been forced to have some intercourse with a great many\n  people, and some of them persons of note. M. de Chateaubriand\n  paid me a visit; two interviews were arranged for me with M. de\n  Lamartine; several physicians and men of science have sought to\n  see me; some have been to confession. How many great men there\n  are ignorant of the faith, and sick in mind and heart.\n\n  \"'God has supported me. I have felt his grace, his help to our\n  society, and the benefit of the prayers offered for my work. I\n  took care that none of the journals should employ short-hand\n  writers, that my words might not be published in a distorted\n  form.'\"\n\nFrom the very outset, Father de Ravignan had contemplated the\nestablishment of an annual retreat by way of a complement to his\nconferences; but wishing to give his influence time to work\nbefore he carried out this plan, he waited until 1841, and then\nresolved to begin in the small church of the Abbaye-aux-Bois,\nwhich with great crowding holds no more than 1000 or 1200 people.\n{117}\nShould the attendance be too large for this church, it was\narranged that he should remove to St. Eustache. He describes the\nresult of his experiment as follows:\n\n  \"I gave notice of a retreat for men during Holy Week, only on\n  Palm-Sunday at Notre Dame before the conference; an instruction\n  every evening at eight o'clock till Holy Saturday inclusively.\n  On the Monday evening I went to the Abbaye-aux-Bois about\n  half-past seven. I found an extraordinary crowd, and difficulty\n  in getting places; and there was not a single woman. I had kept\n  them all out. For nearly two hours the whole church had been\n  full, and already a hundred people had gone away unable to get\n  in. I wanted to cross the bottom of the church, but I could not\n  get along. I was recognized, and with great earnestness, but\n  without uproar, I was asked to adjourn elsewhere. I promised to\n  do so. From the pulpit I was struck by this throng of men,\n  almost all young, who filled the doorways, the altars and no\n  disturbance. After having warmly congratulated them, I\n  appointed Saint-Eustache for the next day. Then I bade them all\n  rise for prayer. They all rose like one man. We recited the\n  _Veni Creator_, and the instruction followed on these\n  words: _Venite seorsum et requiescite pusillum--Come aside,\n  and rest a little_. I advised them all to remain for\n  benediction. All remained.\n\n  \"Next day Saint-Eustache was filled five hours before the\n  service, and the following days they came even earlier.\n\n  \"My heart is full of gratitude to God. His help has been plain.\n  I do not know that such a churchful of men was ever seen. The\n  iron gates at the doors, the bases of the pillars, the rails,\n  everything, was covered with people hanging on; the nave and\n  aisles filled and crowded beyond conception, and the deepest,\n  most religious silence--not one disturbance, no police--3000 or\n  4000 men's voices singing the _Miserere_, the _Stabat\n  Mater_. The sight affected me deeply.\n\n  \"I at once adopted perfect apostolic freedom of language, and,\n  without preface, began to speak of sin, of hell, of confession,\n  etc. I delivered my address, and appointed six hours every day\n  which I would devote to men who might wish to see me. They have\n  come in shoals. I have been hearing confessions all the week,\n  six or seven hours a day, of men of all ages and positions in\n  life--all very much behindhand. God has given me consolation.\n  The prayers offered on all sides for this work have had a\n  visible effect. There has been a marked movement in Paris. More\n  Easter Communions everywhere. Our fathers have received many\n  more confessions of men. I have not declined a single one, and\n  I am still busy in finishing them.\n\n  \"A good many came to tell me of their difficulties, and I said\n  to them, 'Well, believe me, there is but one way; take your\n  place there;' and all, with a single exception, made their\n  confessions.\n\n  \"On Good-Friday the Passion sermon exhausted my strength; the\n  following day I had no voice left. I was unable to give the\n  closing instruction of the retreat on Holy Saturday. I wrote a\n  scrap of a note to inform the Cur\u00e9 of Saint-Eustache, and he\n  bethought him of reading it from the pulpit. All went off\n  quietly; the people waited for benediction and went home.\"\n\nLacordaire was a far more brilliant and poetical preacher than De\nRavignan, but the styles of the two men were so entirely\ndifferent that there can be no comparison between them. The\nconferences of the Jesuit orator, studied in the cold light of\nprint, lack color and imagination; but they can only be judged\nfairly by those who heard them delivered. The principal\ncharacteristic of his delivery we should judge must have been\nforce--a force which amounted to majesty. He spoke with a\ncommanding air of authority, as one whose convictions were as\nfixed as the everlasting hills. His power of assertion was\ntremendous; with all this he was animated and impassioned,\nalthough he generally commenced with a slow and measured cadence.\nHis style was a little rough, but nervous and striking. He did\nnot captivate, but he conquered. His gestures were dignified and\nimpressive; his attitude was modest but commanding; his personal\npresence was noble. When he entered the pulpit, he remained a\nlong time motionless, with eyes cast down, waiting until the\nassemblage became perfectly still. Then he made the sign of the\ncross with a pomp and stateliness which became famous.\n{118}\nA Protestant minister who witnessed this solemn exordium\nexclaimed, \"He has preached without speaking a word!\" It used to\nbe said, \"When Father de Ravignan shows himself in the pulpit, no\none can tell whether he has just ascended from earth or come down\nfrom heaven.\" One day he had been describing the wilful misery of\nthe unbeliever--his doubts, fears, melancholy, repinings, and\ndespair; the picture was drawn with a terrible force; the\naudience sat as if paralyzed. Suddenly, want of breath compelled\nthe orator to pause. He folded his arms, and with inimitable\nemphasis brought the climax to an end with these words: \"And we--\nwe are believers!\" The effect was overpowering. The people forgot\nthemselves, and a signal of applause ran through the church. The\npriest was indignant. With glowing countenance and arm raised in\nair, he cried, \"Silence!\" in a voice of awful reproof, and the\nassembly was instantly hushed.\n\nStill more effective, though less celebrated than the\nconferences, were Father de Ravignan's retreats. In these he was\nunapproached. He followed strictly the exercises of St. Ignatius,\nto which he gave such unremitting study that he might well be\ncalled a man of one book. His conferences were prepared with\ngreat elaboration, but the retreats were improvisations. As years\nwent on, he devoted himself more and more closely to these latter\nexercises, until they became at last his proper work in the\nministry; and when sickness, and the loss of his voice had\ncompelled him to abandon formal preaching, he continued to\nconduct the retreats at Notre Dame, while Lacordaire resumed his\nplace in the pulpit.\n\nIt must not be supposed that the success of the Jesuit's oratory\nwas any indication of a growing favor for the society in France.\nThe opposition to its existence was still active, and the\ngovernment refused to acknowledge that as a society it had any\nexistence in the kingdom at all. The wildest stories about it\nwere published and believed. One day, in the midst of a\ndistinguished party assembled at the Tuileries to celebrate the\nking's birthday, a person of influence disclosed a horrible plot:\nthe Jesuits had arms stored in the cellars of Saint Sulpice, and\nonly the day before, Father de Ravignan had been there concerting\nmeasures with his accomplices. \"Oh! yes,\" interrupted a lady of\nthe court, \"I was at that meeting. We were drawing a raffle for\nthe poor. There were two or three hundred families so lucky as to\nbe set up with a coffee-pot or a sauce-pan.\" As a general thing,\nhowever, whatever might be said of the society, Father de\nRavignan was treated with respect. Guizot made no secret of his\nesteem for him, and Royer-Collard used to say, \"Father de\nRavignan is artless enough to imagine himself a Jesuit.\" In the\nlittle book which De Ravignan accordingly wrote about this\ntime--_On the Existence and the Institute of the\nJesuits_--there was a double purpose to be gained. He wished\nto identify himself as thoroughly and as publicly as he could\nwith the society to which he had given his heart, and he wished\nto share in the gallant battle which Lacordaire was fighting for\nthe right of the religious orders to exist in France under the\nprotection of the laws. The opposition in the legislative\nchambers had been insisting that they ought not to exist; the\nministry replied that they did not exist; and right in the midst\nof the dispute appears Father de Ravignan, like the poor prisoner\nwho called a lawyer to get him out of jail.\n{119}\n\"But this is preposterous,\" said the counsel; \"you can't be\narrested on such a charge as that!\" \"I don't know,\" said the\nprisoner, \"but I _am_ arrested.\" \"Why, I tell you, you\n_can't_ be: it is not legal; they have no right to put you\nin jail.\" \"Well, I only know that I _am_ in jail, and I want\nyou get me out.\" Father de Ravignan showed clearly enough that\nthey did exist, and had a right to legal protection. If they were\nto be driven out of the kingdom, the government must face the\nresponsibility, and do it openly. A few days after the appearance\nof the book, Lacordaire, being present at a meeting of the\nCatholic Club under the presidency of the Archbishop of Paris,\nexclaimed, \"If we were in England, I should propose three cheers\nfor Father de Ravignan.\" The cheers were given with a will.\n\nWe have no space to follow Father de Ravignan in the varied\noccupations of the next ten years. His health, always precarious,\nbroke down completely in 1847, and for the rest of his life he\nwas condemned to alternations of intense suffering, and of forced\ninaction which was worse to him than pain. He was tormented with\nchronic neuralgia, with dropsy on the chest, and a severe\naffection of the larynx, that for long periods deprived him\nentirely of the power of preaching. During these ten years of\nsuffering, he wrote his history of \"Clement XIII. and Clement\nXIV,\" a book which under the guise of an apology for the course\nof the latter pontiff in the suppression of the Jesuits was in\nreality an apology for the society, and a reply to the recently\npublished work of Father Theiner on the same subject. He founded\nthe sodality known as the Children of Mary, assisted in the\nestablishment of the Congregation of the Oratory, and was\nzealously and constantly employed in the direction of souls and\nthe guidance of converts--gathering up, as Father de Ponlevoy\nwell expresses it, the fruit of his ten years' preaching. There\nis hardly a distinguished name in the history of France at that\nday which does not appear in connection with his. Madame\nSwetchine was one of his co-laborers. Madame de la Ferronnays,\nwhose charming life has recently been told under the title of\n_A Sister's Story_, was his devoted friend. Chateaubriand,\nCount Mol\u00e9, Walckena\u00ebr, Camper the celebrated navigator, Marshal\nSt. Arnaud, General Cavaignac, Prince Demidoff, Montalembert, De\nFalloux, and Bishop Dupanloup--these are some of the illustrious\nnames which occur most frequently in his correspondence. A\ncelebrity of a very different sort with whom he had some\nintercourse is thus alluded to in Father de Ponlevoy's Life:\n\n  \"We cannot conclude this chapter without making some mention of\n  that well-known American _Medium_, who possessed the\n  unfortunate talent of turning other things besides tables, and\n  of calling up the dead for the amusement of the living. Much\n  has been said, even in the newspapers, about his close and\n  pious intimacy with F. de Ravignan; and it seems that an\n  attempt has been made to use an honored name as a passport to\n  introduce into France, and establish there, these wonderful\n  discoveries of the new world.\n\n  \"The facts, in all their simplicity, are as follows: It is\n  quite true that, after the young foreigner had been converted\n  in Italy, he was furnished at Rome with an introduction to F.\n  de Ravignan; but by this time he had given up his magic at the\n  same time that he gave up his Protestantism, and he was\n  received with the interest which is due from a priest to every\n  soul ransomed with the blood of Jesus Christ, and especially,\n  perhaps, to a soul which is converted and brought back to the\n  bosom of the church. On his arrival in Paris, he was again\n  absolutely forbidden to return in any way to his old practices.\n  F. de Ravignan, agreeably to the principles of the faith which\n  proscribe all superstition, prohibited, under the severest\n  penalties he could inflict, all participation in or presence at\n  these dangerous and sometimes guilty proceedings.\n{120}\n   Once the unhappy _Medium_, beset by I know not what man\n   or devil, was unfaithful to his promise; he was received with\n   a severity which prostrated him; I chanced at the time to come\n   into the room, and I saw him rolling on the ground, and\n   writhing like a worm at the feet of the priest, so righteously\n   indignant. The father was touched by a repentance which led to\n   such bodily agony, raised him up, and pardoned him; but,\n   before dismissing him, exacted a written promise confirmed by\n   an oath. But a notorious relapse soon took place, and the\n   servant of God, breaking off all connection with this slave of\n   the spirits, sent him word never again to appear in his\n   presence.\"\n\nWe shall not undertake, in the brief space that remains, to\ndescribe the beauty of Father de Ravignan's character--his\ntouching humility, his rare sweetness of soul, his complete\ndetachment from earth, his patience, his charity, and his\nunflagging zeal. He was once asked how he had attained such\nmastery over himself. \"There were two of us,\" he replied; \"I\nthrew one out of the window, so that only I remained where I\nwas.\" Father de Ponlevoy applies to him the description which St.\nFrancis Xavier gave of St. Ignatius: \"His character is made up of\nthree elements; a humility of mind which we can scarcely\nunderstand, a force of soul superior to all opposition, and an\nincomparable kindness of heart.\"\n\nIn the spring of 1857, a severe attack of sickness obliged him to\nremove to Saint Acheul. He came back to Paris in the autumn,\napparently restored to as good health as he had experienced of\nrecent years, but he was already far gone in consumption. On the\n3d of December, he passed a long time at the Convent of the\nSacred Heart, conversing with a poor person who wanted to enter\nthe church. Then he went into the confessional, and remained\nthere until physically exhausted. One of his penitents on that\noccasion remarked that he spoke more than ever like a man who no\nlonger belonged to this world. He got home with great difficulty.\nThis was the last of his ministry. On the Feast of the Immaculate\nConception, he celebrated mass for the last time; but it was not\nuntil the 26th of February that he passed to that blessed rest\nfor which he had yearned so long with an eagerness that he used\nto call \"homesickness.\" The account of his last days is too\nbeautiful to be abridged. With the awe inspired by the sublime\nnarrative, we prefer to drop our pen at the opening of this final\nchapter, wherein the gates of heaven seem to stand ajar, and our\neyes are dazzled by the awful light which streams from the divine\npresence.\n\n----------\n\n{121}\n\n\n         The Educational Question.\n\n\nThe articles upon popular education which have heretofore\nappeared in this journal seem to have produced the effects which\nwere anticipated by the writer. The public interest has been\nunusually excited by the discussion; and two classes of\nantagonists have ventured to make an issue with the advocates of\na just distribution of the school fund. The first in order, but\nmuch the least important in all other respects, is that confessed\nfossil, the \"no-popery\" party, which ever and anon intrudes\nitself upon the unwilling attention of our republican society,\nbraying itself hoarse with rage because it can neither command\nthe confidence of enlightened and liberal Protestants nor escape\nthe galling ridicule of six millions of its Catholic\nfellow-citizens. This class is well represented in an elaborate\ntract lately issued from the office of the American and Foreign\nChristian Union, 27 Bible House, New York City, and purporting to\nbe a review of the article in the January number of _The\nEducational Monthly_, presenting _The Roman Catholic View of\nEducation in the United States_. It requires no great amount\nof logical acumen to enable the least intelligent of men to see\nthat this tract affords the most apt illustration of one of the\nprincipal arguments we have advanced in support of the Catholic\nclaim. We have remained silent for the last three months, resting\nsatisfied that it would be impossible for \"the stereotyped class\nof saints and philosophers\" to rush to the rescue of a cherished\ninjustice, without forthwith exposing its odious features in\ntheir struggle to carry it victoriously through the battle-field\nof a public controversy. The veil of Mokanna has fallen even\nbefore the false prophet had time to secure a victim! or, to\nspeak more in accordance with scriptural analogies, the cloven\nfoot has discovered itself under the clerical robe and the\nwickedness of the heart has burst out from the tongue. _Quare\nfremuerunt gentes!_ Why, indeed, shall they rage and devise\nvain things? Have they not fulfilled this prophecy of the royal\nDavid for three hundred years; and have they not suffered the\nderision threatened in the fourth verse of the second Psalm?\nWhere shall we find a more convincing proof than this very tract\nof what the enemies of the Catholic faith and people design to\naccomplish by a school system which they insincerely profess to\nadvocate on account of its intrinsic merits, in the face of the\nhistorical fact that, wherever and whenever they have had the\npower to control the state--as the early days of all New England\nand of several of the other American States--they never failed to\nuse the school-room as an ante-chamber to the conventicle! After\nthey had been stripped of this power by such men as Jefferson,\nMadison, Hamilton, and the liberal founders of American\ninstitutions, they still struggled for many years to accomplish\nby indirect means the injustice and iniquity which could not be\nopenly maintained under the constitutions and the laws of the\nfederal government and the several States. We all well remember\nhow the poor Catholic boys and girls of the free schools were\nharassed by colporteurs and proselytizers, who carried baskets\nfilled, not with bread for the hungry children of poverty, but\nwith oleaginous tracts, cunningly devised to destroy in those\nlittle pupils of the state the faith of their fathers and the\nreligious practices of their devout mothers.\n{122}\nTeachers were selected with especial regard to their bitter\nhatred of the Catholic Church and their zeal for \"Evangelical\"\npropagandism. When this failed to make any very perceptible\nimpression upon the numerical strength of the Catholic people,\nthen commenced the wholesale child-stealing, under the pious\npretext of cleaning out the moral sewers of society; and tens of\nthousands of little children, stolen or forcibly wrested from the\narms of Catholic parents--too poor and friendless to protect the\nnatural and legal rights of themselves and their offspring--were\nhurried off to the far West, their names changed, and their\ntemporal and eternal hopes committed to the zealous charge of\npious and vigorous haters of the popish anti-Christ! In spite of\nall this, the Catholic population of the United States continued\nsteadily to rise like a flood tide, not only through foreign\nimmigration, but by reason of virtuous wedlock and the watchful\nand severe faith and discipline of a church which forbids and\neffectually prevents child-murder! The reader will find this\nmatter discussed in an article elsewhere in this number,\nentitled, \"Comparative Morality of Catholic and Protestant\nCountries.\"\n\nThe writer of the tract issued from 27 Bible House is annoyed by\nthe comparison which the author of the article in _The\nEducational Monthly_ instituted between the violent crimes of\nour ancestors and the stupendous sins which have supplanted them\nin modern times. The comparison was close-fitting as the shirt of\nNessus, and quite as uncomfortable. The Bible House replies to\nthis with a contrast between the intellectual, material, moral,\nand religious advancement of the masses in England, the United\nStates, and every other Protestant country, in the nineteenth\ncentury, and the debasement of the people of Spain, Italy,\nMexico, and South America. In the first place, we reply that our\npresent controversy concerns popular education in the United\nStates now and for a hopeful future, and not the past nor the\npresent of European or South American nations. In the next place,\nwe say that this is but another evidence of the malignant spirit\nto which we are required to intrust the training of our Catholic\nyouth. They are to be taught that the church of their fathers is\nthe nursery of ignorance and vice; and that all the knowledge,\ncivilization, and virtue which the world enjoys are the offspring\nof the so-called Reformation. They are to learn nothing of the\ntrue history of Spain, Portugal, France, Italy, Belgium,\nSwitzerland, Austria, Bavaria, and the Catholic principalities of\nContinental Europe. They are never to hear of the vast libraries\nof Catholic learning; the rich endowments of Catholic education\nall over the world for ages; the innumerable universities,\ncolleges, academies, and free schools established by their\nchurch, or by governments under her auspices, throughout\nChristendom. They are not to be told how Oxford and Cambridge\nwere founded by their Catholic forefathers and plundered from\ntheir lawful possession. The Bible House tractarian would not\nwillingly read to them from the _Notes of a Traveller_ by\nthat eminent Scotch Presbyterian, Samuel Laing, such passages as\nthese:\n\n  \"The comparative education of the Scotch clergy of the present\n  generation, that is to say, their education compared to that of\n  the Scotch people, is unquestionably lower than that of the\n  Popish clergy compared to the education of their people. This\n  is usually ascribed to the Popish clergy seeking to maintain\n  their influence and superiority by keeping the people in gross\n  ignorance.\n{123}\n   But this opinion of our churchmen seems more orthodox than\n   charitable or correct. The Popish clergy have in reality less\n   to lose by the progress of education than our own Scotch\n   clergy; because their pastoral influence and their church\n   services being founded on ceremonial ordinances, come into no\n   competition or comparison whatsoever in the public mind with\n   anything similar that literature or education produces; and\n   are not connected with the imperfect mode of conveying\n   instruction which, as education advances, becomes obsolete and\n   falls into disuse, and almost into contempt, although\n   essential in our Scotch church. In Catholic Germany, in\n   France, Italy, and even Spain the education of the common\n   people in reading, writing, arithmetic, music, manners, and\n   morals is at least as generally diffused, and as faithfully\n   promoted by the clerical body, as in Scotland. It is by their\n   own advance and not by keeping back the advance of the people,\n   that the Popish priesthood of the present day seek to keep\n   ahead of the intellectual progress of the community in\n   Catholic lands; and they might, perhaps, retort on our\n   Presbyterian clergy, and ask if they, too, are in their\n   countries at the head of the intellectual movement of the age?\n   Education is in reality not only not repressed but is\n   encouraged by the Popish Church, and is a mighty instrument in\n   its hands and ably used. In every street in Rome, for\n   instance, there are at short distances public primary schools\n   for the education of the children of the lower and middle\n   classes in the neighborhood Rome, with a population of 158,678\n   souls, has 372 public primary schools with 482 teachers; and\n   14,099 children attending them. Has Edinburgh so many public\n   schools for the instruction of those classes? I doubt it.\n   Berlin, with a population about double that of Rome, has only\n   264 schools. Rome has also her university with an average\n   attendance of 660 students; and the Papal States with a\n   population of 2,500,000 (in 1846) contain seven universities.\n   Prussia with a population of 14,000,000 has but seven.\"\n\nNeither would our Bible House tractarian teach his Catholic\npupils to discriminate between times, circumstances,\nopportunities, characteristics of race, influences of climate,\nancient traditional habits, and the complicated causes which\naffect the life and development of each nation; so as to contrast\nProtestant England with Protestant Denmark, and Catholic France\nwith Catholic Portugal; or, again, to compare each of these with\nitself at different epochs of its own history. They are not to be\ntold that Spain was never as powerful, covering the seas with her\ncommerce and the earth with her conquests, and lighting up Europe\nby her genius, as at the time when she was the most thoroughly\nCatholic and the least tainted with that revolutionary infidelity\nwhich was born of Calvin and has grown to be a giant destroyer\nunder Mazzini and Garibaldi. They are to be told, however, that\nthe glory of a Christian nation is to be measured by its national\ndebt, its fleets and armies, its opium trade, its Coolie traffic,\nits bankrupt laws, its work-houses, its prodigious fortunes\nmocking squalid poverty, its twenty millions of people who own no\nfoot of land and its vicious nobles and gentry who firmly grasp\nit all, its telegraphic wires and cables, its huge ships and\nthundering factories, its luxurious merchants who toil not, and\nits starving able-bodied paupers who can find no work to do, its\ngrotesque mixture of the beautiful and the vile, of the grand and\nthe infamous, of the light of the skies and the darkness of the\nobscene coal-pits, of the pride of science and the ignorance of\nbarbarism, of the perfume of fashionable churches and the stench\nof gin-shops, of the industrial slavery of great towns and the\nrotting idleness of vast lazar-houses, which make up the boasted\ncivilization of haughty England, and extort from the Bible House\nthe prayerful cry, \"_Thank God, we are not like unto these\nRomish Publicans!_\" Happy Pharisees! we certainly do not\ndesire to disturb their self-complacency; but we wish to teach\nour Catholic children that the simple habits, the earnest piety,\nthe manly truth and courage of the little Catholic Republic of\nSan Marino, which has preserved its liberties and independence\nfor over eight hundred years without losing its religion, are for\nthe citizens of this great democratic empire a more profitable\nstudy than the doctrines of Malthus or the history of\ncotton-gins.\n{124}\nAs we have said in our former articles, we already have here\nquite enough of the material, and a superabundance of animal\nspirits and vigor; and that what we stand in need of is a\nwell-defined faith, moral duties clearly understood, and habits\nof practical virtue firmly fixed in the daily life of all the\npeople, Without that, even temporal prosperity must be\nevanescent; as it was with all heathen nations that have\nsuccessively ruled the world and perished. Without that, temporal\nprosperity is a curse, and not a blessing; for what will it\nprofit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?\nMen make nations; and nationalities are of no value before God,\nexcept only in so far as they conduce to the end of each\nindividual man's creation. The Indian who goes to heaven from his\nwigwam in the forest attains his end. The philosopher who goes to\nhell from his palace in London or Paris has wofully miscalculated\nthe worth of all human philosophy, statesmanship, and national\ngrandeur, as the idols of his worship. The pagans measured human\nlife and society by the standard of the Bible House, No. 27, if\nwe are to judge it by this tract!\n\nSo also, according to this tract, our Catholic children should be\ntaught in the schools that Voltaire became an infidel\n_because_ he had been a Catholic and was trained at a Jesuit\ncollege. It will nowhere appear in the lesson that he became an\ninfidel because he rebelled against the teachings of his church,\nand renounced the maxims of his Jesuit tutors. When he so\nzealously defended his thesis in vindication of Julian the\nApostate, his own apostasy was foretold by his master. His death\nwas the answer to his life. In his agony he called for a priest;\nbut three-score years of blasphemy had won to him the avenging\ndisciples who then encircled his bed like a wall of fire; and no\npriest could reach the dying enemy of Christ!\n\nThis tract would also teach our children in the schools that it\nwas the teachings of the \"Romish Church\" which drove\nrevolutionary France from the altars of God. It would not be\nexplained to them how that revolutionary rage was but the\noutburst of a volcano of passion which had smouldered during ages\nof long suffering under the rule of kings and nobles; and that\nthe instincts of the people remained so true, that in the very\nsame generation they returned, like the people of Israel, to the\nworship of God; and rushed to the altars of their fathers with\ntears of repentance and joy. _They did not become\nProtestants!_ How has it been with the descendants of the\ngodly men of Plymouth Rock? Quietly and with exquisite decorum\nthey have settled down into deists, pantheists, freethinkers,\nfree-lovers, spiritualists, and philosophers! Will they go back\nto Puritanism?\n\n  \"Facilis descensus Averni!\"\n\nThe tract tells our children that Gibbon left the Protestant\nChurch for the Catholic, and finally landed in infidelity. Why\ndid he not go back to Protestantism?\n\nThe tract also tells our children that this is a Protestant\ncountry; which means that all its glories are Protestant, and\nthat the Catholic, with Italy and Spain before his eyes, should\nbe thankful that he is tolerated here. Are our children to learn\nthis lesson at the schools?\n{125}\nNow, in the first place, if Bishop Coxe and other Protestant\nwitnesses are reliable,[Footnote 47] our Bible House friends may\nas well begin to prepare their nerves to see our great country\nbecome Catholic, at least as much of it as will remain Christian\nat all. Perhaps they will then value the wisdom and liberality of\nthat admonitory sentence in the article of _The Educational\nMonthly_ which reads thus:\n\n    [Footnote 47: See page 61 of this number.]\n\n  \"We are quite sure that if the Catholics were the majority in\n  the United States, and were to attempt such an injustice,\" (as\n  that involved in this school question.) \"our Protestant\n  brethren would cry out against it, and appeal to the wise and\n  liberal examples of Prussia and England, France and Austria!\n  Now, is it not always as unwise as it is unjust to make a\n  minority taste the bitterness of oppression? Men governed by\n  the law of divine charity will bear it meekly and seek to\n  return good for evil; but all men are not docile; and\n  majorities change rapidly and often, in this fleeting world! Is\n  it not wiser and more politic, even in mere regard to social\n  interests, that all institutions intended for the welfare of\n  the people should be firmly based upon exact and equal justice?\n  This would place them under the protection of fixed habit,\n  which in a nation is as strong as nature; and it would save\n  them from the mutations of society. The strong of one\n  generation may be the weak of the next; and we see this\n  occurring with political parties within the brief spaces of\n  presidential terms. Hence we wisely inculcate moderation and of\n  retribution.\"\n\nIn the next place, although the present majority of the American\npeople are non-Catholic, we deny that they are Protestants, as a\nnation, in a political sense. The institutions of the country are\nneither Catholic nor Protestant. They recognize no one faith more\nthan another. Christian morality is accepted as the basis of\npublic and private duties by common consent; that is all.\nReligious liberty was not born of the theocracy of New England.\nHancock and Adams, under the lead of Jefferson, departed very far\nfrom the instincts of Calvinism and the traditions of Plymouth\nRock when they laid the foundations of this government; and this\nis one of the things which we certainly intend to have our\nchildren taught. We do not intend that they shall be \"poor boys\nat the feast,\" humbly thankful for such crumbs as our Bible House\nfriends may magnanimously bestow upon the \"Romish aliens;\" but\nthey shall be told to hold up their heads, with the full\nconsciousness that they are American citizens, the peers of all\nothers, and in no way disqualified, by the doctrines or morals of\ntheir church, to perform every duty as faithfully and as ably as\nany other men of any other creed. They shall not be terrified\nwith the \"_raw head and bloody bones_\" of \"degraded Italy,\"\n\"besotted Spain,\" and the other terrible examples of the\ndestroying influence of their old mother church. We shall teach\nthem not to trust any morality which does not rest upon a clear\nfaith; and we shall show them how that faith commands obedience\nto lawful authority, purity of motive in all public acts, and\nuniversal charity for all men.\n\nSome of our readers may be surprised that we have devoted so much\nspace to this tract. Our motive should be apparent. We said, in\nthe beginning of this article, that this tract sounds like the\nvoice of one of the two classes of opponents who are arrayed\nagainst us on this question; and that in itself it affords a\nperfect illustration of our main argument, which is this, clearly\nstated in the following paragraph from the article in _The\nEducational Monthly_:\n\n   \"And more than this, Catholics know by painful experience that\n   history cannot be compiled, travels written, poetry, oratory,\n   or romance inflicted upon a credulous public, without the\n   stereotyped assaults upon the doctrines, discipline, and\n   historical life of their church.\n{126}\n   From Walter Scott to Peter Parley, and from Hume, Gibbon, and\n   Macaulay to the mechanical compilers of cheap school\n   literature, it is the same story told a thousand times oftener\n   than it is refuted; so that the English language, for the last\n   two centuries, may be said without exaggeration to have waged\n   war against the Catholic Church. Indeed, so far as European\n   history is considered, the difficulty must always be\n   insurmountable; since it would always be impossible for the\n   Catholic and Protestant to accept the same history of the\n   Reformation or of the Papal See, or the political, social, and\n   moral events resulting from or in any degree connected with\n   those two great centres and controlling causes. Who could\n   write a political history of Christendom for the last three\n   hundred years and omit all mention of Luther and the pope? And\n   how is any school compendium of such history to be devised for\n   the use of the Catholic and Protestant child alike?\"\n\nNow, it is very well understood that, with all their doctrinal\ndifferences and sectarian antipathies, all the Protestant sects\ncan nevertheless, as a general rule, accept any Protestant\nhistory of the so-called Reformation, and of the wars,\ndiplomacies, public events, and moral results springing from or\nconnected with that episode in the religious annals of our race;\nbut can Catholics accept such? Will you compel Catholic parents\nto accept for their children histories written in the spirit of\nthis Bible House tract, which tells us (p. 3.) that the Catholic\nfaith \"_taught the people that a Romish priest is to them in\nthe place of God; that a Romish priest can create his\nCreator!_\"\n\nThe very encyclopedia, quoted by our tractarian is another\nRoundhead trooper armed against the papal anti-Christ! And so,\nthe bright Catholic boy will be amused with the antics of the\nfeasting and fighting monk in _Ivanhoe_; whilst graver\ncalumnies will convince him that the church of his fathers, and\nof the great-grandfathers of her modern revilers, is truly a den\nof thieves and a house of abominations.\n\nIt may as well be distinctly understood, once and for all, that\nwe cannot consent that our children shall receive secular\neducation without religious training; and that we understand very\nwell that such religious knowledge as we desire them to possess\ncannot be imparted by those who are hostile to us. We intend also\nto teach them to respect and uphold all the rights, social,\npolitical, and religious, of their fellow-citizens, upon the\nplain injunction of the Scriptures that they shall do unto others\nprecisely as they would have others do unto themselves. At the\nsame time we will teach them to love and revere their ancient\nmother church, as the custodian for fifteen hundred years of that\nBible which she is falsely accused by this tract of\n\"_fearing;_\" as the munificent patroness of every art and\nthe mistress of every science; as the friend and supporter of\nliberty when united to order and justice; as the enemy of pride,\nlicense, and disobedience to lawful authority; as the guardian of\nthe sanctity of marriage against the pagan concupiscence of the\ndivorce courts; as the sword of vengeance uplifted over the heads\nof the child-murdering destroyers of populations; in fine, as the\nhope and future salvation of this republic and all its precious\nendowments of personal manhood, honor, virtue, and faith, and all\nits national institutions of self-governing popular sovereignty,\nequal rights, and faithful citizenship, based, not upon infidel\nrevolutionary \"_fraternity_,\" but upon a noble Christian\nbrotherhood. Certainly, even if we were mistaken in our estimate\nof the fruitfulness and power of the Catholic faith, it would be\nno less an evidence of our sincere patriotism, that we are\nanxious to impress upon the children of the church the conviction\nthat in faithfully serving their country they are only obeying\nthe commands of their religion.\n\n{127}\n\nAs we do not intend that our children shall be either untaught or\nmistaught in regard to this sublime knowledge and duty, we shall\ninsist on educating them ourselves, with or without receiving our\njust share of the public taxes, to which we do contribute very\nlargely, the declaration of the Bible House tract to the contrary\nnotwithstanding.\n\nWe have devoted more space to this first, class of objectors than\nthey could claim from our courtesy, because we believe that they\nnominally represent many honest men who will cheerfully admit the\ntruth when they see it.\n\nThere is another and a far different class of persons who take\nissue with us upon this question, and for whom we entertain a\nperfect respect--first, because they treat the subject with\nevident fairness and commendable civility; and secondly, because\nfrom their stand-point, there would appear to be much good reason\nin their objections to our claim. It gives us very great pleasure\nto use all our honest endeavors to remove their difficulties.\nThis class is represented by the editorial articles which\nappeared in _The Chicago Advance, The Troy Daily Press_, and\nseveral other papers, criticising the article of _The\nEducational Monthly_. The objections may be summed up as\nfollows:\n\n_First_, (and the most important.) That denominational\neducation would prevent the complete amalgamation or\n\"unification\" of American citizenship, and tend to increase\nsectarian bitterness, to the prejudice of republican\ninstitutions.\n\n_Secondly_. That it would destroy the harmony and efficiency\nof the general school system.\n\n_Thirdly._ That the Catholic people are richer in the jewels\nof the Roman matron, _their children_, than they are in the\n_images of Caesar_, the coin of the country! and that\ntherefore they would draw from the common fund an amount much in\nexcess of the taxes paid by them; which would not be just.\n\nWe shall candidly consider these objections in the order in which\nwe have stated them.\n\nAs to the first: It would be fortunate, in a temporal point of\nview, if all the people were of one mind in religion, especially\nif they happen to have the true faith; inasmuch as nothing so\nconduces to the general harmony and good will as the total\nabsence of all religious strife. But we see that such a state of\nthings cannot be hoped for here. Not only is the community\ndivided into Protestants, Catholics, and a large body of citizens\nprofessing no faith at all, but the Protestant community itself\nis subdivided into innumerable conflicting sects. In defiance of\nany system of public education, these various religious\norganizations will always be widely separated from each other,\nand from the Catholic Church, on questions of doctrinal belief.\nThe issue then remains nakedly before us, Shall public education\nbe entirely divorced from revealed religion, and shall we commit\nthe morals of our children to the saving influences of a little\n\"_reading, writing, and arithmetic;_\" or, shall we have them\neducated in some form or another of practical Christianity? The\narguments on this point have been so fully elaborated in our\narticles heretofore published, that it would be superfluous to\nrepeat them now. We may, however, recall to mind the conclusive\nevidence afforded us of the correctness of our theory by the\nactual experience of such governments as those of England,\nFrance, Prussia, and Austria; under which, as we have shown in\nthose articles, the denominational system is carried out to the\nfullest extent, producing harmony, instead of discord, in\npopulations composed, as here, of numerous religious bodies. It\nis an old adage that one fact is worth a dozen arguments.\n\n{128}\n\nWe find that, after long years of earnest study of this difficult\nquestion, and after exhausting every half-way expedient, the\nstatesmen of the countries we have named adopted with singular\nunanimity the views which we are presenting for the serious and\ncandid consideration of the American public. We shall quote\nbriefly from a few of those statesmen who are well-known leaders\nof opinion in the European Protestant world.\n\nLord Derby: \"Public education should be considered as inseparable\nfrom religion;\" the contrary system is declared by him to be \"the\nrealization of a foolish and dangerous idea.\"\n\nMr. Gladstone: \"Every system which places religious education in\nthe background is pernicious.\"\n\nLord John Russell insisted that in the normal schools, which he\nproposed to have established, \"religion should regulate the\nentire system of discipline.\"\n\nM. de Raumer: \"They have acquired in Prussia a conviction, which\nbecomes daily more settled, that the fitness of the primary\nschool depends on its intimate union with the church.\" In 1854,\nhe writes that \"education should repose upon the basis of\nChristianity, the true support of the family, of the commune, and\nof the state.\"\n\nM. Guizot, the former very eminent Protestant prime minister of\nFrance, deserves to be specially quoted, although we are but\nrepeating the extracts which we gave in another article. His\nwords should be written in letters of gold. Let the enemies of\nreligious education, if they can, present a satisfactory answer\nto this superb declaration:\n\n  \"In order to make popular education truly good and socially\n  useful, it must be fundamentally religious. I do not simply\n  mean by this, that religious instruction should hold its place\n  in popular education, and that the practices of religion should\n  enter into it; for a nation is not religiously educated by such\n  petty and mechanical devices. It is necessary that national\n  education should be given and received in the midst of a\n  religious atmosphere, and that religious impressions and\n  religious observances should penetrate into all its parts.\n  Religion is not a study or an exercise to be restricted to a\n  certain place, and a certain hour; it is a faith and a law,\n  which ought to be felt everywhere, and which after this manner\n  alone can exercise all its beneficial influence upon our minds\n  and our lives.\"\n\nThe first Napoleon, the restorer of order and religion in France,\ninfluenced, at the time, merely by human considerations, and\nspeaking only as a wise lawgiver, and not as a practical\nChristian, insisted upon the necessity of making the precepts of\nreligion the basis of education in the university, whose halls\nhad echoed the blasphemous unbelief of the disciples of Voltaire.\n\nAt our very door, we have likewise the judgment and example of\nour Canadian neighbors, demonstrating the feasibility of\nconnecting secular education with the most thorough instruction\nin the doctrines and practices of the different churches. Such\nopinions and facts should have some weight with our friends here\nwho are fearful of the proposed experiment.\n\n{129}\n\nWe know, by our own personal experience, that young men educated\nat the exclusively Catholic College of Mt. St. Mary's, in\nMaryland, and other young men, graduates of Yale and Princeton,\nwhere Catholics are rarely if ever seen, meet afterward in the\nworld of business or politics, and immediately learn to value\neach other according to intrinsic personal worth, and to exchange\nall the mutual courtesies and discharge all the reciprocal duties\nof social life. It is the same with Catholics and Protestants\neducated together at the many Catholic colleges in the United\nStates, where the Catholic pupils are nevertheless invariably\ninstructed, with the utmost exactness, in all the doctrines and\npractices of their church. There are thousands of such living\nwitnesses throughout the country, ready to attest the correctness\nof our statement. It proves this, (what _we_ know to be true\nwithout the proof,) that the education received by Catholics at\ntheir own schools, whilst rigidly doctrinal, uniformly inculcates\ncharity, urbanity, and every duty of good citizenship. There is\nnot, therefore, and never can be any difficulty, on the part of\nCatholics, to meet their Protestant fellow-citizens in all the\nrelations of life, private and public, with the utmost frankness,\nfraternity, and confidence, provided that they are not repelled\nby harshness or chilled by distrust. Their religion teaches them\nthat such is their duty. Certainly, if such happy results are\nrealized even in England, Prussia, and Austria, where all\nbarriers, whether social or religious, are traditionally more\ndifficult to surmount, how can it be that we must expect\nanimosities to be engendered under the free action and the\nliberal intercourse of our republican society?\n\nWe must, therefore, consider the fear expressed by this first\nobjection as wholly groundless. But even were it otherwise, what\nthen? Should we, therefore, sacrifice to such an apprehension the\nfar more momentous considerations that our republican,\nself-governing community can never safely trust itself in the\ngreat work of perpetuating the liberties of a Christian nation\nwithout planting itself upon the morality of the Gospel; that the\nrevealed doctrines of Christ are the foundation of his moral\ncode, and that to practise the one faithfully the people must be\ntaught to believe the other firmly; and that religion so taught,\nas M. Guizot admirably expresses it, \"is not a study or an\nexercise, to be restricted to a certain place and a certain hour;\nit is a faith and a law which ought to be felt everywhere;\" and\nthat \"national education should be given and received in the\nmidst of a religious atmosphere!\"\n\nWhat would the advantage of a more perfect amalgamation or\nunification of citizenship avail us, if, to obtain it, we were to\nstrike from under our institutions the only solid basis upon\nwhich they can rest with any hope whatever of being able to\nwithstand the rude shocks of time, to which all mortal works are\nsubject, and which destroyed the grandest structures of pagan\npower, solely because they rested upon human wisdom and human\nvirtue, unaided by revealed religion and supernatural grace? We\ncannot, therefore, admit any force in the first objection.\n\nAs to the second: How can the harmony or efficiency of the school\nsystem be disturbed by permitting a school to be organized for\nCatholic children in any district or locality where the requisite\nnumber may be found to render it practicable, in accordance with\nthe general policy of the law? It is presumed that the law\ncontemplates the education of all these children, and we cannot\nsee that the harmony of the system consists in putting them into\nany one school-room rather than another. It is not proposed to\nwithdraw them from the general supervision of the state, or to\ndeny to the state the authority to regulate the standard of\neducation, and to see that its requirements are complied with.\nThis is done in every one of the countries of which we have\nspoken.\n{130}\nNo one is so unreasonable as to expect that separate schools\nshall be organized where the number of pupils may be below a\nreasonable uniform standard; as it is not proposed to increase\nthe expense of the system. On the contrary, as far as concerns\nthe education of our Catholic children in the city of New York,\nwe propose to reduce the cost considerably, as we shall explain\nbefore we close this article. It is said that the several\nProtestant denominations may demand the same privilege. Suppose\nthat they do. If they have a sufficient number of children in any\nparticular locality for the proper organization of a separate\nschool under the law, and are willing to fulfil its requirements,\nhow can the general system be impaired by allowing them to do so?\nThis is the condition annexed to the privilege in all those\ncountries which have adopted this liberal policy. The proposition\nseems too plain for argument. When a college contains five\nhundred boys, two hundred may be classed in the higher division,\nthree hundred in the lower, and each may have separate\nplaygrounds and recitation halls. So, if a district contains two\nhundred of one faith, and three hundred of another, or of several\nother creeds, surely the two hundred may be organized into one\nschool and the three hundred into another, or into several\nothers, according to the standard of numbers, as may be required\nby the law. The whole question, therefore, is purely one of\ndistribution, not at all above the capacity of a drill-sergeant!\nThe same number of children would be educated, probably in the\nsame number of schools, and at the same cost, as now. The course\nof secular education prescribed by the state could be rigidly\nenforced in all such schools without assailing the conscience of\nany one, because we suppose that the state would not object that\nCatholics should learn English history from Lingard, whilst\nothers might prefer Hume and Macaulay. We presume that there\nwould be no disagreement in regard to reading, writing,\narithmetic, mathematics, natural philosophy, and those things\nwhich constitute the general studies of primary and high schools.\nIt is only with such that the state has any right to intermeddle,\nand it is only such that the state professes to secure to its\npupils. The state may say, \"The public welfare requires that the\ncitizens of a self-governing nation shall receive sufficient\nintellectual culture to enable them to discharge their duties\nunderstandingly;\" but the state has no right to say that its\npupils shall take their knowledge and form their opinions of the\ngreat moral events of history from D'Aubign\u00e9 or from Cardinal\nBellarmin. It was this that troubled the great Catholic and\nProtestant governments of Europe, until experience discovered to\nthem the simple solution of the difficulty which we are so\nearnestly endeavoring to commend to the acceptance of the\nAmerican people. Have we not at least a right to expect that our\nmotives will not be misrepresented; and that we shall be believed\nwhen we say that we are not hostile to the public schools, but,\non the contrary, most earnestly anxious to secure for them the\nwidest usefulness and the greatest efficiency. We know that that\ncannot be if religion be excluded; and that it must be excluded\nwhere so many conflicting creeds confront each other.\n\nAs to the third: If it were true that the Catholic people\ncontributed almost nothing to the school fund, as is no doubt\nsincerely believed by some who are not disposed to do us\ninjustice, a very serious question would, nevertheless, be\nsuggested by such a statement as this, which we copy from the\narticle in _The Chicago Advance_ already referred to:\n{131}\n\"Our American population is principally Protestant, partly\nRomish, slightly Jewish, _and increasingly rationalistic or\ninfidel_.\" Now, it is unquestionably true that the infidels in\nthis country can count but very few amongst their number who ever\nknelt at a Catholic altar. Still, it is the theory of our\nopponents that ignorance is, in itself, the source of all evil,\nand the parent of impiety. It would certainly, therefore, be a\nterrible calamity for the country if the children of six millions\nof Catholics were deprived of education because their fathers\npaid no taxes! To educate them would be unanimously regarded as a\npublic necessity; just as our police authorities remove contagion\nat the public expense. If this view of public economy be true,\n(and we need not dispute it in this argument,) then it follows\nthat the question of educating the Catholics is altogether\nindependent of what they do or do not contribute to the treasury.\nEducated they must be; but suppose that they steadily refuse to\nreceive the knowledge offered, except upon the condition that\ntheir consciences shall not be violated, and their parental\nresponsibilities disregarded, by subjecting their children to a\ntraining inconsistent with the spirit of their religion; how\nthen? Will you consign the six millions to what you call the\nmoral death of ignorance, and suffer their carcasses to putrefy\nupon the highway of your republican progress, poisoning the\nfountains of your national life? Or will you prefer, in the\nspirit of your institutions, to respect their conscientious\nopinions, and to enable them, in the manner we have already\nindicated, to co\u00f6perate with you in the full development of your\ngreat and noble policy of universal popular education?\n\nBut, is it true that the Catholic people have no substantial\nclaim as tax-payers? Such might have been the case twenty-five\nyears ago; but every well-informed man knows that it is not so\nnow. Wealth, amongst the Catholic population, may perhaps be less\nperceptible, because it is more diffused than it is amongst some\nother bodies of our citizens; but no man who is familiar with the\ncities of New York, Brooklyn, Baltimore, St. Louis, Chicago,\nMilwaukee, and all others, from the sources of the Mississippi to\nthe Gulf, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific, or with the\nCatholic farm-settlements of the Western States, can shut his\neyes to the fact that our Catholic people are thrifty and\nwell-to-do in the world; and that very many of them possess large\nwealth. A member of the British Parliament, in a recent work upon\nthe Irish in America, has demonstrated this by undeniable\nstatistics. The same is true of Catholics here of all other\nnationalities. We have not the time nor space, neither is it\nnecessary, to go into the details of this question. We suppose\nour readers to be intelligent and well-informed, and that they\ncan readily recall to their minds the facts which substantiate\nthe truth of our assertion.\n\nAre there those, sharp at a bargain, who will say, \"Well! the\nCatholics have the resources to educate themselves, and are doing\nso now; let them continue the good work without calling upon the\nstate for any portion of the public funds, to which they\ncontribute by their taxes\"? The dishonesty of such a proposition\nis shown in the simple statement of it. It is true, as we have\nsaid over and over again, that the Catholic people, after paying\ntheir taxes to the state, have, with a generous self-sacrifice\namounting to heroism, established all over this country more\nuniversities, colleges, academies, free schools, and orphan\nasylums than have ever been founded by all the rest of the nation\nthrough private contributions.\n{132}\nA people capable of such great deeds in the cause of civilization\nand religion are not to be despised, _can never be\nrepressed_, and certainly should not be denied justice, when\nthey ask no more!\n\nWe hope that we have satisfactorily answered the objections of\nthose honest adversaries, with whom we will always be happy to\ninterchange opinions in a spirit of candor and sincere respect.\n\nIn order that our readers may obtain some idea of what the\nCatholic people, unaided by the state, have done and are doing\nfor popular education in this country, we shall now present a\nbrief summary or synopsis from Sadlier's _Catholic\nDirectory_ for 1868-9.\n\nIn the archdiocese of Baltimore, there are ten literary\ninstitutions for young men, twelve female academies, and nine\norphan asylums. We shall include the latter, in all instances,\nbecause they invariably have schools attached for the instruction\nof the orphans. There are in the same archdiocese about fifty\nparish and free schools, the average attendance at which, male\nand female, exceeds ten thousand.\n\nIn the archdiocese of Cincinnati, comprising a part of the State\nof Ohio, there are three colleges, nine literary institutes for\nfemales, two orphan asylums, and seventy-six parochial schools,\nat which the average attendance is about twenty thousand.\n\nIn the archdiocese of New Orleans, there are twenty academies and\nparochial schools for females, and ten academies and free schools\nfor males; attended by seven thousand five hundred scholars; and\none thousand four hundred orphans in the asylums.\n\nThe archdiocese of New York comprises the city and county of New\nYork, and the counties of Westchester, Putnam, Dutchess, Ulster,\nSullivan, Orange, Rockland, and Richmond. We have lately examined\na carefully prepared list of schools, more complete than that\ngiven in the directory, by which it appears that there are\nforty-nine, with a daily attendance of upward of twenty-three\nthousand children. Of these schools, twenty-six are in the city\nand county of New York, and have a daily attendance of over\nnineteen thousand pupils. We shall have occasion to speak more\nparticularly of New York City at the close of this article.\n\nIn the archdiocese of San Francisco, there are three colleges,\nthree academies, thirty-two select and parochial schools, and two\norphan asylums, providing for nearly seven thousand children, of\nwhom about four hundred are orphans in the asylums, and upward of\nthree thousand are free scholars.\n\nIn the archdiocese of St. Louis, there are three literary\ninstitutions for males, nine for females, and twenty parochial or\nfree schools, with seven thousand five hundred pupils in daily\nattendance, besides nine hundred orphans in four asylums.\n\nIn the diocese of Albany, comprising that part of the State of\nNew York north of the forty-second degree and east of the eastern\nline of Cayuga, Tompkins, and Tioga counties, there are six\nacademies for males, and six for females, seven orphan asylums,\nten select schools, and fifty-eight parochial schools, with an\naverage attendance of between ten and eleven thousand.\n\n{133}\n\nThe diocese of Alton, comprising a portion of the state of\nIllinois, has two colleges for males and six academies for\nfemales, one orphan asylum, and fifty-six parochial schools, with\nan attendance of about seven thousand five hundred scholars.\n\nThe diocese of Boston comprises the State of Massachusetts, and\nhas two colleges, three female academies, thirteen parochial or\nfree schools, five thousand eight hundred scholars, and five\nhundred and fifty orphans in the asylums.\n\nThe diocese of Brooklyn comprises Long Island, and has one\ncollege in course of erection, eight female academies, nineteen\nparish schools, attended by over ten thousand scholars, and three\nasylums, and one industrial school, containing seven hundred\norphans.\n\nThe diocese of Buffalo comprises twelve counties of the State of\nNew York, and has five literary institutions for males, sixteen\nfor females, three orphan asylums, and twenty-four parochial\nschools, the attendance on which is specifically set down at\nsomething over eight thousand; but it is stated (page 137) that\nbetween eighteen and twenty thousand children attend the Catholic\nschools of that diocese.\n\nThe diocese of Chicago comprises a portion of the State of\nIllinois, and has eight academies for females, seven colleges and\nacademies for males, two orphan asylums, and forty-four parochial\nschools, attended by over twelve thousand children.\n\nThe diocese of Cleveland, comprising a part of Ohio, contains one\nacademy for males and six for females, four asylums sheltering\nfour hundred orphans, and twenty free schools educating six\nthousand scholars.\n\nThe diocese of Columbus, comprising a part of Ohio, has one\nfemale academy, twenty-three parochial schools, with over three\nthousand pupils; the exact number is not given.\n\nThe diocese of Dubuque comprises the State of Iowa, and\ncontains twelve academies and select schools, and parochial\nschools at nearly all the churches of the diocese, educating ten\nthousand children.\n\nThe diocese of Fort Wayne comprises a part of Indiana, and has\none college, one orphan asylum, eleven literary institutions, and\nthirty-eight parish schools.\n\nThe diocese of Hartford comprises Rhode Island and Connecticut,\nand contains three literary institutions for males and six for\nfemales, twenty-one male and twenty-three female free schools,\nthe former attended by forty-two hundred, and the latter by\nfifty-one hundred scholars, besides four hundred orphans in four\nasylums.\n\nThe diocese of Milwaukee has two male and four female academies,\nand thirty-five free schools, attended by between six and seven\nthousand children, and four orphan asylums, containing over two\nhundred orphans.\n\nThe diocese of Philadelphia contains eight academies and\nparochial schools, under the charge of the Christian Brothers,\nwith twenty-five hundred scholars; forty-two other parochial\nschools, attended by ten thousand pupils; twenty-four academies\nand select schools for females; three colleges for males; and\nfive asylums, now containing seven hundred and seventy-three male\nand female orphans.\n\nThe above statement embraces but nineteen of the fifty-two\ndioceses and archdioceses in the United States, as it would\nextend this article to an unreasonable length were we to\nundertake to give the statistics of each; which, in regard to\nmany of them, are not sufficiently full in the _Directory_\nto enable us to present satisfactory results.\n{134}\nAlthough in many of them the Catholic population is small and\nsparse, our readers would nevertheless be surprised, no doubt, to\nsee how each one has struggled to supply itself with schools and\ncharitable institutions; and how amazingly they have succeeded,\nwhen we consider the comparative scantiness of their resources.\nWe have, however, given enough to afford some idea to our\nProtestant brethren of the vast interest which their Catholic\nfellow-citizens have in this question of the public-school fund,\nand of the great claim to the sympathy and good-will of the\ncountry which they have established by their unparalleled efforts\nin the cause of popular education.\n\nAs we have shown above, the Catholics of the archdiocese of New\nYork are educating twenty-three thousand of their children,\nnineteen thousand within the city limits. The value of their\nschool property is placed at eleven hundred and fifty thousand\ndollars. For the education of these twenty-three thousand, it is\nestimated that their annual expense does not exceed one hundred\nand thirty thousand dollars. The actual cost of the Catholic free\nschools in New York City is put down at $104,430 for nineteen\nthousand four hundred and twenty-eight scholars; which is about\nfive dollars and a half for each. We have before us the _Report\nof the Board of Education for 1867_, from which it appears\nthat \"the cost per head for educating the children in the public\nschools under the control of the Board of Education for the year\nending 1867, based upon the cost for teachers' salaries, fuel and\ngas, was $19.75 on the average attendance, or $8.50 on the whole\nnumber taught.\" Adding the cost of books and stationery, each\npupil cost $21.76 on the average attendance, or $9.40 on the\nwhole number taught. The basis of the above calculation is:\n_Teachers' salaries_, $1,497,180.88; _fuel_, (estimated\nin a gross amount of expenses,) $163,315.12, and _gas_,\n$13,998.96, making a total of $1,674,496.96. But in fact the\n_actual expenditures_ for 1867 were $2,973,877.41; which\ncover items that enter equally into the estimate we have given of\nthe Catholic expenditures for school purposes. In that year New\nYork City paid to the state as its proportion of school tax\n$455,088.27; out of which it received back by apportionment\n$242,280.04, a little more than one half, the rest being its\ncontribution to the counties; at the same time the city raised\nfor its own schools nearly $2,500,000; being the ten-dollar tax\nfor each scholar taught, and the one twentieth of one per cent of\nthe valuation of the real and personal property of the city. From\nthis our readers will gather some idea of what popular education\ncan cost, even with the best management.\n\nIt is well known that the Catholic people, through their church\norganizations, and by the unpaid assistance of their religious\norders, such as the Christian Brothers, possess peculiar\nadvantages, which enable them to conduct the largest and\nbest-arranged schools at the smallest possible cost. Why will not\nthe state permit us to do it? Or, rather, why will not the state\ndo us the justice to reimburse the actual expenses which we make\nin doing it? For it is a thing which we have already accomplished\nto a great extent. Suppose that the city of New York was now\neducating the nineteen thousand children who attend our schools;\nat $19.75 each, it would cost $375,250; or at $8.50 each it would\ncost $161,500, this last sum being sixty thousand dollars more\nthan we pay for the same!\n{135}\nWe have shown, however, that this calculation cannot be made to\nrest upon the basis given by the board, when you come to\ninstitute a comparison between the expenditures for the public\nschools and for ours. We are willing, nevertheless, to rest our\nclaim even upon such a contrast as those figures show; and we ask\nthe tax-payers of New York whether they are willing to follow the\nlead of our adversaries and add a few hundred thousand dollars\nextra to the annual taxes, for the satisfaction of doing us\ninjustice?\n\nIt is universally conceded that the school-rooms of New York are\ndangerously over-crowded; and the Board of Education finds it\nalmost impossible to meet the growing necessities of the city.\nThere are still thousands of Catholics and Protestants unprovided\nfor. Give us the means, and we will speedily see that there is no\nCatholic child in New York left without the opportunity of\neducation. We will do this upon the strictest terms of\naccountability to the state. We will conduct our schools up to\nthe highest standard that our legislators may think proper to\nadopt for the regulation of the public school system. We shall\nnever shrink from the most rigid official scrutiny and\ninspection. We shall only ask that, whilst we literally follow\nthe requirements of the state as to the course of secular\neducation, we shall not be required to place in the hands of our\nchildren books that are hostile to their faith, or to omit giving\nto their young souls that spiritual food which we deem to be\nessential for eternal life.\n\nIn all sincerity and truth we must say, that we have not yet\nheard an argument which could shake our faith in the justice of\nour cause; and that it will ultimately prevail, by the blessing\nof Providence, we cannot possibly doubt; for, we have an abiding\nconfidence in the integrity and generosity of the American\npeople.\n\n----------\n\n\n  The Omnibus Two Hundred Years Ago.\n\n\"I allays thought till to-day,\" remarked elegant John Thomas to\nJeames, as they were clinging to the back of their mistress's\ncarriage during a shopping drive in Bond street, London, \"that\nthem 'air nuisances the 'busses was inwented in this 'ear\nnineteen centry.\"\n\n\"I allays thinked so,\" responded Jeames sententiously.\n\n\"Not a bit,\" resumed John Thomas, \"them air celebrated people the\nRomans, the same as talked Lat'n, you know, 'ad plenty of 'em.\n\n\"'Ow d'you know that?\" inquired Jaemes.\n\n\"I seed it this blessed morning in one o' master's Lat'n books. I\nwas a tryin' what I could make out of Lat'n, and I seed that word\n'_omnibus_' ever so many times; and that's the correc' name\nfor 'bus--' _bus_ is the wulgar happerlation.\"\n\n\"I know that,\" growled Jeames.\n\n\"'Ow true it is, as King David singed to 'is 'arp, there's\nnothing new under the sun!\" exclaimed John Thomas\nenthusiastically.\n\nThe carriage stopped at this moment and the interesting\nconversation was interrupted.\n\n{136}\n\nBut although people who understand more Latin than John Thomas\nhave not yet discovered that the Romans were acquainted with that\ncheap and convenient mode of conveyance, they may have believed,\nlike him, that omnibuses were a modern invention, and may be\nsurprised to learn that, more than two hundred years ago, in the\nreign of Louis the Fourteenth, Paris possessed for a time a\nregular line of these now indispensable vehicles.\n\nNicolas Sauvage, at the sign of St. Fiacre, in the Rue St.\nMartin, had been accustomed for many years to let out carriages\nby the hour or day; but his prices were too high for any but the\nrich; and so in the year 1657, a certain De Givry obtained\npermission to \"establish in the crossways and public places of\nthe city and suburbs of Paris such a number of two-horse coaches\nand caleches as he should consider necessary; to be exposed there\nfrom seven in the morning until seven in the evening, at the hire\nof all who needed them, whether by the hour, the half-hour, day,\nor otherwise, at the pleasure of those who wished to make use of\nthem to be carried from one place to another, wherever their\naffairs called them, either in the city and suburbs of Paris, or\nas far as four or five leagues in the environs,\" etc., etc.\n\nThis was a decided step in advance; but the prices of these\nhackney coaches were still too high for the public generally, and\nthey consequently did not meet with the success anticipated. At\nlength, in 1662, appeared the really cheap and popular\nconveyance--the omnibus--under the patronage of the Duke of\nRoan\u00e8s the Marquis of Sourches, and the Marquis of Crenan. These\nnoblemen solicited and obtained letters patent for a great\nspeculation--carriages to contain eight persons, at five sous the\nseat, and running at fixed hours on specified routes.\n\n\"On the 18th of March, 1662,\" says Sauval, in his _Antiquities\nof Paris_, \"seven coaches were driven for the first time\nthrough the streets that lead from the Porte St. Martin to the\npalace of the Luxembourg; they _were assailed with stones and\nhisses by the populace_.\"\n\nThis last assertion is much to be doubted; more especially as\nMadame Perier, the sister of the great Pascal, has described in\nan interesting letter to Arnauld de Pomponne, the general joy and\nsatisfaction that the appearance of these cheap conveyances gave\nrise to in the people; a state of feeling which seems far more\nprobable than that which _stones and hisses_ would manifest.\n\nMadame Perier writes as follows:\n\n  \"PARIS, March 21, 1662.\n  \"As every one has been appointed to some special office in this\n  affair of the coaches, I have solicited with eagerness and have\n  been so fortunate as to obtain that of announcing its success;\n  therefore, sir, each time that you see my writing, be assured\n  of receiving good news.\n\n  \"The establishment commenced last Saturday morning, at seven\n  o'clock, with wonderful pomp and splendor. The seven carriages\n  provided for this route were first distributed. Three were sent\n  to the Porte St. Martin, and four were placed before the\n  Luxembourg, where at the same time were stationed two\n  commissaries of the Chatelet in their robes, four guards of the\n  high provost, ten or twelve of the city archers, and as many\n  men on horseback. When everything was ready, the commissaries\n  proclaimed the establishment, explained its usefulness,\n  exhorted the citizens to uphold it, and declared to the lower\n  classes that the slightest insult would be punished with the\n  utmost severity; and all this was delivered in the king's name.\n{137}\n  Afterward they gave the coachmen their coats, which are\n  blue--the king's color as well as the city's color--with the\n  arms of the king and of the city embroidered on the bosom; and\n  then they gave the order to start.\n\n  \"One of the coaches immediately went off, carrying inside one\n  of the high provost's guards. Half a quarter of an hour after,\n  another coach set off, and then the two others at the same\n  intervals of time, each carrying a guard who was to remain\n  therein all day. At the same time the city archers and the men\n  on horseback dispersed themselves on the route.\n\n  \"At the Porte Saint Martin the same ceremonies were observed,\n  at the same hour, with the three coaches that had been sent\n  there, and there were the same arrangements respecting the\n  guards, the archers and the men on horseback. In short, the\n  affair was so well conducted that not the slightest confusion\n  took place, and those coaches were started as peaceably as the\n  others.\n\n  \"The thing indeed has succeeded perfectly; the very first\n  morning the coaches were filled, and several women even were\n  among the passengers; but in the afternoon the crowd was so\n  great that one could not get near them; and every day since it\n  has been the same, so that we find by experience that the\n  greatest inconvenience is the one you apprehended; people wait\n  in the street for the arrival of one of these coaches, in order\n  to get in. When it comes, it is full; this is vexatious; but\n  there is a consolation; for it is known that another will\n  arrive in half a quarter of an hour; this other arrives, and it\n  also is full; and after this has been repeated several times,\n  the aspirant is at length obliged to continue his way on foot.\n  That you may not think that I exaggerate I will tell you what\n  happened to myself. I was waiting at the door of St. Mary's\n  Church, in the Rue de la Verrerie, feeling a great desire to\n  return home in a coach; for it is pretty far from my brother's\n  house. But I had the vexation of seeing five coaches pass\n  without being able to get a seat; all were full: and during the\n  whole time that I was waiting, I heard blessings bestowed on\n  the originators of an establishment so advantageous to the\n  public. As every one spoke his thoughts, some said the affair\n  was very well invented, but that it was a great fault to have\n  put only seven coaches on the route; that they were not\n  sufficient for half the people who had need of them, and that\n  there ought to have been at least twenty. I listened to all\n  this, and I was in such a bad temper from having missed five\n  coaches that at the moment I was quite of their opinion. In\n  short, the applause is universal, and it may be said that\n  nothing was ever better begun.\n\n  \"The first and second days, there was a crowd on the Pont-Neuf\n  and in all the streets to watch the coaches pass; and it was\n  very amusing to see the workmen cease their labor to look at\n  them, so that no more work was done all Saturday throughout the\n  whole route than if it had been a holiday. Smiling faces were\n  seen everywhere, not smiles of ridicule, but of content and\n  joy; and this convenience is found so great that every one\n  desires it for his own quarter.\n\n  \"The shopkeepers of the Rue St. Denis demanded a route with so\n  much importunity that they even spoke of presenting a petition.\n  Preparations were being made to give them one next week; but\n  yesterday morning M. de Roan\u00e8s, M. de Crenan, and M. the High\n  Provost (M. de Sourches) being all three at the Louvre, the\n  king talked very pleasantly about the novelty, and addressing\n  those gentlemen, said,' And _our_ route, will you not soon\n  establish it?'\n{138}\n  These words oblige them to think of the Rue St. Honor\u00e9, and to\n  defer for some days the Rue St. Denis. Besides this, the king,\n  speaking on the same subject, said that he desired that all\n  those who were guilty of the slightest insolence should be\n  severely punished, and that he would not permit this\n  establishment to be molested.\n\n  \"This is the present position of the undertaking. I am sure you\n  will not be less surprised than we are at its great success; it\n  has far surpassed all our hopes. I shall not fail to send you\n  exact word of every pleasant thing that happens, according to\n  the office conferred on me, and to supply the place of my\n  brother, who would be happy to undertake the duty if he could\n  write.\n\n  \"I wish with all my heart that I may have matter to write to\n  you every week, both for your satisfaction and for other\n  reasons that you can well guess. I am your obedient servant,\n                                             G. PASCAL.\"\n\nPostscript in the handwriting of Pascal, and very probably the\nlast lines he ever traced: he died in August of the same year:\n\n  \"I will add to the above, that the day before yesterday, at the\n  king's _petit coucher_, a dangerous assault was made\n  against us by two courtiers distinguished by their rank and\n  wit, which would have ruined us by turning us into ridicule,\n  and would have given rise to all sorts of attacks, had not the\n  king answered so obligingly and so dryly with respect to the\n  excellence of the undertaking, so that they speedily put up\n  their weapons. I have no more paper. Adieu--entirely yours.\"\n\nSauval affirms that Pascal was the inventor of this cheap coach,\nand Madame de S\u00e9vign\u00e9 seems to allude to the enterprise in a\npassage of one of her letters which commences \"_apropos_ of\nPascal.\" It is certain that he and his sister were pecuniarily\ninterested in the speculation, and it is more than probable that\nit was he who induced his rich friend the Duke of Roan\u00e8s, to take\nso prominent a part in the undertaking. But we must not consider\nPascal in the light of a vulgar speculator--earthly interests\naffected him but little personally--deeds of charity, the many\nills and pains of premature old age, and the sad task of watching\nover a life always on the brink of extinction, almost wholly\nengrossed his thoughts during his last years. He saw in this\naffair an advantage to the public in general, and if any\npecuniary profits resulted, his share was intended for the\nbenefit of the poor, as is very evident by the following extract\nfrom the little work Madame Perier dedicated to the memory of her\nbrother.\n\n  \"As soon as the affair of the coaches was settled, he told me\n  he wished to ask the farmers for an advance of a thousand\n  francs to send to the poor at Blois. When I told him that the\n  success of the enterprise was not sufficiently assured for him\n  to make this request, he replied that he saw no inconvenience\n  in it, because, if the affair did not prosper, he would repay\n  the money from his estate, and he did not like to wait until\n  the end of the year, because the necessities of the poor were\n  too urgent to defer charity. As no arrangement could be made\n  with the farmers, he could not gratify his desire. On this\n  occasion we perceived the truth of what he had so often told\n  me, that he wished for riches only that he might be able to\n  help the poor; for the moment God gave him the hope of\n  possessing wealth, even before he was assured of it, he began\n  to distribute it.\"\n\n{139}\n\nIn the ninth volume of the _Ordonnances de Louis XIV._, we\nfind, concerning the establishment of coaches in the city of\nParis, that these cheap conveyances are permitted \"for the\nconvenience of a great number of persons ill-accommodated, such\nas pleaders, infirm people, and others, who, not having the means\nof hiring chairs or carriages because they cost a pistole or two\ncrowns at least the day, can thus be carried for a moderate price\nby means of this establishment of coaches, which are always to\nmake the same journeys in Paris from one quarter to another, the\nlongest at five sous the seat, and the others less; the suburbs\nin proportion; and which are always to start at fixed hours,\nhowever small the number of persons then assembled, and even\nempty, if no person should present himself, without obliging\nthose who make use of this convenience to pay more for their\nplaces,\" etc.\n\nThese regulations are similar to those of our modern omnibus; but\nthe quality of the passengers was more arbitrary; for in the\ntenth volume of this same _Register_, we find it enacted\nthat \"Soldiers, Pages, Lacqueys and other gentry in Livery, also\nMechanics and Workmen shall not be able to enter the said\ncoaches,\" etc., etc.\n\nThe first route was opened on the 18th of March; the second on\nthe 11th of April, running from the Rue Saint Antoine to the Rue\nSaint Honor\u00e9, as high as St. Roch's church. On this second\nopening, a placard announced to the citizens that the directors\n\"had received advice of some inconveniences that might annoy\npersons desirous of making use of their conveyances, such, for\ninstance, when the coachman refuses to stop to take them up on\nthe route, even though there are empty places, and other similar\noccurrences; this is to give notice that all the coaches have\nbeen numbered, and that the number is placed at the top of the\nmoutons, on each side of the coachman's box, together with the\nfleur de lis--one, two, three, etc., according to the number of\ncoaches on each route. And so those who have any reason to\ncomplain of the coachman, are prayed to remember the number of\nthe coach, and to give advice of it to the clerk of one of the\noffices, so that order may be established.\"\n\nThe third route, which ran from the Rue Montmartre and the Rue\nNeuve Saint Eustache to the Luxembourg Palace, was opened on the\n22d of May of the same year. The placard which conveys the\nannouncement to the public, gives notice also, \"that to prevent\nthe delay of money-changing, which always consumes much time, no\ngold will be received.\"\n\nEvery arrangement having thus been made to render these cheap\ncoaches useful and agreeable, they very soon became the fashion;\na three act comedy in verse, entitled, \"The intrigue of the\ncoaches at five sous,\" written by an actor named Chevalier, was\neven represented in 1662 at the Theatre of the Marais. An extract\nfrom this play is given in the history of the French Theatre, by\nthe Brothers Parfaict.\n\nBut the ingenious and useful innovation on the old hackney-coach\nsystem, though so well conducted and so well administered, so\nhighly protected, and so warmly welcomed, was not destined to\nlive long. After a very few years, the undertaking failed, and\nthe omnibus was forgotten for nearly two centuries! Sauval tells\nus that Pascal's death was the cause of this misfortune; but the\ncoaches continued to prosper for three or four years after that\nevent.\n\n{140}\n\n\"Every one,\" says Sauval, in a curious page of his\n_Antiquities_, \"during two years found these coaches so\nconvenient that auditors and masters of _comptes_,\ncounsellors of the Chatelet and of the court, made no scruple to\nuse them to go to the Chatelet or to the palace, and this caused\nthe price to be raised one sou; even the Duke of Enghien\n[Footnote 48] has travelled in them. But what do I say? The king,\nwhen passing the summer at Saint-Germain, whither he had\nconsented that these coaches should come, went in one of them,\nfor his amusement, from the old castle, where he was staying, to\nthe new one to visit the queen-mother. Notwithstanding this great\nfashion, these coaches were so despised three or four years after\ntheir establishment that no one would make use of them, and their\nill success was attributed to the death of Pascal, the celebrated\nmathematician; it is said that he was the inventor of them, as\nwell as the leader of the enterprise; it is moreover assured that\nhe had made their horoscope and given them to the publicunder a\ncertain constellation whose bad influences he knew how to turn\naside.\"\n\n    [Footnote 48: Henri-Jules de Bourbon-Cond\u00e9, son of the great\n    Cond\u00e9.]\n\nWe can give no description of this ancient omnibus; no drawing or\nengraving of it is believed to exist; but it is probable that it\nresembled the coaches represented in the paintings of Van der\nMeulan and Martin.\n\nIt is impossible to attribute to any other cause than that of the\narbitrary choice of passengers, the failure of an undertaking\nwhich appeared to possess every element of success. The people\nwho _needed_ the cheap coach were debarred from the use of\nit; the tired artisan returning from his hard day's work; the\njaded soldier hurrying to his barrack before the beat of the\ntattoo that recalled him had ceased; the pale seamstress with her\nbundle; each was refused the five sous lift, and had to foot the\nweary way; while the aristocracy and rich middle class enjoyed\nthe ride, not as a social want, but as a fashionable diversion,\nand tired of it after a time, as fashionable people even now tire\nof everything fashionable. It was reserved for the marvellous\nnineteenth century, so fruitful in good works, to endow us with\nthe true omnibus, that is, a carriage for the use of every one\nindiscriminately, in which the gentleman and the laborer, the\nrich man and the poor man can ride side by side. This really\n_popular_ conveyance has now become in all highly civilized\ncommunities so veritable a _necessity_ and habit that it can\nnever again fall and be forgotten like its faulty forerunner, or\nthe omnibus of two hundred years ago.\n\n----------\n\n      New Publications.\n\n\n  TRAVELS IN THE EAST-INDIAN ARCHIPELAGO.\n  By Albert S. Brickmose, M.A.\n  With Illustrations. 1 vol. 8vo, pp. 553.\n  New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1869.\n\nThis elegantly got up volume of travel the author tells us, in\nhis preface, is taken from his journal, \"kept day by day,\" while\non a visit to the islands described, the object of which visit\nwas to re-collect the shells figured in Rumphen's _Pariteit\nKamer_. The author travelled from Batavia, in Java, along the\nnorth coast of that island to Samarang and Surabaya; thence to\nMacassar, the capital of Celebes; thence south through Sapi\nStrait, between Sumbawa and Floris, and eastward to the southern\nend of Timur, (near the northwestern extremity of Australia;)\nthence along the west coast of Timur to Dilli, and north to the\nBanda Islands and Amboina.\n{141}\nHaving passed several months in the Moluccas, or Spice Islands,\nhe revisited the Bandas, and ascended their active volcano.\nReturning to Amboina, he travelled in Ceram and Buru, and\ncontinued northward to Gilolo. Thence he crossed the Molucca\nPassage to the Minahassa, or northern end of the Island of\nCelebes, probably the most beautiful spot on the surface of our\nglobe.\n\nReturning to Batavia, he proceeded to Padang, and thence made a\nlong journey through the interior of the island to the land of\nthe cannibals. Having succeeded in making his way for a hundred\nmiles through that dangerous people, he came down to the coast\nand returned to Padang. Again he went up into the interior, and\nexamined all the coffee-lands. From Padang he came down to\nBencoolen, and succeeded in making his way over the mountains and\ndown the rivers to the Island of Banca, and was thence carried to\nSingapore. This work opens a new field, hitherto but little\nknown, to the reader of books of travel and adventure. His\ndescriptions, if not always very vivid, are told in a clear,\nunaffected manner, without that egotism so often found in books\nof travel.\n\n----------\n\n  The Instruments Of The Passion Of Our Lord Jesus Christ.\n  By the Rev. Dr. J. E. Veith,\n  Preacher at the Cathedral of Vienna.\n  Translated by Rev. Theodore Noethen,\n  Pastor of the Church of the Holy Cross. Albany, N. Y.\n  Boston: Patrick Donahoe.\n\nDr. Veith, a convert from Judaism, is one of the most\ndistinguished writers and preachers of Vienna. The present work\nis rich in thought and original in style. It is one of a series\nwhich the translator proposes to bring out in an English dress,\nif he receives encouragement, as we hope he may. F. Noethen,\nalthough a German, writes English remarkably well, and deserves\ngreat credit for his zeal and assiduity in translating so many\nexcellent and practical works of piety. In point of excellence in\ntypography and mechanical execution, this book deserves to be\nclassed with the best which have been issued by the Catholic\npress.\n\n----------\n\n  The Life And Works Of St. AEngussius Hagiographus,\n  or Saint AEngus the Culdee, Bishop and Abbot at\n  Clonenagh and Dysartenos, Queens County.\n  By the Rev. John O'Hanlon.\n  Dublin: John F. Fowler,\n  3 Crow street. 1868.\n  For sale by the Catholic Publication Society, New York.\n\nThis tract is a treatise on the life and writings of an humble\nand laborious monk of the early ages in Ireland, who published,\nif we may use the expression, his _Felire,_ Fessology, or\nCalendar of Irish saints, as long ago as 804. From the\nbiographical and historical value of this poetical work, St.\nAEngus ranks among the very earliest of the historical writers of\nmodern Europe. In this view, no less than to draw attention to\none whose holy life induced the Irish church to ascribe his name\non the dyptics, it is well that the present generation should be\nasked to pause and look upon this life, so humble, laborious, and\nholy, and which so strongly commended him to the veneration of\nsucceeding ages. The Rev. Mr. O'Hanlon treats his subject\nsystematically, displaying great research and sound criticism,\nand it is to be hoped that his treatise will induce some of the\npublishing societies in Ireland to issue an edition of the works\nof this venerated father of the Irish church.\n\nThe _Felire_ of St. AEngus consists of three distinct parts:\nthe first, the Invocation, containing five stanzas, implores the\ngrace of Christ on the work; the second, comprising 220 stanzas,\nis a preface and conclusion to the main poem; the third part\ncontains 365 stanzas, one for each day of the year. They comprise\nnot only the saints peculiar to Ireland, but others drawn from\nearly martyrologies. This poem was regarded in the early Irish\nchurch with great veneration, and the copies that have descended\nto us have a running gloss or commentary on each verse, making it\na short biography of the saint briefly mentioned in the poem.\n{142}\nIn this form its value has long been known to scholars, whose\nfrequent use of it shows the light it frequently helps to throw\non Irish history and topography. We trust that the work of the\nRev. Mr. O'Hanlon will not be fruitless.\n\n----------\n\n  Essays And Lectures on,\n  1. The Early History of Maryland;\n  2. Mexico and Mexican Affairs;\n  3. A Mexican Campaign;\n  4. Homoeopathy;\n  5. Elements of Hygiene;\n  6. Health and Happiness.\n  By Richard McSherry, M.D., Professor of Principles and Practice\n  of Medicine, University of Maryland.\n  Baltimore: Kelly, Piet & Co. 1869. Pp. 125.\n\n\n  The Early History Of Maryland.\n\nThe sketch of colonial Maryland is drawn with a masterly hand,\nshowing, in the first place, the author's thorough knowledge of\nits history; and, secondly, the poetic language in which his\nideas are couched tell plainly how completely his heart is imbued\nwith love for his native Terra Mariae.\n\nDr. McSherry is right when he calls his State \"the brightest gem\nin the American cluster.\" To the Catholics of this broad land it\nis surely so; and the names of Sir George Calvert and his noble\nsons, the founders of this \"Land of the Sanctuary,\" should be\nenshrined with love and reverence in the hearts of all who\nprofess the old faith and appreciate our religious liberty.\n\n\n  Mexico And Mexican Affairs.\n\nThe article on \"Mexico and Mexican Affairs\" was written at the\nsuggestion of the editor of _The Southern Review_, and is a\nsynopsis of the political history of Mexico from the time of the\nconquest to the tragical end of the ill-fated Prince Maximilian.\n\nAs a colonial possession of Spain, Mexico enjoyed a more quiet\nexistence and a more stable government than either before or\nsince that period of its history. \"Churches, schools, and\nhospitals were distributed over the land; good roads were made,\nand, without going into detail, industrial pursuits were\ngenerally in honor, and were rewarded with success.\"\n\nPolitical revolution again agitated the country in the\ncommencement of this century, followed by the establishment of an\nempire under Iturbide; this in turn gave place to a republican\nform of government in 1824.\n\nNo stronger proof of the belief of our order-loving and\nlaw-abiding neighbors in the republican doctrine of rotation in\noffice can be given than the fact that during the forty years of\nthe Republican government \"_the record shows forty-six changes\nin the presidential chair._\" The accounts of revolution and\ncounter-revolution among the dominant spirits of that time beggar\ndescription, and leave us to conclude that a frightful condition\nof strife, desolation, and misery reigned throughout the entire\nperiod. \"The rulers of Mexico kept no faith with their own\npeople; none with foreigners or foreign nations. They gave\nabundant cause for the declaration of war made against them by\nEngland, France, and Spain, and for the provocation of the war by\nFrance, when the other powers withdrew.\" The author describes the\ninducements held out by the assembly of notables to Maximilian,\nafter the French occupation, to accept the throne; and how at\nlast he unfortunately acceded to the request, and sailed for Vera\nCruz in May, 1864. The subsequent career of this nobleman, who\nhad thus linked his fate with that of Mexico is feelingly\ndepicted. It was but a short period of three years from his\n\"splendid reception at Guadalupe, when about entering his\ncapital, to his fall by Mexican treachery, and subsequent murder\non the 19th of June, 1867.\" The author blames ex-Secretary Seward\nfor not preventing this tragical end of the amiable and highly\ncultivated prince, and thinks that as the Indian Juarez had been\nenabled to prosecute his illegal claim to the presidency by the\nsupport and comfort derived from the United States, he would not\nhave dared refuse a claim for this boon, made in a proper spirit,\nby Mr. Seward.\n\nThe names of Maximilian and his devoted, beautiful Carlotta will\nalways bring moisture to the eyes of those who can sympathize\nwith the afflictions and sufferings of their fellow-beings.\n\nMexico has commenced a new chapter of her history. True, the\npreface so far is not encouraging; but let us hope her experience\nin the past may cause a better record for the future.\n\n{143}\n\n       A Mexican Campaign Sketch.\n\nThis is an interesting account of the author's travels, as\nsurgeon, with the army which, in 1847, under General Scott,\nfought its way through the historical battles of Contreras,\nChurubusco, Molino del Rey, to Chapultepec: and the final\nentrance, on the 14th of September, to the Mexican capital. The\ndescription of the appearance of the valley of Mexico, as the\narmy descended the mountain side, is very beautiful. The author\nsays, \"The valley or basin of Mexico lay spread out like a\npanorama of fairy land; opening, closing, and shifting, according\nto the changing positions of the observers. At times nothing\nwould be visible but dark recesses in the mountain, or the grim\nforest that shaded the road; when in a moment a sudden turn would\nunfold, as if by magic, a scene that looked too lovely to be\nreal. It was an enchantment in nature; for, knowing as we did\nthat we beheld _bona fide_ lakes and mountains, plains and\nvillages, chapels and hamlets, all so bright, so clear, and so\nbeautiful, it still seemed an illusion of the senses, a dream, or\na perfection of art--nay, in the mountain circle we could see the\nvery picture-frame.\"\n\nHow long the mixed races of this beautiful country are to\ncontinue their tragical and at times ludicrous efforts at\nself-government is a problem to be solved in the future.\n\n         An Epistle On Homoeopathy.\n\nThe doctor's logical arguments in this article we would recommend\nto the perusal of our friends who prefer the more palatable\nmedicine of that school,\n\n         Lecture On Hygiene.\n         A Lecture On Health And Happiness.\n\nThese lectures contain many sound practical hints for the general\nreader whereby he may avoid many causes of disease, and prolong\nhis life to a natural limit. We give the doctor's testimony on\ntwo interesting points. He says:\n\n  \"Excesses at table are disastrous enough, and in this they are\n  worse than over devotion to Bacchus; namely, that they\n  undermine more slowly and more insidiously; but otherwise,\n  strong drinks are vastly worse. There are persons who think\n  wines and liquors essential to health; but as the rule, they\n  are useless at best; and at worst, destructive to soul, and\n  body, and mind. Strict total abstinence is generally, I might\n  say universally safe; while even temperate indulgence is rarely\n  safe or salutary.\" (P. 119.)\n\n  \"Tobacco deserves the next place. It is most marvellous how\n  this nauseous weed has taken hold upon the affections of man.\n  It surely is of no benefit to health, but I dare not say it\n  conduces nothing to happiness. When I see an old friend take\n  his pipe, or cigar, after the labors of the day, and the\n  evening meal; when his good honest face beams beneath the\n  fragrant smoke which rises like incense, making a wreath around\n  his gray hairs; when his heart expands, and he becomes genially\n  social and confidential, I can hardly ask Hygeia to rob him of\n  his simple pleasure. A good cigar is almost akin to the 'cup\n  that cheers, yet not inebriates.' But honestly, tobacco is\n  pernicious in all its forms; not like whiskey, indeed, but\n  still pernicious.\" (P. 121.)\n\nAs an entirety, the doctor's book presents a charming diversity\nof subjects, each in itself of sufficient interest to chain the\nearnest attention of the reader, and well repay him for its\nperusal.\n\n----------\n\n  John M. Costello; Or, The Beauty Of\n  Virtue Exemplified In An American Youth.\n  Baltimore: John Murphy & Co. 1869.\n\nThis neat little volume contains a well-written memoir of a young\naspirant to the priesthood who died a few years ago at the\npreparatory seminary of St. Charles.\n\nThere is a peculiar charm about the life of a pious Catholic boy\nwhose heart has always yearned after the realization of the\nhighest type of Christian virtue. Such a life presents a picture\nof simple beauty, in which the smallest details present points of\nmore than common interest. One sees here how truly the\nsupernatural life of grace illumines and adorns the commonest\nactions of the Christian, and clothes them with a merit that\npurely human virtue would never gather from them. There is\nnothing in the life of a St. Aloysius or a St. Stanislaus,\nhowever insignificant or commonplace in the eyes of the world,\nthat can be deemed trivial or unworthy of record.\n{144}\nWhatever they do is a saintly act. Their words are the words of a\nsaint. This is the secret of the wonderful influence which the\nhistory of these pure souls has exerted on the minds and hearts\nof the thousands and tens of thousands to whom it has become\nknown. This thought was constantly before us while perusing the\npresent beautiful tribute to the memory of young Costello. It is\nimpossible to read the description of the most ordinary events of\nthe life of this holy child of God without emotion. What in\nothers of his age and general character might justly be unworthy\nof note in him becomes worthy to be written in letters of gold.\nWe would say to all Catholic parents, among the hundreds of\nvolumes standing on the bookseller's shelves inviting purchase by\ntheir gay bindings and prettily illustrated pages, and almost\nforcing themselves into your hands as birthday or holiday\npresents to your darling children, choose this one, and teach\nthem, by the winning example of such virtue as they will here see\npresented to them, to emulate, not the daring exploits of some\nlion-killer or wild adventurer, or, it may be, the imaginary\nsuccess of some fortunate youth in the pursuit of riches, but\nrather the heroism, the piety, the humility, the chastity, the\nself-renunciation of the Christian saint. All who love God and\nhave the spiritual interests of our Catholic youth at heart will\nfeel deeply grateful to the reverend author for having given to\nthe world his knowledge of a life so well calculated to edify and\ninspire its readers with admiration of what is, after all, the\nhighest and best within the sphere of human aim, to lead a holy\nlife, and die, though it be in the flower of youth, the death of\na saint. Let us have more books like this one, that, with God's\nblessing on the lessons they impart, we may have more such lives.\n\n----------\n\nP. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia, is about to publish _The\nMontarges Legacy_, and _The Life of St. Stanislaus._\n\n----------\n\n       Books Received.\n\nFrom John Murphy & Co., Baltimore:\n\n  New editions of the following books:\n\n  Practical Piety set forth by St. Francis de Sales,\n  Bishop and Prince of Geneva.\n  1 vol. 12mo, pp. 360, $1.\n\n  A Spiritual Retreat of Eight Days.\n  By the Right Rev. John M. David, D.D.,\n  1 vol. 12mo. $1.\n\n  Kyriale; or, Ordinary of Mass: a Complete Liturgical Manual,\n  with Gregorian Chants, etc.; in round or square notes, each\n  $1.25.\n\n  The Holy Week: containing the Offices of Holy Week, from the\n  Roman Breviary and Missal, with the chants in modern notation.\n  $1.25.\n\n  Roman Vesperal: containing the complete Vespers for the whole\n  year, with Gregorian Chants in modern notation. $1.50.\n\n\nFrom W. B. Kelly, Dublin:\n\n  The Catholic Church in America. A Lecture delivered before the\n  Historical and AEsthetical Society in the Catholic University\n  of Ireland.\n  By Thaddeus J. Butler, D.D., Chicago.\n  For sale by the Catholic Publication Society,\n  126 Nassau street. 25 cents.\n\n\nFrom KELLY, PIET & Co., Baltimore:\n\n  The Wreath of Eglantine, and other Poems:\n  Edited and in part composed by Daniel Bedinger Lucas.\n  1 vol. 12mo, $1.50.\n\n  Eudoxia; a Picture of the Fifth Century.\n  Translated from the German of Ida, Countess Hahn Hahn.\n  1 vol. 12mo, $1.50.\n\n\nFrom D. & J. Sadlier & Co.:\n\n  St. Dominic's Manual; or, Tertiary's Guide.\n  By two Fathers of the Order.\n  1 vol. 18mo, pp. 533.\n\n\nFrom C. Darveau, Quebec, C. E.:\n\n  St. Patrick's Manual, for the use of Young People, prepared by\n  the Christian Brothers.\n  1 vol. 24mo, pp. 648.\n\n\nFrom Leypoldt & Holt, New York:\n\n  The Fisher Maiden: a Norwegian Tale.\n  By Bjornstjerne Bjornson.\n  From the author's German edition, by M. E. Niles.\n  12mo, pp. 217, $1.25.\n\n  The Gain of a Loss: a Novel.\n  By the author of The Last of the Cavaliers.\n  1 vol. 12mo, pp. 439, $1.75.\n\n\nFrom Clark & Maynard, New York:\n\n  A Manual of General History: being an Outline History of the\n  World from the Creation to the Present Time. Fully illustrated\n  with maps. For the use of academies, high-schools, and\n  families.\n  By John J. Anderson, A.M.\n  Pp. 400.\n\n\nFrom Ivison, Phinney, Blakeman & Co., New York: A\n\n  Dictionary of the English Language, Explanatory, Pronouncing,\n  Etymological, and Synonymous.\n  Counting-House Edition.\n  With an appendix containing various useful tables. Mainly\n  abridged from the latest edition of the Qutarto Dictionary of\n  Noah Webster, LL. D.\n  By William G. Webster and William A. Wheeler.\n  Illustrated with more than three hundred engravings on wood.\n  Pp. 630.\n\n\nFrom Longmans, Green, Reader & Dyer, London:\n\n  The Formation of Christendom. Part II.\n  By T. W. Allies.\n  1 vol. 8vo, pp. 495.\n  The Catholic Publication Society having made arrangements with\n  Mr. Allies to supply his book in America, will soon have this\n  volume for sale. Price, $6.\n\n\nFrom James Duffy, Dublin:\n\n  The Life and Writings of the Rev. Arthur O'Leary.\n  By the Rev. M. B. Buckley.\n  1 vol. 12mo, pp. 410.\n\n\nFrom W. W. Swayne, New York and Brooklyn:\n\n  The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott.\n  Vol. 1, paper, 25 cents.\n\n\nFrom Harper & Brothers:\n\n  The Poetical Works of Charles G. Halpine.\n  With a Biographical Sketch and Explanatory Notes.\n  Edited by Robert B. Roosevelt.\n  1 vol. pp. 352.\n\n-------\n{145}\n\n          The Catholic World.\n\n     Vol. IX., No. 50.--May, 1869.\n\n----------\n\n   The Woman Question.\n     [Footnote 49]\n\n    [Footnote 49:\n    1. _The Revolution_: New York. Weekly. Vol. III.\n    2. _Equal Rights for Women_. A Speech by George William\n    Curtis, in the Constitutional Convention at Albany, July 19,\n    1868.\n    3. _Ought Women to learn the Alphabet?_ By Thomas\n    Wentworth Higginson.]\n\nThe Woman Question, though not yet an all-engrossing question in\nour own or in any other country, is exciting so much attention,\nand is so vigorously agitated, that no periodical can very well\nrefuse to consider it. As yet, though entering into politics, it\nhas not become a party question, and we think we may discuss it\nwithout overstepping the line we have marked out for\nourselves--that of studiously avoiding all party politics; not\nbecause we have not the courage to discuss them, but because we\nhave aims and purposes which appeal to all parties alike, and\nwhich can best be effected by letting party politics alone.\n\nIn what follows we shall take up the question seriously, and\ntreat it candidly, without indulging in any sneers, jeers, or\nridicule. A certain number of women have become, in some way or\nother, very thoroughly convinced that women are deeply wronged,\ndeprived of their just rights by men, and especially in not being\nallowed political suffrage and eligibility. They claim to be in\nall things man's equal, and in many things his superior, and\ncontend that society should make no distinction of sex in any of\nits civil and political arrangements. It will not, indeed, be\neasy for us to forget this distinction so long as we honor our\nmothers, and love our wives and daughters; but we will endeavor\nin this discussion to forget it--so far, at least, as to treat\nthe question on its merits, and make no allowance for any real or\nsupposed difference of intellect between men and women. We shall\nneither roughen nor soften our tones because our opponents are\nwomen, or men who encourage them. The women in question claim for\nwomen all the prerogatives of men; we shall, therefore, take the\nliberty to disregard their privileges as women. They may expect\nfrom us civility, not gallantry.\n\n{146}\n\nWe say frankly in the outset that we are decidedly opposed to\nfemale suffrage and eligibility. The woman's rights women demand\nthem both as a right, and complain that men, in refusing to\nconcede them, withhold a natural right, and violate the equal\nrights on which the American republic professes to be based. We\ndeny that women have a natural right to suffrage and eligibility;\nfor neither is a natural right at all, for either men or women.\nEither is a trust from civil society, not a natural and\nindefeasible right; and civil society confers either on whom it\njudges trustworthy, and on such conditions as it deems it\nexpedient to annex. As the trust has never been conferred by\ncivil society with us on women, they are deprived of no right by\nnot being enfranchised.\n\nWe know that the theory has been broached latterly, and defended\nby several political journals, and even by representatives and\nsenators in Congress, as well as by _The Revolution,_ the\norgan of the woman's rights movement, that suffrage and\neligibility are not trusts conferred by civil society on whom it\nwill, but natural and indefeasible rights, held directly from God\nor nature, and which civil society is bound by its very\nconstitution to recognize, protect, and defend for all men and\nwomen, and which they can be deprived of only by crimes which\nforfeit one's natural life or liberty. It is on this ground that\nmany have defended the extension of the elective franchise and\neligibility to negroes and the colored races in the United\nStates, and hold that Congress, under that clause of the\nConstitution authorizing it to guarantee to the several States a\nrepublican form of government, is bound to enfranchise them. It\nmay or may not be wise and expedient to extend suffrage and\neligibility to negroes and the colored races hitherto, in most of\nthe States, excluded from the sovereign people of the country; on\nthat question we express no opinion, one way or the other; but we\ndeny that the negroes and colored men can claim admission on the\nground either of natural right or of American republicanism; for\nwhite men themselves cannot claim it on that ground.\n\nIndeed, the assumption that either suffrage or eligibility is a\nnatural right is anti-republican. The fundamental principle, the\nvery essence of republicanism is, that power is a trust to be\nexercised for the public good or common weal, and is forfeited\nwhen not so exercised, or when exercised for private and personal\nends. Suffrage and eligibility confer power to govern, which, if\na natural right, would imply that power is the natural and\nindefeasible right of the governors--the essential principle of\nall absolutism, whether autocratic, aristocratic, monarchical, or\ndemocratic. It would imply that the American government is a\npure, centralized, absolute, unmitigated democracy, which may be\nregarded either as tantamount to no government, or as the\nabsolute despotism of the majority for the time, or its right to\ngovern as it pleases in all things whatsoever, spiritual as well\nas secular, regardless of vested rights or constitutional\nlimitations. This certainly is not American republicanism, which\nhas always aimed to restrain the absolute power of majorities,\nand to protect minorities by constitutional provisions. It has\nnever recognized suffrage as a personal right which a man carries\nwith him whithersoever he goes, but has always made it a\nterritorial right, which a man can exercise only in his own\nState, his own county, his own town or city, and his own ward or\nprecinct. If American republicanism recognized suffrage as a\nright, not as simply a trust, why does it place restrictions on\nits exercise, or treat bribery as a crime? If suffrage is my\nnatural right, my vote is my property, and I may do what I please\nwith it; dispose of it in the market for the highest price I can\nget for it, as I may of any other species of property.\n\n{147}\n\nSuffrage and eligibility are not natural, indefeasible rights,\nbut franchises or trusts conferred by civil society; and it is\nfor civil society to determine in its wisdom whom it will or will\nnot enfranchise; on whom it will or will not confer the trust.\nBoth are social or political rights, derived from political\nsociety, and subject to its will, which may extend or abridge\nthem as it judges best for the common good. Ask you who\nconstitute political society? They, be they more or fewer, who,\nby the actual constitution of the state, are the sovereign\npeople. These, and these alone, have the right to determine who\nmay or may not vote or be voted for. In the United States, the\nsovereign people has hitherto been, save in a few localities,\nadult males of the white race, and these have the right to say\nwhether they will or will not extend suffrage to the black and\ncolored races, and to women and children.\n\nWomen, then, have not, for men have not, any natural right to\nadmission into the ranks of the sovereign people. This disposes\nof the question of right, and shows that no injustice or wrong is\ndone to women by their exclusion, and that no violence is done to\nthe equal rights on which the American republic is founded. It\nmay or it may not be wise and expedient to admit women into\npolitical, as they are now admitted into civil, society; but they\ncannot claim admission as a right. They can claim it only on the\nground of expediency, or that it is necessary for the common\ngood. For our part, we have all our life listened to the\narguments and declamations of the woman's rights party on the\nsubject; have read Mary Wollstonecraft, heard Fanny Wright, and\nlooked into _The Revolution_, conducted by some of our old\nfriends and acquaintances, and of whom we think better than many\nof their countrymen do; but we remain decidedly of the opinion\nthat harm instead of good, to both men and women, would result\nfrom the admission. We say not this because we think lightly of\nthe intellectual or moral capacity of women. We ask not if women\nare equal, inferior, or superior to men; for the two sexes are\ndifferent, and between things different in kind there is no\nrelation of equality or of inequality. Of course, we hold that\nthe woman was made for the man, not the man for the woman, and\nthat the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the\nhead of the church, not the wife of the husband; but it suffices\nhere to say that we do not object to the political\nenfranchisement of women on the ground of their feebleness,\neither of intellect or of body, or of any real incompetency to\nvote or to hold office. We are Catholics, and the church has\nalways held in high honor chaste, modest, and worthy women as\nmatrons, widows, or virgins. Her calendar has a full proportion\nof female saints, whose names she proposes to the honor and\nveneration of all the faithful. She bids the wife obey her\nhusband in the Lord; but asserts her moral independence of him,\nleaves her conscience free, and holds her accountable for her own\ndeeds.\n\nWomen have shown great executive or administrative ability. Few\nmen have shown more ability on a throne than Isabella, the\nCatholic, of Spain; or, in the affairs of government, though\notherwise faulty enough, than Elizabeth of England, and Catharine\nII. of Russia. The present queen of the British Isles has had a\nmost successful reign; but she owes it less to her own abilities\nthan to the wise counsels of her husbands Prince Albert, and her\ndomestic virtues as a wife and a mother, by which she has won the\naffections of the English people.\n{148}\nOthers have shown rare administrative capacity in governing\nreligious houses, often no less difficult than to govern a\nkingdom or an empire. Women have a keener insight into the\ncharacters of men than have men themselves, and the success of\nfemale sovereigns has, in great measure, been due to their\nability to discover and call around them the best men in the\nstate, and to put them in the places they are best fitted for.\n\nWhat women would be as legislators remains to be seen; they have\nhad little experience in that line; but it would go hard, but\nthey would prove themselves not much inferior to the average of\nthe men we send to our State legislatures or to our national\nCongress.\n\nWomen have also distinguished themselves in the arts as painters\nand sculptors, though none of them have ever risen to the front\nrank. St. Catharine of Egypt cultivated philosophy with success.\nSeveral holy women have shown great proficiency in mystic\ntheology, and have written works of great value. In lighter\nliterature, especially in the present age, women have taken a\nleading part. They almost monopolize the modern novel or romance,\nand give to contemporary popular literature its tone and\ncharacter; yet it must be conceded that no woman has written a\nfirst-class romance. The influence of her writings, speaking\ngenerally, has not tended to purify or exalt the age, but rather\nto enfeeble and abase it. The tendency is to substitute sentiment\nfor thought, morbid passion for strength, and to produce a weak\nand unhealthy moral tone. For ourselves, we own, though there are\nsome women whose works we read, and even re-read with pleasure,\nwe do not, in general, admire the popular female literature of\nthe day; and we do not think that literature is that in which\nwoman is best fitted to excel, or through which she exerts her\nmost purifying and elevating influences. Her writings do not do\nmuch to awaken in man's heart the long dormant chivalric love so\nrife in the romantic ages, or to render the age healthy, natural,\nand manly. We say _awaken_; for chivalry, in its true and\ndisinterested sense, is not dead in the coldest man's heart; it\nonly sleepeth. It is woman's own fault, more than man's, that it\nsleeps, and wakes not to life and energy.\n\nNor do we object to the political enfranchisement of women in the\nspecial interest of the male sex. Men and women have no separate\ninterests. What elevates the one elevates the other; what\ndegrades the one degrades the other. Men cannot depress women,\nplace them in a false position, make them toys or drudges,\nwithout doing an equal injury to themselves; and one ground of\nour dislike to the so-called woman's rights movement is, that it\nproceeds on the supposition that there is no inter-dependence\nbetween men and women, and seeks to render them mutually\nindependent of each other, with entirely distinct and separate\ninterests. There is a truth in the old Greek fable, related by\nPlato in the _Banquet_, that Jupiter united originally both\nsexes in one and the same person, and afterward separated them,\nand that now they are but two halves of one whole. \"God made man\nafter his own image and likeness; male and female made he\n_them_.\" Each, in this world, is the complement of the\nother, and the more closely identified are their interests, the\nbetter is it for both. We, in opposing the political\nenfranchisement of women, seek the interest of men no more than\nwe do the interest of women themselves.\n\n{149}\n\nWomen, no doubt, undergo many wrongs, and are obliged to suffer\nmany hardships, but seldom they alone. It is a world of trial, a\nworld in which there are wrongs of all sorts, and sufferings of\nall kinds. We have lost paradise, and cannot regain it in this\nworld. We must go through the valley of the shadow of death\nbefore re-entering it. You cannot make earth heaven, and there is\nno use in trying; and least of all can you do it by political\nmeans. It is hard for the poor wife to have to maintain a lazy,\nidle, drunken vagabond of a husband, and three or four children\ninto the bargain; it is hard for the wife delicately reared,\naccomplished, fitted to adorn the most intellectual, graceful,\nand polished society, accustomed to every luxury that wealth can\nprocure, to find herself a widow reduced to poverty, and a family\nof young children to support, and unable to obtain any employment\nfor which she is fitted as the means of supporting them. But men\nsuffer too. It is no less hard for the poor, industrious,\nhardworking man to find what he earns wasted by an idle,\nextravagant, incompetent, and heedless wife, who prefers gadding\nand gossiping to taking care of her household. And how much\neasier is it for the man who is reduced from affluence to\npoverty, a widower with three or four motherless children to\nprovide for? The reduction from affluence to poverty is sometimes\nthe fault of the wife as well as of the husband. It is usually\ntheir joint fault. Women have wrongs, so have men; but a woman\nhas as much power to make a man miserable as a man has to make a\nwoman miserable; and she tyrannizes over him as often as he does\nover her. If he has more power of attack, nature has given her\nmore power of defence. Her tongue is as formidable a weapon as\nhis fists, and she knows well how, by her seeming meekness,\ngentleness, and apparent martyrdom, to work on his feelings, to\nenlist the sympathy of the neighborhood on her side and against\nhim. Women are neither so wronged nor so helpless as _The\nRevolution_ pretends. Men can be brutal, and women can tease\nand provoke.\n\nBut let the evils be as great as they may, and women as greatly\nwronged as is pretended, what can female suffrage and eligibility\ndo by way of relieving them? All modern methods of reform are\nvery much like dram-drinking. The dram needs to be constantly\nincreased in frequency and quantity, while the prostration grows\ngreater and greater, till the drinker gets the _delirium\ntremens_, becomes comatose, and dies. The extension of\nsuffrage in modern times has cured or lessened no social or moral\nevil; and under it, as under any other political system, the rich\ngrow richer and the poor poorer. Double the dram, enfranchise the\nwomen, give them the political right to vote and be voted for;\nwhat single moral or social evil will it prevent or cure? Will it\nmake the drunken husband temperate, the lazy and idle industrious\nand diligent? Will it prevent the ups and downs of life, the fall\nfrom affluence to poverty, keep death out of the house, and\nprevent widowhood and orphanage? These things are beyond the\nreach of politics. You cannot legislate men or women into virtue,\ninto sobriety, industry, providence. The doubled dram would only\nintroduce a double poison into the system, a new element of\ndiscord into the family, and through the family into society, and\nhasten the moment of dissolution. When a false principle of\nreform is adopted, the evil sought to be cured is only\naggravated. The reformers started wrong.\n{150}\nThey would reform the church by placing her under human control.\nTheir successors have in each generation found they did not go\nfar enough, and have, each in its turn, struggled to push it\nfarther and farther, till they find themselves without any church\nlife, without faith, without religion, and beginning to doubt if\nthere be even a God. So, in politics, we have pushed the false\nprinciple that all individual, domestic, and social evils are due\nto bad government, and are to be cured by political reforms and\nchanges, till we have nearly reformed away all government, at\nleast, in theory; have well-nigh abolished the family, which is\nthe social unit; and find that the evils we sought to cure, and\nthe wrongs we sought to redress, continue undiminished. We cry\nout in our delirium for another and a larger dram. When you\nproceed on a true principle, the more logically and completely\nyou carry it out the better; but when you start with a false\nprinciple, the more logical you are, and the farther you push it,\nthe worse. Your consistency increases instead of diminishing the\nevils you would cure.\n\nThe conclusive objection to the political enfranchisement of\nwomen is, that it would weaken and finally break up and destroy\nthe Christian family. The social unit is the family, not the\nindividual; and the greatest danger to American society is, that\nwe are rapidly becoming a nation of isolated individuals, without\nfamily ties or affections. The family has already been much\nweakened, and is fast disappearing. We have broken away from the\nold homestead, have lost the restraining and purifying\nassociations that gathered round it, and live away from home in\nhotels and boarding-houses. We are daily losing the faith, the\nvirtues, the habits, and the manners without which the family\ncannot be sustained; and when the family goes, the nation goes\ntoo, or ceases to be worth preserving. God made the family the\ntype and basis of society; \"male and female made he them.\" A\nlarge and influential class of women not only neglect but disdain\nthe retired and simple domestic virtues, and scorn to be tied\ndown to the modest but essential duties--the drudgery, they call\nit--of wives and mothers. This, coupled with the separate\npecuniary interests of husband and wife secured, and the facility\nof divorce _a vinculo matrirmonii_ allowed by the laws of\nmost of the States of the Union, make the family, to a fearful\nextent, the mere shadow of what it was and of what it should be.\n\nExtend now to women suffrage and eligibility; give them the\npolitical right to vote and to be voted for; render it feasible\nfor them to enter the arena of political strife, to become\ncanvassers in elections and candidates for office, and what\nremains of family union will soon be dissolved. The wife may\nespouse one political party, and the husband another, and it may\nwell happen that the husband and wife may be rival candidates for\nthe same office, and one or the other doomed to the mortification\nof defeat. Will the husband like to see his wife enter the lists\nagainst him, and triumph over him? Will the wife, fired with\npolitical ambition for place or power, be pleased to see her own\nhusband enter the lists against her, and succeed at her expense?\nWill political rivalry and the passions it never fails to\nengender increase the mutual affection of husband and wife for\neach other, and promote domestic union and peace, or will it not\ncarry into the bosom of the family all the strife, discord,\nanger, and division of the political canvass?\n\n{151}\n\nThen, when the wife and mother is engrossed in the political\ncanvass, or in discharging her duties as a representative or\nsenator in Congress, a member of the cabinet, or a major-general\nin the field, what is to become of the children? The mother will\nhave little leisure, perhaps less inclination, to attend to them.\nA stranger, or even the father, cannot supply her place. Children\nneed a mother's care; her tender nursing, her sleepless\nvigilance, and her mild and loving but unfailing discipline. This\nshe cannot devolve on the father, or turn over to strangers.\nNobody can supply the place of a mother. Children, then, must be\nneglected; nay, they will be in the way, and be looked upon as an\nencumbrance. Mothers will repress their maternal instincts; and\nthe horrible crime of infanticide before birth, now becoming so\nfearfully prevalent, and actually causing a decrease in the\nnative population of several of the States of the Union as well\nas in more than one European country, will become more prevalent\nstill, and the human race be threatened with extinction. Women in\neasy circumstances, and placing pleasure before duty, grow weary\nof the cares of maternity, and they would only become more weary\nstill if the political arena were opened to their ambition.\n\nWoman was created to be a wife and a mother; that is her destiny.\nTo that destiny all her instincts point, and for it nature has\nspecially qualified her. Her proper sphere is home, and her\nproper function is the care of the household, to manage a family,\nto take care of children, and attend to their early training. For\nthis she is endowed with patience, endurance, passive courage,\nquick sensibilities, a sympathetic nature, and great executive\nand administrative ability. She was born to be a queen in her own\nhousehold, and to make home cheerful, bright, and happy. Surely\nthose women who are wives and mothers should stay at home and\ndischarge its duties; and the woman's rights party, by seeking to\ndraw her away from the domestic sphere, where she is really\ngreat, noble, almost divine, and to throw her into the turmoil of\npolitical life, would rob her of her true dignity and worth, and\nplace her in a position where all her special qualifications and\npeculiar excellences would count for nothing. She cannot be\nspared from home for that.\n\nIt is pretended that woman's generous sympathies, her nice sense\nof justice, and her indomitable perseverance in what she\nconceives to be right are needed to elevate our politics above\nthe low, grovelling and sordid tastes of men; but while we admit\nthat women will make almost any sacrifice to obtain their own\nwill, and make less than men do of obstacles or consequences, we\nare not aware that they have a nicer or a truer sense of justice,\nor are more disinterested in their aims than men. All history\nproves that the corruptest epochs in a nation's life are\nprecisely those in which women have mingled most in political\naffairs, and have had the most influence in their management. If\nthey go into the political world, they will, if the distinction\nof sex is lost sight of, have no special advantage over men, nor\nbe more influential for good or for evil. If they go as women,\nusing all the blandishments, seductions, arts, and intrigues of\ntheir sex, their influence will tend more to corrupt and debase\nthan to purify and elevate. Women usually will stick at nothing\nto carry their points; and when unable to carry them by appeals\nto the strength of the other sex, they will appeal to its\nweakness. When once they have thrown off their native modesty,\nand entered a public arena with men, they will go to lengths that\nmen will not.\n{152}\nLady Macbeth looks with steady nerves and unblanched cheek on a\ncrime from which her husband shrinks with horror, and upbraids\nhim with his cowardice for letting \"I dare not wait upon I\nwould.\" It was not she who saw Banquo's ghost.\n\nWe have heard it argued that, if women were to take part in our\nelections, they would be quietly and decorously conducted; that\nher presence would do more than a whole army of police officials\nto maintain order, to banish all fighting, drinking, profane\nswearing, venality, and corruption. This would undoubtedly be, to\nsome extent, the case, if, under the new _r\u00e9gime_, men\nshould retain the same chivalric respect for women that they now\nhave. Men now regard women as placed in some sort under their\nprotection, or the safeguard of their honor. But when she insists\nthat the distinction of sex shall be disregarded, and tells us\nthat she asks no favors, regards all offers of protection to her\nas a woman as an insult, and that she holds herself competent to\ntake care of herself, and to compete with men on their own\nground, and in what has hitherto been held to be their own work,\nshe may be sure that she will be taken at her word, that she will\nmiss that deference now shown her, and which she has been\naccustomed to claim as her right, and be treated with all the\nindifference men show to one another. She cannot have the\nadvantages of both sexes at once. When she forgets that she is a\nwoman, and insists on being treated as a man, men will forget\nthat she is a woman, and allow her no advantage on account of her\nsex. When she seeks to make herself a man, she will lose her\ninfluence as a woman, and be treated as a man.\n\nWomen are not needed as men; they are needed as women, to do, not\nwhat men can do as well as they, but what men cannot do. There is\nnothing which more grieves the wise and good, or makes them\ntremble for the future of the country, than the growing neglect\nor laxity of family discipline; than the insubordination, the\nlawlessness, and precocious depravity of Young America. There is,\nwith the children of this generation, almost a total lack of\nfilial reverence and obedience. And whose fault is it? It is\nchiefly the fault of the mothers, who fail to govern their\nhouseholds, and to bring up their children in a Christian manner.\nExceptions there happily are; but the number of children that\ngrow up without any proper training or discipline at home is\nfearfully large, and their evil example corrupts not a few of\nthose who are well brought up. The country is no better than the\ntown. Wives forget what they owe to their husbands, are\ncapricious and vain, often light and frivolous, extravagant and\nfoolish, bent on having their own way, though ruinous to the\nfamily, and generally contriving, by coaxings, blandishments, or\npoutings, to get it. They set an ill example to their children,\nwho soon lose all respect for the authority of the mother, who,\nas a wife, forgets to honor and obey her husband, and who, seeing\nher have her own way with him, insist on having their own way\nwith her, and usually succeed. As a rule, children are no longer\nsubjected to a steady and firm, but mild and judicious\ndiscipline, or trained to habits of filial obedience. Hence, our\ndaughters, when they become wives and mothers, have none of the\nhabits or character necessary to govern their household and to\ntrain their children. Those habits and that character are\nacquired only in a school of obedience, made pleasant and\ncheerful by a mother's playful smile and a mother's love.\n{153}\nWe know we have not in this the sympathy of the women whose organ\nis _The Revolution_. They hold obedience in horror, and seek\nonly to govern, not their own husbands only, not children, but\nmen, but the state, but the nation, and to be relieved of\nhousehold cares, especially of child-bearing, and of the duty of\nbringing up children. We should be sorry to do or say anything\nwhich these, in their present mood, could sympathize with. It is\nthat which is a woman's special duty in the order of providence,\nand which constitutes her peculiar glory, that they regard as\ntheir great wrong.\n\nThe duty we insist on is especially necessary in a country like\nours, where there is so little respect for authority, and\ngovernment is but the echo of public opinion. Wives and mothers,\nby neglecting their domestic duties and the proper family\ndiscipline, fail to offer the necessary resistance to growing\nlawlessness and crime, aggravated, if not generated, by the false\nnotions of freedom and equality so widely entertained. It is only\nby home discipline, and the early habits of reverence and\nobedience to which our children are trained, that the license the\ngovernment tolerates, and the courts hardly dare attempt to\nrestrain, can be counteracted, and the community made a\nlaw-loving and a law-abiding community. The very bases of society\nhave been sapped, and the conditions of good government despised,\nor denounced under the name of despotism. Social and political\nlife is poisoned in its source, and the blood of the nation\ncorrupted, and chiefly because wives and mothers have failed in\ntheir domestic duties, and the discipline of their families. How,\nthen, can the community, the nation itself, subsist, if we call\nthem away from home, and render its duties still more irksome to\nthem, instead of laboring to fit them for a more faithful\ndischarge of their duties?\n\nWe have said the evils complained of are chiefly due to the\nwomen, and we have said so because it grows chiefly out of their\nneglect of their families. The care and management of children\nduring their early years belong specially to the mother. It is\nher special function to plant and develop in their young and\nimpressible minds the seeds of virtue, love, reverence, and\nobedience, and to train her daughters, by precept and example,\nnot to be looking out for an eligible _parti_, nor to catch\nhusbands that will give them splendid establishments, but to be,\nin due time, modest and affectionate wives, tender and judicious\nmothers, and prudent and careful housekeepers. This the father\ncannot do; and his interference, except by wise counsel, and to\nhonor and sustain the mother, will generally be worse than\nnothing. The task devolves specially on the mother; for it\ndemands the sympathy with children which is peculiar to the\nfemale heart, the strong maternal instinct implanted by nature,\nand directed by a judicious education, that blending of love and\nauthority, sentiment and reason, sweetness and power, so\ncharacteristic of the noble and true-hearted woman, and which so\nadmirably fit her to be loved and honored, only less than adored,\nin her own household. When she neglects this duty, and devotes\nher time to pleasure or amusement, wasting her life in luxurious\nease, in reading sentimental or sensational novels, or in\nfollowing the caprices of fashion, the household goes to ruin,\nthe children grow up wild, without discipline, and the honest\nearnings of the husband become speedily insufficient for the\nfamily expenses, and he is sorely tempted to provide for them by\nrash speculation or by fraud, which, though it may be carried on\nfor a while without detection, is sure to end in disgrace and\nruin at last.\n{154}\nConcede now to women suffrage and eligibility, throw them into\nthe whirlpool of politics, set them to scrambling for office, and\nyou aggravate the evil a hundred fold. Children, if suffered to\nbe born, which is hardly to be expected, will be still more\nneglected; family discipline still more relaxed, or rendered\nstill more capricious or inefficient; our daughters will grow up\nmore generally still without any adequate training to be wives\nand mothers, and our sons still more destitute of those habits of\nfilial reverence and obedience, love of order and discipline,\nwithout which they can hardly be sober, prudent, and worthy heads\nof families, or honest citizens.\n\nWe have thus far spoken of women only as wives and mothers; but\nwe are told that there are thousands of women who are not and\ncannot be wives and mothers. In the older and more densely\nsettled States of the Union there is an excess of females over\nmales, and all cannot get husbands if they would. Yet, we repeat,\nwoman was created to be a wife and a mother, and the woman that\nis not fails of her special destiny. We hold in high honor\nspinsters and widows, and do not believe their case anywhere need\nbe or is utterly hopeless. There is a mystery in Christianity\nwhich the true and enlightened Christian recognizes and\nvenerates--that of the Virgin-Mother. Those women who cannot be\nwives and mothers in the natural order, may be both in the\nspiritual order, if they will. They can be wedded to the Holy\nSpirit, and be the mothers of minds and hearts. The holy virgins\nand devout widows who consecrate themselves to God in or out of\nreligious orders, are both, and fulfil in the spiritual order\ntheir proper destiny. They are married to a celestial Spouse, and\nbecome mothers to the motherless, to the poor, the destitute, the\nhomeless. They instruct the ignorant, nurse the sick, help the\nhelpless, tend the aged, catch the last breath of the dying, pray\nfor the unbelieving and the cold hearted, and elevate the moral\ntone of society, and shed a cheering radiance along the pathway\nof life. They are dear to God, dear to the church, and dear to\nChristian society. They are to be envied, not pitied. It is only\nbecause you have lost faith in Christ, faith in the holy Catholic\nChurch, and have become gross in your minds, of \"the earth,\nearthy,\" that you deplore the lot of the women who cannot, in the\nnatural order, find husbands. The church provides better for them\nthan you can do, even should you secure female suffrage and\neligibility.\n\nWe do not, therefore, make an exception from our general remarks\nin favor of those who have and can get no earthly husbands, and\nwho have no children born of their flesh to care for. There are\nspiritual relations which they can contract, and purely feminine\nduties, more than they can perform, await them, to the poor and\nignorant, the aged and infirm, the helpless and the motherless,\nor, worse than motherless, the neglected. Under proper direction,\nthey can lavish on these the wealth of their affections, the\ntenderness of their hearts, and the ardor of their charity, and\nfind true joy and happiness in so doing, and ample scope for\nwoman's noblest ambition. They have no need to be idle or\nuseless. In a world of so much sin and sorrow, sickness and\nsuffering, there is always work enough for them to do, and there\nare always chances enough to acquire merit in the sight of\nHeaven, and true glory, that will shine brighter and brighter for\never.\n\n{155}\n\nWe know men often wrong women and cause them great suffering by\ntheir selfishness, tyranny, and brutality; whether more than\nwomen, by their follies and caprices, cause men, we shall not\nundertake to determine. Man, except in fiction, is not always a\ndevil, nor woman an angel. Since the woman's rights people claim\nthat in intellect woman is man's equal, and in firmness of will\nfar his superior, it ill becomes them to charge to him alone what\nis wrong or painful in her condition, and they must recognize her\nas equally responsible with him for whatever is wrong in the\ncommon lot of men and women. There is much wrong on both sides;\nmuch suffering, and much needless suffering, in life. Both men\nand women might be, and ought to be, better than they are. But it\nis sheer folly or madness to suppose that either can be made\nbetter or happier by political suffrage and eligibility; for the\nevil to be cured is one that cannot be reached by any possible\npolitical or legislative action.\n\nThat the remedy, to a great extent, must be supplied by woman's\naction and influence we concede, but not by her action and\ninfluence in politics. It can only be by her action and influence\nas woman, as wife, and mother; in sustaining with her affection\nthe resolutions and just aspirations of her husband or her sons,\nand forming her children to early habits of filial love and\nreverence, of obedience to law, and respect for authority. That\nshe may do this, she needs not her political enfranchisement or\nher entire independence of the other sex, but a better and more\nthorough system of education for daughters--an education that\nspecially adapts them to the destiny of their sex, and prepares\nthem to find their happiness in their homes, and the satisfaction\nof their highest ambition in discharging its manifold duties, so\nmuch higher, nobler, and more essential to the virtue and\nwell-being of the community, the nation, society, and to the life\nand progress of the human race, than any which devolve on king or\nkaiser, magistrate or legislator. We would not have their\ngenerous instincts repressed, their quick sensibilities blunted?\nor their warm, sympathetic nature chilled, nor even the lighter\ngraces and accomplishments neglected; but we would have them all\ndirected and harmonized by solid intellectual instruction, and\nmoral and religious culture. We would have them, whether rich or\npoor, trained to find the centre of their affections in their\nhome; their chief ambition in making it cheerful, bright,\nradiant, and happy. Whether destined to grace a magnificent\npalace, or to adorn the humble cottage of poverty, this should be\nthe ideal aimed at in their education. They should be trained to\nlove home, and to find their pleasure in sharing its cares and\nperforming its duties, however arduous or painful.\n\nThere are comparatively few mothers qualified to give their\ndaughters such an education, especially in our own country; for\ncomparatively few have received such an education themselves, or\nare able fully to appreciate its importance. They can find little\nhelp in the fashionable boarding-schools for finishing young\nladies; and in general these schools only aggravate the evil to\nbe cured. The best and the only respectable schools for daughters\nthat we have in the country are the conventual schools taught by\nwomen consecrated to God, and specially devoted to the work of\neducation. These schools, indeed, are not always all that might\nbe wished.\n{156}\nThe good religious sometimes follow educational traditions\nperhaps better suited to the social arrangements of other\ncountries than of our own, and sometimes underrate the value of\nintellectual culture. They do not always give as solid an\nintellectual education as the American woman needs, and devote a\ndisproportionate share of their attention to the cultivation of\nthe affections and sentiments, and to exterior graces and\naccomplishments. The defects we hint at are not, however, wholly,\nnor chiefly, their fault; they are obliged to consult, in some\nmeasure, the tastes and wishes of parents and guardians, whose\nviews for their daughters and wards are not always very profound,\nvery wise, very just, or very Christian. The religious cannot,\ncertainly, supply the place of the mother in giving their pupils\nthat practical home training so necessary, and which can be given\nonly by mothers who have themselves been properly educated; but\nthey go as far as is possible in remedying the defects of the\npresent generation of mothers, and in counteracting their follies\nand vain ambitions. With all the faults that can be alleged\nagainst any of them, the conventual schools, even as they are, it\nmust be conceded, are infinitely the best schools for daughters\nin the land, and, upon the whole, worthy of the high praise and\nliberal patronage their devotedness and disinterestedness secure\nthem. We have seldom found their graduates weak and sickly\nsentimentalists. They develop in their pupils a cheerful and\nhealthy tone, and a high sense of duty; give them solid moral and\nreligious instruction; cultivate successfully their moral and\nreligious affections; refine their manners, purify their tastes,\nand send them out feeling that life is serious, life is earnest,\nand resolved always to act under a deep sense of their personal\nresponsibilities, and meet whatever may be their lot with brave\nhearts and without murmuring or repining.\n\nWe do not disguise the fact that our hopes for the future, in\ngreat measure, rest on these conventual schools. As they are\nmultiplied, and the number of their graduates increase, and enter\nupon the serious duties of life, the ideal of female education\nwill be come higher and broader; a nobler class of wives and\nmothers will exert a healthy and purifying influence; religion\nwill become a real power in the republic; the moral tone of the\ncommunity and the standard of private and public morality will be\nelevated; and thus may gradually be acquired the virtues that\nwill enable us as a people to escape the dangers that now\nthreaten us, and to save the republic as well as our own souls.\nSectarians, indeed, declaim against these schools, and denounce\nthem as a subtle device of Satan to make their daughters\n\"Romanists;\" but Satan probably dislikes \"Romanism\" even more\nthan sectarians do, and is much more in earnest to suppress or\nruin our conventual schools, in which he is not held in much\nhonor, than he is to sustain and encourage them. At any rate, our\ncountrymen who have such a horror of the religion it is our glory\nto profess that they cannot call it by its true name, would do\nwell, before denouncing these schools, to establish better\nschools for daughters of their own.\n\nNow, we dare tell these women who are wasting so much time,\nenergy, philanthropy, and brilliant eloquence in agitating for\nfemale suffrage and eligibility, which, if conceded, would only\nmake matters worse, that, if they have the real interest of their\nsex or of the community at heart, they should turn their\nattention to the education of daughters for their special\nfunctions, not as men, but as women who are one day to be wives\nand mothers--woman's true destiny.\n{157}\nThese modest, retiring sisters and nuns, who have no new theories\nor schemes of social reform, and upon whom you look down with\nhaughty contempt, as weak, spiritless, and narrow-minded, have\nchosen the better part, and are doing infinitely more to raise\nwoman to her true dignity, and for the political and social as\nwell as for the moral and religious progress of the country, than\nyou with all your grand conventions, brilliant speeches, stirring\nlectures, and spirited journals.\n\nFor poor working-women and poor working-men, obliged to subsist\nby their labor, and who can find no employment, we feel a deep\nsympathy, and would favor any feasible method of relieving them\nwith our best efforts. But why cannot American girls find\nemployment as well as Irish and German girls, who are employed\nalmost as soon as they touch our shores, and at liberal wages?\nThere is always work enough to be done if women are qualified to\ndo it, and are not above doing it. But be that as it may, the\nremedy is not political, and must be found, if found at all,\nelsewhere than in suffrage and eligibility.\n\n----------\n\n                Daybreak.\n\n              Chapter III.\n\n               Chez Lui.\n\n\nMiss Hamilton did not go down to dinner the first day; but when\nshe heard Mr. Granger come in, sent a line to him, excusing\nherself till evening, on the plea that she needed rest. The truth\nwas, however, that she shrank from first meeting the family at\ntable, a place which allows so little escape from embarrassment.\n\nHer door had been left ajar; and in a few minutes she heard a\nsilken rustling on the stairs, then a faint tap; and at her\nsummons there entered a small, lily-faced woman who looked like\nsomething that might have grown out of the pallid March evening.\nThe silver-gray of her trailing dress, the uncertain tints of her\nhair, deepening from flaxen to pale brown, even the cobwebby\nMechlin laces she wore, so thin as to have no color of their\nown--all were like light, cool shadows. This lady entered with a\ndainty timidity which by no means excluded the most perfect\nself-possession, but rather indicated an extreme solicitude for\nthe person she visited.\n\n\"Do I intrude?\" she asked in a soft, hesitating way. \"Mr. Granger\nthought I might come up. We feared that you were ill.\"\n\nMargaret was annoyed to feel herself blushing. There was\nsomething keen in this lady's beautiful violet eyes, underneath\ntheir superficial expression of anxious kindness.\n\n\"I am not ill, only tired,\" she replied. \"I meant to go down\nawhile after dinner.\"\n\n\"I am Mrs. Lewis,\" the stranger announced, seating herself by the\nbedside. \"My husband and I, and my husband's niece, Aurelia\nLewis, live here. We don't call it boarding, you know. I hope\nthat you will like us.\"\n\n{158}\n\nThis wish was expressed in a manner so _na\u00efve_ and earnest\nthat Margaret could but smile in making answer that she was quite\nprepared to be pleased with everything, and that her only fear\nwas lest she might disturb the harmony of their circle--not by\nbeing disagreeable in herself, but simply in being one more.\n\nWith a gesture at once graceful and kind, Mrs. Lewis touched\nMargaret's hand with her slight, chilly fingers. \"You are the one\nmore whom we want,\" she said; \"we have been rejoicing over the\nprospect of having you with us. You do not break, you complete\nthe circle.\"\n\nHer quick ear had caught a lingering tone of pain; and she had\nalready found something pathetic in that thin face and those\nlanguid eyes. Miss Hamilton did not appear to be a person likely\nto disturb the empire which this lady prided herself on\nexercising over their household.\n\n\"I know very little about the family,\" Margaret remarked. \"Mr.\nGranger mentioned some names. I am not sure if they were all. And\nmen never think of the many trifles we like to be told.\"\n\nHer visitor sighed resignedly. \"Certainly not--the sublime\ncreatures! It is the difference between fresco and miniature, you\nknow. Let me enlighten you a little. Besides those of us whom you\nhave seen, there are only Mr. Southard, my husband, and Aurelia.\nWe consider ourselves a very happy family. Of course, being\nhuman, we have occasional jars; but there is always the\nunderstanding that our real friendship is unimpaired by them. And\nwe defend each other like Trojans from any outside attack. We try\nto manage so as to have but one angry at a time, the others\nacting as peacemakers. The only one who may trouble you is my\nhusband. I am anxious concerning him and you.\"\n\nWith her head a little on one side, the lady contemplated her\ncompanion with a look of pretty distress.\n\n\"Forewarned is forearmed,\" suggested Miss Hamilton.\n\n\"Why, you see,\" her visitor said confidentially, \"Mr. Lewis is\none of those provoking beings who take a mischievous delight in\nmisrepresenting themselves, not for the better, but the worse. If\nthey see a person leaning very much in one way, they are sure to\nlean very much the other way. Mr. Southard calls my husband an\ninfidel, whatever that is. There certainly are a great many\nthings which he does not believe. But one half of his scepticism\nis a mere pretence to tease the minister. I hope you won't be\nvexed with him. You won't when you come to know him. Sometimes I\ndon't altogether blame him. Of course we all admire Mr. Southard\nin the most fatiguing manner; but it cannot be denied that he\ndoes interpret and perform his duties in the preraphaelite style,\nWith a pitiless adherence to chapter and verse. Still, I often\nthink that much of his apparent severity may be in those\nchiselled features of his. One is occasionally surprised by some\nsign of indulgence in him, some touch of grace or tenderness. But\neven while you look, the charm, without disappearing, freezes\nbefore your eyes, like spray in winter. I don't know just what to\nthink of him; but I suspect that he has missed his vocation, that\nhe was made for a monk or a Jesuit. It would never do to breathe\nsuch a thought to him, though. He thinks that the Pope is\nAntichrist.\"\n\n\"And isn't he?\" calmly asked the granddaughter of the Rev. Doctor\nHamilton.\n\nMrs. Lewis put up her hand to refasten a bunch of honey-sweet\ntuberoses that were slipping from the glossy coils of her hair,\nand by the gesture concealed a momentary amused twinkle of her\neyes.\n\n{159}\n\n\"Oh! I dare say!\" she replied lightly. \"But such a dear,\nbenignant old antichrist as he is! Ages ago, when we were in\nRome, I was in the crowd before St. Peter's when the pope gave\nthe Easter benediction. Involuntarily I knelt with the rest; and\nreally, Miss Hamilton, that seemed to me the only benediction I\never received. I did not understand my own emotion. It was quite\nunexpected. Perhaps it was something in that intoxicating\natmosphere which is only half air; the other half is soul.\"\n\nMargaret was silent. She had no wish to express any displeasure;\nbut she was shocked to hear the mystical Babylon spoken of with\ntoleration, and that by a descendant of the puritans.\n\nMrs. Lewis sat a moment with downcast eyes, aware of, and quietly\nsubmitting to the scrutiny of the other--by no means afraid of\nit, quite confident, probably, that the result would be\nagreeable.\n\nThis lady was about forty years of age, delicate rather than\nbeautiful, with a frosty sparkle about her. Her manner was\ngentleness itself; but one soon perceived something fine and\nsharp beneath; a blue arrowy glance that carried home a phrase\notherwise light as a feather, a slight emphasis that made the\nmore obvious meaning of a word glance aside, an unnecessary\nsuavity of expression that led to suspicion of some pungent\nhidden meaning. But with all her airy malice there was much of\ngenuine honesty and kind feeling. She was like a faceted gem,\nshowing her little glittering shield at every turn; but still a\ngem.\n\n\"Aurelia is quite impatient to welcome you,\" she resumed softly.\n\"You cannot fail to like her, when you happen to think of it. She\nis sweet and beautiful all through.\n\n\"Now I will leave you to take your rest, and read the note of\nwhich Mr. Granger made me the bearer. I hope to see you this\nevening.\"\n\nMargaret looked after the little lady as she glided away,\nglancing back from the door with a friendly smile and nod, then\ndisappeared, soundless save for the rustling of her dress. She\nlistened to that faint silken whisper on the stairs, then to the\nsoft shutting of the parlor door, two pushes before it latched.\nThen she read her note. It was but a line. \"Rest as long as you\nwish to. But when you are able to come down, we all want to see\nyou.\"\n\nShe went down to the parlor after dinner, and found the whole\nfamily there. There was yet so much of daylight that one\ngentleman, sitting in a western window, was reading the evening\npaper by it; but the stream of gaslight that came in from some\nroom at the end of the long _suite_ made a red-golden path\nacross the darkened back-parlor, and caught brightly here and\nthere on the carving of a picture, a curve of bronze or marble,\nor the gilding of a book-cover, and glimmered unsteadily over a\nwinged Mercury that leaned out of the vague dusk and sparkle,\ntiptoe, at point of flight, with lifted face and glinting eyes.\n\nMr. Granger stood near the door by which Margaret entered,\nevidently on the watch for her; and at sight of him that slight\nnervous embarrassment inseparable from her circumstances, and\nfrom the unstrung condition of her mind and body, instantly died\naway. To her he was strength, courage, and protection. Shielded\nby his friendship, she feared nothing.\n\nMrs. Lewis and Dora met her like old friends; that florid\ngentleman with English side-whiskers she guessed to be Mr. Lewis;\nand she recognized that fine profile clear against the opaline\nwest.\n\n{160}\n\nMr. Southard came forward at once, scarcely waiting for an\nintroduction.\n\n\"A granddaughter of the Rev. Doctor Hamilton?\" he said with\nemphasis. \"I am happy to see you.\"\n\nMiss Hamilton received tranquilly his cordial salutation, and\nmentally consigned it to the manes of her grandfather.\n\nMr. Lewis got up out of his armchair, and bowed lowly. \"Madam,\"\nhe said with great deliberation, \"I do not in the least care who\nyour grandfather was. I am glad to see _you_.\"\n\n\"Thank you!\" said Margaret.\n\nThe gentleman settled rather heavily into his chair again. He was\none of those who would rather sit than stand. Margaret turned to\nmeet his niece, who was offering her hand, and murmuring some\nword of welcome. She looked at Aurelia Lewis with delight,\nperceiving then what Mrs. Lewis had meant in saying that her\nhusband's niece was sweet and beautiful all through. The girl\nradiated loveliness. She was a blonde, with deep ambers and\nbrowns in her hair and eyes, looking like some translucent\ncreature shone through by rich sunset lights too soft for\nbrilliancy. She was large, suave, a trifle sirupy, perhaps, but\nsweet to the core, had no salient points in her disposition, but\na charmingly liquid way of adapting herself to the angles of\nothers. If the looks and manners of Mrs. Lewis were faceted,\nthose of her husband's niece were what jewelers' call _en\ncabochon_. What Aurelia said was nothing. She was not a\nreportable person. What she _was_ was delicious.\n\n\"I remember Doctor Hamilton very well,\" Mr. Lewis said when the\nladies had finished their compliments. \"He was one of those men\nwho make religion respectable. He held some pretty hard\ndoctrines; but he believed every one of 'em, and held 'em with a\ngrip. The last time I saw him was seven or eight years ago, just\nbefore his death. They had up their everlasting petition before\nthe legislature here, for the abolition of capital punishment;\nand a committee was appointed to attend to the matter. I went up\nto one of their hearings. There were Phillips, Pierpont, Andrew,\nSpear, and a lot of other smooth-tongued, soft-hearted fellows\nwho didn't want the poor, dear murderers to be hanged; and on the\nother side were Doctor Hamilton with his eyes and his cane,\ncommon sense, Moses and the decalogue. They had rather a rough\ntime of it. Andrew called your grandfather an old fogy, over some\none else's shoulders; and Phillips tilted over Moses, tables and\nall, with that sharp lance of his. But Doctor Hamilton stood\nthere as firm as a rock, and beat them all out. He had the glance\nof an eagle, and a way of swinging his arm about, when he was in\nearnest, that looked as if it wouldn't take much provocation to\nmake him hit straight out. Phillips said something that he didn't\nlike, and the doctor stamped at him. Well, the upshot of the\nmatter was, that capital punishment was not abolished that year,\nthanks to one tough, intrepid old man.\"\n\n\"My grandfather was very resolute,\" said Margaret, with a slight,\nproud smile.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Mr. Lewis, \"he would have made a prime soldier,\nif he hadn't made the mistake of being a doctor of divinity.\"\n\n\"The church needed his authoritative speech,\" said Mr. Southard,\nwith decision. \"To the minister of God belongs the voice of\ndenunciation as well as the voice of prayer.\"\n\n{161}\n\nMr. Lewis gave his moustache an impatient twitch.\n\nMr. Granger seized the first opportunity to speak aside to\nMargaret. \"You like these people? You are contented?\" he asked\nhastily.\n\n\"Yes, and yes,\" she replied.\n\n\"You think that you will feel at home when you have become better\nacquainted with them?\" he pursued.\n\n\"It seems to me that I have always lived here,\" she answered,\nsmiling. \"There is not the least strangeness. Indeed, surprising\nthings, if they are pleasant, never surprise me. I am always\nexpecting miracles. It is only painful or trivial events which\nfind me incredulous and ill at ease.\"\n\nThe chandeliers were lighted, and the windows closed; but,\naccording to their pleasant occasional custom, the curtains were\nnot drawn for a while yet. If any person in the street took\npleasure in seeing this family gathering, they were welcome.\n\nMrs. Lewis broke a few sprays from a musk-vine over-starred with\nyellow blossoms, and twined them into a wreath as she slowly\napproached the two who were standing near a book-case. \"_Vive\nle roi!_\" she said, lifting the wreath to the marble brows of\na Shakespeare that stood on the lower shelf.\n\nMargaret glanced along a row of blue and brown covers, and\nexclaimed, \"My Brownings! all hail! there they are!\"\n\n\"You also!\" said Mrs. Lewis, with a grimace. \"Own, now, that they\njolt horribly--that the Browning Pegasus is a racker, and that\nthe Browning road up Parnassus is macadamized with--well,\ndiamonds, if you will, but diamonds in the rough. True, the hoofs\ndo make dents; they do dash over the ground with a four-footed\ntrampling; but--\" a shrug and a shiver completed the sentence.\n\n\"Mrs. Browning needs a lapidary,\" Mr. Granger said; \"but her\nhusband's constipated style is a necessity. His books are books\nof quintessences. At first I thought him suggestive; but soon\nperceived that he was stimulating instead. He seems to have\nbrushed a subject. Look again, and you will see that he has\nexhausted it.\"\n\nMargaret read the titles of the books, and in them read, also,\nsomething of the minds of her new associates. There were a few\nshining names from each of the great nations, and a good\nselection of English and American authors, the patriarchs in\ntheir places. She had a word for each, but thought, \"I wonder why\nI like Lowell, almost in silence, yet like him best.\"\n\nNear this was another case of books, all Oriental, or relating to\nthe Orient. There were the Talmud and the Koran; there were\nhideous mythologies full of propitiatory prayers to the devil.\nThere were _Vathek, The Arabian Nights, Ferdousi_, and a\nhundred others. Over this case hung an oval water-color of sea\nand sky with a rising sun blazing at the horizon, lighting with\nflickering gold a path across the blue, liquid expanse, and\nflooding with light the ethereal spaces. On a scroll beneath this\nwas inscribed, \"Ex Oriente Lux.\"\n\n\"Light and hasheesh,\" said Mr. Southard laughingly. \"Don't linger\nthere too long.\"\n\nMr. Granger called Dora to him. \"What has my little girl been\nlearning to-day?\" he asked.\n\nThe little one's eyes flashed with a sudden, glorious\nrecollection. \"O papa! I can spell cup.\"\n\nThe father was suitably astonished.\n\n\"Is it possible? Let me hear.\"\n\nThe child raised her eyebrows, and played the coquette with her\nerudition. \"You spell it,\" she said tauntingly.\n\n{162}\n\nMr. Granger leaned back in his chair, and knitted his brows in\nintense study. \"T-a-s-s-e, cup.\"\n\n\"No-o, papa,\" said the fairy at his knee.\n\n\"T-a-z-z-a, cup!\" he essayed again.\n\nDora shook her flossy curls.\n\n\"T-a-z-a, cup!\" he said desperately.\n\nThe child looked at him with tears in her eyes.\n\n\"Oh!\" he said, \"c-u-p, cup!\" at which she screamed with delight.\n\n\"How blue it sounds,\" said Margaret. \"Like a Canterbury bell with\na handle to it.\"\n\nA tray was brought in with coffee, which was Dora's signal to go\nto bed. She took an affectionate leave of all, but hid her face\nin Margaret's neck in saying good night.\n\n\"Who was the little girl in the picture?\" she whispered.\n\n\"It was you, dear,\" was the reply.\n\n\"I keeped thinking of it this ever so long,\" said the child.\n\nHer father always accompanied her to the foot of the stairs; and\nthe two went out together, Dora clinging to his hand, which she\nheld against her cheek, and he looking down upon her with a fond\nsmile.\n\nMargaret shrank with a momentary spasm of pain and terror, as she\nlooked after them. How fearful is that clinging love which human\nbeings have for each other! how terrible, since, sooner or later,\nthey must part; since, at any instant, the hand of fate may be\noutstretched to snatch them asunder!\n\n\"Are you ill?\" whispered Aurelia, touching her arm.\n\nMargaret started, and recollected herself with an effort; then\nsmiled without an effort; for the door opened, and Mr. Granger\ncame in again, glancing first at her, then coming to sit near\nher.\n\n\"I have found out the origin of coffee,\" Mrs. Lewis said. \"It is,\nor is capable of being, a Mohammedan legend. I will tell you.\nWhen Mother Eve, to whom be peace! fell, after her sin, from the\nseventh heaven, and was precipitated to earth, as she slipped\nover the verge of Paradise, she instinctively flung out her arm,\nand caught at a shrub with milk-white blossoms that grew there.\nIt broke in her hand. She fell into Arabia, near Mocha. The\nbranch that fell with her took root and grew, and had blossoms\nwith five petals, as white as the beautiful Mother's five\nfingers. And that's the history of coffee. Aura, give me a cup\nwithout delay. That story was salt.\"\n\n\"Why should we not have sentiments with so wonderful a draught?\"\nMr. Granger said. \"Propose anything. Shall I begin? I have been\nreading the European news. Victor Emmanuel is dawning like a sun\nover Italy. I propose Rome, the dead lion, with honey for\nSamson.\"\n\nMr. Lewis pushed out his underlip. He always scouted at\nrepublicans, red or black.\n\n\"I follow you,\" he said immediately, with a sly glance at Mr.\nSouthard. \"Rome, the rock that does not crack, though all the\nbores blast it.\"\n\nThere was a momentary pause, during which the eyes of the\nminister scintillated. Then he exclaimed, \"Luther, the Moses at\nthe stroke of whose rod the rock was rent, and the gospel waters\nloosed.\"\n\n\"Ah! Luther!\" endorsed Mr. Lewis with an affectation of\nenthusiasm. \"Greater than Nimrod, he built a Babel which babbles\nto the ends of the earth.\"\n\nMr. Southard flashed out, \"Yes; and every tongue can spell the\nword Bible, sir!\"\n\n\"And deny its plainest teachings,\" was the retort; \"and vilify\nthe hand that preserved it!\"\n\n{163}\n\n\"Now, Charles,\" interposed Mrs. Lewis, touching her husband's\narm, \"why will you say what you do not mean, just for the sake of\nbeing disagreeable? You know, Mr. Southard, that he cares no more\nfor Rome than he does for Pekin, and knows no more about it,\nindeed. The fact is, he has the greatest respect for our\nchurch--may I say _militant_?\"\n\n\"Sweet peacemaker!\" exclaimed Mr. Lewis, delighted with the neat\nlittle sting at the end of his wife's speech.\n\nAurelia lifted her cup, and interposed with a laughing quotation:\n\n\"'Here's a health to all those that we love. Here's a health to\nall them that love us. Here's a health to all those that love\nthem that love those that love them that love those that love\nus.'\"\n\nThis was drunk with acclamations, and peace restored.\n\nAfter a while Mr. Lewis managed, or happened, to find Margaret\napart.\n\n\"I protest I never had a worse opinion of myself than I have\ntonight,\" he said. \"There I had promised Louis and my wife to let\nreligion alone, and not get up a skirmish with the minister for\nat least a week after you came; and I meant to keep my promise.\nBut you see what my resolutions are worth. I am sincerely sorry\nif I have vexed you.\"\n\nHe looked so sorry, and spoke so frankly, that Margaret could not\nhelp giving him a pleasant answer, though she had been\ndispleased.\n\n\"The fact is,\" he went on, lowering his voice, \"I have seen so\nmuch cant, and hypocrisy, and inconsistency in religion that it\nhas disgusted me with the whole business. I may go too far. I\ndon't doubt that there are honest men and women in the churches;\nbut to my mind they are few and far between. I've nothing to say\nagainst Mr. Southard, and I don't want any one else to speak\nagainst him. I say uglier things to his face than I would say\nbehind his back. He's a good man, according to his light; but you\nmust permit me to say that it is a Bengal-light to my eyes. I\ncan't stand it. It turns me blue all through.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you do not understand him,\" Margaret suggested. \"May be\nyou haven't given him a chance to explain.\"\n\n\"I tried to be fair,\" was the reply. \"Now Southard,\" said I,\n\"tell me what you want me to believe, and I'll believe if I can.\"\nWell, the first thing he told me was, that I must give up my\nreason. 'By George, I won't!' said I, and there was an end to the\ncatechism. Of course, if I set my reason aside, I might be made\nto believe that chalk is cheese. Perhaps I am stubborn and\nmaterial, as he says; but I am what God made me; and I won't\npretend to be anything else. I believe that there is somewhere a\nway for us all--a way that we shall know is right, when once we\nget into it. These fishers of men ought to remember that whales\nare not caught with trout-hooks, and that it isn't the whale's\nfault if there's a good deal of blubber to get through before you\nreach the inside of him. St. Paul let fly some pretty sharp\nharpoons. I can't get 'em out of me for my life. And, for another\nkind of man, I like Beecher. His bait isn't painted flies, but\nfish, a piece of yourself. But the trouble with him is, there's\nno barb on his catch. You slip off as easily as you get on.\"\n\nMargaret was glad when the others interposed and put an end to\nthis talk. To her surprise, she had nothing to reply to Mr.\nLewis's objections. And not only that, but, while he spoke, she\nperceived in her own mind a faint echo to his dissatisfaction. Of\ncourse it must be wrong, and she was glad to have the\nconversation put an end to.\n\n{164}\n\nThey had music, Aurelia playing with a good deal of taste some\nperfectly harmless pieces. While she listened, Miss Hamilton's\nglance wandered about the rooms, finding them quite to her taste.\nThe first impertinent gloss of everything had worn off, and each\narticle had mellowed into its place, like the colors of an old\npicture. There was none of that look we sometimes see, of\neverything having been dipped into the same paint-pot. The\nfurniture was rich in material and beautiful in shape; the\nupholstery a heavy silk and wool, the colors deep and harmonious,\nnothing too fine for use. The dull amber of the walls was nearly\ncovered with pictures, book-cases, cabinets, and brackets; there\nwas every sort of table, from the two large central ones with\nblack marble tops, piled with late books and periodicals, to the\ntiny teapoys that could be lifted on a finger, marvels of gold,\nand japanning, and ingenious Chinese perspective. On the black\nmarble mantel-piece near her were a pair of silver candelebra,\nheirlooms in the family, and china vases of glowing colors,\npurple, and rose, and gold. There was more bronze than parian;\nthere were curtains wherever curtains could be; and withal, there\nwas plentiful space to get about, and for the ladies to display\ntheir trains.\n\nAll this her first glance took in with a sense of pleasure. Then\nshe looked deeper, and perceived friendship, ease, security, all\nthat make the soul of home. Deeper yet, then, to the vague\nlonging for a love, a security, a rest exceeding the earthly. One\nwho has suffered much can never again feel quite secure, but\nshrinks from delight almost as much as from pain.\n\nShe turned to Mr. Southard, who sat beside her. \"I am thinking\nhow miserably we are the creatures of circumstance,\" she said, in\nher earnestness forgetting how abrupt she might seem. \"When we\nare troubled, everything is dark; when we are happy, everything\nthat approaches casts its shadow behind, and shows a sunny\nfront.\"\n\nHe regarded her kindly, pleased with her almost confidential\nmanner. \"There is but one escape from such slavery,\" he said.\n\"When we set the sun of righteousness in the zenith of our lives,\nthen shadows are annihilated, not hidden, but annihilated.\"\n\nWhen Margaret went up-stairs that night, she knelt before her\nopen window, and leaned out, feeling, rather than seeing, the\nbrooding, starless sky, soft and shadowy, like wings over a nest.\nHer soul uplifted itself blindly, almost painfully, beating\nagainst its ignorance. There was something out of sight and\nreach, which she wanted to see and to touch. There was one hidden\nwhom she longed to thank and adore.\n\n\"O brooding wings!\" she whispered, stretching out her hands. \"O\nfather and mother-bird over the nest where the little ones lie in\nthe sweet, sweet dark!\"\n\nWords failed. She knew not what to say. \"I wish that I could\npray!\" she thought, tears overflowing her eyes.\n\nMargaret did not know that she had prayed.\n\n\n            Chapter IV.\n\n         Just Before Light.\n\n\nThe days were well arranged in the Granger mansion. Breakfast was\na movable feast, and silent for the most part. The members of the\nfamily broke their fast when and as they liked, often with a book\nor paper for company.\n\n{165}\n\nMost persons feel disinclined to talk in the morning, and are\nsocial only from necessity. This household recognized and\nrespected the instinct. One could always hold one's tongue there.\nIf they did not follow the old Persian rule never to speak till\none had something to say worth hearing, they at least kept\nsilence when they felt so inclined.\n\nLuncheon was never honored by the presence of the gentlemen,\nexcept that on rare occasions Mr. Southard came out of his study\nto join the ladies, who by this time had found their tongues.\nThey preferred his usual custom of taking a scholarly cup of tea\nin the midst of his books.\n\nTo the natural woman an occasional gossip is a necessity; and if\never these three ladies indulged in that pardonable weakness, it\nwas over their luncheon. At six o'clock all met at dinner, and\npassed the evening together. This disposition of time left the\ngreater part of the day free, for each one to spend as he chose,\nand brought them together again at the close of the day, more or\nlest tired, always glad to meet, often with something to say.\n\nMargaret found herself fully and pleasantly occupied. Besides\ntranslating, she had again set up her easel, and spent an hour or\ntwo daily at her former pretty employment. The value of her\nservices increased, she found, in proportion as she grew\nindifferent to rendering them; and she could now select her own\nwork, and dictate terms. But her most delightful occupation was\nthe teaching her three little pupils.\n\nThere are two ways of teaching children. One is to seek to impose\non them our own individuality, to dogmatize, in utter\nunconsciousness that they are the most merciless of critics,\nfrequently the keenest of observers, and that they do not so much\nlack ideas, as the power of expression. Such teachers climb on to\na pedestal, and talk complacently downward at pupils who,\nperhaps, do not in the least consider them classical personages.\nWe cannot impose on children unless we can dazzle them, sometimes\nnot even then.\n\nThe other mode is to stand on their own platform, and talk up,\nnot logically, according to Kant or Hamilton, but in that\ncircuitous and inconsequent manner which is often the most\neffectual logic with children. We all know that the greatest\nprecision of aim is attained through a spiral bore; and perhaps\nthese young minds oftener reach the mark in that indirect manner,\nthan they would by any more formal process.\n\nThis was Miss Hamilton's mode of teaching and influencing\nchildren, and it was as fascinating to her as to them. She\ntreated them with respect, never laughed at their crude ideas,\ndid not require of them a self-control difficult for an adult to\npractice, and never forgot that some ugly duck might turn out to\nbe a swan. But where she did assert authority, she was absolute;\nand she was merciless to insolence and disobedience.\n\n\"I want cake. I don't like bread and butter,\" says Dora.\n\nMrs. James fired didactic platitudes at the child, Aurelia\ncoaxed, and Mrs. Lewis preached hygiene. Miss Hamilton knew\nbetter than either. She sketched a bright word-picture of waving\nwheat-fields over-buzzed by bees, over-fluttered by birds,\nstarred through and through with little intrusive flowers that\nhad no business whatever there, but were let stay; of the shaking\nmill where the wheat was ground, and the gay stream that laughed,\nand set its shining shoulder to the great wheel, and pushed, and\nran away, blind with foam; of the yeasty sponge, a pile of milky\nbubbles.\n{166}\nShe told of sweet clover-heads, red and white, and the cow and\nthe bees seeing who should get them first. 'I want them for my\nhoney,' says the bee. 'And I want them for my cream,' says Mooly.\nAnd they both made a snatch, and Mooly got the clover, and\nperhaps a purple violet with it, and the cream got the sweetness\nof them, and then it was churned, and there was the butter! She\ndescribed the clean, cool dairy, full of a ceaseless flicker of\nlight and shade from the hop-vines that swung outside the window,\nand waved the humming-birds away, of pans and pans of yellow\ncream, smooth and delicious, of fresh butter just out of the\nchurn, glowing like gold through its bath of water, of pink and\nwhite petals of apple-blossoms drifting in on the soft breeze,\nand settling--\"who knows but a pink, crimped-up-at-the-edges\npetal may have settled on this very piece of butter? Try, now, if\nit doesn't taste apple-blossomy.\"\n\nNonsense, of course, when viewed from a dignified altitude; but\nwhen looked up at from a point about two feet from the ground, it\nwas the most excellent sense imaginable. To these three little\ngirls, Dora, Agnes, and Violet, Miss Hamilton was a goddess.\n\nMargaret did not neglect her own mind in those happy days. Mr.\nSouthard marked out for her a course of reading in which, it is\ntrue, poetry and fiction, with a few shining exceptions, were\ntabooed; but metaphysics was permitted; and history enjoined tome\nupon tome, striking octaves up the centuries, and dying away in\ntinkling mythologies. She read conscientiously, sometimes with\npleasure, sometimes with a half-acknowledged weariness.\n\nMr. Southard was a severe Mentor. As he did not spare himself, so\nhe did not spare others, still less Margaret. She failed to\nperceive, what was plain to the others, that, by virtue of her\ndescent, he considered her his especial charge, and was trying to\nform her after his notions. She acquiesced in all his\nrequirements, half from indifference, half from a desire to\nplease everybody, since she was herself so well pleased; and then\nforgot all about him. It was out of his power to trouble her save\nfor a moment.\n\n\"You yield too much to that man,\" Mrs. Lewis said to her one day.\n\"He is one of those positive persons who cannot help being\ntyrannical.\"\n\n\"He has a fine mind,\" said Margaret absently.\n\n\"Yes,\" the lady acknowledged in a pettish tone. \"But if he would\nsend a few pulses up to irrigate his brain, it would be an\nimprovement.\"\n\nOf course Mr. Southard spoke of religion to his pupil, and urged\non her the duty of being united with the church.\n\n\"I cannot be religious, as the church requires,\" she said\nuneasily, dreading lest he might overcome her will without\nconvincing her reason. \"I think that it is something cabalistic.\"\n\n\"Your grandfather, and your father and mother did not find it\nso,\" the minister said reprovingly.\n\nMargaret caught her breath with pain, and lifted her hand in a\nquick, silencing gesture. \"I never bury my dead!\" she said; and\nafter a moment added, \"It may be wrong, but this religion seems\nto me like a strait-jacket. I like to read of David dancing\nbefore the ark, of dervishes whirling, of Shakers clapping their\nhands, of Methodists singing at the tops of their voices 'Glory\nHallelujah!' or falling into trances. Religion is not fervent\nenough for me. It does not express my feelings. I hardly know\nwhat I need. Perhaps I am all wrong.\"\n\n{167}\n\nShe stopped, her eyes filling with tears of vexation.\n\nBut even as the drops started, they brightened; for, just in\nseason to save her from still more pressing exhortation, Mr.\nGranger sauntered across the room, and put some careless question\nto the minister.\n\nMr. Southard recollected that he had to lecture that evening, and\nleft the room to prepare himself.\n\n\"I am so glad you came!\" Margaret said, \"I was on the point of\nbeing bound, and gagged, and blindfolded.\"\n\nMr. Granger took the chair that the minister had vacated, and\ndrew up to him a little stand on which he leaned his arms, \"I\nperceived that I was needed,\" he said. \"There was no mistaking\nyour besieged expression; and I saw, too, that look in Mr.\nSouthard's face which tells that he is about to pile up an\ninsurmountable argument. I do not think that you will be any\nbetter for having religious discussions with him. You will only\nbe fretted and uneasy. Mr. Southard is an excellent man, and a\nsincere Christian; but he is in danger of mistaking his own\ntemperament for a dogma.\"\n\n\"If I thought that, then I shouldn't mind so much,\" Margaret\nsaid. \"But I have been taking for granted that he is right and I\nwrong, and trying to let him think for me. The result is, that\ninstead of being convinced, I have only been irritated. I must\nthink for myself, whether I wish to or not. Now he circumscribes\nmy reading so. It is miscellaneous, I know; but I am curious\nabout everything in the universe. I don't like closed doors. He\nthinks my curiosity trivial and dangerous, and reminds me that a\nrolling stone gathers no moss.\"\n\n\"And I would ask, with the canny Scotchman,'what good does the\nmoss do the stone?'\" Mr. Granger replied. \"The fact is, you've\ngot to do just as I did with him. He and I fought that battle out\nlong ago, and now he lets me alone, and we are good friends. Be\nas curious as you like. I heard him speak with disapproval of\nyour going to the Jewish synagogue last week, and I dare say you\nresolved not to go again. Go, if you wish; and don't ask his\npermission. He frowned on the Greek anthology, and you laid it\naside. Take it up again if you like. Even pagan flowers catch the\ndews of heaven. Your own good taste and delicacy will be a\nsufficient censor in matters of reading.\"\n\n\"Now I breathe!\" Margaret said joyfully. \"Some people can bear to\nbe so hemmed in; but I cannot. It does me harm. If I am denied a\ndrop of water, which, given, would satisfy me, at once I thirst\nfor the ocean. I cannot help it. It is my way.\"\n\n\"Don't try to help it,\" Mr. Granger replied decisively; \"or,\nabove all, don't allow any one else to try to help it for you. I\nhave no patience with such impositions. It is an insult to\nhumanity, and an insult to Him who created humanity, for any one\nperson to attempt to think for another. Obedience and humility\nare good only when they are voluntary, and are practised at the\nmandate of reason. There are people who never go out of a certain\nround, never want to. They are born, they live, and they die, in\nthe mental and moral domicil of their forefathers. They have no\norbit, but only an axis. Stick a precedent through them, and give\nthem a twirl, and they will hum on contentedly to the end of the\nchapter. I've nothing against them, as long as they let others\nalone, and don't insist that to stay in one place and buzz is the\nend of humanity.\n{168}\nOther people there are who grow, they are insatiably curious,\nthey dive to the heart of things, they take nothing without a\nquestion. They are not quite satisfied with truth itself till\nthey have compared it with all that claims to be truth. Let them\nlook, I say. It's a poor truth that won't bear any test that man\ncan put to it. The first are, as Coleridge says, 'very positive,\nbut not quite certain' that they are right; to the last a\nconviction once won is perfect and indestructible. Rest with them\nis not vegetation, but rapture.\n\n\"Fly abroad, my wild bird! don't be afraid. Use your wings. That\nis what they were made for.\"\n\nMargaret forgot to answer in listening and looking at the\nspeaker's animated face. When Mr. Granger was in earnest, he had\nan impetuous way that carried all before it. At the end, his\nshining eyes dropped on her and seemed to cover her with light;\nthe impatient ring in his voice softened to an indulgent\ntenderness. Margaret felt as a flower may feel that has its fill\nof sun and dew, and has nothing to do but bloom, and then fade\naway. She had no fear of this man, no sense of humiliation with\nregard to the past. Her gratitude toward him was boundless. To\nhim she owed life and all that made life tolerable, and any\ndevotion which he could require of her she was ready to render.\nHer friendship was perfect, deep, frank, and full of a silent\ndelight. She did not deify him, but was satisfied to find him\nhuman. He could speak a cross word if his beef was over-done, his\ncoffee too weak, or his paper out of the way when he wanted it.\nHe could criticise people occasionally, and laugh at their\nweakness, even when his kind heart reproached him for doing it.\nHe liked to lounge on a sofa and read, when he had better be\nabout his business. He needed rousing, she thought; was too much\nof a Sybarite to live in a world full of over-worked people.\nPerhaps he was rusting. But how kind and thoughtful he was; how\nfull of sympathy when sympathy was needed; how generously he\nblamed himself when he was wrong, and how readily forgot the\nfaults of others. How impossible it was for him to be mean or\nselfish! His rich, sweet, slow nature reminded her of a rose; but\nshe felt intuitively that under that silence was hidden a heroic\nstrength.\n\nMr. Southard's lecture was on the Jesuits; and all the family\nwere to go and hear him.\n\n\"Terribly hot weather for such a subject,\" Mr. Lewis grumbled.\n\"But it wouldn't be respectful not to go. Don't forget to take\nyour smelling-salts, girls. There will be a strong odor of\nbrimstone in the entertainment.\n\nMargaret went to the lecture with a feeling that was almost fear.\nTo her the name of Jesuit was a terror. The day of those\npowerful, guileful men was passed, surely; and yet, what if, in\nthe strange vicissitudes of life, they should revive again? She\nwas glad that the minister was going to raise his warning voice;\nyet still, she dreaded to hear him. The subject was too exciting.\n\nThe lecture was what might be expected. Beginning with Ignatius\nof Loyola, the speaker traced the progress of that unique and\npowerful society through its wonderful increase, and its\ndownfall, to the present time, when as he said, the bruised\nserpent was again raising its head.\n\n{169}\n\nMr. Southard did full justice to their learning, their sagacity,\nand their zeal. He told with a sort of shrinking admiration how\nmen possessed of tastes and accomplishments which fitted them to\nshine in the most cultivated society, buried themselves in\ndistant and heathen lands, far removed from all human sympathy,\nhardened their scholarly hands with toil, encountered danger,\nsuffered death--for what? That their society might prosper! The\nsubject seemed to have for the speaker a painful fascination. He\nlingered while describing the unparalleled devotion, the\npernicious enthusiasm of these men. He acknowledged that they\nproclaimed the name of Christ where it had never been heard\nbefore; he lamented that ministers of the gospel had not emulated\ntheir heroism; but there the picture was over-clouded, was vailed\nin blackness. It needed so much brightness in order that the\ndarkness which followed might have its full effect.\n\nWe all know what pigments are used in that Plutonian\nshading--mental reservation, probableism, and the doctrine that\nthe end justifies the means; the latter a fiction, the two former\nscrupulously misrepresented.\n\nHere Mr. Southard was at home. Here he could denounce with fiery\nindignation, point with lofty scorn. The close of the lecture\nleft the characters of the Jesuits as black as their robes. They\nhad been lifter only to be cast down.\n\nMiss Hamilton walked home with Mr. Granger, scarcely uttering a\nword the whole way.\n\n\"You do not speak of the lecture,\" he said when they were at the\nhouse steps. \"Has it terrified you so much that you dare not?\nShall you start up from sleep to-night fancying that a great\nblack Jesuit has come to carry you off?\"\n\n\"Do you know, Mr. Granger,\" she said slowly, \"those men seem to\nme very much like the apostles; in their devotion, I mean? I\nwould like to read about them. They are interesting.\"\n\n\"Oh! they have, doubtless, books which will tell you all you want\nto know,\" he replied.\n\n\"_They!_\" repeated Margaret. \"But I want to know the truth.\"\nMr. Granger laughed. \"Then I advise you to read nothing, and hear\nnothing.\"\n\n\"How then shall I learn?\" demanded Miss Hamilton with a touch of\nimpatience.\n\n\"Descend into the depth of your consciousness, as the German did\nwhen he wanted to make a correct drawing of an elephant.\"\n\n\"No,\" she replied remembering the story, \"I will imitate the\nFrenchman; I will go to the elephant's country, and draw from\nlife.\"\n\n\"That is not difficult,\" Mr. Granger said, amused at the idea of\nMiss Hamilton studying the Jesuits. \"These elephants have jungles\nthe world over. In this city you may find one on Endicott street,\nanother on Suffolk street, and a third on Harrison avenue.\"\n\nThey were just entering the house. Margaret hesitated, and paused\nin the entry.\n\n\"You do not think this a foolish curiosity?\" she asked wistfully.\n\"You see no harm in my wishing to know something more about\nthem?\"\n\nMr. Granger was leaving his hat and gloves on the table. He\nturned immediately, surprised at the serious manner in which the\nquestion was put.\n\n\"Surely not!\" he said promptly. \"I should be very inconsistent if\nI did.\"\n\nShe stood an instant longer, her face perfectly grave and pale.\n\n\"You are afraid?\" he asked smiling.\n\n{170}\n\n\"No,\" she replied hesitatingly, \"I don't think that is it. But I\nhave all my life had such a horror of Catholics, and especially\nof Jesuits, that to resolve even to look at them deliberately,\nseems almost as momentous a step as Caesar crossing the Rubicon.\"\n\n\n                   Chapter V.\n\n       The Sword Of The Lord And Of Gideon.\n\nBoston, at the beginning of the war, was not a place to go to\nsleep in. Massachusetts politics, so long eminent in the senate,\nhad at last taken the field; and that city, which is the brain of\nthe State, effervesced with enthusiasm. Men the least heroic,\napparently, showed themselves capable of heroism; and dreamers\nover the great deeds of others looked up to find that they might\nthemselves be \"the hymn the Brahmin sings.\"\n\nEager crowds surrounded the bulletin, put out by newspaper\noffices, or ran to gaze at mustering or departing regiments.\nWindows filled at the sound of a fife and drum; and it seemed\nthat the air was fit to be breathed only when it was full of the\nflutter of flags.\n\nCeremony was set aside. Strangers and foes spoke to each other;\nand the most disdainful lady would smile upon the roughest\nuniform. From the Protestant pulpit came no more the exhortation\nto brotherly love, but the trumpet-call to arms; and under the\nwing of the Old South meeting-house rose a recruiting office, and\na rostrum, with the motto, \"The sword of the Lord and of Gideon.\"\n\nThe Lord of that time was he at the touch of whose rod the flesh\nand the loaves were consumed with fire; who sent for a sign a\ndrench of dew on the fleece; at the command of whose servant all\nEphraim shouted and took the waters before the flying Midianites,\nwith the heads of Oreb and of Zeb on their spears.\n\nOf course there was a good deal of froth; but underneath glowed\nthe pure wine. It is true that many went because the savage\ninstinct hidden in human nature rose from its unseen lair, and\nfiercely shook itself awake at the scent of blood. But others\ncame from an honest sense of duty, and offered their lives\nknowing what they did; and women who loved them said amen. It was\na stirring time.\n\nIt is not to be supposed that our friends were indifferent to\nthese events. It was a doubtful point with them, indeed, whether\nthey could be content to leave the city that summer. Mr. Southard\nwas decidedly for remaining in town; and Mr. Granger, though less\nexcited, was inclined to second him. But Mr. Lewis had, early in\nthe spring, engaged a cottage at the seaside, with the\nunderstanding that the whole family were to accompany him there,\nand he utterly refused to release them from their promise. As if\nto help his arguments, the weather became intensely hot in June.\nFinally they consented to go.\n\n\"We owe you thanks for your persistence,\" Mr. Granger said, as\nthey sat together the last evening of their stay in town. \"I\ncouldn't stand two months of this.\"\n\nMr. Lewis was past answering. Dressed in a complete suit of\nlinen, seated in a wide Fayal chair, with a palm-leaf fan in one\nhand and a handkerchief in the other, he presented what his wife\ncalled an ill-tempered dissolving view. At that moment, the only\ndesire of his heart was that one of Sydney Smith's, that he could\ntake off his flesh and sit in his bones.\n\n{171}\n\nAurelia and Margaret sat near by, flushed, smiling, and languid,\ntrying to look cool in their crisp, white dresses.\n\nMiss Hamilton would scarcely be recognized by one who had seen\nher only three months before. Happiness had done its work, and\nshe was beautiful. Her face had recovered its smooth curves and\nbloomy whiteness, and her lips were constantly brightening with\nthe smile that was ever ready to come.\n\nMr. Granger contemplated the two young ladies with a patriarchal\nadmiration. He liked to have beautiful objects in his sight; and\nsurely, he thought, no other man in the city could boast of\nhaving in his family two such girls as those who now sat opposite\nhim. Besides, what was best, they were friends of his, and\nregarded him with confidence and affection.\n\nMrs. Lewis glanced from them to him, and back to them, and pouted\nher lip a little. \"He is enough to try the patience of a saint!\"\nshe was thinking. \"Why doesn't he marry one of those girls like a\nsensible man? To be sure, it is their fault. They are too\nfriendly and frank with him, the simpletons! There they sit and\nbeam on him with affectionate tranquillity, as if he were their\ngrandfather. I'd like to give 'em a shaking.\"\n\nMr. Southard was walking slowly to and fro from the back-parlor\nto the front, and he, too, glanced frequently at the sofa where\nsat the two unconscious beauties. But no smile softened his pale\nface. It seemed, indeed, sterner than usual. The war was stirring\nthe minister to the depths.\n\nMr. Lewis opened a blind near him. A beam of dusty gold came in\nfrom the west; he snapped the blind in its face.\n\n\"Seems to me it takes the sun a long time to get down,\" he said\ncrossly. \"I hope that none of your mighty Joshuas has commanded\nit to stand still.\"\n\nNo one answered. They sat in the sultry gloaming, and listened\ndreamily to the mingled city noises that came from near and far;\nthe softened roll of a private carriage, like the touch of a\ngloved hand, after the knuckled grasp of drays and carts; the\nirritating wheeze of an inexorable hand-organ; and, through all,\nthe shrill cry of the news-boy, the cicada of the city.\n\nThe good-breeding of the company was shown by the perfect\ncomposure of their silence, and the perfect quiescence of their\nminds, by the fact that their thoughts all drifted in the same\ndirection, each one after its own mode.\n\nMrs. Lewis was thinking: \"Those poor horses! I wish they knew\nenough to organize a strike, and all run away into the green,\nshady country.\"\n\nThe husband was saying relentingly to himself, \"I declare I do\npity the poor fellows who have to work during this infernal\nweather.\"\n\nThe others were still more in harmony with Mr. Granger when he\nspoke lowly, half to himself:\n\n\"If that beautiful idyl of Ruskin's could be realized; that\ncountry and government where the king should be the father of his\npeople; where all alike should go to him for help and comfort;\nwhere he should find his glory, not in enlarging his dominion,\nbut in making it more happy and peaceful! Will such a kingdom\never be, I wonder? Will such a golden age ever come?\"\n\nMargaret glanced with a swift smile toward Mr. Southard, and saw\nthe twin of her thought in his face. He came and stood with his\nhand on the arm of her sofa.\n\n{172}\n\n\"Both you and Mr. Ruskin are unconsciously thinking of the same\nthing,\" he said, with some new sweetness in his voice, and\nbrightness in his face. \"What you mean can only be the kingdom of\nGod; and it will come! it will come!\"\n\nLooking up smilingly at him, Margaret caught a smile in return;\nand then, for the first time, she thought that Mr. Southard was\nbeautiful. The cold purity of his face was lighted momentarily by\nthat glow which it needed in order to be attractive.\n\nAurelia rose, and crossing the room, flung the blinds open. The\nsun had set, and a slight coolness was creeping up.\n\n\"This butchery going on at the South looks as if the kingdom of\nGod were coming with a vengeance,\" said Mr. Lewis, fanning\nhimself.\n\n\"It is coming with a vengeance!\" exclaimed Mr. Southard. \"God\ndoes not work in sunshine alone. Job saw him in the whirlwind.\nMassachusetts soldiers have gone out with the Bible as well as\nthe bayonet.\"\n\nMr. Lewis contemplated the speaker with an expression of\nwondering admiration that was a little overdone.\n\n\"What _did_ God do before Massachusetts was discovered?\" he\nexclaimed.\n\n\"I was surprised to hear, Mr. Granger, that your cousin Sinclair\nhad joined a New York regiment,\" Mrs. Lewis said hastily. \"Only\nthe day before the steamer sailed in which he had engaged\npassage, some quixotic whim seized him, and he volunteered. I\ncannot conceive what induced him.\"\n\n\"I think the uniform was becoming,\" Mr. Granger said dryly.\n\n\"I pity his wife,\" pursued the lady, sighing. \"Poor Caroline!\"\n\n\"She has acted like a fool!\" Mr. Lewis broke in angrily. \"It was\nher fault that Sinclair went off. She thorned him perpetually\nwith her exactions. She forgot that lovers are only common folks\nin a state of evaporation, and that it is in the nature of things\nthat they should get condensed after a time. She wanted him to be\nfor ever picking up her pocket-handkerchief, and writing\nacrostics on her name. A man can't stand that kind of folderol\nwhen he's got to be fifty years old. We begin to develop a taste\nfor common sense when we reach that age.\"\n\n\"He showed no confidence in her,\" Mrs. Lewis said, with downcast\neyes, \"He often deceived her, and therefore she always suspected\nhim.\"\n\n\"I think that a man should have no concealments from his wife,\"\nsaid Mr. Southard emphatically.\n\n\"That's just what Samson's wife thought when her husband proposed\nhis little conundrum to the Philistines,\" commented Mr. Lewis.\n\nMargaret got up and followed Aurelia to the window.\n\n\"I am very sorry for Cousin Caroline,\" said Mr. Granger, in his\nstateliest manner, rising, also, and putting an end to the\ndiscussion.\n\n\"He is always sorry for any one who can contrive to appear\nabused,\" Mr. Lewis said to Margaret. \"If you want to interest\nhim, you must be as unfortunate as you can.\"\n\nMargaret looked at her friend with eyes to which the quick tears\nstarted, and blessed him in her heart.\n\nHe was passing at the moment, and, catching the remark, feared\nlest she might be hurt or embarrassed.\n\n\"Don't you want to come out on to the veranda?\" he asked,\nglancing back as he stepped from the long window.\n\nThe words were nothing; but they were so steeped in the kindness\nof the look and tone accompanying them that they seemed to be\nwords of tenderness.\n\n{173}\n\nShe followed him out into the twilight; the others came too, and\nthey sat looking into the street, saying little, but enjoying the\nrefreshing coolness. Other people were at their windows, or on\ntheir steps; and occasionally an acquaintance passing stopped for\na word. After a while G----, the liberator, came along, and\nleaned on the fence a moment--a man with a ridge over the top of\nhis bald head, that looked as if his backbone didn't mean to stop\ntill it had reached his forehead, as probably it didn't; a\nsoft-voiced, gently-speaking lion; but Margaret had heard him\nroar.\n\n\"Mr. G----,\" said Mr. Granger, \"here is a lady with two dactyls\nfor a name, Miss Margaret Hamilton. She will add another, and be\nMiriam, when your people come out through the Red Sea we are\nmaking.\"\n\n\"Have your cymbals ready, young prophetess,\" said the liberator.\n\"The waters are lifting on the right hand and on the left.\"\n\n\n\nThe next day they went to the seaside, the ladies going in the\nmorning to set things in order; the gentlemen not permitted to\nmake their appearance till evening.\n\nAfter a pleasant ride of an hour in the cars, they stepped out at\na little way-station, where a carriage was awaiting them. About\nhalf a mile from this station, on a point of land hidden from it\nby a strip of thick woods, was their cottage.\n\nThe place was quite solitary; not a house in sight landward,\nthough summer cottages nestled all about among the hills, hidden\nin wild green nooks. But across the water, towns were visible in\nall directions.\n\nThey drove with soundless wheels over a moist, brown road that\nwound and coiled through the woods. There had been a shower in\nthe night that left everything washed, and the sky cloudless. It\nwas yet scarcely ten o'clock; and the air, though warm, was fresh\nand still. The morning sunshine lay across the road, motionless\nbetween the motionless dense tree-shadows; both light and shade\nso still, so intense, they looked like a pavement of solid gold\nand amber. If, at intervals, a slight motion woke the woods, less\nlike a breeze than a deep and gentle respiration of nature, and\nthat leaf-and-flower-wrought pavement stirred through each\nglowing abaciscus, it was as though the solid earth were stirred.\n\nA faint sultry odor began to rise from the pine-tops, and from\nclumps of sweet-fern that stood in sunny spots; but the rank,\nlong-stemmed flowers and trailing vines that grew under the trees\nwere yet glistening with the undried shower; the shaded grass at\nthe roadside was beaded, every blade, with minute sparkles of\nwater; and here and there a pine-bough was thickly hung with\ndrops that trembled with fulness at the points of its clustered\nemerald needles, and at a touch came clashing down in a shower\nthat was distinctly heard through the silence.\n\nThe birds were taking their forenoon rest; but, as the carriage\nrolled lightly past, a fanatical bobolink, who did not seem to\nhave much common sense, but to be brimming over with the most\nglorious nonsense, swung himself down from some hidden perch,\nalighted in an utterly impossible manner on a spire of grass, and\npoured forth such a long-drawn, liquid, impetuous song, that it\nwas a wonder there was anything of him left when it was over.\n\nThree pairs of hands were stretched to arrest the driver's arm;\nthree smiling, breathless faces listened till the last note, and\nwatched the ecstatic little warbler swim away with an undulating\nmotion, as if he floated on the bubbling waves of his own song.\n\n{174}\n\nIn a few minutes a turn of the road brought them in sight of the\nblue, salt water spread out boundlessly, sparkling, and\nsail-flecked; and presently they drove up at the cottage door.\n\nThis was a long, low building, all wings, like a moth; colored,\nlike fungi, of mottled browns and yellows; overtrailed by\nwoodbines and honeysuckles, through which you sometimes only\nguessed at the windows by the white curtains blowing out.\n\n\"Why, it is something that has grown out of the earth!\" exclaimed\nMargaret. \"See! the ground is all uneven about the walls as it is\nabout the boles of trees.\"\n\nThis rural domicil faced the east and the sea; and an unfenced\nlawn sloped down to the beach where the tide was now creeping up\nwith bright ripples chasing each other.\n\nThe house was pleasant enough, large and airy; and, after a few\nhours' work, they had everything in order. Then, tired, happy,\nand hungry, they sat down to luncheon.\n\n\"Isn't it delightful to get rid of men a little while, when you\nknow that they are soon to come again?\" drawled Aurelia, sitting\nwith both elbows on the table, and her rich hair a little\ntumbled.\n\nMargaret glanced at her with a smile of approval. \"That sweet\ncreature!\" she thought. And said aloud, \"You know perfectly well,\nAura, that all the time they are gone we are thinking of them and\ndoing something for them. Whom have we been working for to-day\nbut the gentlemen, pray?\"\n\nTo her surprise, Aurelia's brown eyes dropped, and her beautiful\nface turned a sudden pink.\n\n\"I never could carve a fowl,\" said Mrs. Lewis plaintively. \"But\nthere must be a beginning in learning anything. I wish I knew\nwhere the beginning of this duck is. Aura, will you go look in\nthat Audubon, and see how this creature is put together? We are\nlikely to be worse off than Mr. Secretary Pepys, when the venison\npasty turned out to be 'palpable mutton.' We shall have nothing.\"\n\nMargaret started up. \"Infirm of purpose, give me the carver!\" she\ncried; and seizing the knife, in a moment of inspiration,\ntriumphantly carved the mysterious duck, and betrayed its hidden\narticulations.\n\nMrs. Lewis contemplated her with great respect. \"My dear,\" she\nsaid, \"I have done you injustice. I have believed that though you\ncould succeed admirably in the ornamental and the extraordinary,\nyou had no faculty for common things. I acknowledge my\nerror.'Nemesis favors genius,' as Disraeli says of Burke.\"\n\nAfter luncheon and a siesta, they dressed and went out onto the\nlawn to watch for the gentlemen, who presently appeared.\n\nMr. Granger presented Margaret with a spike of beautiful pink\narethusa set in a ring of feathery ferns. \"It came from a swamp\nmiles away,\" he said. \"I wanted to bring you something bright the\nfirst day.\"\n\n\"You always bring me something bright,\" she said.\n\n             To Be Continued.\n\n-------\n\n{175}\n\n    _Problems Of The Age_, And Its Critics.\n\n\nThe article from _The Independent_ of August 20th, which we\nquote in full below, has been sent to us by the writer of it,\nwith an accompanying note, requesting us to take notice of its\nobservations. Our remarks will, therefore, be chiefly confined to\nthis particular criticism on the _Problems of the Age_,\nalthough we shall embrace the opportunity to notice also some\nother criticisms which have been made in various periodicals.\n\n  \"The pastor of the Broadway Tabernacle, many years ago, taking\n  a hint from Archbishop Whately,'traced the errors of Romanism\n  to their origin,' _not_ 'in human nature,' but in Old\n  School theology. The ultra-Calvinist doctrine of original sin,\n  he argued, necessitated the dogma of baptismal regeneration;\n  and the doctrine of physical inability brought in the notion of\n  sacramental grace. Mr. Hewit is a living example, and his book\n  is documentary proof, of the justice of this theory. His early\n  training was under the severest of schoolmasters, in the oldest\n  of schools. The problems on which his mind has been exercised\n  from his birth are such as this: How men can be 'born depraved,\n  with an irresistible propensity to sin, and under the doom of\n  eternal misery.' With admirable infelicity, a treatise on\n  questions like this--the freshest of which are as old as\n  Christian theology, and the others as old, if not older, than\n  the fall of man--has been entitled _Problems of the Age_,\n  on the ground (as we are informed in the preface) that they are\n  'subjects of much interest and inquiry in our own time.' From\n  his hereditary embarrassments on these subjects, the writer\n  makes his way out to a new theodicy, which on the subject of\n  the existence of sin is Taylorism, word for word; on the\n  subject of natural depravity is something like Pelagianism; and\n  on the subject of original sin is a curious notion, which he\n  strives mightily to represent as the sentiment of Augustine.\n  The whole series of ideas is labelled 'Catholic Theology,' and\n  represented as the antagonist of Protestant opinion.\n\n  \"The volume deserves no small praise as a specimen of lucid,\n  consecutive argument on difficult questions, conducted in pure\n  English. The only serious blemish upon the author's style is\n  his habit, when he has said a thing once in good English, of\n  saying it over again immediately in bad Latin. But this, we\n  suppose, is less the fault of his taste than of his position.\n  The logic of the book, also, has not more faults than are\n  commonly incident to such discussions; it is strong for pulling\n  down, feeble in building up. It reduces to absurdity the\n  statements of some of his antagonists, with wonderfully\n  complacent unconsciousness that a smart antagonist could get\n  exactly the same hitch about the neck of _its_ statement,\n  and drag it to the same destruction.\n\n  \"The plan of the work is curious. It begins with the primary\n  cognitions of the mind, and goes forward with an _\u00e0 priori\n  _ argument for the existence of God: that if God exists, he\n  must necessarily exist in Trinity; must create just such a\n  universe; must be incarnate in the Second Person; must redeem a\n  fallen race; must institute the Roman Catholic Church, its\n  sacraments and ritual. The second part is devoted to finding in\n  Augustine the ideas of the former part--ideas some of which,\n  unless that lucid author has been hitherto read with a veil\n  upon the heart,\n\n    'Would make _Augustine_ stare and gasp.'\n\n  \"Besides the limits of space, which are imperative, two reasons\n  suffice to excuse us from examining in detail the course of\n  this ingenious and protracted argument:\n\n  \"_First_. It is a matter of comparatively little interest\n  to scrutinize severely the _processes_ of a reasoner to\n  whom one half of his _conclusions_ are prescribed\n  beforehand, under peril of excommunication and eternal\n  damnation, while he holds the other half under a vow to\n  repudiate them at a moment's notice from the proper authority.\n\n  \"_Second_. It is profoundly unsatisfactory to argue\n  against any such book, whatever its origin or pretensions, as\n  representative of the Roman Catholic theology. From page to\n  page the author challenges our respect and deference for his\n  views as being the teachings of the church.'This is Catholic\n  truth; this is Catholic theology.'\n{176}\n  But, once let us give chase to one of his propositions, and\n  hunt it down into the corner of an absurdity, and we are sure\n  to hear some of the author's confederates trying to call off\n  the dogs with the assurance,'Oh! that is only a notion of\n  Hewit's;' or, 'only a private opinion of theologians;' or,\n  'only the declaration of an individual pope;' or, 'only a\n  decree of council which never was generally received: the\n  church is not responsible for such things as these.' So\n  slippery a thing is 'Catholic doctrine'! So unrestful is the\n  'repose' offered to inquiring minds by that church, which\n  divides all subjects of religious thought into two classes:\n  one, on which it is forbidden to make impartial inquiry; the\n  other, on which it is forbidden to come to settled\n  conclusions.\"\n\nWe confess that it appears to us a very puzzling \"problem\" to\nfind out how to answer the foregoing criticism, or the others\nfrom non-catholic periodicals which it has been our hap to fall\nin with. Not one of them has seriously controverted the main\nthesis of the book they profess to criticise, or to make any\nwell-motived adjudication of the several portions of the argument\nby which the thesis is sustained. Some, like the one before us,\nattempt to set aside the whole question; others content\nthemselves with a round assertion that the arguments are\ninconclusive; and the residue confine themselves to generalities;\nor, at most, to the criticism of some minor details. We should\nnot think it worth while to trouble ourselves or our readers with\na formal replication to such superficial critics, were it not for\nthe opportunity which is afforded us of bringing into clearer\nlight the total lack of all deep philosophy or theology in the\nnon-catholic world, and the value of the Catholic philosophy\nwhich we are striving to bring before the minds of intelligent\nand sincere inquirers after truth.\n\nThe criticisms begin with the title of the work. The critic of\n_The Independent_ objects to our calling old questions\n_problems of the age_. _The Southern Review_ coincides\nwith him, and suggests that they should rather have been called\n\"problems _of all ages;_\" while another critic, in _The\nEvening Post_, gives his verdict that they are all to be\nclassed as \"problems of a bygone age.\" This last criticism is the\nonly one founded upon a reason; and is, at the same time, a full\njustification of the appropriateness of the title before all\nthose who still profess to believe in the revelation of God. The\ndifferent classes of protesters against the teaching of the\nchurch have wearied themselves in vain in searching for a\nsatisfactory solution of the problems of man's condition and\ndestiny; either in some new rendering of divine revelation, or in\nsome system of purely rational philosophy. The despair produced\nby their utter failure vents itself in the denial that these\nproblems are real ones, capable of any solution at all, and in\nthe attempt to relegate them finally into the region of the\nunknowable. This is a vain effort. They have forced themselves\nupon the attention of the human mind ever since the creation, and\nthey will continue to do so, in spite of all efforts to exorcise\nthem. The relations of man to his Creator, the reason of moral\nand physical evil, the bearing of the present life on the future,\nthe significance of Christianity, and such like topics, can be\nregarded as obsolete questions only by a most unpardonable\nlevity. The so-called Liberal Christian and the rationalist may\nin deed proffer the opinion that the solutions we have given are\nalready antiquated. But, with all the hardihood which persons of\nthis class possess in so remarkable a degree in claiming for\nthemselves all the light, all the intelligence, all the spiritual\nvitality existing in the world, we must persist in thinking that\ntheir triumphant tone is some what prematurely assumed.\n{177}\nWe insist that the problems of bygone ages are the problems of\nthe present ages, and that the solutions of bygone ages are the\nonly real ones, as true and as necessary at the present moment as\nthey have ever been. The restless mind of the non-Catholic world,\nhaving broken away from its intellectual centre to wander\naimlessly in the infinite void, has plunged itself anew into all\nthe puzzle and bewilderment from which Christianity with its\ndivine philosophy had once delivered it, and, wearied with its\nwanderings, longs and yet delays to return to its proper orbit.\nHence the great problems of past ages have become emphatically\nthe problems of the present, and must be answered anew, by the\nsame principles and the same truths which past ages found\nsufficient, yet presented in part in modified language, in a new\ndress, and with special application to new phases of error. The\ntitle _Problems of the Age_ is therefore fully justified as\nthe most felicitous and appropriate which could have been chosen\nfor a treatise intended to meet the wants of those who are\nseeking for help in their doubts and difficulties respecting both\nnatural and revealed religion. Any believer in the Christian\nrevelation who cannot recognize this, and heartily sympathize in\nany well-meant effort to present the Christian mysteries in an\naspect which may attract honest and candid doubters or\nunbelievers, shows that he has mistaken his side, and has more\nintellectual sympathy with unbelief than he would willingly\nacknowledge, even to himself.\n\nAnother anonymous critic sets aside with one sentence the entire\nargument of the book; because, forsooth, it begins with the\nassumption that the Catholic doctrine is the only true one, and\ndemands a preliminary submission of the reader's mind to the\nauthority of the Catholic Church. Nothing could be more\nsuperficial and incorrect than this statement of the thesis\nproposed by the author. The whole course of the argument supposes\nthat an unbeliever or inquirer after the true religion begins\nwith the first, self-evident principles of reason; proceeds, by\nway of demonstration, to the truths of natural theology, and by\nthe way of evidence and the motives of credibility advances to\nthe belief of Christianity and the divine authority of the\nCatholic Church. The thesis proposed or the special topic to be\ndiscussed by the author is, Supposing the authority of the\nCatholic Church sufficiently established by extrinsic evidence,\nis there any insurmountable obstacle, on the side of reason, to\naccept her dogmas as intrinsically credible? The implicit or even\nexplicit affirmation that Catholic philosophy is the true and\nonly philosophy, that it alone can satisfy the demands of reason,\nis no begging of the question; for it is not stated as the\n_datum_ or logical premiss from which the logical\nconclusions are drawn. It is stated as being, so far as the mind\nof the sceptical reader is concerned, only an hypothesis to be\nproved, an enunciation of the judgment which is made by the mind\nof a Catholic, the motives of which the non-catholic reader is\ninvited to examine and consider by the light of the principles of\nreason, or of those revealed truths of which he is already\nconvinced.\n\nA most sapient critic in the London _Athenaeum_, venturing\nentirely out of his depth, makes an observation on the statement\nthat absolute beauty is identical with the divine essence, which\nwe notice merely for the amusement of our theological readers.\nThe statement of the author is, that beauty is to be identified\nwith the divine essence, by virtue of its definition as the\nsplendor of truth, and because truth, being identical with the\ndivine essence, its splendor must be also.\n{178}\nThis consummate philosopher argues that beauty must be\nidentified, not with the divine essence, but with its splendor,\nbecause it is the splendor of truth. The splendor of God is,\nthen, something distinct from God; and he is not most pure act\nand most simple being! We cannot wish for a more apposite\nillustration of the total loss of the first and most fundamental\nconceptions of philosophy and natural theology out of the English\nmind--a natural result of that movement which began with Luther,\nwhen he publicly burned the _Summa_ of St. Thomas.\n\n_The Mercersburg Review_ denies the demonstrative force of\nthe evidences of natural religion and positive revelation;\nreferring us to conscience, or the moral sense, as the ground of\nbelief in God and in Jesus Christ. This is another proof of the\ntruth of our judgment, that the radical intellectual disease\nwhich Protestantism has produced requires treatment by a thorough\ndosing with sound philosophy. The corruption of theology has\nbrought on a corruption of philosophy, and heresy has produced\nscepticism, so that we can hardly find a sound spot to begin with\nas a _point d'appui_ for the reconstruction of rational and\northodox belief. We do not despise the argument from conscience\nand the moral sense, or deny its validity. We did not specially\ndraw it out, because we were not writing a complete treatise on\nnatural theology; but it is contained in the metaphysical\nargument establishing the first and final cause. Apart from that,\nit has no conclusive force. What is conscience? Nothing but a\npractical judgment respecting that which ought to be done or left\nundone. What is the moral sense, but an intimate apprehension of\nthe relation of the voluntary acts of an intelligent and free\nagent to a final cause? It is only intellect which can take\ncognizance of a rule or principle directing a certain act to be\ndone or omitted, or of the intrinsic necessity of directing all\nacts toward a final cause or ultimate end. The intellect cannot\ndo this, or deduce an argument from conscience and the moral\nsense for the existence of God, unless it has certain infallible\nprinciples given it in its creation; and with these principles,\nthe existence of God and all natural theology can be proved by a\nmetaphysical demonstration, proceeding from which, as a basis, we\nprove Christianity and the Catholic Church by a moral\ndemonstration which is reducible to principles of metaphysical\ncertitude. Deny this, and conscience, or the moral sense, is a\nmere feeling, a sensible emotion, a habit induced by education, a\nsubjective state, which is just as available in support of\nBuddhism or Mohammedanism as of Christianity. _The Mercersburg\nReview_ is trying to sustain itself midway down the declivity\nof a slippery hill, afraid to descend where the mangled remains\nof Feuerbach lie bleaching in the sun, and unwilling to catch the\nrope which the Catholic Church throws to it, and ascend to the\nheight from whence Luther, in his pride and folly, slid. Kant's\nmiserable expedient of practical reason may suit those who are\ncontent with such an insecure position; but it will never satisfy\nthose who look for true science, and certain, infallible faith.\n\n_The Round Table_, in a notice which is, on the whole, very\nfavorable and appreciative, complains that we have accused\nCalvinism of being a dualistic or Manichaean doctrine. We have\nnot only affirmed, but proved that it is so. By Calvinism,\nhowever, we mean the strict, logical Calvinism of the rigid\nadherents of the system.\n{179}\nThe moderated, modified system, which approaches more nearly to\nthe doctrine of the most rigorous Catholic school, we do not wish\nto censure too severely. Neither do we charge formal dualism, or\na formal denial of the pure, unmixed goodness of God even upon\nthe strictest Calvinists. What we affirm is, that, together with\ntheir doctrine respecting God, which is orthodox, they hold\nanother doctrine respecting the acts of God toward his creatures,\nwhich is logically incompatible with the former, and logically\ndemands the affirmation of an evil and malignant principle\nequally self-existent, necessary, and eternal with the principle\nof good, and thus leads to the doctrine of dualism in being. Many\northodox Protestants have spoken against Calvinism much more\nseverely than we have done; and, in fact, while we cannot too\nstrongly reprobate its logical consequences, we always intend to\ndistinguish between them and the true, interior belief which\nexists in the minds of many Calvinists, excellent persons, and\nreally nearer to the church, in their doctrine, as practically\napprehended, than they are aware of.\n\nOur _Independent_ critic is displeased with the Latin\nquotations from scholastic theology which we have somewhat freely\nemployed, and compliments us, as he apparently supposes, by\nsuggesting that this violation of good taste is to be ascribed,\nnot to any lack of judgment on our part, but to the fault of our\nposition. It is somewhat amusing to notice the patronizing air\nwhich this well-meaning gentleman assumes, and the evident\ncomplacency with which, from the height of his little, recently\nconstructed eminence, he looks down with a smile of pitying\nforbearance upon our unfortunate \"position.\" We will consent to\nwaive, once for all, all claims of a personal nature to any\nconsideration which is not derived from our position as a\nCatholic and a humble disciple of the scholastic theology. That\ntheology is the glory and the boast of Christendom and of the\nhuman intellect. We are firmly convinced that there is no true\nwisdom, science, illumination, or progress to be found, except in\nfollowing the broad path which scholastic theology has explored\nand beaten. Although our nice critic--who seems to have more\nadmiration for the effeminate classicism of Bembo and the age of\nLeo X. than the masculine _verve_ of St. Thomas--may call\nthe scientific terminology of the schoolmen \"bad Latin,\" we shall\nventure to retain a totally different opinion. It is unequalled\nand unapproachable for precision, clearness, and vigor. We have\nemployed it because our own judgment and taste have dictated to\nus the propriety of doing so. We have not been led by servile\nadhesion to custom, or the affectation of making a display, but\nby the desire of making our meaning more clear and evident to\ntheological readers, especially those whose native language is\nnot English, and of introducing into our English theological\nliterature those definite and precise modes of reasoning which\nbelong to these great schoolmen. We can easily understand the\naversion of our opponents to the schoolmen, in which they are\nonly following after their predecessor, Martin Bucer, who said,\nalbeit in Latin, _Tolle Thomam et delebo Ecclesiam Romanam_,\n\"Take away Thomas, and I will destroy the Roman Church.\" To the\npersonal remarks of the critic in regard to the author and the\nhistory of his religious opinions we give a simple\n_transeat_, and pass to what semblance of argument there is\nin rejoinder to the thesis defended in the _Problems of the\nAge_.\n\n{180}\n\nThe critic says that the same process of logic which the author\nemploys against his opponents would destroy his own statements.\nThis is a mere assertion, without a shadow of proof, and we meet\nit with a simple denial. It is, moreover, a piece of triviality\nwith which we have no patience. It is the language of the most\nwretched and shallow scepticism, conceived in the very spirit of\nthe question of Pontius Pilate to our Lord, \"What is truth?\" We\nhave been engaged for thirty years in the study of philosophy and\ntheology, and have carefully examined and weighed the matters we\nhave undertaken to discuss. The substance of the doctrine we have\npresented is that in which the greatest minds of all ages have\nbeen agreed; and it has been proved and defended against every\nassault in a manner so triumphant that its antagonists have\nnothing to say, but to deny the first principles of logic, the\npossibility of science, the certainty of faith. There are,\nundoubtedly, certain minor points which are open to question and\ndifference of opinion. But, as to our main thesis, that the\nCatholic dogmas are not contradictory to anything which is known\nor demonstrable by human science, we defy all opponents to refute\nit.\n\nBy another subterfuge, equally miserable, our critic shakes off\nall responsibility of even noticing the serious, calm, and\nwell-motived statements which we have made respecting Catholic\ndoctrines. We hold, he says, one half of our doctrines as\nprescribed by authority, under pain of excommunication and\ndamnation; and the other half, under an obligation to renounce\nthem at a moment's warning, from the same authority; therefore,\nno attention is to be paid to our arguments. This is one of the\nmost remarkable and most discreditable statements we remember\never to have come across in a writer professing himself an\northodox Christian. Does this inconsiderate writer see to what a\ndilemma he has reduced himself? Either he must admit that Jesus\nChrist, the apostles, the Bible, teach him with authority, and\nplainly and unequivocally, certain doctrines which he is bound to\nbelieve, under penalty of being cast out from the communion of\ntrue believers, and incurring eternal damnation; or he must deny\nit. In the first case, he must retract his words, or give the\nfull benefit of them to the rationalist and the infidel, against\nhimself. In the second case, he must lay aside his mask, and step\nforth with the discovered lineaments of an open unbeliever. We\nreceive the dogmas of faith proposed by the church because they\nare revealed by Jesus Christ through his Holy Spirit, who is\nindwelling in the body of the church. We cannot revoke these\ndogmas into an examination or discussion of doubt, any more than\nwe can doubt our own existence, or the first principle of\nreasoning. Nevertheless, as we can argue against a person who\ndoubts these first principles, or give proofs and evidences to an\nignorant man of facts or truths whose certainty is known to us;\nso we can give proofs of dogmas of faith which we are not\npermitted to doubt for an instant to one who does not believe\nthese dogmas, or understand the motives upon which their\ncredibility is established. It is unlawful to doubt the being and\nperfections of God, the immortality of the soul, the truth of\nrevelation. Yet we may examine thoroughly all these topics to\nfind new and confirmatory proof and answers to objections. One\nwho is in doubt or ignorance may examine and weigh evidences in\norder to ascertain the truth, and does not sin by keeping his\njudgment in suspense until it obtains the data sufficient to make\na decision reasonable and obligatory.\n{181}\nIn arguing with such a person, it is necessary to descend to his\nlevel, and reason from the premises which his intellect admits.\nIn like manner, when it is a question of the Trinity, the\nIncarnation, the divinity of Jesus Christ, the canonicity and\ninspiration of the Scriptures, and all other Catholic dogmas;\nalthough a Catholic may not doubt any one of these, and would act\nunreasonably if he did, since he has the same certainty of their\ntruth that he has of his own existence or the being of God; yet\nhe may examine the evidences which are confirmatory of his faith\nfor his own satisfaction, and reason with an unbeliever in order\nto convince him of the truth. The subterfuge by which our critic\nand some other writers, especially one in _The Churchman_,\nattempt to evade the inevitable deductions of Catholic logic,\nwhich they cannot meet and refute--namely, that we cannot, with\nconsistency, argue about doctrines defined by infallible\nauthority--is the shallowest of all the artifices of sophistry.\nWhen the Son of God appeared on the earth in human nature, and in\nform and fashion as a man, claiming infallible authority, and\ndemanding unreserved obedience, it was necessary for him to give\nevidence of his divine mission. A Jew, a Mohammedan, or a\nBuddhist cannot, in reason or conscience, believe in Jesus Christ\nuntil this evidence has been proposed to him. When it is\nsufficiently proposed, he is bound to believe; and, once becoming\naware that Jesus is the Son of God, he is bound to believe all\nthat he has revealed, simply upon his word. But, supposing he has\nbeen erroneously informed that the teaching of Jesus Christ\ncontains certain doctrines or statements of fact which are in\ncontradiction to what seems to him to be right reason or certain\nknowledge, it is unquestionably both prudent and charitable to\ncorrect his mistakes upon this point, and thus remove the\nobstacles to belief from his mind. Precisely so in regard to the\nCatholic Church. The demand which she makes of submission to her\ninfallible authority, as the witness and teacher established by\nJesus Christ, is accompanied by evidence. It is upon this\nevidence we lay the greatest stress; and in virtue of this it is\nthat we present the Catholic doctrines as certain truths which\nevery one is bound to believe. Undoubtedly, the infallibility of\nthe church once established, it is the duty of every one to\nbelieve the doctrines she proposes, putting aside all\ndifficulties and objections which may exist in his own imperfect,\nlimited understanding. Yet, if these difficulties and objections\ndo not lie in the very mysteriousness, vastness, and elevation of\nthe object of faith itself, but in merely subjective\nmisapprehensions, it is right to attempt to remove them, and to\nmake the exercise of faith easier to the inquirer. Moreover,\nalthough it is sufficient to prove the infallibility of the\nchurch, and then, from this infallibility, to deduce, as a\nnecessary consequence, the truth of all Catholic teaching; it\ndoes not follow that each separate portion of this teaching\ncannot be proved by other and independent lines of argument. The\ndivine legation of Moses is sufficiently proved by the authority\nof Christ; but it can be proved apart from that authority. So,\nthe Trinity, the real presence, baptismal regeneration, or\npurgatory, are sufficiently and infallibly proved from the\njudgment of the church; but they may be also proved from\nScripture, from tradition, and, in a negative way, from reason.\nIn the _Problems of the Age_ our principal intention has\nbeen to clear away difficulties and misapprehensions from the\nobject of faith, in order that candid inquirers might not be\nobliged to assume any greater burden upon their minds than the\nweight of that yoke of faith which the Lord himself imposes.\n{182}\nIn doing this, we have endeavored not only to clear the dogmas of\nfaith from the perversions of heretical doctrines, but also to\ndistinguish them from theological opinions, which rest only on\nhuman authority, and are open to discussion. We have also thought\nit best, not merely to mark off doctrines of faith, and leave\nthem in their naked simplicity, free from that theological\nenvelope which is sometimes confounded with their substance; but\nalso to give them that dress which, in our opinion, is best\nfitted to set off their native grace and beauty. We have not\nsimply expressed the definitions of the church, discriminating\nfrom them the opinion of this and that school, and thus barely\nindicating what must be, and what need not be believed, in order\nto be a Catholic. We know the wants of the class of minds we are\ndealing with. They feel the need of some general view which shall\ngive them a _coup a'oeil_ of the theological landscape, and\nenable them to embrace the details and single objects contained\nin it in one harmonious whole. They have had so much sophistical\nreasoning and false philosophy, as well as bad and repulsive\ntheology, dinned into their ears and minds that they cannot be\nsatisfied without some better system as a substitute. We were\nobliged, therefore, not only to point out that certain\nopinions--generally repugnant to those who have been sickened by\nimbibing the Calvinistic and Lutheran poison--are not obligatory\non the conscience of any Catholic, but also to present the\nopinions of another school more remote from Protestant orthodoxy,\nand less repugnant to those who are called liberal Christians.\nOur critic seems to imagine that, in doing this, we are merely\nplaying an adroit game in which all kinds of theological or\nphilosophical opinions are used as counters, without reference to\ntruth, and merely with the view of winning as many converts as\npossible, by any show of plausible argument. At any moment, he\nsays, we are ready to throw away the whole, if commanded to do so\nby authority. Once caught, those who have been drawn into the\nchurch by an artifice will have their minds tutored in a far\ndifferent way, and be obliged to keep themselves ready to accept\nthe very contrary of that which we assured them was sound,\northodox doctrine, at the arbitrary will of the ecclesiastical\nauthority. Until that authority defines precisely what the sound\nCatholic doctrine is, we can have no settled, well-grounded\nopinion; but only conjecture and hypothesis. Let the absurdity of\nany of these hypotheses be shown by some Protestant\ncontroversialist, and the plea is ready that the church is not\nresponsible for private opinions. Yet we have been artful and\naudacious enough to put forth a network of such hypotheses as\nCatholic doctrine when they are not Catholic doctrine, and are\ndirectly controverted by other Catholic writers. In an article\nwhich appeared lately in _Putnam's Monthly_, publicly\nascribed to the same gentleman who is the avowed author of the\ncriticism we are noticing, there is a general charge made upon\n\"Americo-Roman preachers,\" of presenting a \"plausible\npseudo-Catholicity\" quite different from the genuine Italian and\nIrish article. _The Churchman_, not long ago, made a similar\nstatement which, if not mendacious, is supremely foolish and\nignorant, respecting F. Hyacinthe, and certain other devoted\nCatholics in France.\n\n{183}\n\nThe whole is a tissue of cobwebs, which a stroke of the pen can\nsweep away. The Holy See is not accustomed to condemn suddenly\nand by the wholesale the probable opinions of grave and learned\ntheologians, much less the doctrines of great and\nlong-established schools. In the _Problems of the Age_, we\nhave been careful to follow in the wake of theologians of\nestablished repute, and not to lay down propositions whose\ntenability is doubtful or suspected. It is possible that some\ndefinitions or decrees may be made hereafter which may require us\nto modify some of our opinions in theology or philosophy, and we\nshall undoubtedly submit at once to any such decisions. But there\nis no probability that we shall ever be called upon to change\nradically and essentially that system of theology which we have\nderived from the best and most esteemed Catholic authors. There\nis certainly no reason to think that the tenets distinguishing\nthe Dominican from the Augustinian school will ever be condemned\nin a mass. Those which distinguish the Jesuit school from either\nor both of these have been through a severe ordeal of accusation\nand trial long ago, and have come out unscathed. The same is true\nof the doctrines of Cardinal Sfondrati. Suarez, St. Alphonsus,\nPerrone, and Archbishop Kenrick are certainly respectable\nauthority, and a good guarantee of the orthodoxy of opinions\nsustained by their judgment. Perrone, whom we have followed more\nclosely than any other author in treating of the most delicate\nand difficult questions, has taught and published his theology at\nRome. It has passed through thirty seven editions, and is more\npopular as a text-book than any other. He is a consultor of the\nSacred Congregations of the Council and the Index, Prefect of\nStudies in the Roman College, and, together with Fathers Schrader\nand Franzlin, eminent theologians of the same Jesuit school, a\nmember of the Commission of Dogmatic Theology, which is preparing\nthe points for decision in the coming Council of the Vatican. The\ndoctrines advanced in the _Problems of the Age_ in\nopposition to Calvinism, in accordance with the theological\nexposition of Perrone, cannot, therefore, be qualified as\npeculiar or curious opinions of the author, as pseudo-Catholic or\nAmerico-Roman theories, or as liable to any theological censure\nof unsoundness.\n\nNevertheless, we have not, as the critic asserts, set forth these\nor other opinions indiscriminately, and in so far as they vary\nfrom the opinions of other approved Catholic authors, as being\nexclusively the Catholic doctrine. We have used extreme care and\nconscientiousness in this respect, although our critic is\nincapable of appreciating it, from his lack of all thorough\nknowledge of the controversy he has unadvisedly meddled with. We\ndo not qualify as Catholic doctrine, in a strict sense, anything\nwhich is not _de fide obligante_, or admitted by the\ngenerality of theologians, without opposition from any\nrespectable authority, as morally certain. We censure no really\nprobable opinion as contrary to Catholic doctrine, and are\ndisposed to allow the utmost latitude of movement to every\nindividual mind competent to reason on theological subjects,\nbetween the opposite extremes condemned by the church. It does\nnot follow from this, however, that our doctrine is mere\nhypothesis, and that we are forbidden or unable to come to any\npositive conclusions beyond the formal definitions of the church.\nThe substance and essential constituents of the doctrine are\ncertainly Catholic, and common to all schools.\n{184}\nThe Council of Trent condemned the heresies of Calvin and Luther,\nand the Holy See, the whole church concurring, has condemned the\nheresies of Jansenius and Baius. We know, also, what was the\ntheology of the men who framed and enacted the decrees condemning\nthose errors, or affirming the opposite truths, what was the\nspirit animating the church at that time, and continuing in it\nuntil the present; and we have in the episcopate, but especially\nin the Holy See, the living, authentic teacher and interpreter of\nthe doctrine contained in the written decrees. There is,\ntherefore, a solid and common basis upon which all Catholics\nstand, and upon which it is possible and allowable to construct\ntheological theories or systems. Learning, logic, the intuitive\npower of genius, and the special gifts imparted by the Holy\nSpirit to certain favored men, have their full scope in carrying\non this work. Through their activity, conclusions, deductions,\nexpositions, elucidations, may be attained, which have a value\nvarying all the way from plausible conjecture and hypothesis up\nthrough the different degrees of probability, to moral certainty.\nFor ourselves, we have always studied to find in the most\napproved authors those opinions which approach as nearly as\npossible to moral certainty; or, in default of such, those which\nare admitted to be probable, and to our mind appear intrinsically\nmore probable than their opposites. We write and speak,\ntherefore, not with an economy, or as presenting opinions likely\nto captivate our readers, but with an interior conviction, in\naccordance with that which we believe to be really the revealed\nand rational truth; or else we indicate that we are speaking\nunder a reserve of doubt and suspended judgment. As for the\ninsinuation that we are concerned in any artful scheme for\npalming off a plausible pseudo-Catholicity in lieu of the\nCatholicity of the Pope, the Roman Church, and of the faithful\npeople of Ireland, we repudiate it as false, groundless, and\ninjurious. We hold unreservedly to the Pope and all his doctrinal\ndecisions; to the genuine, thorough, uncompromising Catholicity\nof Rome and the universal church; to the faith for which the\nmartyred people of Ireland have dared and suffered all. Nothing\ncould be more opposed to that astuteness for which Catholic\necclesiastics generally obtain extensive credit, than to attempt\nsuch a foolish scheme in this country and age of the world as\nsome persons attribute to us for the purpose of nullifying the\neffect of our influence and arguments upon the minds of candid\ninquirers after truth. For what purpose or end could we desire to\npropagate the Catholic religion in this country, unless we are\nconvinced that it is the only true religion established by Jesus\nChrist, and necessary to the salvation of the human race? With\nthis conviction, it would be the most supreme folly to preach any\nother doctrine but that genuine and sound Catholic doctrine which\nis sanctioned by the supreme authority in the church, and which\nwe desire to propagate. Individuals may, no doubt, err, even with\ngood intentions, in the attempt to discriminate between the\npermanent and the variable, the essential and the accidental, the\nuniversal and the local elements in Catholicity; and in the\neffort to adjust the relations between the doctrine and\ninstitutions of the church and new conditions of human science,\nor political and social order. But it is impossible for any\nindividual or clique either to master or resist the general\nCatholic sentiment, and thus to cause the acceptance of any form\nof pseudo or neo-Catholicism as genuine Catholicity.\n{185}\nMoreover, there is the vigilant eye and strong arm of\necclesiastical authority ready every moment to detect and\nrestrain the aberrations of private judgment, and to condemn all\nopinions or schemes which cannot be tolerated without endangering\neither doctrine or discipline. The voice of the Holy Father is\nheard throughout the world, and the voice of the whole Catholic\nChurch will reverberate to the uttermost parts of the earth from\nthe approaching Ecumenical Council. All intelligent persons, more\nespecially all inquisitive, shrewd, and cool-headed Americans,\nhave the means of knowing what genuine Catholic doctrine is.\nWhoever should attempt to set forth a dilution of Catholicity\nwith Grecism, Anglicanism, rationalism, or any other kind of\nindividualism, as a lure to non-catholics, would, therefore,\nsimply gain nothing, unless a little unenviable notoriety should\nseem to his vanity a gain worth purchasing by the betrayal of his\ntrust. The people of this country want the genuine Catholicity,\nor nothing. They will not be deluded a second time by a\ncounterfeit, and become followers of a man, a party, or a sect.\nNor do we wish to deceive them. We desire to set before them the\ndoctrine and law of the Catholic Church in their purity and\nintegrity, that they may have the opportunity of embracing them\nfor their temporal and eternal salvation. We have had this end in\nview in writing and publishing the _Problems of the Age;_\nand, knowing well the delicacy and difficulty of the task, we\nhave spared no pains to study the decisions of councils and the\nHoly See, to compare and weigh the statements of the most\napproved theologians, and to make no explanations which we were\nnot satisfied are tenable, according to the received criterion of\northodoxy. We do not desire, however, or exact that any of our\nstatements should be taken upon trust by any one. We have written\nfor thinking and educated persons, who have need of light upon\ncertain dark points of Christian doctrine; who are in earnest,\nand willing to take the time and trouble necessary for learning\nthe truth. Such persons, if they read only English, will find all\nthat is requisite, in addition to the citations made in the\n_Problems of the Age_, in _M\u00f6hler's Symbolism_.\nScholars and theologians may satisfy themselves more fully by the\naid of the collection of dogmatic and doctrinal decrees contained\nin Denziger's _Enchiridion_, and of the theologies of\nBilluart, Perrone, and Kenrick, the first of whom is a strict\nThomist, the second a Jesuit, and the third of no particular\nschool. In the exposition of the more antique and technically\nAugustinian tenets, the works of Berti, Estius, Antoine, Cardinal\nNoris, and Cardinal Gotti can be consulted. There are many other\nbooks relating to the Jansenist controversy, in Latin, French,\nand English, from which the fullest information can be obtained\nin regard to the history of the desperate struggle which that\npseudo-Augustinian heresy--so nearly allied to the more moderate\nCalvinism and to one form of Anglicanism--made to gain a foothold\nin the church, and its thorough and complete discomfiture by the\nlearning and logic of the great Thomist and Jesuit theologians,\nand the authority of the Holy See.\n\nThere remains but one more point to be noticed, closely connected\nwith the topic just now discussed, the charge of Pelagianism made\nby our critic against our own doctrines, and of semi-Pelagianism\nmade by _The Mercersburg Review_, against the same, which\nthe latter does not distinguish from the doctrine of the Roman\nChurch.\n{186}\nThe learned Professor Emerson, of Andover, long since called the\nattention of his co-religionists to the fact that the designation\nof Pelagian is used in this country very much at random, and by\npersons who have no accurate notion of the tenets of Pelagius.\nCalvinism, Jansenism, and Baianism are heresies on one side of\nthe line; Pelagianism and semi-Pelagianism on the opposite. The\nCatholic doctrine is the truth which they all deny or pervert,\nexaggerate or diminish, by their false perspective. Therefore,\neach of them accuses the Catholic doctrine of the error opposite\nto its own error. This is no new thing, but was long ago\ncomplained of by St. Athanasius and St. Hilary. The Arians\naccused the Catholics of being Sabellians, and the Sabellians\naccused them of being Arians or Arianizers. We uphold both nature\nand grace, against Calvinists and Pelagians, therefore we are by\nturns accused of denying both. In the present instance, we are\naccused of denying or diminishing grace. The accusation is\nfoolish, and shows a very slight knowledge of theology in those\nwho make it. The Pelagian heresy asserts that human nature is\ncapable of attaining the beatitude which the holy angels and\nsaints possess with Jesus Christ in God, by its own intrinsic\npower, and is in the same state now as that in which Adam was\noriginally constituted. The contrary doctrine is so clearly\nstated and so fully developed in the _Problems of the Age_,\nthat it suffices to refer the reader to its pages. The\nsemi-Pelagian heresy asserts that human nature is capable of the\nbeginning of faith by its own efforts, and also of meriting grace\nby a merit of congruity. This heresy is unequivocally condemned\nby the church, and rejected by every school and every theologian.\nThere is not a trace of it in a single line we have written.\n\nThis leads us to notice a misapprehension into which the editor\nof _The Religious Magazine_ of Boston has fallen. This\nUnitarian periodical is one which we esteem very much, on account\nof its excellent and truly devout spirit; and its contributors\nbelong to a class of liberal Christians whose tendencies inspire\nus with much hope. It is with pleasure, therefore, that we\nrecognize the candid and amicable tone of the notice which it has\ngiven of that which we have written especially for those whose\nintellectual direction is in the line which it follows. Our\nUnitarian critic has, however, made the great mistake of\nsupposing that we use an orthodox phraseology, without any ideas\nbehind it different from those of liberal Christians or\nrationalists. He says, \"Setting aside what we cannot help calling\ntheological technicalities, his account of man's moral being\naccords almost entirely with that which our liberal Christianity\nwould give.\" \"Perhaps the criticism upon our author must be, that\nhe only retains in word and form much which he has abandoned in\nfact.\" The writer of this has been so accustomed to associate\ncertain Catholic formulas and words with Calvinistic ideas, that\nthey seem to him to mean nothing when dissociated from them. With\nhim, the logical alternative of Calvinism is Unitarianism; and\nwhoever agrees with him in rejecting the former, must\nsubstantially agree with him in holding the latter, however his\nlanguage may vary from that which he himself uses. The reason of\nthis is, that he fails to apprehend the Catholic idea of the\nsupernatural order; that is, of the elevation of the rational\ncreature to the immediate intuition of the divine essence in the\nbeatific vision. We fear that in the last analysis it will be\nfound that Unitarians have lost the distinct conception of the\npersonality of God, and retain only a vague, confused notion of\nhim as abstract being, and therefore not an object of direct\nvision.\n{187}\nHence, they conceive of the highest contemplation and beatitude\nof man in the future life as a mere evolution and extension of\nour natural intelligence and spontaneity. Or, if they do conceive\nof heaven as a state in which the soul attains to a direct,\npersonal fellowship and converse with God as a friend, a father,\na supreme, intelligent, living, and loving Spirit, with whom the\nhuman spirit comes into immediate relations, like those of man\nwith man on earth, they still believe that we are capable of\nattaining to this by the mere development of our natural powers,\nand by purely natural acts. There is, therefore, a great chasm\nbetween the Unitarian and the Catholic doctrine. The latter\nteaches, in the mystery of the Trinity, the only real and\npossible conception of personal subsistence in the divine\nessence, and sets forth the concrete, living, active,\nimpersonated God, in whom is infinite, self-sufficing beatitude,\nwithout any necessity to create for the sake of completing the\nreason, and relations, and end of his being. This infinite\nbeatitude consisting in the contemplation and love of his own\nessence which is actuated in the Trinity, presents the idea of a\nbeatitude infinitely superior to and distinct from any felicity\nto which we have any natural aptitude or impulse. Its cause and\nobject is the divine essence, directly and immediately beheld by\nan intellectual vision, of which our corporeal vision of material\nobjects is but a faint shadow. The Catholic doctrine teaches that\nhuman nature must be elevated by a supernatural gratuitous grace\nin order to attain to this vision of God; that in Christ it is so\nelevated, even to a hypostatic union with the second person of\nthe Trinity; that in Adam it was elevated to a lesser or adoptive\nfiliation; that the angelic nature is also elevated to a similar\nstate; and that men, under the present dispensation; are subjects\nof the same grace. The church teaches, moreover, that this grace\nis granted to men, since the fall, only through the merits of the\nsacrifice of Jesus Christ upon the cross; that without divine\ngrace they cannot even begin a supernatural life; that no merely\nnatural virtue deserves this grace; and that it is by faith,\nwhich is the gift of God; by the sacraments, and by good works\ndone in the state of grace, in the communion of the Catholic\nChurch, that we can alone obtain everlasting life with Christ.\nThere is as much difference between this doctrine and any form of\nUnitarianism as there is between the sun and the earth; the\nstar-studded sky and a neat, well-kept flower-garden. Catholics\nmay differ from each other in regard to certain questions\nconcerning the state of human nature when destitute of grace; but\nwe are all agreed in regard to the need of grace for attaining\nthe end we are bound to strive after, the conditions of obtaining\nthis grace, and the obligation of complying with them, as well as\nin regard to the insufficiency of all media for bringing the\nhuman race even to its acme of temporal progress and felicity,\nexcept the institutions and teaching of the Catholic Church.\n\n-------\n\n{188}\n\n\n             Heremore-Brandon;\n      Or, The Fortunes Of A Newsboy.\n\n\n              CHAPTER IX.\n\nWhen they arrived at the Wiltshire depot, Dick and Mary were\nstill undecided what step to take next; for neither of them\nfavored the idea of asking at once for Dr. Heremore, feeling\ncertain that the probabilities of his being alive would vanish\nthe moment that such an inquiry was proposed.\n\nIt was a nice enough town, with fine breezes from the sea blowing\nthrough its streets, and a quaint look about the houses that made\nDick, at least, feel as if they were in a foreign land. Dick and\nMary stood on the depot platform together, undecided still.\n\n\"Let us walk a little way up and see what we can see,\" Mary\nproposed.\n\nAll that they found at first were a few lumber-wagons, a\nmarket-wagon, and now and then a group of boys playing; but\nfinally they came upon a store, at the door of which several\nlong-limbed countrymen were talking and chewing tobacco. I should\nhave said \"chewing and talking;\" for the chewing was much more\nvigorously prosecuted than the talking. The presence of the\nstrangers, one a lady in a plain but very stylish dress,\nattracted some attention; the men surveyed them in a leisurely,\nundazzled way, hardly making room for them to pass; for, having\nseen the sign POST-OFFICE in the window of this store, Dick and\nMary concluded to enter and make inquiries. The afternoon sun\nstreamed in upon the floor; the flies buzzed at the windows; and\na man, with his hat on and his chair tilted back, was at the back\nof the store. He made no sign of changing his position when he\nfirst saw the strangers, not because Mr. Wilkes was any less well\ndisposed toward \"the ladies\" than a city merchant would be, but\nbecause country people fancy it is more dignified to show\nindifference than politeness. In time, however, he tilted down\nhis chair, freed his great mouth from its load of tobacco, and\nlounged up to the counter where Mary and Dick were standing.\n\n\"I want to ask you a question,\" Dick answered to the\nstorekleeper's look; \"I suppose you know this town pretty well?\"\nDick was so afraid of the answer that he did not know how to put\na direct question in regard to Dr. Heremore.\n\n\"Rather,\" was the laconic reply, with no change of the speaker's\ncountenance.\n\n\"Do you know if a Dr. Heremore lived here once, twenty-five years\nor so ago?\"\n\n\"I wasn't here in them days,\" for Mr. Wilkes was a young man who\ndid not care to be old.\n\n\"I did not suppose you did know, of your own knowledge; I thought\nyou might have heard.\"\n\n\"I suppose you have come to see him?\"\n\n\"Or to hear of him,\" added Dick.\n\n\"Come from Boston or York, I suppose?\"\n\n\"From New York,\" answered Dick; \"can you tell us who is likely to\ngive us information?\"\n\n{189}\n\n\"About the old doctor?\" asked Mr. Wilkes in the same impassive\nmanner.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Dick, rather impatiently.\n\n\"I suppose you are relations o' his?\"\n\n\"We came to get information, not to give it,\" Dick replied in a\nquiet tone but inwardly vexed.\n\n\"Well,\" answered the storekeeper, not in the least abashed by\nthis rebuke, \"there's an old fellow lives up yonder, who knows\npretty much everything's been done here for the last forty years;\nyou'd better go to him; if any one knows, he does. Better not be\ntoo techy with _him_, I can tell you, if you want to find\nout anything; people as wants to take must give too, you know.\nThat there road will take you straight to the house; white house,\nfirst on the left after you come to the meeting house.\"\n\n\"Thank you; and the name?\"\n\n\"Well, folks usually calls him 'The Governor' round here; you,\nbeing strangers, can call him what you please.\"\n\n\"Will he like a stranger's calling?\"\n\n\"Oh! tell him I sent you--Ben Wilkes--and you are all right.\"\n\n\"Thank you!\" Mary and Dick replied and turned away. \"Ben Wilkes,\"\nwho, during this conversation, had seated himself on the counter,\nthe better to show his ease in the strangers' society,\nwhich--Mary's especially--secretly impressed him very much,\nlooked leisurely after them as they passed out of the store; then\ntook out some fresh tobacco, and returned to his chair.\n\n\"I don't like to go,\" said Mary, \"it may be some joke upon us.\"\n\n\"I am afraid it is,\" answered Dick; \"but, after all, what can\nhappen that we need mind? If it is a gentleman to whom he has\nsent us, no matter how angry he is, he will see that you are a\nlady, and you will know how to explain it; if he has sent us to\none who is not, I guess I shall be able to reply to him.\"\n\nTheir walk was a very long one, but the meeting-house at last\ncame in sight, and next it, though there was a goodly space\nbetween, was a large white house, irregular and rambling, with\nvery nicely kept shrubbery around.\n\nDick opened the gate with a hand that was a little nervous; but\nMary whispered as their feet crunched the neatly bordered gravel\nwalk to the low porch, \"It is all right, I am sure; there is an\nold gentleman by the window.\"\n\n\"Will you be spokesman this time?\" asked Dick.\n\nMary nodded, and as the path was narrow and they could not well\nwalk side by side, she was in front, so that naturally she would\nbe the first to meet the old gentleman. A very fine old gentleman\nhe was; a large man with a fine head, and, as his first words\nproved, a remarkably full, sweet voice. Seeing a lady coming\ntoward him, he rose at once from his arm-chair, closed his book\nand advanced a step or two to greet her. Mary was one of those\nwomen toward whom courteous men are most courteous from the first\nglance; and this old gentleman, who moved toward her with all the\ngrace and ease of a vigorous young man, was one of those men to\nwhom gentle women are gentler, from the first, than to others.\n\n\"Good-evening,\" he said, as Mary looked up to him with a smile at\nat once pleasant and deferential. \"Good-evening,\" and as she did\nnot say more than these words, the gentleman continued, \"I will\nnot say, 'Come in,' for it is too pleasant out of doors for that;\nbut let me give you chairs.\"\n\n{190}\n\n\"Thank you, sir, we are strangers, but, we hope, not intruders,\"\nshe replied.\n\n\"Certainly not,\" he answered. \"It is a great pleasure for me to\nreceive my old friends, and a pleasure to me to make new ones;\nand strangers, even if they remain strangers, bring with them\ngreat interest to the quiet lives of us old people.\" This he said\nin a tone not in the least formal, or as if \"making a speech,\"\nand still looking more at Mary than at her brother. They were not\nyet seated, and no expression but that of kindly courtesy crossed\nhis face while looking into the sweet, gravely smiling one before\nhim; his tones were hardly altered when he added, \"I have waited\nfor you these many long years, Mary; but I never doubted you\nwould come at last. You must not play tricks upon my old heart;\nit has suffered too much to be able to sustain its part as it did\nin old times.\"\n\nMary drew back a step, at this strange address, but she could not\nwithdraw her eyes from his, as in tender, gentle tones he spoke\nthe last words. Dick stood closer to her, but said nothing.\n\n\"Indeed, you mistake,\" Mary said, with great earnestness; \"I have\ntold you the truth, I am really a stranger, although you have\ncalled me by my name, Mary. I am Mary Brandon, and this--\"\n\n\"Is your husband. Well, Mary, are you not my daughter? If you\nwere changed, why come to see me? I heard you were changed. I\nspent four years in Paris and Rome, following up the trace given\nme in New York, and then I came back disappointed but not\ndespairing. 'Mary will not die without sending for me or coming\nto me,' I said; and I have taken care always to be ready for you.\nI never thought you could come to me with coldness or\nindifference. I was prepared for almost anything--to see you poor\nand broken-hearted; no shame, no sin, no sorrow that would part\nus. I did not think to see you come back beautiful, happy, rich,\"\na glance at her dress, \"and without a word of greeting.\"\n\n\"Dr. Heremore?\" said Dick, not because he believed or thought it,\nbut because the words came forced by some inward power greater\nthan his knowledge.\n\n\"Well, Charles,\" answered the old gentleman, sadly but\ncomposedly, turning at this name, \"can you explain it?\"\n\nAnd then Mary understood it all. The years were nothing to him\nwho had waited for his child's return, She was in his arms before\nDick had recovered from his first bewilderment, now, by this act\nof hers, trebly increased.\n\n\"Ah my child! if I spoke severely, it was only because I could\nnot bear the waiting. I knew your jokes of old, darling; but when\none has waited so long for the dear face one loves, the last\nmoments seem longer than all the years. I will ask no questions.\nI see you two are together, and it is all right. You can tell me\nall at your leisure. Now, Mary, I must kill the fatted calf. Even\nthough you and Charles have not returned as prodigals,\" he added\nas if he would not, even in play, risk hurting them.\n\n\"Not yet, please,\" said Mary. \"Let us have it all to ourselves\nfor a few minutes.\" And they seated themselves on the sunny\nporch, the old gentleman's delight now beginning to show itself\nin the nervous way he moved his hands, and his disjointed\nsentences.\n{191}\nMary took off her hat at once, and threw it, with rather more of\ngayety than was quite natural to her, upon one of the short\nbranches, looking like pegs, which had been left in the pillars\nof the porch.\n\n\"You haven't forgotten the old ways--eh, Mary?\" Dr. Heremore\nasked, as he saw the movement. \"I remember well how proud you\nwere the day you first found you could reach that very peg, and\nyou are as much a child as you were that day, is she not,\nCharles?\"\n\n\"Pretty nearly,\" answered Dick, who could not fulfil his part\nwith Mary's readiness.\n\n\"How deliciously fresh everything looks!\" exclaimed Mary.\n\n\"You should have seen it in June. I never saw the roses thicker.\nO pet, how I did wish for you, then! The time of roses was always\nyour time.\"\n\n\"And I love them as much as ever!\" exclaimed Mary, telling the\ntruth of herself. \"Next year, if I am alive, I will be here with\nthem; we will have jolly times looking after them. I have learned\na great deal about flowers lately, but I shall never love roses\nlike yours.\" This indeed, Mary felt to be true.\n\n\"Flora has had to be replaced,\" said her grandfather observing\nher eyes resting on a statue in the garden in front. \"I will show\nyou the alterations I have made, and a few are improvements. But\nyou must have something to eat now. I cannot let you go a minute\nlonger. You came up by the boat, I presume?\"\n\n\"Yes, and had a hearty dinner,\" Mary answered, having a dread of\na servant's entering, and getting things all wrong again, \"To eat\nnow will only spoil our appetite for tea, and I want you to see\nwhat an appetite I have.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you are too tired to go around the garden?\"\n\n\"Tired! No, indeed.\"\n\n\"I am afraid it will not interest you much, Charles,\" the old\ngentleman said to Dick. \"You never did care much about the little\nplace.\"\n\n\"Oh! I assure you, I would be delighted to see it all,\" Dick\nanswered, eagerly; but Mary had noticed the constraint in her\ngrandfather's voice whenever he addressed the supposed Charles,\nand said quickly:\n\n\"Oh! we don't want you, you don't know a rose from a sunflower;\npick up a book and read till we come back.\"\n\n\"This way, dear; have you forgotten?\" Dr. Heremore said, looking\nat her in a perplexed manner as naturally enough she turned away\nfrom the house. \"This way, dear, you lose the whole effect if you\ngo around. Come through the house. There, dear old Mary,\" he\nadded, smilingly handing her a glass of wine which he poured out\nfrom a decanter on the sideboard in the dining room. \"Drink to\n'The Elms' and no more jokes upon old hearts.\"\n\n\"To our happy meeting and no more parting,\" added Mary, drinking\nher wine with him. He poured out a glass for Dick, or Charles, as\nhe thought him, and, rather formally, carried it to him It was\nvery clear that \"Charles\" was no favorite.\n\nAll through the trim garden, and then through the whole house,\nMary followed her grandfather, her heart, as it may be believed,\nfull of love for the tender father of her lost mother. She stood\nin the room which that mother had occupied, and could not speak a\nword as she gazed reverently around. It was a thorough New\nEngland bedroom--a high mahogany bedstead, a long narrow\nlooking-glass with a landscape painted on the upper part, in a\ngilt frame, a great chintz-covered arm-chair by the bed, a round\nmahogany table, with a red cover and a Bible, a stiff,\nlong-legged washstand in the corner, a prim chest of drawers\nunder the looking-glass between the windows, composed the\nfurniture of the room; a badly painted picture of a young girl in\nthe dress of a shepherdess, and a pair of vases on the mantel,\nwere the only ornaments; a crimson carpet and white\nwindow-curtains were plainly of a later date than the furniture.\n\n{192}\n\n\"I have had to alter some things,\" said Dr. Heremore, as they\ncame out of the room, \"but I got them as much like the old ones\nas I could, that you might feel at home here. Your baggage should\nbe here by this time, should it not? How did you send it?\" \"We\nleft it at the station,\" answered Mary. \"You know we were not\nsure--not certain sure that we should find you.\"\n\n\"I suppose not, I suppose not. These have been long years, Mary,\nbut they have not changed us, after all. But I must send for your\ntrunks. I suppose Charles has the checks.\"\n\n\"We brought but very little with us,\" Mary said, considerably\nembarrassed, and, seeing the change in his countenance, she\nhastened to add, \"But now that it is all right and we have found\nthe way, we will stay with you until you turn us out; at least, I\nwill.\"\n\n\"Then you will send for more things, and how about the children?\"\nwith the same perplexed look at her. Mary knew not what to say.\nWas it not better to tell him the real truth at once? How could\nshe go on with this deception, as innocent as any deception can\nbe, and yet how break down his joy in its very midst? Silently\nshe stood beside him, at a hall window, looking upon the prospect\nhe had pointed out to her, considering what answer to make him.\nHe, too, was silent; for a long time the two stood there, and\nthen it was the doctor who spoke first.\n\n\"Mary, your children must be men and women now. I had forgotten\nhow long it was; but I remember you were here last the year the\nmeeting-house over there was put up, and I just was thinking that\nwas over twenty years ago. Richard was a few months old, then.\nMary, don't deceive me. Tell me the truth.\"\n\nMary turned sadly toward him, and laid her hands in his.\n\n\"_Grandpapa_, I will,\" was all she said.\n\nIt was a great blow to him, but something had been hovering\nconfusedly before his mind ever since they came out together, and\nnow it was clear. He turned abruptly away from her at the first\nshock, then came to her more kindly than ever. \"Forgive me,\ndear,\" he apologized with mournful courtesy; \"I did not mean to\nbe rude, but it is a great shock. You are very like her, very\nlike her, but I should have known at once that those years could\nnot have left her a girl like you. I will not ask more--your\nmother--\"\n\n\"My _father_ is living,\" Mary said, with tears streaming\ndown her face, as he stopped, \"and that is my brother\ndown-stairs.\"\n\n\"Is he your only brother? have you sisters?\" he asked.\n\n\"We are your only grandchildren,\" she answered; and he understood\nthat his child was dead, and another woman had filled her place.\n\n\"You are a noble girl,\" he said, with lingering tenderness in\nevery word. \"We will go down now. I will greet Richard, and then,\ndear, you will let me be alone for a little while. I shall have\nto send for your things, you know.\"\n\n\"If it is any trouble--\" began Mary.\n\n{193}\n\n\"None, I will see about it at once.\"\n\nThey went down, and he greeted Richard, then went away slowly,\nstill begging them to excuse him for the inattention to them.\nSoon after, a barefooted boy of twelve or fourteen or so went\nwhistling down the road past the house, staring at them as he\nwent by; an hour after, the same boy returned with their bags;\nthese were taken up-stairs by a thin, severe-looking, very\nneatly-dressed woman, who quickly and with only a word or two\nshowed them their rooms, and told them that, as soon as they were\ndressed, tea would be ready.\n\nMary dressed in her mother's room with a sense of that mother's\nspirit around her. She fortunately had brought a dress with her,\nso that she was able to make a slight change. Then slowly and\nwith great reverence she went down the stairs, meeting Dick in\nthe hall, to whom she whispered, \"O Dick! how I love him; but I\nam afraid it will kill him; the purpose for which he has lived\nthese twenty years is taken from him. Can we give him another?\"\n\n\"It may be that you can,\" Dick replied, looking tenderly into her\nsweet face, all aglow with the bright soul-life which had been\nkindled so actively in the last hours. \"If you can, Mary, try it;\ndo not think of anything else; stay with him, do anything you\nthink right and good for him; he deserves more from us than--\"\nDick hesitated, not willing to speak unkindly of Mr. Brandon, who\ncertainly had been a father to Mary--\"than any other.\"\n\n\"I will try,\" Mary answered speaking quickly and in a low voice.\n\"If it seems best that I should stay a little while, you will\nexplain to papa? But perhaps, after all, it will be you who will\nbe able to replace her best.\"\n\n\"We shall see,\" Dick said, and then Dr. Heremore was seen coming\ntoward them, with less lightness in his step than they had\nnoticed before; otherwise there was but little change, except\nthat his voice was more mournfully tender than at first.\n\n\"It is a long time since I saw that place filled,\" he said,\narranging a chair for Mary before the tea-urn. \"And it is very\nsweet to me to see your bright young face before me; a long time\nsince I have had so strong an arm to help me,\" he added, as Dick\neagerly offered him some little assistance, \"and I am very\ngrateful for it.\"\n\nThere were no explanations that night; he talked to Dick and Mary\nas to very dear and honored guests, of everything likely to\ninterest them, and was won by their eager attention to tell them\nmany little things about his house and grounds, which were his\nevident pride and pleasure, all in the same subdued, courteous\nway that had attracted them from the first. There seemed, in the\nbeginning, a far greater sympathy between Mary and him than he\nhad with Dick, which was the reason, undoubtedly, why he devoted\nhis attention more especially to his grandson, whose modest\nreplies, given with a heightened color and an evident desire to\nplease, were very winningly made.\n\n\"I have two noble grandchildren,\" he said to them as they stood\nup to say good-night. \"My daughter, short as her life was, did\nnot come into the world for a small purpose; she did not live for\nlittle good; she has sent me two to love and esteem, and to win\nsome love from them, I trust--yes, I _believe_.\"\n\n{194}\n\nThe next day, he set apart a time and then there were full\nexplanations from both sides. Dick's story we know already. Dr.\nHeremore's can be told in a few words. His daughter married, when\nvery young and on a short acquaintance, a gentleman who was\nspending his summer holidays in the vicinity of Wiltshire, and,\nimmediately upon her marriage, had gone to N---- to reside; they\nremained there until Richard was a month old, when his daughter\nmade him a long--her last--visit; from there to New York, whence\na letter or two was all that came for some little time; then one\nwritten evidently in great depression of spirits. Dr. Heremore,\non receipt of this, went at once to New York to see her, only to\nhear that she had gone with her husband to Europe. A little\nfurther inquiry proved to his satisfaction that Mr. Brandon was\nin the South, and that his wife was not with him; his letters\nwere unanswered, and his alarm was every day greater and more\npainful. At last, he followed a lady--described to be somewhat of\nhis daughter's appearance, bearing the same name, who had joined\na theatrical company, though of this last he was not aware for a\nlong time--to Europe. As he had said before, he came back\ndisappointed but not despairing, to hear of Mr. Brandon's\ndeath--the same false report, perhaps intentionally circulated,\nwhich his daughter had heard. Her letters to him, of which she\nspoke in her letter to Dick, were lost while he was away\nsearching for her. He had not been rich, then; but coming home,\nhe had resumed his practice, and lived patiently awaiting news of\nher, energetically laboring to secure a small fortune for her\nshould she ever come to claim it. This little fortune he would\ndivide at once, he said, between her two children; for \"what,\" he\nargued with them, \"what is the use of hoarding it to give to you\nlater when, I trust, you will not need it half as much? A few\nhundreds in early youth are often worth as many thousands in\nafter-years.\"\n\n\"That will do for Dick,\" Mary conceded, \"because it _would_\nbe a great thing for him to have a little start just now; and\nbesides, there's Somebody Else for _him_ to think of; but I\nwill take my share in staying here. You will not drive me away?\"\n\n\"Your father?\"\n\n\"Papa would--it's a shabby thing to say--be very willing to have\nme away, in his present circumstances. He has been wishing and\nwishing for Fred and Joe constantly ever since they went; but for\nme--he thinks girls are a sort of nuisance, I know he does; and\nwill be very grateful to you if you divide the burden with him.\"\n\n\"But if--just as I got used to loving you, there should be\nanother Somebody Else besides Dick's? How about this out of\ncivilization place, then?\"\n\nMary grew very red indeed, but answered readily, \"Oh! that's a\nlong way off; and besides, he may not think this out of\ncivilization, you know.\"\n\nSo it was settled. One of the clerks who had been from early\nboyhood in Ames and Narden's store had been long intending to\nstart out on his own account, and Dick was very sure that they\ncould fulfill their olden dream of partnership, now that Dr.\nHeremore was willing to give them a start. Dick went down to New\nYork the day after this conversation, and there was a long talk\nbetween the members of the firm, and the two clerks, which\nculminated in a dinner and the agreement that all was to go on as\nit had been going, until the first of May, when there would be a\nnew bookseller's firm in the New York Directory, to wit, BARNES\nAND HEREMORE.\n\n{195}\n\nAfter a brief conversation with Mr. Brandon, Dick hurried to\nCarlton, and was not long making his way to the shadowy lane. To\nher honor and glory be it said, Trot was the first to see him;\nand without waiting for a greeting, not even for the expected\n\"dear 'ittle Titten,\" ran with all speed into the house, crying,\n\"Thishter! Thishter! Mr. Dit ith toming!\" at the top of her\nvoice; and Rose, all blushing at being caught \"just as she was,\"\nhad no time to utter a word before \"Mr. Dit,\" was beside her.\nThere was great rejoicing over Dick; the children pulled him in\nevery direction, to show him some new thing he had not yet seen,\nuntil he began to tell the story of his adventures, when they\nstood around in perfect silence. Mrs. Alaine and Mrs. Stoffs\nwiped their eyes between their smiles and their exclamations of\ndelight; old Carl once held his pipe in one hand and forgot to\nfill it for nearly a minute, so absorbed was he; but Rose alone\ndid not say a word of congratulation when Dick's good fortune and\nhis brightened future were announced. I even think she had a good\ncry about it, after a little talk with Dick by herself, that\nevening, so hard it is to leave one's home.\n\n\"There's not a thing to wait for now,\" Dick had said, with\nbeaming eyes; and poor Rose's ideas of \"youth,\" and \"time to get\nready,\" and all that sort of remark, were put aside without the\nleast consideration. \"We will have a little house of our own,\"\nDick continued, \"we will not go to boarding, as some people do;\nyou are too good a housekeeper for _that_, I am sure; and as\nNew York has no houses for young people of moderate means, we\nwill have a home of our own near the city. Shall we not, Rose?\"\n\nDick was a very busy young man for a couple of months after this.\nOne thing Dr. Heremore did that seemed hard, but not so very\nunnatural, and of which no one who has never felt a wrong to some\none dearly loved should judge. He begged that he might never see\nMr. Brandon, nor be asked to hold any communication with him. He\ngave Mary a certain sum of money, which he wished her to use for\nher father and step-brothers; but beyond that, he left Mr.\nBrandon to help himself.\n\nAfter attending to all his grandfather's requests and\nsuggestions, Dick, as he had been invited to do, returned to\nWiltshire to give an account of his management, and to take up\nsome things for Mary's use. He was on his way to the boat when he\nsuddenly started and exclaimed, \"Mr. Irving!\" for no less a\nperson than his \"Sir Launcelot\" was standing beside him. Mr.\nIrving, not recognizing him, bowed slightly and passed on, and\nDick began to be relieved that Mary was so far away; perhaps,\nafter all, it was a great deal better.\n\nBut another surprise was in store for Dick, who--an inexperienced\ntraveller even yet, and always in advance of time--had gone on\nand waited long before the boat prepared to leave; for at the\nlast moment a carriage drove rapidly to the pier, and a gentleman\nsprang from it in time to catch the boat. It was \"Sir Launcelot.\"\n\n\"Mr. Heremore, I believe,\" he said to Dick, when they met\nsomewhat later on the boat. \"I called on Mr. Brandon to-day, just\nafter you met me, to pay my respects to him on my return from\nEurope. I found him in a different business from that in which I\nhad left him, and very reserved. I asked after the ladies of his\nfamily, who, he told me, were at your grandfather's and his\nfather-in-law's, in Maine, adding that there was a long story,\nwhich I had better come to you to hear, if you had not already\nleft. I have business in Maine, so followed you up.\"\n\nSo they made acquaintance; and the new-found relationship with\nMary was explained, as also the reverses Mr. Brandon had met\nwith.\n\n{196}\n\n\"His wife dead, too, you tell me! How shocked he must have been\nat my questions of her! How like him not to give me a hint!\"\nexclaimed Mr. Irving.\n\nThe new friendship progressed well, as it often will between two\ngentlemen, one of whom is in love with the other's sister,\nalthough there was a wide difference between their characters.\nMr. Irving was many years older than Dick, as his finished\nmanners and his manly presence attested, without the aid of a few\ngray hairs on his temples, not visible, and half a dozen or so in\nhis heavy moustache, very visible and adding much to his good\nlooks, in the eyes of most of the ladies who saw him. It seemed\nas natural to Dick that this travelled man, so polished, so\nprincely as he was, should be just the one to please his\nhigh-bred sister, and he captivated by her, as that he himself\nshould belong to Rose and she to him. Consequently he did not put\non any of the airs in which brothers, especially when they are\nvery young, delight to appear before their sister's admirers.\n\nDick had even tact enough, when they reached Dr. Heremore's house\n--for, of course, Mr. Irving's \"business in Maine\" did not\ninterfere with his accompanying Dick to Wiltshire--to be, very\nbusy with the carriage and trunks, while Mr. Irving opened the\nlittle gate, and announced himself to the young lady on the\nporch. When Dick, a few minutes after, greeted his sister, he had\nno need, though Mary's color did not come as readily as Rose's,\nto say with Sir Lavaine:\n\n  \"For fear our people call you lily maid,\n   In earnest, let me bring your color back.\"\n\nI think that Dr. Heremore, though the very soul of courtesy,\nlooked rather sadly upon Mr. Irving; but he was not long left in\nany uncertainty in regard to that gentleman's wishes; for the\nvery next day his story was told; how he had known and loved Mary\nfrom her very earliest girlhood, but that he was afraid of his\ngreater age, and, anxious that she should not be influenced by\ntheir long acquaintance and the advantages his ripened years had\ngiven him over admirers more suited to her in age, he had gone to\nEurope, but lacked the courage to remain half the time he had\nallotted, and now was back, and--\"\n\n\"And, ah! yes, I understand; I am to lose her,\" said her\ngrandfather sadly. \"I knew I could not keep her.\"\n\n\"Giving her to me will not be losing her. We talked about it last\nnight, and we are both delighted with this place; and as I am\nbound to no especial spot, (Mr. Irving was an author,) and she\nloves none half so much as this, we can well pitch our tent\nhere.\"\n\nBut when further acquaintance had enabled the man of \"riper\nyears\" to take a place in Dr. Heremore's life which neither Mary\nnor Dick could fill, it was settled that the old house was large\nenough for the three; and as Mr. Irving was wealthy, healthy, and\nwise, the sun of Mary's happiness shone very brightly.\n\nThere's nothing more for me to say except that Dick went down to\nCarlton still once again, and that in its church there is a\nlittle altar of the Blessed Virgin, whereon Rose had the\nunspeakable delight--so precious to every pious heart--of laying\na beautiful veil--Mary's gift to her \"sweet little\nsister\"--which Trot looks critically at every Sunday, and may be\na little oftener, and puzzles her small head wondering if its\ndelicate texture--the veil's--will stand the wear and tear of the\nyears that must pass before she can replace it with hers; which\nalways makes uncle Carl laugh. And Rose has persuaded Mary to\ndedicate her own in the same way, and Mary has laughingly\ncomplied, a little shame-faced, too, at her own secret pleasure\nin doing it, at the same time half wondering \"what will come of\nit.\" Rose does not wonder; she thinks she knows.\n\nAs for Dick, there is every reason to believe that this coming\nChristmas there will be two or three glad hearts travelling\naround in company with two or three rough, ragged, shaggy boys;\nthat he will carve his own Christmas turkey at his own, own\ntable; and that there will be a _couleur de Rose_ over all\nhis future life.\n\n----------\n{197}\n\n      Our Lady's Easter.\n\n              I.\n\n  She knelt, expectant, through the night:\n    For He had promised. In her face\n    The pure soul beaming, full of grace,\n  But sorrow-tranced--a frozen light.\n\n  But, ere her eastward lattice caught\n    The glimmer of the breaking day,\n    No more in that sweet garden lay\n  The buried picture of her thought.\n\n  The sealed stone shut a void, and lo!\n    The Mother and the Son had met!\n    For her a day should never set\n  Had burst upon the night of woe.\n\n  In sudden glory stood He there,\n    And gently raised her to his breast:\n    And on his heart, in perfect rest,\n  She poured her own--a voiceless prayer.\n\n  Enough for her that he has died,\n    And lives, to die again no more:\n    The foe despoiled, the combat o'er,\n  The Victor crowned and glorified.\n\n{198}\n             II.\n\n  What song of seraphim shall tell\n    My joy to-day, my blissful queen?\n    Yet truly not in vain, I ween,\n  Our earthly alleluias swell.\n\n  It is but just that we should thus\n    Our Jesus' triumph share with thee.\n    For us he died, to set us free.\n  Thou owest him risen, then, to us.\n\n  But thou, sweet Mother, grant us more\n    Than here to join the festive strain:\n    To hymn, but never know, our gain\n  Were ten times loss for once before.\n\n  Thy faithful children let us be.\n    Entreat thy Son, that he may give\n    The wisdom to our hearts to live\n  In his, the risen life, with thee.\n\n  For so, amid the onward years,\n    This feast shall bring us strength renewed;\n    To pass secure, o'er self subdued,\n  To Easter in the sinless spheres.\n\n-------\n\n{199}\n\n Two Months In Spain During The Late Revolution.\n\n\n  September 9, 1868.\n\nTo-day, while they are yet celebrating the Nativity of the\nBlessed Virgin, we enter Spain, that mysterious world behind the\nPyrenees, so different from all others, and of which we know so\nlittle! To-day is also the anniversary of my birthday into the\nCatholic Church, and now it is my birthday into Catholic Spain!\n\"La tierra de Maria Santisima.\"\n\nLeaving Perpignan (in the Pyr\u00e9n\u00e9es Orientales) by diligence, we\npass through a most tropical looking country, amidst hedges of\naloe, and oleander, and pomegranates, (reminding one of Texas in\nthe character of the soil, the productions, and even the houses;)\nwe soon begin the ascent of the mountains; and, before it is\nquite dark, we are across the Pyrenees. By the light of a\nbeautiful sunset we have some grand mountain views, and encounter\na group of Spanish gypsies, dark, ragged, and dirty, but highly\npicturesque. All along these mountains are cork-trees of\nprodigious size, with black, twisted trunks, from which the bark\nhas been stripped--their fantastic shapes taking the form of nuns\nor monks--great ghosts in the dim light. Perthus, on the other\nside the mountains, is the last French town; high above which\ntowers the fortress of Bellegarde, built by Louis XIV. in 1679.\nJust outside this town we pass a granite pyramid, on which is\nwritten \"Gallia.\" A fellow-passenger tells us we are on Spanish\nsoil. All cry, \"Viva Espa\u00f1a!\" and we look out upon a\nsolemn-looking soldier, who stands by a cantonnier, above which\nfloats the red and yellow flag of Spain. La Junguera is the first\nSpanish town; and here is a rival fort to the towering French one\nso lately seen. Here our luggage is visited, and we have our\nfirst experience of Spanish courtesy. The gentlemen passengers\nall come to ask, \"Will the ladies have fruit?\" \"Will they have\nwine?\" And one of our party, wishing to give alms to a blind\nbeggar, and asking change for a franc, one of the gentlemen gives\nher the money in coppers, and refuses to take the franc; which,\nit seems, is the Spanish custom.\n\nAt Figueras we eat our first _Spanish supper_; no\ninconsiderable meal, if we may judge by this one. First came the\ninevitable soup, (_puchero;_) then, boiled beef; next in\ncourse, cabbage and turnips, eaten with oil and vinegar, and the\nyellow sweet-pepper which is the accompaniment to everything, or\nmay be eaten alone, as salad. The third course was stewed beef;\nnext, fried fish, (fish, in Spain, never comes before the third\ncourse;) and now, stewed mushrooms; but, as they are stewed in\noil, (and that none of the sweetest,) we pass them by. After\nthis, lobster; then cold chicken and partridge; and now the\ndelicious fruits of the country, and the toasted almonds which\nare universal at every meal, and cheese. Coffee and chocolate\nterminate this repast, for which we pay three and a half francs,\nand after which one might reasonably be expected to travel all\nnight.\n\n{200}\n\nGerona appeared with the early dawn; a curious old town of 14,000\ninhabitants, on the river O\u00f1a, and looking not unlike Rome with\nits yellow river, its tall houses, and balconies. Both this town\nand Figueras have made themselves memorable in wars and sieges.\nIndeed, what Spanish town has not its tale of heroism and brave\ndefence during the French invasion of 1809-11? These towns were\nboth starved into capitulation, after sieges which lasted seven\nor eight months, the women loading and serving the guns during\nthe siege, and taking the places of their fallen husbands or\nlovers, like the \"Maid of Saragossa.\" We were glad to leave the\ndiligence for the railway which runs by the lovely Mediterranean\ncoast, passing many pretty towns with ruins of old Moorish\nfortresses and castles on the hills beyond. In one of these\ntowns, Avengo de Mar, the dock-yards are very famous, and a naval\nschool was here established by Charles III.\n\nMataro, a place of 16,000 people, seemed very busy and thriving.\nThis, too, has its tale of siege and slaughter. The French have\nleft behind them in Spain a legacy of hate. Of the ruins of a\nmonastery near one of these towns a pretty story is told. Two\nCatalonian students passing by this beautiful site, one\nexclaimed, \"What a charming situation this would be for a\nconvent! When I am pope, I will build one here.\" \"Then,\" said the\nother, \"I will be a monk, and live in it.\" Years after, when the\nlatter _had_ become a monk, he was sent for to Rome, and\nbeing presented to the pope, (Nicholas V.,) recognized in him his\nold friend and companion, when in the act of receiving his\nblessing. The pope embraced him; reminded the monk of his\npromise; built the convent, in which, we presume, the latter\nlived and died. The beautiful convent was utterly destroyed in\nthe civil wars of 1835, when the monks were all driven from\nSpain.\n\n  \"The sacred taper-lights are gone,\n   Gray moss hath clad the altar stone,\n   The holy image is o'erthrown,\n     The bell hath ceased to toll.\n\n  \"The long-ribbed aisles are burnt and shrunk,\n   The holy shrine to ruin sunk,\n   Departed is the pious monk;\n     God's blessing on his soul!\"\n\n----\n\n  Barcelona, Province Of Catalonia.\n    Hotel De Las Cuatro Naciones.\n\nSeptember 10.\n\nHow charming looks this gay, busy city, with its shady streets,\nbeautiful gardens and fountains, the sea before it, the mountains\nbehind, fortifications on every side, seemingly impregnable. Our\nhotel is on the \"Rambla,\" a wide boulevard, like those of Paris,\nupon which most of the fine buildings are situated, and which is\nthe principal promenade. In the evening, we go to one of the\ntheatres, and hear a French opera beautifully sung.\n\n\nFriday, 11.\n\nThe books tell us that Barcelona was founded by Hamilcar, the\nCarthaginian, B.C. 237. Cesar Augustus raised it to a Roman\ncolony. Ataulfo, the first king of the Goths, chose it for his\ncourt. In 713, it fell into the hands of the Moors, who were\nexpelled by Charlemagne in 801. From this time, it belonged to\nthe Duchy of Aquitaine, and was governed by counts, until Charles\nthe Bold made it an independent kingdom, to reward Count Wilfred\nel Velloso, who had aided him against the Normans. Count Raymond\nBerenguer IV. united Catalonia with Arragon, by marrying the\nheiress of that kingdom, from which time it was the rival of\nGenoa and Venice. It has always been the centre of revolutionary\nmovement, restlessly endeavoring to regain its independence. The\nCatalans are industrious, bold, and enterprising.\n{201}\nIndeed, so much do they surpass the people of other parts of\nSpain in activity and enterprise, that they are called the\nSpanish Yankees, and Barcelona is termed the Manchester of Spain.\nManufactories of cotton and silk; the most famous laces of Spain;\na most flourishing trade, as well as fine schools and public\nlibraries, are to be found here. They boast that the first\nexperiment with steam for navigation purposes was made in\nBarcelona, the inventor having displayed his steamboat before\nCharles V. and Philip II., in 1543. Charles, being occupied in\nforeign conquests, took little notice of this, and, through fear\nof explosion, the discovery was abandoned, and the secret died\nwith the inventor.\n\nBarcelona has a very large French population. In the Calle\nFernando, we see shops handsome as those of Paris. Already we\nfind most tempting Spanish fans for a mere trifle; and at every\nturn the delicious chocolate is being made into cakes by\nmachinery. There are many fine churches. The cathedral is a grand\nspecimen of the Gothic Catalan of the thirteenth century--one of\nthe most imposing churches we have seen in Europe. \"Sober,\nelegant, harmonious, and simple,\" as some traveller describes it.\nThe Moors converted the old cathedral of their Gothic\npredecessors into a mosque. James II., \"el conquistador,\" one of\nthe greatest of the Catalan heroes, commenced this in 1293. The\ncloisters are very interesting; have a pretty court, with\norange-trees and flowers, and a curious old fountain of a knight\non horseback; the water flowing from the knight's head, his toes,\nand from the tail and mouth of the horse. In the crypt is the\nbody of St. Eulalia, the patron saint of Barcelona; removed from\nSt. Maria del Mar, where it had been kept since the year 878.\nBefore this shrine Francis I. heard mass, when a prisoner in\nSpain, after the battle of Pavia. In the choir, over each finely\nsculptured stall, is painted the shield of each of the knights of\nthe Golden Fleece. Here was held a \"chapter,\" or general\nassembly, presided over by Charles V., March 5th, 1519. Charles,\nthen only king of Spain, occupied a throne on one side hung with\ndamask and gold; opposite was the empty throne of Maximilian,\nfirst emperor of Germany, (his grandfather,) hung in black.\nAround the king were assembled Christian, King of Denmark;\nSigismund, King of Poland; the Prince of Orange, the Dukes of\nAlba, Friaz, Cruz, and the flower of the nobility of Spain and\nFlanders.\n\nThere are some curious old monuments in the church, and a\ncrucifix called \"Cristo de Lepanto,\" which was carried on the\nprow of the flagship of Don John, of Austria, in the battle of\nLepanto. The figure--of life size--is all inclined to one side;\nand the faithful of that day assure us that the sacred image\nturned itself aside, to avoid the Moslem bullets which were aimed\nat it. Certain, it was never struck.\n\nWhile in the church, we see a funeral mass, which is peculiar in\nsome of its ceremonies, and very solemn in the dim religious\ncathedral light, where every kneeling figure, with its black\nmantilla, seems to be a mourner. After the credo, little tapers\nare distributed, and, at a certain part of the mass, are lighted.\nThe priest comes to the foot of the altar. Each person, bearing a\nlighted taper, goes forward in procession, the men on one side,\nthe women on the other. Each one kisses the cross upon the stole\nof the priest, as if in submission to the will of God. The\ncandles are extinguished, and deposited in a plate.\n\n{202}\n\nWalking on the Rambla this evening, we hear a drum, and,\nfollowing the crowd, witness the performance of a Spanish\nmountebank, whose sayings must have been very witty, to judge by\nthe plaudits of the crowd. He had a learned dog, which so far\nsurpassed all the dogs we had ever seen that I am persuaded he\nwas cleverer than his master.\n\n\nSaturday, September 12.\n\nA rainy day. But we take a long walk through the crooked, narrow\nstreets; going into the Calle de la Plateria (the street of the\njewellers) to see the curious long filagree earrings worn by the\npeasants. We are as much objects of curiosity to these people, as\nthey are to us, (bonnets and parasols being rarely seen in\nSpain.) An old man, touched my blue veil, yesterday, asking,\n\"Queste paese?\" and when I told him we were \"Americanos,\" he\nrejoined, \"Me speak England; me like Americanos.\" Even the\npoorest people here are courteous and respectful; and their\nlanguage seems to have borrowed so much that is flowery and\npoetic from their Arab progenitors, that it would seem\nexaggerated and insincere, were it not accompanied by a grave and\nearnest manner as well as gesticulation. We ask a beggar the way\nto a certain street. He accompanies us all the way, declines any\nremuneration, and at parting says, \"Go, and may God go with you!\"\nA policeman, seeing us endeavor to enter the Plaza Real, to look\nat the monument to the king, opens the gate, though the public\nare not admitted. We thank him for making an exception in our\nfavor; and upon going out, he bids us \"Adios,\" adding,' \"May your\nbeauty never be less.\" At the _table d'hote_, every Spaniard\nbows as we enter, and all rise when we leave the table. In the\ncentre of the table is a pyramid of cigars and matches most\nfantastically arranged; and it is the custom for gentlemen to\nsmoke at every meal! We visit St. Maria del Mar, a church\nconsidered by many to be superior to the cathedral,\narchitecturally. It was built in 1329, on the site of a former\nchurch, erected to contain the body of St. Eulalia. The arched\nroof is of immense height; the main altar of black and yellow\nmarble. The church is hung with many pictures by Spanish artists,\nand has the usual amount of stucco and gilding for which Spanish\nchurches have been remarkable since the days of Columbus, when\ngold was so plentiful with them.\n\n\n\nSunday, 13th.\n\nWe hear mass in the little Gothic church of St. Monica, hard by,\nand go afterward to the cathedral, which is even more impressive\nupon a second view. Several baptisms are going on, and the very\nbabies are dressed in mantillas--the white mantillas worn by the\nlower classes, which are very pretty. White silk, trimmed with\nwhite lace, or of the lace alone; the silk, which is a long\nstrip, is pinned to the hair on top of the head, and the lace\nfalls over the face, or is folded back. Young ladies wear them of\nblack lace, in the street or for visits; silk, for the churches;\nand these with the never-failing accompaniment of the fan, belong\nto all alike; rich and poor, old and young. The fan serves as\nparasol, and strange to say, that, with this alone to shelter\nthem from the sun, these women should be so beautifully fair; and\nin Valencia they are famed for their white complexions! Surely\nthe sun in Spain is kinder than in America, for freckles and\nsun-burn are never seen.\n\n{203}\n\nThe men wear a red or purple cap, which they call \"gorro;\" a sort\nof bag which hangs down behind, or at the side, or is more\ngenerally folded flat across the forehead; a red or purple sash,\n(_faja;_) a short jacket; sandals (_espardinya_) of\nhemp or straw, tied with strings. We drive through the streets,\nand find most of the shops closed, (Sunday;) and see through the\nopen doors that every house, even the very poorest, looks nice\nand clean.\n\nIn the evening, we drive upon the Prado del Gracia, which\nterminates in the little town of Gracia, where are pretty villas,\nand stop at a convent for the evening service. It is of this very\nconvent that they tell how, in the Moorish invasion of Al\nMansour, when his soldiers were recruiting for the harems of the\nBalearic Islands, (Minorca and Majorca,) the poor nuns, thinking\nto avoid so horrible a fate, heroically cut off their noses to\ndisfigure themselves; but it did not avail to save them; for\nhistory records that they were carried off, in spite of their\nnoses, or, rather, in spite of the want of them.\n\nBarceloneta is a suburb where live the fishermen, and where we\nfind docks crowded with shipping. From this we have a fine view\nof the Fort Montuich, built upon a high rock. There is also a\ncitadel near the sea, and a beautiful promenade upon the walls,\n(Muralea del Mar.) And amongst the public buildings is a\nuniversity, said to be the finest in Spain; many hospitals and\ncharitable institutions, and a theatre (the Lyc\u00e9e) which they\nclaim to be larger than San Carlo, in Naples, the Scala, in\nMilan, or even the new-opera house in Paris. Barcelona is the\nbirthplace of Balmes, the author of that great work,\n_Protestantism and Catholicity compared in their Influence upon\nCivilization_.\n\n\n\nValencia Del Cid, Sept. 14.\n\nYesterday, at six in the morning, we leave Barcelona for \"the\nCity of the Cid,\" arriving at ten o'clock at night; a long,\nfatiguing, but interesting day. The railway runs by the blue\nMediterranean, with stern, bleak mountains close on the other\nside; or through vineyards, and fig and olive groves, with which\nare mingled peaches, apples, and quinces, showing that all\nvarieties of fruits meet together in this favored clime. In\npassing Martorell, the third or fourth station from Barcelona, we\nhave a fine view of Montserrat; a picturesque, jagged mountain\n1000 feet high, where is a monastery, one of the most celebrated\npilgrimages in Spain. On the opposite side is a famous old Roman\nbridge (over the Llobregat river) called \"del Diablo,\" built in\n531 B.C., by Hannibal, in honor of Hamilcar. At one end is a\ntriumphal arch. Here the views are particularly fine.\n\nVillafranca comes next, the earliest Carthaginian colony in\nCatalonia, founded by Hamilcar. Next we see Terragona, an ancient\ncity, on a steep and craggy eminence, founded by the Scipios. It\nwas long the seat of the Roman government in Spain; now famous\nfor its fine wines.\n\nHere the costume of the peasants begins to look more eastern. The\nfull, short linen pantaloons, (on each leg a petticoat;) a red\nhandkerchief, worn as a turban; sometimes leather leggings, but\nmore frequently legs red from the wine-press, where they have\nbeen treading out the grape-juice. The peasants are simple and\nfriendly, and, seeing few strangers, look upon them as guests,\nand seem never disposed to speculate upon our ignorance of the\nprices of things. One of our party offered to pay for a tempting\nbunch of grapes which we saw in a man's basket, who pressed to\nlook at us in one of the stations. With difficulty he was\nprevailed upon to take a real, (five cents.) He then offered\nmore, which we in turn declined.\n{204}\nWaiting till the train moved off, he sprang forward, and dropped\ninto my lap a bunch which must have weighed several pounds, and I\nlooked back to see him smiling most triumphantly. At another\nstation (a poor place in the mountains) a modest, clean-looking\nwoman came forward with glasses of water. No one paid anything\nfor drinking it. But when she came to our carriage, one of the\nparty gave her two reals, (ten cents in silver.) The poor thing\nshook her head sadly, saying, \"No tengo cambia.\" (But I have no\nchange.) When she was made to comprehend that she was to keep it\n_all_, her face glowed with delighted surprise; and as we\nmoved off, we saw her showing the money to all around her. No\ndoubt she took my friend for the queen herself!\n\nAt Tortosa, on the Ebro, we begin to see the palm-trees. And here\nwe enter the province of Valencia, the brightest jewel in the\ncrown of Spain. The Moors placed here their paradise, and under\ntheir rule it became the garden of Spain. From them the Cid\nrescued it in 1094, and here he governed like a king, and died\nhere in 1099. It was then annexed to Castile and Arragon. It is a\nfortified town, about three miles from the sea; and with its\nnarrow streets, tall houses, balconies, with curtains and blinds\nhanging outside into the street, looks perennially southern and\nSpanish. We come up from the station in a \"tartana,\" a vehicle\npeculiar to Valencia, a sort of omnibus on two wheels, made to\nhold six persons; without springs, and with one horse. The driver\nsits on the shaft, with his legs dangling down, or supported by a\nstrap. This vehicle jolts horribly, but is very cheap and\nconvenient.\n\n\n\nTuesday, September 13.\n\nTo-day we first see the museum, in which are many pictures of\nSpanish artists, both ancient and modern--two of Spagnoletto, and\nseveral of Ribalta and Juanes--two Valencian artists of whom they\nare very proud. The last is especially famed for his beautiful\npictures of our Lord. We saw here the ancient altar used by James\nthe Conqueror, \"Don Jaime,\" as he is called--the great hero of\nCatalonia, son of Pedro I. He was one of the first sovereigns who\nestablished standing armies in Europe. Amongst other wise\ninstitutions, the municipal body of Barcelona was his work. He\ndied in Valencia, 1276, on his way to the monastery of Poblet to\nbecome a monk, confiding his goodly sword, \"La Tizona,\" to his\nson Don Pedro, in whose favor he had abdicated that year.\n\nIn this museum are many remains of the ancient Saguntum, (now\ncalled Murviedro,) which is but a few miles from Valencia, and a\nmodel of its old Roman theatre. In the court of the building are\nsome palm-trees three hundred years old.\n\nWe next visit an ancient church of the Jesuits to see one of\nMurillo's \"Immaculate Conceptions,\" which is very beautiful. Then\nthe \"Audiencia,\" an ancient building of the sixteenth century,\nwhere are the courts of justice and other courts. Here is some\nwonderful old carving, and curious portraits of Inquisitors;\ncivil, on one side, ecclesiastical on the other. We were glad to\nsee that the former greatly outnumbered the latter. After this,\nwe go to one of the finest hospitals in the world; with marble\nfloors, and pillars supporting a lofty ceiling; the great windows\nopening into gardens of orange, and myrtle, and jessamine; all\nclean, fresh, and cool; with an altar so placed in the centre,\nunder a lofty dome, that every patient could see and hear the\ndivine office. The whole building was alike well arranged; the\nkitchen large and convenient, and the dispensary grand.\n{205}\nCertainly, in all our experience--and we have visited hospitals\neverywhere--we have seen nothing so _inviting_, so really\nelegant, as this. Here we meet the two loveliest women we have\nseen in Spain; both sisters of charity; one having charge of the\ndispensary, and the other of the foundling institution connected\nwith the hospital. Such white complexions; lovely color; such\neyes, and eyelashes, and teeth! Specimens of the beauty of\nValencia. And such charming groups of children as we saw amongst\nthese unhappy disowned ones! Unconscious of their fate, they\nplayed merrily in the cool court, till, seeing strangers, many\nran to hide their beautiful eyes behind the sister's apron. The\nschool-room would have done honor to the most \"_enlightened\nnation_,\" which might here take a lesson from \"_benighted\nSpain_.\" Great placards hold the \"A B C.\" Slates hang in order\nby the little benches against the wall; pictures of beasts and\nbirds, for natural history; maps, for geography; drawings, for\nmathematics; balls strung on wires, for counting; large books\nfilled with colored engravings of Bible history, from the birth\nof Adam to the end of the Apocalypse. And such neatness and\norder! There is one department for the little ones whose mothers\nleave them each morning, when they go out to work, returning for\nthem at night. Their tiny baskets hung in a row. Some, who were\nquite babies, were being greatly petted, because it was their\nfirst day away from the mother.\n\nWhile in the school-room, one of the party began examining a\nlarge map of Spain with reference to our projected route. The\nsister seeing this, lowered the map by a cord, and calling a\nlittle fellow of five years, he pointed out the oceans by which\nSpain is surrounded, named the rivers and mountains, the\nprovinces of Spain, and the principal towns; never once making a\nblunder, though he often paused to recollect himself.\n\nWe drive to see the queen's garden, where is every tropical tree\nand flower. This, with other gardens, borders upon the Alameda, a\nbroad, shady promenade extending three miles to the sea. There is\nanother promenade called the \"Glorieta,\" where the band plays\nevery morning from nine to eleven. We see, also, the Plaza de\nToros, (the arena for the bull-fights,) one of the finest in\nSpain, capable of holding twenty thousand people; built so\nexactly like a Roman amphitheatre that we feel as if we looked\nupon the Colosseum in the days of its glory. It is evident that\nthese people inherit the love of this their national pastime from\ntheir Roman ancestors. Happily, the fashion is dying out. In\nValencia, the bull-fights occur but once or twice a year. They\nare now making preparations for a three days' \"funcion,\" to begin\non the 24th. We saw the poor horses doomed to death. Forty a day\nis the average number. The men are rarely killed, but often badly\nhurt.\n\n\n\nWednesday, September 16.\n\nThis morning we go to the markets to see the wonderful display of\nfruits for which Valencia is so famous. Never were such grapes\nand peaches, melons and figs, oranges and lemons, apples and\npears, the last as fine as could be seen in all New England; the\nnuts and vegetables equally good. Potatoes, and tomatoes, and\npeppers, of mammoth size, and even the Indian corn and rice as\ngood as those of America. But even the Spanish gravity is here\nupset at sight of our round hats, short veils, and parasols.\n{206}\nThe women hold their their sides with laughter, and we are driven\nto resolve upon wearing mantillas and fans, which fashion we soon\nafter, in self-defence, adopt. We go to the shops to buy fans,\nwhich are a specialty of Valencia, as are also the beautiful\nstriped blankets, (mantas,) which are as indispensable to a\nValencian as the fan is to the Valencienne; and is at once his\ncloak, his bag, his bed, his coverlet, and his towel. They say of\na Valencian, that he has two uses for a watermelon--to eat his\ndinner, and make his toilette. After eating the melon, he washes\nhis face with the rind, and wipes upon his manta. They wear it\nslung gracefully over the left shoulder, or over both shoulders,\nthe ends falling behind; and over the head-handkerchief is often\nworn the pointed hat of Philip II.'s time, with wide, turned-up\nbrim.\n\nTo-day we visit the cathedral and San Juanes. Like most of the\ngreat churches of Spain, the cathedral occupies the site of a\nRoman temple. This, made into a church by the Goths, was changed\nto a mosque by the Arabs, and now (since 1240) it is again a\nChristian church. Some of the doors, and many of the ornaments,\nare Moorish. The gratings--of brass--are very handsome; as are\nthe altars and screen, of marble and alabaster. This last is most\nabundant in Spain. A palace opposite to our hotel (that of the\nMarquis de los Aguas) is beautifully adorned on the outside with\nstatues, and vases, and flowers of alabaster in relievo.\n\nAll these Spanish churches are much ornamented with stucco and\ngilding, according to the taste of the time in which they were\nbuilt. The cathedral has some good pictures in the sacristy; and\nwithin the sanctuary hang the _spurs_ of Don Jaime upon his\nshield. His body is in one of the chapels.\n\nIn an old chapter-house we were shown some great chains taken\nfrom the Moors, and a series of portraits of all the archbishops\nof Valencia; and so much is it the habit to gesticulate in this\ncountry, that even these dignitaries, instead of being painted in\n_ecclesiastical attitudes_, have their fingers in every\nimaginable position. One must know their expressive language to\nread what each of these worthies may be saying.\n\nAfter some shopping, we go to call upon the present archbishop, a\ngraceful and dignified person, who received us most kindly, and\npresented us each a chapelette and scapular. He has a grand old\npalace, very plainly furnished; a pretty chapel; and, in a fine\nold hall, with groined roof, were portraits of his predecessors\nfrom the sixth century to the present day.\n\nWe have a visit from the English consul, to whom we brought\nletters. He is very kind and friendly, and full of offers of\nservice. The Spanish sun seems to have warmed the English heart,\nwhich seldom gives out so much, save in its own foggy island. He\nsends us some fine wine, which, with some iced orgeat, secures us\na merry evening.\n\n\n\nThursday, 17.\n\nThis morning we hear mass in the Church of the Patriarch, into\nwhich no woman may enter without being veiled. Then we visit the\nhouse in which St. Vincent Ferrer, the patron of Valencia, was\nborn, and where is a fountain greatly esteemed for its miraculous\npowers.\n\nWhile at breakfast, a young man enters, whom we take for a\nSpaniard, but who proves to be an American, and from Maine! He\nhas lived in Cuba, however, and it turns out that his father is a\nfriend of the Spanish ladies with whom we are travelling.\n{207}\nHe gives a pleasant account of his travels in the north of Spain;\ntells of the wonders of Burgos; of the railway between that and\nMiranda, which shows such extraordinary engineering skill; and of\nthe fine scenery through which he has passed. Yesterday, on the\nmountains, he saw three sunsets; or rather, saw the sun set three\ntimes, in descending from range to range.\n\nIt is delightful to meet an American who, instead of complaining\nof the discomforts of travelling in Spain, as most of our people\ndo, sees only what is pleasant. For ourselves, we have been most\nfortunate; good hotels, most obliging people, and, so far from\nbeing extortionate, (as we were told to expect,) we find Spanish\nhotels cheaper than those of any other part of Europe. To-day we\neat the \"pollo con arroz,\" one of the national dishes, (rice with\nchicken and saffron,) and find it very good.\n\nHans Andersen, in his little book on Spain, says:\n\n  \"Connected with Valencia, are several of the old Spanish\n  romances about the Cid--he who in all his battles, and on\n  occasions when he was misjudged, remained true to his God, his\n  people, and himself; he who, in his own time, took rank with\n  the monarchs of Spain, and down to our own time is the pride of\n  the country which he was mainly instrumental in rescuing from\n  the infidels. As a conqueror he entered Valencia, and here\n  lived with his noble and heroic wife, Zimena, and his\n  daughters, Do\u00f1a Sol and Do\u00f1a Elvira; and here he died in 1099.\n  Here stood around his bed of death all who were dear to him.\n  Even his very warhorse, Babieca, was ordered to be called\n  thither. In song, it is said that the horse stood like a lamb,\n  and gazed with his large eyes upon his master, who could no\n  more speak than the poor horse himself. ... Through the streets\n  of Valencia passed at night the extraordinary cavalcade to San\n  Peder de Cordo\u00f1a, which the departed chief had desired should\n  be his burial-place. The victorious colors of the Cid were\n  carried in front. Four hundred knights protected them. Then\n  came the corpse. Upright upon his war-horse sat the dead;\n  arrayed in his armor with his shield and his helmet, his long\n  white beard flowing down to his breast.\n\n  \"Gil Diaz and Bishop Jeronymo escorted the body on either side;\n  then followed Do\u00f1a Zimena with three hundred noblemen. The gate\n  of Valencia toward Castile was opened, and the procession\n  passed silently and slowly out into the open fields, where the\n  Moorish army was encamped. A dark Moorish woman shot at them a\n  poisoned arrow, but she and a hundred of her sisters paid the\n  forfeit of their lives for that deed. Thirty-six Moorish\n  princes were in the camp; but terror seized upon them when they\n  beheld the dead hero on his white charger.\n\n    'And to their vessels they took flight,\n     And many   sprang into the waves.\n     Two thousand, certainly, that night\n     Amid the billows found their graves.'\n\n  \"And the Cid Campeador thus won, after he was dead, good tents,\n  gold and silver; and the poorest in Valencia became rich. So\n  says the old 'Song of the Cid in Valencia.'\n\n\n  Cordova -- Province Of Andalusia --\n     Fonda Suiza -- Hotel Suisse.\n\nSeptember 18.\n\nAfter a long night journey, (by rail,) we reach a hotel rivalling\nthe cleanness and comfort of the genuine Swiss hotel, and find\nourselves in the ancient capital of the Moorish empire, and in\nthat lovely, bright Andalusia, so famed throughout the world.\n\nFrom the time we leave Valencia until we reach Jativa, (about\nfifty miles,) we pass over the \"Huerta\" (the \"garden\") of\nValencia, one continuous plain of verdure; pastures which are cut\nfrom twelve to seventeen times a year. Golden oranges, and other\nfruits hang above these green fields; and dates, and figs, and\npeaches, and pears, and quinces, pomegranates, plums, apples,\nmelons, and grapes, and olives, with Indian corn, rice, and every\nvegetable in equal perfection. Well might the Moors term this\nplain (with Andalusia) \"the Paradise of the East.\" For centuries\nafter their expulsion, their poets still sang verses expressive\nof their grief for its loss, and it is said they still mention it\nin their evening prayers, and supplicate Heaven to restore it to\nthem.\n\n{208}\n\nAnd this fertility is all their work. Every stream has been\nturned from its channel into numberless little canals, which\nwater this luxurious soil; and these are arranged with such skill\nand care that crop after crop has its share of irrigation, and in\nits just proportion. From Jativa the country becomes more\nmountainous. We pass the ruins of an old chateau on a high hill,\n(Montesa,) seat of an ancient order of chivalry which existed\nafter the suppression of the Templars. We next pass Almanzar,\nChinchilla, Albacete, where they sell the famous \"Toledo blades,\"\nnow hardly so famous. Here we are in La Mancha, and when we stop\nin Alcazar at midnight, we are near the village of Troboso, which\nCervantes makes the dwelling of Don Quixote's Dulcinea. Alcazar\nis claimed as the birth-place of Cervantes.\n\nHere we leave our road for the grand route between Madrid and\nCordova; and here we are crowded into carriages with other\nladies, a fate from which we have hitherto been defended; each\nconductor treating us as if we had been especially committed to\nhis care, and sparing us all annoyance. Fortunately, at\nManzanares two of these ladies leave us, and we make acquaintance\nwith the third, who is very kind and polite; offers us a share of\nher luncheon, and gives us much information of people and things\nin Spain. She is a Portuguese, and tells us how much larger and\nfiner are the olive-trees in her country than in Spain; she\nremembers one tree which eight men could not clasp. From her we\nhear much of the queen as from an unprejudiced source, and learn,\nwhat we gathered afterward from many credible sources, that this\npoor queen is a good woman, a very pious woman, full of talents\nand accomplishments, generous to a fault, with strong feelings\nand affections, which induce her to reward to excess those whom\nshe loves or who have served her; and this has given rise to the\ninjurious reports which have found their way to every foreign\nnewspaper, but which no _good_ people in Spain believe.\n\nFrom Andujar the country is very uninteresting, more of a grazing\ncountry, where we see immense herds of cattle, sheep, horses, and\ngoats, with picturesque shepherds minding them. The men wear\nshort trousers, opened several inches at the ankle, showing the\nuntanned leathern buskin, (as is seen in the old pictures of\nPhilip II.'s time,) a red sash, and the black hat turned up all\naround. Presently we come upon the Guadalquivir, upon which\nCordova is situated, and which is crossed here by a bridge of\nblack marble. We drive up the cool, shady streets, catching\nglimpses, through open doors and curtains, of the little paradise\nwithin--the marble courts, with fountain, and orange-trees, and\nflowers, and vines--a vestige of the old Moorish time. In fact,\neverything here so preserves its Arabic character that one is\ntransported six centuries back, into the palmy days of the\nKalifs, when this city was said to have contained half a million\nof inhabitants, 200,000 houses, 60,000 palaces, 700 mosques, 900\nbaths, 50 hospitals, and a public library of 600,000 volumes. Of\nall these glories only the mosque remains to show by its\nmagnificence that these accounts cannot be exaggerated.\n\n{209}\n\nSaturday, September 19.\n\nWe hasten to see the mosque, (the cathedral now,) and, entering a\nlow door-way in the wall which surrounds it, you find yourself in\na beautiful oriental court, with fountains, and rows of tall\npalms, and ancient orange trees and cypress. This is called \"the\ncourt of ranges.\" Open colonnades surround the court on all sides\nsave one, from which twenty doors once opened into the mosque;\nonly one of these is now open. Enter this, and you find yourself\nin a forest of pillars--a thousand are yet left--of every hue and\nshade, no two alike, of jasper, and verde antique, and porphyry,\nand alabaster, and every colored marble, fluted, and spiral; and\nover these, rises arch upon arch overlapping each other. These\ndivide the mosque into twenty-nine aisles from north to south,\nand nineteen from west to east; intersecting each other in the\nmost harmonious and beautiful manner. The Moors brought these\npillars from the ancient temples of Rome, and Nismes, and\nCarthage. The mosque was built in the eighth century, by Abd El\nRahman, who aimed to make it rival those of Damascus and Bagdad.\nIt is said he worked upon it an hour every day with his own hand,\nand it is certain that it ranked in sanctity with the \"Caaba\" of\nMecca, and the great mosque of Jerusalem. Ten thousand lamps\nilluminated it at the hour of prayer; the roof was made of arbor\nvitae, which is considered imperishable, and was burnished with\ngold. The chapel, where is the holy of holies--where was kept the\nKoran--gives one an idea of what the ornaments of the whole must\nhave been. Here the carvings are of the most exquisite fineness,\nlike patterns of lace; the gold enamel, the beautiful mosaics,\nare as bright as if made yesterday. In the holy of holies--a\nrecess in this chapel--the roof is of one block of marble, carved\nin the form of a shell, supported by pillars of various-colored\nmarble. Around this wall a path is worn in the marble pavement,\nby the knees of the faithful making the mystic \"seven rounds;\"\nand our guide tells us that, when a few years ago, the brother of\nthe king of Morocco came here, he went round this holy of holies\nupon his knees, seven times, crying bitterly all the while. The\nchapel of the Kalifs is also remarkable, from the floor to the\nceiling, the marble being carved in these beautiful and delicate\npatterns.\n\nFrom the cathedral, we go to visit the old Roman bridge of\nsixteen arches, which spans the Guadalquivir. This looks upon\nsome ruins of Moorish mills, and the orange-gardens of the\nAlcazar, (now in ruins,) once the palace of Roderick, the last of\nthe Goths. As we pass the modern Alcazar, (used as a prison,) an\nold cavalry officer comes out of the government stables, and\ninvites us to look at the horses--the silky-coated Andalusians of\nwhich we have heard so much, and the fleet-footed, graceful\nArabians. Each horse had his name and pedigree on a shield over\nhis stall. Returning to our hotel for breakfast, we go out again\nto see the markets and the shops; visit some churches, and the\nlovely promenade by the Guadalquivir. Our costumes excite great\nremark; one woman says to another, \"They are masqueraders;\"\nanother lifts her hands and exclaims \"Ave Maria;\" and but for the\nintervention of our guide, who reproves their curiosity, we\nshould be followed by a troop of children.\n\n\n\nSunday, 20.\n\nComing to breakfast, we are charmed to find our young American\nfriend whom we had left in Valencia; and, in spite of a pouring\nrain, we all set out to hear high mass in the cathedral. The\nmosque was consecrated, and made the cathedral, when the city was\ncaptured by St. Ferdinand in 1236.\n{210}\nSeveral chapels and altars were then added, and in 1521, the\ntransept and choir were begun, to make room for which, eighty\npillars were sacrificed. Charles V., who gave permission for this\nact of vandalism, was deeply mortified when he saw what had been\ndone, and reproved the canons of the church, saying, they had\ndestroyed what was unique in the world, to raise that which could\nbe found anywhere.\n\nWhile we are at mass, our young American arrives with the guide,\nto tell us that a _revolution_ has broken out, and entreats\nus to return to the hotel. Some of the ladies are much alarmed;\nbut my friend and myself, remembering that revolutions are\nchronic in Spanish countries, and are generally bloodless, we\nmaintain our ground, too old soldiers to be driven from the field\nbefore a gun is fired; and the result justifies our faith.\n\nNobody quits the church. We have a solemn procession of the\nBlessed Sacrament after mass, winding through these beautiful\naisles, accompanied by a band of wind instruments, the whole\ncongregation following. We reach home to find our\nfellow-travellers very much frightened and annoyed at the\nprospect of a long detention; but we are assured that the worst\nwhich can befall us is a delay of a few days, to which we can\nwell submit in this comfortable inn. Making acquaintance with our\nfellow-prisoners, we grow jolly over our misfortunes. The\nrailways are all cut; General Prim and his colleagues (the exiled\ngenerals) are besieging Cadiz; and the queen has fled to\nBiarritz, to claim the intervention of the Emperor Napoleon.\nThese are some of the rumors which are rife during the day. Hosts\nof red umbrellas parade the town--the most formidable weapon\nwhich we encounter; a few voices faintly cry \"Libertad!\" and\n\"Viva!\" some damp-looking soldiers pass by, with lances from\nwhich depend little red flags, looking limp and hopeless in the\nheavy rain. These troops declare for the people. We ask one of\nthese what they want; the answer is, \"Liberty.\" (Of course.) \"And\nwhat is that?\" \"We want a _King_. We will not be governed by\na woman.\" Inflammatory hand-bills are distributed amongst the\ncrowd, very vague in their demands, \"_an empty throne_\"\nbeing the first requisite on the list.\n\nOne man is killed, (a fine young officer of the queen's troops\nmercilessly shot down,) and another man is wounded. In the\nevening, we hear that the revolution is accomplished in Cordova;\nthe insurrectionists have the city!\n\n\nMonday, 21.\n\nAll is peaceful in appearance, and we go out to shop, to find\nsome of the filagree jewelry for which Cordova is remarkable--an\nart retained from the time of the Moors. The rain drives us in,\nand we spend the day with music, books, and in conversation with\nour new friends--a Spanish lady of rank, who has come to Cordova\nabout a lawsuit, and who shakes with fright, and goes about with\na glass of water and a cup of vinegar to quiet her nerves; the\npoor lady neither eats nor sleeps. The others are of different\ncalibre; a sturdy Scotch lady, and her companion, a sweet and\ncharming German girl. \"Who's afeard!\"\n\n\n\nTuesday, 22.\n\nWe are roused by the sound of military music, and find that 5000\nof the queen's troops are entering the city. Such.\nsplendid-looking fellows! Such handsome officers! It is plain the\ncity is taken in earnest _now!_ The inconstant populace\nclamor and shout; all is enthusiasm; the report is, that the\ninsurrectionists are fled to Seville; the roads are repaired, but\nwe are not allowed to leave the city.\n{211}\nStill prisoners of _war!_ Later in the day, we hear that the\ntroops we saw this morning are those which had joined the\ninsurgents at Seville. The queen's troops, commanded by the\nMarquis de Novaliches, are outside the town, fearing to be too\nfew for those within, and waiting the turn of events. It is\nsupposed there will be some compromise entered into; a convention\npatched up; and no fighting. The prime minister, Gonzales Bravo,\nhas fled from Madrid, where all is anarchy. This man, who has\nbeen the author of all the oppressive measures, and all the\nbanishments which have made the queen's government unpopular,\nnow, in her hour of need leaves her to her fate, after cruelly\ndeceiving her. When she feared the danger of revolution, he\nassured her she might leave the country without any anxiety; and\nshe went to Biarritz in ignorance of the truth; thus giving her\nenemies the very opportunity they desired. Even now, (they say,)\nwere she to return, and throw herself upon the generosity of the\npeople, she would be received kindly; such is the loyalty of\nSpaniards to their monarchs. The influence of Bravo banished the\nMontpensiers, (the queen's sister and her husband, the son of\nLouis Philippe,) who were naturally her best friends, and to whom\nshe had showed every kindness. He sent away many of her most\npopular generals; and now they return, with men and arms, and\nBritish and Prussian gold; the people sympathize with them, the\ntroops join them; we hear from Cadiz, that there was a perfect\novation upon their landing.\n\nTo-day, we have a fine walk in a beautiful park, on one side of\nthe city, from whence we have a charming view of the mountains;\non one side, so grand and bold, with olive groves, and white\ncountry houses sparkling in the sunshine; on the other side, the\nhills are low, and their graceful, wavy outlines have the\npeculiar purple hue belonging to Spain, and form a striking\ncontrast to the others. Between the two, lies the city, and the\nfertile plains about it. We lose our way in the tortuous streets,\nand spend the morning peeping into the beautiful patios,\n(courts,) which open to the heavens, or have sometimes a linen\nawning over them; with marble pavements, over which the cool\nfountains play; with orange-trees, and flowers, amongst which\nsofas, and chairs, and pictures are disposed; and around which\noften runs a marble corridor, with pillars and curtains,\ncommunicating with the other apartments. Here the family sit, and\nhere take place the \"tirtulias,\" the meetings for talk and music.\nA picture of one of these patios is thus charmingly translated\nfrom one of Fernan Caballero's beautiful tales by a late English\ntraveller; and which any one who has been in Spain will\nrecognize:\n\n  \"The house was spacious, and scrupulously clean: on each side\n  the door was a bench of stone. In the porch hung a little lamp\n  before the image of our Lord in a niche over the entrance,\n  according to the Catholic custom of putting all things under\n  holy protection. In the middle was the 'patio,' a necessity to\n  the Andalusian. And in the centre of this spacious court an\n  enormous orange-tree raised its leafy head from its robust\n  trunk. For an infinity of generations had this beautiful tree\n  been a source of delight to the family. The women made tonic\n  decoctions from its leaves; the daughters adorned themselves\n  with its flowers; the boys cooled their blood with its fruits;\n  the birds made their home in its boughs. The rooms opened out\n  of the 'patio,' and borrowed their light from thence.\n{212}\n  This 'patio' was the centre of all the 'home;' the place of\n  gathering when the day's work was over. The orange-tree loaded\n  the air with its heavy perfume, and the waters of the fountain\n  fell in soft showers on the marble basin, fringed with the\n  delicate maiden-hair fern. And the father, leaning against the\n  tree, smoked his 'cigarro de papel;' and the mother sat at her\n  work, while the little ones played at her feet, the eldest\n  resting his head on a big dog, which lay stretched at full\n  length on the cool marble slabs. All was still, and peaceful,\n  and beautiful.\"\n\nWe close the day with a farewell visit to the cathedral. Surely\nit is the most wonderful building in the world. Even St. Peter's\nhardly fills one with greater astonishment. This is altogether\nunique; and its grace, and elegance, and harmony win one to love\nit. We lingered by the chapel of the holy of holies, finding\nbeauties which we had not before seen, and bade farewell to it\nwith deep regret; then wandered to the bridge over the\nGuadalquivir, and gazed upon the truly eastern prospect it\nreveals.\n\nTo-day, a great robber from the mountains, upon whose head a\nprice had been fixed by the late government, comes boldly into\ntown. The people cry, \"Viva Pacheco!\" In half an hour after, we\nhear he has been shot--the victim of private revenge.\n\nCordova is the birthplace of Lucan, the author of the\n_Pharsalia_; of the two Senecas; of many eminent Moslem\npoets and authors, and of the famous Gonzales de Cordova, \"El\nGran Capitan.\"\n\n----------\n\n                 Pope Or People.\n                  [Footnote 50]\n\n    [Footnote 50: The _Congregationalist and Boston\n    Recorder_, Boston, March 4th, 1869.]\n\nWe confess to having read with no little surprise an elaborate\narticle in the _Congregationalist and Boston Recorder_\nentitled _Pope or People_. Had we met the article in a\nprofessedly Unitarian journal or periodical we should have\nthought little of it; but meeting it in the recognized organ of\nthe so-called orthodox Congregationalists of Massachusetts, we\nhave read it with no ordinary interest. It shows that the\nProtestant, especially the old Puritan mind of the country, is\nprofoundly agitated with the church question under one of its\nmost important aspects. He who reads with any attention the\nleading American sectarian journals can hardly fail to perceive\nthat there is a growing distrust in the Protestant world of the\nProtestant rule of faith, and a growing conviction that the only\nalternative, as the journal before us expresses it, is either\npope or people. Of course the journal in question has no clear\napprehension of either of the alternatives it suggests, but it\ndoes see and feel the need of certainty in matters of religious\nbelief, and is in pursuit of it. It says:\n\n{213}\n\n  \"One of our great men once declared that the thing most to be\n  desired in this world, by an intelligent mind, is an\n  unfaltering religious belief. In the sense in which he meant\n  it, his remark is unquestionably true; and it explains the\n  philosophy of much of the success of the Romish Church. Men do\n  crave certainty in their conviction; such certainty demands\n  infallibility on which to found itself, and the papal system\n  offers the promise of just that infallibility. And thousands\n  upon thousands of minds rest in that; and being able to receive\n  it, it meets that innate and inextinguishable craving of the\n  soul for stability under its feet, and gives them a\n  great--though it be a fallacious--peace.\n\n  \"But multitudes, and some even among the nominal adherents of\n  the papacy, are not able so to receive that doctrine, and are\n  consequently driven to seek for some other rock on which to\n  found the house of their faith; too often with the result of\n  building it on the sand, with its seductive security for fair\n  weather, and its terrible and irremediable fall when the\n  tempestuous night-time of death shall come. But for those who\n  reject the pope and that certitude of conviction which he\n  offers, what solid ground is there on which to stand secure?\"\n\nIf the writer knew the Catholic religion better, he would know\nthat the peace we find in believing is not \"fallacious,\" for \"we\nknow in whom we believe and are certain;\" but he does see that to\nan unfaltering religious belief infallibility of some sort is\nabsolutely indispensable, and that the Catholic Church promises\nit; yet, unable or unwilling to accept the pope or the church, he\nlooks around to see if he cannot find elsewhere some infallible\nauthority in which one may confide, an immovable rock or some\nsolid ground on which one may stand and feel that his footing is\nsure. Does he succeed? We think not. He finds an alternative\nindeed, but not an infallible authority, and he has proved very\nconclusively that outside of the church there is and can be no\nsuch authority for faith. He says:\n\n  \"As we look at it, only two alternatives are possible in this\n  matter of an infallible faith; either the conditions of it\n  exist outside of the soul in some constituted and certified\n  authority, or within the soul in the purest and loftiest\n  exercise of its reason--and we use this word as\n  _including_ conscience--under the enlightenment of God's\n  Spirit through his Word. If outside of the soul, in any central\n  and constituted authority, then in the pope; for it may as well\n  be in him as anybody, nobody else claims it, and he does. If\n  inside the soul, then any pope is an impossibility and an\n  insult, and God remits every man to those conditions of secure\n  decision which he has established in his breast, and holds him\n  responsible for a judgment and a life founded upon them. And\n  this latter, precisely, is God's way with men. He never\n  commands them to hang their faith on the pope or the bishop;\n  but rather inquires--in that tone of asking which is equivalent\n  to the highest form of injunction--'Why, _(aph' heauton,)\n  out of your own selves_, do ye not judge what is right?'\n  Even in that precept which many will be swift to quote against\n  us in this connection,'Obey them that have the rule over you,\n  and submit yourselves,' it is first true that these 'rulers,'\n  as the context proves, are mere (_h\u00ebgoumen\u00f6n_) leaders,\n  and men of example who were already dead, with no flavor of\n  potentiality therefore about them; whose 'faith' is to be\n  imitated rather than whose commands are to be submitted to; and\n  true, in the second place, that the entire appeal of the\n  apostle is to the tribunal of the Hebrews' reason as the court\n  of ultimate decision, inasmuch as he declares that for them to\n  fail thus to follow the good example of the illustrious and\n  holy dead who had walked before them in the heavenly way, would\n  be 'unprofitable' for them; leaving the necessary inference\n  that men are bound to do what is for their highest profit, and\n  therefore bound to decide, in all solemnity, what will be for\n  that profit, and, so deciding, by inevitable necessity, to\n  assume in the last analysis the function of positive masterhood\n  over themselves and their destiny.\"\n\nThe alternative here presented is not pope or people, but pope or\nno external authority for faith. But why, supposing the internal\nor subjective authority to be all that is here alleged, is the\npope an impossibility or an insult? Why may there not be two\nwitnesses, the one internal, the other external? Is the\nrevelation of God less credible because confirmed by two\nwitnesses, each worthy of credit?\n{214}\nThe external and the internal do not necessarily exclude, and, if\nboth are infallible, cannot exclude each other, or stand opposed\none to the other. I do not deny or diminish the need or worth of\nreason by asserting the infallibility of the church, nor the\nimportance and necessity of the infallible church by asserting\nthe full power and freedom of reason. The Catholic asserts both,\nand has all the internal light and authority of reason that our\nPuritan doctor can pretend to, and has the infallible church in\naddition.\n\nWe may say the same when is added to \"the purest and loftiest\nexercise of reason\" the enlightenment of God's Spirit through his\nWord. This word, on the hypothesis, must be spoken inside of the\nsoul, or else it is an authority outside of the soul, which the\nwriter cannot admit. His rule of faith is reason and the interior\nillumination of the Holy Ghost. The Catholic rule by no means\nexcludes this; it includes it, and adds to it the external word\nand the infallible authority of the church. Catholics assert the\ninterior illumination and inspiration of the Holy Spirit as fully\nand as strenuously as the Puritan does or can. The authority\ninside the soul, be it more or be it less, does not exclude the\nexternal authority of the church, nor does the external authority\nof the church exclude the internal authority of reason and the\nSpirit. Catholicity asserts both, and interprets each by the\nauthority of the other. Catholics have all the reason and all the\ninterior \"enlightenment of God's Spirit\" that Protestants have,\nand lay as much stress on each, to say the least, as Protestants\ndo or can.\n\nThe great mistake of non-catholics is in the supposition that the\nassertion of an external infallible authority necessarily\nexcludes, or at least supersedes, reason and the interior\nillumination of the Spirit. This is false in logic, and, as every\none who understands Catholic theology knows, is equally false in\nfact. There is a maxim accepted and insisted on by all Catholic\ntheologians, that settles, in principle, the whole controversy;\nnamely, _gratia supponit naturam_. Grace supposes nature,\nrevelation supposes reason, and the external supposes the\ninternal; and hence no Catholic holds that faith is or can be\nproduced by the external authority of the church alone, though\ninfallible, or without the grace of God, that illuminates the\nunderstanding and inspires the will. Hence our Lord says, \"No man\ncometh to me, unless the Father draws him.\" In our controversies\nwith Protestants we necessarily insist on the external authority,\nbecause that is what they deny; hence is produced an impression\nin many minds that we deny the internal, or make no account of\nit. Nothing can be more untrue or unjust, as any one may know who\nwill make himself at all familiar with the writings of Catholic\nascetics, or with the Catholic direction of souls.\n\nBut while we assert the internal we do not concede that it is\nalone sufficient. \"Dearly beloved, believe not every spirit, but\ntry the spirits, whether they be of God,\" (I John iv. i.) Saints\nmay mistake their own imaginations or enthusiasm for the\ninspirations of the Spirit, and even in their case it is\nnecessary to try the spirit, and, in the very nature of the case,\nthe trial must be by an external test or authority. The test of\nthe internal by the internal is simply no test at all.\n{215}\nThe beloved apostle in this same chapter of his first epistle\ngives two tests, the one doctrinal and the other apostolical: \"By\nthis is the Spirit of God known: every spirit that confesseth\nJesus Christ to have come in the flesh is of God, and every\nspirit that dissolveth Jesus (by denying either his humanity or\nhis divinity) is not of God.\" \"We are of God. He that knoweth God\nheareth us; he that is not of God heareth us not; by this we know\nthe spirit of truth, and the spirit of error.\" The internal,\nthen, must be brought to the test of apostolic doctrine and of\nthe apostolic communion or the apostolic authority, both of which\nare external, or outside of the soul. The assertion of the\nexternal does not supersede the internal, nor does the assertion\nof the internal supersede the necessity of the external\ninfallible authority. The error of our Puritan journalist is in\nsupposing that if the one is taken the other must be rejected; he\nshould know that no one is obliged to choose between them, and\nthat both, each in its proper place and function, may be and must\nbe accepted. It is true, neither reason nor the inspiration of\nthe Spirit can deceive or mislead, us; but we may be deceived as\nto what reason really dictates, and as to whether the internal\nphenomena really are interior inspirations of the Spirit; and\ntherefore to the safety and certainty of our faith, even\nsubjectively considered, the external infallible authority of the\npope or church is indispensable.\n\nThis is evident enough of itself, and still more so from the\narticle before us. The insufficiency of reason and the spiritual\nlight, either in the writer or in us, appears in his\nunderstanding of the text of St. Paul, Hebrews xiii., which, as\nhe cites it, reads, \"Obey them that have rule over you, and\nsubmit yourselves;\" but as we read it, \"Obey your prelates and\nsubmit to them.\" Which of us has the true version of the words of\nthe apostle? The Puritan interpreter says these prelates, or\n\"these rulers,\" were mere leaders, and men of example, who were\nalready dead, with no flavor of potentiality, (sic,) therefore,\nabout them; and whose \"faith\" is to be imitated, rather than\nwhose commands are to be submitted to. We are disposed to believe\nthat they were not dead men, but living rulers placed by the Holy\nGhost over the faithful, to whom the apostle commands them to\nsubmit; and we are confirmed in this view by the reason which the\napostle assigns for his command: \"For they watch as having to\ngive an account of your souls, that they may do this with joy,\nnot with grief.\" Which of us is right? The journalist tells us,\nmoreover, that \"the entire appeal of the apostle is to the\ntribunal of the Hebrews' reason as the court of ultimate\ndecision.\" We hold that the apostle, from beginning to end,\nappeals to the revelation held by the Hebrews, and argues from\nthat and the character of their sacrifices and the levitical\npriesthood, that both were types and figures of the real and\neverlasting priesthood of Christ and his one all-sufficient\nsacrifice. Christ having come in the end of the world, and\noffered himself once for all, the types and figures must give way\nto the reality they prefigured and announced. Therefore the\nHebrews should accept Christ as the fulfilment of their law. He\nundoubtedly reasons, and reasons powerfully, but from revealed\npremises. Here we and the journalist are at odds; we cannot both\nbe right: who shall decide between us? While we thus differ,\nsupposing us equally able, learned, and honest, how can either\nfind his cravings for certainty satisfied?\n\n{216}\n\nIt is a very common prejudice among Protestants and rationalists\nthat Catholics eschew reason, and assert only an external\nauthority which operates only on the will. It seems to be\nforgotten that it was the reformers who denied reason, and set up\nthe authority of the written Word against it. No one, as far as\nour knowledge extends, ever spoke more contemptuously of reason\nthan did Doctor Martin Luther; and the old Puritan and\nPresbyterian ministers to whose preaching we listened in our\nboyhood were continually warning us to beware of the false and\ndeceitful light of reason, which \"dazzles but to blind.\" This was\nin accordance with the doctrine of total depravity with which the\nreformers started; man being clean gone in sin and totally\ncorrupt in his nature, his reason, as well as his will, must be\ncorrupt, turned against God and truth, and therefore worthy of no\nconfidence. No doubt, Protestants have softened the harshness of\nmany of the doctrines of the reformers, and in several respects\nhave drawn nearer to what has always been the teaching of the\nchurch; but it is hardly fair in them to charge the errors of\ntheir ancestors, which they have outgrown or abandoned, upon the\nchurch which has always condemned them. The Bishop of Avranches,\nPascal, the Traditionalists, and some others, commonly regarded\nas Catholics, yet for the most part tinctured with Jansenism,\nhave indeed seemed to depreciate reason in order the better to\ndefend faith; but the church has expressly or virtually condemned\nthem, and vindicated the rights of reason. Whoever knows Catholic\ntheology, knows that the church never opposes faith or authority\nto reason, but asserts both with equal earnestness and emphasis,\nand denies that there is or can be any antagonism between them.\n\nThe reformers did not assume that no external infallible\nauthority is necessary to faith. They denied the infallible\nauthority of popes and councils, but asserted that of the written\nWord, interpreted by private judgment, or rather, by the private\nillumination of the Spirit, called by some in our day the\nChristian conscience, or consciousness. Our Puritan journalist,\nthough he rejects not the Scriptures, very ably refutes this\ntheory of the reformers:\n\n  \"There lies before us a recent number of a religious quarterly\n  containing an elaborate article entitled 'An Infallible Church\n  or an infallible Book--which?' the great object of which is to\n  dethrone the Pope and enthrone the Bible, as the subject of\n  indubitable faith, with that religious certitude with which it\n  may logically comfort the soul. To quote its own language, it\n  would make the Bible 'the supreme and only arbiter in things\n  spiritual.' And this, it thinks, would cause' divisions to\n  cease among us for ever.' But this forgets that the Bible is\n  always at the mercy of its interpreters, and that its unity\n  becomes continual diversity--being all things to all men, as\n  they compel it, by the manner in which they receive it. This is\n  not true merely in the extreme cases of those who are--and who\n  know that they are--'handling the Word of God deceitfully;' it\n  is true, as well, of those who mean to treat it with extremest\n  reverence and humility or receptive faith. Here, for example,\n  are two meek and lowly, yet wonderfully clear-headed disciples,\n  like Francis Wayland and Bela Bates Edwards; both able scholars\n  and patient students of the Word; both, so far as human eye can\n  judge, eminently seeking and securing the habitual guidance of\n  the Holy Spirit: and yet, as a matter of fact, reaching, upon\n  certain points which both feel to be of serious importance,\n  conclusions as to what is taught in the Bible, diametrically\n  opposite, and beyond possibility of reconciliation. And who can\n  deny that the one--seeming to himself to find them in the\n  Bible--was as sacredly bound to hold, practise, and teach\n  Baptist, as the other, Pedobaptist views.\"\n\nWe need add nothing to this refutation. Protestants have had from\nthe first all the Bible, all the private judgment, or private\nillumination, they now have or can hope to have; and yet they\nhave never been able to agree among themselves on a single dogma\nof faith. The only point on which they have been unanimous is\ntheir hostility to the Catholic Church.\n{217}\nThey have no standard by which to try the spirit; and the Bible,\nnot a few among them are accustomed to say, profanely, \"is a\nfiddle on which a skilful player may play any tune he pleases.\"\nProtestants may go to the Bible to prove the doctrines they have\nbeen taught by their parents or ministers, or held from\nProtestant tradition; but they never, or rarely ever, obtain\ntheir doctrines from the study of the Holy Scriptures. Hence,\nsects the most divergent appeal alike to the Bible; and each\nseems to find texts in its favor. How can any thinking\nProtestant, who knows this, not be perplexed and uncertain as to\nwhat he should believe? The writer admits the difficulty, and\nasks:\n\n  \"Are we to understand, then, that Christ is divided? Is there\n  no such thing as absolute truth? This cannot be admitted, and\n  we avoid the admission of it by the claim that God's absolute\n  truth is a truth of love and life, through dogma yet not of\n  dogma; so that it may be reached and realized by approaches not\n  only from different but sometimes from opposite directions.\"\n\nBut this does not, as far as we can see, help the matter. Concede\nthat charity or love is the fulfilling of the law, and that\nnothing more is required of any one than perfect charity, yet the\nlove here asserted is, though not of dogma, \"through dogma.\"\nUnless, then, we are sure of the absolute truth of the dogma, how\ncan we be sure of the truth of the love and life, since there are\nmany sorts of love? The dogma, according to the Puritan writer,\nis not the principle, indeed, but it is the medium of the love\nand life. Will a false medium be as effectual in relation to the\nend as a true medium? Can a falsehood be, in the nature of\nthings, any medium at all? If we say the absolute truth is a\ntruth of love and life through dogma, it seems to us absolutely\nnecessary that the dogma should be absolutely true; but, whether\nthe dogma is absolutely true or not, the writer concedes that\nthose who reject the infallibility of the church have no certain\nmeans of determining. If it be said that the true love and life\nare practicable with contradictory dogmas, as is said in the last\nextract made, then dogmas are indifferent; and whether we believe\nthe truth or falsehood of God or Christ; of the human soul; of\nthe origin and end of man; of man's duties, and the means of\ndischarging them,--can make no difference as to the truth of our\nlove and life. The truth of love and life is not, then, an\nintellectual truth; a truth apprehended by the mind; but must be\na mere affection of the heart, or, rather, a mere feeling,\ndependent on no operation of the understanding, but on some\ninternal or external affection of the sensibility. The love will\nnot be a rational affection, but a simple sentiment, sensitive\naffection, or sensible emotion, and as far removed from charity\nas is the sensuous appetite for food or drink.\n\nThe _Congregationalist and Recorder_ seems aware that it has\nnot yet found a solid ground to stand on, and fairly abandons its\npretension to be able to arrive at absolute truth at all without\nthe pope. It says:\n\n  \"It is, then, both the privilege and the duty of every man to\n  be a law unto himself; and out of his own reason and\n  conscience, enlightened from all knowledge that can be made\n  available by his own researches and those of his fellows, and\n  more especially by the patient and docile study of the\n  Bible--all in the most profound, uninterrupted, and prayerful\n  dependence upon the Holy Spirit--to judge what is right. From\n  the decision which he thus reaches there can be, for him, no\n  appeal. Whether it is anybody's else duty to follow the course\n  prescribed therein, or not, it is _his_ duty to do so. He\n  has plead his cause before his infallible tribunal, and its\n  decision over him is necessarily supreme and inexorable.\n{218}\n  Not to obey it, would be to be false equally to God and to\n  himself. _If it be not absolute right which he has reached,\n  it stands in the place of absolute right for him; and only\n  along its road, however thorny, and steep, and high, can he\n  climb up toward heaven_. Practically, then, we insist upon\n  it, there is no infallibility possible to man, but that which\n  is resident in his own soul.\"\n\nThe conclusion is that to which all who seek their rule of faith\nin private judgment and private illumination, or inside the soul,\nmust come at last; namely, the man is a law unto himself; that\nis, is his own law, and, therefore, his own truth. Out of his own\nreason and conscience, enlightened by the best study he can make,\nhe is to judge supremely what is right. This, we need not say, is\npure rationalism. It is man's duty to abide by the conclusion at\nwhich he arrives; for although it may not be the absolute right,\nyet it is the absolute right for him. This makes truth and duty\nrelative; what each one, for himself, thinks them to be. What\ninfallibility is here to oppose to the infallibility of the\nchurch? Suppose it is announced to a man that God has established\na church which he by his presence renders infallible, to teach\nall men and nations; will it not be the duty of that man to\nlisten to the announcement, and to investigate to the best of his\nability, and with all diligence, whether it be so or not? If,\nthrough prejudice, indifference, or any other cause, he fails to\ndo so, will his conviction against such church be excusable, and\nabsolute truth or right, even for him? The article continues:\n\n  \"And, in the matter of systems, we submit that there is no\n  logical pause possible between the two extremes to which we\n  referred, near the beginning of this article--that each man's\n  own conscientious reason be his umpire, or that that reason be\n  implicitly surrendered to some sole arbiter without. It must be\n  pope or people; the absolutism of the papacy or the democracy\n  of Congregationalism. There is no intermediate stand-point on\n  which the aristocracy of Presbyterianism, or the limited\n  monarchy of Methodism, or Episcopacy, can solidly build itself.\n  And this is, in point of fact, the unintended confession of\n  actions that are louder than words, in all these systems;\n  inasmuch as an appeal to the people in their individuality is\n  their quick, sharp sword which cuts every knot that draws hard\n  and cannot be untied.\"\n\nBut we do not see how this follows. The writer, if he has proved\nanything, has proved, not that Congregationalism is a ground on\nwhich one can stand, but that the individual is. He places the\ninfallible tribunal in the inside of the individual soul;\nCongregationalism places it, if anywhere, in the congregation or\nbrotherhood. He should have said, therefore, that it is either\npope or individualism. We readily agree that there is no solid\nground between the pope and the people, taken individually, on\nwhich any third or middle party can stand; but is individualism,\nor the individual soul, a solid ground on which any one can\nstand, without danger of its giving way under him? We have seen\nthat it is not, because an external standard is needed by which\nto try the internal; and the writer himself concedes it, if he\nunderstands the force of the terms he uses. He confesses that a\nman, after due investigation, with all the helps he can derive\nfrom the Holy Scriptures and the Spirit, cannot be certain of\narriving at absolute truth--that is, at truth at all; he can only\narrive at what is true and right for him, though it may not be so\nfor any one else. At best, then, he attains only to the relative,\nand no man can stand on the relative, for the relative itself\ncannot stand except in the absolute.\n{219}\nHis whole doctrine amounts simply to this: What I honestly and\nconscientiously think is true and right, is true and right for\nme; that is, I may follow what I think is true and right with a\nsafe conscience: but whether I think right or wrong; in\naccordance with the objective reality or not, I do not and cannot\nknow. What is this but saying that infallibility is both\nimpossible and unnecessary? Relying on what is inside of the\nsoul, then, without any authority outside of it, we cannot attain\nto that certainty the writer began by affirming to be necessary,\nand craved by the soul; and which he proposed to show us could be\nhad without the pope. All the writer does, is to show us that\nwithout the infallibility of the pope or church, we cannot have\ninfallible faith; and to attempt to prove that we do not need it,\nand can do very well without it. What does he establish, then,\nbut what Catholics have always told him, that there is no\nalternative but pope or no infallibility? He says:\n\n  \"We are even prepared to go so far as to claim that, as human\n  nature has been divinely constituted, it is a psychological\n  impossibility for any man to waive this prerogative of being\n  the _supreme authority_ over himself in regard to his\n  religion; for if he decides to accept the pope and his dictum\n  as conveying to him the sure will of God, that infallibility\n  can only be received as such by an express volition of his own\n  thus to receive it; that is, the man infallible stands behind\n  the pope infallible, and decrees that he shall become to him an\n  infallible pope; so that all the infallibility which the pope\n  can have is just only what the man had before, and gives to him\n  by his volition.\"\n\nIn this it is not only conceded that the internal, as we have\nseen, does not give infallibility, but asserted that man is so\nconstituted that he is incapable of having an infallible faith.\nConsequently, there can be no infallible teaching. It goes\nfarther, and denies the supreme authority of God in matters of\nreligion; and, like all error, puts man in the place of God. It\nsays: \"It is a psychological impossibility for any man to waive\nhis prerogative of being the supreme authority over himself in\nregard to his religion.\" This is the necessary conclusion from\nthe writer's assumption in the outset, that the infallible\nauthority is inside the soul, not outside of it; therefore,\npurely subjective and human. Consequently, man is his own law,\nhis own sovereign; therefore independent of God, and the author\nand finisher of his own faith. This is pretty well for a\nCalvinist, and the organ of New England Puritanism! But we\ncharitably trust that the writer hardly understands the reach of\nwhat he says. He confounds the action or office of reason in\nreceiving the faith, or the internal act of believing, with the\nauthority on which one believes, or on which the faith is\nreceived. The act is the act of the rational subject, and\ntherefore internal. The authority on which the act is elicited is\naccredited to the subject, and therefore necessarily objective or\nexternal. I believe on testimony which comes to me from without,\nor a fact or an event duly accredited to me. I believe the\nmessenger from God duly accredited to me as his messenger,\nalthough he announces to me things far above my own personal\nknowledge, and even mysteries which my reason is utterly unable\nto comprehend. Hence, Christians believe the mysteries recorded\nin the Holy Scriptures, because recorded by men duly instructed\nand authorized by God himself to teach in his name.\n\nThe Puritan writer will hardly deny that St. Peter was a duly\naccredited apostle of our Lord, and therefore, that what he\ndeclares to be the Word of God is the Word of God, and therefore\ntrue, since God is truth itself.\n{220}\nSuppose, then, the pope to be duly accredited to us as the\ndivinely authorized and divinely assisted teacher and interpreter\nof the teaching of our Lord, whether in person or by the mouth of\nthe apostles, would reason find any greater difficulty in\nbelieving him than in believing St. Peter himself? Of course not.\nNow, Catholics look upon the pope as the successor or the\ncontinuator of Peter, and therefore as teaching with precisely\nthe same apostolic authority with which Peter himself would teach\nif he were personally present. It is not more difficult to prove\nthat the pope succeeds to Peter than it is to prove that Peter\nwas an apostle of our Lord, and taught by his divine authority.\nThe same kind of evidence that suffices to prove the one suffices\nto prove the other. Suppose it proved, should we not then have an\ninfallible authority for faith other than that which is inside\nthe soul? Should we not be bound by reason itself to believe\nwhatever, in the case supposed, the pope should declare to be\n\"the faith once delivered to the saints\"?\n\nOur Puritan psychologist, and Protestants very generally, contend\nthat, since the authority of the pope is accredited to reason,\nand we by reason judge of the credentials, therefore we have in\nthe pope only the authority of our own reason. This is a mistake.\nWe might as well argue that an ambassador accredited to a foreign\ncourt can speak only by authority of the court to which he is\naccredited, since it judges of the sufficiency of the credentials\nhe presents, and not at all by the authority of the court that\nsends him. This would be simply absurd. The ambassador represents\nthe sovereign that sends him, not the sovereign to whom he is\nsent or accredited. The credentials of the pope are presented to\nour judgment, but what the pope, the accredited ambassador from\nGod, announces as the will of his sovereign and ours, must be\ntaken not on the authority of our own judgment, but on the\nauthority of the ambassador. The pope is not, indeed,\ncommissioned to reveal the truth, for the revelation is already\nmade by our Lord and his apostles, and deposited with the church.\nThe pope simply teaches what is the faith so revealed and\ndeposited, and settles controversies respecting it. Our own\nreason, operating on the facts of the case, judges the\ncredentials of the pope or the evidences of his divine\ncommission, but not of the revelation to which he bears witness.\nThe fact that God has revealed and deposited with the church what\nthe pope declares God has so revealed and deposited, we take on\nhis authority. It is a mistake, then, to say that there can be no\nauthority in faith or religion but the authority which every man\nhas even of himself. To deny it is simply to deny the ability of\nGod to make us a revelation through inspired messengers, or\notherwise than through our natural reason.\n\nIt is equally a mistake to suppose that belief or an external\ninfallible authority is simply a volition or an act of the will,\nwithout any intellectual assent. We might as well argue that the\ncredit a jury yields to the testimony of a competent and credible\nwitness is simply a volition without any conviction of the\nunderstanding. Infallible authority convinces the understanding\nas well as moves the will. We do not believe the revealed truth\non the authority of the pope; we believe it on the word of God,\nwho can neither deceive nor be deceived; but we believe on the\nauthority of the pope or church the fact that God has revealed\nit. The church or the pope is not authority for the truth of what\nis revealed--for God's word suffices for that; and we believe it\non his veracity--but is the infallible witness of the fact that\nGod has revealed or said it.\n{221}\nIf God has made a revelation of supernatural truth, as all\nChristians hold, the fact that he has made it, since it\nconfessedly is not made to us individually, must be received by\nus, if at all, on the testimony of a witness. This is what is\nmeant by believing on authority. If we believe the fact at all,\nwe must believe it either on some authority or on no authority.\nIf on no authority, we have no reason for believing it, and our\nbelief is groundless. If on some authority, then either on a\nfallible or an infallible authority. A fallible authority is no\nauthority for faith. Then an infallible authority, and as the\nauthority must be duly accredited to us--therefore, be itself\noutside of us--it must be an infallible external authority. The\nPuritan journal should therefore have headed its article, not\nPope or People, but, Pope or no Faith. Without the infallible\nauthority or witness, we may have opinions, conjectures, guesses,\nmore or less probable, but not faith, which excludes doubt, and\nis the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things\nnot seen. The Puritan is able, but has not mastered his subject.\nThere are many things for him yet to learn.\n\nWe have called attention to the article we have reviewed, as one\nof the signs of what is going on in the Protestant evangelical\nworld. It is beginning to learn that there is no resting in the\ninfallible Book without an infallible interpreter. It begins to\nsee that it has therefore no authority for dogmas, and it is\ngradually giving them the go-by. Dogmas discarded, Christianity,\nas a revelation of mysteries or of truth for the intellect, goes\nwith them, and Christianity becomes a truth only for the heart\nand conscience. Then it is resolved into love, and love without\nunderstanding, therefore a sentimental love, and, with the more\nadvanced party, purely sensual love. This is whither\nProtestantism is undeniably tending, and well may Dr. Ewer say\nthat, as a system of religion, it has proved a failure. It has\nlost the church, lost practically the Bible, lost faith, lost\ndoctrine, lost charity, lost spirituality, fallen into a sickly\nsentimentalism, and is plunging into gross sensuality. Here\nendeth the \"glorious reformation.\"\n\n----------\n\n       Translated From The German\n        By Richard Storrs Willis.\n\n            Emily Linder.\n\n        II.--Her Conversion.\n\n\nWe are now arrived at the most important period of her life. Miss\nLinder often referred with thankful heart to God's guiding\nprovidence; and in the steady progress of her spiritual life thus\nfar is this not to be mistaken. Naturally religious, and inspired\nwith an unaffected yearning for the entire truth, she was happily\nconducted into a circle of friends where her dawning faith\nreceived both impulse and guidance. Exterior incidents\nstrengthened a certain interior magnetic bias. Since the day\nwhich rendered Assisi so dear to her, an invisible power had\ndrawn her toward the visible church, and her leaning to\nCatholicity was imperceptibly strengthened.\n{222}\nHer activity in art deepened her sympathies with a church in\nwhich art finds its true place and consecration. An intellectual\nintercourse of many years with friendly Catholic men and families\ncould not fail to remove many a prejudice. Thus had an unexpected\nbut powerful combination of circumstances conspired to lead a\nmind ingenuously seeking the truth to Catholicity. It would be\nquite a mistake, however, to suppose, as has been thought by\nsome, that the personal influence of any friend whatever had\nworked decisively upon her determination to take the final step.\nNo one could do this; not even Brentano, strong as was his\ninterest in her spiritual life.\n\nClemens Brentano had come to Munich in October, 1833, and made\nhis domestic arrangements in his usual characteristic style at\nProfessor Schlotthauer's, \"in one of the most pious and genial of\nNoah's arks,\" as he facetiously describes it. His associations\nled him into the same social circle in which Miss Linder moved,\nand soon after his arrival he made her acquaintance. Her pious\nearnestness, her cultivated, artistic nature, her charming and\njudicious benevolence, enchained his interest; and he believed,\nas is stated in his biography, to have found in her just the\nnature for the Catholic faith. One knows with what strength and\nzeal Brentano devoted himself (and in increasing ratio with\nincreasing years) to such friends as were dear to him in the\nmatter, particularly, of their acquaintance with the faith of his\nown church, and their participation in her blessings. His\nanimated desire to instruct, which was ever without affectation\nor concealment, expressed itself in just such cases with the\nutmost freedom and frankness. Whoever reads that clever letter,\n\"To a Lady Friend,\" written during these years at Munich, can\ntolerably well judge of the tone and style with which he brought\nhome to a pious Protestant the warmth and depth of his religious\nconvictions.\n\nCertain is it that Miss Linder gained, through Brentano, a deep\ninsight into the inner life of the church and the hidden graces\nand forces which stream through her. He had the power, as she\nsaid, \"of making some things intelligible which might otherwise\nremain for ever closed to one.\" The life and the visions of\nKatharina Emmerich, which he read aloud on her weekly\nreading-evenings, made a profound impression upon her. As though\nin confirmation of what she heard, she saw with her own eyes at\nKaldern a similar phenomenon in Maria von M\u00f6rl, that astounding\nliving wonder, and was penetrated with the atmosphere of truth\nwith which, as Gorres expresses it, Maria von M\u00f6rl seemed\nenveloped. She caused a portrait of this phenomenon to be\nexecuted by her lady friend, Ellenrieder; and always gladly gave\nher visitors (as is stated by Emma Niendorf) a full description\nof the _stigimated_, just as Brentano was wont to do in his\nletters. In this, as in other ways, was her intercourse with\nBrentano of service to her. To many an outwork of knowledge did\nhe build a bridge, a _pontifex maximus_, as he once\njestingly applied the term to himself. Finally, his own Christian\ndeath made a profound and lasting impression upon her.\n\nAny other influence than mild, patient instruction was, once for\nall, excluded by her. Even the holiest zeal, if it sought, in any\nway, to crowd in upon her, could only force a nature like hers\ninto antagonism, and check everything like quiet development.\n{223}\nWith all her humility, this lady possessed the self-reliance and\ngenuine independence of a Swiss. She sought the way of truth with\nsuch deep longing that she willingly accepted guidance; but with\nsuch severe scrutiny, that she was not to be confused, and was\ninaccessible to every kind of coaxing from any side. For, from\nthe quarter of her old theological standpoint there was no lack\nof friendly advice, or of opinions bringing great weight with\nthem,--supposing that mere human opinions could ever have decided\nsuch a question. Even raillery was not lacking. Platen gave his\nparticular attention to this kind of weapon, and put himself to\nno little trouble to ridicule her out of her Catholic\nproclivities. The theological tendency she had taken since the\ndays passed at Sorrento had become to the poet of the\n_Abassiden_ altogether \"too romantic,\" and he hoped to cool\nher religious zeal with a cold irony. Thus, he once satirically\naddressed himself to her from Florence, (February 24th, 1835,)\n\"Might one be so bold as to enquire what progress you have made\nin your conversion to the only saving church; or is this a\nsecret? In case of a change of religion, I trust you will follow\nthe advice of a friend, and turn, rather, to the Greek Church.\nFor, if you prize Catholicism on account of its antiquity, the\nGreek Church is doubtless older. And is it the ceremonial which\nparticularly attracts you; then here, too, is the Greek service\nfar more aesthetic and imposing.\" Count Platen doubtless felt\nthat in a theological controversy he was no match for his\nwell-informed friend; and therefore, in his letters he appealed\nto her as an artiste. True, the barrenness of Protestantism in\nart he quietly admitted; but all the better success he promised\nhimself in an attempt to belittle the merit of the church in the\nfield of art by certain cunning sophistries. In several of his\nletters he stumbled upon the neither very bright nor novel idea\nof presenting the church as at an obsolete standpoint.\n\"Certainly,\" he admonishes the artist, \"Catholicity, as a thing\nof a former age, is highly to be esteemed, but not for the\npresent. Her time is past, even for art. Perhaps by and by an\nartera may dawn upon her, but this will be of a purely aesthetic\nnature; for a blending of art with religion is no longer among\nthe possibilities,\" etc. The thought that his friend, after all,\nmight take some such fatal step evidently gave the poet much\nuneasiness; for even in his last letter to her, written but two\nweeks before his death, he makes another attempt at the same\nstyle of argument. It is contained in a description of Palermo,\nwritten at Naples, September 7th, 1835: \"I received your welcome\nletter shortly after my return from Calabria. I know not how my\nmother could write you that Palermo did not please me; or, if so,\nto what extent this was the case. I simply remember saying that\nthe location of Palermo bore no comparison with that of Naples.\nThere are certainly lacking the islands, Vesuvius, and the coast\nof Sorrento; although the mountain background of Palermo is very\nbeautiful. The Rogers chapel, there, is something that would\nplease you--a church of the twelfth century, in perfect\npreservation; its style that of the old Venetian and Roman\nchurches; and although of smaller dimensions, yet the finest of\nthem all. It is the more interesting to attend a service there,\nbecause one sees that Catholic culture was calculated solely for\nthe Byzantine style of architecture; for with such surroundings,\nonly, could it be effective. Thus does Catholicity, even as to\narchitecture, prove itself a thing of the past.\"\n\n{224}\n\nEnough of this. Such platitudes as these were not calculated to\nentangle a nature far too deep for them, or check the development\nof a work so earnestly undertaken. Emily Linder well knew that\nthe church has already outlived many just such \"obsolete\nstandpoints,\" and many such prophets of evil, who have mistaken\ntheir wishes for reality, and phrases for axioms. How dignified\nand how welcome, in comparison with this sophistry from Naples,\nmust have seemed to her the greeting of an old friend and art\ncompanion addressed to her from Rome, in the spring of 1833: \"Be\nassured that I often fervently remember you to our Lord. Do you\nthe same by me. May a holy unrest and impatience fill us to take\n'by violence' the kingdom of heaven!\"\n\nThis holy unrest had indeed for some time possessed her, and on\nmany an occasion broke forth in expressions of touching and\nyearning expectancy. While viewing the cathedral of Cologne, in\nthe year 1835, she ardently exclaims, \"Ah! of a certainty an age\nwhose lofty inspirations (and of no transient kind) could produce\nsuch monuments as this, deserved neither the epithet of rude nor\ndark. There resided in it a light which we, with our (gas!)\nillumination, could never produce.\" Again, as to the interior of\nthe grand cathedral--\"I know not why, but I cannot repress my\ntears. An irrepressible melancholy and yearning seizes me here.\"\nThe same year, after viewing with Schubert the minster at Ulm,\nshe makes this noteworthy observation in her journal, \"It almost\npained me that the old cathedral is no longer used for Catholic\nservice, and that the choir and sanctuary are now so desolate.\"\nAlready had she adopted many Catholic views. At an early period\nshe believed in an active sympathy between this and the other\nworld, and a purification of the soul in that world. The church's\nbenediction was highly prized by her; for which reason, even as\nProtestant, she was in the habit of bearing about with her on her\ntravels a little flask of holy water. Many of her views were as\nyet very undecided; but strong and irrepressible was her longing\nfor that truth which should bring her peace. This clung by her in\nall her wanderings, and often drew from her a deep cry of the\nheart. The notes which she made during a trip to Holland, in\ncompany with Schubert, in the year 1835, closed with the\nfollowing words, \"These lonely days of travel have left me much\ntime for meditation. To-day a crowd of thoughts and emotions\nfairly thronged upon me. I said to myself, To what purpose all\nthis? Whither is this invisible power impelling us? Are we really\nadvanced by it, or made the happier? Often this affluence of\nemotion rises to a kind of transport; then, again, it turns to\npain, for I know not the why nor the whither. Is there a\nconnectedness in all this? Is it enduring? Once more, then, why?\nDuring this journey of mine I have often prayed, O Lord, let me\nknow thy will. Let me follow the path which is pleasing to thee.\nLead me but to thyself, and in any way thou mayst choose. Let it\nbecome clear what thou really desirest of me. By this means I\nexperienced great relief, and also the certainty that He, who\nwith such signal fidelity had thus far led me, would clearly make\nknown to me his will, would guide me into his paths.\"\n\n{225}\n\nAs the interior movement increased, she was impelled to confer\nwith intelligent friends in the distance concerning this most\nmomentous interest of her life. Especially with Overbeck there\nensued a correspondence which, continuing for years, was of great\nassistance in attaining to religious clearness. Overbeck took\nkindest interest in her doubts and scruples. He had formerly gone\nover the same ground, and could therefore confer with her about\nsuch matters \"as a brother.\" His letters grew into a connected\nvindication of Catholic doctrine, and the truth and beauty of the\nchurch, expressed in the mild, clear, fervent, and touching\nlanguage of one equally worthy of respect as man and artist. With\na nature like Overbeck's, where the man and the artist are not\ntwo distinct individualities, but are united in a higher form\n--Christianity--words have a more elevated significance; and a\ncorrespondence with him must have necessarily possessed an import\nmore than usually edifying. Emily Linder deeply felt this. We\ntake her own testimony when we say that Overbeck's letters\ncontributed largely toward her religious development; and, by the\noverwhelming conviction of his words, no less than by his own\ndeep spirituality, she attained to a knowledge of very vital\ntruths. She viewed the assistance he rendered her in the light of\na perpetual obligation; and in later years, long after she became\na Catholic, she breathed, in her letters to the admirable master,\na \"God reward you for it.\"\n\nMeantime, however, she had to pass through many a severe\nstruggle. The wrestling and testing which her conscientiousness\nimposed upon her was of long continuance. The dread of a hasty\nstep which might afterward plunge her into the deepest unrest,\ncaused her to advance but cautiously. Her mental vacillation\ncontinued for quite a period, during which she was filled with\nunsatisfied spiritual yearnings. She stood just on the portal of\nthe church, afraid to enter. Many a prayer, far and near,\nascended in her behalf to heaven. Brentano lived not to witness\nthe conversion he so longed for. But the hope which gladdened his\nlast days attained a realization the year after his death.\n\nIn 1842, she wrote to an artist friend in Frankfort, \"I am fully\nsatisfied that I entertain no prejudices, and honestly wish to\nknow God's will. He has already cleared away many a spiritual\nobstacle, and transformed much within me. When it is his holy\nwill to lead me into the church, I am confident that he will\nremove every remaining hinderance to my conviction.\" She thought,\nhowever, that the church did not give Protestants a very easy\ntime. Their acceptance of the Tridentine confession of faith was\na hard matter. Still, her mind had already attained to such\nclearness that she now desired the instruction of some competent\npriest. Through the instrumentality of Diepenbrock, a theological\nteacher was brought to her, who gained her confidence. She\nearnestly began her task, zealously and perseveringly devoting to\nit several hours a week for an entire year. The structure of\nCatholic faith began to open itself to her now with all its\ninterior consistency and harmony. One scruple after another\nvanished, including those which finally troubled her; as, for\ninstance, the expression, \"Mother of God;\" the alleged mutilation\nof the holy sacrament, by withdrawal of the cup from the laity,\netc. In the words of her spiritual guide, she learned to\ndistinguish that which is divine, and essential, and immutable in\nthe church, from that which is human, and incidental, and\nmutable; and what had hitherto proved an insurmountable obstacle,\nthe seemingly mechanical, and often rude devotions of the common\npeople, as also the worldly splendor of the hierarchy--this\nceased to trouble her more.\n\n{226}\n\nIn the autumn of 1843, Miss Linder made another tour to the Tyrol\nand Upper Italy, and few could surmise that she was so near to\nthe decisive step. She writes from Munich, on the 16th of\nOctober, \"I have just made with the Schuberts a somewhat\nfatiguing trip as far as Verona, where, by the way, I had almost\ncome to a standstill, to copy a picture there. We then remained\nfor a couple of weeks in Botzen, where all was so quiet, and\nreposeful, and secluded, that it was right grateful to me.\" Amid\nthis stillness and seclusion to which she abandoned herself,\nstill more than in Munich, was finally brought to maturity \"the\ngreat work of redemption.\"\n\nToward the end of November, 1843, on the approach of Advent,\nthere burst upon her spiritual life a new era, and her long\nsuspense and yearning resolved itself into the cry, \"I will enter\nthe church!\" The final word of decision was immediately winged to\nheaven on a prayer. Upon the threshold of that expectant season,\nwhen the church sings, \"Drop down dew, ye heavens, from above,\nand let the clouds rain the just,\" she participated, one morning,\nwith the most ardent devotion, in a low mass celebrated in\nconformity with her intention. This was the decisive hour. She\nleft the chapel with the joyous and unalterable resolve to enter\ninto fellowship with the Catholic Church. All was overcome, aided\nand enlightened by the grace of God. Standing before her little\nhouse altar, she rehearsed, for the first time, the Catholic\ncreed.\n\nThe first to whom the glad intelligence flew was a noble pair,\nApollonia Diepenbrock and her brother, the latter of whom was\nsubsequently the celebrated cardinal and bishop of Breslau, but\nat that time, the vicar-general of Regensburg. Both were\nassociated with the pious artiste in a friendship of many years,\nand had been long familiar with the course of her religious\ndevelopment. Melchior von Diepenbrock, during just this last\nperiod, had been a faithful and intelligent adviser to her. The\ndisciple of Sailers responded to the joyous intelligence with a\npeace-greeting befitting a shepherd of the church. He wrote on\nthe 29th of November, 1843:\n\n  \"Hindered by very unwelcome business, I was unable, either\n  yesterday or the day before, to express my heartfelt sympathy\n  and delight over the surprising intelligence of your note of\n  Saturday. Surprising, because I had not anticipated so sudden a\n  loosening of the fruit, ripe as it was. But the wind 'which\n  bloweth where it listeth,' stirred the tree, and the ripe,\n  mellow fruit fell into the lap of the true mother, where it\n  will now be well cared for, growing mellower and sweeter until\n  the coming of the Bridegroom. My hope and prayer for you now\n  is, that peace and rest may be yours after a suspense and\n  unrest which has thus loosed itself in the simple and welcome\n  words,'I will enter the church.' But you have every reason to\n  be at rest; for a church which has given birth to a Wittman, a\n  Sailer, a F\u00e9n\u00e9lon, a Vincent de Paul, a Tauler, a Suso, a\n  Th\u00e9r\u00e8se, a Bernard, an Augustine, an Athanasius, a Polycarp,\n  and so on, up to the apostles themselves, and which has nursed\n  them on her breast with the self-same heavenly doctrine; from\n  whose mouth and from whose life, in turn, this same identical\n  doctrine has been breathed down like a fragrant aroma, through\n  a course of eighteen hundred years; in such a church is there\n  safe and good travelling companionship for heaven. Following\n  their guidance, you need not fear going astray. I therefore,\n  from my very soul, bid you welcome to this noble company to\n  which you have long since, through your intense yearning, and\n  by anticipation, belonged, but now have identified yourself\n  with openly, by a grasp of the hand and a kiss of\n  reconciliation; with whom you will soon fully and finally be\n  incorporated by that most sacred seal and covenant, that\n  highest consecration of love, the holy Eucharist. You have had\n  a rough and thorny path to travel, and passed through long\n  years of struggle, doubt, and conflict, to arrive at this goal.\n{227}\n  Bind, now, the olive wreath of peace coolingly around your\n  heated temples. Let all labor of the brain, all strain of the\n  intellect, now subside. Live a life of tranquillity. Open your\n  heart to a reception of the holy gifts which the church, as you\n  enter, proffers you. And above all, banish all anxiety and\n  doubt, for therewith you gain nothing, and spoil all. Let your\n  barque, wafted by the breath of God, glide peacefully down the\n  broad stream of the church's life. Revel in the stars, and the\n  flowers which mirror themselves therein, the denizens that\n  disport there; and, should now and then an uncouth, repulsive\n  creature catch your eye, reflect that the kingdom of God is\n  still entangled in the contradictions of developement. Think\n  upon that great world-net which gathers souls of every\n  description, and upon the angel who, upon the great day, will\n  separate them all. And now I commend you to God. Once more, may\n  peace and joy in the Holy Ghost be your morning-gift.\"\n\nAnd soon this \"morning-gift\" possessed her soul. Being fully\nprepared, her admission, as she had wished, could be immediate.\nBut she desired to take the step in all quietness, and only a few\nof her friends, like Professor Haneberg and Phillips, were\ninformed of it the evening before, she desiring to secure for\nherself their prayers.\n\nOn the 4th of December, 1843, Emily Linder, accompanied by her\nfriend Apollonia, in the Georgian Seminary chapel made solemn\nprofession of the Catholic faith. On the day following, the papal\nnuncio, Viale Prel\u00e0, administered to her, in his house-chapel the\nsacrament of confirmation; delivering, at the same time, an\neloquent address in German. The friend before mentioned was\ngodmother, and, as one present remarked, by her faith, her love,\nher prayers, and her efforts, she had indeed proved her spiritual\nmother. In company with this friend, she went to Regensburg, in\norder to withdraw into retirement, and to be alone with her\nnew-born joy.\n\nHer letters during this period give animated testimony to what\nextent, and with what daily increase, this joy was experienced. A\njubilant rapture pervades the letters which announce the event to\ndistant friends, particularly those addressed to Overbeck in Rome\nand Steinle in Frankfort; both friends and companions in art.\nThese and a few others had been admitted to her confidence in\nspiritual matters. To the latter, whom, of her younger friends,\nshe particularly prized and respected, she thus announces the\ncircumstance, \"This time I come to you with but few words; words\nno longer conditional, but right conclusive. I am a Catholic.\nCould I have written to you, as I wished, to ask your prayers for\nme before the eventful hour, even then you might have been taken\nby surprise; but now the news has doubtless reached you from\nMunich, and I write this letter simply as confirmation, and\nbecause I wish that you should be informed of it by me\npersonally. You have lately hardly thought, I suppose, that it\nwould come so soon; and yet I was long prepared for it. After\nmany a struggle, particularly of late, it had become to me a\npositive necessity, a natural and necessary development of my\nspiritual life. When I had once announced my determination to the\nclergyman who for some time had been instructing me, my desire\nwas to take the step right quickly. My good Apollonia left\nRegensburg immediately for Munich, to be present at my reception\ninto the church; and the day following this I was confirmed. I\nhave now accompanied my friend hither to escape from all\nexcitement and pass some days in retirement; needed opportunity\nof fortifying myself against much that must necescessarily come,\nthat is hard and disagreeable.\n{228}\nYet has God been inexpressibly kind and gentle in his dealings\nwith me thus far.\"\n\nA letter to the same friend on the 19th of January thus reads:\n\n  \"My last letter was very, very brief; but the glad tidings had\n  to come first, and for this few words were needed. But now six\n  weeks have flown, and it may give you pleasure to hear that I\n  am daily newly bleat, newly affected by the great goodness of\n  God. You may not have doubted this, yet you may be glad to be\n  assured of it, having always taken such interest in my welfare.\n  Ah dear Steinle! how sweet, how sweet a thing to be in the\n  church! I ask myself every day, Why then, I? Why just to myself\n  has this grace been vouchsafed, in preference to others so much\n  worthier of it? How can this have come about? For no other\n  reason, surely, than because so many faithful souls living\n  close to God, have interceded, so untiringly interceded for me,\n  that God could not resist their importunity. How often, how\n  very often must I exclaim, as you have done, God be praised and\n  extolled for ever. Now for the first time do I understand that\n  deep longing and incessant yearning of the heart. Oh! would\n  that all, all were in God's one, great house; would that all\n  could experience the friendliness, the inexpressible\n  friendliness of the Lord, he whose mercy transcends all\n  understanding and conception. Ah dear friend! supplicate and\n  implore God for me, that this grace--I will not say may be\n  deserved, how could this ever be?--but that I may daily more\n  deeply comprehend and appreciate it, and that my life may\n  become one song of thankfulness and benediction. I am still\n  like a happy little child at rest in the lap of its mother. The\n  cross will yet come, and perhaps must necessarily do so; yet am\n  I not dismayed; for well I know where, at any hour, courage,\n  and strength, and consolation are to be found.\n\n  \"Hitherto has God made it very easy to me. My sister--the only\n  one I have--was surprised and grieved at the first\n  intelligence; but rather, I think, from a loving dread that I\n  might be estranged from her. Now that she finds this is not the\n  case, I hear no complaint from her. My nieces and my intimate\n  friends at home are all unchanged. Just here, too, my friends\n  have remained the same; only two of my young lady acquaintances\n  thought it due to their religious convictions to break with me;\n  but lo! on New Year's day they both came and threw their arms\n  around my neck. ... God be with us all! May he purify and\n  sanctify us and help us mature to life eternal. Once again,\n  pray to God for me. Join me in ascribing thanks to him for his\n  inexpressible goodness. With heartfelt friendship,\n                                   \"Emily Linder.\"\n\nFrom this time forth Advent possessed for her a peculiarly\nfestive significance. She celebrated each recurring anniversary\nwith feelings of the humblest gratitude, making it a threefold\nfestival, and greeting it with the joyousness and bliss of a\nchild who had received on that day the costliest of gifts; for it\nwas the anniversary of her day of final decision, her reception\ninto the church, and her confirmation. On the 27th of December,\n1844, she thus writes again to the same friend:\n\n  \"Shall I attempt to depict to you the experience of my inner\n  life? Oh! it is ever yet to me, to use your own expression, the\n  pure mother-milk of inexpressible grace and goodness. Such, at\n  times, is the intensity of my joy, that it is as though I must\n  hold fast my heart with both hands. I have been celebrating of\n  late a great festivals of the soul; for at advent time I\n  entered the church, but included in my devotional intention,\n  also, was the celebration of my decision and confirmation; all\n  these were occasions of spiritual festivity. One entire year of\n  grace and blessedness! ... The kind Tony F---- calls me 'the\n  pet-child of the Lord.' This may be so; but when I enquire,\n  Whence this to me? oh! then I must deeply, deeply bow myself,\n  and with profoundest shame can only still enquire of my Lord,\n  Whence this to. me? ... Nor will I entertain forebodings for\n  the future. He who infuses such rapture into the heart,\n  can--yes, must--impart strength and courage, when he lays the\n  cross upon our shoulders. He will do it, too--benedictions on\n  his holy name!\"\n\n{229}\n\nHow idle, now, appeared all the fears and anxiety as to a too\nhasty step, which had rendered her final decision so difficult,\nwhile still standing at the diverging pathways. Not a trace more\nof the unrest which had so troubled her. The morning-gift of\npeace and joy in faith, which Diepenbrock's kind wishes bespoke\nher, had become indeed her assured inheritance. A song of\nthankfulness warbled unceasingly in her heart.\n\nA few more expressions which escaped her, will show that the\ntransport she experienced was not the effect of transient\nexcitement. On one occasion she thus addresses a friend:\n\n  \"You may be assured, of course, without written proof, that I\n  often think of you: but how often I breathe to you spiritually\n  my joy, my exceeding joy--do you know this? My heart often\n  sings like that of a little child before a Christmas-tree, over\n  the inexhaustible goodness of God, and knows not how it should\n  demean itself in the possession of such imperishable gifts. How\n  good, how very good has God been thus to call me into his holy\n  church!\"\n\nOn the recurrence of advent she writes again on the 8th of\nDecember, 1845, as to the celebration of this festive period of\nhers:\n\n  \"During the past week I have been celebrating my apparently\n  quiet but really great and momentous festival, the anniversary\n  of my reception into the church. Ah! dear Steinle, what can I\n  say more than, Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is\n  within me bless his holy name! How inexpressibly great his\n  mercy and grace, how past all thinking and conceiving! ... To\n  be safe-sheltered in the church in times like these, when no\n  hold and no firm footing outside of her can be found! Oh! if\n  our brethren but knew what peace is hers--if they could but\n  imagine what they are thrusting away from them! It is enough to\n  make one's heart bleed. But this I can assure them, that only\n  in the church can one really know her; only by living her life\n  can one understand that life. Outside of the church can one\n  learn much about her, of course, and to a certain extent inform\n  himself; but then, she is not only a something that _has_\n  been--an historical church--she is a present-existing, living\n  church, because Christ is still alive in her, and still active\n  in his work of reconciliation. Of such a church-life. we can\n  have no outside idea, just because we do not live it. How often\n  should I like to tell Clemens how it is with me now. But, God\n  willing, he surmises it and rejoices thereat. In all things be\n  praise to God!\"\n\nIn these words there rings out, certainly, the genuine, clear\ntone of a heart happy in its faith. Equally evident in these\npassages is the fact, that her personal relations with her\nProtestant friends and relatives knew no change. With a certain\npious fidelity of friendship, which was peculiar to her, she\nsought to hold fast to the old ties which had become so dear, and\nalways met her former companions in faith with the same simple,\ntrusting affection. Cornelius, who welcomed her conversion with\nheartfelt interest, after his return from Rome writes to her from\nBerlin, on the 4th of June, 1844:\n\n  \"In Rome I learned that you had at last fully _taken\n  heart._ It did not surprise me. God bless you, and protect\n  you hereafter both from spiritual pride and indifference.\"\n\nCertainly no one could less need this admonition than Emily\nLinder, who was a pattern of lowly humility. No one was more\nsweetly considerate and liberal than she; and Abbot Haneberg most\njustly remarked at her grave, that, after her conversion, she was\nscrupulous to discharge all the duties of friendship toward her\nformer companions in faith, and never failed fully to appreciate\nall who proved worthy of her respect.\n\nThis unchanging fidelity induced her to make a trip, the very\nsummer after her conversion, to her native city of Basle, and to\nLucerne, where resided other relatives of hers. A personal visit\njust at that time seems to her then more a duty than ever, in\norder that her relatives might have ocular evidence \"that the\nCatholic Church is not an estranging one, and cherishes no\nfeeling like that of hate.\"\n{230}\nThis sentiment regulated her conduct throughout. A longing for a\nuniversal religious reunion strongly possessed her, and she was\ndeeply grieved to see many honest Protestants standing so near\nCatholicity, who did not recognize \"the historic church in the\nexisting one,\" mainly (judging by her own experience) from a lack\nof proper information and from a certain shyness, which they\ncould not explain even to themselves. \"The emergency is great;\nsouls are hungering and thirsting; but the more sensitive of the\nProtestants shrink from that shock to the feelings and social\nrelations which they fear will ensue--a great mistake; for love\nwill experience no diminution; it will be increased. But outside\nof the church they know nothing of this. Alas! how much do they\nnot know!\"\n\nThis was written in 1846. Three years later she recurred again to\nher favorite idea in a charming letter addressed to Professor\nSteinle from Regensburg, on Ascension-day, May 17th, 1849:\n\n  \"As I stood gazing at the people thronging up the steps and\n  through the grand old portals of our superb cathedral, my heart\n  was strangely moved. I saw in spirit the time when all people,\n  united again and happy, would stream with songs of hallelujah\n  through these portals and proclaim the wonderful works of God.\n  Could I but see this and then depart in peace! Such may not be\n  my lot, but in eternity the intelligence may yet reach me and\n  be a theme of thanksgiving to God.\"\n\nAs though from her very childhood a member of the church, she\nfelt from the first moment entirely at home in her precincts and\nin the blessed activity of her communion, becoming quickly and\neasily wonted to all Catholic practices, to which she gave\nherself up with all the intelligence and abandonment of her soul.\nHow well she now appreciated the truth of the words addressed to\nher on joining the church by the noble Cardinal Diepenbrock, \"You\npress now the ground which, not only Christ's own footsteps, but\nhis very hands, betokened as the foundation of his church; which\nhis spirit consecrated, which, his love hallowed: the soil whence\nall those vines should spring, which clinging around and\nclambering over his cross, may literally by and on him bear\nfruits of love, of humility, of fidelity, to all eternity!\" And\nfollowing his faithful precepts, she forthwith launched her\nbarque, and, wafted by the breath of God, it glided peacefully\nover the broad stream of the church-life.\n\nAmid the deep peace which flowed in upon her, she now recommenced\nwith fresh vigor her artistic occupations, devoting herself with\nmore fervor than ever to religious painting. The forenoon was\nregularly passed at the easel. What a pleasure it must have been\nto her now to produce altar and other pictures for the house of\nthe Lord! These she donated to poor churches, sending them\nsometimes to great distances, even to poor Catholic communities\nin Greece and Paris. Whenever a call for assistance reached her,\naccording to her capacity she was ready with her offering. Her\ngreat industry in art enabled her to respond to numerous\nrequests, and in the course of a long life she rendered many a\npoor parish happy, which would otherwise have been long compelled\nto dispense with churchly embellishment. Free from all artistic\nfastidiousness, she never disdained to make copies of other\npictures. Thus with great interest and ability she made a copy of\na picture by Overbeck, which she had in her collection, for the\nchapel of the Sisters of Mercy in Munich.\n{231}\nWith a modest esteem for her own abilities, she always worked\nunder the supervision of an old master, whose judgment never\nfailed to have its weight with her. A deep and tender sensibility\npervades her pictures; and if she betrays a certain timidity in\nthe technical execution, there is evidence of great industry and\nattention to detail. One of her best works, perhaps, is a\nportrait of Brentano, an oil painting remarkable for likeness and\nspirituality of expression. After his death, she had this\nlithographed by Knauth, and copies struck off. It is given in the\nfirst volume of his complete works, and is accompanied by a verse\nwhich serves as a burthen to one of his most beautiful legends,\nas it might to the legend of his life, commencing,\n\n  \"O star and flower, soul and clay,\n   Love, suffering, time, eternity.\"\n\nThe ancient and laudable habit among lovers of art to enrich, by\nspecial orders and purchases, their own homes--that noble\nprivilege of educated wealth!--she practised to a lavish extent.\nHer collection of pictures embraced gradually works of the most\neminent artists. Besides the masters already mentioned,\n(Overbeck, Cornelius, Eberhard,) Steinle was represented in a\nseries of glorious creations. Several of these, like the\n\"Manger-Festival of St. Francis,\" the \"Legend of St. Marina,\"\nwere the source of some of Brentano's beautiful inspirations and\nare now included in his sacred poems. In addition to these\nartists were Schnorr, Schraudolph, Schwind, F\u00fchrich, Neher,\nEberle, Ahlborn, Koch, etc. In another respect, also, she\napproved herself a true artist, namely, by rendering constant\nassistance to such pupils of the distinguished masters with whom\nshe was friendly, as gave evidence of talent. Her helping hand\nalone rendered, indeed, many an artistic undertaking possible;\nand not a few artists had occasion, in such instances, to admire\nnot only the liberality but delicacy with which she dispensed\norders and bore with trying delays. She exhibited an\nextraordinary degree of patience in the friendly manner with\nwhich she would conform herself to personal circumstances and\nprivate relations which did not at all concern her, even in cases\nof work delayed for years and paid for in advance. She would even\nheap coals of fire upon their heads by surprising them with\nfurther money advances--a charity which at times was exceedingly\nopportune. By this and similar methods Miss Linder, without any\ndisplay, accomplished much good, and constantly experienced the\npure pleasure of making others happy. And in yet another manner\nshe showed a noble liberality. With rare unselfishness she would\nallow copies to be made and disseminated of the most valuable\ndrawings in her collection, her own private property. She not\nonly encouraged efforts of this kind, but sometimes at her own\nexpense actually initiated them. By this multiplication of fine\nworks of art she shared prominently in that noble task undertaken\nby Overbeck and his companions--the establishment of a more\ndignified and elevated art standard.\n\nTrue art seemed to assume with her, year by year, a graver\naspect. In judging of a work, she deemed its intent just as\nimportant as its execution. She discerned in art a reflected\nradiance from the world of light: and all that did not tend\nupward to this she regarded as idle effort and labor lost. She\nobserved with pain an increasing tendency to the material,\nparticularly since the year 1850; and nothing more deeply\nincensed her than a demeaning of art to low and base uses.\n{232}\nEven in Munich, after Cornelius left and Louis. I. descended the\nthrone, there existed no longer the ancient standard. What is now\nleft of that school of sacred art, once blossoming out with such\ninspiriting vigor? It now leads the existence of a Cinderella.\nEven in the year 1850, Miss Linder remarked: \"Our academy affords\nme no longer any very great pleasure: the period of love and\ninspiration has passed. Shall we ever see its return?\"\n\nThe gathering clouds in the political horizon and the disturbance\nof social relations were not encouraging to any hope like this.\nBut at just such a time, when outside life was forbidding, she\nfound how grateful a definite aim and mission may be, and\nexperienced the quiet delight of art and art-occupation more than\never. She thus writes from P\u00f6hl, a favorite resort of hers in\nsummer, adjacent to the Ammersee, \"I shall yet make a little tour\nin the Tyrol and then ensconce myself in winter quarters, where I\nshall be happy in a work already commenced and which will\nimmediately engross me. It is a source of the greatest happiness\nin these days to have a given task. How much it enables one to\nget rid of!\" On viewing Gallait's picture of \"Egmont and Horn\" in\nthe exhibition, she remarked, \"I should not care to own the\npicture, and yet there is much to admire in it. The sphere of art\nis so extensive and yet so limited--after all, one cannot but\nfeel that everything not in God's service is, to say the least,\nsuperfluous.\"\n\nAn evening quiet overspread her relations with the outside world.\nBut uninterruptedly until her death she kept up, in her own home,\nthe accustomed hospitality. Her house was always a central point\nof really good society. No literary or artistic celebrity could\nlong tarry in Munich without an invitation to her table, around\nwhich every week a little circle was gathered. Privy-Counsellor\nvon Ringseis usually acted as host, a man whose varied knowledge,\nripe experience, and inexhaustible humor better befitted him than\nany other to blend the most opposite characteristics of the\nguests. With friends in the distance she maintained an extensive\ncorrespondence, and also cultivated her friendly relations with\nthem by regular summer trips: a passion for travel and a love of\nnature remaining true to her into advanced old age.\n\nA nature so profound, so true, and so enlightened was constituted\nfor friendship, and Emily Linder served as a model in this\nregard. She possessed those two qualities by which it is best\nretained--candor and disinterestedness. What she was capable of\nas to the latter quality has already been sufficiently shown. An\nopen frankness was the groundwork of her character. She possessed\na kind but impartial judgment, and in the right place she knew\nhow to assert it. The same sincerity was expected of others, and\nnothing with her outweighed truthfulness. Whoever offended in\nthis point came to conclusions with her speedily and once for\nall. A half-and-half sincerity or prevarication could force even\nher dovelike mildness to resentment. When called to pass judgment\nupon the work of a friendly artist, there arose a noble contest\nbetween frankness and kindness. Her opinions were always to the\npoint, and by the soundness of her judgment she gave food for\nreflection. But in cases of a change of opinion after more mature\nconsideration, she was quick to acknowledge herself at fault. A\nsingle incident may illustrate this. On occasion, of a defence,\nby an artist, of a celebrated master, to one of whose works she\nhad taken exceptions, she replied:\n\n{233}\n\n  \"My first judgment, then, was unquestionably hasty. But among\n  friends I shall never like that degree of caution always\n  insisted upon which admits of no quick and impulsive word; for\n  thus would all open-heartedness be repressed; a thing which no\n  amount of shrewdness or cool deliberation could ever replace. I\n  beg for myself the privilege therefore, hereafter, just as\n  often, and perhaps just as hastily, to express my opinion.\"\n\nShe reposed the same confidence in the judgment of others. All\nthe more weighty art matters about which she concerned herself\nwere submitted to the counsel and decision of intelligent friends\nof art. She took the most lively interest, also, in every\nimportant event or crisis in the families of these friends. Her\nthoughtful consideration loved to express itself in pleasant\nsouvenirs and playful surprises of gifts; and her fidelity often\nextended even to the departed. Many a friend, after having passed\nto a long home, was endowed with a memorial Mass which she\nestablished for the repose of his soul. The Klee and M\u00f6hler\nmemorial, a composition of Steinle, copies of which she caused at\nher own expense to be made, she intended (an intention, indeed,\nnever realized) as an aid to the establishment of a Klee and\nM\u00f6hler fund; and a lasting monument it would have proved to the\nmemory of these two noble men. For any expression of fidelity\ntoward herself she was deeply grateful; particularly in her more\nadvanced years, after she became more and more aware how rare a\nthing is disinterested attachment in this age of unprincipled\nselfishness. \"Any instance of loyal attachment,\" said she, \"moves\nme the more deeply in these times, when truly it is no\nfashionable virtue.\"\n\nA special object of her loving thoughtfulness was her beloved\nAssisi, the little convent of the German sisters of St. Francis.\nIn times of great distress, particularly during the ravages of\nthe Revolution, it was no small consolation and delight to\nreceive thence, after a long interval, reassuring intelligence.\nParticularly was this the case during the Mazzini terrorism of\n1849. In the autumn of this year, she announced to a friend, with\nsomething like motherly pride: \"I have received tidings lately\nfrom our German nuns at Assisi. Appalling things have happened at\nRome, and indications of the same have threatened elsewhere, even\nat Assisi. But the good women bravely set at naught all\nintimidation and threat, and have come out entirely unharmed.\nYes, even the gangs themselves are reported to have said: One\ncannot get the better of these Germans, they pray too much. May\nwe all of us lay hands upon the same trusty weapon!\" The\nburgher-maiden whom she took with her as candidate to Assisi on\nher journey to Rome in 1829, has already been, for the last\ntwenty-four years, Superior of the German convent; it so chanced\nthat she attained to this position the very year that Emily\nLinder became a Catholic. During that time, more than twenty\nBavarian maidens followed her to Assisi. If the gratitude of\nhappy people, who praise God daily that they have found \"the true\nark of peace,\" ever proved a blessing, this blessing accrued, in\nrich measure, to the artist from Assisi. Her name is entered in\nthe memorial book of the convent, and, so long as this spiritual\norder exists, she will live there as their \"best benefactress,\nand as their dear, good mother in Christ.\" Thus is she spoken of\nin the numerous and touching letters of the pious sisters.\n\n{234}\n\nSeldom has a human being made a more magnanimous use of a large\nincome than the departed Emily Linder. Her benevolence was on a\ngrand scale. Her whole nature was generosity itself; but that\nwhich at first was but natural good will to all became afterward,\nby the pious spirit which pervaded her, an element of her\nreligious worship. She considered herself but as the almoner of\nthe riches God had entrusted to her. Her goodness was of that\nserene character which never showed aught of impatience toward\nthose begging or initiating charities. She gave to both with\nequal friendliness. She contributed lavishly to public\ninstitutions for the sick and suffering. And yet what she gave to\nthe individual poor, and such special families as were commended\nto her, must also have been a very considerable sum. In these\nsimpler distributions of charity she showed a marked delicacy.\nThe modest poor who came to her house she never allowed to be\nwaited on by her servants, but administered to their wants\nherself. In some instances she bore her gifts on certain\nspecified days to their dwellings; and in these cases she was\njust as systematic, and as punctual to the day and the hour, as\nin all things else. Christmas in her house was a festival of the\npoor. The lines of Clemens Brentano in his collection of sacred\npoems, entitled _To the Benefactress, on the Occasion of her\nPresentation to the Poor_, refer to this incident. To what\nextent and in what instances she served as unknown guardian\nangel, her intimate friends rather guessed at than knew. The\ncharacter of her benevolence, generally, was piously-noiseless\nand still. Through hidden channels she often reached far in the\ndistance, sustaining and rescuing (both physically and\nspiritually) where the need was very urgent. Often, thus, a gift\nflowed forth from her and sped like a sunbeam into some\nlanguishing heart. Many an obstacle has she removed from the path\nof a struggling child of humanity; into many a stout but wounded\nspirit has she infused new life and energy. Clemens Brentano\ntermed this a \"heavenly little piece of strategy.\"\n\nThis noiseless activity in art and benevolence did not withdraw\nher attention from what was going on outside, and although she\nnever stepped beyond the natural boundaries of her position, and\nwas of too quiet a nature to mingle generally in the strife of\nparties, she nevertheless, to the last year of her life,\nmaintained a lively interest in all the great church and\npolitical questions of the day. The prodigious changes which took\nplace in the world during the fourth period of her life, what\nheart would not have been profoundly stirred by them? But,\nhowever painful to her the prevailing Machiavelism of the age,\nthe insanity of the revolutionary leaders, the pitiable confusion\nof the people, and the undermining of all conservative bulwarks\nin state and society, courage and hope still maintained the upper\nhand. The pressure upon the church and the Pope filled her\nperhaps with concern, but did not dismay her. She had the right\nstandard, and the consolation which it brought, in judging of the\ndestinies of the nations. When the revolutionary storms of 1848\nand 1849 burst upon them and swept over Germany and Italy, she\nremarked: \"The experience of all history, and the consolation it\nimparts, is just this: God allows men their way to a certain\npoint, and where the end seems just achieved. But then is\ninscribed with an almighty hand, the '_Thus far_.' And\nthough his church be shaken, this is far better for us than to be\nreposing upon cushions of ease.\"\n\n{235}\n\nHer confidence was similarly undisturbed during the succeeding\nmomentous years. During her attendance upon the drama of _The\nPassion_, at Oberammergau, in the year 1860, she was occupied\nwith reflections upon the stupendous drama of passion of our own\ntimes. \"There is something so fearfully grand in the present\nevents of the world,\" she wrote to her friend in Frankfort, \"that\na certain elevation fills the soul, raising one above this little\nlife of ours upon earth. The image in our mind of the holy father\nis already so spiritualized that it begins to be invested with\nthe sanctity of the martyr. How many may have to follow in his\nmartyr footsteps? Shall we live to see the victory? At my time of\nlife, no; and yet a secret joy often possesses me at the thought\nof this glorious era. But I say with you, the great task for us\nall is to gain heaven. God vouchsafe this!\" The latest period of\nGerman distress she lived through with the intensest sympathy.\nShe accepted the appalling catastrophe as a severe trial, even to\nher own personal feelings and hopes, and recognized in this\ncalamity the initiation of a still greater. \"For me,\" she wrote\nto the same friend, \"the hope of any kind of a future is now\npast. I must subject my heart to no more disappointment; but the\nmercy of God for the individual is still attainable and great; to\nevery one accessible and possible. You belong, of course, to the\nyounger generation, and can still dream of a sunrise for our\nGerman fatherland. The result of the present calamity, swiftly as\nit may seem to be plunging us into irremediable ruin, will,\nnevertheless, never go the length intended by the Prince of Evil.\nGod stands above him; that is certain. The future will be a\ndifferent one; a very different one, from that which we could\never surmise or guess, even the future of the church. And this\nfuture will be God's. Let that content us.\"\n\nHer life was a bright contrast to the demoralization, the unrest,\nthe arrogant selfishness of our age. She presented to those among\nwhom she lived the picture of a self-sustained, unselfish,\nreposeful soul. Humility, trust in God, and compassion, this was\nthe fundamental harmony of her daily life. Old age, which often,\nindeed, smooths away from the good all little imperfections and\nblemishes of character, rendered her still more considerate,\npatient, and gentle. Her love of simplicity was as great as were\nher means. In her own household, well systemized, careful\neconomy; outside of this, severe, almost noticeable plainness.\nBut to her applied the line of the poet:\n\n  \"A blessing she could see in lowliness to be.\"\n\nWhile denying herself, she gave with lavish hand to poverty and\ndistress, to art and to the church. She moved with measured,\ndignified pace; but a certain religious harmony of action\nimparted to her being and doing an indescribable grace, which is\nalways the accompaniment of inward purity, and a religion based\nupon humility.\n\nThe Abb\u00e9 Haneberg, in his beautiful tribute at her grave,\nremarked, \"She seemed, during the last twenty years of her life,\nto emulate the most pious of her friends and daughters of Assisi,\nand to aim even to outdo them, so systematic and untiring was her\nservice to God.\" Of this, however, her friends knew but little.\nHow much she thus quietly accomplished was never fully known\nuntil after her death. It will suffice here to state that in the\nyear 1851 she informed herself, through the Superior at Assisi,\nof their daily regulations, and the usual succession of religious\nexercises. Her everyday life was identified with the daily life\nof the church.\n{236}\nShe appreciated the significant beauty and expressive symbolism\nof churchly ordinances, and in close observance joined in their\ncelebration. To this end, she followed the _Ordo_ of her\ndiocese, and her favorite prayer-book was the Missal. Her\nknowledge of languages stood her in good stead here; for, in\naddition to the modern languages, she had also learned Latin, and\nhad become sufficiently familiar with it to follow intelligently\nthe language of the church. Cardinal Diepenbrock, in 1850, wrote\nto her of a lady who was occupying herself with the Latin, or\nchurch, language; \"A worthy study,\" he remarked. \"Have you not\nalso begun it? It strikes me that Clemens was saying something\nabout it. But perhaps you were able to get no farther than the\n_mensa_; the _mensa Domini_ would naturally be enough\nfor you.\" But she went farther than this. In her manuscripts were\nfound Latin exercises, written under the guidance of the worthy\nold Br\u00f6ber. One room of her spacious residence was arranged as a\nchapel, in which was the superb altar-piece by Eberhard, \"The\nTriumph of the Church.\" This chapel was favored by the ordinariat\nwith a Mass licence. On the anniversary of her union with the\nchurch she was accustomed to receive holy communion here; and\nhere the departed Bishop Valentin, of Regensburg, once celebrated\nMass. Here, also, she devoted daily a certain time to meditation\nand the perusal of the Holy Scriptures. Her favorite place of\ndevotion, however, was the little chapel of the ducal hospital\nwhich she frequented twice a day; early in the morning, and again\nat evening. She had for years a quiet little place in the organ\ngallery where, day by day, in all weather, and at all seasons of\nthe year, she consecrated a couple of hours to prayer.\n\nAs the years flew by, she withdrew herself more and more from the\nworld, and sought to be \"hid in God.\" The departure to their\nfinal home of so many friends, together with other events, served\nas slight admonitions, which by her thoughtful heart were not\nunheeded. She recognized in this matter fresh cause of gratitude\nto God, who was dealing so tenderly with her to the very end. \"I\nconsider it,\" she wrote, \"a special favor of the Lord that he\ngrants me so long a preparation for my final hour.\" Years\npreviously, she had put herself in Christian readiness for her\nlast journey, and only hoped that it might prove \"a good death\nhour.\" With customary precision, she had ordered all her temporal\naffairs. She had even made provision as to her interment, and the\nfinal burial service. Her arrangements for the latter of these,\nwritten in a bold and beautiful hand, were dated the 7th of\nOctober, 1865. On the festival of the Epiphany, 1867, she was for\nthe last time in her favorite little chapel of the ducal\nhospital. Only a few weeks previously, she had begun to feel ill,\nand now symptoms of dropsy suddenly developed themselves. The\ninvalid recognized her condition with Christian resignation, but\ndid not yet relinquish hope of a recovery. \"The task now is, to\nresign myself and to be patient. God help me to this,\" she wrote\nat the close of January. It was her last letter. Her friend\nApollonia hastened from Regensburg, and she, who, twenty-three\nyears before, had stood at her side when received into the\nchurch, was now to stand at her death-bed. The invalid requested\nthat her friend should remain with her one week; and exactly at\nthe close of the week she died. During her illness she found\nspecial consolation in the house-altar, where, to her great\nspiritual comfort, her worthy confessor repeatedly celebrated\nmass.\n{237}\nFrom this Eberhard altar, where she first made profession of\nCatholic faith and where she yearly commemorated that happy\nevent, she now received the viaticum and extreme unction. In\nconformity with her wish, on the festival of St. Apollonia mass\nwas again celebrated in her little chapel. It was her last mass,\nand the final union of the two friends in holy sacrament. She\nseemed now to rejoice in her approaching dissolution as though it\nwere a return home. One morning as her priest entered, she\nstretched out her arms and exclaimed, \"May I--oh! may I go home?\"\n\"Yes, the guardian angel accompanies you, he guides you thither,\"\nwas the reply. Thereupon she was silent, remained in deep\nmeditation, and spoke but little after. Yet she seemed to\nparticipate in all that transpired; if prayer were uttered, she\nprayed also; to all who drew near she gave a friendly glance,\nbut, for the most part, remained absorbed and still.\n\nOn the day preceding her death, she summoned all her strength,\nand with difficult effort gave expression to several wishes, the\nlast of her earthly life. She recalled an admirable artist, whom\nshe held in high personal esteem, from whom she had long desired\na picture as an addition to her collection. She directed a very\nconsiderable sum to be sent to him for a historical picture,\nwhich was now to be painted for the museum at Bale. The future of\nher poor, also, such as had been accustomed to receive little\ncharities, engaged her thoughts; she desired that these charities\nshould be continued until they had found other benefactors. Her\nlast words were in allusion to Jerusalem. She bethought herself\nof the \"Watchers at the Holy Sepulchre,\" (of the order of St.\nFrancis,) and also of the \"Zion Society,\" to both of which she\nhad made yearly contributions, and which she now similarly\nremembered. Thus had her life its characteristic close. Her last\nmental activity was exercised in works of charity, of art, and of\nreligion. With a glance at Jerusalem and the sepulchre of her\nSaviour, she now went forward toward the new Jerusalem. Her end\nwas the falling asleep of a child. In the early morning of the\n12th of February, 1867, without a single death-struggle, she sank\ninto slumber--quietly, painlessly, peacefully.\n\nA gentleman, intimately befriended with her, remarked, \"After her\ndeath, I had occasion to observe the intense grief of those who\nhad been recipients of her bounty, and then first became aware\nwhat a truly royal munificence had been hers, which all were\nignorant of, save God and the poor.\" Such were the tears that\nfollowed her, together with those countless others, which during\nher life she had already dried.\n\nOn the afternoon of the 14th of February a long funeral\nprocession, composed of the best Catholic society of Munich, and\nthrongs of the poor, together with the superintendent of public\ncharities, (then represented by the mayor of the city,) moved\nfrom the pleasant mansion on the corner of Carl street toward the\ncemetery, to render their last homage to this noble friend of art\nand the poor. The Abb\u00e9 Haneberg, an old friend of hers,\npronounced the benediction of the church over her grave, which\nwas located not far from the grave of M\u00f6hler.\n{238}\nIn her written instructions, Emily Linder desired only a simple\nstone cross above her, the pedestal of the cross bearing the\ninscription:\n\n  The slumberer, here, confides in the mercy of God:\n\nthe simplest, but in its simplicity, the most touching testimony\nto a being whose interior life was all humility and trust in God,\nand whose exterior activity had been the purest mercy itself. To\nher might be applied a verse of the beautiful requiem addressed\nby Brentano to another departed friend:\n\n  \"He, for whom our willing gifts\n     On the needy we confer,\n   From his eight beatitudes\n     Singled Mercy out for her.\"\n\nThe whole spirit which accompanied her through a life of seventy\nyears still lived on in her bequests. The half of her large\nfortune she left to benevolent and charitable objects; chiefly to\nschools and hospitals. True Swiss that she was, she was specially\nmindful of her native city. The largest amount donated--200,000\nflorins--was bequeathed to the Bishop of Bale, for the benefit of\nhis diocese. Her art-treasures were, with few exceptions,\nincorporated with the museum of Bale, to whose first\nestablishment she had originally contributed no small amount, and\nwhich, with true patrician feeling, lavishly endowed during her\nlife.\n\nIn these bequests to art and to the church, Emily Linder reared\nfor herself a monument which will keep her in blessed\nremembrance; and this monument is only the last milestone of\nrecord on the pathway of a life thickly studded with works of\ncharity. Truly a significant, steadfast existence, harmonious\nfrom its commencement to its very close.\n\nIn days of depression and perplexity would we gaze upon a\nportrait of true humanity, ennobled and enlightened by\nChristianity, (a portrait we might well present as a study to the\nyoung,) we may point with quiet confidence to the departed Emily\nLinder, and exclaim: Behold here a character noble, unselfish,\nand complete--a nature of rare purity and depth--a transparent\nand beautiful spirit, who verified her faith by her love.\n\n----------\n\n              The Irish Church Act Of 1869.\n\n     \"They\" (the Anglican ministers of Ireland) \"will not fleece\n     the sheep they cannot feed, and spend the spoils of a people\n     conquered, not won.--\n                        \"_London Times_, March 4th, 1869.\n\nThe measure for the disestablishment and disendowment of the\nEnglish Church in Ireland, recently introduced by the English\npremier into the British Parliament, is one of the most startling\nand boldest steps which has yet been taken by that body to\nrectify the criminal blunders of three hundred years of mistaken\nlegislation. Mr. Gladstone, in moving the first reading of the\nact, in a very long speech, evidently prepared with great care,\nwhile admitting it to be \"the most grave and arduous work of\nlegislature that ever has been laid before the House of Commons,\"\nfelt the necessity of cautiously and almost apologetically\nstating the case and explaining the views of those with whom he\nacted. Mr. Disraeli, the leader of the opposition, while agreeing\nwith his distinguished successor in office in nothing else, was\nforced to allow the scheme to be \"one of the most gigantic that\nhad ever been brought before the house\"--an opinion which,\njudging from the temper of all parties inside and outside of\nparliament, appears to be unanimously entertained.\n\n{239}\n\nThe friends of the act are numerous in England as well as in\nIreland, embracing all the Catholic population and a very large\nportion of dissenting Protestants of more advanced and liberal\nviews in both countries. The Catholics of Ireland see in it the\ndestruction of that infamous system which has not only robbed\nthem of their altars and the graves of their ancestors, but\ncompelled them to support in idleness and luxury what even\nDisraeli himself long since denounced as \"an alien church.\"\nThough the partial restitution contemplated at this late day by\nthis act bears no corresponding comparison with the magnitude of\nthe evils borne, it is still restitution, and a most significant\nand, in a sense, abject admission of the utter failure of the\nexperiment of the English government to force Protestantism on an\nunwilling people. The successful passage of the act will also\nnecessitate the expenditure of large sums of money for purely\ncharitable purposes, and what, in a national sense, is of more\nimportance, it will remove one of the most salient and fruitful\ncauses of Irish discontent. But it is in England that the\nquestion assumes the most portentous magnitude; for it has become\napparent to every one there that the fall of the Irish\nEstablishment is but the first act in the drama of the total\nseverance of church and state in the entire British empire. The\nentering wedge well driven home in Ireland, the results in other\nparts of the United Kingdom become merely a matter of time. Sir\nJohn Grey, one of the strongest supporters of Mr. Gladstone's\nbill, himself a Protestant, hints at this in an article in a late\nnumber of his paper, the Dublin _Freeman's Journal_, in\nwhich he says: \"He (Gladstone) will soon have powerful\nauxiliaries in the English curates, and they have more influence\nin forming public opinion in England than the bench of bishops\nand the ten thousand incumbents. The Irish curates will be in Mr.\nGladstone's favor, and if ever disestablishment should be the lot\nof England--_and he would be a rash politician who would\nnegative such a proposition_--the English curates would have\nin Mr. Gladstone's Irish measure a precedent for an equal measure\nof justice to themselves.\"\n\nThe opposition to the act comes in the first place from the whole\nbody of Anglican bishops and clergymen in Ireland, if we except\nthe Bishop of Down and a few badly paid curates who would benefit\nby its passage. The Orangemen, that most pestiferous of all\nsocial and political scourges, of course sustain their reverend\nfriends, and their loyalty on this occasion has culminated in a\nremonstrance signed, it is said, by over two thousand noblemen\nand landed \"gentry.\" Hostility to the policy foreshadowed by Mr.\nGladstone was very active and virulent in England during the late\nelections, and is now exhibited in the Commons by a large and\nactive tory minority. The English ecclesiastics have also taken\nup the cry with equal earnestness and scarcely less vehemence. At\nthe last sitting of the New Convocation of Canterbury in London,\nan address to the queen in opposition to the provisions of the\nact was proposed and carried by the upper house, and upon being\nsent down to the lower house for adoption, the following and\nsimilar amendments were enthusiastically added:\n{240}\n\"Above all,\" say those reverend gentlemen, \"we are constrained by\nour sense of duty to your majesty and to the Reformed Church of\nEngland and Ireland, humbly to represent to your majesty that\ndisestablishment of the church in Ireland cannot be had without\nrepudiation, on the part of the nation, of the necessity and\nvalue of the Reformation.\" This language is explicit and forcible\nenough, but the Synod of both Houses of Convocation of the\nProvince of York, held on the same day, goes a little farther.\n\"This convocation,\" they affirm, \"view with sorrow and alarm the\nproposed attempt to disestablish and disendow the Irish branch of\nthe United Church of England and Ireland, as seriously affecting\nthe interests of the church in that part of the British\ndominions; as a fatal encroachment on the prerogatives of the\ncrown; as unsettling the constitution of church and state\nguaranteed by engagements entered into by acts of union, and\nconfirmed to members of the church by the solemn sanction of the\ncoronation oath.\"\n\nThat part of the coronation oath prescribed by the first William\nand Mary, chapter sixth, to which allusion is here made and which\nis the straw that the drowning Anglicans are endeavoring to\ngrasp, reads as follows: \"_Question:_ Will you, to the\nutmost of your power, maintain the laws of God, the profession of\nthe Gospel, and the Protestant Reformed Religion established by\nlaw? And will you preserve unto the bishops and clergy of this\nrealm, and to the churches committed to their charge, all such\nrights and privileges as by law do or shall appertain unto them\nor any of them? _King and Queen_: All this I promise to do,\n(king and queen lay hands on the holy Gospel, saying,) so help me\nGod.\" The condition of this solemn oath would at first sight\nappear to preclude the queen from signing the act, were we not\nassured by the confident tone, and even the express words, of Mr.\nGladstone that her majesty's views were entirely in accord with\nthose of her first minister, and in fact, that she had already\nplaced in the hands of parliament her right of ecclesiastical\nappointments in Ireland.\n\nThe history of the Irish Church Establishment, now happily about\nto disappear for ever, is so familiar to most intelligent readers\nthat it requires but a passing notice. Since its birth at a\nso-called Irish parliament, summoned by Lord Grey in 1536, down\nto the present time, so unjust have been its proceedings, so\nrapacious its ministers, and so oppressive its exactions of an\nill-governed and neglected people, with whom it never had the\nleast sympathy, that Christendom has stood aghast in mingled\nwonder and disgust. Not only were the Catholics of Ireland\ndespoiled of their churches, abbeys, and convents, the monuments\nof piety and learning and the dispensaries of Christian charity,\nreared by the hands of benevolent ancestors for over a thousand\nyears, but the very humblest abodes of worship were handed over\nto a foreign clergy, preaching a new religion at the point of the\nsword, ignorant of the very language of the country, and by birth\nand training bitterly hostile to every interest, spiritual and\ntemporal, of the people they were sent to teach. Nor was this\nall. The despoiled masses were compelled to pay, and still pay,\nfor the support of this \"alien\" church a tithe on every foot of\ncultivated land in the kingdom, and upon the produce and stock\nderived from or raised on the same.\n{241}\nThe amount of property thus filched from the overburdened farmers\nand peasantry of Ireland under color of law, and the additional\n_annual revenue_ wrung from that half-famished nation, is\nthus estimated by no less an authority than the English premier:\n[Footnote 51]\n\n    [Footnote 51: This, of course, is but a very small portion\n    indeed of the property taken from the Catholic Church in\n    Ireland under Henry VIII. and succeeding monarchs. Most of\n    the abbey lands were first vested in the crown and then\n    granted to courtiers and others at a nominal rent as the\n    reward of their apostasy. Many of the wealthiest families in\n    Ireland derive their titles to their lands from those acts of\n    spoliation.]\n\n  \"The commissioners appointed in 1868 estimated the annual value\n  at \u00a3616,000, but, with all respect for their long labors, he\n  must differ from them, for they had placed it too low; for one\n  of their body, in a subsequent publication, estimates it at\n  \u00a3835,000, but for the present purpose he would take it at\n  \u00a3700,000. The capitalized amount was as follows:\n\n    Tithe rent charge,                \u00a39,000,000\n    Land,                             \u00a36,250,000\n    Other property in money, etc.,      \u00a3750,000\n    Total,                           \u00a316,000,000\n\n  The result is that the whole value of the ecclesiastical\n  property of Ireland, reduced and cut down first of all by the\n  almost unbounded waste of life tenants, and secondly by the\n  wisdom or unwisdom of well-intentioned parliaments--the\n  remaining value is no less than \u00a316,000,000 of money,\n  considerably more than on a former occasion I ventured to\n  estimate, but then my means of information were smaller than\n  they now are.\"\n\nFrom the contemplation of past injustice we can now turn with a\nsense of relief to the provisions of the act itself, and which,\nunder such peculiar circumstances, are perhaps as wisely and\njudiciously framed as can be expected. On its passage it may be\nslightly altered in some of its minor details, but there is\nlittle room for doubt that the act substantially as first\npresented will become law.\n\nAnd first, those parts of the Acts of Union of the Irish and\nEnglish parliaments, passed at the beginning of this century,\npermitting certain Irish bishops to sit _ex officio_ as\nlords spiritual in the British House of Peers, and giving to the\ndecrees, orders, and judgments of certain ecclesiastical courts\nin Ireland the force and authority of law in that part of the\nrealm, are unconditionally repealed. The thirteenth section of\nthe act prescribes: \"On the 1st day of January, 1871, every\necclesiastical corporation in Ireland, whether sole or aggregate;\nevery cathedral corporation in Ireland as defined by this act\nshall be dissolved, and on and after that day no archbishop or\nbishop of the said church shall be summoned to or be qualified to\nsit in the House of Lords.\"\n\nThus we see that Irish Anglican bishops will no longer be\nconsidered worthy to sit beside their right reverend brethren of\nEngland on the benches of that respectable but rather sleepy\nconclave known as the House of Lords, and that the Protestant\nChurch in Ireland will be resolved into a mere voluntary body\nconsisting of clerics and laity, whose regulations will only\naffect themselves as matters of mutual contract, but who will\nhave no legal jurisdiction nor recognition except such as may be\nconferred by subsequent acts of parliament on local corporations.\nWhen we reflect that the prelates thus so unceremoniously thrust\nout of the Lords, and who with their _confr\u00e8res_ are\nstripped of all extrajudicial authority, were, and still are, the\nmost active promoters of the Act of Union and the fiercest\nopponents of its repeal, we cannot help admiring the poetic\njustice which now offers the bitter draught to their lips. Like\nMacbeth, they but taught \"bloody instructions, which, being\ntaught, return to plague the inventor.\"\n\n{242}\n\nThe act next provides for the appointment of a commission which\nshall exist for ten years from the commencement of its\noperations, and be clothed with full power to reduce to its\npossession all the property, lands, tenements, and interests of\nor now belonging to the Established Church of Ireland, and to\nreconvey, sell, or dispose of the same according to the\nprovisions of the act, after the 1st day of January, 1871. The\nchurch-buildings now in use by the Established Church will be\nhanded over, with all their rights, to the \"governing body\" of\nthe particular church under the voluntary system of organization;\nthose not in general use or so dilapidated as to be incapable of\nrepair, being from their antiquity or the beauty of their\narchitecture, like St. Patrick's, Dublin, to the number of\ntwelve, will be transferred by the commissioner to the care of\nthe Board of Public Works, with an adequate appropriation in\nmoney for their proper care and preservation. Against this latter\narrangement we entirely and emphatically protest. St. Patrick's\nCathedral at least, if not every one of those twelve churches\nwhich the Anglicans have neither the numbers to decently fill nor\nthe generosity to keep in repair, instead of being put in care of\npoor-law commissioners or any other secular body, should be\nhanded over to the Catholics of the country, the real owners and\nspiritual heirs of their founders. This, after all, would be\nnothing more than an act of tardy justice, and a reproof not only\nto the sacrileges committed in them by the \"Reformers\" of the\nsixteenth century, but to Anglican poverty and niggardliness in\nthe nineteenth century. In the hands of the poor-law commissions,\nwho have shown little reverence and less antiquarian lore, those\nmagnificent temples will become simply objects of wonder to the\npassing tourist; surrounded by all the artistic and beautiful\ngraces of our holy faith, they would be living, breathing\nevidences, as it were, of the unswerving devotion to and the\nglorious rejuvenation of that faith in the Island of Saints. If\nnot too late, we wish to see this portion of the act changed; if\nthis cannot be done, we wish to see the Catholic and the liberal\nmembers of parliament move in the matter by the means of\nsubsequent legislation.\n\nSee and glebe houses and their curtilages and gardens vested in\nthe commissioners may be sold to the governing body of any church\nto which they are attached, for a sum equal to twelve times the\nannual value of the house and land so conveyed, payment to be\nmade in installments within twenty-two and a quarter years. Upon\napplication from the same or a similar governing body, the\ncommissioners may sell, in the case of a see house, thirty acres,\nand of any other ecclesiastical residence, ten acres, contiguous\nland, for such sum as may be agreed upon by arbitration. It is\nfurther provided that, whenever any church or church sites vest\nin the commissioners, not subject to the above conditions, they\nshall dispose of the same by public sale at their discretion.\nThis latter clause, though simple in its terms and apparently\nunimportant, constitutes in reality one of the most interesting\nfeatures in the act. Knowing as we do the intense devotion of the\nIrish Catholics for the crumbling ruins of the old churches built\nby their brave and zealous ancestors, where in the olden time\nwalked so many holy men now with the saints in heaven, and the\ncold indifference or ignorance of the Anglican clergy in relation\nto such sanctified places, we can confidently predict that not\nmany years will elapse ere those precious memorials of the past\nwill be in the possession of the people who have so watched in\nsilence and in tears their desecration by the followers of the\nreligion of Henry and Elizabeth.\n{243}\nIt will also be remarked in this part of the act the constant\nrecurrence of the term \"governing body,\" so expressive of the\ntotal reduction of the once proud Church of England in Ireland as\nby \"law established\" to the same condition as that occupied by\nmere Methodists and Presbyterians.\n\nGraveyards, a subject scarcely less attractive than churches, is\nnext dealt with in this elaborate act. When a church having a\nburial ground attached to it is vested in the commissioners, and\nthe church-building is subsequently reinvested in the \"governing\nbody,\" the burial ground will be included in the order conveying\nthe same; otherwise the burial grounds will be transferred to the\npoor-law guardians within whose district the same may be\nsituated, to be used by them in a manner similar to those already\ntaken or purchased by such guardians. This clause when carried\nout will change many graveyards now exclusively controlled by\nProtestants, but which in reality are and formerly were the\nproperty of Catholics, into places of public burial, and, _a\nfortiori_, Catholic.\n\nHaving disposed of the material interests and franchises of the\nIrish Church, we next come to the most important part (only,\nhowever, as far as the parties immediately affected are\nconcerned) of the act, though the framers, evidently with a keen\neye to the pockets of the disestablished, place it among the\nfirst in general interest. It appears under the unostentatious\nsub-title of \"Compensation to persons deprived of Income.\" It\nprovides that, on and after the 1st of January, 1871, the\ncommissioners, having in the mean time ascertained the amount of\nannual income of the holder of any archbishopric, bishopric,\nbenefice, or cathedral preferment, curacy, etc., shall pay to the\nholder of the same an annuity equal in amount to such income for\nlife, or as long as such incumbent continues to perform the\nduties of such office; or such incumbent may commute his annuity\nin return for a certain payment in bulk, upon his own application\nand at the discretion of the commission. For these purposes the\nsum of about \u00a35,000,000, or twenty-five millions of dollars, will\nbe required to be paid out of the assets in the hands of the\ncommissioners. This amount divided between two thousand\necclesiastics would give an average of twelve thousand five\nhundred dollars for each, but as that number includes the\ncurates, the most numerous and worst paid of the Anglican\nclergymen, the archbishops and other high dignitaries will find\nthemselves in receipt of enormous revenues during the term of\ntheir natural lives. Then there are other persons who are to\nbecome pensioners on the public bounty to the amount of four\nmillion five hundred thousand dollars; such as parish clerks,\nsextons, officers of cathedrals and ecclesiastical courts,\nparochial school-masters, organists, and all that sanctimonious\nand useless tribe whose mock gravity and unbending advocacy of\nchurch and state so frequently proved a source of amusement and\nderision to their less orthodox and perhaps less mercenary\nneighbors. With a sigh we part with that grave, shabby-genteel\nlink between the Protestant curate and the seldom-met poor pauper\nof the Anglican Church, well remembering in our early boyhood\nwith what awe we gazed upon their long, sallow visages as they\nstalked by meditatively, clothed in all the little brief\nauthority of quasi-clerical life.\n{244}\nThirty millions of dollars may be considered a large sum with\nwhich to pension off the clergy and their followers of a church\nwhich does not count three quarters of a million of souls, of all\ndegrees, sexes, and ages; but it will be money well spent if it\nheep [helps?] to eradicate an evil which has so long afflicted a\npatient people. [Footnote 52]\n\n    [Footnote 52: A late number of _The Catholic Opinion_\n    (London) gives us the following statistics: There are, it is\n    said 700,000 Anglicans in Ireland and 36,000,000 Catholics in\n    France; that is, 51 times as many Catholics in France as\n    Anglicans in Ireland. The budget therefore of Catholic\n    worship in France should be 51 times \u00a3800,000, or\n    \u00a340,800,000, to write which is enough to show the monstrous\n    iniquity of which Ireland has been the victim. The\n    Presbyterians, numbering 523,291 persons, receive a _regium\n    donum_ for their ministers amounting to \u00a340,547, and a\n    subsidy of \u00a32050 for their theological college at Belfast,\n    making a total of \u00a342,597. Protestant dissenters have no\n    endowment, nor yet Catholics, excepting a subsidy to the\n    college at Maynooth of \u00a326,360. Thus the Anglican\n    Establishment in Ireland has a revenue of about \u00a3800,000 for\n    700,000 persons, or about \u00a31 3s. per head. The Presbyterians\n    receive from the government \u00a342,597 for 523,291 persons, or\n    about 1s. 7 1/2d. per head. Catholics, \u00a326,360 for 4,505,265\n    persons, that is, LESS THAN ONE PENNY HALFPENNY per head.\n\n    According to the last census, that of 1861, there were in\n    Ireland:\n\n                                        Per Cent of the\n                                        whole Population.\n\n    4,505,265 Catholics, that is,                 77.7\n      693,357 members of the Established Church,  11.9\n      523,291 Presbyterians,                       9.0\n       76,661 Protestant dissenters,               1.2\n          393 Jews,                                0.0\n    5,798,967 Total                              100.0]\n\n\nThe holders of advowsons, or the right to appoint to church\nlivings--with the exception of the queen, corporations sole and\naggregate dissolved by the act, and trustees, officers, and\npersons acting in a public capacity--are entitled to certain\ncompensation to be ascertained by arbitration; one million five\nhundred thousand dollars being allowed for the liquidation of\nthis description of claims. As no Catholic can exercise this\nright, even though the owner of the land in fee from which the\nright to appoint arises, it follows that whatever compensation is\nmade will go to Protestants only. It would seem to any person\nother than an Anglican landlord that this clause is not only not\nin harmony with the equitable spirit of the body of the act, but\nthat it is manifestly unjust. Advowsons are as much a relic of\nancient feudal barbarism as any that were abolished by law under\nthe commonwealth or Charles II., and should have been swept away\nwhen all the other devices for defrauding the industrious poor\nwere abolished centuries ago. We waive altogether the question of\ntheir simoniacal character; for a custom so convenient for the\nland-holder and so profitable for younger sons of aristocratic\nfamilies would hardly be condemned on that account by those who\nso largely profit by it. In addition to all the money which the\ncommissioners are to reimburse as above mentioned, we find that\nupon the property of the Irish Church there is a building debt of\nsome one million and a quarter dollars for the repair of\nchurches, glebes, etc., which the commissioners are instructed to\npay.\n\nThus we see that the sum of nearly thirty-two millions of dollars\nhas been set aside as an inducement to the loosening of the grip\nof a very small and mercenary faction on the public purse\nostensibly, but in reality on the very vitals of the industrial\ninterests of the country. Let us now see what corresponding\ncompensation has been made for the Catholics and dissenters.\n\nIt is well known that for over a century the Presbyterians of\nIreland have been annually in the receipt of a limited sum of\nmoney called the _regium donum_. At first, as the term\nindicates, this was simply a gift from the crown, but of late\nyears it has been regularly voted by parliament, and last year it\namounted to \u00a345,000. This grant is to be withdrawn; and as an\nequivalent, a sum of about four millions of dollars is to be\ncapitalized by the commissioners, the annual interest of which\nwill be nearly equal to the present donation. In addition to\nthis, seventy-five thousand dollars are to be bestowed on the\nPresbyterian college of Belfast.\n\n{245}\n\nBut the Catholics, who, notwithstanding the vast emigration of\nthe last twenty-five years, form three fourths of the entire\npopulation, fare even worse than their dissenting brethren. The\npaltry grant of \u00a326,000 to Maynooth College is to cease, and a\nsum equal to less than a half of that appropriated to the\nPresbyterians is to be substituted, the interest only of which\nwill be devoted to the support of that distinguished nursery of\nCatholic learning. The building debt of some twenty thousand\npounds which the college owes to the Board of Public Works is to\nbe paid off by the commissioners; but, apart from this trifling\nsum, the Catholics of Ireland gain no direct material advantage\nfrom the enforcement of the new act; and it is to be hoped that,\nwhen time confirms the sagacity of the statesmen who have\nsuggested the introduction of the present reform, and has done\nfull justice to the moral courage of the men who have proposed it\nto the imperial parliament, the self-denial and disinterestedness\nof the Irish Catholic hierarchy, clergy, and people will be duly\nappreciated. However little flattering such unequal distribution\nof funds may be to the rightful claims of Catholics, we presume\nthey will not think it worth their while to object to it. Many of\nthem, we are disposed to think, would be willing to dispense\naltogether with state aid, if the rule were made general as far\nas regards Protestant sects. The Catholic Church in Ireland has\nnever been desirous of leaning for support on the arm of the\nBritish government, and the experience of its members at home and\nin this country has amply proved that the church is always more\nprosperous and more powerful for good in inverse proportion to\nits reliance on the secular arm.\n\nThere is no provision made for Trinity college, that being left\nfor future legislation, with an intimation from the premier that,\nwhile its interests will be properly attended to, it shall be\ndeprived of its exclusively sectarian character. This is well.\nTrinity was endowed with many thousand broad acres violently\ntaken from the rightful owners, the Irish chiefs, by Elizabeth,\nwhich must now yield an enormous revenue. It has been in times\npast, to a great extent, the nursery of enlightened intolerance\nand philosophic indifference; but when we recall the names of\nSwift and Mollineux, Grattan, Curran, the Emmets, Petrie, and\nMcCullough, and many other illustrious friends of Ireland, who\nstudied in its venerable halls, and there partially developed the\ngerms of that keen wit, fiery eloquence, and scientific lore\nwhich graced a nation even in its darkest hour of humiliation, we\ncan forgive their old _alma mater_ a great many\nbackslidings. Trinity should be allowed to retain her revenues,\nand when her wide gates are thrown open for the reception alike\nof the Catholic, the Anglican, and the Dissenter, her sphere of\nusefulness will not only be enlarged, but doubly increased by the\ncompetition between the diverse elements of which the population\nof Ireland is composed. She will then cease to be sectarian, and\nbecome, in the truest sense, national.\n\nWe now come to the matter of assets to be reduced into possession\nby the commissioners, out of which the several sums above\nmentioned are to be paid--assets which, according to Mr.\nGladstone's estimates, will amount to \u00a316,000,000, or eighty\nmillion dollars.\n{246}\nOf this sum, \u00a39,000,000, it is expected, will be derived from the\ncommutation or obliteration of tithe rent charges; that is to\nsay, the owners of lands from which tithes are now derived can,\nby the payment of a fixed sum to the commissioners, be for ever\nrelieved from the tithe exaction; and, should they be unable to\npay the whole sum down, they are to be allowed forty-five years\nwherein to pay it by instalments. Tithes, it must be remembered,\nhave not, for nearly forty years, been collected directly from\nthe cultivator of the soil, but from the owner, who, of course,\nadded it to the rent, and thus, though the objectionable adjuncts\nof distrain and imprisonment for tithes, as such, were done away,\nthe tenant had still to pay the odious tax in another form. As\nthe clause of the act regulating this branch of the duties of the\ncommissioners is perhaps the last of such a nature that will ever\nbe allowed to encumber the statute-book of the British\nparliament, we quote it entire, simply premising that it seems\nfair enough, and in terms decidedly favorable to the landlords.\nSection 32 recites:\n\n  \"The commissioners may at any time after the 1st day of\n  January, 1871, sell any rent charge in lieu of tithes bestowed\n  on them under this act to the owner of the land charged\n  therewith, in consideration of a sum equal to twenty-two and a\n  half times the amount of such rent charge, and upon any such\n  sale being so made, the commissioners shall, by order, declare\n  the rent charge to be merged in the land out of which it\n  issued, and the same shall merge and be extinguished\n  accordingly. Upon the application of any owner so purchasing,\n  the commissioners may, by order, declare his purchase money, or\n  any part thereof, to be payable by instalments, and the land\n  out of which such rent charge issued to be accordingly charged\n  as from a day to be mentioned in such order, for forty-five\n  years thence next ensuing, with an annual sum equal to four\n  pounds ten shillings for every one hundred pounds of the\n  purchase money, or part thereof, so payable in instalments. The\n  annual sum charged by such order shall have priority over all\n  charges and incumbrances, except quit or crown rents, and shall\n  be payable by the same persons, and be recoverable in the same\n  manner as the rent charge in lieu of tithes, heretofore payable\n  out of the same lands. Owner, for the purposes of this section,\n  shall mean the person for the time being liable to pay rent\n  charge in lieu of tithes under the provisions of the acts of\n  the first and second years of the reign of her present majesty,\n  chap. 109.\"\n\nWhen all the charges incumbent on the commissioners are provided\nfor, including one million dollars for themselves, a matter which\nthey will not be likely to neglect, there will be left of the\neffects of the defunct Establishment the handsome sum of over\nseven million pounds sterling. What disposition to make of this\nmoney was a puzzling question for a long time among the\nlegislative administrators. That it was to be devoted to some\nIrish purpose was understood from the first; but grants of money\nto Ireland have heretofore turned out to be mere jobs, much more\nbeneficial to government employees than to the supposed\nrecipients of the bounty. Besides, as Mr. Gladstone says, they\nwanted to make this measure a finality, and to dispose of the\nmoney once and for ever. To have divided it among all religious\ndenominations _per capita_, would throw the bulk of it into\npossession of the Catholics, to the great chagrin of the sects;\nand to have expended it on one or two local internal improvements\nwould have created sectional jealousy, and given rise to the cry\nof favoritism. Appreciating these difficulties, the friends of\nthe act have resolved, and, we think, very wisely, to devote it\nto the general charities of the island, not directly connected\nwith any particular denomination, as follows:\n\n{247}\n\n  \"1. The support of infirmaries, hospitals, and lunatic asylums\n  in connection with the grand jury cess or other assessment in\n  lieu thereof.\n\n  \"2. In support of reformatory and industrial schools, Ireland\n  acts, and in aid of other grants for that purpose.\n\n  \"3. The salaries of trained or skilled nurses for poor persons\n  in sickness or in labor.\n\n  \"4. The suitable education and maintenance of the blind and of\n  the deaf and dumb poor in separate asylums.\n\n  5. The suitable care, training, and maintenance, in separate\n  asylums, of poor persons of weak intellect, not requiring to be\n  kept under restraint. The commissioners may, from time to time,\n  during their trust, report to her majesty whether there is any\n  income available for the purposes mentioned in this section,\n  and, upon such report being made, it shall be lawful for her\n  majesty, by order in council, to direct such available portion\n  of income to be applied for the aforesaid purposes, or any of\n  them, under such management and control as aforesaid.\"\n\nThe poor-law commissioners are to be entrusted with this capital\nsum, and the distribution of the annual revenue arising\ntherefrom, which is calculated at \u00a3310,000. There are two very\npatent reasons for this distribution. Already the sum of \u00a3140,000\nfor similar purposes is annually raised by a tax called \"county\ncess;\" \"a heavy tax, an increasing tax,\" says Mr. Gladstone, \"and\na tax not divided, like the poor law, between the owner and the\noccupier, but paid wholly by the occupier; and a tax not limited,\nlike the poor law, to occupations above four pounds in value, but\ngoing down to the most miserable huts and cabins. The holders of\nthese most wretched tenements are now required in Ireland, and\nrequired increasingly from year to year, to pay, not that which\nis done by the wealthier portion of the occupants who contribute\nto the poor law, but to pay for that class of want and suffering\nwhich ought undoubtedly to be met, which in every Christian\ncountry should be liberally met, but which can only be met by the\nexpenditure of considerable funds in comparison with those which\nare paid to support the pauper.\" The frightful increase of those\nclasses of unfortunates to be thus provided for in view of the\ndecrease of the entire population by emigration [Footnote 53]\ncalls loudly for some legal interposition. From 1851 to 1861 the\nnumber of deaf and dumb persons increased from 5180 to 5653; and\nduring the same decade the blind increased from 5787 to 6879,\nwhile the number of lunatics increased from 9980 to 14,098, or\nnearly fifty per cent!\n\n    [Footnote 53: The emigration from Ireland from May 1st, 1851,\n    to December 1st, 1865 amounted to 1,630,722 souls.]\n\nWith this last act of Christian charity, we hope to see the\ntraces of former injustice gradually fade away from the public\nmind, and the bitter memories and sectarian jealousies of the\npast give place to a new era of good feeling and brotherly\naffection. Time is not only a great healer of wounds, but a great\nreformer of ideas. Taking a retrospective glance at the history\nof Ireland for the past hundred years, and watching how, step by\nstep, the church in Ireland, from the veriest depths of\ndespondency and contumely, has risen in power, strength, and\nnumbers by its own innate vitality, we are not too sanguine in\nbelieving that it has a glorious future before it, unsurpassed by\nthat of any country in Europe. Though its members embrace the\ngreat majority of the poorest classes in the land, they have, in\nthat short period, studded the country with magnificent\ncathedrals and substantial parish churches; though unaided by a\ngovernment which, if not positively hostile, was certainly\nindifferent, they have built and are generously sustaining,\nhundreds of colleges, convents, hospitals, and asylums, where\nlearning flourishes as in the pristine ages, and where the poor,\nthe needy, and afflicted are comforted and consoled.\n{248}\nAnd though famine has decimated the hardy peasantry, and\nemigration has torn millions of the \"bone and sinew\" from their\nnative shores, the Catholics of Ireland are still, as they always\nwill be, the people of Ireland. It is true that a great many\nchanges have yet to be effected through the means of legislation\nbefore the Irish or English Catholic is placed on an equal\nfooting with his more favored fellow-subject. In Ireland, he must\neventually have equal representation in the British parliament.\nThe laws controlling the marriage of persons of different\nreligious beliefs, those relating to the tenure of lands and\nspiritual devises, and to the disqualification for office on\naccount of religious opinions, must be repealed and sent to dwell\nwith all the other legal rubbish of a bygone age of bigotry. The\nEcclesiastical Titles Bill, which is a disgrace to an enlightened\ngovernment and a standing insult to the bishops and people of the\ncountry, must share the same fate before the crown can expect or\nought to receive that heartfelt loyalty which springs from good\nand impartial government. The times in which we live imperatively\ndemand those reforms, and we are very much mistaken in the\nstrength and spirit of our co-religionists in the United Kingdom\nif they do not also quickly and pertinaciously demand them.\n\nWe are gratified, in looking over our files of leading English\njournals, to find that they all with one voice, a few old and\nobscure tory papers excepted, support the liberal party in its\nleading measure, and are waging war with their trenchant pens\nagainst the effete anti-Catholic party in the Commons. We hope,\nalso, to see our brothers of the American press, secular and\nreligious, who so generally advocate the support of churches by\nvoluntary contributions, giving a word of encouragement to their\ncousins across the Atlantic.\n\nGranting that the passage and proper execution of the present act\nwill be a most important step in the right direction, it still\nseems to us unfortunate that it was not taken years ago. With a\nfatality that so generally attends English political and\nreligious concessions, it has been so long delayed that it now\nappears to be more the offspring of fear and intimidation than\nthe result of wise and mature conviction. If British statesmen\nwill yield only to force what they refuse to sound argument and\nthe logic of facts, they must expect the same motive power to be\nagain applied when demands neither so reasonable nor so well\nfounded are to be put forward. In common with our brethren in\nevery part of the world, we view with great satisfaction this\nawakening sense of public justice in the English mind; but let it\nnot falter now, as if exhausted by one solitary effort. Let a\ngood landlord and tenant act be passed without unnecessary delay,\nand some comprehensive measures be adopted for the development of\nthe industrial resources of the nation, and then, indeed, that\nchronic state of disaffection which has afflicted every\ngeneration in Ireland since the invasion may be radically cured.\n\n-------\n\n{249}\n\n              My Mother's Only Son.\n\nThe rain is falling heavily, to-night. It has a dull, desolate,\nlonely sound, as if it were bent upon reminding me of another\nnight more desolate, dull, and lonely even than the present. What\nright have I, who have so much happiness about me now, to be\nsearching the dark annals of past sorrow, or to unearth a hidden\nmisery, that will come like a blighting shadow between me and all\nthe pleasures that might be mine? Yet that rainy, dismal night\n_does_ come back to me with a force and terror I would\nrather not remember.\n\nI would rather not remember it, because my son, just budding into\nmanhood, has left me to-night, for the first time, and gone to\ntake his place in an old firm in a neighboring city. The world\nand its allurements are temptingly laid out before him. He is a\nnoble, handsome boy, so bright and promising. They tell me he\nwill always have friends, plenty of friends; that he has all the\nelements of popularity, and is destined to become a general\nfavorite. Dangerous attractions these; they have made wiser heads\nthan yours, my darling, very giddy and very light; hearts, too,\nhave been brought to mourning, while the admiring friends of\nyesterday could cast only a look of pity on their lost friends as\nthey passed by.\n\nMy own brother was all this; gifted in an eminent degree with\nenergy and manly courage to sustain him in any generous\nundertaking. We had everything to hope from him; he had\neverything to hope from himself. With prospects fair and bright,\nan old banker, a friend of my father's, gave him an eligible\nsituation. It was an office of trust; he was proud of the\nconfidence placed in him, and left home with the full resolve of\nfilling it with honor to himself and credit to the good man who\nhad placed him there. His letters were pleasant and joyous, full\nof the new pleasures he had never dreamed of in our quiet life at\nhome. His graceful manners and natural gentleness soon\nestablished him as a favorite in society; his social pleasures\nwere daily increasing, and his attention to business was both\nactive and energetic.\n\nMy mother had a slight misgiving. It was only the shadow of a\nthought, she said--that Arthur, in the new pleasures that\nsurrounded him, might become weaned from us or might learn to be\nhappy without us. In her deep love for her gifted boy she had\nnever thought such an event possible, and instantly reproached\nherself for the thought.\n\nIn going from home, my brother had left a great waste, an empty\nplace behind him, and his letters were our only comfort.\n\nWhat light and pleasure they brought to our quiet fireside, that\nwould have been so dreary without them. There were only three of\nus, and while his letters were so fresh and vigorous, they almost\nkept up the delusion that we were not separated; but there came a\nchange.\n\nWe may have been slow in discovering it, but we did discover it,\nand then to miss him as we missed him through the long winter\nnights seemed like losing a star that had led us, that we had\nfollowed, until it passed under a cloud and left us, still\nwaiting, still watching, for it to come again.\n{250}\nHe paid us a flying visit now and then, and my mother,\nunconscious of the cause of his disquietude--for he was both\nanxious and disturbed--would redouble her exertions to bring back\nhis waning love, making every allowance for the indifference, the\ncoldness, and the neglect that were so glaringly apparent to\nother eyes, yet so delicately obscured from her motherly vision.\nNot that my brother made any effort to conceal his restless\ndesire to leave us, or that his interests and pleasures were\ncentred elsewhere. I was very young, yet old enough to see that\nthere was a mercy in _this_, my mother's blindness.\n\nHer beautiful boy seemed to carry the sunshine of her life with\nhim; she thought him caressed and petted, the favorite of\nsociety, and the embodiment of all that was noble. He has seen so\nmuch of the luxury and elegance of life in the great city, how\ncan we expect him to be contented with our home, where everything\nis so different? Thus she would reason with me, and thus, I\nsometimes thought, she would reluctantly reason with herself.\n\nOne day, a letter came to us from the banking-house, where my\nbrother had gradually risen to an honored position. It was from\nthe banker himself, our dear old friend; he told, in the\ntenderest manner, that Arthur had acquired habits which rendered\nhim unfit for an office of trust. He deeply regretted the\nnecessity of making this known to her; he ended by suggesting\nthat the gentle influence of home might do much toward bringing\nhim to a sense of his condition.\n\nMy mother read the letter, folded it carefully, reopened it, and\nread it again. She then handed it to me without speaking a word.\nWhen I had finished reading it, I looked at her; she was still\nimmovable, helpless as a child in this her great despair. Her\napathy was the more distressing to me as I was entirely alone. I\ndare not consult any one, dare not ask the advice of our kind\nneighbors. She had roused herself just enough to tell me it must\nbe kept as secret as death. I was only sixteen, I had never acted\nfor myself--there had been no occasion in our quiet life for a\ndisplay of individual courage or independence. I had grown up\nunder my mother's guidance, had never been five miles away from\nhome, where every day was like all the yesterdays that had gone\nbefore it. And now this great journey lay before me. There was no\none else to go; _I_ must take it alone.\n\nWe were both ignorant of the nature of my brother's disgrace. Mr.\nLester had made no mention of it further than to say that he\ncould keep him no longer in the bank. I could only conjecture in\nmy own mind what it might be. Of course I thought of dishonesty;\nwhat else could have driven him from a situation where he was so\nhonored and trusted?\n\nThe railroad was some miles distant from our little village;\ndespatch was necessary; I must meet the evening train. My brother\nwas ill; I was going to him; this would quiet our neighbors and\nput an end to curious speculations. Surely I was not far from the\ntruth--he must have been ill indeed when his proud head was\nbrought down so low.\n\nAgain and again reassuring my mother that I would bring him back,\ntelling her in all sincerity that I knew he would be able to\nclear himself in her eyes so that not a spot or blemish would be\nleft on his fair name, (Heaven knows how easy this might be.\n{251}\nLet him lay his head on her faithful breast, and twine an arm\nabout her neck, and lovingly whisper, \"Mother, I am\n_innocent_, all is right;\" the _world_ might sit in\njudgment and cry \"_Guilty_,\" she would heed it not,) I\nbecame so preoccupied, so entirely absorbed with the\n_object_ of my journey, that the journey itself had no\nnovelty for me, though everything was new and startling. Now I\nwas hurrying to the great city that I had so often thought and\ndreamed about. It was only in a confused way that I could settle\nit in my mind that I was really going there. That I was strange,\nand new, and unused to the busy scenes that lay before me seemed\nno part of my business. My brother--would he come home with me?\nHe might be angry that I had come. Could I ask him to tell me the\ntruth? No, I could not see him so humiliated; I would rather hear\nthe story of his shame from other lips than his.\n\nIt was near midnight when I reached his lodgings.\n\n\"Is Arthur Graham at home?\" I, trembling, asked of a kindly\nlooking woman who opened the door.\n\n\"He is, miss, and sorely in need of some one to look after him.\"\n\nHad it come to this? Was my brother an object of pity, even to\nher? I asked to see him, not wishing to prolong this painful\ninterview. She desired me to enter, and we approached his room. I\nopened the door cautiously. The woman's manner was so mysterious,\nI trembled and began to be afraid; she had told me he was not\nsick. Of course I thought he was a prisoner and perhaps chained\nin his own room. The light was very dim, and, as I advanced, I\nstumbled and was near falling over--what?--over the prostrate\nform of my own brother, lost, degraded, fallen.\n\nAs I bent down to see why he did not speak to me, I discovered\nthe truth. He, the pride and hope of our lives, had sunk into a\ndrunkard. I uttered no cry; I was no longer terrified; I thought\nonly of my mother.\n\nI was all that was left her now, and, as I bent over him,\nwondered if that face was his, so changed, so sickening; neglect\nand ruin had already settled there. I tried to smooth the heavy\nhair, that lay in thick, dank masses about his reeking forehead.\nHow old, how terribly old, he had grown in so short a time! I\ndare not cherish a feeling of loathing; he was my brother, and\nneeded my love as he had never needed it before. For him--for in\nhim I was protecting my mother--I must set aside all youth and\ngirlhood. A woman was needed now, a woman calm, firm, and\nresolute. Of myself I was weak, but Heaven would help me. A\nconviction settled upon me, as I sat there, with my travelling\nwrappings still unremoved, that his case was hopeless. I could\nsee a lonely, dishonored grave, far away from us in a strange\nland. I know not why this sight should rise before me, my brother\nwas young, and others as debased as he had risen to a good and\nnoble life. Thus I reasoned with myself, and yet that lonely\nmound of earth would come before me, and I felt powerless.\n\nBut I had no time for misery. I had come to protect and assist.\nMy girlhood was passing away with the shadows of the night, for\nto-morrow's sun must find me a woman, prepared to meet the stern\nduties that were now mine.\n\nThe night was far advanced, and I was trying to gather up my\nnewfound energies, when I felt a kindly hand removing my bonnet.\nIt was the good woman who had met me at the door; she was waiting\nto show me my room and to offer me some refreshment.\n\n{252}\n\n\"You can do no good here,\" she continued, as she assisted me to\narise, \"until morning.\"\n\nShe shook her head doubtfully as she whispered, \"You are very\nyoung, yes, quite too young to undertake it even then. But if you\nare afraid he will give you the slip before you are up, (he often\ndoes that,) just lock the door.\"\n\nShe did so and put the key in her own pocket.\n\nThe little room assigned me was cleanly; it had an air of comfort\nabout it greatly in contrast with the slovenly chamber I had just\nleft. The gentle creature made nothing of undressing me,\nlamenting the while as if I had been a stricken child that had\nunexpectedly fallen into her motherly hands.\n\nI had made no allusion to my brother as yet. I could not speak of\nhim, and only ventured to ask the woman as she was leaving me how\nlong he had been in this condition. \"I might ask you the same\nquestion, miss, for surely it is not a day nor a month that has\nbrought him to _this_.\"\n\nTo _this!_ What a world of misery there was in that one\nsimple word! It seemed to carry with it the low wailing of a lost\nsoul.\n\nWe were to have paid my brother a visit soon, my mother and I. It\nwas to have been a surprise, and I had gone so far as to arrange\nthe dress I should wear, for I was anxious to appear at my best\nbefore Arthur's friends. And here I was spending my first night\nin New York. No kin of mine had bid me welcome. No brother had\nfolded me in his loved embrace, and held me out to see how pretty\nI had grown, proudly kissing me again and again, and telling me\nhow happy my coming had made him.\n\nIn my peaceful days I had thought of all this; and oh! how easily\nit might have been!\n\nI arose early; but, early as it was, the woman had apprised\nArthur of my arrival. I found him morose and sullen. He demanded\nmy reasons for coming so abruptly upon him. He had not asked\nafter my mother, nor given me one word of kindly greeting; and\nwhen, in a harsh tone, he asked why I thus intruded myself, my\ngreat reserve of womanly strength fled from me, and I cried long\nand bitterly.\n\nHe was naturally kind and gentle. He came to me, wiped the tears\nfrom my cheek, and told me he did not intend to be cruel. His\nhand trembled violently, as he laid it on my head, and his whole\nframe shook and quivered, though I could see he made a desperate\neffort to control himself. When he had recovered his composure,\nhe seemed to know why I had come, and implored me not to say one\nword to him; he was miserable enough already.\n\n\"Come home with me, Arthur dear,\" I whispered. \"You can soon\nchange your life, and be your own self again.\"\n\nI ventured to tell him that mother had been taken very ill, when,\nwith a look, he begged me to say no more. He could not bear even\nan allusion to his condition, and I had no wish to harass him.\nWhat a slave he had become to the one ruling passion of his life!\n\nRegardless of my presence, he drank again and again from a bottle\nnear him. Once when I laid my hand upon the glass, he told me\nthat he needed it to steady his nerves, and he would be all right\nsoon. It was in vain that I urged him to accompany me home. He\ntold me he had another situation in view, not anything like the\none he had just left, but very good in its way. I could tell my\nmother this; it might comfort her.'Twas all the hope I had to\ncarry home.\n\n{253}\n\nAs years went by our sorrows were softened. We had become\naccustomed to Arthur's manner of life. At times he seemed\nchanging for the better, and again he would go back to his old\nhabits.\n\nIt was in early summer time, when everything on our little farm\nwas at its best. The solitary womanly habits that had come so\nearly upon me were still very strong with me. I was not yet old,\nonly twenty-two; and on this lovely summer night I was planning\nour quiet future, when a carriage stopped before the door, and\nArthur came in, leading, or rather carrying, a delicate young\ngirl.\n\n'Mother,\" said he, \"this is my wife! Grace, this is my mother and\nsister.\"\n\n\"Your wife!\" we repeated.\n\n\"Oh! yes,\" he replied. \"We have been married nearly a year, and I\nhoped to better my circumstances before I should make the fact\nknown to you.\" We saw that the poor child, for such she seemed,\nwas sadly in want of woman's kindly care. So pale, so\nsorrow-stricken, so young, yet so bowed down and disappointed! I\nknew nothing of her story, but she was my brother's wife, and I\ngave her a sister's love. That night I watched by her bed; and,\nas the pale moonlight fell upon her rippling hair, I wondered\nwhat art, what witchery or power my brother had used to bring\nthis delicate creature to be a sharer of his misery and shame.\nShe waked with a sudden start, and called in a wild, frightened\nway for help. She was really ill, now, and before morning the\ndoctor laid a feeble baby in my mother's arms.\n\nMy new-found sister and her wailing infant had all our tenderest\ncare. We were glad that she had come to us that we might, in the\nlove we gave her, make up in some degree for the sorry life the\npoor unfortunate child had taken upon herself. She staid with us;\nour home was hers. Arthur returned to New York.\n\nHer history was soon told. She was an orphan, entirely dependent\nupon the bounty of an aunt who had daughters of her own to be\nsettled in life. She met Arthur. The fascination of his manners\nand the interest he took in her friendless condition won her\nheart. The misfortune of his life was well known to her, but she\ntrusted to _her_ love, feeling sure that a life's devotion\nmust redeem him. A dangerous experiment, this; too often tried,\nand too often found a hopeless failure. For her sake, he\n_did_ try to be firm and strong, and manfully combated his\nbesetting sin; but an hour of weakness came; old associates\nreturned, and old habits with them. In a moment of hilarity and\npleasure all his firmness gave way; his delicate young wife was\nforgotten, and she awakened all too soon to the knowledge that\nher husband's love for liquor was greater than his love for her.\nThe dear, sweet girl and her pretty infant had lived with us\nnearly a year, when, one cold, drizzly night like this, Arthur\ncame home. He had grown so reckless of late, that we were not\nsurprised when he came reeling into our presence. He began by\ndemanding a small amount of money which Grace had been husbanding\nwith care. She made no reply to any of his angry threats, nor did\nshe give him the money. Dead to all sense of manhood, he rose to\nstrike her. Her infant was sleeping on her breast. She leaped to\nflee from him, but before we could save her, he struck her. She\nfell heavily; the sleeping babe was thrown against the iron\nfender. It uttered one feeble cry, and closed its eyes _for\never_.\n\n{254}\n\nThe mother rose, and with a desperate effort snatched her dead\nchild from my arms, pressed it to her breast, rocked it to and\nfro, and tried to give it nourishment. My mother and I spent that\nterrible night with a dead infant, a frenzied mother, and a\nfather lost in hopeless despair. Every rustle in the trees, every\nsound in the air, brought the horror of death upon us, for each\nmurmur seemed fraught with vengeance. Was my brother a murderer?\nHis own tender infant had fallen dead at his feet. The act must\npass without a name, for in our woe we had none to give it.\n\nHe sat there through the weary hours of the night, a haggard,\ndesperate fear settling upon him. He dare not approach his wife;\nthe sight of him increased her frenzy, and she prayed that she\nmight never see his face again.\n\nMisery had made my mother strong and she could help me. Calm,\ncool, and deliberate action was necessary now.\n\nArthur must leave us before morning. No one had known of his\ncoming. The child's sudden death must be in some way accounted\nfor, in what way I knew not. My mother whispered God would help\nus.\n\nArthur slunk away in his guilt and misery. He took no leave of\nus, but silently crept out in the darkness. There was darkness on\nevery side, it was bearing down upon him with the weight of an\navenging fury. I watched him, bowed and desolate, stealing away\nfrom us, away from all that was dear to him, from all that had\nloved him, and could not, even now, cast him off. I lingered\nuntil the last sound of his footsteps died away. I knew then as I\nknow now, that we should never see him again. The rain fell upon\nhim as he passed out. It fell upon me as I stood there, and I\nthought it was falling far away where I had seen a lonely grave.\n\nI washed our martyred babe and dressed it for the burial. There\nwas a mark upon its little neck that the solemn wrappings of the\ngrave must cover. It might be bared before the judgment-seat to\nplead for an erring father.\n\nMy mother died soon after of a broken heart. She never recovered\nthe shock of that terrible night. The curse that settled upon her\npoor, misguided son made him none the less her child; and she\nwould try, with all the tenderness of her wounded spirit, to\nthink of him as he was, innocent, true, and noble, when first he\nleft her. When we learned that he had died on foreign shores, and\nwas buried on a lonely island, she thanked God that he was no\nlonger a homeless wanderer.\n\nMy sister Grace is with me still, loving and cherishing my young\nchildren, leading them and me to better life by the chastened\nbeauty of her own Christian character.\n\n-------\n\n{255}\n\n        Catholicity and Pantheism.\n\n              Number Six.\n\n\t      The Finite.\n\n\nIn the pantheistic theory, the finite has no real existence of\nits own. It is a modification, a limit of the infinite. The sum\nof all the determinations which the primitive and germinal\nactivity assumes, in the progress of its development, constitutes\nwhat is called cosmos. The interior and necessary movement of the\ninfinite, which terminates in all these forms and determinations,\nis creation. The successive appearance of all these forms in this\nnecessary development is the genesis of creation. The finite,\ntherefore, in the pantheistic system, does not exist as something\nsubstantially distinct from the infinite, but is one form or\nother which it assumes in its spontaneous evolutions.\n\nAs the reader may observe, this theory rests entirely upon the\nleading principle of the system that the infinite is something\nundefined, impersonal, indeterminate, and becomes concrete and\npersonal by a necessary, interior movement; a principle which,\nviewed in reference to the finite, gives rise to two others,\nfirst, that the finite is a modification of the infinite; second,\nthat the finite is necessary to the infinite, as the term of its\nspontaneous development. Now, in the preceding articles, we have\ndemonstrated, first, that the infinite is actuality itself; that\nis, absolute and complete perfection; second, that in order to be\npersonal, he is not impelled to originate any modification or\nlimit. Hence, two other principles concerning the finite, quite\nantagonistic to those of pantheism. First, the finite cannot be a\nmodification of the infinite, because perfection, absolutely\ncomplete, cannot admit of ulterior progress. Second, the finite\nis not necessary to the infinite, because the interior and\nnecessary action of the infinite does not terminate outside of,\nbut within himself, and gives rise to the mystery of the Trinity,\nexplained and vindicated in the last two articles. Consequently,\nhis necessary interior action being exercised within himself, he\nis not forced to originate the finite to satisfy that spontaneous\nmovement, as Cousin and other pantheists contend. The finite,\ntherefore, can neither be a modification nor a necessary\ndevelopment of the infinite. And this consequence sweeps away all\nsystems of emanatism, of whatever form, that may be imagined.\nWhether we suppose the finite to be a growth or extension of the\ninfinite, as the materialistic pantheists of old seemed to\nimagine; or mere phenomenon of infinite substance, with Spinoza;\nor ideological exercise of the infinite, as modern Germans seem\nto think--according to the principle laid down, the finite is\nimpossible in any emanatistic sense whatever. To any one who has\nfollowed us closely in the preceding articles, it will appear\nevident that these few remarks absolutely dispose of the\npantheistic theory concerning the finite, and close the negative\npart of our task respecting this question.\n\n{256}\n\nAs to the positive part, to give a full explanation of the whole\ndoctrine of Catholicity concerning the finite, we must discuss\nthe following questions:\n\nIn what sense is creation to be understood?\n\nIs creation of finite substances possible?\n\nWhat is the end of the exterior action of God?\n\nWhat is the whole plan of the exterior action of God?\n\nBefore we enter upon the discussion of the first question, we\nmust lay down a few preliminary remarks necessary to the\nintelligence of all that shall follow.\n\nGod's action is identical with his essence, and this being\nabsolutely simple and undivided, his action also is absolutely\none and simple. But it is infinite also, like his essence, and in\nthis respect it gives rise, not only to the eternal and immanent\noriginations within himself, but also may cause a numberless\nvariety of effects really existing, and distinct from him, as we\nshall demonstrate. Now, if we regard the action of God, in itself\noriginating both _ad intra_ and _ad extra_, that is,\nacting within and without himself, it cannot possibly admit of\ndistinction. But our mind, being finite, and hence incapable of\nperceiving at once the infinite action of God, and of grasping at\none glance that one simple action originating numberless effects,\nis forced to take partial views of it, and mentally to divide it,\nto facilitate the intelligence of its different effects. These\npartial views and distinctions of our mind, of the same identical\naction of God, producing the divine persons within himself, and\ncausing different effects outside himself, we shall call moments\nof the action of God.\n\nThere are, therefore, two supreme moments of the action of God,\nthe interior and the exterior. Whenever we shall speak of the\naction of God producing an effect distinct from and outside of\nhim, we shall call it exterior action, to distinguish it from the\ninterior, which originates the divine personalities. Moreover, we\nshall call exterior action of God, all the moments of it which\nproduce different effects. We shall call creation that particular\nmoment of his external action which, as we shall see, causes the\nexistence of finite substances, together with their essential\nproperties and attributes.\n\nNow, as to the first question, in what sense can creation be\nunderstood; or, otherwise, what are the conditions according to\nwhich creation may be possible? On the following: First, the\nterms laid down by the action of God must be in nature distinct\nfrom him. Second, they must be produced by an act which does not\ncause any mutation in the agent. Third, therefore, they must be\nfinite substances. For, suppose the absence of the first\ncondition, creation would be an emanation of the divine essence;\nsince, if the terms created were not different from the nature of\nGod, they would be identical with it, and consequently creation\nwould be an emanation or development of the substance of God. The\nabsence of the second condition would not only render it an\nemanation of the substance of God--because, if creation implied a\nmutation in him, it would be his own modification--but it would\nrender it altogether impossible, since no agent can modify itself\nbut by the aid of another. If, therefore, creation cannot be\neither an emanation or a modification of God, it must be distinct\nfrom his substance. Now, something distinct from the substance of\nGod, and really existing, and not a modification, cannot be\nanything but finite substance. Finite, because, the substance of\nGod being infinite, nothing can be distinct from it but the\nfinite; substance, because something really existing, and which\nis not a modification, gives the idea of substance.\n{257}\nCreation, therefore, cannot be understood in any other sense\nexcept as implying the causation of finite substances. But is\ncreation of finite substances possible? In answer to this\nquestion, let it be remarked that the essence of a thing may have\ntwo distinct states: one, intelligible and objective; the other,\nsubjective and in existence. In other words, all things have a\nmode of intelligible existence, distinct from the being by which\nthey exist, in themselves; the one may be called objective and\nintelligible; the other, subjective. To give an instance, a\nbuilding has two kinds of states: one, intelligible, in the mind\nof the architect; the other, subjective, when it exists in\nitself.\n\nNow, the possibility of a thing to have a subjective existence in\nitself, depends upon the intelligible and objective state of the\nsame thing. Because that only is possible which does not involve\nany contradiction. But that which does not involve any\nrepugnance, is intelligible. Therefore the possibility of a thing\nimplies its intelligibility, and its subjective existence depends\nupon its objective and intelligible state. This is so true, that\nthe transcendental truth of beings, in their subjective state of\nexistence, consists in their conformity with their intelligible\nand objective state. As the truth of a building consists in it\nconformity with the plan in the mind of the architect.\n\nFrom these principles it follows that, in order to establish the\npossibility of the creation of finite substances, we must prove\nthree different things: First, that they have an intelligible\nstate; in other words, that their idea does not involve any\nrepugnance. Second, that there exists a supreme act of\nintelligence, in which the intelligible state of all possible\nfinite substances resides. Third, that there exists a supreme\nactivity, which may cause finite substances to exist in a\nsubjective state conformable to their objective and intelligible\nstate. When we have proven these three propositions, the\npossibility of creation will be put beyond all doubt. Now, as to\nthe first proposition, pantheists have denied the possibility of\nfinite substances. Admitting the general possibility of\nsubstance, they deny the intrinsic possibility of a finite one;\nand, as everything which is finite is necessarily _caused_,\nthe whole question turns upon this--whether, in the idea of\nsubstance, there is any element which excludes causation and is\nrepugnant to it. Every one acquainted with the history of\nphilosophy knows that Spinoza coined a definition purposely to\nfit his system. He defined substance to be that which exists in\nitself, and cannot be conceived but by itself. [Footnote 54]\n\n    [Footnote 54: Eth. 1, Def. 1.]\n\nThis definition is purposely insidious. That which exists in\nitself may have a twofold meaning; it may express a thing, the\ncause of whose existence lies in itself, a self-existing being;\nor it may imply a thing which can exist without inhering in or\nleaning on any other. Again, that which cannot be conceived but\nby itself may be taken in a double sense--a thing which has no\ncause, and is self-existent, and consequently contains in itself\nthe reason of its intelligibility; or it may signify a thing\nwhich may be conceived by itself, inasmuch as it does not lean\nupon any other to be able to exist. Spinoza, taking both terms of\nthe definition in the first sense, had the way paved for\npantheism; for if substance be that which is intelligible by\nitself because self-existent, it is evident that there cannot be\nmore than one substance, and the cosmos cannot be anything but\nphenomenon of this substance.\n{258}\nHence the question we have proposed: Is there, in the true idea\nof substance, any element which necessarily implies\nself-existence, and excludes causation? Catholic philosophy\ninsists that there is none. For the idea of substance is made up\nof two elements: one positive, the other negative. The positive\nelement is the permanence or consistence of an act or being--that\nis, the _existing_ really. The second element is the\nexclusion or absence of all inherence in another being in order\nto exist.\n\nNow, every one can easily perceive, that to exist really does not\nnecessarily imply self-existence, or contradiction to the notion\nof having been caused by another. Because the notion of real\nexistence or permanence of a being does not necessarily imply\neternity of permanence, or, in other words, does not include\ninfinity of being. If the permanence or real existence of a being\nincluded eternity of permanence, then it could not have a cause,\nand should necessarily be self-existent. But we can conceive a\nbeing really existing, which did not exist always, but had a\nbeginning. The better to illustrate this conception, let it be\nremembered that duration or permanence is one and the same thing\nwith being; and that, ontologically, being and duration differ in\nnothing. The permanence and duration of a being is, therefore, in\nproportion to the intensity of a being. If the being be infinite,\nthe highest intensity of reality, the being is infinitely\npermanent; that is, eternal, without beginning, end, or\nsuccession. If the being be finite and created, the permanence or\nduration is finite also; that is, has beginning, and may,\nabsolutely speaking, have an end. Everything, therefore, really\nexisting without inhering in another, whether it be infinite or\nfinite reality--that is, whether it have a cause or be\nself-existent--is a substance. If it be self-existent, it is\ninfinite substance; if it be caused, it is finite substance. This\nis so evident that none, slightly accustomed to reflect, can fail\nto perceive the difference between being self-existent and\nexisting really. The two things can go separately without the one\nat all including the other. A thing may exist as really after\nbeing caused, as the substance which is self-existent and\neternal, so far as existing really is concerned.\n\nTo show that the idea of substance, however, is such as we have\nbeen describing, it is sufficient to cast a glance at our own\nsoul. It is evident from the testimony of consciousness, that\nthere is a numberless variety of thoughts, volitions, sensations;\nall taking place in the _me_, all following and succeeding\neach other without interruption, like the waves of the ocean\nrolling one upon the other, and keeping the sea always in\nagitation. We are conscious to ourselves of this continual influx\nof thoughts, volitions and sensations; but, at the same time that\nwe are conscious of this, we are conscious also of the identity\nand permanence of the _me_ amid the fluctuations of those\nmodifications. We are conscious that the _me_, which\nyesterday was affected with the passions of love and desire, is\nthe same identical _me_ which is to-day under the passion of\nhate. This permanence or reality of the _me_, amid the\npassing and transitory affections, gives the idea of substance or\nreal existence; whilst the numberless variety of thoughts and\nfeelings which affect it, and which come and go while the\n_me_ remains, gives the idea of modification, or a thing\nwhich inheres in another in order to exist.\n\n{259}\n\nThe above remarks must put the possibility of finite substance\nbeyond doubt. But before we pass to the second question, we\nremark that any one sooner than a pantheist could call in\nquestion the possibility of finite substance; because if, as we\nhave demonstrated in the second article, the infinite of the\npantheists be not an absolute nonentity, a pure abstraction, it\nis nothing but the idea of finite being or substance. Hence, to\nprove the possibility of finite substance to the pantheist, we\nmight make use of the argument _ad hominem_. That which is\nintelligible is possible, by the principle of contradiction. But\nthe idea of finite substance is intelligible to the pantheists,\nbeing the foundation of their system; therefore, finite\nsubstances are possible.\n\nSecond question: Is there a supreme act of intelligence, in which\nreside all possible finite substances in their objective and\nintelligible state?\n\nThe demonstration of the second proposition follows from that of\nthe first.\n\nFor the idea of finite substance does not involve any repugnance,\nby the principle of contradiction. Therefore it is necessarily\npossible, as we have demonstrated. But that which is necessarily\npossible, is necessarily intelligible; because everything that is\npossible may be conceived. Therefore the idea of finite substance\nis necessarily intelligible, and may be conceived by an\nintelligence able to grasp the whole series of possible finite\nsubstances. But God is infinite intelligence, and as such is\ncapable of apprehending all possible finite substances. Therefore\nin God's intelligence resides the whole series of possible finite\nsubstances, in their intelligible and objective state.\n\nTo render this argument more convincing, let us look into the\nontological foundation of the possibility of finite substances.\nFinite substances are nothing but finite beings; consequently\nthey are not possible, except inasmuch as they agree with the\nessence of God, which is the infinite, _the being_, and as\nsuch is the type of all things which come under the denomination\nand category of being. God, therefore, who fully comprehends his\nessence, comprehends, at the same time, whatever may agree with\nit; or, in other words, comprehends all possible imitations, so\nto speak, of his essence; and consequently, all the possible\nimitations of his essence residing in his intelligence, there\ndwells at the same time the intelligible and objective state of\nall possible finite substances. St. Thomas proves the same truth\nwith a somewhat similar argument. \"Whoever,\" he says,\n\"comprehends a certain universal nature, comprehends, at the same\ntime, the manner according to which it may be imitated. But God,\ncomprehending himself, comprehends the universal nature of being;\nconsequently he comprehends also the manner according to which it\nmay be imitated.\" Now, the possibility of finite substance is a\nsimilitude of the universal being. Hence, in God's intelligence\nresides the whole series of possible finite substances.\n\nThird proposition: There exists a supreme activity which may\ncause finite substances to exist in a subjective state. For St.\nThomas argues that the more perfect is a principle of action, the\nmore its action can extend to a greater number and more distant\nthings. As for instance, if a fire be weak, it can heat only\nthings which are near it; if strong, it can reach distant things.\nNow, a pure act, which is in God, is more perfect than an act\nmixed of potentiality, as it is in us.\n{260}\nIf therefore by the act which is in us we can not only produce\nimmanent acts, as for instance, to think and to will, but also\nexterior acts by which we effect something; with much greater\nreason can God, by the fact of his being actuality itself, not\nonly exercise intelligence and will, but also produce effects\noutside himself and thus be the cause of being. [Footnote 55] The\ngreat philosopher Gerdil, appropriating this reason of St.\nThomas, develops it thus: \"In ourselves, and in particular\nbeings, we find a certain activity; therefore activity is a\nreality which belongs to the _being_ or the _infinite_.\nThe effect of activity when the agent applies it to the patient,\nconsists in causing a mutation of state. The intensity of acts,\ndepending on intelligence, has a force to introduce a mutation of\nstate in the corporal movements. This may be seen in the real\nthough hidden connection of which we are conscious to ourselves,\nbetween the intensity of our desires and the effect of the\nmovements which are excited in the body; and better still, in\ncertain phenomena which sometimes occur, though rarely, when the\nimagination, apprehending something vividly and forcibly,\nproduces a mutation of state in the body which corresponds\nsomewhat with the apprehension of the imagination. [Footnote 56]\n\n    [Footnote 55: C. G. lib. ii. ch. 6.]\n\n    [Footnote 56: An imminent danger of being burned to death,\n    vividly apprehended, has sometimes entirely cured persons\n    altogether paralyzed and unable to move.]\n\nNow this change in the body, corresponding to what takes place in\nthe fancy, that is, in the objective and intelligible state,\nshows that there exists a certain, though hidden, force and\nenergy by which, from what exists in an intelligible state, may\nbe introduced a mutation in the corresponding state of subjective\nexistence. Therefore the efficacy of the supreme intelligence,\nbeing the greatest and the highest, in force of the supreme\nintensity of being which resides in it, may not only effect a\nchange conformable to a relative, intelligible state in things\nalready existing, but also cause them to pass altogether from the\nintelligible state into the state of existence. And, assuredly,\nif the finite intensity of desire and of imagination may produce\nan effort of corporal movement, the supreme intensity of the\nInfinite Being may, certainly, produce a substantial, existing\nbeing; since the supreme intensity of the Being bears infinitely\ngreater proportion to the existence of a thing, than the\nintensity of desire does in relation to a corporal movement. The\nterm, therefore, of the supreme activity, is to effect, outside\nof itself, the existence of things which had only an intelligible\nand objective being in itself.\" [Footnote 57]\n\n    [Footnote 57: Gerdil, _Del Senso Morale_.]\n\nIt is well to remark here, that the supreme activity is not by\nany means determined necessarily to create; for the activity may\nbe determined to a necessary operation, in that case only when\nthe agent is actually applied to the subject capable of receiving\na change of state. But creation is not the result of the\napplication of the supreme activity to a subject coexisting with\nitself; because nothing coexists originally with the supreme\nactivity. Therefore creation cannot be an action determined by\nany necessity, but must depend only upon the energy or will of\nthe supreme intelligence in which the highest activity dwells.\nHence it follows, that creation, as to its term, is not\nnecessary, either because there is any principle in God impelling\nhim necessarily to create, as we have seen, or because there is\nany principle outside of God forcing him to create; because\noutside of the supreme activity nothing exists.\n{261}\nWhat is necessary about the creation of finite substances, is\ntheir intelligible and objective state, or their intrinsic\npossibility. For everything which does not imply any repugnance\nby the principle of contradiction, is intrinsically possible and\nintelligible. That which is intrinsically possible is\nessentially, necessarily, and eternally so. Consequently, the\nobjective state of finite substances is necessarily so.\n\nPantheists, confounding the objective and intelligible state of\nthe cosmos with its state of subjective existence; in other\nwords, identifying the ideal with the real, the ideological with\nthe ontological, have been led to admit the necessity of\ncreation. This is particularly remarked in the systems of\nSchelling and Hegel; the one admitting, as first principle, the\nabsolute identity of all things; the other identifying the\n_idea_ with _being_. Both confounded the objective and\nintelligible state of the cosmos with its state of subjective\nexistence; and once the two are identified, it follows that, as\nthe one, which is the intelligible, is necessary, eternal, and\nabsolute, the other, the subjective, becomes also necessary and\neternal; and hence the necessity of creation. Catholicity, on the\ncontrary, carefully distinguishing between the ideal and the\nreal, the objective and the subjective, and admitting the\nnecessity and eternity of the first, because everything\nintelligible necessarily and eternally resides in the supreme\nintelligence, denies the necessity of the second, because of that\nvery intelligible state which it admits to be necessarily and\neternally so.\n\nFor a finite substance is not, and cannot be conceived as\npossible or intelligible, except it is supposed to be contingent\nor indifferent in itself to be or not to be, not having in itself\nthe reason of its existence. This is the only condition according\nto which finite substances can be possible. Were it otherwise,\nwere a finite substance supposed to be necessary, it would be\nself-existent, and have in itself the reason of its existence;\nand in that case it would no longer be finite, but infinite. To\nsuppose, therefore, a finite substance not contingent is to\nsuppose it necessary, is to suppose a self-existing finite\nsubstance, or, in other words, an infinite finite substance,\nwhich is absurd, and, therefore, unintelligible and impossible.\n\nThe intelligibility, therefore, or objective state of finite\nsubstances, which is necessary, eternal, and absolute itself,\nrequires the contingency of their existence in a subjective\nstate; and, consequently, their contingency is necessary because\ntheir intelligibility is necessary; and their creation is free,\nbecause whatever is indifferent in itself to be or not to be,\nabsolutely depends, as to its existence, upon the will of the\nsupreme intelligence.\n\nAn objection is here raised by pantheists impugning the\npossibility of the creative act. It is as follows: Given the full\ncause, the effect exists. Now, the creative act, the full cause\nof creation, is eternal; therefore, its effect must exist\neternally. But, an eternal effect is a contradiction in terms;\nbecause it means a thing created and uncreated at the same time.\nTherefore, creation is impossible in the Catholic sense, and can\nbe nothing more than the eternal development and unfolding of the\ndivine substance. Given the cause, the effect exists. Such an\neffect, and in such a manner as the cause is naturally calculated\nto produce, it is granted; such an effect and in such a manner as\nthe cause naturally is not intended to produce, it is denied.\n{262}\nNow, what is the cause of creation but the will of God? And how\ndoes the will naturally act, except by a free determination, and\nin the manner according to which it determines itself?\nConsequently, creation being an effect of the will of God, it\nwill follow just when and how the will of God has determined it\nshall. Hence the will of God being eternal, it does not follow\nthat the effect should be eternal also. In other words, given the\nfull cause, the effect exists when the cause is impelled to act\nby a necessary intrinsic movement. But when the cause is free,\nand perfectly master of its own action and energy, the cause\ngiven is not a sufficient element for the existence of the\neffect, but, two elements are required, the cause and its\ndetermination, and the free conditions which the cause has\nattached to its determination. Nor does this imply any change in\nthe action of God when creation actually takes place. For that\nsame act which determines itself from eternity to create, and to\ncause substances and time, the measure of their duration,\ncontinues immutable until the creation actually takes place; and\nthe creation is not an effect of a new act, but of that same\nimmutable and eternal determination of God.\n\nWe conclude, finite substances are intrinsically possible; they\nhave an intelligible and objective state in the infinite\nintelligence of God. God's infinite activity may cause them to\nexist in a subjective state conformable to their intelligible\nmode of existence. Therefore, creation in the Catholic sense is\npossible.\n\nBefore we pass to the next question, we must draw some\ncorollaries.\n\nFirst. God can act outside himself, since he can create finite\nsubstances with all the properties and faculties which are\nnecessary elements of their essence, and naturally and\nnecessarily spring from it.\n\nSecond. The creative act implies two secondary moments; one,\ncalled preservation, and the other, concurrence. Hence, if God\ndoes create, he must necessarily preserve his effects, and concur\nin the development of their activity. Preservation implies the\nimmanence of the creative act, or the continuation of the\ncreative act of God, maintaining finite substances in their\nexistence. The necessity of this movement is proved by the\nfollowing reason:\n\nEvery finite being is, in force of its nature, indifferent to be\nor not to be; that is, every finite being contains no intrinsic\nreason necessarily requiring its existence. Hence, the reason of\nits existence lies in an exterior agent or cause. But the finite\nbeing once existing, does not change its nature, but\nintrinsically continues to be contingent, that is, indifferent to\nbe or not to be. Therefore, the reason of the continuation of its\nexistence cannot be found in its intrinsic nature, but in an\nexterior agent; that is, in the action of the Creator. So long,\ntherefore, as the action of God continues to determine the\nintrinsic indifference of contingent being to be or not to be, so\nlong does the finite exist. In the supposition of the act\nceasing, the finite would simultaneously cease to be.\n\nNor does this argument impugn the _substance_ of finite\nbeings. For, as we have seen, substance is that which exists\nreally, though the reason of its existence lie in the creative\nact; whereas, what we deny here in the argument is the\ncontinuation of existence by an intrinsic reason, which would\nchange the essence of the finite, and, from contingent, render it\nnecessary.\n\n{263}\n\nThe second moment of the creative act is concurrence. Finite\nsubstance is a being in the way of development; a being capable\nof modification. Now, no being can modify itself, can produce a\nmodification of which it is itself the subject, without the aid\nof another being who is pure actuality. Therefore, finite\nsubstances cannot modify themselves without the aid of God. The\naction of God aiding finite substances to develop themselves, is\ncalled concurrence. We have already proved, in the second\narticle, the principle upon which this moment of the action of\nGod is founded. We shall here add another argument. A finite\nsubstance is a being in the way of development; a being in\npotency of modification; and when the modification takes place,\nit passes from the power or potency to the act. Now, no being can\npass from the power to the act except by the aid of being already\nin act. Consequently, finite substances cannot modify themselves\nexcept by the aid of being already in act. Nor can it be supposed\nthat finite substances can be at the same time in potency and in\nact with regard to the same modification; for this would be a\ncontradiction in terms. It follows, then, that having power of\nbeing modified, they cannot pass from the power to the movement\nwithout the help of another being already in act. This cannot be\na being which may itself be in power and in act, for then it\nwould itself require aid. It follows, therefore, that this being,\naiding finite substances to modify themselves, must be one which\nis pure actuality, that is, God.\n\nThird corollary: From all we have said follows, also, the\npossibility of God acting upon his creatures by a new moment of\nhis action, and putting in them new forces higher than those\nforces which naturally spring from their essence, nor due to them\neither as natural properties, attributes or faculties. For, if\nGod can act outside himself, and effect finite substances\ndistinct from him; substances endowed with all the essential\nattributes and faculties springing from their nature; if he can\ncontinue to maintain them in existence, and aid them in their\nnatural development, we see no contradiction in supposing that he\nmay, if he choose, grant his creatures other forces superior\naltogether to their natural forces, and, consequently, not due to\nthem as properties or attributes of their nature.\n\nFor the contradiction could not exist either on the part of God\nor on the part of the creature. Not in the former, because God's\naction being infinite, may give rise to an infinity of effects,\none higher and more sublime, in the hierarchy of beings, than the\nother. Not in the latter, because the capacity of the creature is\nindefinite. It may receive an indefinite growth and development,\nand never reach a point beyond which it could not go. Therefore,\nthe supposition we have made does not imply any repugnance either\nin God or in the finite, the two terms of the question. Now, that\nwhich involves no repugnance is possible. It is possible,\ntherefore, that God may act upon his creatures by a moment of his\naction distinct from the creative moment, and put in them forces\nhigher than their natural forces, and not due to them as any\nessential element or faculty.\n\nThe other questions in the next article.\n\n-------\n\n{264}\n\n           Aubrey de Vere in America.\n          [Footnote 58]\n\n    [Footnote 58:\n    _Irish Odes and Other Poems_.\n    By Aubrey De Vere.\n    New York: The Catholic Publication Society,\n    126 Nassau street. 1869.]\n\nThe first if not the strongest attraction this book will have for\nAmerican curiosity is not in its contents, but in their\nselection. The poems presented are culled from a much greater\nnumber, especially and expressly for the American market, and the\nchoice interests us vividly as indicating an English author's\ndeliberate _business_ opinion of that market. This edition\nhas not been prepared without thought: Mr. De Vere does not often\ndo anything without thought. Moreover, it has been, if we are not\nmisinformed, somewhat unusually long in press, and several of the\npoems already published have been actually revised and improved\non by their painstaking author to the very last copy, and differ\nin quite a number of minutiae from their former selves. Hence\nAmericans must be all the more surprised at the singular estimate\nof taste and the singular conception of their character, which\nappear to underlie this book. We cannot help thinking--nay, we\ncannot help seeing--that Mr. De Vere has not selected so well as\nhe would have done if he had ever lived in America, or, if he had\nhad intelligent, practical, and experienced American advice.\nThere was only one way to do this thing rightly. It was to\nconsider either what we, the Americans, ought to like the best,\nor what we would like the best; to weigh the facts well, to\nsettle on some definite plan or theory of selection, and carry\nthis out with some little sternness to the end, only leaving the\npath for the very choicest flowers. We cannot trace any\nstrictness of system in this book: it has neither spinal column\nnor spinal cord, but is made up of miscellaneous\nsamples--_disjecta membra poetae_. Sometimes we imagine it\nto be a compromise of plans, and sometimes a random jumble. Too\nmany of the best poems we miss, and some of the author's most\ntaking _lines_ of thought stated nearly, and some totally\nunrepresented. On the other hand, some mediocre pieces abound as\nto which we seek but cannot find an extrinsic cause for their\nreproduction. Our own suggestion to Mr. De Vere would have been\nto make _general interest_ his prime criterion in choosing.\nWe are a very heterogeneous nation, and it is not every topic\nthat can unite our various tastes. For any wide or national\nsuccess here, a book must have at least a kernel of thought or\nsentiment which shall appeal directly to almost the only thing we\nhave in common here--our humanity. Next to such poems--and Mr. De\nVere has written not a few--we should have taken the best\nexpressed; the boldest or most beautiful. This indeed is but a\nbranch corollary of the other principle, because we all love fine\nexpressions of ideas. On these two principles we think we could\nhave made up from the copies of Mr. De Vere's poetry one of the\nmost attractive books of the year. We think he has missed this in\nseveral ways. To begin with, we cannot see anywhere that he ever\nonce grasped the idea of addressing himself to the whole American\npeople. There is pabulum enough for Boston, and for devout\nCatholics everywhere; but where is the intelligence of Georgia,\nor California, or Ohio in his estimates for the popularity of\nthis volume?\n{265}\nSome of the poems err in the direction of abstruseness, many in\nbeing founded on obscure facts; a few embody the gross fault of\nbeing occasional pieces--the flattest and most surely flat of all\npossible forms of dulness. That Mr. De Vere could forget himself\nto this last degree is to us proof positive that he never thought\nof pleasing the whole American reading community.\n\nWe have heard this praised as sagacity, since this work's\nappearance, on the ground that, as an outspoken Catholic and\nIrishman, he could never have succeeded. To this the American\nobserver says, \"_Distinguo_.\" Mr. De Vere is too elevated\nand refined a thinker to be a poet of the people anywhere; but it\nis, if anything, his religion, not his Celtic outbursts, that\nstand in his way here. We are--heaven knows with good\nreason--tolerably well past literary prejudices against\nforeigners. A foreign author, having no friends nor enemies, no\nclique nor counter-clique among the critics here, will have a\nfair trial by American public opinion always, on the one\ncondition that he do not stand upon his being a foreigner and\ninsist on cramming pet theories down our throats.\n\nBut we do question whether there may not be a measure of truth in\nthe suggestion that Mr. De Vere, here as everywhere, is too\nconspicuously Catholic for popularity. We see little of sectarian\nprejudice among our best non-Catholic men; perhaps because so\nmany of them are freethinkers or indifferentists in religion. But\nProtestant prejudice controls some otherwise first-class\ncriticism, much more of lower grade, and very many ordinary\nreaders and buyers of books. Perhaps Mr. De Vere is too\npronounced for these--too full and too proud of his faith. Many a\nbigoted Protestant who can just barely make up his mind to hear a\nman out in spite of his being a \"Romish idolater,\" etc., etc.,\nlays down a book the instant he suspects--what Protestantism is\nalways peculiarly quick to suspect--propagandism. Such men might\nknow that if proselyte-making were Mr. De Vere's aim, his\nobviously shrewder plan would have been, first to gain influence\nand popularity by neutral poems, and then, entrenched on the\nvantage-ground of public favor, to bombard the community with his\nexplosive Catholic notions to some purpose. But this would be far\ntoo much thinking for a bigoted man to go to the trouble of,\nespecially when it is so much cheaper, as well as more sweet to\nthe deacons and elders, to be unjust and slurring. So we fear\nthat many Protestant organs of opinion will reject the poetry for\nthe religion, and so do Mr. De Vere's book harm as an American\nventure so far as the non-Catholics are concerned.\n\nOn the other hand we do believe that his Irish pieces would be\nhis best hold on public favor; for he certainly is one of the\nbest-informed men in Irish history of all the late writers; and\nif there is one thing an American admires more than another--in\nliterature or anything else--it is a man that knows what he is\ntalking about.\n\nBut this is all of the dead past now; the book is upon us. We go\non to this question--since Mr. De Vere did not aim to please us\nall, what was his aim? He has not told us in the natural\nplace--the preface--and we can only ask the reader to decide for\nhimself whether it is, as we said, compromise or jumble. The\nselection of the Irish pieces is infinitely the worst of all. The\nbest, because the most truly Irish, of these, are in Inisfail.\n{266}\nThere are very many Irishmen indeed who would not appreciate the\nsonnet to Sarsfield and Clare, and who could make neither head\nnor tail of \"The Building of the Cottage;\" but take up Inisfail\nand read out \"The Malison,\" or \"The Bier that Conquered,\" or the\n\"Dirge of Rory O'More,\" to any Irish audience, and see if they\nunderstand it or not!\n\nThere lay one main element of strength of a book like this; and\nyet we do not recall a single piece from \"Inisfail\" in the entire\ncollection! It is inconceivable to us except upon the very\nwell-known and extremely ill-understood principle that an author\nalways differs with his readers, and generally with posterity, as\nto what is his best. In our own humble opinion, for instance,\n\"The Bard Ethell\" or \"The Phantom Funeral,\" as historical\npictures, or the \"Parvuli Ejus\" or \"Semper Eadem\" as pure poetry,\nis singly worth the whole fifty pages of Irish Odes, sonnets, and\ninterludes that begin this new volume: and we doubt as little\nthat Mr. De Vere would smile in benign derision at our notion. So\nwe will not dispute about tastes, and simply say that we do not\nunderstand the classification of the main body of the Irish\npieces. Especially is this hard to discover the reason for\nomitting Inisfail in the light of the following passage from the\npreface: \"I cannot but wish that my poetry, much of which\nillustrates their history and religion, should reach those Irish\n'of the dispersion,' in that land which has extended to them its\nhospitality. Whoever loves that people must follow it in its\nwanderings with an earnest desire that it may retain with\nvigilant fidelity, and be valued for retaining, those among its\ncharacteristics which most belong to the Ireland of history and\nreligion.\"\n\nThe remainder of the selected poems are purely miscellaneous, and\nare chiefly remarkable to us as again showing how curiously\nauthors estimate themselves. We do indeed meet with much of the\nbest there is; but we miss, as we have said, very much more. And\nhaving, as we have, a personal intimacy with many of Mr. De\nVere's poems, we feel really resentful to see our favorites\nslighted and supplanted by others which--as it seems to us, be it\nremembered--no one could ever like half so well.\n\nAfter all, Mr. De Vere may be right and we wrong; but we feel so\ninterested in his success, and so earnestly desirous of\nrecognition for his high abilities, that--we do wish he had done\nit our way!\n\nThe first sixty pages of the present volume are composed mainly\nof a sort of rosary of ten odes, all strung on Ireland and the\nIrish. Now, odes we disbelieve in generally. We think they\ncontain more commonplace which we imagine we admire, and which we\ndon't and can't admire, than any other variety of composition in\nEnglish literature. They are the supremely fit form of a few\npeculiar orders of thought. The cause of Ireland is not one of\nthese, and Mr. De Vere has tried hard and failed, to prove the\ncontrary. Irish griefs are too human, Irish sympathies too\nheartfelt, to be reached by this road in the clouds. One good\nballad or slogan is worth practically a million odes. As Ode I.\nin this very series beautifully puts it,\n\n  \"Like severed locks that keep their light,\n     When all the stately frame is dust,\n   A nation's songs preserve from blight\n     A nation's name, their sacred trust.\n   Temple and pyramid eterne\n     May memorize her deeds of power;\n   But only from her songs we learn\n     How throbbed her life-blood hour by hour.\"\n\n{267}\n\nBut, waiving their final cause, three of the odes are good, the\nfirst two, and the seventh--the best of all--which, as also the\nninth, is republished from the book of 1861. The close of this is\nsingularly touching and true, and well worth recalling even to\nmany who must have admired it before.\n\n  \"I come, the breath of sighs to breathe,\n     Yet add not unto sighing;\n   To kneel on graves, yet drop no wreath\n     On those in darkness lying.\n   Sleep, chaste and true, a little while,\n     The Saviour's flock and Mary's,\n   And guard their reliques well, O Isle,\n     _Thou chief of reliquaries!_\n\n  \"Blessed are they that claim no part\n     In this world's pomp and laughter:\n   Bless\u00e8d the pure; the meek of heart\n     Blest here; more blest hereafter.\n  'Blessed the mourners.' Earthly goods\n     Are woes, the master preaches:\n   Embrace thy sad beatitudes,\n     And recognize thy riches!\n\n  \"And if, of every land the guest,\n     Thine exile back returning\n   Finds still one land unlike the rest,\n     Discrowned, disgraced, and mourning,\n   Give thanks! Thy flowers, to yonder skies\n     Transferred, pure airs are tasting;\n   And, stone by stone, thy temples rise\n     In regions everlasting.\"\n\n  \"Sleep well, unsung by idle rhymes,\n     Ye sufferers late and lowly;\n   Ye saints and seers of earlier times,\n     Sleep well in cloisters holy!\n   Above your bed the bramble bends,\n     The yew tree and the alder:\n   Sleep well, O fathers and O friends!\n     And in your silence moulder!\"\n\nScattered about between these odes we find a miscellany of minor\npieces whose function seems to be that of interludes or thin\npartitions. Of these _hors-d'oeuvres_ some are new, some\nold; the majority, for Mr. De Vere, commonplace. He cannot write\na page without hitting on some happy phrase or just thought, but\nthere is a little more than this to be said of almost all. The\nbest is this sonnet which we do not remember having seen before:\n\n     \"The Ecclesiastical Titles Act.\n\n  \"The statesmen of this day I deem a tribe\n   That dwarf-like strut, a pageant on a stage\n   Theirs but in pomp and outward equipage.\n   Ruled inly by the herd, or hireling scribe.\n   They have this skill, the dreaded Power to bribe:\n   This courage, war upon the weak to wage:\n   To turn from self a Nation's ignorant rage:\n   To unstaunch old wounds with edict or with jibe.\n   Ireland! the unwise one saw thee in the dust,\n   Crowned with eclipse, and garmented with night,\n   And in his heart he said,'For her no day!'\n   But thou long since hadst placed in God thy trust,\n   And knew'st that in the under-world, all light,\n   Thy sun moved eastward. Watch! that East grows gray!\"\n\nWe have also a long series of selections from the entire body of\nour author's published works. Here we are glad to welcome to\nAmerica many of his best poems. The sonnets especially are as a\nrule well chosen. We miss many a lovely one, but we should miss\nthese that are before us just as much. Mr. De Vere has also with\nexcellent judgment honored with a place in this book his three\ncharming idylls, \"Glauc\u00e8,\" \"Ione\" and \"Lycius\"--among his very\nfinest pieces of word-painting, and which have more of the old\nclassic mode of expression than any modern poems in our language\nsave Landor's, and perhaps Tennyson's \"OEnone.\" We wonder, by the\nway, why a man who could write these idylls has never given us\nany classical translations. We are sure they would be remarkably\ngood. The long poem of \"The Sisters\" is also reprinted in full.\nIt is good, and we will not say that it is not a good piece here;\nbut on reading it over, the discussion and description which\nframe the picture seem to us better than the picture itself.\nIndeed, we have begun to suspect more and more that Mr. De Vere's\nstrength lies in his descriptive powers. It might surprise many\nother readers of his, as much as it did us, to examine for\nthemselves and discover how many of their most admired passages\nare portraits. In mere verbal landscape-painting he stands very\nhigh. His very earliest books abound in felicities of this sort,\nand the _May Carols_ are fairly replete with them, and in\nfact contain a whole little picture gallery in verse.\n{268}\nAnd from the \"Autumnal Ode--one of the very latest in his latest\nbook [Footnote 59] --we select one of many passages which amply\nprove that Mr. De Vere's hand has not forgotten her cunning:\n\n  No more from full-leaved woods that music swells\n    Which in the summer filled the satiate ear:\n  A fostering sweetness still from bosky dells\n    Murmurs; but I can hear\n  A harsher sound when down, at intervals,\n  The dry leaf rattling falls.\n  Dark as those spots which herald swift disease,\n  The death-blot marks for death the leaf yet firm.\n  Beside the leaf down-trodden trails the worm.\n  In forest depths the haggard, whitening grass\n  Repines at youth departed. Half-stripped trees\n    Reveal, as one who says,'Thou too must pass,'\n  Plainlier each day their quaint anatomies.\n  Yon poplar grove is troubled! Bright and bold\n  Babbled his cold leaves in the July breeze\n  As though above our heads a runnel rolled.\n    His mirth is o'er; subdued by old October,\n    He counts his lessening wealth, and, sadly sober,\n  Tinkles his minute tablets of wan gold.\"\n\n    [Footnote 59: Dated in October, 1867.]\n\nThis is very vivid, and the closing fancy extremely graceful and\npleasing. Poplars, by the way, seem to be a favorite theme of our\nauthor. Every one familiar with his poems will recall another\nbeautiful description in his idyll of \"Glauc\u00e8,\" in which occur\nthese lines:\n\n                     \"How indolently\n  The tops of those pale poplars bend and sway\n  Over the violet-braided river brim.\"\n\nAnd there are other instances also.\n\nBut it is waste of argument to go on giving illustrations of Mr.\nDe Vere's power to depict the external world; it is like proving\nAnacreon a love-poet. What we wish to call attention to is the\nnature, not the existence, of his talent for description. It\nseems to us that, throughout his works, the faculty of\ndelineation is not the ordinary sensuous susceptibility of poets,\nbut rather a clear, tender truthfulness in reproducing\nimpressions alike of thought and sense. The somewhat unusual\nresult from which we deduce this opinion is, that he describes\nquite as happily in the moral order as the physical. This has not\nbeen adequately noticed by his critics, His beautiful\n_genre_ pictures appear to have absorbed almost all of the\npublic attention. We think this is more than their due. Indeed,\nwhenever he sets out to paint traits, Mr. De Vere is quite as\nsure to make a hit as in his landscape sketches. This volume\nchances to afford us one striking set of examples of this. There\nare in it three several summaries of the characteristics of\ndifferent nations. One--the remarkable epitome of England in the\nsonnets on colonization--has been published in this magazine\nbefore, (Vol. iv. No. 19, p. 77.) The next we take from the\n\"Farewell to Naples,\" (p. 70.) We think it will bear quoting,\nthough it has been in print since 1855, and was written as long\nago as 1844.\n\n  'From her whom genius never yet inspired,\n   Nor virtue raised, nor pulse heroic fired;\n   From her who, in the grand historic page,\n   Maintains one barren blank from age to age;\n   From her, with insect life and insect buzz,\n   Who, evermore unresting, nothing does;\n   From her who, with the future and the past\n   No commerce holds, no structure rears to last;\n   From streets where spies and jesters, side by side,\n   Range the rank markets, and their gains divide;\n   Where faith in art, and art in sense is lost,\n   And toys and gewgaws form a nation's boast;\n   Where Passion, from Affection's bond cut loose,\n   Revels in orgies of its own abuse;\n   And Appetite, from Passion's portals thrust,\n   Creeps on its belly to its grave in dust;\n   Where Vice her mask disdains, where Fraud is loud,\n   And naught but Wisdom dumb and Justice cowed;\n   Lastly, from her who, planted here unawed,\n   'Mid heaven-topped hills, and waters bright and broad,\n   From these but nerves more swift to err hath gained,\n   And the dread stamp of sanctities profaned,\n   And gilt not less with ruin, lives to show\n   That worse than wasted weal is wasted woe--\n   We part, forth issuing through her closing gate\n   With unreverting faces not ingrate.\"\n\nIs this not stingingly true? If only the critics found it in\nByron, would it not be inevitable in all the select readers and\nspeakers, and rampant in the \"Notes on France,\" \"Letters from\nItaly,\" \"Thoughts while Abroad,\" etc., which ministers are so\nsure to write, and which we hope congregations buy?\n\n{269}\n\nThe other is a still stronger, and, coming from Mr. De Vere, a\nvery bold as well as trenchant portraiture--no less than the\nEnglish idea of Ireland. True, Mr. De Vere does not even pretend\nto agree with it, but that, an Irishman himself, and a devoted\npatriot, he can see her so exactly as others see her, makes it\nwonderfully good, and raises what would otherwise have been a\nmere success of exact expression, to the rank of a high\nimaginative effort.\n\n  \"How strange a race, more apt to fly than walk;\n   Soaring yet slight; missing the good things round them,\n   Yet ever out of ashes raking gems;\n   In instincts loyal, yet respecting law\n   Far less than usage: changeful yet unchanged:\n   Timid yet enterprising: frank yet secret:\n   Untruthful oft in speech, yet living truth,\n   And truth in things divine to life preferring:\n   Scarce men; yet possible angels!--'Isle of Saints!'\n   Such doubtless was your land--again it might be--\n   Strong, prosperous, manly never! ye are Greeks\n   In intellect, and Hebrews in the soul:\n   The solid Roman heart, the corporate strength\n   Is England's dower!\"\n\nWe cannot devise an addition that could complete this picture of\nthe Sassenach's view of the Gael. It is to the life--the\n\"absolute exemplar of the time.\" Only we fear that Mr. De Vere\nhas furnished those who do not particularly love his country with\nrather an ugly citation against her, and Irishmen may perhaps\ncomplain of him for giving to such a powerful delineation the\nsanction of an Irish name. If so, it will be the highest\ncompliment in the world; yet it has ever been a dangerous gift to\nbe able to see both sides of the shield.\n\nWe have only suggested our belief, not asserted it as a fact,\nthat Mr. De Vere's fullest power is in description; but the idea\ngrows on us every year, and we wish he would set the question\nfinally at rest in some future work. Let him for once in his life\nmake this great gift of his the essential, instead of the\nincident, and write something purely descriptive.\n\nThere is another thing--rather a curious thing, perhaps--that we\nnote in the choice of the old poems. In a former review, some\nlittle time since, we took occasion to speak of the\nchameleon-like way in which Mr. De Vere's style--always in its\nessence his own--unconsciously reflects his reading of certain of\nour best authors. There are poems that recall Shakespeare, and\nWordsworth, and Landor, and Tennyson, and Shelley. But there are\nalso others--many of them among his best--which are all himself.\nConsciously or unconsciously, Mr. De Vere has come back to these\nat the last, and they constitute a notable majority of those he\nhas picked out for this volume. The ode on the ascent of the\nApennines, the \"Wanderer's Musings at Rome,\" the \"Lines written\nunder Delphi,\" the beautiful \"Year of Sorrow,\" \"The Irish Gael\n(_alias_ Irish Celt) to the Irish Norman\"--all these are of\nthis class. Perhaps the poet has come to love the best those of\nhis poems which hold the purest solution of his own nature, or\nperhaps it may be mere chance; only certain it is that the most\ncharacteristic of his pieces predominate very largely throughout.\n\nWe cannot, however, pass on to the new poems without expressing\nour profound disrespect for one selection in this volume. It is\nnotorious that, as we hinted before, authors are poor judges of\nthe relative excellence of their own works. To this rule there\nare, apparently, no exceptions. Let us take one rankling example.\nNo lover of Tennyson but groans inwardly with disgust over that\ninsane hoot called \"The Owl,\" with its noble description of the\nvery witching hour of night:\n\n  \"_When cats run home_, and night is come,\"\n\nand the impotent beauty of the poet's ejaculation:\n\n  \"I would mock thy chant (!) anew,\n     But I cannot mimic it.\n   Not a whit of thy tuwhoo,\n     Thee to woo to thy tuwhit,\" etc., etc.\n\n--human nature can stand no more of it.\n\n{270}\n\nWe had long loved to believe that this was a sceptred hermit of\nan example, wrapped in the solitude of its own unapproachable\nfatuity. It has gone blinking and tu-whooing through edition\nafter edition, with the muffy solemnity characteristic of the\neminent fowl, its subject. But Mr. De Vere has paralleled it at\nlast with a certain \"Song\" which we find in this volume. On the\n4th of September, 1843, in a preface to his first book of verses,\n[Footnote 60] he tells us that this poem was written considerably\nearlier than 1840.\n\n    [Footnote 60: _The Search after Proserpine_. Oxford and\n    London. 1855.]\n\nThree years ago, we remember observing and laughing at it, and\nthinking whether it would not be well to speak of it as the one\nblemish in all his works, on his elsewhere perfect grammar.\nDeeming it a mere Homeric dormitation, we passed it by. And now,\nafter thirty years face to face with it, comes Mr. De Vere, at\nlast, and drags from utter and most laudable oblivion this\nhapless\n\n            \"SONG.\n\n  \"He found me sitting among flowers,\n     My mother's, and my own;\n   Whiling away too happy hours\n     With songs of doleful tone.\n\n  \"My sister came, and laid her book\n     Upon my lap: and he,\n   He too into the page would look,\n     And asked no leave of me.\n\n  \"The little frightened creature laid\n     Her face upon my knee--\n  '_You_ teach your sister, pretty maid;\n     And I would fain teach _thee_.'\n\n  \"He taught me joy more blest, more brief\n     Than that mild vernal weather:\n   He taught me love; he taught me grief:\n     He taught me both together.\n\n  \"Give me a sun-warmed nook to cry in!\n     And a wall-flower's perfume--\n   A nook to cry in, and to die in,\n     'Mid the ruin's gloom.\"\n\nIf Mr. De Vere had only attended in 1840 to the very reasonable\nrequest of the young person in the last verse, we should have\nbeen spared one of the very silliest little things in the English\nlanguage. And yet in thus haling it from the\n\n  \"nook to sigh in and to die in\n    'Mid the ruin's gloom,\"\n\nwhere public opinion had long since left it in peace, he has done\ngood. It is instructive to his admirers to see for themselves how\nvery badly he could write before the year 1840. If intended as a\npublic penance of this nature, it is perfect of its kind, and the\nhumility of it will rejoice all Christian souls, excepting,\nperhaps, the indignant shade of Lindley Murray.\n\nNot far behind this in inanity is the \"Fall of Rora,\" all the\ngood part of which was published years ago, and all the bad part\nof which is raked up and added for this edition. But from this to\nthe end of the book are new poems of a very different order. To\nbegin with, we have a number of miscellaneous sonnets. They are\nnone of them poor, but the first that particularly arrests\nattention, by its fine harmony and happy illustration, is\n\n             \"Kirkstall Abbey.\n\n  \"Roll on by tower and arch, autumnal river;\n   And ere about thy dusk yet gleaming tide\n   The phantom of dead Day hath ceased to glide,\n   Whisper it to the reeds that round thee quiver:\n   Yea, whisper to those ivy bowers that shiver\n   Hard by on gusty choir and cloister wide,\n   My bubbles break: my weed-flowers seaward slide:\n   My freshness and my mission last for ever!'\n   Young moon from leaden tomb of cloud that soarest,\n   And whitenest those hoar elm-trees, wrecks forlorn\n   Of olden Airedale's hermit-haunted forest,\n   Speak thus,'I died; and lo, I am reborn!'\n   Blind, patient pile, sleep on in radiance! Truth\n   Dies not: and faith, that died, shall rise in endless youth.\"\n\nThe arrangement of the double rhymes, which gives the peculiar,\nrich rhythm, is a very unusual one with these sonnets. In the\nwhole two hundred and fifty before this, we only recall one or\ntwo other instances, notable among which is the famous one\nbeginning,\n\n  \"Flowers I would bring, if flowers could make thee fairer,\"\n\nand the effect is almost always excellent.\n\n{271}\n\nOn the heels of this treads another (of the same rhythm also) too\ngood to pass by:\n\n          \"Unspiritual Civilization.\n\n  \"We have been piping, Lord; we have been singing!\n   Five hundred years have passed o'er lawn and lea\n   Marked by the blowing bud and falling tree,\n   While all the ways with melody were ringing:\n   In tented lists, high-stationed and flower-flinging\n   Beauty looked down on conquering chivalry;\n   Science made wise the nations; Laws made free;\n   Art, like an angel ever onward winging,\n   Brightened the world. But O great Lord and Father!\n   Have these, thy bounties, drawn to thee man's race\n   That stood so far aloof? Have they not rather\n   His soul subjected? with a blind embrace\n   Gulfed it in sense? Prime blessings changed to curse\n   Twixt God and man can set God's universe.\"\n\nBetter, perhaps, than either of these, as combining the best\nqualities of both, is the one on\n\n             \"Common Life.\n\n  \"Onward between two mountain warders lies\n   The field that man must till. Upon the right,\n   Church-thronged, with summit hid by its own height,\n   Swells the wide range of the theologies:\n   Upon the left the hills of science rise\n   Lustrous but cold: nor flower is there, nor blight:\n   Between those ranges twain through shade and light\n   Winds the low vale wherein the meek and wise\n   Repose. The knowledge that excludes not doubt\n   Is there; the arts that beautify man's life:\n   There rings the choral psalm, the civic shout,\n   The genial revel, and the manly strife:\n   There by the bridal rose the cypress waves:\n   And there the all-blest sunshine softest falls on graves.\"\n\nThis is, we think, one of the author's very best. It evolves a\nhappy allegory very neatly with a happy description, to express a\nthought too large, it is true, for development in such brief\nspace, but highly suggestive. The question, how far wisdom lies\nin action, may be raised in a sonnet, and remain unsettled by a\nthousand treatises.\n\nSeveral versions from Petrarch's sonnets are admirable, and serve\nto confirm our already expressed opinion that Mr. De Vere could\ngive us excellent translations.\n\nPerhaps, however, readers of our author will be most interested\nby the following, which is in an altogether different vein from\nthe general run of these sonnets, and indeed is perhaps rather a\ncurious subject for a sonnet to be made about at all. Still there\nis no accounting for these poets. Here it is, with all its\noddities upon its head:\n\n              \"A Warning.\n\n  \"Why, if he loves you, lady, doth he hide\n   His love? So humble is he that his heart\n   Exults not in some sense of new desert\n   With all thy grace and goodness at his side?\n   Ah! trust not thou the love that hath no pride,\n   The pride wherein compunction claims no part,\n   The callous calm no doubts confuse or thwart,\n   The untrembling hope, and joy unsanctified!\n   He of your beauty prates without remorse;\n   You dropped last night a lily; on the sod\n   He let it lie, and fade in nature's course;\n   He looks not on the ground your feet have trod.\n   He smiles but with the lips, your form in view;\n   And he will kiss one day your lips--not you.\"\n\nWhere did our pious philosopher, of all men, learn to discourse\nthus sagely and plainly of the uncertainty of all things amorous?\nWe think he makes a very good case, and only add our emphatic\nindorsement, if that can serve the young lady, and join in\nwarning her to find a warmer lover, unless the untrembling and\nunsanctifled is very, very handsome, in which case we know better\nthan to advise her at all.\n\nThe next particularly good piece is the opening one of a\nmiscellany, and is called\n\n          \"The World's Work.\n\n  \"Where is the brightness now that long\n     Brimmed saddest hearts with happy tears?\n   It was not time that wrought the wrong:\n     Thy three and twenty vanquished years\n   Crouched reverent, round their spotless prize,\n     _Like lions awed that spare a saint_;\n   Forbore that face--a paradise\n     No touch autumnal ere could taint.\n\n  \"It was not sorrow. Prosperous love\n     Her amplest streams for thee poured forth,\n   _As when the spring in some rich grove\n     With blue-bells spreads a sky on earth._\n   Subverted Virtue! They the most\n     Lament, that seldom deign to sigh;\n   O world! is this fair wreck thy boast?\n     Is this thy triumph, vanity?\n\n  \"What power is that which, being nought,\n     Can unmake stateliest works of God?\n   What brainless thing can vanquish thought?\n     What heartless, leave the heart a clod?\n\n{272}\n\n   The radiance quench, yet add the glare?\n     _Dry up the flood; make loud the shoal!\n   And merciless in malice, spare\n     That mask, a face without a soul?_\n\n  \"Ah! Parian brows that overshone\n     Eyes bluer than Egean seas!\n   One time God's glory wrote thereon\n     Good-will's two gospels, love and peace.\n   Ah! smile. Around those lips of hers\n     The lustre rippled and was still,\n   As when a gold leaf falling stirs\n     A moment's tremor on the rill!\"\n\nWe wish to call attention here to the very curious image\nitalicized in the second verse. Every one is struck by it at\nonce; every one sees the great beauty of it at once: and yet the\ncode of a narrow and merely rhetorical criticism would weed it\nout like a wildflower shyly intruding in \"ordered gardens great.\"\nThe simile is not at all a particularly happy one in relation to\nthe preceding idea; it is well enough, but there have been apter\nsimiles, and there will be. And reducing it to fact, probably it\nis one of the most exaggerative images ever written. But yet it\nis beautiful--really beautiful, not a verbal juggle that entraps\nthe imagination in fine words. The force lies in the bringing\ninto juxtaposition in a new way those old emblems of beauty,\nflowers and sky, and the daring inaccuracy of it only adds a\ncharm. It does a poetical thought sometimes no harm to be loose.\nNature can do clear-cut work enough when she makes things for\nuse; but all the visible loveliness of this world is in vague\noutlines, formless masses, incomplete curves. The law that\nsoftens the distant mountain-tops is the same that makes the\nbeauty of these lines. Theirs is the rarer excellence that rises\nabove rule. We notice it the more in Mr. De Vere that his\nstrength lies generally in the other direction, of photographic\nexactness in reproduction. We like the very looseness of such\nexpressions; they are like the flowing robes of beautiful women.\nThe third verse also is excellent throughout, especially in the\nfine metaphor in the sixth line, and the intensity of \"merciless\nin malice.\" This makes it so much the more provoking that the end\nis weak, insignificant, and abrupt, and in a vicious style that\nseems to be more and more the fashion of to-day. Still, there\nhave been worse things; does not Horace end an ode with\n_\"Mercuriusque\"?_\n\nThe next short song, though nothing remarkable, perhaps, as pure\npoetry, we cite because it is so like the author--Aubrey De Vere\nall over, and the shortest epitome of his style we have yet seen\nin any of his works.\n\n              \"A Song Of Age.\n\n                   I.\n\n  \"Who mourns? Flow on, delicious breeze!\n     Who mourns, though youth and strength go by?\n   Fresh leaves invest the vernal trees,\n     Fresh airs will drown my latest sigh.\n   What am I but a part outworn\n     Of earth's great whole that lifts more high\n   A tempest-freshened brow each morn\n     To meet pure beams and azure sky?\n\n                   II.\n\n  \"Thou world-renewing breath, sweep on,\n     And waft earth's sweetness o'er the wave!\n   That earth will circle round the sun\n     When God takes back the life he gave!\n   To each his turn! Even now I feel\n     The feet of children press my grave,\n   And one deep whisper o'er it steal--\n     The soul is His who died to save.'\"\n\nWe like the honesty and earnestness of this none the worse for\nknowing that Mr. De Vere is no longer a young man. And yet does\nit not seem hard to realize that so good a writer has been before\nthe public nearly thirty years, and seen a generation of flimsy\nreputations hide him from the eyes of the herd? We can only with\ndifficulty realize, beside, that any one with so romantic and\nnovel-like a name can ever be old. And will he ever be? Is it not\ntrue in a deeper and other sense, that whom the gods love die\nyoung?\n\n{273}\n\nThe \"Lines on Visiting a Haunt of Coleridge's\" are not excelled\nby anything in all the volume, but hang so closely together,\nthat, having to quote all or nothing, we are constrained by their\nlength to pass on to an interpolated copy of verses by S. E. De\nVere, which gives us a moment's pause. We do not know whether the\nunknown S. E. is a gentleman or lady; whether the mysterious\ninitials stand for Saint Elmo or Selah Ebenezer, Sarolta\nErmengarde or Sarah Elizabeth. But we do know that in this poem,\n\"Charity,\" (p. 276,) is one passage of some beauty, as thus:\n\n  \"O cruel mockery, to call that love\n   Which the world's frown can wither! Hypocrite!\n   False friend! Base selfish man! fearing to lift\n   Thy soil\u00e8d fellow from the dust! _From thee\n   The love of friends, the sympathy of kind\n   Recoil like broken waves from a bare cliff,\n   Waves that from far seas come with noiseless step\n   Slow stealing to some lonely ocean isle;\n   With what tumultuous joy and fearless trust\n   They fling themselves upon its blackened breast\n   And wind their arms of foam around its feet,\n   Seeking a home; but finding none, return\n   With slow, sad ripple, and reproachful murmur!\"_\n\nWe find concluding the work a set of sonnets called \"Urbs Roma,\"\ndedicated to the Count de Montalembert; all smooth, polished,\nelegant, and dim; with no salient beauties anywhere that\ndistinguish one above another--golden means. The real climax of\nthe volume is at the \"Autumnal Ode.\" This is far the best of the\nnew poems, and one of the best of any of its author's, new or\nold. In structure it bears a general resemblance to the rest of\nMr. De Vere's longer odes; and the style is ripe, lofty, easy,\nand well-sustained. We have already given one citation from its\nrich stores, but there are two more especially worthy of\nattention. The first is a description like the one cited, and\nquite in Mr. De Vere's own vein.\n\n  \"It is the autumnal epode of the year;\n     The nymphs that urge the seasons on their round,\n   _They to whose green lap flies the startled deer\n       When bays the far-off hound,\n   They that drag April by the rain-bright hair,\n   (Though sun showers daze her and the rude winds scare)\n       O'er March's frosty bound,\n   They whose warm and furtive hand unwound\n   The cestus falls from May's new-wedded breast--_\n   Silent they stand beside dead Summer's bier,\n   With folded palms, and faces to the west,\n   And their loose tresses sweep the dewy ground.\"\n\n                   III.\n\n  \"A sacred stillness hangs upon the air,\n     A sacred clearness. Distant shapes draw nigh:\n   Glistens yon elm-grove, to its heart laid bare,\n     And all articulate in its symmetry,\n   With here and there a branch that from on high\n     Far flashes washed as in a watery gleam;\n   _Beyond, the glossy lake lies calm--a beam\n   Upheaved, as if in sleep, from its slow central stream._\"\n\nThe images, and the way the allegory is sustained, are the beauty\nof the first stanza. The second is perhaps more artistic still.\nThe adjective \"sacred\" is an artful and ingenious one. Without\nany apparent particular propriety in its places--a hundred other\nwords might be effective as qualifications of \"stillness\" and\n\"clearness\"--yet, we find, on passing to the next thought, that\nit has had its result in preparing the mind for a more vivid and\nimaginative view of the whole scene. The remaining delineation is\nexact and cumulative, as our author's descriptions always are;\nand the closing lines are a singularly true and acute observation\nof an effect of light that very few would notice in the actual\nlandscape, or will appreciate even now their attention is called\nto it. But people who are sensible enough to _bask_ now and\nthen in the ripeness of an autumn day will feel an electric\ncontact of recognition.\n\nPerhaps we cannot do better than to close this rambling notice\nwith the closing lines of this elegant and thoughtful poem:\n\n  \"Man was not made for things that leave us,\n     For that which goeth and returneth,\n   For hopes that lift us yet deceive us,\n     For love that wears a smile yet mournetlh;\n   Not for fresh forests from the dead leaves springing,\n     The cyclic re-creation which, at best,\n   Yields us--betrayal still to promise clinging--\n     But tremulous shadows of the realm of rest;\n       For things immortal man was made,\n     God's image, latest from his hand,\n       Co-heir with Him, who in man's flesh arrayd\n     Holds o'er the worlds the heavenly-human wand:\n     His portion this--sublime\n     To stand where access none hath space or time,\n     Above the starry host, the cherub band,\n     To stand--to advance--and after all to stand!\"\n\n{274}\n\nThese lines are the real end and culmination of a book which\nwill, on the whole, do much to raise Mr. De Vere's reputation in\nthis country to a level nearer his deserts. With its human share\nof faults, it is a truer, an abler, and a more scholarly book\nthan often issues from an American press, and contains everywhere\nlofty and pure thought, with never a taint of evil, and never a\nmorally doubtful passage. And we only wish for our country, that,\nof his readers, there may be many in whom these his poems may sow\nmotives as unselfish and aims as noble as those which, we\nsincerely believe, inform the inner life of the true poet and\nChristian, Aubrey De Vere.\n\n----------\n\n             About Several Things.\n\n\nAnd, to begin with, about the poverty and vice of London! Hood\nand and Adelaide Anne Procter, Dickens, James Greenwood,\n[Footnote 61] have made these more familiar to us than the\nstreets of our own cities. We have talked with Nancy on London\nbridge and skulked with Noah Claypole beneath its arches--swept\ncrossings with poor Joe and starved with the little ragamuffin in\nFrying Pan Alley.\n\n    [Footnote 61: _Author of a Night in a London Workhouse_,\n    and of the _True History of a Little Ragamuffin_.]\n\nThe poor of London are representative beings to us all. As we\nwalk through the streets, each ragged or threadbare wanderer\ntells us a story heard long ago and half forgotten. That\nmiserable woman huddled up in a doorway is a brickmaker's wife,\nand the thin shawl drawn about her shoulders hides the only marks\nof attention she ever receives from her pitiful husband. Her baby\nis dead, thank God! safe beyond the reach of blows and hunger and\ncold. Her story will soon be ended, if we may judge by her thin\nface, and the eager look in her eyes, and the short, hacking\ncough. The shilling you slip into her hand will only prolong her\nmisery, but it gives you a moment's consolation, and brings a\nflash of gratitude into her poor face. Good-by, Jenny! When we\nmeet you at the judgment-seat of God, we wonder if it will occur\nto us we might have done more for you to-day than give you a\nshilling and a glance of recognition.\n\n  \"Alas for the rarity\n   Of Christian charity\n     Under the sun.\n   Oh! it was pitiful!\n   In a whole city-full\n     Home she had none.\"\n\nWe wonder if Thomas Hood was much better than other people? If he\nfound homes for the homeless and food for the hungry? We cannot\nget Jenny out of our head. Her wants would be so easily supplied.\nIn all London is there no place where lodging and fire and food\nare provided for the decent poor?\n\n{275}\n\nThe portly policeman at the street corner says yes, there are\nseveral refuges, but the one in this district is kept by Sisters\nof Mercy, in Crispin street, No.30 or thereabouts. Asking poor\nJenny to follow us, (she manifests a mild surprise at our\nsympathy,) we cross Finbury Circus, pass Bishopsgate street,\nwithout; and soon find ourselves in Crispin street, standing at\nthe modest entrance of the House of Mercy. We are not the only\napplicants for admission this dreary November afternoon. Women\nwith children and women without them are sitting on the steps or\nleaning against the wall, waiting for the hour of five to strike,\nblessed signal for the door to open. It is only half-past four\nnow, says the sister portress. Jenny must join the throng\nlingering about the house; but we as visitors may come in and see\nthe preparations made for their entertainment.\n\nThis then is the refuge described by Miss Procter, and her pretty\ngarland of verses is still sold for its benefit. In 1860, there\nwas no Catholic refuge in England, and excellent as were those\nsupported by Protestants, they did not supply all demands. Rev.\nDr. Gilbert of Moorfields Chapel found in a block of buildings,\ncalled by a pleasant coincidence, \"Providence Row,\" a large empty\nstable separated by a yard from No. 14 Finsbury Square. The\nSisters of Mercy were then seeking a house more suited to their\nneeds than the one in Broad street. The two projects fitted each\nother like mosaic; No. 14 Finsbury Square should be the convent,\nthe stable should be the refuge. Benches and beds were provided\nat first for fourteen persons only; but in February, 1861,\nadditional provision was made for forty-six women and children.\nBefore the month of April, 1862, 14,785 lodgings, with breakfast\nand supper, had been given.\n\nBut charity is as unsatiable in its desires as self-indulgence,\nand Dr. Gilbert's ideas soon outgrew the stable in Providence\nRow. The present refuge, giving accommodation to three hundred\nadults and children, was opened last autumn. It will be in\noperation from October to May of every year, on week-days from\nfive P.M. to half-past seven A.M.; on Sundays, throughout the\ntwenty-four hours. In this room on the ground floor, with its\nblazing fire, the women are received for inspection. If any one\nshows herself unworthy of assistance, either by intoxication or\nby the use of bad language, she is turned away. Without doubt\nmany sinners are admitted to the refuge, and the sisters rejoice\nin being able to check their course of evil for twelve hours; but\nno one receives hospitality here unless she can conform outwardly\nto the habits of decent persons. This is the only refuge where\nadmission depends on the good character of the applicant. It has\nproved an efficient preventive of the contamination so much to be\ndreaded whenever the poor and ignorant are brought together in\nlarge numbers.\n\nThe selection of guests being made, their dresses and shawls, wet\nwith London fog and mud, are dried by the fire; and the fixture\nbasins round the room are placed at their service with a\nbountiful supply of water.\n\nFrom the inspection-room they pass to a large apartment, where\nthey have supper, and sit together in warmth and comfort until\nbedtime. The supper consists of a bowl of excellent gruel and\nhalf a pound of bread for each person. It is to be observed that,\nthough the accommodations are good of their kind, affording a\ndecent asylum to the homeless, they are not calculated to attract\nthose who can find comfortable shelter elsewhere.\n\n{276}\n\nAt an early hour night-prayers are said by a sister, and the\nwomen are shown to the dormitories. The beds are constructed in\nan ingenious manner, economizing space and making perfect\ncleanliness practicable. Two inclined planes, fastened together\nat the higher end, pass down the middle of the dormitory. Two\nmore inclined planes pass down the sides of the room with the\nhigher end next the wall. These platforms are partitioned off by\nplanks into troughs about two feet wide and six feet long, (that\nis to say, the length of the slope of the platform,) looking much\nlike cucumber frames without glass. These are the beds, and at\nthe foot of each is a little gate, which can be opened to admit\nof drawing out a sliding plank in the bottom of the trough. This\nis done every morning by the sisters in charge of the\ndormitories, and the floor beneath is swept. But now the little\ngates are closed and the beds are ready for their forlorn\noccupants. Each is furnished with a thick mattress and pillow\ncovered with brown enamel cloth and with a large coverlet of\nthick leather. As the women go to bed thoroughly warm and wear\ntheir clothing, they sleep comfortably under these odd-looking\nquilts; especially the mothers, who often hold one little child\nin their arms while another nestles at their feet. The bedding is\nwiped carefully every morning, and thus the dormitories are kept\nfree from vermin. A cell partitioned off at each end of the\ndormitory, with two or three windows, provides the sisters in\ncharge with a private room and at the same time with a post of\nobservation. The arrangements for water throughout the house are\nexcellent, including a hose fixed in the wall of every dormitory,\nready to be used in case of fire.\n\nAt half-past six in the morning, the sleepers are roused; at\nseven they have breakfast, consisting, like the supper, of a\nbasin of gruel and half a pound of bread. At half-past seven,\nthey leave the refuge, some times to be seen no more, sometimes\nto return night after night for weeks together. On Sunday they\ncan remain all day. But, as persons are admitted without\ndistinction of creed, they are allowed to leave the refuge during\nthe hours of morning service to go to church. A short lesson in\nthe catechism is given every evening at the refuge; but only\nCatholics are allowed to attend the classes unless occasionally\nby especial permission. They have, for their Sunday dinner, as\nmuch strong beef soup as they can eat with bread.\n\nThe arrangements for men are similar to those for women, though\nless extensive. The entrances are separate, and there are\nwatchmen in the male dormitory. The refuge provides thirty-two\nbeds for men and one hundred and fifty for women. It is by\npacking in children with their parents that so many individuals\nare lodged.\n\nThe survey of the building ended, we pass out of the front door\njust as five o'clock strikes, and the tattered throng, Jenny\namong them, present themselves for admission. This institution\ncould be copied with good effect in several American cities. Its\nsystem of management guards against two evils. Provision being\nmade only for the bare necessities of life, no temptation is\noffered to impostors. Propriety of behavior being ensured by\nstrict surveillance, the chance of contamination is materially\nlessened, perhaps wholly removed.\n\n{277}\n\nIt is no unusual thing, even in the United States, for men and\nboys, women and girls, to spend a night in the station-house\nbecause they have no other place to sleep. A refuge is less\nexpensive than other charitable establishments. The first cost of\na building is considerable; the annual outlay in provisions,\nfuel, and light, comparatively trifling. The money spent every\nyear in indiscriminate almsgiving in a large city would serve to\nsupport a night refuge for several hundred persons. But while\nproviding for the houseless poor of to-day, we should remember\nthat their numbers are increasing with every successive\ngeneration. The children of our poorest class must be rescued\nfrom their present migratory life, divided between street, jail,\nand penitentiary.\n\nMuch has been done for girls, and we can only desire an extension\nof the work. With an increase of funds, the Sisters of Charity,\nof Mercy, of the Good Shepherd, and of Notre Dame could\naccomplish a mission of great importance to the future prosperity\nof our country. These ladies devote their lives to saving from\nmisery and degradation the children of those who cannot or will\nnot perform a parent's duty. They need money to accomplish this.\nWe too often dole it out to them as if they had asked alms for\nthemselves. Let us give them not only money but sympathy and\nencouragement. Many a good work has failed for want of friendly\nwords to give the strength for one final vigorous effort.\n\nBut what is to be done for the boys? They may be divided into\nthree classes. First, children guilty of no worse crime than\nfriendlessness. Second, small boys obnoxious to the police for\npetty infringements of the laws; third, newsboys, bootblacks, and\ncostermongers, more or less familiar with the vices of city life.\nThe third class is developed from the other two, because\nneglected poverty naturally gravitates to vice and crime.\n\nThe development of a true ragamuffin is a process painfully\ninteresting to watch. At an age when the children of the rich\ntake sober walks attended by nursery-maid or governess, he knows\nthe streets as well as any watchman. At seven years old, he is\narrested by some energetic policeman for throwing stones,\nbathing, stealing a bunch of grapes, or some other first-class\nfelony. Once in the hands of the law, there is no redress for him\nunless he is \"bailed out.\" He must go to jail to wait for\ntrial-day--perhaps three or four weeks. The turnkeys do their\nbest for him; find him a decent companion if he is frightened,\nor, still better, give him a cell to himself, where he looks more\nlike a squirrel in a cage than a criminal offender. I have seen\nin one day four mere babies in prison for \"breaking and\nentering!\"\n\nBut, with all the precautions used in a well-ordered jail to\nprevent mischief, our infant ragamuffin comes out older by many\nyears than he went in. He has been in prison, and his tiny\nreputation is gone for ever. A few years later he comes back,\narrested for some grave misdemeanor; a sly, old-fashioned little\nrogue by this time, gifted with an ingenuity fitting him\nadmirably to be the tool of some professional thief. Then begins\na course of sojourns in workhouses and juvenile penitentiaries.\nBy and by he reappears in jail with a smart suit of clothes, the\nfruit of a successful burglary, and you are informed with an air\nof conscious superiority that this time it is a house of\ncorrection or State's prison offence. There is ambition in crime\nas well as in other careers, we may be sure. He grows up to be a\ndrunkard, a libertine, a bad husband, and the father of children\nmore degraded than himself. We know of an entire family having\nbeen in prison at one time, father, mother, and all the children.\n\n{278}\n\nWho is to blame for this career of vice and crime? Not the\nofficers of the jail, who bitterly regret the necessity of\nreceiving children, but cannot set them free. Not the judges, who\nare sworn to administer the laws as they stand, not to improve\nupon them.\n\nThe police are to blame for exercising their enthusiasm for order\nupon babies, instead of making examples of grown men guilty of\nsimilar misdemeanors, but harder to catch.\n\nThe public is to blame for making insufficient provision for the\nreclamation of juvenile offenders. Above all, we Catholics are to\nblame, because these are usually the children of foreign parents,\nand Catholics, at least in name.\n\nLet us build an asylum in the air for these poor little urchins.\nAerial philanthropy requires no funds, and very little executive\nability. Who knows but our plan may be carried out in earnest,\none of these days, by some Dr. Gilbert, trustful of small\nbeginnings, and content to let his project first see the light in\na stable?\n\nWe would have _one division_ devoted to little orphans, and\nchildren whose parents are willing to resign them for a time or\nfor ever.\n\nA second division should be given to the infant criminals of whom\nwe have just spoken. Their offences are always bailable. A\ntrustworthy person should be employed to go bail for all children\nunder ten years of age, and bring them to the asylum to await\ntheir trial. The judges gladly sentence children to serve out a\nterm at a juvenile home instead of sending them to\npenitentiaries. Thus we should recover them after their trial,\nfor a length of time proportioned to the importance of severing\nold associations. Their circumstances should be thoroughly\ninvestigated and reported to the judge--character of parents,\nplace of residence, etc., etc.\n\nThese two divisions should be under the charge of female\nreligious; with several male attendants to do menial work and\nenforce discipline in the few instances where strong measures\nmight be necessary, but without possessing any authority except\nthe reflected one of acting under the matron's orders. The\nnecessity of vigilance can hardly be exaggerated. One child of\nvicious habits can corrupt many more. But since direct\nsurveillance is irritating even to children, a routine of light\nand frequently-varied occupation would be found useful in giving\nvent to restless activity, which is at the root of many childish\nmisdemeanors. The superintendents must learn to distinguish fun\nfrom mischief; energy from insubordination.\n\nA third division should provide a refuge for newsboys and others\nof the same tribe. These older boys should be under the charge of\nthe Christian Brothers. An evening school, a library of books\nsuch as boys enjoy, and a collection of innocent games would form\nan important element in the plan of management. They should be\npersuaded to put a portion of their earnings in the savings bank,\nand induced if possible to alter their roving life and learn a\ntrade. Preference should be shown to lads of correct life over\nthose who have been in prison, but encouragement and countenance\ngiven to every boy willing to conform to the rules of the refuge.\nWe lay less stress upon separating the good from the bad among\nthe lads for two reasons. A boy of fourteen or fifteen who has\nnot been corrupted by street life must be temptation-proof. It is\ndifficult to judge the respective merits of lads of that age or\nto learn their past histories. They must to a great extent be\ntaken on trust.\n\n{279}\n\nIn the course of a few years a fourth division would become\nnecessary to provide for the little boys grown too old for\npetticoat government. This division should also be under the\ncharge of the Christian Brothers.\n\nThe institution would be very expensive, unless it were made\npartially self-supporting. There is a good deal of light work\nconnected with trades that might be done by boys resident in the\nhouse. Perhaps in time city governments would wake up to the fact\nthat it costs less to give boys a good plain education than to\nsupport rogues and paupers; but our dream of charity is rudely\ndispersed by a yawn from our companion and a suggestion that we\nshould reach Piccadilly sooner by the underground railroad than\non foot. The gaslights stare despondingly at me through the\nyellow fog. A London Arab solicits a penny for clearing the slimy\ncrossing, and wonders at the glow of charity with which we press\nsixpence into his grimy palm. Where are we? In London? Yes, but\nthere are orphans wandering homeless about the streets of\nAmerican cities, too; bootblacks going to destruction by scores;\ntiny children falling victims to the misplaced zeal of policemen;\nand not even the corner-stone of our asylum is laid!\n\n----------\n\n     A Chinese Husband's Lament For His Wife.\n  Translated From The French Of M. Stanislas Julien,\n    Professor Of The Chinese Language, Paris.\n\n\n                    I.\n\nIt was in the fifth watch of the first day of the year, when the\nwinter's cold was most intense, that my tender wife died. Can\nthere be on earth a man more unhappy than I? O my wife! if thou\nwert still here, I would give thee a new robe for the new year;\nbut woe is me, thou art gone down to the sombre abode where flows\nthe yellow fountain. Would that husband and wife could see one\nanother again! Come to me in the night--come to me in the third\nwatch--let me renew for a little while the sweetness of the past.\n\n                   II.\n\nIn the second moon, when spring has come, and the sun stays each\nday longer in the sky, every family washes its robes and linen in\npure water, and husbands who have still their wives love to adorn\nthem with new garments. But I, who have lost mine, am wasting my\nlife away in grief; I cannot even bear to see the little shoes\nthat enclosed her pretty feet!\nSometimes I think that I will take another companion; but where\ncan I find another so beautiful, wise, and kind!\n\n{280}\n\n                   III.\n\nIn the third moon, the peach-tree opens its rose-colored\nblossoms, and the willow is bedecked with green tresses. Husbands\nwho have still their wives go with them to visit the tombs of\ntheir fathers and friends. But I who have lost mine go alone to\nvisit _her_ grave, and to wet with my hot tears the spot\nwhere her ashes repose. I present funereal offerings to her\nshade; I burn images of gilded paper in her honor. \"Tender wife,\"\nI cry with a tearful voice, \"where art thou, where art thou?\" But\nshe, alas! hears me not. I see the solitary tomb, but I cannot\nsee my wife!\n\n\n                   IV.\n\nIn the fourth moon, the air is pure and serene, and the sun\nshines forth in all his splendor. How many ungrateful husbands\nthen give themselves up to pleasure and forget the wife they have\nlost! Husband and wife are like two birds of the same forest;\nwhen the fatal hour arrives, each one flies off a different way.\nI am like a man, who, beguiled by the sweet fancies of an\nenchanting dream, seeks, when he awakes, the young beauty that\ncharmed his imagination while he slept, but finds around him only\nsilence and solitude. So much loveliness, so much sweetness\nvanished in one morning! Why, alas! could not two friends, so\ndearly united, live and grow gray together!\n\n                   V.\n\nIn the fifth moon, the dragon-headed boats float gaily on the\nwaters. Exquisite wines are heated, and baskets are filled up\nwith delicious fruits. Each year at this season, I delighted to\nenjoy the pleasures of these simple feasts with my wife and\nchildren. But now I am weary and restless, a prey to the\nbitterest anguish. I weep all day and all night, and my heart\nseems ready to break. Ah! what do I see at this moment? Pretty\nchildren at merry play before my door. Yes, I can understand that\nthey are happy; they have a mother to press them to her bosom. Go\naway, dear children, your joyous gambols tear my heart.\n\n\n                   VI.\n\nIn the sixth moon, the burning heat of the day is almost\nunbearable. The rich and the poor then spread their clothes out\nto air. I will expose one of my wife's silken robes, and her\nembroidered shoes to the sun's warm beams. See! here is the dress\nshe used to wear on festal days, here are the elegant little\nslippers that fitted her pretty feet so well. But where is my\nwife? Oh! where is the mother of my children? I feel as if a cold\nsteel blade were cutting into my heart.\n\n\n\n                   VII.\n\nIn the seventh moon, my eyes overflow with tears; for it is then\nthat Nieaulan visits his wife Tchi-niu in heaven. Once I also had\na beautiful wife, but she is lost to me for ever. That fair face,\nlovelier than the flowers, is constantly before me. Whether in\nmovement or at rest, the remembrance of her that is gone from me\nnever ceases to rack my bosom. What day have I forgotten to think\nof my tender wife--what night have I not wept till morning?\n\n\n                  VIII.\n\nOn the fifteenth day of the eighth moon, her disk is seen in its\ngreatest splendor, and men and women then offer to the gods\nmelons and cakes, ball-like in form as the orb of night. Husbands\nand wives stroll together in the fields and groves, and enjoy the\nsoft moonlight.\n{281}\nBut the round disk of the moon can only remind _me_ of the\nwife I have lost. At times, to solace my grief I quaff a cup of\ngenerous wine; at times I take my guitar, but my trembling hand\ncan draw forth no sound. Friends and relations invite me to their\nhouses, but my sorrowful heart refuses to share in their\npleasures.\n\n\n                   IX.\n\nIn the ninth moon, the chrysanthemum opens its golden cup, and\nevery garden exhales a balmy odor. I would gather a bunch of\nnewly-blown flowers if I had still a wife whose hair they could\nadorn! My eyes are weary with weeping--my hands are withered with\ngrief, and I beat a fleshless breast. I enter the tasteful room\nthat was once my wife's; my two children follow me, and come to\nembrace my knees. They take my hands in theirs, and speak to me\nwith choking voices; but by their tears and sobs I know they ask\nme for their mother.\n\n\n                   X.\n\nOn the first day of the tenth moon, both rich and poor present\ntheir wives with winter clothing. But to whom shall I offer\nwinter clothing? I, who have no wife! When I think of her who\nrested her head on my pillow, I weep and burn images of gilded\npaper. I send them as offerings to her who now dwells beside the\nyellow fountain. I know not if these funereal gifts will be of\nuse to her shade; but at least her husband will have paid her a\ntribute of love and regret.\n\n\n                   XI.\n\nIn the eleventh moon, I salute winter, and again deplore my\nbeautiful wife. Half of the silken counterpane covers an empty\nplace in the cold bed where I dare not stretch out my legs. I\nsigh and invoke heaven; I pray for pity. At the third watch I\nrise without having slept, and weep till dawn.\n\n\n                  XII.\n\nIn the twelfth moon, in the midst of the winter's cold, I called\non my sweet wife. \"Where art thou,\" I cried; \"I think of thee\nunceasingly, yet I cannot see thy face!\" On the last night of the\nyear she appeared to me in a dream. She pressed my hand in hers;\nshe smiled on me with tearful eyes; she encircled me in her\ncaressing arms, and filled my soul with happiness. \"I pray thee,\"\nshe whispered, \"weep no more when thou rememberest me. Henceforth\nI will come thus each night to visit thee in thy dreams.\"\n\n-------\n\n{282}\n\n            A May Flower.\n\n  A look and a word, my sweet lady;\n    A thought of your kind heart, I pray,\n  For a flower that blooms by the roadside,\n    This beautiful morning in May.\n\n  I know that engagements await you;\n    I know you have many to meet;\n  Yet, pray, linger here for a moment,\n    And look at this flower of the street.\n\n  'Tis but May, my sweet lady, and hardly\n    Has spring had the time to look bright;\n  Yet this flower it called into being\n    Already is smitten with blight.\n\n  Already upon its fair leaflets\n    Lie heavy the grime and the dust;\n  Its shrivelled and lack-lustre petals,\n    Tell a story--stop, lady!--you must.\n\n  For a soul is in danger, my lady,\n    The soul of this drooping street flower;\n  And you by a look can recall it\n    To life, or 'twill die in an hour.\n\n  Ah me! if you knew but the power\n    Of one word of kindness from you;\n  Could you see what a tempest of passion\n    A glance of your eye would subdue!\n\n  What hope once again would awaken\n    To arm this poor soul for the right!\n  Thanks, my lady! Go happily onward,\n    The tempted is strengthened with might.\n\n-------\n\n{283}\n\n          New Publications.\n\n  The Formation Of Christendom.\n  Part II.\n  By T. W. Allies.\n  London: Longmans, Green, Reader & Dyer.\n  New-York: The Catholic Publication Society.\n\nThis volume is the dictation of a scholarly mind and the work of\nan experienced pen. It forms the second volume of a work not yet\ncomplete, the first part of which appeared in 1865. In the six\nchapters which composed the first volume, as the author tells us\nin his advertisement to the present one, he described\nChristianity creating anew, as it were, and purifying and\nintroducing supernatural principles into the individual soul;\nshowing how the new religion restored the fallen dignity of man\nby insisting on his individuality and personal responsibility, by\nconsecrating the married and counselling the virginal life. The\nvile secrets of that viler pagan society are partly revealed, and\nthe influence of the Gospel is shown in a graceful parallel\nbetween St. Augustine and Cicero. The author further says, that,\nhaving examined the foundations, he has now reached the building\nitself and comes \"to consider the Christian Church in its\nhistorical development as a kingdom of truth and grace; for while\nthe soul of man is the unit with which it works, 'Christendom'\nbetokens a society.\" It is then the first epoch of such a kingdom\nthat the author would describe in the present volume.\nAccordingly, we have a graphic account of the polytheism which,\nat the birth of Christ, reigned throughout the world, save in one\nof its most insignificant lands, the frightful power of this\nfalse worship, its relation to civilization, to the political\nconstitution of the empire, to national feeling in the provinces,\nto despotism and slavery, and its hostile preparations for the\nadvent of the \"Second Man.\" Then follows the teaching of Christ\nand the institution of his church, a statement of the nature of\nthe latter, its manner of teaching and propagation, its\nepiscopacy and primacy. Then, a picture of the history of the\nmartyr church through the first three centuries, its sublime\npatience under persecution, and its struggle with swarming\nheresies that menaced from within. After this, the author\nprepares for a dissertation on that strife between Christianity\nand heathen philosophy, which terminated on the downfall of the\nAlexandrian school, by sketching the history and influence of\nGreek philosophy until the reign of Claudius; and, reserving this\ndissertation for a future volume, the author closes the present\nnumber of his contemplated series. It is a serious disadvantage\nto any work to be published piecemeal. Nevertheless, English\nreaders, interested in the study of the early ages, and\nespecially those who have read with pleasure Mr. Allies's former\nproductions, will be glad to notice the publication of this\nvolume. But Mr. Allies's work, also, belongs to a class, small\nindeed, but all the more worthy of encouragement, namely, that of\noriginal Catholic histories in the English language. It is,\ntherefore, an attempt to partially supply a want which no one\nbook, however popular, can adequately meet. In the face of an\nungrateful heathenism that to-day secretly sighs after the\nAugustan age, and openly asks, \"What has been gained by all this\nreligion?\" daring to draw unjust parallels between the heroes of\nChristian tradition and contemporary pagan models, it is the duty\nof all who love the Christian name to encourage true historical\ncriticism; that men may know all that they at present owe to the\nCatholic Church; and if they will not acknowledge her to-day as\nthe guide to true civilization, may learn from the record of the\npast how her genius has presided over all that is greatest and\nnoblest in the past history of mankind.\n\n-----\n\n{284}\n\n  Thunder And Lightning.\n  By W. De Fonvielle.\n  Translated from the French, and\n  edited by T. L. Phipson, Ph.D.\n  Illustrated with thirty nine engravings on wood.\n  1 vol. 12mo, pp. 216.\n\n  The Wonders Of Optics.\n  By F. Marion.\n  Translated from the French,\n  and edited by Charles W. Quinn, F.C.S.\n  Illustrated with seventy engravings on wood.\n  1 vol. 12mo, pp. 248.\n  New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1869.\n\nThese two volumes are the first issues of the \"Illustrated\nLibrary of Wonders,\" to be published by Messrs. Scribner & Co.\nThey are highly interesting to the general reader, as well as to\npersons of scientific attainments. The accounts given of the\npeculiar and novel freaks of lightning are curious and\ninstructive. The illustrations in both volumes are well executed,\nand make these books specially attractive to young people. In the\nwork on optics, the telescope, magic lantern, magic mirror, etc.,\nare fully explained.\n\n----\n\n  Why Men Do Not Believe;\n  Or, The Principal Causes Of Infidelity.\n  By N.J. Laforet, Rector of the Catholic University of Louvain.\n  Translated from the French.\n  New York: The Catholic Publication Society,\n  126 Nassau Street.\n  Pp. 252. 1869.\n\nWhoever has had the happiness of attending the Catholic Congress\nof Belgium must have noticed among the distinguished gentlemen\nseated by the side of the president the prepossessing,\nintellectual countenance of Mgr. Laforet, the Rector Magnificus\nof the University of Louvain. Although still a young man, he\nholds a high place among the writers who adorn European Catholic\nliterature. His best known and most elaborate work is an\nexcellent _History of Philosophy_. In the present volume,\nwhich is quite unpretending in size, and written in such a simple\nand easy style as to be easily readable by any person of ordinary\neducation, he has, perhaps, rendered even a greater service to\nthe cause of religion and sound science than by his more\nelaborate works. It is an excellent little treatise on the causes\nof infidelity, which has already produced happy fruits among his\nown countrymen by bringing back a number of persons to the\nChristian faith, and we trust is destined to accomplish a still\ngreater amount of good in its English as well as its French\ndress.\n\nMgr. Laforet assigns as the causes of the infidelity which\nprevails, unhappily, to such a considerable extent in our days,\nignorance of the real grounds and nature of the Christian\nreligion, materialism, and the consequent moral degradation which\nit has produced. He denies in a peremptory manner that it has\nbeen caused by progress in science or the more perfect\ndevelopment of the reasoning faculty, and supports this denial by\nabundant and conclusive proofs. The origin of modern infidelity\nhe traces historically and logically to Protestantism, showing\nthat it has been transplanted into France and other Catholic\ncountries from England and Germany. Anti-Catholic writers are\nfond of retorting upon us the charge that Protestantism breeds\ninfidelity by the countercharge that Catholicity breeds\ninfidelity. They say that it lays too great a burden on reason by\nteaching, as Christian doctrine, dogmas that intelligent,\neducated men cannot receive without doing violence to their\nreason. They point to the infidelity that prevails to a certain\nextent among educated men in Catholic countries as a proof of\nthis assumption. The writer of an article in a late number of\n_Putnam's Monthly_, entitled, \"The Coming Controversy,\" has\nreiterated this charge, and alleges the fact that some of the\neducated laymen belonging to the Catholic Church in the United\nStates do not approach the sacraments, as an evidence that they\nhave lost their faith, which is a corroboration of the alleged\ncharge against the Catholic religion of breeding infidelity in\nintelligent, thinking minds.\n{285}\nThe whole of this specious argument is a fabric of sand. In the\nfirst place, it is no proof that men have lost their faith\nbecause they do not act in accordance with it. The entire body of\nnegligent Catholics are not to be classed among infidels, any\nmore than negligent Jews or Protestants. Nevertheless, we would\ncall the attention of those Catholic gentlemen of high standing\nwho neglect the practice of their religious duties, and fail to\ntake that active part on the side of the church and of God which\nthey ought to take, to the scandal they thus give and to the\noccasion which the enemies of the church take from their criminal\napathy to revile that faith for which their ancestors have\nsuffered and contended so nobly. Neither is it true that anywhere\nin the world the apostates from the faith are superior in\nintelligence and culture to its loyal adherents. We hear too much\nof this boasting from free-thinkers and infidels of their\nintellectual superiority. On the field of philosophy and positive\nreligion they have been completely discomfited by the champions\nof religion. Some of their ablest men have passed over to our\ncamp convinced by the pure force of argument, as, for instance,\nThierry, Maine de Biran, Droz, and to a certain extent Cousin.\nMany others, and recently one most notorious individual, Jules\nHavin, the chief editor of the infamous _Si\u00e8cle_, of Paris,\nhave repented at the hour of death. D'Holbach, one of the chiefs\nof the infidel party in France, thus writes: \"We must allow that\ncorruption of manners, debauchery, license, and even frivolity of\nmind, may often lead to irreligion or infidelity. ... Many people\ngive up prejudices they had adopted through vanity and on\nhearsay; these pretended free-thinkers have examined nothing for\nthemselves; they rely on others whom they suppose to have weighed\nmatters more carefully. How can men, given up to voluptuousness\nand debauchery, plunged in excess, ambitious, intriguing,\nfrivolous, and dissipated--or depraved women of wit and\nfashion--how can such as these be capable of forming an opinion\nof a religion they have never examined?\" [Footnote 62] La Bruy\u00e8re\nsays, \"Do our _esprits forts_ know that they are called thus\nin irony?\" [Footnote 63] It is no argument against either\nCatholicity or Protestantism that infidelity exists in Catholic\nor Protestant countries. Before this fact can be made to tell in\nany way against either religion it must be proved that it\ncontains principles which lead logically to infidelity, or\nproposes dogmas which are rationally incredible, and thus\nproduces a reaction against all divine revelation. This has never\nbeen done, and never can be done in respect to the Catholic\nreligion. So far as Protestantism is concerned, it has been done\nrepeatedly and can be done easily. We do not rejoice in this; on\nthe contrary, we grieve over it, and our sympathies are with\nthose Protestants, such as Guizot, Dr. McCosh, President Hopkins,\nand others who defend the great truths of spiritual philosophy,\nof Theism, the divine mission of Moses and Christ, and other\nChristian doctrines against modern infidelity. Nevertheless, we\ncannot help pointing out the fact that they are illogical as\nProtestants in doing this, and are unable, after giving the\nevidences of the credibility of Christianity, to state what\nChristianity is in such a manner as completely to satisfy the\njust demands of human reason, or to justify their own position as\nseceders from the genuine Christendom.\n\n    [Footnote 62: _Syst\u00e8me de la Nature_, tom. ii. c. 13.\n    Cited on page 106. ]\n\n    [Footnote 63: _Les Caract\u00e8res_, ch. xvi. Cited on page\n    188.]\n\nOur own youth are exposed to the temptation of infidelity on\naccount of their imperfect religious education, and the influence\nof the Protestant world in which they live, saturated as it is\nwith the most pestilent and poisonous influences of heresy,\ninfidelity, and immorality. Good Protestants they will never\nbecome. They can only be good Catholics, bad Catholics, or\ninfidels. Our friends of the Protestant clergy have no reason,\ntherefore, to count up and exult over those who are lost from the\nCatholic fold, for Satan is the only gainer.\n{286}\nLet us have a sufficient number of clergy of the right sort, an\nample supply of churches, colleges, schools, and Catholic\nliterature, and we will engage that the desire for a purer and\nmore spiritual religion will never lead our Catholic youth to\nbecome Protestants, or the desire for a more elevated and solid\nscience make them infidels. Such books as the one we are noticing\nare of just the kind we want, and we recommend it warmly to all\nthinking young men and women, to all parents and teachers, and to\nall readers generally.\n\n----\n\n  The Montarges Legacy.\n  By Florence McCoomb.\n  Philadelphia: P. F. Cunningham. 1869.\n\nWe thank the gentle author of this charming story for the\nsatisfaction derived from its perusal. Not wishing, by entering\ninto detail of plot or incident, to diminish the pleasure in\nstore for its readers, we will merely say that, while\nsufficiently exciting, it is by no means morbidly sensational;\nthat the characters are well portrayed; the incidents varied; the\ndialogue not strained, yet not monotonous; the descriptive\nportion easy and natural; and that, pervading all, is a true\nCatholic spirit.\n\n----\n\n  Anne Severin.\n  By Mrs. Augustus Craven.\n  New York: The Catholic Publication Society.\n  1 vol. 12mo, pp. 411. 1869.\n\nWe do not like the controversially religious novel. There is\ngenerally too much pedantry; too great an admixture of theology,\npolitics, and love, to suit our taste. But the story of _Anne\nSeverin_, by the gifted author of _A Sister's Story_, is\nnot of this kind, it is permeated throughout with a purely\nreligious feeling; just enough, however, to make it interesting,\nand to give the reader to understand that the writer is truly\nCatholic in all she writes. The scene of the story opens in\nEngland, about the beginning of this century, when there were\n\"troublous times in France,\" and changes to the latter country,\nwhere the thread of the narrative is spun out. The heroine, Anne\nSeverin, is not an ideal character. It is one that is not rare in\nCatholic countries, or in Catholic society. She is a true woman,\nin the truest sense of the word, a model for our daughters. The\ncontrast between her and the English-reared girl, Eveleen\nDevereux, is clearly drawn. The one truthful, religious,\nconscientious in all her actions, kind, amiable, and loveable;\nthe other, fickle-minded, constantly wavering, and a flirt,\ncourting admiration for admiration's sake, yet intending to do\nright in her own way, but failing because she did not have the\n_true_ religious teaching that Anne Severin had. No better\nbook of the kind could be put in the hands of Catholics as well\nas non-Catholics of both sexes. No one can help for a moment to\nsee in what consists the difference between these two women. Anne\nSeverin had a positive, soul-sustaining faith to fall back upon\nin her troubles. Eveleen Devereux had nothing but the emptiness\nof a religion of the world which failed her in the hour of\ntribulation.\n\n----\n\n  Eudoxia: A Picture Of The Fifth Century.\n  Freely translated from the German of Ida,\n  Countess Hahn Hahn.\n  Baltimore: Kelly, Piet & Co. Pp. 287. 1869.\n\nThis historical tale, which has already appeared as a serial in\nan English periodical, and also in an American newspaper, has\nbeen very favorably received on both sides of the Atlantic. It is\nnow issued in handsome book form, and will, no doubt, have, as it\ndeserves, an extensive circulation.\n\n----\n\n  The Illustrated Catholic Sunday School Library.\n  Third Series. 12 vols. pp. 144 each.\n  New York: The Catholic Publication Society,\n  126 Nassau Street. 1869.\n\n{287}\n\nThe titles of the volumes contained in this series are:\n\n  Bad Example;\n  May-Day, and other Tales;\n  The Young Astronomer, and other Tales;\n  James Chapman;\n  Angel Dreams;\n  Ellerton Priory;\n  Idleness and Industry;\n  The Hope of the Katzekopfs;\n  St. Maurice;\n  The Young Emigrants;\n  Angels' Visits;\n  and The Scrivener's Daughter, and other Tales.\n\nThat in the variety of its contents this series is fully equal to\nits predecessors is evident from the above list; and the careful\nsupervision to which each issue is subjected renders it\nunnecessary to say another word in its praise. We can safely\npromise a rare treat to our young friends when, either\nwell-deserving at school, or an indulgent parent, will have made\nthem happy in its possession.\n\n----\n\n  The Sunday-school Class-book.\n  New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1869.\n\nThis last work of The Catholic Publication Society will be\nappreciated by every Sunday-school teacher who has experienced\nthe torments of an ill-arranged and poorly-made classbook. The\nchief characteristics of this small but important work are\n_clearness_ and _completeness_. Its new feature is the\nplain, brief, but very decided rules to be found on the inside of\neach cover. In size it allows a goodly space for marks in detail.\nIn binding and quality of paper, it is far in advance of anything\nyet offered to the Catholic Sunday-school teacher. It provides a\n\"register\" for eighteen or twenty scholars, in which should be\nplainly and neatly written the names, etc., of each member of the\nclass. Then comes a monthly record, extending across two pages,\nin which allowance is made for \"the fifth\" Sunday, and a space\nfor a \"Monthly Report.\" And in this we have the grand improvement\non all other classbooks in use.\n\nTwelve such double pages are furnished, thus covering the space\nof one year; and on the last half-page there are columns provided\nfor a yearly report, in which plain figures must be placed by\nevery teacher to the satisfaction of superintendents, who have so\noften experienced the mortifying necessity of declaring teachers'\nmethods of marking more mysterious than hieroglyphics.\n\nWhat has long been needed is not a class-book fitted for the\neducated few who devote their spare hours to Sunday-school\nteaching, nor a mere record book for large and continually\nchanging classes of beginners, but a plain, comprehensive book\nwhich any teacher can understand at a glance, and which will\nenable him to influence the conduct, if not the studious habits,\nof those committed to his charge, instead of calling for an extra\nwaste of time, in order to mark with precision in perhaps a badly\nlighted school-house. Let every teacher send for a copy, examine\nit for himself, and see how simple this often neglected duty can\nbe made. If the rules which are contained therein be attended to,\nthere will be no necessity of carrying the book away from the\nschool, which arrangement insures the double object of marking\nwhile the impression of each recitation is fresh and of having\nthe book in readiness to mark at the next recitation. And, until\nevery teacher attends to both these duties, in spite of\nqualifications in other respects, he will still have much to\nlearn before he becomes a perfect Sunday-school teacher.\n\nThis little book is substantially bound in cloth, and is sold for\ntwenty cents a copy, or, to Sunday-schools, at two dollars per\ndozen.\n\n----\n\n  Studious Women.\n  From the French of Monseigneur Dupanloup, Bishop of Orleans.\n  Translated by R. M. Phillimore.\n  Boston: P. Donahoe. Pp. 105. 1869.\n\nThis able essay of the Bishop of Orleans was translated for and\nappeared in _The Catholic World_ very soon after its\nappearance in France, nearly two years ago. We see Mr. Donahoe\nhas used the London translation.\n\n-------\n{288}\n\n  Poems.\n  By James McClure.\n  New York: P. O'Shea. Pp. 148. 1869.\n\nWe cannot praise the \"poems\" contained in this volume, and the\nmodesty of the author's preface disarms adverse criticism.\n\n----\n\n  A Manual Of General History:\n  being an outline history of the world\n  from the creation to the present time.\n  Fully illustrated with maps.\n  For the use of academies,\n  high-schools, and families.\n  By John J. Anderson, A.M.\n  New York: Clark & Maynard. Pp. 401. 1869.\n\nThis compendium is in some respects inaccurate; much that is\ncomparatively trivial is admitted, while really important events\nare entirely ignored; and on certain points there is, if not an\nactual anti-Catholic bias, an absence, at least, of that strict\nimpartiality to be demanded, as of right, in all compilations\nintended for use as text-books in our public schools.\n\n----\n\nThe Catholic Publication Society has now in press the Chevalier\nRossi's famous work on the Roman Catacombs--_Roma\nSotterranea_. It is being compiled, translated, and prepared\nfor the English reading public by the Very Rev. J. Spencer\nNorthcote, D.D., president of Oscott College, Birmingham, and\nauthor of a small treatise on the catacombs. The present work\nwill make a large octavo volume of over five hundred pages, and\nwill be copiously illustrated by wood-cuts and\nchromo-lithographs--the latter printed under De Rossi's personal\nsupervision. This will be an important addition to our\nliterature, and will, we doubt not, attract considerable\nattention in this country. The same Society will have ready about\nMay 1st, _Why People do not Believe_--a library edition as\nwell as a cheap edition; _Glimpses of Pleasant Homes_, by\nthe author of _Mother McCauley_, with four full-page\nillustrations; _Impressions of Spain_, by Lady Herbert, with\nfifteen full-page illustrations. The two last-mentioned books\nwill be very appropriate for college and school premiums. _In\nHeaven we know Our Own _ will be ready in June. The Fourth\nSeries of the _Illustrated Catholic Sunday-School Library_\nis also in preparation. _The Life of Mother Margaret Mary\nHallahan, O.S.D._, founder of the Dominican Conventual\nTertiaries in England, is announced, and will be ready in June or\nJuly.\n\n----\n\nMessrs. John Murphy & Co., Baltimore, announce as in\npress _The Life And Letters Of The\nRev. Frederick William Faber, D.D._,\nPriest of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri.\nBy Rev. John E. Bowden, priest of the same oratory.\n\n\nP. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia, has in\npress, and will soon publish,\n_Ferncliffe_.\n\n----\n\n        Books Received.\n\nFrom Joseph Shannon, Clerk of the Common Council, New York.\nManual of the Corporation of the City of New York for 1868.\n\n\nFrom P. Donahoe, Boston:\nAmerica in its Relation to Irish Emigration.\nBy John Francis Maguire,\nMember of Parliament for the City of Cork.\nSwd. Pp. 24.\n\n\nFrom Fields, Osgood & Co., Boston:\nThe Danish Islands: Are we bound in honor to pay for them?\nBy James Parton. Swd. Pp. 76. 1869.\n\n-------\n{289}\n\n          The Catholic World.\n\n     Vol. IX., No. 51.-June, 1869.\n\n----------\n\n         Spiritism And Spiritists.\n            [Footnote 64]\n\n    [Footnote 64: 1. _Planchette; or, the Despair of\n    Science_. Being a full Account of Modern Spiritualism, its\n    Phenomena, and the various Theories regarding it. With a\n    Survey of French Spiritism. Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1869.\n\n    2. _Des Rapports de l'Homme avec le D\u00e9mon_. Essai\n    Historique et Philosophique. Par Joseph Bizouard, Avocat.\n    Paris: Gaume Fr\u00e8res et J. Duprey. 1863 et 1864. Tome VI.,\n    8vo.\n\n    3. _The Spirit-Rapper. An Autobiography_. By o. A.\n    Brownson. Boston: Little, Brown & Co. 1854.\n\n    4. _Interesting Facts in relation to Spirit Life and\n    Manifestations_. By Judge Edmonds. New York: Spiritual\n    Magnetic Telegraphic Agency.\n\n    5. Spiritualism Unveiled, and shown to be the Work of Demons.\n    By Miles Grant. Boston: _The Crisis_ Office.]\n\n\nWorcester, in his dictionary, gives as the second meaning of the\nword _spiritualism_, \"the doctrine that departed spirits\nhold communication with men,\" and gives as his authority O. A.\nBrownson. We think this must be a mistake; for Dr. Brownson uses\nin his _Spirit-Rapper_, the term _spiritism_, which is\nthe more proper term, as it avoids confounding the doctrine of\nthe spiritists with the philosophical doctrine which stands\nopposed to materialism, or, more strictly, sensism, and the moral\ndoctrine opposed to sensualism. We generally use the word\n_spiritual_ in religion as opposed to natural, or for the\nlife and aims of the regenerate, who walk after the spirit, in\nopposition to those who walk after the flesh, and are\ncarnal-minded. To avoid all confusion or ambiguity which would\nresult from using a word already otherwise appropriated, we\nshould use the terms _spiritism_, spiritists, and spirital.\n\nThe author of _Planchette_ has availed himself largely of\nthe voluminous work of the learned Joseph Bizouard, the second\nwork named on our list, and gives all that can be said, and more\nthan we can say, in favor of spiritism. He has given very fully\none side of the question, all that need be said in support of the\nreality of the order of phenomena which he describes, while the\nFrench work gives all sides; but he passes over, we fear\nknowingly and intentionally, the dark side of spiritism, and\nrefuses to tell us the sad effects on sanity and morality which\nit is known to produce. A more fruitful cause of insanity and\nimmorality and even crime does not exist, and cannot be imagined.\n\n{290}\n\nWe have no intention of devoting any space specially to\n_Planchette_, or the \"little plank,\" which so many treat as\na harmless plaything. It is only one of the forms through which\nthe phenomena of spiritism are manifested, and is no more and no\nless the \"despair of science,\" than any other form of alleged\nspirital manifestations. Contemporary science, indeed, or what\npasses for science, has shown great ineptness before the alleged\nspirit-manifestations; and its professors have, during the twenty\nyears and over since the Fox girls began to attract public\nattention and curiosity, neither been able to disprove the\nalleged facts, nor to explain their origin and cause; but this is\nbecause contemporary science recognizes no invisible existences,\nand no intelligences above or separate from the human, and\nbecause it is not possible to explain their production or\nappearance by any of the unintelligent forces of nature. To deny\ntheir existence is, we think, impossible without discrediting all\nhuman testimony; to regard them as jugglery, or as the result of\ntrickery practised by the mediums and those associated with them,\nseems to us equally impossible. Mr. Miles Grant in his\nwell-reasoned little work on the subject, says very justly, it\n\"would only show that we know but little about the facts in the\ncase. We think,\" he says, p. 3,\n\n  \"No one, after a little reflection, would venture to say of the\n  many thousands and even millions of spiritualists,\n  [spiritists,] among whom are large numbers of men and women\n  noted for their intelligence, honesty, and veracity, that they\n  are only playing tricks on each other! ... Can any one tell\n  what object all these fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters,\n  children, dear friends, and loved companions can have in\n  pretending that they have communications from spirits, when\n  they know, at the same time, that they are only deceiving each\n  other by means of trickery?\"\n\nIn our judgment such an assumption would be a greater violation\nof the laws of human nature or the human mind and belief, than\nthe most marvellous things related by the spiritists, especially\nsince the order and form of the phenomena they relate are nothing\nnew, but have been noted in all lands and ages, ever since the\nearliest records of the race, as is fully shown by M. Bizouard.\n\nThe author of _Planchette_ says the Catholic Church concedes\nthe facts alleged by spiritists. This, as he states it, may\nmislead his readers. The church has not, to our knowledge,\npronounced any official judgment deciding whether these\nparticular facts are real facts or not; for we are not aware that\nthe question has ever come distinctly before her for decision.\nShe has had before her, from the first, the class of facts to\nwhich the alleged spirit-manifestations belong, and has had to\ndeal with them, in some place, or in some form, every day of her\nexistence; but we are not aware that she has examined and\npronounced judgment on the particular facts the modern spiritists\nallege. She has, undoubtedly, declared the practice of spiritism,\nevocation of spirits, consulting them, or holding communication\nwith them--that is, necromancy--to be unlawful, and she prohibits\nit to all her children in the most positive manner, as may be\nseen in the case of the American, or rather Scotchman, Daniel\nHome, the most famous of modern mediums, and the most dangerous.\n\nFor ourselves, we have no doubt of the order of facts to which in\nour view the spirit-manifestations so called belong; we have no\ndifficulties, _a priori_, in admitting them, though we do\nnot accept the explanation the spiritists give of them; but when\nit comes to any particular fact or manifestation alleged, we\njudge it according to the generally received rules of evidence,\nand we require very strong evidence to convince us of its reality\nas a fact.\n{291}\nWe adopt, in regard to them, the same rule that we follow in the\ncase of alleged miracles. We have not a doubt, nor the shadow of\na doubt, that miracles continue to be wrought in the church, and\nare daily wrought in our midst; but we accept or reject this or\nthat alleged miracle according to the evidence in the case; and,\nin point of fact, we are rather sceptical in regard to most of\nthe popularly received miracles we hear of. Credulity is not a\ntrait of the Catholic mind. It is the same with us in relation to\nthis other class of alleged facts. We believe as firmly in the\nfact that prodigies are wrought as we do that miracles are; but\ndo not ask us to believe this or that particular prodigy, unless\nyou are prepared with the most indubitable evidence. We are far\nfrom believing every event which we know not how to explain is\neither a miracle or a prodigy.\n\nWe have examined with some care the so-called\nspirit-manifestations which the spiritists relate, and we have\ncome, according to our best reason, to the conclusion that much\nin them is trickery, mere jugglery; that much is explicable on\nnatural principles, or is to be classed with well-known morbid or\nabnormal affections of human nature; but, after all abatements,\nthat there is a residuum inexplicable without the recognition of\na superhuman intelligence and force. We say _superhuman_,\nnot _supernatural_. The supernatural is God, and what he\ndoes immediately or without the intermediation of natural laws,\nas has been more than once explained in this magazine. The\ncreation of Adam was supernatural; the generation of men from\nparents is not supernatural, for it is done by the Creator\nthrough the operation of natural laws or second causes. What is\ndone by created forces or intelligences, however superior to man,\nis not supernatural, nor precisely preternatural, but simply\nsuperhuman, angelic, or demoniac. There is a smack of paganism in\ncalling it, as most contemporary literature does, supernatural;\nfor it carries with it the notion that the force or intelligence\nis not a creature, but an uncreated _numen_, or an immortal.\n\nNow, what is this superhuman intelligence and force revealed by\nthese spirit-phenomena? We know that many who admit the phenomena\nrefuse to admit that they reveal any superhuman force or\nintelligence. They explain all by imagination or hallucination.\nThese, no doubt, play their part, and explain much; but the\nauthor of _Planchette_, as well as M. Bizouard, have, it\nseems to us, fully proved that they do not and cannot explain\nall, even if they themselves did not need explanation; others\nagain, to explain them, have recourse to what they call animal\nmagnetism, or to a force which they call od, odyle, odyllic, or\nodic force; but these explain nothing, for we know not what\nanimal magnetism or what odic force is, nor whether either has\nany real existence. These terms do but cover our ignorance. Mr.\nGrant ascribes them to demons, and endeavors to show that the\ndemon mesmerizes the medium who wills with his will, and acts\nwith his force and intelligence; but our modern science denies\nthe existence of demons.\n\n{292}\n\nThe spiritists themselves pretend that the phenomena are produced\nby the presence of departed spirits. But of this there is no\nproof. It is acknowledged on all hands that the spirits can\nassume any outward form or appearance at will. What means, then,\nhave we, or can we have, of identifying the individuals\npersonated by the pretended spirits? The author of\n_Planchette_ says, in a note, p. 62:\n\n  \"If spirits have the power, attributed to them by many seers,\n  of assuming any appearance at will, it is obvious that some\n  high spiritual sense must be developed in us before we can be\n  reasonably sure of the identity of any spirit, even though it\n  come in bearing the exact resemblance of the person it may\n  claim to be. We think, therefore, that the fact that the spirit\n  ... bore the aspect of Franklin, and called itself Franklin, is\n  no sufficient reason for dismissing all doubts as to its\n  identity. It may be that we must be in the spiritual before we\n  can really be wisely confident of the identity of any spirit.\"\n\nThat is, we must be ghosts ourselves before we can identify a\nghost, or die in the flesh, and enter the spirit-land, before we\ncan be sure of the identity of the spirits, or of the truth of\nanything they profess to communicate not otherwise verifiable!\n\nIt is pretended that the spirits have latterly rendered\nthemselves visible and tangible. Mr. Livermore, of this city,\nsees and embraces his deceased wife, who caresses and kisses him,\nand he feels her hands as warm and fleshlike as when she was\nliving. Suppose the phenomena to be as related, and not eked out\nby Mr. Livermore's imagination; the visible body in which she\nappeared to him could have been only assumed, and no real body at\nall, certainly not her body during life--that lies mouldering in\nthe grave. And all the spirits teach that the body thrown off at\ndeath does not rise again. They nowhere, that we can find, teach\nthe resurrection of the flesh, but uniformly deny it. If the\nspirits, then, do really render themselves visible and tangible\nto our senses, it must be in a simulated body; and why may they\nnot simulate one form as well as another? The senses of sight and\ntouch furnish, then, of themselves, no proof that a departed\nspirit or a human spirit once alive in the flesh, is present,\ncommunicating through the medium with the living.\n\nThe assertion of the pretended spirit of its identity counts for\nnothing, whether made by knocks or table-tipping, by writing or\nby audible voice and distinct articulation; for the spiritists\nthemselves concede that some of the spirits, at least, are great\nliars, and that they have no criterion by which to distinguish\nthe lying spirits from the others, if others there are, that seek\nto communicate with the living. Conceding all the phenomena\nalleged, there is, then, absolutely no proof or evidence that\nthere are any departed spirits present, or that any communication\nfrom them has ever been received. The spirit of a person may be\nsimulated as well as his voice, features, form, handwriting, or\nanything else characteristic of him. Spiritism, then, contrary to\nthe pretension of the spiritists, proves neither that the dead\nlive again, nor that the spirit survives the body. It does not\neven prove that there is in man a soul or spirit distinct from\nthe body. We call the special attention of our readers to this\npoint, which is worthy of more consideration than it has\nreceived.\n\nThe spiritists claim that the alleged spirit-manifestations have\nproved the spirituality and immortality of the soul, in\nopposition to materialism. This is their boast, and hence it is\nthat they call their doctrine spiritualism, and seek to establish\nfor it the authority of a revelation, supplementary to the\nChristian revelation. Their whole fabric rests on the assumption\nthat the manifestations are made by human spirits that have once\nlived in the flesh, and live now in the spirit-world, whatever\nthat may be.\n{293}\nSet aside this assumption, or  show that nothing in the alleged\nspirit-manifestations sustains it, and the whole edifice tumbles\nto the ground. There is nothing to support this assumption but\nthe testimony of spirits that often prove themselves lying\nspirits, and whose identity with the individual they personate,\nor pretend to be, we have no means of proving. Unable to prove\nthis vital point, the spiritists can prove nothing to the\npurpose. The spirits all say there is no resurrection of the\ndead, and therefore deny point-blank the doctrine that the dead\nlive again. If we are unable, as we are, to identify them with\nspirits that once lived united with bodies that have mouldered or\nare mouldering in their graves, what proof have we, or can they\ngive, that they are, or ever were, human spirits at all? If they\nare not proved to be or to have been human spirits, they afford\nno proof that the soul is distinct from the body, or that it is\nnot material like the body, and perishes with it. If, then, the\nmen of science have shown themselves little able to explain the\norigin and cause of the phenomena, the spiritists have shown\nthemselves to be very defective as inductive reasoners.\n\n\"But the phenomena warrant the induction that they are produced\nby spirits of some sort, or that there are intelligences not\nclothed with human bodies between whom and us there is more or\nless communication.\" Of themselves alone they warrant no\ninduction at all, but are simply inexplicable phenomena, the\norigin and cause of which lie beyond the reach of scientific\ninvestigation; but, taken in the light of what we know\n_aliunde_, they warrant the conclusion that they proceed\nfrom a superhuman cause, and that there are spirits which are, in\nsome respects, stronger and more intelligent than men; but\nwhether the particular spirits to whom the spirit-manifestations\nin question are to be ascribed are angelic or demoniac, must be\ndetermined by the special character of the manifestations\nthemselves, the circumstances in which they are made, and the end\nthey are manifestly designed to effect.\n\nWe make here no attack on the inductive method followed in\nconstructing the physical sciences. We only maintain that the\nvalidity of the induction depends on a principle which is not\nitself obtained or obtainable from induction. Hence Herbert\nSpencer and the positivists who follow very closely the inductive\nmethod, relegate principles and causes to the \"unknowable.\" The\nprinciple on which the inductive process depends cannot be\nattained to by studying the phenomena themselves, but must be\ngiven immediately, either in _a priori_ intuition or in\nrevelation. Books have been written, like Paley's _Natural\nTheology_ and the _Bridgewater Treatises_, to prove, by\nway of induction, from the phenomena of the universe, the being\nand attributes of God, and it is very generally said that every\nobject in nature proves that God is, and that no man ever is or\ncan be really an atheist; but no study of the phenomena of nature\ncould originate the idea or the word in a mind that had it not.\nMen must have the idea expressed in language of some sort before\nthey can find proofs in the observable phenomena of nature that\nGod is. Hence, those _savants_ who confound the origination\nof the idea or belief with the proofs of its truth, and who see\nthat the idea or belief is not obtainable by induction, are\nreally atheists, and say with the fool in his heart, God is--not.\nWe do not assert that God is, on the authority of revelation; for\nwe must know that he is before we have or can have any means of\nproving the fact of revelation; yet if God had not himself taught\nhis own being to the first man, and given him a sign signifying\nit, the human race could never have known or conceived that he\nexists.\n{294}\nThe phenomena or the facts and events of the universe which so\nclearly prove that God is, and find in his creative act their\norigin and cause, would have been to all men, as they are to the\natheist, simply inexplicable phenomena.\n\nSo it is with the spirit-manifestations, whether angelic or\ndemoniac. The existence of spirits must be known to us, either by\nintuition or revelation, before we can assign these phenomena a\nspirital origin and cause. We do not and cannot know it\nintuitively; and therefore, without recurring to what revelation\nteaches us, these manifestations, however striking, wonderful, or\nperplexing they might be, would be to us and to all men\ninexplicable, and we could not assign them any origin or cause.\nRevelation--become traditionary, and so embodied in the common\nintelligence through language as to control, unconsciously and\nunsuspected, the reasonings even of individuals who pride\nthemselves on denying it--furnishes the principle needed as the\nbasis of the induction of the principle and cause of the\nspirit-manifestations. Revelation teaches that God has created an\norder of intelligences superior to man, called angels, to be the\nmessengers of his will. Some of these remained faithful to their\nCreator, always obedient to his command; others kept not their\nfirst estate, rebelled against their sovereign Lord, were, with\ntheir chief, cast out of heaven into the lower regions, and\nbecame demons or evil spirits.\n\nThe spiritists complain of our scientific professors, but without\njust reason; for, on the principles of modern science, the proofs\nthey offer of their doctrines prove nothing but their own logical\nineptness. Science, if it will accept no revelation, and\nrecognize no principle not obtained by the inductive method, has\nno alternative but either to deny the manifestations as facts, or\nto admit them only as inexplicable phenomena. The class of facts\nare as well authenticated, as facts, as any facts can be; but the\nexplanation of them by the spiritists is utterly inadmissible,\nand sound inductive reasoners, who exclude all revealed\nprinciples, must reject it. The professors are not wrong in\nrejecting that explanation as unscientific; for it would be even\nmore unscientific to admit it; and perhaps, if compelled to do\none or the other, we should hold it more unreasonable to admit it\nthan to deny outright the facts themselves.\n\nThe fault of the professors is in denying the necessity to the\nvalidity of induction of principles neither obtainable nor\nprovable by induction, and in supposing that we can construct an\nadequate science of the universe without the principles which are\ngiven us only by divine revelation. Without these principles we\ncan explain nothing, and the universe is a vast assemblage of\ninexplicable phenomena; for it is only in those principles we do\nor can obtain a key to its meaning. Hence, modern science, which\nexcludes both revelation and intuition _a priori_, explains\nnothing, reduces nothing to its principle and cause, and only\ngeneralizes and classifies observable phenomena, which, we\nsubmit, is no science at all. Certainly, we do not pretend that\nscience is built on faith, as the traditionalists do, or are\naccused of doing; but we do say that, without the light of\nrevelation, we cannot construct an adequate science of the\nuniverse, or explain the various facts and events of history.\n{295}\nIf I did not know from revelation that the devil and his angels\nexist, I might observe the facts of satanophany, but I should not\nknow whence they came, or what they mean. I might be tempted,\nvexed, harassed, besieged, possessed, by evil spirits as the\nspiritists are; but I should be ignorant of the cause, and\nutterly unable to explain my trouble, or to ascribe it to any\ncause, far less to satanic invasion. The prodigies would be for\nme simply inexplicable prodigies. But, taught by revelation that\nthe air swarms with evil spirits, the enemies of man, and enemies\nof man because enemies of God, we can see at once the explanation\nof the spirit-manifestations, and assign them their real\nprinciple and cause.\n\nWe know that many who call themselves Christians are disposed to\ndoubt, if not to deny, the personal existence of satan, and to\nmaintain that the word, which means an enemy or adversary, is\nsimply a general term for the sum of the evil influences to which\nwe are exposed, if not subjected. As if a generalization were\npossible where there is nothing concrete! We get rid of no\ndifficulty by this explanation. Influence supposes some person or\nprinciple from whom or from which proceeds the influence or the\nin-flowing. If you deny satan's personal existence, you have no\noption but either to deny evil altogether or to admit an original\neternal principle of evil warring against the principle of good,\nthat is, Manichaeism, or Persian dualism, which, though\nCalvinism, indeed, in teaching that evil or sin is something\npositive, may imply it, is neither good philosophy nor sound\nChristian theology. According to sound philosophy and theology,\nGod alone hath eternity, and by his word has created heaven and\nearth, and all things therein, visible and invisible. All the\nworks of God are good, very good; and as there is nothing in\nexistence except himself that he hath not made, it follows\nnecessarily that evil is not a positive existence, but is simply\nnegative, the negation or absence of good. It originates and can\noriginate only in the abuse of his faculties by a creature whom\nGod hath created and endowed with intelligence and free-will, and\ntherefore capable of acting wrong as well as right. To assert\nthat man is subjected or exposed to evil influences leads\nnecessarily to the assertion of a personal devil who exerts it.\nYou must, then, either deny all evil influences from a source\nforeign to or distinguishable from man's own intrinsic nature, or\nelse admit the personal existence of satan and his hosts.\n\nSatan and his hosts having rebelled against God, and in refusing\nto worship the incarnate Son as God, were cast out of heaven, and\nbecame the bitter enemies of him and the human race. Satan, as\nthe chief of the fallen angels, evil demons, or devils, carries\non incessant war against God, and seeks to draw men away from\ntheir allegiance to him, and to get himself worshipped by them in\nhis place. Hence, he seeks by lying wonders to deceive them; by\nhis prodigies to rival in their belief real miracles; and, by his\npretended revelations of the spirit-world, to substitute belief\nin his pretended communications for faith in divine revelation,\nand thus reestablish in lands redeemed by Christianity from his\ndominion the devil-worship which has never ceased to obtain in\nall heathen countries. The holy Scriptures assure us that all the\ngods of the heathen are demons or devils. These took possession\nof the idols made of wood or stone, gold or silver, [Footnote 65]\nhad their temples, their priests and priestesses, their service,\nand were worshipped as gods.\n\n    [Footnote 65: This explains _Planchette_, which is a\n    step toward the revival of heathen idol-worship.]\n\n{296}\n\nThey gave forth oracles, and were consulted, through their\nmediums, in all great affairs of state, and their omens and\nauguries, which the people consulted to learn the future, as the\nspiritists do their mediums. Spiritism belongs to the same order.\nThe spirits, as Mr. Grant well proves, are demons, and the whole\nthing has for its object to reestablish, perhaps in a modified\nform, the devil-worship which formerly obtained among all nations\nbut the Jews or chosen people of God, and still obtains among all\nnations not yet Christianized. It began in the grand apostasy of\nthe Gentiles from the patriarchal religion, which followed the\nconfusion of tongues at Babel; and the spiritists are doing their\nbest to revive it in the grand apostasy from the Christian\nchurch, which took place in the sixteenth century, and of which\nwe have such clear and unmistakable predictions in the New\nTestament. So adroitly has satan managed, that, if it were\npossible, the very elect would be deceived. So much we say of the\norigin and cause of the spirit-manifestations.\n\nIf we examine more closely these manifestations, we shall find\nevidence enough of their satanic character. All satanic invasions\nbring trouble or perturbation, while the angelic visitations\nalways bring calm, peace, and order. The divine oracles are\nclear, precise, distinct, free from all ambiguity; for he who\ngives them knows all his works from their beginning to their end.\nSatan's oracles are always ambiguous, stammering, and usually\ndeceive or mislead those who trust them. Satan is a creature, and\nhis power and intelligence, though superhuman, are not unlimited.\nThe universe has secrets he cannot penetrate, and he can do no\nmore than his and our Creator permits. He has no prophetic power,\nfor God keeps his own counsels. He can only guess or infer the\nfuture from his knowledge of the present. He has no creative\npower, and can never produce any thing as first cause. Hence, he\ncan operate only with materials fitted to his hand. The\nspiritists tell us that it is not every one that can be a medium.\nIt is only persons of a certain temperament, found much oftener\namong women than among men, and, among men, only with those of a\nfeminine character, and wanting alike in manly vigor and robust\nhealth. The spirits can communicate only through such as nature\nor habit has fitted to be mediums, and the communications have\nalways something of the character of the medium through which\nthey are made. The limited power of satan, his inability to know\nthe future, which exists only in the divine decree, and his lack\nof power to form his own medium, render the spirit-communications\nextremely vague, uncertain, obscure, and feeble.\n\nThe dependence of satan on the medium is manifest. The spirits\nwill not communicate if anything disturbs the medium, or puts the\npythoness out of humor, like the presence of hard-headed\nsceptics, or a too critical examination by keen-sighted\nscientific professors determined not to be deceived. Their\ncommunications, oral or written, from the pretended spirits of\ndistinguished authors, poets, philosophers, statesmen, are by no\nmeans creditable to satan as a scholar or a gentleman. Then\nagain, the spirits really tell us nothing that amounts to\nanything of the spirit-world. Their representations make it a dim\nand shadowy region, in which the spirits of the departed wander\nabout hither and thither, without end or aim, apparently worse\noff than in the Elysian fields of the ancients, which resemble\nmore the Christian hell than the Christian's heaven.\n{297}\nThere is an air of unreality about them; they are the umbrae of\nheathen philosophy, not living existences; and their region, or,\nmore properly, their state, would be distressing, if one believed\nat all in the representations given by them. One thing is\nevident--the spirits know or can say nothing of the beatific\nvision, which proves that they are not blessed angels. They do\nnot see God, and are clearly banished from his presence. He forms\nnot the light nor the blessedness of their state. They seem, like\ntroubled ghosts, to linger around the places where they lived in\nthe body, pale, thin, shadowy, miserable, anxious to communicate\nwith the living but only occasionally permitted to do so, and\neven then only to a feeble extent. Friends and acquaintances in\nthis life may recognize, we are told, each other in the\nspirit-world, but whether with pleasure or pain, it is difficult\nto say. The picture of their disembodied life is very sad, and\nthe Christian soul finds it dark, hopeless, cheerless, and\ndepressing; as the condition of those doomed to take up their\nabode with the devil and his angels must necessarily be.\n\nThe doctrines the spirits teach and confirm with lying wonders\nare what the apostle calls \"the doctrines of devils.\" They are\nunanimous in declaring that there is no devil and no hell. God\nmay not be absolutely denied, but his personality is obscured,\nand he appears only in the distance, as an infinite abstraction,\nbeing only in the sense in which, Hegel might say, being and\nnot-being are identical--remote from all contemplation,\nindifferent to what is going on in the world below him, asking\nneither prayers nor worship, love nor veneration, praise nor\nthanksgiving, and receiving none. The spirits echo the dominant\nsentiments of the age, and especially of the circle with which\nthey communicate. They are, where they are not held in check by\nthe lingering respect of the circle for Christianity, furious\nradicals, great sticklers for progress without divine aid, and of\ndevelopment without a created germ. Yet the doctrines they teach\nare such as they find in germ, if not developed, in the minds of\ntheir mediums. They sometimes deny every distinctively Christian\ndoctrine, and are sure to pervert what of the faith they do not\nexpressly deny. In general, they assert that the form of religion\ncalled Christianity has had its day, and that there is a new and\nsublimer form about to be developed, and that they come to\nannounce it, and to prepare the way for it. The new form of\nreligion will free the world from the old church, from bondage to\nthe Bible, to creeds and dogmas, the old patriarchal systems and\ngovernments, and place the religious, social, and political world\non a higher plane, and moved by a more energetic spirit of\nprogress. This is the mission of spiritism. It is destined to\ncarry on and complete the work commenced by Christ, but which he\nleft unfinished, and inchoate.\n\nThe special object of the spirits, it is pretended, is to\nconvince the world of the immortality of the soul; but in what\nform, what condition, what sense? The immortality of the soul, or\nits survival of the body, was generally believed by the heathens,\nhowever addicted to demon-worship they might be; but the life and\nimmortality brought to light by the Gospel they did not believe,\nand the spirits do not teach it or affirm it. The spirits seem to\nknow nothing of immortal life in God, and into which the\nsanctified soul enters when it departs this life, and is purified\nfrom all the stains it may have contracted in the flesh.\n\n{298}\n\nThe only immortality they offer is the immortality of evil demons\nor the angels who kept not their first estate. But even of such\nan immortality for the human soul, they offer no proof. They are\nlying spirits, and their word is worthless, and their identity\nwith human souls once united to human bodies which they\npersonate, is not and cannot be established. They deny the\nresurrection of the dead, which St. Paul preached at Athens, and\nthey give, as we have seen, no proofs that the soul does not die\nand perish with the body. Their doctrines are simply calculated\nto deceive the unwary, to draw them away from their allegiance to\nthe Lord of heaven, and to drag them down to the region where\ndwell the angels that fell.\n\nThe ethical doctrines of the spirits are as bad as can be\nimagined, and the morals of the advanced spiritists would appear\nto be of the lowest and most revolting sort. It matters not that\nthe spirits give, now and then, some good advice, and say some\ntrue things; for the object of satan is to deceive, and his\npractice is usually to lie and deceive by telling the truth. The\ntruth he tells gains him credit, and secures confidence in him as\na guide. But he takes good care that the truth he tells shall\nhave all the effect of falsehood. He gives good moral advice, but\nhe removes all motives for following it, and takes away all moral\nrestraints. He wars against authority in matters of faith and\nmorals, as repugnant to the rights of reason, and in political\nand domestic life as repugnant to liberty and the rights of women\nand children. All should do right and seek what is good, but no\none should be constrained; only voluntary obedience is\nmeritorious; forced obedience is no virtue. The sentiments and\naffections should be as free as the air we breathe, and to\nattempt to restrain them is to war against nature herself. They\nare not voluntary either in their origin or nature, and therefore\nare not and should not be subjected to an outward law. Love, the\napostle tells us, is the fulfilling of the law, the bond of\nperfection. How wrong, then, to undertake to put gyves on love,\nto constrain it, or to subject it to the petty conventionalities\nof a moribund society, or the rules of an antiquated morality!\nTaking no note of the distinction between the supernatural love,\nwhich Christians call charity, and love as a natural sentiment,\nand as little of the distinction between the different sorts of\nlove even as a natural sentiment, as the love of parents for\nchildren and children for parents, the love of friends, the love\nof country, the love of truth and justice, and the love of the\nsexes for each other, or simply sexual love, satan lays the\nfoundation, as we can easily see, if not blinded by his\ndelusions, for the grossest corruption and the most beastly\nimmorality.\n\nHence the spiritists very generally look upon the marriage law as\ntyrannical and absurd, and assert the doctrine of free love. The\nmarriage is in the love, and when the love is no more, the\nmarriage is dissolved. None of our sentiments depend on the will;\nhence, self-denial is unnatural, and immoral. Prostitution is\nwrong, for no love redeems and hallows it; and for the same\nreason it is immoral for a man and a woman to live together as\nhusband and wife, after they have ceased to love each other. It\nis easy to see to what this leads, and we cannot be surprised to\nfind conjugal fidelity not reckoned as a virtue by spiritists; to\nfind wives leaving their husbands, and husbands their wives, or\nthe wife choosing a new husband as often as she pleases or wills;\nand the husband taking a new wife when tired of the old, or an\nadditional wife or two, Mormon-like, when one at a time is not\nenough.\n{299}\nIndeed, Mormonism is only one form and the most strictly\norganized form, of contemporary spiritism, and woman's-rightism\nis only another product of the same shop, though doubtless many\nof the women carried away by it are pure-minded and chaste. But\nthe leaders are spiritists or intimately connected with them. The\n_animus_ of the woman movement is hostility to the marriage\nlaw, and the cares and drudgery of maternity and home life. It\nthreatens to be not the least of the corrupting and dangerous\nforms of spiritism.\n\nMr. Grant, who is a staunch Protestant, and hates Catholicity\nwith a most hearty hatred, gives, on adequate authority, a sketch\nof the immorality of spiritists which should startle the\ncommunity: we make an extract:\n\n  \"We pass to notice some further facts relative to the\n  _moral_ tendency of spiritualism. We have read its\n  _claims_, and found them very high; but there is abundant\n  proof to show that, instead of its being 'ancient Christianity\n  revived,' it is the worst enemy Christianity ever had to meet.\n  We believe it to be satan's last grand effort to substitute a\n  false for the true Christianity. His snares are laid most\n  ingeniously; and, unless very watchful, ere people are aware of\n  it, they will be caught in some of his traps. Thousands and\n  millions are already his deluded victims, and, like a terrible\n  tornado, he is sweeping with destruction on every side.\n  Occasionally we hear a warning voice from one who has escaped\n  from his power, like a mariner from the sinking wreck; but\n  most, after they once get into the spiritualist 'circle,' are\n  like the boatman under the control of the terrible whirlpool on\n  the coast of Norway--destruction is sure.\n\n  \"The next witness we introduce is Mr. J. F. Whitney, editor of\n  the New York _Pathfinder._ He was formerly a warm advocate\n  of spiritualism, and published much in its favor. He says:\n\n     \"'Now, after a long and constant watchfulness, seeing for\n     months and years its progress and its practical workings\n     upon its devotees, its believers, and its mediums, we are\n     compelled to speak our honest conviction, which is, that the\n     manifestations coming through the acknowledged mediums, who\n     are designated as rapping, tipping, writing, and entranced\n     mediums, have a baneful influence upon believers, and create\n     discord and confusion; that the generality of these\n     teachings inculcate false ideas, approve of selfish,\n     individual acts, and endorse theories and principles which,\n     when carried out, _debase_ and make them _little\n     better than the brute_.'\n\n     \"Again he says: 'Seeing as we have the gradual progress it\n     makes with its believers, particularly its mediums, from\n     lives of _morality_ to those of _sensuality_ and\n     _immorality_, gradually and cautiously undermining the\n     foundation of good principles, we look back with amazement\n     to the radical change which a few months will bring about in\n     individuals.'\n\n     \"He says in conclusion: 'We desire to send forth our warning\n     voice; and if our humble position as the head of a public\n     journal, our known advocacy of spiritualism, our experience,\n     and the conspicuous part we have played among its believers;\n     the honesty and the fearlessness with which we have defended\n     the subject, will weigh anything in our favor, we desire\n     that our opinions may be received, and those who are moving\n     passively down the rushing rapids to destruction, should\n     pause, ere it be too late, and save themselves from the\n     blasting influence which those manifestations are causing.'\n\n\n     \"Forbidding To Marry.\n\n  \"Among other instructions of the spirits, the apostle Paul has\n  assured us that they will be opposed to the marriage\n  laws,'forbidding to marry.' I Tim. iv. 3.\n\n  \"At the Rutland (Vt.) Reform Spiritualist Convention, held in\n  June, 1858, the following resolution was presented and\n  defended:\n\n  \"'_Resolved_, That the only true and natural marriage is\n  an exclusive conjugal love between one man and one woman; and\n  the only true home is the isolated home, based upon this\n  exclusive love.'\n\n  \"The careless reader may see nothing objectionable in the\n  resolution; but please read it again and observe what\n  constitutes _marriage_, according to the resolution,'an\n  exclusive conjugal LOVE between one man and one woman.'\n{300}\n   The poison sentiment is covered up by the word '_one_.'\n   What constitutes marriage now, according to the laws of the\n   land? Do we understand that, when we see a notice of a\n   marriage in a paper, which took place at a certain time and\n   place, that then the parties began to love each other\n   exclusively? Certainly not; but at that time their love was\n   sanctioned by the proper authorities, and thus they became\n   husband and wife. But the resolution states that the\n   _marriage_ should consist in the 'exclusive conjugal\n   _love_.' Then it follows, when either party loves another\n   exclusively, the first marriage is dissolved, and they are\n   married again; and if the other one does not happen to find a\n   spiritual 'affinity,' then there is no alternative left but to\n   make the best of it, as many have been compelled to do.\n   According to this resolution, one is married as often as his\n   love becomes '_exclusive_' for any particular individual.\n   This is one item in the boasted 'new social order,' which the\n   spirits propose to establish when the political power is in\n   their hands. It is called by them the 'Divine Law of\n   Marriage.' A large number of spiritualists are already\n   carrying out this resolution practically, regardless of the\n   laws of the land.\n\n  \"A similar resolution was presented at the National Spiritual\n  Convention held in Chicago, from Aug. 9th to 14th, 1864 It was\n  offered by Dr. A. G. Parker, of Boston, chairman of the\n  committee on social relations. This point is strongly urged by\n  the spirits and spiritualists.\n\n  \"At the Rutland Reform Convention, which closed June 27th,\n  1858, the resolution under consideration was earnestly\n  advocated by able men and women. Said Mrs. Julia Branch, of New\n  York, as reported in _The Banner of Light_, July 10th,\n  1858, when speaking on the resolution: 'I am aware that I have\n  chosen almost a forbidden subject; forbidden from the fact that\n  any one who _can_ or _dare_ look the marriage\n  question in the face, candidly and openly denouncing the\n  institution as the sole cause of woman's degradation and\n  misery, are objects of suspicion, of scorn, and opprobrious\n  epithets.'\n\n  \"She further remarked in the defence of the resolution, and the\n  rights of women, 'She must demand her freedom; her right to\n  receive the equal wages of man in payment for her labor; _her\n  right to have children when she will, and by whom_.'\"\n\nMuch more to the same effect, and even more startling, we might\nquote; we might give the account of the spiritist community at\nBerlin, Ohio; but we have no wish to disgust our readers, and\nthis is enough for our purpose; it is sufficient to prove to all,\nnot under the delusion, that spiritism is of satanic origin, and\nto be eschewed by all who wish to remain morally sane, and to\nlead honest and upright lives. We are not disposed to be\nalarmists, and, like the majority of our countrymen, are more\nlikely to err on the side of optimism than of pessimism; but we\ncannot contemplate the rapid spread of spiritism since 1847, when\nit began with the Fox girls, without feeling that a really great\ndanger threatens the modern world, and that there is ample reason\nfor all who do not wish to see demon-worship supplanting the\nworship of God throughout the land, to be on their guard. Mr.\nGrant, who seems to be well informed on the subject, tells us\nthat since that period, spiritism \"has become world-wide in its\ninfluence, numbering among its ardent supporters many of the\nfirst men and women of both continents. Ministers, doctors,\nlawyers, judges, congressmen, governors, presidents, queens,\nkings, and emperors, of all religions, are bowing to its\ninfluence, and showing their sympathy with its teachings.\"\n\nMr. Grant should not say, \"of all religions;\" some Catholics may\nhave become spiritists, but they cannot become so, and persist in\nfollowing spiritism without severing themselves from the church.\nSome spiritists have been told by the spirits to become\nCatholics; but the church has required them to give up spiritism,\nand they have either done so, or left her communion, like Daniel\nHome, and returned to their communion with the demons. The church\nforbids her children to have any dealings with devils. But with\nthis rectification the statement is not exaggerated.\n{301}\nThe spread of spiritism has been prodigious, and proves not only\nthe power and cunning of satan, but that the way for his success\nhad been well prepared, and that no small portion of the modern\nworld were in the moral condition of the old world at the epoch\nof the great Gentile apostasy, and ready to return to the heathen\ndarkness and superstition, the vice and corruption, from which\nthe Gospel had rescued them, or, at least, had rescued their\nancestors.\n\nWe know not the number of spiritists in our country. We have seen\nit stated that they reckon their numbers by millions; but there\ncan be no doubt that they include a very large portion of our\nwhole population. Has this fact anything to do with the\nastounding increase of vice and crime in our country within the\nlast few years, the undeniable corruption of morals and manners,\nand the growing frequency of murder and suicide? Senator Sprague,\nan honorable and an honest man and a true patriot, stated, the\nother day, in his place in the Senate of the United States, that\nour country is morally and politically more corrupt than any\nother country in the civilized world. We hope he is mistaken, but\nwe are afraid that he is not wholly wrong. It is idle to\nattribute this corruption to the influences of the late civil\nwar, and still idler or worse than idle, to attribute it, as some\ndo, to the heavy influx of foreigners; for, though among those\nare many old-world criminals, the great body of the foreigners,\nwhen they land here, are far more moral, honest, upright,\nconscientious, than the average of native Americans; and though\nthey soon prove that \"evil communications corrupt good manners,\"\nmuch of the patriot's hope for the future depends on them,\nespecially the Catholic portion of them, if, in due season, their\nchildren can be brought under the influence of the church, and\nreceive a proper Catholic training.\n\nUnhappily, the simple, natural virtues of former times, such as\nexisted in ancient Greece and Rome, and exist even now in some\npagan and Mohammedan countries, have, to a fearful extent, been\nlost with us, and the sects have nothing with which to supply\ntheir place, or to oppose to this terrible satanic invasion. They\nhave indeed done much to prepare the way for it, and are doing\nstill more, by their opposition to the church, to render it\nsuccessful. But, though the danger is great and pressing, we are\nnot disposed to think, with Mr. Grant, that we are in what he\ncalls the \"world's crisis.\" The danger is far less than it was;\nbecause the satanic origin and character of the so-called\nspirit-manifestations are widely suspected, and are beginning to\nbe exposed. Satan is powerless in the open day. He is never\ndangerous when seen and known to be satan. He must always\ndisguise himself as an angel of light, and appear as the defender\nof some cause which, in its time and place, is good, but,\nmistimed and misplaced, is evil. He has done wonders in our day\nas a philanthropist, and met with marvellous success as a\nhumanitarian, and will, perhaps, meet with more still as the\nchampion of free love and women's rights. But he has no power\nover the elect, and, though he may besiege the virtuous and the\nholy, he can captivate only the children of disobedience, who are\nalready the victims of their own pride, vanity, lust, or\nunbelief.\n\nThe end of the world may be at hand, and these lying signs and\nwonders may be the precursors of antichrist; but we do not think\nthe end is just yet. Faith has not yet wholly died out, and the\nchurch has seen, perhaps, darker days than the present.\n{302}\nThe power of Christ, or his patience, is not yet exhausted; the\ngospel of the kingdom has not yet been preached to all nations;\nthree fourths of the human race remain as yet unconverted, and we\ncannot believe that the church has as yet fulfilled her mission,\nand Christianity done its work. Too many of the sentinels have\nslept at their posts, and there has been a fearful lack of\nvigilance and alertness of which the enemy has taken advantage.\nThe sleepers in Zion are many; but these satanic knocks and raps,\nand these tippings of tables, and this horrid din and racket of\nthe spirits to indicate their presence, can hardly fail to awaken\nthem, unless they are really sleeping the sleep of death. The\nchurch is still standing, and if her children will watch and\npray, she can battle with the enemy as successfully as she has\ndone so many times before.\n\nMany Catholics have had their doubts of the reality of the\nalleged spirit-manifestations, and, even conceding them as facts,\nhave been slow to recognize their satanic origin and character.\nBut those doubts are now generally removed. The fearful moral and\nspiritual ravages of spiritism have dispelled or are fast\ndispelling them, and it will go hard but here and now as always\nand everywhere, what satan regards as a splendid triumph shall\nturn out against him and bring him to shame. Thus far in his war\nagainst the Son of God all his victories have been his defeats.\n\nOne thing is certain, that the only power there is to resist this\nsatanic invasion is the Catholic Church; and there is, unless we\ngreatly deceive ourselves, a growing interest in the Catholic\nquestion far beyond any that has heretofore been felt. Thinking\nand well-disposed men see and feel the impotence of the sects;\nthat they have no divine life, and no divine support; that they\nstand in human folly, rather than even in human wisdom. Eminent\nProtestant ministers eloquently proclaim and conclusively show\nthat Protestantism was a blunder, and has proved a failure; and\nthere springs up a growing feeling among the more intelligent and\nwell-disposed of our non-Catholic countrymen, that the judgment\nrendered against the church by the Reformers in the sixteenth\ncentury was hasty, and needs revision, perhaps a reversal. This\nfeeling, if it continues to grow, can augur but ill for the\nultimate success of satan and his followers.\n\n-------\n\n{303}\n\n                Daybreak.\n\n\n\t       Chapter VI.\n\n             Presentiments.\n\n\nMr. Granger's family took the full benefit of their holiday at\nthe seaside. They rose before the lark, and watched the days come\nin: radiant, solemn mornings, all light and silence; tender,\nmist-veiled dawns, less like day than a dream of day; and angry,\nmagnificent sunrises, blazing with stormy colors all over the\nsky, soon to be quenched in a fine gray fall of rain.\n\nThey lay in hammocks slung out under the pine-trees, till nature\nadopted them for her own, and little wild creatures came and went\nabout them unscared.\n\n\"Margaret,\" Mrs. Lewis called, one day, out of her hammock over\nto the other, \"you remember how the foxes went to St.\nFrancis--wasn't it St. Francis?--and held out their paws to shake\nhands with him, and said, 'How do you do, St. Francis?' and he\ngave them his hand, and said, 'How do you do?\"'\n\n\"I remember nothing of the kind,\" was the indignant reply. \"But I\nknow that Robinson Cru--\"\n\n\"O fie!\" cries the little lady. \"Why won't you own that my legend\nis beautiful and sublime, whether true or not? And it will be\ntrue when the kingdom comes for which all good people pray. For\nthe last hour I have been trying to get acquainted with a\nsquirrel; but just as I thought that he understood me, and as I\nwas about to offer my hand to him, the little wretch darted away.\nAt this moment he is perched in the very top of a pine-tree, and\npeering down at me as if I were a hyena. Alas!\"\n\nThey wandered on the beach at evening, singing, talking, silent;\nor if in merry mood, skooning little flat stones over the water,\nand counting how many wave-tips they would trip before falling.\n\n\"_Mon armant m'aime--un peu--beaucoup--passionn\u00e9ment--pas du\ntout!_\" laughed Mrs. Lewis, seeing Miss Hamilton counting to\nherself. \"You must only try that oracle in flower petals, my\ndear. To count it in salt water signifies tears.\"\n\nSometimes they floated out in the harbor, and felt the fresh\nbreath of the ocean, while the treacherous waters lapped, and\nfawned, and gurgled about the bows of their boat, and overhead\nthe sky was thick with stars.\n\nAll this was not with the ladies mere idle pleasure, but was as\nseriously planned as it was heartily enjoyed. They had resolved\nthat whatever exciting discussions and differences the gentlemen\nshould have abroad, at home they should find nothing but peace.\nPolitics were banished; and they sometimes even restrained their\nimpatience to hear the war-news when they suspected that the\nrelation was likely to produce any unpleasant entanglement.\nWithout being religious, they yet had some perception of a\npathway lying changeless and peaceful, far above parties and\nnationalities, and they felt that woman's proper place is there.\n\nThe gentlemen soon learned to submit to a restraint which they\nwould never have imposed on themselves. When they stepped out at\nthe little station near their cottage, their discussions were at\nan end.\n\n{304}\n\n\"There is our flag of truce,\" Mr. Lewis would say, pointing to\nthe thread of smoke that showed, over the trees, Mrs. James's\nkitchen-fire just kindled to prepare their dinner. \"Understand,\nMr. Southard, I oppose both you and Louis tooth and nail, and I'd\nlike to fight it out with you now. But our time is up; and there\nare three little girls behind the trees there who would break\ntheir hearts if we should go home with cross faces. Let's shake\nhands till next time.\"\n\nThe only news of which they could all speak fearlessly and with\npleasure was what concerned Mr. Granger's cousin. Scarcely a week\npassed that did not bring some laudation of him. He was one of\nthose men who, without effort, are always conspicuous wherever\nthey go. Opportunities that others sought with pain presented\nthemselves unsought to him; and he had a gallant, dashing, and,\nwithal, a lordly way that embellished even brilliant exploits.\n\n\"Upon my word,\" his cousin said, \"at this rate it is not\nimpossible that he may be made lieutenant-general.\"\n\nMr. Southard was, perhaps, the hardest to keep within bounds,\nprobably because he felt himself religiously obliged to \"cry\naloud and spare not.\" But even he was subdued after a while. He\nseemed indeed too dependent on the ladies to willingly offend\nthem. All the time he was not in the city he spent in their\ncompany, unbending as much as was possible to him, that his\npresence might not be a restraint on their pleasures. He brought\nhis books to the parlor, and had his special corner there, the\n\"lion's den,\" he called it, with a slight touch of reproach in\nhis voice, when he saw how the others kept away from its\nvicinity. He rendered himself agreeable in many ways. He read\naloud to them, he played and sang for them, sometimes he took the\nbrush from Miss Hamilton's hand, and helped her with a bolder\nline than she could achieve.\n\n\"It takes a strong hand to give a fine stroke,\" she said. \"Where\nI would be delicate, I am only soft.\" \"Let me finish this for\nyou, since the stippling is done,\" he said, as she paused to\ncontemplate a major-general reposing pacifically on her easel. \"I\nwill not touch the face. Say what you will, there is a softness\nand richness in your shading which I can never attain. I may have\na fine or bold touch, but it is hard. Shall I deepen this\nbackground a little to throw the figure out? And may I intensify\nhis shoulder-straps?\"\n\nMargaret left her work to him, and, taking possession of his den,\ndivided her attention between a book, and watching Dora at play\nwith Aurelia outside.\n\nSince they left the city the child had been set loose from all\ncity restraints, and turned out to consort with bees and\ngrasshoppers, harrowing the soul of Mrs. James by the number and\nheinousness of her soiled frocks and stockings, but drawing in\nfull draughts of health. Both Dora and her father were bankers.\nBut his bank in the city dealt in paper and specie; hers was a\nflower-bank. When she wanted him to buy her anything, she brought\nhim buttercups, which were gold dollars with handles to them, and\nhe scrupulously kept account and returned her change. No lover\ncould wear in his buttonhole the rosebud presented by his lady's\nhand with a more tender pride than this father cherished for the\nbunch of wildflowers given him by his little daughter.\n\n{305}\n\nMrs. Lewis approached the minister's table, and began turning\nover his books. \"I don't know anything,\" she said mournfully,\nopening a Greek copy of Homer, and passing her fingers\ncaressingly over the dear little quaint letters. \"Wallace, wasn't\nit?--that poor Horace Binney--\n\n             'Doubly dead,\n  In that he died so young,'\n\nwrites of the 'arrowy certainty of Grecian phrases.' Woe is me! I\ncannot get at the point. I can only see the feathering.\"\n\nMargaret looked up with an exclamation from the book in her hand.\n\"Listen! Coleridge, _\u00e0 propos_ of having republished his\nearlier poems without correction, writes, 'I was afraid of\ndisentangling the weed for fear of snapping the flower.'\nSnapping! only a poet would have chosen that word. The\nflower-stem that you can _snap_ must be of sudden and\nluxuriant growth, made up of water and color, with just fibre\nenough to hold the two together. As I read that, I thought\ninstantly of a red tulip bursting up bright and hasty through the\nmoist, warm mould. That sends me outdoors. I want to see weeds\nand flowers growing tangled together.\"\n\n\"Wait a little and let me go with you,\" Mr. Southard said. \"And\nmeantime let Mrs. Lewis read us one of her poems, as she promised\nto do.\"\n\nMrs. Lewis had been for years one of those pretty lady writers of\nwhich the country is full, by no means an artist, or dreaming of\nany such distinction, but writing acceptably to her friends, and\nsometimes pleasing a not too critical public. But she had abjured\nthe pen from the day when a friendly publisher, meaning to\ncompliment her, issued a volume of \"Extracts\" from her writings.\n\n\"A volume!\" she cried in dismay. \"Why not a bottle? There were my\npoor little fancies torn from their homes and set up in rows,\nlike flies and bugs transfixed on pins. I shuddered. I wrote no\nmore.\"\n\n\"I forgive you for asking me,\" she said to Mr. Southard. \"I dare\nsay you want to hear my rhyme, and will think it very pretty. And\nshe read:\n\n         Beating The Bars.\n\n  \"0 morning air! O pale, pure fire!\n     Wrap and consume my bonds away.\n   This stifling mesh of sordid flesh\n     Shuts in my spirit from the day.\n\n  \"Through sudden chinks the radiance blinks,\n     And drives the winged creature wild.\n   She hears rejoice each ringing voice,\n     She guesses at each happy child.\n\n  \"In fleeting glints are shining hints\n     Of freer beings, good and glad;\n   Her dream can trace each lovely face,\n     Each form, in lofty beauty clad.\n\n  \"She hears the beat of joyous feet\n     That break no flower, fear no thorn;\n   And almost feels the breeze that steals\n     From out the ever-growing morn.\n\n  \"She hears the flow of voices low,\n     And strains to catch the half-known tongue.\n   She hears the gush of streams that rush\n     Their thrilling waters into one.\n\n  \"With longing sighs, her baffled eyes\n     She sets where burn the unseen stars.\n   With frantic heats her wings she beats,\n     And breaks them on the stubborn bars.\n\n  \"O light!' she cries, 'unseal mine eyes,\n     Or blind me in thine ardent glow.\n   O life and breath! O life in death!\n     O bonds! dissolve, and let me go.\n\n  \"'Let drop this crust of cankering rust,\n     The only crown my brow hath won;\n   Shake off the sears of briny tears,\n     And dry my pinions in the sun!'\"\n\n\"You don't mean it!\" exclaimed Margaret.\n\n\"My dear,\" said Mrs. Lewis, \"I do not mean it as a rule, but as\nan exception. That was written during my equinoctial.\"\n\nMiss Hamilton waited for an explanation.\n\n\"You don't know it yet,\" the lady continued, \"but you will learn\nin time that every woman has her line-gale. It usually comes\nbetween thirty and forty, sooner or later, and is more or less\nviolent. After that, we settle down and let the snows fall on\nus.\"\n\nEnding, she laughed a little; but there was a tightening of the\nlines about the mouth that showed at least remembered pain.\n\n{306}\n\nMargaret, going out, stopped to look over Mr. Southard's\nshoulder, drawn there by the absent, dreamy expression of his\nface. If he was painting backgrounds, she thought, what mountains\nof melting blue, what far-away waters, half cloud, half glitter,\nmust be stealing to life beneath his hand!\n\nHe had placed a blank sheet on the easel, and was idly covering\nit with fragmentary improvisations. Under the heading of\n\"synonyms\" he had written, \"_Cogito quia sum, et sum quia\ncogito_,\" the text illustrated by a drawing of a cat running\nround after her own tail.\n\n\"Or a mouse going in at the same hole it came out from,\" thought\nMargaret.\n\nHe drew steady, straight lines, crossing them off with wonderful\nregularity; then some airy grace stole down to the tips of his\nfirm white fingers, and the ends of the lines leaved and budded\nout, audacious tendrils draped the severest angles, and stars and\ncrescents peeped through the spaces. Half impatiently he returned\nto geometrical figures; but pentagons grouped themselves to look\nlike five-petaled blossoms or star-crystals of frost, and\nhexagons gathered themselves into a mosaic pavement whereon a\nsandalled foot was set.\n\n\"This is the Nile,\" he said, going over all with bold, flowing\nlines; \"and here comes Cleopatra's barge, the dusky queen dropped\namong her cushions, a line of steady glow showing under each\nlowered eyelid, cords of cool pearls trying in vain to press into\nquiet her untamable pulses.\n\n\"This is a close-shut forest solitude, with a carpet of greenest,\nsoftest moss, whereon I lie like Danae while the heavens shower\ngold on me.\"\n\nThen, with a start, came recollection, and the rush-tip became an\nasp to the Egyptian, and the Greek was drowned in ink.\n\n\"Come out!\" he said abruptly. \"The air is close here.\"\n\n\"Will you come, Mrs. Lewis?\" asked Miss Hamilton, looking back\nfrom the door.\n\nThe lady shook her head in an exhausted manner.\n\n\"Aura,\" said Margaret when they reached the veranda,\" will you\ncome down to the beach with us?\"\n\n\"Thank you, dear,\" said Aurelia gently, \"I do not care to go.\"\n\nMiss Hamilton's eyes flashed a little impatiently. She did not\nlike the way in which they withdrew themselves when she was with\nMr. Southard. But after going a few steps, she glanced back at\nAurelia, and the two smiled. At the moment it struck her that\nthere was something new in Miss Lewis's expression, an unusual\nseriousness and dignity under her sweetness.\n\nThe day was sultry, but otherwise perfect, the green as fresh as\nat spring, the harbor purple and sparkling, and the sky a deep\nazure, except where a rim of darkness lay piled around the north\nand west, cloud-peaks and cliffs showing as hard and sharp as if\nhewn of stone, but illuminated now and then by lightnings that\nstirred uneasily within them, changing their dense shadows to\nmolten gold, or leaping in dazzling crinkled flashes from point\nto point. It seemed a gala-day of nature, so wide, so brilliant,\nso consciously beautiful was everything.\n\n\"'Visibly in his garden walketh God!'\" quoted Margaret, looking\nabroad with delight.\n\n\"The god Pan, you mean,\" said the minister, whose little sparkle\nof gayety seemed to have been suddenly extinguished.\n\n\"The Creator pronounced his work good,\" she said.\n\n\"Yes; but we have changed all that,\" was the reply. \"We have put\nthe heart in the wrong place.\"\n\n{307}\n\n\"Moses and Moli\u00e8re,\" thought Miss Hamilton, amused at the\njuxtaposition; then added aloud, \"Christ pointed to the lilies of\nthe field.\"\n\n\"For a moral and a reproof, yes. He made them not a text, but the\nillustration of a text. This delight in inanimate nature is not\nharmful if subordinate to the thought of God; otherwise it is a\nlure. It leads to materialism, or to sentimental religion that is\nworse than none, since it bars the way to a true piety.\"\n\nMargaret made no reply. In spite of herself, his remarks\ndepressed her, and cast some faint shadow over the beauty of the\nscene.\n\n\"The breakers are coming in,\" Mr. Southard said presently, in a\ntone of voice that showed his regretful sense of having been\ndisagreeable. \"We shall have a tempest.\"\n\nThey had reached the shore, and stood looking off over the water,\nThe liquid emerald wave they watched came rolling toward them,\npaused an instant, then rose and flung itself at their feet,\nrustling away in foam and sliding, silky water, no longer a\nbreaker, but a broken.\n\n\"Mr. Southard,\" Margaret said after a minute, \"you know that I\nwould like to be religious, if I knew how; but it doesn't seem\npossible. I am like one who, in the dark, wanting to get into a\nhouse, knocks all about the walls without finding a door. I am\ntrying--in a sort of way--\" She hesitated. What would he say if\nhe knew in what way she was trying?\n\n\"Give up all,\" he said; \"forget self; and think only of God.\"\n\n\"What you propose to me is not a path, but a pedestal!\" she\nexclaimed, turning from him to go back to the house. \"And I am\nnot marble.\"\n\nHe followed her, looking both hurt and annoyed. Outside the door\nshe stopped, and bending toward a little cluster of violets that\ngrew there, shook a warning finger in their innocent blue eyes.\n\"Don't look at me,\" she said. \"You're wicked!\"\n\n\"Do not give all your kindness to those who think only of your\ntemporal welfare,\" said the minister hastily, \"Remember those\nalso who care for your soul.\"\n\n\"Oh! why should I remember those who do me good for God's sake?\"\nsaid Miss Hamilton coldly, \"Let him reward them; I shall not.\"\n\nThere was no one in the parlor when they went in; but they did\nnot perceive that at first, it was so dim. The sky had darkened\nrapidly, the clouds rolling up as if self-impelled; for there was\nscarcely a breath of air stirring. A shadow had swept the sparkle\noff the water, and all the western view was shrouded in gloom.\nSouthward a single point shone out like a torch amid the\nsurrounding obscurity, a beam of sunlight drop-ping on it through\na cleft cloud, and showing in a golden path visible across the\nheavens. Suddenly, like a torch, it was quenched; and all was\ndarkness.\n\nMr. Southard stood before an open window, with his hands clasped\nbe-hind him, and his clear eyes lifted heavenward. Margaret heard\nhim repeating lowly, \"'Canst thou send lightnings, and will they\ngo, and will they return and say to thee, Here we are?'\"\n\n\"After all,\" she said, \"God is love, And however circumstances\nmay hem us in from each other, he looks down on all. Perhaps some\nday, lifting us, each after his own way, he will show us not only\nhimself, but one another, face to face. I think that there are\nmore mistakes than sins in the world; and God is love.\"\n\n\"God is justice!\" said the minister austerely.\n\n{308}\n\nHis words were almost lost in a\nlow rumble of thunder that curdled all about the heavens.\nMargaret stood beside him, and looked out at the piled-up\nblackness shot through by flying thunderbolts.\n\n\"Ossa upon Pelion,\" she said. \"It is the battle of the gods over\nagain, and Jove is everywhere, 'treading the thunders from the\nclouds of air.'\"\n\nAs she spoke, a flash sprang from the north and a flash from the\nwest, and caught in their glittering toils the grouped inky\ncrests of the tempest, that for an instant stood out against the\npale blue of the zenith, a stupendous, writhing Laocoon. Then the\nlightnings leaped from that height to the midst of the harbor,\nand stung the hissing waves till far and wide they quivered with\na froth of flame. As they fell, the heavens seemed to burst in\none awful report.\n\nThere were cries through the house, and the whole family,\nservants and all, came rushing into the parlor. Mr. Southard was\nleaning against the wall, with both hands over his face. The\nshock had been severe, and for a little while he was stunned.\n\n\"Are you hurt?\" asked Aurelia, going to him at once.\n\nHe recovered himself, and looked up. \"No. Where is Miss\nHamilton?\" Miss Lewis drew back immediately, and showed him\nMargaret holding the frightened Dora in her arms and hushing her\ncries.\n\n\"God be thanked!\" he exclaimed. \"We have all escaped.\"\n\n\"Are the skies falling?\" cried Mrs. Lewis.\n\nIt seemed indeed as though they were. That thunder-clap had\nloosened the pent rain, and it came pouring down in floods,\nveiling them in grayness, the multitudinous plash and patter\nmingling with a sound like myriad chariot wheels driving\noverhead.\n\nThey closed the windows, which immediately became sheeted with\nwater, the servants went back to their places, Dora took courage,\nand ventured to uncover one blue eye, with which she looked\naskance at the window. Mrs. Lewis began to take an esthetic view\nof the matter, and Miss Hamilton a practical, which she carried\nout by setting herself to kindle a fire against the coming of the\nabsent ones. They were sure to be drenched.\n\nShe had wood brought, removed the pine boughs from the fireplace,\nand, kneeling on the hearth, began arranging the pile after the\nmost scientific country fashion, miniature back-log, back-stick,\nand fore-stick, then the finished pyramid, sloping smoothly with\nthe chimney. It was pretty enough to burn, built of birch, amber\nand golden-hearted, with bark of silver and cinnamon. Nothing\nelse in woods so beautiful as those birch colors.\n\nThen it must be lighted with ceremony, being their first fire,\ntheir beltane a little belated. Fresh, drowned roses were\nsnatched in out of the drip to crown the pyre, and the ladies had\nthe temerity to despatch the minister, as officiating priest,\nwith a wax taper, to bring sacred fire from the kitchen grate.\nLucifer matches were not to be thought of.\n\nThe lambent flame shone softly out through the chinks, then\nreddened and grew broader, tongues of fire lapped the sticks, and\ndisappeared and reappeared, becoming bolder each time, blistering\nbrownly the silvery bark, catching at the edges, and rolling it\nup and off the sticks. Columns of milk-white smoke rose, propped\nby half-sheathed flames, and curled over, mimicking every order\nof convolution. Mr. Southard recited:\n\n  \"'A gleam--a gleam from Ida's height,\n      By the fire-god sent it came,\n    From watch to watch it leaped, that light,\n      As a rider rode the flame.'\"\n\n{309}\n\nThe smoke shut thickly down, a moment; then a broad blaze burst\nout, wrapped the logs, and began to devour them, roaring like a\nlion.\n\nThe others gathered about the cheerful fire which was reflected\nin their faces; but Margaret glanced out at the storm, then went\nup to the long chamber entry from which a window looked down the\ntownward road, and began walking to and fro there, wringing her\nhands, and listening to the wind and the rain lash the windows. A\nsudden darkness and terror had settled upon her. It was more than\nthat atmospheric influence to which many are susceptible, more\nthan a mere vague impression of evil; it was a thought as clearly\ndefined as if some one had that moment given it utterance in her\nhearing, and it held her like a conviction. Some one whom she\nknew was at that instant dying, or dead!\n\nHer hands grew cold; she shook as with an ague fit.\n\nShe had been too happy. She might have known that it could not\nlast. She had known it. In all those happy months, had she not\ndrunk every sweet moment with eager lips that had felt, and must\nagain feel, the bitterness of thirst? Had she not constantly said\nto herself, It is too bright to last?\n\n\"I was not meant for earthly happiness,\" she thought, wringing\nher hands.\n\nThe walls shook in the clutch of the blast. Noises came up from\nthe sea; and wild voices answered them from echoing rocks and\nfrom out the hollow woods. A great wall seemed to have risen\nbetween her and paradise, with a ceaseless swing of lightning\nguarding the entrance.\n\nShe fell on her knees and prayed, one of those terrible,\nvoiceless prayers when the heart strains upward, but utters no\npetition, because it dares not think what it fears or what it\ndesires.\n\nLeaning exhausted then against the window frame, whom should she\nsee but her great drenched hero striding down the road, no form\nbut his, she knew, though a slouched hat covered his face, and a\nlong cloak wrapped him from neck to heel.\n\nIn a flash, the great wall changed its front, and now shut her\ninside paradise. She ran joyfully downstairs to open the door,\nand caught the wind and rain in her face, but caught also with\nthem a smile.\n\n\"Where is Mr. Lewis?\" she asked, thinking of that gentleman by a\nhappy inspiration.\n\nMr. Granger stepped in and shook himself like a half-drowned\nNewfoundland dog. \"Mr. Lewis stopped to drink General Sinclair's\nhealth. He will come down in the next train.\"\n\n\"General?\"\n\n\"Yes; Maurice is made a brigadier. He doesn't have to climb the\nladder, you see, the ladder comes down to him. And truly he is a\ngallant fellow. He goes in front of his men, and laughs at danger\nas he laughs at fortune.\"\n\n\"I've got a fire in the parlor for you,\" she said.\n\nHe looked at her smilingly, pleased at the childish delight in\nhis coming which she did not try to hide. Why should she? \"Have\nyou? That's pleasant. Now help me off with my cloak. I cannot\nunfasten that buckle at the back of the neck. Stand on the stair\nwith the railing between us, that you may not get wet.\"\n\nAs she stood near him, she caught a sweet breath of English\nviolets.\n\n\"I brought them out for you,\" he said, giving them to her. \"See!\nnot a stem is broken.\"\n\n{310}\n\nShe ran up-stairs to put the flowers in her chamber--they were\ntoo sacred to be shared with others--and coming down, entered the\nparlor just after Mr. Granger. Presently Mr. Lewis appeared, and\nthey had dinner.\n\nThe conversation chanced to turn on presentiments; and since they\nwere all in very friendly humor, Miss Hamilton told of her\nafternoon terror, making it as presentable as possible. \"I\nsuffered a few minutes of mortal fear,\" she said. \"I seemed to\n_know_ that some dreadful accident had happened to one of\nthe family. What is the meaning of those impressions that are\noften false, but sometimes true, and that come to us so suddenly,\nuninvited and unexpected?\"\n\n\"They are the conclusion of which a woman is one of the\npremises,\" Mr. Lewis said in his rough way. \"Did you ever hear of\na man having presentiments? Of course not. He may have if his\nliver is out of order; not otherwise.\"\n\n\"I'm not bilious,\" pouted Miss Hamilton.\n\nMrs. Lewis had been listening with interest. She was one of those\npersons who believe that there are more things in heaven and\nearth than are dreamed of in most philosophies. Her husband\ncalled her superstitious.\n\n\"I believe in those presentiments which come to us unexpectedly,\"\nshe said. \"We may know that they come from outside by the shock\nof their coming. We may not be clear. We may think that they\npoint to the past or the present, when really they indicate the\nfuture. I think that what we call a true presentiment is a\ncommunication from some outside intelligence.\"\n\nMargaret started and looked uneasily at the speaker. Mr. Lewis\nregarded his wife with affectionate contempt. \"There's the woman\nwho always wishes when she sees two white-faced horses coming\ntoward her, and when she sees the new moon over her right\nshoulder, and who won't wear an opal because it's an unlucky gem,\nthough it is her favorite. That's the way with women. Their\nmanner of arriving at conclusions is a caution to common sense.\n\nMrs. Lewis sugared her strawberries, and seemed to soliloquize.\n\"'Two wings are better than ten legs,' says the butterfly to the\ncaterpillar.\"\n\nMr. Granger good-naturedly came to the rescue. \"It is my\nopinion,\" he said, \"that these excessively reasonable people make\nas many mistakes as the most imaginative, only their mistakes are\nnot so obvious, though often far worse. They chill fresh\nspontaneous feeling, they dampen enthusiasm, they wound hearts\nthat they cannot heal. In ordinary matters, I set reason above\nall; but when we would measure the walls of the new Jerusalem, we\nmust have a reed of gold, and it must be in the hand of an\nangel.\"\n\nMr. Southard had also his word to say in defence of woman against\nMr. Lewis's slighting remarks. But his serious defence was more\nirritating than the others' laughing attack. He spoke honorably,\nand often truly; but in the tone of one who understands the\nsubject, root and branch. The three ladies listening felt as if\nthey were three primers with pretty pictures, and nice little\ngood lessons in large print, which Mr. Southard had read with\nedification to himself in the intervals of more serious study.\n\n\"Woman,\" he said, \"woman is--\" And paused there, catching an\nimpatient sparkle in Miss Hamilton's eyes.\n\n{311}\n\n\"Oh! I know,\" she exclaimed with the stammering eagerness of a\nchild who can spell a big word--\"I know what woman is!\n'_Hominis confusio_.' I--I read it in a book.\"\n\nThe minister sat silent and confounded.\n\n\"I propose the health of General Sinclair,\" said Mr. Lewis.\n\nAfter dinner the party gathered about the parlor fire, and as it\nfell from flame to coal, told stories of hurricanes, and\ntornadoes, and shipwrecks, the fearful recitals intensifying\ntheir sense of comfort and safety.\n\nWhile they talked, the storm passed away, and there was only the\nsound of vines swinging against the panes, and the ceaseless\nmurmur of the sea. When they opened the window, clouds of perfume\ncame in. The sky was quite clear, and there was a tinge of orange\nyet lingering in the west. In the east was a still brighter\naurora, and the full moon, coming up, feathered with a crest of\ngold every crisp, bright wavelet.\n\nThey all went out and strolled down to the beach. Every leaf and\ntwig and blossom, and the long line of the eaves, were hung full\nof glittering rain-drops, and the grass shone as if sheathed in\nburnished silver.\n\nThey sighed and were silent. A scene so lovely and peaceful is\nalways like a rebuke.\n\n\n           Chapter VII.\n\n  \"This monarch, so great, so powerful,\n     must die, must die, must die.\"\n  \"Praise be to him who liveth for ever.\"\n\nDuring that whole summer there was a quiet but potent influence\nat work under Margaret Hamilton's superficial life; ever at work,\nyet silently, scarcely recognized by herself. The spark struck\nout by Mr. Southard in his anti-Catholic lecture was slowly\nkindling in the depths of her being.\n\nThere was not a thought of controversy in her mind. As she read,\none doctrine after another appeared, and showed its harmony with\nsome need of hers; or if not needed, it was not antagonistic,\nlike the pleasant face of a stranger who may become a friend.\nFortunately, no person and no book had said to her, You\n_must_ believe; and so awakened opposition. Or if the\nobligation had been insinuated, she had not perceived it. She\nfelt that it was for her alone to say what she must believe, as\nlong as she invited truth generously, and was ready to accept it\nwhen it appeared to her with a truthful face. Of course she was\nnot one to make syllogisms at every step, and, being a woman, was\nnot likely to think that necessary. She looked up to find one\ntruth after another standing smiling and confident on the\nthreshold of her heart, and as smilingly she bade them welcome.\nReason gave up the reins to intuition, and light came without a\ncloud. She realized nothing, till, startled by some outside call\nthat woke a many-voiced stir of hitherto silent guests, she\nopened her eyes, and found herself a Catholic.\n\nThe first emotion was one of incredulity; then followed delight,\nmingled with a fear which was merely the shadow cast by old\nbugbears that, looked at fearlessly in that new light, faded and\nfled like ghosts at dawning. Then all surprise faded away. She\nrecognized her proper place. She was at home.\n\nBut how to tell Mr. Granger! For she must tell him without delay.\nIt was not an easy task. If he had suspected, perhaps she could\nhave spoken; but he never dreamed of the change in her. If the\nsubject had been introduced, she must have spoken; but for some\nreason, the \"papists\" were allowed to rest unscathed in the\nfamily conversations.\n{312}\nIt was the war; it was General Sinclair, sabre in hand, riding\ninto battle as if it were a _f\u00e9te_; it was the weather, a\nwhole month of persistent and most illogical rain, pouring down\nthrough west winds, through dry moons, through red sunsets,\nthrough every sign that should bring clear skies, Taurus being\nclerk of the weather, they concluded; it was when they should go\nback to town--\" Not till the trees should resume specie payment,\"\nwas Mr. Granger's professional dictum; it was any and everything\nbut theology. And so the weeks went past, and October came, and\nthe story was not told. But he must know before they returned to\ntown, for then she was to be baptized.\n\nHer uneasiness did not escape Mr. Granger, and in some measure it\ncommunicated itself to him. He perceived that she wished to say\nsomething to him, yet was afraid to speak.\n\n\"After all,\" he thought, \"why should I wait for her to begin? She\nis as timid, sometimes, as much of a baby, as my Dora. I dare say\nit is some foolish thing, only fit to laugh at. I must help her.\"\n\nIt was Sunday. Mr. Southard was in town, Mr. and Mrs. Lewis and\nAurelia taking their farewell walk in the pine woods, for the\nfamily were to leave the seashore that week, and Dora was in the\nkitchen, hushing to sleep an interesting family of kittens. Miss\nHamilton walked up and down the piazza, and Mr. Granger sat just\ninside one of the windows, looking at her. He saw that she\noccasionally glanced his way, and hesitated, and that with some\nsuspense or fear her face had grown very pale.\n\nHe leaned on the sill, as she came past, and regarded her\nanxiously.\n\n\"You are not looking well,\" he said. \"I hope that nothing\ntroubles you.\"\n\nShe came to him immediately, eagerly; a faint smile just touching\nher lips, and fading again.\n\n\"I wanted to tell you; but I was afraid,\" she said, speaking like\none out of breath.\n\n\"I am sorry that you are afraid of me. Have I ever given you\nreason to be?\"\n\nMargaret could not look at him, but leaned against a pillar near\nthe window, and averted her face.\n\n\"I was afraid only because you might think--\"\n\nShe stopped.\n\n\"My dear child, what a coward you are!\" he exclaimed, half\nlaughing. \"You are worse than Dora. She had not such an air of\nterror when she broke my precious Palissy plate. Must I apply the\nthumbscrew?\"\n\nShe turned toward him suddenly, and with a look stopped his\nraillery.\n\n\"Would you be much displeased, Mr. Granger, if I should be a\nCatholic?\" she asked; then held her breath while she awaited his\nreply.\n\nHis first expression was one of utter astonishment.\n\n\"But you are not in earnest!\" he said, after a moment. \"This is\nonly a fancy.\"\n\n\"Don't believe that!\" said Margaret. \"I am so firmly a Catholic\nthat I would die for the faith. It has been growing in my mind a\nlong time; and now the work is finished. I could not go back,\neven to please you, Mr. Granger. I must follow my convictions.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" he said very quietly, looking down. \"No one has a\nright to interfere with your convictions. Do you intend to become\nopenly a Catholic, and leave your own church for that?\"\n\n\"I do not know how to believe one thing and say another,\" she\nreplied. \"I am to be baptized as soon as I go in town.\"\n\n{313}\n\nShe seemed abrupt, almost defiant; but it was only because she\nwas weak.\n\nMr. Granger drew himself up slightly.\n\n\"Since your mind is so fully made up, and your arrangements\nperfected, there is, of course, no more to be said about the\nmatter. I am surprised, since I have not been led to expect\nanything of the sort; but I have neither the right nor the desire\nto control your religious opinions. Fortunately, conscience is\nfree in this country.\"\n\n\"But you are displeased!\" she exclaimed tremulously; for every\nword had fallen like ice upon her heart.\n\n\"You cannot expect me to be pleased, since I am not a Catholic,\"\nwas the reply.\n\nMargaret sighed heavily under the first pressure of her cross.\n\"You wish me to go away?\"\n\nHe looked at her in astonishment. \"Certainly not! When I say that\nI have no right or desire to interfere in your religion, I mean\nthat I am not to persecute you or to make any difference with you\non account of it. Nothing is to be changed unless you wish it.\"\n\nShe had expected him to ask some explanation; but not a word more\ndid he say. He seemed to think that the subject was disposed of.\n\nHis silence wrung her heart like the veriest indifference; but he\nwas not indifferent. He thought, \"She has done all this without\nconfiding in me, and tells me only when she must. It is not for\nme to question her. What I am to know she must communicate\nvoluntarily.\"\n\nShe waited a moment, then turned slowly away, went in at the\ndoor, and up-stairs to her chamber.\n\nWhen they met again, Mr. Granger tried to be quite as usual. He\nwas even more scrupulously respectful than formerly. But she felt\nthe chill of all that courtesy that had once been kindness. The\nnext day she went in town, and was baptized. The sooner the\nbetter, she thought. But, if she had expected any delight or\nconscious change to follow the reception of the sacrament, she\nwas disappointed. There was only that calm which follows the\nconsciousness of being in the right way. The baptism was strictly\nprivate; no one present but the two necessary witnesses; and\nafter it was over, she took the cars back to the country.\n\n\"Everything is peaceful,\" she thought, walking through the silent\nwoods, now burning with autumn colors. \"Everything is sweet,\" she\nadded, as, coming in sight of the house, she saw little Dora\nrunning joyfully out to meet her.\n\n\"When you come back, I'm glad all over,\" said the child.\n\nThat evening Mr. Southard came home alone, and with a very grave\nface. \"I have bad news for you,\" was his first greeting on\nentering the parlor.\n\nMrs. Lewis started up with a cry. Miss Hamilton sank back in her\nchair.\n\n\"General Sinclair is killed.\"\n\n\"Thank God!\" exclaimed both ladies.\n\nThey thought that some accident had happened to Mr. Granger or\nUncle Charles,\" explained Aurelia, seeing the minister's\nastonishment.\n\n\"Some people never know how to tell bad news!\" cried Mrs. Lewis,\nher face still crimson with that first terrified leap of the\nheart. \"Can't you see, Mr. Southard, that you ought to have begun\nby saying that our family were all well? Look at that girl! She\nis like a snow image. Oh! well, excuse me; but you did give me\nsuch a start. Now tell us the whole, please. I am very sorry.\"\n\n{314}\n\nPoor Mr. Southard took his scolding with the greatest humility,\nbut was so disconcerted by it that he could hardly finish the\nrecital.\n\nMr. Granger had received a telegram from Washington, and had gone\non immediately to bring the remains of his cousin home for\nburial. He wished them to go into town, and have the house open\nfor the funeral. General Sinclair's wife was ill in Montreal, and\ncould not be present. Mr. Granger had telegraphed her before\nstarting.\n\nThey went to town the next day, and hastened to put the house in\norder; and on the second day Mr. Granger arrived.\n\nIt was impossible to have a private funeral. Mr. Sinclair had a\nhost of friends, his reputation was a brilliant one, and he had\ndied in battle. Military companies offered their escort, and the\npublic desired to honor the dead by some demonstration. Finally,\nMr. Southard opened his church, and consented to preach the\nsermon.\n\nOne would have thought that some public benefactor had died. The\nchurch was crowded, and crowds lined the streets through which\nthe procession passed. Many a great and good man has died, yet\nreceived no such ovation.\n\nA military funeral is the sublime of mourning. We may not know\nwhose memory is thus honored, whose silence thus lamented; but\nthose wailing strains of music touch our heartstrings as the wind\nsweeps the windharp, and tears start at the obsequies of him\nwhose name we never heard, whose face we never looked upon.\nPerhaps it is that requiem music mourns not that one man is dead,\nbut that all men must die.\n\nMr. Southard had felt a temporary embarrassment as to the manner\nin which he should treat his subject. He could not hold the dead\nup as a model, for Mr. Sinclair had been an unbeliever and a man\nof the world. There was but one way, and that one was congenial\nto the speaker and welcome to the hearers. The man must be, as\nmuch as was possible, ignored in the cause.\n\nFrom the moment when the minister rose in the pulpit, the spirit\nin which he would speak was plain to be seen. His mouth was\nstern, there was a steel-like flash in his eyes, and his voice\nwas clear and ringing when he announced his text:\n\n\"_And he said to Zebee and Salmana: What manner of men were\nthey whom you slew in Thabor? They answered: They were like thee,\nand one of them as the son of a king. He answered them: They were\nmy brethren, the sons of my mother. As the Lord liveth, if you\nhad saved them, I would not kill you. And he said to Jether his\neldest son: Arise, and slay them_.\"\n\nThere was a pause of utter silence; then the minister extended\nhis hands toward the open, flag-draped, flower-crowned coffin in\nfront of the pulpit, and exclaimed, \"One of them as the son of a\nking!\"\n\nInstantly every eye was turned on that white and silent face, and\nthe princely form extended there, superbly beautiful as a marble\ngod. It seemed regicide to kill such a man. After that look,\nscarcely one present revolted at the tone of the sermon, which\nechoed throughout the vengeful call, \"Arise, and slay them!\"\n\nAs the family sat that evening at home, trying to throw off the\ngloomy impressions of the day, and to talk quite as usual, the\nconversation, by some chance, turned on theology, and settled\nupon Catholicism. Mr. Granger, who had been sitting apart and\nsilent, roused himself at that, and tried to introduce some other\ntopic, but without success. Miss Hamilton was mute, feeling that\nher time had come. If only her friend were on her side, she would\nnot have cared so much; but he was far from her. The coldness\nthat had arisen between them at first had increased rather than\ndiminished. Perhaps it was partly her own fault; but it hurt her\nnone the less.\n\n{315}\n\n\"The papists are certainly gaining ground in this country,\" Mr.\nSouthard said. \"We have hard work before us. They know how to\nappeal to the frivolous tastes of the times, as of old they\nappealed to the superstitious. Their music pleases opera-goers,\nand their ceremonies amuse the curious. Worse than that, their\nsophistries deceive the romantic and the credulous.\"\n\n\"Oh! live and let live,\" interposed Mr. Granger hastily. \"There\nare a good many roads to heaven.\"\n\n\"The Son of God said that there was but one,\" replied the\nminister.\n\n\"If there is but one,\" Mr. Granger said, rising, \"he is a bold\nman who will say that he is right, and all the others wrong.\"\n\n\"Are you a Catholic, Mr. Granger?\" demanded Mr. Southard with\nsome heat.\n\n\"No,\" was the reply; \"but some who are dear to me are Catholic.\"\n\nMargaret's heart gave a bound. She breathed an aspiration. Her\ntime had come. She was sitting alone opposite them all, and they\nall looked at her as she leaned forward with a slight gesture\nthat checked further speech.\n\n\"I am a Catholic, Mr. Southard,\" she said. \"I was baptized this\nweek.\"\n\nThe minister started up with an exclamation, the others stared in\nastonishment; but Mr. Granger took a step and placed himself at\nMargaret's side.\n\nO generous heart! She did not look at him, but she began to\ntremble, as the snow-wreath trembles in the sun before it quite\nmelts away.\n\n\"You cannot mean it!\" Mr. Southard found voice to say.\n\nO joy! She wasn't afraid of him now.\n\n\"I am quite in earnest,\" she replied.\n\nHe leaned against the table near him, too much excited to sit,\ntoo much overcome to stand unsupported.\n\n\"You mean that you are pleased with their ceremonies, that some\nof their doctrines are plausible, not that you accept them all,\nand pay allegiance to the pope of Rome. It cannot be!\"\n\n\"I honor the pope as the head of the church, and I can listen to\nno teacher of religion whom he does not approve,\" was the reply.\n\n\"My God!\" muttered the minister. He stood one moment looking at\nher as if he saw a spectre, then turned away with drooping head,\nand went toward the door, staggering so that he had to put his\nhand out for support. To that sincere but mistaken man it was as\nif he had seen the pit open, and one he loved drawn into it.\n\nThe others sat silent and embarrassed, till Aurelia, bursting\ninto tears, started up and left the room.\n\nMargaret glanced at Mrs. Lewis, and found that she had quite\nrecovered from her surprise.\n\n\"The programme seems to be flourish of trumpet, and _exeunt\nomnes_,\" the lady said. \"But I mean to stand my ground. I\ndon't find you in the least frightful. You look to me precisely\nas you did an hour ago, only brighter perhaps. My only fear at\nthis instant is lest we may have to tie you up to keep you out of\na convent.\"\n\n\"I have no thought of a convent,\" said Margaret.\n\n{316}\n\n\"Oh! well, I don't see but we can get along with everything else.\nThere's fish on Fridays, and the necessity of holding one's\ntongue occasionally. I think we can manage. Mr. Lewis, can you\nshut your mouth sufficiently to give an opinion?\"\n\nThus called upon, Mr. Lewis found voice. \"What in the world did\nyou want to go and turn Catholic for?\" he demanded angrily.\n\"Couldn't you like 'em well enough at a distance, as I do? That's\njust a woman's romantic, headlong way of doing things up to the\nhandle. You've upset your own dish completely. Nobody will marry\nyou now.\"\n\nMiss Hamilton smiled. \"That is a view of the matter which I never\nthought to take,\" she said.\n\n\"But you must think of that,\" Mr. Lewis persisted, perfectly in\nearnest.\n\n\"No, thank you; I won't,\" she replied, rising. \"I thank you\nall\"--with downcast eyes and a little tremor in her voice--\"I\nthank you that you are not too angry with me for what I could not\nhelp. I could not have borne--\" There words failed her.\n\nShe glanced at Mr. Granger as she went out, and caught one of\nthose heartfelt smiles which lighted his face when he was\nthoroughly friendly and pleased.\n\nThere was little rest for her that night. Hour after hour she\nheard Mr. Southard's step pacing to and fro in his chamber\nbeneath, not ceasing till near morning. But after she went to\nbed, Aurelia came softly in, and, bending, put her arms around\nMargaret, and kissed her.\n\n\"I am sorry if I made you feel bad by going away so,\" she said in\na voice stifled by long weeping. \"But you know I was so taken by\nsurprise. Of course we are all the same friends as ever.\nGood-night, dear! Go to sleep, and don't worry about anything.\nMr. Granger and aunt and uncle told me to say good-night to you\nfor them.\"\n\n\"How good everybody is--God and everybody!\" thought Margaret.\n\nIn the morning all appeared as usual, except that there was no\nMr. Southard at the table. Luncheon-time came, and Mrs. James\nreported the minister to have locked his door and declined\nrefreshment. When the dinner-bell rang, still Mr. Southard had\nnot come down.\n\n\"If he doesn't come to dinner,\" Miss Hamilton thought, thoroughly\nvexed, \"I will send him a note which will give him an appetite.\nThis is sheer nonsense.\"\n\nBut as they entered the dining-room they heard his step on the\nstairs, and he followed them in.\n\nHearing him greet the others quite in his usual manner, Margaret\nglanced at him, and found him waiting to bow to her. He looked as\nif he had had a long illness.\n\n\"What! you desert your seat too?\" he said, seeing her go toward\nthe other end of the table.\n\n\"I thought you might be afraid to sit by me,\" she replied\npettishly. Then, as he dropped his glance and colored faintly,\nshe repented, and went back to her seat by him.\n\nWhen they rose, he spoke to her aside. \"May I see you in the\nlibrary now, or at your convenience? I would gladly speak with\nyou tonight.\"\n\n\"Now, if you please,\" she answered, thinking it best to have the\ninterview over at once, since it was inevitable.\n\nIt would be worse than useless to repeat the minister's\narguments. With more of patience and humility than she had\nexpected, he asked for and listened to the story of her\nconversion. But his calmness deserted him more and more as he\nperceived how firmly grounded was her conviction, and how hard\nwould be the task of reclaiming her.\n\n{317}\n\nPolemical discussions were always irritating, but not always\nconvincing, she insisted. She could not trust herself to engage\nin them, even if she were capable. She did not want to be told\nthat such a man had been wicked, that such an abuse had existed.\nWhen treason had found a place among the apostles, it might well\ntaint some of their successors. It mattered not; her faith was\nnot based on any individual. Let Mr. Southard take the doctrines\nof the church, as she had learned them, from the church itself,\nand then prove them false if he could. Let him take the books\nthat had satisfied her, and answer their arguments, theologian to\ntheologian. With her the contest would be unequal; but she would\ngladly listen to his refutation, she assured him.\n\n\"What books have you read?\" he asked, resting his head on his\nhand, disconcerted to find that, instead of being opposed to an\nuninstructed young woman, he was to have arrayed against him the\nflower of Catholic theologians.\n\nShe named them, an imposing list, at the repetition of which a\nslow red crept up into the minister's cheeks. Apparently the\nyoung woman was not so uninstructed as he had thought.\n\n\"Mr. Southard,\" she concluded, \"I have no desire but to know the\ntruth. If you can convince me that I am wrong, I will renounce my\nerrors as promptly as I adopted them. If you are thoroughly\nconvinced that you are in the right way, then you ought to be\nfearless. But if it is too much trouble for you to study the\nsubject, if I am not worth it, then let the matter drop.\"\n\n\"I will read the books, and go over their arguments with you,\"\nthe minister said, looking at her keenly as if he suspected some\nhidden motive in her proposal.\n\n\"I am honest!\" she said, hurt by his expression. \"What have I to\ngain, if not heaven? What have I not to lose? I feel surely that\nour happy household will never again be the same that it has\nbeen.\"\n\n\"I must believe you sincere,\" he replied. \"But I cannot imagine\nwhat should have set you, of all persons, on this track.\"\n\nMiss Hamilton smiled as she rose. \"It was you, sir. You should\nbeware of the flattery of abuse.\"\n\nThe next morning after breakfast the minister found on his study\ntable a pile of controversial works that the housekeeper had been\ninstructed to leave there for him. Beside them lay a crucifix. He\ntouched it, and it seemed to burn his fingers. He pushed it away,\nand it burned his heart.\n\n\"After all, it is the image of my crucified Redeemer,\" he said;\nand took it in his hand again. Looking at it a moment, his eyes\nfilled with tears.\n\n               To Be Continued.\n\n-------\n\n{318}\n\n                Good Old Saxon.\n\n\t    By An English Catholic.\n\n\nDuring the last five years an admirable society, formed in\nLondon, and called the Early English Text Society, has been\nreproducing at a cheap rate a large number of curious and\nvaluable works written in the thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth,\nand sixteenth centuries. Many of these existed in manuscript\nonly, while others were out of print, and very difficult of\nattainment. They range over a variety of different subjects, and\nbeing beautifully printed, amply supplied with notes and\nglossaries, and each edited by an accomplished Anglo-Saxon\nscholar, they afford clergymen, antiquarians, and men of letters\nin general an excellent opportunity of becoming familiar with the\nearlier forms of the English language, and the best authors\nduring a literary period hitherto regarded as obscure.\n\nThese publications synchronize with, and have partly grown out\nof, a movement which, though retrograde, has been really an\nimprovement and an advance--a movement, namely, from Latinized to\nSaxon English. We may perhaps date its commencement from the time\nwhen Dr. Johnson was approaching his sixtieth year. He had, for a\nlong time, been lending the weight of his great name to the\npractice of using very long words, and those chiefly of Latin\norigin. In doing this he had not merely followed a crowd of\nclassical English writers, but had put himself at their head. The\ngenius of the language was being lost, and when it seemed to be\ngaining strength, it was in reality growing weaker. Its original\ntendency had been toward words of one syllable, but under\nShaftesbury, Bolingbroke, and a multitude of essayists and\npamphleteers of the eighteenth century, it tended strongly toward\nthe use of words of many syllables. Thus sound was frequently\nsubstituted for sense, and sentences, though they ran more\nsmoothly, had in them far less fibre. An air of pedantry was\nthrown over expressions, when such a word as \"tremulousness\" was\nsubstituted for \"quivering,\" and \"exsiccation\" for \"drying.\"\nMannerism was certainly the mildest epithet that could be applied\nto such changes, when they became frequent and systematic. An\ninstance of the habit in question is often quoted from Johnson's\nDictionary, where, in defining \"net\" and \"network,\" he calls the\nfirst, \"anything made with _interstitial vacuities_,\" and\nthe second, \"anything _reticulated_ or _decussated_, at\nequal distances, with _interstices_ between the\n_intersections_.\"\n\nYet Johnson himself had, in the grammar prefixed to his\nDictionary, pointed out clearly how very monosyllabic English was\noriginally, how \"our ancestors were studious to form borrowed\nwords, however long, into monosyllables;\" how they cut off\nterminations, cropped the first syllable, rejected vowels in the\nmiddle, and weaker consonants, retaining the stronger, which seem\n\"the bones of words.\" Thus, from \"excrucio\" they made \"screw;\"\nfrom \"exscorio,\" \"scour;\" from \"excortico,\" \"scratch;\" from\n\"hospital,\" \"spittle;\" and the like.\n{319}\nBy such processes, performed not according to rule, but by the\nunconscious working of national instincts, our forefathers\nproduced a wonderful agreement between the sound of their words\nand the thing signified. _Squeak, crush, brawl, whirl, bustle,\ntwine,_ are but a few among a multitude of instances which\nwill occur to any one who gives attention to the subject. Wallis,\nindeed, a writer often quoted in the grammar referred to,\nestablishes the fact of a great agreement subsisting between even\nthe letters, in the native words of our language, and the thing\nsignified; and his analysis of the meaning conveyed by sn, str,\nst, thr, wr, sw, cl, sp, and other combinations is highly\ningenious and, on the whole, satisfactory. He comes to the\nconclusion that one of our monosyllable words \"emphatically\nexpresses what in other languages can scarce be explained but by\ncompounds, or decompounds, or sometimes a tedious\ncircumlocution.\"\n\nBut although Dr. Johnson, like Wallis, appreciated highly the\nSaxon origin and character of English, though he fully recognized\nthe strength which it derives from its native sources as opposed\nto southern innovations, his own practice was eminently faulty,\nand sure, in the hands of his imitators, to degenerate into\npedantry and stilts. It was well, therefore, that when his career\nwas drawing to a close, an obscure but highly gifted boy in\nBristol ransacked the muniment room of St. Mary Redcliffe's\nChurch, and found, or pretended to have found, in its old chests,\nthe poems of Rowley, who was said to have written in the time of\nEdward III. The poems were not without merit in themselves, but,\nwhen Chatterton had, amid the pangs of hunger, put an end to his\nshort and weary existence, they attracted attention in\nconsequence of the antiquated form in which they appeared. They\nwere like the fossil remains of extinct animals, and spoke of a\nliterary period little known at that time even to the best\nEnglish scholars. They breathed the language and the spirit of\nChaucer; and from the moment of their appearance may be traced\nthe reaction in favor of Saxon phraseology which marks the\nliterature of the present day. The boy-author saw by intuition\nwhat Dr. Wallis had reduced to rules. Perhaps he had never\nanalyzed very closely his own reasons, nor traced attentively the\nprocess of nature in the formation of words, so as to produce in\nthem an agreement between the sound and the thing signified; but\nhis youthful ear was charmed with the native energy of what Byron\ncalled our \"northern guttural,\" and he loved to imitate, in such\nlines as these, the rugged sweetness of the early English poets:\n\n  \"The rodie welkin sheeneth to the eyne;\n   In dasied mantles is the mountain dight,\n   The neshe young cowslip bendeth with the dew.\"\n\nIn these lines, all the words are of the pure Saxon type; and the\nsame may be said of almost every stanza in Chaucer's Tales.\n\n  \"The flowrs of many divers hue\n   Upon their stalkis gonin for to spread,\n   And for to splay out their leavis ill brede,\n   Again the sun, gold-burned in his sphere,\n   That down to them y-cast his beamis clear.'\n\nAnd again, as we read in \"The Clerke's Tale:\"\n\n  \"And whanne sche com hom sche wolde brynge\n     Wortis and other herbis tymes ofte,\n   The which sche shred and seth for her lyvyng\n     And made her bed ful hard, and nothing softe.\"\n\nThis, as regards language, is the mould in which the Tales are\ncast. The same Saxon stamp imprinted on the verse of Spenser,\nthough the _Fairie Queen_ came two centuries after the\n_Canterbury Tales_. One stanza shall suffice as a specimen:\n\n{320}\n\n  \"Then came the jolly summer, being dight\n     In a thin silken cassock coloured greene,\n   That was unlyned all, to be more light;\n     And on his head a girland well beseene\n   He wore, from which as he had chauffed been\n     The sweat did drop; and in his hand he bore\n   A bow and shaftes; as he in forrest greene\n     Had hunted late the libbard or the bore\n   And now would bathe his limbs with labor heated sore.\"\n\nThe habits and tastes of Ben Jonson and of Milton were largely\ninfluenced by their classical studies. The best authors of\nancient Greece and Rome filled their memories, and it was only\nnatural that their writings should betray at every turn the\nsources from which they had been fed. Yet a multitude of passages\nmight be cited from these poets in which the genuine ring of the\nearly English rhymers only is heard. Thus Ben Jonson, in a\nfavorite piece of advice to a reckless youth, says:\n\n  \"Nor would I you should melt away yourself\n   In flashing bravery; lest, while you affect\n   To make a blaze of gentry to the world,\n   A little puff of scorn extinguish it,\n   And you be left like an unsavoury snuff\n   Whose property is only to offend.\"\n\nThe last line has more than one word of Latin origin; but in\nMilton's _Mask of Comus_ we find long passages entirely free\nfrom the foreign element. Thus, Sabrina sings:\n\n  \"By the rushy-fringed bank\n   Where grows the willow and the osier dank,\n       My sliding chariot stays,\n   Thick set with agat, and the azure sheen\n   Of turkis blue and em'rald green,\n       That in the channel strays;\n     Whilst from off the waters fleet\n     Thus I set my printless feet\n     O'er the cowslip's velvet head\n     That bends not as I tread.\"\n\nNow it must not be supposed that in calling attention to the\nSaxon character of English as opposed to, or distinct from, its\nLatin and Norman aspects, we are advocating any exclusive system.\nWe rejoice in our language being a compound; and as some of the\nmost exquisite perfumes are produced by distilling a variety of\ndifferent flowers and leaves, so languages formed by the mixture\nof several races, and influenced by numerous changes and chances\nin the history of the people who speak them, are often, in their\nway, as vigorous and beautiful as any of more simple origin. This\nis especially the case with that tongue which, being our own, is\ndearer to us than all besides. But because it consists, and must\never consist, of various elements, there is no reason why we\nshould be indifferent to the relative proportions in which these\nelements are mixed together; nor is it by any means superfluous\nto inquire whether the tendency of a compound language may not,\nat any particular period, be toward corruption and decay, and, at\nanother time, toward health, consistency, majesty, melody, and\nstrength.\n\nWe have assumed that Saxon is the basis of English, and that of\nlate years there has been among English writers a tendency to\nreascend the stream to its source, to freshen and invigorate\ntheir diction by the use of native, as distinct from foreign\nwords. We have mentioned Chatterton as being, perhaps\nunconsciously, a leader in this movement; and we would add that\nBurns also fostered the reviving taste for pure English; for,\nthough he wrote in the Scottish dialect, that dialect had, and\nhas still, a thousand points of contact with our language in the\ndays of its youth. Though its peculiarities were of Gaelic rather\nthan Saxon origin, yet they resembled old English in this, that\nthey were marked by short words and many consonants. Hence Robert\nBurns's verse revolts instinctively from the many liquid\nsyllables of the South, and is wild and ragged as the crags and\nglens which were his favorite haunts. So far as it influenced our\nliterature, it recalled it from the smoother and less vigorous\ncourse of Latinized or Johnsonian English to the sharper,\nsimpler, and clearer notes of less artificial times.\n\n{321}\n\n  \"Your critic-folk may cock their nose\n   And say, How can _you_ e'er propose,\n   _You_ who ken hardly verse frae prose,\n       To mak a sang?\n   But, by your leaves, my learned foes,\n       Ye're may be wrang.\"\n\nThe touch and racy dialect of the _Border Minstrelsy_, which\nWalter Scott edited, Mr. Evans's _Collection of Old\nBallads_, and Percy's _Reliques of Ancient English\nPoetry_, guided public taste into a direction opposed to the\ntame mediocrity of the imitators of Dryden and Pope. The ear and\nthe mind alike were charmed by the exceeding simplicity of the\nstyle of these old ballads, and their almost exclusive use of\nmonosyllables.\n\nHere are a few notes from one of those Jacobite songs which\nresounded so freely among the Highlands when Prince Charles\nEdward came to recover the crown of his fathers. Walter Scott\ncompares such ballads to the \"grotesque carving on a Gothic\nniche:\"\n\n  \"It's nae the battle's deadly stoure\n   Nor friends pruived fause that'll gar me cower,\n   But the reckless hand o' povertie,\n   Oh! that alane can daunton me!\n\n  \"High was I born to kingly gear,\n   But a cuif came in my cap to wear,\n   But wi' my braid sword I'll let him see\n   He's nae the man will daunton me.\"\n\nThe Lake school of poetry, being founded in a deep love of nature\nand a close scrutiny of her works, had a concurrent influence in\nrestoring the liberal use of the older forms of speech. Writers\nlike Charles Lamb, whose minds were richly stored with the\ntreasures of Elizabethan lore, were sometimes accused of\naffectation in employing archaisms, but \"the old words of the\npoet,\" as the author of \"Summer Time in the Country\" observes,\n\"like the foreign accent of a sweet voice, give a charm to the\ntone, without in any large degree obscuring the sense.\" Indeed,\nif the most popular passages in Wordsworth, and in his great\nmaster Shakespeare, be examined, they will be found to answer on\nthe whole to that ideal of English phraseology which is here\nformed--one, namely, in which the Saxon element largely\npredominates. Thus, almost at random, we quote from _The\nMidsummer Night's Dream:_\n\n  \"What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here,\n   So near the cradle of the fairy queen?\"\n\nAnd from Wordsworth's \"Idle Shepherd Boys:\"\n\n  \"Beneath a rock, upon the grass,\n     Two boys are sitting in the sun;\n   Boys that have had no work to do,\n     Or work that now is done.\n   On pipes of sycamore they play\n     The fragments of a Christmas hymn;\n   Or with that plant which in our dale\n   We call stag-horn or fox's tail,\n     Their rusty hats they trim:\n   And thus, as happy as the day,\n   Those shepherds wear the time away.\"\n\nShakespeare's description of Queen Mab, in _Romeo and\nJuliet_, may also be pointed out as a signal example of pure\nSaxon English throughout; but it is too long and too familiar to\nour readers to be quoted here.\n\nThere are not wanting men of talent and research, who have\nremarked the change which has come over the national literature\nin its rebound toward Saxon diction, and who have recommended it\nvery distinctly. Dean Swift, though in point of time he preceded\nthe movement, held as a principle that no Saxon word should be\nallowed to fall into disuse. Dean Hoare has, in our own time,\nexpressed his decided conviction that those speakers and writers\nimpart most pleasure whose style is most Saxon in its character;\nand this remark applies, as he believes, especially to poetry. It\nis in accordance with the spirit of the age that we recoil from\nthat \"fine writing\" which is generally mere declamation.\n{322}\nIn proportion as we become practical, the racy style--pointed,\nsuggestive, and curt--rises in value. By the exercise of thought\nand cultivation of science we become exact, and through plenty of\nbusiness we become brief-spoken. Vague talking and writing is now\nat a discount, and persons express themselves with more substance\nand strength because they are trained in the love of truth,\nhistoric and scientific, and have contracted a hatred of shams of\nevery kind. Directness of statement is what is now most valued in\na writer, and such men as Dr. Newman among Catholics, and Carlyle\nand Emerson among non-Catholics, have contributed in an immense\ndegree to promote reverence for this quality. Circumlocution and\nover-expansion are faults which no one will now tolerate, and\nthis jealousy for the clear and ready conveyance of ideas has a\ngreat deal to do with recurrence to the pregnant monosyllables,\nthe picture-words, the gnarled and knotted strength of Saxon\nEnglish.\n\nIt is, however, to Tennyson, more than to any other modern\nwriter, that the public owes the more frequent use of short and\nsinewy words already known to most readers, and the enrichment of\nthe language by the revival of many words which had become\nobsolete. Enoch Arden, though a poem consisting of two thousand\nlines, contains scarcely a word that is not of Saxon origin. It\nis, as far as language is concerned, simplicity almost in excess.\nThus, to take but one example, it is not till we reach the last\nword of the following passage that we are reminded of the partly\nLatin origin of our tongue:\n\n      \"For in truth\n  Enoch's white horse, and Enoch's ocean-spoil\n  In ocean-smelling osier, and his face,\n  Rough-reddened with a thousand winter-gales,\n  Not only to the market-cross were known,\n  But in the leafy lanes behind the down,\n  Far as the portal-warding lion-whelp,\n  And peacock-yewtree of the lonely hall,\n  Whose Friday fare was Enoch's ministering.\"\n\nIn this passage all the words are in common use, but in other\nparts of the same volume, and, indeed, in all which the laureate\nhas published, we perceive a strong tendency to antique and\ngrotesque forms of speech, derived from long and devoted\nattachment to the old writers. If they were introduced by design,\nsimply because they are archaisms, the artifice would be\napparent, and the pedantry complete. But when they form a genuine\npart of the author's inner life of thought and memory, the case\nis different, and what would have been formal and stiff becomes\nnatural and easy. They comport well with the idea one forms of a\ngreat thinker, and indicate a thorough mastery over the mother\ntongue. They might, no doubt, easily degenerate into affectation,\nbut when employed with judgment and skill, they are like fossils\nin a well-arranged cabinet, or old china in a well-furnished\nroom. Resembling, as they do, the tough, tortuous olive-tree,\nthey are valuable signs of a people's mental vigor; for as surely\nas the \"soft bastard Latin\" of the Apennines indicates a\npopulation less martial than the Romans of old--as surely as the\nsoft and sibilant Romaic tells of a race fallen from the higher\nwalks of Grecian philosophy, history, science, and song--so\nsurely would Latinized English be a sign that the people writing\nand speaking it, were falling away from the marked character of\ntheir forefathers, and contrasting with them as strongly as the\nsilken senators whom Chatham denounced contrasted with the iron\nbarons of the days of King John.\n\n-------\n{323}\n\n            Waiting.\n\n  Flame, rosy tapers, flame!\n        Though flushing day\n  Is mounting into heaven, it cannot shame\n  The weakest rush-light burning in his name\n        Who soon will say,\n     \"Peace to this house!\" Consoling word,\n     Which patient ones have heard,\n        Then meekly sighed,\n  \"Now let thy servant, Lord, depart in peace!\"\n  And, granted swift release,\n        Next moment died.\n\n\tFlame, rosy tapers, flame!\n\tNo garish day can shame\n     Your ruddy wax a-light in Jesus' name!\n\n  Close, giddy honeysuckles, clambering free,\n  Close your moist petals to the wandering bee.\n  That with your cloistered dews you may adore\n  My Lord, when he shall enter at the door.\n        O blossoming sweet-brier!\n  Now flushing like a seraph with desire\n        To do him homage, send abroad\n  Your aromatic breath, and thus entice,\n        With innocent device,\n  His quickening steps unto my poor abode.\n  Calm lilies for his tabernacle sealed,\n     O spicy hyacinths! now yield\n     Your odors to the waiting air\n        His welcome to prepare;\n\tNor fear that by my haste\n        Your perfumes you will waste;\n\tFor each expectant sigh\n     Is dearer, to the Holy One so nigh,\n     Than all your honeyed nectaries exhale.\n        Young rose and lilac pale,\n\tAnd every flow'ret fair,\n\tIncense the blissful air,\n\t   And bid him, hail!\n{324}\n\t      Flame, rosy tapers, flame!\n\t      No garish day can shame\n     Your ruddy wax a-light in Jesus' name!\n        Sing, lark and linnet, sing\n\tThe graces of this King,\n\tWho, in such meek array,\n\tWill visit me to-day:\n  Young swallows, twittering at my cottage eaves,\n  Shy wrens, close-nested in the woodbine leaves,\n  Blithe robins, chirping on the open gate,\n  Upon his coming wait:\n  Glad oriole, swinging with the linden bough,\n  I do entreat you, now\n     With gushing throat\n     Repeat your most ecstatic note.\n        Afar I hear,\n        With instinct quick and clear,\n  His step who bears, enshrined upon his breast,\n  The God who soon within my own will rest.\n        Angelic choirs\n\tAre touching their exultant lyres:\n  Sing, lark and linnet, sing,\n  And with your artless jubilations bring\n  Their joy to earth; and you, melodious thrush,\n  While my glad soul keeps hush,\n        Attune your song\n        My silent rapture to prolong.\n\n              Flame, rosy tapers, flame!\n\t      No garish day can shame\n     Your ruddy wax a-light in Jesus' name!\n\n-------\n{325}\n\n    From The Rivista Universale, Of Genoa.\n\n           The Supernatural.\n\n\t   By Cesar Cantu.\n\n\nPetulant tyranny of science! It will not allow us to say that two\nand two are three; that there can be more than the sum of two\nright angles in a triangle; or that the radii of a circle are not\nequal. What arrogance thus to confine my liberty; to deny me\nleave to assert that there is an exact relation between the\ndiameter and circumference of a circle; that the duplication of\nthe cube is possible, the trisection of an angle, and perpetual\nmotion! Why should not error have the same rights as truth?\nReason is mistress of the world; unlimited mistress of herself.\nShe can prove that yes is identical with no; that being and\nnothing are all one. Why tire ourselves with the science of\nultimate reasons? We must regard the effects without ascending to\nthe causes; we accept only what can be felt and seen. What is\nsubstance? What is cause? What are ideas? Let them pass; we hold\nonly to phenomenon and effect.\n\nAll would not dare to express these assertions with such\nboldness, and yet they are necessary inferences from the current\nsophisms and phrases of a science which stains its tyranny by\npetulance and bald negations. _Experience! Experience!_ it\ncries daily, and proceeds to invent theories on the formation of\nthe universe which will never meet the approval of experience; it\nrepudiates every truth _a priori_, and yet establishes, _a\npriori_, that faith is contradictory to reason. In the name of\nfree-will it demands the destruction of free-will; as if man were\nmore free while seeking than after having found the truth; as if\ntrue liberty did not consist in willing what is right.\n\nAnd nowadays a multiform war is waged against ancient belief by a\ncontracted and intolerant science, and a system of retrogressive\nand egotistical politics. Arguments and buffoonery, decrees and\nviolences, alternate, not only against the priests, but against\nChrist. Some disfigure dogmas, and then throw them to the fishes,\nor abandon them to the anger of a mob dressed in black waistcoats\nor in red caps. Some resuscitate ancient errors under modern\nphraseology, or excite the demon of curiosity. Some, faithful to\nthe system of defamation and intimidation, libel as clericals or\nobscurantists those Christians who loved liberty when it was not\na mere speculation, if they are unwilling to believe that the\nItaly of the future must deny the Italy of the past, to become\nstrong. One party in the name of authority attacks its chief\nsource. Some drag into the lists a conventional nationality and\nan exclusive patriotism, against the universality of faith and\ncharity, and hurt the partial reasons of a state against\necumenical reason. Some fight in the garb of doctors, striving to\napply the methods of observation to what is super-sensible,\nconfounding the proximate with the first cause, and thus arriving\nat scientific scepticism, positivism, which repudiates ideas, or\nat a criticism which considers generations as succeeding each\nother without a connecting law--by mere evolution--without\nseeking what absolute truth corresponds to the successive rise of\nnations, or clearing up the future by the past--that which is\ngoing to happen with what is permanent.\n{326}\nAnd thus they whirl in a pantheism which either accepts no God\nbut the human mind, or makes everything God except God himself;\nleaving him the splendor of his idea, the sovereignty of his\nname, but depriving him of the reality of his being and the\nconsciousness of his life.\n\nThere are others who, with frivolous argumentation, produce\nexcellent pillows for doubt, and refuse to examine, contenting\nthemselves with repeating the affirmations of the most accredited\norgans of the press. Let us pass over those who flatter the\nanimal instincts of nature by writings and images which Sodom\nwould condemn, and proclaim the divine reign of the flesh,\nsaying, with Heine, \"The desire of all our institutions is the\nrehabilitation of matter. Let us seek good in matter; let us\nfound a democracy of terrestrial gods, equal in happiness and\nholiness; let us have nectar and ambrosia; let us desire garments\nof purple, delights of perfumes and dances, comedies and\nchildren.\"\n\nHence comes the deplorable degradation of minds plunged not only\nin ignorance but in base adulations to slaves and to the slaves\nof slaves, to the rabble hailed by the people, to a debasement\ncalled progress, to a freedom which consists in robbing others of\nliberty.\n\n\n                   II.\n\nIn such a state of affairs, what ought a priest or Christian to\ndo who reserves to himself the right of not calling evil things\ngood? Grow low-spirited, reproach the century, grow timorous of\nscience, groan like Jeremias over the woe of Jerusalem, and await\nthe rock which is to crush the clay-footed colossus? It looks\nlike compelling Providence, when we refuse to co-operate with it\nin the conflict between good and evil, unless on conditions which\nsuit our little egotism, or please our frivolous vanity. The\ntimid compromise their character with strange conventions between\ntruth and error, by shameful oscillation between liberty and\ndespotism, resigning themselves to tyranny as a hypocrite may act\ntoward an atheist.\n\nChrist came to carry the sword, and the time has come when he who\nhas one should draw and brandish it. Certainly, God will save his\nchurch. He alone will have the glory, but will man have the merit\nof it? Where silence is, there is death; and, outside of what\ndirectly touches revealed truth, discussion is useful, even when\nheld with those who err; it teaches us, at least, how we are not\nto act or think, if nothing else.\n\nSome say, \"It is enough to preach morality. What have rigorous\ntruths to do with good sentiments? the aspirations of the heart\nwith the deductions of cold reason?\"\n\nSuperficial questions! As if one should say, \"What has the soul\nto do with the soul?\" Do not ethics depend on dogma? do not our\nactions follow from metaphysical conditions? Every doctrine\nbecomes an element of life or a principle of death for the soul.\nA sophist may, indeed, boast of a new code of ethics, or a new\nlaw; as if truth could be contingent and relative as well as\nuniversal, eternal, necessary, and, as such, not produced by man,\nwho is mortal and limited. International associations, conspiring\nto assassinate Christian civilization, will soon respond with\nconsequent acts to such inconsequences of literature.\n\n{327}\n\nWhen the system of attack is changed, we must change the system\nof defence. Preaching can no longer be confined to mere prones,\nor exhortations to the good and inculcating the _fides\ncarbonaria_; [Footnote 66] but we must gird on the sword of\nscience and eloquence, and attack resolutely those who assail us\nresolutely. Truth can be saved only by victory; and in this case,\nas in war, _the best defence is an attack_.\n\n    [Footnote 66: The faith of the coal-heaver who believes\n    without science.]\n\nIf errors fortify themselves in the newspapers, and come on in\nserried ranks, protected by gazettes, decrees, arts, and\nsciences, we must meet them with the same means, humble them with\nthe truths rejected or distorted by the sophists, turn their own\nweapons against them; for error, which is a stumbling-block for\nthe incautious, may become a ladder for the wise to ascend\nhigher. Nowadays, when all the arguments of unbelief are allied\nin an invisible church which has fraternities, missionaries,\nsacrifices, and even martyrs, to assault the visible church in\nthe name of progress, enlightenment, morality, reason, and the\nfuture, we must draw out all the reasons of belief in opposition.\nThe manifestation of truth, even though it may not destroy error,\nweakens its power. It is not enough to show that our adversaries\nare wrong; we must be right ourselves. Let us not allow men to\nthink that there are truths incompatible with faith, or outside\nof its dogmas; but that, notwithstanding exaggerations,\nabsurdities, erroneous and culpable notions, those truths obtain\nfrom faith all their reality, vitality, and durability; and that\nhe who looks well will see that every incontestable and positive\nprogress comes from the organization of Christian society.\n\nIn this labor, can reason ask the aid of revelation? And why not?\nThe rationalists might complain if we attempted to overwhelm the\nquestion with the weight of revealed authority; but when\nrevelation is united to reason, the power of the latter is\ndoubled. Mysteries are above reason, not contrary to it. Faith is\nonly the most sublime effort of reason, which is persuaded to\nbelieve by arguments, convinced of its impotence without faith,\nas well as of its greatness with faith. Faith is a grace, because\nit is not sensible certainty. It springs from the desire of a\npure heart and of a right mind that the harmonious structure of\nrevelation should be true. Reason by itself cannot obtain the\nknowledge of a mystery, any more than it can comprehend a mystery\nwhen revelation makes it known. Reason, however, understands that\na mystery is above it, but not opposed to it; and recognizes the\nnecessity of the supernatural to explain even the mysteries of\nnature. In like manner, though we cannot look at the sun, yet by\nits light we see all things.\n\nSome, seeing our adversaries use the sciences and politics\nagainst religion, work with the arts, speak with ability, begin\nto vituperate civilization, attack its acts and writings, deplore\nthe times, deny the stupendous progress of the age--the fruit of\nso much study, fatigue, and genius.\n\nThis is not only an evil; it is a danger. Instead of repudiating\nnatural truths, we must seek to reconcile them with the\nsuper-sensible, show ourselves just toward what is new, use it to\nrejuvenate the decrepit, and apply it to the branches which have\nlost vitality. The time will never come when all objections will\nbe conquered. They will always arise with new forms and new\nphases.\n{328}\nGreat thinkers give the word of command for new revolts against\ntruth; it is therefore necessary for great theologians to combat\nthem. Every Catholic is not fit to enter the list as a champion,\nbut every Catholic ought to know why faith is necessary in\ngeneral, and what he ought to believe in particular. The least\nthat can be expected of him is not to be less ignorant than the\ncurious, the learned, and the railers who, on every side, pick up\narguments for not believing. And how few know their religion, not\nonly among the common people, but even among the educated\nclasses! The fault lies in the fact that, while we Catholics are\nso superior to our adversaries, we do not know how to use our\nadvantage, because we know not in what this superiority consists.\nOtherwise, every educated person would find by himself as many\nnew, ingenious, and brilliant proofs to defend the religion of\nhis ancestors as others invent to destroy it--original, personal\nproofs, as light, perhaps, as the objections, but sufficient for\nthe discussion of circles, to answer presumptuous contempt, false\nideas, and false principles, which are published in seductive\ngarb, with specious propositions, audacious negations, and\nintrepid affirmations, [Footnote 67] and which penetrate into\npolitics, science, art, repugnant not only to logic, but even to\nthe instincts of common sense.\n\n    [Footnote 67: See a golden work of the Princess Wittgenstein\n    Iwanowska, _Simplicit\u00e9 des Colombes, Prudence des\n    Serpents_, where she refutes the most common objections,\n    and exhorts especially ladies to prudence and simplicity in\n    controversy and conduct.]\n\nBut, moreover, who does not feel the deficiency in scientific and\nreally practical education in that science which satisfies the\nreason, the heart, and faith.\n\nThe religious element should form a great part in education, and\nit would suffice to change the tone of controversy, from being\nsour, contemptuous, diffident, discourteous, provoking, and\npartial, the result of the usual impoliteness of journalists, to\na courageous yet prudent, conscientious as well as learned,\nindulgent yet immovable, method; abandoning a phraseology which\ndid not formerly shock men's feelings, those sarcasms which\nneither heal nor console, and remembering that our adversaries\nare probably men of high intelligence, in error precisely on this\naccount; perhaps persons of right mind, unimpeachable morals, and\neven of delicate sensibility.\n\nThis is the arena of _conf\u00e9rences_. Fraysinnous began the\nwork of uniting religion with science in the pulpit. Those of\nWiseman did better at Rome. Then arose the famous names of\nLacordaire, Ravignan, and now of Fathers Felix and Hyacinthe,\n[Footnote 68] and in Italy, Fathers Maggio, Fabri, Rossi,\nGiordano, and others. Among these must be named Alimonda, provost\nof the cathedral of Genoa, who gave a course of lectures, all\ndepending on one proposition, and has just published them in four\nvolumes, with the title _Man under the Law of the\nSupernatural_. Genoa, 1868.\n\n    [Footnote 68: At this time Father Hyacinthe is treating of\n    \"The Church under her most general aspect,\" in Notre Dame, at\n    Paris. He treats of the providence of God.]\n\nBut four volumes cost more than a box of cigars! How much time it\ntakes to read them! some will exclaim who have, perhaps, read\n_Les Miserables_ of Hugo, or _La Stella d'Italia;_ have\na copy of Thiers; subscribe for four or five magazines, and who\nrequire a hundred or a hundred and fifty pages to be printed on a\nquestion of finance or railroads, but find that number too great\nwhere the discussion is about man's being, or his power of\nworking, on the essence of God, the immortality of the soul, the\nnecessity of virtue, and the necessity of religion to create it,\nthe divinity of Christianity, or belief in its dogmas.\n\n{329}\n\nBut those who do not merely aspire to cloud the human intellect,\nand repress sublime desires under the weight of self-interest,\npassion, and the tyranny of prejudice, and who exclaim, with\nLinnaeus, _\"Oh! quam contemta res est homo nisi super humana se\nerexerit,\"_ [Footnote 69] know that to follow great ideas\nbecomes a nobler habit, as trivialities become common; and that\nessential truths, which are never out of place or time, are based\non the same systematic method which seemed to deny them entirely.\n\n    [Footnote 69: \"Oh! how contemptible a thing is man if he\n    cannot arise above what is human!\"]\n\n\n                  III.\n\nScientific atheism asserts that \"common sense is the test of\nbelief in the supernatural,\" and that the greatness of every\nreligious conception referable to this standard is\ncounterbalanced by the greatness of scientific conceptions on\nnature and the universe. Whoever, then, does not belong to the\nparty of those who presume to differ with the atheist, can easily\nperceive how unacceptable a treatise on the supernatural must be;\nsince Alimonda began by demonstrating that it is true, and\ncredible; and that it imports us not only in the next life but\neven in this to believe it. To desire to invent a mechanical\ntheory of the universe, a material origin of human intelligence\nand liberty, originates the anarchical conception of giving the\nexplanation of the cosmological whole by means of every special\nscience. B\u00fcchner and Vogt modified the Cartesian ideas by\nteaching \"that there is no force without matter, no matter\nwithout force; that matter thinks as well as moves; and that all\nthings are but dynamic transformations of matter.\" Hence comes\nintelligent electricity, cogitating phosphorus; and Moleschott\nwas invited to teach in our universities that \"thought is a\nmotion of cerebral matter, and conscience a material property.\"\nRognero taught that \"conscience dwells in the circulatory\nsystem.\" These doctrines have been preached in every\nrevolutionary tavern with all that personal exaggeration which we\nalways find in those who retail second-hand dogmas.\n\nWell! granted these hypotheses, we still ask, What is this force?\nWhat is this primary motion? Where is the mover? Would an\nactivity anterior to existence have ever created itself imperfect\nand subject to evil? Can the relation of necessary succession be\nconfounded with the relation of causality? Does the metaphysical\nconception of cause remain indistinct from the conditions of\nexistence? If the order of ideas be distinguished from the order\nof facts, everything leads us to a first cause, to the most real\nof realities, to the will of a supreme artificer which determined\ninert matter to motion rather than to rest.\n\nIf, then, this motion endures with fixed laws; if, in so great a\ndiversity of infinite bodies, I recognize a system according to\nwhich no one interferes with the other, but all agree in a\nsupreme harmony of mode; if, for instance, the destruction of one\nof the celestial bodies would discompose the marvellous structure\nof the universe; if from the alteration of the orbit of a planet\nthe man of science can conclude the existence of another,\nthousands of miles distant, it is not the holy fathers but\nVoltaire who will exclaim, \"If the clock exists, there must\nnecessarily be a clock-maker.\" It is impossible to kill a moral\nbeing, a universal sentiment, by arms, or books, or declamations.\n\n{330}\n\nThe Deity does not offer himself to sensation, observation, or\nexperience; hence the sensists and perceptionists see in him but\na hypothesis, and reject all theology and all metaphysics. They\nabuse the method of observation by applying it to what is not\nobservable. No object of experiment can be God; nor can any\nperception reach him in this world, since he can only manifest\nhimself to us ideally; that is to say, by the reflection of\nthought on itself, under the pure form of an idea; and an idea\nnecessarily supposes an existence. Reason must come to God\nthrough the medium of the idea of God: whence an illustrious\nwriter defending religious philosophy adopted the appropriate\ntitle of \"IDEA OF GOD.\"\n\nNowadays, when the series of generations are brought to laugh and\ndance at the funeral of God and the evaporation of Christ, it is\nnot superfluous to accumulate psychological and social proofs on\nthe existence of a first necessary Cause, on its reality, and on\nits divine life reverberating in the great labor of creation; on\nthose laws of phenomena which others call the ideas of nature,\nand we call the Creator. The word must be personified, and\nsubstantiated to express something real.\n\nAmong these laws I have always found that those regarding the\norigin of language had great influence on me and are of great\nhelp against the atheists. The more we study, the more we are\nconvinced that the languages have a common source. How did man\never discover that ideas could be represented with sounds, or\nreal thought by the medium of words, and then invent symbolical,\nphonetic, or alphabetic signs to represent both ideas and sounds?\nOr is the word only the means of expressing our thoughts, or the\nessential form of them, the indispensable condition necessary to\nour having them? Can sensation draw anything out of a word but a\nmaterial sound? How is it that all the human races--Iranic,\nSemitic, Gallic, or Black--speak, and only men speak? How is it\nthat although there is a common element in all languages, yet\nsuch diversity exists among certain groups? The more we study\nthis indispensable complement of creation, this condition of our\nintellectual development, the more we are led to confess that\nthere are mysteries in the human word as well as in the divine\nword; and all this reveals the name of God.\n\nWhen we have proved the reality, we must investigate the essence\nof God. And here we meet the mystery of unity and trinity, which,\nconsidered in itself, explains being; considered outside of\nitself, explains beings. Because, if we repudiate a supernatural\nGod, we must substitute another in his place--a being of reason\nand abstraction, or a material god, or a god of pleasure. But\nthese insane hypotheses must be made to explain the existence of\nthe universe. They are either the eternity of matter or\nemanatism. Life put into matter we know not how; born, we know\nnot how, we have spontaneous productions, or transformations of\nspecies, as Lamarck and Darwin maintain; but the learned show\nthat these theories are impossible both as to soul and body. And\nthen no one of these naturalists explains the end of man, nor his\nmost precious gift--liberty.\n\n{331}\n\nThe God of the Bible alone contains the true explanation of man\nand the universe. He who, spontaneously putting his omnipotence\ninto activity without material elements, drew the world out of\nnothing; and this because he is good, and wills the good and the\nbeautiful.\n\n\n                  IV.\n\nThe most prodigious part of creation is man, destined for\neternity; nor could there be in him a tendency without a scope,\nan end without a means, nor a merit without a recompense. The\nworld is for his use, but he must not forget that eternity is his\ndestiny. For the purpose of proving the material origin of the\nhuman intellect philosophers reject all who would give to life a\ndistinct principle, isolated from organism, supposing that life,\nat least in its rudimental form, could spring from the bosom of\norganic liquids. Virchow praised the little cell, the only one of\nthe anatomic elements which Milne-Edwards called organical, and\nwhich is a nucleus of various forms, surrounded by a protoplasm\nof organic matter without figure. From the cell are formed the\nembryos, which gradually become perfect and form animals, until\nthe ape changes into man.\n\nFinally, on interrogating life in its unity, in its harmonies, in\nits cause and end, in its full and substantial reality, we find\nthat it does not contain in itself a causal unity which is\nsufficient for it; and the great modern physiologist Bernard\nsays: \"The problem of physiology does not consist in pointing out\nthe physico-chemical laws which living beings have in common with\ninorganic bodies, but in discovering the vital laws which\ncharacterize them.\" By studying mental diseases, and perceiving\nthat atrophy of a certain part of the brain will cause the loss\nof certain faculties, and that the injection of oxygenated blood\nwill reawaken them, and with similar experiments, it has been\nattempted to prove the materiality of cogitation, and to show\nthat the soul is a chimera. These are irrational materialistic\ninterpretations of physiological facts, for the cause of the fact\nis confounded with the conditions of the phenomenon.\n\nThis same Virchow, who seemed to have discovered such a powerful\nargument against spiritualism in his theory of the cell, cannot\nexplain with physics and optics alone the phenomena of vision;\nbecomes confounded before the mystery of life, and declares:\n\"Nothing is like life, but life itself. Nature is twofold.\nOrganic nature is entirely distinct from inorganic. Although\nformed by the same substance, from atoms of the same nature,\norganic matter offers us a continued series of phenomena which\ndiffer in their nature from the inorganic world. Not because the\nlatter represents dead nature--for nothing dies but what has\nlived; even inorganic nature possesses its activity, its\neternally active labor--but this activity is not life except in a\nfigurative sense.\" [Footnote 70]\n\n    [Footnote 70: \"The Atom and the Individual,\" a discourse\n    pronounced at Berlin in 1866.]\n\nWe do not think it superfluous to oppose these reflections, added\nto those of Alimonda, to the negations of the materialists, which\nhave weight only because they have been often repeated; and we\nconclude with Alimonda that man is an inexplicable mystery if we\ndo not accept the other mystery of original sin. Hence the\nconflict between reason and the passions; the inclination to evil\nand bloodthirstiness; the necessity of wars and prisons.\n{332}\nIf we admit the intrinsic goodness of man, there is no guilt and\nthere can be no chastisement; society can institute no tribunals,\nbut only hospitals to cure diseases. This has been said in our\nage; and common sense rejected it. The primitive fall and\nsuccessive activity show how man progresses indefinitely,\naccording to nature, not according to socialistic utopias. This\nexplains the inequality of the faculties and of labor, and hence\nof goods, of property, which otherwise would be a theft.\n\nThe whole of ancient society attests this degradation; but a\nRedeemer was promised; he was confusedly expected by all nations;\nhe was clearly predicted by the prophets of Judea, in order to\nconsole mankind, that they might believe in him to come, hope in\nhim, and love him by anticipation.\n\nThese promises, and the figures which personified them, are\ndeposited in the Bible; that divine history which clears up the\norigin of humanity and the changes of civilization, and whose\nwitnesses, though apparently contradictory, only make the thesis\nand the antithesis of a great synthesis, interpreted by an\ninfallible authority. The unity of the human species asserted in\nthat book has been proved by the sciences, even by paleontology,\nwhich some pretended to arm against the biblical affirmations;\nand while the frivolity of the last century thought it had\nmockingly dissipated truth, we have scientific progress proving\nthe Bible to be wonderfully in accord with the least expected\ndiscoveries.\n\nThe continual intervention of Providence in the Bible is\nrepugnant to human pride, which would be the centre and creator\nof all events; yet this providence it is which satisfies, at the\nsame time, the wants of the human heart, gives a legal\nconstitution to society, a sanction to human acts, without which\nwe should only have cutthroats and the gallows.\n\n\n                  V.\n\nThus far we nave presented man in relation to God; let us\nconsider man in relation to Jesus Christ, a theme by far more\nimportant, as we can say with the psalmist: \"_Convenerunt in\nunum adversus Dominum et adversus Christum ejus._\" [Footnote\n71] In this most corrupt world reparation was expected from\nhumanity, but who could fulfil it but the incarnate Word? Greater\nthan all the great ones of the earth, he established his\nprovidential kingdom, making it the social centre of men and\ncenturies.\n\n    [Footnote 71: \"They assembled together against the Lord and\n    his Christ.\"]\n\nOur first parents aspired to become gods, and their pride was\ntransmitted to their posterity; but behold how God really unites\nhimself to man!\n\nMen felt a secret want of expiation, expressed by their\nsacrifices and mortifications; and Christ satisfied their desire\nby uniting in himself the two natures, and by fecundating with\nholy merits the sufferings of individuals and of nations.\n\nYet men wish to make a myth of him! And after the encyclopaedists\nhave derided him, now they hypocritically try to crown him with\nhuman greatness and beauty, to rob him of his divinity! But how\ncan you explain his influence on the most cultivated nations,\nlasting so many centuries, and through an incessant war from\nSimon Magus to Renan? Is not his immeasurable influence over the\nhuman race divine? With the light of his doctrine he created the\nlife of intelligence and of conscience. His is no hidden and\nrecondite word, but common and popular; not methodized into a\nphilosophical system, equipped with proofs; not even robed in\neloquence.\n{333}\nHis scope is not to invent, but to _reveal_--that is, lift\nthe veil which covered primitive truths, and excite to good. He\nis virtue personified, the model of men, with grace through which\ncharity triumphs over egotism--_grace_, the most profound\nand most beautiful word in the dictionary of religion. But here\nhuman pride rebels, because Christ taught mysteries.\n\nWhat, then, are mysteries but our ignorance, and the\ninsufficiency of our reason? Thus the vulgar believe that the sun\ngoes around the earth because the senses show it; thus a silly\nman would deny the existence of the imponderable fluids because\nhe does not see or touch them, although he feels their effects.\nThree temples rise in the world: of nature, of reason, and of\nreligion; and in all there are mysteries. There are mysteries in\nspace, atoms, divisibility, forces, life, thought, the cell,\nsensation, idea, limits: in everything under the form which\npasses away there is a mystery which remains. If a miracle is\nhumanly conceivable, it ought to be divinely possible.\n\nIf you exclude the idea of the supernatural, nothing is left but\nnature, with the character of necessity which reason denies it;\nwith a series of monstrous and gratuitous affirmations which\nconstitute pantheism.\n\nBut some will say, \"Yes, there is a God distinct from nature; he\nis self-conscious and free, but he is immutable: while the\nsupernatural represents him as changeable and arbitrary.\"\n\nThus reason those who, led by anthropomorphic illusions, subject\nthe action of God to succession. The acts of man, who is\nephemeral and localized, are necessarily successive; and because\nthe results of divine activity are manifested to our eyes in time\nand space, they seem new and wonderful. But God is not limited by\ntime or space; his act is one, eternal, immanent like his will;\neverything which proceeds from that act is the act itself, one,\neternal, and immanent, and thus the differences between the\nnatural and supernatural disappear.\n\nTo defend the idea of the supernatural is not, therefore, to\nattack science or smother intelligence; but to defend the idea of\nGod, who is the hinge of all science. This, indeed, banishes the\nsupernatural from its domain; but if every reality is not\nreducible to nature, it is impossible not to admit a higher\nprinciple of the laws which nature reveals, and of which nature\nis not the necessary principle. Christianity pronounces nothing\non the science of nature, except that the supernatural is above\nnatural laws; that there is a God, as St. Augustine says,\n\"_pater luminum et evigilationis nostrae_.\" [Footnote 72] Is\nthis a mystery? But is not everything which exists an\nincomprehensible manifestation of the supernatural? Is not the\nfree-will of man an incomprehensible mystery?\n\n    [Footnote 72: \"The Father of lights and of our awaking.\"]\n\nBut revealed mysteries, much more than dry theorems which\nrestrain reason, are fruitful in meditation, humility, gratitude,\nand aspiration after a life of bliss: they are light to the\nintellect, motives for virtue; all have a comprehensible side;\nthey have their wherefore; and this is sufficient for the\nhappiness of individuals, and works efficaciously on the whole of\nsociety.\n\n{334}\n\nMiracles, which are extraordinary to man, are natural to God, and\nhe uses them to manifest Christ the Redeemer. But the diminishers\nof great things wish to make Christ a mountebank, or a magician\nworking by natural means like the mesmerizers, in whom they\nbelieve rather than in Christ. They deny Christ and offer incense\nto Hegel, who said that \"_the universe_ is a simple\nnegation.\" Every religious, moral, or political doctrine must\nstand the test of actualization: the idea must be realized; the\nthought must become life; and the result is the criterion. But\nthe greatest miracle of Jesus Christ was the establishment of the\nnew kingdom of grace on the ruins of the kingdom of the world; to\nsubstitute the eternal edifice of the church for corrupt\ninstitutions; instead of proud science, to put the holy word of\nthe apostolate; charity, generous even to martyrdom, in the place\nof brute force. Martyrdom! this is another word which shocks the\nfree-thinkers who retail cheap heroes, and deafen us with hymns\nto the martyrs of fatherland, ennobling with this title assassins\non the scaffold. Christ is a martyr for humanity; he is a God of\norder, wisdom, and charity.\n\nBut here they stop us again, and pretend that he aimed at an\nimpossible perfection, and was a utopist; and as such, they\nreject him, although they are admirers of such dreamers as More\nor Giordano Bruno, Fourier or Saint-Simon.\n\nBut is it true that Christ's doctrine cannot be realized? There\nare precepts and counsels in it; and you, by confounding them,\ncondemn Christianity, as if it commanded all to observe what is\ncounselled only to a few exceptional existences called by God. To\nobserve the counsels special virtue is required, and those monks\nwho deserved so well even of society practised them. Rather than\nderide and destroy them, they diffused the evangelical counsels\nwhich they practised in their own lives--obedience, abstinence,\npurity; those virtues which would give that _facilitas\nimperii_--that self-control--which is so hard to keep; that\nvirtue which is the order of love. Those monks peopled the\nThebaid, lived in the poverty of St. Francis, in the austerities\nof St. Bruno, awaited death in caverns, and ate only herbs;\nothers fled the world to pray for it, but the church never gave\nthem pharisaical faces; life, soul, talents, imagination\ncharacterized them; the happiness of their existence was\nincreased by the blessing of the church; feasts, music, and\nsacred rites abounded; social, domestic, and scientific life were\nnourished by Christian virtue and education; patriotism had its\nhymns if fortunate; audits, litanies, if unsuccessful; art and\npoetry became incorporated with worship; admiration for natural\nbeauties was aroused; activity and prudence stimulated and\neulogized, progress approved, and civilization encouraged.\n\nYet the rationalists would give the glory of this civil society\nof which we boast to man alone, while it is in fact the work of\nthe supernatural gospel. In this we find light, virtue, harmony;\nthat is, power, subjection, and agreement. The gospel establishes\na respected and vigilant authority in face of a policy which\ntraffics in opinions. Kings are bound by the same morality as the\nleast subjects. Rulers swear to observe the law of God; that is,\nnever to become tyrants. Power is exercised after the example set\nby God; and the head of the state is the first-born among\nbrothers. Subjects are children who obey not _propter timorem\nsed propter conscientiam_--not from fear but for conscience'\nsake; an obedience to God rather than to men. Christianity\nasserted the true doctrine of equal rights with inequality of\nrank when it proclaimed that we are all brothers; it broke the\nchains of the slave; abolished hereditary enmity between nations,\nand all superiority save that of merit.\n\n{335}\n\nTo deny that these advantages are derived from Christianity would\nnow be stupidity; but they say that while it formerly worked\nwonders, there is no longer any necessity for religion, the\npriest, or Christ: morality has become acclimated; necessary\ntruths are acquired; and so man can progress with laws,\ntradition, and social organization.\n\nThose who speak in this way do not comprehend the connection\nbetween metaphysical and practical truth; do not realize that the\nmost common maxims which we drink in with our mother's milk would\nbecome gradually obscured by separation from their source; as the\nnecessary sanction would be wanting to them.\n\nBetween the merely honest man and the Christian, there will\nalways be the difference which exists between the bird that can\nonly hop and the full-fledged bird which flies. Let us suppose,\neven, that the learned of the future will govern themselves\nbetter than the philosophers of antiquity; still it is only\nreligion that can say to the multitude, \"Hope always and never\nobtain.\" If there is no heaven, if gold and pleasure are the only\naspirations, why not enjoy them? Let a revolutionist arise and\npromise them, he will obtain a hearing much more readily than the\nphilosopher who can promise only a doubtful eternity. But then\nwhat will become of society? If you preach resignation to the\npoor without giving them hope, will not hope arise without\nresignation?\n\nIt was the gospel which humanly unfettered the child, woman, and\nthe poor. By it alone were exposed children and orphans gathered\ntogether; it founded hospitals and pious retreats for every\ndisease of the body and mind. Vincent of Paul, Girolamo Miani,\nCalasanctius, and a host of others never ceased in the church;\nand even the world blesses their name, blesses their work, that\nof the holy infancy, and that for the education of Chinese\nchildren, and for the redemption of captives among the Moors.\nEntire religious congregations have been founded to save children\nfrom death, from penury, and from ignorance; so that at the\ndestruction of these religious orders, we ought to say, as Christ\nto the mothers of Jerusalem, \"Weep not over me, but over your\nchildren.\" We should weep the more when we see their intellects\nand souls entrusted to state officials who fashion them to suit\ntheir masters.\n\nAnd woman? From what base degradation and turpitude has she been\nraised by Christianity. But the state law wills that she should\nbe thus addressed: \"Thou hast been brought up to purity; to avoid\nevery impure act and look; but henceforth I, the mayor, command\nthee to give thyself up to the man whom I, the mayor, designate\nas thy husband.\" On the other hand, the socialists wish to take\nher out of the domestic sanctuary to take part in business, in\ngovernment, in war; she must become a woman of letters, a\npolitician and a heroine. Ah! the heroism of woman consists in\nfulfilling her domestic duties, in the apostleship of doing good;\nlet her have the heroism of faith and virtue, and she will save\nthe world, as she helped so much to do in the person of Mary over\neighteen centuries ago.\n\n\"Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of God,\" said\nChrist; and his chief followers took care of the poor, instructed\nthem, supplied their wants with alms; made them noble with\nblessings; and, since it is necessary to suffer, the poor were\ntaught to bear their ills with the hope of immortal recompense.\n{336}\nBut the strong-minded of this age fiercely scream about the\nrights of the poor; and yet rob spontaneous and virtuous charity\nof the means of supplying the wants of the poor. The necessity of\nofficial aid is created, and thus pride and rancor against the\nrich are excited, while suffering remains without consolation.\n\n\n                  VI.\n\nAll these points have their objections and suitable answer well\ndeveloped in our orator's work. Alimonda examines man in relation\nto the church and shows how human reason, while it strives to\nrebel against her, is obliged to bless her, even by the mouth of\nher most determined enemies, as happened to the prophet Balaam.\nThis church was not established by the power of man or by\nprogressive development; she was born beautiful and perfect, the\nsame in the upper room at Jerusalem as in the Council of Trent;\nshe underwent every species of hostility, violent and puerile, of\nkings and people, of rogues and editors, and yet always remained\nwhole and alive.\n\nWhile human institutions regulate man, the church aspires to the\ngovernment of souls. Although she aimed at so much, she was\nlistened to; she defined what good meant; restricted authority;\ngave the law of work; and was believed. Even the ancient churches\nby their very nature were spiritual societies; but they exercised\nno influence on consciences, little on men's conduct, less even\nthan the schools of philosophy. Later heresies and schisms could\nnot spread or establish themselves, except by force and war, or\nby allowing every one to be the judge of his own conscience and\nreason; that is, heresy did not pretend to direct souls. Our\nchurch has a perfect and unchangeable order for the government of\nconscience, an order which does not vary according to opinion.\nThe latter will say with Thierry that the conquered are always\nright; with Cousin and Thiers, that it is the conqueror who is is\nalways right. Which is one to believe? It will be said that the\nvoice of the people is the voice of God, and that common sense\nought to be the rule of our actions. Well, suppose it is; how can\nwe interrogate it? Where is its decision? Where its organ? They\nwill tell us to-day it is \"universal suffrage.\" We shall not\ndwell on such nonsense: we merely inquire, must I ask its advice\nin reference to my private actions? I need for these safe, well\nexpressed, and efficacious principles.\n\nThe church answers every question; and her answers are always the\nmost generous, the most human, and the most kind to the weak. She\nhas a mixed government--monarchical, aristocratic, and\ndemocratic; her aristocrats are poor fishermen. By this she is\nthe type of modern governments which have the representative\nsystem. Rationalism wants to substitute revolution for this;\ntakes away from the people the good conditions peculiar to them,\nacquired by them, legitimate and independent of governments; and\nmakes atheism the lever with which to subvert politics. The\napostles of rationalism adore liberty, provided they are her\npriests and sacrificators; create a new author of\ncivilization--the rabble; oblige kings to divide their authority\nwith the mob; the mob upsets its creatures; kings run away; good\nmen hide; the owners of property, menaced by the dogma of\nplebeian avidity, oppose the bayonet to the knife of the rabble\nuntil these are overcome.\n\n{337}\n\nPrecisely because the temporal mission of the church is great as\nthe mistress and legislator of nations, precisely because she is\nauthority, the impotent violently, and the powerful foolishly,\nattack her at a time when men want rights without duties, the\nhusband as well as the citizen, the laborer as well as the\nlegislator.\n\nThe church alone has saints; she is universal, perpetual,\nirreformable: characters which manifest her divine origin and\ndivine actuation.\n\nThis divinity of the church is found in Catholicism, not in\nProtestantism. Catholicity alone has positive unity of faith,\nlove, civilization; that is, light, sacrifice, virtue, which\nProtestantism lacks. All history and statistics, not\nsystematically false or officially disfigured, which looks\nfurther than merely a few years, show that civilization does not\nprogress so well with Protestantism. The Catholic Church had\nconquered the world and formed modern civilization before the\nunity of faith and charity was broken; and she would have done\nmore had there been no rupture; and had not the religious wars\nimpeded her power, menaced Europe with a new barbarism, subjected\nit again to the scourge of armies and conquests, which prevent us\neven yet from considering our age superior to the most deplorable\nof past centuries.\n\n\n                  VII.\n\nThe Catholic Church established her primacy in Rome by three\nmiracles, by conquering Rome when she was mistress of the whole\nworld; by using Rome, her language, civilization, and\nlegislation, to defend Christianity; and by perpetuating the\nprimacy in Rome. Everything that exists has a reason for\nexistence; resurrection is a proof of divinity. Christian Rome,\nthough often driven to agony, has always revived. Exiled kings\ndie in banishment, abandoned and despised; this is a daily\nspectacle to our age; the popes become more glorious with\npersecution; a pope in exile at Avignon or in a prison at Savona\nis as powerful as in the Quirinal palace. If the most powerful\nemperor, the most iron will of our century, like the acrobat who\nkicks away the ladder after using it to ascend, robbed the pope\nwho assisted him to rise, insulted and imprisoned him, all\nEurope--Catholic, Protestant, and schismatic--took arms to\nrestore the pontiff. Thrones crumble, dynasties disappear; but\nthe old man always returns to his seat, from Avignon or Salerno,\nfrom Fontainebleau or from Gaeta.\n\nModern servility may grow indignant to see Henry V. at the feet\nof Gregory VII.; but it could not see Pius VI. kiss the hand of\nemperors, as Voltaire did with Catharine or with Frederic of\nPrussia; in vain will it hope to see Pius IX. at the feet of\ndiplomatists or demagogues; but he will say with St. Augustine,\n_Leo victus est saeviendo; Agnus vicit patiendo_. [Footnote\n73]\n\n    [Footnote 73: The lion was conquered by fury; the lamb\n    triumphed by suffering.]\n\nThe church lives immortal, neither in nor above but with the\nstate. Her relation with the state may be either of protection,\nlimitation, or separation. Protected as in the beginning and as\nshe was often under the ancient kings, the church would not be\ndegraded. She had her autonomy in her laws, ordinances, and\nhierarchy; she was, not the slave or the flatterer of the power\nunder which she lived.\n\nShe does not seek limitation or restrictions, but supports them\nwithout changing her nature. By degrees, as kings prevailed in\nmodern society, and abridged the power of the people, of the\nlords and corporations, they became jealous of the authority of\nthe church, restricted her action and obstructed her freedom.\nPowerful in armies, money, and slaves, kings imposed on the\nchurch; she became resigned, sacrificed some minor points in\norder to guard the chief ones in tact; but notwithstanding all\nthe chains of concordats, she remained sovereign in her freedom.\n\n{338}\n\nSeparation from the state is like the separation between soul and\nbody; hence the church is opposed to a state that is unchristian.\n\nThe church, destined to illuminate the world with her divine\nlight, and not to govern it politically, is by nature\nconservative. She was so even when the Roman emperors oppressed\nher; when they went away from Rome, she respected them at\nConstantinople, until she found it necessary for her defence and\nfor the cause of national freedom to withdraw herself and Italy\nfrom imperial control. When she absolved nations from their oaths\nof allegiance, it was in the name of morality, and not of a\npolitical or social idea; to preserve for God what belongs to\nhim, and not to deny to Cesar what belongs to him. [Footnote 74]\n\n    [Footnote 74: By the recent work, _Religious and Civil\n    History of the Popes_, of Wm. Audisio, published at Rome\n    in 1868, many precious facts have been recalled to my mind.\n    One is that Gregory XVI., while Portugal was divided between\n    Don Pedro and Don Miguel, tried to settle the dispute by\n    recalling the ecclesiastical tradition, to render civil\n    obedience to him who governs in fact: _Qui actu ibidem\n    summa rerum potiatur_. In this he wished to settle the\n    dispute between the contending parties; for the church seeks\n    _qua Christi sunt, qua, ad spiritualem aeternamque\n    populorum felicitatem facilius conducant_, (\"those things\n    which are of Christ, which conduce to the spiritual and\n    eternal happiness of peoples.\") The other in which Pius VII.,\n    in the consistory of July 28th, 1817, authorized the oath of\n    allegiance to be taken to the constitution and laws, because\n    this oath did not oblige in reference to laws which kings\n    might make in spiritual matters; laws which are null of\n    themselves, for kings have no right to make them. This\n    decision regarding France was repeated October 2d, 1818, in\n    regard to Bavaria.]\n\nThus although we may find no constitution which abolishes\nslavery, no one will deny that it ceased through the influence of\nChristianity, which modified customs and habits, and these\ninfluenced the laws. Thus the time will come when all that is\ngood in modern society will be assured to it; and then the\ninfluence of Christianity will be made manifest in purifying and\nconsecrating all that came from its teachings, or from needs\nwhich it caused to be felt; so that the so-called liberals will\nsee that it is not necessary to attack Christianity in order to\ndefend the acquisitions of their age, nor will the faithful\nattack the age as an irreconcilable enemy. Does not everything\nhappen by the will or permission of God? Are not all political\nchanges and social transformations providential facts? If the\nChristian cannot praise them, he becomes resigned to them; he\ndoes not increase the evil by anger; he trusts in God, who can\nchange the stones into children of Abraham; and we, separating\nourselves from those whose patriotism consists in denouncing\nothers as enemies of their country, say to the men of good-will\nof our day:\n\n  \"O socii (neque enim ignari sumus ante malorum)\n   O passi graviora, dabit Deus hic quoque finem.\" [Footnote 75]\n                       _AEneid_, lib. I.\n\n    [Footnote 75: \"Companions! we have borne evils before this;\n    ye who have suffered worse, remember that God will put an end\n    even to these woes.\"]\n\nHow can you who have learned the watchwords of \"Progress,\" and\n\"Go-ahead,\" expect hasty \"progress\" at Rome, so slow in her\nmotions?\n\nNapoleon boasted that he had done in three hours what men\nformerly took three months to execute. Yes, he ran from\nAlexandria to Vienna, to Madrid, to Moscow, and--to St. Helena;\nwhile Rome remained at her post. Those who do not look\nsuperficially admit that she showed splendidly her wisdom in\ncertain circumstances by not closing the way to future wisdom. In\nthe modern exuberance of fungous intelligence, new systems easily\nsprout up, die in a few years; and the heroes of to-day become\nthe objects of hatred to-morrow.\n{339}\nRome, eternal guardian of truth, cannot make and unmake in haste,\ntake up and lay down, like human societies; but she proceeds\nslowly and patiently, yet she advances.\n\nCertainly the church will find a new field in which she can\nco-operate with the state to preserve for humanity, no longer the\nantique forms or the mere letter given by Catholics alone, but\nthe Christian spirit; a new method of protecting Catholic truth\nin countries open to every people, and every worship; deprived of\nthe help of force and decrees, she will have no other support but\ntruth; and since this is greater and more secure in Catholicism,\nit will always succeed in propagating itself. Will not this be\nthe object of the approaching Council? The General Council will\nnot have to destroy what is irremovable, or what derives\nnecessarily from eternal truth; but it will help us worldlings to\nseparate, in principle, the substance from the form, the essence\nfrom the application.\n\nCertainly the hate which inspires men in these times against true\nliberty, makes governments justify and praise every attack\nagainst the church, and deprive her of every right, even when\nthey pretend to protect her.\n\nDo these governments want to form national churches? This would\nbe to go back in civilization, which progresses toward union; to\ndeny catholicitv or the universality of the race; to give up\nsouls as well as bodies to the power of kings, as before\nChristianity; to give the direction of consciences and the\njudgment of morals to the civil power, which should rule only\nbodies.\n\nSome would tolerate Catholicity provided there be liberty of\nconscience and of worship; let there be no temporal power in the\nchurch; no religious corporations; and let the secular clergy be\nraised to the height, as they say, of the age.\n\nWhat is meant by liberty of conscience has been sufficiently\nexplained by the pamphleteers, and the popes have given solemn\ndecisions on the subject. Conceive a society in which it would be\nunlawful to expel those who violate its laws or disturb its\norder! The church simply expels from the communion of prayers and\nsacrifice those who are obstinate in violating her dogmas. How!\nYou insult our community; refuse to communicate in our rites; you\nwill not accept the pardon which the church always offers you;\nand yet you pretend to force her to comfort your last moments\nwith sacraments which you repel and deride even then; to force\nher to bless your corpse, and bury it in the holy ground where\nrepose those with whom you refused to associate during life!\n\nAs to temporal goods or the right to possess them, and as for\nreligious corporations--that is, the liberty of community life,\nof prayer, benevolence, of wearing a peculiar dress, and of\nworshipping according to your conscience--what could Alimonda say\nwhich had not been said by all the independent men of our\ncentury?\n\nAs to those who assert that the clergy are not educated up to the\nstandard of modern civilization, we need only appeal to those who\nhave any knowledge to see if the ecclesiastics do not rank high\nin every part of the encyclopedia; nor do we hesitate to say that\nthe most educated man in every village is ordinarily the priest;\nthe priest who is compelled to make a regular course of study, to\npass repeated examinations, and assist at conferences.\n\n{340}\n                  VII.\n\nIt is very strange that at a time when the love of show has\nbecome a mania; when kings, ministers, journalists, and myriads\nof ephemeral heroes are honored with canticles, poems, and\novations; when some button-holes have more decorations than our\naltars; when there is hardly a name to which pompous titles are\nnot appended, it should be deemed necessary for the benefit of\nreligion to abolish external worship in our churches. Is not our\ncentury especially vain of its investigations in matter? Is not\nthe aspiration of the age after physical comfort? Why, then, try\nto restrict religion to the spiritual, to prevent the erection of\ntemples which would please the senses of that double being--man?\n\nWhen Constantinople, austerely interpreting the evangelical\nordinances, attempted to destroy reverence for holy images, the\nchurch fought for the right to cultivate the fine arts; and\nsustained martyrdom and exile to maintain the privilege of\nguarding the fine arts in her sanctuaries. When the reform of the\nsixteenth century called the Catholic Church Babylon, because she\nasked Michael Angelo and Raphael to immortalize the grandeurs of\nChristianity, she resisted again--knowing how to distinguish the\nexceptional life of the voluntary anchorite from the social life\nof the merely honest man; exacting virtues from all her children,\nbut virtues suitable to their state, to the mystic life of Mary\nand to the external life of Martha, to the viceroy Joseph and to\nthe shoemaker Crispin.\n\nThe same church defends, to-day, love and art from the modern\niconoclasts and spurious Puritans.\n\nDiscoursing about worship, our author begins by that of Mary,\nshowing it to be a religious principle in accord with reason; a\npublic fact, approved by history; a most tender affection,\nsanctioned by the heart. It is not long since the chief of the\nEnglish ritualists, Doctor Pusey, made the most honorable\nadmissions in reference to the Catholic dogmas and ceremonies,\nexcepting, however, the reverence which Catholics have for the\nMother of God. Archbishop Manning's [Footnote 76] reply is one of\nthe most beautiful and rational apologies for this worship for\nwhich Italy is so remarkable. For all republics were consecrated\nto her; she was the chosen patroness of our chief cities; her\nlikeness was impressed on our coins and seals; our first poets\nsang her praises, and their echoes have not yet died; our\npainters could find no higher or sweeter model; our architects\ncompeted in erecting grand temples to her honor; our musicians to\ncompose canticles to her praise; great expeditions were\nundertaken in her name; colonies were consecrated to her, where\nnow Italian power, but not Italian influence, has ceased. And it\nis Mary who will save our Italy from humiliations, and from that\ndegradation which seems to be the only aspiration of her\nintolerant sons. [Footnote 77]\n\n    [Footnote 76: Probably a mistake for Dr. Newman.]\n\n    [Footnote 77: I may be permitted to refer the reader to the\n    fifty-fourth chapter of my _Heretics of Italy_, in which\n    the respect due to saints and to Mary is discussed.]\n\nThe intolerant repeat that laws, decrees, and social organization\nare sufficient to regulate civil society.\n\nThey are sufficient; but they require science to prepare them and\nvirtue to apply them; both to be invoked from on high. The safety\nof one's country, the fulfilment of its aspirations, the triumph\nof justice, must come from heaven. Formerly the Italians marched\nto battle under the standard of the saints or of the cross; the\nheroes of Legnano, of Fornovo, and of Curzolari prostrated\nthemselves in prayer before fighting; and the Italians of those\ntimes conquered and gave thanks to God for having given to them a\nbeautiful, great, and prosperous country. But now we have popular\ntumults and the ravings of newspapers.\n\n{341}\n\nOur strong-minded heroes consider it degrading to bow before the\nAuthor of all things. Yet, passing over all the wise men of\nantiquity, the most free nation in Europe opens its parliaments\nwith prayer, and obeys the orders of the queen to fast in time of\ndisaster, or feast in time of great success. The President of the\nUnited States, no matter what may be his creed, orders a day of\nthanksgiving to God, and he is obeyed. When the telegraph from\nAmerica was able to carry a message to Europe on August 17th,\n1858, the first words which leaped along the wire were, \"Europe\nand America are united. Glory to God in the highest; peace on\nearth; to men, good-will.\" \"What grander spectacle can there be\nthan to see a whole people united in the duties imposed by its\nreligion in celebrating great anniversaries? What heroic\noutbursts, how many noble sacrifices, were expressed in the\nmonologues of holy days! What high thoughts and magnificent\nconceptions arose in the souls of philosophers and poets! How\nmany generous resolutions were taken! When the observance of the\nSunday was neglected, the last spark of poetic fire was\nextinguished in the souls of our poets. It has been truly said,\nwithout religion there is no poetry. We must add, without\nexternal worship and feast days there is no religion. In the\ncountry, where the people are more susceptible of the religious\nsentiment, the Sunday still keeps a part of its social influence.\nThe sight of a rustic population united as one family by the\nvoice of its pastor, and prostrated in silence and recollection\nbefore the invisible majesty of God, is touching and sublime; is\na charm which goes to the heart.\"\n\nWho speaks in this way? Proud hon. [sic] And Napoleon says, \"Do\nyou want something sublime? Recite your _Pater noster_.\"\n\nThe most sublime prayer is the mass--the culminating point of\nworship; the perennial expiation of perennial faults. From the\nmass Alimonda passes to confession; then to communion; and thence\nto the responsibility of present life. He exhorts all to\n_understand_ and _believe_. This is the creed of the\nChristian: _Credere et intelligere_.\n\n\n                 VIII.\n\nWe have thus far followed the illustrious Alimonda, repeating or\ndeveloping his arguments. Let us now examine his manner of\ntreating the questions which he discusses.\n\nThe classic Greek orators had wonderful simplicity of style, in\nwhich the familiarity of their expressions ennobled their\nsentiments and gave force to their reasoning. The Eastern fathers\nfollowed in their footsteps. The Latins ornamented eloquence so\nas to make it a special art, assigning it a measured cadence, a\npeculiar intonation of voice, a system of position and gesture.\nHence, the Latin fathers studied speech even to affectation,\nsought after rhetorical figures, yet always more attentive to the\npractical than to the abstract. The French formed themselves\nrather according to the Greek models; and the noble simplicity of\nBossuet, Massilon, and F\u00e9n\u00e9lon renders them still models for one\nwho would discourse before a polished people.\n\nThe Italians, if you except some of the very earliest preachers,\npreferred to ornament their speeches and indulge in artificial\nfigures. In the ages of bad taste, the worst display of metaphors\ndisgraced the pulpit; whence the custom passed to the bar and\nparliament, where there have been and still are so many examples\nof unnatural oratory.\n{342}\nHence, in so great an abundance of literature, we have no good\npreachers except Legneri. In modern times, the style of the\npretentious Turchi has been changed to that of the academic\nBarbieri; but that style of preaching \"whose father is the\nGospel, and whose mother is the Bible,\" is rarely heard in our\npulpits. Our very best eloquence, that of the pastorals and\nhomilies of our bishops, is spoiled by too frequent citations,\nand is often devoid of that sentiment which comes from the heart\nand goes to it. We do not want to borrow the French style. It is\na mistake to steal the language of another nation, either in\nwriting or preaching. Peoples have different dispositions. It\nwould not do to address the Carib in the same way as the\nParisian, or the contemporaries of Godfrey as the subjects of\nNapoleon.\n\nOur author, beside being familiar with the first propagators and\ndefenders of Christianity, is highly educated in the classics,\nand has always ready phrases, hemistichs, and allusions which\ndisplay his erudition. His method is prudent, his divisions\nlogical, and the train of ideas well followed up; his language\ncorrect, and the clearness and marvellous beauty of his style\nshow him to be a finished orator.\n\nHe draws an abundance of materials from the most diverse and\nrecondite sources. He adduces the most recent discoveries of\nscience regarding the essence of the sun, nebula, aerolites, and\non the nature of matter. Without mentioning the biblical and\nlegendary portions of his work, there are in it traces of every\npart of both ancient and modern history: Camoens and Napoleon,\nAbelard and Renan, Isnard and Jouffroy, Donoso Cortes and\nCagliostro, Marie Antoinette and Madame de Swetchine, Ireland and\nPoland, the discourses of Napoleon III. and of Cavour. The author\nbrings us through the byways of London to the prison of Thomas\nMore, to the solitude of St. Helena, and to the lands where the\nmissionaries are laboring. He quotes even the heroes of romance:\n\"Renzo\" and the \"Unknown,\" Renato, Werter, St. Preux, the Elvira\nof George Sand, Wiseman's Fabiola, and Victor Hugo's Valjean.\nWith the spoils of the Egyptians Alimonda builds a tabernacle to\nthe living God. Who will censure him, since our Holy Father, in a\nbrief of September 20th, 1867, approves his labor?\n\nThe nineteenth century can be saved only by means suitable to the\nnineteenth century; and Simon Stylites or Torquemada, the\nCrusaders or the Flagellants, would be as much out of place\nto-day as catapults or the theory of uncreated light. We must\nfight with modern weapons.\n\n  \"Clypeos, Danaumque insignia nobis aptemus.\" [Footnote 78]\n\n    [Footnote 78: \"We must use the weapons and dress of the\n    Greeks.\" _AEneid_, lib. ii.]\n\nWe must study Catholicity in all its bearings, and reconcile\ndivine and human traditions with modern exigencies; authority\nestablished on an immovable pedestal, with liberty which is\nalways developing.\n\nCourage! Let us arouse ourselves from lethargy, and not suffer a\ncondition of affairs for which we are responsible. Let us\nremember, with Bacon, that prosperity was the boon of the Old\nTestament; adversity, of the New; persuaded, with Donoso Cortes,\nthat \"it is our duty, as Catholics, to struggle, and that we\nshould thank God who has chosen us to fight for his church,\" let\nus display that energetic will which is so rare among good\npeople. With charity and faith, by association and perseverance,\nwe can conquer hatred and unbelief, the divisions of sects, and\nthe onslaughts of error on the strongholds of Catholic truth.\n\n-------\n\n{343}\n\n         Two Months In Spain During\n           The Late Revolution.\n\n\n         Seville, Fonda De Paris.\n\n              September 23, 1869.\n\nThe train leaves Cordova at six A.M., and we are delighted to be\nagain on our journey. The route proves of little interest between\nCordova and Seville; the Guadalquivir is first on one side of us\nand then on the other; the hills and mountains bound each side of\nthe plain, where are olive groves, and peaceful flocks, and\nploughmen, as if no revolution were occurring around them. At\nAlmovar, (situated on a high hill,) we see the ruins of a Moorish\ncastle where that half-Moor, Peter the Cruel, confined his\nsister-in-law, Do\u00f1a Juana de Lara. Carmona is another town which\nhas the same celebrity. Here he imprisoned many of his female\nfavorites when tired of them. We grow very hungry in spite of\nthese tragic histories, and our young gentleman buys a great\nmelon _de Castile_, which, proving very delicious, we make a\ngood breakfast _\u00e0 l'espagnol;_ but are not sorry to see the\ntowers of the Giralda, and soon after we enter Seville--the most\ncharming of all Spanish towns; the city of Don Juan and Figaro;\nthe gayest, the most celebrated for its beautiful women, its\ngraceful men, its bull-fights, its gypsies, its tertulias, its\nfandangos, its cachuchas, its Murillos, its cathedral, (said to\nrival St. Peter's,) and its Alcazar, which is almost as wonderful\nas the Alhambra.\n\nAfter dinner, we hasten to the cathedral through busy, crowded\nstreets, by handsome shops; passing occasionally a pretty\nSevillian whose black dress, bare arms and neck seen through the\nblack lace mantilla, with the dainty pink rose peeping from\nbeneath it, harmonize exactly with one's idea of the Spanish\nwoman. And presently, upon a terrace ascended by several steps,\nwe see before us this wonderful pile of buildings: the Giralda\n(Moorish tower) on one side; the Sagrario (the parish church) on\nthe other; the chapter house, and offices facing the cathedral;\nand in the centre of all these the court of oranges! The\ncathedral is entered from this court by nine doors. We scarcely\nknow how to describe this magnificent gothic building, which has\naffected us more than any we have ever seen. Coming upon us so\nimmediately after the mosque of Cordova, (each of these a perfect\nspecimen of its kind,) one sees in each the reflection of the\ndifferent faiths they represent. The graceful, elegant mosque\nseems to appeal more to the senses, to speak of a faith which\npromises material joys, while the grand and majestic gothic\ncathedral carries one's heart to the heaven in which these lofty\narches seem to be lost. In despair of being able to do justice to\nso high a theme, I must borrow from O'Shea's guide-book the\nfollowing description of this building:\n\n  \"The general style of the edifice is gothic of the best period\n  of Spain, and though many of its parts belong to different\n  styles, these form but accessory parts, and the main body\n  remains strictly gothic. Indeed all the fine arts, and each in\n  turn, at their acme of strength, have combined to produce their\n  finest inspiration here.\n{344}\n  The Moorish Giralda, the Gothic cathedral, the Greco-Roman\n  exterior, produce variety, and repose the eye. Inside, its\n  numerous paintings are by some of the greatest painters that\n  ever breathed; the stained glass, amongst the finest known; the\n  sculpture, beautiful; the jewellers' and silversmiths' work\n  unrivalled in composition, execution, and value. The cathedral\n  of Leon charms us by the chaste elegance of its airy structure,\n  the purity of its harmonious lines; the fairy-worked cimborio\n  of that at Burgos, its filagree spires, and pomp of\n  ornamentation are certainly more striking; and at Toledo, we\n  feel already humbled and crushed beneath the majesty and wealth\n  displayed everywhere. But when we enter the cathedral of\n  Seville, there is a sublimity in these sombre masses and\n  clusters of spires whose proportions and details are somewhat\n  lost and concealed in the mysterious shadows which pervade the\n  whole, a grandeur which quickens the sense, and makes the heart\n  throb within us, and we stand as lost among these lofty naves\n  and countless gilt altars, shining dimly in the dark around us,\n  the lights playing across them as the rays of the glorious\n  Spanish sun stream through the painted windows. Vast\n  proportions, unity of design, severity and sobriety of\n  ornament, and that simplicity unalloyed by monotony which\n  stamps all the works of real genius, render this one of the\n  noblest piles ever raised to God by man, and preferred by many\n  even to St. Peter's at Rome.\"\n\nIt is said that the canons and chapter resolved to make this\nchurch the wonder of the world; and with this view, sent for the\nmost celebrated architects and artists of the world to adorn it,\ndenying themselves almost the necessaries of life to accomplish\nthe great work.\n\nThe pillars are one hundred and fifty feet high; the church, four\nhundred feet long, two hundred and ninety-one wide, with\nninety-five windows and thirty-seven chapels; and nearly each one\nof these contains some pictures of Murillo, Cespedes, Campana,\nRoelas, or some Spanish painter of celebrity. We go from chapel\nto chapel, gazing upon these, lingering before the altar \"Del\nAngel de la Guarda,\" where is Murillo's exquisite picture of the\nguardian angel with the young child by the hand (so often\nreproduced,) and lost in awe before his grand picture of St.\nAnthony of Padua, to whom the infant Jesus descends, amidst\nangels and flowers and sunbeams, into the arms ecstatically\nextended toward him. In a little chapel we come upon a lovely\nVirgin and Child, by Alonso Ca\u00f1o, called N. S. de Belem,\n(Bethlehem.)\n\nBut the sun declined, and we ascended the Giralda to see his last\nbeams shine upon so much beauty. What a strange and charming\nscene! The forest of white houses painted with delicate blue and\ngreen; the flat roofs decorated with gardens; the four hundred\nand seventy-seven narrow streets, some hardly admitting two\npeople abreast, through which toiled the patient mules bearing\nburdens of stones, mortar for building, wood, and vegetables; the\none hundred ornamented squares and promenades; the orange\ngardens; the plaza de Toros; the cathedral just beneath us, with\nits hundreds of turrets; the Torre del Oro, (Tower of Gold,) so\nnamed from its yellow hue; the Lonja, (Exchange,) with its pink\ncolor; the grey Alcazar; the palace San Telmo by the\nGuadalquivir, which winds through the city and over the plain;\nand convents, and churches, and palaces; and, beyond all, the\nverdant plains and the blue mountains! As the sun sank, the\nconvent bells rang the \"Ave Maria.\"\n\n  \"Blessed be the hour!\n   The time, the chime, the spot.\"\n\nCertainly we all \"felt that moment in its fullest power\"!\n\n{345}\n\n                  Thursday, 24.\nOur first visit to-day is to San Telmo--the royal palace given by\nQueen Isabella to her sister, the Duchess de Montpensier--on the\nbanks of the Guadalquivir, with enchanting gardens, palms and\ncitrons, and orange-trees; and within, all oriental in its style\nand decorations. Here are some lovely pictures--one of Murillo's\nmost beautiful Virgins, several splendid Zurbarans, a Sebastian\ndel Piombo, Holy Family, etc.\n\nNext we visit the great tobacco manufactory, where 4000 women are\nemployed making cigars. As all these were talking at once, we\nwere glad soon to escape. And then the Alcazar, the wonderful\nMoorish palace, than which not even the Alhambra can be more\nbeautiful--as it seems to us. We wander in delicious gardens\n--like those described in the _Arabian Nights_--and then\nenter the enchanted palace! Passing several courts, we find the\ngreat door of entrance sculptured and painted in arabesque. Here\nis a long hall, with exquisitely carved and painted roof, from\nwhich we pass into a square marble court, or patio, with double\nrows of marble columns and a fountain in the centre. From the\nfour sides of this patio you enter by immense doors, carved and\ninlaid, into the apartments beyond. First, the Hall of the\nAmbassadors, which communicates with others through elegant\narches profusely ornamented, supported by marble pillars of every\ncolor with gilded capitals. The walls and dome are ornamented\nwith sentences from the Koran, in gilt letters upon grounds of\nblue and crimson. Every chamber has different decorations, all\nequally elegant.\n\nBelow, opening from the garden, we are shown some subterranean\ncells said to have been the prisons of Christian captives, and\nabove these the luxurious baths of Maria de Padilla--the famous\nmistress of Peter the Cruel. It was the custom for the king and\ncourtiers to sit by and see her bathe, and for the latter to\npretend to sip the water of the bath. Seeing one of these fail in\nthis gallant duty one day, the king asked why he omitted it.\n\"Because, sire,\" (said the witty courtier,) \"I am afraid to like\nthe sauce so well that I shall covet the bird.\" Peter the Cruel\nlived much in this palace, and did much to embellish it through\nthe Moorish artists whom he employed. Many of the Spanish kings\nlived there, and Charles V. was married in one of the upper\nrooms. These we did not see, and learned afterward that they were\ninhabited by \"Fernan Caballero,\" one of the most popular writers\nof Spain--whose delightful books we learned later to admire.\nFernan Caballero is the _nom de plume_ of this lady, who has\nhad many misfortunes, and who by permission of the queen lives in\nthe Alcazar, devoting her life to deeds of benevolence amongst\nthe poor, whose traits and trials she records in many delightful\nworks. It is a pity that out of France these books should be\nunknown. One of our party determines to take some of them to\nAmerica, that they may be translated and bring to the knowledge\nof our people these charming scenes of Spanish home life so\ninimitably described.[Footnote 79]\n\n    [Footnote 79: One of \"Fernan Caballero's\" (Mrs. Fabre) books,\n    _The Alvareda Family_, has already been translated here\n    and published in _The Catholic World_ three years ago;\n    and two others, _The Sea Gull_, and _The Castle and\n    Cottage in Spain_, have appeared in an English dress in\n    London, and _Lucia Garcia_ is already translated and\n    will soon appear in this magazine.--ED. CATH. W.]\n\nIn the evening we go to a ball, to see the Andalusian dances in\ntheir proper costume. Boleros, and cachuchas, and seguidillas,\nand manchegas! Such graceful movements, such little feet in such\ndainty satin shoes!\n\n{346}\n\nGenerally to the accompaniment of the guitar, with most peculiar\nand monotonous music, singing at the same time, clapping the\nhands, stamping the feet, and the dancer always with castanets.\nAll the dances were peculiar, solos, often in couples, or three\nat a time, some of these coquettish--one, especially, danced by a\nman and a woman, he in hat and cloak, she with fan and mantilla.\nHow she wielded this little \"weapon\"!--now hiding her face, now\npeeping from behind it, which he also did with his _manta_.\nBy and by he takes off his hat and humbly lays it at her feet.\nShe dances over it scornfully; without ever losing the step, he\nrecovers it. She flies; he pursues, opening his manta\nentreatingly; she relents; again he throws down the hat; she\nstoops and gives it to him, and eventually they dance away with\nthe manta covering both.\n\n                     Friday, 25.\n\nWe go again to the wonderful cathedral; examined many pictures\nwhich yesterday escaped us. In the chapter house is one of\nMurillo's \"Conceptions,\" and eight charming heads (ovals) painted\nby him, in the same room. In the chapel of the kings lies the\nbody of St. Ferdinand, and of Murillo; who asked to be buried at\nthe foot of a picture (The Descent from the Cross) of which he\nwas particularly fond, which is above the main altar.\n\nNear the great entrance of the cathedral a stone in the pavement\nmarks the spot where lies Fernando, the son of Christopher\nColumbus, with the motto upon it, \"A Castilla y \u00e1 Leon, mundo\nnuevo di\u00f3 Colon.\" From his tomb we go to the great Columbine\nLibrary given by him to his country, containing some interesting\nMSS. of his father--one, a book of quotations containing extracts\nfrom the psalms and prophets, proving the existence of the new\nworld. There are a series of portraits round the room, of\nColumbus, his son, St. Ferdinand, Cardinal Mendoza, and Cardinal\nWiseman, (who was a native of Seville.) There is also preserved\nhere the great two-edged sword of Ferdinand Gonsalves.\n\nSome of our party go to visit the archbishop, in the hope to get\npermission to see the treasures of the church, which are very\nvaluable; but the presence of the revolution obliges him to deny\nus this as well as the _entr\u00e9e_ to the convent of St.\nTheresa, which is said to be exactly the same as when she founded\nit. It was here she underwent such great trouble and persecution,\nand where (finding she had but two or three coppers with which to\nbegin a great foundation) she said to her nuns, \"Never mind, two\ncents and Theresa are nothing; but two cents and God are\neverything.\"\n\nAnd this interesting convent we could not see.[Footnote 80]\nIndeed, the time of our visit to Spain was inopportune for seeing\nthe inside of religious houses. A former revolution having\ndeprived them of their property, they have now the fear of being\nturned out of their convents.\n\n    [Footnote 80: For a full description of this convent see Lady\n    Herbert's _Impressions of Spain_, just from the press of\n    the Catholic Publication Society. This work also contains\n    illustrations of cathedrals, churches, gardens, palaces, and\n    other places described in these letters.--ED. CATH. W.]\n\nWhile we wait in the church for the return of our friends, we\nenter into conversation with two of the little boys of the choir,\nwhose beauty attracts us, begging them to describe the style in\nwhich they dance before the Blessed Sacrament on Corpus Christi,\nwhich is said to be a ceremony most solemn, grave, and\nimpressive. These children evinced great curiosity about us, and\nwhen told that one of the party was \"a convert,\" (had been a\nProtestant,) could not be made to comprehend what it meant; for\nthey confound all Protestants with unbelievers.\n{347}\n\"And did not know about our dear Lord!\" said one little fellow\nwith a look of sorrowful compassion, reminding one of the scene\nin one of Fernan Caballero's tales (_The Alvareda Family_)\nwhere the hero comes home from his travels and describes a\ncountry covered with snow so that people are sometimes buried\nunder it.\n\nWe go to see the house in which Murillo lived and the spot where\nhe was first buried--passing the house in which Cardinal Wiseman\nwas born, upon which is a large tablet with a beautiful and\nappropriate inscription. In Murillo's house is an extensive\ngallery with many of his loveliest pictures, and some of the\npictures of monks for which Zurbaran is so famous.\n\nHere we see the Infant St. John with the Lamb, and the Infant\nSaviour, so often repeated by Murillo, apart and together an\nexquisite Ecce Homo; several Madonnas, and Saints.\n\nOn our way we are shown the shop where dwelt the original Figaro,\nand also the house of Don Juan!\n\nThe Casa de Pilatos, one of the residences of the Duke of Medina\nCoeli, next claims us--a curious old palace, built in the\nsixteenth century in imitation of Pilate's House in Jerusalem,\nwhich was visited at that time by the founder. The patio is fine,\nwith a beautiful fountain, and double row of columns, (one above\nanother,) with statues at the four corners. The marble staircase\nand halls--lined with azulejos, (colored porcelain tiles,)\nuniversally used in this country--are particularly handsome.\n\nNext we go to the \"Caridad,\" one of the most celebrated hospitals\nin the world, founded by a young nobleman of Seville in the\nseventeenth century, upon ground which belonged to a brotherhood\nwhose duty it was to give consolation to those about to die on\nthe scaffold. This young man (Don Miguel de Ma\u00f1ara) was\ndistinguished for his profligacy, but also for his bravery,\ngenerosity, and his patronage of art. One of our friends told us\nsome most interesting anecdotes connected with his conversion.\n\nReturning from some orgies, one night, he saw a female figure\nupon a low balcony beckon him. Thinking to have an adventure, he\nsprang into the open window and found a dead body with a with\nlights about it alone in the room. Another time, returning at\nmidnight through the streets, he saw a church lighted, and,\nwondering what could be going on at such an hour, entered. Before\nthe altar was a bier upon which was extended a body covered with\nthe mantle of the knights of the order to which he belonged, the\npriests about it singing the office for the dead. Asking whose\nfuneral it was, he was answered, \"That of Don Miguel Ma\u00f1ara,\" and\ngoing to the corpse and uncovering it, saw his own face. The\nmorning found him stretched upon the pavement, the vision gone.\nBut the impression remained, in which he recognized a call from\nGod to a better life, which he soon after entered, giving his\nwhole fortune to found this institution for the sick, the aged,\nand \"incurables;\" and here he lived and died an example of\nhumility, piety, and penitence. Murillo and other eminent artists\nwere also members of this confraternity, and a letter of the\nformer is here shown in which he asks permission to join the\nbrotherhood. To the friendship of Don Miguel for Murillo the\nhospital is indebted for some of the finest pictures in the\nworld. In the church are two of his grandest and largest\npictures, \"Moses striking the Rock,\" called here the \"Sed,\"\n(thirst,) and the \"Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes,\" a\nVisitation, an Infant Saviour, and a St. John.\n{348}\nThere are also several most remarkable pictures by Valdes Leal;\none, \"The Triumph of Time,\" in which the skeleton Death stands\ntriumphantly above crowns and sceptres and \"all there is of\nglory.\" Opposite to this is \"The Dead Prelate,\" a picture made at\nthe suggestion of Ma\u00f1ara. From the top of the picture a\n_pierced hand_ holds the scales, in one side of which a\nkingly crown, and jewels, and sceptre, weigh against the mystic\n\"I. H. S.\" and a book, the Word of God. Below lies a dead\nprelate, in mitre and crosier, half eaten by the worms; on the\nother side, Don Miguel Ma\u00f1ara, wrapped in his knightly mantle,\nupon which also the worms run riot. On one of the scales is\nwritten \"nor more;\" upon the other, \"nor less.\"\n\nMurillo told the painter that he could never pass this picture\nwithout involuntarily \"holding his nose.\" Under the pavement,\nnear the door, lies the body of the founder; \"the ashes of the\nworst man that ever lived,\" so he styles himself in his epitaph;\nand he requested that he might lie where the feet of every passer\nshould walk over him. The sisters conduct us over the clean and\nairy wards. On the wall of the patio are these words, from the\npen of Ma\u00f1ara himself, \"This house will last as long as God shall\nbe feared in it, and Jesus Christ be served in the persons of his\npoor. Whoever enters here must leave at the door both avarice and\npride.\" And over his own cell is inscribed, \"What is it we mean\nwhen we speak of death? It is being free from the body of sin,\nand from the yoke of our passions. Therefore, to live is a bitter\ndeath, and to die is a sweet life.\"\n\nAnother of the charming histories told us by the same lady was of\nSt. Maria Coronel, whose body is preserved in the convent of St.\nInez, which we could not be permitted to see. Peter the Cruel,\nbecause enamored of her great beauty, condemned her husband to\ndeath, but offered to save him if she would yield to his wishes.\nThe husband was actually executed, and Maria fled to this\nconvent, where the king pursued her. One night he entered her\ncell; and, seeing no other way to escape him, she seized the\nburning lamp, and emptied its boiling contents over her face. The\npoor lady lived the life of a saint, and died in this convent.\nHer body is as fresh as if she had died yesterday, and the marks\nof the oil upon her face as clearly visible as upon the day when\nthe heroic deed was committed.\n\nIn the evening we walk in the crowded streets, and find splendid\nshops filled with lovely women, who go at this hour to walk or\nshop, never stirring out in the day. As late as eleven, when we\ncame in, the streets and shops were yet filled with ladies.\n\n\n                 Saturday, 26.\n\nWe spend the morning in the gallery, which is considered the\nfinest in Spain, after that of Madrid. This is especially rich in\nMurillos, and has several Zurbarans, the Spanish Caravaggio so\nfamous for his pictures of monks. Here is \"The Apotheosis of St.\nThomas Aquinas,\" considered his masterpiece; and of Murillo there\nare about twenty-four of his greatest pictures: the \"St. Thomas\nof Villanuova giving Alms,\" which was the painter's own favorite;\nthe \"St. Anthony of Padua kneeling before the Infant Saviour,\"\nwho stands upon his book--the most perfect type of a child God;\nand the ecstasy, the fervor, the humility, in the pale,\nattenuated face of the monk brings the tears to one's eyes, you\nso feel with him.\n{349}\nNext this is a picture preferred to the other by most persons,\n\"St. Felix of Cantalicia,\" with the infant Saviour in his arms,\nthe blessed Mother leaning forward to receive him. The beauty of\nthe Virgin Mother and the grace of her attitude is said by\ncritics to be beyond all praise. Then comes a beautiful\n\"Annunciation,\" a \"St. Joseph with the child Jesus,\" \"Saints\nRufina and Justina,\" (the patrons of Seville,) \"Saints Leandro\nand Buonaventura,\" several \"Conceptions,\" and the exquisite\n\"Virgin de la Sevilleta,\" (Virgin of the Napkin,) said to have\nbeen painted on a dinner napkin, and given as a present to the\ncook of the convent where Murillo worked. The \"St. John Baptist\nin the Desert\" should also be mentioned, as well as many others.\n\nThis evening we bid farewell to beautiful Seville, with all its\ndelights, and set out for Cadiz.\n\nCertainly it is the Spaniards, not the French, who are \"the\npolitest people in the world.\" The conductor opens the railway\ncarriage with \"Good evening, ladies. May I trouble you for your\ntickets?\" concluding with \"A happy night to you.\" In passing a\nstreet, the other day, a gentleman with whom we had crossed the\nmountains, and whose name we do not even know, rushes from his\nhouse to say, \"Ladies, is anything wanting? Here is your house.\"\nSuch is the pretty exaggerated Spanish phrase. Leaving Seville,\nwe pass orange-groves and fields divided by aloe and cactus\nhedges, but the country is flat and uninteresting; and, except\nLebrija, which has a tower, the rival of the Giralda, and Jerez,\nwe see no towns of any size or interest till we near Cadiz.\n\"Jerez de la Frontera\" (the frontier town) has always been of\nimportance; one of the earliest Phoenician colonies. Close to\nthis took place the battle of the Guadelete, which opened Spain\nto the Moors. St. Ferdinand recovered it in 1251; but it was\nretaken, and again recovered by his son, Alonzo the Learned, in\n1264, who granted to it many important privileges, peopling it\nwith forty of his hidalgos--the source of the present Jerez\nnobility. It has an Alcazar of great interest--its Alameda--some\nfine old churches, and near it are the ruins of a fine old\nCarthusian convent upon the Guadelete, which the Moors called the\nRiver of Delight. Jerez is now celebrated for its wines; the\nsherry so prized in England and America, which occupies palaces\nrather than wine-cellars. These are called \"bodegas,\" and\nsometimes hold ten thousand casks. As we near Cadiz we see Puerta\nSan Maria, at the mouth of the Guadelete--a pretty town, looking\nupon the sea, with a suspension bridge looking most picturesque\nin the moonlight; then Puerto Real, San Fernando, Cadiz.\n\n\n     Cadiz, Fonda De Paris.\n                 Sunday, 27.\n\nThe guide takes us first to hear high mass in the new\ncathedral--a handsome building, entirely of white marble, within\nand without. Some good pictures, (copies of Murillo,) fine music,\nand the most devout of congregations. The loveliest of women, in\nmodest black dresses, mantillas, and fans, sat or knelt upon the\nmatting, which is spread upon the space between the high altar\nand the choir. No seats are provided. A few bring little black\ncamp-stools. The bishop (who gave the benediction) is a most\ndignified and elegant-looking person; and the guide tells us he\nis much beloved and respected. Already the new order of things\npulls down churches and banishes the Jesuits, as the first proof\nof that \"liberty of worship\" which is one of the most popular of\nthe war cries.\n{350}\nSuch bandit-looking fellows as we saw yesterday! Catalan\nsoldiers, in red cap, short pantaloons with red stripe,\nhalf-gaiters, and a red blanket on the left shoulder, a leathern\nbelt, with pistols and a great rifle.\n\nThe revolution spreads everywhere, \"peacefully,\" as they say. We\nsee a handbill posted, in which the queen is spoken of as\n\"_Do\u00f1a_ Isabella of Bourbon,\" to whom they wish \"no harm.\"\n\nSome Spanish ladies who had once lived in America, and are\nfriends of ours, came to visit us. They are intensely loyal, as\nare all the women of Spain whom we encounter. From these we learn\nthat, as in all revolutions, the dregs of the people come to the\ntop, and are most conspicuous. It is only they make it who have\nnothing to lose, and all to gain. These \"juntas,\" who now rule in\neach city under the provisional government, are composed of\npeople of low birth and bad morals. Here they are taken from the\nlow trades-people, who are noted drunkards and unbelievers. Into\nsuch hands are committed the destinies of this lovely city. Their\nfirst work has been to try and kill the Jesuits, who, with a\nhundred little boys under their care, had to defend themselves\nfrom these men and the rabble they encourage. And but for the\nofficers of the fleet, who, with pistols in hand, thrust\nthemselves between them, they must have been murdered. These\nofficers took them on board the ships for safety, and some are\nyet secreted in the town, waiting an opportunity to escape.\nTo-day our guide takes us to several curious old churches which\nwere formerly convents, with pretty cloisters and marble courts.\nThese, he says, are doomed by the junta to be torn down to build\nhouses and theatres, thus destroying these beautiful old\nmonuments of a past time in their blind fury against religion.\n\nIn the evening we change our hotel to the \"Fonda de Cadiz,\" on\nthe gay \"plaza San Antonio.\" After dinner walk by the seashore on\nthe walls. As we pass the streets, we enter several churches,\nwhere the people are hearing sermons, or saying prayers with the\npriests. Such picturesque groups!\n\nTo-night we see from our windows a procession carrying the\nBlessed Sacrament to the sick, from the parish church opposite. A\ncarriage is always sent, and a long procession, bearing lights,\nprecedes and follows. One of the ladies present tells us that\nlast carnival, in the midst of the gayeties on this square, men\nand women, in every variety of ridiculous costume, were dancing\nto merry music, when suddenly the bell was heard preceding the\nBlessed Sacrament, which was being carried to a sick officer,\nliving upon the square. In an instant every knee was bent of the\nmotley throng, and the band struck up the Royal March in the most\neffective manner, and accompanied the procession to the house;\nreturning, the fun recommenced. This lady says there was never\nanything witnessed more affecting. \"And,\" added she, \"this is the\nfaith these revolutionists would take from us. Already they talk\nof introducing every religion, and they will build a mosque and a\nsynagogue!\"\n\n\n                       Monday, 28.\nThe morning is given to shopping, to see the lovely mantillas of\nevery shape and style; fans of wonderful workmanship and\nexquisite painting on kid or silk; the beautiful figures in every\nvariety of Spanish costumes, made in Malaga, of a particular kind\nof clay for which Spain is famous; the pretty mattings of Cadiz,\netc.\n{351}\nIn the evening we walk with our friends upon the \"Alameda,\" a\ncharming promenade by the seaside, where stately palm-trees wave\nabove marble seats and columns. Entering the church of Mount\nCarmel we find it filled with people saying prayers and the\nrosary. To-night we are kept awake by the mob, who are marching\nwith drums and ringing the church bells in honor of a victory\nover the queen's troops near Cordova.\n\n\n\n                       Tuesday, 29.\nAt eight o'clock we set out upon an excursion to Jerez, to visit\nthe bodegas and taste the fine wines. Passing the salt-meadows we\nsee the white pyramids of salt glistening in the sunlight, which\nhad so puzzled us when we last saw them by moonlight. The bay of\nCadiz is on one side, the broad ocean on the other, in the\ndistance the mountains of the Sierra del Pinal. A friend joins us\nat Puerta Real, and takes us to one of the largest bodegas in\nJerez, where are 10,000 casks of wine--each cask valued at $500!\nThe proprietor (a gentleman of English or Irish descent) is most\nkind, shows us this extraordinary place, and gives us to taste of\nthe finest wines--brown sherry and pale sherry, fifty years of\nage. But the most delicious of all are the sweet wines--which are\nalso sherries--and are called \"Pedro Ximenes\" from the name of\nthe person who first introduced this grape. These wines are rich\nand oily, (perfect \"nectar,\") and are made from the grape when\nalmost as dry as raisins--twelve days from off the vine. In the\nmidst of these oceans of fine wines, Mr. Graves (the proprietor)\ntells us he rarely tastes them, only occasionally taking a glass\nof the sweet wine.\n\nJerez is said to be the richest town in Spain, the richest of its\nsize in the world. Beautiful plazas planted with palms, and fine\nold palaces. We visited an ornamental garden belonging to one of\nthese wine princes, where were lakes, and streams, and grottoes,\nand bridges, and groves, and flowers of every variety, birds and\nfowls, and model cattle, etc. And then we saw San Miguel, one of\nthe finest churches we have seen, (gothic interior,) of the\nfifteenth century, (1432,) elegantly ornamented. There is also a\ncathedral and another most interesting church, (St. Dionisius,)\nbuilt by Alonzo the Learned in the thirteenth century, said to be\na particularly fine specimen of the gothic moresque of that\nperiod. After a fine breakfast of the delicious Spanish ham,\nchocolate, cakes, and sherry, we return to Cadiz. Passing \"Puerta\nSan Maria,\" we see the Jesuit college, from which they have just\nbeen ejected, the broken trees, the trampled gardens telling\ntheir own story of violence. One of the gentlemen in the train\ntells us there were two hundred and fifty boys cared for here,\nand that the Jesuits fed five hundred poor each day with soup\nfrom the leavings of the table. The great building looked a\npicture of desolation.\n\nTo-night we have another ringing of bells and marching to the\nsound of the odious revolutionary hymn. One of the gentlemen of\nour party goes out to hear the speeches in the square. Some of\nthe speakers propose to offer the crown to the father of the King\nof Portugal, (of the Catholic branch of that lucky _Coburg_\nfamily who, possessing nothing, gain everything by marriage,)\nothers are for the Duke of Montpensier. Some cry \"Vive Napoleon.\"\nIn fact, they are in great embarrassment--have caught the\nelephant and do not know what to do with him, like another nation\nwe know of.\n\n{352}\n                  Wednesday, 30.\n\nTo-day we hear that all Catalonia has \"pronounced,\" and even\nMadrid, and that the rejoicings of last night were for the\nvictory of \"Alcolea,\" just won, over the queen's troops, in\nwhich, however, the liberals have lost three thousand men. These\ntroops were commanded by Serrano, (Duke de Torres,) who owes\neverything to the queen's favor; and on the queen's side by the\nMarquis de Novaliches, \"faithful found amongst the faithless.\" We\nhear of one of her officers (the young Count de Cheste) who has\nshut himself with his men in the fortress of Montjuich, at\nBarcelona, resolving to die rather than submit. One must admire\nsuch devotion, in whatever cause it is shown. \"Loyalty! the most\npure and beautiful feeling of the human breast. It is a love\nwhich exists without requiring the usual nourishment of return; a\nfeeling void of every shade of egotism; that desires and requires\nnothing but the happiness of loving, that causes one joyfully to\nsacrifice life and property for the exalted object whose voice,\nperhaps, never reached his ear. This feeling, in its highest\npurity, is the very triumph of human capacity.\" Such is the true\ndefinition of \"Loyalty,\" which, like \"Liberty,\" is often profaned\nand constantly misunderstood. With our pretty Spanish friends we\ngo to see a church called the \"Cave,\" a church only for\ngentlemen, where they may go privately to their confession and\ndevotions. The confessionals are unlike those used for women, for\nthe men go in front and kneel face to face with the priest. It is\na beautiful chapel, wonderfully rich in marbles and fine\nvestments and bassi-relievi, and below it is a gloomy chapel from\nwhence the church derives its name. Over the altar is represented\nthe crucifixion. It is dimly lighted through a dome, and the\nfigures (large as life) seem to live. Here the men go for\nmeditation, and for the Good Friday and other solemn festivals.\nAt one end of the chapel is a carved chair, raised on a platform,\nupon which the priest sits to give his instructions, while a lamp\nis so arranged that the light falls only upon the speaker's face,\nleaving the rest of the chapel in darkness. The young priest who\nshowed us the church had the face of an angel, so fair and young\nand holy; or, rather, such a face as is represented in a picture\nof St. Aloysius Gonzaga, the patron of youth.\n\nAs we wander from shop to shop one of our pretty friends meets\none of the beaux of Cadiz, whose \"loyalty\" she suspects and whom\nshe berates most violently for deserting his queen in her need,\nand helping to embarrass his country. The pretty way with which\nshe shakes her fan at him, and gesticulates with her hands, the\nexpressive eyes and play of feature, is altogether charming and\n_Andalusian_.\n\nLate this evening, we hear particulars of the late battle.\nNovaliches fought against fearful odds--three thousand men to\nsixteen thousand. He was severely if not mortally wounded, and\nwas carried off by his men to Portugal, the only way of retreat\nopen to them. This defeat, we suppose, will put an end to the\nwar.\n\nThursday, Oct. 1.\n\nThis is the feast of the Guardian Angel of Spain, so we hear mass\nwhere the devotion of the forty hours begins. As in Italy, two by\ntwo, kneeling and holding lights, the men of the congregation\nkeep watch before the Blessed Sacrament during these forty hours,\nwhile hundreds of adorers continually coming and going attest the\ndevotion of this pious people.\n{353}\nThe Church of the Guardian Angel is near that belonging to the\nmilitary hospital; and on the opposite side of the square is an\nasylum for widows, founded many years ago by a converted Moor--a\nmost interesting institution. Widows of all ranks and conditions\nfind shelter here when their necessities require it. Each one has\nher own chamber and sitting-room, and each one her little cooking\napparatus separate. The court with its open corridors on every\nstory, its pretty flowers, its fine promenade on the roof, makes\nit a very inviting abode; and, with the usual Spanish courtesy,\nthe old widow who showed us about (the widow of an officer, who\nhad been there these forty years) placed it at our \"disposition.\"\nThese poor women go out to walk, and to church when they wish,\nthough there is also a chapel in the house.\n\nWe go next to see the \"Albergo dei Poveri,\" a magnificent\ncharity, founded and endowed by one man in memory of his mother,\nand dedicated to St. Helena. Here five hundred children of both\nsexes are taught weaving, sewing, washing, shoemaking, etc., and\nthere is also an asylum for five hundred old men and old women.\nThe school-rooms and dormitories are large and airy; the marble\ncourts, where the children play, and the sewing-room, where a\nhundred girls sat at work, looked out upon the sea, and were\ndeliciously cool and comfortable. The school-rooms were decorated\nwith pictures of Bible history, and seemed to have all the modern\ninventions which make easy the way to learning. The sister told\nus how much they had been disturbed by this revolutionary\nmovement. Her little orphan boys (who had been taught music with\nthe view to enter the army as musicians) had been carried off at\nnight to play the revolutionary hymn, kept out marching over the\ntown till two o'clock in the morning, and then sent home\nfoot-sore and with aching heads.\n\nThe most interesting thing of all was to see the old men at\ndinner--that helpless thing, an old man. Placed by the nice\ntable, a man with snow-white apron served the soup, a sister gave\nround the meat, and then came a pudding. The bread was as white\nas is all the bread of Spain, (even the poorest people have bread\nof this very white flour,) and there seemed about a hundred of\nthese men over sixty years of age. The rain drives us home, but\nby and by we go out again to buy some of the boots and shoes of\nCadiz, which are the prettiest in the world and cover the\nprettiest of feet.\n\n\n  Feast Of The Guardian Angels.\n\nFriday, Oct. 2.\n\nWe go to the lovely church of the Rosary for high mass. The\ndecorations are very tasteful and beautiful, and hundreds of men\nand women, in their grave black garments, assist most devoutly;\nthe men have benches on each side, the women sit or kneel upon a\nbit of matting before the altar.\n\nFrom this we go to the \"Capuchinos,\" where we see three of\nMurillo's finest pictures, the \"Marriage of St. Catherine,\" over\nthe altar, which he left unfinished and which is surrounded, in\nfive compartments, by five pictures of Zurbaran, almost equal to\nthe centre piece. There is here another \"Conception,\" and that\npicture of pictures, \"St. Francis receiving the Stigmata,\" which\nis certainly the most extraordinary of all the works of this\ngreat master. The face of the saint seems to come entirely out of\nits dark surroundings, and so do the wonderful hands. These all\nlook like the living flesh, and move us as if they were so.\n\n{354}\n\nThis Capuchin convent, which Murillo loved to adorn, and in\npainting for which he lost his life, is now a hospital for\nlunatics--the monks all gone; the present Bishop of Cadiz was one\n[of] them. And to show the devotion of the common people to\nMurillo, they will not allow the bishop to move this picture of\nSt. Francis to an opposite altar, where it would be in a better\nlight and preserved from the smoke of the altar candles. \"No; the\nplace for which Murillo painted it must be the best place, and\nthere it shall stay.\" In a chapel near by is a lovely picture of\n\"Our Lady of the Rosary,\" which must be a copy of the one in the\ngallery of Madrid so celebrated. In this chapel and everywhere\nhere we see statues or pictures of the \"Martyrs of Cadiz,\"\n(Servando and Germano,) two young Roman soldiers who, becoming\nconverts, died for the faith on a spot near the present city\ngates. It is said that on the occasion of the terrible earthquake\nwhich occurred here November 1st, 1755, when the sea rose and\nthreatened to devour the city, two young men in strange garments\nappeared on the spot of their martyrdom and were seen by hundreds\nof the inhabitants to stay the waves, speaking to the people and\nbidding them pray to God. On another side of the city the\nDominican priests bore the favorite statue of \"Our Lady of the\nRosary,\" with many prayers, to the waters' brink, and \"the waves\nreceded and there was a great calm.\"\n\nOn the third side, where Cadiz is most exposed to the sea, is a\nlittle church in which the priest was saying mass on the eventful\nmorning. 'The people ran to him saying, \"Behold! the sea is at\nthe very door.\" He made haste to consume the consecrated Host,\nthen seizing the crucifix and the banner of \"Our Lady of Mercy,\"\nwent out upon the door-step where the waves already licked his\nfeet: \"My Mother, let them not come further\"--and they did not!\n\nWhat is so remarkable in the accounts of this earthquake is, that\nthere had been no storm to precede it, but on a soft sunshiny day\ncame this terrible convulsion of the elements. We went to see\nthis church, where is yet shown the crucifix and the banner which\nplayed so important a part on this occasion; and see the point to\nwhich the water rose, and an inscription on the wall of a house\nrecording the event exactly as here related. Next we visit the\nchurch of San Lorenzo, and afterward that of the Scalzi,\n(barefoot friars,) where to-day was said the \"last mass;\" the\n\"junta\" having decreed that it be torn down to build a theatre.\nThe work of destruction had already commenced. How the strong old\nwalls resisted! A dozen carpenters were taking down the gilded\naltars and curiously carved \"retablos,\" which, belonging to the\ndays when Spain had her argosies from the new world laden with\ngold, were made to resist \"all time.\" Four men with iron crowbars\nwere striving to dislodge an angel suspended over an altar, which\npositively refused to come down; while below him, on the floor,\nstood saints and martyrs covered with dust and _d\u00e9bris_,\nhastily dislodged from the pedestals on which they had rested for\ncenturies--a rueful group! No wonder the women wept, and eyed\nresentfully the malicious-looking revolutionists employed to\norder the work; while armed soldiers, with the hateful red ribbon\non the arm, (the revolutionary mark,) kept off the populace, who\nstrove to get in at the doors, by the market, to bid farewell to\nthese ancient altars.\n{355}\nIt had been the church of the market people, the cradle of some\nof popular saints, the scene of the \"first communion,\" the\n\"nuptial mass,\" the baptism of their children, the funeral mass\nfor their dead. Great is the clamor outside! Old people kiss the\nwalls, and the young gather bits of the broken altars, while\nsorrowful-looking priests are permitted to carry away the\nmutilated statues and gildings.\n\nThe convent of the Good Shepherd, opening into the church, is\nalso to be torn down, and its unhappy inmates driven elsewhere to\nseek shelter. They are putting into the _same convent_\nthese, with Carmelites, Ursulines, and others; crowding together\nthose who teach with those who save the Magdalens in strange and\npainful confusion. Such are some of the fruits of revolution! And\nthis is the \"liberty\" which England and America seek for the\nSpaniard!\n\nTo-night we hear that the Marquis de Novaliches has died of\nlockjaw, his face having been dreadfully wounded by a ball. The\nConte de la Cheste, who held Monjuich at Barcelona, has gone to\njoin the queen, abandoning his \"forlorn hope\" at her request.\n\n\n              Saturday, October 3.\n\nTo-day we hear the high mass in the cathedral, and go to see the\njewels in the sacristia. They have a remarkable \"custodia,\" (the\ngift of an ancestor of the Calderon de la Barca,) set in pearls\nand emeralds of immense value; a superbly chased crucifix, the\ngift of Alonzo the Learned; a small but exquisitely worked\ntabernacle of gold with beautiful amethysts forming a cross,\ngiven by the same king. After the mass we go to buy some of the\nfamous Cadiz gloves, and then drive on the ramparts to see the\nfine sea view. In the evening, to the church of the Carmel. As it\nis the eve of the feast of \"Our Lady of the Rosary,\" the church\nof the Rosary is illuminated, and most of the houses throughout\nthe city.\n\n\n                Sunday, Oct. 4.\n\nIn the church of the Rosary is a beautiful ceremony. The music is\nlovely; the wind instruments, in certain parts of the mass, most\neffective, and the whole one of the most solemn services at which\nwe have assisted.\n\nThe sermon is delivered with such grace and unction that we could\nbut realize the truth of that saying of Charles V., that Spanish\nis the language in which to speak to God! So grand, so sonorous!\nAnd there is something in the grave dignity of the Spanish priest\nwhich makes him seem the perfection of ecclesiastical character.\nWe are all struck with the decorum of the people in the churches,\nthe quiet and devotion; none of the running in and out and the\nfamiliarity with holy things which in Italy makes one see that\nthe people regard the church as their father's house, in which\nthey take liberties. Here, it is alone the house of God, as is\nseen in the reverential manner and careful costume. All wear\nblack, and not even is a lace mantilla usual, but the Spanish\nmantilla of modest silk. The men are alike reverential, and\nnowhere have we seen so many men in church, particularly at\nnight.\n\nTo-day we hear the good news that the government of the city is\ntaken from the hands of the junta and given into the care of the\nformer military governor of Cadiz, in conjunction with the\nadmiral of the fleet. This is received with great favor by the\npeople of moderate opinion of both sides, as putting a stop to\nextreme measures. They have countermanded the destruction of the\ntwo old churches, the Franciscan and the Scalzi; of the\nlast-named they tell a most extraordinary story to-day.\n{356}\nYesterday the destroyers had knocked down a portion of the thick\nold wall. This morning it was found rebuilt as if by invisible\nhands, with the same heavy masonry, as strong as before, and even\nthe white plaster upon the outside dry and barely to be\ndistinguished from the rest of the building. Everybody runs to\nlook at it. The people cry \"a miracle,\" and say that the Blessed\nVirgin, whose feast it is to-day, had _a hand in it_.\n\n\n               Monday, Oct. 5.\nWe go for the last time to the shops, and to hear our last mass\nin San Antonio; for to-morrow we leave beautiful Cadiz and the\ndear friends who have made our stay so delightful. The political\nhorizon to-day is a little clearer. In consequence of some\noutrages upon priests and churches one man has been banished to\nCeuta, and large placards are upon the streets threatening with\nlike punishment every one who insults a priest or injures a\nchurch. The banished man had harangued the mob, assuring them\nthat a Dominican father in the convent of that order had some\ninstruments of torture, formerly used in the Inquisition, and\nthat he applied them to his penitents. The unthinking mob, guided\nby him, rushed to search the convent, broke the church windows,\nand not finding what was promised them, turned their fury upon\nthe man who had deceived them.\n\nIn the war of 1835, when Saragossa began the work of burning the\nmonasteries and murdering the monks, Cadiz gave her monks five\nhours to get away, and armed guards saved the monasteries. To be\nsure, the populace burned the libraries and furniture; but as\nCadiz was then more moderate than her sister cities, she will not\nnow be less kind than then. How impossible to believe, in looking\nout upon a city so smiling and so lovely, that evil passions\nshould lurk in it anywhere!\n\n          To Be Continued.\n\n----------\n\n  The Approaching Council Of The Vatican.\n\nThe preparations for the approaching council continue to be made\non a grand scale, and with the greatest diligence. From the\n_Chronicle of Matters relating to the future Council_, which\nis regularly published at the office of the _Civilta\nCattolic\u00e0_, in Rome, we copy the list of the different\ncommissions and their members which are preparing the matters to\nbe discussed and decided upon by the bishops assembled in\necumenical council.\n\nThe supreme directive congregation is composed of the most\neminent cardinals, Patrizi, de Reisach, Barnabo, Panebianco,\nBizarri, Bilio, Caterini, and Capalti. To these are joined, as\nsecretary, Mgr. Giannelli; and as consulters, Mgr. Tizzani, Mgr.\nAngelini, vicegerent of Rome, Mgr. Talbot, (an Englishman,) Don\nMelchior Galeotti, of the seminary of Palermo, F. Sanguineti, S.\nJ., professor of canon law in the Roman College, Professor Feije,\nof the University of Louvain, and Professor Hefele, of T\u00fcbingen.\n{357}\nThe commission of ceremonies is composed of prelates who have the\ngeneral supervision of the grand functions which take place in\nthe principal churches of Rome. The politico-ecclesiastical\ncommission is composed of;\n\n  Cardinal de Reisach, president,\n  Mgrs. Marini,\n  del Parco a Theatine,\n  Bartolini,\n  Jacobini,\n  Ferrari,\n  Nussi,\n  Gizzi,  (a judge in one of the high courts,)\n  Guardi, (vicar-general of the religious\n          congregation of ministers of the sick,)\n  Canon Kovaes, of Kolocza in Bohemia,\n  Canon Molitor of Spire in Germany,\n  the Abb\u00e9 Chesnel, vicar-general of Quimper,\n  Canon Moufang of Mayence,\n  the Abb\u00e9 Gibert, vicar-general of Moulins, and\n  Mgr. Trinchieri, secretary.\n\nThe commission for eastern affairs is composed of\n\n  Cardinal Barnabo, president,\n  Don John Simeoni, of the Propaganda,\n  F. Bollig, S. J., professor of Sanscrit and Oriental\n    languages in the Roman university\n    and Roman college,\n  F. Vercellone, (Barnabite religious; since deceased,)\n  F. Theiner, of the Oratory,\n  the Most Rev. Leonard Valerga, prefect of Carmelite\n     missions in Syria,\n  the Right Rev. Joseph David, a Syrian bishop,\n  Canon Roncetti, professor in the Roman seminary,\n  Don Joseph Piazza,\n  Don Francis Rosi,\n  F. Haneberg, abbot of St. Boniface and professor\n    of theology in the university of Munich,\n  F. Martinoff,\n  S. J., Mgr. Howard, (an Englishman,) and\n  Mgr. Cretoni, secretary.\n\nThe commission on the religious orders and congregations is\ncomposed of\n\n  Cardinal Bizarri, president,\n  Mgrs. Marini,\n  Svegliati, and\n  Lucidi,\n  F. Capelli, (Barnabite,)\n  F. Bianchi,(Dominican,)\n  F. Cipressa, (Minorite Franciscan,)\n  F. Cretoni, (Augustinian,)\n  F. Costa, (Jesuit,)\n  Mgr. Guisasola, arch-priest of the\n     cathedral of Seville, and\n  Don Francis Stoppani, secretary.\n\nThe commission of dogmatic theology is composed of\n\n  Cardinal Bilio, president,\n  Mgr. Cardoni, president of the ecclesiastical academy,\n  F. Spada, (Dominican,) master of the\n     sacred palace and professor of\n     dogma in the Roman university,\n  F. de Ferrari, (Dominican,)\n  F., Perrone, S.J.,\n  Mgr. Schwetz, professor of theology in the\n     university of Vienna,\n  F. Mura, ex-general of the Servites, rector\n     of the Roman university,\n  F. Adrogna, definitor-general of the\n     conventual Franciscans,\n  Mgr. Jacquenet, cur\u00e9 of St. Jacques at Rheims,\n  the Abb\u00e9 Gay, vicar-general of Poitiers,\n  F. Martinelli, (Augustinian,) professor of Scripture in the Roman\n     university,\n  Don Joseph Pecci, professor of philosophy in the same,\n  F. Franzlin, S. J., professor\n     of theology in the Roman college,\n  F. Schrader, S.J., professor in the\n     university of Vienna,\n  Professor Petacci, of the Roman seminary,\n  Professor Hettinger, of Wurtzburg,\n  Professor Alzog, of Friburg,\n  the Rev. Dr. Corcoran, of Charleston, S. C.,\n  Canon Labrador, professor of philosophy and theology at Cadiz, and\n  Canon Santori, rector of the pontifical lyceum in the Roman\n     seminary, secretary.\n\nThe commission of ecclesiastical discipline is composed of\n\n  Cardinal Caterini, president,\n  Mgrs. Giannelli,\n  Angelini,\n  Svegliati,\n  Simeoni,\n  Nina,\n  Nobili,\n  Lucidi,\n  de Angelis, professor of canon law in the Roman\n     university,\n  F. Tarquini, S.J.,\n  Canon Jacobini,\n  Professor Hergenroether, of Wurtzburg,\n  Professor Feije of Louvain,\n  the Abb\u00e9 Sauv\u00e9, of Laval,\n  Canon Giese, of Munster,\n  Professor Heuser, of Cologne,\n  Professor de Torres, of Seville, and\n  Mgr. Louis Jacobini, secretary.\n\nSeveral other distinguished men have been added to these\ncommissioners since this list was published. Dr. Newman was\ninvited to assist, but declined on account of his infirm health.\nDr. D\u00f6llinger was also invited.\n\n{358}\n\nThe sessions of the council will be held in one of the large\nchapels of St. Peter's Church, which is capable of containing\nseveral thousand persons. The principal architects of Rome are\nalready engaged in preparing the proper accommodations, under the\nimmediate supervision of the Holy Father himself. The altar of\nthe council is at one end of the chapel, the throne of the\nsovereign pontiff at the opposite end. On the right and left of\nthe throne are placed the seats of the cardinals, patriarchs, and\nambassadors of sovereigns. The seats of the prelates are ranged\nin two semicircles, each tier being elevated above the one before\nit; the tribune of the orators is placed in the middle of the\nopen space between, and there are also tribunes prepared for\nthose who will be admitted as spectators of the public sessions.\n\nA large and beautiful piece of black marble, which was found\namong the treasures of the Emperor Nero, at the recent\nexhumation, is to be made into an obelisk commemorative of the\ncouncil, which will be erected near the spot where St. Peter was\ncrucified. The base of the column is to be made of a number of\nsmall blocks of white marble, equal to the number of prelates\nassisting at the council, each one placing his own block, with\nhis name and title engraved upon it.\n\nThe bishops alone are entitled to a seat in the council by divine\nright. Cardinals, abbots, and generals of religious orders are\nentitled to a seat also, by ecclesiastical law or privilege. The\nquestion of the right of bishops _in partibus infidelium_ to\na seat is now under discussion, and we have not learned whether\nit has yet been decided or not.\n\nThis circumstance has given the Roman correspondent of the _New\nYork Herald_a chance of furnishing a specimen of the\nridiculous and reckless falsification of matters relating to the\nCatholic Church, by which the ordinary readers of newspapers are\nperpetually befooled and mystified. The doubt respecting the\nright of these bishops is represented as having been raised in\norder to keep out those who are not sufficiently subservient to\nthe holy see, and the conclusion drawn--with the usual flippant\nimpertinence of this class of writers--that Rome will admit none\nwho are not prepared to carry out fully her own policy. The truth\nis, however, that these bishops _in partibus_--who are\nprelates holding merely titular sees which are in fact extinct or\nin the possession of schismatics, many of them having been\ndecorated with the episcopal character by the pope only for the\nsake of honor--are precisely the men who have the least power of\nopposing the holy see and the greatest interest in procuring its\nfavor. Some of them are vicars-apostolic governing missionary\ndistricts, others are coadjutors of diocesan bishops, others are\nprelates who have resigned their sees, and the remainder are\nprelates filling certain high offices in the Roman court. It is\nevident enough that if there were any reason to apprehend\nopposition to the pontifical authority from any portion of the\nhierarchy, it would be rather from the primates and metropolitans\nof old and powerful sees, who have been nominated by sovereigns,\nand who would have all their support and authority to sustain\nthem. There is no reason, however, to apprehend that any\ncollision will take place between the holy see and the hierarchy,\nwho have never in the whole history of the church been more\ncompletely united than they are at present.\n\n{359}\n\nThe bishops take no theologians with them, and, besides the\nprelates themselves, only the theologians of the holy see and the\nrepresentatives of the sovereigns will participate in the\ndeliberations of the council.\n\nIn regard to the matters which will be proposed for the\nadjudication of this supreme tribunal, we find many conjectures,\nmore or less plausible, both in Catholic and secular periodicals.\nWe prefer to wait until the acts of the council are made known in\nan authentic manner, before speaking on this subject. We remark\nmerely that there is not the slightest foundation for the rumors\nwhich are reported in certain newspapers respecting proposed\nchanges in the established discipline of the church, regarding\nmatters which have long ago been definitely settled.\n\nThe impression made upon the whole civilized world by the\nconvocation of an ecumenical council is deep, universal, and\ncontinually increasing as the time for its assembling draws near.\nThe infidel and red-republican party in Europe manifest a fear\nand dread which is certainly remarkable, and very encouraging to\nall friends of religion and order. The politicians of the old\n_r\u00e9gime_ of state supremacy over the church also manifest a\nterrible and perfectly well-founded alarm, lest the church should\nassert and regain her perfect liberty and independence, and\ncondemn, without any hope of appeal, those maxims and opinions by\nwhich they have hitherto held a certain number of sincere\nCatholics in alliance with themselves.\n\nThe reception given by the emperor of Russia and the patriarch of\nConstantinople to the pope's invitation is too well known to need\nany fresh notice. Of course, the great body of the oriental\nprelates follow the dictation of these two potentates--a striking\ncommentary upon the value and sincerity of the protest which they\nmake against the tyranny of the Roman patriarch. There are not\nwanting, however, certain instances showing the impression which\nthe pope's invitation has made upon the more sincere and\nconscientious members of these separated communions. The bishop\nof Trebizond, a man of venerable age, received the encyclical\nletter with marks of great respect, raising it to his forehead\nand pressing it to his bosom, exclaiming at the same time with\nemotion, \"O Rome! O Rome! O St. Peter! O St. Peter!\" He would\nnot, however, declare any decisive intention either to attend the\ncouncil or to absent himself. The bishop of Adrianople returned\nthe letter, saying, \"I wish first to reflect. I wish to decide\nfor myself.\" Letters from the east testify that many of the Greek\nschismatics openly blame the patriarch and the bishops who have\nrefused to attend the council, saying, that by this refusal they\nhave shown that they are afraid to enter into discussion with the\nLatin bishops. It is believed that the Armenian bishops who were\nsummoned by their patriarch, residing at Constantinople, to\nadvise with him respecting the pope's invitation, were in favor\nof accepting it, from the fact that he afterward sent the\nencyclical to the patriarch of Esmiasin with the report of the\ndoings of the synod. A strong unionist party has been formed\namong the Armenians, and one of their prelates, Mgr. Narses, has\npublished a long letter advocating union with the Roman Church.\nThe Ottoman government favors union as a means of weakening the\ninfluence of Russia, and has separated the Bulgarians, who number\nfour millions, from the jurisdiction of the patriarch of\nConstantinople. It has also refused to recognize a prelate sent\nby the patriarch of Esmiasin to act as his nuncio at\nConstantinople for the purpose of counteracting the efforts of\nthe unionist party, and has given a semi-official warning to one\nof the most violent _Russophilist_ journals. [Footnote 81]\n\n    [Footnote 81: Later news informs us that the Armenian\n    patriarch of Constantinople has been forced to resign by the\n    clamors raised against him, that the Greek patriarch had\n    called an \"ecumenical\" council, and that the Coptic patriarch\n    of Alexandria received the encyclical with great respect and\n    many expressions of courtesy toward the prelate who was the\n    bearer of it.]\n\n{360}\n\nIt is an interesting fact that the king of Birmah, when made\nacquainted with the desire of the Holy Father that sovereigns\nshould place no obstacle in the way of the attendance of the\nbishops in their dominions at the council, exclaimed: \"What! can\nthere be any princes who would oppose such a just and holy\ndesire? For my part, I not only promise to interpose no obstacle,\nbut I engage to pay the travelling expenses of the bishops of my\nkingdom both going and returning.\" He has also announced the\nintention of sending by each of the bishops a jewelled cross as a\npresent to the pope.\n\nThe Jansenist bishops of Holland, who are five or six in number,\neach one having two or three priests and about a thousand people\nunder his jurisdiction, find themselves compelled, by their own\nprofessed principles, to submit themselves to the judgment of the\ncouncil. They have appealed, ever since the condemnation of\nJansenius, from the pope to an ecumenical council. Now they find\nan ecumenical council on the eve of assembling, before which they\nhave full liberty to appear, and plead their case. They\nacknowledge the infallibility of the tribunal, and therefore can\nhave no choice but to submit to its decision, which they openly\nprofess their readiness to do, so that without doubt they will\nall be reconciled to the church.\n\nAmong Protestants we find everywhere a great excitement\nrespecting the council, a full recognition of the immense\nimportance of the crisis which it must inevitably bring upon\nProtestantism; in general, a disposition to rouse up for the\ndefence of their losing cause, and oppose an obstinate renewal of\ntheir old protest to the admonition of their chief pastor to\nreturn to their allegiance, but occasionally a manifestation of a\ndifferent sentiment--a disposition to listen, to hope for good\nresults, and to welcome the thought of a possible reconciliation.\n\nOn the tenth day of last November, M. Guizot uttered the\nfollowing words at a reunion of ecclesiastics and laymen, at\nNotre Dame de Dozul\u00e8, in Normandy:\n\n  \"You priests have faith; it is faith which directs you; and\n  even when you seem to act imprudently, success always justifies\n  you in the end. ... It is thus that the Catholic Church\n  sustains itself, happily for France and the world. ... The\n  clergy dies not, the papacy does not fall. ... Pius IX. has\n  exhibited an admirable wisdom in convoking this grand assembly,\n  from which, perhaps, will issue the salvation of the world; for\n  our societies are very sick; but, for great evils there are\n  great remedies. [Footnote 82]\n\n    [Footnote 82: _Rev. du Monde Catholique_, for January\n    25th, p. 299.]\n\nThe German publicist, Wolfgang Menzel, in the number of his\n_Literary Leaves_ for last October, thus writes:\n\n  \"We are far from wishing to blame a reunion of all good\n  Christians, even though the same authority in Protestants who\n  are truly Christian is not sufficiently recognized. Every\n  tentative of reunion, however restricted it may be, must be\n  hailed with joy.\"\n\n{361}\n\nReinhold Baumstark, in a pamphlet upon the pontifical letter,\nsays:\n\n  \"It is the Catholic Church which has directed and accomplished\n  the education of humanity during the whole middle age. Since\n  the Reformation, it has sustained without succumbing three\n  centuries of violent struggles, and, if the eternal truth of\n  God lives in it, we shall see the realization of the word of\n  its founder, that _\"there shall be one fold and one\n  shepherd.\"_\n\nIn quite a different spirit writes Prof. Schenkel, of Heidelberg:\n\n  \"It is impossible to deny that the Protestant church of Germany\n  is at present running a very great danger. The different\n  confessions are becoming daily more opposed to each other.\n  Theological parties engage in mortal combats; the liberal party\n  is combated by the servile party. The bond of peace is with\n  deliberate purpose torn and broken and a large portion of the\n  German people, witnesses of these disputes, fall into\n  discouragement, distrust, and indifference. The ancient and\n  malign enemy laughs at our folly, that, after having bitten one\n  another, we shall finish by eating one another up. ... Let us\n  say it, to our shame, we have no remedy to oppose to this evil.\n  Interiorly divided, absorbed in party disputes, deprived of\n  autonomy, the sport of political calculations, and\n  politico-ecclesiastical experiments which are perpetually\n  changing, torn by theological hatred, abandoned by the\n  populations, thrust aside by all classes of citizens, our\n  church resembles only too much a shipwrecked vessel which lets\n  in water on every side. How can we face the violent tempest\n  which is brewing, when we lack unity of direction, when we lack\n  a head, are destitute of any solid interior or exterior\n  organization, when we are consuming our forces in the continual\n  wars of one confession against another?\"\n\nWe are sorry, Professor Schenkel, that we really cannot tell you\nhow you can do it. Perhaps Dr. Bellows, the American and Foreign\nChristian Union, or the _New York Observer_ might suggest\nsomething a little consoling or encouraging to the unfortunate\ngentleman.\n\nThe official replies made by various Protestant bodies in Europe\nare, as we might expect, a reiteration of their old protests\nagainst the Roman Church, and a declaration of their contentment\nwith their present state. The most courteous and well-reasoned of\nthese papers which we have seen is that of the Unitarian pastors\nwho sit in the seat of Calvin at Geneva. It makes the issue\nbetween rationalism, liberalism, and humanitarian progress, on\none side, and the supernatural revelation of doctrine and law, on\nthe other, very distinctly--imputing, in the usual style,\nservility, formalism, tyranny, and obscurantism to the Catholic\nChurch, and claiming for Protestantism the merit of protecting\nand promoting true liberty, intelligence, and happiness. There is\nmore of the same kind in the number of the _Liberal\nChristian_ (February 6th) in which we have read this address.\nAs statements of the position and opinions of the parties issuing\nthem, these documents may pass. We are to expect that those who\nare challenged in the way they have been will reply in just such\na manner. These are only the preliminaries of an earnest\ncontroversy which must be carried on for a long time before any\nresult can be looked for.\n\nDr. Hedge, of Harvard University, has rendered himself supremely\nridiculous by denying that St. Peter was bishop of Rome, or even\nvisited Rome at any time; from which he concludes that the pope\nhas no right to issue encyclicals as his successor. [Footnote 83]\n\n    [Footnote 83: See article on this point in the present\n    number.]\n\n{362}\n\nThe _Liberal Christian_, with a kind of audacious valor,\nbacks him up, and declares that \"the whole claim of the bishop of\nRome is an absurdity.\" Suppose it to be so to the superior and\nenlightened minds of this editor and his compeers; the assertion\nof it carries no weight, and can have no effect upon any other\nperson's mind. Another Unitarian, the Rev. Samuel Johnson, of\nMassachusetts, says: \"If I believed in his (Christ's) authority\neven as Matthew presents it, not to say Paul or John, I should\nregard the principles of the papacy as in substance right,\nwhatsoever I might think of the conduct of its representatives.\"\n[Footnote 84] Considering the very great importance of the\nsubject, the great learning and number of those who differ from\nour enlightened friends, and the curious circumstance that almost\nevery person thinks that no opinion or sect but his own can\nuphold itself against the claims of Rome, would it not be in\nbetter taste to have patience a little longer, and speak with a\nlittle more moderation?\n\n    [Footnote 84: _Radical_, January, 1869, p. 9.]\n\nThe _Christian Quarterly_, which is a ferocious young\nCampbellite periodical published at Cincinnati, thus addresses\nthe Protestant community:\n\n  \"Are you able to feel the sting in the following words of\n  'Pius, sovereign pontiff, ninth of the name, to all Protestants\n  and non-Catholics?' In speaking of the multitudinous sects of\n  the Protestant world, and of the restlessness, instability, and\n  uncertainty that everywhere characterizes Protestantism, he\n  says,\" etc. \"The very fact that the Pope of Rome should, in the\n  last half of the nineteenth century, have occasion to pen such\n  a paragraph, ought to call the blush of shame to every\n  Protestant cheek! Protestantism has been experimenting for\n  three hundred years, and the pope of Rome has summed up the\n  result! Let Protestantism try the force of its logic upon this\n  papal dilemma!\" [Footnote 85]\n\n    [Footnote 85: _C. Q._ Jan. 1869, pp. 52-3.]\n\nWe take the following item of news from the _London Tablet_:\n\n  \"English Protestants And The Council.\n\n  \"There are signs around us that a movement is beginning. The\n  _Diplomatic Review_, a peculiar and certainly a remarkable\n  journal, published the first Wednesday of every month, in\n  London, contains a Protestant address to the pope, and notifies\n  to its readers in town and country that it will lie for\n  signature at its office till the end of the month. The purport\n  of the address is to implore the pope to proclaim again, by his\n  own authority or by that of the council, the observance of the\n  laws of natural justice by Christian and civilized nations in\n  their relations with the heathen and the uncivilized. In an\n  article written in French this same journal says: 'We pronounce\n  the words of the pope like texts, we draw our deduction from\n  his maxims, and we see in the accomplishment of his work the\n  only hope for the preservation of European society.' ... 'The\n  strength of the pope is the law:' our duty is to announce\n  explicitly this truth, Christianity must be preached anew.' In\n  addition to this remarkable declaration, we have the public\n  expression of the Rev. E. W. Urquhart, at a meeting of the\n  'English Church Union,' presided over by the Hon. and Rev. C.\n  L. Courtenay, in South-Devonshire. He said that the separation\n  of church and state is not far distant, and suggested that the\n  Anglican party should seek reunion with the Church of Rome, and\n  that representatives should be sent to the council, to\n  stipulate the conditions of their submission to the see of\n  Rome. This language may sound startling in the mouth of an\n  Anglican clergyman; but we expect the courage of Mr. Urquhart's\n  utterance will unloose many a tongue. Of course, the only\n  stipulation that can be made is that of unqualified submission\n  to the holy see. To a human and fallible authority you may\n  bring conditions; to one that is divine and infallible, you can\n  bring only faith and docility.\"\n\n{363}\n\nThe comments of the secular press upon the council, in many\ncases, would seem as if their authors were aiming to carry\nburlesque to its most farcical extreme. Their spirit is that of\nthe mocking ridicule of Voltairian infidelity without its show of\nargument, together with the grossest materialism and the\nsystematic disavowal of any principle higher than self-interest\nor political expediency. It is sufficiently absurd when such\nwriters attempt to express, under the protection of their\nanonymous cloak, any opinions whatever in religious matters. Much\nmore, when they offer their ludicrous advice to the prelates and\ntheologians of the Catholic Church, and pretend to understand the\ntrue nature of Christianity and its mission upon earth better\nthan the church herself. In itself the matter is only laughable,\nand of course the really intelligent and well-informed would only\nreceive with a smile of derision the notion that any serious\nmeaning or value could be ascribed to such lucubrations. But it\nbecomes serious and lamentable when we reflect how small this\nclass really is. The proofs are continually forced upon us of the\nfact, that a large proportion of those who are intelligent enough\nto make money, to keep the run of politics and the exchange, to\ndress well, and to make a show, really read nothing but the daily\npapers, look to them for their ideas of religion as well as every\nother topic, and are actually possessed by the grossest\nignorance, and the most dense and stolid prejudice, in regard to\neverything relating to the Catholic Church and to all Catholic\nnations. Any convert to the Catholic Church, who mixes with\nordinary men of business or with general society, will testify to\nthe fact that they are frequently accosted with expressions of\nsurprise that persons intelligent and reputable, such as they\nare, can possibly be Catholics, and with the assertion, as of a\ntruism, that only the ignorant, the degraded, and the vicious,\nwhich with Americans is generally a synonym for poor people or\nforeigners, believe in the doctrines of the Catholic Church.\nThose who read the sectarian newspapers suffer themselves to be\nswept along by the lying current which runs through them, like\nthe filthy stream of a sewer. We happen to have just read a\ndescription from a London paper of a visit to the sewers of that\ncity which presents an apt and forcible illustration of what we\nare saying: \"Under Farrington street west,\" says the writer, \"the\nFleet Ditch was running in two swift, black streams; almost below\nthe footway upon each side, some three feet six inches deep, and\nwith so strong a current that we were assured it would be\nimpossible to save the life of any one who stepped or slipped\ninto them. These foul streams recalled the ancient Styx and made\none hold back with something like a shudder.\"\n\nThe following extract from the _Boston Traveller_ has just\nfallen into our hands in good time to serve as an instance in\npoint:\n\n  \"The New Light Of The Catholic Church.\n\n  \"Mr. Editor: Sabbath evening, April 4th, Father I. T. Hecker,\n  editor of the _Catholic World_, delivered a lecture in the\n  Music Hall on 'The Religious Condition of the Country.' As it\n  has been reported by the press, it would seem to be little more\n  than a tissue of misrepresentations of New England in\n  particular, and of Protestantism in general. It would be a\n  sufficient reply to the exaggeration and conceit of the\n  reverend padre to say, that if Protestantism had done nothing\n  more than to enable him to rail for an hour and a half at the\n  most cherished and sacred feelings of our people, its mission\n  would not be in vain. And herein is its eminent superiority to\n  that cast-iron system which holds the reviler of our faith. Can\n  Catholicism do what Protestantism did on Sunday week? Will\n  Rome, or any other Catholic city, permit a Protestant minister,\n  placarded and advertised days in advance, in a public hall, to\n  burlesque and hold up to contempt the Catholic faith? This\n  lecturer knows that Rome is mean enough to forbid the exercise\n  of Protestant worship to travellers, or visitors from\n  Protestant lands sojourning temporarily within her walls.\n{364}\n  And yet _he_ comes to the largest hall in the capital of\n  New England and has the impudence to undertake to tell our\n  people that they are adrift on two tides, one of which is to\n  Rome and the other to infidelity. And if his statements are\n  reliable, infidelity makes altogether the better stand. But we\n  insist that he is either wilfully false or wilfully ignorant,\n  or he would not have said that 'not one in ten of the people of\n  New England accepts as fundamental, the truths which his\n  forefathers held.'\n\n  \"Father Hecker knows, if he knows anything, that the\n  evangelical churches of New England hold for substance the same\n  doctrines that their fathers held; and he knows, too, that\n  there is not a doctrine held or advocated in any Protestant\n  Church in Christendom which does not have its advocates in the\n  bosom of the Catholic Church. He must be aware that biblical\n  criticism has made sound progress within two hundred and fifty\n  years; and we can hardly believe that even he would be narrow\n  enough to deny that certain doctrines may be re-stated and\n  re-explained without plunging into infidelity, least of all\n  pushing for Rome.\n\n  \"But as he has chosen to attack New England in particular, it\n  is no more than fair, perhaps, that New England should have the\n  privilege of being compared with the most favored Catholic\n  countries. He certainly will not object to France, which has\n  always been overwhelmingly Catholic, not one in ten of her\n  population being Protestant. And yet scarcely fifty years have\n  passed since the whole nation voted God out of existence, and\n  deified reason in the person of a harlot. The Romish priests,\n  he knows, were among the foremost in this carnival of\n  infidelity and blood. Nor need he be told that the men of\n  France, to-day, are infidels. Italy, too, the seat of this\n  boasting church, is overshadowed, as Father Hecker knows, by a\n  sneering, malignant infidelity. And Spain--blessed, so\n  recently, with the most Catholic queen to whom the Pope sent\n  the golden rose, which enjoyed for generations the blessings of\n  the Inquisition, and for many years committed the entire\n  education of her people into the hands of the Jesuits--what\n  shall we say of her? The best thing we can say of her is, that\n  she drove from her borders that nasty woman, and sent the\n  Jesuits after her. And this is the fruit of Catholicism, and\n  not of Protestantism.\n\n  \"In only a single country where the Catholic Church has been\n  supreme has the result been the Catholic faith--that country is\n  Ireland. And if Father Hecker is willing to compare the Irish,\n  who are the best fruits of the Catholic Church, with the people\n  of New England, who are the best fruits of Protestantism, we\n  are entirely content. But it is not a little singular that\n  these best children of the Catholic Church should have\n  immigrated to this country by the million, and are still\n  coming, to improve their condition? And we think that Father\n  Hecker himself will not deny that these favorite sons of Rome\n  have wonderfully improved in intelligence, morals, and thrift\n  in this infidel New England.\n\n  \"But what would this reviling priest have? Would he make of New\n  England another Ireland or Spain, another infidel France or\n  Italy? What would he have us do? Blot out our public schools,\n  take the Bible from the hands of our people, subject their\n  consciences to the priests, establish the inquisition, raise up\n  a generation of Christians like those of his church who hung\n  the negroes to the lamp-posts in New York, and roll back this\n  land into the old night of the middle ages, when Rome sat like\n  a nightmare upon all the peoples of Christendom? Does this\n  priest suppose that our people will swallow such stuff as was\n  offered them at the Music Hall? The common school has not\n  diffused general intelligence here for two hundred and fifty\n  years, that our people should need to go to a Catholic\n  schoolmaster to learn their own history, or the history of that\n  church which has made an Ireland and a Spain.\n                                   \"PURITAN.\"\n\nWe do not expect that such a dense darkness of ignorance and\nprejudice as that which exists in the Protestant world will be\nimmediately dispelled by the light which will radiate from the\ncity of God through the council of bishops assembled about their\naugust chief, the vicar of Jesus Christ. We have reason to expect\na great number of conversions, among those who are already\npartially enlightened, as its immediate result, and the more\nzealous and successful prosecution of the work of bringing back\nall nations to the fold of truth and grace as its effect during a\nlong period to come.\n{365}\nBut, no doubt, the greater number of those who are thoroughly\ncommitted to the anti-Catholic cause will persevere to the last\nin their hostility, and retain for a long time a multitude of\nfollowers under their influence. It is useless to argue with such\nmen in the hope of convincing or converting them. They will be\nforced, however, to meet the Catholic question fairly and\nsquarely, and no longer be able to hide themselves behind vague\nplatitudes and unmeaning generalities. They will be obliged,\nalso, to give account of their own systems, whatever they may be,\nwhich they put forward as substitutes for the Catholic religion,\nand thus undergo the crucial tests of logic, history, and\ncritical science. For ourselves, we cannot doubt for a moment\nthat, as the ultimate result, everything like orthodox or\npositive Protestantism will be ground into dust between the two\nopposing forces of Catholicity and infidelity, leaving the great\ncontest to be waged between these two. In regard to this last\ngreat issue we venture to make no prognostics. There are reasons\nboth for fear and for hope; but the only course for us to pursue\nis to aim for as much good as possible, leaving the rest with\nGod. That a crisis approaches in the conflict between the\nuniversal divine order and universal lawlessness, between the\nchurch and the world, that is, the wicked world or concrete mass\nof all false and wicked principles, the _mundus positus in\nmalignos_, of which the apostle speaks; and that this crisis\nwill be hastened and materially affected by the council, cannot\nbe doubted. We desire to impress, therefore, upon all the really\nsincere and upright lovers of truth and Christianity, the\nimportance of their paying careful attention to the doings of\nthis council and of looking to correct sources for their\ninformation.\n\nAll Catholics must look forward to the council with sentiments of\nthe most profound veneration and ardent expectation of the\nincalculable good which it will produce in the bosom of the\nchurch. An ecumenical council is the representative Catholic\nChurch, the entire episcopate with its head and supreme bishop,\nthe highest tribunal on earth, with plenary authority to define\ndoctrines and enact laws, with the spiritual presence of Jesus\nChrist in the midst of it, and the plenitude of the Holy Spirit\nto enlighten and assist its deliberations and judgments;\ninfallible in all its decrees respecting faith and morals,\nsovereign in all its enactments, with full power to bind all\nminds and consciences to an implicit and unreserved obedience in\nthe name of God. The church is always infallible, and is\nperpetually teaching the faith and the rule of morals; the holy\nsee is always invested with authority to decide controversies and\nmake laws; and is competent to make even definitions of faith, to\nwhich the assent of the dispersed bishops gives the same force of\nconcurrent judgment which their conciliar action possesses.\nNevertheless, the pope with the episcopate assembled in\necumenical council can do more than when they are dispersed. The\ngift of active infallibility is in a higher and more intense\nexercise, because the common intellect and will of the church is\nprepared by common counsel and communion to receive a more\nabundant illumination and vivification of the Holy Spirit. It is\nby the councils, from that of Nice to that of Trent, that\nheretics have been condemned, and the clear, explicit definitions\nof the faith once delivered to the saints have been made. The\ncouncil of the Vatican will possess the same infallible authority\nwith that which met at Jerusalem under St. Peter, or that which\nat under the presidency of the legates of St. Sylvester,\ncondemned the Arian heresy and defined the Son to be\nconsubstantial with the Father.\n{366}\nThis august tribunal will therefore have full power to terminate\nall controversies and differences among Catholics in regard to\nwhich it shall judge that the interests of the faith and the\nwell-being of the church require a definite judgment to be made.\nThe result will be both a more perfect concordance in doctrine\nand principles of action, regarding all the matters which will be\ndecided, and a more perfect recognition of liberty in reference\nto all opinions which are left as open questions. That this will\nbe a great gain no truly loyal Catholic can doubt. Another result\nto be expected is a more precise, definite, and uniform system of\necclesiastical law and administration, providing a more perfect\nadjustment of all the multiform relations of the church and her\nhierarchy. Those portions of the church which are in an apathetic\nand torpid state we may hope will be roused up; a multitude of\nsluggish and unfaithful Catholics become reanimated with the\nspirit of faith; and the unity, sanctity, catholicity, and\napostolicity of the church--the immortality of her life, the\ndivine authority of her teaching, the irresistible and universal\npower of that spirit which is in her--be manifested with a\nbrightness which will make for ever glorious the close of the\nnineteenth century, whose opening was so very dark and\ninauspicious.\n\n----------\n\n               St. Mary's.\n\nIf there is one spot in our country to which the American\nCatholic turns with special interest, it is certainly to the\nlanding-place of Lord Baltimore's colony in Maryland and the site\nof St. Mary's City. New Englanders are never weary of boasting of\n\"our pilgrim forefathers,\" who landed on Plymouth Rock to obtain\nfreedom to worship God according to their own peculiar notions.\nTo have an ancestor who came over in the Mayflower is equivalent\nto a patent of nobility--it sets the fortunate individual above\nhis fellows, and makes him a member of a caste truly Brahminical.\n\nThe Catholic can turn with far greater pride to those spiritual\nforefathers who, with no self-righteousness, sought in the new\nworld not only liberty of conscience, but allowed it to others;\nwho were so just in their dealings with the natives that they\nnever took an inch of land without paying for it; and who, by\ntheir Christian kindness, won over so many of the Indians to\ngenuine Christianity. We truly have reason to say,\n\n  \"Ay, call it holy ground\n   The soil where first they trod!\"\n\nI had always wished to visit this consecrated spot so dear to the\nCatholic heart, and embraced the first convenient opportunity of\ndoing so. I rode down from Leonardtown during the pleasant Indian\nsummer time.\n{367}\nMy most vivid remembrance of the ride is of passing over a\nfrequent succession of what my Aunt Pilcher used to call\n\"sarvent-madams.\"--a sudden depression, as if be tween two logs,\nwhich unceremoniously pitched you forward in the carriage and\nthen brought you up with a sudden jerk, thus forcing you to make\nan impromptu bow which gave point to the pleasant name of\n\"sarvent-madams.\" This sort of exercise may be novel, but a\ncontinuation of it is not at all amusing, and I was glad when,\nafter a ride of about twenty miles, we emerged from a woody path,\ncrossed a stream, and found ourselves on the high plain where\nonce stood the city of St. Mary. One is surprised--pained--to\nfind not one stone left upon another of that settlement. When the\nseat of government was removed, nature resumed her sway and\navenged herself for the ravages of man by obliterating most of\nhis traces and reclothing the place with her own freshness and\nbeauty. There are now a few dwellings belonging to the farmer who\nowns this historic site, a barnlike church belonging to the\nEpiscopalians, said to have been built of the ruins of the old\nstate-house, and a large brick building that stands dreary and\ntreeless, looking like a factory, but which is really a seminary\nfor young ladies, the monument erected by the Maryland\nlegislature to commemorate the landing of the first colonists! It\nwould be an excellent place for a convent of Carthusians; but to\nbanish lively girls to this lonely region, lovely though it be,\nso far from any town, several miles from the post-office, and\nwith no literary advantages, must have been the conception of\nsome malicious and dyspeptic old bachelor. The young are rarely\nlovers of nature. Those whose souls have been chastened and\nweaned from the world alone find a balm therein. It is a great\ndefect in the training of our youth that they are not made more\nobservant of natural objects. Insects, vegetation, the very\nstones beneath the feet, are a source of unceasing pleasure to\nthe heart in sympathy with nature in all her infinite variety.\nBut this requires teachers who are capable of opening to youth\nthe great treasure-house of nature. It is not always the most\nintellectual people who are the most fond of the country. Madame\nde Sta\u00ebl preferred living in the fourth story of a house on the\nRue du Bac in Paris to a villa on the enchanted shores of Lake\nGeneva. And Dr. Johnson thought there was no view that equalled\nthe high tide of human beings at Charing Cross.\n\nThis seminary is intended to educate the young ladies of\nprevailing religious sects of the country, each of which is\nrepresented by a teacher. I have understood that at times there\nhave been serious conflicts between those who were for Paul and\nthose who were for Apollos; but this is not at all surprising in\na place where they must be driven to desperation for a little\nexcitement. The only church near is the Episcopal, where the\nservices are very intermittent indeed, which obliges the teachers\nto play the part of chaplain.\n\nThis uninviting church is in a yard full of old graves, shaded by\nclumps of hollies and gloomy cedars. There is a venerable old\nmulberry-tree in the midst, now quite decayed, but still putting\nforth a few leafy branches, said to have been planted (a twig\nfrom old England) by Leonard Calvert's own hands. There is a\ntradition that he was buried in this yard--perhaps near his tree,\nfamiliarly known as Lord Baltimore's tree--but there is nothing\nto indicate the precise spot. It is more probable that he was\nburied near the Catholic church, which was about a quarter of a\nmile farther down.\n{368}\nRelic lovers have nearly killed this venerable tree, by cutting\nout pieces for canes, crosses, etc. Passing through the grassy\ngraveyard, and descending a steep bank, you come to a narrow line\nof sand, a miniature beach on the shore of St. Mary's River, the\nplace where the colony landed. The water is as salt as the sea,\nand the broad river deep enough for the Dove and the Ark to\nanchor. A gentle ripple came up over the yellow sand and\ncrystalline pebbles. The broad expanse of water lay like a lake,\nwith undulating hills in the background all covered with woods in\ntheir gorgeous autumn foliage. The whole scene was as calm and\npeaceful as if these waters had never been disturbed by Indian\ncanoe or white man's craft.\n\nA quarter of a mile south of the seminary was a turnip-field,\nwhere once stood the church the colonists hastened to build. You\nwould not imagine you stood on consecrated ground where holy\nrites were once performed. This was not the place where the holy\nsacrifice was first offered. Their first chapel was an Indian\nwigwam, which a friendly native gave up to Father White; for the\ncolonists founded an Indian village here which owned the pacific\nrule of King Yaocomico, and established themselves in peace\nbeside it. Opposite the place where the church stood, and east of\nit, are some traces of the lord proprietary's residence. The old\ncellar is nearly filled with rubbish, in which are found\nfragments of crockery and bricks--bricks brought from the old\ncountry. There were grand doings here once. Hilarity and\nmerriment had their hours in that miniature court, amid those of\ngrave deliberations. But, at last, Pallida Mors, \"that at every\ndoor knocks,\" came in the train, and brought mourning to all the\nsettlers; for here died Leonard Calvert. He was nursed in his\nlast moments by his relatives Margaret and Mary Brent. He died on\nthe 9th of June, 1647. The place of his burial is not known. In\nthese days of woman's rights, it may not be amiss to recall the\nfirst woman in this country, perhaps, who asserted her claim to\nshare the privileges of the stronger sex. Margaret Brent was\nappointed by Governor Calvert his sole administratrix, which is\ncertainly a proof of her capacity for business. By virtue of this\nappointment she claimed to be the attorney of the lord\nproprietor. Her claims were admitted by the council. She then\nappeared in the general assembly, and claimed the right to vote\nas Lord Baltimore's representative. This was not permitted. She\nwas a large land-owner, and displayed her energy in laying out\nher estates; and she quelled a mutiny among some Virginia\nsoldiers who had served under Leonard Calvert. It is surprising\nthe strong-minded women of this day have not brought forward this\nfine precedent, who has been ranked with the famous Margaret of\nParma, regent of the Netherlands. Let us hope, with all her fine\nabilities, that she retained her sweet womanly ways and that\nmodesty which is the charm of her sex. I fancy she did, or she\nwould never have subdued those early representatives of the\ngallant Virginia chivalry.\n\nClose by the lord proprietary's place is a spot charming enough\nfor Egeria. It is a spring of delicious water bubbling up from\nthe rocks, that flows off in a streamlet, over tufts of the\nthickest and greenest moss. It is shaded by a dense clump of\ncedars and holly bushes---a fit haunt for the dryades and all the\nsylvan deities. The warm noontide air was fanned into this cool\nand leafy bower, where the birds still sang and insects floated,\nbringing with it a certain aroma from the crushed leaves of the\nwood.\n{369}\nFrom a distance came the measured cadence of some negro song,\nsnatched up at the hour of noonday rest, which harmonized with\nthe spot and the atmosphere. There is always an undertone of\nmelancholy in the gayest songs of the colored race which lulls\nthe heart, as sorrow underlies all gayety in the heart of man. It\nwas a place to be alone with nature, poetry, God, and just the\nspot for an old hermit to set up his cell, and pass his days in\nsympathy with nature and in communion with nature's God.\n\nWith all its beauty, this plain of St. Mary's is full of\nmelancholy, especially in the fall of the year. Haunted with\nmemories, its loneliness is in such contrast with its past\nhistory that it touches the spring of regret. The autumn winds,\nthe slight veil of haze that hangs over the landscape, are full\nof sadness. One seems to hear the wail of the forsaken lares\nwhose altars have so long been levelled with the rest.\n\n      \"In consecrated earth,\n       And on the holy hearth,\n  The lares and lemures moan with midnight plaint.\"\n\nThe wailings of Jeremiah come to mind as we wander over the site\nof the city that was once full of people, but now sitteth\nsolitary. \"The city of thy sanctuary is become a desert, and the\nhouse of thy holiness and our glory, wherein thou wert praised,\nis laid desolate.\" Perhaps, after all, the melancholy was in my\nown heart; for the sky was clear, the earth smiling, and before\nus lay, glad and gleaming, the bright waters of the St. Mary's\nriver,\n\n  \"Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon,\n   When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun.\"\n\nThere is this peculiarity about the river: its windings are so\nabrupt that from certain points there seems to be no outlet, and\nit has the appearance of a succession of lakelets; pellucid gems\nset at this autumn time in bosses enamelled with every shade of\ncrimson and gold, which I loved to think a bright rosary strung\nby nature in honor of Our Lady.\n\nTwo or three miles from St. Mary's is Rose Croft, a charming old\nplace at the very point between St. Inigoes Creek and St. Mary's\nRiver. In old colonial times it was the residence of the\ncollector of the port of St. Mary's, and here lived the heroine\nof Kennedy's _Rob of the Bowl_. As I rode up to it, I half\nexpected to see the fair Blanche peeping out of the window to see\nif the carriage did not contain the secretary.\n\nThe house is a low, broad one, with verandas and porches, and\nlarge, airy rooms, which look out upon a lovely water view. There\nis a good deal of wainscoting about it, and some carvings in the\nlarge parlor that witnessed the birthday festivities. The lady of\nthe house told me that, in making some repairs, a few years ago,\na ring and a pair of velvet slippers were found, perhaps once\nworn by Blanche. All around the yard grows spontaneously the\npassion flower, winding over every shrub and tree, and trailing\nalong the ground. Everything was left very much to nature, and\nshe had thrown over the grounds a certain sad grace of her own,\nwhich harmonized with the antiquity of the house, and the echo of\npast times that lingered in its rooms. A spruce garden and\nwell-trimmed trees and shrubbery would have ill accorded with\nsuch a spot. And there was a certain melancholy in the large, sad\neyes of the mistress of this charming place that spoke more of\nthe past than of the present, as if she had imbibed something of\nits spirit.\n\n{370}\n\nOn the point between the river and creek, opposite Rose Croft, is\nSt. Inigoes manor-house, belonging to the Jesuit fathers. St.\nInigo, or St. Ignatius, was considered, from the first, as one of\nthe patrons of the colony. This house is built of brick brought\nfrom the old country, perhaps two hundred years ago or more. It\nhas quite a foreign look, with its high pitched roof and dormer\nwindows. I have seen similar houses in the valley of the Loire.\nAt a distance it looks, as Kennedy says, like a chateau with its\ndependencies around it. There is a huge windmill at the very\npoint, around which are washed up fine black sand and some spiral\nshells. On the gable of the southern porch of the mansion is the\nholy name of Jesus, in large black letters--the cognizance of the\nJesuits. The yard is a garden of roses. They grow in bushes,\ncover the cottages, and climb the trees, blooming often as late\nas Christmas tide. And the whole place is like an aviary--a\nrendezvous of all the martins, wrens, whippoorwills, etc., of the\ncountry--the very place for poor Miss Flite, who would never have\nfound names enough for them. There are martin-houses, dove-cotes,\nand trees full of the American mocking-birds. When the windows of\nthe chapel are open in the morning, it is filled with their\nmusical variations, and with the perfume of the roses and\nhoneysuckles. That chapel always seemed to me a little corner of\nheaven itself, full of the divine presence of which one never\nwearies. I often betook myself to that sweet solitude. There were\nmemories that haunted me, an image between me and God, which I\nsought there to consecrate to him. I loved to think the little\nlamp could be seen all night from the very Potomac and miles up\nthe St. Mary's River; perhaps lighting up in some dark and sinful\nsoul some sweet thought of him before whom it burned.\n\nA religious air prevails at St. Inigoes. Everything is quiet and\nsubdued, and favorable to meditation. The day commences with Mass\nin the chapel. The Angelus is rung three times a day, which every\none kneels to say. Even Nimrod, the dog, howls while it is\nringing, as if infected by devotion. And they told me his\npredecessor would pull at the bell till it sounded, if it was not\nrung at the moment. Such devotional dogs certainly deserve a\nplace--if it is not profane to say so--among those fine little\ndogs whom Luther declared would be among our companions in\nheaven, whose every hair would be tipped with precious stones and\nwhose collars be of diamonds.[Footnote 86]\n\n    [Footnote 86: See Audin's _Life of Luther_.]\n\nEverything about the house is extremely tidy and well preserved,\nthe garden trim, the walks swept, the whole house a temple of\npurity and cleanliness. One could sit for ever in that southern\nporch reading and dreaming life away. Thought would flow on for\never with that current whose waters are as changeable in their\naspect as our own varied moods. When so many live merely for the\nbody, why should not some live for the imagination and fancy?\nThis is the very place for Mr. Skimpole, who had no idea of time,\nno idea of money; who only wished to live, to have a little sun\nand air, and float about like a butterfly from flower to flower;\nwho loved to see the sun shine, hear the wind blow, watch the\nchanging lights and shadows, and hear the birds sing. He asked of\nsociety only to feed him, to give him a landscape, music, papers,\nmutton, coffee, and to leave him at peace from the sordid\nrealities of the world.\n\n{371}\n\nIn the dining-room is a large oval table of solid oak which once\nbelonged to the house of the lord proprietary. It is not\nmisplaced in this hospitable house. Daniel Webster, when at Piney\nPoint, used to sail over to St. Inigoes and sit at Leonard\nCalvert's table. And he taught the cook how to make a genuine New\nEngland chowder.\n\nThere is, hung up in one of the rooms, a picture of the famous\nPrince Hohenlohe which interested me. I could not account for its\nbeing there till I learned that Father Carberry, a former\nincumbent, was a brother to Mrs. Mattingly, of Washington, who so\nmany years ago was miraculously cured by the prayers of the holy\nprince--an occurrence that caused a great excitement at the time.\n\nThe parish church is about a half a mile from the manor-house. On\nSundays and other festivals you can see boats full of people\nsailing up the creek. Others come flocking in on horseback or in\ncarriages. A graveyard surrounds the church, which is so hid\namong the trees that it is not perceived till you are close upon\nit. The yard is filled before service with the country-people,\nwho fasten their horses around the enclosure, and stand talking\nin groups, or go wandering around among the grassy mounds,\nreminding you of the English country church-yards. Our northern\nchurches are almost so exclusively filled up with foreigners that\nit seemed strange to worship in a congregation almost wholly\nAmerican. A gallery was appropriated to the colored people, and\nit was crowded. They seemed quite devout and kept up a great\nrattling with their large rosaries. I noticed that the father, in\npreaching, was careful to make them feel that his sermon was\naddressed as particularly to them as to the others. I was\nespecially interested to see the number that came filing down the\naisle to receive holy communion. Sunday after Sunday it was the\nsame, and I was always affected to see these \"images of God\ncarved in ebony,\" as old Fuller calls them, at the holy table to\nreceive Him who is no respecter of persons. In talking with the\nfather about their devotional tendencies, he told me there was\none saintly old negro who walked fifteen miles every Sunday to\nworship the Word made flesh. What an example to the cold and\nlukewarm in cities who daily pass our churches with scarcely a\nthought of the Presence within! This little church is a\nsubstantial one of brick, with arched windows, but no pretension\nas to architecture. When the services were over, the ladies all\nfollowed the priest into the sacristy to pay their respects to\nhim, and there is a pleasant exchange of greetings which is\npleasing and family-like. And many of the men, too, stroll around\nthe building to the rear door to take part in it.\n\nWandering off into the churchyard, I came upon a large cross\naround which were clustered the graves of several priests. There\nis a large monument to the memory of Father Carberry, a genial\nold priest renowned throughout the country for his hospitality.\nAmong those buried here is Mr. Daniel Barber, of New Hampshire,\nwho became a convert to the Catholic Church, together with his\nson's whole family, at a time when converts were more rare than\nat the present time. The son, Rev. Virgil Barber, who was an\nEpiscopal minister, with his wife and five children, embraced the\nreligious life. One of the latter took the white veil at Mount\nBenedict, near Boston, and was remarkable for her beauty and\naccomplishments. She made her profession in Quebec, where she\ndied young.\n{372}\nI have heard a nun of that house tell, and with great feeling, of\nher descending every morning to the chapel before the rest of the\ncommunity, even in the rigorous winter of that latitude, to make\nthe Way of the Cross, that touching devotion to the suffering\nSaviour.\n\nThe grandfather, Mr. Daniel Barber, who was also a minister, only\ntook deacons' orders in the church on account of his age. He\nloved to visit the old Catholic families of St. Mary's, but was\nill pleased when he did not find the cross--the sign of our\nsalvation--in the apartment. \"Where's your sign?\" he would\nabruptly ask. He rests in peace in this quiet country\nchurch-yard.\n\nThe father at St. Inigoes has to possess a variety of\naccomplishments not acquired in the theological seminary. Priest,\nfarmer, horseman, and boatman must all be combined to form the\nfine specimen of muscular Christianity required in this extensive\nmission. The place is no sinecure.\n\nGood Father Thomas, obliged to visit a sick person at the very\nhead of St. Mary's River, invited me to accompany him, and I\ngladly did so. Two colored servants went to manage the sail, or\nto row if necessary. The boat was black as a gondola of Venice.\nSailing over these waters, where passed the Dove and the Ark,\nreminded me of the P\u00e8re Jean and the novice Ren\u00e9 on the St.\nLawrence. The whole country was, as we set out, glorified by the\nsetting sun. The long points of land around which the river wound\nwere bathed on one side by a golden mist, and on the other in a\nfaint lilac. Over the gorgeous woods hung a purple haze that\nfaded every instant. The amber clouds grew crimson, and then\nfaded away into grey. The father said his breviary, leaving me to\nmy own reflections a part of the way. There was not a ripple on\nthe broad sheet save the receding ones left by our boat. Now and\nthen we would stop to drink in the beauty of the scene--the sky,\nthe water which reflected it, the lights and shadows on the\nbanks, the melancholy cry of the whippoorwill, and the gay sounds\nof the laborers just through with their day's work. As it grew\ndarker, the deep coves were filled with mysterious shades; the\nripples left behind seemed tipped with a phosphorescent light. We\nglided at last into a sheltered cove just as the moon came out,\ngiving enchantment to the whole scene. In such bright waters\nbathed Diana when Actaeon beheld her and was punished for his\npresumption. One of us repeated the beautiful lines of Shelley:\n\n  \"My soul is an enchanted boat,\n   Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float\n   Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing;\n     And thine doth like an angel sit\n     Beside the helm conducting it,\n   Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.\n     It seems to float ever, for ever\n     Upon that many winding river,\n     Between mountains, woods, abysses,\n     A paradise of wildernesses!\n   Till, like one in slumber bound,\n   Borne to the ocean, I float down, around,\n   Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound.\"\n\nA few days after, I sailed over to the Pavilion to take a boat\nfor Washington.\n\n----------\n\n{373}\n\n              A May Carol.\n\n  She hid her face from Joseph's blame,\n    The Spirit's glory-shrouded bride.\n  The Sword comes next; but first the Shame:\n    Meekly she bore, and naught replied.\n\n  For mutual sympathies we live:\n    The outraged heart forgives, but dies:\n  To her, that wound was sanative,\n    For life to her was sacrifice.\n\n  At us no random shaft is thrown\n    When charged with crimes by us unwrought;\n  For sins unchallenged, sins unknown,\n    Too oft have stained us--act and thought.\n\n  In past or present she could find\n    No sin to weep for; yet, no less,\n  Deeplier that hour the sense was shrined,\n    In her, of her own nothingness.\n\n  That hour foundations deeper yet\n    God sank in her; that so more high\n  Her greatness--spire and parapet--\n    Might rise, and nearer to the sky:\n\n  That, wholly overbuilt by grace,\n    Nature might vanish, like some isle\n  In great towers lost--the buried base\n    Of some surpassing fortress pile.\n\n                    Aubrey De Vere.\n-------\n\n{374}\n\n      St. Peter, First Bishop of Rome.\n\nThe question of which we purpose to treat in this article is one\nof those that are sure to receive prominence whenever the claims\nof the Roman see are discussed with more than ordinary interest\nand warmth. Just now the \"Anglo-Catholic\" mind is exercised to\nfind some way of establishing the existence of a one holy\ncatholic and apostolic church, without admitting the supremacy of\nthe bishop of Rome; besides, the approaching ecumenical council\ndirects men's attention to the eternal city, and the high\nprerogatives of its pontiffs. Not unfrequently we meet with a\nbroad denial that St. Peter ever was at Rome at all, or at least\nthat he was ever bishop of Rome. This is not, indeed, the course\npursued by the most learned or thoughtful amongst our opponents;\nthey know history too well to stake their reputation for\nerudition or fairness on any such denial; but it is in favor with\na lower or less instructed class of minds, and is adopted in\ntext-books for theological seminaries, as well as in some popular\nworks intended chiefly for the perusal of persons who, in all\nlikelihood, may never have the opportunity, even should they have\nthe inclination, of recurring to those more learned authorities\nby consulting whom the imposture would soon be detected. Thus it\nhas come to pass that in popular works, lectures, magazine and\nnewspaper articles, and the like, one frequently meets with the\nflippant assertion that it is very doubtful whether St. Peter\never was at Rome, that the place of his death is uncertain; all\nthat we know for certain being that, shortly before his demise,\nhe was in Babylon, whence he wrote his first letter. We shall\nendeavor to establish as a historical truth beyond all reasonable\ndoubt, supported by evidence that must be admitted as sufficient\nby any unprejudiced critic, that St. Peter visited Rome, dwelt\nthere, was first bishop of the Roman church, and there, together\nwith St. Paul, laid down his life for his Master, in fulfilment\nof the latter's prophecy, \"When thou wilt be old, thou wilt\nstretch forth thy hands, and another will gird thee, and lead\nthee whither thou wouldst not;\" words which, as the inspired\nwriter tells us, signified \"by what death he should glorify God.\"\n[Footnote 87]\n\n    [Footnote 87: John xxi. 18.]\n\nThe question has been so fully discussed, that we may not hope to\nsay anything that will be considered new; to the learned reader,\nindeed, we can but repeat a \"thrice-told tale;\" but, as the\nadversaries of the holy see do not disdain to furbish up the arms\nwhich have already been stricken from the hands of their\npredecessors, we shall be content to draw from the same arsenals\nwhence our fathers drew the weapons that they knew how to wield\nso skilfully and successfully. All that we ask of the\nnon-Catholic reader is, that he approach the question as a merely\nhistorical one, to be judged on the ordinary rules of historical\nevidence. All dogmatical preoccupations against the supremacy of\nthe Roman pontiffs should be laid aside.\n{375}\nThis is demanded by fairness and a sincere love of truth;\nbesides, although we acknowledge that to establish St. Peter's\nRoman bishopric is, if not an indispensable, at least a very\nimportant, preliminary to the successful assertion of the Roman\nprimacy, yet the ablest amongst Protestant theologians have\nthought that, even admitting the historical fact, they could\nsuccessfully refute the dogma. Our inquiry, then, shall be purely\nhistorical, to be decided on purely historical grounds. At the\nbeginning of this century, no one having any pretensions to\nhistorical learning attempted to deny that St. Peter had really\nlived and died at Rome. Such high names in the Anglican Church as\nCave, Pearson, and Dodwell had given their unbiassed and positive\ntestimony to the truth. Whiston had said: \"That St. Peter was at\nRome is so clear in Christian antiquity, that it is a shame for a\nProtestant to confess that any Protestant ever denied it.\" But,\nabout this period, the rage for the new system of biblical\ninterpretation raised doubts about the accepted meaning of the\nword _Babylon_ in the thirteenth verse of the fifth chapter\nof the first epistle of St. Peter, and the question whether the\napostle ever was at Rome again came up for discussion. Very\nlittle new has been said, so that little remains to be confuted.\nWe repeat, we have merely to sum up what has been well and\nconclusively said before. We have before us a work entitled _An\nExposition of the Thirty-nine Articles, Historical and\nDoctrinal_, by Edward Harold Browne, lord bishop of Ely, in\nwhich [Footnote 88] the author endeavors to confute \"the position\nof the Roman Church, that St. Peter was bishop of Rome.\"\n\n    [Footnote 88: Art. xxxvii. sec. II.]\n\nAs this work is used as a text-book in the New York Protestant\nEpiscopal Seminary, and may, therefore, be supposed to furnish\nideas and facts on church questions to the average Episcopalian\nclerical  mind, we shall follow the author in his argument, and\nshow how a plain tale can put down all his ingenious explanations\nand evasions.\n\nThe plain statement is as follows: The earliest and most reliable\ndocuments of Christian antiquity, with a clearness and unanimity\nthat leave no room for doubt or cavil, state that St. Peter was\nat Rome, took a special care of the Roman Church, and died there.\nThe bishops of Rome are always represented as his successors, not\nmerely in that inheritance which has come down to all bishops\nfrom the apostles, but as his successors in his _Cathedra_,\nor episcopal chair. Our witnesses are numerous; their knowledge\nand fidelity are unimpeachable; their statements cannot be evaded\nor explained away; and thus the Roman bishopric of St. Peter is\nas undoubted a fact of ecclesiastical history as any other in the\nearlier ages. We shall give the proofs one by one, confining\nourselves to the first three centuries.\n\nSt. Clement, who was certainly bishop of Rome, and who, according\nto Tertullian was ordained by Peter, in his epistle to the\nCorinthians--admitted as genuine by the best\nauthorities--referring to the late persecution of the Roman\nChurch under Nero, mentions among other troubles the recent\nmartyrdom of SS. Peter and Paul, alleging them as noble examples\nof patience under tribulation. We have here a witness on the\nspot, who had seen the apostles, and been a special disciple of\nSt. Peter.\n\nWe have next another apostolic father, St. Ignatius of Antioch,\nwho suffered martyrdom about A.D. 107, and in a letter to the\nRomans speaks of SS. Peter and Paul as their special preceptors\nand masters: \"I do not command you as Peter and Paul; I am a\ncondemned man.\"\n{376}\nIt is to be remarked that no one attempts to deny that St. Paul\nwas at Rome, as one of his journeys thither is related in the\nlast chapter of the Acts, and he speaks of himself as in that\ncity; [Footnote 89] the union of St. Peter's name with his, as\nboth commanding the Romans, shows that the former apostle had\nbeen with them in person as well as Paul.\n\n    [Footnote 89: 2 Tim. i. 17. This letter would seem to have\n    been written not long before the apostle's death. See ch. iv.\n    6,7.]\n\nPapias, Bishop of Hierapolis, probably a disciple of St. John the\nApostle, as quoted by Eusebius, says that St. Mark wrote his\ngospel from the preaching of St. Peter at Rome, [Footnote 90] and\nthat the apostle wrote his first letter from the same place,\ncalling it Babylon. [Footnote 91]\n\n    [Footnote 90: _Eus. Hist. Eccl._ lib. iii. c..39.]\n\n    [Footnote 91: _Ibid_. lib. iii. c. I.]\n\nSt. Dionysius of Corinth wrote a letter to the Roman Church under\nthe pontificate of Soter, (A.D. 151-170,) which is also quoted by\nEusebius, [Footnote 92] in which he says that SS. Peter and Paul,\nafter planting the faith at Corinth, went into Italy, planted the\nfaith amongst the Romans, and there sealed their testimony with\ntheir blood.\n\n    [Footnote 92: _Ibid_. lib. ii. c. 25.]\n\nSt. Irenaeus, (Bishop of Lyons A.D. 178,) a disciple of Polycarp,\nwho was himself a hearer of the Apostle John, speaks of the Roman\nChurch as \"the greatest and most ancient church, known to all,\nfounded and established at Rome by the two most glorious\napostles, Peter and Paul. [Footnote 93]\n\n    [Footnote 93: Lib. iii. _adv. Har._ c. iii.]\n\nHe adds: \"The blessed apostles having founded and arranged the\nchurch, delivered its bishopric and administration to Linus. To\nhim succeeded Anacletus, after him Clement, to him Evaristus, and\nto Evaristus, Alexander. The sixth from the apostles was Sixtus,\nafter him Telesphorus, next Hyginus; then Pius, after whom came\nAnicetus. Soter succeeded Anicetus, and now the bishopric is held\nby Eleutherius, the twelfth from the apostles.\" This is an\nauthentic list of the bishops of Rome from the apostles to the\nwriter's time, placing the date of his work between A.D. 170 and\n185, the fifteen years of the pontificate of Eleutherius.\n\nCajus, a priest of Rome under Zephyrinus, who governed the church\nduring the first seventeen years of the third century, says, in a\nwork quoted by Eusebius, [Footnote 94] but now lost: \"I can show\nyou the trophies of the apostles; for whether we go to the\nVatican or the Ostian way, we shall meet with the trophies of the\nfounders of this church.\" This is remarkable testimony to the\naccuracy of the tradition that prevails to this day of the places\nwhere the apostles were buried--St. Peter at the Vatican, St.\nPaul in the Ostian way, which now are marked by \"trophies,\"\ngreater in splendor and magnificence, but raised by the same\nspirit of reverence and love as those which this Roman priest\npointed out in the third century.\n\n    [Footnote 94: _Ibid_. lib. ii. c. 15.]\n\nTertullian flourished about the same period, for he died A.D.\n216. Speaking in his great work _On Prescriptions_ [Footnote\n95] of apostolic churches, he says: \"If you are near Italy, you\nhave Rome, whence we also [the African Church] derive our origin.\nHow happy is this church on which the apostles poured forth their\nwhole doctrine with their blood; where Peter by his martyrdom is\nmade like the Lord; where Paul is crowned with a wreath like that\nof John!\" Again: \"Let us see ... what the Romans proclaim in our\nears, they to whom Peter and Paul left the Gospel sealed with\ntheir blood.\" [Footnote 96]\n\n    [Footnote 95: C. 36.]\n\n    [Footnote 96: Lib. iv. adv. _Marcion_.]\n\n{377}\n\nAnd speaking in the book _On Prescriptions_ of the origin of\napostolic churches, he calls on heretics to \"unfold the series of\ntheir bishops, coming down from the beginning in succession, so\nthat the first bishop was appointed and preceded by any one of\nthe apostles, or apostolic men in communion with the apostles.\n[Footnote 97] For in this way the apostolic churches exhibit\ntheir origin; ... as the Church of Rome relates that Clement was\nordained by Peter.\" [Footnote 98] Clement of Alexandria (who died\nA.D. 222) states that St. Paul wrote his gospel at the request of\nthe Romans, who wished to have a written record of what they had\nheard from St. Peter. [Footnote 99]\n\n    [Footnote 97: \"Ut primus ille episcopus aliquem ex Apostolis\n    habuerit auctorum et antecessorem.\" ]\n\n    [Footnote 98: Ch. 32.]\n\n    [Footnote 99: Eus. _Hist. Eccl_. lib. vi. c. 14. ]\n\nOrigen, (A.D. 185-255,) who visited Rome under the pontificate of\nZephyrinus, says that St. Peter having preached to the Jews in\nPontus, Galatia, Bithynia, Cappadocia, and Asia, toward the end\nof his life [Footnote 100] came to Rome, and was crucified with\nhis head downward. [Footnote 101]\n\n    [Footnote 100: [Greek text]]\n\n    [Footnote 101: Quoted by Eusebius, _Hist. Eccl_. lib.\n    iii. C. II.]\n\nSt. Cyprian, (Bishop of Carthage A.D. 248, put to death for the\nfaith A.D. 258,) speaking of the irregular proceedings of some\nlocal schismatics who had appealed to Pope Cornelius, says: \"They\nventure to set sail, and carry letters from schismatical and\nprofane men to the _chair of Peter_, and to the principal\nchurch, whence sacerdotal unity has arisen.\" [Footnote 102] And\nin another letter he speaks of the election of Cornelius, \"when\nthe place of Fabian, that is, the place of Peter, and the rank of\nthe priestly chair, was vacant.\" [Footnote 103] Even Bishop\nHopkins, whom his friends cannot blame for too great facility in\nhis concessions, admits that St. Cyprian acknowledged that St.\nPeter was bishop of Rome.\n\n    [Footnote 102: _Epist_. 59, ad _Cornel_.]\n\n    [Footnote 103: _Epist_. 52, ad Antonianum.]\n\nWe do not wish to go beyond the three hundred years immediately\nfollowing the death of the apostle, and shall therefore omit here\nthe clear and unmistakable statements of Optatus, Jerome,\nEpiphanius, Augustine, and others, closing with the account given\nby Eusebius of Caesarea, (bishop A.D. 315-340,) who is justly\nregarded as the father of ecclesiastical history, and of the\ngreatest weight in historical matters. His accuracy and research\nare universally acknowledged, and his authority alone is\ngenerally regarded as conclusive. [Footnote 104] He says that\nSimon Magus went to Rome, and that \"against this bane of mankind,\nthe most merciful and kind Providence conducted to Rome Peter,\nthe most courageous and the greatest among the apostles, who on\naccount of his virtue was leader of all.\" [Footnote 105] He adds\nin his chronicle: \"Having first founded the Church of Antioch, he\ngoes to Rome, where, preaching the gospel, he continues\ntwenty-five years bishop of the same city.\"\n\n    [Footnote 104:  \"In questions of critical investigation\n    regarding the early church, no writer bears with him greater\n    authority than that of the learned Eusebius, bishop of\n    Caesarea. Removed only by two hundred years from the\n    apostolic times, and being attached to the imperial court,\n    and having at his command all the literary treasures of the\n    Caesarean library, he ever displays a profound knowledge of\n    the earlier Christian writers, and at the same time a truly\n    refined critical acumen in discriminating between their\n    genuine productions and those falsely assigned to them.\"\n    --_Dublin Review_, June,1858, art. vii.]\n\n    [Footnote 105: _Hist. Eccl._ lib. ii. c. xiv.]\n\nWe have here a continuous series of witnesses, from those who had\nseen and conversed with the Apostle St. Peter to the date of the\nfirst work on ecclesiastical history now extant, all of whom\nclearly testify to the fact that he visited Rome, took special\ncharge of the Roman Church, and there died a martyr, as our Lord\nhad foretold he would die. After the apostolic writers, who, from\nthe proximity of the events to their own time, could not be\nmistaken, the most important witnesses are Irenaeus and Origen,\nTertullian and Cyprian.\n{378}\nThe two former had visited Rome, and are competent witnesses of\nthe tradition of the Roman Church, the most important of all in\nthis matter; the two latter can testify to the same tradition,\nboth because missionaries from Rome planted the faith in Africa,\nand because the constant intercourse, as well in ecclesiastical\nas in civil affairs, between the capital of the empire and\nCarthage, must necessarily have brought about a community of\ntraditions between the two churches. The whole ancient church\nthus bears witness to what some Protestants now vainly affect to\ndeny. Greece, Asia Minor, Syria, Egypt, Northern Africa, Gaul,\nPalestine, repeat what Clement, ordained by Peter, tells. The\nsecond century takes up the fact from those who had seen the\napostles; the third learns it from the second, and the father of\necclesiastical history relates it as a matter beyond doubt, found\nby him in those ancient records, for the greater part since lost,\nthe gist of which he has fortunately preserved to posterity.\nScarcely any matter of fact--and this is a _mere_ matter of\nfact--connected with the early age of the church, leaving out\nthose recorded in the sacred pages, is better attested.\n\nTo these written records we must add the expressive testimony of\nthe catacombs. It is impossible to visit them without feeling\nthat the Roman Christians looked on the apostles Peter and Paul\nas the founders of their local church. Eusebius was struck by the\n\"monuments marked with the names of Peter and Paul,\" which he saw\nin the cemeteries at Rome, and these have been discovered, in\nmodern times, by the indefatigable industry of Christian\nantiquarians; they are a living testimony to the fact that St.\nPeter, as well as St. Paul, labored in Rome. The illustrious\nCardinal Borgia has traced the tradition in regard to the\npresence of St. Peter's body in the Vatican from the beginning of\nthe third century, [Footnote 106] when, as we have seen, Cajus, a\npriest of Rome, in a work against heretics, [Footnote 107] spoke\nof the trophy of Peter in the Vatican, down to the days of Pope\nUrban VIII. And thus the most splendid monument Christianity has\nerected to the worship of the living God is also an authentic\nrecord of the fact that the chief of the apostles selected the\ncity of Rome, in a special manner, as the scene of his labors,\nand there consummated his glorious career in the service of his\nMaster. No wonder learned Protestants are ashamed to join with\ntheir more ignorant brethren. One learned German writer of this\ncentury says: \"There is, perhaps, no event in ancient (church)\nhistory so clearly placed beyond doubt by the consenting\ntestimony of ancient Christian writers as that of Peter having\nbeen at Rome.\" [Footnote 108] Another more forcibly, if possible,\nremarks: \"Nothing but the polemics of faction have induced some\nProtestants, especially Spanheim, in imitation of some mediaeval\nopponents of the popes, to deny that Peter ever was at Rome.\"\n[Footnote 109]\n\n    [Footnote 106: In the work _Vaticana Confessio B.\n    Petri._]\n\n    [Footnote 107: _The Montanists._]\n\n    [Footnote 108: Berthold, _Historisch-Krit. Inlet. in A. und\n    N. T. apud_ Perrone.]\n\n    [Footnote 109: Gieseler, _Lehrbuch der Kirchengesch._\n    Ibid.]\n\nA caviller may, indeed, say that all these witnesses prove, at\nmost, that Peter was at Rome, not that he was bishop of Rome. And\nthis is the point made by Bishop Browne, in the work to which we\nhave referred.\n\n  \"It is not to be doubted,\" he says, \"that a tradition did exist\n  in early times that St. Peter was bishop of Rome. But if that\n  tradition be submitted, like others of the same kind, to the\n  test of historical investigation, it will be found to rest on a\n  very slender foundation.\n{379}\n  In the first place, Scripture is silent about his having been\n  at Rome--a remarkable silence, if his having been bishop there\n  was a fact of such vital importance to the church as Roman\n  divines have made it to be. Then, the first tradition of his\n  having been at Rome at all does not appear for more than a\n  century after his death. It is nearly two centuries after that\n  event that we meet with anything like the opinion that the\n  Roman bishops were his successors. It is three centuries before\n  we find him spoken of as bishop of Rome. But when we reach\n  three centuries and a half, we are told that he not only was\n  bishop of Rome, but that he resided five and twenty years at\n  Rome; a statement utterly irreconcilable with the history of\n  the New Testament.\" [Footnote 110]\n\n    [Footnote 110: Loc. cit.]\n\n  There is, indeed, no good reason to doubt that St. Peter was at\n  Rome; that he assisted St. Paul to order and establish the\n  church there; that, in conjunction with Paul, he ordained one\n  or more of its earliest bishops, and that there he suffered\n  death for the sake of Christ. But there is no reason to believe\n  that he was ever, in any proper or local sense, bishop of\n  Rome.\" [Footnote 111]\n\n    [Footnote 111: _Ibid_.]\n\nWe leave aside for the present the alleged silence of the New\nTestament. In the first place, it is not true that \"the first\ntradition of Peter's having been at Rome does not appear for more\nthan a century after his death.\" Clement of Rome, Ignatius of\nAntioch, Papias, Dionysius of Corinth, belong to this period, and\nall unmistakably testify to Peter's having been at Rome. Irenaeus\nmay be fairly counted also, as he was sent from Lyons to Rome in\nA.D. 177. Of these, Bishop Browne mentions only Papias and\nIrenaeus. He quotes Papias's opinion about the word\n_Babylon_ in St. Peter's first Epistle, and tries to set it\naside. But, whatever the exegetical value of the opinion, it is\nproof that Papias held it as an undoubted fact that St. Peter was\nat Rome; besides, he also states that Mark wrote his gospel at\nRome, under the eye of Peter. Nor is it at all pertinent to say\nthat Eusebius tells us that Papias was a narrow-minded man, and\nan enthusiast about the Apocalypse. Neither narrow-mindedness nor\nenthusiasm prevents men from being competent witnesses to simple\nfacts, and the one about which we are now inquiring is a simple\nfact. The only question is--Could Papias have known for certain\nwhether St. Peter was at Rome or not? He lived in the apostolic\nage, not half a century after the death of the apostle. This is a\nsufficient answer, and his views about either Babylon or the\nApocalypse cannot impair its sufficiency. As to Irenaeus, our\nlord bishop quibbles in a way that is not handsome. He tries to\nbreak down his and other writers' testimony by alleging, first,\nthat they disagree as to the first bishop of Rome after St.\nPeter; second, that they disagree about the _time_ St. Peter\ncame to Rome.\n\nWe are almost ashamed to have to answer such quibbling. Neither\ndisagreement at all touches the substantial part of the\nnarrative. Neither is as great as our expounder of the articles,\nin his despair, tries to make it. Neither could ever have been\nalleged in ordinary controversy. All authors, save Tertullian,\nmention Linus as first bishop of Rome after Peter. The African\nfather in reality says only that Clement was ordained by Peter;\nthe context, however, would suggest that he supposed he was the\nimmediate successor of the apostle. The truth appears to be that\nLinus, Cletus, and Clement were consecrated bishops by one or the\nother of the apostles. This was commonly done in the first age;\nonly one person in every city possessed episcopal jurisdiction,\nbut more clergymen than one were frequently invested with the\nepiscopal order. This was done in the Roman Church. St. Peter was\nits first bishop; after his death, Linus, Cletus, Clement\ngoverned it in succession, all three having been ordained by the\napostles.\n{380}\nThere is nothing in this supposition at all at variance with what\nis known to have been the common practice of the first age, a\npractice which it is not ingenuous in the lord bishop of Ely to\nsuppress. As to the discrepancy about the time of the apostle's\ncoming to Rome, it is easily explained on the commonly received\nhypothesis that St. Peter twice visited Rome. Eusebius says that\nhe went first under Claudius. He was obliged to leave Italy in\nconsequence of that emperor's decree banishing thence the Jews.\nHe returned thither, toward the end of his life, and there\nsuffered martyrdom. But it is plain that such discrepancies\ncannot affect the substance, namely, that Peter was at Rome;\nindeed, they are intelligible only on the supposition that all\nthe authors quoted held the main fact as certain. It is plain\nalso that there is not the slightest foundation for the lord\nbishop's assertion that \"at whatever time St. Peter came to Rome,\nthere was some one else bishop of Rome then.\" The courage\nrequired for this assertion can be measured from another\nstatement, just four lines above: \"All (the early writers) agree\nin saying that the first bishop of the see was Linus.\" This is\nsimply shameful. Put after \"see\" the words _after Peter_,\nand the quotation will be correct. But then what becomes of the\nbishop's argument? He says Linus was bishop of Rome when Peter\nwent thither; and he also admits that \"some (early writers) say\nthat St. Paul, others that St. Peter and St. Paul, ordained him.\"\nThese latter writers surely did not suppose that St. Peter\nordained a man in Rome before he himself ever went to Rome. The\nbishop clearly does not stick at trifles. His chronology is also\nentirely at fault. He says that it \"is three centuries (after St.\nPeter's death) before we find him spoken of as bishop of Rome.\"\nBut St. Cyprian, whom even Bishop Hopkins admits spoke thus of\nthe apostle, was put to death before the end of the second\ncentury from St. Peter's martyrdom. He sneers at the statement\nthat St. Peter was five-and-twenty years bishop of Rome; yet he\nadmits that it is based on the authority of that eminent and\njudicious critic, St. Jerome, who, from his high position under\nPope Damasus, had abundant opportunity for an accurate\nexamination of the then extant records. In reality, it is based\non an earlier authority, the great historian Eusebius. It is\nplain that his polemic system is simply factious; he ignores some\nauthorities, misconstrues others, miscalculates dates, and\nmistakes mere accessories for the principal fact; such a course\nis not only a crime against historical truth, it is also a\nblunder, for it can mislead only the unlearned or the unwary\nreader.\n\nThe writers of the first age do not, it is true, assert in so\nmany words that St. Peter was bishop of Rome. The reason is\nobvious. Treating of other matters, their allusions are merely\nincidental, such as we might expect immediately after the death\nof SS. Peter and Paul, and relating chiefly to the fact of the\napostle's connection with the Roman Church, or his martyrdom\nthere. For these facts they are unanswerable authority. These are\na necessary preliminary to the assertion of St. Peter's Roman\nbishopric. This fact is broadly stated as soon as we meet with\nthe polemical development of the doctrine of apostolic\nsuccession. Tertullian, in the text we have quoted from the book\n_On Prescriptons_, where he accurately defines in what this\nsuccession consists, namely, that the first bishop was appointed\nand preceded by an apostle or an apostolic man, (_Apostolum ...\nhabuerit auctorem et antecessorem,_) says that in the Roman\nChurch Clement was ordained by Peter.\n{381}\nTracing thus the succession in Rome from Peter, not from Paul,\nwhose death in the imperial city he mentions, he shows that he\nknew Peter was the bishop of the see. St. Cyprian uses\nunmistakable language on the same subject, and Eusebius asserts\npositively that St. Peter was bishop of Rome. We might quote\nother catalogues, but, though of great authority, they are of a\nmore recent date. But we shall give two more authorities which\ncan be connected with the period to which we have confined\nourselves. St. Jerome [Footnote 112] positively states that St.\nPeter held the episcopal chair (_cathedram sacerdotalem_) of\nRome for twenty-five years. His historical knowledge and critical\nacumen give to his words the authority of a statement based on\nthe very best records of the early age. No one can deny that in\nthe latter half of the fourth century there were such records at\nRome. St. Optatus of Millevi, in Africa, (A.D. 370,) in a\ncontroversial work against the Donatists, speaks of St. Peter's\nRoman bishopric as a matter of notoriety, which no one would dare\ndeny. \"You ought to know,\" says he to the Donatist leader,\nParmenian, \"and _you dare not deny_, that Peter established\nat Rome an episcopal chair, which he was the first to occupy, in\norder that through (communion with) this one chair all might\npreserve unity.\" [Footnote 113]\n\n    [Footnote 112: In Catal.]\n\n    [Footnote 113: Contr. Parmenianum.]\n\nA statement made so positively, so unhesitatingly, so boldly,\nmust have been founded on the very best historical evidence. And\nthe nineteenth century must accept the judgment of competent\nwriters of the fourth on such a subject. Unless, then, we wish to\ndeny all authority to authentic record of the early age of the\nchurch, we must conclude, with the good leave of the lord bishop\nof Ely, that there is excellent reason to believe that St. Peter\nwas bishop of Rome. Nor is there any force in the bishop's remark\nthat all the apostles had the world for their diocese, and were\nnot confined to any particular city. We do not, of course mean to\nsay that St. Peter confined his preaching to Rome. He was apostle\nas well as head of the church. As apostle, he preached chiefly to\nthe Jews. As head of the church, he chose for his episcopal see\nthe capital of the world, in order that there might be no doubts\nabout the legitimate heir of his great dignity. For this reason\nwe find him in Rome among the Gentiles, though St. Paul had a\nspecial mission to them. Dr. Browne says Peter was St. Paul's\n_assistant_ at Rome; and this, in the face of the facts that\nevery writer, from Clement down, puts him before the great vessel\nof election, and that St. Paul himself, as we shall see, speaks\nof his ministry to the Romans as one merely of mutual\nconsolation, a tone he never adopted toward a church which he\nhimself had founded. We have purposely left to the last the\nargument based on the alleged silence of the New Testament,\nbecause we wished to clear an historical question of all purely\nexegetical difficulties. We have established our thesis on\nindubitable evidence; we might rest here and simply say that,\ninasmuch as no one pretends that the New Testament contains the\nentire history of the apostles, its silence cannot affect the\ncertainty of our proposition. This silence may puzzle the curious\nreader; it may be variously interpreted, according to the\ntheological bent of the student; but it cannot disprove facts\nwhich are proved by historical authority.\n{382}\nBishop Browne feels the force of this, and does not insist much\non the silence of the New Testament. He merely remarks that this\nsilence is strange, if St. Peter's Roman bishopric be as\nimportant as Roman divines make it out to be. Strictly speaking,\nwe might let this pass, as we are not now concerned in\nestablishing the supremacy of the Roman pontiffs, but merely\ntreating the historical question, Who was first bishop of Rome?\nWe may observe, however, that no believer in the doctrine of\napostolical succession can consistently urge this silence. How\ndoes Dr. Browne trace _his_ succession in the office of\nbishop from the apostles? Is it from St. Peter? Then he has to\nmeet the same objection about the silence of the New Testament on\nwhat, from his point of view, is a vital matter. Is it from St.\nPaul? But there is no scriptural evidence that St. Paul ever\nordained a bishop in Rome, or anywhere in the west. Is it from\nany other apostle? The same remark holds good. No claim to\napostolical succession can be established for any see in the\nwestern church unless on the evidence of tradition. This is\nvirtually admitted by Dr. Browne himself.\n\nSince, however, the silence of the New Testament is commonly\nurged as affording presumptive evidence that St. Peter never was\nat Rome, we shall examine all that Protestants have to say on the\nsubject. The principal text--the only one having direct reference\nto the subject--is I Peter v. 13: \"The church which is in\nBabylon, elected together with you, saluteth you, and so doth\nMark, my son.\" Nearly all ancient writers, commencing with\nPapias, say that this letter was written at Rome, which city St.\nPeter designates under the name of Babylon. Our Protestant\nopponents, of course, reject this interpretation. Now, we wish it\nto be understood that we do not allege this text to prove that\nSt. Peter wrote from Rome. We admit that, taken in itself, apart\nfrom tradition, it is obscure, and can afford, at best, ground\nbut for conjecture. But, having established beyond all doubt the\nfact that St. Peter was at Rome, we follow the interpretation of\nthe respectable ancient writers whom we have quoted. When the\nletter was written, old Babylon of Assyria was in ruins,\naccording to Strabo and Pliny; and the Jews, to whom St. Peter\nwrote, had been banished from Assyria, according to Josephus;\nand, though Seleucia was afterward called Babylon, it had not\nreceived the name at this early period. Some think that the\nBabylon referred to was in Egypt, the place now called Cairo. But\nit was then but a fort, or fortified village, (_castellum_,)\nand the Christian church of Egypt has always looked on Alexandria\nas its birthplace. St. Peter, moreover, warns the Christians of\nthe approaching persecution, and exhorts them to be subject to\nthe emperor and his subordinates. These allusions come very\nnaturally from the pen of one writing at Rome, but are almost\nunintelligible if we suppose the writer in Babylon of Assyria,\nout of the Roman empire. The opinion that the letter was written\nat Rome, called Babylon by St. Peter for some reason which we can\nonly conjecture, is based on excellent ancient authority, agrees\nwith well-known facts of history, and with the internal evidence\nof the letter itself. Leaving aside its bearings on the main\nquestion we are discussing, it is by far the most probable view,\nand, in any other case, would be accepted without difficulty.\n[Footnote 114]\n\n    [Footnote 114: Occasionally the love of novelty induces some\n    Catholic writer to differ from his brethren. This is the case\n    with Hug, who holds that we cannot admit mystical names in\n    the letters of the apostles, as there is no instance of their\n    use, save in this disputed case. This is criticism based on\n    internal evidence run mad. One would suppose that there was a\n    perfect course of sacred epistolary literature in the New\n    Testament, based on fixed rules, instead of a few detached\n    letters, written by different authors at different times,\n    without any communication or agreement with one another about\n    literary style. There is nothing more fallacious than the\n    interpretation of any of the letters of the apostles on mere\n    internal evidence. Hug's remark at most shows that internal\n    evidence does not afford any proof that St. Peter meant Rome,\n    which no one will deny.]\n\n{383}\n\nProtestants, moreover, commonly allege the absence of any mention\nof St. Peter's voyage to Rome in the Acts of the Apostles, and\nthe absence of any reference to him, either in St. Paul's Epistle\nto the Romans or in those he wrote from Rome. The silence of the\nActs is easily explained. After the council of Jerusalem, the\nwriter relates only the missionary labors of St. Paul, so that we\ncould not expect any mention of St. Peter's voyages. Dr. Browne\ninfers from Acts xxviii. 22, that \"the Jews of Rome had had no\ncommunication with any chief teacher among the Christians.\" This\ninference is not borne out by the text, \"We desire to hear from\nthee what thou thinkest; or as concerning this sect, we know that\nit is everywhere opposed.\" The obvious meaning is that the Jews\nof Rome knowing that Paul was a Pharisee learned in the law,\nwished to hear what he had to say in favor of the new religion.\nThey must have looked on St. Peter as a Galilean fisherman, who\nhad no right to attempt to expound the law and the prophets. It\nis puerile for Dr. Browne to allege that they should have heard\nhim with respect because he was the apostle of the circumcision;\nfor, of what importance could this title be in their eyes, if\nthey did not believe in Him who sent the apostles?\n\nIf St. Peter went to Rome in the reign of Claudius, he certainly\nwas afterward absent from the city, as we find him after this\nperiod at the council of Jerusalem. His absence from Rome\naccounts for the fact that St. Paul does not salute him in his\nEpistle to the Romans, a straw at which some Protestant writers\nclutch with great avidity. The great respect with which St. Paul\nspeaks of the Roman Church, whose faith, he says, was spoken of\nin the whole world, agrees with the supposition that St. Peter\nhad already preached there. On these words, [Footnote 115] \"For I\nlong to see you, that I may impart to you some spiritual gift,\nthat ye may be strengthened; that is, I may be comforted together\nwith you, by that which is common to us both, your faith and\nmine.\" Theodoret remarks as follows: \"Because the great Peter had\nfirst given them the doctrine of the gospel, he said merely,'that\nye may be strengthened.' I do not wish, he says, to bring a new\ndoctrine to you, but to confirm that which you have received, and\nto water the trees which have already been planted.\" [Footnote\n116]\n\n    [Footnote 115: Ch. i. 11, 12.]\n\n    [Footnote 116: In locum.]\n\nThe words certainly indicate that the faith had already been\nfirmly established by some teacher of high rank, and are a very\napposite commentary on Dr. Browne's reason why the Jews, some\nyears afterward, were anxious to hear St. Paul. We cannot really\nunderstand what hallucination led him to quote these words to\nshow that St. Paul writes much as \"if no apostle had ever been\namongst the Romans.\" But we admire his prudence in giving purely\na reference, not the words of the text. His other reference to\nRom. xv. 15-24 is even more unlucky. St. Paul therein says\nplainly that he generally preached, \"not where Christ was named,\"\nlest he should build on another man's foundation.\n{384}\n\"_For which cause_,\" he adds, \"I have been much hindered\nfrom coming to you.\" Therefore some other apostle _had_\npreached to the Romans. He even goes on to say that he hoped to\nbe gratified in his desire of seeing them, _when on his way to\nSpain_, so that it is plain that he, though apostle of the\nGentiles, considered there was no necessity for his making a\njourney to Rome on purpose to instruct the Roman Church. St.\nPaul, then, writes very much as if an apostle _had_ been\nwith the Romans. Whatever else Dr. Browne does, he ought to quote\nScripture fairly. St. Paul's allusions, obscure though they may\nbe to us, were, of course, clear to those to whom they were\nwritten. No familiar letter can be fully understood without\ntaking into account the facts which, being well known to those to\nwhom he writes, the author merely alludes to in a passing way.\n\nThe letters which St. Paul wrote from Rome were all written\nduring his first stay there, with the probable exception of the\nsecond to Timothy. Colossians iv. II, and 2 Timothy iv. 16, are\nquoted to show that St. Peter was not at Rome, else he would have\nstood by St. Paul. But the epistle to the Colossians was written\nduring St. Paul's first imprisonment, when St. Peter, as we have\nseen, must have been absent, and in the second to Timothy he\nspeaks expressly of his \"first defence.\" Most writers think he\nrefers to his first imprisonment. Others suppose him to speak of\na preliminary hearing before Nero, during his second\nimprisonment. Admitting this interpretation, he cannot include\nSt. Peter, who was his fellow-prisoner, in the list of those who\nhad forsaken him. The words apply to persons at large, who had\ninfluence with the authorities, which they did not use.\n\nWe have thus fully examined all that Protestants allege\nconcerning the silence of the New Testament. The candid reader\nwill see that there is nothing in the sacred pages to contradict\nthe historical facts we have established; the allusions of St.\nPaul to the instruction of the Romans in the faith by a teacher\nof high rank, and the interpretation of the word _Babylon_\nin St. Peter's first letter, which has come down to us from the\napostolic age, must be counted in their favor.\n\nIt is on historical evidence that the case must rest; and on it,\nas we have rehearsed it, we are satisfied to submit it to\nunprejudiced criticism. The testimony of the apostolic age, and\nthe two immediately following, is conclusive; it cannot be\nexplained away; much less can it be impeached. We must give up\nall belief in well-authenticated history, or else admit that St.\nPeter went to Rome, founded the church there, and was its first\nbishop, and there died a martyr of Christ.\n\n  \"O Roma felix, quae duorum principum\n     Es consecrata glorioso sanguine\n   Horum cruore purpurata ceteras\n     Excellis orbis una pulchritudines.\"\n\n  \"O happy Rome! whom the great Apostles' blood\n     For ever consecrates while ages flow:\n   Thou, thus empurpled, art more beautiful\n     Than all that doth appear most beautiful below.\"\n\n\n    Note By The Editor On The Chronology Of St. Peter's Life.\n\nEusebius says that St. Peter established his see at Antioch in\nthe last year of Tiberius, who died March fifteenth, A.D. 37. It\nwas probably, therefore, in the year 36; and St. Ignatius, the\nsecond successor of St. Peter in that see; St. John Chrysostom,\nwho had been a priest there; Origen and St. Jerome, as well as\nEusebius, state that he governed that church seven years; which\nprobably means, not that his episcopate was just of that length,\nbut, that seven calendar years were included (the first and the\nlast partially) in it.\n{385}\nAt any rate, this would make the establishment of his see in Rome\nin A.D. 42 or 43; and the day celebrated by the church is January\n18th. Now, Eusebius, St. Jerome, Cassiodorus, and others say that\nSS. Peter and Paul were put to death in the fourteenth year of\nNero, that is, in A.D. 67; and their martyrdom is celebrated on\nJune 29th. This gives twenty-four and a half or twenty-five and a\nhalf years for St. Peter's Roman episcopate, or twenty-five years\nin the sense that the Antiochan was seven, if he came to Rome in\n43; in which case he may even have established his see at Antioch\nin 37.\n\nSt. John Chrysostom says that St. Paul's life after his\nconversion was thirty-five years; which would make that event to\nhave occurred in A.D. 32 or 33. He himself says (Gal. i.) that\nthree years afterward he went to Jerusalem, and thence to Tarsus,\nas is also stated in Acts ix. From this place he was called to\npreach to the church at Antioch, as mentioned in Acts xi.; and\nthis visit, which could not have much preceded the establishment\nof St. Peter's see there, may well have been in A.D. 35 or 36,\nagreeing with the chronology given above.\n\nThese dates do not agree with that commonly assigned for the\ncrucifixion; but numerous evidences show that this occurred in\nthe year 29. As late a date as A.D. 31 might, however, be\nallowed.\n\n----------\n\n              A Ruined Life.\n\n\nIt was the saddest, saddest face I ever saw.\n\nShe stood before the stove in my front office, on that dark\nDecember day, and the steam from her wet, heated garments almost\nconcealed her from my sight. Yet the first glimpse I caught of\nher, through the partition door, excited my interest to an\nunusual degree; and, though I saw her not again for a half hour,\nthat one glance fixed her features in my memory as indelibly as\nthey are printed there to-day.\n\nIt was term time, and the second return-day of the term. For ten\ndays my eyes and brain had both been crowded with all that varied\ndetail of business which sessions aggregate upon the hands and\nconscience of a rising lawyer; and the musty retinue of\n_assumpsit, ejectment_, and _scire-facias_ had nearly\nvexed and worn out the little life I had at the beginning. But\nthe criminal week, which was my peculiar sphere, was close at\nhand, and I looked to its exciting, riskful cases as a relief\nfrom the dull, dreary current of civil forms and practice.\n\nThe little room I dignified with the name of \"_front\noffice_\" was filled, as far as seats went, with rough\nbackwoodsmen, witnesses on behalf of a gentleman who occupied\nwith me the snugly carpeted \"_sanctum_\" in the rear. While\nwe discussed together the points of strength or weakness to be\ntested at the impending trial, the voices of the rude laborers\nreached us brokenly, and more than once words fell upon my ear\nwhich made me tremble for the sensibilities of the lonely woman\nwho was with them.\n{386}\nThey meant no harm, those bluff, hearty men. A tear from her\ndrooping eyes would have unmanned them. But they were not\nwell-bred, nor tender to the weakness of the other sex. My poor\nclient, as she afterward became, stood while they sat, kept\nsilence while they laughed and jeered each other. It was not\ntheir fault that they never minded her. They were not hypocrites,\nthat's all.\n\nAt length I had the happiness to see the door close on the last\nof them, and, after arranging the maps and diagrams which would\nbe needed on the morrow, I called to the stranger to come in. She\nobeyed, hesitatingly, and then, for the first time, I saw that\nshe belonged to that most forlorn and pitiable of all the many\nclasses who throng around our mining districts, the recent Irish\nemigrant. The very clothes she wore were the same with which she\ndressed herself in the green isle far away, and her voice and\nmanner had not yet caught that flippancy and pertness which pass\namong the longer landed for tokens of American independence and\nequality. She was certainly very poor, or the rough, wintry winds\nwould not have been permitted to toss her long, black hair in\ntangled masses around her shoulders, or drop their melting\nsnowflakes on her uncovered head. My chivalric interest died\nwithout time to groan, and whatever thought of profit or romance\nin assisting her I might have had, at the first sight of her,\nperished at the same instant. But I saw poverty and sorrow, and I\ndetermined in my heart, before she told her errand, that my life\nof legal labor should embrace at least one act done thoroughly\nand for nothing.\n\nHer story was a short one. Her husband and herself had lived in a\nneighboring village. Others of their own people dwelt around\nthem, and among these was an old woman and her son. No\ndifficulty, that she knew of, had ever risen between her family\nand theirs. But, a few days before, as her husband was gathering\nfuel by the roadside, these two had rushed out on him, and in\ncold blood murdered him. The son had fled, and the murderer's\nmother, with barred doors and windows, forbade the vicinage of\nfriend or foe. The broken-hearted wife, urged on to take such\nvengeance as the law afforded, had come to me and asked my\ncounsel and assistance.\n\nIt was of little use to question her. Like most of her peculiar\nclass, her mind could entertain but one idea, and that, in some\nform or other, recurred in answer to every inquiry I could make.\nSatisfying myself, however, that a murder had really been\ncommitted, and taking down such names and dates as were necessary\nfor the initial steps of prosecution, I sent her home, with the\nassurance that justice should be done her, and her dead husband's\nghost avenged.\n\nThe warrant was issued, the arrest made, the indictment found,\nthe trial finished. There was no doubt of guilt. The murder was\ncommitted in the broad light of day, and many eyes had seen it.\nThe counsel for the defence had felt the untenability of his\nposition before a tithe of the evidence was in, and slipped down\nfrom innocence to justifiability, until his last hope for the\nprisoner was in the allegation of insanity, late suggested and\nfaintly urged. It was useless. The twelve inexorable men brought\nin their verdict of \"wilful murder,\" and Bridget Davanagh was\nsentenced to be hanged by the neck till she was dead.\n\n{387}\n\nIt has never been my custom to follow cases, on which the solemn\njudgment of the law has been pronounced, beyond those immediate\nconsequences of that judgment which the connection between a\nlawyer and his client has compelled me to superintend. But there\nwas something in this case which both attracted and disquieted\nme, and one day in vacation I found myself at the grated\nprison-door, seeking admission to the cell of the condemned. The\nold woman received me quietly. She seemed to have forgotten me,\nor, at least, how active a part I had taken in the proceedings\nwhich had ended in dooming her to a shameful death. She was\ntaciturn and moody; and, the longer I remained, the more\nsatisfied I became that her mind was now unsettled, if it had not\nbeen before. I went several times after that, and gradually, by\nkind words and the gift of such simple comforts as aged matrons\nmost desire, I won her confidence so far that, in her faltering,\ndisconnected way, she told me all that sad history of woe and\nwrong and suffering which had brought an untimely grave to\nMichael Herican, and a felon's fate to her. It was one of those\ntales of falsity and sorrow which we cannot hear too often, and\nwhose moral none of us can learn too well.\n\nThe little village of Easky, in the County Sligo, was, when this\npresent century was young, one of those lonesome, scanty-peopled\nhamlets whose very loneliness and isolation render them more dear\nand homelike to their few inhabitants. The waters of the Northern\nOcean foamed about the rocks where its fisher-boats were moored.\nThe feet of its rambling children trod the rough paths and\ncrumpled the grey masses of the wild Slieve-Gamph hills. Thus\nhemmed in between the mountains and the sea, it was almost\nseparated from the world. The white sails that now and then\nflitted across the far horizon, and the slow, lazy car that twice\na month brought over his majesty's mail-bags from Dromore, were\nall that Easky ever had to tell it that there were nations and\nkingdoms on the earth, or that its own precipices on the one\nside, and its weed-strewn rocks upon the other, did not embrace\nthe whole of human joys and sorrows.\n\nIn this solitary village the forefathers of Patrick Carrol had\ndwelt for immemorial years. So far back as tradition went they\nhad been fishermen, and the last remaining scion now followed the\nancestral calling. He was a sort of hero among his\nfellow-villagers. True, he was as poor as the poorest of them\nall, and had no personal boast save of his vigorous arms and\nhonest heart. But his father, contrary to the custom of his race,\nhad refused to lay his bones within an ocean bed, and had died\nfighting in the bloody streets of Killala. All victims of '98\nwere canonized by those rude freemen, and the mantle of honor\nfell from the father upon the children, and gave to Patrick\nCarrol a deserved and well-maintained pre-eminence. And so, when\nBridget Deery became his wife, the whole hamlet agreed that the\nvillage favorite had found her proper husband, and, when the\nlittle Mary saw the light, the christening holiday was kept by\nevery neighbor, old or young.\n\nFour years of perfect happiness flew by. Death or misfortune came\nto other families, but not to theirs. The little hoarded wealth,\nhid away in the dark corner, grew yearly greater. Health and\naffection dwelt unremittingly upon the hearthstone, and the\nhearts of the father and mother were as full of gratitude as the\nheart of the child was of merriment and glee. But the four years\nhad an end, and carried with them, into the trackless past, the\nsunshine of their lives.\n{388}\nOne long, long summer day the wife sat among the rocks, watching\nfor her husband's boat, and playing with the prattler at her\nside. The boat came not. The sun went down. The gathering clouds\nin the offing loomed up threateningly. The hoarse northwesters\nfelt their way across the waters, and whistled in her ears, as\nshe clasped the child to her bosom and hurried home out of the\nstorm. As the gale strengthened with the darkness, she fell upon\nher knees, and all that wakeful night besought the Mother and the\nsaints to keep her baby's father from the awful danger. In vain;\nfor when the morning dawned, the waves washed up his oars and\nhelm upon the beach, and an hour later his drowned corse was\nfound beneath the broken crags of Anghris Head.\n\nFor the first few years after that fatal shock the widowed mother\nlived she knew not how. One by one the treasured silver pieces\nwent, till destitution stared her in the face. The charity of her\nneighbors outdid their means, but even that could not keep her\nfrom actual suffering, and work for the lone woman there was\nabsolutely none. What wonder was it, then, that, when the flowers\nhad bloomed three times above the peaceful bed of Patrick Carrol,\nhis widow, more for her child's sake than her own, consented to\nviolate the sanctity of her broken heart, and become the wife of\nBernard Davanagh?\n\nBernard was a bold, reckless, wilful man, and both the mother and\nthe child soon felt the difference between the dead father and\nthe living. As time passed on, and the boy Bernard was born, the\npassions of the man grew stronger, and cruel words, and still\nmore cruel blows, became the daily portion of the helpless three.\nOh! how often did the widow yearn to lie down with her children\nby her dead husband's side, in the drear churchyard, and be at\npeace for ever. But not _without_ them. No, not even to be\nunited with the lost, could she have left them, and so they clung\ntogether, closer and closer, as the years rolled on--knowing\nlittle of life except its dark page of sorrow.\n\nThere never yet was a life without some ray of joy, and, even in\nthe midnight darkness which hung around the childhood of Mary\nCarrol, there were faint gleams of happiness. Next door but one\nto their poor cot lived James Herican. He too was a fisherman,\nand, in better days, had been Patrick Carrol's most intimate and\nfaithful friend. He had remained such to the widow and the\nfatherless, and, but for him, the family of Bernard Davanagh also\nmight sometimes have perished from want and cold. He was the\nfather of one child, the boy Michael, older by two years than\nMary, and doubly endeared to his heart by the mother's early\ndeath. The gossips of Easky had wondered, in their simple way,\nwhy James Herican and Bridget Carrol did not marry, but the\nmemory of his dead wife and his dead friend forbade the one ever\nto entertain the thought, and the poor widow was as far from\nwishing it as he. They were happier as they were; he, by his\nkindness and true Christian charity, laying up heavenly\ntreasures, which, as the second husband of a second wife, he\nnever could accumulate; she, keeping ever fresh and pure the one\nlove of her maiden's heart, the one hope of reunion in the skies.\nWhat, and how different, the end had been, if they had married,\nthe eye of the Eternal can alone discern.\n\n{389}\n\nThe friendship of these parents descended to the children. In all\ntheir sports, their rambles, their labors, (for in that toiling\nhamlet even tender childhood labored,) Michael Herican and Mary\nCarrol were together. When her half-brother, eight years younger\nthan herself, grew into boyhood, Michael was his champion against\nthe impositions of larger boys, and taught him all those arts of\nwood and water craft which village youth so ardently aspire to,\nand so aptly learn. It could not happen otherwise than that these\nconstantly recurring kindnesses should beget firm and fast\naffection, and knit together these young hearts in bonds\ndifficult, if not impossible, to sunder.\n\nIt may have been the law of nature, it may have been the\nchastening of God, that Michael Herican and Mary Carrol should\ncome, in later years, to love each other. It was simply fitting,\nto all human sight, that it should be so; and it was so. The\nfather and the mother thanked God for it, day by day, and\nbestowed upon them such tokens of encouragement as the bashful\nlovers could comfortably receive. The boy Bernard, when he heard\nof it, (and there could be no secrets in Easky,) threw up his cap\nfor joy, and the old village crones for once smiled on the\nprospects of a happiness they had never known. Only Davanagh\nappeared displeased, but his abuse of the poor girl had been so\nextreme for years that it could scarcely suffer any increase, and\nall the influence he exerted over her or them was by his ruthless\nfist and cursing tongue. This at last ceased; for ears less\npatient than her own received his stinging insults, and a blow,\nquicker than his drunken arm could parry, stretched him upon the\nground to rise no more.\n\nMary Carrol reached her twentieth birthday. She was a frail,\ndelicate girl, below the middle height, and with that beautiful\nbut strange union of large blue eyes and pearly complexion with\njet black hair and lashes which tells at once of the pure Irish\nblood. We should not have called her handsome; perhaps no one\nwould, except those who loved her, and in whose sight no\ndisfigurement or disease could have made her homely. But she was\none of those superior natures which solitude and suffering must\nunite with Christian culture to produce; and the whole\nneighborhood, for this, and not for her beauty, claimed her as\nits favorite and charm. Michael had grown to be a stalwart man,\nhalf a head taller than his sire, and his fellows said that none\namong them promised better for diligence and success than he. His\ndevotion to Mary Carrol knew no bounds, and she, in turn,\ncherished scarcely a thought apart from him. Her mother had\nrapidly grown old and broken. Grief, and that yearning for the\ndead which is stronger than any sorrow, had made her an aged\nwoman long before her time, and the fond daughter, between her\nand the one hope of her young life, had no third wish or joy. Her\nonly trouble was for her brother. The wild elements of his\nfather's nature became more apparent in him every day, and,\nthough he loved his mother and half-sister with an almost inhuman\npassionateness, they frequently found it impossible to restrain\nhis turbulent and curbless will. The stern control of a seafaring\nlife seemed to be their only chance of saving him, and so, at\nlittle more than twelve years old, he was torn away from home and\nfriends and sent out on a coasting merchantman to be subdued.\nThis parting nearly broke his mothers's heart, but her discipline\nof suffering had been borne too long and patiently for her to\nrebel now. It was only another drop to her full cup of\nbitterness, when, a few months later, news came, by word of mouth\nfrom a sailor in Dromore, that the merchantman had foundered in\nthe stormy Irish Sea.\n\n{390}\n\nIt would be beyond the power of human pen to describe how these\nlone women now clung to Michael Herican. His father went down to\nthe grave in peace, and he had none but them, as they had none\nbut him. Already the one looked on him as a husband and the other\nas a son. When a few more successful voyages were over, and when\nthe humble necessaries, which even an Easky maid could not become\na wife without providing, were completed, the benediction of the\nchurch was to fulfil the promise of their hearts, and give them\nirrevocably to each other in the sight of God and man.\n\n\n\nIt was an ill-starred day for Michael Herican and the Carrols\nwhen the Widow Moran and her daughter came to live in Easky.\nPierre Moran, deceased, had been a small shopkeeper in Sligo,\nwhere he had amassed a little competence, and, now that he was\ndead, his widow returned to her native village to pass her\nremaining life among her former neighbors. There were few among\nthem who had not known more or less about the reckless girl who\nran away with the half-French half-Irish shopman, twenty years\nago, and her name and memory was none of the best among those\nvirtuous villagers. But she cared less for this because she had\nenough of filthy lucre to command exterior respect, and it was\nbetter, so she thought, to be highest among the lowly than to be\nlow among the high. In coming to Easky she had had two ends in\nview: to queen it over her former associates, and to secure a\nsteady and good husband for her daughter. Kitty Moran was like\nher mother, but without her mother's faults. She was a girl of\ndash and spirit, and with a pride as quick and a nature as\nimpressible as her mother was emotionless. She was a thorough\nbrunette, with a brunette's violence and passion, with a\nbrunette's power to love and power to hate. In actual beauty no\nmaiden of the neighborhood could vie with her, and she had just\nenough of city polish and refinement to give her an appearance of\nsuperiority to those around her. Between her and Mary Carrol the\nangels would not have hesitated in choosing--unless, indeed, they\nwere those ancient sons of God who took wives from among the\ndaughters of men because they saw that they were fair, and then,\nlike men, they would have chosen wrongly.\n\nIt was not many days before the Widow Moran heard of Michael\nHerican, or many weeks before she had decided that he should be\nthe husband of her child. True, she knew of his betrothal, for\nhis name was rarely spoken unconnected with the name of Mary\nCarrol, but this made no difference. The pale-faced step-daughter\nof the drunken Davanagh was of no consequence to her, and to the\nright or wrong of her designs she never gave a thought. Whatever\nshe wished, she determined to have. Whatever she determined to\nhave, she set herself industriously to secure. So when she\nmarketed, it was Michael's boat from which she purchased. When\nthere was a message to send to Sligo, or packages from thence to\nbe brought home to her, it was Michael's boat that carried it.\nWhen she had work to be done around her cottage, it waited until\nMichael had an idle day, and then he was hired to do it. Well\nskilled, as every woman is, in arts like these, she used her\nknowledge and her chances all too well.\n\n{391}\n\nIt is but just to say that Kitty Moran had no share in her\nmother's wicked plans. She was young and gay. Michael Herican was\nthe finest young man in the village. It was not disagreeable to\nher to watch him and to talk with him, as he worked by her\ndirections in the little garden, or to sit beside him at their\nnoontide meal. Unconsciously, she grew to miss him when he was\naway at sea, to have a welcome for him in her heart when he came\nhome, to look for him with impatience when she knew that his\nvocation brought him back to her. Before she was aware of it, she\nloved him; and when she realized her love, she threw herself into\nit, as her one absorbing passion, without a dream of its results\nor a suspicion of her error. She would not, for an empire, have\ndeliberately wronged the patient girl whom, by the stern law of\ncontraries, she had already learned to cherish, but to her love\nthere was no limit, no moderation. She could not help loving\nMichael Herican, and no more could she mete out or restrain her\nlove. So, when it mastered her, it _was_ her master, and her\nreason and her conscience were whirled away before the rushing\ntide of passion like bubbles on the bosom of a cataract.\n\nHow Michael Herican came to love this new maiden not even he\nhimself could tell. Rochefoucault says, \"It is in man's power\nneither to love nor to refrain from loving.\" And false as this\nmay be as a general law of life, there are cases in which it\nappears almost divinely true. It was so in his. He simply could\nnot help it. When he compared the calm, deep, tried affection of\nthe heart that had been his for years with the tumultuous\noutburst of this impetuous soul, his judgment taught him there\nought to be no such comparison between them. He never had one\ndoubt as to his duty. He fought nobly and manfully against the\nspell that seemed to be upon him. He would gladly have left\nEasky, and have stretched his voyages beyond the northern seas;\nbut he could not leave Mary and her mother there alone. He\nthought of hastening his marriage, thereby to put an end to all\npossibility of faithlessness, (and this is what he should have\ndone,) but he had no reason for it that he dared to give. It was\na fearful trial for him, and would have bred despair in stronger\nhearts than his, if such there be. He became lax and careless in\nhis business, harsh and moody in his intercourse with others. A\nfew tattling croakers, here and there, wiser than the rest, laid\nthe evil at the Widow Moran's door; but they could give no proof\nwhen asked for it, and the frowns and chidings of the\nneighborhood soon put them down.\n\nIn this way things went on for months. The day drew near when the\nwedding-feast should usher in a new life to the waiting pair. It\nwas a drawing near of doom to him. The enchantment had not\nweakened by indulgence. The siren's song was as soft and\nseductive as when its first notes took possession of his soul.\nFeeling as he did toward Kathleen Moran, he would not marry Mary\nCarrol, although from his heart of hearts he could have sworn\nthat his love for her had known no change or diminution. Nor did\nhe dare to tell her that the fascinations of the stranger had\nenchained him; for he knew that he was all she had, and all she\nloved. But it could not go on thus always, and he knew it.\nSomething must be done. Had it been the mere sacrifice of\nhimself, he would not have hesitated for a moment. As little did\nhe hesitate between marrying where he did not love supremely, and\nnot marrying at all.\n{392}\nHe had a conscience, and when his conscience decided between\nthese, and told him that he must not marry Mary Carrol, it\ncompelled him also to go to her and in plain words tell her so.\n\nIt almost killed her. The shock was so great, at the moment,\nmightily though she strove to command herself, that her life was\nin immediate danger. After a while she rallied again, a very\nghost to what she had been, though little else before. Her mother\nbore the blow less calmly. She could not understand the\npowerlessness of the one to save himself, or the self-sacrifice\nof the other, which gave up her life's last greatest hope without\na murmur. She felt the disappointment keenly, but the injury\nmore. Dispositions, that through all her sorrows had never been\napparent in her character, began to show themselves. She grew\nstem and vengeful in place of her old meekness and submission,\nand brooded over their cruel wrong until it became a second\nnature with her to impute to Michael Herican all her troubles,\nand curse him in her heart as the destroyer of her child.\n\nOf course all Easky soon knew the grief that had come to Bridget\nDavanagh's household; and, not unnaturally, most of them sided\nwith her in her condemnation of Michael Herican. They could not\nunderstand, they would not have believed, that he was under the\ndominion of a passion which he could neither escape nor resist.\nTo them there was no fascination in the Widow Moran's daughter,\nand they loved the mother too little for them to suppose that any\none could love the child. It was a hard lot for her, poor girl,\nto hear their cutting censures passed upon her as the cause of\nMary Carrol's sufferings; for the people of that uncultivated\nneighborhood did not care to conceal their bitterness beneath\nsoft-spoken words, and did not hesitate to tell her to her face\nall that they felt concerning her. Nor spared they Michael\nHerican. Old men and young greeted him now with looks askance and\ncold, instead of the warm welcomes which every hearth had had for\nhim a month before. And every woman in Easky, except the few old\ncrones who grudgingly had wished him well when all was well with\nhim, went by him on the other side, and prayed the saints to\ndeliver their young maidens from such faithless lovers as he.\n\nIntolerable as all this was to him, and unjust as it would have\nbeen, even in their sight who did it, could they have known how\nhe had fought against his destiny, it still had its inevitable\neffect upon him. As there was but one house in Easky where he met\na cordial greeting, that house became his continual resort. As\nthere was but one heart into which he could look and find\nresponsive love, he sought his consolation in that heart alone.\nTo Mary Carrol he would gladly have continued to be a friend and\nbrother, but her mother would not suffer him to come inside the\ndoors, and if the broken-hearted maiden could have received his\nkindnesses, they would have been to her a mockery worse than\ndeath. Thus Kathleen Moran's was sometimes the only voice he\nheard for days, her smile the only smile ever bestowed upon him,\nand she became, in time, as necessary to his existence as Eve to\nAdam. They were almost always together. He made longer voyages,\nand took longer rests; and, when on shore, rarely left the roof\nunder which she dwelt. But he had no definite aim and purpose for\nwhich to earn, or to lay up his earnings. He never trusted\nhimself to plan for, or look upon the future.\n{393}\nHe never yet had dreamed of marrying Kitty Moran. The light had\nfallen out of his life as effectually as out of Mary Carrol's;\nand it would have seemed to him as bootless to have heaped\ntogether money as it would to her to have finished and arranged\nher bridal gear.\n\nA year like this told terribly upon him. The indignation of the\nvillagers did not abate with time, and more and more did Michael\nHerican become an outlaw. It was strange that an event which, in\nthe swift whirl of our metropolitan career, we meet almost every\nday, should have made such an impression on the minds of sturdy\nmen and women. But it was the first time, in the memory of man,\nthat an Easky lover had proved faithless to an Easky maid, and\nthese rude hearts were as honest in their hate as in their love.\nHe bore it as long as he could, but he was only human; and when\nthe Widow Moran, herself made most uncomfortable by the active\nhostility of her neighbors, determined to return to Sligo, he was\nonly too willing to go with her. He sold the little cottage where\nhis forefathers had lived and died for many generations, and bade\nfarewell for ever to the home where he had known so many years of\nhappiness, such months of weary suffering.\n\nIf Mary Carrol suffered less in conscience and in self-respect\nthan Michael Herican, her suffering made far more fearful havoc\nwith her bodily and mental health. The privations of her\nchildhood had sown the seeds of premature decay; and, at her best\nand strongest, she was frail and weakly. The shock she had\nsustained when her life's hopes were shattered had partially\nunsettled her mind, and physical disease, now slowly developing,\nsank her into hopeless imbecility. She was not violent or\npeevish. She never needed any restraint, and, usually, but little\ncare. She would sit all day in the sunlight, listening to the\nroaring of the sea, her hands folded in her lap, and her great\nblue eyes gazing out vacantly into the sky. She knew enough to\nkeep herself from danger, and, at long intervals would go alone\ninto the narrow street, and wander up and down, groping her way\nlike a blind person, yet taking no notice of anything that passed\naround her. It was a sad sight, indeed, for any eyes to see, but,\nfar more so to those who knew her history, and could repeat the\nstory of the cruel wound she bore. There was not among them a\nheart that did not bleed for her, and scarce a hand that could\nnot have been nerved to vengeance, if the blood of her destroyer\ncould have put away her doom.\n\nThe old woman--God knows how old in sorrows!--became more firm\nand resolute as her daughter grew more helpless. She never\nwearied in doing all that a mother's heart could prompt, but it\nwas gall and bitterness to her that Mary suffered so\nuncomplainingly. If she could once have heard her say one hateful\nword of Michael Herican, it would have satisfied her, but she\nnever did. She learned that Michael had left his home, and had\ngone with the Morans, and she felt as if she were robbed of her\nprey. Not that she ever purposed ill to him, but she did wish it,\nand the scoffs and denunciations of his neighbors seemed to her\nso many weapons in her hands against him. Alas! for her that this\nshould be the lot of Patrick Carrol's bride.\n\n{394}\n\nIt might have been a half year since the widow and her victim\nleft Easky, and the midsummer days had come. Mary Carrol had been\nso long an invalid, and, in her many wanderings, had been so\nsingularly free from harm, that her absence from the cottage\ncaused her mother no surprise or fear. The village children, as\nthey met her rambling in the fields, would sometimes lead her\nhome, and the seaward-going fishermen would often watch her\nfootsteps on the beach with fond solicitude; but they became\naccustomed to it by and by, and let her have her way.\n\nOne cloudless day in July she had strayed out at early dawn while\nthe dew was scarcely dry, and wandered off along the shore,\nbeyond the furthest cottage. The matron of that house, as she\nwent by, sent out her little boy to see that she came to no\ndanger, but in a moment he returned to say that she was sitting\non a broken rock out of the water's reach, and so for the time\nshe was forgotten. The day wore on, and Bridget Davanagh grew\nlonely in her desolate home. A dread of coming evil fell upon\nher, and, though her cup already so ran over that she could\nhardly realize the possibility of further misfortune, she could\nnot shake off the new shadow. Restless and uneasy, she started\nout to seek her child. She hurried past the village eastwardly\nalong the sands. She peered into every crevice of the rocky coast\nthat was large enough to hide a sea-gull's nest, and hunted\nbehind every fallen fragment that might conceal the object of her\nquest. Slowly, for it was severest toil to her aged feet, she\ngroped over one mile after another, until the lofty cap of\nAnghris Head rose up before her. She had never been so near it\nsince that fearful day, long years ago, when she came out to see\nthe mangled body of her young husband lying underneath its stormy\ncrags. And now there came over her an impulse to go there once\nagain; again to visit the place where the waves cast him in their\nmurderous wrath; the place whither she event last to meet him\nwhen he last came home to her. So she climbed over the huge\nboulders, one by one, in the declining sunlight, till she stood\ndirectly underneath that ragged spire which Anghris lifts aloft\nabove the waves, and there she saw the spot where her beloved had\nlain in his sad hour of death. There, too, she found her\ndaughter, lying on the same rocky couch where her father lay\nbefore her, one arm beneath her head, her face turned up to\nheaven in the unbreaking slumber of the dead.\n\nThis same midsummer's day brought news, from Sligo to Easky, that\nMichael Herican had married Kitty Moran, and that the widow's\nheartless schemes had been accomplished.\n\nThe house of Bridget Davanagh was now desolate indeed. Her son\nlost for ever in the unknown waters. Her daughter sleeping in the\nvillage churchyard, bearing the burden of her cross no more.\nThere was no cheer for her in the well-meant gossip of her\nneighbors. There was no comfort for her in the promise of a land,\nbeyond this mortal, of perpetual rest. If her religious instincts\nand principles were still alive, they remained dumb and dormant.\nShe could not read. She loved not company. Her few personal\nnecessities rendered much bodily toil superfluous, and, when her\nwork was done, she had no other occupation than to sit down and\nbrood over her sorrows. The range of her thought was narrow. She\nhad no future to look forward to. Her eyes were only on the past,\nand the past held for her but two figures--her murdered Mary and\nher Mary's murderer. It was in vain that the good parish priest\nsought to divert her mind and lead her to better things; for,\nthough she said but little and that quietly, he could see, like\nall who now came intimately near her, that her faculties were\nclouded and her control over her will and imagination almost\ntotally destroyed.\n\n{395}\n\nHow long she might have lived thus without becoming fully crazed\nwas, fortunately, never tested. A letter came to her one evening,\nbearing a foreign post-mark, and dotted over with the many\ncolored stamps which tell of journeys upon sea and land. It was\nthe first letter she had ever received. No relative or friend, no\nacquaintance except Michael Herican, has she out of Easky, and\nshe was sorely puzzled, as she broke the seal and turned the\npages up and down and sideways, in the useless attempt to tell\nfrom whence it came. She called in a passing school-child to\ndecipher it, and, as he blundered through its weary lines, she\nsat with her face buried in her hands, rocking her body\nceaselessly to and fro. He reached the end and read the signature\nof \"Bernard Davanagh.\" The widow's boy still lived. She lifted\nher worn face out of her hands and the tears chased each other\ndown her cheeks. They eased her throbbing brain, and she bade the\nchild go over it again, for of its first reading she had scarcely\nheard a word except the name. And now she learned that he was in\nAmerica. He had been left sick on shore, at the last voyage of\nhis ill-fated vessel, and escaped alive. Since then he had been\ntossed on every sea which bears a name, till, tired of the toil\nand danger, he had settled in the far-off mining regions of the\nwestern continent. He now sent for her and Mary to come out to\nhim, enclosing money and passage certificates for each, and\nsaying that in two month's time he hoped to have them both with\nhim in his new home. It was a long time before the old woman\ncould comprehend the message; but, when she once really\nunderstood that Bernard was alive, she would have started on the\ninstant to reach her boy. Her idea of the distance was, that\nAmerica lay somewhere out beyond Dromore, as far, perhaps, as\nthat was from Easky, and it was with difficulty that the\nneighbors, who came flocking in when the news went flitting up\nand down the street, could control her. Those who stayed with her\nthrough the night, and those who went back homeward, had settled\nit, however, before morning dawned, that, though the journey\nmight be fearful and the chances few, it was better she should go\nand perish by the way, than stay at home to grieve, and craze,\nand die.\n\nThere was not much preparation. Her cottage sold, her furniture\ndistributed among her friends, the other passage-paper given to a\nwoman in Dromore, who eagerly grasped the chance of going out to\nseek her husband, and Bridget Davanagh left Easky and its graves\nfor ever. The emigrant best knows the weariness and hardship of a\nsteerage passage in a crowded ship, and this old and worn-out\nwoman endured them as a thousand others, old and feeble, have\ndone since then and before. But the long voyage had an end some\ntime, and, in a day after the ship was moored at New York\nwharves, the mother had found her son. He had a cabin built and\nfurnished, deep in the wild gorge of a mountain, out of whose\nsides the glittering anthracite was torn by hundreds of tons a\nday; and here he took her to live and care for him. Not a face\naround her that she ever saw before; the dialect of their\nlanguage so differing from her own that she could only here and\nthere make out a word; Bernard himself grown up into a tall,\nstout, burly man, black with dust and reeking with soot and oil,\nshe longed almost fiercely for her home by the green sea, and\nwished herself back again a score of times a day.\n{396}\nWhen her homesickness wore off, as it slowly did, and she formed\nnew acquaintances, and grew familiar with the scenes around her;\nabove all, when she began to realize the comforts which the new\nworld gave beyond the old--she became reconciled to her strange\nlife, and seemed almost herself again. Only when, now and then,\nher spite and hatred to the name of Herican broke out again did\nher mind reel with its fury; otherwise, she was more like Bridget\nDavanagh in her early days of second widowhood than she had been\nfor years.\n\nMeanwhile, of Michael Herican. He had married Kitty Moran, as the\nEasky story said. It was, on his part, an act of sheer despair.\nNot that he did not love her. His passion had grown stronger and\nmore absorbing every hour, and she well returned it. But it was\nno calm conclusion of his judgment that led him to unite his life\nwith hers. It was more like the suicide of a felon who sees his\nfate before him, but would rather die by his own free act,\nto-day, than anticipate inevitable death to-morrow. When the\nWidow Moran \"went to her own place,\" her fortune fell to them. He\nopened a little store, and, for a while, life, cheered by\nbusiness, seemed more bearable; but misfortune followed him and,\nby one loss and another, both his credit and his stock were\nsacrificed. Honest to the last farthing, he stripped himself of\neverything to pay his debts, and turned himself and his young\nwife, to whom privation had ever been a stranger, into the\nstreets--to work, or beg, or starve. Then, for a time, he went to\nsea; but the lone hours of watchful idleness upon the deep gave\nhim too many opportunities for recollection, and he could not\nendure it. As a common hireling he worked about the docks, and\nearned by this chance toil a meagre pittance for the bare\nnecessities of life. But he could not settle permanently to\nanything. Of good abilities, with strong arms and a willing\nheart, it was this mental burden only which unmanned him, and\nthis pursued him everywhere and always, like an avenging ghost.\nThen he began to wander. From Sligo they went to Ballina, and\nthence to Galway, and thence to Dublin, living awhile in each,\nbut evermore a restless, wavering, aimless man. His poor wife\nsuffered fearfully. Deprived of all the comforts she had ever\nknown, and cut down sometimes to a mere apology for food and\nclothing, she rued the day when she was born; but she never\nblamed her husband. Through all, she clung to him faithfully; and\nwhen she found herself, at last, in the lowest portion of the\ncapital, and living among those whose touch in other days would\nhave been infection, however else she murmured, it was never\nagainst him. They stayed in Dublin for a year and more. A child\nwas born there, but it soon died from exposure and insufficient\nfood, and this made the mother's heart uneasy, and she longed to\nmove. A berth fell in his way on board a homeward-bound Canadian\ntimber-ship, and he agreed to go. He also paid the passage of his\nwife with labor, and, in due time, their weary feet were standing\non the shores of a new world, ready for other journeys and,\nperhaps, better paths.\n\n{397}\n\nBut it did not so eventuate. He was the same man still, though\nunder other skies. There was a doom upon him. His family grew on\nhis hands and opened in his heart new chambers of affection, but\nthey could give no ballast to his brain. He could not anchor\nanywhere. The weird ship that sails up and down antarctic seas in\nan eternal voyage is no more harborless than was he. He fought\nthe forests, axe in hand, and smote down many pillars of the\nolden fane. He toiled on board the river-craft that drift to and\nfro upon the broad St. Lawrence. He was a stevedore in Quebec, a\nlaborer in Montreal. So he worked on from one town to another,\nfretting away his own existence, wearing out the health and\nstrength of his devoted wife, until he reached the \"States,\" and,\nby some mysterious fatality, came into the very village where\nBernard Davanagh and his mother lived. Here he found work\ncongenial to his tastes. The dark gloom of the long tunnels\nunderground, the ghastly lamps, and, more than all, the exciting\ndanger of the labor, kept his mind on the stretch and drowned his\nmemory more effectually than it had ever been before. He did not\nknow the nearness of Mary Carrol's mother. He would as soon have\ndreamed of meeting his dead children in the street as her, and\nhis work late and early kept him out of sight, so that they did\nnot hear of him.\n\nBut it happened on one Sunday morning, as he went to Mass in the\ngreat town, two miles away, that he heard the name of \"Bernard\"\ncalled by some one in the throng. He looked anxiously around him,\nand had no difficulty in recognizing, in the features of the man\naddressed, the son of the detested Bernard Davanagh of his youth.\nHad he not known the contrary, he might have thought it that very\nfather stepped out of his grave. The recognition was not mutual,\nbut the unquiet heart of Michael Herican reeked little of the\nsacrifice that day, for thinking where this new phase of his life\nwould end. He feared no bodily injury. He had not lost his animal\ncourage by his sufferings. But he felt like Orestes at the\nbanquet, when he dispels with wine the knowledge of the\never-present furies, and then suddenly beholds the gorgon face\npressed closely up to his. He saw in this an omen that, go where\nhe would, the wrongs of Mary Carrol must live on outside him, as\nthey did within.\n\nHow Bridget Davanagh and her son became aware that Michael\nHerican and his family were near them, it is of little\nconsequence to know. When they did find it out, however, it was\nan evil greater in its results to them than to their enemy.\nBernard had warmly espoused his mother's hatred, and added to it\nthe natural fierceness of his own disposition. The discovery of\nher child's betrayer, and an occasional glimpse of him as he went\nby, revived all the old woman's vengefulness, and aggravated it\nbeyond control. If Kathleen Herican had known all this, sick of\nher wandering life as she might be, she would not have stayed\nnear them for a single hour. But she did not know it. Bernard and\nBridget she had never seen in Easky, and Michael never told her\nthey were here. Thus she, at least, lived on unconsciously, while\nvengeance sharpened its relentless sword for retribution, and\nhung it by an ever-weakening hair over the head of him she loved\nmost of all.\n\nUp to the morning of the fatal day no word or sign had passed\nbetween Michael Herican and either of the Davanaghs. But, as he\nwent by to his work that morning, they both stood in their cabin\ndoor. The old woman could not resist the impulse to curse him as\nhe passed her, and Bernard was as ready with his malison as she.\n{398}\nMichael turned up the path that led toward them, and tried to\nspeak in friendliness, but they would not hear him. At last,\nexasperated by their violence and abuse, he told the mother she\nwas mad--mad as her daughter had been before her. It was a cruel\nword for him to speak, cruel for them to hear; but he did not\nmean it. It smote upon him as he hurried off to his work, and the\nimage of the dead Mary came back and upbraided him many times\nthat day. He left his work early, and went home. There was a\nstrange look in his eye which made the timid heart of Kathleen\nbeat faster when she saw it, and he was more than usually kind\nand tender to her and his child. His half-eaten supper over, he\ntook his woodman's basket, and went out to gather fagots for the\nmorning's fire. On his way home with others who had been on the\nlike errand, as he came opposite the Davanagh cottage, the mother\nand the son came out and rushed upon him. One struck him with a\nstone, and felled him to the earth. The other smote him with an\naxe, and cleft his skull. It was all over in an instant. Not a\nword was said. The horror-stricken neighbors stood aghast a\nmoment. When they came to their senses, Bernard Davanagh was\nclimbing up the mountain on the further side of the ravine, and\nBridget Davanagh, with bolted doors, kept ward in her devoted\nhouse alone.\n\nThey would have lifted Michael Herican from the roadside where he\nlay, but he was dead. The red blood oozed out of the gaping\nwound. It trickled on in narrow streamlets down the path. It\nclotted on the feet of men and women who came to gaze upon the\nmangled corpse. It stained the hands, and face, and garments of\nhis wife and baby as they lay sobbing and shrieking on his\npulseless breast. It dried up in the purple sunlight of the dying\nday, and soaked away into the dust and ashes of the trampled\nstreet.\n\nI have little else to tell. The circumstances of the story, as I\nheard them, piece by piece, left on my mind an impression which\nwould not let me stand by and do nothing. I was satisfied that,\nif not absolutely crazed, the murderess had acted in a moment of\nexceeding passion, no doubt resulting from the rankling words her\nvictim spoke to her on the morning of that day; and, in her\nunsettled state of mind, the ordinary presumptions of the law,\nthat passion cannot last, were not reliable. It seemed unjust, to\nme, that she should suffer the highest penalty known to our law,\nwhen probably her guilt was actually less than that of hundreds\nwhom a few years in the state prison give their due. I therefore\ndrew up a petition which the presiding judge and nearly all of\nthe convicting jury signed, praying a commutation of her sentence\nto imprisonment for life. The prayer was granted, and Bridget\nDavanagh lives and will die an inmate of the Eastern Penitentiary\nof Pennsylvania.\n\n-------\n\n{399}\n\n\n      The Philosophy Of Immigration.\n\nIt is strange that while so many of the most enlightened minds of\nthe country are engaged in the investigation of the mysteries of\nsocial and physical sciences, so few, if any, appear to give the\nleast attention to the phenomenon of American immigration; a\nstudy which is equal in importance to any that can come within\nthe purview of the economist, and of much more practical value to\nus, nationally, than most of the developments of nature,\nconsidered in her material aspect.\n\nThe researches of geologists and astronomers often supply us with\ncurious and pleasing discoveries, and the laws which regulate\ncommerce and labor, manufactures and capital, are doubtless well\nworth the attention of intelligent public men; but not more so\nthan the habits, qualifications, and destiny of the millions of\nforeigners who of late years have made their homes among us, and\nwho are still annually coming in myriads to our shores.\n\nIt may safely be said that neither ancient nor modern history\npresents a parallel to this American immigration. The emigration\nfrom the plains of Shinar was a dispersion of one people over the\nsurface of the globe, a disintegration of a nation into several\nfragments, each particle the nucleus of a separate and\nindependent race, speaking a peculiar tongue, and destined to\nestablish distinct laws and forms of religion. Ours is the\nconvergence of many peoples to one common centre, silently\narraying themselves under a uniform system of public polity,\nyielding up their own political predilections, and to a certain\nextent their creeds and language, and destined eventually to\nprofess one faith and speak one language. Subsequent migrations\nin the old world offer points as strikingly dissimilar as the\nfirst great exodus. Those were nothing else than succeeding waves\nof population borne from one portion of the earth to the other,\ngenerally preceded and heralded by fire and sword, and ending in\nthe subjugation and spoliation of the inhabitants of that country\nover which they swept with irresistible violence. Our immigrants,\non the contrary, come to us in detail, peaceably to enjoy the\nbenefits of our laws and to respect our institutions, with no\nthought of conquest but such as may be suggested by our yet\nuntilled fields of the west and our comparatively undeveloped\nmineral treasures.\n\nViewed in this light, our knowledge of the past gives no rules of\nguidance in our relations with this new and very important\nelement of our population, and it becomes the duty of every\npatriot jealous of the welfare and reputation of his land to draw\nlessons of wisdom from every-day, experience, in order to help\ndirect this perennial flood of life into the most proper and\nuseful channels. A country's true wealth lies primarily in its\npopulation; the product of its soil is its surest and most\npermanent concomitant. To give a helping hand and a word of cheer\nand advice to those future citizens and parents of citizens is\nthe common duty of humanity and patriotism; to protect them until\nsufficiently domiciled to be able to protect themselves, is the\nabsolute duty of our legislators.\n\n{400}\n\nThe city of New York, being the centre of the commerce of the\ncountry, is necessarily the objective point of European\nemigration, though many of our neighboring seaports receive their\nproportionate share of the precious human freight. It will be\nscarcely credited that in the space of twenty-one years, ending\nwith 1867, there arrived at this city alone no less than _three\nmillion eight hundred and thirty-two thousand four hundred and\nfour_ immigrants, or a number almost equal in amount to the\nentire white population of the country at the time of the\nRevolution. [Footnote 117] Those arrivals included natives of\nevery country in Europe, China, Turkey, Arabia, East and West\nIndies, South America, Mexico, and the lower British Provinces.\nEmigrants from Ireland and Germany were of course largely in\nexcess of all others. Until 1861, these two countries were nearly\nequally represented, the numbers from them for fourteen years\npreviously being respectively 1,107,034 and 979,575, or nearly\nfour fifths of the whole arrivals. Since that year the German\nelement has largely preponderated, and is now equal to one half\nthe entire immigration. England, Scotland, France, and\nSwitzerland follow next in rotation, the northern countries of\nEurope supplying a respectable number in proportion to their\nsparse population, and the southern countries, like Spain and\nPortugal, comparatively few.\n\n    [Footnote 117: We are indebted to Bernard Casserly, Esq., the\n    efficient General Superintendent under the Commissioners of\n    Emigration, for the following official report of arrivals at\n    Castle Garden:\n\n      1847,    129,062\n      1848,    189,176\n      1849,    220,791\n      1850,    212,603\n      1851,    289,601\n      1852,    300,992\n      1853,    284,945\n      1854,    319,223\n      1855,    136,233\n      1856,    142,342\n      1857,    183,773\n      1858,     78,589\n      1859,     79,322\n      1860,    105,162\n      1861,     65,539\n      1862,     76,306\n      1863,    167,844\n      1864,    182,396\n      1865,    196,352\n      1866,    233,418\n      1867,    242,730\n\n      Total,  3,832,404]\n\nIt were beyond the scope of this article to enter into an\nextended inquiry as to the cause of this unequal abandonment of\nnationality on the part of our new denizens. The misgovernment of\nIreland, which culminated in the terrible famine of 1846-7-8, and\nthe natural affinity of the people of that country for the\nadvantages afforded by free governments, will easily account for\nthe immensity of their numbers who have sought political and\nsocial independence in this republic; while the low rewards of\nlabor and the heavy burdens of taxation experienced by the German\nin his own home, form powerful incentives in his economical mind\nto change his condition and abandon the fatherland of which he is\nso justly proud. The same reasons, to a lesser extent perhaps,\noperate on Englishmen and Scotchmen, with the additional one of\nthe rapid growth of our infant manufactures requiring the\nexperience of the workmen of Leeds, Birmingham, and Glasgow.\nSpain and Portugal, the pioneers of immigration in former ages,\nthough now not essentially an emigrant people, as a general rule\nprefer Central and South America, where their languages are\nspoken and their religion universally established; while France,\nof all European countries the least disposed to colonization,\nhas, on account of political troubles, sent us many of her best\nmechanics, and Italy some of her finest artists.\n\nWith the influx of such vast unorganized masses of strangers,\nrepresenting all conditions, ages, and degrees, into one port,\nand considering the unusual trials and dangers of a long\nsea-voyage, it is not to be wondered at that a great amount of\nsickness and distress should be developed; but we are glad to\nknow that all that private benevolence and judicious legislation\ncould do has been done for the unfortunate.\n{401}\nRefuges for the destitute and hospitals for the sick have been\nestablished in this neighborhood. Employment for the idle, food\nfor the hungry, and transportation for the penniless have been\nprovided by the Commissioners of Emigration with a free and even\nprofuse liberality. Nearly thirty _per centum_of the total\narrivals, each year, have been thus benefited without any cost\nwhatever to the state, the money required being derived from a\nfund created mainly by a small commutation-tax on each emigrant\npassenger. Though this fund, as we have said, is especially\nintended for the protection and support of immigrants, a portion\nof it has necessarily been expended in the erection or purchase\nof valuable buildings, requisite for the purposes of the\ncommission, all of which will revert to the state when no longer\nrequired for their original objects.[Footnote 118]\n\n    [Footnote 118:  This property, besides some on Staten Island,\n    consists of one hundred and eight acres of land with water\n    rights, etc., on Ward's Island, in the East River, upon which\n    the commissioners have built very spacious and substantial\n    structures, such as five hospitals capable of accommodating\n    eight hundred patients; four houses of refuge for destitute\n    males and females; a nursery, lunatic asylum, and two\n    chapels, besides a number of residences for the officers of\n    these institutions, out-offices, etc.--_See Commissioners'\n    Report_, 1868.]\n\nBut this is not the only direct pecuniary advantage which we\nderive from immigration. In 1856 it was ascertained that the\naverage cash means of every person landing at Castle Garden was\nabout sixty-eight dollars, a sum which, considering the improved\ncondition of those who have since arrived, must amount to much\nmore _per capita_, still, taking the standard of that year,\nwe find that in twenty-one years over three hundred and twenty\nmillions of dollars have been brought to the country and put into\ndirect circulation. Its effect on our shipping interest will be\nappreciated when we learn  that during 1867 there were engaged in\nthe passenger business alone, at this port, two hundred and\nforty-five sailing vessels and four hundred and four steamships,\nrequiring large investments of capital and employing thousands of\nmen.\n\nIt would be impossible to estimate the indirect stimulus given to\nthe general interests of the Union by the acquisition of so much\nskilled labor and brawny muscle. We can see its developments,\nhowever, in the rapid rise of our towns and cities, the superior\ncondition of arts and manufactures, and the extraordinary\nincrease of our agricultural productions. Coming from so many\nlands, each heretofore celebrated for some peculiar excellence,\nthe European artisan, while he does not necessarily excel his\nAmerican fellow-workmen in the aggregate, contributes his special\nknowledge to the general stock of industrial information. The\nSwede brings his knowledge of metallurgy, the Englishman of\nwoolens, the Italian of silk; the German, of grape culture, and\nthe Frenchman, of those finer fabrics and arts of design for\nwhich his country has been so long famous. When the ancient\nGrecian sculptor designed to make a representation of the human\nform in all its perfection, he selected, it is said, six\nbeautiful living models, copying from each some member more\nperfect than the rest, and thus, by the combination of several\nexcellences, modelled a perfect and harmonious whole, in which\nwere combined grace, beauty, and harmony. So the republic,\navailing itself of the genius and skill which every country sends\nus so superabundantly, may attain that general superiority in the\narts of peace which was formerly divided among many nations.\n\n{402}\n\nThe destination of this flood of knowledge and strength forms not\nthe least interesting phase of this subject. From the data before\nus, we find that the State of New York retains about forty-four\nper cent; the Western States receive over twenty five; the Middle\nStates, eleven; the New England States, eight; the Pacific slope,\ntwo, and the Southern States a little less than two per cent, the\nresidue being scattered among various portions of the continent\noutside of our jurisdiction. The comparatively small number who\nhave sought homes in the South may be accounted for partly by the\noccurrence of our late civil war, but principally by the peculiar\norganization of labor in that section before the abolition of\nslavery. In [the] future we may expect a much greater percentage\nof people, particularly from Southern Europe, to assist in\ndeveloping the almost inexhaustible wealth of such states as\nGeorgia and Tennessee. It is to be regretted that no record has\nbeen kept of the nationalities and occupations of those who so\ninstinctively choose their favorite sections of our country; but\nour own everyday experience, and the laws of labor and climate,\nenable us to form a sufficiently accurate general opinion.\nIrishmen, though not adverse to agricultural pursuits, generally\nprefer large cities and towns, like those of New England, where\nskilled labor is least required in the production of fabrics. The\nGermans, on the contrary, though quite numerous in New York,\nPhiladelphia, and St. Louis, avoid New England, and prefer\nfarming in the Western States, in some of which they already form\na majority of the rural population. Englishmen are to be met with\neither in the Eastern factories or in the Atlantic cities,\nkeeping up a business connection with their countrymen at home.\nFrenchmen find a market for their superior mechanical skill amid\nthe luxury of large cities, and are seldom tillers of the soil,\nwhile a Welsh miner (if he do[es] not find his way to Salt Lake)\ngoes as naturally to Pennsylvania, and the slate quarries of New\nYork and Vermont, as the Swede and Norwegian do to the northern\nparts of Michigan and Wisconsin. The mode of emigration may have\nsomething to do with these selections. The continental nations,\nparticularly the Germans, understand migration better than their\ninsular neighbors, always leaving home in families and groups,\nand settling down in small colonies where, as in all new\ncountries, union is strength; but the inhabitants of Ireland and\nthe other islands of the United Kingdom too frequently emigrate,\none member of a family at a time, without system or organization,\nto the great disruption of those ties of relationship which are\nalways a bond of unity and a source of comfort, amid the\nhardships attendant on great changes of habitation.\n\nConsidering the various manners, habits, and opinions of so many\nnationalities, some of them, if not repugnant, at least strange\nto the native-born of America, the power of absorption possessed\nby the people of the United States is astonishing. Columbia,\ntaking to her ample bosom the fiery Celt and the phlegmatic\nTeuton, the self-asserting Briton and the _d\u00e9bonnaire_ Gaul,\nsmiles complacently at their peculiarities, or, remembering the\ngood qualities which underlie such eccentricities, waits\npatiently for time and example to cure them; and we venture to\nassert that the German feels himself as free to indulge in his\nnational games and festivals in New York or Buffalo as if he were\nin Vienna or Berlin, and the Irishman can dance as lively and\nattend a wake or a wedding with as light a heart, and as free\nfrom hindrance as if he had never left his own green isle.\n{403}\nIn justice, also, to the immigrant, it must be said that, once\nsettled in America, he gives to its government his hearty and\nunqualified allegiance, notwithstanding the occasional spasmodic\nattempts of a despicable few to subject him to ridicule and\nsocial ostracism. How many instances do we find of worthy men\nwho, having gained a competency here, acting upon that natural\nand beautiful love of native land, return to the homes of their\nchildhood to end their days, but who almost invariably return to\nus and the scenes of their manhood's toils and triumphs!\n\nThere are two other sources of accession to our population,\nindependent of that of acquisition of territory, which are worthy\nof notice. The first, of present importance, is the passage of\nour borders by natives of Lower Canada, and which, though now\nmore than usually remarkable, has been going on quietly but\nsteadily for at least a hundred years. [Footnote 119]\n\n    [Footnote 119: Five hundred French Canadians took passage at\n    Montreal, C. E., for the United States, in one week, during\n    March, 1869.]\n\nThe French Canadians are a decidedly _unique_ people.\nOriginally from Normandy, early deprived of the protection of\nFrance, and practically cut off from their fellow-countrymen by\nthe cessation of emigration, they have still retained all the\nprimitive simplicity, keenness, and hardiness of their ancestors.\nIncreasing in numbers with extraordinary rapidity, they have\ntenaciously adhered to their faith, language, and manners of\nlife, in face of the opposition of a dominant and intolerant\nmaster. They have not only, so far, held their own against\nEnglish laws and customs; but, despite the increase of British\ncolonists among them, they have nearly, if not altogether, kept\npace in numbers with the English-speaking inhabitants of the two\nCanadas. They have likewise constantly shot forth numerous hardy\noffshoots which have taken root and flourished in the far west.\nDetroit, La Salle, Dubuque, St. Louis, St. Paul, Sault Ste.\nMarie, and many other western centres of wealth and population,\nwere first selected and settled by those enterprising followers\nof Jacques Cartier and the missionary fathers, and their names\nare still honored in those places. Many of the later immigrants\nfrom Canada find employment in our seaboard cities, but the\nmajority either still seek the northwest, as being more congenial\nin climate, and offering more opportunities for that spirit of\nadventure which distinguishes the race, or go directly to\nCalifornia, where so many of the French people have already\nsettled.\n\nThe Chinese immigration to the Pacific coast is one of the most\nunaccountable events in the history of that section of our\ncountry, and one which may well attract serious public attention.\nThose people, remarkable for centuries for their ingenuity and\nindustry, as well as for their exclusiveness and dislike to\nforeigners, have at last crossed the Rubicon that confined them\nwithin the limits of the Celestial empire, and when we reflect\nthat that empire contains within itself nearly half the\npopulation of the world, we can readily suppose that a few\nmillions, more or less, transplanted to the new world would not\nvery perceptibly diminish its influence or strength. The Chinamen\nare represented as quiet and docile, economical in their way of\nliving, and working for small wages, and as being eminently\nadapted for the building of railroads, and the development of the\nmineral wealth with which nature has so lavishly enriched the\nterritory on both slopes of the Rocky Mountains, and, being as\nyet only a moiety of the population, are easily controlled. But,\nshould the tide of Asiatic emigration commence to flow freely\neastward, the gravest fears are entertained by many that it would\nlead either to the systematic oppression or even partial\nenslavement of the Chinese themselves, or to the deterioration of\nthe Caucasians of that beautiful region, soon destined to become\nthe garden of America.\n\n{404}\n\nTaking into account, however, the great adaptability of all\nclasses of immigrants in this country to the condition of affairs\nby which they find themselves surrounded, the fears of even a\nChinese invasion appear groundless. Every day and year bring with\nthem large accessions of energetic and healthy minds to the ranks\nof the native-born Americans--some the children of the sons of\nthe soil; others, of adopted citizens; but all American in spirit\nand purpose, no matter what their parentage. Even this uniformity\nextends to their _physique_, and it has been remarked by\nvisitors to our shores that the native-born boy or girl, however\ndissimilar the peculiar physical traits of their progenitors,\npresents strong points of resemblance in figure and face to each\nother. Something of this may be accounted for by food and\nclimate, training and association, but much more by the fact of\nthe admixture of races constantly going forward. The heavy\nfeatures of the northern European are more or less elongated and\nbrightened into thoughtful cheerfulness in his American child,\nwhile the angularity and pugnacity supposed to be characteristic\nof the Celtic countenance are reduced to finer lines of grace and\nrepose in their cis-Atlantic descendants.\n\nTaking American character as it stood at the beginning of this\ncentury, we cannot deny our admiration of its essential features,\nthough many of its details were susceptible of improvement. Our\nstateliness had a tendency to what is now generally called\nPuritanism, and our simplicity was apt to degenerate into\nparsimoniousness. Our ancestors wanted a little more breadth of\nview, a little leaven of the poetry of life to mix with its stern\nrealities, and a great deal more love for innocent amusements,\nand taste for the fine arts, which make man feel more kindly to\nhis fellow, and raise him so high above irrational animals.\nImmigration has done much for us in this way, and we have done\nsomething for ourselves. If we have extended to the strangers\nwithin our gates hospitality, protection, and the rewards of\nlabor, they have paid us with the sculpture of Italy, the music\nof Germany, the melodies of Ireland, and the fashions of France.\nIt has not only done this, but it has reproduced and naturalized\nthe love for them, and made them \"racy of the soil.\" But what is\nof more importance than all, it has efficiently helped the spread\nof true religious faith over this portion of the continent. True,\nthere were Catholics and very good ones here, even in colonial\ntimes; but they were few in number, and so scattered over the\ncountry that they were in constant danger either of losing their\nfaith for want of spiritual ministration or were powerless to\nassert their proper position before the opposing sects. We have\nnow not only numbers, but the influence that flows from numbers,\nand generously and judiciously has our immigrant population used\nthe power inherent in it. During the late civil strife which so\nafflicted our country, and endangered the Union, citizens by\nadoption vied with citizens by birth in defence of our\ninstitutions, and in their contributions to works of piety,\ncharity, and education they have been so profuse that to others\nthe results of their charities seem little short of miraculous.\n{405}\nEven those who have come among us of a different creed, or no\ncreed at all, have here a better opportunity of learning the\ntruth than they have had in their own countries. Unfettered by\nstatecraft or sectional laws, the Catholic priesthood have a\nfield of labor in America such as the whole of Europe cannot\npresent, and an audience composed of as many races as the sons of\nAdam represent. Realizing the great things done by our\nimmigrants, and what may yet be expected from them, we hope to\nsee their protection and welfare occupy a portion, at least, of\nthe attention of our national and state authorities. But it is\nnot enough that the law has so completely thrown its protecting\nshield over them. Individual charity can do much to supply the\ndeficiencies which every general law presents. In the city of New\nYork, especially, where a great deal has already been done by the\ncommissioners to whose especial care the immigrants are entrusted\nby law, much remains still to be performed, in view of the\nhundreds of thousands of strangers who may annually be expected\namong us, for the next decade, at least.\n\n----------\n\n              Vigil.\n\n\n                I.\n\n  Mournful night is dark around me,\n    Hushed the world's conflicting din;\n  All is still and all is tranquil--\n    But this restless heart within!\n\n\n                II.\n\n    Wakeful still I press my pillow,\n      Watch the stars that float above,\n    Think of _One_ for me who suffered;\n      Think, and weep for grief and love!\n\n                III.\n\n  Flow, ye tears, though in your streaming\n    Oft yon stars of his grow dim!\n  Sweet the tender grief _he_ wakens,\n    Blest the tears that flow for him!'\n\n                          Richard Storrs Willis.\n\n-------\n\n{406}\n\n          The Geography of Roses.\n\n\nWherever man has found a dwelling-place, bounteous nature has\nconferred on him not only the necessaries of life, but a share\nalso of its pleasures. From \"sultry India to the pole,\" the\nuseful and the beautiful are met with side by side. The bright\npoppy and the blue cornflower rise with the wheat-ear in the same\nbroad field; the sweet-smelling amaryllis and the delicate iris\nunfold their variegated petals among the thick stalks of the\nAfrican maize, while the marsh-rose and the water-lily float on\nthe surface of the waters that inundate the rice-grounds of Egypt\nand India.\n\nIt is evident that nature regards these fair blossoms as\nindispensable to man's happiness as those other more substantial\ngifts are to his comfort and existence; and so, with lavish hand,\nshe scatters them on the mountain and in the valley, amidst\nplains of burning sand, or half-buried in snow and ice.\n\n  \"Floral apostles! that in dewy splendor\n      Weep without woe, and blush without a crime,\n   Oh! may I deeply learn, and ne'er surrender,\n                Your law sublime.\n\n  \"Not useless are ye, flowers! though made for pleasure.\n      Blooming o'er field and wave, by day and night,\n    From every source your sanction bids me treasure\n                Harmless delight.\n\n  \"Ephemeral sages! what instructors hoary\n      For such a world of thought could furnish scope?\n   Each fading calyx a _memento mori_,\n                Yet fount of hope.\"\n\nThe rose, fairest of the floral train, has been said by some\nbotanists to take its birth in Asia. \"The east, the cradle of the\nfirst man,\" writes a French author, \"is also the native place of\nthe rose; the flowery hillsides near the chain of the frowning\nCaucasus were the first spots on earth adorned with this charming\nshrub.\" We do not incline to this opinion, for the researches of\nscience have proved that the lovely flower is found in every\nclime, from the arctic circle to the torrid zone, and that under\nevery sun it seems to be endowed with some different grace. The\nsame species is sometimes met with over a whole continent;\nanother is unknown beyond the limits of a certain province; while\nanother again never leaves the mountain or dale where it first\nshed its sweetness on the air. Thus Pollin's rose (_rosa\nPollinaria_) is never found but at the foot of Monte Baldo in\nItaly, nor the Lyon rose (_rosa Lyonii_) out of the State of\nTennessee; while the field-rose (_rosa arvensis_) trails its\nlong branches and clusters of white flowers all over Europe, and\nthe dog-rose (_rosa canina_) displays its pale pink petals\nand scarlet hips, not only throughout Europe, but also in\nnorthern Asia and a part of America.\n\nSo numerous, indeed, are the varieties of this favorite of\nnature, that we will not attempt to describe all that are\npeculiar to each country; we will confine our attention to those\nonly most remarkable for their beauty, and most easy of culture.\n\nFirst on the list of American roses, and far away among the\neternal ice that covers the almost desert regions which lie\nbetween the seventieth and seventy-fifth degrees of north\nlatitude, blooms _rosa blanda_, the charming\n_soft-colored_ rose, which as soon as the sun has melted the\nsnow in the valleys opens its large corolla, always solitary on\nits graceful stem, to the warm breathings from the south.\n{407}\nWe can picture to ourselves the delight of the stunted,\namphibious Greenlander, when, the long months of the fierce\nwinter past, he suddenly meets the expanding blossom. He smiles\nas he remembers how his young wife mourned last year over the\ndeath of the flowers, and he plucks the first rose of Greenland's\nshort summer to carry back to her as a proof that she must ever\nhope and trust.\n\n  \"Why must the flowers die?\n         Prisoned they lie\n   In the cold tomb, heedless of tears and rain.\n         O doubting heart!\n      They only sleep below\n      The soft white ermine snow:\n      While winter winds shall blow,\n    To breathe and smile on you again!\"\n\n_Rosa blanda's_ nearest neighbor is the pretty _rosa\nrap_ of Hudson's Bay, whose slender, graceful branches are\nladen in the early summer with corymbs of pale pink double\nflowers. Nature herself has doubled _rosa rapa's_ sweet\ncorolla, as if she had foreseen that the wandering tribes of\nEsquimaux who inhabit those inclement shores would have too much\nto do in their never-ending struggle to pick up a precarious\nexistence ever to busy themselves with the culture of the cold,\nunyielding soil.\n\n_Rosa blanda_ and _rosa rapa_ are still at home in\nLabrador and Newfoundland, but with them two remarkable\nvarieties--the ash-leaved rose, (_rosa fraxinifolia_,) with\nsmall red heart-shaped petals, and the lustrous rose, (_rosa\nnitida_,) which shelters its brilliant red cup-like flower and\nfruit beneath the scraggy trees that grow sparsely along the\ncoast. The lustrous rose is a great favorite with the young\nEsquimaux maidens, who dress their black hair with its shining\ncups, and wear bunches of it, \"embowered in its own green\nleaves,\" in the bosom of their seal-skin robes.\n\nThe United States possess a great number of different roses. At\nthe foot of almost every rocky acclivity we meet the rose with\ndiffuse branches, (_rosa diffusa_,) whose pink flowers,\ngrowing in couples on their stem, appear at the beginning of the\nsummer. On the slopes of the Pennsylvanian hills blooms the\nsmall-flowered rose, (_rosa parviflora_,) an elegant little\nspecies bearing double flowers of the most delicate pink; it may\nfairly vie in beauty with all other American roses. In most of\nthe Middle States, on the verge of the \"mossy forests, by the\nbee-bird haunted,\" we find the straight-stemmed rose, (_rosa\nstricta_,) with light red petals, and the brier-leaved rose,\n(_rosa rubifolia_,) with small, pale red flowers, growing\ngenerally in clusters of three.\n\nThe silken rose (_rosa setigera_) opens its great red\npetals, shaped like an inverted heart, beneath the \"cloistered\nboughs\" of South Carolina's woods, and in Georgia the magnificent\nsmooth-leaved rose, (_rosa loevigata_,) known in its native\nwilds as the Cherokee rose, climbs to the very summit of the\ngreat forest trees, then swings itself off in festoons of large\nwhite flowers glancing like stars amidst their glossy, dark green\nleaves.\n\nWhen we leave the hills and woodlands, we find the marshes of the\nCarolinas gay with the _rosa evratina_, the _rosa\nCarolina_, and the _rosa lucida_, the resplendent rose,\nwhose corymbs of brilliant red flowers overtop the reeds among\nwhich they love to blossom; while, nearer to the setting sun, we\nsee the pink petals of Wood's rose (_rosa Woodsii_)\nreflected in the waters of the great Missouri.\n\nThe last American rose we shall note in this slight sketch is the\nrose of Montezuma, (_rosa Montezumae_,) a solitary,\nsweet-scented, pale red flower with defenceless branches. It was\ndiscovered by Humboldt and Bonpland on the elevated peaks of the\nCerro Ventoso, in Mexico, and is perhaps the very rose of which\nthe unhappy Guatimozin thought when writhing on his bed of\nburning charcoal.\n\n{408}\n\nThese are some of the species yet known to belong peculiarly to\nthe western hemisphere; but it is highly probable that many\nothers remain still to be discovered. When we remember the\nprodigality with which nature lavishes her gifts, we cannot\nbelieve that while France alone possesses twenty-four varieties\nof roses, all described by De Candolle in his _Flore\nFran\u00e7aise_, the great American continent owns but fifteen.\n\nWe will commence our European rose search in that most\nunpromising of all spots, Iceland; there, where volcanic fire and\npolar ice seem to dispute possession of the unhappy soil. So\nscarce is every kind of vegetation in this rude clime, that the\nmiserable inhabitants are frequently compelled to feed their\ncows, sheep, and horses on dried fish. And yet even here, growing\nfrom the fissures of the barren rocks, a solitary cup-shaped rose\nopens its pale petals to the transient sunbeams of summer. This\nhardy little plant is, as its name, _rosa spinosissima_,\nindicates, covered all over with prickles. Its cream-colored\nflowers, numerous and solitary, are sometimes tinged with pink on\nthe outside, and its fruit, at first red, becomes perfectly black\nwhen ripe.\n\nIn Lapland, too, a country almost as disinherited by nature as\nIceland, the pretty little May rose (_rosa ma\u00efalis_) expands\nits bright red corolla even before the tardy sun has melted away\nall the snow that has covered it during nine long months. A\nlittle later on, in the full blush of the short summer, \"when the\npine has a fringe of softer green,\" the Lapp maidens gather the\nblood-red flowers of the _rosa rubella_ among the stunted\ntrees whose parasitical mosses and lichens afford a scanty\nnourishment to the flocks of reindeer, sole riches of the land.\n\nThe May rose is also found in Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and\nRussia, together with the cinnamon rose (_rosa cinnamomea_,)\nand several other species.\n\nEngland claims ten indigenous roses, many of them, however,\nexceedingly difficult to distinguish from each other. The most\ncommon is the dog-rose or Eglantine, found in every hedge and\nthicket, and very precious to rose-cultivators, its elegant,\nstraight, vigorous stems being admirable for receiving grafts.\nThe light pink corolla is slightly perfumed. In olden times the\nscarlet fruit was made into conserve, and highly esteemed in\ntarts, but it seems now to be abandoned to the birds. The _rosa\narvensis_, a small shrub with long trailing branches and white\nflowers, and the burnet-leaved rose, which resembles the _rosa\nspinosissima_ of Iceland, are also very frequently met. But\nthe pride of the southern counties is the _rosa rubiginosa_,\nthe true sweet-briar, with deep pink petals and leaves of the\nmost delicious fragrance; a flower that seems to belong as\npeculiarly to the soft English spring as the primrose and violet,\nand like them to be emblematic of the English girl, delicate in\nher beauty, modest and retiring in her garb and manners, and\ndiffusing around her an atmosphere of gentle sweetness. Such, at\nleast, was the English girl five-and-twenty years ago; it is said\nthat hoops and boots and croquet have produced strange changes.\nAlas! that simplicity and modesty and sweetness should ever go\nout of fashion.\n\n{409}\n\nIn the Scotch fir-woods is found the rose with rolled petals,\n(_rosa involuta_.) The large flowers are red and white, and\nthe remarkably sombre leaves when rubbed between the fingers give\nforth a strong smell of turpentine, an odor the plant has\nprobably acquired from the resinous trees that shelter it. All\nthe rugged mountains of Scotland possess their roses; the _rosa\nsabini_, with clustering flowers, and the villous or hairy\nrose, (_rosa villosa_,) with white or deep red, are the most\nworthy of notice.\n\nIt is only in the environs of Belfast that we encounter the Irish\nrose, (_rosa hibernica_,) a species somewhat resembling both\nthe _spinosissima_ and the _canina_. The other roses of\nbeautiful Ireland are identical with those of England.\n\nThe fields and forests of France have been richly endowed with\nnature's favorite flower. Our now well-known friend _canina_\nflourishes there also in every hedge and by every wood-side,\ntogether with a pretty white rose, (_rosa alba_,) which has\nbeen very successfully cultivated in gardens. The smiling\nhill-sides around Dijon are gay with the lovely little crimson\ndouble flowers of the rose of Champagne, (_rosa\nparviflora;_) and, in the south, the yellow rose (_rosa\neglantaria_) and its varieties surpass all others in the\nrichness of their coloring; their petals sometimes gleaming with\nthe brightest gold, sometimes deepening into a brilliant orange\nred, sometimes reproducing both hues in vivid flecks and streaks.\nThe woods of Auvergne are bedecked with the small red solitary\ncorollas of the cinnamon rose, (_rosa cinnamomea_,) so\ncalled from the color of its stalks; and in the department of the\neastern Pyrenees the musk-rose blooms spontaneously in\nmagnificent corymbs. This exquisitely scented species is also\nextensively cultivated for its aromatic essential oil; one of its\nkindred is the nutmeg rose, a pretty flower that smells of the\nspice.\n\nThe Province rose, so often remarkable for its variegated petals\nof white, crimson, and pink, is a variety of the rose of France,\n(_rosa gallica_,) a species that has given horticulturists a\ngreat number of beautiful offshoots.\n\nCrossing the Pyrenean mountains, we again meet with the\nmusk-rose, but this time in close companionship with the rose of\nSpain, (_rosa hispanica_,) whose bright red petals expand in\nthe month of May.\n\nIn the Balearic Islands the climbing branches of the evergreen\nrose (_rosa semper-virens_,) are seen constantly arrayed in\nlustrous green leaves mingled with innumerable white perfumed\nflowers. This beautiful rose is also found in other parts of the\nsouth of Europe, and in Barbary.\n\nWe have already mentioned Polin's rose, a sweet Italian blossom\nwhich never strays from the foot of Monte Baldo, in the\nneighborhood of Verona. Its large crimson corollas open in\nhandsome clusters.\n\nSicily and Greece possess the gluey rose, (_rosa\nglutinosa,_) a small, red, solitary flower, with glandular,\nviscous leaflets.\n\nGermany is poorer in native roses than any other part of Europe;\nnevertheless nowhere do the blossoms of the field-rose display\nsuch beauty, unless, indeed, among the mountains of Switzerland.\nNowhere else are they so large, so deeply tinted, and\n_double_. Germany also gives birth to the curious turbinated\nrose, (_rosa turbinata_,) whose double corolla rests on a\ntop-shaped ovary.\n\nThe whole chain of the Alps abounds with roses. The field-rose,\nand the ruby-red Alpine rose, (_rosa alpina_,) an elegant\nshrub which has contributed many esteemed varieties to our\ngardens, bloom in admirable luxuriance in every forest glade and\nmountain dingle; while the red-leaved rose, (_rosa\nrubrifolia_,) with red stalks and dark red petals, stands out\nin the summer landscape, a charming contrast to the green foliage\nof the surrounding trees.\n\n{410}\n\nThe leaves of another species growing among the pines and firs of\nthese elevated regions, the rose with prickly leaflets, (_rosa\nspinulifolia_,) emit when rubbed the same odor of turpentine\nthat we have already noticed in the _rosa involuta_of\nScotland. It is singular to observe that the only two roses we\nknow with this smell are both natives of pine-covered mountains.\n\nThe east has for ages been esteemed the home of flowers; almost\nas soon as we can lisp, we are taught that\n\n  \"In eastern lands they talk with flowers,\n     And they tell in a garland their loves and cares;\n   Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers\n     On its leaves a mystic language bears.\"\n\nAnd in joyous youth who has not dreamed of that \"bower of roses\nby Bendemeer's stream,\" so sweetly sung by the Irish bard? The\nvery name of India reminds one of Nourmahal and of that most\nenchanting of all feasts, \"the feast of roses.\"\n\nIt will then scarcely surprise any one to be told that Asia, the\nbirthplace of the great human family, is also the birthplace of\nmore varieties of roses than all the other parts of the world put\ntogether. Thirty-nine species have been discovered indigenous to\nthis favored portion of the globe, fifteen of which belong to the\nChinese empire.\n\nOne of the prettiest of these fifteen is the Lawrence rose,\n(_rosa Lawrenceana_,) a fairy-like bush, six inches high,\nwith flowers not much larger than a silver dime, blooming all the\nyear round. By the side of this pigmy tree, which we must not\nforget to observe is remarkable for the symmetry of its\nproportions, is often found the many-flowered rose, (_rosa\nmultiflora_,) whose flexible branches, rising sometimes to the\nheight of sixteen feet, are covered in the early summer with\nmagnificent clusters of pale pink double flowers.\n\nAmong the many double Chinese roses, the small-leaved one\n(_rosa microphylla_) is highly prized and most assiduously\ncultivated in its native land. Its delicate foliage and pale pink\nvery double flowers are well known also to the rose-fanciers of\nthe United States. Another beautiful variety, the _rosa\nBanksiae_, climbs the rocky fells of China, hiding their\nrugged barrenness with a living curtain of verdure, enamelled\nwith multitudes of little drooping flowers of a yellowish white,\nwhich exhale the sweet odor of violets.\n\nCochin-China, with these same species, lays claim to two others\nthat we must notice; the very thorny rose, (_rosa\nspinosissima_,) with scentless flesh-colored petals, and the\nwhite rose, (_rosa alba_,) which we also find indigenous in\nFrance, Lombardy, and other parts of Europe. Japan, besides the\nroses of China, possesses the _rosa rugosa_, the only one\npeculiar to the clime.\n\nPassing on to Hindostan, we may believe that the tiger which\nprowls along the burning shores of the Bay of Bengal ofttimes\ncrouches under the boughs blooming with the lovely white corollas\nof the many-bracted rose (_rosa involucrata_) to make his\ndeadly spring, and that the crocodiles of the Ganges find secure\nhiding-places to lie in wait for their prey, beneath the\never-succeeding red blossoms and never-fading luxuriant foliage\nof the _rosa semperflorens_. How often, all the world over,\nare sweetest things but lurking-places for pain and death!\n\n{411}\n\nAmong the hills of the peninsula we meet the large-leaved rose,\n(_rosa macrophylla_,) the tips of whose white petals are\neach stained with a small bright red spot; and on the margin of\nthe sunny lakes of cool Cashmere, the milk-white flowers of\nLyell's rose, (_rosa Lyellii_,) a beautiful species that has\nbeen successfully acclimatized in France.\n\nIn the gardens of Kandahar, Samarcand, and Ispahan the rose\n_tree_ (_rosa arborea_) is cultivated; a real tree,\nwith wide-spreading branches, covered in the spring with snowy\nflowers of the richest perfume, making fragrant the surrounding\nhill and dales. In Persia we also find the barberry-leaved rose,\n(_rosa berberifolia_,) a singular variety which displays a\nstar-like yellow corolla marked in the centre with a deep crimson\nstain. So unlike is this flower to all others of the family that\none feels almost inclined to deny its claim to any relationship\nwith the queen of flowers. Science, however, has decided that the\n_rosa berberifolia_ is a true rose.\n\nFurther on to the west, beneath \"the sultry blue of Syria's\nheaven,\" we encounter the lovely corymbs of the damask rose,\n(_rosa damascena_,) with crimson velvet or variegated petals\nand gold-colored stamens. It is said that the valiant knights who\naccompanied the French king Saint Louis to the Crusades brought\nback with them to France this beautiful flower, an ever-living\nwitness of their prowess in the Holy Land. It is as beloved by\nthe honey-bees of Europe as its wilder sisters on the sweet banks\nof Jordan have ever been by the blossom-rifling rovers of\nPalestine.\n\nAs the rose-seeker wanders forth from Syria toward the north he\nis arrested for a moment by the vivid yellow double flowers of\nthe _rosa sulfurea_, but has scarcely time to admire them,\ngraceful though they be, before he catches sight of the loveliest\nand most fragrant of all roses, the _rosa centifolia_, the\nhundred-leaved rose, the rose of the nightingale, the rose of the\npoet!\n\n      \"Rose! what dost thou here?\n         Bridal, royal rose!\n       How, 'midst grief and fear,\n         Canst thou thus disclose\n   That fervid hue of love which to thy heart-leaf glows?\n\n      \"Smilest thou, gorgeous flower?\n         Oh! within the spells\n       Of thy beauty's power\n         Something dimly dwells\n   At variance with a world of sorrows and farewells.\n\n       \"All the soul forth-flowing\n          In that rich perfume,\n        All the proud life glowing\n\t  In that radiant bloom,\n   Have they no place but _here_, beneath th' o'ershadowing tomb?\n\n       \"Crown'st thou but the daughters\n          Of our tearful race?\n        Heaven's own purest waters\n\t  Well might wear the trace\n   Of thy consummate form, melting to softer grace.\n\n        \"Will that clime enfold thee\n           With immortal air?\n\t Shall we not behold thee\n\t   Bright and deathless there?\n   In spirit-lustre clothed, transcendently more fair!\"\n\nThe valleys of Circassia and Georgia are the birthplace of this\nmost beautiful of flowers, of whose exquisite form, color, and\nperfume even Mrs. Hemans's rapturous verses can give no idea.\n\nThe fierce rose (_rosa ferox_) is sometimes found mingling\nits great red flowers with those of _rosa centifolia_, and\nthe pulverulent rose (_rosa pulverulenta_) dwells near them\non the declivities of the Peak of Manzana.\n\nAs we hasten on through the dreary steppes of Russian Asia, we\nmeet the sad-looking yellowish rose, dismal in aspect as the land\nit lives in, and more remarkable for its great pulpy hip than for\nits flower. A little nearer to the north, the handsome,\nlarge-flowered rose (_rosa grandiflora_) expands its elegant\ncorolla in the form of an antique vase, and on the plains lying\nat the foot of the Ural mountains the reddish rose, (_rosa\nrubella_,) with petals sometimes rich and deep in color, but\nmore often faint and faded-looking, gladdens for a moment the\nheart-sore Polish exile as he wends his weary way to his living\ngrave, faint and faded-looking as the flower that reminds him of\nhis distant home.\n\n{412}\n\nDespite the cold breath of the frozen ocean, the acicular rose\n(_rosa acicularis_) lives and thrives on its shores, and\nregularly opens its pale-red solitary blossoms at the first call\nof the short-lived Siberian summer. The icy breezes of the frigid\nzone may have done much, however, toward developing the\nill-natured tendency to long, needle-like thorns to which this\nrose owes its uncouth name.\n\nOmitting ten or twelve other varieties, we will conclude the list\nof the indigenous roses of Asia with the rose of Kamtschatka,\n(_rosa Kamtschatica_,) a beautiful solitary flower of a\npinkish white color, and bearing some resemblance to the _rosa\nrugosa_ of Japan.\n\nThe roses of Africa are still to be discovered; its vast\nunexplored regions perhaps contain many as beautiful as those we\npossess, but at present we are only acquainted with four or five\nspecies, one of which, the dog-rose, so common all over Europe,\nis a native of Egypt. Among the mountains of Abyssinia blooms a\npretty red variety with evergreen foliage, and on the borders of\nthat \"wild expanse of lifeless sand,\" the great Sahara in Egypt,\nand on the plains of Tunis and of Morocco, the corymbs of the\nwhite musk-rose (_rosa moschata_) perfume the ambient air.\nThis charming flower is also indigenous to the Island of Madeira.\n\nWe have thus taken a bird's-eye view of the rose's\n_habitat_, passing over much of interesting, much of curious\nthat has been written about the favorite flower. We might go on\nand mention the singular and marvellous virtues attributed to it\nby the ancients; we might (were we learned) learnedly discourse\non the Island of Rhodes, whose coins are found bearing the effigy\nof the rose; of the rose-noble, and the old English fashion of\nwearing a rose behind the ear; we might describe the gardens of\nGhazipour and the whole process of extracting the delicious attar\nof roses; we might hint at the mysterious influence the scented\nblossom appears to exercise over some strangely organized\nindividuals, who seem capable \"of dying of a rose, in aromatic\npain;\" but we prefer to conclude here our sketch of the geography\nof roses.\n\nUnlearned and superficial as we well know it is, it may show some\npleasant meanings to the young lover of flowers, and awaken his\ncuriosity to examine for himself the floral treasures that bloom\nin every field, garden, and grove. Such a study will do more\ntoward filling his heart with a spirit of love and peace, and\nelevating his mind above purely material cares, than any other\npursuit; for\n\n  \"Where does the Wisdom and the Power divine\n   In a more bright and sweet reflection shine?\"\n\n\"From nature up to nature's God\" is the natural result of all\nscientific investigations which are carried on with a real\ncapacity of observation and a sincere love of truth. Feeling and\nthought, purified and sanctified by constant intercourse with the\nhigh objects of life, with the enduring things of nature, fail\nnot to recognize the \"Wisdom and the Spirit of the universe\" in\nhis works.\n\n   \"Were I, O God! in churchless lands remaining,\n      Far from all voice of teachers or divines,\n    My soul would find, in flowers of thy ordaining,\n      Priests, sermons, shrines!\"\n\n----------\n\n{413}\n\n     Spanish Life and Character. [Footnote 120]\n\n       [Footnote 120: _Impressions of Spain_. By Lady\n       Herbert. New York:  The Catholic Publication Society.\n       1869.\n\n       _Letters from Spain_. By William Cullen Bryant. 12mo.\n       New York: D.  Appleton & Co.\n\n       _Voyage en Espagne_. Par M. Eug\u00e8ne Poitou. 8vo, pp.\n       483. Tours: A. Mame et Fila. 1869.]\n\nLady Herbert strikes the key-note of her narrative of Spanish\ntravel about the middle of the book. \"Catholicism in Spain,\" she\nremarks, \"is not merely the religion of the people: _it is\ntheir life_.\" Precisely because she feels this life, and,\ndespite her English common sense, sympathizes with the Spanish\npeople in their strong religious sentiment, she describes them\nwith a rare fidelity, and gives us, if not a highly colored, a\nvery vivid picture. No traveller who is not a Catholic can paint\nSpain as she is. Mr. Bryant looked at the people with a kindly\neye; but he did not understand them. From him, as well as from\nthe common run of English and American tourists, we get mere\nsurface sketches--pleasant enough to read, perhaps, but that is\nall. Protestant travellers see no more of the popular life and\ncharacter than if they sailed over the country in a balloon. They\nfind the diligences marvels of antiquated discomfort; the\nrailways, miracles of unpunctuality and slowness; travel, a\nhardship which there is little attempt to alleviate. They find\nthat in Spain no Spaniard is ever in a hurry, and no stranger is\nallowed to be so either. If they are kept shivering at a roadside\nstation three or four hours in the midst of the night, waiting\nfor some lumbering railway train, on a seatless, unsheltered\nplatform, they get no commiseration from the surly officials but\nan exhortation to \"paciencia.\" If government is bad and robbers\nare bold, the Spaniard goes on sipping his sugared water and\nrepeats, \"Paciencia, paciencia!\" If the country is two or three\ngenerations behind the rest of Europe in all the appliances of\nmaterial comfort, why, \"_Paciencia, paciencia!_\" That is the\ngreat panacea for all the ills of human life. These\npeculiarities, the wretchedness and extravagant charges of all\nthe hotels, and the horrors of the Spanish _cuisine_, fill\nmost of the travellers' journals. But Lady Herbert found a plenty\nof religious beauty underneath this dilapidated exterior. God and\nthe church are so near to the people's hearts that the mixture of\nreligion with the language and business of every day shocks a\nstranger at first as something irreverent. Pious traditions are\nfamiliar to every Spaniard from his cradle. They come up every\nhour of the day. They color every man's conversation, they\naffect, more or less intimately, everybody's conduct; nay, it is\ndifficult sometimes to separate them from the Spaniard's faith,\nfor he clings to a pious legend almost as stoutly as he holds to\nan article of the creed. The peasant woman plants rosemary in her\ngarden, because there is a story that when our Lord was an infant\nthe Blessed Virgin hung out his clothes upon a rosemary bush to\ndry. Red roses get their color from a drop of the Saviour's blood\nwhich fell on them from the cross. A swallow tried to pluck the\nthorns from the head of the crucified Christ, and therefore no\nSpaniard will shoot a swallow.\n{414}\nThe owl was present when our Lord expired, and since then has\nceased to sing, his only cry being \"_Crux, crux!_\" Half the\ndogs in Spain are called Melampo, because that was the name of\nthe dog of the shepherds who came to Bethlehem. Protestants may\nlaugh at the credulity which listens to such legends, but to our\nminds there is the simplicity of real piety in the national\nbelief, and we cannot think that God will be angry with the\npeople if they believe a little too much in his honor.\nProtestants may sneer at the public reverence which is paid to\nsacred things, and call it a gross mark of superstition to show\nas much respect to the Blessed Sacrament as to a governor or a\ngeneral in the army; but we confess our sympathies are with Lady\nHerbert when she describes the sentinels at San Sebastian\npresenting arms as he passes before the chapel door, or the\nshopkeeper who interrupts a bargain to rush out into the street\nand kneel down before the Viatacum, exclaiming \"_Sua maesta\nviene!_\" What a sweet flavor of real piety there is in the\npopular term for alms, \"_la bolsa de Dios_,\" \"God's\npurse!\"--a purse, by the way, which is never empty. Beggars are\ntreated with a tenderness that is felt for them nowhere else but\nin Ireland. The poor peasant may have little or nothing to give;\nbut if he refuses, he begs pardon for doing so. There is no city\nwithout its charity hospitals, marvels of cleanliness, comfort,\nand order. There is hardly a town without its asylum, where\nreligious mea or women tend the unfortunate, shelter the\ndestitute, feed the hungry, and rear the orphan and the\nfoundling. Convents have been depopulated and monastic orders\nbanished throughout the kingdom, but the more active brotherhoods\nand sisterhoods are spared, and are doing magnificent work. The\ndeserted convents, magnificent in their decay, speak eloquently\nof the zeal and piety of the people, whose greatest fault it is\nas a nation that they have trusted too much to weak and unworthy\nrulers. Every one of these religious monuments is the scene of\nsome holy legend, and most of them are hallowed by incidents in\nthe lives of saints, of whom Spain has been the birthplace and\nhome of so many hundreds. Lady Herbert tells a significant story\nwhich shows how closely religion is bound up with the thoughts of\nthe people. She was visiting the ancient palace of Toledo, when a\npeasant woman, sitting by the gate, asked the guide if the\nstrange lady was an Englishwoman, \"because she walked so fast.\"\nOn being answered in the affirmative, she exclaimed, \"Oh! what a\npity. I liked her face, and yet she is an infidel!\" The guide\npointed to a little crucifix which hung from a rosary at Lady\nHerbert's side, whereat the peasant sprang from her seat and\nkissed both the cross and the visitor.\n\nSpanish courtesy even has a religious flavor. Ask a Spaniard to\npoint out the road, and nothing will do but he must go with you\non your way, and pray God's blessing on your head when he leaves\nyou. No matter how poor he may be, you must not offer money for\nsuch services; he will be either grieved or indignant, at what\nseems to him an insult. There is piety also in the Spanish\nreverence for age. If an old man passes the peasant's door at\nmeal-time, he is offered a place at the table, and begged to ask\na blessing on the repast.\n\nThere is, in fine, a lovable and engaging side to Spanish\ncharacter from which we cannot but expect a great and beneficial\ninfluence upon the national destinies. Faith has its rewards even\nin this life, and we cannot believe that a nation which adhered\nso firmly to religion will be overthrown without some very grave\noffence of its own.\n{415}\nThe reverential tendency of Spanish character has no doubt\noverpassed, in political affairs, its legitimate barriers, and\nloyalty has done some mischief as well as good. Respect for\nlegitimate authority has not always been distinguished from a\nfanatical devotion to the persons of bad or incompetent rulers.\nThere is a great deal of truth, albeit much falsehood likewise,\nin Mr. Buckle's explanation of the causes of Spanish greatness\nand Spanish decay. Give the kingdom a great sovereign, like\nCharles V., and with an obedient and devoted people the nation\nmay be raised to the pinnacle of greatness and prosperity. But no\npeople which has not been taught to depend upon itself can long\nkeep in the van. Greatness is not inherited with titles and\npossessions; weak rulers are sure to come sooner or later, and\nthen the country finds that it leans upon a broken reed. Spain\ndiscovers now that she has suffered her kings to monopolize the\nresponsibilities which ought to have been divided among the whole\npeople, and their duties have not been fulfilled. The nation has\nslept a sleep of centuries in the comfortable confidence that\ngovernment would take care of everything, do all the thinking,\nmake all the needed improvements, and educate the country as a\nfather educates his children. It seems to have been forgotten\nthat this was a task which only those mighty geniuses who appear\nonce in a century are strong enough to perform. An indolent,\nweak, and careless ruler under the Spanish system allows his\npeople to lag behind in the struggle for national pre\u00ebminence; a\nbad ruler plunges them into misery and disgrace. Spain has\nsuffered terribly from both these afflictions; we do not believe,\nhowever, that her case is desperate. While there is much in the\npresent condition of the kingdom to fill all thoughtful men with\nalarm, there is promise in the awakened activity of national\nlife, and in the very spirit of revolution which is driving the\nliberal party into such lamentable excesses. It is dirty work to\nclean up the dust of three or four centuries. Great political\nchanges are almost always accompanied by disorder; but when the\nuproar subsides, and new parties crystallize out of the fragments\nof the present tumult, when the people feel that to be great and\nprosperous they must use their own power, and cease to be fed\nwith a spoon, we believe that there is so much faith and piety at\nthe bottom of the Spanish heart, and so much real nobleness in\nthe national character, that a brighter destiny will be within\ntheir reach than has beamed upon them since the days of Charles\nand Philip.\n\n\nWe have wandered far away from the volume with which we began our\nremarks, and left ourselves little room to praise Lady Herbert's\nnarrative as it deserves to be praised. We shall content\nourselves here with citing a description of a man who has\noccupied a prominent place in the recent history of Spain. We\nmean Father Claret, the queen's confessor:\n\n  \"One only visit was paid, which will ever remain in the memory\n  of the lady who had the privilege. It was to Monsignor Claret,\n  the confessor of the queen and Archbishop of Cuba, a man as\n  remarkable for his great personal holiness and ascetic life as\n  for the unjust accusations of which he is continually the\n  object. On one occasion, these unfavorable reports having\n  reached his ears, and being only anxious to retire into the\n  obscurity which his humility makes him love so well, he went to\n  Rome to implore for a release from his present post; but it was\n  refused him.\n{416}\n  Returning through France, he happened to travel with certain\n  gentlemen, residents in Madrid, but unknown to him, as he was\n  to them, who began to speak of all the evils, real or\n  imaginary, which reigned in the Spanish court, the whole of\n  which they unhesitatingly attributed to Monsignor Claret, very\n  much in the spirit of the old ballad against Sir Robert Peel:\n\n    'Who filled the butchers' shops with big blue flies?'\n\n  He listened without a word, never attempting either excuse or\n  justification, or betraying his identity. Struck with his\n  saint-like manner and appearance, and likewise very much\n  charmed with his conversation during the couple of days'\n  journey together, the strangers begged at parting to know his\n  name, expressing an earnest hope of an increased acquaintance\n  at Madrid. He gave them his card with a smile! Let us hope they\n  will be less hasty and more charitable in their judgments, for\n  the future. Monsignor Claret's room in Madrid is a fair type of\n  himself. Simple even to severity in its fittings, with no\n  furniture but his books, and some photographs of the queen and\n  her children, it contains one only priceless object, and that\n  is a wooden crucifix, of the very finest Spanish workmanship,\n  which attracted at once the attention of his visitor. 'Yes, it\n  is very beautiful,' he replied in answer to her words of\n  admiration; 'and I like it because it expresses so wonderfully\n  _victory over suffering_. Crucifixes generally represent\n  only the painful and human, not the triumphant and divine view\n  of the redemption. Here, he is truly victor over death and\n  hell.'\n\n  \"Contrary to the generally received idea, he never meddles in\n  politics, and occupies himself entirely in devotional and\n  literary works. One of his books, _Camino recto y seguro para\n  llegar al Cielo_, would rank with Thomas a Kempis's\n  _Imitation_ in suggestive and practical devotion. He keeps\n  a perpetual fast; and, when compelled by his position to dine\n  at the palace, still keeps to his meagre fare of 'garbanzos,'\n  or the like. He has a great gift of preaching; and when he\n  accompanies the queen in any of her royal progresses, is\n  generally met at each town when they arrive by earnest\n  petitions to preach, which he does instantly, without rest or\n  apparent preparation, sometimes delivering four or five sermons\n  in one day. In truth, he is always 'prepared,' by a hidden life\n  of perpetual prayer and realization of the unseen.\"\n\nFor the rest, it is only necessary to add a word upon the\nadmirable manner in which the American publishers have presented\nLady Herbert's book to their patrons. It is beautifully printed\nupon thick, rich paper, and illustrated with excellent wood-cuts,\nand will easily bear comparison with the choice productions of\nthe secular press, as a book for the parlor table and for holiday\npresents as well as for the library.\n\n----------\n\n          From The German Of Baron Stolberg.\n\n  Filial Affection As Taught And Practised By The Chinese.\n\n\n  \"Honor thy father and thy mother,\n  that thou mayest be long-lived in the land\n  which the Lord thy God will give thee.\"\n\nIn a remarkable work, entitled _M\u00e9moires concernant l'histoire,\nles sciences, les arts, les moeurs, les usages, etc., etc., des\nChinois_, written by two natives of China who had spent their\nearly years in Europe, and had there added the sciences of the\nwest to the learning of the east, and hallowed their knowledge\nwith \"the love of Christ which surpasseth all knowledge,\" the\ngreater part of a quarto volume is devoted to the \"Teachings of\nthe Chinese concerning filial affection.\"\n\n{417}\n\nWhat follows is taken from _Li-ki_, a very ancient Chinese\nwork, written long before the time of the great Confucius.\nConfucius was born in the year of the world 3452, before Christ\n551, in the twenty-eighth year of the lifetime of Cyrus.\n\n  \"Be ever penetrated by religion and your exterior will bespeak\n  a man whose regard is directed inward upon his soul; and your\n  words will be the language of one who controls his passions.\"\n  ...\n\n  \"Religion alone can render indissoluble the ties that attach\n  the subject to his prince, the inferior to the superior, the\n  son to the father, the younger brother to the elder.\"\n\n  \"A son filled with filial affection hears the voice of his\n  father and mother, even when they are not speaking with him,\n  and he sees them even when he is not in their presence.\"\n\n  \"At the first call of a father, all should be forsaken in order\n  to go to him.\"\n\n  \"Mourning for parents should continue three years.\"\n\n  \"A son had murdered his father in the kingdom of Tochu. The\n  authorities reported the crime to King Ting-kong. He rose from\n  his mat; sighed, Alas! the fault is mine! I know not how to\n  govern! He issued an edict for the future. Such a murderer must\n  be instantly put to death; the house must be razed, and the\n  governor must abstain from wine during a month.\"\n\n  \"The peace of the realm depends on the filial affection\n  entertained for parents and the respect shown to elder\n  brothers.\"\n\nThe following are extracts from a canonical book of the Chinese\nentitled _Hiao-king_, the last work of Confucius, written\n480 years before the birth of Christ, during the time of Xerxes.\n\n  \"Filial affection is the root of all virtues, and the fountain\n  head of all teaching.\"\n\n  \"Whosoever loves his parents can hate nobody; whosoever honors\n  them can despise nobody. If a ruler evinces unlimited respect\n  and affection to his parents, the virtue and wisdom of his\n  people will be increased twofold. Even barbarians will submit\n  to his decrees.\"\n\n  \"If thou entertainest toward thy father the love thou hast for\n  thy mother, and the respect thou hast for thy ruler, thou wilt\n  serve thy ruler with filial affection.\"\n\n  \"O immensity of filial affection! how wonderful thou art! What\n  the revolutions of the planets are for the citadel of heaven,\n  what fertility is for the fields of the earth, that, filial\n  affection is for nations. Heaven and earth never deceive. Let\n  nations follow their example, and the harmony of the world will\n  be as indefectible as the light of heaven, and as the\n  productions of the earth!\"\n\n  \"A prince who causes himself to be loved, and who improves the\n  morals of men, is the father and mother of nations! How perfect\n  must be the virtue which guides nations to that which is\n  greatest of all, whilst they are following the inclinations of\n  their hearts!\"\n\nThe emperors of China have been giving examples of filial\naffection from time immemorial. It is an ordinance of the\nancients that the new sovereign shall, during the first three\nyears, make no changes in the administration of his father. The\nemperors of China, the mightiest potentates of the earth, show\nthe most profound reverence to their mothers before the eyes of\nthe whole people.\n\nThe great Emperor Kang-hi published, in 1689 of our chronology, a\nlarge work, in one hundred volumes, on filial affection. In the\npreface, written by himself, he says, amongst other things:\n\n  \"In order to show how the filial affection of an emperor should\n  be constituted, it is here shown to what tenderness for his\n  people, interest in the public good, solicitude for health,\n  contentment, and the happiness of his parents bind him.\n  Everything in life is filial affection, for everything refers\n  to respect and love.\"\n\nWhat a beauty and depth of meaning in these words!\n\nTogether with filial affection this comprises the corresponding\nlove of parents for their children, and the reciprocal duties of\nboth. From these are also deduced the reciprocal obligations of\nrulers and subjects.\n\n{418}\n\nAll is ultimately referred to God.\n\n  \"Who is to be feared, who is to be served,\n  and who is to be regarded as the Father\n  and the Mother of all men.\"\n\nChina is the only empire in which public censors of the acts of\nthe emperor are appointed. Their number, which originally was\nseven, has been increased to forty. Their office is to warn the\nemperor when he has transgressed or neglected his duty, and to\nadmonish him. In a work composed by the Emperor Kang-hi, and\npublished in 1733, several instances of these admonitions and\nremonstrances are mentioned:\n\n  \"It is the cry of all ages, O Sovereign!\n  that it is the most imperative duty\n  of the son to revere his parents!\"\n\nAfter explaining how one must prove himself concerning the\nfulfilment of this duty, and describing various evidences by\nwhich to judge, the sage continues:\n\n  \"Such, O Sovereign! is the nature of genuine filial affection,\n  of the filial affection of great souls, of the kind of filial\n  affection that makes the world pleasant, gains all hearts, and\n  secures the favor of heaven. ... Thy subject, O Sovereign! has\n  heard that a good ruler attributes to himself whatever disturbs\n  good order in the realm; that he is made sad by the smallest\n  misdemeanors of his subjects, and that he devotes the best days\n  of his life to the sole object of obviating whatever might\n  interfere with the public weal.\"\n\nThis remonstrance was presented in the year 1064, of our\nchronology, to the Emperor Ing-tsong by the Censor See-ma-kuang,\none of the greatest statesmen China has ever had, who was at the\nsame time a historian, a philosopher, and a poet. The people\nloved him so that after his death the entire realm was disposed\nto go in mourning. Another censor very boldly reprimanded the\nEmperor Kuang-tsong, because in a journey to his country chateau\nhe had passed by the villa of his mother without calling to see\nher.\n\nAt a later period this censor upbraided the same emperor in terms\nof the deepest sorrow for not accompanying his mother's funeral\nand wearing mourning in her memory, notwithstanding that all the\nmagnates of the empire had been plunged into the most profound\ngrief by the death of that excellent woman. The censor accused\nhim of having feigned indisposition on that occasion, whilst it\nwas generally known that he was engaged in his customary\npastimes.\n\nAnother emperor was reproached with a noble intrepidity, for\nhaving weakly permitted a favorite daughter to squander a part of\nthe revenues of the state in embellishing her country residence\nand gardens.\n\nThe Emperor Kang-hi, one of the wisest and greatest rulers the\nworld has ever seen, practised filial piety in a most perfect\nmanner toward his grandmother and mother during their lifetime\nand after their death. When appointing one of his sons heir to\nthe throne--a right accorded him by the constitution--he declared\nthat he was guided in his choice by the wisdom of the two\nempresses, his mother and his grandmother.\n\nWhen his grandmother was sick, this emperor wrote to one of the\ngrandees of the realm, Hing-pu, who was probably minister of\njustice:\n\n  \"My cares do not quit me, whether by day or by night. I have no\n  relish for food or sleep; my only consolation lies in raising\n  my thoughts to Tien, (Heaven, or the God of Heaven.) With\n  tearful eyes I have prostrated myself on the ground, and buried\n  myself in meditation on the manner of most surely obtaining his\n  holy assistance; and it appeared to me that the preservation of\n  men, the objects of his love, would be the surest means of\n  obtaining, from his infinite goodness and mercy, the\n  prolongation of a life that we would all be willing to purchase\n  with our own.\"\n\n{419}\n\nHereupon he reprieved all criminals not excluded from the favor\nby the laws of the state. He concluded with these words:\n\n  \"I pray Tien that\n  he may be pleased to bless my wish.\"\n\nHe walked in solemn procession, accompanied by the nobles, and\noffered sacrifices for the empress. As her condition grew more\nalarming, he spent day and night at her bedside, where he slept\nupon a mat, in order to be always near to attend to her wants. To\nthe remonstrances of his court and the requests of the invalid\nherself, he replied by answering them that he could not control\nhis grief, and could find consolation only in nursing his beloved\ngrandmother, who had nursed him in youth with so much wisdom and\ntenderness.\n\nMany a reader may consider this intense and openly acknowledged\nsentiment of filial devotion as exaggerated; in China, men\nthought differently. And the man of whom it is related was one of\nthe greatest princes that ever lived, a great _savant_, a\nphilosopher upon a throne, an undaunted hero, and during the\nwhole of his long reign the father of his country, the admiration\nand joy of his numerous people. When he was besought by the\nprinces of the royal house and by the nobles of the realm to\npermit the sixtieth anniversary of his birthday to be solemnly\ncommemorated, he replied:\n\n  \"I have never had any taste for and have never found any\n  pleasure in grand festivities and entertainments. Yet I feel\n  reluctant to refuse what the love of the princes and nobles\n  requests from me. But as these festivities would fall upon the\n  days whereon my much revered father and mother died, their\n  memory is too vividly present in my heart to suffer me to allow\n  them to be converted into days of rejoicing.\"\n\nAt the Chinese court it is customary for the emperor, on New\nYear's day, to go in company with the princes and nobles to the\npalace of his mother. A master of ceremonies called a mandarin of\nLizu, walks in front and reverently prays that it may be her\nserene pleasure to ascend her throne, in order that the emperor\nmay throw himself at her feet. She then takes her place upon the\nthrone. The emperor enters the hall and remains standing with his\narms hanging down and his sleeves pulled over his hands--a mark\nof reverence amongst this people. The imperial retinue remain\nbelow in the ante-chamber. The musicians sound some thrilling\nnotes, whereupon the mandarin cries in a loud voice, \"Upon your\nknees!\" The emperor and retinue fall upon their knees. \"To the\nfloor!\" The emperor bows his head to the floor, as also the\nentire court. \"Arise!\" And all rise up together. After performing\nthree prostrations in this manner, the mandarin again approaches\nthe throne of the empress and reaches her a written request from\nthe emperor to be pleased to return to her apartment.\n\nDuring the ceremony the sound of the bell from the great tower\nannounces to all the inhabitants of Pekin that the emperor of\nChina, \"the ruler of the thousand kingdoms,\" as they style him,\nis paying homage to humanity.\n\nWhen the empress has returned to her apartment, the ringing of\nthe bell ceases, and then the emperor receives the felicitations\nof the court in his own palace.\n\nThe idea of the relation between parents and children is, in\nfact, the soul of the constitution of China, a constitution that\nhas continued unchanged for more than three thousand years.\nThrough this idea the chains of despotism, so galling in other\ncountries of the east, are rendered tolerable; by it a powerful\ninfluence is exercised over the rulers of the mightiest empire of\nthe earth, so that most of them, even in modern times, devote\nthemselves to their exalted duties with the greatest care, and\nlook upon the empire not as their own possession, but as a trust\ncommitted to them as vicegerents of heaven.\n{420}\nThis idea is so deeply rooted that even the victorious Tartars\nwere forced to respect it and adopt it as their principle of\ngovernment, as we are shown by the example mentioned of the great\nKang-hi.\n\nWe subjoin some selections from a number of Chinese moral\nproverbs relating to this subject,\n\n  \"Filial affection produces the same sentiment, the same\n  solicitude, under every clime. The barbarian, compelled by want\n  to wander through wildernesses, learns more easily from his own\n  heart what a son owes to his father and mother than sages learn\n  it from their books.\"\n\n  \"The most invincible army is that in which fathers are most\n  mindful of their children, sons of their parents, brothers of\n  their brothers.\"\n\n  \"The filial piety of the ruler is the inheritance of the aged,\n  of widows, and of orphans.\"\n\n  \"Whosoever raises the staff of his father with reverence, does\n  not strike the father's hand. Whosoever yawns at the old man's\n  oft-repeated tales, will hardly weep at his death.\"\n\n  \"All virtues are threatened when filial affection is sinned\n  against.\"\n\n  \"A good son never looks upon an enterprise as successful until\n  it has received the approbation of his father.\"\n\n  \"Rocks are converted into diamonds where father and son have\n  but one heart; harmony between the elder and younger brothers\n  changes the earth into gold.\"\n\n  \"Subjects revere their parents in the person of the emperor;\n  the emperor must revere his parents in the person of those of\n  his subjects. The love of princes for their parents guarantees\n  to them the love of their subjects.\"\n\n  \"The Emperor Gin-tsong was counselled by his minister to\n  declare war. What, replied the emperor, am I to answer fathers\n  and mothers when they ask their sons of me? and to the widow\n  who mourns her husband? and to fatherless orphans? and to so\n  many disconsolate families? I would willingly sacrifice a\n  province to save the life of one of my own children; all my\n  subjects are my children.\"\n\n  \"Whosoever cuts down the trees planted by his father, will sell\n  the house that was built by him.\"\n\n  \"It is not the threats, nor the reproaches, nor the violence of\n  a father that are dreaded by a dutiful son. He fears his\n  silence. A father is silent either because he has ceased to\n  love or because he believes that he is no longer loved.\"\n\n  \"The one who first shed tears was an unhappy father.\"\n\n  \"Much to be pitied is the son who is displeasing to his\n  parents; but the unhappiest of all is he who does not love\n  them.\"\n\n  \"A good son is a good brother, a good husband, a good father, a\n  good cousin, a good friend, a good neighbor, a good citizen. A\n  wicked son is simply--a wicked son.\"\n\n  \"Reverence and tenderness are the wings of filial affection.\"\n\n  \"When brothers will not come to an agreement before the\n  sentence of the judge, public morals have already deteriorated.\n  If father and son go before the mandarin that he may decide\n  between them, the state is in danger. If children plot against\n  the life of their parents, and brothers against that of each\n  other, all is lost.\"\n\nThis tender reverence for parents instils into the Chinese a\nsimilar regard for aged persons, for authorities, and for\nnational customs. Their empire has been in existence for almost\nfour thousand years!\n\nThe contrary disposition, which denies to old age its becoming\ndeference, which impels youth to contemn the experience of the\npast, and to wish, in its immaturity of judgment, to pass\nsentence upon all subjects, destroys social relations and\nundermines and ultimately ruins empires. It robs youth of its\ntrue grace; destroys the modesty and thirst for knowledge of the\nyoung man as well as the blushing diffidence of the maiden;\ndefrauds age of its dignity; renders customs and laws altogether\npowerless.\n\n{421}\n\n  _Quid leges, sine moribus\n    Vanae, proficiunt._\n\nsaid Horace.\n\nThe young man trifles with the gaudy display of ever-changing\nfashion, a pest of our country from which the more serious east\nnever languished. His philosophy is of the fashion as well as his\nclothes; and though, at present, he considers them as the very\nbest, he is nevertheless ready to change them both and decry them\nas unsuitable, reserving the liberty, however, of resuming them\nas soon as the wand of the enchantress Fashion will have given\nthe sign.\n\nThe religion of Jesus Christ confers a pure dignity upon the\nworthiest and most tender relations of nature. It teaches us to\nrevere a father in the Being of all beings, to love him tenderly\nwhose eternal Son did not disdain to become our brother, to\nbecome the Spouse of his church. It sanctifies every relation of\nnature, every relation of society. But in attempting to picture\nto ourselves a state of the world in which the great majority\nwould be doing homage to the religion of Jesus Christ, not merely\nin words, but in spirit and in deed, a feeling of sadness takes\npossession of the soul like to that which might come upon a\nprisoner, highly gifted with musical genius, while reading with\nthe eye the harmonies of Handel and Gluck, when his ear was\ndenied the rapture of hearing their enchanting melodies.\n\n----------\n\n           New Publications.\n\n\n  Daily Meditations,   by his Eminence, the late Cardinal Wiseman.\n  Vol. I.\n  Dublin, James Duffy, 1869.\n  For sale at the Catholic Publication House,\n  126 Nassau Street.\n\nThere is a peculiar charm about all the writings of Cardinal\nWiseman. It is the touch of genius, and of a great genius, whose\nloss the world mourns. The present volume, now published for the\nfirst time, comprises a series of meditations useful for all\nclasses of devout persons, but more especially designed for the\nclergy and students in our ecclesiastical seminaries. They were\nwritten, as the Most Rev. Archbishop of Westminster informs us in\na short preface, when the cardinal entered upon his first\nresponsible office as rector of the English college in Rome. The\nsubjects for the first six months of the year are taken from and\narranged under a certain number of heads, generally repeated each\nweek. These are,\n\n  \"The End of Man,\"\n  \"Last Things,\"\n  \"Mystery of our Saviour's Life,\"\n  \"Personal Duties,\"\n  \"The Passion,\"\n  \"Sin.\"\n  \"Means of Sanctification,\"\n  \"Self-Examination,\"\n  \"The Decalogue,\"\n  \"The Blessed Eucharist,\"\n  \"The Blessed Virgin.\"\n\nEach meditation consists of two or three reflections, and closes\nwith an affective prayer. \"Preparations\" are given, after the\nmethod of St. Ignatius, before the meditations upon the mysteries\nof our Lord's life. As a book of meditations, or for spiritual\nreading, we could earnestly commend it to the laity, who will\nfind the greater part of it eminently suitable for these\npurposes, while to the clergy it will be especially acceptable,\nfurnishing, as it does, subjects sufficiently amplified to aid\nthem in the ready preparation of a sermon or pious conference. We\nhave few works in good English of this kind, and the reading of\nauthors whose style is remarkable for purity and vigor cannot\nfail of improving the style of a speaker. The works of the great\ncardinal need no praise from us on these points, and we are sure\nthat it is only necessary to call attention to a new work from\nhis master hand to ensure its rapid sale.\n\n{422}\n\nWe cannot refrain from transcribing one of the many beautiful\naffective prayers. The meditation is on the crowning with thorns.\n\n  \"Jesus, King and Lord of my heart and soul, what crown shall I\n  give thee to acknowledge thee as such? Alas! gold and silver in\n  my poverty I have none: my gold hath been long since turned\n  into dross, and my silver been alloyed. I have no roses like\n  thy martyrs, who returned thee blood for blood; nor lilies,\n  like thy virgins, who loved thee with an unsullied heart. My\n  soul is barren, my heart is unfruitful, and I have placed thee\n  to reign, as the Jewish kings of old, over a heap of ruins.\n  Long since despoiled and ravaged by the enemy, every flower\n  hath been ploughed up, and every green plant burned with fire,\n  and thorns alone and brambles spring up there. Of these, then,\n  alone can I make thee a crown, my dear and sovereign Jesus.\n  Wilt thou accept it? I will pluck up my unruly affections, that\n  they may no more have roots, and, weaving them together into a\n  wreath, will lay them as a sacrifice at thy feet. I will gather\n  the thorns of sincere repentance which there each day arise and\n  prick my heart with a sharp but wholesome smart, and with these\n  will I make a crown for thy head, if thou wilt vouchsafe to\n  wear it. Or, rather, thou shalt take it from my hand, only to\n  place it with thine around my heart, that it may daily and\n  hourly be pricked with compunction. And may the thorns of thy\n  crown be to my soul so many goads of love, to hasten it forward\n  in its career toward thee.\"\n\n------\n\n   False Definitions Of Faith,\n   And The True Definition.\n   By Rev. L. W. Bacon.\n   Reprinted from the _New Englander_\n   for April, 1869.\n\nMr. Bacon defines faith to be trusting one's self for salvation\nto Jesus Christ. \"The act of faith--of intrusting one's self for\nsalvation to the Lord Jesus Christ--includes, not as a remote\nconsequence, but in itself, repentance, obedience, holiness, and\n_whatever things beside_ are demanded in the Scriptures as\nconditions of salvation.\" Dropping all dispute about terminology,\nwe will take faith as defined by Mr. Bacon, and prove that it is\ninconceivable with out the act of intellectual assent to divine\nrevelation, which the church requires. Jesus Christ must be\naccredited as the Messiah by God the Father in such a way as to\ngive rational, credible evidence to the intellect, before a man\ncan reasonably or conscientiously trust himself to him for\nsalvation. When he is convinced that Christ is the Saviour, and\ntrusts himself to him, he must receive from him certain and\ninfallible instruction as to the method of repenting and\nobtaining pardon, as to the nature and extent of the obedience\nand holiness required, and as to _whatever things beside_\nare demanded as conditions of salvation. If his Master teaches\nhim certain doctrines, and requires his assent, he must give it\nas a part of his obedience. If he prescribes sacraments and\ncommunion with one certain visible church as a condition of\nsalvation, he must obey. The question with Mr. Bacon is,\ntherefore, not respecting the indispensable obligation of\nbelieving what God has revealed respecting the way of salvation,\nbut respecting the medium through which that revelation is\ncommunicated, and the actual subject-matter of its contents. Mr.\nBacon very reasonably revolts at the tyranny of imposing mere\nhuman and probable opinions derived from private judgment on the\nScriptures as necessary to be believed for salvation. He has an\nindependent spirit and an active mind which will not suffer him\nto acquiesce tamely in the dominion which certain great names and\ntraditional formulas have hitherto held among the orthodox\nProtestants. He thinks for himself and expresses his thoughts in\na bold and manly way. In the _brochure_ which he has\nreprinted from the _New Englander_, the defects of the\nold-fashioned Puritan theology respecting justification are\npointed out with distinctness, and a far better and more\nreasonable view presented, which includes the moral element in\nthe disposition of the soul for receiving grace, thus rejecting\nthe most fundamental and destructive of all the errors of Luther.\n\n------\n\n{423}\n\n  The Relations And Reciprocal Obligations Between The Medical\n  Profession And The Educated And Cultivated Classes.\n  An Oration delivered before the Alumni Association of the\n  Medical Department of the University of the City of New York,\n  Feb. 23d, 1869.\n  By Henry S. Hewit, M.D.\n  Published by order of the Association.\n\nThis pamphlet contains a great deal of matter within a very short\ncompass. It shows the relation of medicine to philosophy and\nintellectual culture, refutes the wretched materialism by which\nthe profession has been too much infected, castigates with\nmerciless severity that charlatanism by which some ignorant\npretenders practise on the credulity of the public, and that\ncriminal malpractice by which others more skilful, but equally\nwithout conscience, prostitute their science to complicity with\nlicentiousness and child-murder. A higher standard of education\nin medical science, a more liberal preparatory culture, and a\ndistinction in medical degrees are advocated. These are matters\nof the deepest moment to society, in which Catholics have\nespecial reasons to be interested. The physician is next to the\npriest, and, in his sphere, very like the priest in the\nresponsibilities of his office, his power of doing good or evil,\nand in the necessity of resorting to him under which all men are\nplaced in those dangerous and painful crises of life where he\nalone can give effectual help. According to Catholic theology, no\none can pretend to practise medicine or surgery, without grievous\nsin, who has not received a competent education, and who does not\nfollow what, according to the judgment of learned and skilful\nmen, are truly scientific methods. Ignorance, carelessness, rash\nempiricism, or violation of the laws of morality as laid down by\nthe church, are all grievous sins. They are followed by the most\nfatal consequences to those who become their victims, causing\neven the loss of life and the privation of baptism, which\ninvolves the loss of eternal life, on a vast scale. It is of the\nutmost consequence that we should have a body of Catholic\nphysicians whose scientific culture is the highest possible, and\nwhose professional code of morals is strictly in conformity with\nthe moral theology of the church. If we are ever so happy as to\npossess a a Catholic university, it is to be hoped that Dr.\nHewit's suggestions in regard to medical education may be carried\nout. The author has rendered a great service to the profession\nand to the cause of morals and religion by the publication of\nthis able and high-toned oration, and we trust it may receive a\nwide circulation, and exert an equally wide influence. Dr. Hewit\nserved with great distinction as chief of medical staff to\nGenerals C. F. Smith, Grant, and Schofield during the late war,\nand contributed some valuable papers to the medical journals. We\nare indebted to him for some of the best literary notices which\nhave appeared in our columns, and the present oration not only\nshows scientific culture and sound principles, but also a\ncapacity for producing literary composition of many varied and\nrare excellences, combining terse and close logical reasoning\nwith a vivid play of the imagination. The closing sentence is\nremarkably beautiful, and speaks of the adventurous life which\nthe author led during his military career.\n\n  \"The sun has crossed the meridian, and tends toward the western\n  horizon; the tops of the distant mountains are bathed in purple\n  light, and the black shadows at their base _begin to creep in\n  a stealthy and hound-like manner over the plain; _a rising\n  murmur in the branches of the forest warns us to lift up again\n  our burdens, and take our respective roads.\"\n\nWe should like to see a volume from the pen that wrote this\nsentence, in which the descriptive power of the author would have\nfull scope, and another in which the sound principles of\nphilosophy and morals contained in the oration in an aphoristic\nform would be fully developed.\n\n------\n\n  Glimpses Of Pleasant Homes;\n  Or, Stories For The Young.\n  By the authoress of _Mother McAuley_.\n  Illustrated. 1 vol. 12mo, vellum cloth.\n  Catholic Publication Society,\n  126 Nassau Street. 1869.\n\nNo one can read a sentence of the preface to this volume without\nbecoming deeply interested in the book itself.\n{424}\nEvery line tells us that the author has something important to\nsay, and that her whole soul is in the work of educating the\nmoral faculties of children simultaneously with their physical\nand mental powers. Her aim is to enlist all heads of families in\nthe work, by making their homes pleasant refuges from the\ntroubles of busy life, in which their few leisure hours may be\nspent in \"fitting all those under their charge for the duties of\nthis earth, without unfitting them for heaven.\"\n\nThe responsibility of forming and directing the tastes of\nchildren is often thrown upon the school-teacher; and, while the\nfather builds gorgeous business palaces for the benefit of his\nfamily, their future welfare is perilled and their whole life\nembittered by the system of education \"which assumes the\nobligations of priest and parent, and is gradually driving filial\npiety from the face of the earth.\"\n\nThis book contains not only good examples of the practical\nworking of kindness and love, but points out the manner in which\nthe parents make many blunders in the management of young and\nboisterous children. Some regard their mechanical toys as causes\nof trouble, and wish their children would play outside, \"and keep\ntheir noise, dust, and confusion out of sight and hearing of\ntheir seniors.\" Experience among families where such is the fact\nhas taught the author to depict with truth the results:\n\n  \"These parents who should have aided in developing and\n  cultivating the tastes of their children, may possibly find,\n  ere long, that there are no tastes to be developed save those\n  acquired in the streets, where habits have been formed which it\n  is now all but impossible to root out. Their children have, as\n  the phrase is, got beyond them; not because, as is often\n  falsely asserted, juvenile human nature is different now from\n  what it was in other ages, or because its lot happens to be\n  cast in the United States of America, but because parents have\n  not done their part to multiply and strengthen the sweet and\n  powerful ties that could and should bind their children\n  indissolubly to them.\"\n\n  To warn parents against this evil, to cause them to be kind to\n  their children, and to bind the child more closely to its home,\n  the author has written these _Glimpses of Pleasant Homes_,\n  in which mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters are made to\n  speak and act in so natural a manner that every reader will be\n  forced to love them.\n\n  In those happy homes, we find boys full of life and fun, but\n  always eager to listen to interesting and useful instruction;\n  girls who are not dolls, made to act and speak by machine; and\n  fathers and mothers whose example will force every parent to\n  give a little thought to the manner in which they treat their\n  offspring. The story of little Frank will be long remembered by\n  those who read it, and all will like the manly little fellow,\n  who gravely says:\n\n  \"'I should rather be whatever it is right to be,' returned the\n  boy. 'The Catholics have the Blessed Virgin, and I think they\n  must be right, for every one knows the Lord would not let his\n  own mother stay in the wrong place. I asked Mr. Griffin was she\n  a Calvinist or a Unitarian, and he said no, that she was a\n  Catholic. Now, I want to be of her church, and I don't see why\n  I cannot receive the sacraments as well as Tommy and Bernard.\n  Please, mamma, allow me, and I'll be ever so good and steady.'\"\n  And immediately after tells us that John Griffin is a\n  first-rate fellow, because \"he gives me lots of fruit, and\n  tells me pleasant stories about birds and angels.\"\n\nEvery story in this book will amuse the young, interest the old,\nand instruct all in the secret ways of showing kindness to those\nwith whom they may come in contact. Kindness is the author's\nwatchword; every line bears witness to her love of her\nfellow-beings; she fulfils her mission of kindness in a\ndelightfully pleasant manner, and few will finish reading _The\nGlimpses_ without wishing for many more such pictures, and\nhoping that the author may enjoy a little of that happiness on\nthis earth, which she so lavishly bestows on her readers.\n\n------\n\n  Black Forest.\n  Village Stories\n  by Berthold Auerbach.\n  Translated by Charles Goepp.\n  New York: Leypoldt & Holt.\n\n{425}\n\nThis volume is a collection of stories from the German, filled\nwith quaint illustrations of peasant life in the Black Forest.\nThe representations are well drawn and life-like; but the tales,\nwith two or three exceptions, fail to interest, except as\nillustrations of strange phases of human life, and odd customs\nretained from age to age by people who seldom left their own\nhamlets, or heard from the outer world.\n\nEach story carries through some of the characters introduced\nbefore, so that there is an intimate connection between them all.\nIn general, they have no special moral teaching, but there are\ntwo notable exceptions, in the story of \"Ivo, the Gentleman,\" and\n\"The Lauterbacher.\"\n\nThe first of these, \"Ivo the Gentleman\", professes to give the\nlife of a Catholic family, and the story of a student in his\npreparation for the priesthood. We cannot fail to be interested\nin the home-life of the collegian, and anxiously watch the\ndevelopment of doubts and difficulties in his path; but there is\na coldness and hardness in the analyzation of his perplexities\nand his religious footsteps that lead one to feel that there is\nlittle vitality in the creed of the author.\n\nIn the story of \"The Lauterbacher,\" there are many striking\nthoughts brought out with such charming familiarity as to make\none wonder why they have never before seen them on paper. The\nmoral of this tale is clear and good. Now and then, however, one\nmeets with a touch of the mystical transcendentalism with which\nmany of the works of this author abound; but we find in this\nvolume less of these fancies than in anything we have seen from\nhis pen.\n\nThe stories are interspersed with grotesque wood-cuts as\nillustrations, with a sprinkling of fantastic rhymes, which\nremind us forcibly of our childhood's first introduction to the\nmuses through the whimsical measures of Mother Goose's Melodies.\n\n------\n\n  Biographical Sketches.\n  By Harriet Martineau.\n  New York: Leypoldt & Holt. 1869.\n\nNo one at all familiar with the mental characteristics and\nproclivities of Harriet Martineau could expect from her pen a\nmore liberal view of the characters which she has here attempted\nto delineate than the volume before us actually presents. The\nordinary reader, ignorant of or not fully appreciating the\nstandpoint from which the authoress judges the dispositions and\nachievements of mankind will, however, experience a feeling of\ndisappointment and dissatisfaction. The tone of many of her\nsketches is depreciatory. The time-honored maxim, \"_Nil de\nmortuis_,\" etc., is rigidly ignored, and the shadows in the\nlives of the personages she notices are brought into striking\ncontrast with the sunlight of their virtues and accomplishments.\nWe remark this especially in regard to those whose work in the\nworld was of a religious or charitable nature. It grates upon our\ninward reverence for men, whose toil and self-sacrifice have\nresulted even in a transient benefit to mankind, to be told that\nthey were mere creatures of an ephemeral occasion, or the\nunconscious agents of political aspirants; that the seed which\nthey sowed had no root, and the plant has withered away. It seems\nlike an aspersion on the moral capabilities of the human race\nwhen those men who reach the highest ranks of ecclesiastical and\nreligious preferment are represented as untrue to their\nconvictions, and recreant to the principles confided to their\npropagating and protecting care. Miss Martineau does good morals\nand large charity no service, by showing that their outward\nexercise may coexist with hypocrisy, tergiversation, and sordid\nself-seeking. Nor is it absolute justice to the dead that, having\nduring life received from her no admonition to correct their\nfaults, they should at last, when such correction has become\nimpossible, be held up to posterity as being, after all, but\nfrail and failing specimens of human kind.\n\nWith this exception, we have found the work before us worthy of\nthe encomiums bestowed upon it by the press both of this country\nand England. It is a handbook to read and remember, to take up\nwith interest and lay down with pleasure, and, after the first\nreading, to  consult, from time to time, as a gallery of\nportraits painted from subjects of unusual eminence by a skilful\nhand.\n\n-------\n\n{426}\n\n  The Free-masons.\n  What they are--What they do--What they are aiming at.\n  From the French of Mgr. S\u00e8gur,\n  author of _Plain Talk_.\n  Boston: Patrick Donahoe. 1869.\n\nThe best notice we can give of this book is to reproduce an\nextract from the translator's preface:\n\n  \"This short treatise, written, not by the archbishop of Paris,\n  as carelessly stated by some newspapers, but by Mgr. de S\u00e8gur,\n  the author of the work lately translated and published under\n  the title of _Plain Talk_, was composed to unveil and show\n  Free-Masonry _as it is in the old world_. Its strictures,\n  therefore, are not wholly applicable to Freemasonry as it is in\n  the United States. Yet Masons here may read it with profit to\n  themselves; and those who are not Masons, but might be tempted\n  to join some lodge, will, it is hoped, abandon the idea if they\n  read this book. Even here, Free-Masonry is a secret society,\n  and to become a member of it, one must take at least an oath,\n  and swear by the name of God to do so and so. Now, God's\n  command is, 'Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God\n  in vain.' And surely it is taken in vain by American\n  Free-Masons, because they take it without any sufficient and\n  justifiable cause. For, apart from other ends of their society,\n  and especially that of affording members a chance never to want\n  what assistance they may need in case of a momentary difficulty\n  in their affairs or loss of means or health, the main object\n  seems to be to meet at times, in order to spend an afternoon in\n  a merry way, and to partake of banquets provided for the\n  occasion. But where is the necessity to bind one's self by an\n  oath, to gather now and then round a bountifully supplied\n  table, or even to be charitable, and, for such purposes, to be\n  a member of a _secret_ society? We have many benevolent\n  societies; there is no secret about them, no oath to be taken\n  by those who wish to be members of them. Their object is to\n  carry out the principles of Christian charity; to that they\n  bind themselves simply by a promise, as also to contribute so\n  much for the purposes of the society. There are other\n  objections to joining Free-Masonry, even here; but this is not\n  the place to discuss that subject.\"\n\n------\n\n    The Dublin Review, for April, 1869.\n    London, Brown, Oates & Co.\n\nDr. Ward On American Orthodoxy.\n\nThe _Dublin Review_ for April closes a notice of F.\nWeninger's late book on _Papal Infallibility_ with the\nfollowing sentence: \"In the United States, no less than in these\nislands, a higher and more orthodox type of Catholic doctrine\nseems rapidly gaining the ascendant. To God be the praise!\" This\nimplies that hitherto a low and unorthodox type of doctrine has\nhad the ascendant among us--an insinuation not very complimentary\nto our hierarchy, clergy, professors of theology, and Catholic\nwriters. We deny the charge emphatically, and affirm positively\nthat no type of doctrine, whatever, is now gaining the ascendant\nover any different one which has formerly had the ascendant. The\nmaxims of that set of court canonists, who maintain the\nsuperiority of the episcopate in council over the pope, and deny\nthe superiority of the pope over a general council, have never\nprevailed or been advocated in this country. The dogmatic decrees\nof the holy see have always been received here as binding on the\ninterior assent to the full extent to which the holy see intends\nto impose them; and as for filial obedience to the pontifical\nauthority in matters of discipline, Gregory XVI. expressed the\ntrue state of the case when he said that he was nowhere so\ncompletely pope as in the United States. The encyclical of Pius\nIX. was received without a whimper of opposition, and our college\nof bishops, in their steadfast loyalty to the holy father, amid\nhis struggles with the assailants of his temporal authority, have\nrepresented the universal sentiment of their clergy and laity.\nThe spirit of the theology which has always been taught in our\nseminaries, and prevalent among our clergy, may be seen in the\nworks of that great prelate, one of the glories of both Ireland\nand the United States, the late Archbishop Kenrick.\n{427}\nA large number of our bishops and leading clergymen have been\nthoroughly educated and received the doctor's cap at Rome, and we\nare sure that they have never come into collision with any body\nof their brethren holding contrary opinions, or found it\nnecessary to make any imputation on their orthodoxy. We esteem\nhighly the great services which Dr. Ward has rendered to\nreligion, and the many noble qualities of mind and heart which he\nhas exhibited from the beginning of his Oxford career to the\npresent moment. We think, however, that the impetuosity of his\nzeal needs a little curbing, and that if he were somewhat more\nsparing of reproofs and admonition to his brethren and fathers in\nthe church, which savor more of the novice-master than the\neditor, his review would be much more useful, as well as more\ngenerally acceptable. We know that our opinion on this point is\nshared by some of our most distinguished prelates, who are as\nthoroughly Roman in their theology as Dr. Ward can profess to be,\nand we think there are few on this side the water who would\ndissent from it.\n\n------\n\n  Church Embroidery, Ancient And Modern,\n  Practically Illustrated.\n  By Anastasia Dolby,\n  Late Embroideress to the Queen.\n\n  Church Vestments;\n  Their Origin, Use, And Ornament.\n  By the same.\n  For sale by the Catholic Publication Society,\n  126 Nassau St., New-York.\n\nThese two elegant volumes furnish a complete and practical\ndescription of every kind of ecclesiastical vestment, from the\nRoman collar to the Fanon, which, as Miss Dolby informs us,\n\"appertains only to the vesture of the sovereign pontiff.\" The\nauthoress is a \"Ritualist,\" and, as will be seen, of the highest\norder of that formidable sect of the English Church, as by law\nestablished. Her books are full of costly engravings, the volume\non church embroidery being adorned with a fine illuminated\nfrontispiece--an antependium and frontal for high festivals--and\nthe one on church vestments, with one representing a\n_Pontifical High Mass_, in which the deacon is a little out\nof place for such a mass, according to the rite as celebrated by\nthe \"Roman obedience,\" but which, we presume, is strictly in\naccordance with the \"Anglican obedience.\" We smile at the pretty\npiece of assumption, but forgive Miss Dolby from our hearts, for\nwe have derived the greatest pleasure and benefit from the use of\nher valuable books. Although the volumes are costly, yet the\ninformation they contain would be considered cheap at treble the\nprice by those who are interested in furnishing the holy\nsanctuary with all things appertaining thereto, in good taste.\nThe authoress is a practical workwoman, and not only tells us\n_what_ to do, but also, what is of the highest moment to\nmany of us, _how_ to do it.\n\n------\n\n  The Ark Of The Covenant;\n  or, a Series of Short Discourses upon the Joys, Sorrows,\n  Glories, and Virtues of the Ever Blessed Mother of God.\n  By Rev. T. S. Preston.\n  New York: Robt. Coddington.\n\nThis is a new edition of a work already, we are sure, widely\nknown and much admired. It is prepared by the reverend author to\nsuit the beautiful devotion of the month of May, and we do not\nhesitate to say that it is the best one for that purpose yet\nwritten. It is truly refreshing to meet with a book like this,\nwhen one has had a surfeit (as who has not) of the many namby\npamby _Months of Mary_, from whose pages we have been\nexpected to cull flowers of piety for our spiritual enjoyment of\nthe sweet season dedicated to the Blessed Virgin.\n\n------\n\n  The General; Or, Twelve Nights In The Hunter's Camp.\n  A Narrative of Real Life.\n  Illustrated by G. G. White.\n  Boston: Lee & Shepard.\n\nThis is an account of the doings of the D---- Club, on one of its\nannual excursions. It is interspersed with stories told round the\ncamp-fire, by \"the general,\" of his own adventures in the west,\nwhen it was still the home of the Indian, and immigrants and\nland-surveyors were slowly finding their way through the forests\nand over the prairies.\n\n{428}\n\nThe club were encamped near Swan Lake, two miles east of the\nMississippi, and for twelve days gave themselves up to all the\npleasure and excitement of hunting and fishing. They had a good\ntime, and one almost envies them the fresh, pure air, the\nfreedom, the invigorating sport, and enjoyment of nature. The\nauthor thinks that \"more tents and less hotels in vacation would\nmake our professional men more vigorous. Moosehead and the\nAdirondacks are better recuperators than Saratoga, Cape May, and\nthe Rhine; and fishing-rods and fowling-pieces are among the very\nbest gymnastic apparatus for a college.\" Summer is coming, and\nthe advice could be tried. The adventures of the general, and of\nthe hunters at Swan Lake, would while away most pleasantly the\nhours of a warm summer afternoon on the Adirondacks or Lake\nGeorge.\n\n------\n\n  Reminiscences Of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy.\n  A Social and Artistic Biography.\n  By Elise Polko.\n  Translated from the German by Lady Wallace.\n  New York: Leypoldt & Holt. 1869.\n\nA woman's book in every page and line, charming for its\nsimplicity and pleasant gossip. Madame Polko was a friend and\nenthusiastic admirer of the great musician. All that he ever did,\nsaid, or wrote she tells us with an air of pride and earnestness\nonly equalled by the _na\u00efve_ recital of all baby's wonderful\npranks and precocious intelligence peculiar to young mothers.\n\nThese reminiscences will do to beguile a dreamy summer hour, when\nthe mind needs relaxation, and is not able to bear anything\nheavier than the innocent prattle of children, and the soothing\nsound of the seaside waves.\n\n------\n\n  Ferncliffe.\n  1 vol. 12mo.\n  Philadelphia: P. F. Cunningham. 1869.\n\n_Ferncliffe_ is an interesting tale of \"English country\nlife.\" The author has been fortunate enough to give us scenes and\ncharacters which appear in all respects very natural, and\ntherefore are exceedingly interesting. It is seldom we find a\nbook containing so many characters, each possessing some\npeculiarity, and all kept in that complete subordination to the\nprincipal one which is so necessary to the full development of\nthe plot.\n\nThe book is neatly printed on fine paper, and is a credit to the\nenterprising publisher who, we are glad to see, is accepting the\n\"situation,\" and making his books in conformity with the\nimprovements of the age in style and manner of getting up. We\nwish all our publishers would do the same; for it is high time\nthat Catholic books appeared in as good a dress as non-Catholic\nbooks.\n\n------\n\n  Salt-water Dick.\n  By May Mannering.\n  Boston: Lee & Shepard. Pp. 230. 1869.\n\n  The Ark Of Elm Island.\n  By Rev. Elijah Kellogg.\n  Boston: Lee & Shepard. Pp. 288. 1869.\n\nIn these volumes we have, in addition to the usual amount of\namusing incident and startling adventure inseparable from sea\nvoyages, a very full and interesting description of life at the\nChincha Islands, the great guano depot; pleasant glimpses into\nLima, Rio Janeiro, and Havana; graphic details of encounters with\nsea-lions, etc.; a dreadful storm in the Gulf of Mexico, with a\nwonderful escape from shipwreck by literally \"pouring oil on the\ntroubled waters,\" the whole agreeably diversified with numerous\nfacts in natural history.\n\nCombining amusement with instruction, books such as these have a\ngreat fascination for boys, and may, in most cases, be safely\nrecommended.\n\n------\n\n  Dotty Dimple Stories.\n  Dotty Dimple At School.\n  By Sophie May, Author of _Little Prudy Stories_.\n  Illustrated.\n  Boston: Lee & Shepard.\n\n{429}\n\nThis story is one of a series, although quite complete in itself.\nThey are all admirably written; for children's stories, they are\nalmost perfect. They teach important lessons without making the\nchildren feel that they are taught them, or giving them an\ninclination to skip over those parts. If the little folks get\nhold of these books, they will be certain to read them, and ever\nafterward count Miss Dotty Dimple and dear little Prudy among\ntheir very best friends. Such a pen only needs to be guided by\nCatholic faith to make it perfect for children. We do not say\nthis with any want of appreciation of what it is already, for its\nmoral lessons are beautifully given; but what might they not be,\nenlightened by the truth, the holiness, and the beauty of\nCatholic faith!\n\n------\n\n  Alice's Adventures In Wonder Land.\n  By Lewis Carroll.\n  With forty-two Illustrations by John Tenniel.\n  Boston: Lee & Shepard, 49 Washington Street. 1869.\n\nThese adventures are most wonderful, even for Wonderland. One\ncannot help regretting that children should be entertained in\nthis way instead of by some probable or possible adventures. They\nare well written, and the illustrations are excellent.\n\n------\n\n  Juliette; Or, Now And Forever.\n  By Mrs. Madeline Leslie.\n  Boston: Lee & Shepard. Pp.416. 1869.\n\nA religious tale, strictly Protestant, plentifully besprinkled\nwith scriptural texts, allusions, etc., which will, no doubt,\nprove deeply interesting to those for whose special delectation\nit is intended.\n\n------\n\n_The Catholic Publication Society_ have purchased all the\nstereotype plates and book stock of Messrs. Lucas Brothers,\nBaltimore. Some of these books have been out of print for some\nyears, or have not been kept constantly before the public. The\nsociety will soon issue new editions of all of them.\n\nMessrs. Murphy & Co., Baltimore, have just issued an edition of\nMilner's _End of Controversy_, in paper covers, which is\nsold for seventy five cents a copy.\n\nMr. P. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia, will soon publish _Catholic\nDoctrine, as defined by the Council of Trent_, expounded in a\nseries of conferences delivered in Geneva during the Jubilee of\n1851, by Rev. Father Nampon, of the Society of Jesus; proposed as\na means of reuniting all Christians. It will make an octavo\nvolume of some 600 or 700 pages.\n\nFrom Roberts Brothers, Boston:\n\n  Handy-volume Series. Realities of Irish Life.\n\n  Little Women; or, Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy.\n  By Louisa M. Alcott.\n  2 Vols. Illustrated.\n\n------\n\n    Foreign Literary Notes.\n\nThe Abb\u00e9 Sire, Superior of the Seminary of St. Sulpice, some time\nsince undertook to procure the translation of the bull\n\"_Ineffabilis_\" into all the written languages of the world.\nIn this vast enterprise he has made great progress, and more than\na year ago his zeal received the honoring recognition of the holy\nfather in a letter addressed to him, beginning: \"Hinc gratissimum\nnobis accidit, Dilecte Fili, consilium a Te susceptum curandi, ut\nApostoliae Nostrae de dogmatica Immaculati ejusdem Dei Genitricis\nConceptus Definitione Litterae e latino idiomate in omnes\nconverteretur linguas.\"\n\nCatholic Ireland has made a handsome contribution to M. Sire's\nwork in a volume published in Dublin, containing the Bull and its\ntranslation into the French, Latin, and Irish languages. The\nIrish translation is by the Rev. Patrick J. Bourke, President of\nSt. Jarlath's College, Tuam, where, alone in all Ireland, under\nthe auspices, and, we may say, the national enthusiasm of the Rt.\nRev. Dr. McHale, the language of Ireland is taught, and\nendeavored to be preserved. We say endeavored; for it seems that,\nexcepting among the hills of Connaught, the mother tongue of the\nCeltic race has died, or is rapidly dying out in the green\nisland. Dr. Bourke's volume, published in Dublin, is a fine\nspecimen of typography.\n\n{430}\n\nWe believe, although we have never seen any announcement of it,\nthat Dr. Bourke is also the editor of the _Keltic Journal and\nIndicator_, a semi-monthly commenced at Manchester, (England,)\nin January last. Why it is called Keltic, instead of Gaelic or\nIrish, we do not know, nor can we understand why it should be\npublished in England rather than in Ireland. Two other Gaelic\nraces, the Welsh, and the Bretons of France, have periodicals in\ntheir native dialect; the latter, the Feiz he Breiz, and the\nformer, several.\n\nThe dying out of the Irish language on the lips of a million of\npeople who speak it, may be attributed mainly to two\ncauses--emigration, and the indifference of its own race.\n\nThere is still another difficulty. Its pronunciation no longer\naccords with its received orthography, and, as written, it is\nencumbered with a quantity of unpronounced letters. If the\nlanguage is to continue to exist as a written one, a radical\nreform similar to that effected by the Tcheks in the Bohemian\ndialect at the end of the last century is absolutely necessary.\nMeantime, Dr. Bourke is entitled to great praise for his\nunceasing efforts in the cause of Ireland's national literature.\n\n------\n\nThe publishing house of Adrien Le Clerc (Paris) announces an\nimportant work in press. It is _L'Histoire des Conciles_, in\nten volumes 8vo, (large,) of 640 pages each. The first volume\nappeared on the 31st of January. It is a translation, by the\nAbb\u00e9s Goschler and Delarc, from the German of Dr. Ch. Jos.\nHefele, Professor of Theology at the University of T\u00fcbingen. The\nMessrs. Clarke, of Edinburgh, have announced an English\ntranslation of the same work from the German.\n\n----\n\n_The Femall Glory, or the Life and Death of our Blessed Lady,\nthe Holy Virgin Mary, God's owne immaculate Mother, etc. etc._\nBy Anthony Stafford, Gent. London, 1635. Reprinted in 1869. An\nexact typographical reproduction of the original, in all its\nquaintness of ancient characters and antiquity of English,\npreceded by the apology of the author (Stafford) and an essay on\nthe cultus of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Edited by the Rev. Orby\nShipley.\n\nIndependently of its intrinsic merit, this work has always\nattracted great attention, from the fact that it was written by a\nmember of the English (Episcopal) Church, and approved by\nprelates of that denomination as distinguished as Laud and Juxon.\n\nAs a matter of course, such a book was found to be \"egregiously\nscandalous\" by the Puritans, who looked upon it as nothing short\nof a device of papacy. And Henry Burton, minister of Friday\nstreet, London, in a sermon, _For God and the King_,\ndenounced  \"several extravagant and popish passages therein, and\nadvised the people to be aware of it.\" This was the beginning of\na controversial war concerning the \"Femall Glory\" that made it\none of the most notable works of the day. That a papist should\nhave written such a book might have passed without comment, but\nthat a noble Stafford of Northamptonshire, a graduate of Oriel\nCollege Oxford, and a staunch Church of England man, should have\ndone this thing was an irremissible sin in Puritanic eyes.\n\nStafford was distinguished as a man of letters, and wrote various\nother works, most of them with quaint titles, according to the\ntaste of that day; as,\n\n  _Niobe dissolved into a Nilus: or his Age drowned in her own\n  tears._ 1611.\n\n  _Heavenly Dogge: a Life and Death of that Great Cynick\n  Diogenes; whom Laertius styled Canis Caelestis, the Heavenly\n  Dogge_. 1615.\n\nThe attacks of Burton and others brought out _A Short Apology,\nor Vindication of a book entitled Femall Glory, etc._, which\nis republished in the fourth edition of 1869.\n\n_The Femall Glory _ is a book of genuine English growth,\nentirely free from imitation or adaptation of foreign words, and,\nbeyond mere sketches of the most meagre character, the only full\nlife of the Blessed Virgin.\n{431}\nIt is valuable, in a controversial point of view, as contrasting,\nthe clear and distinct acknowledgment of the dignity and sanctity\nof the mother of God, as recognized by English Protestants of\nthat, with the Episcopal Low Church views of the present day.\nCitations might be made from such men as Jeremy Taylor, Bishop\nBull, Bishop Pearson, Archdeacon Frank, and Archbishop Bramhall,\nto show this conclusively. Not the smallest charm about the book\nis the odor of its quaint seventeenth century tone of thought and\nexpression. Thus, in the preface \"To the Feminine Reader\" she is\ntold, \"You are here presented, by an extreme honourer of your\nSexe, with a Mirrour of Femall Perfection. ... By this, you\ncannot curle your haires, fill up your wrinckles, and so alter\nyour Looks, that Nature, who made you, knowes you no more, but\nutterly forgets her owne Workmanship. By this, you cannot lay\nspots on your faces; but take them out of your Soules, you may.\"\nThen there is \"The Ghyrlond of the Blessed Virgin Marie.\"\n\n  \"There are five letters in this blessed Name,\n    Which, chang'd, a five-fold Mysterie designe;\n  The M, the Myrtle, A, the Almonds clame,\n    R, Rose, I, Ivy, E, sweet Eglantine.\"\n\nThat such a book should not find favor in the eyes of the London\n_Athenaeum_, is not surprising. The author of _Spiritual\nWives_ and the recognizer of the Pope Joan fable as veritable\nhistory could scarcely be expected to recognize merit in such a\nwork as the _Femall Glory_.\n\n------\n\n_A Slavonian Version of the Bible_ is now in preparation at\nRome. The original Slavonian text was the work of St. Cyril and\nSt. Methodus, apostles to the Slavonians in the ninth century. In\nthe lapse of years, the original text has been seriously tampered\nwith by so-called emendators and incompetent copyists, so that it\nis now very difficult to determine several important questions\nconcerning it. Was the translation made from the Latin, the\nGreek, or the Hebrew? What class of manuscripts were used by\nthese apostles? Which of the Slavonian dialects was the vehicle\nof the translation? And, finally, was the original version\nwritten in glagolitic or cyrillic characters?\n\n------\n\n_The Staple of Biographical Notices_ of Pope Sixtus V., is\nusually made up of a series of stories, to the effect that he was\nthe son of ignorant parents and himself a swineherd; that he rose\nby his talents to the dignity of cardinal, and that, feigning\nextreme illness to the point of appearing to be on the verge of\nthe grave from debility and disease, was no sooner elected to the\npapacy than he threw away his crutches and declared himself\nperfectly restored to health.\n\nThese stories have found such favor with compilers of historical\nbooks that they have been carefully preserved in spite of their\nwant of confirmation by contemporary historians. M. A. I.\nDumesnil has lately written a life of Felix Peretti, Pope Sixtus\nV., in which he shows that his origin was not low, and that he\nwas allied to the best families, short of nobility, of his\nprovince. The stories of his illness, simulated feebleness, and\naffected use of crutches, he pronounces to be all fabulous, and\nquotes Tempesti, one of the historians of the conclave which\nelected Sixtus, thus: \"In electing Montalto pope, still vigorous\nof years, since he had reached only sixty-four and enjoyed a\nrobust and vigorous constitution, it was felt certain that he\nwould live long enough to bury Farnese and his partisans.\" M.\nDumesnil does not appear to have added anything by research or\ndiscovery to the materials already known to be in existence, but\nhas simply used the matter furnished by Tempesti, Guerra,\nFontana, and other Italian historians, with skill and judgment.\nHe bears testimony to the extraordinary talent, judgment, and\nenergy of the great pontiff, whose reign of less than five years\nwas, unfortunately, too short to complete the extensive reforms\ncommenced by him in the temporal government of his territory.\nSixtus V. was remarkable for his energy in the suppression of\nabuses, order and economy in the public finances, and unbending\nseverity toward criminals, encouragement of industry, an\nenlightened fondness for the arts, as shown by numerous monuments\nand his patronage of the great architect, Fontana, and an\ninflexible determination to raise the holy see from any\ndependence upon foreign princes.\n\n{432}\n\nThere is another _Life of Sixus_ in preparation by Baron\nH\u00fcbner, formerly Austrian Ambassador to France, in which he\npromises numerous documents, French, Spanish, and English, never\nyet published.\n\n  [Six paragraphs have been moved, three paragraphs toward the\n  end, from this location according to the notice on page 711-2.]\n\n------\n\n_Concilium Seleuciae et Ctesiphonti_, habitum anno 410.\nTextum Syriacum edidit latine vertit notisque instruxit,\nT. J. Lamy. Lovanii, 1868.\n\nFrom ancient Syrian literature, so rich in works relative to the\nchurch, its history, its discipline, and its dogmas, the Abb\u00e9\nLamy, Professor at the University of Louvain, has here selected\none of its most precious monuments for translation and comment.\nNot less remarkable for the charm of their antique simplicity of\nlanguage than their fulness of doctrine, these few pages alone\nwould almost suffice to establish the complete symbolism of the\nchurch. \"Confitemur etiam\"--thus testify the fathers of the\nCouncil of Seleucia--\"Spiritum vivum et sanctum, Paracletum\nvivum, QUI EX PATRE ET FILIO in una Trinitate, in una essentia,\nin una voluntate, amplectentes fidem trecentorum decem et octo\nEpiscoporum, quae definita fuit in urbe Nicea. Haec est confessio\nnostra et fides nostra, quam accepimus a Sanctis Patribus\nNostris.\n\n  [The following six paragraphs have been moved to this location\n  according to the notice on page 711-2.]\n\nIt will be remembered that in the fifth century the\nPriscillianists, in those countries infected with the Arian\nheresy, took unfair advantage of the special mention made by the\nCouncil of Constantinople of the first person of the Trinity and\nof the omitted mention of the Son, to maintain that the Son was\nnot consubstantial with the Father.\n\nThen followed the express insertion of the word FILIOQUE by\ndecree of a general council.\n\nThe history of the Greek schism turns upon this point, and\nstudents of church history will find high interest and solid\ninstruction in tracing the reasons and circumstances connected\nwith the fact that, although this addition of _filioque_\nreally made no change in the doctrine of the church, although in\nthe ninth century the western churches used it, and yet Pope Leo\nIII. insisted on the use in Rome of the form adopted by the\nfathers of Constantinople, and although between the Greek and the\nLatin churches there was no divergence on this doctrinal point,\nnevertheless it was not until after the consummation of the\nschism of Photius and of Michael Cerularius that the Greeks began\nto pretend that they had never professed this dogma.\n\nThen follows the treatment of this question by the councils of\nfourth Lateran, (1215,) third Lyons, (1274,) and that of\nFlorence, (1439.)\n\nOf course it will be seen that the importance of the action of\nthe Council of Seleucia lies in the fact that it was composed of\nforty bishops, of whom one, at least, was a member of the first\necumenical council of Constantinople, and that it was called at\nthe instigation and through the initiative of the Greek Church\nherself.\n\nSo that, as the lawyers say, it does not lie in the mouth of the\nGreek Church, at the present day, to say that it is simply\nopposing a Latin innovation.\n\n\n\nIn almost immediate connection with what we here remark on the\nRev. Mr. Lamy's book, we may mention that the _Jacobi Episcopi\nEdessem Epistola ad Georgium Episcopum Sarugensem de Orthographia\nSyriaca_, so well known, at least by reputation, to oriental\nscholars, has at last been published at Leipsic. Assemanni and\nMichaelis frequently urged its printing, and Cardinal Wiseman,\nwho took a strong and appreciative interest in the work, speaks\nof it at length in the first volume of his _Horae Syriacae_,\n(Rome, 1828.)\n\n------\n\nMonsignor Giuliani, of Verona, has published a work on public\nlibraries, in which he shows that the libraries of Italy possess\na greater number of volumes than the libraries of any other\nnation in the world. The Italian libraries number 6,000,000 of\nvolumes; France, 4,389,000; Austria, 2,400,000; Prussia,\n2,040,000, Great Britain, 1,774,493; Bavaria, 1,268,000; Russia,\n882,090; Belgium, 509,100. Collections of books are much\nscattered in Italy. Paris has one third of all the library books\nin France, and most of the European capitals are rich in almost\nas great a proportion. This is not the case in Italy. Milan has\nonly 250,000 volumes in the Brera library, and 155,000 in the\nAmbrosian.\n\n-------\n\n{433}\n\n             The Catholic World.\n\n        Vol. IX., No. 52.--July, 1869.\n\n\n\t   Columbus At Salamanca.\n\n                      \"----e di te solo\n  Basti ai posteri tuoi ch'alquanto accume:\n  Che quel poco dar\u00e0 lunga memoria\n  Di poema dignissima e d'istoria.\" [Footnote 121]\n         _Gierusalemme Liberata_, TASSO.\n\n    [Footnote 121: \"Thy single name will pour diviner light O'er\n    history's pages; and thy fame inspire Bards, who are yet\n    unborn, with more celestial fire.\"\n                         Tasso's _Jerusalem Delivered_. ]\n\nSome three years since, a large historical painting was exhibited\nat the gallery of the Artists' Fund Association in the city of\nNew York. Its subject, as announced, was \"Columbus before the\nCouncil of Salamanca.\" The picture was said to be a work of\nmerit, and attracted much attention. It represented the great\ndiscoverer standing in the large hall of a convent, surrounded by\nmonks and ecclesiastics, foremost among whom are three Dominican\nfriars, who, having apparently worked themselves into a paroxysm\nof anger, face Columbus with gestures of violent denunciation.\nGrave, dignified, and majestic stands the great Genoese\ndiscoverer among them, apparently the only reasonable being in\nthat assemblage of ignorance and bigotry, whose victim he is\nevidently about to become. The pictorial lesson sought to be\nconveyed was, clearly, that here was another Galileo business, a\nsecond _e pur si muove_ sensation, a repetition of the\nfavorite amusement of all churchmen, which every one knows to be\nthe persecution of discoverers and the crushing out of knowledge.\nAnd the warrant for all this misrepresentation was said to be\nfound in the pages of Washington Irving's _History of\nColumbus_.\n\nNow, a perusal of those pages shows that, although Mr. Irving\ncommitted a grave historical blunder in describing a \"council of\nSalamanca\" that had no existence, he nevertheless expressly\nexcepts from any charge of ignorance and intolerance that may be\nimplied from his language these very Dominican monks who, in Mr.\nKauffman's historical picture, are made the foremost and most\nviolent in their denunciation of Columbus.\n\n\"When Columbus,\" says Irving, \"began to state the grounds of his\nbelief, the friars of St. Stephen's (Dominicans) _alone paid\nattention to him_, that convent being more learned in the\nsciences than the rest of the university. The others appear to\nhave intrenched themselves behind one dogged proposition.\"\n\n{434}\n\nIn the entire range of English art and literature so firmly have\nsome of the most offensive forms of anti-Catholic prejudice\nbecome rooted, that, whenever any prominent historical character\nor incident comes in contact with the Catholic Church the\noccasion is seized, right or wrong, with or without authority,\nand often in the very teeth of history, to exemplify some phase\nof what people are pleased to call popish ignorance and\npersecution. Under the dark pall of bigotry that has so long\novershadowed the genius of English literature, events which, in\nhonest truth, should and do redound to the honor of the Catholic\nChurch and its hierarchy as protectors of knowledge and promoters\nof noble enterprises have been, by a species of literary\nlegerdemain, wrested into so many evidences of their intolerance.\n\nMore than any country, England has furnished astounding and\nrepulsive proofs of the truth of Count De Maistre's assertion\nthat \"History is a vast conspiracy against truth.\" With uplifted\nhands, dripping with the blood of the innocent, she accuses other\nnations of murder. With a statute-book black with intolerance and\nsuppression of knowledge, she talks complacently of the rights of\nconscience and the blessings of education.\n\nIn a lecture on Daniel O'Connell, delivered in Brooklyn on the\nfifth of March last, the distinguished orator, Wendell Phillips,\nof Boston, with all his eloquence, appeared almost at a loss\nfittingly to qualify, by description and illustration, the\nfrightful tyranny of Protestant England against Catholic Ireland,\nas exemplified in the diabolical ingenuity of the means by which\nshe sought to \"stamp out\" Irish nationality and annihilate\nCatholicity. And, Mr. Phillips might have added, she was as\nconsistently bigoted at home as in Ireland. Here, the poor hedge\nschoolmaster if a Catholic, who taught a child its a b c, was,\nfor the first offence, subject to banishment, and for the second,\n_to be hanged as a felon_. There, when the University of\nOxford was asked to confer the honorary degree of A.M. on Alban\nFrancis, a learned Benedictine, he was rudely thrust back, solely\nfor the reason that he was a Catholic. And yet the same\nuniversity had shortly before conferred the same degree on--a\nMohammedan! The old distich is very trite, but on that occasion\nit was very true:\n\n  \"Turk, Jew, or atheist may enter here,\n      But not a papist.\"\n\nIt is a memorable fact that Sir Isaac Newton particularly\ndistinguished himself by active participation in this piece of\nbigotry. He actually suspended the preparation for the press of\nhis _Principia_, and lent all the influence of his position\nand his great name in order that an Englishman, distinguished for\nhis virtues and his learning, might not, because he was a\nCatholic, receive the cheap recognition of the honorary degree of\na Protestant university. And Newton's English biographer coolly\nstates that \"it was this circumstance, perhaps, as much as the\npersonal merit of Newton, that induced the university to select\nhim, the following year, to serve as their representative in\nparliament.\"\n\nBut space fails us to dwell on this subject, and we desire merely\nto note the fact that, so thoroughly has a spirit of intolerant\nanti-Catholicity permeated English literature, that its\nexpression, in some shape, is constantly found at the points of\nthe pens of many who are personally unconscious of any such\ninspiration.\n{435}\nThe spirit we refer to so thoroughly pervades every department of\nliterature--history, biography, travels, poetry, philosophy--that\nfrom youth to old age it is unconsciously infiltrated into the\nmental processes of every one who uses the English language as a\nmeans of acquiring or communicating knowledge. Even as we write,\nan instance of this presents itself. Here is a passage from the\neditorial columns of a leading daily, published in Brooklyn, the\nthird city of the Union:\n\n  \"----the church so long deemed the enemy of human freedom and\n  intellectual progress, which imprisoned Galileo, and _tried\n  to thwart Columbus_ in putting the girdle of her ancient\n  faith around the world!\"\n\nAnd yet the article from which this extract is made is evidently\nwritten in a spirit that its author honestly supposes to be one\nof entire freedom from religious prejudice. The church tried to\nthwart Columbus! That is the main idea of the passage quoted, as\nit was also the inspiration of the Kauffman painting. Such ideas\nand such inspiration are the result of general prejudice and a\nforegone conclusion.\n\nOf course we are aware of the accommodating pliability of the\nterm \"the church,\" as used by writers who have anything\ndisagreeable or false to say of Catholicity. \"The church\" is, by\nturns, a council, the pope, the cardinals, the inquisition, a\nbishop or two, a knot of priests, sometimes only one, a king, a\nviceroy, a barefooted friar, a dying nun, or even a simple\nlayman. It is really difficult and discouraging to deal with\npeople who either cannot or will not abide by some standard of\nmeaning for words whose proper acceptance is well defined and\nrecognized.\n\nIn the case of Columbus these misrepresentations are the more\nremarkable for the reason that there is no history of the\ndiscovery of America, no biography of Columbus, how ever\nimperfect, however prejudiced it may be, from whose perusal the\nstudent can arise with any other conviction than that Columbus,\nso far from being thwarted, was, on the contrary, enabled to\nsucceed in obtaining from Spain the means to fit out his\nexpedition only, wholly, and solely by reason of the\nencouragement and aid he received from friars, priests, bishops,\nand cardinals!\n\nFrom the moment he set foot on Spanish soil until he sailed from\nPalos the generous sympathy and brave advocacy of churchmen never\nforsook him. Never for a moment did they waver in their\nappreciation of his noble nature, his sincere piety, and the\nmerit of his enterprise. From the Dominicans cloistered in St.\nStephens to Luis de St. Angel, high treasurer at the royal court;\nfrom the saintly hermit of La Rabida to the grand Cardinal\nMendoza, (\"a man of sound judgment, quick intellect, eloquent and\nable,\" says Washington Irving,) in all are found the same\ngenerous enthusiasm and unwavering boldness in their support of\nthe strange sailor's enterprise.\n\nAnd now, should Mr. Kauffman, or any other artist, desirous of\npainting a great picture without pandering to a taste as false in\nart as in history, desire to select a striking incident from the\nhistory of Columbus, we beg leave to suggest that, without flying\nin the face of truth, he may find it among the following\nhistorical incidents:\n\nFirst. Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza, in appearance lofty and\nvenerable, of generous and gentle deportment, pleading the cause\nof Columbus before the queen.\n\nSecond. The friar Diego de Deza aiding Columbus in sore necessity\nfrom his own scant purse.\n\n{436}\n\nThird. Juan Perez, prior of the convent of La Rabida,\nremonstrating  with Columbus against abandoning his great\nenterprise and quitting Spain.\n\nFourth. The same prior saddling a mule at midnight to confront\nthe dangers of mountain passes, and an enemy's country, in order\nto intercede for Columbus with the queen at Santa F\u00e9.\n\nFifth. The same noble monk pleading the cause of Columbus before\nthe queen with such chivalrous enthusiasm that \"Isabella never\nheard the proposition urged with such honest zeal and impassioned\neloquence.\"\n\nSixth. Another noble ecclesiastic, Luis de St. Angel, who,\nrivalling Isabella's magnanimity, met the queen's noble offer to\npledge her crown jewels to raise the necessary funds for\nColumbus's expedition with the assurance that she need not, for\nhe would advance the money.\n\nBut to return to the \"council of Salamanca.\" The word council\npresents the idea of a solemn ecclesiastical assemblage: not a\ncommittee, not a board, not a junto; but something grand,\nelevated in dignity and large in numbers. When you say \"council,\"\nevery one, instinctively, imagines a crowd of mitres and\nepiscopal croziers.\n\nWith that \"fatal facility\" which is the bane of historical\ncomposition Irving has given us an entire chapter of nine pages\ndescribing this famous \"council,\" its debates, and its\nproceedings, and from this chapter has gradually, although--we\nmust in justice to Mr. Irving say--unwarrantably, grown up a\nstory that, by dint of thirty years' repetition, has almost\nacquired the dignity of an historical fact. That Prescott should\nhave followed Irving is not surprising. That Lamartine should\nhave disdained reference to historical sources and spoken of\nSpain of the fifteenth century with that wonderful _sans\ng\u00eane_ that improvises both form and substance, that writes an\napotheosis of Robespierre and calls it a history of the\nGirondins, in which there is, of course, a florid description of\n\"the last banquet,\" (which never took place,) is still less\nsurprising. But that a Spaniard and a serious historian, Don\nModesto Lafuente, should have written an important page in the\nhistory of his country on the word of an entire stranger is\nastounding.\n\nThe whole of chapter third and part of chapter fourth of Irving's\n_Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus_ are devoted to\n\"the council.\" Irving represents Ferdinand \"determined to take\nthe opinion of the most learned men in the kingdom, and be guided\nby their decision.\" Ferdinand de Talavera, \"one of the most\nerudite men of Spain and high in the royal confidence,\" was\ncommanded to consult the most learned astronomers, etc. After\nthey had informed themselves fully on the subject, they were to\nconsult together and make a report to the sovereign of their\ncollective opinion. After a long disquisition on the condition of\nlearning and science at that time, Irving goes on to say: \"Such\nwas the period when a council of clerical sages was convened in\nthe collegiate convent of St. Stephen to investigate the new\ntheory of Columbus. It was composed of professors of astronomy,\ngeography, mathematics and other branches of science, together\nwith various dignitaries of the church and learned friars. ...\nAmong the number who were convinced by the reasoning and warmed\nby the eloquence of Columbus was Diego de Deza, a worthy and\nlearned friar of the order of St. Dominick. He obtained for\nColumbus a dispassionate if not an unprejudiced hearing.\"\n{437}\nIrving speaks of the assembled body as \"this learned junto,\" and\nsays that occasional conferences took place, but without\nproducing any decision.\n\n\"Talavera, to whom the matter was specially entrusted, had too\nlittle esteem for it, and was too much occupied to press it to a\nconclusion, and thus the inquiry experienced continual\nprocrastination and neglect.\"\n\nSo far the third chapter of Irving. It is a remarkable fact that,\nfor all the important statements concerning the \"council,\" Irving\ncites but one authority, Remesal, referring to book ii. chapter\n27, and book xi. chapter 7. In an endeavor to verify these\ncitations we find that book ii. has but twenty-two chapters, and\nthe passage referred to in book xi. chapter 7 is not there, but\nin book ii. chapter 7. But it is more than singular that Irving\nshould refer to Remesal at all on that subject. Remesal was a\nlearned Dominican monk and his work is a _History of the\nProvinces of Chiapa and Guatemala_, (America.) His book was\ncompleted in 1609, and first published in 1619. Personally, he\nwas separated from the events at Salamanca by a space of one\nhundred and twenty years. He was not writing the history of Spain\nin 1487, and what he says concerning Salamanca is merely\nincidental, unquestionably correct though it be. Thus, he states\nthat, with the aid of the Dominicans, Columbus brought over the\nmost learned men of the university, and among the numerous claims\nto greatness of the convent of St. Stephen was that of having\nbeen the principal cause of the discovery of the Indies.\n[Footnote 122]\n\n    [Footnote 122: \"Y con el favor des los Religiosos reduxo a su\n    opinion los mayores Letrados de la escuela. ... Entre las\n    muchas grundezas ... una es aver sido la principal ocasion\n    del descubrimiento de las Indias.\"]\n\nTo return to Irving. He relates  in chapter 4 that the\n\"consultations of the board (first it was the council, then \"this\nlearned junto\") at Salamanca were interrupted by the Spanish\ncampaign against Malaga, before that learned body could come to a\ndecision, and for a long time Columbus was kept in suspense,\nvainly awaiting the report that was to decide the fate of his\napplication.\" It thus appears that the opinion of the council was\nnot sufficiently adverse to Columbus to report at once and\nunfavorably of his project. Then followed the spring campaign of\n1487, the siege of Malaga, August, 1487. \"In the spring of 1489,\"\nsays Irving, \"Columbus was summoned to attend a conference of\nlearned men to be held at the city of Seville.\"\n\nBut if a fresh conference is to decide, what then was the value\nof the Salamanca council by whose decision, as Mr. Irving\ninformed us a few pages back, King Ferdinand had resolved to be\nguided?\n\n\"In 1490, Ferdinand and Isabella entered Seville in triumph.\nSpring and summer wore away. At court was Fernando de Talavera,\n_the procrastinating arbiter of the pretensions of\nColumbus_.\" So then the arbiter was Talavera, not the council,\nwhich, so far from condemning, have not yet, at the end of four\nyears, given any decision concerning the affair of Columbus.\n\nThe higher we remount with the authorities toward the epoch of\n\"the council\" the less do we find concerning it and concerning\nSalamanca. The chroniclers of their Catholic majesties, Hernando\ndel Pulgar, Galindez, Carvajal, and others, make no mention of\nit, and Peter Martyr, Lucio Siculo, Gonzalez de Oviedo, Lopez de\nGomara, and Sohs are equally silent on the subject.\n\n{438}\n\nIt must be borne in mind, with regard to Columbus, that\nhistorical certainty begins really with the siege of Granada, in\n1492. Everything preceding that epoch is traditional, often vague\nand uncertain, and seldom supported by documentary evidence. A\ncouncil at Salamranca held by royal order would have been\nauthorized by special edict or decree. There was none. Neither\nwas there any regular delegation to the university, no commission\nofficially installed, no interrogatories, nor registers, nor\nrecords, followed by a definitive decree. The college and convent\nof St. Stephen (Dominican) was only one college of the many at\nSalamanca constituting the university. If such a council as\nIrving describes had ever been held there, reference to recorded\nproceedings, and a final decision in its archives, or in those of\nSt. Stephen, could long since have been made.\n\nThe truth is that the only authority for any statements\nconcerning a committee of cosmographers is a passage in the life\nof the grand admiral, written by his son Fernando Columbus. As\nalready remarked, the nearer we approach the period of the\npretended \"council\" the less we hear about it. Herrera, whose\nsagacity, impartiality, and fidelity are universally recognized,\nthus relates the matter of the cosmographers, but not once does\nhe mention \"council\" or \"Salamanca.\" He says (1st Dec. book i,\nchap. vii.) \"that Columbus's suit was so home pressed (y tanto se\nporfi\u00f2 en ello) that their Catholic majesties, giving some\nattention to the affair, referred it to father Ferdinand de\nTalavera. He (Talavera) held a meeting of cosmographers who\ndebated about it, (qui confirieron en ello,) but there being few\nthen of that profession in Castile, and those none of the best in\nthe world, and besides Columbus would not altogether explain\nhimself, lest he should be served as he had been in Portugal,\n[Footnote 123] they came to a resolution nothing answerable to\nwhat he had expected.\"\n\n    [Footnote 123: During his negotiation at Lisbon with the king\n    of Portugal, Columbus was requested to furnish for the\n    consideration of the royal council a detailed plan of his\n    proposed voyage, with charts and documents according to which\n    he intended to shape his course. As soon as these were\n    obtained, a well-manned vessel, under command of an able\n    captain, was despatched with orders to sail west on the\n    Atlantic according to the instructions of Columbus. Some few\n    days out from the Cape Verd Islands, the crew became\n    discouraged, and the vessel returned. The secret of its\n    mission soon transpired, and Columbus, outraged at the\n    treachery, left Portugal in disgust.]\n\nHerrera follows Ferdinand Columbus very closely; adopting, in\nmany passages, his very words. Fernando makes no mention of\nSalamanca, says expressly that the cosmographers were called\naltogether by Talavera, and that Columbus held back his most\nimportant proofs lest what had happened him in Portugal might\nalso happen him in Spain, (n\u00e8 lo ammiraglio si volea lasciar\ntanto intendere che gli avenisse quel, che in Portogallo gli\navvenne et gli urbassero la beniditione.)\n\nFernando Columbus was a man of learning and ability, and his\nhistory is of great value. Unfortunately, the work, as he wrote\nit, is lost. It was, of course, in the Spanish language. It is\nsaid that a son of his brother Diego took the MS. to Genoa, where\nit was translated into Italian. The version now used in Spain is\nretranslated from the Italian, and abounds in errors. There is a\nvery good copy of the Italian edition (Venice, 1685) in the Astor\nlibrary.\n\nMunoz, the Spanish national historian who followed Herrera and\nprecedes Navarette, was a scholar of great merits, talents, and\nliberal acquisitions. He was indefatigable in research, and being\nroyal historiographer had free access to all the records of\nSpain. He says that Talavera was commissioned to examine the\nenterprise with cosmographers, and give their opinion.\n{439}\nAs the court happened that winter to be at Salamanca, they met\nthere. It is to be regretted that no record exists of the\nconferences that took place in the Dominican convent of St.\nStephen, from which to form an opinion of the condition of\nmathematics and astronomy in the university so famous in the\nfifteenth century. _It is clear, nevertheless, that Columbus\nestablished his propositions, produced his proofs, and met every\nobjection_. [Footnote 124]\n\n    [Footnote 124:  Talavera \u00e1 quien los reyes encargaron la\n    comision de juntar \u00e0 los sujetis habiles in cosmografia, para\n    examinar la empresa, y dar su pareceo. Formose la junta en\n    Salamanca, quiz\u00e1 per el invierno estando alli la corte. Es\n    lastima quo no hayan quidado documentis de las disputas que\n    se tuvieron en el convento de los dominicanos de San Esteban\n    para formar juicio del estado de las matematicas y astronomia\n    en aquella universidad famosa en el siglo XV. Coustu que\n    Colon sentaban sus proposisciones, exponfa sus fundamentos, y\n    satisfaci\u00e1 a' las dificultades.]\n\nMunoz (_Historia del Nuevo Mundo_, pp. 57, 58, 59)\ncontinues: \"Los dominicanos poner entre sus glorias el haber\nhospedado en San Esteban al descubridor de las Indias, dadole de\ncomer y otros auxilios para seguir sus pretensiones; y sobra todo\nel haber estado por su opinion en equellas disputas, y atraido \u00e1\nsu partido los primeros hombres de la escuela. En lo qual\nattribuyen la principal parte \u00e1 Fray Diego Deza. ... cuyo\nautoridad. ... contribuy\u00f3 mucho para los creditos y acceptacion\nde la empresa.\" [Footnote 125]\n\n    [Footnote 125: The Dominicans are justly proud of the\n    hospitality extended by them in their convents to the\n    discoverer of America, entertaining him, and providing him\n    with all things necessary to pursue his projects; and still\n    more of having declared for him in the argument, drawing over\n    to his side the first men of the university. In all which the\n    great merit is due to Diego de Deza, whose influence\n    contributed greatly to the appreciation and adoption of the\n    enterprise.]\n\nOnly a few years since, in 1858, Don Domingo Doncel y Ordar, of\nSalamanca, published a memoir in which he refutes the statements\nof Irving.\n\nA conference of cosmographers doubtless was held, but it was not\nof the nature described by Irving and those who copy him, nor was\nit a \"council\" with which the university of Salamanca had any\nofficial connection whatever.\n\nThe archives, documents, and registers of the university have\nbeen searched with the most thorough diligence, and not a trace\nof the council is on record. The registers in particular,\nadmirably kept and carefully preserved, were commenced in 1464\nand record incidents almost insignificant in interest, but make\nno mention of such a meeting or council as Irving speaks of. In\nthis connection it is matter of surprise that such writers as\nRosselly De Lorgues and Cadoret should still be chasing the\nphantom of this Salamanca council. The latter says that its\ndecree was rendered five years after its first meeting, and De\nLorgues supposes it probable that its records may yet be found in\nthe archives of Simancas. If there had been any decision against\nColumbus by a body at all approaching the dignity and importance\nof the university of Salamanca, he would have immediately quitted\nSpain, never to return. But we find him leaving Salamanca strong\nin the support of its first scholars, of the entire body of\nDominicans, and of the papal nuncio.\n\nThat King Ferdinand should have directed Talavera to take the\nopinion of cosmographers is perfectly natural. This temporizing\nand shuffling treatment of Columbus would lead him to do anything\nthat would gain time and put Columbus off. Even Isabella was\nevidently desirous of procrastinating until a successful\ntermination of the siege of Granada should enable them to act in\nthe matter.\n\nReference to a committee or a board for the sake of delay\nindefinite is not an invention of the nineteenth century. It is\nas old as, if not older than, the period of Columbus.\n{440}\nThat  Columbus should, as his son Fernando relates, have\nhesitated to explain himself fully, was natural, and indeed\ninevitable. And with that hesitation there must have been a shade\nof disdain in his manner. It looks very much as though he had\nreserved his best, most cogent reasons for the private ear of his\nspecial friends the Dominicans, who were enthusiastically the\nadvocates of his enterprise.\n\nWe see Columbus leaving Salamanca not cast down and defeated, but\nserene and with all the courage of confirmed conviction. The\nnoble Diego de Deza conducts him to the presence of Ferdinand and\nIsabella, and we soon afterward hear the hum of preparation at\nPalos.\n\nThe latest historian of Columbus, Mr. Arthur Helps, separated\nfrom Washington Irving by a period of some forty years, is\ncredited with ability, and great industry and research. He\ncertainly has the advantage of extensive and successful\ndiscoveries of documents concerning Columbus made in Spain within\nthat period. It would be but reasonable, therefore, to look for\nthe throwing of much additional light and interesting details on\nso capital an incident as \"the council of Salamanca.\" Here is the\naccount given of it by Mr. Helps in his _Life of Columbus_,\npublished since the commencement of the present year:\n\n  \"Amid the clang of arms and the bustle of warlike preparation,\n  Columbus was not likely to obtain more than a slight and\n  superficial attention to a matter which must have seemed remote\n  and uncertain.\n\n  \"Indeed, when it is considered that the most pressing internal\n  affairs of kingdoms are neglected by the wisest rulers in times\n  of war, it is wonderful that he succeeded in obtaining any\n  audience at all. However, he was fortunate enough to find at\n  once a friend in the treasurer of the household, Alonzo de\n  Quintilla, a man who, like himself, took delight in great\n  things, and who obtained a hearing for him from the Spanish\n  monarchs. Ferdinand and Isabella did not dismiss him abruptly.\n  On the contrary, it is said they listened kindly; and the\n  conference ended _by their referring the business to the\n  queen's confessor, Fra Hernando de Talavera_, who was\n  afterwards archbishop of Granada. This important functionary\n  summoned a junta of cosmographers (not a promising assemblage!)\n  to consult about the affair, and this junta was convened at\n  Salamanca in the summer of the year 1487.\n\n  \"Here was a step gained; the cosmographers were to consider his\n  scheme, and not merely to consider whether it was worth taking\n  into consideration. But it was impossible for the jury to be\n  unprejudiced. All inventors, to a certain extent, insult their\n  contemporaries by accusing them of stupidity and ignorance. And\n  the cosmographical pedants, accustomed to beaten tracks,\n  resented the heresy by which this adventurer was attempting to\n  overthrow the belief of centuries. They thought that so many\n  persons, wise in nautical matters, as had preceded the Genoese\n  mariner, never could have overlooked such an idea as this which\n  had presented itself to his mind. Moreover, as the learning of\n  the middle ages resided for the most part in the cloister, the\n  members of the junta were principally clerical, and combined to\n  crush Columbus with theological objections. ... Las Casas\n  displays his usual acuteness when he says that the great\n  difficulty of Columbus was not that of teaching, but that of\n  unteaching; not of promulgating his own theory, but of\n  eradicating the erroneous convictions of the judges before whom\n  he had to plead his cause. In fine, the junta decided that the\n  project was 'vain and impossible, and that it did not belong to\n  the majesty of such great princes to determine anything upon\n  such weak grounds of information.'\"\n\nSlender material, all this, for another Kauffman painting! Here\nis our council sunk to a junta--a junta of cosmographers--not an\nassemblage of theologians to decide what the church thought about\nthe project, but a junta of men supposed to know something of\ngeography and the conformation of the globe! The \"theological\nobjections\" referred to by Mr. Helps were precisely the\nopportunity of Columbus's greatest triumph in giving him occasion\nto reveal himself to friends and enemies in a capacity never\nsuspected to exist in him.\n{441}\nAmong the many traditions in Spain concerning \"l'almirante\"\n[Footnote 126] --traditions supported by his own writings and the\ntestimony of such men as Las Casas--none are so well established\nas those that recount the eloquent inspiration of Columbus in\nciting or commenting the Scriptures. His perfect familiarity with\nthem was not more admirable than his majesty of manner in\ndeclaiming their grandest passages.\n\n    [Footnote 126: Humboldt says that whenever a Spaniard\n    mentions _L'Almirante_, he refers to but one, namely,\n    Columbus. Just as the Mexicans, when they speak of El\n    Marchese, mean Cortes, and the Florentines, when they name\n    _Il Segretario_, mean Macchiavelli.]\n\nLuther, as we learn from that remarkable book, _D'Aubign\u00e9's\nHistory of the Reformation, discovered_, unexpectedly\ndiscovered, to his great joy and surprise, a Bible chained to a\nwindow in the conventual library! Could not some modern D'Aubign\u00e9\ninform us how it was that an obscure Italian sailor could have\nhappened upon a Bible in such countries as Italy, Portugal, and\nSpain, could have been permitted to read it--more than all that,\ncould have had the temerity to quote it to the very face of\nmonks, and priests, and, worse still, show them that he knew as\nmuch about it as they did? We commend the subject to the\nD'Aubign\u00e9 editors.\n\nIn saying that, in our belief, the life of Columbus has yet to be\nwritten, we express no new opinion.\n\nIn this connection it is well remarked by the Marquis De Belloy,\nthat the best history of Christopher Columbus would be the\ncollection of his own writings accompanied by commentaries.\nLiterary and bibliographical research and labor in Spain have\nsucceeded in collecting nearly everything that Columbus wrote\nfrom the year 1492 up to the period of his death, and their\npublication is needed to show this truly grand character in his\ntrue light. Were Columbus simply a man of genius, an ordinary\nhistory would suffice to recount his life. But his soul was as\ngreat as his genius, and such a soul is its own best revelation.\nNext to the accomplishments of his great project, the discovery\nof a new world beyond the ocean, a world he distinctly saw, his\ndominant thought was--with the wealth that must necessarily be\nobtained from it--to reconquer and deliver from pagan hands the\nsepulchre of our Saviour!\n\nProfane history and modern impiety instinctively smile at such\nsimplicity. Mr. Rosselly De Lorgues is one of the very few who\nhave rendered justice to the religious phase of the character of\nthe great mariner, and he shows that in Columbus constancy,\nperseverance, bravery, and honor were not more marked than\nelevated Catholic piety.\n\nTo conclude with Salamanca, there is no more searching, truthful,\nand eloquent commentary on its results than the language of\nColumbus himself, for he has recorded it. We quote from Navarette\n(Madrid edition) vol. 1. p. xcii.:\n\n  \"Diego de Deza\"--the Dominican monk--\"was his (Columbus's)\n  special protector with Ferdinand and Isabella, and mainly\n  contributed to the success of his enterprise; referring to\n  this, Columbus himself said that from his coming into Castile\n  that prelate (Deza) had protected him, had striven for his\n  honor, and to him was it due that their majesties possessed the\n  Indies.\" [Footnote 127]\n\n    [Footnote 127: \"Por lo cual decia el mismo Colon que\n    _desde_ que vino \u00e1 Castilla le habia favorecido aquel\n    prelado y deseado su honora, y que el fue causa que SS. AA.\n    tuviesen las Indias.\"]\n\nFor this passage Navarette quotes Remesal, _Historia di Chiapa\ne Guatemala_. A very characteristic performance in Navarette!\nIt was impossible for him to avoid referring to what Columbus had\nsaid, and he weakens the force of it by not crediting it at once\nand directly to the proper authority, Las Casas--citing Las\nCasas's own words.\n\n{442}\n\nFor Remesal expressly says that he takes it from Las Casas, (lib.\ni. al medio del cap. 29:) \"Y assi (dize) en carta escrita de su\nmano de Christobal Colon vide que dezia al Rey: Que el suso dicho\nMaestro del Principe, Arcobispo de Sevilla D.F. _Diego Deza\navia fido causa que los Reyes abrassen las Indias_.\"\n\nIt is one thing to be told that Remesal uses the language cited\nby Navarette, and quite another thing to learn from Las Casas\nthat he had seen _a letter written by Columbus himself, in\nwhich he told the king of Spain that their majesties owed their\npossession of the Indies to the Dominican monk Diego de Deza_.\n\nNothing, however, need surprise us from a historian who undertook\nthe desperate task of extenuating the notorious injustice of\nFerdinand toward Columbus. In its execution Navarette has\nneedlessly and shamefully outraged the truth of history and the\nmemory of the Great Discoverer.\n\n----------\n\n              Daybreak.\n\n\n            Chapter VIII.\n\n\n        The Lord Answered Job\n         Out Of A Whirlwind.\n\n\nMr. Southard was perfectly confident in his expectation of being\nable to convince Miss Hamilton of her mistake. He knew her well\nenough to be sure that she would fearlessly acknowledge her error\nas soon as it should be made plain to her; and he did not doubt\nthat the power to produce that conviction on her mind would be\ngiven him.\n\nHe would not allow that first twinge of wounded personal pride\nand dignity of office, with which he had seen how light she held\nhis authority in matters of religion, to stand in the way of his\nendeavors. The first dignity of his office was to perform its\nduties. Exacting respect was secondary.\n\nMr. Southard had one confident: his journal. The day the books\nwere left on his table he wrote in it: \"Tonight I am to read\nMilner's _End of Controversy_. O my God! may I read it by\nthe light of thy Gospel! May a ray of heavenly truth fall on each\npage, expose its hidden falsehood, and teach me how best to prove\nthat falsehood to this stray lamb who has been lured from thy\nfold into the den of the wolf.\"\n\nTwo or three days passed, the book was read, and read again; but\nthe refutation was not ready. Mr. Southard was too honest and too\nmanly to think that personal abuse was a proper answer to\ntheological argument. He remembered that when St. Michael set his\nfoot upon the neck of Satan, and chained him to the rock, he did\nnot use infernal weapons, or walk in loathsome ways; but his\nsword was tempered in heaven, and there was no mire upon his\nsandals.\n\n{443}\n\n\"When I fight for the Lord,\" the minister said, \"I will use the\nweapons of the Lord.\"\n\nHe laid aside the first book, and took another. Again a few days,\nand yet he was not prepared to undermine his adversary.\n\n\"I am astonished at the ingenuity and subtlety of these writers,\"\nwas the record he made in those days. \"All the resources of minds\nrichly dowered by nature, highly cultivated by education, and\ninspired by some strange infatuation for what they call the\nchurch, have been brought to bear upon this question of polemics.\nHow skilfully they mingle truth with falsehood! What beautiful,\nwhat touching, what sublime sentiments they drop in places where\none would not go save so lured! It reminds me of my boyish days,\nwhen the scarlet blossom of a cardinal-flower would entice me\ndown steep banks, and into dangerous waters, or some bloomy patch\nof ripe berries would draw my feet into a treacherous swamp. I\nbegin to perceive the attraction which the Roman Church exercises\non the unwary.\"\n\nIt will be perceived that Mr. Southard had the rare courtesy not\nto use the word \"Romish.\" He was so much a gentleman that he\ncould not call nicknames, not even in theological controversy.\n\nBut as his days of study lengthened into weeks, a change came\nover him. The obstacles in his way made him nervous, feverish,\nand, it must be owned, rather ill-tempered. His political\nopposition to Mr. Lewis was expressed with unusual asperity. He\nwas very haughty with Miss Hamilton. He entirely absented himself\nfrom luncheon, and he sometimes dined out, rather than sit beside\nthat smiling papist who was doubtless triumphing over him in her\nheart, taking his silence for defeat. He groaned as he heard her\nlight step pass his door every morning on her way to early mass.\nThat step was his _r\u00e9veil_. Should he, the Gospel watchman,\nsleep while the foe was awake and at work?\n\n\"Why cannot truth inspire as much ardor as error awakens?\" he\nwrote one morning. \"Why cannot we bring back the old days of\nfaith, when God was to man a power, and not a name; when the\ntables of the law were stone to the touch; when he who made\nflood, and fire, and death was more terrible than flood, fire, or\ndeath? The author of _Ecce Homo_ is right; no virtue is safe\nthat is not enthusiastic. A cold religion is a worthless\nreligion. O Lord! have mercy on Zion; for it is time to have\nmercy on it.\"\n\nBut, angry as he was with her every morning, when Mr. Southard\nmet Margaret coming in again from mass, her face smiling, her\ncheeks red from the cold, he could but forgive her. It is hard to\nfrown on a bright face, happiness looks so much like goodness.\n\nMr. Granger took notice of these early walks, Mr. Lewis\nalternately scowled upon and laughed at them. Mrs. Lewis and\nAurelia exclaimed, How dared she go out alone before light!\n\nThe wicked people, if there were any, were all asleep, Miss\nHamilton said, sitting down to breakfast with a most unromantic\nappetite, and a general preponderance of rose-color and sparkle\nin her countenance. At six o'clock on winter mornings no one was\nabroad but papists and policemen. It was the safest hour of the\ntwenty-four.\n\n\"My good angel and I just go about our business, and nobody\nmolests us,\" she said with a spice of mischief; for the mention\nof anything peculiarly Catholic usually had the effect of\nproducing a blank silence, and a general elongation of visage.\n\n{444}\n\n\"But such a magnificent spectacle as I saw this morning! I came\nhome round the Common. The sleet-storm of last evening had left\nall the trees crusted with ice to the very tips of their twigs,\nand set an ice-mitre on every individual arrow-head of the iron\nfence. There were the ghosts of all the bishops from Peter down.\nThere wasn't any sky, but only a vast crystalline distance. I\ntook my stand on the Beacon and Charles street corner. Every\nother person who was so happy as to be out looked also. Then the\nsun came up. Park street steeple caught fire at the ball, and\nflamed all the way down. There was a glimmer on the topmost\ntwigs, then the trees all over the Common were in an instant\ntransfigured into flashing diamonds. The malls were enough to put\nyour eyes out--nothing but glitter from end to end. It was a\ngrand display for the frost-people. The trees will talk about it\nall next summer.\"\n\nThe winter slipped away; and Mr. Southard had not fulfilled his\npromise to Miss Hamilton. Neither had he relinquished his\nstudies. Shut up with his books hour after hour and day after\nday, in silence and solitude, he scarcely knew how the world\nfared without. For him the war had suddenly dwindled. Through\nlong and weary vigils that wore his face thin and his eyes\nhollow, he studied, and thought, and prayed, not the humble\npetition of one who places himself before God, and passively\nawaits an inspiration, but the impassioned and fiery petition of\none who will not doubt the justice of his cause, and will not be\ndenied. Then, leaning from the window to cool his heated eyes and\nhead in the fresh early dawning, a peace that was half exhaustion\nwould settle upon him. Sleep came pitifully in those hours, and\npressed on the throbbing brain too much expanded by thought, and\nfor a little while soothed the tormented heart.\n\nHis journal bore traces of the conflict.\n\n\"I will resist the seduction! This is my time of trial; but I\nwill conquer! In the name of God, I will yet confound the doctors\nof the Roman Church. O God! who didst nerve the arm of David\nagainst Goliath, strengthen thou me!\"\n\nAt every step he was baffled. Catching at what appeared a mere\ntheological weed, thinking to fling it out of his way, he found\nit rooted like an oak. Approaching dogmas with the expectation of\ncutting them down like men of straw, he was confronted by mailed\ngiants.\n\nHe found himself among crowds and clouds of Catholic\nsaints--shadows, he called them--that would fly from his path\nwhen he should hold up the torch of truth. But, looking in that\nlight, he saw steadfast eyes, and shining foreheads, and\npalm-branches that brushed his shrinking, empty hands. And out\nfrom among them, with a look of gentle humility that smote him\nlike a blow, and with a tremulous radiance gathering about her\npure forehead, came one whom he had frowned upon, and striven to\ndiscrown. What was she saying? \"All nations shall call me\nblessed!\" Not great, not glorious, not even lovely, but\n_blessed_!\n\n\"Well--she--was blessed,\" admitted the minister.\n\nThe next moment he started out of his chair, muttered some kind\nof exorcism, caught his hat, and went out for a walk. Though it\nwas mid-April, a north wind was blowing thank heaven for that!\nNothing murky about the north wind.\n{445}\nIt would soon blow away all these pestilential vapors that came\nup from the sun-steeped lowlands of his soul; pagan places where,\nthough his iconoclastic will had again and again gone about\nbreaking images, no sooner did it rest than there they were\nagain, Bacchus, and Hebe, and Diana, and the rest. Or from yet\nmore dangerous because more deceptive regions, wide, bright\nsolitudes of the soul, arid and dazzling, where the unobstructed\nsky seemed to lean upon the earth--the region of mirages, of New\nJerusalems, that shone and crumbled--of sacred-seeming streams\nthat fled from thirsty lips--of cool shadows that never were\nreached.\n\nIn one of these impetuous walks, Mr. Southard came across an old\nminister, and went into his study with him, and told him\nsomething of his difficulties. He was too well aware of his own\nexcitement to venture on a full explanation. Moreover, there was\nsomething soothing and silencing in the look of this man, in his\ntranquil, rather sad expression, his noble face, and snowy hair.\n\nThe old doctor leaned back in his chair, and calmly listened\nwhile his younger brother spoke, smiling indulgently now and then\nat some vivid turn of expression, some flash of the eyes, some\nimpatient gesture.\n\nElderly ministers were always pleased with Mr. Southard, who\nwould ask advice and instruction of them with a docility that was\nalmost childlike. Such respect was very pleasant to those who\nseemed to have fallen upon evil days, who saw the prestige of the\nministry departing, to whom boys had ceased to take off their\ncaps, to whom even women did not look up as of yore.\n\n\"My dear brother,\" said the doctor gently when the other had\nceased speaking, \"you have made a mistake in attempting this\nwork. I tell you frankly, we can never argue down the Catholic\nChurch. All the old theologians know that, and avoid the contest.\nFor perfect consistency with itself, and for wonderful complexity\nyet harmony of structure, the world has not seen, and will not\nagain see its equal. It is the masterwork of the arch-enemy.\"\n\n\"So much the more reason why we should attack it with all our\nmight!\" exclaimed the other.\n\n\"No,\" replied the doctor, \"That does not follow. There are\ndangers which must be shunned, not met; and this is one. As with\nwine, so with Romanism, 'touch not, taste not, handle not!'\"\n\n\"That might be said to the laity,\" Mr. Southard persisted. \"But\nfor us who teach theology, we ought to search, we ought to\nexamine. It is essential that we know the weapons of our\nadversary in order to destroy them.\"\n\n\"Truth has many phases, and so has belief,\" was the quiet reply.\n\"We begin by believing that the doctrines we hold are the truth,\nthe whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and that everything\nelse is unmitigated falsehood. But after a while, according to\nthe degree of candor of which we are capable, we begin to admit\nthat every religion on earth has something reasonable to say for\nitself. There is a grain of good in Mohammedanism, in Brahminism,\nin Buddhism. We are now credibly assured that the old story of\npeople throwing themselves under the wheels of Juggernaut is a\nmyth. Hindu converts say that there were sometimes accidents at\nthese religious celebrations, on account of the crowd, as we have\naccidents on the fourth of July; but that Juggernaut was a\nbeneficent deity who took no pleasure in human pain, and whose\nattributes were a dim reflection of Christianity.\n{446}\nI used to tell that story in perfect good faith whenever a\ncollection was wanted for the missionaries. I don't tell it now.\nAt last we learn to choose what seems to us best, to present its\nadvantages to others, but not to insist that all shall agree with\nus under pain of eternal loss. When I hear a man crying out\nviolently against the purely religious opinions of others, I\nalways set him down as a man of narrow heart and narrower head.\nThe principal reason for my well-known hostility to Catholicism\nis a political one.\n\n\"The fact is, brother, God's light falling on the mind of man, is\nlike sunlight falling on a prism. It is no longer the pure white,\nbut is shattered into colors which each one catches according to\nhis humor. We ministers are not like Moses coming from the\nmountain with the whole law in his two hands, and a dazzling face\nto testify for him that he had been with God, he alone. I wish we\nwere, brother! I wish we were!\"\n\n\"But faith,\" exclaimed the other, \"is there no faith?\"\n\n\"We believe in the essentials; and they are few.\"\n\n\"How shall we prove them?\"\n\n\"As the Catholic Church proves them. She holds the whole truth\ntangled in the midst of her errors, like a fly in a spider's\nweb.\"\n\nMr. Southard sat a moment, looking steadily, almost sternly, at\nhis companion.\n\n\"Then you and I have no mission,\" he said. \"We are not divinely\ncalled.\"\n\n\"Whithersoever a man goes, there is he called,\" said the doctor,\nsighing faintly. \"We among the rest. We have a mission, too, and\na noble one. We make people keep the Sabbath, which, without us,\nwould fall into disuse; we remind them of their duties; we check\nimmorality; we keep before the eyes of worldlings the fact that\nthere is another world than this. In short, we spend our breath\nin keeping alive the sacred fire on the desecrated altar of the\nhuman soul. Is that nothing?\"\n\nIn speaking, the doctor lifted his head, and drew up his stately\nform. His voice trembled with feeling, and his eyes were full of\nindignant tears. His look was proud, almost defiant; yet seemed\ndirected less against his companion, than combating some voice in\nhis own soul. All the enthusiastic dreams of his youth, though\nthey had long since been subdued, as he thought, by common sense\nand necessity, stirred in their graves at sound of the imperious\nquestioning, at sight of the clear, searching eyes of this young\nvisionary who fancied that in the troubled spirit of man the full\norb of truth was to be reflected unblurred.\n\n\"In short,\" Mr. Southard said, rising to go, \"you believe that\nthe spirit of evil can propose a problem which the Holy Spirit\ncannot solve.\"\n\n\"Not so!\" was the reply; \"but the spirit of evil may propose a\nproblem which the Holy Spirit may not choose to solve for us till\nthe end of time.\"\n\n\n                Chapter IX.\n\n              Noblesse Oblige\n\n\nOn his way home that day, the minister met Mr. Granger, and the\ntwo stopped to look at a Vermont regiment that was marching\nthrough the city from the Maine depot to the New York depot. As\nthey stopped, the regiment also was stopped by some obstruction\nin the street.\n\nThe attention of the gentlemen was presently attracted to a boy\nin the rank nearest them, a bright, resolute-looking lad, with a\nruddy face and smiling lips.\n{447}\nBut it needed not a very keen observer to see in that smile the\npathetic bravado of a boy who had just torn himself away from\nhome, and was struggling to hide the grief with which his heart\nwas swelling.\n\n\"What is a boy like you in the army for?\" Mr. Granger asked.\n\nThe young soldier looked up, his bright eyes bold with\nexcitement. \"When men won't go, the boys have got to go,\" he\nanswered. \"Do you want to take my place?\"\n\nMr. Granger said no more.\n\nBeside this boy stood a middle aged man who had an uncommonly\ngood face. He was tall, somewhat awkward, and had that look of\nunsophisticated manliness, honest candor, and plain common sense,\nwhich is found only in the country. One could not fancy him a\ndweller among masked city faces, breathing air pent in narrow\nstreets, walking daily on pavements, and knowing no shades but\nthose of brick and stone. His place was tramping through wild\nforests, not with any romantic intent, but measuring with\npractised eyes the trunk of some tree in which he saw what\nwoodsmen call a \"good stick,\" and chopping steadily at it while\nthe chips flew about him, and above him the spreading branches\nshivered at every stroke; or plodding slowly through still\ncountry roads beside his slow oxen; or, in the sultry summer\ndays, swinging the scythe through thick grass and clover, mowing\nthem down ankle deep at his feet. He had the flavor of all that\nabout him. Now he had to wade through other than that fragrant\nsummer sacrifice, to break through other ranks than serried\nclover and Mayweed, and those strong arms of his were to lay low\nsomething greater than pine or cedar. You could see that this\nthought was in his mind, that he never lost sight of it, but,\nalso, that he would not shrink. Such men have not much to say;\nbut in time of need they put into action the heroism which others\nexhale in glowing language.\n\nThis man had been looking straight before him; but at the sound\nof a childish voice he turned his head quickly. A little girl\nleaning from the curbstone was admiring the bunch of flowers on\nthe soldier's bayonet, and stretching longing hands toward them.\n\nThe fixed look in the man's face broke up instantly. \"Do you want\nthem, little dear?\" he asked.\n\n\"Oh! yes.\"\n\nHe lowered his rifle, removed the flowers, and gave them to the\nchild, looking at her with a yearning, homesick smile that was\nmore pitiful than tears. At that moment the drums began to beat.\nThe soldier laid his bronzed hand on the happy little head, then,\nwith trembling lips and downcast eyes, marched on, and out of\nsight for ever.\n\nMr. Granger turned abruptly away. \"I feel as if I were a great\nlazy coward!\" he exclaimed. \"I can't stand this any longer!\"\n\nThe minister looked at him with a startled expression; but any\nreply was prevented; for just then they met Mrs. Lewis coming out\nof a flower-store, with her hands full of Mayflowers done up in\nsolid pink bunches, without a sign of green.\n\n\"Poor things!\" she said. \"The sight of them always reminds me of\nthe massacre of the Innocents. See! they look like so many pretty\nlittle pink and white heads cut off. Massed so, without any\ngreen, they are not at all like flowers. Are we going home to\ndinner? My husband will be late, and we are not to wait for him.\nHe has gone to see who is drafted in our ward.\"\n\n{448}\n\nThe family had nearly finished dinner when Mr. Lewis came in.\n\"Our house is favored,\" he said immediately. \"Granger, both you\nand I are drawn.\"\n\nMr. Granger looked up, but said nothing. \"I got my substitute on\nthe spot,\" Mr. Lewis continued. \"He is a decent fellow whom I can\ndepend on. I asked him if he knew of any one for you, and he\nthought he could get somebody.\"\n\nMr. Granger made no reply, seemed to be occupied in waiting on\nhis little girl who sat beside him.\n\n\"How sober he is!\" thought Miss Hamilton; but did not feel\ntroubled, his gravity was so gentle.\n\nDora looked up in her father's face, and laughed, half with love,\nhalf with delight. \"You nice papa!\" she cried, and gave his arm\nan enthusiastic hug. He laid his hand on those sunny curls, as he\nhad seen the soldier do in the street, but did not smile.\n\nGlancing at Mr. Southard, Margaret met a look at once anxious and\nsearching. His eyes were instantly averted, but his expression\ndid not change. What could it mean? After dinner, he went\ndirectly to his room.\n\nMr. Granger sat apart in the parlor with Dora, petting her, and\ntelling her stories. When her bed-time came, he went out with\nher, and was gone longer than usual. The evening was cool, and\nthey had a fire in the grate. Mr. Lewis sat before it reading the\nevening paper, and the three ladies gathered in one corner, and\ntalked in whispers.\n\n\"How sober and strange everything seems this evening!\" Margaret\nsaid, shivering. \"I feel cold. It isn't like spring, but like\nfall. Hold my hand, Aura dear. What does chill me so?\"\n\n\"It is because Mr. Southard looked at you in such an odd way,\"\nAurelia said gravely, holding Margaret's cold hand between her\nwarm ones.\n\n\"I know what ails me,\" Mrs. Lewis said, in a tone of vexation.\n\"It is that substitute. My husband will preach poverty for six\nmonths to come. Charles,\" raising her voice, \"does your\nsubstitute look as if he had swallowed a new black silk dress\nwith little ruffles all over it?\"\n\n\"He has very much that expression of countenance,\" growled Mr.\nLewis from behind his newspaper.\n\n\"O dear! And does he look as if Niagara Falls had disappeared\ndown his throat, and as if he were just chewing up a little trip\nto the mountains?\"\n\n\"You describe him perfectly,\" her husband replied with grim\ncourtesy.\n\nMr. Granger came in presently, and stood awhile by one of the\nwindows, looking out into the twilight. Then he took a seat by\nthe fire.\n\nIt was getting too dark to read without a light, and Mr. Lewis\nlaid his paper aside. \"I will see about your substitute\nto-morrow,\" he said, \"and send him up to the bank, if you wish.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" Mr. Granger replied. \"And as soon as I get a\nsubstitute, I shall immediately volunteer.\"\n\nThere was an exclamation from the ladies, and a sound as if one\ncaught her breath.\n\nMr. Lewis stared at the speaker, turned very red, then started\nup, and went out of the room, banging the door behind him. A\nminute later, he flung open the door of Mr. Southard's study, and\nmarched in without the least ceremony. \"What is the meaning of\nthis nonsense of Mr. Granger's volunteering?\" he demanded,\nstammering with anger.\n\nMr. Southard had been sitting with a Bible open before him, and\nhis face bowed forward and resting on it. He rose with cold\nstateliness at this abrupt invasion. \"Will you sit, sir?\" he\nsaid, pointing to a chair.\n\n{449}\n\n\"No, sir, I will not!\" was the answer. \"I want you to go down and\nput a stop to his making a fool of himself. I won't say a word to\nhim; I haven't patience to.\"\n\n\"If Mr. Granger thinks it his duty to go, I shall not attempt to\ndissuade him,\" said the minister calmly, reseating himself. \"He\nis his own master, and I am in no way responsible for his action\nin the matter.\"\n\n\"When a man plants an acorn, we hold him responsible for the\noak,\" was the retort. \"You have indirectly done all you could to\nmake him ashamed of staying at home, and to make him believe that\nthe more pieces a man gets cut into the more of a man he is. If\nyou don't prevent his going, I shall hold you responsible for\nwhatever may happen.\"\n\nFor a moment the minister's self-control deserted him, and a just\nperceptible curl touched his lip with scorn. \"Can you see no\nnobler destiny for a man,\" he asked, \"than to eat three meals a\nday, make money, and keep a whole skin?\"\n\nMr. Lewis's face had been red: now his very hands blushed with\nanger. He opened the door to leave the room, and turned on the\nthreshold. \"Yes, sir, I can!\" he replied with emphasis. \"But it\nis not in staying at home and sending another man out to die,\nespecially when that man may be in your way!\"\n\nBanging the door behind him, Mr. Lewis ran against his niece who\nwas just coming up-stairs. She looked terrified. She had\noverheard her uncle's parting speech.\n\n\"Oh! how could you!\" she exclaimed. \"Aunt was afraid that you\nwere going to say something to Mr. Southard, and she sent me to\nbeg you to come down. How could you, uncle?\"\n\n\"I could a good deal easier than I couldn't,\" he replied. \"Come\ninto the chamber here and talk to me. I don't want to be left\nalone a minute. I shan't go down-stairs again to-night; and I\nwould advise you and your aunt to get out of the way, and give\nMiss Hamilton a chance to talk or cry a little common sense into\nMr. Granger.\"\n\nMeantime Mr. Granger had been explaining somewhat to the two\nladies left with him, and exonerating Mr. Southard from all\nresponsibility.\n\n\"I know that Mr. Lewis will blame him,\" he said; \"but that is\nunjust to both of us. It is paying me a very poor compliment to\nsay that in such a matter I would allow another person to think\nfor me.\"\n\n\"You must remember that my husband's excitement will be in\nproportion to his regard for you,\" Mrs Lewis said, with tears in\nher eyes. \"He has a rough way of showing affection; but he is\nfonder of you than of any other man in the world; and I'm sure we\nall--\" Here her voice failed.\n\nMr. Granger turned hastily toward her as she got up to go out. \"I\ndon't forget that,\" he said. \"I know he thinks a good deal of me,\nand so do I of him. We shan't quarrel. Don't be afraid. I found\nout long ago that he has a kind and true heart under that rough\nmanner.\"\n\n\"I'm going to bring him back,\" Mrs. Lewis said, and went out,\nwiping her eyes.\n\nMr. Granger had not dared to look at Miss Hamilton, or address\nher directly. After having spoken, the thought had first occurred\nto him that he should have been less abrupt in announcing his\nintention to her. She might be expected to feel his departure\nmore keenly than the others would. He waited a moment to see if\nshe would speak. She sat perfectly quiet in the dim light, her\ncheek supported by her hand, her elbow on the arm of her chair,\nand her eyes fixed on the fire.\n{450}\nThere is an involuntary calmness with which we sometime receive\nthe most terrible news, and which even an acute observer would\ntake for perfect indifference, but which, though not assumed, is\nutterly deceptive. Perhaps it is incredulity; perhaps the sudden\nblow stuns. Whatever it may be, no human self-control can equal\nit. Fortunately, this phenomenon worked now for Miss Hamilton.\nShe would scarcely have forgiven herself or Mr. Granger if she\nhad lost her self-possession.\n\n\"Nothing will be changed here,\" he said presently, slightly\nembarrassed by the continued silence. \"All will go on just as it\nhas. In case of any uncertainty, when it would take too long to\nhear from me, you can consult Mr. Barton, who is my lawyer. He\nknows all my wishes and intentions. Of course you have full\nauthority regarding Dora. I feel quite at ease in leaving her to\nyou.\"\n\nSo Mr. Barton had known all about it, and so had Mr. Southard,\nand others, perhaps. Miss Hamilton recollected herself with an\neffort. She was in Mr. Granger's employment; he was, in some\nsort, her patron. She had made the mistake of thinking that they\nwere friends. But that is not friendship where the confidence is\nall on one side.\n\n\"I shall try to do my duty by Dora,\" she said rather coldly. \"But\nwhat does 'full authority' mean?\"\n\n\"She is too young to learn theology,\" he replied; \"but everything\nelse is free. I spoke lest some one might interfere during my\nabsence, though that isn't likely.\"\n\nMargaret waited a moment, then said, \"Dora tells me that you hear\nher say the Our Father every night and morning. Of course, I\nshall hear it when you are gone. If you are willing, I would like\nto teach her to bless herself before praying, and to say a little\nprayer to the Mother of Christ for your safety. I won't make her\nsay 'Mother of God.'\"\n\nMr. Granger was touched. \"That cannot hurt her nor me,\" he said.\n\"Do as you please.\"\n\nPresently he spoke again, \"I received yesterday a letter which my\ncousin Sinclair wrote me the day before he was killed. It was\ngiven to a soldier who was taken prisoner, and is only just\nexchanged. That letter surprised and affected me; and if I had a\nlingering doubt as to my own course, it was dispelled then. He\nwas driving to the steamer, it seems, when he met the Seventh\nRegiment marching through Broadway to take the cars south. As\nthey marched, they sang 'Glory Hallelujah' with a sound like a\ntorrent. He was electrified. There he was on the point of going\nabroad for distraction when here at home was the centre toward\nwhich the eyes of the whole civilized world were turned. He\nblushed for the slothful ease and aimlessness of his life. Here\nwas manly employment. He took no thought for the causes of the\nwar, since he was not responsible for them; and circumstances had\ndecided which side he was to take. To him it was a great\ngymnasium in which men enervated by wealth, or cramped by petty\naims, were to wake up their nobler powers, string anew their\ncourage, 'ventilate their souls,' as he expressed it, and,\nfinding what they were themselves capable of achieving, take back\nthus their faith in others. When he saw those gallant fellows\nmarch singing off to battle, the dusty, stale old life broke open\nfor him, and a new golden age bloomed out. He did not feel that\nthey were rejoicing over the shedding of blood, or the winning of\nvictories; but they sang their emancipation from littleness, they\nsang because they caught breath of a higher air, they sang\nbecause they had found out that their souls were greater than\ntheir bodies.\n{451}\nThen first it seemed credible to him that the Son of God took\nflesh and died for man; for then he first perceived that man at\nhis best is a glorious creature. 'I am happy,' he added. 'It is\nlike getting out of a close room into the fresh air. I am going\nthrough a picture-gallery more magnificent than any in the old\nworld, and listening to strains of an epic grander than Homer's.\nI feel as if I were just made new.'\"\n\nThis recital was to Margaret like some reviving essence to a\nfainting person. Her heart, drooping inward on itself, expanded\nagain.\n\n\"If I knew him now!\" she said. \"If he would-come to me now!\"\n\n\"Here is something that will interest you,\" Mr. Granger added; \"I\nwill read it from the letter.\"\n\nHe lighted the gas and read: \"The last time I was in Washington,\nI went to see Lieut. A----, who is laid up in one of the\nhospitals in charge of the Sisters of Charity. Everything was\nquiet and orderly. A. was enthusiastic about the sisters, calls\nthem doves of peace and charity, says their bonnets look like\nwings of great white birds. I talked with one of them when I went\nout.\n\n\"'How can you, who are the children of peace, bear to come among\nus who are the sons of strife?' I asked.\n\n\"'Where can the children of peace more fitly go than among the\nsons of strife?' she returned.\n\n\"'But we must seem to you cruel, and unworthy of gentle\nministrations,' I said. 'You must think that we deserve our\npains.'\"\n\n\"A swift, almost childlike smile just touched her lips, 'We\ncannot be everything,' she replied. 'Each has his place; and the\njudgment-seat belongs to God. I am only the nurse.'\n\n\"'You must look upon war as the carnival of Satan,' I said.\n\n\"'God permits it,' she replied tranquilly. 'And the thought has\noccurred to me that it may be some times a preparation for\nreligion. In the army men learn to suffer, and to sacrifice, and\nto be patient and obedient--lessons which perhaps they would not\nlearn in any humbler school. And having acquired these virtues,\nthey may use them in nobler ways, perhaps in preventing war.\nBut,' she added hastily, 'it is not for me to explain the designs\nof the Almighty. Here is my mission!'\n\n\"She bowed, and glided away. A minute later I saw her raising the\nhead of a dying soldier, and as his eyes grew dim, repeating for\nhim, 'Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!'\n\n\"As I went away, I said to myself, 'I have seen one wiser than\nSolomon!'\"\n\nAs Mr. Granger finished reading, the door opened, and Mr.\nSouthard came in, but stopped on seeing the two alone.\n\n\"I am glad you have, come,\" Miss Hamilton said quickly, \"I want\nyou to assure Mr. Granger that, though we shall miss him, and be\nanxious about him, we will not let our weakness stand in the way\nof his strength.\"\n\nNo matter if she had been slighted! No matter if the confidence\nhad been all on one side!\n\n\"Will you not bid me also Godspeed?\" Mr. Southard asked.\n\n\"You?\"\n\n\"I have asked, and am likely to receive, a year's leave of\nabsence from my congregation,\" he said. \"I do not know how it\nwill be; but I hope to go in the same regiment with Mr. Granger.\"\n\n{452}\n\n\"Well,\" Margaret sighed as she climbed wearily up-stairs, \"I have\nhad one happy year. But could I have dreamed that Maurice\nSinclair would be the one to reprove my weakness at such a\ntime?\".\n\n\n              Chapter X.\n\n\t   A Broken Circle.\n\n\nHaving made up his mind to go, Mr. Granger lost no time. He who\nhad been the most leisurely of men, whose composure and\ndeliberateness of manner had often given him the appearance of\nhaughtiness, was now possessed by a spirit of ceaseless activity.\nHis slow and dignified step became prompt, he spoke more quickly,\nhis misty eyes cleared up, and a color glowed in his swarthy\ncheeks.\n\nThere was no more lounging on a sofa, and reading; no more\ntheatre nor concert; no more lingering in picture-galleries, and\nlooking about with that fastidious, dissatisfied expression of\nhis till his eyes lit sparkling on something that pleased him; no\nmore dreaming along, with a cigar in his mouth, under the trees\nat twilight. He was busy, happy, and full of life.\n\nIt did not take long to complete his arrangements. Like Madame\nSwetchine, he thought those obstacles trifling which were not\ninsurmountable.\n\nThe family found themselves infected by his cheerfulness. Mr.\nLewis's lugubrious visions of wooden arms and legs, and patches\nover the eye, he swept away with a laugh. The wistful glances,\noften dim with tears, with which the ladies looked at him,\nfollowing his every step, listening to his every word, he chid\nmore gently, and also more earnestly.\n\n\"How women can weaken men with a tear or a glance!\" he said. \"It\nwill be hard for me to leave you. I love you all. I have been\nvery happy here, and hope to be as happy here again. But I must\ngo. I can't see poor men leaving their families, and boys torn\naway from their homes, and not go. I should never again respect\nmyself if I staid at home. But there is something else. The\nfeeling that draws me is something that I cannot explain. It is\nirresistible. The breeze has caught me, and I must move. Margaret\nhas a smile for me, I know. It's in her. She comes of a Spartan\nstock.\"\n\nCould she disappoint his expectation? No. Henceforth, at whatever\ncost to her, he should see no sign of weakness. But, oh! she\nthought, sometimes those who stay at home fight harder battles\nthan those who go.\n\n\"And my little girl,\" said the father. \"She wants me to have\nbeautiful gold straps on my shoulders, and splendid large gilt\nbuttons on my coat.\"\n\nDora was enchanted. Soldiers were to her the most magnificent of\nbeings. \"Yes, papa! And little gold cuffs to your sleeves, and\nstripes on your pantaloons.\"\n\n\"Precisely. And a sword, and a belt, and spurs at my heels, and a\nfeather in my hat. Papa will be as fine as a play-actor. And in\norder to have all these things, my pet is willing that I should\ngo away awhile?\"\n\nThe child said nothing, but looked steadily at her father. The\nsmile still lingered on her lips, but large, slow tears were\nfilling her eyes.\n\n\"Not for a very great while,\" he added. \"You know we must pay in\nsome way for all we get. You pay money for your dresses, and\nstudy for your education, and for these shoulder-straps of mine\nyou must pay by letting me go a little while.\"\n\n{453}\n\nThe child struggled hard to keep down the swelling in her throat,\nand dropped her eyes to hide the tears in them.\n\n\"I guess, papa,\" she said, nervously twisting his watch-chain as\nshe leaned against him, \"I guess it's no matter about the\nshoulder-straps. I'd rather have you without' em.\"\n\nHe tried to laugh. \"And the feather, and the sash, and the sword,\nand the spurs, do you forget them?\"\n\nShe broke down completely at that. \"I don't want 'em; I'd rather\nhave you than everything else in the world!\"\n\n\"Even than stripes on my pantaloons?\"\n\n\"O papa!\" she sobbed, \"what makes you laugh at me when I'm most\ndead?\"\n\n\"Margaret,\" exclaimed Mr. Granger, \"don't let this child miss\nme!\"\n\n\"Not if I can help it,\" she replied.\n\nHe was to do staff duty till the bloom of his ignorance should be\nrubbed off, Mr. Granger said. One whose sole idea of a\n_wheel_ was that it was something round with spokes in it,\nwhose only _forward_ had been learned of the dancing-master,\nand who knew no worse _charge_ than the grocer's--such a\nperson could scarcely be expected to lead men in battle array. He\nwas going down there to get some of the little boys to teach him\ndrill.\n\nIt was impossible to resist his delightful humor. Even Mr. Lewis\nrelented.\n\n\"If ever the doing of a thing could be forgiven for the sake of\nthe manner in which it is done,\" he said, \"then I could forgive\nyou. But I can't promise to turn back all at once from\nbonny-clabber to new milk.\"\n\n\"Oh! scold away,\" was the laughing reply. \"I begin to think that\nthere is a certain pleasure in being abused in a discriminating\nmanner.\"\n\n\"Your going to Fortress Monroe helps to reconcile me,\" Mr. Lewis\ncontinued. \"It's a pleasant place, and a strong place. My wife\ncalls it Fortissimo. I supposed that you would insist on going\nstraight to the front to do picket-duty, or post yourself in a\ntree as a sharpshooter. I'm glad to see that you've got a little\nballast left aboard. I wish that Mr. Southard were to be with\nyou, instead of going to New Orleans at this time of year. I\nspent a year at New Orleans when I was a young man, and I know\nall about it. It isn't a city, it's a deposit. You have to hold\non with hands and feet to keep from being melted away by the\nheat, or washed away by the water.\"\n\n\"O the oleanders!\" sighed Mrs. Lewis in an ecstasy.\n\nAlmost before they knew, Mr. Granger was gone. They had heard his\nlast pleasant word, met his last smile, and seen the carriage\nthat bore him away disappear down the street. Both Mr. Southard\nand Mr. Lewis accompanied him as far as New York.\n\nWhen they had seen him off, the three ladies returned to the\nparlor, and the servants went sorrowfully back to their places.\nThe neighbors who waved him away left their windows, and the\nfriends grouped on the steps and the walk went each his way.\n\nDora, repulsed by Miss Hamilton, went to Aurelia for comfort.\nMargaret walked uneasily about the room, putting books in their\nplaces, pushing intrusive vine-leaves out the windows, arranging\nand rearranging the curtains. Then she seated her self by a\ntable, and began cutting the leaves of a new magazine.\n\n{454}\n\nPresently Mrs. Lewis approached her, and after leaning on the arm\nof her chair a moment without being noticed, touched her on the\nshoulder.\n\n\"Margaret,\" she said, \"why will you be so terribly proud? I think\nyou might be willing to shed tears when Aurelia and I do. Why\nshouldn't you grieve over the absence of your friend? He is a\nkind and true friend to you.\"\n\nAurelia rose quietly, and led Dora from the room.\n\nMargaret persisted a moment longer in her silence and her\nleaf-cutting. But the book and the knife shook in her hand, and\npresently dropped from her grasp. Turning impulsively, she hid\nher face in that kind bosom, and sobbed without control.\n\n\"He will soon come back, I am sure of it,\" Mrs. Lewis said\nsoothingly. \"And you know we shall hear from him constantly. We\nall feel bad. Mr. Lewis choked up whenever he thought of it, and\nthe only way he had of turning off his emotion was in scolding. I\ndare say his last word to Mr. Granger will be an abusive one. And\nyou are almost as bad.\"\n\n\"I can't bear to be misunderstood, and watched, and commented\non,\" Margaret said, trying to control herself. \"Most people seem\nto think hate more respectable than affection, and if they see\nthat you care about a person, they sneer.\"\n\n\"I know all about it, dear,\" Mrs. Lewis said. \"You can't tell me\nanything new about meanness and malice. I have suffered too much\nfrom them in my life. But we are friends, real friends, here. We\nrespect each other's reserve. But too much reserve is not good\nnor wholesome.\"\n\nMargaret looked up, and wiped her tears away. \"How you help me!\"\nshe said. \"I don't feel very bad now,\" with a faint smile. \"It is\nsuppression that kills me. If we could say just what we think and\nfeel, and act with perfect openness, how good it would be!\nLooking back, my life seems to me a cemetery of stifled emotions.\nMy heart is full of their bones and ashes. It's an awful weight!\nYou are very good, Mrs. Lewis. You do beautiful things sometimes.\nI grow fonder of you every day. By and by,\" smiling again, \"I\nshall not be able to do without you. And now, that poor child! I\nmust go to her. Wasn't I cruel to put her away? But it is very\nhard to have to comfort others when you are yourself in need of\ncomfort.\"\n\nThe next day the two gentlemen came home with the last news of\nMr. Granger, and they spent the evening more cheerfully than they\ncould have expected. Mr. Lewis had apologized for his rudeness to\nthe minister, and had begun to perceive that Mr. Southard had, as\nhe said, some grit in him. So they were all harmonious enough.\n\n\"Mr. Granger's generosity of disposition would lead him to danger\nunnecessarily, if he were not warned,\" Mr. Southard said, as they\nsat together that evening. \"I talked to him very plainly about\nit. There is sometimes an unconscious selfishness under those\nimpulses. Exulting in the sense of their own fearlessness, men\nput themselves in peril, without thinking what others may suffer\nin their loss, and that the real good to be attained does not,\nperhaps, counterbalance the evil done. All that is accomplished\nis a generous deed.\"\n\n\"It is something to accomplish a generous deed,\" said Miss\nHamilton. \"I own, I have not the highest admiration for that\n'rascally virtue' of discretion.\"\n\n\"But when the real cost of that 'sublime indiscretion' falls on\nsome other than the hero, then I object to it,\" said the minister\nfirmly. \"And Mr. Granger agreed with me.\"\n\n{455}\n\nThere are times when to hear those dear to us praised is painful.\nIt oppresses the heart, by placing the beloved object too far\nabove us. But a gentle blame, which hints at no serious fault,\nwhile it does not wound our feelings, soothes our sense of\nunworthiness, and, without lowering the friend, brings him within\nour reach. Listening to such gentle censure, we get a comfortable\nhuman feeling toward one whom we were, perhaps, in danger of\napotheosizing.\n\nSpeaking of the much that they would hear from these soldier\nfriends of theirs, both Margaret and Mr. Southard urged Mrs.\nLewis to resume her long unused pen. It seemed that every one who\nhad the talent to do it ought to preserve thus some of the many\nincidents of the war. But she was resolute in refusal.\n\n\"Of writing many books there is no end,\" she said. \"And I have a\nterrible vision of a coming deluge of war-literature. Everybody\nwill write, soldiers, nurses, chaplains, (all but you, Mr.\nSouthard!) philanthropists, novelists, rhymsters--all will write\nwithout mercy. The dilemma of the old rhyme will seem to be on\nthe point of realization:\n\n  'If all the earth were paper,\n      And all the sea were ink,\n   And all the trees were bread and cheese,\n      What should we do for drink?'\n\n\"No, don't ask me to join in that rout. Besides, no one but a\nscribbler knows a scribbler's afflictions. No 'Heavenly Goddess'\nhas yet sung those direful woes. First, there is the printer. You\nspend all your powers on a certain passage which is to\nimmortalize you, and under his hands, by the addition, or the\nabstraction, or the changing of a word, that passage has taken\nthe one step more which carries it from the sublime to the\nridiculous. Put in a fine bit of color; he changes your umber to\namber, and the picture is spoilt. Refer to the well-known fact\nthat Washington Allston put a great deal of character into the\nhands and feet he painted, and this fell patriot drops the\nAllston, and gives the credit to the father of his country. Then\nthere are your dear friends. They know all your virtues, so their\nsole effort is now to find out your defects. It won't do to\npraise you, lest you should become vain; so, with a noble regard\nfor your truest good, they dissect your writings before your\neyes, and prove clearly their utter worthlessness. Then, there\nare your gushing acquaintances who want you to write about them,\nand tell you their histories, insisting that they shall be put\ninto print. As if you should carry cherry-stones to a\ncherry-tree, and say, Here, grow cherries round these! If you\nshould answer ever so humbly, Thank you! but I grow stones to my\nown cherries, such as they are, people would be disgusted. Of\ncourse, if I had a great genius, it would scorch up all these\nlittle annoyances. But I have only a pretty talent. Perhaps the\nworst is, that they will apply your characters. When I was a\ngirl, I wrote a rhymed story, and everybody pointed out the hero.\nI stared, I bethought myself, I re-read my romance. Imagine my\nhorror when I found that the description fitted the man\nperfectly, even to the wart on his nose. Then, not long ago, I\nwrote a little idyl addressed to my first love, and my husband\ncame home with the face of an Othello. You know you did, Charles.\nThe fact was, I never had a first love!\"\n\nMr. Lewis laughed. \"And she twitted me with Diana. Diana was a\ntall, superb, serene woman whom I got acquainted with in\nWashington, before I was married. I admired her excessively. I\ndidn't know that she was a goose. I would talk, and she would\nlisten, and smile at all my jokes; and I thought that she was\nvery witty.\n{456}\nI spoke of books, and she smiled and said 'Yes!' and I was sure\nthat she was a well-read person. I ranted about music, and she\nsmiled and said 'Yes!' and I was positive that she was a fine\nmusician. Presently I began to grow bashful in the society of\nsuch a superior woman. I couldn't talk, so she had to. Well, at\nfirst I admired her simplicity, then I stared at her simplicity.\nAnd at last I saw that there was\n\n  'No end to all she didn't know.'\n\n\"One day I'd been there, up in the parlor, and when I left, she\nwent down to the door with me. There was a large hat on the\nentry-table, and we heard a man's voice in the sitting-room.\n\n\"'Who's talking with pa?' she asked of a servant.\n\n\"'Daniel Webster, miss,' was the answer.\n\n\"Daniel Webster was my hero. If our hats had been of the same\nsize, I would have swapped fervently, though mine was new, and\nDaniel's a little shabby. I remembered what somebody had said of\nSamuel Johnson; and pointing to the table, I exclaimed with\nenthusiasm, 'That hat covers a kingdom!'\n\n\"Diana looked at it with a mild, idiotic perplexity, and\nstretched her long neck to see on the other side. 'Hat covers a\nkingdom,' she repeated vaguely to herself, as if it were a\nconundrum.\n\n\"'When it's on his head!' I cried out in a rage.\n\n\"'Oh!' she said, and smiled, but without a particle of\nspeculation in her eyes.\n\n\"I bounced out of the house, and I never went to see Diana again.\nShortly after, I met that little woman, and I married her because\nshe is smart.\"\n\n\n              Chapter XI.\n\n    The Mountains Whence Help Cometh.\n\n\nMr. Granger was one of those persons whom we miss more than we\nexpect to, their influence is so quiet, their stability has so\nlittle of hardness. As has been beautifully said, such characters\nare \"like the water-lily, fixed yet floating.\" We do not know how\nmuch we rest on them till the support is withdrawn.\n\nThey heard from him constantly, the letters being directed to Mr.\nLewis, but intended for all the family.\n\nEvidently his good spirits had not deserted him. Never before had\nhe been so much alive, he wrote. The excitement, the uncertainty,\nthe very restraints which reminded of power, and of great\ninterests at stake, all kept his thoughts in a brisk circulation,\nand threw the bile off his mind.\n\nMiss Dora had, however, her separate correspondence, letters\ndirected to herself, which Miss Hamilton read to her, and\nanswered from her dictation.\n\nIn those days the child learned a new prayer: \"O Mother in\nheaven, take pity on me who have no mother on earth, and whose\nfather has gone to the wars. Watch over him, that I may not be\nleft an orphan. Pray for him, and for me, and for whoever loves\nus best. Do not forget me, O Mother! for if you do, my heart will\nbreak.\"\n\n\"Who is it that loves us best?\" the child asked the first time\nshe said this prayer.\n\n\"I do not know,\" was the reply. \"We can never be sure who loves\nus best. But God knows, and the good Mother can find out.\"\n\n\"I thought it was you,\" said Dora. Margaret's voice sank to a\nwhisper. \"Perhaps it is, dear.\"\n\n{457}\n\nIn a few weeks Mr. Southard also left then, not cheerfully, but\nwith a gloom which he took no pains to conceal.\n\nAnd the few weeks grew to many weeks, and months multiplied. The\nsummer was gone, and the autumn was gone, and winter melted like\na snow-flake on the mantle of time. When our eyes are fixed in\nanxious longing on some future day, the intermediate days slip\nthrough our fingers like sands through an hour-glass, and keep no\ntrace of their passage.\n\nIf, when the spring campaign opened, and both the absent ones\nwere in active service, our friends watched with some sinking of\nthe heart for news, it was no more than happened in tens of\nthousands of other homes. Heart-sickness was by no means a rare\ndisease in those days.\n\nThe soldier in charge of the soldier's news-room on Kneeland\nstreet became very much interested in one of the few visitors who\nused to go there that summer. Nearly every say, surely every day\nwhen there had been a battle, a pale-faced young lady would open\nthe door, enter quickly, and without looking to right or left go\ndirectly to the frames that held the lists of killed and wounded,\nand read them through from end to end. The soldier got to have an\nanxious feeling about this lady. Unnoticed by her, he watched her\nface while she read, and hushed his breath till he saw that\nterrible look go out of her eyes. The lists finished, she would\npull her veil down, sigh wearily, and go out as quietly as she\nhad entered.\n\n\"When she finds the name she is looking for, I hall see her\ndrop,\" he thought.\n\nBut Margaret did not drop, though often enough she was in danger\nof it, as her eyes fell on some blurred name, or some name very\nlike the one she dreaded to see.\n\nIt was too wearing. Both flesh and spirit were sinking under this\nconstant strain. Where was the help that religion was to give\nher? Leave everything to God, trust all to him, she was told. But\nhow? Her thoughts were clenched in these interests; and, in spite\nof faith, it seemed as though, if she should let go her hold,\nthey would fall. She found that her religion was only of the\nsurface. It had grown in the sunshine, and was not rooted against\nthe storm. She tried to put into practice the precepts she\nlistened to, but the daily distractions of life constantly\nneutralized her efforts. There was but one way, and for the first\ntime Margaret made a retreat.\n\nThe place selected was a convent a little out of the city.\n\nHere in this secluded asylum was all that her soul needed for its\nrestoring; quiet, leisure, the society of those whose lives are\ndevoted to God, and, to crown all, the presence of the blessed\nsacrament of the altar.\n\nOne feels very near heaven when one hears only praying voices,\nsees only happy, peaceful faces, is looked upon only by kind\neyes, and can at any hour go before the altar, alone, undisturbed\nby those distractions which constantly environ our ordinary\nworship. How still we become! In that presence how our little\ntroubles and sorrows exhale, as mists lift from the rivers at\nsunrise, and leave all clear and bright! How cramped and feverish\nall our past life has been! Everything settles into its true\nplace. Sorrow and death lose their sting. We are safe, for we\npartake of the omnipotence of God. To think that the same roof\nthat shelters our heads when we lie down to sleep shelters also\nthe sacred head of the Son of God--that drives every other\nthought from the mind.\n{458}\nIt is marvellous, it seems incredible, and yet the wonder of it\nis lost in the sweetness. The moonlight coming in at the window\nlies white and silent on the bare white floor. You rise to kiss\nthat luminous spot, for just beneath is the altar. Peace rises to\nexultation, for you perceive more and more that the Father holds\nus all in his hands, those near and those afar, and that we have\nbut to lift our eyes, and we shall behold the mountains whence\nhelp cometh. We want to run out and tell everybody. It seems as\nif we have just discovered all this, and that no one ever knew it\nbefore. We forget that we are sinners. It isn't much matter about\nus any way. We will think of that afterward. We will make acts of\ncontrition when we get away from here. Now we can make only acts\nof adoration and of joy.\n\nThe superior of the convent directed Margaret's retreat, and on\nthe last morning of it she and all the nuns received communion,\nand there was the benediction after mass.\n\nThe others had gone out, but Margaret still lingered before the\naltar. Out in the early sunshine, the trees rustled softly, and\nthe breeze waved the curtains of the chapel windows.\nOccasionally, one of the nuns would come to the door, look in,\nand go away again smiling, though Miss Hamilton's breakfast was\nspoiling over the fire, and there was a gentleman waiting in the\nparlor for her.\n\n\"She is in the chapel at her devotions,\" the sister had told him.\n\n\"Don't disturb her on any account,\" he had answered. \"There is no\nhaste.\"\n\nMargaret was not praying, was not thinking; her soul was silent,\nlost in God, like a star in the day.\n\nPresently she came out, and, meeting one of the nuns in the hall,\nembraced her tenderly. \"Sister,\" she said, \"this is the most\nbeautiful world that ever was made.\"\n\nThe gentleman had been waiting some time when he heard a step,\nand in the door there stood a slight, black-robed lady with a\nveil thrown over her head, a bright face, and a smell of incense\nlingering about her. She lifted both hands when she saw him.\n\n\"My cup runneth over!\"\n\n\"You are not a nun?\" asked Mr. Granger.\n\n\"You're not an apparition,\" she returned. \"Oh! welcome!\"\n\n\"And now,\" he said, delighted to see her so happy, \"if you are\nready, we will go home. I have only a few days' furlough, and I\nwant to make the most of it.\"\n\nMargaret went to take a hasty leave of the nuns, and also to step\ninto the chapel for one moment.\n\nThen she went out from under that happy portal, and down the\nsteps to the carriage that was waiting for them. One of the\nsisters stood in the door looking after her, and others here and\nthere in the grounds looked up with a pleasant word of farewell\nas she passed. She stooped to gather from the lower terrace a\nhumble souvenir, two or three grass-blades and a clover-leaf,\nthen stepped into the carriage. As they drove slowly down the\navenue, she looked up into the overhanging branches and repeated:\n\n  \"'Above him the boughs of the hemlock trees\n    Waved, and made the sign of the cross,\n    And whispered their Benedicitis.'\"\n\nThe family were in raptures over Mr. Granger's return. They could\nnot look at him enough, listen to him enough, do enough for him.\n\"And how nice you look in your uniform!\" said Margaret, feeling\nas if she were about six years old.\n\n\"And how nice you look in anything!\" he retorted, at which they\nall laughed. It took but little to make them laugh in those days.\n\n{459}\n\nMr. Granger, on his part, was as merry as a boy. He was full of\nadventures to tell them, glad to be at home, happy in their\nconfidence and affection, and hopeful of the future.\n\nMargaret could scarcely believe her own happiness. She would turn\naway, shut her eyes, and think, \"I have imagined it all. He is\nhundreds of miles away, I do not know whether he is sick or well.\nHe may be in peril. He may be dead. O my friend! come home, come\nhome! Are we never to see you again?\"\n\nThen, when she had succeeded in tormenting herself sufficiently,\nwhen her heart was sinking, and her eyes overflowing with tears,\nshe would turn quickly, trembling between dream and reality, and\nsee him there alive and well, and at home.\n\n\"Oh! there he is, thank God!\"\n\nAnd so every day she renewed in her vivid imagination the pain of\nhis absence and the delight of his return, till too soon the day\ncame when she no longer dared to play such tricks with herself,\nfor he was again gone out of their sight. But the lessons of the\nretreat were not forgotten, and every morning brought\nrefreshment.\n\n               To Be Continued.\n\n----------\n\n                Sauntering.\n\n  Saunterer, (from _saint terre_,)\n  a pilgrim to holy lands or places.--_Thoreau_.\n\n\nWould that I were, if not like the king of Ava--lord of the\ntwenty-four umbrellas--at least the owner of one, was my thought.\nI was in Paris, that paradise of many good Americans who are\n_not_ defunct. Three thousand and odd miles from home, in\nthe streets of a strange city, with an imperfect knowledge of any\nforeign tongue, not daring to say _parapluie_ to the most\nobsequious shopman, and the rain was pouring down like a douche.\n\nI had no devotion to St. Swithin--not a particle. I respected him\nin a vague way as a successor of the apostles, whose name is in\nthe calendar; but I was always inclined to mention him with a\nsmile on account of his hydropathic propensities. I am a perfect\nOriental as far as a warm bath is concerned, but I never could\nendure the gentlest shower-bath, and the thought of St. Swithin,\nin his wet grave under a waterspout, always made me shudder. This\npeculiar sensitiveness always made me suspicious of the lightest\nsummer cloudlet, and led me to make for years a series of minute\nobservations on the weather, till I became deeply versed in\nmackerel clouds, mare's tails, and such sinister prognostics. I\nused to imagine myself so sensitive to the dryness and moisture\nof the atmosphere, and to its density and rarity, that I was\nquite above barometers. I was a barometer to myself. A\nforeknowledge of the weather was my strong point, or one of my\nstrong points, when at home in the new world. There I had a full\nview of the heavens that bend over us all, down to the very\nhorizon on every side. The rarity of the American atmosphere, its\nlofty heavens, with its luminous spheres, are full of skyey\ninfluences, which tell not only upon the very plants, if we\nobserve them, but upon ourselves, if we heed the silent lesson.\n{460}\nI always knew what those clouds meant, gathering over the far-off\nnorth-wood hills at the west, and I felt the very mist as it\nbegan to rise around Mount Agamenticus, in the east, like\nsacrificial clouds around that altar of the renowned St.\nAspinquid. I seldom made a false prediction, and was consequently\napproached with considerable deference by provident neighbors,\nespecially before a storm. But somehow, I lost this prestige as\nsoon as my foot was off my native heath. Here, in a compact city,\nwith the tall houses and narrow streets shutting the great blue\neye of heaven till it became a mere line, like a cat's eye at\nmid-day, I felt myself utterly at the mercy of nature; I gave\nmyself humbly up to St. Swithin, to whom of old I was rather\ndefiant. A haughty spirit goes before a fall. Humiliations are\ngood for the soul. I think I must consider mine a case of special\nprovidence; for there is nothing more soothing to mortified\nvanity or spiritual pride, or even in dire calamity, than the\nconviction that ours is an instance of special providence.\n\nOn one of those doubtful days in October, when the air is murky\nand a light mist from the Seine pervades every part of the city,\nbut which were not always, as I had found, indicative of rain, I\nsallied forth from the Hotel Meurice to wander around the French\ncapital with no special object in view. I discarded my\nguide-book, tired of being the victim of square and compass. To\nbe told to admire, whether an object appealed to my peculiar\ntastes or not, was quite opposed to my notions of American\nindependence, and sure to rouse a certain spirit of contradiction\nin me--a bad trait, I fear, but a fault acknowledged is half\ncured; so I make a clean breast of it to test the truth of the\nold saying. I turned, therefore, a blind eye to all the palaces,\nand gardens, and fountains, and went around feasting my eyes on\nthe forbidden vanities of the world which my god-parents had\nrenounced for me at baptism, but which were glittering\ndelightfully in the booths of this Vanity Fair; not that I cared\nmuch for them, to tell the truth, but from a sheer feeling of\nperversity. There must be some powerful charm in them, or they\nwould not be put down in every religious chart as quicksands to\nbe avoided. Perhaps I was in danger of being stranded among them,\nand it was, after all, a case of special providence, when, as I\nwas pursuing my way, or rather any way in my ignorance of the\ncity, and moralizing on these things, or demoralizing, of a\nsudden it began to pour. For an old weather-wise like me to be\nthus caught, was very humiliating; and in my consternation, I\nfound myself enjoying one of the high and mighty prerogatives of\nthe king of Ava, as aforesaid. _Que faire?_ I should have\nsaid, being in France. Looking around, I saw the open door of a\nchurch, in which I gladly took refuge. In benighted, \"popish\"\nlands, mother church often affords a place of bodily refuge, as\nwell as moral. It was the church of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, to\nwhich I had wandered back, and which from this time became my\nfavorite church in spite of the bad repute of the bells. Passing\nfrom the gay streets into these cool shades is like passing for a\nmoment, as it were, from time into eternity. All light and\nfrivolous thoughts--all vanity and littleness die away with the\nnoise of the world, at the very entrance. The mind is elevated.\nWe partake of the grandeur of the edifice, and, for a few moments\nat least, our nature is ennobled.\n{461}\nOnly great and lofty ideas should wander beneath such arches.\nOnly souls full of noble and magnificent ideas could have\ndesigned them. There are truly sermons in these stones, of which\none never grows weary--sermons in the grand old _vitraux_,\nrich with saintly forms, and in the gloom, inspiring sweet and\nsolemn reverie.\n\n  \"I love the gloom; I love the white-robed throng;\n   I love the flood of most religious song\n   That tosses all its choric waves afar\n   To seek and search each quaint-carved crevice there.\n   The music surges to each singing star,\n   And bears the soul to heaven's own upper air,\n   Sweet crushed to happy tears; but chiefly where\n   Peace, dove-like, broods above clasped hands of prayer.\"\n\nThe Catholic is no longer in a foreign land when he enters a\nchurch. The altar, the cross, the Madonna, above all, the\ntabernacle, with it twinkling lamp of olive oil, are his old\nfamiliar friends, and all there, and his heart is at home. He\nfeels a bond of universal brotherhood with all these worshippers\nbefore the altar. And then the dear old Latin service! I never\nthoroughly realized at home the advantage of a universal language\nin which the whole church could lift up her voice, as with one\naccord, throughout the world. That language--one of those which\nwere consecrated above the head of the dying Saviour--is\nassociated with all the holiest and tenderest memories of a\nCatholic. He cannot remember when he first heard it from the lips\nof holy mother church. It is one of his mother tongues. Each word\nhas a new significance in this foreign land, and the whole\nservice a new meaning. I have heard people exclaim at the\nrapidity of the opening service of mass, not knowing its\nsignificance. Every act and word in our sublime ritual has its\nmeaning to him that enters into its spirit. Dr. Newman says, in\nhis own beautiful way:\n\n  \"I declare nothing is so consoling, so piercing, so thrilling,\n  so overcoming, as the mass, said as it is among us. I could\n  attend masses for ever and not be tired. It is not a mere form\n  of words; it is a great action, the greatest action there can\n  be on earth. It is not the invocation, merely, but, if I dare\n  use the word, the evocation, of the Eternal. He becomes present\n  on the altar in flesh and blood, before whom angels bow and\n  devils tremble. This is that awful event which is the end and\n  is the interpretation of every part of the solemnity. Words are\n  necessary, not as means, but as ends. They are not mere\n  addresses to the throne of grace; they are instruments of what\n  is far higher, of consecration, of sacrifice. They hurry on as\n  if impatient to fulfil their mission. Quickly they go; the\n  whole is quick, for they are all parts of one integral action.\n  Quickly they go, for they are awful words of sacrifice; they\n  are a work too great to delay upon, as when it was said in the\n  beginning, 'What thou doest, do quickly.' Quickly they pass,\n  for the Lord Jesus goes with them, as he passed along the lake\n  in the days of his flesh, quickly calling first one and then\n  another. Quickly they pass, because, as the lightning which\n  shineth from one part of the heaven unto the other so is the\n  coming of the Son of Man. Quickly they pass, for they are as\n  the words of Moses, when the Lord came down in a cloud, calling\n  on the name of the Lord as he passed by,  'The Lord, the Lord\n  God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering and abundant in\n  goodness and truth.'\n\n  \"And as Moses on the mountain, so do we too 'make haste and bow\n  our heads to the earth and adore.' So we all around, each in\n  his place, look out for the great advent, 'waiting for the\n  moving of the water.' Each in his place, with his own heart,\n  with his own wants, with his own thoughts, with his own\n  intention, with his own prayers, separate but concordant,\n  watching what is going on, watching its progress, uniting in\n  its consummation; not painfully and hopelessly following a hard\n  form of prayer from beginning to end, but, like a concert of\n  musical instruments, each different, but concurring in a sweet\n  harmony, we take our part with God's priest,\n  supporting him, yet guided by him.\"\n\nThe words being, then, only used as means, as instruments of\nconsecration, it is not at all necessary for the people to follow\nthe words of the priest; but, entering into the spirit and\nmeaning of each part of the sacrifice, abandon themselves each\none to his own devotions.\n{462}\nWhile the church is exceedingly\nparticular about the exact following of the liturgy by the\nclergy, it allows the greatest latitude to the devotions of\nlaymen. All the sects that have a form of prayer, or extempore\nprayers, afford far less liberty to those who join therein than\nthe church. Their service is nothing to you unless you join in\nits forms, which leave no liberty of soul. Whereas at mass, while\nsome use a prayer-book with a variety of beautiful and touching\ndevotions in harmony with the service going on at the altar,\nothers simply say the rosary, and others again use no form\nwhatever, but, following the celebrant in spirit, abandon their\nhearts in holy meditation and mental prayer according to the\ninspiration of the moment. Thus our holy services never become a\nmere form. They are always new, new and varied as our daily\nwants, as our fresh conceptions of what worship is due Almighty\nGod, and of the nature of the holy oblation in which we are\nparticipating.\n\nThe church of St. Germain l'Auxerrois was once the frequent\nrecipient of royal munificence, being for a long time the royal\nparish, and it was the most sumptuously adorned in Paris.\nSculptors and painters vied in filling it with the choicest works\nof art. It was not much injured at the revolution, but narrowly\nescaped destruction in 1831. The anniversary of the death of the\nDuc de Berri was to be commemorated by services for the repose of\nhis soul; but a mob surrounded the church, and destroyed\neverything in it. It was afterward closed till 1838, when it was\nreopened for public worship.\n\nIt has some poetical associations as well as historical; for here\nM. de Lamartine is said to have hung up the long locks that\nGraziella had shorn from her beautiful head, and sent to be\nsuspended in one of the churches of his belle France. And perhaps\nthis was the one to which he referred in the following words:\n\n  \"When the last hour of the day has sounded from thy lofty\n  towers, when the last beam has faded away from the dome, when\n  the sigh of the distant organ dies away with the light, and the\n  nave is deserted by all but the Levite attentive to the lamps\n  of the holy place, then I come to glide under thy obscure\n  arches, and to seek, while nature sleeps, Him who never\n  slumbers! The air which the soul breathes in thy aisles is full\n  of mystery and peace. Let love and anxious cares seek shade and\n  solitude under the green shelter of groves to soothe their\n  secret wounds. O darkness of the sanctuary! the eye of religion\n  prefers thee to the wood which the breeze disturbs. Nothing\n  disturbs thy foliage. Thy still shade is the image of eternal\n  peace.\"\n\nI loved to think the poet found here the source of the\ninspirations which are embodied in his _Harmonies\nReligieuses_ which are the delight of every tender and\nreligious soul.\n\nThere is in one of the transepts a beautiful font of pure white\nmarble, executed by M. Jouffroy from a model by Madame de\nLamartine and presented by her to this church. The basin is\nsurmounted by three expressive figures, Faith, Hope, and Charity,\nsupporting a cross.\n\nThis church with its perfumed air, its subdued light, and its\nquiet recesses incentive to piety, so charmed me by its contrast\nwith the gay world without, and revived all the fervor of early\nreligious impressions, that I did not leave it till I had\nresolved to commence each remaining day of my stay at Paris, by\ngoing to a different church till I had visited them all, like\nHorace Walpole. And should I even visit them like him as a mere\namateur of art, I could not fail to receive some inspiration that\nwould leave me better for the rest of the day.\n{463}\nThe hours thus passed in the churches seemed to consecrate the\nday, and left a perfume in my heart that nothing in the world\ncould wholly dissipate. They became the happiest and most\nprofitable of my life, both morally and intellectually.\n\n  \"For thou dost soothe the heart, thou Church of Rome,\n      By thy unwearied watch, and varied round\n   Of service, in thy Saviour's holy home.\n      I cannot walk the city's sultry streets,\n      But the wide porch invites to still retreats,\n   Where passion's thirst is calmed, and care's unthankful gloom.\"\n\n   \"There, on a foreign shore,\n      The homesick solitary finds a friend:\n    Thoughts, prisoned long for lack of speech, outpour\n      Their tears, and doubts in resignation end.\"\n\nOne morning I went to St. Merri's, where St. Edmund, Archbishop\nof Canterbury, when a young student at Paris, used to go to\nassist at the midnight office. A friend had given me his\npractical little book entitled _The Mirror of the Church,\n_and I took it with me to read in a place he had loved. In\nreading it I was struck by what he says of the Lord's Prayer, the\ngreat prayer of the middle ages, and the prominence he would have\nus give it in our devotions. He says:\n\n  \"The Pater Noster surpasses all other prayers in excellence,\n  dignity, and utility. It was made by God himself; hence the\n  injury done to Jesus Christ the Son of God when curious or\n  rhymed prayers are preferred to that composed by him who knows\n  the will of the Father, and better than we what prayer is most\n  acceptable to him, and what we most need. How many deceive\n  themselves in multiplying the forms of prayer! They think they\n  are devout, but they are only carnal in their affections, for\n  every carnally-minded person naturally delights in the vain\n  curiosity of words. Be then prudent and discreet in this\n  respect. I know you will bring forward St. Augustin, St.\n  Gregory, and other saints to oppose me, who prayed according to\n  the affections of their hearts. I am certainly far from blaming\n  them. I only blame the practice of those who, from a spirit of\n  pride or curiosity abandon the prayer made by the Lord himself\n  for those which the saints have composed. Our Lord himself\n  says, And when you are praying, speak not much as the heathen\n  do, for they think they are heard for their much speaking. You\n  therefore shall pray in this manner, Our Father, etc.\"\n\nWe Catholics are often accused of elevating the creature above\nthe Creator, and reproached for saying ten Hail Marys to one Our\nFather in the beautiful devotion of the Rosary, as if we had no\nother. This extract from St. Edmund does not support the\naccusation, and he was a prelate of the dark ages--the thirteenth\ncentury. But then he was an Englishman, and we all know the\nAnglo-Saxon race did not fall in Adam, and only a little way in\nPeter!\n\nIn justice to St. Edmund I will add that he was so devout to Our\nLady that, early in life, he consecrated himself to her, and\nwore, in memory of this consecration, a ring with Ave Maria upon\nit. He related this on his death-bed, that his example might be\nfollowed by others, and was buried with the ring on his finger.\n\nThere is an interesting chapel in St. Merri's Church, dedicated\nto St. Mary of Egypt, which is beautifully frescoed by\nChasserian, depicting the touching old legend, with its deep\nmoral significance, of\n\n  \"That Egyptian penitent whose tears\n   Fretted the rock, and moistened round her cave\n   The thirsty desert.\"\n\nThe poet tells of a miraculous drop which fell in Egypt on St.\nJohn's day, and was supposed to have the effect of stopping the\nplague. Such a drop fell on the soul of this renowned penitent.\n\n  \"There's a drop, says the Peri, that down from the moon\n   Falls through the withering airs of June\n   Upon Egypt's land, of so healing a power,\n   So balmy a virtue, that even in the hour\n   That drop descends, contagion dies,\n   And health reanimates earth and skies!\n   Oh! is it not thus, thou man of sin,\n     The precious tears of repentance fall.\n   Though foul the fiery plagues within,\n     One heavenly drop hath dispelled them all!\"\n\n{464}\n\nSt. Mary of Egypt is one of a long line of penitents who, after\nthe example of Magdalen, have given proofs of their repentance in\nproportion to their sins and to the depth of their sorrow, and\nthus rendered the very scars on their souls so many rays of\nlight.\n\nLe Brun painted one whose frailties are \"linked to fame\" as\nMagdalen, and at her own request. The universal interest felt in\nher story, and the sympathy it always excites, induced me to\nvisit a place that cannot be disconnected from her memory--the\nchapel of the Carmelites in the Rue d'Enfer, where she took the\nveil. I refer to Madame de la Valli\u00e8re, whom Madame de Sevign\u00e9\ncalls \"la petite violette qui se cachait sous l'herbe.\"\n\nA priest was just commencing mass when I entered the chapel. I\nknelt down by the tomb of the Cardinal de B\u00e9rulle, who used to\ncome here to pray in the chapel of St. Magdalen, having a great\ndevotion to that saint. It was difficult to resist the\ndistractions that were inevitable in such a spot, but in which I\nwould not indulge till the holy sacrifice was over. The choir of\nnuns was separated from the chancel by a grating which was\nclosely curtained. There is always a certain charm in everything\nthat savors of mystery. Whatever is hidden excites our curiosity\nand interest. That forbidding grate, that curtain of appalling\nblackness, were tantalizing. They concealed a world in which we\nhad no part. Behind them were hearts which had aims and\naspirations and holy ambitions, perhaps, we know not of. They led\na life which is almost inexplicable to the world--hidden indeed\nin God. The chapel was so still, save the murmur of the\nofficiating priest, that you might have supposed no one else\nthere. But after the Agnus Dei, came out from that mysterious\nrecess a murmur from unseen lips like a voice from another world.\nIt was that of the nuns all saying the Confiteor together before\ngoing to holy communion. That murmur of _mea culp\u00e2, mea\nculp\u00e2_, seemed like the voice of penitence from La Sainte\nBeaume, or the voice of past times repeating the accents of the\nrepentant La Valli\u00e8re. There she lived and prayed and did penance\nfor thirty-six years, longer than Magdalen in her cave, \"son\ncoeur ne respirant que du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du ciel,\" thus displaying a\nremarkable strength of volition, and therefore of character; for\n\"What is character but a perfectly formed will?\" says Novalis.\nBefore that altar she used to come two hours before the rest of\nthe community to pray, and in cold weather she, that had been\nbrought up in luxury, was often found senseless on the pavement\nof the choir when the rest of the nuns came to the chapel.\n\nWe read that the tears of Eve falling into the water brought\nforth pearls, and we cannot doubt that the tears through which\nour penitent viewed her past life helped obtain for her the pearl\nof great price. One instance of her austerity is well known. One\nGood-Friday, meditating in the refectory, during the meagre\nrepast of the day, on the vinegar and gall given to the dying\nSaviour when he was athirst, she recalled the pleasures of her\npast life and particularly of the time when, returning with the\ncourt from the chase, being thirsty, she drank with pleasure of\nsome delicious beverage which was brought her. This\nimmortification, so in contrast with the vinegar and gall of the\nSaviour, filled her with lively sentiments of repentance and\nhumiliation, and she resolved never to drink again.\n{465}\nFor three weeks she did not taste even a drop of water, and for\nthree years she only drank half a glass day. This severe penance,\nwhich was unsuspected, brought on a fit of illness and caused\nviolent spasms in the stomach, which reduced her to a state of\ngreat feebleness. Besides that, she suffered greatly from\nrheumatism, but she never ceased to share in the labors in the\ncommunity. She died in 1710, aged nearly sixty-six years, having\npassed thirty-six years in the convent. Her life here was one\nlong Miserere which was surely heard in heaven. Her soul had to\npass through the deep waters; but she took fast hold of that\n\"last plank after shipwreck\"--repentance. Everything went to feed\nthe stream of her sorrow. Every new grace gave her a new\nconception of the guilt of sin and awoke new regrets for lost\nglory. So she shut herself up in the garden of myrrh. She\nsheltered herself in the _creux du rocher_ from the waves of\nmemory that swept over her soul. In that dark night of her soul\nshe looked tremblingly out over the wide sea of her sorrows with\na heart like the double-faced Janus, looking into the past and\ntoward the future, memory and hope struggling in her heart. Over\nthat dark sea rose the moonlight of Mary's face--our Lady of\nMount Carmel--a narrow crescent at first, but growing larger and\nbrighter every day. And the great luminous starry saints with\ntheir different degrees of glory studded the heavens that opened\nto her view. And so the morning came when the voice of Jesus\nspoke: Many sins are forgiven her because she hath loved much.\n\nThere is an accent of sincerity, with no savor of cant, in the\nwell-known reply of Soeur Louise de la Misericorde when asked if\nshe was happy in the convent: \"I am not happy, but I am\nsatisfied.\" How few in the world can even say with sincerity that\nthey are satisfied. Dr. Johnson said, \"No one is happy,\" but\nsatisfaction is certainly reasonable happiness. Carlyle says,\n\"There is in man a higher than love of happiness. He can do\nwithout happiness, and instead thereof find blessedness.\" That\nhappiness alone is real which does not depend on contingencies.\nIt is reasonably satisfied with the present, and has a constantly\nincreasing hope in the future. Such was the happiness Madame de\nla Valli\u00e8re found among the pale-eyed votaries of the cloister, a\nsatisfaction of the soul which became perfect happiness when\ndeath came to her after so many years of dying.\n\nI wonder if there was no perfume left in the dried rose leaves in\nher heart causing it to faint ofttimes by the way. A person of so\nmuch sensibility must have had a wonderful capacity for\nsuffering. That her memory was ever alive to the past is evident\nfrom the unrelenting austerity of her life, from her well-known\nreply when informed of the death of her son, and from her\nrequesting Le Brun to paint her as Magdalen.\n\nRemembering so many proofs of her conversion, we, too, say,\nNeither do I condemn thee. No stone will I cast on thy grave; no\nreproach on thy memory: for repentance effaced every earthly\nstain, and thou art now sharing the joy there is in heaven over\none sinner that repenteth. Tears of penitent love mingled with\nthose of virgin innocence at the foot of the cross. Let them\nstill mingle there; we will not regard them with distrust or\ndisdain. We too have need to cry:\n\n  \"Drop, drop, slow tears\n     I And bathe those beauteous feet.\n   Which brought from heaven\n     The news and Prince of peace.\n   Cease not, wet eyes,\n     For mercy to entreat:\n\n{466}\n\n   To cry for vengeance\n     Sin doth never cease.\n   In your deep floods\n     Drown all my faults and fears:\n   Nor let his eye\n     See sin but through my tears.\"\n\nEvery one who looks deeply into his own heart finds a motive of\ncharity for the faults of others. A monk of Cluny hung up in his\ncell the picture of a famous debauchee under which he placed his\nown name. The surprised abbot asked the reason. It was to remind\nhim what grace alone prevented him from becoming. We are all\nmiracles of grace. It may be restraining or transforming. We are\nnot the less in need of it than those who have apparently sunk to\nlower depths.\n\nAll these things passed through my mind while lingering in the\nchapel of the Carmelites. In that chapel had resounded the grand\ntones of the great Bossuet at the profession of Madame de la\nValli\u00e8re, with his usual refrain--the emptiness of all earthly\nthings. \"Away, earthly honors!\" he said on that occasion, \"all\nyour splendor but ill conceals our weaknesses and our faults;\nconceals them from ourselves, but reveals them to\nothers.\"--\"There are two kinds of love,\" he added, \"one is the\nlove of ourselves, which leads to the contempt of God--that is\nthe old life, the life of the world. The other is the love of\nGod, which leads to the contempt of ourselves, and is the new\nlife of Christianity, which, carried to perfection, constitutes\nthe religious life. The soul, detached from the body by\nmortification, freed from the captivity of the senses, sees\nitself as it is--the source of all evil. It therefore turns then\nagainst itself. Having fallen through an ill use of liberty, it\nwould be restrained on every side, by frightful grates, a\nprofound solitude, an impenetrable cloister, perfect obedience, a\nrule for every action, a motive for every step, and a hundred\nobservant eyes. Thus hemmed in on all sides, the soul can only\nfly heavenward. _Elle ne peut plus respirer que du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du\nciel_\"--a beautiful expression, recalling the lines from an\nold manuscript poem in the _Biblioth\u00e8que Royal:_\n\n  \"Li cuers doit estre\n   Semblans \u00e0 l'encensoir\n   Tous clos envers la terre\n   Et overs vers le ciel.\"\n\nThe heart should be like a censer, closed toward earth and open\ntoward heaven; and such is the heart of the real spouse of\nChrist.\n\nWhen Bossuet had finished his discourse and the black veil was\nplaced upon the head of La Valli\u00e8re, the whole audience wept\naloud. The Duchess de la Valli\u00e8re was now Louise de la\nMis\u00e9ricorde, vowed to the rigorous life of the Carmelites, to\nfasts and vigils, to sackcloth and ashes.\n\nPhilosophers say no motion is ever lost, and that every act is\nphotographed somewhere in the universe. Think of swelling the\nchoral song that will go on vibrating in the air for ever; of\nsighs of penitence that go on sighing through space for ever in\nthe ears of a merciful God; of attitudes of adoring praise and\nlove, which are somewhere imaged, to be revealed at the last day\nas a page in the great book that will decide our eternal fate.\nHow much better to be thus perpetuated than idle words, vain\nsongs, and all the graces of fashion only intended to please the\neye of a fellow-mortal.\n\nAfter all, there is something in such a life that appeals to the\ninstincts of our nature. Even those who condemn it cannot but\nadmire. At least, they find it poetical. Who does not feel an\nincreased sentiment of respect for Dr. Johnson as he stands with\nbared head, in the rain, where his father's book-stall was, in\nthe market place at Uttoxeter, to expiate an act of early\ndisobedience to his father?\n{467}\n\"The picture of Samuel Johnson,\" says Carlyle, \"standing\nbare-headed in the market-place is one of the grandest and\nsaddest we can paint. The memory of old Michael Johnson rising\nfrom the far distance, sad, beckoning in the moonlight of memory.\nRepentance! repentance! he proclaims as with passionate sobs--but\nonly to the ear of heaven, if heaven will give him audience.\"\n\n  \"O heavy laden soul! kneel down and hear\n      Thy penance in calm fear;\n   With thine own lips to sentence all thy sin;\n      Then, by the judge within\n   Absolved, in thankful sacrifice to part\n      For ever with thy sullen heart!\"\n\n----------\n\n      The Physical Basis Of Life.\n      [Footnote 128]\n\n      [Footnote 128: _New Theory of Life_. Identity of the\n      Powers and Faculties of all Living Matter. A Lecture by\n      Professor T. H. Huxley. _New York World_, Feb. 18th,\n      1869.]\n\n\nWe know this rather remarkable discourse only as republished in\nthe columns of _The New York World_, where it had a\nsensational title which we have abridged. Professor Huxley's name\nstands high among English physicists or scientists, and his\ndiscourse indicates considerable natural ability, and familiarity\nwith the modern school of science which seeks the explanation of\nthe universe and its phenomena without recognizing a creator, or\nany existence but ordinary matter and its various combinations.\nThe immediate purpose of the professor is to prove the physical\nor material basis of life, and that life in all organisms is\nidentical, originating in and depending on what he calls the\nprotoplasm.\n\nThe protoplasm is formed of ordinary matter; say, carbon,\nhydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen. These elements combined in some\nunknown way give rise to protoplasm; the protoplasm gives rise to\nthe plant, and, through the plant, to the animal; and hence all\nlife, feeling, thought, and reason originate in the peculiar\ncombination of the molecules of ordinary, inorganic matter. The\nplant differs from the animal, and the animal from man, only in\nthe different combinations of the molecules of the protoplasm. We\nsee nothing in this theory that is new, or not as old as the\nphysics of the ancient Ionian school.\n\nThe only novelty that can be pretended is the assumption that all\nmatter, even inorganic, is, in a certain sense, plastic, and\ntherefore, in a rudimentary way, living. The same law governs the\ninorganic and the organic world. But even this is not new. Many\nyears ago, Ralph Waldo Emerson asserted the identity of\ngravitation and purity of heart, and we ourselves are by no means\ndisposed to deny that there is more or less analogy between the\nformation of the crystal or the diamond and the growth of the\nplant. It is not, perhaps, too much to say that the law of\ncreation is one law, and we have never yet been convinced of the\nexistence of absolutely inert matter. Whatever exists is, in its\norder and degree, a _vis activa_, or an active force.\nMatter, as the _potentia nuda_ of the schoolmen, is simple\npossibility, and no real existence at all.\n{468}\nThere is and can be no pure passivity in nature, or purely\npassive existences. We would not therefore deny a certain\nrudimentary plasticity to minerals, or what is called brute\nmatter, though we are not prepared to accept the plastic soul,\nasserted by Plato, and revived and explained in the posthumous\nand unfinished works of Gioberti under the term _methexis_,\nwhich is copied or imitated by the _mimesis_, or the\nindividual and the sensible. Yet since, as the professor tells\nus, the animal can take the protoplasm only as prepared by the\nplant, must there not be in inorganic matter a preparation or\nelaboration of the protoplasm for the use of the plant?\n\nThe professor speaks of the difficulty of determining the line of\ndemarcation between the animal and the plant; but is it difficult\nto draw the line between the mineral and the plant, or between\nthe plant and the inorganic matter from which it assimilates its\nfood or nourishment? Pope sings,\n\n  \"See through this air, this ocean, and this earth,\n   All matter _quick_, and bursting into birth;\"\n\nbut we would like to have the professor explain how ordinary\nmatter, even if _quick_, becomes protoplasm, and how the\nprotoplasm becomes the origin and basis of the life of the plant.\nEvery plant is an organism with its central life within. Virchow\nand Cl. Bernard by their late discoveries have proved that every\norganism proceeds from an organite, ovule, or central cell, which\nproduces, directs, and controls or governs the whole organism,\neven in its abnormal developments. They have also proved that\nthis ovule or central cell exists only as generated by a\npre-existing organism, or parent, of the same kind. The later\nphysiologists are agreed that there is no well authenticated\ninstance of spontaneous generation. Now this organite must exist,\nlive, before it can avail itself of the protoplasm formed of\nordinary matter, which is exterior to it, not within it, and\ncannot be its life, for that moves from within outward, from the\ncentre to the circumference. Concede, then, all the facts the\nprofessor alleges, they only go to prove that the organism\nalready living sustains its life by assimilating fitting elements\nfrom ordinary matter. But they do not show at all that it derives\nits life from them; or that the so-called protoplasm is the\norigin, source, basis, or matter of organic life; or that it\ngenerates, produces, or gives rise to the organite or central\ncell; nor that it has anything to do with vitalizing it. Hence\nthe professor fails to throw any light on the origin, matter, or\nbasis of life itself.\n\nIt may or it may not be difficult in the lower organisms to draw\nthe line between the plant and the animal, and we shall urge no\nobjections to what the professor says on that point; we will only\nsay here that the animal organism, like the vegetable, is\nproduced, directed, and controlled by the central cell, and that\nthis cell or ovule is generated by animal parents. There is no\nspontaneous generation, and no well authenticated instance of\nmetagenesis. Like generates like, and even Darwin's doctrine of\nnatural selection confirms rather than denies it. It is certain\nthat the vegetable organism has never, as far as science goes,\ngenerated an animal organism. Arguments based on our ignorance\nprove nothing. The protoplasm can no more produce or vitalize the\ncentral animal than it can the central vegetable cell, and,\nindeed, still less; for the animal cannot, as the professor\nhimself asserts, sustain its life by the protoplastic elements\ntill they have been prepared by the vegetable organism.\n{469}\nWhence, then, the animal germ, organite, or ovule? What vitalizes\nit and gives it the power of assimilating the protoplasm as its\nfood, without which the organism dies and disappears?\n\nGiving the professor the fullest credit for exact science in all\nhis statements, he does not, as far as we can see, prove his\nprotoplasm is the physical basis of life, or that there is for\nlife any physical basis at all. He only proves that matter is so\nfar plastic as to afford sustenance to a generated organic life,\nwhich every farmer who has ever manured a field of corn or grass,\nor reared a flock of sheep or a herd of cattle, knows, and always\nhas known, as well as the illustrious professor.\n\nWe can find a clear statement of several of the conditions of\nlife, both vegetable and animal, but no demonstration of the\nprinciple of life, in the professor's very elaborate discourse.\nIndeed, if we examine it closely, we shall find that he does not\neven pretend to demonstrate anything of the sort. He denies all\nmeans of science except sensible experience, and maintains with\nHume that we have no sensible experience of causes or principles,\nall science, he asserts, is restricted to empirical facts with\ntheir law, which, in his system, is itself only a fact or a\nclassification of facts. The conditions of life, as we observe\nthem, are for him the essential principle of life in the only\nsense in which the word _principle_ has, or can have, for\nhim, an intelligible meaning. He proves, then, the physical basis\nof life, by denying that it has any intelligible basis at all. He\nproves, indeed, that the protoplasm, which he shows, or endeavors\nto show, is universal--one and the same, always and everywhere\n--is present in the already existing life of both the plant and\nthe animal; but that, whatever it be, in the plant or animal,\nwhich gives it the power to take up the protoplasm and assimilate\nit to its own organism, which is properly the life or vital\npower, he does not explain, account for, or even recognize. With\nhim, power is an empty word. He nowhere proves that life is\nproduced, furnished, or generated by the protoplasm, or has a\nmaterial origin. Hence, the protoplasm, by his own showing, is\nsimply no protoplasm at all. He proves, if anything, that in\ninorganic matter there are elements which the living plant or\nanimal assimilates, and into which, when dead, it is resolved.\nThis is all he does, and in fact, all he professes to do.\n\nThe professor makes light of the very grave objection, that\nchemical analysis can throw no light on the principle or basis of\nlife, because it is or can be made only on the dead subject. He\nof course concedes that chemical analysis is not made on the\nliving subject; but this, he contends, amounts to nothing. We\nthink it amounts to a great deal. The very thing sought, to wit,\nlife, is wanting in the dead subject, and of course cannot by any\npossible analysis be detected in it. If all that constituted the\nliving subject is present in the dead body, why is the body dead,\nor why has it ceased to perform its vital functions? The\nprotoplasm, or what you so call, is as present in the corpse as\nin the living organism. If it is the basis of life, why is the\norganism no longer living? The fact is, that life, while it\ncontinues, resists chemical action and death, by a higher and\nsubtler chemistry of its own, and it is only the dead body that\nfalls under the action of the ordinary chemical laws. There is,\nthen, no concluding the principle or basis of life from any\npossible dissection of the dead body.\n\n{470}\n\nThe professor's answer to the objection is far from being\nsatisfactory.\n\n  \"Objectors of this class,\" he says, \"do not seem to reflect ...\n  that we know nothing about the composition of any body as it\n  is. The statement that a crystal of calcspar consists of\n  carbonate of lime is quite true, if we only mean that, by\n  appropriate processes, it may be resolved into carbonic acid\n  and quicklime. If you pass the same carbonic acid over the very\n  quicklime thus obtained, you will obtain carbonate of lime\n  again; but it will not be calc-spar, nor anything like it. Can\n  it therefore be said that chemical analysis teaches nothing\n  about the chemical composition of calc-spar? Such a statement\n  would be absurd; but it is hardly more so than the talk one\n  occasionally hears about the uselessness of applying the\n  results of chemical analysis to the living bodies which have\n  yielded them. One fact, at any rate, is out of reach of such\n  refinements and this is, that all the forms of protoplasm which\n  have yet been examined contain the four elements, carbon,\n  hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, in very complex union, and that\n  they behave similarly toward several reagents. To this complex\n  combination, the nature of which has never been determined with\n  exactness, the name of protein has been applied. And if we use\n  this term with such caution as may properly arise out of\n  comparative ignorance of the things for which it stands, it may\n  be truly said that all protoplasm is proteinaceous; or, as the\n  white, or albumen, of an egg is one of the commonest examples\n  of a nearly pure proteine matter, we may say that all living\n  matter is more or less albuminoid. Perhaps it would not yet be\n  safe to say that all forms of protoplasm are affected by the\n  direct action of electric shocks; and yet the number of cases\n  in, which the contraction of protoplasm is shown to be effected\n  by this agency increases every day. Nor can it be affirmed with\n  perfect confidence that all forms of protoplasm are liable to\n  undergo that peculiar coagulation at a temperature of 40\n  degrees--50 degrees centigrade, which has been called\n  \"heat-stiffening,\" though Kuhne's beautiful researches have\n  proved this occurrence to take place in so many and such\n  diverse living beings, that it is hardly rash to expect that\n  the law holds good for all.\"\n\nThis long extract proves admirably how long, how learnedly, how\nscientifically, a great man can talk without saying anything. All\nthat is here said amounts only to this: the conclusions obtained\nby the analysis of the dead body cannot be denied to be\napplicable to the living body, because we know nothing of the\ncomposition of any body organic or inorganic, as it is. Therefore\nall life has a physical basis! Take the whole extract, and all it\ntells you is, that we know nothing of the subject it professes to\ntreat. \"All the forms of protoplasm, which have yet been examined\ncontain the four elements, carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen\nin very complex union.\" When chemically resolved into these four\nelements, is it protoplasm still? Can you by a chemical process\nreconvert them into protoplasm? No. Then what does the analysis\nshow of the nature of your physical basis of life? \"To this\ncomplex union, the nature of which _has never yet been\ndetermined_, the name of protein has been applied.\" Very\nimportant to know that. Yet this name protein names not something\nknown, but something the nature of which is unknown. What then\ndoes it tell us? \"If we use this term [protein] with such caution\nas may properly arise out of our comparative _ignorance_ of\nthe things for which it stands, it may truly be said that all\nprotoplasm is proteinaceous.\" Be it so, what advance in\nknowledge, since we are ignorant of what protein is? It is\nwonderful what a magnificent structure our scientists are able to\nerect on ignorance as the foundation.\n\nThe professor, after having confessed his ignorance of what the\nalleged protoplasm really is, continues:\n\n  \"Enough has, perhaps, been said to prove the existence of a\n  general uniformity in the character of the protoplasm, or\n  physical basis of life, in whatever group of living beings it\n  may be studied. But it will be understood that this general\n  uniformity by no means excludes any amount of special\n  modifications of the fundamental substance. The mineral,\n  carbonate of lime, assumes an immense diversity of characters,\n  though\n{471}\n  no one doubts that under all these protean changes it is one\n  and the same thing. And now, what is the ultimate fate, and\n  what the origin, of the matter of life? Is it, as some of the\n  older naturalists supposed, diffused throughout the universe in\n  molecules, which are indestructible and unchangeable in\n  themselves; but, in endless transmigration, unite in\n  innumerable permutations, into the diversified forms of life we\n  know? Or is the matter of life composed of ordinary matter,\n  differing from it only in the manner in which its atoms are\n  aggregated. Is it built up of ordinary matter, and again\n  resolved into ordinary matter when its work is done? Modern\n  science does not hesitate a moment between these alternatives.\n  Physiology writes over the portals of life,\n\n    'Debemur morti nos nostraque,'\n\n  with a profounder meaning than the Roman poet attached to that\n  melancholy line. Under whatever disguise it takes refuge,\n  whether fungus or oak, worm or man, the living protoplasm not\n  only ultimately dies and is resolved into its mineral and\n  lifeless constituents, but is always dying, and, strange as the\n  paradox may sound, could not live unless it died.\"\n\nSuppose all this to be precisely as asserted, it only proves that\nthere is diffused through the whole material world elements which\nin certain unknown and inexplicable combinations, afford\nsustenance to plants, and through plants to animals, or from\nwhich the living organism repairs its waste and sustains its\nlife. It does not tell us how carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and\nnitrogen are or must be combined to form the alleged protoplasm,\nwhence is the living organism, nor the origin or principle of its\nlife. It, in fact, shows us neither the origin nor the matter of\nlife, for it is only an actually living organism that uses or\nassimilates the alleged protoplasm. There is evidently at work in\nthe organism a vital force that is distinguishable from the\nirritability or contractility of the protoplasm, and not derived\nfrom or originated by it. Undoubtedly, every organism that falls\nunder our observation, whether vegetable or animal, has its\nphysical conditions, and lives by virtue of a physical law; but\nthis, even when we have determined the law and ascertained the\nconditions, throws no light on the life itself. The life escapes\nall observation, and science is impotent, if it leaves out the\ncreative act of God, to explain it, or to bring us a step nearer\nits secret. Professor Huxley tells us no more, with all his\nscience and hard words, than any cultivator of the soil, any\nshepherd or herdsman, can tell us, and knows as well as he, as we\nhave already said.\n\nIn the last extract, the professor evidently prefers, of the two\nalternatives he suggests, the one that asserts that \"the matter\nof life [protoplasm] is composed of ordinary matter, is built up\nof ordinary matter, and resolved again into ordinary matter when\nits work is done.\" This the professor applies to man as well as\nto plants and animals. Hence, he cites the Roman poet,\n\n  \"Debemur morti nos nostraque.\"\n\nBut we have conceded the professor more than he asks. We have\nconceded that all matter is, in a certain sense, plastic, and\nliving, in the sense of being active, not passive. But the\nprofessor does not ask so much. We inferred from some things in\nthe beginning of his discourse that he intended to maintain that\nhis protoplasm is itself elemental, and pervading all nature. But\nthis is not the case; he merely holds it to be a chemical\ncompound formed by the peculiar chemical combination of lifeless\ncomponents. Thus he says:\n\n{472}\n\n  \"But it will be observed that the existence of the matter of\n  life depends on the pre-existence of certain compounds, namely,\n  carbonic acid, water, and ammonia. Withdraw any one of these\n  three from the world, and all vital phenomena come to an end.\n  They are related to the protoplasm of the plant, as the\n  protoplasm of the plant is to that of the animal. Carbon,\n  hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen are all lifeless bodies. Of\n  these, carbon and oxygen unite in certain proportions and under\n  certain conditions, to give rise to carbonic acid; hydrogen and\n  oxygen produce water; nitrogen and hydrogen give rise to\n  ammonia. These new compounds, like the elementary bodies of\n  which they are composed, are lifeless. But when they are\n  brought together, under certain conditions they give rise to\n  the still more complex body, protoplasm, and this protoplasm\n  exhibits the phenomena of life. I see no break in this series\n  of steps in my secular complication, and I am unable to\n  understand why the language which is applicable to any one term\n  of the series may not be used to any of the others.\"\n\nBut here is a break or a bold leap from a lifeless to a living\ncompound. No matter how different are the several chemical\ncompounds known from the simple components, the new compound is\nalways, as far as known, as lifeless as were the several\ncomponents themselves. Hydrogen and oxygen compounded give rise\nto water, but water is lifeless. Hydrogen and nitrogen, brought\ntogether in certain proportions, give rise to ammonia, still a\nlifeless compound. No chemist has yet, by any combination of the\nminerals, carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, the\nconstituents of protoplasm, been able to produce a living plant\nor a living organism of any sort. How then conclude that their\ncombination produces the matter of life, or gives rise to the\nliving organism? There seems to us to be a great gulf between the\npremises and the conclusion. Certain combinations of carbon,\nhydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen produce certain lifeless compounds\ndifferent from themselves, _therefore_ a certain other\ncombination of these same elements produces the living organism,\nplant, or animal, or originates the matter, and forms the\nphysical basis of life. If the professor had in his school days\nreasoned in this way, his logic-master, we suspect, would have\nset a black mark against his name, or, more likely, have rapped\nhim over the knuckles, if not over his head, and told him that an\nargument that has no middle term, is no argument at all, and that\n\"Transitio a genere ad genus,\" as from the lifeless to the\nliving, is a sophism.\n\nThe professor is misled by his supposing that what is true of the\ndead body must be true of the living. Because chemical analysis\nresolves the dead body into certain lifeless elements, he\nconcludes that the living body is, while living, only a compound\nof these same lifeless elements. That is, from what is true of\ndeath, he concludes what must be true of life. But for this\nfallacy, he could never have fallen into the other fallacy of\nconcluding life is only the result of a certain aggregate or\namalgam of lifeless minerals. Our scientists are seldom good\nlogicians, and we have rarely found them able, when leaving\ntraditional science, to draw even a logical induction from the\nfacts before them. This is wherefore they receive so little\nrespect from philosophers and theologians, who are always ready\nto accept their facts, but, for the most part, unable to accept\ntheir inductions. The professor has given us some valuable facts,\nthough very well known before; but his logical ineptness is the\nbest argument he has as yet offered in support of his favorite\ntheory that man is only a monkey developed.\n\nIn the extract next before the last, the professor revives an old\ndoctrine long since abandoned, that life is generated from\ncorruption. \"Under whatever disguise it takes refuge, whether\nfungus or oak, worm or man, the living protoplasm not only\nultimately dies and is resolved into its mineral and lifeless\nconstituents, but is _always dying, and, strange as the paradox\nmay sound, could not live unless it died._\"\n{473}\nWe know that some physiologists regard the waste of the body,\nwhich in life is constantly going on, and which is repaired by\nthe food we take, as incipient death; but this is only because\nthey confound the particles or molecules of matter of which the\nbody is externally built up, and which change many times during\nan ordinary life, with the body itself, and suppose the life of\nthe body is simply the resultant of the aggregation of these\ninnumerable molecules or particles. But the life of the organism,\nwe have seen, is within it, and its action from the centre, and\nit is only its life, not its death, that throws off or exudes as\nwell as assimilates the material particles. The exudation as well\nas the assimilation is interrupted by death. Why the protoplasm\ncould not live unless it died is what we do not understand.\n\nThe professor, of course, not only denies the immortality of the\nsoul, but the existence of soul itself. There is for him no soul\nbut the protoplasm formed of ordinary matter. All this we\nunderstand very well. We understand, too, that on his theory the\nprotoplasm assimilated by the organism to repair its waste,\nrenews literally, not figuratively, the life of the organism. But\nhow he extracts life from death, and concludes that the\nprotoplasm must die, as the condition of living, passeth our\ncomprehension. We suppose, however, the professor found it\nnecessary to assert it in order to be able to reason from the\ndead subject to the living. If the protoplasm were not dead, he\ncould not by chemical analysis determine its constituents; and if\nthe death of the protoplasm were not essential to its life, he\ncould not conclude the constituents of the living protoplasm from\nwhat he finds to be the constituents of the dead protoplasm. But\nthis does not help him. In the first place, the waste of the\nliving organism is not death nor dying, though death may result\nfrom it. And the supply of protoplasm in the shape of food does\nnot originate new life, nor replenish a life that is gone, but\nsupplies what is needed to sustain and invigorate a life that is\nalready life. In the second place, the vital force is not built\nup by protoplastic accretions, but operates from within the\norganism, from the organite or central cell, without which there\ncould be no accretions or secretions. The food does not give\nlife; it only ministers sustenance to an organism already living.\nNo chemical analysis of the food can disclose or throw any light\non the origin, nature, or constitution of the organic life\nitself.\n\nIt is this fact that prevents us from having much confidence in\nchemical physiology, which is still insisted on by our most\neminent physiologists. In every organism there is something that\ntranscends the reach of chemical analysis, and which no chemical\nsynthesis can reproduce. Take the professor's protoplasm itself.\nHe resolves it into the minerals, carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and\nnitrogen: but no chemist can by any possible recombination of\nthem reproduce protoplasm. How then can one say that these\nminerals are its sole constituents, or that there are not other\nelements entering it which escape all chemical tests and, indeed,\nare not subject to chemical laws? Chemistry is limited, and\ncannot penetrate the essence of the material substance any more\nthan the eye can. It never does and never can go beyond the\nsensible properties of matter. Life has its own laws, and every\nphysiologist knows that he meets in the living organism phenomena\nor facts which it is impossible to reduce to any of the laws\nwhich are obtainable from the analysis of inorganic or lifeless\nmatter.\n{474}\nIt is necessary then to conclude that there is in the living\norganism present and active some element which, though using\nlifeless matter, cannot be derived from it, or explained by\nphysical laws, be they mechanical, chemical, or electrical. The\nlaw of life is a law _sui generis_, and not resolvable into\nany other. We must even go beyond the physical laws themselves,\nif we would find their principle.\n\nAs far as human science goes, there is, where the nucleus of life\nis wanting, no conversion of lifeless matter into living matter.\nThe attempt to prove that living organisms, plants, animals, or\nman are developed from inorganic and lifeless matter, though made\nas long ago as Leucippus and Democritus, systematized by\nEpicurus, sung in rich Latin verse by Lucretius, and defended by\nthe ablest of modern British physico-philosophers, Mr. Herbert\nSpencer, in his _Biology_, has by the sane part of the human\nrace in all times and everywhere been held to be foolish and\nabsurd. It has no scientific basis, is supported by no known\nfacts, and is simply an unfounded, at least, an unsupported\nhypothesis. Life to the scientist is an insolvable mystery. We\nknow no explanation of this mystery or of anything else in the\nuniverse, unless we accept the creative act of God; for the\norigin and cause of nature are not in nature herself. We have no\nother explanation of the origin of living organisms or of the\nmatter of life. God created plants, animals, and man, created\nthem living organisms, male and female created he them, and thus\ngave them the power to propagate and multiply each its own kind,\nby natural generation. The scientist will of course smile\nsuperciliously at this old solution, insisted on by priests and\naccepted by the vulgar; but though not a scientist, we know\nenough of science to say from even a scientific point of view\nthat there is no alternative: either this or no solution at all.\nThe ablest men of ancient or modern times, when they reject it,\nonly fall into endless sophisms and self-contradictions.\n\nProfessor Huxley admits none but material existences, concedes\nthat the terms of his proposition are unquestionably\nmaterialistic, and yet denies that he is individually a\nmaterialist.\n\n  \"It may seem a small thing to admit that the dull vital actions\n  of a fungus, or a foraminifer, are the properties of their\n  protoplasm, and are the direct results of the nature of the\n  matter of which they are composed. But if, as I have endeavored\n  to prove to you, their protoplasm is essentially identical\n  with, and most readily converted into, that of any animal, I\n  can discover no logical halting place between the admission\n  that such is the case, and the further concession that all\n  vital action may, with equal propriety, be said to be the\n  result of the molecular forces of the protoplasm which displays\n  it. And if so, it must be true, in the same sense and to the\n  same extent, that the thoughts to which I am now giving\n  utterance, and your thoughts regarding them, are the expression\n  of molecular changes in the matter of life which is the source\n  of other vital phenomena. Past experience leads me to be\n  tolerably certain that, when the propositions I have just\n  placed before you are accessible to public comment and\n  criticism, they will be condemned by many zealous persons, and\n  perhaps by some of the wise and thoughtful. I should not wonder\n  if 'gross and brutal materialism' were the mildest phrase\n  applied to them in certain quarters. And most undoubtedly the\n  terms of the propositions are distinctly materialistic.\n  Nevertheless, two things are certain: the one, that I hold the\n  statement to be substantially true; the other, that I,\n  individually, am no materialist, but on the contrary believe\n  materialism to involve grave philosophical error.\"\n\n{475}\n\nIf what he has been from the first endeavoring to prove, and here\ndistinctly asserts, is not materialism and consequently by his\nown confession, \"a grave philosophical error,\" we know not what\nwould be. \"This union of materialistic terminology with the\nrepudiation of the materialistic philosophy,\" he says, further\non, \"I share with some of the most thoughtful men with whom I am\nacquainted.\" His terminology is, then, better fitted to conceal\nhis thought than to express it. He may repudiate this or that\nmaterialistic system; he may repudiate all philosophy, which he,\nof course does, yet not his terminology only, but his thought, as\nfar as thought he has, is materialistic. Nothing can be more\nmaterialistic than the conception of life, sense, sentiment,\naffection, thought, reasoning, all the sensible, intellectual,\nand moral phenomena we are conscious of, as the product of the\npeculiar arrangement or combination of the molecules of the\nprotoplasm, itself resolvable into the minerals, carbon,\nhydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen.\n\nThe scientific professor defends himself from materialism, by\nasserting that both materialism and spiritualism lie without the\nlimits of human science, and by denying the necessity of a\nsubstance, whether spirit or matter, to underlie and sustain--we\nshould say, produce--the phenomena, and the necessary relation of\ncause and effect, or that we do or can know things under any\nrelation but that of juxtaposition in space and time. He falls\nback on the skepticism of Hume, and takes refuge behind his\nignorance. He is too ignorant either to assert or to deny the\nexistence of spirit, and though he may not be able to prove the\nphenomena in question are the product of material forces, nobody\nknows enough of the nature and essence of matter to say that they\nare not; and in fine, he in the first part of his discourse is\nonly stating the direction in which physiology has for some time\nbeen moving. After all, what is the difference, or rather, what\nmatters \"the difference between the conception of life as the\nproduct of a certain disposition of material molecules, and the\nold notion of an Archaeus governing and directing blind matter\nwithin each living body?\"\n\nBut if matter lies out of the limits of science, and the\nprofessor is unable to say whether it exists or not, what right\nhas he to call anything material, to speak of a material basis of\nlife, or to represent life and its phenomena as the product of \"a\ncertain disposition of material molecules\"? What, indeed, has he\nbeen laboring to prove through his whole discourse, but that the\nphenomena of life are the product of ordinary matter? After this,\nit will hardly answer to plead ignorance of the existence and\nproperties of matter. If matter be relegated to the region of the\nunknowable, his whole thesis, terminology and all, must be\nbanished with it, for it retains, and can retain, no meaning.\n\nNor will it answer for the professor to take refuge in Hume's\nskepticism, and say he is not a materialist, because he admits no\nnecessary relation between cause and effect, or that there is\nwithin the limits of science, any power or force, or _vis\nactiva_, which men in their ignorance call \"cause,\" actually\nproducing something which men call \"effect.\" If he says this,\nwhat becomes of his thesis, that life and even mind are the\n_product_ of a certain disposition of material molecules, or\nof \"the peculiar combination of the molecules of the protoplasm\"?\nIf he denies the existence, or even the knowledge of causative,\nthat is, productive force, his thesis has no meaning, and all his\nalleged proofs of a physical basis of the vital and mental\nphenomena must count for nothing.\n{476}\nEvery proof, every argument, presupposes the relation of cause\nand effect. When that relation is denied, and the two things are\nassumed to have with each other only the relation of\njuxtaposition, no proposition can be either proved or disproved.\nThe professor, after having asserted and attempted to prove his\nmaterialistic thesis, cannot, without gross self-contradiction,\nplead the skepticism of Hume in his defence. If he holds with\nHume, he should have kept his mouth shut, and never stated or\nattempted to prove his thesis.\n\nWhether we are or are not able to prove that life, sense, and\nreason do not originate in the peculiar \"combination of the\nmolecules of the protoplasm,\" is nothing to the purpose. It is\nfor the professor to prove that they do. He must not base his\nscience on our ignorance, any more than on his own.\n\nBut our space is exhausted and we must close. Taken, as we have\ntaken him, on what he must concede to be purely scientific\nground, and brought to a strictly scientific test, the\nprofessor's thesis must be declared not proven, and to be\ndestitute of all scientific value. We have met him on his own\nground, and have urged no arguments against him drawn from\nreligion or metaphysics; we have simply corrected one or two\nmistakes in his science, and assailed his inductions with pure\nlogic. If he has not reasoned logically, that is his fault, not\nours, and neither he nor his friends have any right to complain\nof us for showing that his inductions are illogical, and\ntherefore unscientific. Yet we are bound to say that the\nprofessor reasons as well as any of his class of scientists that\nwe have met with. No man can reason logically who rejects the\n[Greek text], that is, logic itself, and nothing better than\nProfessor Huxley's discourse can be expected from a scientist who\ndiscards all causes and seeks to explain the existence and\nphenomena or facts of the universe, without rising from second\ncauses to the first and final cause of all.\n\nTwo questions are raised by this discourse, of great and vital\nimportance. The one as to the _nexus_ between cause and\neffect, in answer to Hume's skepticism, and the other as to\nspirit and matter, and their reciprocal relation. We have not\nattempted the discussion of either in this article; but should a\nfavorable occasion offer, we may hereafter treat them both at\nsome length.\n\n----------\n\n{477}\n\n            Two Months In Spain\n         During The Late Revolution.\n\n\n  Gibraltar.\n  October 7.\n\nAt an early hour yesterday we left Cadiz, which did indeed look\nlike a \"silver cup floating on the water,\" as the Spaniards say\nof it. As the steamer bore us away, the rising sun upon its white\ntowers and cathedral dome, the belvideres which adorn the roof of\nevery house, (making each look like a church,) the lovely green\nalameda, the distant mountains, the pretty white towns on the\nshore, the hundreds of vessels in the sparkling bay, all made an\nenchanting scene, from which we were recalled to the miseries of\nsea-sickness! From time to time, we crept upon deck to see the\nfine sea view, and when we came to Tarifa, near the straits, the\nscene was magnificent. On one side, the mountains of Africa,\nTangier in the distance; on the other, the mountains of Spain and\nthe Moorish-looking town of Tarifa, with an island on which is\nthe lighthouse and defences standing directly in the mouth of the\nstraits; so that it seemed as if a long line of vessels with\ntheir white sails spread were encompassing the island. In sight,\nat one time, were eighty sail. Every nation under the sun seemed\nrepresented, as they saluted one another with their flags. Among\nthe rest, Sweden and Norway. We landed at Gibraltar under a\nglorious sunset. The farewell beams lighted the mountains with a\ntint of gilded bronze. Gibraltar, opposite these, was like a huge\ngray mountain, and behind it the sky was of the palest rose\ncolor, melting into blue where it touched the water. The town is\non the side and at the foot of the \"Rock,\" (a place of sixteen or\ntwenty thousand inhabitants,) and above it are the famous\ngalleries cut through the rock, from which we could see the noses\nof the great guns peeping from the port-holes, range after range,\none above another, till the top is reached, where is the Signal.\n\nThe Rock of Gibraltar is 1430 feet high, and about three miles\nlong--a great gray sphinx jutting into the water. It is joined to\nthe mainland by a narrow slip of sand, capable of being submerged\nif necessary. Upon this neck of land is the \"neutral ground,\" (a\nnarrow strip,) where, side by side, the fair British sentinel and\nthe sunburned Spaniard keep their \"lonely round.\" We mount upon\ndonkeys to ascend the \"Rock,\" passing through the wonderful\n\"galleries\" which, at an immense expense, have been cut into the\nsolid rock, where, with the guns, are depositories for powder,\nballs, etc. Some of these galleries are over a mile and a quarter\nlong, lighted by the port-holes, which, in passing, gave us\nglimpses of the loveliest of landscapes. Leaving the galleries,\nwe ascend by zigzag paths to the Signal; at every turn feasting\nour eyes upon the wonderful panorama spread out below us, which\nis seen in perfection from the summit. Here we looked down upon\ntwo seas, the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, and two worlds,\nEurope and Africa! Spain on one side, with the snowy heights of\nthe Alpujarras and Sierra Nevada; at our feet, the town of\nGibraltar, with the lovely  alameda, its green trees and bright\ngardens, the glorious bay crowded with shipping--men-of-war,\nschool ships, steamers, and every small craft; and, seemingly,\nbut a stone's throw across lay Ceuta, at the foot of that other\n\"Pillar of Hercules\" which rises 2200 feet, and looks like a\nmountain of bronze, while Gibraltar is of gray granite.\n{478}\nThese two great pillars were considered in the olden time the end\nof the world--the Tarshish of the Bible; the Calpe of the\nPhoenicians, who erected here Calpe (carved mountain) and Abyla.\n\nTarik, the one-eyed Berber chief, took Gibraltar in 711, and\ncalled it after his own name, Ghebal Tarik, from whence comes\nGibraltar.\n\nWhile upon the \"Signal,\" we signalize the event by taking a lunch\nof delicious English cheese, bread and butter, (the first butter\nwe have had in Spain,) and such ale! And while thus agreeably\nengaged, we hear that an American man-of-war is coming into port,\nwhich proves to be the flagship of Admiral Farragut; so we repair\nto the rampart to see the ship saluted by the town, and then by\nthe British frigate Bristol, to both of which the Yankee replied\nin gallant style. It was a fine sight, and, altogether, the scene\na most remarkable one. Down by the neutral ground, some English\nofficers playing cricket looked like ants in the sunshine; the\nblue guard-tents of the English sentinels, and the white ones of\nthe Spaniards, were little specks, and the Christian and Jewish\ncemeteries were like checker work on the greensward.\n\nHow longingly we looked toward the purple mountains of Africa,\nand that beautiful city of Tangier which we had hoped to visit!\nbut the quarantine, still in force, obliged us to abandon the\nidea. It would have been _something_ to set foot in another\ncontinent! Ceuta, which belongs to Spain, and is but a\nprison-house, could not tempt us. Tearing ourselves from this\nwonderful scene, we descended by the other side of the mountain\nand entered the city by beautiful gardens near the alameda,\nseeing below us the government houses, store-houses, magazines,\nand many fine residences embowered in gardens of tropical trees\nand plants; whole hedges of geraniums and cactus lined the\nroadside, and almond trees, dates, and oranges. We passed a\nconvent-school with beautiful and extensive gardens. In the\nevening there is music on the alameda, where are trees and\nstatues, and marble benches, on which sit the motley population\nof this strange place; Moors in turbans, bare-legged Highlanders,\nofficers in scarlet, Andalusians in the red faja, Irishmen fresh\nfrom their native isle, ladies in French bonnets and English\nround hats next the Spanish mantilla and ever-moving fan.\nGibraltar is a free port, and every people and kindred meet here\nfor trade. The garrison is very large, about three thousand men\nin time of peace; for the Spaniards see the occupation of this\nimportant point in their country with great jealousy, and would\ngladly seek occasion to win it back. And every now and then the\nsubject is mooted in the English parliament of giving it up, as\nit is a most expensive appendage to the English people, and can\nbring little benefit save to their pride.\n\n{479}\n\n      Malaga Hotel Alameda.\n\nOctober 8.\n\nLeaving Gibraltar at an early hour, and passing the forest of\nships in the bay, we soon see the last of the pillars of Hercules\nand the African coast. The sea is calm, and the coast of Spain\nalong which we come is most beautiful. There is something\npeculiarly interesting in the mountains of Spain; they seem to\nrise hill upon hill till they grow to be mountains, and instead\nof the blue of most southern countries they are of a mulberry\nhue--seldom with trees, and reminding one of the purple moors of\nScotland. The steamer is crowded with families returning from\nGibraltar, whither they had fled to get out of the way of the\nrevolution.\n\nWe find a busy, crowded city, a lovely bay with mountains in the\nbackground, an old Moorish castle overlooking the city, and a\nbeautiful alameda, with trees, and statues, and marble seats,\nupon which we look from the windows of our delightful hotel.\n\n\nOctober 9.\n\nThe first thing to-day is to drive to a lovely villa, (that of\nthe Marquis de Casa Loring,) in whose garden we see every fruit\nand flower and tree of the tropics. Bananas and mangoes, the\ncoffee-tree, the magnolia and India-rubber trees, and among all\nthese we found, and ate, ripe persimmons!--that homely fruit of\nold Virginia, found amidst all these oriental splendors; and\nsweeter were they than even the oranges which we gathered from\ntheir overladen trees. Returning, we paused to see another villa,\nfrom whence is a more extensive and beautiful view of the\nmountains, the city and the sea, and the fertile plateau upon\nwhich Malaga lies, and which is said to rival even the famous\nhuertas of Valencia and Murcia in variety and luxuriance of\nvegetation. The cemetery gives another favorite point of view,\nand the old Moorish castle (Gibralfaro) has even a finer one; but\nthe day is too warm to attempt the ascent. The castle dates from\n1279, and the lower portion, (the Alcazaba,) which is connected\nwith it, is supposed to be of Phoenician origin; Malaga having\nbeen first a Phoenician colony, and afterwards Roman. Of the\nremains of the Roman period, we saw two interesting bronze slabs\nin a pavilion of the Villa Loring this morning, one of them\ncontaining the municipal laws of Malaga under Domitian, and the\nother those of a city (Salpense) now unknown.\n\nThe interior of the cathedral, which rises upon the site of an\nancient mosque, is not at all remarkable. It was begun in 1528.\nThe church of \"El Cristo del Victoria\" is interesting, from the\ncircumstance of its being built on the spot where stood the tents\nof the Catholic kings during the siege of 1487. On the right of\nthe altar hangs the royal standard of Ferdinand, and on the left\nthe one taken from the Moors. When the city surrendered, the\nformer was hoisted on the castle, or alcazaba. Opposite this\nchurch is a small church, San Roque, the first Christian edifice\nbuilt here by Ferdinand and Isabella. The crucifix which was\nformerly here was the one brought by their majesties, is highly\nrevered, and is now over the high altar of Santa Victoria.\n\nMalaga is famed for its climate, the best in Spain. It is\nconsidered drier, warmer, and more equable than that of Rome,\nPau, Naples, or Nice, even superior to Madeira. Invalids flock\nhere, and it will soon be as crowded as Nice. The extreme dryness\nof the air is its marked feature, and it is said that there are\nnot ten days in the whole year when an invalid may not take\nout-door exercise. The evaporation is so great, the rain has no\ninfluence on the air. During nine years, it has rained only two\nhundred and sixty times. The \"oldest inhabitant\" does not\nremember to have seen snow, and the cold winds from the Sierra\nNevada are kept off by the mountains immediately surrounding the\ncity.\n{480}\nTo show the longevity of the inhabitants, in the year 1860,\ntwenty-nine out of five thousand deaths were of people who had\nlived to the ages of _ninety or a hundred_.\n\n\n                 Granada.\n\nOctober 10\n\nThis morning we leave Malaga at an early hour by rail, the road\nbeing cut through extraordinary mountain passes to Antiquera, an\nold Roman and Moorish town; from thence by diligence to Loja,\nwhere we again take the railway. The journey is altogether\ndelightful, the day being cool and bright, and the mountain\nscenery on either side grand and beautiful. Loja is in a narrow\nvalley, through which runs the Genil river, on one side the\nPeriquete Hills (Sierra Ronda) and the Hacho. The Manzanil unites\nhere with the Genil, both rapid and clear mountain streams\nfertilizing a lovely valley. Soon after leaving Loja, we reach\nSanta F\u00e9, (Holy Faith,) built by Queen Isabella to shelter her\narmy in winter during the siege of Granada in 1492, and called\n\"Santa F\u00e9\" because she looked upon the war as a struggle for the\nfaith, and believed piously in its happy issue. This little town\nhas been the scene of many important operations and political\nacts. It witnessed the signing of the capitulation of Granada,\nand it was to this town that Columbus was recalled by Isabella\nwhen he had already reached the bridge of Pi\u00f1os, behind the\nmountains, determining to ask aid elsewhere for his great\nundertaking.\n\nDarkness now fell upon us, and except one exquisite view which\nthe setting sun gave of the snow mountains over Granada, we saw\nnothing till we reached this last stronghold of the Moors in\nSpain, and found lodgings inside the Alhambra grounds in the\nHotel Washington Irving.\n\n\nOctober 11.\n\nWe go first to the Cathedral, to hear the high mass, and pay our\nrespects to the remains of Ferdinand and Isabella, which rest\nthere. Driving through beautiful ornamental grounds out of the\nAlhambra gate, down a steep hill in the old Moorish looking city,\nwe find the cathedral, like that of Malaga, greatly ornamented,\n(in the Greco-Roman style,) built in 1529. Within the sanctuary\nare eleven pictures by Alonzo Ca\u00f1o, and two of his most\ncelebrated pieces of sculpture--the heads of Adam and Eve carved\nin cork. Ca\u00f1o was a native of Granada, and is buried in the\nCathedral Bocanegra. Another of the celebrated artists of Spain\nwas also a native here, and the cathedral has several of his\npictures. But everything connected with the church sinks into\ninsignificance when one enters into the royal chapel, where all\nthat can perish of the great Ferdinand and Isabella lies (a small\nspace for so much greatness, as Charles V. said.) In a crypt,\nbelow the chapel, in plain leaden coffins, with but the simple\ninitial of each king and queen upon them, are the coffins of\nFerdinand and Isabella and their daughter Joanna, with her\nhusband Philip I. (the handsome)--the last--that very coffin\nwhich the poor crazed Joanna carried about with her for\nforty-seven years, embraced with such frantic grief, and would\nnever be parted from. Nothing was so affecting as the sight of\nthis--not even the remembrance of all Isabella's glories and\ngoodness! So does an instance of heart devotion touch one more\nthan even the sight of greatness. Above the vault are the four\nbeautiful alabaster monuments, made by order of Charles V. to the\nmemory of his father and mother and his grandparents.\n{481}\nFerdinand and Isabella, with their statues, lie side by side; and\npoor Joanne la Folle looks lovely and placid (all her jealousies\nover) beside the husband she adored, as if at last sure that she\ncould not be divided from him. Isabella died at Medina del Campo,\n(near Segovia, about thirty miles from Madrid,) but desired to be\nburied here in the bright jewel which she had won as well for her\ncrown as for her God. Her body was taken to Granada in December,\njourneying over trackless moors amidst storms and torrents, of\nwhich the faithful and learned Peter Martyr gives account, who\naccompanied his beloved mistress to her last home.\n\nThe inscription which runs around the cornice tells: \"This chapel\nwas founded by their most Catholic Majesties, Don Fernando and\nDo\u00f1a Isabel, king and queen of las Espa\u00f1as of Naples, of\nSicily--of Jerusalem--who conquered this kingdom, and brought it\nback to our faith; who acquired the Canary Islands and Indies, as\nwell as the cities of Oran, Tripoli, and Bugia; who crushed\nheresy, expelled the Moors and Jews from their realms, and\nreformed religion. The queen died Tuesday, November 26, 1504; the\nking died January 23, 1516. The building was completed in 1517.\"\n\nThe _bassi relievi_ on the altar in this chapel are very\ninteresting, from the scenes they represent--Ferdinand and\nIsabella receiving the keys of Granada from Boabdil, etc. At each\nend of the altar are figures of the king and queen in the costume\nof the day, the banner of Castile behind the king. In the\nsacristy is the crown of Isabella, the sword of Ferdinand, the\ncasket in which she gave the jewels to Columbus, some vestments\nembroidered by her own hand, and the tabernacle used on the altar\nwhere they heard mass, on which is a picture of the adoration of\nthe Magi, by that wonderful old painter Hemling of Bruges. Lord\nBacon has said of Isabella: \"In all her relations of queen or\nwoman, she was an honor to her sex, and the corner-stone of the\ngreatness of Spain--one of the most faultless characters in\nhistory--the purest sovereign by whom the female sceptre was ever\nwielded.\"\n\nWe hear mass in the chapel of the Sagrario, a beautiful church in\nitself. It was on one of its three doors that the Spanish knight\nHernan Perez del Pulgar (during the siege of Granada) nailed the\nwords, \"Ave Maria;\" to accomplish which feat, he entered the town\nat dusk, and left it unharmed--nay, even amidst the plaudits of\nthe Arabs, who appreciated the deed. He is buried in one of the\nchapels called \"Del Pulgar.\"\n\nFrom the Cathedral we visit the \"Cartuja,\" once a wealthy\nCarthusian convent, built upon grounds given to the monks by\nGonzales de Cordova--\"El gran Capitan.\" In the refectory is shown\na cross, painted on the wall by Cotan, which so well imitates\nwood that the very birds fly to it, and try to perch there. The\nchurch has a beautiful statue of St. Bruno upon the altar; and a\nlarger one in the chapel of the Sagrario, by Alonzo Ca\u00f1o, is\nespecially fine. The sacristy is rich in marbles from the Sierra\nNevada, and the doors and other wood-work of the church and\nchapel are made of the most curious and beautiful inlaid\nwork--tortoise-shell, ebony, silver, and mother of pearl--all\ndone by one monk, who took forty-two years to accomplish it; and\nafter so adorning this chapel, behold! the monks are driven from\nit.\n\nIn the church are several lovely pictures--a head of our Lord by\nMurillo; a copy, by Alonzo Ca\u00f1o, of the Viergo del Rosario in the\nMadrid gallery, and a copy of one of the \"Conceptions\" of Murillo\n--that one with the fair flowing hair, so very lovely.\n\n{482}\n\nReturning home, we have our first view of the snow mountains,\n(Sierra Nevada.) How strange and how charming to be beneath a\ntropical sun, and with all the beautiful vegetation of Africa and\nthe Indies, with people all eastern in dress and manners, and see\nabove one snow-capped mountains like the glaciers of Switzerland!\nOwing to the proximity of these glaciers, the heat is never\nintolerable here, and yet the winters are so mild they seldom\nneed fire in their sitting-rooms or parlors.\n\nOctober 12.\n\nTo-day is made memorable by our first visit to the Alhambra.\nSituated on a high hill, on either side of which flows the Darro\nand the Genil, this space, which occupies several hundred acres,\nwas formerly surrounded by walls and towers, and contained within\nit the palaces and villas of the Kalifs of Granada; and so\nnumerous were these that it was called a city, Medina Alhambra.\nOf all these, there now remains but that portion of the Alhambra\nknown as the summer-palace, (the winter-palace having been torn\ndown by Charles V. to make room for a palace which he never\nfinished.) Besides this summer-palace, there is the \"Generalife,\"\n(a summer-palace built--later than the Alhambra--in 1319;) the\nremains of the Alcazabar, (fortress,) the Torre de la Vega, where\nthe bell strikes the hours in the same manner as in the Moorish\ndays, to signify upon whom devolves the duty of irrigating the\n\"vega,\" the beautiful and fertile plain below; the tower of the\ncaptive; tower of the princesses; the tower of the \"Siete\nSuetos,\" (seven stories;) and the Torres Bermujas, (Red Towers.)\nThe last named are outside the Alhambra walls, but are on the\nsame hill, and claim to belong to an older date than even the\nMoors or the Goths--supposed to be of Phoenician origin. The\nwalls are entered by several gates, some Arabic, and others more\nmodern. From these gates, you wander among stately avenues of\ntrees, with flowers and shrubs and charming paths, through which\nnow and then is seen a glimpse of the yellow towers, or some\npicturesque ruin, altogether a scene of enchanting beauty. And\nwhen upon one of the \"miradors\" (look-outs) or terraces which\ncrown these towers and palaces, there lies the Moorish city at\nyour feet, the grand snow mountains on the east, the beautiful\nvega stretching to the mountains on the west, down which marched\nthe conquering Christians; and on the south lies that mountain so\npoetically called \"the last sigh of the Moor,\" from which Boabdil\nlooked his last upon the kingdom he was leaving for ever, and\nwhere his mother made him the famous reproach which has passed\ninto history, that he did well to weep as a woman over that\nkingdom he could not defend as a man.\n\nAnd how venture to describe the Alhambra, which has been written\nof by such men as Prescott and Irving! how give to any one an\nidea of that which is unique in the world, of the grace and\nbeauty and wonderful variety of its adornments--the carvings like\nlace, the bright colored mosaics and azuelos, (tiles,) the\ntransparent stucco work and filagree, the inlaid cedar-wood\nroofs, the pillars, the domes and fountains, the courts, the\nbeautiful arches! We enter first the Court of the Myrtles, in\nwhich a large square pool, filled by a fountain at either end, is\nsurrounded by a hedge of fragrant myrtle, and this in turn by a\nmarble colonnade, over which is a second gallery, with jalousies,\nthrough which we could imagine the dark eyed beauties to have\npeeped.\n{483}\nThe roofs of these galleries are of cedar-wood inlaid, and the\narches and sides of exquisite wreaths and vines in stucco, with\nshields of the Moorish kings, mottoes and verses from the Koran,\netc. This court was a place of ablutions for the kalifs.\n\nFrom the Court of the Myrtles, one sees the Tower of Comares,\n(called from the name of its Persian architect;) and within this\ntower, opening from the Court of Myrtles, and preceded by its\n\"antesala\" is the Hall of the Ambassadors, the largest, highest,\nand most beautifully adorned of all the Alhambra. Here was the\nsultan's throne and reception room. On three sides, arched\nwindows look down into the deep ravine from which the tower\nrises; and, beyond, upon an enchanting prospect, the old Moorish\ncity and the verdant hills and mountains. The roof of this hall\nis a sort of imitation of the vault of heaven, and that of the\n\"antesala\" (called \"La Barca,\" from being shaped like a boat) is\nalso very elegant.\n\nOn another side the Court of Myrtles is the famous Court of the\nLions, with its one hundred and thirty-six pillars of white\nmarble, its twelve lions in the centre, supporting an alabaster\nbasin, (a fountain.) At each end, a pavilion projects into the\ncourt, with arabesque patterns so light and graceful that the\nvery daylight is seen through the stucco.\n\nOpening from the Court of the Lions is the Hall of the\nAbencerrages, deriving its name from the legend according to\nwhich Boabdil invited the chiefs of the illustrious family of\nthat name to a feast, and had them taken out one by one and\nbeheaded. Others assert that they were murdered in this hall, and\nshow the stains of blood in the marble of the fountain. As they\nhad been mainly instrumental in placing him upon the throne, this\nact of ingratitude helped to his ruin. This story is generally\nbelieved, but Washington Irving has rescued the name of this\n\"unlucky\" one (_el chico_) from this unjust aspersion. His\ninvestigations prove that the crimes laid to the charge of\nBoabdil were in reality committed by his father, Aben Hassin. He\nit was who murdered the thirty-six Abencerrages upon suspicion of\nhaving conspired against him, and it was he who confined his\nqueen in the \"tower of the captive,\" etc.\n\nOn the east side of the Court of the Lions is the \"Sale del\nTribunal,\" (the hall of justice,) where the kalifs gave audience\non state affairs. Three arches in the centre and two at either\nend lead into this hall, which is ninety feet long by sixteen\nwide, with a dome thirty-eight feet high. This is divided by\narches into seven rooms, all profusely ornamented, and in the\nceilings of several recesses are paintings of Moors, with\ncimeters, castles, etc. In one of these rooms is the famous\nAlhambra vase of porcelain, four feet three inches high, which\nwas found full of gold. In another small room are three\ntombstones, one of Mohammed II., and one of Yusef III., found in\nthe tomb-house of the Moorish kings, near the Court of the Lions,\nin 1574. They have long and elaborate inscriptions, one of which\nreads thus:\n\n  \"In the name of God, the most merciful and clement!\n\n  \"May God's blessing for ever rest with this our king!\n\n  \"Health and peace!\n\n  \"Gentle showers from heaven come down on this tomb, and give it\n  freshness, and the orchard spread its perfume upon it. What\n  this tomb contains is wine without admixture, and myrtles.\n  Reward and pardon be granted to him who lies within.\n\n  \"It was God's pleasure that he should dwell amid the garden of\n  delights.\n\n  \"Those that inhabit those happy regions come forth to meet him\n  with palms in their hands.\n\n{484}\n\n  \"If thou wouldst know the story of him who lies in the tomb,\n  listen. He was a prince above all in excellence. May God give\n  him sanctity!\n\n  \"He was cut down into the dust. Yet the Pleiades themselves are\n  not his equals.\n\n  \"Unavoidable fate took up arms, and aimed at the very throne of\n  the empire.\n\n  \"Oh! how great was his fame. His excellence, how high! and\n  unbounded his virtues!\n\n  \"For Abul Hadjaj was like the moon that points out the road to\n  take, and when the sun went down its brightness beamed no less\n  from his eyes.\n\n  \"Abul Hadjaj showered down tokens of his liberality. But\n  drought is come; his liberality has ceased; his crops are\n  gathered.\n\n  \"His generosity is forgotten; his halls are lonesome; his\n  ministers silent, and his rooms deserted.\n\n  \"But it was God's pleasure, the merciful one, (may he be\n  glorified,) to take him into the eternal dwelling when he\n  deprived him of life.\n\n  \"Here lies he softly, within this narrow tomb, but his real\n  dwelling is the heart of every man.\n\n  \"Why should I not pray God that the rain should moisten his\n  tomb with its abundant dew? for the rain of his liberality\n  showered down upon all without ceasing.\n\n  \"Was he not filled with the fear of God, with gentleness and\n  wisdom? Amongst his qualities, were not virtue, liberality, and\n  magnificence one part?\n\n  \"Was he not the only one that with his science cleared up all\n  doubts?\n\n  \"Was not poetry one of his attributes, and did he not deck his\n  throne with verses like strings of pearl?\n\n  \"Was he not always stout, and held his ground in the\n  battle-field?\n\n  \"How many enemies his sword repelled!\n\n  \"But Ebn Nasr, his successor, is certainly the greatest among\n  all monarchs of the earth.\n\n  \"May God protect him!\n\n  \"For he is most generous and victorious; besides, he\n  distributes rewards generously. He has saved the kingdom from\n  ruin, and restored it to its former greatness.\"\n\nThe Hall of the Two Sisters takes its name from two white slabs\nof equal size in the pavement. Here are beautiful arches, windows\nwith painted jalousies, a fountain, and a wonderful roof,\ncomposed of three thousand pieces in little miniature domes and\nvaults, all colored in delicate blue and red with white and gold.\nFrom this hall, indeed quite from the Court of the Lions, one\nsees through a series of arched entrances into the \"Corredor de\nLindaraja,\" in which room are thirteen little cupolas, and the\nMirador de Lindaraja (a boudoir of the sultana) looks upon the\ngarden of Lindaraja, with flowers, and fountains, and\norange-trees.\n\nOn the opposite of this lovely garden, and looking into it, are\nthe rooms occupied by Washington Irving, those built by Philip V.\nfor his beautiful queen, Elizabeth of Parma, whom the Spanish\ncall \"Isabel Farnese.\" Several corridors here lead to modernized\nparts of the building--\" the queen's boudoir,\" a chapel made by\nCharles V. out of the mosque, and a lofty tower, used by the\nArabs as an oratory for the evening prayer, and from which the\nview is superb--the \"Generalife\" with its white towers, the woods\nof the Alhambra, the Darro far below in the deep gorge, and,\nbeyond and above all, the snow-capped Sierra Nevada.\n\nThe \"Patio de la Mosquita\" (the court of the mosque) has only the\nremains of its beautiful roof.\n\nFrom this to the baths is a long corridor leading to the Chamber\nof Rest, which has just been restored by Sig. Contreras, the able\narchitect who is repairing the whole building, by order of the\nqueen. This has a fountain in the centre, marble pillars all\nround, a gallery above, where the musicians played and sung while\nthe bather inclined upon the cushions below; within were the\nmarble baths of the sultan, the sultana, etc.\n\n{485}\n\n\"Generalife\" means garden of pleasure, and here garden above\ngarden rises upon the mountain side, through which the Darro\nrushes noisily, being brought by a little canal quite through the\nmountain. In one of the rooms are some interesting portraits of\nthe kings and queens of Spain. Ferdinand and Isabella, Philip the\nhandsome, Jeanne la Folle, Charles V. and Isabella, Don John of\nAustria, etc.; and in a second room a series of portraits of the\nDukes of Granada, whose descendant, now married to an Italian\nnobleman of Genoa, owns this lovely place. The founder of this\nhouse was a converted Moor, and to his descendants (the houses of\nVenegas and Granada) Philip IV. made this a perpetual grant. In\none of the many gardens are some cypress-trees planted by the\nMoors, seven hundred years old. Under one of these, a love story\nis said to have been enacted, of which the beautiful Sultana\nZorayda is the heroine. Amongst the portraits in the picture\ngallery is one of Boabdil, fair and handsome, with yellow hair,\nand a gentle, amiable look. He may not have had the qualities\nfitted to the terrible emergency in which he was placed, when\ndomestic contention and misrule had so weakened his empire as to\nmake it difficult to struggle against the growing greatness of\nFerdinand and Isabella; but he must have possessed qualities\nwhich won for him the love of his people, for many years after\nhis time, the Moors who still lingered about Granada sung the\nplaintive song said to have been composed by Boabdil himself,\nrelating his misfortunes and his sorrows, spoke of him\nreverently, and lamented his fate.\n\nIt is said he lived to see his children begging their bread at\nthe door of the mosques in Fez. He was killed in Africa, fighting\nthe battles of the prince who gave him shelter.\n\nWe hasten from the Generalife to see the sunset from the Torre de\nla Vega, which is the finest view we have had of the city--the\nVega with the lovely rivers winding through it, and the grand\nmountains beyond. As the sun declined, from the many church bells\ncame the \"Ave Maria,\" soft and musical from the great distance\nbelow.\n\nThe guide points out the hospital founded by St. John of God, (a\nPortuguese saint,) the founder of the brothers of charity now\nspread all over Europe. According to the guide, the saint asked\nthe king for as much land, on which to build this hospital, as he\ncould enclose in a certain number of hours. Of course he was\nmiraculously assisted; and by working all night, he took in so\ngreat a space that the king became alarmed. Here he built this\nhospital and the church in which he is buried. He lost his life\nrescuing a drowning man, and died blessing Granada.\n\n\nTuesday.\n\nSpent the whole morning in the Alhambra, wandering amid its\nbeauties, feasting upon its romantic memories, and reading at\nintervals the charming legends connected with every spot so\ndelightfully told by Washington Irving. In the hall of the\ntribunal, we read his account of the entrance of the triumphant\nFerdinand and Isabella, and fancy the scene when Cardinal Mendoza\ncelebrated the first mass here.\n\nSeated in the Court of the Lions, we meditate upon the cruel\ndeath of the noble Abencerrages, and lean from the window of the\nTower of Comares, down which the good Ayesha let her infant son\nBoabdil escape, to save him from the jealous fury of her rival\nZorayda.\n\n{486}\n\nAnd then, in the later days of the beautiful Elizabetta of Parma,\nwe recall the scene where the hypochondriac Philip persists in\nbeing laid out for dead, and can only be brought to life by the\nvoice and lute of the fair maiden, \"the Rose of the Alhambra.\"\n\nIn contrast to the Alhambra are the remains of the palace begun\nwith such magnificence by Charles V., of which only the walls\nremain. Within their vast area and amongst its marble pillars,\nmuleteers were depositing their billets of wood, and burdens of\ndirt and ashes! _Sic transit gloria mundi_.\n\nWe go to look at that which has lasted longer, the church built\nby him near by, and called Sta. Maria del Alhambra. Wandering on,\nwe find ourselves amongst the ruins of the Franciscan convent\n(still within the Alhambra walls) which was destroyed by the\nFrench in 1809-11, when so much of the Alhambra was injured.\n\nLed by a little boy, and following the wall, we come upon a\nplantation of cactus, with its red and yellow fruit, which a man\nis gathering with great scissors, to prevent its prickings. A\nwoman politely cuts and pares some for us to taste. It is sweet\nand juicy; is much eaten by the poor, who call it \"Tu\u00f1os.\" They\nalso make from it a palatable drink--a sort of beer. Hans\nAndersen has written a pretty sonnet to the cactus, which seems\nespecially applicable to this time and occasion.\n\n  \"Yes, yellow and red are the colors of Spain;\n     In banners and flags they are waving on high;\n   And the cactus flower has adopted them too,\n     In the warm sunshine to dazzle the eye.\n   Thou symbol of Spain, thou flower of the sun,\n     When the Moors of old were driven away,\n   Thou didst not, like them, abandon thy home.\n     But stayed with thy fruit and thy flowers so gay.\n   The thousand daggers that hide in thy leaves\n     Cannot rescue thee from the love of gain;\n   Too often it is thy fate to be sold,\n     Thou sunny fruit with the colors of Spain.\"\n\nHere we find ourselves at the tower of the \"Siete Suelos,\"\nthrough which Boabdil passed when he left the Alhambra for ever.\nIt is said that he asked of Isabella that the door might be\nwalled up, so that no one should ever pass through it after him,\nand his conquerors acceded to his request. Returning through one\nof the many beautiful paths leading to our hotel, we diverge to\nlook at a view which presented itself, and find we are near the\nvilla of Se\u00f1ora Calderon. Here, terrace above terrace rises in\nview of the mountains, and on the summit is an artificial lake,\nwith bridges and boats, and winding walks, and flowers and\nfruits, and statues and fountains--everything to make a perfect\nparadise.\n\nAt night, we have a gypsy-dance. The chief of his troop is the\nfinest guitar player in Spain--there can be no better in the\nworld--a tall, dark, grave man, who received our plaudits with\nkingly grace; he looked as if in sorrow over the degradation of\nhis people, who are here in great numbers, living in wretched\nquarters on a hillside, in holes or caves in the ground.\n\nThe dancers were four lovely, graceful girls, modestly dressed,\nand several men, all dark, with large, soft eyes and white teeth.\nA youth in short jacket, with broad red faja (sash) and the\npeculiar Andalusian hat, danced a solo of strange fashion, with\nmany movements of the body, and the extraordinary gestures which\nbelong to all. The feet move in short steps--a sort of \"heel and\ntoe\"--while the body sways to and fro, and the hands and arms\nmove gracefully and expressively. The men had tambourines and the\nwomen castanets, and the wild airs to which they danced were\naccompanied with their voices. The variety of dances and songs\nwas curious and interesting, and often descriptive. At the end of\neach dance, the girls came round and saluted all, gentlemen and\nladies, by passing one arm over the neck.\n\n{487}\n\nWednesday.\n\nDrive about the city, the public squares, etc., and visit the\nremains of the old Moorish bazaar which occupies a square\nintersected by narrow lanes, every one of which is beautifully\nornamented with pillars and arabesque work.\n\nThe alameda, planted in long avenues of trees which meet\noverhead, beyond which one catches a view of the Snow mountains,\nand beside which flows the Genil river, can not be excelled in\nbeauty.\n\nThe church and hospital of St. John of God is most interesting.\nOver the door are these words of the saint, \"Labor, without\nintermission, to do all the good works in your power while time\nis allowed you.\" The hospital is built round a large court, with\nfountains and gardens, and a double row of corridors in which sat\nthe sick poor, clean and comfortable. It communicates with the\nchurch, which has several good pictures, and a head of St. John\nthe Baptist, carved by Ca\u00f1o.\n\nIn a richly ornamented chapel behind the great altar is the body\nof the saint in a silver casket. The remains of St. Feliciana are\nalso here, as well as many other relics. In an adjoining room is\nseen the identical basket in which the saint carried provisions\nto the poor.\n\nThe church was built by contributions sent by one of the order\nfrom South America. The cedar-wood doors are said to be made from\nthe logs in which the concealed treasures were brought over.\n\nWe climb to the top of the \"Torres Bermujas,\" outside the\nAlhambra walls, from whence is another splendid view--a curious\nold ruin, dating from the time of the Phoenicians. It is said to\nhave been a stronghold of the Jews, who made a colony here during\ntheir persecutions by the Romans; and being treated with equal\ncruelty by their Gothic conquerors, they invited in the Moors,\nbetrayed the city to them, made terms for themselves, and thus\nbrought upon themselves the eternal enmity of the Spaniards, who\ntreated them with great rigor after the conquest, and finally\nbanished them. In the story of the three beautiful princesses,\nthis tower plays an important _r\u00f4le;_ here were confined the\ncaptive Spanish knights who eloped with the Infantas, (daughters\nof Mohammed the left-handed,) and beyond, rising above the deep,\nromantic ravine, is the Tower of the Princesses, beneath which\nthe knights sang their tales of love.\n\n\n  Madrid, Hotel De Paris.\n\n  Friday, October 16.\n\nYesterday (my feast) and the feast of the great Spanish Saint\nTeresa was celebrated by our most sorrowful departure from\nGrenada! At three o'clock in the morning, we descend the hill of\nthe Alhambra, and ruefully mount to the top of a Spanish\ndiligence, and squeeze into what they call the \"coupe\"--an\nexalted place behind the coach-box, from whence one looks down\nupon the ten mules who drag this lumbering vehicle, see all their\nantics, observe the rash manner in which they tear down\nprecipitous heights, and mount steep ascents, having the\ncomfortable certainty that in no event of danger could we\npossibly descend from this lofty perch and save ourselves!\n\nA \"special providence,\" however, guards the Spanish diligence, to\nsay nothing of the three \"conductors\"--the postillion who rides\nin front, the individual who sits on the box with gold lace and\nred on his cap, and who smokes leisurely, let what will happen,\nonly occasionally speaking to the mules, calling them by name,\nand urging them on with a sound like \"ayah!\" and the boy who runs\nalongside shouting, screaming, and plying the whip, now jumping\non the front of the diligence to rest a moment, now hanging on by\none hand to the side doors or behind; active as a cat he springs\nup and down while the vehicle is at full speed, keeping one all\nthe while in terror for his safety.\n\n{488}\n\nSuch is the Spanish diligence from the \"coup\u00e9.\" In the interior,\nshut out from the front view, one only hears the united voices of\nthe \"conductors,\" and it is less exciting. We who are above,\nhowever, have the advantage of a fine view of the mountains, (the\nSierra Morena,) over which we pass by a smooth and beautiful\nroad.\n\nJaen is the only place of importance which we see, an old Moorish\ntown with histories and legends, a fine cathedral, and a Moorish\ncastle on the height above. From this, a few hours brings us to\nMenjibar, where we take the railway at six P.M., and reach Madrid\nabout eight the next morning. At Menjibar, we bid adieu to our\nyoung American friend, who had journeyed with us since leaving\nCordova, and parted with the Scotch and German ladies whom we had\nencountered at various points.\n\nMadrid is filled with people. General Prim is in this hotel, is\nmodestly refusing to be made dictator, and proposing that Spain\nshall have, as heretofore, a king. We shall see how long it will\nbe before (like Caesar) he is overpersuaded, and reluctantly\nassumes power.\n\nTopete (the admiral who, at Cadiz, brought over the fleet) is\nalso in Madrid; and Serrano, the prince of the traitors, is\npresident of the provisional government. The table d'h\u00f4te is\ncrowded with men of the press, (letter-writers of all nations,)\ngiving their several impressions of matters to the gullible\n\"public,\" and interpreting events to suit the taste of their\nreaders. We ask one of these (a witty Frenchman) if he writes for\n_Le Monde_. \"Oui, Madame, pour tout le monde.\" Amongst the\nmotley crowd, we distinguish the letter-writer of the _London\nTimes_, and him of the New York _Times_, with whom we\nmake acquaintance, and who having lived a long time in France,\nand being of Irish extraction, is very little of an American in\nappearance and manner.\n\n\n  Saturday, October 17.\n\nMadrid is a modern city with fine buildings and shops, many\nhandsome streets and squares, and a beautiful promenade, called\nthe Prado, (meadow.) The principal of these squares is the\n\"Puerta del Sol,\" upon which this hotel opens, and which is\nalways thronged with people, and is all life and bustle. This\nbeing the head and front of the revolution, and General Prim\nbeing in the house, the doors are besieged by beggars and\nrevolutionists. As we walk the streets, in many shop-windows are\nvulgar caricatures of the queen and the priests. This is adding\ninsult to injury, and the very essence of meanness--to take away\nher throne, and then aim at her character as a woman. It is\nrefreshing to find that the best people we see--the best born,\nthe best bred, and the best educated--defend her from these\naspersions, and are loyal to her, and to the throne.\n\n\n  Sunday, October 18.\n\nWe hear high mass in the church of the \"Calatrava,\" (an ancient\norder of knighthood,) where are crowds of pious looking men.\nCertainly it will be difficult for the revolution to rob these\npeople of their religion. For a time they may be intoxicated with\nthe excitement of the change, but the reaction must come, when\nthe sober second thought will bring them back to their true\nfriends.\n{489}\nNow, the banishment of the Jesuits, the best and most learned\nteachers, the confiscation of church property, and the\ndestruction of churches initiates the new order of things.\nYesterday, an English gentleman (one of the noisiest supporters\nof the revolution) told us how the junta had given two places of\ngreat trust and importance into the hands of two of the lowest\nand most vulgar and ignorant of the bull fighters; and thus this\nclass of people who have helped on the revolution must be\nrewarded. We hear, to-day, that General Prim has offered to\npromote, one grade, every officer of the army lately opposed to\nhim. To their honor be it spoken, every one refused such\npromotion.\n\n           To Be Continued\n\n----------\n\n        Translated From The French.\n\n         Sister Aloyse's Bequest.\n\n                  I.\n\nHow delightful it is to sit under the grand old trees of the\ncourtyard on this charming mid-summer evening! The light breeze\nis redolent with the fragrance of the new-mown hay, and the\nleaves seem to quiver with joy in an atmosphere heavy with\nsunshine. The swallows pursue each other in play with short, wild\ncries, and in the foliage of the linden-tree that brown bird, the\nnightingale, tries her brilliant cadences, drowned at times by\nthe shouts of the children at their sports answering her in the\nsilences, whom without doubt they understood and admired. The\nchildren, happy as the birds, dance and whirl about, just like\nthose motes one frequently sees rising up in a sunbeam. The nuns,\nsombre and silent figures, watch them, contemplating life in its\nflower and carelessness. This court-yard where the children play\nand the birds sing belonged formerly to a monastery of the order\nof St. Benoit; but now to a cloister built out of its ruins,\nwhere the virtues of ancient days flourish under the shelter of\nmodern walls, which are hallowed by the memories of the past.\n\nSome young girls, no less pleased with the gambols of the\nchildren, were walking in groups to and fro under the vaulted\narches which encircled the court, talking and laughing merrily;\nbut whenever they approached a nun reclining in an easy chair, by\nan involuntary impulse they lowered their voices. She was a poor\ninvalid, who had been brought out to enjoy the sweet odors and\nthe pleasant warmth of the evening. She appeared to be nearing\nthe end of life, though still young. For the paleness of her\ncheeks, the emaciation of her body, and the transparent whiteness\nof her hands, all proclaimed the ravages of a long and incurable\nillness. There was no more sand in the hourglass, no more oil in\nthe lamp, and her heart--like a timepiece about to stop--was\nslacking its pulsations. One could not help but see that Sister\nAloyse retained a very powerful fascination in the beauty which\nher terrible illness had not been able to efface. Her dark blue\neyes had not lost their almond-shape or sapphire hue.\n{490}\nHer figure was still elegant, seen under the loose robe which\nwrapped her like a winding-sheet; and her voice was as sweet and\nagreeable as in former days.\n\nAt first she felt a little better upon being brought into the\ngarden; but she still suffered, and neither the pure air nor the\nmildness of the beautiful evening had revived her. She sat in\nsilence, absorbed, perhaps, in those last thoughts, which she did\nnot confide even to herself, and which, to one who is about\ndeparting, seem to give a glimpse of those unknown shores which\nare yet so near to her who waits them.\n\nWhat is she thinking of? Of her past without remorse; of her\nfuture without terror? Does she regret anything which she has\nrenounced for her God? Does one last thread hold captive this\ncelestial bird? I cannot say. She appears sad; yet her\ncompanions, always so affectionately attentive, do not seem to be\nsurprised. For Sister Aloyse had always been characterized, even\nin the more beautiful days of her youth, by a kind of melancholy.\nShe resembled an angel of peace, but yet an angel who weeps.\n\nOne young girl, who was walking under the arches, regarded her\nwith great interest; and finally, leaving the group by whom she\nwas surrounded, approached the nun, dropped on her knees in the\ngrass before her, and, looking in her face, said earnestly:\n\n\"Well, my sister, are you better this evening?\"\n\nSister Aloyse blushed slightly, just as porcelain is tinged with\na faint rose-color when a flame is passed behind it, and answered\nin a voice sweet and low:\n\n\"Thank you, Camille, I am not well, and I shall never be any\nbetter till I come into the presence of our Lord. Look! does it\nnot seem indeed as if the gates of heaven were opening yonder?\"\n\nShe pointed to the west, then filled with the glory and splendor\nof purple and gold and flame colors.\n\n\"Yet one cannot go there,\" answered Camille in a caressing tone.\n\n\"Oh! yes; provided the great God will receive us. And something\nwarns me that I shall shortly go to him.\"\n\nBoth now became silent, Camille sadly regarding her companion.\nEducated in this convent, she had always been accustomed to see\nSister Aloyse there, where she was much beloved. She would like\nto have given her some pleasure, but what could she give, or what\ncould she say, to a person so detached from earthly things, and\nwhose aspirations were fixed on joys eternal?\n\nThe nun was still thinking, praying perhaps; and after a long\nsilence she said,\n\n\"Camille, you must come and see me some time before I go away\nfrom here. But now good-night, dear!\"\n\nTwo nuns now came forward to help the sister into the house,\nwhile Camille, who had gathered some white roses, carried them to\nAloyse, saying,\n\n\"They are from my own little garden, my sister; therefore take\nthem, I pray you.\"\n\n\"Willingly,\" said Aloyse, \"and I will offer them to the Holy\nVirgin. And, Camille, do not forget to remember me in your\nprayers tonight.\"\n\n\n                  II.\n\n\"Go, my child,\" said the old abbess to Camille, \"go to the\ninfirmary and see Sister Aloyse; she has something to say to\nyou.\"\n\n\"Is she going to die?\" asked Camille with tears in her eyes.\n\n{491}\n\n\"She will go to her eternal home soon, but not to-day. Have no\nfear, child, but go and listen carefully to what she tells you.\"\n\nCamille with agitated heart (for this poor heart is so quickly\nstirred at sixteen years!) ascended the staircase which led to\nthe cells of the nuns. She passed through a long corridor out of\nwhich opened the little doors, all of which, instead of a number\nor design, bore some holy image or pious inscription. At the end\nof this corridor she found the infirmary, a large room, quiet and\nretired, whose windows opened upon the court and garden below. At\nthis moment it was almost vacant; she found only one bed\noccupied, that of Sister Aloyse, who, as she had no fever, had\nbeen left by the infirmarian while she attended vespers in the\nchapel. Camille noiselessly approached the bed, the curtains of\nwhich were half drawn so that Aloyse could see out. She was\nsitting up supported by her pillows, and her hands were joined\nbefore her on the cross of her rosary. She smiled on the young\ngirl, who timidly embraced her; and then Camille very earnestly\nasked her why she had sent for her to come to her bedside instead\nof any other of the girls, or her friends or companions; for she\nwas afraid, as one naturally dreads what is unknown. The nun\nfixed upon her those searching eyes which seemed to look through\nand beyond anything present, and said with much sweetness,\n\n\"Sit down, Camille; I have something to say to you.\" She\nhesitated, but finally said, \"You have never heard any one of\nyour family speak of me?\"\n\n\"Never,\" answered the child, somewhat surprised. \"I have known\nsomething of your family--your father,\" she said with an effort.\n\"But it was a long time ago, a very long time--before you were\nborn. I was related to your grandmother, Madame Reville.\"\n\n\"I never saw her, but I have seen her great portrait,\" said\nCamille.\n\n\"Yes, it hangs in the red drawing-room, does it not?\" asked\nSister Aloyse with a sad smile. \"Ah! well. Madame Reville\nreceived me into her family as a lady's companion--a reader--for\nI was poor, and needed some home. Your father did not live at\nhome with his mother, but he came there very frequently.\"\n\nHere she paused, breathing with difficulty, but continued:\n\n\"He wished to marry me; Madame Reville was opposed to it; he\ninsisted. I saw he would disobey his mother; I was afraid for\nhim; I was afraid for myself. So I prayed to the good God. He did\nnot reject my afflicted and desolate heart, but he--the Divine\nConsoler--called me into this home, and placed this holy veil as\na barrier between the world and myself. Here I found peace,\npurchased sometimes with bitter suffering, but real; for it\nfilled the depths of my heart; it was the price of my sacrifice.\nAnd I was able to see, in the clear light which streamed from the\ncross, how all joy is deceitful, and all pleasure empty and\nfalse. After two years had passed, I came to consecrate myself\nwith irrevocable vows to God's service, when the friends who now\nand then came to see me, and public report, which in our day\nfinds its way even into the cloister, told me of the only thing\nwhich had still power to afflict me. For, Camille, your\nfather--but what can I say to you who bear his name! M. Reville,\nangry at my departure, and grieving for the loss of the poor\ncreature that I am, sought forgetfulness in dissipation.\nUndoubtedly, he forgot me--I trust and hope he did--but he also\nforgot his God!\n{492}\nYour father is not a Christian; nay, he is an enemy to\nChristianity! Ah! since the day when I first knew that our\nprayers did not meet in the pathway to heaven, how have I wept,\nhow have I prayed, how have I done penance! Alas! my tears, my\nblood, my vigils, my sufferings--all have not prevailed, and I am\npierced to the depths of my heart with the terrible reflection.\"\n\nShe was unable to continue; her voice died upon her lips, while\ntears, clear and burning, rolled down her cheeks. Camille,\nkneeling by her bedside, wept too; for she began to see what this\nself-denying heart had suffered.\n\n\"My child,\" finally said the sister after a long silence, \"I\nshall soon die, and there will then be no one to pray for him,\nsince your mother, who ought especially so to do, is dead. You\nlove your father, don't you?\"\n\n\"Yes, with all my heart!\"\n\n\"Well, then, promise me that you will unceasingly pray for his\nconversion--that you will offer for him your every action and\nyour every pain; promise me that there shall always be a\nsuppliant voice to take the place of poor Aloyse's, which will\nsoon be hushed in death--to cry 'mercy!' Think of what it is to\nhave a soul and an eternity, and that soul your father's!\"\n\nShe had seized the hands of the child in both her own, and fixed\nupon her a look in which the last forces of her life were\nconcentrated. \"Promise!\" said she. Camille thought a moment--her\nyoung face wore a grave and stern expression. Finally, raising\none arm toward the crucifix, she said in a distinct voice: \"I\nsolemnly promise you, my sister, I will continue what you have\ncommenced. I will pray, I will labor all my life for his\nconversion.\" A ray of heavenly light illumined Sister Aloyse's\ncountenance, and she sank back upon her pillows, murmuring, \"I\ncan die now.\"\n\nTwo days later she passed away, with a peace and serenity worthy\nof the blamelessness of her whole life, though in breathing her\nlast she cried, \"Have mercy!\"\n\nWas it of herself she thought?\n\n\n                 III.\n\nMany years have passed away. The grass grows thick and green upon\nthe bed of clay where sleeps Aloyse. Camille, grown into a fine\nyoung woman, keeps house for her father. She has travelled with\nhim, she has seen the world, its balls and its routs, but she has\nnever forgotten the promise made to Sister Aloyse. This promise\nhas banished the strength of her limbs and of her youth. She has\nbecome serious all at once. She has given to her life but one\naim, and that sublime and difficult, and from that moment when\nthe struggle which had animated the life of Aloyse passed into\nher own all her actions, all her thoughts, had been devoted to\nthe redemption of one soul. At first overflowing with the\nthoughtless and enthusiastic zeal of youth, she would talk to him\nof that religion whose arguments her heart found so natural, and\nwhich seemed to her so irresistible. Her father would laugh at\nher, and she would cry; she would persist, however, until he\nbecame so angry that she was frightened. Finally she decided to\nbe more quiet in the future, and to leave to God the conduct of\nher cause. But with what vigils, with what prayers, what sighs,\nwhat agony of heart, and with what fervent desire did she ask God\nfor that precious soul! And what vows did she make to the Blessed\nMother! What flowers she offered upon her altar!\n{493}\nWhat prayers, in which she thanked God for the kindness that had\ngiven mortals this all-powerful Mediatrix! Her father's guardian\nangel, what careful conversation did she hold with him! How she\nlabored and prayed for that of which he never thought!\n\nAs years pass, Camille's piety becomes more rigid; self-denial\njoins itself to acts of earnest charity, in their turn\nsupplemented by generous alms!\n\nOne would naturally ask why Camille, rich and young, charming and\nadmired, should rise so early in the morning, should spend so\nmany hours upon her knees in church? Why she went with the\nSisters of Charity to visit the sick, why her attire was so plain\nand simple, why her room was so little ornamented, why she\nlabored without any relaxation, and finally, why with so\ninteresting an appearance and conversation she preferred so\nsevere a life? No one upon earth could answer these questions\nexcept the guardian angel who writes down these noble acts to the\naccount of their forgetful subject, her unrepentant father.\n\nBut she accomplished nothing, although the rigors were not for\nherself, though she maintained, for her father, this piety united\nwith a tenderness which only made her more sweet and\naffectionate. His hard heart did not open to the rays of divine\ngrace, nor to the timid smiles of his child. The taste for\namusement, born of a desire for forgetfulness, had chased from\nhis heart, at the same time with a pure love, the belief in holy\nthings. The heavenly flame had been quickly extinguished beneath\nthe ashes of pleasure; and, like many other children of his age,\nhe had neglected to believe through fear of being compelled to be\ngood. Bad society and bad literature had completed the work of\nheadlong dissipation; and neither marriage nor paternity had\nreclaimed him. His birth, fortune, and indisputable talents\nraised him to public offices. And, to be consistent with his\nprinciples, and congenial to his friends, he had to be inimical\nto all religion. The seminaries; the Brothers of the Christian\nDoctrine; the Sisters, hospitallers or teachers; the free\nestablishments; the Carmelites, who ask nothing of a person; the\nClarisses, who ask only a piece of bread; the Little Sisters of\nthe Poor, who gathered food for their old men; the foreign\nmissions; the sermons in Lent in the parish; the general\nindulgences granted by the pope; the cardinals in the senate; and\nthe Capuchins who went barefooted--were all equally the objects\nof his strong aversion. He read continually the _Journal des\nD\u00e9bats_, the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, and the liberal\njournal of his department--of that department in which he played\na prominent part. Shall we say, in excuse for him, that his\nimpiety had never been tried by adversity; and that he had found\nthe world so delightful that he had wished to live for ever in\nit? In youth he had lived in the midst of noisy pleasures. In\nmore advanced life he lived for comfort, for his house--cool in\nsummer, warm in winter, splendid at all times--for his grand\ndinners, his good wine, his fine horses and elegant equipages. He\nenjoyed exquisitely those excellent things which the public\ngenerally esteem, but in which divine grace does not much appear.\nThe memories of youth he did not often recall. He now scarcely\nrecollected the name of that poor cousin whom he had once loved\nso passionately, but who had never forgotten him, who, even in\nthe arms of death, had displayed an angelic love. One day Camille\nspoke of Sister Aloyse, and added,\n\n{494}\n\n\"Was she not related to us, father?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes--a romantic affair! She threw herself into a convent;\nshe became weary even there!\"\n\nHe took several turns through the room with a preoccupied air,\nand finally stopping before the great picture of his mother--a\nwithered and haughty figure--he said,\n\n\"My mother did not love this poor Aloyse much! Poor girl! What a\ncharming voice she had! A voice which ought to astonish the\nconvent when she chants the _Miserere!_ She will sing no\nmore; she has a pain in her chest. Zounds! The discipline of the\nconvent! What a pity for this pretty Aloyse to be buried alive!\nOn the stage she would equal Malibran!\"\n\nAnd this was all! The remembrance of Aloyse was only that of a\nyoung girl who could sing charmingly, and who, perhaps, might\nhave commanded a situation in a theatre!\n\nHe loved his daughter; but, for all that, she troubled him, and\nhe was anxious that she should marry, so that he might be\nrelieved from the care and responsibility. She did not oppose his\nwishes, for she did not feel that God appointed her to lead the\nlife of a nun; but she wished her husband to be a Christian, and\nsaid so to her father. He only shrugged his shoulders and cried,\n\n\"Still these absurd ideas!\"\n\nThe Christian, however, presented himself, and at twenty-two\nCamille Reville became Madame de Laval.\n\n\n                  IV.\n\nCamille is now no longer twenty. Her youth has passed on swift\nwings, and white is beginning to streak her dark hair; but her\npleasant face preserves the repose of former days. She has been\nblessed with mixed and imperfect happiness, such as every one\ntastes in this world. For in this life the black squares are\nnever far distant from the white ones; and in its tangled skein\nthe dark threads are woven in by the side of brighter colors. She\nhad lived most happily with her husband. Together they had\nlaughed over their little children's gambols, and together wept\nover them in sickness. They had brought them up with the labor\nand care which, in our day especially, accompanies all true\nChristian education. Their eldest daughter, Amelia, had been\nmarried about a year; and they were now very happy in expectation\nof her approaching maternity. The second daughter was finishing\nher education in the same convent of Benedictines where her\nmother had been in her youthful days. Their son Andr\u00e9 was in a\npolytechnic school, and their youngest, Maurice, was pursuing his\nLatin studies in his native village.\n\nThrough the disappointments and joy of her life, through days of\nrain and days of sunshine, Camille had pursued one thought\nfaithfully--the grand aim which she had proposed to herself in\nearly life, her father's conversion. As a young wife she had\nprayed with her husband, for his heart beat in unison with hers.\nAs a young mother, she had taught her children to pray with her.\nAnd now, having reached the autumn of life, she still\nprayed--prayed constantly; but as yet her prayers had received no\nanswer.\n\nThe old man lived with her; and every moment she surrounded him\nwith care and tenderness. She watched him and brooded over him\nmore like a mother than like a daughter. And it was hard indeed\nfor her, that this old man of sixty-six years would not listen to\nany serious conversation, would only rail at holy things, and\nwould learn no lesson from either life or death. And she was ever\nobliged to turn his words from their real meaning, and interpret\nhis jeers and sarcasms so that they would not shock her innocent\nlittle children.\n{495}\nAt this moment we find Camille in the drawing-room with her\nfather, who is half asleep before a great fire, with the\n_D\u00e9bats_ at his feet. She is sewing on some linen for the\ncoming baby; but twice stops to read two short letters received\nthat morning from two of her absent children. After a thousand\ndetails about boarding, upon the compositions in history, upon\nthe new piece of tapestry which Clotilde had just begun, upon the\nsermons delivered by a new father whose name she did not know,\nshe went on to say: \"I never forget, dear mother, to pray with\nyou--you know why! It seems to me that the moment is approaching\nwhen the gentle God will answer us--as if grandpapa was going to\nbe astonished that he had been able to live so long without\nthinking of God!\"\n\nThe second letter was from Andr\u00e9, and would have been\nunintelligible to any one who did not possess the key to a\nschool-boy's language. But at the end there was a passage which\nCamille kissed again and again: \"Dear mamma, I love you, and I\nalways pray with you, just like you.\" A stick of wood which just\nnow rolled down with a great noise awoke M. Reville, who, after\nrubbing his eyes, asked his daughter, \"Where is Maurice?\"\n\n\"He is skating. Do you wish me to take his place, and do anything\nto amuse you?\"\n\n\"No, thank you. But stop, you may read instead; read this\ndiscussion in the Chambers upon the military law.\"\n\nCamille took the paper and read slowly; and the old man's eyes\nwere still closed when the violent ringing of the door-bell woke\nhim up completely, and made Madame de Laval start.\n\n\"What is the matter with you?\" asked her father.\n\n\"I do not know; only the sudden ringing frightened me.\"\n\nShe jumped up and ran into the hall, and at the same instant her\nhusband entered from the street. She moved toward him, but\nsuddenly stopped, frozen with an inexplicable horror. M. de\nLaval's face was of an ashy paleness; he tried to speak, he\nstammered--the words died upon his lips, and his wife, in one of\nthose quick transitions which thought makes, believed he was\ngoing to fall dead at her feet.\n\n\"What ails you?\" she cried, reaching out her arms toward him. \"Do\nnot be frightened, Camille,\" said he; \"but Maurice--\"\n\nHe was unable to finish.\n\n\"Maurice!\" she echoed. \"Where is he? Why does he not come home? O\ngreat God! he is dead. He is drowned!\"\n\nM. de Laval had now somewhat recovered himself, and he explained:\n\"He rescued a child who was drowning, and was wounded in the\nhead. They are bringing him home. My dear Camille, keep up heart!\nHe lives! God will restore him to us!\"\n\nShe staggered and looked at her husband with fixed eyes.\n\n\"Have courage,\" he cried.\n\nThe servants, already called together by the sad news, had opened\nthe gates to the relatives and the friends who were coming in\nevery direction, and also to those who were bringing Maurice.\nThey bore him on a litter, covered with a mattress, and his head,\nall bloody, with eyes wide open, rested upon a pillow made of the\ncoats of the brave men; while behind the litter walked a man all\ncovered with blood. He was the father of the child whom Maurice\nhad saved at the price of his own life.\n\n{496}\n\nThe boy was quickly placed upon the bed, and the physicians were\nsoon by his side, followed by the parish priest. Camille,\nkneeling beside him, saw, as in an evil dream, the surgeon dress\nthe wound which Maurice had in the temple, and afterward talk in\na serious manner to the other physicians behind the curtain. She\nsaw the priest go up to Maurice, and, after talking to him in a\nlow voice, bend over him and raise his hands in the benediction\nof the dying, and immediately after give him the holy oils. As in\na dream she heard her husband's voice saying, \"Dear wife, the\ngood God wants him! Look at our Maurice.\"\n\nShe then looked at him. Maurice, aroused by the words of the\npriest, had regained complete consciousness, and knew that he was\ndying. He seemed more than tranquil--happy; and, looking around\non all present, said,\n\n\"Good-by, papa; I only did what you taught me.\"\n\nHe then discovered the father of the rescued child, who had\nconcealed himself behind M. de Laval. \"Give my love to your\nlittle boy,\" said he.\n\nHis eyes then sought for his mother. She got up, and, bending\nover him, took him in her arms. \"Dear mamma, make me an offering\nfor dear grandpapa's conversion. Say to him--\" He stopped. His\nmother saw the light fade from his eyes, and knew that his breath\nwas hushed in death. For a long time she remained holding him in\nher arms, like that more desolate of mothers, bathing him with\nher tears, and unable to listen to the comforting words of either\nhusband or father, both of whom were overwhelmed with grief. At\nlast, her piety, those religious sentiments which had always\nanimated her life, prevailed, and she said aloud,\n\n\"Yes, my God! I accept the sacrifice, and I sacrifice him for my\nfather. Save him, Lord, save him!\"\n\nTwo days later they buried poor Maurice, the whole village\nattending his funeral.\n\nThe same evening the priest, who had been with him in his last\nmoments, presented himself to Madame de Laval, and said:\n\n\"You are afflicted, but your prayers are heard. Divine grace has\npursued your father, and this very morning, when the body of your\nchild was yet in the house, he called me to him and made his\nconfession. He could hold out no longer, he said to me. Rejoice\nthen, madam, in the midst of your grief.\"\n\nShe did indeed rejoice, though she still wept.\n\n\"O Aloyse,\" said she, \"and my dear Maurice! They are then taken\naway, but at what a price!\" \"Thank God!\" cried the priest. \"He\nseparates a family here only to reunite them in eternity!\"\n\n-------\n\n{497}\n\n       From Les Etudes Religieuses\n\n  The Second Plenary Council Of Baltimore,\n  And Ecclesiastical Discipline\n  In The United States.  [Footnote 129]\n\n  [Footnote 129: _Concilii Plenarii Baltimorensis II. Acta et\n  Decreta. Baltimorae_, 1868.]\n\n[Introductory Note--The periodical from which the following\narticle has been translated is one of the highest character,\npublished at Paris under the editorial supervision of the Jesuit\nfathers. The account which it renders of the late Council of\nBaltimore is made doubly valuable from the fact that it is the\nwork of a foreign, and therefore an impartial, judge. We have\nbeen obliged to make a few corrections in the article. Several of\nthese were suggested by the Most Rev. President of the Council,\nand the rest were required by obvious and quite natural\ninaccuracies of a writer living in a foreign country.]\n\n\n\nThe superior of the Grand Seminary of Baltimore has recently done\nus the honor of transmitting, in the name of his archbishop,\n[Footnote 130] a copy of the _Acts of the Council_ held in\nthat city in 1866. He asks us to make known the contents to the\nreaders of the _Etudes_. It gives us pleasure to accede to\nthis request.\n\n    [Footnote 130: Mgr. Spalding, Archbishop of Baltimore, is the\n    author of several interesting publications on the religious\n    history of the United States. He has published two essays\n    concerning the legislation of the early Protestant colonies\n    respecting divine worship. In their legislation is to be\n    found intolerance running to the most cruel extremes, and\n    this almost until the Revolution of 1776. Besides these, he\n    is the author of _Evidences of Catholicity, Sketches of\n    Early Catholic Missions in Kentucky,_ and _Spalding's\n    Miscellanea_.]\n\nOn the eve of the great event which the Catholic world expects at\nthe close of this year, it seems to us that there are few\nsubjects more interesting, or more worthy to be treated of, than\nthe present. The very organization of the present council, at\nwhich forty-six bishops were present, will give us a fair idea of\nwhat is to be done when all the prelates of all countries and\nchurches are convened. Moreover, the decisions made in such an\nimposing assembly will not fail to clear for us some obscure\npoints. But, better than all, the collection of decrees will make\nus comprehend the situation of Catholicity in the immense\nterritories of the new world, where it is called to such a lofty\ndestiny.\n\nOn the 19th of March, 1866, the Feast of St. Joseph, Mgr.\nSpalding, using the powers received for this purpose from the\nsovereign pontiff, convoked at Baltimore a Plenary Council,\n[Footnote 131] to be opened on the second Sunday of October, in\nthe same year.\n\n    [Footnote 131: A council is called plenary at which the\n    bishops of several provinces are assembled. After a general\n    or oecumenical council there is nothing more solemn. The\n    present is the second of this character which has been held\n    at Baltimore. The first took place in 1852.]\n\nIf any bishops were prevented from appearing personally, they\nwere to be represented by proxies furnished with authentic\npowers. The day having come, after a preliminary congregation,\nheld the evening before to clear up certain details, the council\nopened with a grand, solemn, and public procession; in which\nfigured forty-four archbishops and bishops, one administrator\napostolic, two mitred abbots, together with the most\ndistinguished of the American clergy. It was a spectacle alike\nnew and imposing for that great city. More than forty thousand\npeople met to witness it.\n{498}\nIn the streets through which the procession passed, there was\nscarcely a house which was not decorated. This was undoubtedly\none of the grandest and most beautiful Catholic demonstrations\nwhich has yet been seen in that land of liberty, where all sects\nand communions find a rendezvous. The council furnished one of\nthose striking lessons which the good sense of Americans does not\nforget, and which by little and little will lead them to\nunderstand that where there is unity there is also life.\n\nEvery deliberative assembly has need of order; the fathers began\nby tracing a plan for themselves; these are its principal\ndispositions.\n\nEvery day the particular congregations of theologians were to\nmeet together. These were to discuss among themselves and judge,\nin a preliminary manner, the measures proposed. The result of\ntheir deliberations, gathered by a notary, with the votes and\nmotives alleged for or against, in case of a disagreement, was\nthen to be transmitted to the bishops. These, again, held private\ncongregations where they occupied themselves solely with\nquestions already debated by the theologians. _A proc\u00e8s\nverbal_ was made, by the secretaries, of what passed in these\nmeetings. A new examination and judgment was made in this second\ninstance; yet these preliminary discussions decided nothing; all\nwas to be referred to the general congregations, and, finally, to\nthe sessions of the council, where the decrees received their\nlast form, and the sanction which makes them obligatory.\n\nAs to the order which was to reign in their deliberations, the\nbishops found nothing better fitted to their purpose than a small\nportion, clearly stated, and well defined, of the rules called\nparliamentary, and consecrated under that name in the public\nassemblies of their land. Each had the right of proposing\nwhatever he would, provided he did so by writing and in the Latin\ntongue; but a motion made by a member could not become a matter\nof deliberation, unless another prelate joined the first in\nmaking the demand. None was at liberty to depart from the\nprearranged schedule, nor from the title which formed the object\nof present discussion. As to the rest, the greatest liberty of\nopinion was not only accorded, but counselled, as long as the\norators confined themselves to the limits of propriety. If any\none transgressed these, or prolonged his discourse uselessly, any\nmember could demand a call to order; the _promotor_ was\ncharged with executing the laws of order, but, in cases of doubt,\nfinal decision belonged to the president.\n\nBefore publication in the sessions, the decrees were submitted to\ngeneral congregations; when not only the bishops but also the\ntheologians might set forth their opinions, with only this\nprovision, namely, that those should be first heard who formed\nthe commission on which had previously devolved the consideration\nof the subject then under discussion. Such are the simple and\nprecise dispositions which served to maintain order in so great\nan assembly.\n\nThe apostolic delegate had by right four theologians; the\narchbishops, three; the bishops, two; some, however, contented\nthemselves with only one. They were divided into seven\ncongregations or bureaux, among which was divided the matter\nwhich was to occupy the attention of the council. [Footnote 132]\n\n    [Footnote 132: This matter comprised the following subjects.\n      _1. _De Fide Orthodoxa, deque erroribus\n      serpentibus;_\n      2. _De Hierarchia et regimine Ecclesiae;_\n      3. _De Personis Ecclesiasticis;_\n      4. _De Ecclesiis bonisque ecclesiasticis tenendis\n      tutandisque;_\n      5. _De Sacranentis;_\n      6. _De Cultu Divino;_\n      7. _De Disciplinae\n      uniformitate promovenda;_\n      8. De Regularibus et monialibus;\n      9. De Juventute instituenda pieque erudienda;\n      10. De Salute animarum\n      efficacitis promovenda;\n      11. De Libris et ephemeribus;\n      12. De Societatibus Secretis._\n\n    Several congregations occupied themselves with two of these\n    subjects at once because of their connection. In the council\n    were added a thirteenth congregation, on the creation of new\n    bishoprics, and a fourteenth, on the execution of the\n    decrees.]\n\n{499}\n\nEach congregation was presided over by a bishop; it had, besides,\na vice-president and an ecclesiastical notary, charged, as we\nhave seen, with the care of transmitting to the prelates the\nresult of these deliberations. For the council itself were chosen\na chancellor archdeacon, a secretary with assistants, a notary,\nwho was to assist those who discharged the same function in the\nparticular congregations; two _promotors_, one a bishop, the\nother a priest, charged with maintaining order and observance of\nrule in the sessions and public meetings; finally, judges, who\nwere to pronounce on motions of absence, or on differences which\nmight arise. Severe penalties were laid on all who should leave\nbefore the work of the council should be finished.\n\nThis rapid glance at the organization of this assembly and at its\nplan of operations seems to us necessary, in order to understand\nthe labor accomplished by it.\n\nThe chief task of the council was to fix, I had almost said to\ncreate, [Footnote 133] ecclesiastical discipline throughout the\nentire extent of the United States.\n\n    [Footnote 133: If the writer had said this, he would have\n    made a great mistake. While the United States formed one\n    province, many provincial councils were held at Baltimore;\n    and since the creation of the other provinces they have been\n    regularly held in each one, and the principal points of\n    discipline have thus been long since effectually\n    settled.--ED. C.W.]\n\nAmid a population so diverse in origin, manners, character; amid\nthe manifold influences produced by the heterogeneous mixture of\nconflicting sects in which each Catholic congregation is obliged\nto live, it would seem difficult to establish uniformity.\nMoreover, the spirit of modern times is in every respect so\ndifferent from that of bygone ages, private and public\ninstitutions have undergone such modifications, that the\napplication of the canon law meets on all sides obstacles\napparently insurmountable. The prelates of North America have\nlegislated with such prudence, with such a perfect union of ideas\nand sentiments, that their churches will hereafter possess in the\ncollection of their decrees a complete code of laws. [Footnote\n134] These \"acts,\" printed in a convenient form, are to be used\nas a text-book in all the seminaries, and this text, with the\ncomments of the professor will, we are assured, suffice for the\nentire course of canon law. Apart from some inconsiderable\ndifferences regarding days of fasting and feasts of obligation,\n[Footnote 135] all the churches will hereafter have a common law\nand the same customs. Assuredly, one can scarcely comprehend the\nvastness of this result, and we are undoubtedly convinced that\nthe Second Plenary Council of Baltimore is destined to a\nmemorable place in the history of Catholicity in the United\nStates.\n\n    [Footnote 134: The present council had at heart to re-collect\n    in its acts the legislation fixed by preceding councils. The\n    decrees taken from these are recognized by a different style\n    of print. An appendix gives _in extenso_ all the\n    important portions, above all, those which have come from\n    Rome. Thus all the ecclesiastical legislation of the United\n    States is to be found in a single volume.]\n\n    [Footnote 135: The prelates had addressed a petition to Rome\n    that uniformity on this point might be established. The\n    answer which had been returned was, that it was better to\n    respect the existing customs of each diocese, and that, if\n    modifications were to be made therein, each bishop might have\n    separate recourse to the holy see. But the feast of the\n    Immaculate Conception was declared a feast of patronage and\n    obligation throughout the whole of the United States.]\n\nThe dogmatic part of the acts has not and could not have the same\nimportance, since a national council, however numerous, generally\ndoes naught but state the faith already defined; nevertheless, on\nthis very ground, we find declarations very interesting, and\nwhich deserve to command the attention of the Christians of\nEurope.\n\nIt is to the united fathers, and, after them, to the assisting\ntheologians, that the merit of this great work is due.\n{500}\nStill, we cannot refrain from noticing Mgr. Spalding, Archbishop\nof Baltimore and apostolic delegate. Called to the presidency of\nthe council by a special brief of the pope, dated February 16th,\n1866, instructed, moreover, by the Propaganda, which recommended\nto his zeal several important points, he it is who has prepared\nthe matter of the decrees, and has brought together in advance\nall the elements which have entered into this vast construction.\nUnder his wise and prudent direction, his brethren in the\nepiscopate have made their choice. With the assistance of the\nsecretaries and other officers of the council the edifice rises,\nto which Rome gives the finishing touch, changing a small number\nof the materials, and consecrating it with her supreme authority.\n\nInto this sanctuary, built with so much care, I invite the\nreaders of the _Etudes_ to enter, persuaded that we shall\nfind therein much to admire and at the same time much to learn.\n\n\n                  I.\n\nThe first chapter is consecrated to dogma. It treats of the faith\nand of the errors which are contemporaneously opposed to it. The\nprelates here recall the precept, imposed on all, of embracing\nthe truth, and entering the haven of the true church. No safety\nis to be hoped for outside of this ark which God guards and\nconducts. However, they add, as to those who are plunged\ninvincibly in error, and who have not been able to see the light,\nthat the Supreme Judge, who condemns no man, save for his own\nfaults, will assuredly use mercy toward them, if, although\nstrangers to the body of the church, they have, nevertheless,\nwith the assistance of grace, fulfilled the divine commandments,\nand professed those Christian truths which they were able to\nknow. [Footnote 136]\n\n    [Footnote 136: Tit. i. p. 6.]\n\nSuch is the Catholic doctrine and the just principle to which all\nour pretended intolerance is reduced. The council recognizes the\nrights of reason as well as those of sound faith. It inserts at\nlength in its decrees the four propositions formulated in 1855 by\nthe Congregation of the Index, against traditionalism. At the\nsame time it restates the condemnation pronounced by Gregory IX.\nagainst the system of Raymond Lulle, which expresses a thought\ntoo common in our day, namely, that faith is necessary to the\nmasses, to vulgar and unlettered people, but that reason suffices\nfor the intelligent man of study, and constitutes true\nChristianity.\n\nWe notice in this chapter the solicitude of the bishops to place\nin the hands of the faithful a version of the Bible in the vulgar\ntongue. To this end they recommend the Douay translation, already\napproved and circulated by their predecessors. Far from opposing\nthese efforts, the Congregation of the Propaganda, in the\nresponse addressed to the Archbishop of Baltimore with the\nrevision of the acts of the council, lays great stress on the\nnecessity of doing this. The congregation directs the prelate to\ncompare anew the different English editions, to avail himself of\nother Catholic translations, if there be any, in order that we\nmay have in English a faithful and irreproachable text of all our\nsacred books, and that this version may be spread throughout all\nthe dioceses of America. Here we have a peremptory answer to\nthose Protestants who, at this late hour, reproach Catholics with\ninterdicting the reading of the Holy Scriptures.\n\n{501}\n\nOn the question of future life, the fathers declared against\nthose who deny the eternal duration of punishment, or so mitigate\nits severity that there remains no longer any proportion between\nthe chastisement and the gravity of the offence. Then they\nrapidly review that multitude of religious sects and errors,\nwhich are nowhere so numerous or so different as in that classic\nland of free thought. Indifferentism, which considers all\nreligions as equal; Unitarianism, which rejects the divinity of\nour Lord Jesus Christ; Universalism, which denies the eternity of\npunishment after death; finally, pantheism and transcendentalism,\nwhich destroy the personality of God, such are the latest forms\nand last consequences of free inquiry. What a contrast to these\nis the spectacle which Catholic truth affords; that full,\ncomplete, and unchanging Christianity, affirming itself, with\nfull consciousness of its truth, in the face of a thousand\nsystems which cannot withstand it and a thousand communions that\nfail to comprehend what it really is! All serious hearts in\nAmerica must be stuck by such a difference. The Council of\nBaltimore has again made manifest where lies the strength that\nwill triumph over all, and what is to be the \"church of the\nfuture.\" The excesses of \"Magnetism\" and \"Spiritism\" have been\ncarried beyond what the fathers consider the limits of morality.\nWith regard to the first, they undertake to promulgate the\nwell-known decisions of the sacred congregation of the council.\n[Footnote 137]\n\n    [Footnote 137: Encycl ad omnes episcopos contra magnetismi\n    abusus. August 4th, 1856. Decisions of July 28th, 1847.]\n\nAs to the second, not finding any explicit precedent in acts\nemanating from Rome, they express their own thought and doctrine\nthus: \"It seems certain,\" they say, \"that many of the astonishing\nphenomena which are said to be produced in the spiritual meetings\nare inventions; that others are the result of fraud, or are to be\nattributed to the imagination of the mediums and their\nassistants, or, possibly, to slight of hand. Nevertheless,\" they\nadd, \"it can scarcely be doubted that some of these facts imply a\nsatanic interference; since it is almost impossible to explain\nthem in any other way.\" Then, after a magnificent exposition of\nthe action of good and bad angels, the prelates remark that, in a\nsociety of which so large a portion remains unbaptized, it is not\nsurprising if the demon regains in part his ancient empire. They\nseverely censure those Catholics who take part even indirectly in\nthe spiritual \"circles.\" Such is the decision of the council;\nand, for our part, we are happy to see what we have written on\nthis subject [Footnote 138] fully confirmed by so imposing an\nauthority.\n\n    [Footnote 138: _Les Morts el les Vivants_. Paris, Le\n    Clere. _Etudes_ 1862, p. 41.]\n\n                 II.\n\nThe second chapter treats of the hierarchy and government of the\nchurch. The fathers begin with a profession of filial loyalty to\nthe holy see, whose privileges they recognize and enumerate with\nSt. Irenaeus, St. Jerome, and St. Leo the Great. They protest\nwith what respect and love they receive all the apostolical\nconstitutions, likewise the instructions and decisions of the\nRoman congregations, given for the universal church or for their\nown special provinces. After Pius IX. they rebuke the manner of\nthought and action of those who count for nothing all that has\nnot been expressly defined as of Catholic faith, and who,\nembracing opinions contrary to the common sentiment of\nChristians, fear not to shock their ears with scandalous\npropositions. The temporal power of the pope, its necessity under\nthe present circumstances, in order to assure the independence of\nthe head of the church, is also the subject of a solemn\ndeclaration.\n\n{502}\n\nPassing then to the bishops, the council affirms their double\nright of teaching and governing Christendom in union with the\nRoman pontiff, the successor of St. Peter and the vicar of Jesus\nChrist. According to the advice of the fathers of Trent,\nprovincial councils are to be held every three years throughout\nthe whole extent of the United States; for the bishops are\npersuaded that in these reunions are to be found the most\nefficacious remedies for the evils which afflict all parts of the\nchurch, when the pastors of dioceses, after having invoked the\nHoly Spirit, unite their wisdom to take measures most fitting to\nprocure the salvation of souls. Accidental forms are ever\nchanging. Formerly, the \"synodal witnesses\" [Footnote 139] were\neverywhere in use.\n\n    [Footnote 139: Ecclesiastics chosen in the provincial\n    councils to observe the state of persons and things in their\n    dioceses, and to make a report to the metropolitan.]\n\nAfter the time of Benedict XIV. this function fell into disuse\nand was supplied by something else. The grave and learned pontiff\nmakes use of these remarkable words, which the council has\nthought proper to reproduce:\n\n  \"The customs of men are modified and circumstances are\n  continually changing; that which is useful at one period may\n  cease so to be, and may become even pernicious in another age.\n  The duty of a prudent pastor, unless otherwise obliged by a\n  higher law, is to accommodate himself to times and places, to\n  lay aside many ancient usages, when by his judgment and the\n  light of God he deems this to be for the greater good of the\n  diocese with which he is entrusted.\" [Footnote 140]\n\n    [Footnote 140:  De Synod. Dioec. L. V. c. iii. n. 7.]\n\nAs a natural corollary to provincial councils, the prelates\nrecommend frequent holding of diocesan synods. If the extent of\nthe diocese will not permit the priests who obey the same bishop\nto unite yearly, the bishop should at least convoke a synod after\neach provincial or plenary council, to promulgate the decrees and\nprovide for their observance. In the meantime, ecclesiastical\nconferences, organized in districts, can supply, at least partly,\nthe place of the synod. The fathers express a wish that such\nconferences should meet quarterly in cities, and at least yearly\nin rural districts, where pastors cannot easily assemble.\n\nI pass hastily over some details to arrive immediately at a\nmatter at once very delicate and important, that of\necclesiastical judgments. It is well known that the form required\nby canon law has become very difficult of application throughout\nthe greater part of Christendom. The Council of Baltimore does\nnot innovate. After an experience of ten years it feels bound to\nrenew a decree made in the Council of St. Louis in 1855.\n[Footnote 141]\n\n    [Footnote 141: That is to say, the Plenary Council, by its\n    enactment, extended this decree of the Provincial Council of\n    St. Louis to the other provinces.--ED. C. W.]\n\n  \"Priests suspended by sentence of the ordinary have no right to\n  demand sustenance from him, since by their own fault they have\n  been rendered incapable of exercising their ministry. But, in\n  order to cut short all complaints, the fathers are of the\n  opinion that it is more expedient, in the cases of priests and\n  clerics, to adopt a form of trial approaching as nearly as\n  possible the requirements of the Council of Trent. The\n  bishop--or his vicar-general, by his order--shall choose in the\n  episcopal council two members--not always the same--who shall\n  serve him as counsellors, when the accused shall be called to\n  answer before him and his secretary.\n\n{503}\n\n  \"Together, these assistants shall have but one voice, but\n  either can range himself on the side of the prelate against his\n  colleague. If, however, both are of a different mind from that\n  of the bishop or his vicar, the latter may take into his\n  counsel a third, and that judgment shall be rendered to which\n  he shall incline. If it happen that all the consultors named by\n  the ordinary hold an opinion contrary to his, the case is to be\n  transferred to the tribunal of the metropolitan, who shall\n  weigh the motives for and against, and himself deliver\n  sentence. And if the process refers to a subject of the\n  metropolitan, and all his assistants are opposed to him, the\n  cause shall be evoked before the oldest bishop of the province,\n  and he shall have the right to decide, saving always the\n  privileges and authority of the Holy See.\"\n\nHere we see reappearing the jurisdiction of metropolitans, which\nin many other churches is little exercised at the present day. On\nthe question of their authority the council furnishes another\nsubject worthy of remark.\n\nIn enumerating the rights of archbishops in reference to their\necclesiastical provinces, the fathers have designated but three:\n\n1. To make known to the holy see such of their suffragans as do\nnot observe the laws of residence.\n\n2. To call the said suffragans to a provincial council, at least\nevery three years.\n\n3. To have their cross borne before them in their province, and\nto wear the pallium therein on the days when they can wear it in\ntheir metropolitan church.\n\nThe letter written from Rome for the correction of the acts\norders two other privileges of metropolitans to be\nre-established:\n\n1. To supply what is negligently omitted by their suffragans in\nthe cases determined by law; and\n\n2. to receive appeals from the sentence of their suffragans\naccording to the canonical rules.\n\nIf we do not deceive ourselves, there is in this correction a\nsignificant tendency.\n\n\n                  III.\n\nThe manner of the election of bishops had already been determined\nby an instruction emanating from the Propaganda, dated March\n18th, 1834. Since that time, at the desire of councils, several\nchanges and modifications had been made. This is the practice\nconsecrated and universally established since 1861: Every three\nyears, each bishop sends to his metropolitan and the congregation\nof the Propaganda the list of subjects whom he judges worthy of\nthe episcopate, with detailed information of the qualities which\ndistinguish them.\n\nA see becomes vacant, the bishops of the province meet in synod,\nor any other way, and discuss the aptitude of the candidates\npresented by each of them. After a secret examination, three\nnames are sent to Rome with the _proc\u00e8s verbal_ of this\nelection. On the representation thus made, the sovereign pontiff\ndesignates the one to be promoted to the episcopal dignity.\n\nThis portion of Christendom, still so new, has not yet had time\nto settle itself into regularly divided parishes. If our memory\nis faithful, we think there is no such thing as a parish,\nproperly so called, in the whole United States. The prelates of\nthe council express a desire to establish some, especially in the\ngreat cities; but they add that, in conferring them on the\npriests who administer them, they would not exempt the latter\nfrom removal; this never having, been the custom in America.\n\nMany of the dioceses have no seminaries. The fathers wish that,\nif they cannot be everywhere established, each province, at\nleast, should have its own, for the formation of which the\nbishops will unite their resources. Following the custom adopted\nin France, they separate the Little Seminary, where boys who\npresent the conditions required by the Council of Trent are\nreceived, from the Grand Seminary, where clerics study dogmatic\nand moral theology, canon law, hermeneutics, and sacred\neloquence.\n{504}\nThe council orders the greatest efforts to be made in order to\nsecure eminent professors. If there is an establishment common to\nan entire province, it should not be confined to teaching the\nmere elementary ecclesiastical studies, but a thorough course of\nexegesis and oriental languages should be commenced; and the\nmodern systems of philosophy should be explained in such a manner\nthat graduates should be able to resolve all the difficulties and\nobjections of the day.\n\n  \"We have now to contend,\" say the fathers, \"no longer with the\n  often refuted heresies and errors of a bygone age, but with new\n  adversaries, unbelievers of a pagan rather than a Christian\n  character, with men who count as naught God and his divine\n  promises--and yet are not thereby prevented from having\n  cultivated minds. According to them, the things of heaven and\n  earth have no other meaning or value than that which reason\n  alone assigns them. Thus, they flatter pride, so deeply rooted\n  in our nature, and seduce those who are not on their guard. If\n  truth cannot persuade them, since they do not care to hear, it\n  must, at least, close their mouths, lest their vain discourse\n  and sounding words delude the simple.\" [Footnote 142]\n\n    [Footnote 142: Act. tit. iii. p. 108.]\n\nDo not these sage reflections disclose the true plan for renewing\necclesiastical studies?\n\nWe will not enter on the details of the rules established for the\ngeneral life and manners of the clergy, according to their\ndifferent functions. We confine ourselves to remarking that the\nchapter on preaching alone contains a complete little treatise on\nthe proper manner of announcing the word of God in our times.\n\n\n                  IV.\n\nQuestions relating to church property attract the attention of\nthe council. In order to comprehend the arrangements determined\non in regard to this matter, we must form a correct idea of the\nsituation in which the different Christian communions stand\nbefore the American civil law.\n\nIt is well known that the legislation of most of the States is\nwilling to accord legal personality to associations, commercial\nor religious. A religious society represented by trustees easily\nobtains incorporation; that is to say, is recognized as a person\nhaving the right to own property, to receive gifts and legacies,\nto a certain amount, generally far superior to what is necessary.\nIf this sum is ever exceeded, it is easy to fulfil the\nrequirements of the law by creating a new centre, building a new\nchurch.\n\nNothing then would seem more favorable than these arrangements of\nAmerican law. But, as they were conceived from a Protestant point\nof view, they recognize the parish only, and not the diocese,\nwhich is, nevertheless, the Catholic unit. Moreover, the\ntrustees, invested with church property, have on several\noccasions made outrageous and extravagant pretensions. More than\nonce, they have believed that they possessed the right of\nchoosing their pastors, and dismissing them, if they did not\nsuit; they have held that they at least have the right of\npresenting to the bishop a priest of their own choice, and thus\nforcing his consent. Hence, the frequent conflicts between the\nparochial element and the episcopal administration. The first\nCouncil of Baltimore formerly protested against this lay\ninterference, which it declared contrary to the teaching of the\nchurch and the discipline of every age; it decided that the\ncompensation assigned to members of the clergy, to be provided\nfrom the funds of the parish, or by the alms of the faithful,\nconferred on none the right of patronage.\n{505}\nSubsequent councils return incessantly to the same question; and\nit has even appeared before the civil tribunals. In the diocese\nof New York, particularly, the disputes between the Catholic\ntrustees and the bishop were prolonged with various results, but\nwithout interruption, from 1840 to 1863. Finally, an arrangement\nwas concluded, and on this model the prelates wish to organize\nall ecclesiastical property.\n\n  \"Since, in the United States, it is permitted to every citizen\n  and foreigner to live freely and without molestation, according\n  to the precepts of the religion which he professes--for the\n  laws recognize and proclaim this right--nothing seems to hinder\n  us from observing, in all their rigor, the rules established by\n  councils and the sovereign pontiffs for the acquisition and\n  preservation of church property. The fathers, therefore, desire\n  to expose and set clearly before the eyes of the state the true\n  rights of the church with regard to accepting, possessing, and\n  defending sacred property, as, for example the land on which a\n  church is built, or presbyteries, schools, cemeteries, and\n  other establishments, in order that it may be legally permitted\n  to Catholic citizens to follow exactly the laws and\n  requirements of their church.\" [Footnote 143]\n\n    [Footnote 143: Act. tit. iv. p. 117.]\n\nHence, one of the principal dispositions of this legislation is,\nthat the administrators of ecclesiastical property in parishes\nshall do nothing without the consent of the bishop. In order that\nthis law may be observed, and that nothing more may be feared\nfrom the intervention of the secular tribunals, there is no other\nplan than for the bishop to place himself before the civil power,\nas having the right to the full administration of all property\nbelonging to his church as a corporation sole. Some of the states\nhave recognized this right for the future. In others it is not\nyet recognized. Hence they provide the best means for avoiding,\nor, at least, diminishing the inconvenience resulting from this\nstate of things.\n\nThis requires that mutual securities be taken on the part of the\nbishop and the trustees. As soon as appointed, the prelate will\nmake a will, and place a duplicate in the hands of his\nmetropolitan. Besides the property of which he is sole\nproprietor, he will be _ex-officio_ president of all boards\nof trustees, who possess, in the eyes of the law, the parochial\nproperties. Rules are established for the purpose of ensuring a\nconscientious choice of these, in order that they may not\ninfringe on the rights of the parish priest, nor take any profit\nfrom the revenues of the church. Such are the principal measures\nrelative to this important matter.\n\n\n                  V.\n\nIn the chapter entitled _De Sacramentis_ we notice the\nprudence which the council wishes to be used in administering\nbaptism to Protestants returning to the Catholic Church. Although\nthe greater portion of the sects regard what transpires at the\nbaptismal font as a mere ceremony, and frequently, through\ncarelessness, baptize invalidly, nevertheless the priest must not\nproceed hap-hazard, nor decide on general principles, but must in\neach case examine carefully into particulars. Only when certain\nof the nullity or probable invalidity of the baptism, can he\nconfer the sacrament, either absolutely or conditionally.\n\nIn France, discussions have lately arisen as to the proper age\nfor administering the holy communion. Although the American child\nis much earlier developed than the European, the fathers of\nBaltimore establish as a rule that he shall not be urged at too\nearly an age to present himself at the holy table.\n{506}\nTen and fourteen years are the two extreme limits to which one\nmust ordinarily be confined. Nevertheless, this rule leaves room\nfor all legitimate exceptions, and particularly, in case of\ndanger of death, it would be a grave fault in the pastor who\nwould not administer the eucharist to a child capable of\ndiscerning the grace which it contains.\n\nAs their country is not a vine-growing land, and one can nowhere\nbe fully certain of the purity of wines imported from Europe, the\nfathers express a desire to establish in Florida a community\nwhich shall be especially charged with the care of preparing the\nmatter for the administration of the different sacraments, wine,\noil, etc. This community can also keep swarms of bees, and\nfurnish the different dioceses with pure waxen tapers. Meanwhile\nthey caution priests to beware of using for the holy sacrifice\nthe wines which are commonly sold under the names of port,\nsherry, Madeira, Malaga, and to choose, rather, Bordeaux,\nSauterne, and others less subject to adulteration or fraudulent\nimitation. Moreover, as the culture of the vine progresses, it\nwill be inexcusable to neglect having recourse to the products of\nthe soil, or at least, not to have a moral certainty of the\npurity of the wines which are used.\n\nIn districts where a few Catholic families find themselves, as it\nwere, lost in the midst of Protestants, the scarcity of priests\ncauses many children to remain unbaptized [Footnote 144] until\nafter marriage; an _impedimentun dirimens_ which renders the\nmarriage null in the eyes of God and the church.\n\n    [Footnote 144: The council referred not to unbaptized\n    children of Catholics, for such are not to be found among us,\n    but to unbaptized Protestants, or rather pagans, with whom\n    Catholics have contracted a civil marriage.--ED. C. W.]\n\nThey live together in good faith, notwithstanding, and when the\npriest, discovering the radical fault, speaks to them of renewing\ntheir agreement, it frequently happens that the unbaptized party\nrefuses to do it. The fathers unite in requesting from the holy\nsee power to communicate to missionaries dispensations _in\nradice_, of which they can make use to rehabilitate such\nmarriages.\n\nAs preceding councils have remarked, it is certain that, in most\nof the provinces of the United States, the decree of the Council\nof Trent regarding clandestine marriages has not yet been\npromulgated. In some districts its promulgation is doubtful.\nBesides, to require the presence of a certain priest for the\nvalidity of a marriage appears to the fathers a measure attended\nwith great inconvenience. They demand, therefore, in order to\nreassure consciences, and establish uniformity, to return\neverywhere, except in the province of New Orleans, to the ancient\ndiscipline, already universally in force. But the holy see has\nnot seen fit to accede to this request, as appears from the\nanswer addressed by the Propaganda to the _postulata_ of the\ncouncil.\n\nOn other points uniformity is supremely desirable. For instance,\nthe bishops earnestly desire it in that which pertains to\nChristian instruction and in prayer-books. A catechism is to be\ncomposed after that of Cardinal Bellarmine, adapted to the\npeculiar situation of Catholics in the United States. When this\ncatechism has been approved by the holy see, it will be adopted\nin all the dioceses.\n\nAs to prayer-books which do not bear the express approbation of\nthe ordinary, they ought not to be found in the hands of the\nfaithful.\n\n{507}\n\nThe solicitude of the council here extends to various classes of\npeople. Following the example of the apostle, they recommend to\nGod those who govern; but the formulas of the church are alone to\nbe employed in these prayers, and no one is to imitate certain\nsects and temples, wherein political passions and partisan rancor\nutter accents which dishonor God rather than contribute to his\nworship.\n\nNo one will neglect any precaution to free Catholic soldiers and\nsailors from being obliged, against their conscience, to assist\nat the rites of dissenting sects. The orphans are an object of\nspecial solicitude. They must be gathered into the Catholic\nasylums which already exist or are yet to be built. This\nnecessity is most pressing, and appeals to the charity of all who\ncan provide against it.\n\n\n                  VI.\n\nAn entire chapter is consecrated to regular orders of men and\nwomen. After recalling the immense advantages which their\nchurches have derived from the labor of religious, the fathers\nstate certain precautions which ought to be taken in order that\nfoundations may be stable and not precarious. Circumstances do\nnot always permit canonical erection or establishment in a\npermanent manner; hence, in the agreement made between the bishop\nand the religious community, this clause must hereafter be added,\nto wit, that the latter will not quit the parish, school,\ncollege, or congregation with which it is charged, without\nnotifying the ordinary at least six months in advance. This\nrelates only to diocesan work, properly so called, and not to\nthat which the religious may take up of their own accord, without\nany obligation to continue.\n\nBishops shall conform to the canonical laws, defending the rights\nand privileges of the religious whom they find in the territory\nsubmitted to their jurisdiction, and they will avoid giving them\nsubjects of complaint, or motives for going elsewhere. Regulars\nand seculars work toward the same ends namely, the glory of God\nand the salvation of souls; hence, no dissension ought ever to\narise between them, but harmony, unity, and fraternal love should\never reign supreme.\n\nThe council passes a magnificent eulogium on those \"sisters\" who\npreserve, in their schools, the innocence of so many young\nvirgins, and who, during the late war, have known how to turn\npublic calamity to the glory of God and the advantage of\nreligion.\n\nWho of the dissenting sects has not admired their zeal, charity,\nand patience in the hospitals, and may not say, \"the finger of\nGod is here\"?\n\nVarious measures were adopted to assure the observance of the\nrules of the church on the part of the religious. The fathers\nhave heretofore consulted as to the nature of their sacred\nengagements. The answers received from Rome state that, in\nseveral specially designated monasteries of the Visitantines, the\nvows are solemn. [Footnote 145]\n\n    [Footnote 145: These are the monasteries of Georgetown,\n    Mobile, Kaskaskia, St. Aloysius, and Baltimore. The solemnity\n    of the vows is there preserved according to rescripts\n    formerly obtained from Rome.]\n\nHenceforth, after the novitiate, simple vows are to be made, and\nten years later the solemn profession will be permitted. As to\nother monasteries and religious houses, simple vows alone are\npermitted, except by special rescript from the holy see; the same\nrule applying to all convents of women which may be hereafter\nerected in the various dioceses of the United States. The fathers\nseverely censure those who leave their monasteries and travel\nthrough the country, under pretext of collecting money for houses\npressed with debt or for new foundations; they declare this to be\nan intolerable abuse and contrary to the true character of the\nreligious life.\n\n{508}\n\nEverywhere, to-day, but in no country more than in America, the\nquestion of schools appears most important, and claims the most\nlively solicitude on the part of the episcopate.\n\nHere the council begins by firmly asserting the rights of the\nchurch. Jesus Christ said to his apostles, \"Euntes docete,\"\n\"Going, teach all nations.\" Since that time, this utterance has\nbeen understood in the sense of a mission, to be fulfilled by\ninstruction and the exercise of spiritual maternity toward all,\nbut especially toward youth. Frequenting such public schools as\nexist in the United States offers a thousand dangers. There\nindifferentism reigns: corruption of morals is engendered in\nearly youth; the habit of reading and reciting authors who attack\nreligion and heap insults on the memory of saintly personages\nweakens the faith in the souls of the young, while association\nwith vicious companions stifles virtue in their hearts. The only\nremedy is to create other institutions, to open further\nopportunities to Catholic youth. Parochial schools are highly\nrecommended, as well as the sodalities or congregations which\ndevote themselves to the instruction of the youth of either sex.\n\nWhile speaking of houses of refuge and correction, the fathers\nnotice the numerous abductions of children which are daily made\nby the different sects. These are orphans, or disobedient\nchildren whom parents despair of managing. They are taken to\nplaces where their relatives can neither find nor hear from them,\nand their names are changed, so as not to recall them at some\nfuture day to their religion or family. Comfortably nourished,\nthey are reared in the principles of heresy and in hatred of\nCatholicity. [Footnote 146] Moved with pity, several bishops have\nalready opened houses to gather in these little unfortunates; the\ncouncil desires them to be everywhere established; for if one\nought to applaud the zeal of those who raise magnificent temples\nto God, much more should one praise those who prepare for him a\nspiritual dwelling of these precious and living stones.\n\n    [Footnote 146: Acts have recently been passed in the\n    Legislature of New York which promise to be a very effectual\n    check to the most nefarious arts of these kidnappers in this\n    State.--ED. C. W.]\n\nHere follows a tribute of recognition of the services rendered by\nthe various colleges and academies which already exist in the\nUnited States. The American establishments at Rome, at Louvain,\nand in Ireland, are now furnishing priests and missionaries. When\nwill it be granted to the bishops to found a grand Catholic\nuniversity, which will complete all the good accomplished by\nthese institutions? Yet this is not merely a desire; it is\nardently expressed by the council; we hope the future may bring\nabout its speedy realization. [Footnote 147]\n\n    [Footnote 147: Amen!--Ed. C. W.]\n\nThe missions are one of the most efficacious means of procuring\nthe salvation of souls. Regulars and seculars are alike called to\nthis great work. The council demands that a house of missionaries\nbe founded in each diocese, for giving spiritual exercises in the\nparishes, above all during Lent, Advent, at the time of first\ncommunions, and the episcopal visitations. The parish priests are\nto co-operate cordially with these auxiliaries, and if any refuse\nto do so, they will be constrained by their bishop. On the other\nhand, all precautions are taken to avoid any appearance of\ninterestedness, and any interference in the parochial government\non the part of the missionaries.\n\n{509}\n\nThe idea of association, so popular at the present day, is\nessentially and originally Catholic. If some have used it against\nus, we know how to reclaim and avail ourselves of it. Hence, the\nfathers recommend the confraternities approved by the church,\nsuch as those of the Blessed Sacrament, the Sacred Heart, the\nBlessed Virgin Mary, St. Joseph, and the Holy Angels. They\nrecommend the \"Apostolate of Prayer,\" also, another pious\nassociation, which prays especially for the conversion of\nnon-Catholics; they seek to develop the well-deserving\nundertakings of the \"Propagation of the Faith\" and \"Holy\nChildhood;\" they accord the highest praise to the\narch-confraternity of St. Peter; finally, they add other works of\npiety and mercy, among them the \"Society of St. Vincent de Paul,\"\nso well adapted to our times, and which has already produced such\ngreat results.\n\nAfter this great encouragement, come restrictions no less called\nfor. No new associations are to be created where ancient\nconfraternities suffice. In case any priest desires to institute\na new one, he must have a written permission from his bishop; the\nlatter is forbidden to approve a new foundation unless he is sure\nthat its means and aim are truly Catholic. It will be truly\ndesirable to give such a character to the mutual aid societies\nto-day so numerous among the working classes.\n\nThe welfare of the negroes greatly interests the American\nepiscopate. What a harvest is here to be gathered among these\npoor souls, purchased by the blood of Jesus Christ, and so well\nprepared by their emancipation to listen to the Gospel. Heresy\nspares no effort to assure herself of possessing them--another\nreason for earnestly seconding the desire expressed by the\nCongregation of the Propaganda in this respect. But the measures\nadopted for this end cannot be everywhere the same, and general\nrules are, therefore, hard to determine. The negroes must have\nchurches either in common with or separate from the other\nfaithful; they must have schools, missions, orphan asylums.\nLaborers are wanting to this harvest. The superiors of religious\norders are requested to designate some of their subjects for this\npurpose, and secular priests, who feel this to be their vocation,\nto fly to the succor of this class, so destitute and so\ninteresting. As to particular measures, provincial councils will\ndetermine in those regions where the negroes are more numerous.\n\n\n                 VII.\n\nBooks and journals exercise such a great influence on society,\nboth for evil and for good, that they could not fail to be the\nobject of a special decree. After noticing the disastrous effects\nof an immoral press, the prelates call on all the servants of\nJesus Christ, especially those who are fathers of families, to\nrid their houses of all noxious and dangerous books. They do not\nhesitate in this instance to employ the severe words of the\napostle, \"If any man have not care of his own, and especially of\nthose of his house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than\nan infidel.\" I Tim. v. 8. School-books must be carefully revised,\nexpurgated, when necessary, and submitted to episcopal\napprobation. A sort of permanent committee is created for this\npurpose, composed of the superiors of three colleges existing in\nthe arch-diocese of Baltimore.\n\nAs to good books, their circulation should be favored as much as\npossible. It is desirable that associations should everywhere be\nformed, to employ themselves in this work. The fathers\nparticularly recommend the \"Catholic Publication Society\" of New\nYork, which has existed for some years, and has already done\nimmense good. Committees in every city are to be formed, and\naffiliated to the central society, and collections are ordered to\nbe made yearly for assisting this good work.\n\n{510}\n\nPrayer-books ought always to be examined by theologians, and none\nshould be printed without the approbation of the ordinary. This\nhas hitherto been only a wish; hereafter it shall be a law\nobliging all bishops.\n\nAmong current periodicals there are many impious and immoral,\nsome more tolerable, but very few deserving eulogy and full\nrecommendation to the faithful. The prelates continue:\n\n  \"Journals edited or directed by Catholics indirectly\n  contributing to the advantage of religion, must exist. But for\n  fear lest the political opinions of the writers may be\n  attributed to ecclesiastical authority, or to Christianity\n  itself, as often happens, thanks to the bad faith of\n  adversaries, we desire that all should be duly warned not to\n  recognize any journal as _Catholic_ unless it bears the\n  express approbation of the ordinary.\n\n  \"In several dioceses, there are journals furnished with this\n  approbation, under one form or another, because the bishops\n  require them as a means of conveying their orders or ideas to\n  their clergy and people. Hence they are assumed to have an\n  official character, as if the voice of the pastor were to be\n  heard from every page and line. This is a misunderstanding,\n  although quite general, chiefly propagated by sectarians. From\n  it result grave and intolerable inconveniences. For, whatever\n  may be written by these editors, who may often be controlled by\n  passions private and political, is laid to the account of the\n  bishop, and seems to form a part of his pastoral teaching.\n\n  \"In order that such a responsibility may cease to weigh upon\n  the episcopate, and in order clearly to set forth the relations\n  between the ordinary and the ecclesiastical journals, the\n  fathers declare that the approbation accorded by a bishop to a\n  Catholic journal merely signifies that he has found in it\n  nothing contrary to faith or morals; and that he hopes such\n  will be the case in future; and moreover, that the editors are\n  well-deserving men, and their writings useful and edifying. The\n  bishop, then, is only responsible for what appears in the paper\n  as his own teaching, counsel, exhortation or command; and for\n  this, only when signed with his own hand.\" (Act. tit. xi. p.\n  256.)\n\nThey spoke of establishing a journal or review, solely devoted to\nthe exposition and defence of Catholic dogma, of which the\narchbishops of Baltimore, New York, and perhaps other\nmetropolitans with them, would have the ownership. The question\nwas submitted by the council to the judgment of the ordinaries.\n\nIf the fathers wish to be free from a solidarity often\ncompromising, they none the less recognize the services of\nCatholic writers. The felicitations which they address to them\nare borrowed from the pontifical allocution of April 20th, 1849,\nand from the letters apostolic of February 12th, 1866.\n\n\n\n                 VIII.\n\nThe church has frequently uttered severe condemnations of secret\nsocieties, engaged in acts forbidden by religion and justice.\nAfter having recalled to mind and published anew these\ncondemnations, the fathers add that they do not see any reason\nfor applying them to societies of artisans which have no other\nobject than the mutual support and protection of people of the\nsame calling.\n\nThese must not favor the practices of condemned sects, nor\nproceed contrary to equity and the rights of patrons. No one must\nregard as even tolerated, associations which demand of those\nentering an oath to do whatever the chiefs command, or which\nwould maintain an inviolable secrecy in the face of lawful\nquestioning. If there be doubt of the nature of an association,\nthe holy see must be consulted. No person, however high his\necclesiastical dignity, ought to condemn any society which does\nnot fall under the censures of the apostolical constitutions.\n[Footnote 148]\n\n    [Footnote 148: At the request of certain bishops, this decree\n    was to be suppressed. It was re-established in acts according\n    to directions from Rome.]\n\n{511}\n\nIn the thirteenth chapter, the bishops request the erection of\nfifteen new episcopal sees; to wit, four in the province of\nBaltimore, seven in that of St. Louis, one in each of the\nprovinces of Cincinnati, Oregon, San Francisco, and New York.\nThey also desire the churches of Philadelphia and Milwaukee to be\nraised to metropolitan dignity. Excepting this last demand, this\nchapter has met favorable reception at Rome; and at the present\nmoment, America counts twelve new bishoprics or vicarates\napostolic.\n\nWe will not speak of the pastoral letter addressed by the bishops\nof the council to the faithful of their dioceses. It was\npublished at the time in many French journals. Moreover, it\nmerely recapitulates the measures and decrees which ought to be\nbrought to the knowledge of all the Catholic populations. In it\none perceives the accent of ardent zeal for the salvation of\nsouls. Amid the felicitations which they address to their flock,\nthe American prelates mingle cries of sorrow at the sight of the\nabuses which still exist and the souls which are lost. A warm\nappeal is made to families to favor the development of\necclesiastical vocations; in this country, more than in any other\nin the world, the harvest is immense, and arms alone are often\nwanting to gather it.\n\nAs to the relations between the church and the state, the fathers\ndeclare that, apart from a few brief instances of over-excitement\nand madness, the attitude taken by the civil power and its\nnon-interference in religious matters is a matter for\ncongratulation; they complain only of its not according the\nnecessary guarantees for church property, according to ancient\ncanons and discipline. But several States have already done what\nis reasonable in this respect; it is hoped that others will soon\nfollow their example.\n\nSuch is the incomplete but at least faithful _r\u00e9sum\u00e9_ of the\ndecrees of this great assembly. In reading, one is struck with\nthe wisdom and prudence which characterize them. After the divine\nassistance, certainly not denied to so holy an undertaking, one\nhere finds something of that American good sense, eminently exact\nand practical, which, in dealing with lofty things, seizes them\nprincipally by their positive side, and, without losing sight of\nprinciples, adapts them always to times and circumstances.\n\nIf doctrine is greatly represented in this volume, pure theory\noccupies but a small space. Above everything else the council has\nwished to be a work of organization. No less remarkable for what\nit has not said than for what it has said, it seems to embody the\ndevice of the poet, \"Semper ad eventum festinat;\" no superfluous\ndetails, no useless erudition; all bears the seal of a\nlegislation soberly but firmly motived, wherein nothing is\nomitted which can enlighten and convince the mind, and nothing\nallowed to lengthen a text by right short, or to complicate a\nsimple matter; a majestic monument, of simple and severe\nproportions, art seems therein neglected, but is by no means\nwanting.\n\nIf it were permissible in presence of so great a work to recur to\na secondary detail, we would say that pupils of the seminaries,\nin studying these acts, will find in them a model of that\nbeautiful Latinity unfortunately too rare in theological\ntreatises.\n\nTheir task ended, the prelates had only to congratulate\nthemselves on the success obtained. After having announced to\ntheir children that they would be more fully notified of the\nresult in provincial councils and diocesan synods, they have been\nable to add, with lawful pride, that they expect all manner of\ngood from the practical organization given for the future to the\nchurches of this vast continent.\n\n-------\n\n{512}\n\n        The Legend of St. Thomas.\n\nAnd it came to pass, in those days, that Thomas abode at\nJerusalem. And in a dream the Lord appeared to him, and said,\nBehold, Gondaphorus, who ruleth in India, hath sent Abbas his\nservant into Syria, that he may find men skilful in the art of\nbuilding. Go thou, therefore, and I will show thee unto him. But\nThomas answered, and said, Lord, suffer me not to go into India.\nBut the Lord answered, and said to him, Fear not, but rise up and\ndepart; for behold, I am with thee, and when thou shalt have\nconverted the nations of India, thou shalt come to me, and I will\ngive unto thee the recompense of thy reward. And when Thomas\nheard this, he said, Thou art my Lord and I am thy servant. Let\nit be as thou hast said. And he went his way.\n\nAnd it came to pass that as Abbas, the servant of Gondaphorus the\nking, stood in the market-place, the Lord met him, and said,\nYoung man, what seekest thou? And Abbas answered, and said,\nBehold, my master hath sent me hither, that I might bring to him\ncunning workmen who shall build for him a palace like unto those\nthat are in Rome. And when he had spoken these things, the Lord\nshowed unto him Thomas, as that skilful and cunning workman whom\nhe sought.\n\nAnd straightway Thomas the apostle, and the servant of\nGondaphorus the king, departed. And as they journeyed, the word\nof the Lord spake by the mouth of Thomas, and great multitudes of\nthe Gentiles were converted and baptized. And when they came to\nAden, which lieth at the going in of the Red Sea, they tarried\nmany days.\n\nAnd departing thence, they came into the coasts of India. And\nbehold, there was a marriage in that city, and both Thomas and\nAbbas were called to the marriage. And the whole city was with\nthem. And while they rejoiced together, behold, Thomas spake to\nthe people the word of the Lord, and wrought many mighty works\nbefore them all, so that great multitudes believed and were\nbaptized. And the daughter of the king, (whose feast it was,) and\nher husband, and the king also, were among them. And this was\nshe, who, after a long time, was called Pelagia, and took the\nholy veil, and suffered martyrdom. But the bridegroom was called\nDenis, and became the bishop of that city.\n\nAnd going from thence, they departed, and came to Gondaphorus the\nking. And to him was Thomas the apostle brought, as a cunning\nworkman, skilled in all manner of building. And the king\ncommanded him to build for him a royal palace, and gave him vast\ntreasures wherewith to build it, and having done this, he went\ninto another country.\n\nAnd it came to pass, that when Thomas received the treasure of\nthe king, he put not his hand to the palace of the king, but went\nhis way throughout the kingdom, for the space of two years,\npreaching the Gospel, healing the sick, and giving his treasures\nto the poor.\n\n{513}\n\nAnd after the space of two years, Gondaphorus the king returned\ninto his own city, and when he had asked concerning his palace,\nThomas answered, and said, Behold, O king! the palace is builded;\nbut thou shalt dwell therein only in the world that is to come.\nThen was the king exceeding wroth, when he had heard these\nthings, and commanded his soldiers to cast Thomas into prison,\nand to flay him alive, and afterward to burn his body with fire.\n\nAnd it came to pass, that in those days Syd, the brother of\nGondaphorus, died, and the king commanded them to prepare for him\na goodly sepulchre. And on the fourth day, as they made\nlamentation over him, behold, he that was dead sat up and began\nto speak. And they were sore affrighted and amazed. But he said\nto the king, Behold, O king! he whom thou hast commanded to be\nflayed and burned is the friend of God. For lo! the angels of\nGod, who serve him, took me into paradise, and showed to me a\npalace adorned with gold and silver and precious stones. And when\nI was astonished at its beauty, one cried out to me, and said,\nBehold, this is the palace which Thomas has builded for the king,\nthy brother. But he has become unworthy; yet, if thou thyself\nwouldst dwell therein, we will beseech the Lord, that thou mayest\nlive again and redeem it of thy brother by paying unto him the\ntreasure he has lost.\n\nAnd when Gondaphorus had heard these things, he was sore afraid.\nAnd he straightway ran to the prison, and came in unto the\napostle, and smote off his chains. And bringing a royal robe, he\nwould have put it on him. But Thomas answering, said, Knowest\nthou not, O king! that those who would have power in heavenly\nthings care not for that which is carnal and earthly? And when he\nhad said this, the king fell down at his feet, confessing his\nsins. And Thomas baptized both him, and his brother, and all his\nhouse, and said to them, In heaven there are many mansions,\nprepared from the foundation of the world. But these are\npurchased only by faith and almsgiving. Your riches are able to\ngo before you into these heavenly habitations, but thither they\ncan never follow you.\n\nAnd after these things, Thomas arose and departed, and came into\nall the kingdoms of India, preaching the Gospel, and doing many\nmighty miracles. And all the nations of India believed and were\nbaptized, hearing his words, and seeing the wonders which he did.\n\nAnd it came to pass that Mesdeus the king heard thereof. And when\nThomas came into his country, he laid hands upon him, and\ncommanded him to adore his idols, even the images of the Sun,\nwhich he had made. And Thomas answered, and said, Let it be even\nas thou hast said, if at my word the idol bow not its head into\nthe dust. And when he had said this, the idol fell down prostrate\nto the earth.\n\nAnd there arose a great sedition among the people, and the\ngreater part stood with Thomas. But the king was exceeding angry,\nand cast him into prison, and delivered him up to the soldiers,\nthat they might put him to death. And the soldiers, taking him,\nled him forth to the top of a mountain over against the city. And\nwhen he had prayed a long time, they pierced him with their\nspears, and, falling down, he yielded up the ghost. And his\ndisciples, which stood by, wept for him with many tears, and,\ntaking up his body, they wound it in precious spices, and laid it\nin a tomb. But the church grew and waxed mightily, and Siforus\nthe priest, and Zuganes the deacon, whom Thomas had ordained as\nhe went forth to die on the mountain, taught in his stead.\n\n{514}\n\nSuch is the legend of St. Thomas, as recited in the name of\nAbdias of Babylon, \"bishop and disciple,\" [Footnote 149] in his\n\"_ten_ books upon the conflicts of the apostles.\" Whatever\nwe may think of the individual events therein detailed, the great\noutline of the story has much intrinsic probability, and is of no\nslight interest to the student of Christian history. Especially\nis this so in the present age, when the vast and mystic East\nopens her gates once more to the knock of the evangelist, and\nwhen the whole Christian world is agitated with a missionary zeal\nwhich must be comparatively fruitless, unless guided by a\nknowledge of the people whom it approaches, and of the religious\ntraditions with which it must combat or agree. It is our\nintention in this article to suggest some of the chief facts in\nthe ecclesiastical annals of these unknown lands, and to trace,\nso far as we may be able, the dogmatic genealogy of those\nreligious notions with which the Gospel has been, and will be,\nthere forced to contend.\n\n    [Footnote 149: Abdias of Babylon, to whom is ascribed the\n    work mentioned in the text, is accounted among the\n    ecclesiastical writers of the first age. He was a Jew by\n    birth, and one of the seventy disciples of our Lord. He went\n    with SS. Simon and Jude into Persia, and by them was made\n    bishop of Babylon. The work which bears his name was first\n    printed in the year 1532. Its alleged authorship, on account\n    of its citations, and for some other reasons, has generally\n    been denied by the learned. On this point the present writer\n    ventures no opinion, although convinced that the tradition,\n    as contained in _The Legend of St. Thomas_, is\n    substantially true, and has existed in the same general\n    outline from the earliest periods of Christian history.]\n\nIn the legend which we have repeated, and the discussion of which\nwill occupy the present article, the scene of the labors of St.\nThomas is laid in India. The tradition that he preached in\nParthia and other countries of the east, and that he perished by\nmartyrdom, is nearly as old as Christianity itself. All of the\nearly writers are agreed that his apostolic province lay north\nand east of Palestine, and that the Persians, Bactrians,\nScythians, and other kindred nations were entrusted to his\nspiritual care. But in regard to the particular regions over\nwhich he travelled, and the extent of his missionary efforts, as\nembraced in modern geographical divisions, there appears to be no\nsmall discrepancy between them. Thus, while certain ancient\nauthors ascribe to him the evangelization of the entire East,\nSocrates and Theodoret expressly state that the Gospel was not\npreached in India till the fourth century, when Frumentius\ncarried thither the knowledge of the true faith, and established\na mission, of which he himself became the bishop; while some\nextend his wanderings to the Ganges, or even to the Celestial\nempire itself, others limit him within the eastern boundary of\nPersia, and place his death and burial-place near the city of\nEdessa, less than two hundred miles north-east from Antioch.\n\nMuch of this apparent disagreement, however, is explained away by\nthe acknowledged ambiguity of the phrases under which these\ndifferent countries were anciently described. \"India\" and\n\"Ethiopia\" seem to have been terms as loosely applied in that age\nas \"the East,\" in Europe, and \"the West,\" in America, are today;\nand it is not at all unlikely that, as has been the case with the\nlatter phrase in this country, the application of the former was\ngradually changed as their nearer frontiers became better known,\nand were localized under distinct and peculiar names. The India\nof Socrates and Theodoret may or may not embrace the districts\nincluded in the India of Gaudentius and Sophronius; and each, in\nhis historic statement, may be entirely accurate in fact, though\ncontradictory to the others in his language.\n\n{515}\n\nMoreover, in those early ages kingdoms were less known than\nnations. The ancients spoke of \"Persians,\" \"Romans,\" \"Jews,\"\n\"Egyptians,\" rather than of the countries in which they were\nsupposed to dwell; while in our day, on the contrary, the\nexplorations of geography have rendered the regions far more\ndefinite than the nations which inhabit them. For this reason,\nwhat would be comparatively a safe guide to any given locality in\nmodern usage, would be far less reliable in writings of a\nthousand years ago. Thus we may well dismiss whatever doubts this\nseeming disagreement at first sight throws around the\npost-scriptural account of this apostle, or at least hold it in\nabeyance, to be obliterated if subsequent investigations should\ndisclose sufficient evidence of the toils and triumphs of St.\nThomas in the vast empires of oriental Asia.\n\nIt is in this _generic_ sense of the terms that \"India\" and\n\"the Indies\" are employed by the author of this legend, and under\nthe singular as well as under the plural name are included many\nkingdoms through which the apostle travelled, from that in which\nhe preached the Gospel at the nuptials of a king to that in which\nhe found the mountain of his martyrdom. Each of these seems to\nhave had its own court and king, and to have been so far\nindependent of the others that the same religion which was\nmaintained and promulgated by the state in one, was persecuted\nand condemned by the rulers of the other. It is not, therefore,\nto these names that we can look with any confidence of finding\nsuch vestiges of the apostle's footsteps as shall afford us a\ndefinite clue to the countries or the nations which enjoyed the\nfruits of his laborious love.\n\nSuch, however, is not the case with the name of King Gondaphorus\nto whom particularly, according to the legend, the mission of St.\nThomas was directed. Until within a few years, the age, the\nresidence, even the existence of this personage has been matter\nof serious controversy. The opinion most commonly received among\nthe learned was, that \"Gondaphorus\" was a corruption of \"Gun\ndishavor\" or \"Gondisapor,\" a city built by Artaxerxes, and\nderiving its name from Sapor or Schavor, the son and successor of\nits founder. [Footnote 150] As the city could have acquired this\ntitle only in the fourth century, this, among other reasons, has\ngenerally led historians to deny the substantial authenticity of\nthe legend itself, and to regard it as the fabrication of some\nlater age.\n\n    [Footnote 150: Gundisapor was the episcopal and metropolitan\n    city of the province of Sarac, situated on the Tigris, six\n    leagues from Susa. It is said to have been built by\n    Hormisdas, the contemporary of the Emperor Constantine, and\n    to have been called by the name of Sapor, his son, by whom it\n    was afterward immensely enriched and beautified with the\n    treasures which he ravished from the Roman empire.]\n\nRecent investigations among Indian antiquities have thrown new\nlight upon this subject, and, in this particular, at least, seem\nto have cleared the legend from all suspicions of fraud. Among\nthe many coins and medals lately discovered in the East are those\nof the Indo-Scythian kings who ruled in the valley of the Indus\nabout the beginning of our present era. One of these kings bore\nthe name of \"Gondaphorus,\" and pieces of his coinage are now said\nto be preserved in different collections of Paris and the East.\n[Footnote 151] This striking corroboration, in the nineteenth\ncentury, of a tradition which, in one shape or another, has been\ncurrent in the Christian world for eighteen hundred years, can\nhardly fail to satisfy the most critical examiner that the legend\nascribed to Abdias is, in its grand outline, entitled to a far\nhigher degree of credit than it has been accustomed lately to\nreceive.\n\n    [Footnote 151: Vide _Le Christianisme en Chine_, etc.,\n    par M, Huc. Paris, 1857, p. 28, etc.]\n\n{516}\n\nThe course of the apostle and his companion toward the east, so\nfar as this tradition and its modern limitations have defined it,\nmay thus be traced. Leaving Jerusalem, they journeyed by the\nusual route to the Red Sea, and thence along the coasts of Arabia\nPetraea and Arabia Felix to Aden, then, as now, a city of much\ncommercial importance, on account of its excellent harbor and\ncommanding situation. Here they remained for a considerable\nperiod of time, the apostle preaching the Gospel and laying\nfoundations on which other men might build. Embarking thence,\nthey sailed around the southern borders of the Arabian peninsula,\nand, crossing the Gulf of Oman, landed at one of the then\nflourishing cities near the mouths of the Indus. After some\ndelay, of which St. Thomas made good use in the service of the\nGospel, they pushed north-easterly into the interior to the\nimmediate province of King Gondaphorus, where, after the labors\nof two years, the apostle brought the monarch and his family\nunder obedience to the yoke of Christ. His special work thus\naccomplished, St. Thomas travelled into many other kingdoms on\nthe same divine errand, and terminated his devoted and fruitful\nlife by holy martyrdom. Thus far, the legend; and that it agrees\nwith and is in fact the interpreter of all other traditions of\nSt. Thomas, as well as of those various monuments which, until\nrecently, have been unknown as teachers of Christian history,\nwill shortly be made manifest.\n\nThe holy apostle, having once established Christianity in those\nparts of India which lie nearest to Jerusalem, would naturally\nextend his journey into more distant regions, rather than retrace\nhis steps, and occupy, as his field of labor, a territory to\nwhich the Gospel would, without his intervention, probably be\nsoon proclaimed. For, having in himself powers plenipotentiary\nfor the organization and perpetuation of the church, wherever he\nmight plant it, and being assured, as a Christian and disciple,\nthat the zeal and perseverance of his fellow-workers might safely\nbe entrusted with the conversion of the nations adjacent to the\ncentres of Christian doctrine, it was simply manlike, simply\napostolic, for him to set his face steadfastly toward those who,\nbut for him, might not in many generations obtain the light of\nfaith. If, therefore, the footsteps which we have already traced\nbe genuine, we may with reason look for traces of the same\nunwearied feet in other and still more unknown lands.\n\nAnd herein also, the traditions of the early ages will not\ndisappoint us. Still reckoning by nations, rather than by\nkingdoms, the ancient writers tell us that St. Thomas preached\nthe Gospel to the Parthians, Medes, Persians, Hyrcanians,\nBactrians, Germanians, Seres, Indians, and Scythians. Thus in a\nfragment of St. Dorotheus, (A.D. 254,) \"The apostle Thomas,\nhaving announced the Gospel to the Parthians, Medes, Persians,\nGermanians, Bactrians, and Mages, suffered martyrdom at Calamila,\na city of India.\" Theodoret, speaking of the universality of the\npreaching of the apostles, says, \"They have caused, not only the\nRomans, and those who inhabit the Roman empire, but the\nScythians, ... the Indians, ... the Persians, the Seres, and the\nHyrcanians to receive from them the law of the Crucified.\"\nOrigen, and from him Eusebius, relates that St. Thomas received\nParthia as his allotted sphere; and Sophronius mentions that he\nplanted the faith among the Medes, Persians, Carmanians,\n(Germanians,) Hyrcanians, Bactrians, and other nations of the\nextreme east. Both the latter and St. Gaudentius declare that he\nsuffered at Calamina in India.\n\n{517}\n\nThe same traditions are faithfully preserved among the Christians\nof India. In the breviary of the Church of Malabar, it is stated\nthat St. Thomas converted the Indians, Chinese, and Ethiopians,\nand that these different nations, together with the Persians,\noffer their adorations to God in commemoration of this devoted\napostle, from whom their forefathers received the truth of\nChrist. The presumption of fact, which arises out of such a mass\nof testimony as these and other witnesses which might be quoted\noffer us, existing for so many ages and in countries so widely\nseparated from each other, is surely sufficient to justify a\ncareful study of the localities to which these different nations\nbelonged, as indicative of the later and more extended missionary\nlabors of St. Thomas.\n\nAccording to the best authorities on the subjects of ancient\ngeography and ethnology, all the various territories which were\ninhabited by the nations whose conversion has been attributed to\nSt. Thomas lie east of the Euphrates, and, with the single\nexception of the Scythians, below the fortieth parallel of\nlatitude. The Medes occupied the districts between the Caspian\nand Persian seas. The Hyrcanians lay on the south-east of the\nCaspian, the Parthians and the Bactrians lying east of them; and\nall three being included in the present Turkistan. The Persians\nheld the northeastern borders of the Persian Gulf, next to the\nkingdom of the Medes; the Germanians, or Carmanians, lying next\non the south-east, in part of what is now known as Beloochistan,\nand the lower corner of modern Persia. The \"Seres\" was a name\ngiven to the Chinese in the earliest historic ages, and embraced\nthe vast and cultivated people who dwell beyond the Emodi, or\nHimalaya, mountains, and east of the sources of the Indus. The\nIndians and Scythians--the former occupying from the Indian Ocean\nand the latter from the Arctic zone--met together between the\nBactrians and the Seres, and formed the Indo-Scythian races of\nthe ante-Christian age. Calamila, or Calamina, the city near\nwhich the apostle finally rested from his labors, is on the\neastern coast of Hindostan, a short distance from Madras, and has\nbeen known, at different periods, by the names of Meliapour,\nBeit-Thoma, and St. Thomas.\n\nThe connection of these ancient nations and countries with, and\ntheir successive propinquity to, each other enables us to form a\ntolerably correct idea of the course of the apostle's missionary\nwork, from the baptism of Gondaphorus to the close of his own\ncareer. For although our guide is simply the intrinsic\nprobability which grows out of the nature of the workman and the\nwork God had appointed him to do, yet, to whoever takes the map\nof the various regions which we have described as the scenes of\nthe apostolic life and death, it will appear that one of two\ncourses must have been adopted. The first starts from the valley\nof the Indus, and, leading westward, reaches in turn the\nGermanians, Persians, and Medes; then, turning toward the north\nand flexing eastward by the southern border of the Caspian Sea,\nit penetrates the land of the Hyrcanians, Parthians, Bactrians,\nIndo-Scythians, and Seres; where, again met by the upper Indus,\nit bends southward, and, striking through the heart of Hindostan,\nends in the lower portion of the peninsula at or near Madras.\n{518}\nThe second, beginning at the same point, follows up the Indus in\na path directly opposite to the former, until the place of\ndeparture is again reached and the final journey through modern\nIndia begins. It is scarcely possible to say which of these two\nroutes is most probably correct. Future researches may throw\nlight upon the extent of the region over which King Gondaphorus\nreigned, upon the relation of the dialects of these bordering\nnations to each other, and thus afford a clue to the more exact\npath of the apostle. But in either case, the districts over which\nhe travelled, and the races into contact with whom he carried the\nGospel, are distinguished with a high degree of certainty, and\nthe triumphs of the cross under his leadership may thus be\nclearly understood.\n\nIndeed, the work of scarce any apostle of the twelve can now be\nbetter followed than that of Thomas. The chief indefiniteness\nattaches to his mission to the Seres; for here little is extant\nto show, with any great conclusiveness, whether his labors\nterminated with the borders of Indo-Scythia, or penetrated to the\nYellow Sea. Some monuments of antiquity have, it is true, been\nfound, which point strongly to the spreading of the Gospel over a\nlarge part of China by primitive if not by apostolic\nmissionaries; but nothing has as yet been discovered which would\njustify the conclusion that St. Thomas actually attempted the\nevangelization of that immense and thickly-populated empire. If\nsuch had been the case, it is hardly possible that India should\nhave received him back again, and given him the distant Calamina\nfor his martyrdom.\n\nThe area of territory over which the apostle Thomas must thus\nhave journeyed embraces over three million two hundred and fifty\nthousand square miles, and the people to whom he opened the doors\nof heaven, through the Gospel, numbered more than two hundred\nmillions of souls. The linear distance of his own personal\ntravels probably exceeded ten thousand miles, and this, for the\nmost part, necessarily on foot. The consideration of these facts,\nand of the results which followed from the apostle's labors, will\ngive us some idea of the work which our Divine Lord committed to\nhis immediate disciples, and of the untiring zeal and superhuman\nendurance with which they were endowed. It has become far easier\nfor us to say, \"The Lord hath shortened his hand,\" than to go and\ndo likewise.\n\nYet it is still true that Thomas was an apostle; that it was the\nwill of the Master that all nations should at once almost receive\nsome knowledge of his Gospel; that the miraculous gift of tongues\nswept out of the way one of the greatest obstacles to missionary\nlabor; and that St. Thomas had received the gifts of faith and\ncharity to such a degree as enabled him to co-operate, to the\nutmost, with the graces of his work. And it is also true that,\nhad not he and the others of the twelve been such as they were\nand accomplished what they did, the promises of Christ would have\nbeen unfulfilled, and the church have suffered from their failure\nto its latest day. But in that they were _apostles_, in that\nthey did their work, the seed of the Gospel can scarcely fall,\nto-day, on soil which has not been already watered by the blood\nof martyrs, or among people in whom it has not, long ago, sprung\nup and brought forth fruit abundantly.\n\n{519}\n\nThere were, however, in the case of St. Thomas, other and natural\nreasons why his work should have been so vast and his success so\nextraordinary. The facility of intercourse between the east and\nthe west was far greater in his day than in our own. The\nsuccessive conquests of Alexander had led him beyond the present\nwestern boundary of China. The Roman empire, at the beginning of\nour era, reached beyond the Euphrates, and the intimate\nconnection of part with part, and the ease of intercourse between\nthe imperial city and the farthest military outpost, can scarcely\nbe exaggerated. [Footnote 152] Up to the seventh century, this\nunity continued to a great degree unbroken, and will account not\nonly for the presence of the minister of Gondaphorus in Jerusalem\nand for the results which followed it, but for the diffusion and\npreservation of the traditions which have handed down those\nevents to us.\n\n    [Footnote 152: De Quincey's _Caesars_. (Introduction.)]\n\nNor was this unity altogether that of conquest. Beyond the empire\nof Augustus lay the realms of Porus, of whom history relates that\nhe held six hundred kings beneath his sway. Between these\nemperors there seem to have been two formal attempts at an\nintimate political alliance. Twenty-four years before the birth\nof Christ, an embassy from Porus followed Augustus into Spain,\nupon this errand, and another some years afterward met with him\nat Samos. In the reigns of Claudius, Trajan, Antoninus Pius, and\nsucceeding emperors, the same royal courtesies were interchanged,\nand it was not until the Mussulman power, sweeping like a sea of\nfire between the east and the west, became an impassable barrier\nto either, that these relations had an end.\n\nNearly the same may be said of commercial unity. The trade in\nsilk, from which substance the Seres, or Chinese, derived their\nname, was carried on between the Romans and that distant nation\non no inconsiderable scale. Numerous caravans perpetually\njourneyed to and fro through the wilds of Parthia and along the\nsouthern border of the Caspian Sea; while the Erythrean, Red and\nMediterranean waters glittered with sails from almost every land.\nThe whole inhabited world (if we except this continent, the date\nof whose first settlement no one can tell) was thus\nprovidentially brought close together, and a higher degree of\nunity and association established between its different nations\nthan had existed since the dispersion at Babel, or than has now\nexisted for over twelve hundred years.\n\nHow vast an advantage to apostolic labor this unity must have\nbeen can easily be seen. While it removed almost entirely the\ndifficulties of travel, it assured for the traveller both safety\nand good-will upon the way. While it conciliated in advance the\npeople among whom they labored, it gave weight and human\nauthority to the Gospel, when actually preached. And, when the\nchurch had been established and little colonies of Christians\nmarked the track of the apostles, it enabled them to maintain a\nconstant intercourse with their spiritual children by messengers\nor by epistles, and to keep watch and ward over the millions\nentrusted to their care.\n\nThose prophetic traditions of a coming Saviour, which pervaded\nthe east, as well as the south and west, also effected much\ntoward the rapid spread and wide espousal of Christian truth. The\norigin of these traditions is shrouded in the mystery of an\nunchronicled antiquity. They may be attributed to the promise in\nparadise, to the transfusion of Mosaic teachings, or to direct\nrevelation by means of pagan oracles. But that they existed, in a\nclear and well-defined prophetic form, is established beyond\nquestion; while that they were in the first instance of divine\ndisclosure, it becomes no Christian to deny.\n{520}\nThe learned and contemplative minds of Asia especially delighted\nin this state of expectation. Sons of a soil whereon the feet of\nGod had trodden in primeval days, the very atmosphere around them\nstill throbbed with the echoes of that voice which walked in Eden\nin the cool of the day. The mountains that overlooked them had\naforetime walled in the garden of the Lord from a dark and\nhalf-developed world. The deserts of their meditations lay like a\npall above the relics of those generations to whom the deluge\nbrought the judgment wrath of God. Children of Sem, the eldest\nson of Noah, it had been theirs to see, even more clearly than\nGod's chosen Israel, the coming of the Incarnate to the world, as\nit was also theirs to win from heaven the first tidings of his\nbirth through the glowing orient star.\n\nAmong the many forms which this tradition assumed, there is one\nso beautiful and so theologically accurate, that we cannot omit\nto cite it here. While the swan of Mantua, on the banks of father\nTiber, chanted the glories of the golden age, a Hindoo poet, on\nthe borders of the Ganges, thus painted to the wondering eyes of\nIndian kings the grand event in which the disorders and miseries\nof that present age should have an end:\n\n  \"Then shall a Brahmin be born in the city of Sambhala. This\n  shall be Vishnu Jesu. To him shall the divine scriptures and\n  all sciences unfold themselves, without the use of so much time\n  in their investigation as is necessary to pronounce a single\n  word. Hence shall be given to him the name of Sarva Buddha, as\n  to one who fully knoweth all things. Then shall Vishnu Jesu,\n  dwelling with his people, perform that work which he alone can\n  do. He shall purge the world from sin; he shall set up the\n  kingdom of truth and justice; he shall offer the sacrifice; ...\n  and bind anew the universe to God. .... But when the time of\n  his old age draws nigh, he shall retire into the desert to do\n  penance; and this is the order which Vishnu Sarva shall\n  establish among men. He shall fix virtue and truth in the midst\n  of the Brahmins, and confine the four castles within the\n  boundaries of their laws. Then shall return the primeval age.\n  Then sacrifice shall be so common that the very wilderness\n  shall be no more a solitude. Then shall the Brahmins, confirmed\n  in goodness, occupy themselves only in the ceremonies of\n  religion; they shall cause penance, and all other graces which\n  follow in the path of truth, to flourish, and shall spread\n  everywhere the knowledge of the holy scriptures. Then shall the\n  seasons succeed each other in unbroken order; the rains, in\n  their appointed time, shall water the earth; the harvest, in\n  its turn, shall yield abundance; the milk shall flow at the\n  wish of those who seek it; and the whole world, being\n  inebriated with prosperity and peace, as it was in the\n  beginning, all nations shall enjoy ineffable delights.\"\n  [Footnote 153]\n\n    [Footnote 153: _Le Christianisme en Chine_, p. 5.]\n\nThe well-known policy of St. Paul, who, preaching on Mars' hill\nto the Athenians, seized the inscription on their altar, \"To the\nunknown God,\" as the text of his most memorable sermon, is a\ndivine endorsement of the important part which God intended that\nthese far-reaching revelations should play in the conversion of\nthe world. St. Thomas, in the east, had but to repeat the\nannouncement, Him whom ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto\nyou. He, for whom you have waited--he, Vishnu Jesu, has already\ncome; his wisdom and his counsels I reveal to you.\n\n{521}\n\nAnd among the clear-thoughted and pure-hearted sages of the east,\namong the Magi of Persia, the Brahmins of India, and the\nphilosophers of China, among such as those who at the mere\nbidding of a voiceless star followed it to the world's end--to\nthe cave of Bethlehem--these declarations of the apostle must\nhave been the signal of salvation. In them there were no\nprejudices to wipe away, no new and strange ideas to be espoused.\nThe Gospel was not to them, as to the Jews, the subversion of\nanticipated glory. It was the realization of expectation, the\ngolden day which had so long shot gleams of light into the\ndarkness of their iron age. And so it was that, while Judea could\ngive to Christianity but simple fishermen, or at most a ruler of\nthe synagogue, India and the orient thought not too highly of her\nkings and sages to yield them up to Vishnu Jesu, and offered on\nhis altars the wealth of all her realms.\n\nIn the year 1521, certain excavations taking place under the\nruins of a large and ancient church at Meliapour, there were\nfound, in a sepulchre, at a great depth beneath the surface of\nthe earth, the bones of a human skeleton, in a state of\nremarkable whiteness and preservation. With them were also found\nthe head of a lance, still fastened in the wood, the fragments of\nan iron-shod club, and a vase of clay filled with earth. Some\nyears later, near the same spot, an attempt was made by the\nPortuguese to build a chapel; and in digging for the foundations,\nthe workmen came upon a monumental stone on which was sculptured\na cross, some two feet long by eighteen inches wide, rudely\nornamented and surrounded by an inscription in characters which,\nto the discoverers, were totally unknown. The authorities of\nMeliapour, being desirous to ascertain the meaning of the letters\nengraved around this cross, made diligent search among the native\nscholars for an interpreter, and finally obtained one in the\nperson of a Brahmin of a neighboring city. His translation was as\nfollows:\n\n  \"Thirty years after the law of the Christians appeared to the\n  world, on the 25th of the month of December, the apostle St.\n  Thomas died at Meliapour, whither he had brought the knowledge\n  of God, the change of the law, and the overthrow of devils. God\n  was born of the Virgin Mary, was obedient to her during thirty\n  years, and was the eternal God. God unfolded his law to twelve\n  apostles, and of these, one came to Meliapour, and there\n  founded a church. The kings of Malabar, of Coromandel, of\n  Pandi, and of other different nations, submitted to the\n  guidance of this holy Thomas, with willing hearts, as to a\n  devout and saintly man.\" [Footnote 154]\n\n    [Footnote 154: _Le Christianisme en Chine_, p. 26.]\n\nThe same inscription was afterward laid before other oriental\nscholars, each of whom, without conference or collusion with the\nrest, offered the same rendering of this forgotten tongue.\n\nThus, again do the discoveries of later ages verify the\ntraditions of early Christian history. That SS. Dorotheus,\nSophronius, and Gaudentius possessed reliable evidence for their\nstatement that St. Thomas died at Calamina, we can no longer\ndoubt. That the original framer of \"The Legend of St. Thomas\"\nrecited events which, in his day, were well known, and could be\neasily substantiated, is almost beyond dispute. The wondrous\ntales of heroism, built out of the deeds of martyrs and apostles\nand evangelists are not all foolish dreams. The \"Legends of the\nSaints\" are not, as the wiseacres of the day would lead us to\nbelieve, altogether idle words.\n{522}\nMen, who could traverse sea and land, without companions, without\naid, converting nations, building churches, founding hierarchies,\nsetting their faces ever farther on, looking for no human\nsympathy, having no mother-country, toiling for ever toward the\nmartyr's crown, were not the men to fabricate childish stories,\nfull of false visions and falser miracles. Nor were those who\nstood day by day on the brink of doom; who, in the morning, woke\nperhaps to meet the lions, perhaps the stake, but certainly the\nburden of the cross of Christ; who lay down at night without hope\nof day, the men to listen to wild tales of falsehood from some\ncunning tongue. Traditions of those early days were all too often\nwritten in blood. They come to us sealed with the lives of\nsaints. They have stood the test of ages of investigation. They\nremain, to-day, monuments, engraved in many languages, and on\nmany lands, asserting the achievements of our fathers, while\nmodern science adds to ancient story the corroboration of her\nundeniable deductions, and vindicates the traditions of Christian\nantiquity both from the sneers and the indifference of\nself-exalted men.\n\nIt is almost needless to remark, as the conclusion of this\nsketch, that modern missionaries, who would rival the success of\nSt. Thomas, can fairly expect it from no less exertion, no less\nsingleness of heart. Those who from this or other countries sally\nforth, with missionary societies behind them to supply their\nneeds, burdened with the double cares of family and church, with\nboards of directors at home, as well as consciences within, to\nsatisfy, with a support to some extent conditioned on their\napparent success, can scarcely be expected to compete with him\nwho, bidding farewell to home and friends, goes out alone,\nwifeless and childless, looking to God for everything, and\nseeking nothing but an endless crown. The history of missions\nproves, by indisputable statistics, which of these two methods is\neffective, which has borne with it the divine prestige of\nsuccess, and which remains, in spite of persecutions and\noppressions, vigorous and undismayed after the conflicts of\neighteen hundred years. If it were a simple question of policy,\nbetween the Catholic Church and her opponents, the event would\nindicate her wisdom. If it were one of precedent, she has the\nwhole apostolic college, and the missionaries of fifteen\ncenturies upon her side. But if the touchstone of the Master be\nstill reliable, and we may know his workmen by their fruits, then\ndoes this history of the great missionary church bear witness,\nthat not only her vocation but her operations are divine, and may\nassure her children, that, though heaven and earth should fail,\nno jot or tittle of her power or triumph can ever pass away. The\nthrone of Peter may be smitten by the thunderbolt of war; the\nhoary head of his successor may be bowed with grief; the triple\ncrown may once more be trampled under the feet of men; the\nfaithful may again be overwhelmed with fear; but, in the far\nwilderness, beyond the glittering deserts, across the frozen and\nthe burning seas, her sons are gathering strange nations to her\nbosom, over whom, in her coming days of victory and peace, she\nmay renew her joy.\n\nFor the same Lord who bade her go into the whole world and teach\nall his commandments gave, in the same breath, its people to her\nbaptism; and he who promised her the nations for her inheritance,\nand the uttermost parts of the earth for her possession, was the\nsame God who said to St. Peter, \"Super hanc petram aedificabo\necclesiam meam, et porta inferi non prevalebunt.\"\n\n-------\n\n{523}\n\n          Beethoven, His Boyhood.\n\n                  I.\n\nOne October afternoon, in 1784, a boat was coming down the Rhine\nclose to that point where the city of Bonn sits on its left\nshore. The company on board consisted of old and young persons of\nboth sexes, returning from an excursion of pleasure.\n\nThe company landed full of gayety and mirth, the young people\nwalking on before, while their seniors followed. They adjourned\nto a public garden, close on the river side, to finish the day of\nsocial enjoyment by partaking of a collation. Old and young were\nseated ere long around the stone table set under the large trees.\nThe crimson faded in the west, the moon poured her soft light\nglimmering through the leafy canopy above them, and was reflected\nin full beauty in the waters of the Rhine.\n\n\"Your boys are merry fellows,\" said a benevolent-looking old\ngentleman, addressing Herr van Beethoven, a tenor singer in the\nelectoral chapel, pointing at the same time to his two sons, lads\nof ten and fourteen years of age. \"But tell me, Beethoven, why\ndid you not bring Louis with you?\"\n\n\"Because,\" answered the person he addressed, \"Louis is a\nstubborn, dogged, stupid boy, whose troublesome behavior would\nonly spoil our mirth.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" returned the old gentleman, \"you are always finding fault\nwith the poor lad, and perhaps impose too hard tasks upon him. I\nam only surprised that he has not, ere this, broken loose from\nyour sharp control.\"\n\n\"My dear Simrock,\" replied Beethoven, laughing, \"I have a remedy\nat hand for his humors--my good Spanish cane, which, you see, is\nof the toughest. Louis is well acquainted with its excellent\nproperties, and stands in wholesome awe thereof. And trust me,\nneighbor, I know best what is for the boy's good. Carl and Johann\nare a comfort to me; they always obey me with alacrity and\naffection. Louis, on the other hand, has been bearish from his\ninfancy. As to his studies, music is the only thing he will\nlearn--I mean with good will; or, if he consents to apply himself\nto anything else, I must first knock it into him that it has\nsomething to do with music. _Then_ he will go to work; but\nit is his humor not to do it otherwise. If I give him a\ncommission to execute for me, the most arrant clodpoll could not\nbe more stupid about it.\"\n\nHere the conversation was interrupted, and the subject was not\nresumed. The hours flew lightly by. It struck nine, and the\nfestive company separated to return to their homes.\n\nCarl and Johann were in high glee as they went home. They sprang\nup the steps before their father, and pulled the door-bell. The\ndoor was opened, and a boy about twelve years old stood in the\nentry with a lamp in his hand. He was short and stout for his\nage, but a sickly paleness, more strongly marked by the contrast\nof his thick black hair, was observable on his face. His small,\ngray eyes were quick and restless in their movement, very\npiercing when he fixed them on any object, but softened by the\nshade of his long, dark lashes. His mouth was delicately formed,\nand the compression of the lips betrayed both pride and sorrow.\nIt was Louis Beethoven.\n\n{524}\n\nHe came to meet his parents, and bade them \"Good-evening.\"\n\nHis mother greeted him affectionately. His father said, while the\nboy busied himself fastening the door, \"Well, Louis, I hope you\nhave finished your task.\"\n\n\"I have, father.\"\n\n\"Very good; to-morrow I will look and see if you have earned your\nbreakfast.\" So saying, the elder Beethoven went into his chamber.\nHis wife followed him, after bidding her sons good night, Louis\nmore tenderly than any of them. Carl and Johann withdrew with\ntheir brother to their common sleeping apartment, entertaining\nhim with a description of their day of festivity. \"Now, Louis,\"\nsaid little Johann, as they finished their account, \"if you had\nnot been such a dunce, our father would have taken you along; but\nhe says he thinks that you will be little better than a dunce all\nthe days of your life, and self-willed and stubborn besides.\"\n\n\"Don't talk about that any more,\" answered Louis, \"but come to\nbed.\"\n\n\"Yes, you are always a sleepy-head!\" cried they both, laughing;\nbut in a few moments after getting into bed both were asleep and\nsnoring heartily.\n\nLouis took the lamp from the table, left the apartment softly,\nand went up-stairs to an attic chamber, where he was wont to\nretire when he wished to be out of the way of his teasing\nbrothers. He had fitted up the little room for himself as well as\nhis means permitted. A table with three legs, a leathern chair,\nthe bottom partly out, and an old piano which he had rescued from\nthe possession of the rats and mice, made up the furniture, and\nhere, in company with his beloved violin, he was accustomed to\npass his happiest hours.\n\nThe boy felt, young as he was, that he was not understood by one\nof his family, not even excepting his mother. She loved him\ntenderly, and always took his part when his father found fault\nwith him; but she never knew what was passing in his mind,\nbecause he never uttered it. But his genius was not long to be\nunappreciated.\n\nThe next morning a messenger came from the elector to Beethoven's\nhouse, bringing an order for him to repair immediately to the\npalace, and fetch with him his son Louis. The father was\nsurprised; not more so than the boy, whose heart beat with\nundefined apprehension as they entered the princely mansion. A\nservant was in waiting, and conducted them, without delay or\nfurther announcement, to the presence of the elector, who was\nattended by two gentlemen.\n\nThe elector received old Beethoven with great kindness, and said,\n\"We have heard much, recently, of the extraordinary musical\ntalent of your son Louis. Have you brought him along with you?\"\n\nBeethoven replied in the affirmative, stepped back to the door,\nand bade the boy come in.\n\n\"Come nearer, my little lad,\" cried the elector graciously; \"do\nnot be shy. This gentleman here is our new court organist, Herr\nNeefe; the other is the famous composer, Herr Yunker, from\nCologne. We promised them both they should hear you play\nsomething.\"\n\n{525}\n\nThe prince bade the boy take his seat and begin, while he sat\ndown in a large easy-chair. Louis went to the piano, and, without\nexamining the pile of notes that lay awaiting his selection,\nplayed a short piece, then a light and graceful melody, which he\nexecuted with such ease and spirit, nay, in so admirable a\nmanner, that his distinguished auditors could not forbear\nexpressing their surprise, and even his father was struck. When\nhe left off playing, the elector arose, came up to him, laid his\nhand on his head, and said encouragingly, \"Well done, my boy! we\nare pleased with you. Now, Master Yunker,\" turning to the\ngentleman on his right hand, \"what say you?\"\n\n\"Your highness,\" answered the composer, \"I will venture to say\nthe lad has had considerable practice with that last air to\nexecute it so well.\"\n\nLouis burst into a laugh at this remark. The others looked\nsurprised and grave. His father darted an angry glance at him,\nand the boy, conscious that he had done something wrong, became\ninstantly silent.\n\n\"And pray what were you laughing at, my little fellow?\" asked the\nelector.\n\nThe boy colored and looked down as he replied, \"Because Herr\nYunker thinks I have learned the air by heart, when it occurred\nto me but just now while I was playing.\"\n\n\"Then,\" returned the composer, \"if you really improvised that\npiece, you ought to go through at sight a motive I will give you\npresently.\"\n\nYunker wrote on a paper a difficult motive, and handed it to the\nboy. Louis read it over carefully, and immediately began to play\nit according to the rules of counterpoint. The composer listened\nattentively, his astonishment increasing at every turn in the\nmusic; and when at last it was finished, in a manner so spirited\nas to surpass his expectations, his eyes sparkled, and he looked\non the lad with keen interest, as the possessor of a genius\nrarely to be found.\n\n\"If he goes on in this way,\" said he in a low tone to the\nelector, \"I can assure your highness that a very great\ncontrapuntist may be made out of him.\"\n\nNeefe observed with a smile, \"I agree with the master; but it\nseems to me the boy's style inclines rather too much to the\ngloomy and melancholy.\"\n\n\"It is well,\" replied his highness, smiling; \"be it your care\nthat it does not become too much so. Herr van Beethoven,\" he\ncontinued, addressing the father, \"we take an interest in your\nson, and it is our pleasure that he complete the studies\ncommenced under your tuition, under that of Herr Neefe. He may\ncome and live with him after to-day. You are willing, Louis, to\ncome and live with this gentleman?\"\n\nThe boy's eyes were fixed on the ground; he raised them and\nglanced first at Neefe and then at his father. The offer was a\ntempting one; he would fare better and have more liberty in his\nnew abode. But there was his _father!_ whom he had always\nloved; who, in spite of his severity, had doubtless loved him,\nand who now stood looking upon him earnestly and sadly. He\nhesitated no longer, but, seizing Beethoven's hand and pressing\nit to his heart, he cried, \"No, no! I can not leave my father.\"\n\n\"You are a good and dutiful lad,\" said his highness. \"Well, I\nwill not ask you to leave your father, who must be very fond of\nyou. You shall live with him, and come and take your lessons of\nHerr Neefe; that is our will. Adieu! Herr van Beethoven.\"\n\nFrom this time Louis lived a new life. His father treated him no\nlonger with harshness, and even reproved his brothers when they\ntried to tease him. Carl and Johann grew shy of him, however,\nwhen they saw what a favorite he had become.\n{526}\nLouis found himself no longer restrained, but came and went as he\npleased; he took frequent excursions into the country, which he\nenjoyed with more than youthful pleasure, when the lessons were\nover. His worthy master was astonished at the rapid progress of\nhis pupil in his beloved art.\n\n\"But, Louis,\" said he one day, \"if you would become a great\nmusician, you must not neglect everything besides music. You must\nacquire foreign languages, particularly Latin, Italian, and\nFrench. Would you leave your name to posterity as a true artist,\nmake your own all that bears relation to your art.\"\n\nLouis promised, and kept his word. In the midst of his playing he\nwould leave off, however much it cost him, when the hour struck\nfor his lessons in the languages. So closely he applied himself,\nthat in a year's time he was tolerably well acquainted not only\nwith Latin, French, and Italian, but also with the English. His\nfather marvelled at his progress not a little; for years he had\nlabored in vain, with starvation and blows, to make the boy learn\nthe first principles of those languages. He had never, indeed,\ntaken the trouble to explain to him their use in the acquisition\nof the science of music.\n\nIn 1785, appeared Louis' first sonatas. They displayed uncommon\ntalent and gave promise that the youthful artist would, in\nfuture, accomplish something great, though scarcely yet could be\nfound in them a trace of that gigantic genius whose death forty\nyears afterward filled all Europe with sorrow.\n\n\"We were both mistaken in the lad,\" Simrock would say to old\nBeethoven. \"He abounds in wit and odd fancies, but I do not\naltogether like his mixing up in his music all sorts of strange\nconceits; the best way, to my notion, is a plain one. Let him\nfollow the great Mozart, step by step; after all, he is the only\none, and there is none to come up to him--none!\" And Louis'\nfather, who also idolized Mozart, always agreed with his neighbor\nin his judgment, and echoed, \"None!\"\n\n\n\nIt was a lovely summer afternoon about 1787; numerous boats with\nparties of pleasure on board were passing up and down the Rhine;\nnumerous companies of old and young were assembled under the\ntrees in the public gardens, or along the banks of the river,\nenjoying the scene and each other's conversation, or partaking of\nthe rural banquet.\n\nAt some distance from the city, a wood bordered the river; this\nwood was threaded by a small and sparkling stream, that flung\nitself over a ledge of rocks, and tumbled into the most romantic\nand quiet dell imaginable, for it was too narrow to be called a\nvalley. The trees overhung it so closely that at noonday this\nsweet nook was dark as twilight, and the profound silence was\nonly broken by the monotonous murmur of the stream.\n\nClose by the stream half sat, half reclined, a youth just\nemerging from childhood. In fact, he could hardly be called more\nthan a boy; for his frame showed but little development of\nstrength, and his regular features, combined with an excessive\npaleness, the result of confinement, gave the impression that he\nwas even of tender years. His eyes would alone have given him the\ncredit of uncommon beauty; they were large, dark, and so bright\nthat it seemed the effect of disease, especially in a face that\nrarely or never smiled.\n\n{527}\n\nA most unusual thing was a holiday for the melancholy lad. His\nwhole soul was given up to one passion--the love of music. Oh!\nhow precious to him were the moments of solitude. He had loved,\nfor this, even his poor garret room, meanly furnished, but rich\nin the possession of one or two musical instruments, whither he\nwould retire at night, when released from irksome labor, and\nspend hours of delight stolen from slumber. But to be alone with\nnature, in her grand woods, under the blue sky, with no human\nvoice to mar the infinite harmony--how did his heart pant for\nthis communion! His breast seemed to expand and fill with the\ngrandeur, the beauty, of all around him. The light breeze\nrustling in the leaves came to his ear laden with a thousand\nmelodies; the very grass and flowers under his feet had a\nlanguage for him. His spirits, long depressed and saddened,\nsprang into new life, and rejoiced with unutterable joy.\n\nThe hours wore on, a dusky shadow fell over foliage and stream,\nand the solitary lad rose to leave his chosen retreat. As he\nascended the narrow winding path, he was startled by hearing his\nown name; and presently a man, apparently middle-aged and dressed\nplainly, stood just in front of him. \"Come back, Louis,\" said the\nstranger, \"it is not so dark as it seems here; you have time\nenough this hour to return to the city.\" The stranger's voice had\na thrilling though melancholy sweetness; and Louis suffered him\nto take his hand and lead him back. They seated themselves in the\nshade beside the water.\n\n\"I have watched you for a long while,\" said the stranger.\n\n\"You might have done better,\" returned the lad, reddening at the\nthought of having been subjected to espionage.\n\n\"Peace, boy,\" said his companion; \"I love you, and have done all\nfor your good.\"\n\n\"You love me?\" repeated Louis, surprised. \"I have never met you\nbefore.\"\n\n\"Yet I know you well. Does that surprise you? I know your\nthoughts also. You love music better than aught else in the\nworld; but you despair of excellence because you cannot follow\nthe rules prescribed.\"\n\nLouis looked at the speaker with open eyes.\n\n\"Your masters also despair of you. The court-organist accuses you\nof conceit and obstinacy; your father reproaches you; and all\nyour acquaintance pronounce you a boy of tolerable abilities,\nspoiled by an ill disposition.\"\n\nThe lad sighed.\n\n\"The gloom of your condition increases your distaste to all\nstudies not directly connected with music, for you feel the need\nof her consolations. Your compositions, wild, melancholy as they\nare, embody your own feelings, and are understood by none of the\nconnoisseurs.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" cried Louis in deep emotion.\n\n\"No matter who I am. I come to give you a little advice, my boy.\nI compassionate, yet I revere you. I revere your heaven-imparted\ngenius. I commiserate the woes those very gifts must bring upon\nyou through life.\"\n\nThe boy lifted his eyes again; those of the speaker seemed so\nbright, yet withal so melancholy, that he was possessed of a\nstrange fear. \"I see you,\" continued the unknown solemnly,\n\"exalted above homage, but lonely and unblessed in your\nelevation. Yet the lot of such is fixed; and it is better,\nperhaps, that one should consume in the sacred fire than that the\nmany should lack illumination.\"\n\n\"I do not understand you,\" said Louis, wishing to put an end to\nthe interview.\n\n{528}\n\n\"That is not strange, since you do not understand yourself,\" said\nthe stranger. \"As for me, I pay homage to a future sovereign!\"\nand he suddenly snatched up the boy's hand and kissed it. Louis\nwas convinced of his insanity.\n\n\"A sovereign in art,\" continued the unknown. \"The sceptre that\nHaydn and Mozart have held shall pass without interregnum to your\nhands. When you are acknowledged in all Germany for the worthy\nsuccessor of these great masters--when all Europe wonders at the\nname of _Beethoven_--remember me.\n\n\"But you have much ground to pass over,\" resumed the stranger,\n\"ere you reach that glorious summit. Reject not the aid of\nscience, of literature; there are studies now disagreeable that\nstill may prove serious helps to you in the cultivation of music.\nContemn not _any_ learning: for art is a coy damsel, and\nwould have her votaries all accomplished! Above all--_trust\nyourself_. Whatever may happen, give no place to despondency.\nThey blame you for your disregard of rules; make for yourself\nhigher and vaster rules. You will not be appreciated here; but\nthere are other places in the world; in Vienna--\"\n\n\"Oh! if I could only go to Vienna,\" sighed the lad.\n\n\"You _shall_ go there, and remain,\" said the stranger; \"and\nthere too you shall see me, or hear from me. Adieu, now--_auf\nWiedersehen_.\" (\"To meet again.\")\n\nAnd before the boy could recover from his astonishment the\nstranger was gone. It was nearly dark, and he could see nothing\nof him as he walked through the wood. He could not, however,\nspend much time in search; for he dreaded the reproaches of his\nfather for having stayed out so late. All the way home he was\ntrying to remember where he had seen the unknown, whose features,\nthough he could not say to whom they belonged, were not\nunfamiliar to him. It occurred to him at last, that while playing\nbefore the elector one day a countenance similar in benevolent\nexpression had looked upon him from the circle surrounding the\nsovereign. But known or unknown, the \"auf Wiedersehen\" of his\nlate companion rang in his ears, while the friendly counsel sank\ndeep in his heart.\n\nTraversing rapidly the streets of Bonn, young Beethoven was soon\nat his own door. An unusual bustle within attracted his\nattention. To his eager questions the servants replied that their\nmaster was dying. Shocked to hear of his danger, Louis flew to\nhis apartment. His brothers were there, also his mother, weeping;\nand the physician supported his father, who seemed in great pain.\n\n\nLouis clasped his father's cold hand, and pressed it to his lips,\nbut could not speak for tears.\n\n\"God's blessing be upon you, my son!\" said his parent. \"Promise\nme that throughout life you will never forsake your brothers. I\nknow they have not loved you as they ought; that is partly my\nfault; promise me, that whatever may happen you will continue to\nregard and cherish them.\"\n\n\"I will--I will, dear father!\" cried Louis, sobbing. Beethoven\npressed his hand in token of satisfaction. The same night he\nexpired. The grief of Louis was unbounded.\n\nIt was a bitter thing thus to lose a parent just as the ties of\nnature were strengthened by mutual appreciation and confidence;\nbut it was necessary that he should rouse himself to minister\nsupport and comfort to his suffering mother.\n\n        To Be Continued.\n\n-------\n\n{529}\n\n        Lecky On Morals. [Footnote 155]\n\n    [Footnote 155: _History of European Morals, from Augustus\n    to Charlemagne_. By William Edward Hartpoole Lecky, M.A.\n    London: Longmans, Green & Co. 1869. 2 vols. 8vo.]\n\n\nMr. Lecky divides his work into five chapters. The first chapter\nis preliminary, and discusses \"the nature and foundations of\nmorals,\" its obligation and motives; the second treats of the\nmorals of the pagan empire; the third gives the author's view of\nthe causes of the conversion of Rome and the triumph of\nChristianity in the empire; the fourth the progress and\ndeterioration of European morals from Constantine to Charlemagne;\nand the fifth the changes effected from time to time in the\nposition of women. The author does not confine himself strictly\nwithin the period named, but, in order to make his account\nintelligible, gives us the history of what preceded and what has\nfollowed it; so that his book gives one, from his point of view,\nthe philosophy and the entire history of European morals from the\nearliest times down to the present.\n\nThe subject of this work is one of great importance in the\ngeneral history of the race, and of deep interest to all who are\nnot incapable of serious and sustained thought. Mr. Lecky is a\nman of some ability, of considerable first or second hand\nlearning, and has evidently devoted both time and study to his\nsubject. His style is clear, animated, vigorous, and dignified;\nbut his work lacks condensation and true perspective. He dwells\ntoo long on points comparatively unimportant, and repeats the\nsame things over and over again, and brings proofs after proofs\nto establish what is mere commonplace to the scholar, till he\nbecomes not a little tedious. He seems to write under the\nimpression that the public he is addressing knows nothing of his\nsubject, and is slow of understanding. He evidently supposes that\nhe is writing something very important, and quite new to the\nwhole reading world. Yet we have found nothing new in his work,\neither in substance or in presentation, nothing--not even an\nerror or a sophism--that had not been said, and as well said, a\nhundred times before him; we cannot discover a single new fact,\nor a single new view of a fact, that can throw any additional\nlight on European morals in any period of European history. Yet\nwe may say Mr. Lecky, though not an original or a profound\nthinker, is above the average of English Protestant writers, and\ncompiles with passable taste, skill, and judgment.\n\nWe know little of the author, except as the author of the book\nbefore us, and of a previous work, on _Rationalism in\nEurope_, and we have no vehement desire to know anything more\nof him. He belongs, with some shades of difference, to a class\nrepresented, in England, by Buckle, J. Stuart Mill, Frank Newman,\nand James Martineau; and of which the _Westminster Review_\nis the organ; in France, by M. Vacherot, Jules Simon, and Ernest\nRenan; and, in this country, by Professor Draper, of this city,\nand a host of inferior writers. They are not Christians, and yet\nwould not like to be called anti-Christians; they are judges, not\nadvocates, and, seated on the high judicial bench, they\npronounce, as they flatter themselves, an impartial and final\njudgment on all moral, religious, and philosophical codes, and\nassign to each its part of good, and its part of evil.\n{530}\nThey aim to hold an even balance between the church and the\nsects, between Christian morals and pagan morals, and between the\nseveral pagan religions and the Christian religion, all of which\nthey look upon as dead and gone, except with the ignorant, the\nstupid, and the superstitious. Of this class Mr. Lecky is a\ndistinguished member, though less brilliant as a writer than\nRenan, and less pleasing as well as less scientific than our own\nDraper.\n\nThe writers of this class do not profess to break with Christian\ncivilization, or to reject religion or morals, but strive to\nassert a morality without God, and a Christianity without Christ.\nThey deny in words neither God nor Christ, but they find no use\nfor either. They deny neither the possibility nor the fact of the\nsupernatural, but find no need of it and no place for it. They\nconcede providence, but resolve it into a fixed natural law, and\nare what we would call naturalists, if naturalism had not\nreceived so many diverse meanings. In their own estimation, they\nare not philosophers, moralists, or divines, but really gods, who\nknow, of themselves, good and evil, right and wrong, truth and\nerror, and whose prerogative it is to judge all men and ages, all\nmoralities, philosophies, and religions, by the infallible\nstandard which each one of them is, or has in himself. They are\nthe fulfilment of the promise of Satan to our mother Eve, \"Ye\nshall be as gods.\"\n\nMr. Lecky, in his preliminary chapter, on the nature and\nfoundation of morals, refutes even ably and conclusively the\nutilitarian school of morals, and defends what he calls the\n\"intuitive\" school. He contends that it is impossible to found\nmorals on the conception of the useful, or on fears of punishment\nand hopes of reward; and argues well, after Henry More, Cudworth,\nClark, and Butler, that all morality involves the idea of\nobligation, and is based on the intuition of right or duty; or,\nin other words, on the principle of human nature called\nconscience. But this, after all, is no solution of the problem\nraised. There is, certainly, a great difference between doing a\nthing because it is useful, and doing it because it is right; but\nthere is a still greater difference between the intuitive\nperception of right and the obligation to do it. The perception\nor intuition of an act as obligatory, or as duty, but is not that\nwhich makes it duty or obligatory. The obligation is objective,\nthe perception is subjective. The perception or intuition\napprehends the obligation, but is not it, and does not impose it.\nThe intuitive moralists are better than the utilitarians, in the\nrespect that they assert a right and a wrong independent of the\nfact that it is useful, or injurious, to the actor. But they are\nequally far from asserting the real foundation of morals;\nbecause, though they assert intuition or immediate perception of\nduty, they do not assert or set forth the ground of duty or\nobligation. Duty is debt, is an obligation; but whence the debt?\nwhence the obligation? We do not ask why the duty obliges, for\nthe assertion of an act as duty is its assertion as obligatory;\nbut why does the right oblige? or, in other words, why am I bound\nto do right? or any one thing rather than another?\n\nMr. Lecky labors hard to find the ground of the obligation in\nsome principle or law of human nature, which he calls conscience.\nBut conscience is the recognition of the obligation, and the\nmind's own judgment of what is or is not obligatory; it is not\nthe obligation nor its creator.\n{531}\nThis mistake proceeds from his attempt to found morals on human\nnature as supreme law-giver, and is common to all moralists who\nseek to erect a system of morals independent of theology. Dr.\nWard, in his work on _Nature and Grace_, commits the same\nmistake in his effort to find a solid foundation in nature of\nduty, without rising to the Creator. All these moralists really\nhold, as true, the falsehood told by Satan to our first parents,\n\"Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil;\" that is, in order\nto know good or evil ye shall not need to look beyond your own\nnature, nor to recognize yourselves as subject to, or dependent\non, any authority above or distinct from it. It is the one\nfundamental error that meets us in all Gentile philosophy, and\nall modern philosophy and science, speculative, ethical, or\npolitical, that holds itself independent of God. The schoolmen\nunderstood by morals, when the term means duty, or anything more\nthan manners and customs, what is called Moral Theology, or the\npractical application of speculative and dogmatic theology to the\noffices of life, individual, domestic, and social or political.\nNatural morality meant that portion of man's whole duty which is\nprescribed by the natural law and promulgated by reason, as\ndistinguished from revelation. They based all morals on the great\nprinciple of theology, and therefore they called theology the\nqueen of the sciences. We have made no advance on them.\n\nIn morals, three things--first, the obligation; second, the\nregula or rule; third, the end--are essential, and must be\ncarefully distinguished. Why am I bound to do one thing rather\nthan another? that is, why am I bound at all? What am I bound to\ndo, or to avoid? For what end? These three questions are\nfundamental and exhaustive. The intuitionists hold that all\nmorals involve the idea or conception of duty; but they omit to\npresent the reason or ground of duty or obligation, and therefore\nerect their moral fabric without any foundation, and make it a\nmere castle in the air. They confound conscience with obligation,\nand the rule or law with the reason or motive for observing it.\nSuppose we find in human nature the rule or law; we cannot find\nin it either the obligation or the motive, for the simple reason\nthat human nature is not independent, is not sufficient for\nitself, does not belong to itself, and has in itself neither its\norigin nor its end, neither its first nor its final cause. The\nrule--_regula_--is the law, and the law prescribes what is\nto be done and what is to be avoided; but it does not create the\nobligation nor furnish the motive of obedience. Mr. Lecky himself\nmaintains that it does not, and is very severe upon those who\nmake an arbitrary law the ground of moral distinctions, or the\nreason of duty. The law does not make the right or the wrong. The\nact is not right because commanded, nor wrong because prohibited;\nbut it is commanded because it is right, and prohibited because\nit is wrong. Whence then the obligation? or, what is it that\ntransforms the right into duty? This is the question that the\nindependent or non-theological moralists, no matter of what\nschool, do not and cannot answer.\n\nThere is no answer, unless we give up the godship of man, give\nSatan the lie, and understand that man is a dependent existence;\nfor an independent being cannot be bound or placed under the\nobligation of duty, either by his own act or by the act of\nanother. If man is dependent, he is created, and, if created, he\nbelongs to his Creator; for the maker has a sovereign right to\nthat which he makes.\n{532}\nIt is his act, and nothing is or can be more one's own, than\none's own act. Man, then, does not own himself; he owes himself,\nall he is, and all he has, to his Creator. As it has pleased his\nCreator to make him a free moral agent, capable of acting from\nchoice, and with reference to a moral end, he is bound to give\nhimself, by his own free will, to God to whom he belongs; for his\nfree will, his free choice, belongs to God, is his due; and the\nprinciple of justice requires us to give to every one his due, or\nwhat is his own.\n\nHere, then, in man's relation to God as his creator, is the\nground of his duty or obligation. It grows out of the divine\ncreative act. Deny the being of God, deny the creative act, deny\nman is the creature of God, and you deny all obligation, all\nduty, and therefore, according to Mr. Lecky's own doctrine, all\nmorals.\n\nThe irrational cannot morally bind the rational. All men are\nequal, and no man, no body of men has, or can have, a natural\nright to bind or govern another. Only the Creator obliges, as the\nowner of the creature; and if I owe myself, all I am and all I\nhave, to God, I owe nothing to another in his own right, and only\nGod has any right over me, or to me. Here is at once the basis of\nobligation and of liberty, and the condemnation of all tyranny\nand despotism. From this, it clearly follows that every system of\nmorals that rests on nature, the state, or any thing created, as\nits foundation, is not and of itself cannot be obligatory upon\nany one, and that without God as our creator, and whose we are,\nthere is and can be no moral obligation or duty whatever.\nPantheism, which denies the creative act, and atheism, which\ndenies God, both alike deny morals by denying its basis or\nfoundation. Either is fatal to morals, for obligation is only the\ncorrelative of the right to command. Having found the ground of\nobligation, and shown why we are morally bound, the next thing to\nbe considered is the rule by which is determined what we are\nbound to do, and what we are bound to avoid. Mr. Lecky makes this\nrule conscience, which, though he labors to prove that it is\nuniform and infallible in all ages and nations, and all men, he\nyet concedes varies in its determinations as to what is or is not\nduty according to the circumstances of the age or nation, the\nideal or standard adopted, public opinion, etc. That is,\nconscience assures us that we ought always to do right, but\nleaves us to find out, the best way we can, what is or is not\nright. Conscience, then, cannot be itself the rule; it is a\nwitness within us of our obligation to obey God, and the judgment\nwhich we pass on our acts, usually, in practice, on our acts\nafter they are done, is at best only our judgment of what the\nrule or law is, not the rule or law itself. The rule or\n_regula_ is not conscience, but the light of conscience,\nthat by which it determines what is or is not duty; it is the law\nwhich, according to St. Thomas, is \"quaedam est regula et mensura\nactuum, secundum quam inducitur ad agendum, vel ab agendo\nretrahitur;\" [Footnote 156] or, in the sense we here use the\nterm, the rule, or measure of duty prescribing what is to be\ndone, and what avoided.\n\n    [Footnote 156: _Summa_ primae secundae, quest. xc. art.\n    I. incorp.]\n\nIt is, as St. Thomas also says, an _ordinatio rationis_, and\nas an ordination of reason, it can be only the rule or measure of\nwhat is obligatory to be done or to be avoided. It defines and\ndeclares what is or is not duty, it does not and cannot make the\nduty, or create the obligation. The author and his school\noverlook the fact that reason is perceptive, not legislative.\n{533}\nThey confound the obligation with the rule that measures and\ndetermines it, and assume that it is the reason that creates the\nduty. They are psychologists, not philosophers, and see nothing\nbehind or above human reason, man's highest and distinguishing\nfaculty. Certainly without reason man could not either perform,\nor be bound to perform, a single moral act; and yet it is not the\nreason that binds him; and if he is bound to follow reason, as he\nundoubtedly is, it is only because reason tells him what is\nobligatory, and enables him to do it.\n\nSince only God can bind morally, only God can impose the law\nwhich measures, defines, or discloses what independent of the law\nis obligatory. The rule of duty, of right and wrong, is therefore\nthe law of God. The law of God is promulgated in part through\nnatural reason, and in part through supernatural revelation. The\nformer is called the natural law, _lex naturalis;_ the\nlatter, the revealed law, or the supernatural law. But both are\nintegral parts of one and the same law, and each has its reason\nin one and the same order of things, emanates from one and the\nsame authority, for one and the same ultimate end. There are, no\ndoubt, in the supernatural law, positive injunctions, and\nprohibitions, which are not contained in the natural law, though\nnot repugnant thereto; but these have their reason and motive in\nthe end, which in all cases determines the law. All human laws,\necclesiastical or civil, derive all their vigor as laws from the\nlaw of God, and all the positive injunctions and prohibitions of\neither are, in their nature, disciplinary, or means to the end,\nin which is the reason or motive of the law. Hence there is, and\ncan be, nothing arbitrary in duty. Nothing is or can be imposed,\nunder either the natural law or the supernatural law, in either\nchurch or state, in religion or morals, that does not immediately\nor mediately grow out of our relation to God as our creator, and\nas our last end or final cause. As a Christian I am bound to obey\nthe supreme Pastor of the church, not as a man commanding in his\nown name, or by his own authority, but as the vicar of Christ,\nwho has commissioned him to teach, discipline, and govern me. As\na citizen I am bound to obey all the laws of my country not\nrepugnant to the law or the rights of God, but only because the\nstate has, in secular matters, authority from God to govern. In\neither case the obedience is due only to God, and he only is\nobeyed. It is his authority and his alone that binds me, and\nneither church nor state can bind me beyond or except by reason\nof its authority derived from him.\n\nThe law is the rule, and is prescribed by the end, in which is\nthe reason or motive of duty. The law is not the reason or motive\nof duty, nor is it the ground of the obligation. It is simply the\nrule, and tells us what God commands, not whence his right to\ncommand, nor wherefore he commands. His right to command rests on\nthe fact that he is the Creator. But why does he command such and\nsuch things, or prescribe such and such duties? We do not answer,\nbecause such is his will; though that would be true as we\nunderstand it. For such answer would be understood by this\nuntheological age, which forgets that the divine will is the will\nof infinite reason, to imply that duties are arbitrary, rest on\nmere will, and that there is no reason why God should prescribe\none thing as duty rather than another. What the law of God\ndeclares to be duty is duty because it is necessary to accomplish\nthe purpose of our existence, or the end for which we are\ncreated. Everything that even God can enjoin as duty has its\nreason or motive in that purpose or end. The end, then,\nprescribes, or is the reason of, the law.\n\n{534}\n\nThe end for which God creates us is himself, who is our final\ncause no less than our first cause. God acts always as infinite\nreason, and cannot therefore create without creating for some\nend; and as he is self-sufficing and the adequate object of his\nown activity, there is and can be no end but himself. All things\nare not only created by him but for him. This is equally a truth\nof philosophy and of revelation, and even those theologians who\ntalk of natural beatitude, are obliged to make it consist in the\npossession of God, at least, as the author of nature. Hence, St.\nPaul, the greatest philosopher that ever wrote, as well as an\ninspired apostle, says, Rom. xi. 36, \"Of him, and by him, and in\nhim are all things;\" or, \"in him and _for_ him they\nsubsist,\" as Archbishop Kenrick explains in a note to the\npassage. The motive or reason of the law is in the end, or in God\nas final cause. The motive or reason for keeping or fulfilling\nthe law is, then, that we may gain the end for which we are made,\nor, union with God as our final cause. This is all clear, plain,\nand undeniable, and hence we conclude that morals, in the strict\nsense of the word, cannot be asserted unless we assert God as our\ncreator and as our last end.\n\nMr. Lecky and his school do not, then, attain to the true\nphilosophy of morals, for they recognize no final cause, either\nof man or his act; and yet there is no moral act that is not done\nfreely _propter finem_, for the sake of the end. We do not\nsay that all acts not so done are vicious or sinful, nor do we\npretend that no acts are moral that are not done with a distinct\nand deliberate reference to God as our last end. The man who\nrelieves suffering because he cannot endure the pain of seeing\nit, performs a good deed, though an act of very imperfect virtue.\nWe act also from habit, and when the habit has been formed by\nacts done for the sake of the end, or by infused grace, the acts\ndone from the habit of the soul without an explicit reference to\nthe end are moral, virtuous, in the true sense of either term;\nnor do we exclude those Gentiles who, not having the law, do the\nthings of the law, of whom St. Paul speaks, Rom. ii. 14-16.\n\nMr. Lecky overlooks the end, and presents no reason or motive for\nperforming our duty, distinguishable from the duty itself. He\nadopts the philosophy of the Porch, except that he thinks it did\nnot make enough of the emotional side of our nature, that is, was\nnot sufficiently sentimental. The Stoics held that we must do\nright for the sake of right alone, or because it is right. They\nrejected all consideration of personal advantage, of general\nutility, the honor of the gods, future life, heaven or hell, or\nthe happiness of mankind. They admitted the obligation to serve\nthe commonwealth and to do good to all men, but because it was\nright. The good of the state or of the race was duty, but not the\nreason or motive of the duty. The professedly disinterested\nmorality on which our author, after them, so earnestly insists,\nclosely analyzed, will be found to be as selfish as that of the\nGarden, or that of Paley and Bentham. The Epicurean makes\npleasure, that is, the gratification of the senses, the motive of\nvirtue; the Stoic makes the motive the gratification of his\nintellectual nature, or rather his pride, which is as much a\nman's self as what the apostle calls concupiscence, or the flesh.\n{535}\nIntellectual selfishness, in which the Stoics abounded, is even\nmore repugnant to the virtue of the actor than the sensual\nselfishness of the votary of pleasure. We care not what fine\nwords the Stoic had on his lips, no system of pagan morals was\nfurther removed from real disinterested virtue than that of the\nPorch.\n\nMr. Lecky denounces the morality of the church as selfish, and\nsays the selfish system triumphed with Bossuet over F\u00e9n\u00e9lon; but\nhappily for us he is not competent to speak of the morals\nenjoined by the church. He does not understand the question which\nwas at issue, and entirely misapprehends the matter for which\nF\u00e9n\u00e9lon was censured by the Holy See. The doctrine of F\u00e9n\u00e9lon, as\nhe himself explained and defended it, was never condemned, nor\nwas that of Bossuet, which, on several points, was very unsound,\never approved. Several passages of F\u00e9n\u00e9lon's _Maxims of the\nSaints_ were censured as favoring quietism, already condemned\nin the condemnation of Molinos and his adherents--a doctrine\nwhich F\u00e9n\u00e9lon never held, and which he sought in his\n_Maxims_ to avoid without running into the contrary extreme,\nbut, the Holy See judged, unsuccessfully. His thought was\northodox, but the language he used could be understood in a\nquietistic sense; and it was his language, not his doctrine, that\nwas condemned.\n\nThe error favored by F\u00e9n\u00e9lon's language, though against his\nintention, was that it is possible in this life to rise and\nremain habitually in such a state of charity, or pure love of God\nfor his own sake, of such perfect union with him, that in it the\nsoul no longer hopes or fears, ceases to make acts of virtue, and\nbecomes indifferent to its own salvation or damnation, whether it\ngains heaven or loses it. The church did not condemn the love of\nGod for his own sake, nor _acts_ of perfect charity, for so\nmuch is possible and required of all Christians. The church\nrequires us to make acts of love, as well as of faith and hope,\nand the act of love is: \"O my God! I love thee above all things,\nwith my whole heart and soul, because thou art infinitely amiable\nand deserving of all love; I love also my neighbor as myself for\nthe love of thee; I forgive all who have injured me, and ask\npardon of all whom I have injured.\" Here is no taint of\nselfishness, but an act of pure love. Yet though we can and ought\nto make distinct acts of perfect charity, it is a grave error to\nsuppose that the soul can in this life sustain herself,\nhabitually, in a state of pure love, that she ever attains to a\nstate on earth in which acts of virtue cease to be necessary, in\nwhich she ceases from pure love to be actively virtuous, and\nbecomes indifferent to her own fate, to her own salvation or\ndamnation, to heaven or hell--an error akin to that of the\nHopkinsians, that in order to be saved one must be willing to be\ndamned. As long as we live, acts of virtue, of faith, hope, and\ncharity, are necessary; and to be indifferent to heaven or hell,\nis to be indifferent whether we please God or offend him, whether\nwe are united to him or alienated from him.\n\nIt is a great mistake to represent the doctrine the church\nopposed to quietism or to F\u00e9n\u00e9lon as the selfish theory of\nmorals. To act from simple fear of suffering or simple hope of\nhappiness, or to labor solely to escape the one and secure the\nother, is, of course, selfish, and is not approved by the church,\nwho brands such fear as servile, and such hope as mercenary,\nbecause in neither is the motive drawn from the end, which is\nGod, as our supreme good.\n{536}\nWhat the church bids us fear is alienation from God, and the\nhappiness she bids us seek is happiness in God, because God is\nthe end for which we are made. Thus, to the question, \"Why did\nGod make you?\" the catechism answers, \"That I might know him,\nlove him, and serve him in this world, and be happy _with\nhim_ for ever in the next.\" _With him_, not without him.\nThe fear the church approves is the fear of hell, not because it\nis a place of suffering, and the fear of God she inculcates is\nnot the fear of him because he can send us to hell, but because\nhell is alienation from God, is offensive to him: and therefore\nthe fear is really fear of offending God, and being separated\nfrom him. The hope of happiness she approves is the hope of\nheaven, not simply because heaven is happiness, but because it is\nunion with God, or the possession of God as our last end, which\nis our supreme good.\n\nHere neither the fear of hell nor the hope of heaven is selfish;\nfor in each the motive is drawn from the end, from God who is our\nsupreme good. It therefore implies charity or the love of God.\nAnd herein is its moral value. It may not be perfectly\ndisinterested, or perfect charity, which is the love of God for\nhis own sake, or because he is the supreme good in himself; but\nto love him as our supreme good, and to seek our good in him and\nhim only, is still to love him, and to draw from him the motive\nof our acts. The church enjoins this reference to God in which,\nwhile she recognizes faith and hope as virtues in this life, she\nenjoins charity, without which the actor is nothing.\n\nIf Mr. Lecky had known the principle of Catholic morals, and\nunderstood the motives to virtue which the church urges, he would\nnever have accused her of approving the selfish theory, which\nproposes in no sense God, but always and everywhere self, as the\nend. He will allow us no motive to virtue but the right; that is,\nin his theory, duty has no reason or motive but itself. No doubt\nhis conception of right includes benevolence, the love of\nmankind, and steady, persevering efforts to serve our country and\nthe human race; but he can assign no reason or motive why one\nshould do so without falling either into the selfishness or the\nutilitarianism which he professes to reject. The sentimental\ntheory which he seems to adopt cannot help him, for none of our\nsentiments are disinterested; all the sentiments pertain to self,\nand seek always their own gratification. This is as true of those\ncalled the higher, nobler sentiments as of the lower and baser,\nand, in point of fact, sentimentalists, philanthropists, and\nhumanitarians are usually the most selfish, cruel, heartless, and\nleast moral people in society. Men who act from sentimental\ninstead of rational motives are never trustworthy, and are, in\ngeneral, to be avoided.\n\nMr. Lecky maintains that right is to be done solely because it is\nright, without any considerations of its particular or general\nutility, or regard to consequences. But he shrinks from this, and\nappeals to utility when hard pressed, and argues that\nconsiderations of advantage to society or to mankind, or a\npeculiar combination of circumstances, may sometimes justify us\nin deviating from the right--that is, in doing wrong. He contends\nthat it may be our duty to sacrifice the higher principles of our\nnature to the lower, and appears shocked at Dr. Newman's\nassertion that \"the church holds that it were better for sun and\nmoon to drop from heaven, for the earth to fail, and for all the\nmany millions of its inhabitants to die of starvation in extreme\nagony, _so far as temporal affliction goes_, than that one\nsoul, I will not say should be lost, but should commit one venial\nsin, tell one wilful untruth, though it harmed no one, or steal\none poor farthing, without excuse.\"\n{537}\nThis is too rigid for Mr. Lecky. He places duty in always acting\nfrom the higher principles of our nature; but thinks there may be\ncases when it is our duty to sacrifice them to the lower! He\nsupposes, then, that there is something more obligatory than\nright, or that renders right obligatory when obligatory it is.\n\nBut this doctrine of doing right for the sake of the right is\nutterly untenable. Right is not an abstraction, for there are no\nabstractions in nature, and abstractions are simple nullities. It\nmust be either being or relation. If taken as a relation, it can\nbe no motive, no end, because relation is real only in the\nrelated. If being, then it is God, who only is being. Your\nfriends, the Stoics, placed it above the divinity, and taught us\nin Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius that it binds under one and the\nsame law both God and man. But an abstraction which is formed by\nthe mind operating on the concrete can bind no one, for it is in\nitself simply nothing. The weaker cannot bind the stronger, the\ninferior the superior, or that which is not that which is. But\nthere is no being stronger than God or above him; for he is, in\nevery respect, supreme. Nothing can bind him, and right must\neither be identified with him or held to grow out of the\nrelations of his creatures to himself. In the first case, right\nis God, or God is right; and the obligation to do right is only\nthe obligation to do what God commands. Right, as being, cannot\nexist distinct from God, and can bind men only in the sense in\nwhich God himself binds them. Their sovereign, in such case, is\nGod, who, by his creative act, is their lord and proprietor. But\nright and God are not identical, and, consequently, right is not\nbeing, but a relation. What binds is not the right or the\nrelation, but he who, by his creative act, founds the relation.\nRejecting, then, right as an abstraction, we must understand by\nthe right what under this relation it is the duty of the creature\nto do. Right and duty are then the same. Ask what is man's duty;\nthe answer is, what is right. Ask what is right, and the answer\nis, whatever is duty.\n\nBut right does not make itself right, nor duty itself duty. Here\nis the defect of all purely rationalistic morals, and of every\nsystem of morals that is not based, we say not on revelation, but\non theology, or the creative act of God. Right and duty are\nidentical, we grant; but neither can create its own obligation,\nor be its own reason or motive. To say of an act, it is duty\nbecause it is right, or it is right because it is duty, is to\nreason, as the logicians say, in a _vicious_ circle, or to\nanswer _idem per idem_, which is not allowable by any logic\nwe are acquainted with. We must, then, if we assert morals at\nall, come back to theology, and find the ground of obligation or\nduty--which is simply the right or authority of God to command\nus--in our relation to God, as our creator or first cause, and\nthe reason or motive in our relation to him as our last end or\nfinal cause.\n\nNo doubt the reason why the rationalistic moralists in modern\ntimes are reluctant to admit this is, because they very\nerroneously suppose that it means that the basis of morals is to\nbe found only in supernatural revelation, and is not\nascertainable or provable by reason. But this is a mistake,\ngrowing out of another mistake; namely, that the creative act is\na truth of revelation only, and not a truth of science or\nphilosophy. The creative act is a fact of science, the basis,\nrather, of all science, as of all life in creatures, and must be\nrecognized and held before revelation can be logically asserted.\n{538}\nThat God is, and is our creator, our first cause, and our final\ncause, are truths that do not depend on revelation to be known;\nand the theological basis of morals which we assert, in\nopposition to the rationalistic moralists, is within the province\nof reason or philosophy. But the rationalists, in seeking to\nescape revelation, lose God, and are forced to assert a morality\nthat is independent of him, and does not suppose or need him in\norder to be obligatory. They are obliged, therefore, to seek a\nbasis of morals in nature, which in its own right has no\nlegislative authority; for nature is the creature of God, and is\nnothing without him.\n\nThe intuition of right, obligation, duty, which, according to our\nauthor, is the fundamental principle of morals, is only, he\nhimself maintains, the immediate apprehension of a principle or\nlaw of human nature, or of our higher nature, from which we are\nto act, instead of acting from our lower nature; but our higher\nnature is still nature, and no more legislative than our lower\nnature. Nature being always equal to nature, nothing is more\ncertain than that nature cannot bind nature or place it under\nobligation.\n\nBesides, when the author places the obligation in nature, whether\nthe higher or the lower, he confounds moral law with physical\nlaw, and mistakes law in the sense in which it proceeds from God\nas first cause for law in the sense in which it proceeds from God\nas final cause. The physical laws, the natural laws of the\nphysiologists, are in nature, constitutive of it,\nindistinguishable from it, and are what God creates: the moral\nlaw is independent of nature, over it, and declares the end for\nwhich nature exists, and from which, if moral nature, it must\nact. It is supernatural in the sense that God is supernatural,\nand natural only in the sense that it is promulgated through\nnatural reason independently of supernatural revelation. Natural\nreason asserts the moral law, but asserts it as a law _for_\nnature, not a law in nature. By confounding it with physical\nlaws, and placing it in nature as the law of natural activity,\nthe author denies all moral distinction between it and the law by\nwhich the liver secretes bile, or the blood circulates. He holds,\ntherefore, with Waldo Emerson that gravitation and purity of\nheart are identical, and, with our old transcendentalist friends,\nthat the rule of duty is expressed in the maxims, Obey thyself;\nAct out thyself; Follow thy instincts. No doubt they meant, as\nour author means, the higher instincts, the nobler self, the\nhigher nature. But the law recognized and asserted is no more the\nmoral law than is the physical law by which the rain falls, the\nwinds blow, the sun shines, the flowers bloom, or the earth\nrevolves on its axis. Physical laws there are, no doubt, in human\nnature; but the theologians tell us that an act done from them is\nnot an _actus humanus_, but an _actus hominis_, which\nhas no moral character, and, whatever its tendency, is neither\nvirtuous nor vicious.\n\nMr. Lecky, as nearly all modern philosophers, denies God as final\ncause, if not as first cause. The moral law has its reason and\nmotive in him as our final cause, and this is the difference\nbetween it and physical law. The pagan Greeks denied both first\ncause and final cause, for they knew nothing of creation; but\nbeing a finely organized race and living in a country of great\nnatural beauty, they confounded the moral with the beautiful, as\nsome moderns confound art with religion. The author so far agrees\nwith them, at least, as to place duty in the beauty and nobility\nof the act, or in acts proceeding from the beauty and nobility of\nour nature--what he calls our higher nature.\n{539}\nWe do not quarrel with Plato when he defines beauty to be the\nsplendor of the divinity, and therefore that all good, noble, and\nvirtuous acts are beautiful, and that whoever performs them has a\nbeautiful soul. But there is a wide difference between the\nbeautiful and the moral, though the Greeks expressed both by the\nsame term; and art, whose mission it is to realize the beautiful,\nhas of itself no moral character; it lends itself as readily to\nvice as to virtue, and the most artistic ages are very far from\nbeing the most moral or religious ages. The mistake is in\noverlooking the fact that every virtuous or moral act must be\ndone _propter finem_, and that the law, the reason, the\nmotive of duty depends on the end for which man was made and\nexists.\n\nBut the author and his school have not learned that all things\nproceed from God by way of creation, and return to him without\nabsorption in him as their last end. Morals are all in the order\nof this return, and are therefore teleological. Not knowing this,\nand rejecting this movement of return, they are forced to seek\nthe basis of morals in man's nature in the order of its\nprocession from God, where it is not. The intuition they assert\nwould be something, indeed, if it were the intuition of a\nprinciple or law not included in man's nature, but on which his\nnature depends, and to which it is bound, by the right of God\nfounded in his creative act, to subordinate its acts. But by the\nintuition of right, which they assert, they do not mean anything\nreally objective and independent of our nature, which the mind\nreally apprehends. On their system they can mean by it only a\nmental conception, that is, an abstraction. We indeed find men\nwho, as theologians, understand and defend the true and real\nbasis of morals, but who, as philosophers, seeking to defend what\nthey call natural morality, only reproduce substantially the\nerrors of the Gentiles. This is no less true of the intuitive\nschool, than of the selfish, the sentimental, or the utilitarian.\nCudworth founds his moral system in the innate idea of right, in\nwhich he is followed by Dr. Price; Samuel Clarke gives, as the\nbasis of morals, the idea of the fitness of things; Wollaston\nfinds it in conformity to truth; Butler, in the idea or sense of\nduty; Jouffroy, in the idea of order; Fourier, in passional\nharmony--only another name for Jouffroy's order. But these all,\nsince they exclude all intuition of the end or final cause, build\non a mental conception, or a psychological abstraction, taken as\nreal. The right, the fitness, the duty, the order they assert are\nonly abstractions, and they see it not.\n\nIt is the hardest thing in the world to convince philosophers\nthat the real is real, and the unreal is unreal, and therefore\nnothing. Abstractions are firmed by the mind, and are nothing out\nof the concrete from which they are generalized. A system of\nphilosophy, speculative or moral, built on abstractions or\nabstract conceptions of the true, the right, the just, or duty,\nhas no real foundation, and no more solidity than \"the baseless\nfabric of a vision.\" Yet we cannot make the philosophers see it,\nand every day we hear people, whose language they have corrupted,\ntalk of \"abstract principles,\" \"abstract right,\" \"abstract\njustice,\" \"abstract duty,\" \"abstract philosophy,\" \"abstract\nscience;\" all of which are \"airy nothings,\" to which not even the\npoet can give \"a local habitation and a name.\" The philosophers\nwho authorize such expressions are very severe on sensists and\nutilitarians; yet they really hold that all non-sensible\nprinciples and causes, and all ideas not  derived from the\nsenses, are abstractions, and that the sciences which treat of\nthem are abstract sciences.\n{540}\nKnow they not that this is precisely what the sensists themselves\ndo? If the whole non-sensible order is an abstraction, only the\nsensible is real, or exists _a parte rei_, and there is no\nintelligible reality distinct from the sensible world. All\nheathen philosophy ends in one and the same error, which can be\ncorrected only by understanding that the non-sensible is not an\nabstraction, but real being, that is God, or the real relation\nbetween God and his acts or creatures. But to do this requires\nour philosophers to cast out from their minds the old leaven of\nheathenism which they have retained, to recognize the creative\nact of God, and to find in theology the basis of both science and\nmorals.\n\nMr. Lecky proves himself, in the work before us, as in his\nprevious work, an unmitigated rationalist, and rationalism is\nonly heathenism revived. He himself proves it. He then can be\nexpected to write the history of European morals only from a\nheathen point of view, and his judgments of both heathen and\nChristian morals will be, in spite of himself, only those of a\nrespectable pagan philosopher and in the latter period of pagan\nempire, and attached to the moral philosophy of the Porch. He is\nrather tolerant than otherwise of Christianity, in some respects\neven approves it, lauds it for some doctrines and influences\nwhich it pleases him to ascribe to it, and to which it has no\nclaim; but judges it from a stand-point far above that of the\nfathers, and from a purely pagan point of view, as we may take\noccasion hereafter to show, principally from his account of the\nconversion of Rome, and the triumph of the Christian religion in\nthe Roman empire.\n\nBut we have taken up so much space in discussing the nature and\nfoundation of morals, to which the author devotes his preliminary\nchapter, that we have no room for any further discussion at\npresent. What we have said, however, will suffice, we think, to\nprove that rationalism is as faulty in morals as in religion, to\nvindicate the church from the charge of teaching a selfish\nmorality, and to prove that the only solid basis of morals is in\ntheology.\n\n----------\n\n              Faith.\n\n      Faith is no weakly flower,\n  By sudden blight, or heat, or stormy shower\n      To perish in an hour.\n\n      But rich in hidden worth,\n  A plant of grace, though striking root in earth,\n      It boasts a hardy birth:\n\n      Still from its native skies\n  Draws energy which common shocks defies,\n      And lives where nature dies!\n\n\n   Oratory, Birmington.          E. Caswall.\n\n-------\n\n{541}\n\n\n       Religion Emblemed In Flowers.\n\n\n  \"Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous,\n     God hath written in the stars above;\n   But not less in the bright flowerets under us\n     Stands the revelation of his love.\n   And with childlike, credulous affection\n     We behold their tender buds expand--\n   Emblems of our own great resurrection,\n     Emblems of the bright and better land.\"\n\n\nOf all the poetic and suggestive traditions that linger with us\nfrom the early ages--those ages when art revived through\nreligion, and symbolized the truths of eternity by the creation\nand application of such esthetics which, under the dominion of\nheathendom, had been perverted to purely sensual enjoyment--of\nall these traditions, then, we find few more beautiful in their\nvarious types, more elevating in their idealization, or which\nform a stronger connecting link between the soul's aspirations\nand our material enjoyment, than those frailest children of the\nbeautiful that belong to the floral kingdom. Coeval with the\ncreation, the solace, companions, and delight of our first\nparents, they shared the punishment, likewise, of man's\ntransgression, in the flood; but when the waters subsided, they\nwere the chosen symbols to announce to Noah the cessation of\nomnipotent vengeance, and the first to greet the weary wanderers,\nas their feet again touched the earth; raising their lowly heads\nfrom around the tree-roots, and through the rocky fissures, as\nemblems of the life immortal that springs from decay.\n\nAmong those which seem to be the chosen ones, as most expressive\nof religious sentiment, both in the Old and New Testament as well\nas in early legendary lore, are the rose, the lily, the olive,\nand the palm.\n\nTo each of these has been given a significance, from the earliest\ntimes, that has made them cherished with our households and\nassociated with our faith. Although the rose was perverted by the\nheathen into a type of sensual love and luxury, yet, through the\nmarvellous beauty and variety of its creation, it was reclaimed\nby the Christian poets, to be the attendant of the pure and holy,\nwherever an ornament was needed to paint a moral victory, or\nglorify decay.\n\nThat this flower was largely cultivated by the Jews, and used in\ntheir religious festivals as an ornament, is made clear by the\nfrequent use we find of it, as a simile in the Bible. Solomon, in\nhis song, compares the church to the \"rose of Sharon and lily of\nthe valley.\" Again, in the book of Wisdom, we see their\nappreciation in the admonition, \"Let us crown ourselves with\nrosebuds ere they be withered.\" Also, in Ecclesiasticus, occurs\nthis metaphor, \"I was exalted like a palm-tree in Engaddi, and as\na rose-plant in Jericho.\" Again, \"Hearken to me, ye holy\nchildren, and bud forth as roses growing by the brook.\"\n\nIt was a belief among the Jews, according to Zoroaster, says\nHowitt, \"that every flower is appropriated to a particular angel,\nand that the hundred-leaf rose is consecrated to an archangel of\nthe highest order.\" The same author relates, that the Persian\nfire-worshippers believe that Abraham was thrown into a furnace\nby Nimrod, and the flames forthwith turned into a bed of roses.\n\n{542}\n\nIn contradistinction to this in sentiment is the belief of the\nTurk, who holds that this lovely flower springs from the\nperspiration of Mohammed, and, in accordance with this creed,\nthey never tread upon it or suffer one to lie upon the ground.\n\nI think it was Solon who held the theory that the rose and the\nwoman were created at the same time, and in consequence thereof,\nthere sprang up a contest among the gods, as to which should be\nawarded the palm of superior beauty. Certainly there may yet be\ntraced a close resemblance between these native queens, not only\nin the matter of beauty, but also in the variety and fragility\nfor which the rose, above all others, is distinguished.\nEverywhere has God planted this exquisite work of his hand. In\nthe bleak polar regions, where the days of sunshine are so short,\nand so few, there is seen among the first breathings of the\nsummer zephyrs the \"_Rosa rapa_,\" its slender stem covered\nwith pale double flowers, lifting its head to greet those\nice-bound prisoners as they issue from the stifling air of their\nwinter huts. Degraded as are that people in their tastes, the\nmagic of these silent messengers from God is so forcible, that\nthey greet them with a poet's joy, and deck their heads and rough\nsealskin clothing with their tender blossoms. Even to the\nbroken-hearted Siberian exile, there come a few short days in his\nlife when these frail comforters rise from the frozen earth to\ngreet him, like messengers from his lost home and friends. ... It\nis not to be wondered, then, with all the associations of Eden\never clinging about these eloquent voices, that the early\nChristians transferred their ornamental and suggestive beauties\nfrom the saturnalian rites of heathendom to the honor of God and\nhis saints. Hence it is, that, in so many of the beautiful\nlegends that have come down to us, we find these frail memorials\nso often associated as types of some noble deed accomplished, or\nthe given reward of some heavy human sacrifice. To those who look\nupon these legends as myths, or simply religious fairy tales, we\ncan only say, with Mrs. Jameson, that we most sincerely pity all\nsuch sceptics from our heart; for, where they outstrip the bounds\nof even miraculous probability, there may yet be found in their\npages both entertainment and instruction. And after all, why\nshould not religion have her fairyland, as well as material life?\nWhy should not the soul enjoy the privilege of an occasional\ntransport into a world of poetical visions, as well as the\nimagination, which finds in the fairy-dreams of childhood only a\ndim vista of annual blooms, upon which the breath of heaven can\nnever blow? Weary with the turmoil of life, with the noise and\nwhirl of the shifting scenes that open continuously upon a vista\nof pain, and sorrow, and unrealized hopes, such legends recall to\nthe soul auroral gleams of childhood's purity, and transport her\ninto fields that are redolent with the flowers of that eternal\nland where earthly woes can never come. In this Dodona grove, the\nsoul hallows the heart; the impossible becomes the real; and as\nall the aspirations for the higher life possess it, the skies\nseem to open, we catch a flutter of the angels' robes, the\nperfume of the flowers of paradise, and a glimmer even of the\ngolden gates shoots radiantly across the uplifted, tear-dimmed\neye; and we feel, for these few moments at least, that God and\nheaven are very nigh, ay! even in our heart of hearts.\n{543}\nWhat matters it, then, if it be not all truth, since it serves\nthe purpose, and for the time being decks the soul in regal\nsplendor, and makes the unattainable and dim worth the longest\ntoil and hardest battle that the short span of human life can\ncompass? In those early ages, when the heathen idols were\ntottering on their thrones, and the voice of Pan had died out in\na mighty wail at the sound of a feeble infant's cry--in those\ndawning Christian days there was felt the need of mental food of\na nourishing and elevating kind for the masses. Heretofore, they\nhad been kept occupied by public games, periodical saturnalian\nrevels, gladiatorial combats, and other heathen abominations, in\norder to allow the philosopher to pursue his subtle theories in\nquiet, and the wheels of government to run smoothly on. As years\nand numbers, however, increased the Christian fold, and the first\nfervor began to abate under the influence of human passions and\nthe need of life's varieties, it became evident that some food\nwas necessary to meet the hunger of the craving mind. The time\nand thoughts of the philosophers and theologians were too deeply\nengrossed with the abstruse problems of the day--the esoteric and\nexoteric--to give other time beyond that of the soul's immediate\nrequirements to the ignorant. Hence it was, that, as human blood\nwas poured out like water, in libations to the true God, when\nbeauty and innocence, rank and lowliness, wealth and poverty,\nfound a common centre wherein to pray and suffer--hence it was,\nthat the religious, poetic heart of the people idealized and\nbeatified these deeds of heroic sanctity; and the church, while\nstriving to repress extravagance, yet welcomed and fostered a\ntaste which she saw, in her mighty wisdom, would be productive of\nelevating thought and emulative example. \"And it is a mistake,\"\nsays Mrs. Jameson, \"to suppose that these legends had their sole\norigin in the brains of dreaming monks. The wildest of them had\nsome basis of truth to rest on, and the forms which they\ngradually assumed were but the necessary results of the age which\nproduced them. They became the intense expression of that inner\nlife which revolted against the desolation and emptiness of the\noutward existence; of those crushed and outraged sympathies which\ncried aloud for rest, and refuge, and solace, and could nowhere\nfind them.\" Mrs. Jameson disclaims any idea of treating these\nlegends save in their poetic and artistic aspect. But as religion\nis the root from whence all have their source, so it is\ninsensibly transmuted throughout the whole work. And how could\nshe do otherwise, Protestant though she was? For the great trunk,\nthe massive column, around which all these delicate fibres of\npoesy cling, is religion. Without such support, they would fall,\nand be trailed in the dust, and long, long ere this, their\nephemeral life would have been crushed out, as were the oracular\nvoices of the marble gods.\n\nThis literature, then, \"became one in which peace was represented\nas better than war, and sufferance more dignified than\nresistance; which exhibited poverty and toil as honorable, and\ncharity as the first of virtues; which held up to imitation and\nemulation self-sacrifice in the cause of good, and contempt of\ndeath for conscience' sake--a literature in which the tenderness,\nthe chastity, the heroism of woman, played a conspicuous part;\nwhich distinctly protested against slavery, against violence,\nagainst impurity in word and deed; which refreshed the fevered\nand darkened spirit with images of moral beauty and truth,\nrevealed bright glimpses of a better land, where the wicked cease\nfrom troubling, and brought down the angels of God with shining\nwings, and bearing crowns of glory, to do battle with the demons\nof darkness, to catch the fleeting soul of the triumphant martyr,\nand carry it at once into a paradise of eternal blessedness and\npeace.\" [Footnote 157]\n\n    [Footnote 157: Mrs. Jameson's _Legendary Art_.]\n\n{544}\n\nUnder the influence, then, of these new inspirations, art\nlikewise revived, and the brush and the chisel lent the aid of\ntheir immortal touch to give force and perpetuity to these\ncreations; and birds, and flowers, and the elements were\nintroduced as types or allegories of the subjects thus\ninterpreted. Each one possessed a significance and symbolism that\nunited the soul to the eternal source of these gifts, and kept\nalive in the common heart those principles which the people could\nadmire if not emulate. The rapidity with which artists multiplied\nat this period belongs to the marvelous. God needed artisans for\nhis work, and truly the old masters seemed, judging from their\ndeeds and spirit, to have risen, like Adam, from the clay\nmoulding of the almighty hand. Possessed by a sense of the lofty\nnature of their calling, they not only strove for perfection in\ndetail, but also for a religious spirit, which should so inspire\nthe work as to move every heart to piety, and embody for\ninstruction the full force of the solemn truths therein\nportrayed. They emerged from the impure influences of the old\nreligion and literature, like the chrysalis, into the golden-hued\nglory that shone in the lives of the ancient patriarchs and\nprophets; in the auroral beams that hung like sea-foam over the\nangels as they walked or talked as God's messengers on earth,\nuntil, bathed in a glory borrowed from the very smile of the\nCreator, they saw the divine Son descend like the morning star,\nand dwell upon earth among men.\n\nIn all their work a confession of faith lay embodied; and feeling\nthemselves called to this vocation, hearing the voice and seeing\nin the enthusiasm of their fervor the burning bush, they purified\nthemselves by prayer, and fasting, and long meditation upon the\nsubject that was to grow into life under the glowing tints of the\nbrush or the magic stroke of the chisel. This mystical spirit so\nelevated and ennobled the soul-work of those grand old masters\nthat faults in mechanical execution and anachronisms in details\nare, even to this day, overlooked, for the sake of that _con\namore_ zeal which pervades the vital treatment of their\nsubjects. Fra Angelico, a Dominican monk, devoted his art life\nexclusively to the religious mysticism of his subjects. \"Whenever\nhe painted Christ upon the cross,\" says Jarves, \"the tears would\nroll down his cheeks as if he were an actual eyewitness of his\nSaviour's agony. There is a celestial glow in all his beatified\nfaces that seem to radiate from his own soul.\" Lippo Dalmasio, an\nearly painter of Bologna, was also noted for his piety in art.\n\n  \"He never painted the holy Virgin without fasting the previous\n  evening, and receiving absolution and the bread of angels in\n  the morning after; and, finally, never consented to paint for\n  hire, but only as a means of devotion.\" [Footnote 158]\n\n    [Footnote 158: Lord Lindsay's _Christian Art_.]\n\nAdd to these, Luini, of Milan; Francia, of Bologna; Gentile and\nJohn Bellini, of Venice; Fra Bartolomeo, the Florentine monk, and\nfriend of Savonarola; Perugino, and finally, Raphael--and we have\nthe list of those who led the vanguard in the perpetuity of those\nheaven-toned idealizations that yet greet the eye with their\nbeauty and animate the heart with emotions of grateful homage.\n\n{545}\n\n  \"Such art has left us, and can never again be revived until\n  artists believe and pray as did those men of old; until they\n  can see and feel as they did at all hours, amid their\n  rejoicings or as they slept, holy personages, saints, and\n  virgins, apostles and evangelists, martyrs, and the symbolized\n  faith for which they died. Virtues, and not graces; angels, and\n  not muses; types of spiritual truths, and not expressions of\n  sensuous beauty or lustful passion--these were their daily\n  intellectual food. Amid all things--in church, shop, or\n  bedroom; on the roadside and by the palace; at every street\n  corner, and over every threshold--were the figures of the\n  Redeemer and his holy mother to direct their thoughts still\n  higher heavenward. Religion, at all events, in its external\n  form, and as _believed_, was confessed by all men and in\n  all places. Youth were taught to rely on spiritual powers for\n  their earthly support and sole sustenance. Charity, faith, the\n  due subjection of the body to the development of its perfect\n  strength, humanity, the succor of the oppressed, the relief of\n  the unfortunate, _devoir_, duty to all men--such were the\n  doctrines of chivalry in the middle ages.\" [Footnote 159]\n\n    [Footnote 159: _Art Hints_, by Jarves.]\n\nApart from the palm and olive, we find no mention in the New\nTestament of flowers, save that exquisite simile of the lilies,\nmade by our Saviour himself; and there can be found no other\ninstance wherein such an illustration is rendered with more\nbeautiful pathos and force. That he appreciated these frail\nemblems is not only made apparent in this, but is further proved\nby his choice of the calm repose and soothing influence of these\nsilent sympathizers on Gethsemane's night of woe. No human\ncompanionship, no human eye or voice, could aid him then, in that\nfearful contest of humanity over divinity, as did nature's\nvoiceless comforters--the flowers that were bent down by the\nweight of their tears, the great shifting sky above, with the\neloquent calm of its silver stars, through which floated clear\nand luminous the angel comforters. Our Saviour proved in all the\nsuffering episodes of his life that lovely groves, and dim\nfunereal forests speak more forcibly to a heart in pain than do\nthe wilder and grander convulsions of nature.\n\n  \"It is in quiet and subdued passages of unobtrusive majesty,\n  the deep, the calm, and the perpetual; that which must be\n  sought ere it can be seen, and loved ere it is understood;\n  things which the angels work out for us daily, and yet vary\n  eternally; which are never wanting, and never repeated; which\n  are to be found always, yet each found but once--it is through\n  these that her lesson of devotion is chiefly taught and the\n  blessing of beauty given.\" [Footnote 160]\n\n    [Footnote 160: Ruskin's _Modern Painters_. ]\n\nNowhere have these beautiful accessories in life's pilgrimage\nbeen more glowingly and successfully used, not only as an\nabstract religious emblem, but as a divine allegorical poem, than\nin the representations of the life and attributes of the blessed\nVirgin. To this type of all that was pure and noble in woman; to\nthe humanity which was a link in the chain of divinity, a\npartaker of all human woes, and yet the chosen of the Godhead--to\nher were specially dedicated those early labors in revived art,\nand of which she was the inspiration. Herein, as elsewhere, we\nfind the historical, mystical, and devotional treated with every\nconceivable adjunct that can typify a being so elevated and\nbenign. The beauty and variety of the rose, the purity and\nfragrance of the lily, were devoted to her special honor,\nwherever her name was venerated and loved. Even before it was\nsafe for the early Christians to make an open profession of\nfaith, they expressed their devotion to the mother conjointly\nwith the Son, in the darkness and solitude of the catacombs.\n{546}\nTherein it was, that the first Christian artist dared give life\nto his heart's belief; and therein it was, that her image with\nthat of her divine Son and the apostles were impressed upon the\nwalls and sarcophagi of that grand subterranean temple.\n\nAs the Annunciation was the door through which all future\nblessings flowed, so it became a most fruitful theme to the faith\nand imagination of those great religious artists whose work was a\nlabor of love; and we find it treated from the fifth to the\nsixteenth century by Byzantine, Italian, Spanish, and German art\nwith a variety, beauty, and significance that only an enshrined\nsaint could inspire. In the earliest representations of this\nsubject, the angel appeared holding a sceptre, but this mark of\nauthority gradually gave way to the more symbolic lily. This was\nintroduced universally, either held in the hand of the angel as\nhe salutes her, or seen growing in a pot placed in some part of\nthe room. Others again, represent an enclosed garden, upon which\nthe Blessed Virgin is looking from a window. In all, from the\ncrudest to the most finished, some floral adjunct gives beauty\nand significance to the subject. The Assumption--that fitting\nclimacteric of a life whence sprung the Eternal Word--was\nlikewise a theme of devotional and sublimated art-worship, which\ngathered pathos and beauty from the belief that her body was\nworthy the care of the seraphim and cherubim, who transported it\nwith angelic harmonies into the home of her glorified Son. Here,\ntoo, we find, according to the legend, her floral emblems\nspringing up in the tomb from whence her incorruptible body had\njust been raised.\n\nIn an Annibale Carracci, the apostles are seen below, one of whom\nis lifting, with an astonished air, a handful of roses out of the\nsepulchre. In another, by Rubens, one of the women exhibits the\nmiraculous flowers held up in the folds of her dress. Dominico di\nBartolo, who painted in 1430, (according to Mrs. Jameson,) omits\nthe open tomb, but clothes the holy mother in a white robe\nembroidered with golden flowers.\n\nFrom the time of the Nestorian heresy, when the title of _Dei\ngenitrix_ was denied the Blessed Virgin, her votaries became\neven more zealous to corroborate her right to the title and\nprivileges of mother of the man-God; and under the influence of\nthis test of devotion and faith sprang those multitudinous\nrepresentations of the woman glorified, as the enthroned Madonna.\nFrom thence the descent was natural and gradual to those\ncharacteristics which distinguished her life in its daily\nministrations to her divine Son; and so touchingly natural, so\nbeautiful in their tenderness, are many of these more human\nportraitures, that the coldest heart cannot withhold its homage,\nthough it may its devotion. Even Mrs. Jameson, herself a\nProtestant, says, \"We look, and the heart is in heaven; and it is\ndifficult to refrain from an _Ora pro nobis_.\" In a large\nnumber of these inspirations of faith and love, we meet the\nvarious floral emblems that typify her beauty and purity. Some of\nthe earliest representations are found in many of the old Gothic\ncathedrals, executed in sculpture. She is therein portrayed in a\nstanding position, bearing the child on her left arm, while in\nthe right hand she holds a flower, or sometimes a sceptre. In a\nholy family in the academy of Venice, by Bonifazio, \"The virgin\nis seated in glory, with her infant on her knee, and encircled by\ncherubim. On one side an angel approaches with a basket of\nflowers on his head, and she is in the act of taking these\nflowers and scattering them on the saints who stand below.\"\n\n{547}\n\nThe Arcadian and pastoral life, with which many of the Italian\nartists environ the mother and child, is certainly both poetical\nand natural. Mrs. Jameson gives many instances of this treatment;\namong them, one by Philippino Lippi, which is a beautiful idea.\n\"Here,\" she says, \"the mystical garden is formed of a balustrade,\nbeyond which is seen a hedge, all in blush with roses. The virgin\nkneels in the midst and adores her infant; an angel scatters rose\nleaves over him, while the little St. John also kneels, and four\nangels, in attitudes of devotion, complete the group.\" \"But a\nmore perfect example,\" continues the same author, \"is the Madonna\nof Francia in the Munich gallery, where the divine infant lies on\nthe flowery turf, and the mother standing before him, and looking\ndown on him, seems on the point of sinking on her knees in a\ntransport of tenderness and devotion. With all the simplicity of\nthe treatment, it is strictly devotional. The mother and her\nchild are placed within the mystical garden enclosed in a\n_treillage_ of roses, alone with each other, and apart from\nall earthly associations, all earthly communions.\"\n\nThose who are familiar with the Raphael series of Madonnas will\nrecall, in this connection, his exquisite pastoral _La\nJardini\u00e8re_. There is also one similarly entitled by a French\nartist, though differently treated. The virgin is enthroned on\nclouds, and holds the infant, whose feet rest on a globe. Both\nmother and child are crowned with roses; and on each side, as if\nrising from the clouds, are vases filled with roses and lilies.\nTitian has also left many beautiful and some exaggerated works of\nthe Arcadian school. There is an old Coptic tradition which is\nvery beautiful, and bears somewhat on this subject of nature's\naid in glorifying these two lives. Near the site of the ancient\nHeliopolis, there still stands a very pretty garden, in which\n(runs the tradition) the holy family rested in their flight into\nEgypt. Feeling oppressed with thirst, a spring of fresh water\ngushed at their feet, and on being pursued into their retreat by\nrobbers, a sycamore-tree opened, and hid them from sight. \"The\nspring still exists,\" says a recent traveller, \"and the tree yet\nstands, and bears such unmistakable marks of antiquity as to make\nthis tradition and faith of the present generation of Coptics at\nleast plausible.\" But these floral emblematical tributes are as\ninexhaustible as are the sentiments of love, homage, and tender\npity that fill the heart from the contemplation of the _Mater\nDei Genitrix_ down to the appealing anguish of the\n_Dolorosa_. \"Thus in highest heaven, yet not out of sight of\nearth; in beatitude past utterance; in blessed fruition of all\nthat faith creates and love desires; amid angel hymns and starry\nglories,\" we will leave enthroned the \"blessed amongst women,\"\nand turn to other legends, wherein the saints who followed her\nstand crowned with flowers celestial, awaiting a share of our\npraise and veneration.\n\n\n             Part Second.\n\nIn Thuringia, one of the provinces of Germany, the traveller is\nattracted by a species of rose that is universally cultivated by\nthe poorest peasant, as well as the richest land-owner. When the\nquestion as to its origin is asked, the answer invariably is,\n\"Oh! that is the rose of the dear St. Elizabeth, our former\nqueen; and was grown from one of the sprigs given to her by the\nangels.\"\n{548}\nOne might as well try to turn the faith of these simple people\nfrom their belief in the sanctity of her life as from the truth\nof the miraculous roses. According to Montalembert and others,\nthus runs the substance of the legend. Elizabeth loved the poor,\nand was specially devoted to relieving their necessities,\nfrequently carrying with her own hands goods of various kinds, to\ndistribute among them. At one season, there was a great scarcity\nof crops throughout the land, and caution and economy in the use\nof the royal stores had been advised even in the palace.\nElizabeth could not bear to know of unrelieved suffering among\nher people; so, by close economy in her own wants, she managed to\nfurnish food for many others. On one occasion, a very pressing\ncase of necessity reached her; and not wishing to encourage her\nservants in disobedience to the general command, she started\nalone on her errand of mercy, with some lighter articles of food\nconcealed in the folds of her dress. Just as she reached the back\nsteps of the chateau, however, she met her husband, with several\ngentlemen, returning from the chase. Astonished to see his wife\nalone, and thus burdened, he asked her to show him what she was\ncarrying; but as she held her dress in terror to her breast, he\ngently disengaged her hands, and behold! \"It was filled with\nwhite and red roses, the most beautiful he ever saw.\"\n\nWandering in thought over these scenes wherein the air is\nredolent with their fragrance, the form of the young and lovely\nDorothea, with the radiant boy-angel at her side, rises in\ndiaphonous light before the vision. We see her as she stands\nconfronting her heathen judge Fabricius, who longs to possess her\ncharms; and to his command, \"Thou must serve our gods or die.\"\nshe mildly answers, \"Be it so; the sooner shall I stand in the\npresence of _Him_ I most desire to behold.\" Then the\ngovernor asked her, \"Whom meanest thou?\" She replied, \"I mean the\nSon of God, Christ, mine espoused. His dwelling is in paradise;\nby his side are joys eternal, and in his garden grow celestial\nfruits, and roses that never fade.\" And resisting all\ntemptations, all entreaties, she went forth to torture and to\ndeath. \"And as she went,\" (continues the legend,) \"a young man, a\nlawyer of the city, named Theophilus, who had been present when\nshe was first brought before the governor, called to her\nmockingly, 'Ha! fair maiden, goest thou to join thy bridegroom?\nSend me, I pray thee, of the fruits and flowers of that same\ngarden of which thou hast spoken. I would fain taste of them!'\nAnd Dorothea, looking on him, inclined her head with a gentle\nsmile, and said, 'Thy request, O Theophilus! is granted.' Where\nat he laughed aloud with his companions; but she went on\ncheerfully to death. When she came to the place of execution, she\nknelt down and prayed; and suddenly at her side stood a bright\nand beautiful boy, with hair bright as sunbeams. In his hands, he\nheld a basket containing three apples and three fresh-gathered\nfragrant roses. She said to-him, 'Carry these to Theophilus; say\nthat Dorothea hath sent them, and that I go before him to the\ngarden whence they came, and await him there.' With those words,\nshe bent her neck, and received the stroke of death. Meantime,\nthe angel went to seek Theophilus, and found him still laughing\nin merry mood over the idea of the promised gift. The angel\nplaced before him the basket of celestial fruit and flowers,\nsaying, 'Dorothea sends thee these,' and vanished.\"\n{549}\nAmazement filled the mind of Theophilus, and the taste of the\nfruit and fragrance of the roses pervaded his soul with a new\nlife, the scales of darkness fell, and he proclaimed himself a\nservant of the same Lord that had won the heart of the gentle\nmaiden. Carlo Dolci, Rubens, and Van Eyck have given the most\npoetical illustrations of this subject. Many other artists have\nalso treated it, but more coldly.\n\nWith the name of St. Cecilia arise visions of angels poised in\nmid-air, enthralled by seraphic music, which, through the power\nof its voluminous sweetness, has pierced even the gates of\nheaven. But the flowers of paradise, as well as its celestial\nharmonies, are also associated with the name of this beautiful\nvirgin--flowers that were sent to her bridal-chamber, as a reward\nfor her angelic purity and the eloquence which had moved her\nyoung heathen husband to respect her vow of chastity. Returning\nfrom the instructions of St. Urban, to whom she had sent him, he\nheard the most enchanting music, and on reaching his wife's\nchamber he \"beheld an angel, who was standing near her, and who\nheld in his hands two crowns of roses gathered in paradise,\nimmortal in their freshness and perfume, but invisible to the\neyes of unbelievers. With these he encircled the brows of Cecilia\nand Valerian; and he said to Valerian, \"Because thou hast\nfollowed the chaste counsel of thy wife, and hast believed her\nwords, ask what thou wilt, it shall be granted thee.\"\n\nI stood, early one morning late in the month of June, looking\nsadly upon the dead, white, upturned face of one who had seemed\nto walk, while on earth, more with angels than with men. A\nmystery of sadness had enveloped her life, but, like the cloud in\nthe wilderness, it proved a power that drew her in the footprints\nof the \"Man of sorrows.\" As I meditated upon the calm\netherealized beauty that now absorbed the old earthly pain, and\nwondered what this secret of a heart-life could have been, her\nmother entered with tear-dimmed eyes, and placed upon her brow of\nauburn hair, through which glinted here and there a streak of\ngray--\"dawn of another life that broke o'er her earthly\nhorizon\"--in her hands, and over the white fleecy robes, crowns\nand sprays of mingled crimson and white roses, all glistening\nwith the morning dew.\n\n\"Red roses for the dead!\" I exclaimed in surprise. \"White alone\ncan surely typify such a life and death as hers.\"\n\n\"So you think, my friend, because you with others saw only the\noutward calm that marked her way. But I--I who loved her so, knew\nand saw the thorn-crown that pressed her brow, and the hard\nstones and barbs that strewed every step of her way through\nlife--I place them then here, because she loved them, and because\nthey express, in conjunction with their sister's whiteness, the\nsorrow and purity of the angelic life now closed to pain and open\nonly to joy.\n\n  \"Well done of God, to halve the lot,\n     And give her all the sweetness;\n   To us, the empty room and cot;\n     To her, the heaven's completeness.\n   For her to gladden in God's view;\n     For us to hope and bear on.\n   Grow, Lily, in thy garden new\n     Beside the rose of Sharon.\"\n\nI turned away sadly, marvelling upon the mystery of this life now\nclosed so happily, and involuntarily arose to my mind the\nexquisite legend of the sultan's daughter.\n\n{550}\n\n             I.\n\n  \"Early in the morning,\n   The sultan's daughter\n   Walked in her father's garden,\n   Gathering the bright flowers,\n   All full of dew.\n   And as she gathered them,\n   She wondered more and more\n   Who was the master of the flowers,\n   And made them grow\n   Out of the cold, dark earth.\n   In my heart,' she said,\n       'I love him; and for him\n   Would leave my father's palace\n   To labor in his garden.'\n\n             II.\n\n  \"And at midnight\n   As she lay upon her bed,\n   She heard a voice\n   Call to her from the garden,\n   And, looking forth from her window,\n   She saw a beautiful youth\n   Standing among the flowers;\n   And she went down to him,\n   And opened the door for him;\n   And he said to her,'O maiden!\n   Thou hast thought of me with love,\n   And for thy sake\n   Out of my father's kingdom\n   Have I come hither.\n       I am the master of the flowers;\n   My garden is in paradise,\n   And if thou wilt go with me,\n   Thy bridal garland\n   Shall be of bright red flowers.'\n   And then he took from his finger\n   A golden ring,\n   And asked the sultan's daughter\n   If she would be his bride.\n   And when she answered him with love,\n   His wounds began to bleed,\n   And she said to him,\n   'O Love! how red thy heart is,\n   And thy hands are full of roses.'\n   'For thy sake,' answered he,\n   'For thy sake is my heart so red,\n   For thee I bring these roses.\n   I gathered them at the cross\n   Whereon I died for thee!\n   Come, for my father calls,\n   Thou art my celestial bride!'\n   And the sultan's daughter\n   Followed him to his father's garden.\" [Footnote 161]\n\n    [Footnote 161: _Golden Legend_, by Longfellow.]\n\nThroughout all the early church legends, we find whatever is pure\nand beautiful in sentiment and exalted in art carefully\ncherished, and constantly presented to the contemplation of the\nvotary in some glowing form that could act as a counterpoise to\nthe corrupting influence of heathen passions and pursuits.\n\nWhen the holy mother stood on Calvary, her heart steeped in agony\nunutterable, not the least cause of her anguish was to see the\nwaste of those precious drops of blood as they bedewed the hard\ninsensible ground. But behold! as she gazes, and her tears fall,\ndelicate bell-shaped crimson blossoms spring up, and absorb the\nhuman dew; and thus, through these frail beautifiers of suffering\nand consolers of grief, the heart of the mother was comforted,\nand the soul is drawn to look upward, away from the agonizing\nignominy of the cross to the beatified glory to which he is\ntranslated at the price of so much woe.\n\nThus also, in the horrid details of the early martyrdoms, we\nconstantly meet these compensating, suggestive metaphors of the\nglory won. The painful agony of the downward crucifixion of St.\nPeter, the waste of blood from that congested head, springs into\na fountain of clear gurgling water, from which flows healing for\nall suffering flesh that seek its miraculous aid. As St. Grata\nbears the decapitated head of her friend St. Alexander to the\ntomb, lo! flowers spring up as the blood falls, and are gathered\nby the mourners to deck his grave.\n\nAmong the little band that followed Mother Seton more than fifty\nyears ago, in her divine mission of self-abnegation and Christian\nlove, was a delicate young woman whose life had been spent in\nease, amid the devoted love and admiration of a large family\ncircle. Dreamy and poetical by nature, her talent, then rare\namong American women, was revered and looked up to by seven young\nbrothers as something marvellous; and no implement more fatiguing\nthan the pen or needle was ever allowed to weary her dainty\nfingers. One day as she sat amid her flowers and books, conning a\nnew inspiration, suddenly the open door of heaven seemed to stand\nbefore her, and she felt a voice saying, \"He who would come after\nme must take up his cross and follow me.\"\n{551}\nAnd believing that her heavenly spouse had called, she closed her\nbooks, and turned her face steadfastly away from her weeping\nfriends, and went cheerfully forth to privation and labor.\nFaithful to her new vows, religion yet did not forbid the\nexercise of the talent God had given her; only now her themes had\nbecome more exalted, and the love and perennial sublimity of\nheaven took the place of the perishable and annual blooms of\ntime. The privations and labors spent in the service of suffering\nhumanity soon reduced her delicate frame to patient helplessness;\nbut the beauty and love of God in his works and ways triumphed\nover all her bodily infirmities, and her strength was never too\nfrail to raise a _sursum corda_ in his praise. Whitsuntide\nof 1813 rose in the light of a glorious May morning, and the\nsufferer lay panting for breath, after a night of exhausting\nhemorrhage, and she knew that the angel, with palm in hand, stood\nby her side ready to conduct her to God. In blissful hope of the\nfruition that now dawned upon all those past sacrifices, labors,\nand sufferings, she fell, to the music of those unseen,\nundulating wings, into a sweet sleep. Mother Seton, who had left\nthe sufferer's bed for a breath of the fresh morning air, just\nthen returned from the garden, bearing in her hand the first rose\nof the season, knowing how refreshing and suggestive such a gift\nwould be to the weary sufferer. Rejoiced to find her in repose,\nshe gently laid the flower upon her bosom, above the white,\nfolded hands, and quietly left the room. The fitful fever sleep\nwas soon ended, and as Mary opened her eyes, first the fragrance,\nthen the beauty of this heavenly symbol, caught her eye. Wasted\nand dying though the earthly tenement was, the soul, the poet's\nsoul, yet glowed with vital power; and raising from a little\ntable at her side a pencil and paper, she thereon breathed her\nlast pean of poetic utterance in these lines:\n\n  \"The morning was beautiful, mild, and serene,\n     All nature had waked from repose;\n   Maternal affection came silently in,\n     And placed on my bosom a rose.\n\n  \"Poor nature was weak, and had almost prevailed,\n     The weary eyelids were closed;\n   But the soul rose in triumph, and joyfully hailed\n     The sweet queen of flowers--the rose.\n\n  \"Whitsuntide was the time, the season of love:\n     Methought the blest spirit had chose\n   To leave for awhile the mild form of a dove,\n     And come in the blush of a rose.\n\n  \"Come, Heavenly Spirit, descend on each breast,\n     And there let thy blessing repose,\n   As thou once didst on Mary, thy temple of rest;\n     For Mary's our mystical rose.\n\n  \"Oh! may every rose that blooms forth evermore,\n     Enkindle the spirit of those\n   Who see it, or wear it, to bless and adore\n     The hand that created the rose.\"\n\nWhen Mother Seton returned, she found the lines with the rose\nstill lying on her bosom; and looking into the sweet upturned\nface, she saw the signet of death stamped upon the luminous eyes,\nand knew by her short, heavy breathing that ere long she would be\nsinging her songs in the rose-gardens of paradise.\n\nSuggestive of peace and lowliness as are these creations, yet\neven they have been perverted by the passions of man into\ninsignia of blood and shame. The thirty years' war of the houses\nof York and Lancaster make the white and red rose ever associated\nwith the sorrows and humiliations, the heroic endurance, and true\nwomanly nobility of Margaret of Anjou. We see her as she stands\nunder her rose-banner, on the heights of Tewksbury, with\ndauntless courage in her heart, and a mother's wild prayer upon\nher lips; standing there, amid the wild havoc, unflinchingly,\nuntil the wailing, weird blast of the trumpeters tells her that\nher beautiful white rose is broken at the stem, and its leaves\nscattered, trampled, and bathed in the life-blood of her only\nson.\n\n{552}\n\nTracing, then, these exquisite adumbrations throughout the\nspiritual aspect of life, is it strange that we have learned to\nlook upon these frail children of the beautiful as one of the\nconnecting links with heaven? Of such every heart has its\nconservatory; every home its storehouse of withered, scentless\nmementoes, that recall, when the gates of the sanctuary are\nunbarred, memories deep and voiceless, and faces whose beauty has\npaled, like them, in dust. Here is the remnant of a cross of\nwhite _immortelles_. It was taken from the breast of a loved\none who died far away in a foreign land, among strangers. It was\nsent with the last spoken words to comfort and uplift the heart\nof the mourners; and as we lift it from the sacred casket, the\necho of those words seems to take form in the rustle of its\nblighted leaves, and the old, subdued sorrow breaks out afresh\nbefore the multitudinous memories and images evoked by a withered\nflower.\n\nHere lie together a sprig of orange blossom and a white rosebud,\ndouble memorial of a happy bridal and an early grave. Ere the\nperfume of the orange blossom had faded from her brow, the white\nrose lay on her pulseless heart. Ere the echo of the wedding\nmarch had died on the air, it was merged into a requiem dirge of\nwoe.\n\nAh this spray of brown leaves! what memories lie folded in its\nveins! A picture of a lone, far away grave rises, and by its side\nkneel a wife and daughter, come from a great distance to pay some\ntribute to a beloved one's last resting-spot in a land of\nstrangers. Desolate looked the bare, uncultivated mound; but at\nthe head some tender stranger's hand had placed a plain wooden\ncross to mark the spot for the absent ones, and planted a wild\nrose which twined its arms over and around the cross in graceful\nbeauty, as if to offer a poor substitute for the visits of loving\nfriends. How warmly the prayers of the widow went forth for that\nunknown one who had thus filled the place and thoughtfulness of\nthe absent!\n\nA prisoner walks rapidly up and down the parapet of the Capitol\nprison in Washington, the wild throbbings of his heart keeping\ntime to the tramp, tramp of his restless feet, which long for\nspace, for liberty, and the sound of the brother voices that send\ntheir wild echo from the other side of the Potomac. Suddenly the\nlaughter of a child's voice sounds above him, and, as he in\nsurprise raises his eyes, lo! a cherub head looks from a window\ndown upon him, and the little hands drop at his feet a half-blown\nrose.\n\n\"War's wild alarum call\" suddenly dies out, and the soldier's\ndream of glory gives place to the man's warm love. The wide blue\nsea no longer rolls between him and home, and over and above the\ndin of battle floats the voice of mother and sister in loving\nprayer for the absent one, who, impelled by a noble people's cry\nfor aid, hastened to the rescue, and found instead of the\n_\u00e9lan_ of battle the cold, dark walls of a prison home. Lo!\nthe power and pathos of a little child and a fragile flower\nwithin the walls of a dungeon.\n\nA father kneels in grief unutterable by the soulless body of a\nlittle daughter. In the agony of his rebellious grief, he prays\nto God to send him one ray of comfort, one gleam of light, to see\nand know that the transition is at least well for her. As he\nraises his head, his eyes fall upon the family Bible, and with\nthe prayer still in his heart he opens its leaves, and  his\nfinger, as if guided by an angel, falls upon these lines, \"And he\ntook the damsel by her hand, and said unto her, I say unto thee,\narise.\"\n{553}\nWith the sacred verse, there came shining down into his heart a\nclear, sweet perception of the fact that at that very moment our\nLord Jesus Christ, who alone is the resurrection and the life,\nwas raising up out of her cold and lifeless form that beautiful,\nspiritual body in which little Lucy will exist as an angel for\never. He plucked some white and green leaves from the flowers\nwhich lay in the dead child's hands, and placed them on that\nverse of the sacred volume.\n\n  \"Years have passed away, and they are there still, pale and\n  withered, sacred little mementoes of the consolation which came\n  like a voice from heaven in his hour of need. When he is\n  haunted by sorrowful memories, and falls into states of\n  desolation and despair, he opens that holy book, and kisses\n  those faded leaves, and his spirit is sometimes elevated into\n  that mount which the three disciples ascended with their Lord,\n  and there, by the permission of the same Redeemer who makes\n  every child an image of himself, he sees the body of his little\n  daughter transfigured in glory!\" [Footnote 162]\n\n    [Footnote 162: _Our Children in Heaven_, by W. H.\n    Holcombe, M.D. ]\n\nIn a white alabaster box, yellowed by the mould of years, are\nlying, side by side, a crisp, golden curl, a sprig of lily of the\nvalley, and a tuberose. Through the mist of tears that fill the\neye rise the angelic features of a little girl, the first-born of\nher mother. The joyous laughter, the music of the little feet,\nthe endless activity of the waxen fingers, ere they closed\nlifelessly over those tender lily sprays, all take form and life\nin presence of these mute memorials. Other children God sent to\nconsole the mother for the loss of this little one, and long,\nlong years have ripened them into men and women, and sent them\nforth to fill the various missions of life that separate them\nfrom mother and home. But to the long and early lost, the\nmaternal heart now yearningly turns, as still, above all others,\nthe child of her love. No stronger earthly ties stand between\nthem even now; the _mother_ holds her place supreme\n_here_, and feels that for her, above all others on earth,\nthose little hands are folded in prayer, and that sweet-toned\nvoice raised in songs of supplication.\n\n  \"Yet still, in all the singing,\n     Thinks haply of her song,\n   Which in that life's first springing\n     Sang to her all night long.\"\n\nComforted by such memories,\nshe kisses the mute and withered\nmementoes, and, as she folds them\nagain reverently, lovingly away in\ntheir casket, she prays that\n\n  \"When her dying couch about\n     The natural mists shall gather,\n   Some smiling angel close shall stand\n     In old Correggio's fashion,\n   And bear a _lily_ in his hand\n     For death's annunciation.\"\n\n-------\n\n{554}\n\n        Catholicity And Pantheism.\n\n             Number Seven.\n\n\t The Finite.--Continued.\n\n\nWe pass to the next question: What is the end of the exterior\naction of God?\n\nGod is infinite intelligence. An agent who acts by understanding\nmust always act for a reason, which is as the lever of the\nintelligence. This reason is called the end of the action.\nTherefore, the external act, being the act of an infinite\nintelligence, must have an end, an object, a reason. So far\neverything is evident; but a very difficult question here arises:\nWhat can the end of the exterior action be? In the first place,\nit cannot be an end necessarily to be attained; for the necessity\nof the end would imply also the necessity of the means, and the\nexternal act in that supposition would become necessary. But\nsuppose the end not necessary. God, in that case, would be free\nto accept it; and in that supposition he would either act without\na reason, or have another reason or object for accepting an end\nnot necessary to be attained; which second reason would, in its\nturn, be either necessary or not necessary. If the former, the\nsame inconvenience would exist which we have pointed out before;\nif the latter, it would require a third reason to account for the\nsecond; and so on _ad infinitum_. The answer to this\ndifficulty consists in the following doctrine. The reason by\nwhich an agent acts may be twofold: one, efficient or\ndetermining; the other, qualifying the action without determining\nit. Ontologically speaking, every intelligent agent must act for\na reason, but not always be determined to act by the reason. This\nis eminently true when the agent or efficient cause is the first\nand universal agent. In this case there would be a contradiction,\nif the first and universal agent were to act by a reason\ndetermining him to the act. For then the predicate would destroy\nthe subject; that is, if the first and universal agent were to\nact by a determining reason, he would no longer be first, but\nsecond agent; no longer universal, but particular. Because in\nthat case the final cause would move him, and thus he would\nneither be the first nor the cause of everything. This theory\nresolves the question of the end of the external act. There\nexists neither an intrinsic reason on the part of the agent to\ndetermine him to act outside himself, nor an exterior reason on\nthe part of the term to impel him to act, as we have already\ndemonstrated. Consequently, there can be no determining reason\nfor the external act, and the act must determine itself. The\nefficient or determining reason of the external act is the choice\nof the act which is absolute master of itself; it lies in its\nliberty: and here applies with strict truth that saying, \"Stat\npro ratione voluntas.\" And necessarily so, since the first agent\neither determines himself without any efficient reason, or he is\ndetermined by the reason; and in that case he is no longer first,\nbut second. But then God acts outside himself without any reason?\nWithout any efficient and determining reason, independent of his\nown act, it is granted; without a sufficient reason to make the\nact rational, it is denied.\n{555}\nIf there be a reason which qualifies the act, it is sufficient\nand rational. Now, for instance, to create finite substances is\nto create substantial good; hence the act of creating them must\nbe good, and therefore rational. And since every finite being, or\nits perfection, is good, inasmuch as it resembles the infinite\ngoodness and perfection of God, it follows that, as St. Thomas\nsays, the goodness of God is the end of the external act.\n_Divina bonitas est finis omnium rerum_.\n\nThe determination of the end of the exterior act, which is the\ngoodness of God, as we have explained it, gives rise to another\nquestion, which has occupied the highest intellects among\nphilosophers and theologians, and of which we must speak, to pave\nour way to lay down the whole plan of the exterior action of God,\nas proclaimed by the Catholic Church.\n\nFinite beings are capable of indefinite perfection. An assemblage\nof finite beings would form a cosmos, or universe; and as they\nare capable of indefinite perfections, we may suppose an\nindefinite number of these, one more perfect than the other, all\narrayed in beautiful order in the intelligence of the Creator, in\nwhich the intelligibility of all possible things resides. The\nquestion arises here, suppose God has determined to act outside\nhimself, which of the whole series of the ideal worlds residing\nin his intelligence shall he choose? Can he choose any of them?\nIs he bound to choose the best?\n\nThe reader will remark that this question is different from that\nof the end of creation. The one establishes that God cannot be\nforced by any reason to act outside himself, else he would not be\nthe first and universal cause. The other question that is\nproposed now, supposes that God has determined freely and\nindependently of any reason to act outside himself, and asks\nwhether God can choose any of the possible ideal worlds residing\nin his intellect, or is he forced to choose the best in the\nseries?\n\nSome philosophers, among whom are Leibnitz and Malebranche,\ncontend that God is absolutely free to create or not to create;\nbut once he has determined to create, he is bound to choose the\nbest possible cosmos in the series. We shall let them expound\ntheir system in their own words.\n\n  \"God,\" says Leibnitz, \"is the supreme reason of things, because\n  those which are limited, like everything which comes under our\n  vision and experience, are contingent and have nothing in them\n  which may render their existence necessary; it being manifest\n  that time, space, and matter, united and uniform in themselves,\n  and indifferent to everything, may receive every other movement\n  and figure and be in another order. We must, therefore, seek\n  for a reason for the existence of the world, which is the whole\n  assemblage of contingent beings, and seek it in that substance\n  which carries within itself the reason of its own existence,\n  and which is consequently necessary and eternal.\n\n  \"It is necessary also that this cause should be intelligent,\n  because the world which exists now, being contingent, and an\n  infinity of other worlds being equally possible, and equally\n  claiming existence, so to speak, it is necessary that the cause\n  of this world should have looked into all such possible worlds\n  to determine upon one.\n{556}\n   This look or relation of an existing substance to simple\n   possibilities can only be the intelligence which possesses\n   their ideas; and to determine upon one, can only be the act of\n   a will which chooses. The power of such substance renders its\n   will efficacious. Power has relation to being; intelligence,\n   to truth; the will, to good. This cause, moreover, must be\n   infinite in every possible manner, and absolutely perfect in\n   power, in wisdom, in goodness; because it reaches all\n   possibility. And as all this goes together, we can only admit\n   one such substance. Its intelligence is the source of\n   metaphysical essences; its will, the origin of existences.\n   Behold, in a few words, the proof of one God with all his\n   perfections, and of the origin of things by him!\n\n  \"Now, this supreme wisdom, allied to a goodness no less\n  infinite, could not fail to choose the best. For as a lesser\n  evil is a kind of good, so a lesser good is a kind of evil; and\n  there would be something to correct in the action of God, if\n  there were a means to do better. And as in mathematics when\n  there is neither a maximum nor a minimum--in fact, no\n  difference at all--all is done equally, or, when this is\n  impossible, nothing is done, [Footnote 163] so we may say the\n  same in respect to perfect wisdom, which is no less regulated\n  than mathematics, that if there had not been a best one among\n  all possible worlds God would not have created any. I call\n  world the whole series and collection of all existing things,\n  that none may say that several worlds might exist in different\n  times and places. For in that case they would be counted\n  together as one world, or, if you prefer, universe. And\n  although one might fill all time and space, it would always be\n  true that they could be filled in an infinity of manners, and\n  that there is an infinity of worlds possible; among which it is\n  necessary that God should have selected the best, because he\n  does nothing without acting according to supreme reason.\"\n  [Footnote 164]\n\n    [Footnote 163: If it is required, for instance, to draw the\n    shortest possible line from the centre to the circumference\n    of a circle, you may draw a line to every point of the\n    circumference, and there is no reason why a line should be\n    drawn to any one point rather than to another. Or, if an\n    object at the centre is attracted equally to every point in\n    the circumference, it cannot move in any direction, but\n    remains at rest.--ED.]\n\n    [Footnote 164: Leibnitz. Theod. P. I., par 8.]\n\n   Malebranche, in his ninth metaphysical conversation, after\n   having laid down the principle that the end of creation is the\n   glory of God, concludes that God must choose the best possible\n   cosmos, because thereby he would gain greater glory than if he\n   chose any of the series. \"That which God wishes solely,\n   directly, and absolutely in his designs, is to act in the most\n   divine manner possible; it is to impress upon his conduct, as\n   well as upon his work, the character of his attributes; it is\n   to act exactly according to what, and to all he is. God has\n   seen from all eternity all possible works, and all possible\n   ways of producing them; and as he does not act but for his own\n   glory and according to what he is, he has determined to will\n   that work which could be effected and maintained by ways which\n   must honor him more than any other work produced in a\n   different manner.\"\n\nThe principles of this theory are two. One is to admit a\nnecessity on the part of God to choose the best possible world in\nthe series; the other is to suppose from reason that there is a\nbest possible cosmos, as Leibnitz does; in other words, it is to\nlimit the question only to the creative moment, and not to the\nwhole external action of God. Now, we think that both\npropositions are false. As regards the first, why should God\nchoose the best? For three reasons, according to the German\nphilosopher.\n{557}\nThe first is as follows: A lesser good is a kind of evil, if it\nbe opposed to a greater good. But if God chose any world of the\nseries in preference to the best, he would prefer a lesser good\nto a greater; hence, he would prefer a kind of evil to good, and\nthe world chosen would be a kind of evil. The major of the\nsyllogism might be granted, though not perfectly correct, if a\nlesser good were opposed to a greater which must necessarily be\neffected, but not otherwise. Suppose, among a number of actions,\none more perfect than the other, of which I am not bound to\nperform any, I choose to perform any of the series, rejecting all\nothers; how would the action which I choose to perform be a kind\nof evil? If I was bound to perform the best, and preferred one\nwhich is less so, in a certain sense we might grant that the one\nI select is a kind of evil. But when I am not bound to perform\nany, the one I choose, though not the most perfect, cannot change\nits nature of good because I might, if I preferred, perform a\nmore perfect one. The argument, therefore, of Leibnitz, supposes\nwhat is to be proved, that God _was_ bound to effect the\nbest possible cosmos; for only in that case it might be said that\nhe preferred a certain kind of evil to good. His second reason is\nnot more solid than the first: If God did not choose the best, we\nmight find something to correct in his action, because there\nwould be a means to do better. We might find something to correct\nin the action of God, if, in the world he chose in preference to\nthe best, there was something wanting in the attributes and\nproperties required by its nature. But if the world that God\nchooses is endowed with all its essential attributes and proper\nelements, certainly there would be nothing at all to correct in\nit. When that great Italian artist drew a fly upon the picture of\nhis master, so true to nature that the master on coming home went\nright up to the canvas to chase it away, if any one holding the\nopinion of Leibnitz had told him, \"There is something to correct\nin your fly, because you could have painted a madonna or a\nsaint,\" the painter would certainly have been astonished, and his\nanswer would have been, \"I might do a greater and better work;\nbut you cannot discover any defect in my fly, because you cannot\ndeny that, though a fly, it is a masterpiece of art.\" The same\nreason holds good with regard to the subject in question. God\nmight certainly do better; but if he prefers not to create the\nbest possible cosmos, and selects any of the series, if the one\nselected is endowed with all the elements its nature requires, it\nis perfect in its own order; and no one could discover any flaw\nor defect in it, but every one would be obliged to call it a\nmasterpiece. The last reason of Leibnitz has much less\nfoundation, and savors very strongly of pantheism: If there had\nnot been a best possible world in the series of all the possible\nones, God would not have created any. This means neither more nor\nless than that the world, or the aggregate of all contingent\nbeings, unless it had a kind of absolute perfection, would be\nimpossible. It is tantamount to denying the very possibility of\ncreation. Because a best possible world cannot be had; for the\nnature of all contingent beings is like number, which progresses\nindefinitely, without ever reaching to a number beyond which you\ncannot go. Consequently, the nature of contingent things, though\ncapable of indefinite progress, is altogether incapable,\nontologically speaking, of absolute perfection; a perfection\nwhich would be required to effect a world truly the best.\n{558}\nIf, therefore, such ultimate perfection is required in order that\nGod may create, it is evident that creation is impossible, and\nthat optimism runs into pantheism. The argument drawn from the\nsufficient reason also fails. If God were to choose a cosmos less\nperfect in preference to one more perfect, he would have no\nsufficient reason for the preference. This argument fails, first,\nbecause a cosmos, the very best and most perfect, cannot be had,\nas we have hinted just now. Therefore, there is no necessity for\nany sufficient reason for choice. Suppose a series of worlds, one\nmore perfect than the other, arrayed in the mind of God according\nto numerical order. If God were to choose the tenth in the\nseries, there would be no sufficient reason for his preferring it\nto the eleventh; and if he were to select this last, there would\nbe no sufficient reason for his preferring it to the twelfth, and\nso on indefinitely; and as we cannot reach to a cosmos which\nwould be the last and the highest in perfection, so there never\ncould be a sufficient reason for the preference of any.\nConsequently; there being no sufficient reason for preferring any\ncosmos of the series, God is free to choose any.\n\nIn the second place, even if there could be a best possible\ncosmos, the reason alleged by Leibnitz would not, on that\naccount, oblige God to choose it. For a reason may be objectively\nor subjectively sufficient; that is, its sufficiency may emerge\nfrom the object to be created, or from the agent. Now, granting\nthe principle of the German philosopher, God might have a\nsubjective reason to make him act according to the requirements\nof wisdom, even in preferring any cosmos of the series and\nrejecting the best. This subjective reason might be to show and\nto put beyond any possibility of doubt his absolute freedom and\nindependence in the creative act. No optimist can deny that this\nmay have been a sufficient reason for the creative act.\nConsequently, even granting the possibility of a best possible\nworld, God was not bound to create it.\n\nThe reason of Malebranche is not more conclusive than those we\nhave just refuted. God must prefer the best possible cosmos,\nbecause this alone would manifest his glory in the best possible\nmanner. The argument would be conclusive if it were proven that\nGod does wish to, or must manifest his glory in the best possible\nmanner. But this the French philosopher does not and cannot\nprove. Because the best possible manner for God to manifest his\ninfinite excellence is, to cause an infinite effect. Now, this is\na contradiction in terms.\n\nThe second position of the optimists to which we object is, to\nassume the possibility of a best possible cosmos, as Leibnitz\ndoes, from _reason_. Now, we contend that reason alone,\nunaided by revelation, proves decidedly the contrary; it proves\nthat, ontologically speaking, a best possible cosmos cannot\nexist, and that if there be a way by which to raise the cosmos to\na certain ultimate perfection, or perfection beyond which it\ncould not be supposed to go, this is altogether outside and\nbeyond the province of reason alone, and must be determined by\nrevelation. We have already alluded to this in the examination of\nthe third argument of Leibnitz. The best possible cosmos implies\na certain ultimate and absolute perfection. Now, ontologically\nspeaking, this is impossible in finite beings. For the question\nhere is between two extremes, the finite and the infinite.\nBetween the two lies the indefinite.\n{559}\nThe first extreme, or the finite, may be supposed to ascend the\nladder of perfection, or quantity of being, indefinitely, without\never reaching the infinite; because its nature is essentially\nimmutable, as every other essence. Hence, suppose it as great in\nperfection as you can, it will be always finite, and consequently\nyou may always suppose a greater still. Hence, admitting a series\nof numberless worlds one ontologically more perfect than the\nother, and you can never arrive at one of which you may say this\nis the best, because you can always suppose a better still.\n\nSt. Thomas with his eagle glance saw, centuries before, the birth\nof optimism, and refuted it triumphantly, in the following\nargument, similar to that which we have just given. Asking the\nquestion, whether the divine intellect is limited to certain\ndeterminate effects, he denies it thus: \"We have proved,\" he\nsays, \"the infinity of the divine essence. Now, however you may\nmultiply the number of finite beings, they can never approximate\nthe infinite, the latter surpassing any number of finite beings,\neven if it be supposed infinite. On the other hand, it is clear\nthat, besides God, no being is infinite, because every being\ncomes under some category of genus or species. Therefore, no\nmatter of what quality the divine effects are supposed to be, or\nwhat quantity of perfections they may contain, it is in the\nnature of the divine essence infinitely to excel them, and hence\nthe possibility of an indefinite number of them. Consequently,\nthe divine intellect cannot be limited to this or that effect.\"\n\nThis argument might be abridged thus: The nature of the infinite\nand of the finite being immutable, the infinite must always\nsurpass, infinitely, the finite. Hence there can be no definite\nterm assigned to the perfection of the finite, and consequently\nthere cannot be a cosmos ultimate and absolute in perfection. Our\nreason, therefore, does not support the optimists in supposing a\nmost perfect cosmos; on the contrary, it shows that, as to\nessence and nature, there cannot be a cosmos the perfection of\nwhich can be supposed to be ultimate, and in a certain manner\nabsolute; in other words, limiting the question to the creative\nmoment which effects ontological perfection only, a best possible\ncosmos cannot be had. Moreover, if there be a way by which to\nraise the cosmos to a certain ultimate and absolute perfection,\nreason can tell us also that it must be altogether supernatural,\nand to it superintelligible. In other words, this way must be a\nmoment or moments of the action of God, distinct from the\ncreative moment, and causing effects above and beyond the nature\nand essential attributes of every possible cosmos, ontologically\nconsidered.\n\nFor if this way of raising the cosmos to an ultimate perfection\nwere the same moment of the action of God which creates essences\nand proper attributes, it could not correspond to the effect\ndesired--that of raising the cosmos to a certain absolute\nperfection. Because, when we speak of a creative moment effecting\nessences and attributes, we consider the cosmos ontologically;\nand ontologically the cosmos cannot have an absolute and ultimate\nperfection. The creative moment creates substances and essential\nattributes; hence if the moment of raising the cosmos to an\nultimate perfection were identified with the creative moment, it\nwould always effect substances and essential attributes--that is,\na cosmos indefinitely progressive--and could not give us a cosmos\nabsolute in perfection. Therefore the moment or moments of the\naction of God raising the cosmos to a certain absolute perfection\nmust be distinct from the creative moment, and must produce\neffects above and beyond every possible cosmos, ontologically\nconsidered.\n\n{560}\n\nNow, that which implies a moment of the action of God, distinct\nfrom the creative moment and causing effects above and beyond\nevery possible cosmos, is called supernatural, because beyond and\nabove nature or essence. Therefore, the way of raising the cosmos\nto a certain absolute perfection must be supernatural in its\ncause and in its effects.\n\nIf supernatural in its cause and in its effects, it is evident\nthat this way is superintelligible to reason. Because reason,\nbeing an effect of the creative moment, cannot understand that\nwhich is above and beyond it in its cause and in its effects.\n\nHence, reason cannot determine whether there is such a way, or\nwhat this way is; and must necessarily leave these two questions\nto be determined by revelation.\n\nAnother problem, closely connected with the one which we have\njust discussed, presents itself here. It is as follows: In the\nsupposition that God could find a way by which to raise the\ncosmos to a certain ultimate perfection, it is asked whether the\ndivine goodness, which is the end of the exterior action of God,\ncontains in itself a principle of fitness and agreeableness to\nincline it to effect this best possible cosmos. This question, as\nthe reader is aware, is altogether different from optimism. This\nopinion contends that God _must_ create the best possible\ncosmos. The question we propose now asks whether divine goodness,\nwhich is the end of the external action of God, may be inclined\nto effect it in force of reason of fitness and agreeableness\nbetween divine goodness and the best possible production of it, a\nreason of fitness which implies no manner of obligation or\nnecessity whatever.\n\nWe answer it affirmatively; it having the support of all Catholic\ntradition, and the proof of it is to be found in the very force\nof the terms--God is infinite goodness; in acting outside\nhimself, he effects finite goodness. Now, finite goodness and\ninfinite goodness are agreeable to each other; therefore, if\nthere be a way of raising finite goodness to a certain absolute\ngoodness, it will be most agreeable to infinite goodness.\n[Footnote 165]\n\n    [Footnote 165: S. Th. S. T. p. 3. q. I.]\n\nBefore we enter upon the explanation of the whole plan of the\nexterior works of God, it is necessary to notice another point\naltogether within the reach and province of reason; this is, to\nassign some general laws which must govern the exterior action of\nGod.\n\nReason, as we have seen, cannot of itself tell whether there may\nbe a way of exalting the cosmos to a certain ultimate perfection,\nand thus rendering it the best possible cosmos; again, reason\ncannot tell whether God has or has not chosen to effect it. But,\nadmitting the supposition that there is such a way, and that God\nhas preferred it, reason can assign some laws, which it conceives\nmust necessarily govern his exterior action, if he chooses to\neffect the best possible cosmos. Nor is this going beyond the\nsphere or province of reason, or infringing upon the rights of\nrevelation. Because, although the premises are superintelligible,\nand to be declared by revelation, yet the premises once given,\nreason may lawfully and safely deduce some consequences,\nevidently flowing from those premises. In this case, the premises\nwould be superintelligible; the consequences springing from them\naltogether intelligible.\n\n{561}\n\nReason, therefore, affirms that if God chooses to make the best\npossible cosmos, the effectuation of such cosmos must be governed\nby the laws of _variety_, of _unity_, of\n_hierarchy_, of _continuity_, of _communion_, of\n_secondary agency_. The first imports that, if God intends\nto effect the best possible manifestations of himself, to which\nthe best possible cosmos would correspond, he must effect a\n_variety_ of moments, a _variety_ of species, of\nindividuals under each species, except when the nature and the\nobject of the moment admits no variety or multiplicity. St.\nThomas proves the necessity of such a law by the following\nargument: \"Every agent,\" he says, \"intends to stamp his own\nlikeness on the effect he produces, as far as the nature of the\neffect will permit, and the more perfect the agent, the stronger\nis the likeness he impresses upon his effect.\"\n\nGod is a most perfect agent; it was fitting therefore that he\nshould impress his own likeness on his exterior works as\nperfectly as their nature would allow. Now, a perfect likeness of\nGod cannot be expressed by one moment or species of effects;\nbecause it is a principle of ontology that, when the effect is\nnecessarily inferior in nature to the cause, as in the present\ncase of the cosmos with regard to God, the perfections, which in\nthe cause are united and, as it were, gathered together into one\nintense perfection, cannot be expressed in one effect, but ask\nfor a variety and multiplicity of effects. The truth of this\nprinciple may be seen in the following example. What is the\nreason that we must frequently make use of a variety of words to\nexpress one idea? The reason lies in the objective and\nontological difference of the nature of the two terms. The idea\nis simple, spiritual, intelligible; words are a material sound.\nThe one in its nature is far superior to the other; the idea is\npossessed of more being, more perfection than words. Hence the\none cannot be expressed and rendered by the other, except through\na variety and multiplicity of terms. Consequently this example\nillustrates the principle that, when an effect is inferior in\nnature to its cause, whatever perfections are found in the cause,\nas united and simplified in one perfection, cannot be rendered or\nexpressed except by a multiplicity and variety of effects. What\nwe have said of language may be affirmed of every fine art, as\npainting, sculpture, music, etc. The type which creates them is\nalways one and simple; it cannot be expressed except in a variety\nand multiplicity of forms.\n\nThe best manifestations, therefore, of God's transcendental\nexcellence cannot be rendered and mirrored except through a\nvariety of moments, of species, and of individuals.\n\nThe law of variety asks for the law of _hierarchy_. For\nvariety cannot exist except by supposing a greater or less amount\nof perfection in the terms composing the series, one being\nvarying from the other by possessing a greater amount of\nontological perfections. Now, by admitting a greater or less\namount of being, we admit a superiority on the part of that which\nis endowed with more ontological perfection, and an inferiority\non the part of that which is endowed with less; and each being\ncomposing the cosmos, keeping its own place according to the\ngeneral order, and in relation to other beings, it follows that\nthis superiority on the part of one, and inferiority on the part\nof the other, founded on the intrinsic worth of their respective\nessences, establishes and explains the law of hierarchy.\n\n{562}\n\nThe third law is that of unity, which implies that the variety of\nthe different moments composing the cosmos must be brought\ntogether so as to form a perfect whole. For, first, if the\nvariety of moments, of species and individuals, is requisite in\norder to express the intensity of the ontological perfection and\nexcellence of the type of the universe, which is the infinite\ngrandeur of God, unity, also, is required, in order to express\nthe simplicity and entirety of the type. In the second place,\nwhat would be the cosmos without unity but a numberless and\nconfused assemblage of beings? Hence, whatever may be the variety\nof the moments and species of the cosmos, they must necessarily\nbe brought together as parts and components of one harmonic\nwhole. The nature of this unity will be gathered from the\nexplanation of the other laws. And first, it begins to be\nsketched out by the law of continuity. This implies that there\nshould be a certain proportion between each moment of the cosmos,\nbetween one species and another, and between the degrees and\ngradations within the species, all as far as the nature of the\nterms will permit. Hence, the law embraces two parts:\n\n1st. The necessity of the greatest number of moments and of\nspecies, as much as possible alike to each other, without ever\nbeing confounded.\n\n2d. The greatest possible number of gradations within the same\nspecies, in proportion as individuals partake more or less fully\nof the species.\n\nTo give an instance: the first part of this law explains why\nsubstantial creation is composed of, 1st, atoms which do not give\nany signs of sensitive life; 2d, of brute animals; 3d, of\nintelligent animals; 4th, of pure spirits. The second part of\nthis law explains why each of the four species just mentioned is\ndeveloped in gradations almost infinite--minerals composed and\nrecomposed in all possible ways, manifesting forms, properties,\nand acts altogether different, and some so constantly as to defy\nany change from the force of nature so far known to man; hence,\nin force of that immutable type, they are taken by naturalists as\nso many scientific species, and the fifty-nine or sixty elements\nwhich chemistry so far enumerates; animals also, extending so\ngradually that the ladder of fixed marks, taken by natural\nphilosophers as so many species, begins where the signs of life\nare almost insensible and dubious, and ends with man; nor is\nthere wanting, as far as it may be known, any of the intermediate\nsteps.\n\nThe pure spirits, as we know from revelation, are divided into\nchoirs and legions innumerable, whose successive gradations in\nquality and number, to us unknown but certain, are unfathomable;\nand it is most probable that the ladder of pure spirits is\nhigher, beyond measure, than that which we observe in the\nsensible universe, and that one spirit is far more superior and\ndistant from another spirit than one star from another.\n\nThe necessity of this law springs from that of unity. For, if the\ntype of the cosmos be one, each moment and species representing,\nas it were, a side of that type, there must be as much affinity\nand proportion between each moment and each species as to pave\nthe way for the law of unity to represent and mirror the entirety\nand oneness of the type. We say as much affinity as it is\npossible to produce, because between each moment and each species\nthere is necessarily a chasm which no continuity or affinity can\nfill up. For instance, between pure animality and pure\nintelligence there is necessarily a chasm. Man, placed between\nthe two, draws them together as much as possible; yet the\nnecessary distance marking the two distinct natures cannot by any\nproportion be eliminated, else the natures would be confounded\nand destroyed.\n\n{563}\n\nBut variety, brought together by the law of continuity, cannot\nsufficiently exhibit unity. Hence the necessity of a fourth law,\nthat of _communion_.\n\nThis law implies, 1st, that the terms of the cosmos should be so\nunited together as to act one upon the other, and serve each\nother for sustenance and development; 2d, that, founded on the\nlaw of hierarchy, inferior beings should be so united to superior\nones as to be, in a certain sense, transformed into them, the\ndistinctive marks of their respective natures being kept\ninviolate.\n\nThis law, in both its aspects, we see actuated in the visible\nuniverse. Thus man has need of food, which is administered to him\nby brutes and the vegetable kingdom; he has need of air, to\nbreathe; of light, to see; of his kind, to multiply and to form\nsociety. All other animals have need of beings different from\nthemselves to maintain their own existence; and of their like, to\nmultiply their species. The vegetable kingdom needs minerals,\nearth, water, and the different saps by which it lives. If\nvegetables did not expel oxygen and absorb carbonic acid, air\nwould become unfit for the respiration of animals; and these\nsending back, by respiration, carbonic acid, supply that\nsubstance of which plants stand in need. Everything, moreover, in\nthe world serves for the development and perfection of man, both\nas to his body and as to his intellectual, moral, and social\nlife. Every inferior creature is transformed into man. The same\nanimal and vegetable kingdom which, transformed into his blood,\nsustains his life, helps him for the development of his ideas and\nhis will. The reason of this law, which may be called the law of\nlife, is, that the unity of the cosmos should not be only\napparent and fictitious, but real. Now, a real union is\nimpossible if the terms united exercise no real action upon each\nother, and do not serve for the maintenance and development of\neach other.\n\nFinally, the law of communion calls for the law of secondary\nagency; that is, the effects resulting from the moments of the\nexterior action of God should be real agents. For no real union\nand communion could exist among the terms of the external action\nunless they really acted one upon another; any other union or\ncommunion being simply fictitious and imaginary. Hence\nMalebranche, in his system of occasional causes, where he\ndeprives finite beings of real agency, has not only undermined\nthe liberty of man, but destroyed the real communion among\ncreatures, and marred the beauty and harmony of the cosmos. To\nrepresent the cosmos as a numberless series of beings united\ntogether by no other tie than juxtaposition, and by no means\nreally acting upon each other, is to break its connection, its\nreal and living unity; is to do away with the whole beauty and\nharmony of that hymn and canticle which God has composed to his\nown honor and glory.\n\nWe come now to the last question: What is the whole plan of the\nexterior action of God? We have seen that if there be a way by\nwhich to effect a cosmos endowed with a certain absolute\nperfection, that it would be most agreeable to infinite goodness,\nthe end of the exterior action of God. We have seen, moreover,\nthat whether there be such a way, and what this way is, must be\ndetermined by revelation. The Catholic Church, therefore, the\nliving embodiment of revelation, must answer these two problems.\n\nIt answers both affirmatively. The most perfect cosmos is\npossible. God has effected it, because most agreeable to his\ninfinite goodness.\n\nWhat is this cosmos? We shall give it in the following synoptic\ntable.\n\n{564}\n\n  God's exterior action divided into:\n    The hypostatic moment;\n    The beatific, or palingenesiacal moment;\n    The sublimative moment;\n    The creative moment.\n\nThe terms corresponding to each moment of the action of God are:\n\n  The Theanthropos, or Jesus Christ, God and man, centre of the\n  whole plan;\n  Beatific cosmos;\n  Sublimative cosmos;\n  Substantial cosmos.\n  Individual terms of each cosmos:\n    1. Beatified angels and men;\n    2. Regenerated men on the earth;\n    3. Angels, or pure spirits;\n  Men, or incarnate spirits;\n  Sensitive beings;\n  Organic beings;\n  Inorganic beings.\n\nAs each moment of the action of God, as the creative, implies two\nsubordinate moments, preservation and concurrence, it follows\nthat each moment of the action of God implies its immanence and\nconcurrence, though in the Theanthropos it takes place according\nto special laws. Hence,\n\n  Hypostatic immanence and concurrence;\n  Beatific immanence and concurrence;\n  Creative immanence and concurrence.\n\n----------\n\n     To A Favorite Madonna.\n\n  Lady Mary, throne of grace,\n    Imaged with thy Child before me!\n  Softly beams the perfect face,\n    Fragrant breathes its pureness o'er me.\n\n  I but gaze, and all my soul\n    Thrills as with a taste of heaven.\n  Passion owns the sweet control;\n    Peace assures of sin forgiven.\n\n  Oh! then, what thy loveliness\n    Where it shines divinely real,\n  If its strength has such excess\n    Feebly shadowed in ideal!\n\n  From thy arms thy Royal Son\n    Waits to fill us past our needing:\n  Hears for all, denied to none,\n    Thy resistless whisper pleading.\n\n  Dream, say they, for poet's eye?\n    _Thou_ a dream! Then truth is seeming.\n  Only let me live and die\n    Safely lost in such a dreaming!\n\n                           B. D. H.\n\n-------\n\n{565}\n\n       Translated From The French.\n\n   To Those Who Tell Us What Time It Is.\n\n\nBefore introducing our subject, my dear reader, let me give a\nmoment to a little person whose caprices equal those of any woman\nliving.\n\nBrilliant as the most fashionable beauty, she never goes without\nher diamonds and rubies in their golden setting, and of which she\nis equally proud.\n\nHer little babbling is heard continually; and while she boasts\nher independent movements, like any prisoner or slave she always\nwears her chain.\n\nI call her a little person, because she accompanies me\neverywhere; though sometimes she stops while I walk, and goes\nagain when I am inclined to stop.\n\nThis delicate, fantastical organization, so difficult to\ndiscipline, and as subject to the influences of cold and heat as\nany nervous lady or chilly invalid, is Mademoiselle--my watch.\n\nYou have nearly all, my dear readers, a watch of silver or gold\nin your vest-pocket, and you can have them of wood or\nmother-of-pearl, with one great advantage: they cannot be pawned.\n\nLadies wear watches whose cases shine with their diamonds like\nthe decorations of a great officer of the Legion of Honor. And\nthey can have them inserted in bracelets, in bon-bon boxes, and\nin buckles for sashes and belts.\n\nBut I must tell you, the first accurate instruments, after the\nsun-dial and hour-glass of the ancients, were huge clocks; and\nthese clocks, so immense, led artists insensibly to construct\nsmaller ones for apartments, in form of pendulums, and which were\nin the beginning very imperfect.\n\nThen others still more skilful conceived the idea of portable\nclocks, to which they gave the name of _montres_, (watches,\nin English,) from _montrer_, to show.\n\nBut at first these ornaments were very awkward, and of\ninconvenient size for the pocket to which they were destined.\n\nFinally, however, they were lessened to such a point that they\ngraced the heads of canes, the handles of fans, and even the\nsetting of rings, and were about the size of a five-cent silver\npiece.\n\nIt is to Hook, a physician and English philosopher, born in 1635,\ndied in 1702, that we owe the invention of pocket watches.\n\nIn 1577, the first watches were brought from Germany to England.\nThey had been made at Nuremberg for the first time in the year\n1500, and were called the eggs of Nuremberg, on account of their\noval form.\n\nAt last a man appeared who, not content to enchain time,\nendeavored to force matter to represent with greater accuracy the\nflight of years. This was Julien le Roy, the most skilful\npractical philosopher that France ever had. Always on the _qui\nvive_ for everything useful and curious, as soon as he heard\nof the watches of the celebrated Graham, he imported the first\none seen in Paris, and not until he had proved it would he\nrelinquish it to M. Maupertuis. Graham, in turn, procured all he\ncould from Julien le Roy.\n{566}\nOne day my Lord Hamilton was showing one of these wonderful\nrepeaters to several persons. \"I wish I were younger,\" said\nGraham, \"to be able to make one after this model.\"\n\nThis illustrious Maupertuis, who accompanied the king of Prussia\nto the battle-field, was made prisoner at Molwitz and conducted\nto Vienna. The grand-duke of Tuscany--since emperor--wished to\nsee a man with so great a reputation.\n\nHe treated him with respect, and asked him if he had not\nregretted much of the baggage stolen from him by the hussars.\nMaupertuis, after being urged a long time, confessed he would\ngladly have saved an old watch of Graham's, which he used for his\nastronomical observations.\n\nThe grand-duke, who owned one by the same maker, but enriched\nwith diamonds, said to the French mathematician, \"Ah! the hussars\nhave wished to play you a trick; they have brought me back your\nwatch. Here it is; I restore it to you.\"\n\nTo-day, as formerly, the handling of watches is an art. It is\nmuch more difficult to measure time than wine or cider.\nTherefore, among the members of the Bureau of Longitudes, by the\nside of the senator Leverrier, the marshal of France, (M.\nVaillant,) the Admiral Matthieu, is placed the simple\nclock-maker, M. Bregnet.\n\nAnd for these artists who give us the means of knowing the hour\nit is, there is a publication as serious as the _Journal of\nDebates_, called the _Chronometrical Review_. It\ncertainly should be regularly sent to its subscribers. If the\ncarrier is late, it cannot be for want of knowing if he has\nto-day's or yesterday's paper; and the subscribers are never\nexposed to _chercher midi \u00e0 quatorze heures_.\n\nM. Claudius Saurrier, the chief editor of this _Chronometrical\nReview_, has also a clock-maker's annual almanac for 1869.\nThis appears very abstruse at the first glance; but if we examine\nthe little volume with the same nicety as a watchmaker his\nmainspring--that is to say, with a powerful magnifying glass--we\nwill find some things to greatly interest us. For example, a\nsketch of different attainable speed:\n\n                              Miles per hour.\n  The soldier in ordinary step makes,    2\u00be\n  The soldier in a charge                4\n  The soldier in gymnastic exercise,     7\n  The horse walking,                     3\n  The horse on the trot,                 7\n  The horse on the gallop,              14\n  The horse on the race-course,         30\n  The locomotive at ordinary speed,     30\n  The locomotive going rapidly,         60\n  The current of the Seine,              3\n  Steamboats,                      4 to 14\n\n  A railroad train making thirty miles the hour would consume\n  about three hundred and fifty years in the journey from the\n  earth to the sun. More than a dozen successive generations\n  would have time to appear and disappear during the transit.\n\nBut nothing can more surely measure speed than the man who says\nto his watch, \"Thou givest me sixty seconds a minute, and thou\ncanst go no farther.\"\n\nThe little book which has so worthily occupied my attention is\nnot contented with simply describing professional instruments. It\nplunges into old curiosity shops, and brings out the watch of\nMarat!\n\nEvidently it does not tell us if this watch was hung in the\nbathing saloon where the _friend of the people_ was struck\nby the poignard of Charlotte Corday. But it gives us an exact\ndescription of the jewel, or rather of the _onion_ of the\ncelebrated and redoubtable tribune.\n\nIt was, indeed, a curious watch that Marat possessed; and, if we\ncannot imagine the fashion of the epoch, which gave to every one\nan immense gewgaw, requiring a counter-weight to support it, it\nwill be impossible to explain the oddity of its form.\n\n{567}\n\nIt was a massive silver pear, opening into two equal parts. In\nthe lower part of the fruit was found the dial; the upper\ncontained engraved designs of foliage. The case of the pear\nreproduced the same model; the artist evidently had but one idea.\nIts size was that of an English pear of medium dimensions, and,\nthanks to its density, this jewel has been able to pass without\nany deterioration through the most stormy periods of the world.\n\nThe almanac for clock-makers also contains its good stories. It\nrelates that a thief introduced himself into a watch-store as a\nworkman seeking employment, but with the design of abstracting\nthe pocket-book of the proprietor. The scene is dialogued as the\ntwo parts of a clock containing the chimes of the north, the\nsolemn stillness of the night broken by question and response,\nuntil they mingled in a _na\u00efve contre-point_.\n\n\"Thy purse,\" said the thief.\n\n\"I have forgotten it.\"\n\n\"Thy chain.\"\n\n\"I only wear a ribbon.\"\n\n\"Pshaw! no more ceremony. Look at thy watch. What hour is it?\"\n\n\"The hour of thy death!\" replied the young man in a thundering\nvoice, presenting at the same time a double-barrelled pistol at\nhis head.\n\n\"Oh! oh!\" said the thief, \"I was only joking.\"\n\n\"So much the worse. Come, thy purse.\"\n\nThe thief handed it to him.\n\n\"Thy chain.\"\n\nAnd the chain followed the purse.\n\n\"Thy watch.\"\n\nThe thief, trembling from head to foot, drew out a package of\nwatches, entangled one in the other.\n\n\"Oh! oh! I have you now. Get out, file to the left, turn thy\ndial, and go.\"\n\nAnd the pickpocket withdrew.\n\nThe young watch-maker, perfectly astonished, went immediately to\nthe mayor. They counted twenty-two watches; and the grateful\nproprietors handsomely indemnified him for his trouble, while at\nthe same time he found himself, by this one stroke, with\ntwenty-two good jobs and a patronage.\n\nHad I time, I could extract many more interesting things from\nthis little work.\n\nFor example, a description of a watch made by the grandfather of\nthe present Bregnet--the perpetual watch, so called because it\nwinds itself through some simple movement inserted by the maker.\nAnd I could give, also, good advice to wearers of watches.\n\nWhere to put them at night.\n\nThe manner and time to wind them, and the management of the\nlittle needle that makes them go slower and faster.\n\nThen, again, the injury done watches by trotting horsemen,\nespecially physicians, who thereby lose an accurate guide for the\npulse of their patients.\n\nThen I should like to consider how Abraham Bregnet made the\nsympathetic clock, upon which it is only necessary to place\nbefore midday or midnight a pocket repeating-watch, advancing or\nretarding it a little to allow for the time consumed, and by\nsimple contact it regulates the pendulum.\n\nIf M. Claudius Saurrier wants something curious for his almanac\nof the coming year, he has only to take the chapter on\nclock-making from _The Arts of the Middle Ages_, by Paul\nLacroix. There he will see the three primitive methods of\nmeasuring time, namely, the sun-dial or gnomon that Anximandre\nimported from Greece; the clepsydra, where the flowing water\nindicated the flying minutes; and the hour-glass, where the sand\ntook the place of the water.\n\n{568}\n\nHe will find there a watch of the house of Valois placed in the\ncentre of a Latin cross, and moving with it symbolical figures,\nTime, Apollo, Diana, etc.; or, again, the Virgin, the apostles\nand saints.\n\nTime has not always been lost through the instruments that\nindicate its flight. Ages have changed even palaces; and the\nPalais Royal, whose cannon gives us still the exact hour of\nmid-day, once knew no hours for its _habitu\u00e9s_, and vice and\nimmorality consumed the time that virtue now gives to better\npurposes. The poet of 1830 said:\n\n  \"The palace lives in better days,\n     And virtue holds its court supreme;\n   The sun that lent to vice its rays\n     Now gives to time its potent beam.\"\n\nBut now that I have rendered every tribute to M. Claudius\nSaurrier that his special science can demand, may I not be\nequally frank with him?\n\nI don't like to know what time it is; I am seized with profound\nmelancholy when the clock strikes and as the hands of my watch\nindicate the rapidity with which my life is passing.\n\nIf there had never been an hourglass, a clepsydra, a clock, a\nregulator, a Swiss cuckoo, or a French chronometer, what with the\nvariations of the seasons which are no longer regular--the trees\nleafing in January, and the house-tops iced in April--we might\nnever be sure of anything, and lead the existence of those who\nfrequented the balls of the tenor Roger. With shutters closed and\ncurtains drawn, the sun excluded for four days, his guests could\nhave doubted whether time had anything to do with their\nexistence.\n\nThen we could so long believe ourselves young! The dreaded\nquestion _How old are you?_ could be answered in all\nsincerity, _I do not know_.\n\nOne word more, however, for our pretty watch. How often has it\nbeen the symbol of gallantry.\n\nA lady asked a poet why he used two watches. He replied\nimmediately:\n\n  \"Dear madam, shall I tell you why?\n     One goes too fast, and one too slow;\n   When near you I would fondly fly,\n     I use the first; the other, when I go.\"\n\n          ----------\n\n        New Publications.\n\n  The Catholic Doctrine Of The Atonement.\n  An Historical Inquiry into its Development in the Church. With\n  an Introduction on the Principle of Theological Development.\n  By Henry Nutcombe Oxenham, M.A., formerly Scholar of Balliol\n  College, Oxford.\n  Second Edition. London: Allen & Co. 1869.\n\nThis is a very scholarly treatise on an important subject. It is\nnot a dogmatic work, but a work on the history of dogma. The\nauthor possesses a remarkable insight into the deep and sublime\nmysteries of faith, especially that of the Incarnation, and\nwrites like one whose whole mind and soul have become imbued with\nthe spirit of scriptural and patristic theology. His manner is\nremarkably calm, impartial, and dignified; his method of\nstatement, clear and succinct; and his style is that of an\naccomplished English and classical scholar, often rising to\npassages of high poetic fervor and beauty.\n{569}\nSo far as the exhibition of the true doctrine of the atonement is\nconcerned, beyond the critical statement of different schools of\nopinion, its chief value consists in the refutation of the\nCalvinistic doctrine, and its discrimination of the modern\nprevalent Catholic opinion derived from St. Anselm from the dogma\nproperly so called. The essay on development is one of the ablest\nportions of the book. M\u00f6hler, in his _Athanasius_, has\naccused Petavius of overstating or pressing too far, in his\ncontroversial zeal, the well-known points of his thesis\nrespecting the doctrine of the anti-Nicene fathers against Bishop\nBull. It appears to us that Mr. Oxenham has overstepped the mark\nin the same way in regard to development in general, or at least\nhas used language liable to misapprehension. We think, also, that\nthe character of his mind, which is not adapted to metaphysical\nor speculative inquiries, and the influence under which his\nopinions have been formed, lead him to undervalue scholastic\ntheology. There are here and there, also, indications of a bias\ntoward the opinions of a certain class of French writers of the\nlast century, which appears to us to be out of harmony with the\ngenuine spirit of docility to the teaching of the church, and the\n_pietas fidei_ with which the author is certainly animated.\nWe will specify one instance of this, where Mr. Oxenham has\nexposed a most vulnerable spot in his defensive armor. It is on\npage 11 of the introductory essay, where he is rebutting the\nfamous statement of Chillingworth, that there are \"Popes against\npopes, councils against councils,\" etc. In reply to this, he\nsays, \"On this I have to observe, as to popes against popes,\nwaiving the question of fact, their judgments, when resting on\ntheir own authority alone, if maintained by some theologians to\nbe infallible, are as strenuously denied to be so by others. It\nis a purely open question. Councils are held by no one to be\ninfallible except in matters of doctrine, and there is no case of\ndoctrinal contradiction between councils universally received in\nthe church as ecumenical.\" The author, in this specimen of most\nfaulty logic, by waiving the question of fact respecting the\ndogmatic judgments of the popes, concedes everything which\nChillingworth asserted on that point, and leaves him master of\nthe field. He confines himself to one point of defence, that\nthere are no dogmatic decisions of ecumenical councils which are\ncontradictory to each other. But suppose there are dogmatic\ndecisions of popes to which obedience is required as a term of\ncommunion and under pain of excommunication, which are contrary\nto dogmatic decisions of councils, what then? Suppose one pope\nrequires submission to a dogmatic decision as a term of\ncommunion, and his successor requires the same to an opposite\ndecision, what then? Can Mr. Oxenham say _transeat?_ If Mr.\nFfoulkes should write a letter to Mr. Oxenham containing an\nargument based on an affirmation that those suppositions are\nfacts, against the actual position of the holy see and the\nCatholic episcopate, as against Constantinople and Canterbury,\ncould Mr. Oxenham answer it conclusively without defending that\npoint which he so easily gives up? That the question of the\ninfallibility of the pope is not entirely closed is, of course,\ntrue; but it is not so wide open as an ordinary reader would\ninfer it to be from the author's very inconsiderate and\nunsatisfactory way of stating the matter; nor has it ever been so\nwide open at any time since St. Peter received from our Lord the\ncharge to confirm his brethren in the faith. Bossuet would never\nhave exposed his flank in the unguarded manner that our author\nhas done. The indefectibility of the Roman see in doctrine, and\nthe duty of obedience to its dogmatic judgments, were always\nmaintained by that great theologian, and by all orthodox\nGallicans. The doctrine of what may be called passive\ninfallibility is logically contained in this doctrine of Bossuet\nand in that doctrine of Catholic faith, that the pope is always\nthe supreme head of the church. By passive infallibility, we mean\na security against the separation of the pope and the Roman\nChurch in doctrine from the universal church, either by apostasy\nfrom dogmas already defined, or by the enforcement of any new and\nfalse dogmas.\n{570}\nThe active power of the pope, as the teacher and defender of the\nfaith which he perpetually proclaims to the world, and protects\nby denouncing and condemning heresy, which no Catholic questions,\nis necessarily secured by this indefectibility or passive\ninfallibility from being perverted to the service of heresy or\nimmorality. The only question that can be discussed between\nCatholics regarding this matter relates to the conditions and\nextent of the active infallibility of the pope. The gift of\ninfallibility must necessarily preserve the dogmatic unity of the\npope and the Catholic episcopate, and must therefore influence\nboth. They are both factors in the sum of infallibility. What is\nprecisely the force of each as distinct from the other is not yet\nfully and clearly defined as a canon of faith, and we are willing\nto await the result of the approaching council which will,\nprobably, at least consider the question of the propriety of\nmaking such a canon, before applying any theological formula as a\ncriterion of the orthodoxy of writers, or written statements.\nNevertheless, we have a right to expect that every writer should\nso guard his language and statements that they be not open to a\nmisconception that furnishes a convenient door for the enemy to\nenter in by.\n\nPerhaps Mr. Oxenham will not essentially dissent from the view we\nhave expressed; and we have the best reason to expect that\nwhatever there may be that is defective or inconsequent in his\ntheological system will be filled up and harmonized by the result\nof riper thought and study. His work, as a whole, is one of the\nbest and most valuable of those which have been produced by the\nsound scholars and devoted sons of the church who have been won\nto the ancient faith of England within the classic halls of\nOxford. Every clergyman or scholar addicted to theological\nstudies will find it well worthy of a place in his library, and\nof a careful perusal.\n\n----\n\n  Alice Murray; a Tale.\n  By Mary I. Hoffmnan, authoress of _Agnes Hilton_.\n  1 vol. 12mo. Pp. 490.\n  New York: P. O'Shea. 1869.\n\nWe like this story for its perfect picture of American country\nlife. We get but one glimpse, and that a very imperfect one, of\nthe city. We have plenty of books, good, bad, and indifferent,\ndescribing city life, its manners and customs, its frivolities\nand follies, and even its vices. It was, therefore, with a\nfeeling of relief, that we read this volume; for, even if one can\nbut seldom visit the country, still one likes to read about its\ngreen fields, rippling brooks, gushing springs and dark, cool\nwoods, the lowing kine, and bleating sheep, and in this book we\nget a goodly dose. Miss Hoffman seems to be a practical farmer,\nand is as much at home with the butter-ladle as with the pen, and\nhas a thorough disgust, as all good farmers must have, for what\ncity folk often cultivate as flowers--the \"pesky white daisy.\"\n\nThe first chapters of the story are a little dull, and the place\nin which its scene is laid is not definitely stated; but further\non, we learn that it is in Western New York. There is nothing\nextraordinary or intricate in the plot of of the story. Every\nscene and incident may have occurred just as it is related. It is\nthe old story of innocence and virtue being outgeneralled for a\nwhile by craftiness and vice. And while we have such timid girls\nas Alice Murray, such acts of wrong are possible. It is very well\nto follow the gospel precept, and when struck upon one cheek to\nturn the other; but the gospel nowhere requires us to give in\naddition our own hand with which to smite our cheek.\n\nAlice Murray was the niece of Mr. Elbray's first wife. Her\nparents died while she was quite young, and Mr. Elbray brought\nher up as his daughter, as he had no children of his own. He was\nrich, a self-made man, and a worldly-minded Catholic, paid little\nattention to the duties or requirements of his religion, but made\nmoney his God.\n{571}\nHe became acquainted with a strong-minded, designing widow, who\nmanages to make him marry her, and from that moment Alice Murray\nhad actually no home. The ambitious wife had her own daughter to\nprovide for, and her whole energies were bent on getting rid of\nAlice, which she succeeded in accomplishing. From her adopted\nhome Alice went to her uncle Bradley--her mother's sister's\nhusband--who procured her a district school. Even here, though\nmiles away from her, the new Mrs. Elbray, beside intercepting all\nletters between Alice and her uncle, got up a charge against her\nof having stolen a gold chain presented to her by her _dear_\ndeparted husband. This was done to prevent Alice returning to her\nuncle, who was ever regretting her absence. But the crafty woman\nsucceeded; Alice is discarded, and the result is, that Mrs.\nElbray's daughter makes a brilliant match, and all the Elbray\nfamily move to New York, where old Elbray is ruined by his wife\nand her daughter's husband, and has to go to the almshouse, where\nhe is discovered by a priest who knew him, and Alice is informed\nof the poverty of her uncle. She hesitates not a moment, accepts\nthe hand of the lover she had previously refused, because she\nwished to pay back her uncle all the money he had spent on her,\nand the new-married couple go straight to New York, rescue the\nuncle from the almshouse, and take him home with them, where he\nlives in peace.\n\nThe picture of the Bradley family is a beautiful one--just what a\ngood Catholic family should be; in fact, all of Miss Hoffman's\nfamily pen-pictures are good. Her great weakness lies in her\ndialogues; they need more animation and sprightliness; and her\nvery _bad_ characters are better drawn than her very\n_good_ ones. For instance, in Mrs. Elbray, an ambitious,\nproud, self-willed and worldly woman, we have decidedly the best\ndepicted character in the book. She labors for a purpose, a bad\npurpose it is true, and succeeds, although the success was her\nruin. Had Alice used for a good purpose one half the energy Mrs.\nElbray did for a bad one, a world of suffering would have been\nsaved her, but then _Alice Murray_ would not have been\nwritten. We wish the writers of our Catholic stories would allow\ntheir good characters to act like living men and women, not mere\nmachines, throwing the responsibility of all their troubles and\ntribulations upon God, and leaving it _all_ in his hands to\nsee justice done; but teach them to use the means God gave them\nto help themselves.\n\nWe have said that Miss Hoffman's descriptions of American country\nlife and scenery are good. There is one pen-picture on page 170\nthat will remind many of similar scenes. The story is thoroughly\nCatholic in tone and sentiment, but is not of the belligerant\nclass. There are no religious discussions indulged in for the\nsake of displaying one's theological knowledge; but the whole\natmosphere of the book--the whole sentiment is Catholic, and the\nreader feels it, just as one in reading \u00e0 Kempis would know and\nfeel that the writer was a devout, practical Catholic.\n\nThe typographical execution of the book might easily be improved\nby employing a better proof-reader and the use of better type.\n\n----\n\n  Chips From A German Workshop.\n  By Max M\u00fcller, M. A.\n  2 vols. crown 8vo, pp. 374, 402.\n  New York: Charles Scribner & Co.\n\nThese two volumes consist of various essays, lectures, etc.,\nwhich Professor M\u00fcller has published from time to time during the\nintervals of his long years of labor on the Rig-Veda. They are\nall more or less closely connected with the great work to which\nhe has devoted his life, and are all illustrations of a\nsystematic religious philosophy. The first volume is devoted to\nessays on \"The Science of Religion.\" The author remarks that in\nreligion \"everything new is old, and everything old is new, and\nthere has been no entirely new religion since the beginning of\nthe world.\" St. Augustine says that \"what is now called the\nChristian religion has existed among the ancients, and was not\nabsent from the beginning of the human race until Christ came in\nthe flesh;\" and the design of these essays is to show how the\nradical ideas of religion revealed by Almighty God at the\nbeginning have undergone various changes, corruptions, and\ncombinations, yet, though frequently distorted, tend again and\nagain to their perfect form.\n{572}\nProfessor M\u00fcller traces these primitive ideas through the ancient\nreligions of India and Persia, and extracts from the forbidding\nobscurity of Sanscrit literature a wealth of illustration, which,\nwith his charming style and incomparable happiness in selection,\nhe makes attractive to nearly all classes of readers. He studies\nthe matter not as a theologian but as a coldly critical man of\nscience; and his reasoning is, of course, directly in support of\nthe truths of revelation. The second volume contains an essay on\n_Comparative Mythology_, and papers on early traditions and\ncustoms, all bearing upon the subject of the first, and many of\nthem highly curious. At some future day, if opportunity permits,\nwe hope to recur to these valuable \"Chips,\" and give our readers\na few specimens of their excellence.\n\n----\n\n  Pastoral Letter Of The Most Rev. Archbishop\n  and Suffragan Prelates of the Province of\n  Baltimore, at the close of the\n  Tenth Provincial Council. May, 1869.\n  Baltimore: J. Murphy & Co.\n\nThis letter of the fathers of the council of Baltimore is a\nrenewed evidence of the paternal affection and ceaseless\nvigilance with which the pastors of the church watch over their\nflock. On many most important points, they have spoken out with a\nclearness that must be gratifying to every Catholic heart. First\namong them is Education. We quote a portion:\n\n  \"Bitter experience convinces us daily more and more that a\n  purely secular education, to the exclusion of a religious\n  training, is not only an imperfect system, but is attended with\n  the most disastrous consequences to the individual and to\n  society. Among Catholics, there cannot be two opinions about\n  this subject. And we are happy to see that this practical truth\n  is beginning to find acceptance also in the minds of reflecting\n  men among our separated brethren.\n\n  \"The catechetical instructions given once a week in our\n  Sunday-schools, though productive of the most beneficial\n  results, are insufficient to satisfy the religious wants of our\n  children. They should every day breathe a healthy religious\n  atmosphere in those schools, where not only their minds are\n  enlightened, but where the seeds of faith, piety, and sound\n  morality are nourished and invigorated.\n\n  \"Children have not only _heads_ to be enlightened, but,\n  what is more important, _hearts_ to be formed to virtue.\"\n\nThe most reverend archbishop has been from the first one of the\nmost earnest supporters of the Catholic Publication Society, and,\nwith the prelates of the council, again commends it to the\npatronage of clergy and laity.\n\n  \"We desire to renew,\" say they, \"our cordial approbation of the\n  Catholic Publication Society, recently established in New York,\n  and we earnestly hope it may receive from our clergy and laity\n  all the patronage it so well deserves.\n\n  \"This society is laudably engaged in the publication of such\n  Catholic works as are peculiarly adapted to the wants of our\n  times, and it serves as a powerful auxiliary in the propagation\n  of Catholic truth.\n\n  \"Short religious tracts are also issued under the auspices of\n  the same society. These tracts are daily growing in popularity\n  and usefulness. In one year, about six hundred thousand of them\n  were printed and distributed. Their brevity recommends their\n  perusal to many who have neither leisure nor disposition to\n  read books treating of the same subject. Their short but\n  convincing arguments always make a favorable impression on\n  sincere minds; while their plain, familiar style renders them\n  attractive to the lowest capacity. The very moderate price at\n  which they are sold places them within the reach of all.\n\n  \"We trust that our zealous missionary clergy will adopt some\n  effectual and systematic means by which the books, and\n  especially the tracts of this excellent society may be\n  regularly circulated throughout their missions, and distributed\n  among the children attending our schools.\"\n\n{573}\n\nThese words are very encouraging and opportune; for one thing is\nsure, and that is, \"The Catholic Publication Society,\" without\nthis co-operation and sympathy, both on the part of the clergy\nand the laity, cannot accomplish the great work that is before it\nin our country.\n\nThen follow some timely words of admonition to Catholics lest\nthey imbibe the loose notions which prevail among many around\nthem in regard to the crime of infanticide.\n\nNext, are condemned round dances, indecent publications, and the\nobscene theatrical performances which are becoming so abundant.\n\nThe remainder of the letter contains words of encouragement to\nthe clergy and laity in the various charitable works in which\nthey are engaged, as the erecting of protectories and orphan\nasylums, the providing churches and schools for our colored\nbrethren, etc.\n\n----\n\n  F\u00e9n\u00e9lon's Conversations With M. De Ramsai On The Truth Of\n  Religion, With his Letters on the Immortality of the Soul, and\n  the Freedom of the Will.\n  Translated from the French by A. E. Silliman. 1869.\n\nF\u00e9n\u00e9lon was a genius and a saint. He had, moreover, the faculty\nof expressing his thoughts in a remarkably clear style, and\nthrowing a peculiar charm about every subject he handled. The\nconversations with Chevalier Ramsay form a short treatise,\nproving that there is no medium between deism and Catholicism. It\nis very admirable, and Mr. Silliman has done a good service in\ntranslating it, with the two other short but excellent treatises\nwhich are appended. The translator's preface, which is perfectly\ncalm and passionless in its tone, gives a brief but interesting\nsketch of F\u00e9n\u00e9lon's character, and of some of the events of his\nlife, and relates the circumstance which gave occasion to the\nconversations with Chevalier Ramsay. As it alludes to the\ncondemnation of the _Maxims_ by the pope, and states that\nthis condemnation was given reluctantly and under threats from\nthe king of France, it may be well to explain this matter in a\nfew words. It is true that the accusation of F\u00e9n\u00e9lon at Rome was\nmade through enmity against his person, and in a manner\ndiscreditable to the parties concerned, and very displeasing to\nthe pope. It is not true, however, that the decision was given in\naccordance with the wishes of the king on account of his\nentreaties or threats. The pope did not wish to have the matter\nbrought before him, because he preferred to leave the errors of\nF\u00e9n\u00e9lon's book to be corrected by milder methods than a public\ncondemnation, and desired to spare so great and holy a\nprelate--who had erred only through a mistaken judgment of the\ntrue sense of certain statements of the most approved mystic\nauthors--the mortification of a public censure and a formal\nretraction. The action of F\u00e9n\u00e9lon's enemies made the matter so\npublic and notorious, and brought his erroneous statements into\nsuch a clear light that it was impossible to avoid an examination\nand judgment without scandal. The judgment was impartial, and was\nnecessarily against F\u00e9n\u00e9lon, whose doctrine was clearly\nirreconcilable with the teaching of the church. At the same time,\na sharp reproof was given to his accusers for the spirit which\nthey had shown in pushing matters to extremes, and the personal\nrespect and esteem of the pope for F\u00e9n\u00e9lon were clearly\nmanifested.\n\nThe translator has added a very judicious note to the treatise on\nthe immortality of the soul, justly censuring certain statements\nof the author on the nature of the connection between soul and\nbody. Like many other writers of that time, F\u00e9n\u00e9lon was too much\ninfluenced by the philosophy of Descartes whose ridiculous theory\nof occasional causes appears in the passages criticised by Mr.\nSilliman. On this point, the language of the Protestant\ntranslator is much more in accordance with the Catholic doctrine\nthat the soul is _forma corporis_ than that of the Catholic\narchbishop.\n\nWe recommend this most beautiful specimen of reasoning and\npersuasive eloquence most heartily to all readers, especially to\nthose who fancy they can find a halting-place somewhere between\nthe rejection of all positive revelation and the acceptance, pure\nand simple, of Catholicity.\n{574}\nThe translation is well done, and the mechanical execution of the\nbook, which is a medium between a volume and a pamphlet, is\nelegant. If the translator finds sufficient encouragement in the\nreception which it meets with to induce him to continue, we\nrecommend to him the translation of F\u00e9n\u00e9lon's admirable treatise\non the existence and attributes of God, as a work which we should\nwelcome as a timely and valuable addition to our English\nreligious literature.\n\n----\n\n  La Natura E La Grazia,\n  (Nature And Grace.)\n  Discourses on Modern Naturalism delivered in Rome during the\n  Lent of 1865.\n  By Father Charles M. Curci, S.J.\n  2 vols. Rome, Turin, and Venice.\n\nWe are greatly indebted to the courtesy of F. Curci in sending us\na copy of this admirable collection of discourses. With the\ngreatest modesty, the distinguished author apologizes in his\npreface for the defects of his work. To his readers, however, his\nname will be a sufficient guarantee of its excellence and\nability; nor will a careful examination give them any reason to\nchange their opinion. These are no ordinary Lent sermons upon the\ncommonplace themes of exhortation which preachers are wont to\nhandle during this holy season. They are profound, eloquent, and\nclassically written discourses upon all the great Catholic\ndoctrines and practices which are disputed or denied by modern\ninfidels and rationalists; a specimen of that high, intellectual,\nphilosophical, and, at the same time, thoroughly spiritual\npreaching which is so necessary in our day for the educated\nclasses. If it were possible, it would be highly desirable and\nbeneficial to have these volumes translated into English. If we\nare not able, at present, to have this done, it is only because\nof the very great cost of translating and publishing in this\ncountry a work of such a high class, the circulation of which\nwould be necessarily limited to the clergy and a small portion of\nthe most highly educated among the laity.\n\n-----\n\n  Italy, Florence, And Venice.\n  From the French of H. Taine.\n  By J. Durand.\n  8vo, pp. 385. New York: Leypoldt & Holt.\n\nThis is a companion volume to M. Taine's book on _Rome and\nNaples_, which appeared in an English dress about a year ago.\nThe author visited Italy in 1864, (though the date, by a strange\noversight, is not mentioned in the volume now before us,) and his\nobservations upon the political situation of the country and such\nsocial peculiarities as arose from political causes, have now\nlost much of their value. These observations are fortunately few,\nnor were they ever very profound. M. Taine is not a student of\npublic affairs, nor a keen observer of popular characteristics.\nOf Italian life and manners, he learned no more than the mere\nguide-book tourist can see in hotels, galleries, and public\nconveyances, and what he saw he tells no better than many have\ntold the same things before him, and not so well as at least one\nor two American travellers whom we could mention. It is as a\ncritic of art that he demands our attention, and in this\nparticular he far surpasses nine tenths of all the writers on\nsuch topics with whom English readers are familiar. The eloquence\nand rapidity of his style, the refinement of his esthetic sense,\nand the keenness of his philosophy, invest his pages with an\ninterest and a brilliancy which must charm every body. Yet there\nis something lacking in his appreciation of paintings, there is a\ncoldness even in the midst of his enthusiasm, which leave the\nmind unsatisfied. The fact is, he writes like a man of the world,\nto whom the inner religious sentiment of art is only half\nrevealed. He judges of paintings only with the head; but there\nare certain works--above all, for instance, those of Fra\nAngelico--which must be judged by the heart.\n\n-----\n\n  Love; Or Self Sacrifice:\n  a Story by Lady Herbert.\n  Published by D. & J. Sadlier & Co.\n  Price, 75 cts.\n\nThe life of Gwladys, the heroine of Lady Herbert's story, is made\nup of three important events; two marriages and the death of her\nlovely boy; and it required all of Lady Herbert's experience as a\nwriter to fill a volume covering the space of eighteen years,\nwith the joys and sorrows of her monotonous life.\n{575}\nThe book abounds in exquisite descriptive scenes and truthful\nnarratives of the fatigues and incidents of travel; but there is\na striking resemblance between many of the leading characters,\nand the episodes, in general, are unnatural.\n\nThese faults can only be accounted for on the supposition that\nthe overstrained mind of the heroine did not preserve a perfect\npicture of each individual; their virtues and faults appearing to\nGwladys in proportion to the amount of kindness they heaped upon\nher. Thus Lady Herbert was unable to paint them as they were in\nreality and contented herself by coloring them to suit the ideas\nof her much-loved friend. The external appearance of the book we\ncannot praise. The proofs must have been read by the \"printer's\ndevil,\" with _malice prepense_, for a more slovenly printed\nbook it has never been our misfortune, as a reviewer, to have\nbeen compelled to read.\n\n-----\n\n  Die Alte Und Neue Welt.\n  Vols. I. II. III.\n  New York and Cincinnati: Benziger Bros.\n\nWe are indebted to the publishers for the three volumes,\nbeautifully bound, of this excellent German illustrated magazine.\nWe have already noticed the admirable character both of the\nreading matter and of the illustrations of this periodical, which\nis an instructive and at the same time highly entertaining family\nmagazine, decidedly the best of its class we have ever met with\nin any language. For those who can read the German language,\nthese volumes form as pleasant a companion as one could desire of\na rainy afternoon, or in any leisure hour when one is desirous of\nsome pleasant and innocent mental relaxation. It is also\nprofitable as well as pleasant, chiefly on account of the\ncharming pictures it presents of Catholic life in ancient and\nmodern Germany. To all who read German, we cordially recommend\nthe purchase of these volumes, both for the sake of the reading\nmatter, and also of the excellent illustrations. As for our\nGerman fellow-Catholics, they ought to be proud of possessing in\ntheir own rich and grand mother-tongue a magazine which does them\nso much honor, and ought to give it their universal support. For\nthe clergy, for parish libraries, for the family, and for young\npeople who have a taste for reading, it is invaluable. We fear\nthat the children of our German fellow-citizens are too much\ndisposed to forget the glorious fatherland of their parents,\nwhich is in them a great folly, to be checked and discouraged in\nevery way. It is not necessary, in order to become good\nAmericans, to disown and forget the country and the literature of\none's ancestors. If it is worth while for those whose\nmother-tongue is English to spend years in acquiring a knowledge\nof the language and literature of Germany, it is surely a great\npiece of folly for those whose early education has given them the\nmeans of attaining this knowledge without any trouble to throw it\naway as of no value.\n\nWe think that the American part of the magazine, that is, all\nthat represents the life of the German population in the United\nStates, might be much better sustained than it is. We cannot\nblame the editors for this defect, which is no doubt entirely due\nto a lack of contributors living in this country; but it appears\nto us that a more extensive and zealous co-operation of the\nclergy here with the European editors would, without difficulty,\nsupply it, and make the _Alte und Neue Welt_ really, as its\nname imports, a magazine of the new as well as of the old world.\nWe wish the enterprising firm of the Messrs. Benziger abundant\nsuccess in their laudable and skilful efforts to promote the\ncause of Catholic literature in the German language.\n\n-----\n\n  Winifred; Countess Of Nithsdale.\n  By Lady Dacre.\n  New York: D. & J. Sadlier & Co.\n\nThis story has appeared in _The Tablet_, and has nothing\nremarkable in it to praise or blame, if we except the numerous\ntypographical errors, which are the more noticeable on account of\nthe dulness of the narrative, and the low order of the curious\ndialogues.\n\n-----\n\n{576}\n\n  Little Women; Or, Meg, Jo, Beth, And Amy.\n  By Louisa M. Alcott.\n  Illustrated by May Alcott.\n  Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1869.\n\nThis is a charming story, full of life, full of fun, full of\nhuman nature, and therefore full of interest. The little women\nplay at being pilgrims when they are children, and resolve to be\ntrue pilgrims as they grow older. Life to them was earnest; it\nhad its duties, and they did not overlook them or despise them.\nDirected by the wise teachings and beautiful example of a good\nmother, they became in the end true and noble women. Make their\nacquaintance; for Amy will be found delightful, Beth very lovely,\nMeg beautiful, and Jo splendid; that there is a real Jo somewhere\nwe have not the slightest doubt.\n\n-----\n\n  Mental Photographs.\n  An Album for Confessions of Tastes, Habits, and Convictions.\n  Edited by Robert Saxton.\n  New York: Leypoldt & Holt.\n\nWe have here an ingenious invention for the amusement of the\nsocial circle, and one which is capable of affording a good deal\nof merriment and interest, provided smart and sensible people\ntake part in it. The album contains places for photographs, and\nby the side of each a series of forty questions, such as \"What is\nyour favorite book? color? name? occupation?\" etc., to which\nanswers are to be written by the original of the picture. In this\nway, the editor says, as complete a portrait as possible is\nobtained both of the inner and outer man. Most of the questions\nare pertinent and suggestive.\n\n-----\n\n  The Phenomena And Laws Of Heat.\n  By Achille Cuzin, Professor of\n  Physics in the Lyceum of Versailles.\n  Translated and edited by Elihu Rich.\n  1 vol. 12mo. Illustrated. Pp. 265.\n  New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1869.\n\nThis volume belongs to the _Library of Wonders_, and its aim\nis to present in a summary the principal phenomena of heat, as\nviewed from the standpoint afforded by recent discoveries in\nphysics. The illustrations are excellent, and give the reader a\ncomplete elucidation of the text.\n\n-----\n\n  The Fisher-Maiden. A Norwegian Tale.\n  By Bj\u00f6rnstjerne Bj\u00f6rnson.\n  From the Author's German Edition,\n  by M. E. Niles.\n  New York: Leypold & Holt. 1869.\n\n\"An artist, not a photographer, Bj\u00f6rnson draws souls more than\nfaces.\" \"In these times of blatant novelists, it is no ordinary\ntreat to get a story which affects one almost as finely as a\npoem.\"\n\n-----\n\nThe Catholic Publication Society will soon publish _The History\nof the Catholic Church on the Island of New York_. By the Rt.\nRev. J. R. Bayley, D.D., Bishop of Newark. This work will contain\nmany important documents relating to the history of the church in\nthis city, not heretofore published.\n\n-----\n\n         Books Received.\n\nFrom Charles Scribner & Co., New York:\n\n  Waterloo; a Sequel to the Conscript of 1813.\n  Translated from the French of Erckmann-Chatrian.\n  Illustrated. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 368.\n\n\nFrom P. M. Haverty, New York:\n\n  Speeches on the Legislative Independence of Ireland.\n  With introductory notes by Thomas Francis Meagher, and a\n  memorial oration, by Richard O'Gorman.\n  1 vol. 12mo, pp.317.\n\n\nFrom Lee & Shepard, Boston:\n\n  The Gates Wide Open; or,\n  Scenes in another World.\n  By George Wood. Pp. 354.\n\n----------\n\n{577}\n\n           The Catholic World.\n\n      Vol. IX., No. 53.--August, 1869.\n\n-----\n\n    \"Our Established Church.\"  [Footnote 166]\n\n    [Footnote 166: _Putnam's Monthly Magazine_. Our\n    Established Church. New York. G. P. Putnam & Son. July,\n    1869.]\n\n\nThe title, Our Established Church, given by _Putnam_ to a\nbitterly anti-Catholic article in its number for last July, is\ntoo malicious for pleasantry and too untrue for wit. The writer\nknows perfectly well that we have in this State of New York no\nestablished church, and that, of all the so-called churches, the\nCatholic Church is the furthest removed from being the state\nchurch. In no city, town, or county of the State are Catholics\nthe majority of the population; and even in this city, where\ntheir proportion to the whole population is the largest, they\nprobably constitute not much, if any, over one third of the\nwhole. Public opinion throughout the State, though less hostile\nthan it was a few years ago, is still bitterly anti-Catholic. In\nthis city, the numbers and influence of naturalized, as\ndistinguished from natural born citizens, is, no doubt, very\ngreat; but these naturalized citizens are by no means all\nCatholics, and a large number of those who may have been baptized\nCatholics are wholly uninfluenced by their Catholicity in their\npublic, and, we fear, to a great extent, even in their private\nlife. It is simply ridiculous, even by way of irony, to speak of\nour church as the established church, or as exerting a\ncontrolling influence in the State or city.\n\nMoreover, no church can be the established church, here or\nelsewhere, unless it concedes the supremacy of the state, and\nconsents to be its slave. This the Catholic Church can never do.\nThe relations of church and state in Catholic countries have for\nmany centuries been regulated by concordats; but in this country,\nsince the adoption of the Federal constitution, the civil\nauthority has recognized its own incompetency in spirituals, and,\nas before it, the equal rights of all religions not _contra\nbonos mores_, as also its obligation to protect the adherents\nof each in the free and full enjoyment of their entire religious\nliberty. The state guarantees, thus, all the freedom and\nprotection the church has ever secured elsewhere by concordats.\nShe much prefers freedom to slavery, and her full liberty, though\nshared with hostile sects, to the gilded bondage of a state\nchurch. She neither is the established church, nor can she\nconsent to become so; for a state church means a church governed\nby the laity, and subordinated to secular interests, as we see in\nthe case of the Anglican establishment.\n{578}\nHer steady refusal to become a state establishment is the key to\nthose fearful struggles in the middle ages between the church and\nthe empire; and the secret of the success of the Protestant\nReformation is to be found in its ready submission to the secular\nprince, or its practical assertion of the supremacy of the civil\npower and the subordination of the spiritual.\n\nThere is always great difficulty in discussing such questions as\nthe writer in _Putnam_ raises with our Protestant\nfellow-citizens; for we and they start from opposite principles\nand aim at different ends. We, as Catholics, assert the entire\nfreedom and independence of the spiritual order; but they,\nconsciously or unconsciously, assume that the state is supreme,\nand that the spiritual should be under the surveillance and\ncontrol of the secular. We understand by religious liberty the\nfreedom and independence of the church as an organic body; they\nunderstand by it the freedom of the laity from all authority\nclaimed and exercised by the pope and clergy as ministers of God\nor stewards of his kingdom on earth. If each Protestant sect\nclaims, in its own case, exemption from secular control, every\none insists that the Catholic Church shall be subject to Caesar,\nand all unite to deprive her of her spiritual freedom and\nindependence. Hence, they and we view things from opposite poles.\nThey regard them from the point of view of the Gentiles, with\nwhom religion was a civil function, and the state supreme alike\nin spirituals and temporals; we, from the point of view of the\nGospel, or the New Law, which asserts the divine sovereignty, and\nrequires us to obey God rather than men. They would secularize\nthe church and education, abolish the priesthood, explain away\nthe sacraments, and reduce the worship of God to the exercise of\npreaching, praying, and singing, which can be performed by\nlaymen, or even women, as well as by consecrated priests. What\nthey call their religion is a perpetual protest against what we\ncall religion, or the Christian religion as we understand, hold,\nand practise it. It is especially a protest against the\npriesthood, priestly functions and authority.\n\nHence the difficulty of a mutual understanding between them and\nus. What they want is not what we want. We are willing to let\nthem have their own way for themselves, but they are not willing\nthat we should have our own way for ourselves; and they try all\nmanner of means in their power to force us to follow their way\nand to fashion ourselves after their model. They do not concede\nthat we have, and are not willing that we should have, equal\nrights with themselves in the state. If the state treats us as\ncitizens standing on a footing of equality with them, they are\nindignant, and allege that it treats us as a privileged class,\nand to their great wrong. If it does not subordinate us to them,\nthey pretend that it makes ours the established church, and\nplaces them in the attitude of dissenters from the state\nreligion. They are not satisfied with equality; they can see no\nequality where they are not the masters. They cannot endure that\nMordecai should be allowed to sit in the king's gate. This is the\nreal sense of _Putnam's_ article, and the meaning of the\nclamor of the sectarian and a large portion of the secular press,\nagainst the State and city of New York, for their alleged\nliberality to the church.\n\n{579}\n\nThe complaint in _Putnam_ is, that the State and city of New\nYork have granted aid to certain Catholic charitable\ninstitutions, such as hospitals, orphan asylums, reformatories or\nprotectorates for Catholic boys, etc., out of all proportion to\nits grants of aid to similar Protestant institutions. Also, that\nthe Legislature has authorized the city to appropriate a certain\npercentage of the fees received for liquor licenses to the\nsupport of private schools for the poor, some portion, even the\nlarger portion, of which, it is assumed, will go to the support\nof Catholic parochial schools, and therefore, it is pretended, to\nthe support of _sectarian_ schools; for in the Protestant\nmind whatever is Catholic is sectarian. But is it true that the\nState or the city does proportionably less for non-Catholic\ncharitable or educational institutions--not a few of which are\nwell known to be formed for the very purpose of picking up, we\nmight say kidnapping, Catholic poor children, and bringing them\nup in some form of Protestantism or infidelity--than it does for\nCatholic charitable institutions? Most certainly not. It does far\nless for Catholic than for non-Catholic institutions; and yet,\nbecause it does a little for institutions, though for the benefit\nof the whole community, under the control and management of\nCatholics, the State and city are calumniated, and we are\ninsulted by its being pretended that our church is made the state\nchurch.\n\nIn this matter of State grants or city donations, the Protestant\nmind proceeds upon a sad fallacy. The divisions of Protestants\namong themselves count for nothing in a question between them and\nCatholics. Protestants overlook this fact, and while they call\nall grants and donations to Catholic institutions sectarian, they\ncall none sectarian of all that made to Protestant institutions\nwhich are not under the control and management of some particular\ndenomination of Protestants, as the Episcopalian, the\nPresbyterian, the Baptist, or the Methodist; but this is a grave\nerror, and cannot fail to mislead the public. All grants and\ndonations made to institutions, charitable or educational, not\nunder the control and management of Catholics are made to\nnon-Catholics; and, with the exception of those made to the\nHebrews, to Protestant institutions. There are but two religions\nto be counted, Catholic and Protestant. The true rule is to count\non one side whatever is given to institutions under Catholic\ncontrol and management, and on the other side all that is given\nfor similar purposes to all the institutions, whether public or\nprivate, not under Catholic control and management. The question,\nthen, comes up, Have the State and city given proportionately\ngreater amounts to Catholic charitable and other institutions\nthan to Protestant institutions? If not, we have no more than our\nshare, and the Protestant clamor is unjust and indefensible.\n\nOf the policy of granting subsidies by State or city, to\neleemosynary institutions, whether Catholic or Protestant we say\nnothing; for being, even now, at most not more than one fifth of\nthe whole population of the State, we are in no sense answerable,\nas Catholics, for any policy the State may see proper to adopt.\nBut, if it adopts the policy of granting subsidies, we demand for\nour institutions our proportion of the subsidies granted. Have we\nreceived more than our proportion? Nay, have we received anything\nlike our proportion? We find from the official report made to the\nState Convention, that the total of grants made by the State to\ncharitable and other institutions--including the New York\nInstitution of the Deaf and Dumb, the New York Institution for\nthe Blind, the Society for the Reformation of Juvenile\nDelinquents of New York, State Agricultural College, State Normal\nSchool, the Western House of Refuge for Juvenile Delinquents,\nState Lunatic Asylum, the Asylum for Idiots, the Willard Asylum\nfor the Insane, academies, orphan asylums, etc., hospitals, etc.,\ncolleges, universities, etc., and miscellaneous---have amounted,\nfor twenty-one years, ending with 1867, to $6,920,881.91.\n{580}\nOf this large amount, Catholics should have received for their\ninstitutions certainly not less than one million of dollars. Yet,\nall that we have been able to find that they have received out of\nthis large sum is a little less than $276,000; that is, not over\none fourth of what they were entitled to; yet _Putnam's\nMagazine_ has the effrontery to pretend that our church is\nfavored at the expense of Protestantism.\n\nSo much for the State subsidies. In passing to the city, we find\nits donations to charitable institutions, from 1847 to 1867\ninclusive, amount to $1,837,593.27; of which, Catholic\ninstitutions, including $45,000 for parochial schools, have\nreceived, as nearly as we can ascertain from the returns, a\nlittle over three hundred thousand dollars. All the rest has gone\nto non-Catholic, and a large part to bitterly anti-Catholic\nassociations and institutions. Of the aggregate grants and\ndonations of the State and city of $8,754,759.18, Catholic\ninstitutions, as far as we have been able to discover from the\nofficial tables before us, received, prior to 1868, less than\n$600,000, not, by any means, a fourth of our proportion. Yet we\nare treated as the established church!\n\nBut we have not yet stated the whole case. We do not know how\nmany millions are appropriated annually for the support of public\nschools throughout the State; but in this city the tax levy, this\nyear, for the public schools, is, we are told, $3,000,000 or\nover. Catholics pay their proportion of this amount, and they are\na third of the population of the city. The sum appropriated to\nthe aid of private schools, we are told, is estimated at\n$200,000; and if every cent of it is applied in aid of our\nschools, as it will not be, it is far less than the tax we pay\nfor schools which we cannot use. The public schools are\nanti-Catholic in their tendency, and none the less sectarian\nbecause established and managed by the public authority of the\nState. The State is practically Protestant, and all its\ninstitutions are managed almost exclusively by Protestants. St.\nJohn's College, Fordham, or St. Francis Xavier's, in this city,\nis not more exclusively Catholic than Columbia or Union is\nexclusively Protestant. These latter are open to Catholics, but\nnot more than the former are to Protestants. We count in the\ngrants and donations to Protestant institutions the whole amount\nraised by public tax, together with that appropriated from the\nschool fund of the State for the support of the public schools.\nThus we claim that Catholic charities and schools do not receive,\nin grants and donations, a tithe of what is honestly or justly\ntheir share--whether estimated according to their numbers or\naccording to the amount of public taxes, for sectarian charitable\nand educational purposes levied on them by the State and its\nmunicipalities. How false and absurd, then, to pretend that this\nState specially favors our religion, and treats us as a\nprivileged class! The writer in _Putnam_ is obliged to draw\nlargely on his sectarian imagination for facts to render his\nstatements at all plausible. His pretended facts are in most\ncases no facts at all. We wish his estimate of the value of the\nreal estate owned by the church were true; but he exaggerates\nhugely the amount, and then says it is held, for the most part,\nin fee-simple, by one or another of five ecclesiastics, which\nshows how ill-informed he is.\n{581}\nWe subjoin the brief but spirited contradiction, by the bishop of\nRochester, of several of his misstatements.\n\n  \"_To the Editor of the Rochester Democrat:_\n\n  \"In your paper, of June 16, appears an article with the\n  caption,  Our Established Church.' The article is based on one\n  with the same title in _Putnam's Magazine_ for July. I do\n  not wish to review the article in _Putnam_, but claim the\n  privilege of correcting some of its misstatements.\n\n   \"I am one of the 'five ecclesiastics' in the State of New York\n   holding property worth millions. Yet, strange to say, there is\n   not to my knowledge one foot of land in the wide world in my\n   name. All the church societies in the diocese of Rochester not\n   organized as corporate bodies under the laws of the State of\n   New York, previous to my appointment as Bishop of Rochester,\n   have organized or are completing their organization under\n   those laws. So soon as these societies comply with the law of\n   the State, Bishop Loughlin, of Brooklyn, will transfer to\n   them, by quit-claim deeds, whatever property of theirs he\n   inherited from the late Bishop Timon. Had I had ever so little\n   desire to hold property in my name, I might have held in\n   fee-simple the lots on which I am building the bishop's house;\n   but I have placed the title in the name of 'St. Patrick's\n   Church Society.'\n\n  \"The other 'ecclesiastics' in the State of New York, who have\n  not already transferred the property which they held in\n  fee-simple, are engaged in making such transfer of the 'fifty\n  millions' said to be held by them.\n\n  \"The chief trouble, it seems to me, is in the fact that the\n  Catholic Church is allowed to hold property in any shape or\n  form. But the Catholic Church does hold property, and she will\n  continue to hold it to the end of the chapter, and 'What do you\n  propose to do about it?'\n\n  \"'The (Catholic) Nursery and Hospital on Fifty-first street and\n  Lexington avenue,' is a Protestant institution.\n\n  \"The new St. Patrick's Cathedral stands on ground purchased by\n  Catholics about sixty years ago, and ever since in their\n  possession. This fact spoils Parton's compliment to the\n  Archbishop Hughes's foresight, and a nice bit of irony in\n  _Putnam's Magazine_.\n\n  \"The Catholics in New York City, in 1817, opened an orphan\n  asylum, which they maintained, without assistance from the city\n  or State, until some time after the year 1840, when they\n  received on a perpetual lease the block of ground between\n  Fourth and Fifth avenues and Fifty-first and Fifty-second\n  streets, at that time of very little value. On these lots they\n  have erected two vast and magnificent buildings, in which they\n  support over a thousand children, at an annual cost to them,\n  and not to the city or State, of from $70,000 to $90,000.\n\n  \"I make these corrections to show that the writer of the\n  article in _Putnam_ is far astray in his facts. There are\n  many other objectionable statements in the article, but a\n  magazine contribution without a little spice in it would be\n  tame and unreadable. Thus, the allusion to the church trouble\n  in Auburn, and the pretty play on the name of the church, would\n  lose their point if the history of that affair were properly\n  understood.\n\n  \"Catholics do not claim to have rights above any one else, but\n  they know they have equal rights with others. They have no\n  notion of their church ever becoming the 'Established Church,'\n  and they are just as certain that no other church shall ever\n  assume to be the 'Established Church' in the United States.\n      B. J. McQuaid,\n      \"Bishop of Rochester.\"\n\nThis is conclusive as far as it goes. We do not know the money\nvalue of our churches, the sites and buildings of our schools,\ncolleges, orphan asylums, hospitals, religious houses, and\nacademies; but it is possible that in the five dioceses into\nwhich the State is ecclesiastically divided it may be half as\nmuch as the value of the real estate owned by Trinity Church in\nthis city; but be it more or be it less, the property of the\nchurch has been bought and paid for, so far as paid for at all,\nwith very slight exceptions, by the voluntary offerings of the\nfaithful, and none of it has been obtained by the despoiling of\nProtestant owners. Very little of it is due to public grants, and\nthe few lots leased us by the city at a nominal rent for a term\nof years, though of great value now, were of little value when\nleased.\n{582}\nNor have these lots in any case been leased for sites of\nchurches, but in all cases for purposes in which the city itself\nis no less deeply interested than the Catholics themselves. The\ngrants to the reformatory for Catholic boys, though apparently\nlarge, are measures of economy on the part of the city; for we\ncan manage reformatories and take care of our juvenile\ndelinquents far more economically than the city or Protestant\ninstitutions can. The industrial school of the Sisters of Charity\nis a public benefit, and the city and the State would save money\nwere all their hospitals and asylums placed under the charge of\nthese good sisters, or of the kindred congregation of the Sisters\nof Mercy. Our hospitals, again, are as open to Protestants as to\nCatholics. It is never a Catholic practice to inquire what is a\nman's religion before rendering him assistance. Whoever needs our\nhelp, whatever his religion, is our neighbor.\n\nThe city has made donations, as far as we are aware, only to such\nCatholic institutions as are established for really public\nobjects, and which in their operations save the city from what\nwould otherwise be either a public nuisance or a public charge.\nTake the case of Catholic orphan asylums. The orphans they\nreceive and provide for would otherwise be a charge on the city\ntreasury. Take the institute of the Sisters of the Good Shepherd.\nIt has for its object a noble charity, that of rescuing and\nreforming fallen women. These victims of vice and propagators of\ncorruption, received and cared for by the Sisters of the Good\nShepherd, and generally restored to health, virtue, and\nusefulness, would, if not taken up by them, fall into the hands\nof the correctional police, and the city would have the expense\nof arresting, punishing, and providing for them in the house of\ncorrection, the penitentiary, or its hospitals. Catholic charity\nnot only accomplishes a good object, confers a public benefit,\nbut saves a heavy expense to the Commissioners of Public\nCharities and Correction. It is only such Catholic institutions\nas tend directly to promote a public good, and to lighten the\npublic expense, that the city aids with its grants and donations.\nIt aids in the same way, and to a far greater extent, similar\nProtestant institutions, such as the House of the Friendless, the\nHouse of Mercy, the Society for the Protection of Juvenile\nDelinquents, the Christian's Aid Society, the Magdalen Society,\nthe Nursery and Children's Hospital, etc., for the most part,\ninstitutions founded with an anti-Catholic intent.\n\nThe _Magazine_ asserts, the \"State paid out, in 1866, for\nbenefactions under religious control, $129,025.49, ... of which\nthe trifling sum of $124,174.14 went to the religious purposes\"\nof the Catholic Church. We have not been able to find a particle\nof proof of this, and the mode of reckoning adopted by\n_Putnam_ is so false, and its general inaccuracy is so\ngreat, that, in the absence of specific proof, we must presume it\nto be untrue, and made only for a sensational effect. The writer\nin _Putnam_ seems to count as Catholic such institutions and\nassociations as the Ladies' Mission Society, The New York\nMagdalen Benevolent Society, Ladies' Union Aid Society, Nursery\nand Children's Hospital, Ladies' Home Missionary Society, Five\nPoints Gospel Union Mission, Five Points House of Industry, Young\nMen's Christian Association, and we know not how many more, all\nProtestant, and not a few of them designed, under pretext of\ncharity, and by really rendering some physical relief to the poor\nand destitute, to detach the Catholic needy, and especially\nCatholic children, from the church, and yet all of them are\nbeneficiaries of the State or city.\n{583}\nNo institution supported, even for proselyting purposes, by a\nunion of two or more evangelical sects, is reckoned by\n_Putnam_ as Protestant or sectarian. We hold them to be\nthoroughly Protestant, and rabidly sectarian.\n\nThe sensational writer in _Putnam_ complains of the city for\nleasing to Catholics valuable real estate, at a nominal rent, for\na long term of years. Only one such lease, that for the House of\nIndustry for the Sisters of Charity, has been made in this city\nsince 1847. The site of St. Patrick's Cathedral, which he\npretends is leased by the city, at a rent of one dollar a year,\nhas been owned by Catholics for over sixty years, and was bought\nand paid for by them with their own money, as the venerable\nBishop of Rochester asserts. The only other instance named, that\nof the Nursery and Children's Hospital, Fifty-first street and\nLexington avenue, is a Protestant, not a Catholic institution.\nThe writer should not take grants and donations made to\nProtestants as grants and donations made to Catholics. Between\nCatholics and Protestants there is a difference!\n\nThe writer's statement of the huge endowments the church will\nhave, at the rate the city and State are endowing her, in 1918,\nwe must leave to the consideration of the future _Putnams_.\nSufficient for the day is the evil thereof. We will only say that\nthe church has had, thus far, in this country, no endowment, and\nhas no source of revenue but the unfailing charity of the\nfaithful. The magnificent revenues of our churches, colleges,\nhospitals, asylums, etc., so dazzling to the writer in\n_Putnam_, are all in his eye. We have not a single endowed\nchurch, convent, college, school, hospital, or asylum in the\nUnion! We do great things with small means, and what to\nProtestants would seem to be no means at all, because He who is\ngreat is with us, and because we rely on charity, and charity\nnever faileth.\n\nWe have sufficiently disposed of the property question, and\nvindicated the State and city from the charge of undue favoritism\nto our church. No charge can be more untrue or more unjust. A few\nwords on the common school question, and we dismiss the article\nin _Putnam_, which has already detained us too long.\n\nThe writer in _Putnam_ attempts to be so ironical and so\nwitty, and so readily sacrifices sobriety and truth to point,\nthat he must excuse us from following him step by step in his\naccount of our relation to the common schools. We know well the\ncommon school system of this and other States. We--we speak\npersonally--received our early education in the public schools,\nwere for five years a common school teacher, and for fifteen\nyears had charge of the schools in the place of our residence, as\nschool committee-man. We have not one word to say against them as\nschools for the children of those who are willing to secularize\neducation. We make no war on the system for non-Catholics. If\nthey wish the system for themselves, we offer them no opposition.\nIndeed, for those who hold the supremacy of the secular order,\nand believe that every department of life should be secularized,\nno better system can be devised. We oppose it not when intended\nfor them, but only when intended for us and we are taxed to\nsupport it. We hold the spiritual order superior to the secular,\nand wish our children to be educated accordingly.\n\n{584}\n\nWe hold that education, or the instruction and training of\nchildren and youth, is a function of the church, a function which\nshe cannot discharge except in schools exclusively under her\nmanagement and control. This education and training can be\nsuccessfully given only in the Catholic family and the Catholic\nschool. In this country, for reasons we need not stop to\nenumerate, the Catholic school is especially necessary. We do\nnot, by any means, oppose what is called secular learning, and in\nno country where they have not been prevented by a hostile or\nanti-Catholic government, have Catholics failed to take the lead\nin all branches of secular learning and science. All the great\nliterary masterpieces of the world, since the downfall of Pagan\nRome, are the productions either of Catholics or of men who have\nreceived a Catholic training. Few as we are, and great as are the\ndisadvantages under which we labor in this country, Catholics\neven here compare more than favorably, at this moment, in secular\nlearning and science, with non-Catholics. The religious training\nthey receive from the church, the great catholic principles which\nshe teaches them in the catechism and in all her services, tend\nto quicken and purify the mind, and to fit it to excel even in\nsecular science and learning. The Catholic has the truth to start\nfrom, and why should he not surpass all others? No! we do not\noppose, we favor secular learning and science; but we oppose\nseparating secular training from religious training, and can\nnever consent to the secularization of education. Here is where\nwe and the present race of Protestants differ. It is because the\ncommon schools secularize, and are intended by their chief\nsupporters to secularize, education and to make all life secular,\nthat we oppose them, and refuse to send our children to them\nwhere we can possibly avoid it. Even if religious education is\ngiven elsewhere, in the family or in the Sunday-school, the evil\nis only partially neutralized. The separation of the secular from\nthe religious tends to create a fearful dualism in both\nindividual and social life, to place the spiritual and the\nsecular in the relation of antagonism, each to the other, which\nrenders impracticable that concord between the two orders so\nnecessary to the harmonious development of the individual life\nand the promotion of the well-being and progress of society. We\ninsist, therefore, on having our children and youth trained in\nschools under charge of the church, that in them the spiritual\nand the secular may be harmonized as necessary parts of one\ndialectic whole.\n\nSuch are our views and wishes, and such our conscientious\nconviction of duty. Whether we are right or wrong, is no question\nfor the state or civil authority to settle. The state has no\ncompetency in the matter. It is bound to respect and protect\nevery citizen in the free and full enjoyment of the freedom of\nhis conscience. We stand before the state on a footing of perfect\nequality with non-Catholics, and have the same right to have our\nCatholic conscience respected and protected, that they have to\nhave their non-Catholic and secularized conscience respected and\nprotected. We do not ask the state to impose our conscience on\nthem, or to compel them to adopt and follow our views of\neducation; but we deny its right to impose theirs on us, or even\nto carry out their views of education in any degree at our\nexpense. The Catholic conscience binds the state itself so far,\nbut only so far, as Catholics are concerned. Non-Catholics are\nthe great majority of the population, at least five to our one,\nthroughout the State, and they have the power, if they choose to\nexercise it, to control the State and to deny us our equal\nrights; but that does not alter the fact that we have equal\nrights, and that the State is bound to respect and cause them to\nbe respected.\n{585}\nThe State no doubt is equally bound to respect and protect the\nequal rights of non-Catholics, but no more than it is bound to\nrespect and protect ours.\n\nOn this question of education, we and non-Catholics no doubt\nstand at opposite poles. We cannot accept their views, and they\nwill not accept ours. Between them and us there is no common\nground on which we and they can meet and act in concert. They\nfeel it as keenly as we do. Now as the State owes equally respect\nand protection to both parties, and has no right to attempt to\nforce either to conform to the views of the other, its only just\nand honest course is to abandon the policy of trying to bring\nboth together in a system of common schools. Catholic and\nnon-Catholic education cannot be carried on in common. In purely\nsecular matters, Catholics and Protestants can act in common, as\none people, one community; but in any question that involves the\nspiritual relations and duties of men, we and they are two\ncommunities, and cannot act in concert; and as both are equal\nbefore the State, it can compel neither to give way to the other.\nThis may or may not be a disadvantage; but it is a fact, and must\nby all parties be accepted as such.\n\nThe solution of the problem would present no difficulty, were the\nnon-Catholics as willing to recognize our rights as we are to\nrecognize theirs. They support secular schools, and wish to\ncompel us to send our children to them, because they hope thus to\nsecularize the minds of our children--_enlighten_ them, they\nsay; darken them, we say--and detach them from the church, or, at\nleast, so emasculate their Catholicity that it will differ only\nin name from Protestantism. They regard common schools, in which\nsecular learning is diverted from religious instruction and\ntraining, as a most cunningly devised engine for the destruction\nof the church; and therefore they insist on it with all the\nenergy of their souls, and the strength of their hatred of\nCatholicity. It gives them the forming of the character of the\nchildren of Catholics, and thus in an indirect way makes the\nState an accomplice in their proselyting schemes. Here arises all\nthe difficulty in the case. But, whether they are right or wrong\nin their calculations, the State has no more right to aid them\nagainst us, than it has to aid us against them. If it will, as it\nis bound to do, respect and protect the rights of conscience, or\nreal religious liberty, the only solid basis of civil liberty, it\nmust do as the continental governments of Europe do, and divide\nthe public schools into two classes; the one for Catholics, and\nthe other for non-Catholics; that is, adopt the system of\ndenominational schools, or, rather, as we would say, Catholic\nschools--under the management and control of the church--for\nCatholics, and secular schools--under its own management and\ncontrol,--for the rest of the community. Let the system stand as\nit is for non-Catholics, by whatever name they may be called, and\nlet the State appropriate to Catholics, for the support of\nschools approved by their church, their proportion of the school\nfund, and of the money raised by public tax for the support of\npublic schools, simply reserving to itself the right, through the\ncourts, to see that the sums received are honestly applied to the\npurposes for which they are appropriated.\n{586}\nThe State may, if it insists, fix the minimum of secular\ninstruction to be given, and withhold all or a portion of the\npublic moneys from all Catholic schools that do not come up to\nit.\n\nThis, if the State, for public reasons, insists on universal\neducation, is the best way of solving the difficulty, without\nviolence to the equal rights of either Catholics or\nnon-Catholics. The State would thus respect all consciences, and\nat the same time secure the education of all the children of the\nland, which is, no doubt, a public desideratum. Another way would\nbe, to exempt Catholics from the tax levied for the support of\nthe public schools, and give to the schools they maintain their\nproportion of the school fund held in trust by the State, and\nleave Catholics to establish and manage schools for their own\nchildren in their own way, under the supervision and control of\nthe church. Either way of solving the difficulty would answer our\npurpose, and we venture to say that one or the other method of\ndealing with the public school question will ere long have to be\nadopted, whatever the opposition excited.\n\nThe American sense of justice already begins to revolt at the\nmanifest wrong of taxing us to support schools from which our\nconscience will not permit us to derive any benefit. At present,\nwe pay our quota to the support of the public schools, which we\ncannot with a good conscience use, and are obliged to support our\nown schools in addition. This is grossly unjust, and in direct\nviolation of the equal rights guaranteed us by the constitution,\nand the religious liberty which is the loud boast of the country.\nThe subsidies granted to some of our parochial schools in this\ncity are an attempt, and an honorable attempt, to mitigate the\ninjustice which is done us by the common school system. But the\nsums appropriated, as considerable as they may seem, are far\nbelow the sums collected from us, for the support of the public\nschools. The principle on which the common school system is\nfounded is, that the wealth of the State should educate the\nchildren of the State. One third, at least, of the children of\nthis city, are the children of Catholic parents, and belong to\nthe Catholic Church. The sum appropriated for the public schools\nin this city, the present year, is, if we are correctly informed,\nsomething over three millions of dollars, and Catholics are\nentitled to one third of it, or to one million of dollars. They\ndo not receive for their schools even a third of one\nmillion--even according to the most exaggerated statements of\n_Putnam's Magazine_ and the sectarian press--and nothing\nlike the amount of the public school tax which they are compelled\nto pay; yet it is pretended that ours is the established church,\nand that Catholics are specially favored by the State and city!\nWe ask no favors, but we demand justice, and that our equal\nrights with non-Catholic citizens be respected, and protected.\n\nThere are other points, in _Putnam_, that we should like to\nnotice--points which are intended, and not unfitted, to tell on\nthe minds of ignorant anti-Catholic bigots and fanatics; but our\nspace, as well as our patience, is exhausted. The writer is\nworthy of no confidence in any of his statements. He proves\neffectually that it is untrue that figures cannot lie; for under\nhis manipulation they not only lie, but lie hugely. Even the\nanti-Catholic _Nation_ has rebuked him for his levity, and\nhe has even disgusted all fair-minded and moderate Protestants.\nHe has quite overshot his mark. But be that as it may, we have\nconfidence in the justice and right sense of the great body of\nour countrymen and fellow-citizens, and we do not believe,\nhowever much they dislike the church, that they will persevere in\na course manifestly unjust to Catholics, and repugnant to the\nfirst principles of American liberty, after becoming once aware\nof its bad character.\n\n{587}\n\nAs to the subsidies granted by the Legislature to Catholic\ncharitable and educational institutions, they have been far less\nthan are due--as the Hon. John E. Devlin justly remarked in the\nConvention, not ten per cent of the amount granted. And it has\nbeen no crime on our part to accept what has been offered us; for\nwe have received and accepted them only for purposes of public\nutility and common humanity. Nor are we responsible for the\naction of the State Legislature; for it is composed chiefly of\nnon-Catholics, and by a large majority elected by non-Catholics.\nCatholics are by no means the majority of electors in the State.\nWe institute no inquiry into the motives that have influenced the\nmembers of the Legislature; we never assign bad or sinister\nmotives, when good and proper motives are at hand. We presume the\nmotive has been a sense of justice toward a large and growing\nclass of the community, whose rights have for a long time been\ntrampled on or disregarded. To condemn them, is not at all\ncreditable to the rabid Protestant press, and, in our judgment,\nis very bad policy. However it may be with the Protestant\nleaders, the majority of the American people are sincerely and\nearnestly attached to the American doctrine of equal rights, and\nwill no more consent to its manifest violation in the case of\nCatholics than of non-Catholics.\n\n----------\n\n             Mark IV.\n\n  \"Why are ye afraid, O ye of little faith?\"\n\n\n           As if the storm meant Him;\n           Or'cause Heaven's face is dim,\n               His needs a cloud.\n           Was ever froward wind\n           That could be so unkind,\n               Or wave so proud?\n  The wind had need be angry, and the water black,\n  That to the mighty Neptune's self dare threaten wrack.\n\n           There is no storm but this\n           Of your own cowardice\n               That braves you out:\n           You are the storm that mocks\n           Yourselves; you are the rocks\n               Of your own doubt.\n  Besides this fear of danger there's no danger here,\n  And he that here fears danger does deserve his fear.\n\n\t\t                   Crashaw.\n-------\n\n{588}\n\n            Daybreak.\n\n          Chapter XII.\n\n         So As By Fire.\n\nWhen spring came again, the letters from Mr. Granger were less\nfrequent, and as weather and work grew warmer, the family had to\ncontent themselves with a few lines at irregular and sometimes\nlong intervals.\n\nThey were not to be anxious, he wrote, even if they should not\nhear from him for several weeks. As the newspapers and the\nspeech-makers had it, we were making history every day, and he\nmust write his little paragraph with the rest. It took both hands\nto wield the pen, and he must have a care to make no blots. Which\nwas a roundabout way of saying that his military duties required\nall his time. They must remember that \"no news is good news,\" and\ntry to possess their souls in patience.\n\nOn his next furlough he would\n\n  \"Shoulder his crutch,\n   and tell how fields were won,\"\n\nor lost; but till then a hasty scrawl must suffice. He thought of\nthem whenever he lay down to rest; and sometimes, when he was in\nthe midst of the hurry and noise of battle, he would catch a\nflitting vision of the peaceful fireside where friends sat and\nthought of him. That home was to him like the headland beacon to\nthe mariner far away on the rough horizon, and threw its point of\ntender light on every dark event that surged about him.\n\n\"I shall be there before long. Meantime, good-by, and don't\nworry.\"\n\nFrom Mr. Southard they had heard less frequently, and less at\nlength. His monthly letters to his congregation were usually\naccompanied by a few lines addressed to Mr. or Mrs. Lewis,\ntelling them in rather formal fashion where he was, and as little\nas possible of what he was doing. At present, the regiment of\nwhich he was chaplain still had their quarters at New Orleans.\n\n\"I am afraid he thinks that we don't care much to hear from him,\"\nMargaret said, the three ladies sitting together, and talking the\nmatter over. \"Suppose we all write just as freely as we do to Mr.\nGranger? We can tell him all the little household events, and how\nhis chair and his place at the table are still called his, and\nkept for him. I think he would be pleased, don't you, Aura?\"\n\n\"I do. It isn't a wonder that he writes formally to us when he\ngets such ceremonious answers.\"\n\n\"To complain of cold replies to cold letters is like the wolf\naccusing the lamb of muddying the brook,\" retorted Mrs. Lewis. \"I\nshall waste none of my sweetness on the desert air, and you will\nbe a pair of simpletons if you do. We might expend ourselves in\nthose gushing epistles to him, and after a month or two we should\nprobably get about three lines apiece in return, each line cooler\nthan the last, and not an intimation that he wasn't bored.\"\n\n\"But I think he would be pleased,\" repeated Margaret doubtfully,\nbeginning to waver.\n\n\"What right or reason have you to think so when he never says\nthat he is?\" Mrs. Lewis persisted. \"For my part, I think that\nfriendship is worthy of acknowledgment from king or kaiser--that\nis, if he wants it; and if Mr. Southard isn't an iceberg, then he\nis a very selfish and arrogant man, that's all.\n{589}\nYou may do as you like. But I shall never again try to get a\nsunbeam out of that cucumber. I have spoken.\"\n\nThe entrance of Mr. Lewis put an end to their discussion. He came\nin with a very cross face.\n\n\"Here I've got to start for Baltimore, with the thermometer at\neighty degrees, and the Confederates swarming up the Shenandoah\nby tens of thousands, and ready to pounce on anybody south of New\nYork!' Why have I got to go?' Why, my agent is on the point of\nabsconding with the rents, and the insurance policies on my\nhouses are out, and I can't renew them in Boston or New York for\nlove or money; and if things are not seen to there, we shall be\nbeggars. You needn't laugh, madam! It's no joke. I've just seen a\nman straight from Baltimore, and he says that rascal is all but\nready to start on a European tour with my money in his pocket. I\nshall get a sunstroke, or have an apoplexy; I know I shall.\"\n\n\"A cabbage-leaf in your hat might prevent the sunstroke,\" his\nwife said serenely. \"As to the apoplexy, I am not so safe about\nthat, if you keep on at this rate. When do you start?\"\n\n\"To-night; and now it is two o'clock. The rails may be ripped up\nat any hour. You see now, Mrs. Lewis, the disadvantage of living\nin one town and having your property in another. You would come\nto Boston. Nothing else would suit you. And the consequence is,\nthat I've got to go posting down to Baltimore in July, to collect\nmy rents.\"\n\nMrs. Lewis laughed merrily.\n\n\"'The woman whom thou gavest me'--that's the way, from Adam\ndown. Who would think, girls, that this is the very first\nintimation I ever had that Mr. Lewis would rather live in\nBaltimore than Boston! But, bless me! I must see to his valise,\nand have an early dinner. As for the raid panic, I will risk you.\nI don't believe there's much the matter.\"\n\nMargaret had been looking steadily at Mr. Lewis ever since he\nbegan speaking. She said not a word while the others exclaimed\nand questioned, and finally went out to prepare for his journey;\nbut some sharp work was going on in her mind, an electric\ncrystallization of vague and floating impressions, impulses, and\nthoughts into resolve.\n\nIt had been weeks since they heard from Mr. Granger. She had not\nbeen very much troubled about it--had, indeed, wondered that she\nfelt so little anxiety; but her quietude was by no means\nindifference or security. She could not have defined her own\nfeelings. For the last week she had not uttered his name, had\nshrunk with an unaccountable reluctance from doing so, and, worse\nyet, had found it impossible to pray for him.\n\nHer other prayers she said as usual; but when she would have\nprayed for his safe return, the words died upon her lips. She was\nneither excited nor distressed; she was, perhaps, more calm than\nusual. Her hands were folded, her face upraised, she had placed\nherself in the presence of God; but if a hand had been laid upon\nher lips she could not have been more mute. A physical weakness\nseemed to deprive her of the power of speech. This was not once,\nbut again, and yet again.\n\nMargaret had the most absolute faith in the power of prayer. She\nbelieved that we may sometimes obtain what we had better not\nhave, God giving for his word's sake to those who will not be\ndenied, but chastening the petitioner for his lack of submission\nby means of the very gift he grants\n{590}\nShe had said to herself, \"If a sword were raised to strike one I\nlove, it could not fall while I prayed. He has promised, and I\nbelieve.\"\n\nBut now, if the sword hung there indeed, she could utter no word\nto stay its falling. She felt herself forbidden, bound by a\nrestraint she could not throw off. \"Well, Margaret,\" Mr. Lewis\nsaid at length, \"what are you thinking of? You look as if your\nbrain were a galvanic battery in full operation, sending messages\nin every direction at once. The sparks have been coming out of\nyour eyes for the last five minutes.\"\n\nThe crystallizing process was over, and her resolution lay there\nin her mind as bright and hard as though it were the work of\nyears.\n\n\"I'm going to Washington,\" she said. \"I have been thinking of it\nthis week. I will go with you tonight, if you please.\"\n\nOf course there were wonderments, and questions, and objections.\nAccording to all the canons of propriety, it was highly improper\nfor a lady to go South under the existing state of things, unless\nthere were bitter need. It was warm, and it was hard travelling\nnight and day, as he would have to do. He would like to have her\ncompany, of course, but he didn't see--\n\n\"No matter about your seeing,\" interrupted Miss Hamilton, rising.\n\"If you won't have me with you, I'll go alone. Please don't say\nany more. Cannot you understand, Mr. Lewis, that there are times\nwhen trivial objections and opposition may be very irritating? We\nwill not discuss canons of propriety just now. I have something\nof more consequence to attend to.\"\n\n\"Well, don't be cross,\" he said good-naturedly. \"I won't say\nanother word. If you can stand the journey, I shall be glad to\nhave you go. But you will have to be quicker in getting your\ntraps ready than my wife and Aurelia ever are.\"\n\n\"I can be ready in fifteen minutes to go anywhere,\" was the\nreply. \"Now I will go tell Mrs. Lewis.\"\n\nMrs. Lewis saw at a glance that opposition was useless. Moreover,\nshe was one of those persons who can allow for exceptional cases,\nand distinguish between rashness and inspiration.\n\n\"I know it seems odd,\" Margaret said to her; \"but I must go. I\nfeel impelled. I would go if I had to walk. You will be good, and\ntake my part, won't you? Don't tell anybody where I have\ngone--nobody has any right to know--and take care of my little\nDora. I'm going up to the State House now, but will be back by\nthe time dinner is ready.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't venture to stop her if I could,\" Mrs. Lewis said.\n\"Margaret is not given to flying off on tangents, and this start\nmay mean something. She has perception at every pore of her.\"\n\nIn the messenger's room at the State House a score of persons\nwere in waiting.\n\n\"I would like to see the governor a few minutes,\" Margaret said.\n\n\"You will have to wait your turn, ma'am,\" answered a very\nauthoritative individual. \"The gov'ner's tremendously\nbusy--overwhelmed with work--hasn't had time to get his dinner\nyet. Just sit down and wait, and I will let him know as soon as\nthere is a chance. If you tell me your business, I might mention\nit to him.\"\n\n\"Thank you! Which is his room?\"\n\nHe pointed to a door. \"But you can't go in now. I'll tell him\npresently, if you give me your name.\"\n\n{591}\n\nWith the most sublime disregard for formalities, Miss Hamilton\nwalked straight toward the door indicated.\n\n\"But I tell you you can't go in there,\" said the messenger\nangrily, attempting to stop her.\n\nFor answer, she opened the door, and walked into the room where\nthe governor sat at a table, with a secretary at each side of\nhim. He looked up with a frown on seeing a visitor enter\nunannounced, but rose immediately as he recognized her.\n\n\"That's right. I'm glad you did not wait,\" he said. Then as she\nglanced at his companions, added, \"Come in here,\" and led her\nthrough a small ante-room where two young ladies sat waiting, and\ninto the vacant council-chamber.\n\nI will detain you but a minute,\" she said hastily. \"I am going to\nstart for Washington to-night, and I want to visit the hospitals\nthere. Will you give me a letter to some one who will get me\npermission? I am not sure that I shall find an acquaintance in\nthe city at this season, except the family to whose house I shall\ngo, and they are people of no influence. Besides, I do not wish\nto have any delay!\"\n\n\"Certainly; with pleasure! I will give you letters that will take\nyou through everything without a question. But what in the world\nare you going there now for? It is hardly safe. My autograph will\nstand a pretty good chance of falling into the hands of Mosby.\"\n\n\"I am uneasy about Mr. Granger,\" she replied directly. \"We\nhaven't heard from him for weeks, and I must know if there is\nanything the matter. He has been a good friend to me. He saved my\nlife once, and I owe him everything. We are only friends, you\nknow; but that word means something with me. Do you think there\nis any impropriety in my going? Mr. Lewis goes with me as far as\nBaltimore.\"\n\n\"Not the least impropriety in life,\" was the prompt reply. \"I\nwon't say a word against your going. I always think that when any\nperson, man or woman, gets that raised look that I see in your\nface, slow coaches had better roll off the track. Come, now, and\nI'll write your letters.\"\n\n\"You are worth a million times your weight in gold!\" Margaret\nexclaimed. \"You are one of the few persons who don't carry a wet\nblanket about in readiness to extinguish people. I cannot tell\nhow I thank you!\"\n\nThe gentleman laughed.\n\n\"Rather an extravagant valuation, considering the present\npercentage, and my pounds avoirdupois. As for wet blankets, I\nnever did much believe in 'em.\"\n\nWhile the governor wrote, Margaret stood at his elbow and watched\nthe extraordinary characters that grew to life beneath his pen.\n\n\"Are you sure they will understand what those mean?\" she asked\ntimidly.\n\n\"They will know the signature,\" he replied, making a dab over a\nletter, to indicate that an _i_ was somewhere in the\nvicinity. \"You can use them as\n_cartes_--well--_noires_, I suppose, on the strength of\nwhich you are to ask anything you please. Choate and I\"--here a\npolysyllable was dashed across the whole sheet--\"had a vocation\nfor lettering tea-boxes, you know. There! now you had better use\neither of these first, if it is just as convenient, and keep Mr.\nLincoln's till the last. But aren't you afraid of being stopped\non the way? Everything is in a heap down there.\"\n\n\"So I hear; but I feel as if we shall get through.\"\n\n\"Don't mention to any one about my going, will you?\" she\nwhispered, as they went to the door.\n\n{592}\n\nHe laughed. \"To nobody but the council. Good-bye. Good luck to\nyou!\"\n\nAn hour later she saw the city slowly disappearing as the cars\nrolled out over the new lands.\n\nMr. Lewis settled himself comfortably in his seat. \"And now for\nMaryland, my Maryland!\"\n\n\"By George!\" he exclaimed presently, putting his hand into his\npocket, \"here is a letter from Mr. Southard. It will serve to\namuse us; but I am sorry that the others hadn't seen it.\"\n\nHe opened the letter, and they read it together. Mr. Southard had\nbeen ill, he wrote, and was yet only able to dawdle about the\nwards of the hospital and gossip with the patients. He had been\noffered private quarters, but had preferred a hospital. It\nchanced that the Sisters of Charity had charge of the one to\nwhich he was sent, and they had given him the best of care.\n\nThat was the gist of the letter.\n\nHow will that read to his congregation, I wonder?\" Margaret said.\n\"I fancy they won't half like it.\"\n\n\"Perhaps not. But I call that a good letter. It is the best we\nhave had; not a word of religion, from first to last.\"\n\n\"But it breathes the very spirit of charity,\" was the quick\nreply. \"How gently he mentions every one! Not a hard word even\nfor the enemy!\"\n\nMr. Lewis deliberately folded the letter.\n\n\"I dare say; and that is the kind of religion I like. When I hear\na man continually calling on God to witness everything he says\nand does, I always think that he stands terribly in need of a\nbacker.\"\n\nThey reached New York the next morning, and learned there that\nthe panic was increasing rather than diminishing. The track was\nyet open, but no one went South who had not pressing business.\n\n\"What do you say, Maggie?\" asked Mr. Lewis. \"On to Richmond, eh?\"\n\n\"Do let us go!\" she begged, her impatience growing with every\nobstacle.\n\n\"On it is, then. I like your pluck.\"\n\n\"I should think that the lady would rather wait,\" the conductor\nsuggested.\n\n\"Wait, sir?\" said Mr. Lewis bluffly. \"By no means! Don't trouble\nyourself. She isn't one of the squealing sort.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" the man replied doubtfully. \"But we shall go pretty\nfast.\"\n\nMargaret's heavy eyes brightened. \"That is what I want. You\ncannot go too fast for me.\"\n\nOn they went again with steadily increasing speed, reaching\nPhiladelphia ahead of time. There fresh news of disaster awaited\nthem. On then to Baltimore, where they found the citizens arming,\nand every one full of excitement.\n\n\"I must and will go through!\" Margaret said passionately, seeing\nMr. Lewis about to expostulate.\n\nHe resumed his seat. \"Then I shall go with you.\"\n\nThey stopped only long enough to be assured that communication\nwith Washington was still open, then started on the last stage of\ntheir journey, keeping a sharp lookout, since it was not\nimpossible that at almost any moment they might be saluted by a\nvolley of musketry, or thrown headlong over an unseen hiatus in\nthe rail.\n\n{593}\n\n\"Seems to me we are getting over the ground at a tearing pace,\"\nremarked one of the passengers in a lazy drawl. \"For my part, I\ndon't know but I'd as lief stand my chance of a minie-ball as run\nthe risk of being knocked into railroad-pi. A slug is a neat\nthing; but these smash-ups are likely to injure a fellow's\npersonal appearance.\"\n\n\"There they are!\" exclaimed an other, who had been watching\nthrough a glass ever since they left Baltimore. \"I should guess\nthat there's only a score of cavalry; but they may have more\nbehind. Do you see? Just over the hill. It's a pretty even thing\nwhich of us reaches the crossing first. Not above a mile ahead,\nis it?\"\n\nHe of the drawl, a cavalry captain, turned to Margaret. \"Do you\nobject to fire-arms, ma'am?\" he asked, in much the same tone of\nvoice he would have used in asking if she objected to\ncigar-smoke.\n\n\"Not when there is need of them,\" she replied.\n\nHe pulled a beautiful silver-mounted revolver out of his pocket,\nand carefully examined the barrels.\n\n\"This has been like a father to me,\" he said with great\ntenderness. \"It's all the family I have. The barrels I call my\nsix little sisters. Each one has a name. They've got pretty sharp\ntongues, but I like the sound of 'em; and they always speak to\nthe point. Jennie is my favorite--see! her name is engraven, with\nthe date--ever since she helped me out of a hobble at Ball's\nBluff. I was playing cat and mouse with a fellow there, he with\nhis rifle aimed, waiting to get a shot at something besides my\nboot or the end of my beard, and I hanging on the off-side of my\nhorse, clinging to saddle and mane. I was brought up on\nhorseback, and have spent a good part of my time scouring over\nthe Southwest, Missouri, Texas, and thereabouts; but of course I\ncouldn't hang there for ever. Well, just as I was thinking that I\nshould have to drop, or straighten up and take my slug like a\nman, I managed to spare a finger and thumb, and got Paterfamilias\nhere out of my belt. Where can one better be than in the bosom of\nhis family? says I. I didn't hurt the fellow much; I didn't mean\nto. When two men have been dodging and watching that way for some\ntime, they get to have quite an affection for each other. I\nspoilt his aim, though; and I fancy that he will never be a very\ngood writer any more.\"\n\n\"Aren't you sorry now that you came?\" Mr. Lewis asked Margaret.\n\n\"No,\" she said brightly; \"I feel as though we shall get through.\"\n\nA new spirit was beginning to stir in her veins. The speed of the\ncars was of itself exciting--those long strides at the full\nstretch of the iron racer, when the wheels, instead of measuring\nthe track with a steady roll, rise up and drop again with a sharp\nclick, as regular as verse; not that cantering line of Virgil's,\n\"Quadrupedante\" and the rest, but a hard, iambic gallop. Besides\nthis, the sense of danger and power combined was intoxicating.\nFor, after all, danger is intolerable only when we have nothing\nto oppose to it.\n\nThere had been trees and rocks, but they were changed to a buzz,\nthe road became a dizziness, and the whole landscape swam. There\nwas something near the track that looked about as much like\nhorsemen as the shadow of the same would look in broken,\nswift-running water; a few shots were heard, there was a little\nrattle of shivered glass; then all the men broke into a shout.\n\n\"Did you hear Jennie smile?\" asked the captain, as he put\nPaterfamilias carefully into his belt again.\n\n{594}\n\nMargaret laughed with delight, and gave her handkerchief a little\nflutter out the window. \"I can guess how chain-lightning feels,\"\nshe said; \"only it can't go on minutes and minutes.\"\n\n\n            Chapter XII.\n\n       The Court Of The King.\n\n\nAfter their little adventure, our travellers rode triumphantly\ninto Washington, and Miss Hamilton found her friends glad to\nreceive her the more so that she came as a boarder, and their\nhouse was nearly empty.\n\nThe Blacks had, in their younger days, been humble followers of\nDoctor Hamilton; and though their acquaintance with Margaret was\nslight, as they felt a kind of duty toward all the connection,\nthey were proud to receive her.\n\n\"I am anxious about friends whom I have not heard from for some\ntime,\" she explained; \"and I have come here to look round a\nlittle.\"\n\n\"Who do you know in the army?\" Mrs. Black inquired, not too\ndelicately, considering the reserve with which her visitor had\nspoken.\n\nMiss Hamilton was not learned in the slippery art of evasion. She\nsimply ignored the question.\n\n\"I am exhausted,\" she said. \"Of course I did not sleep any last\nnight; and the ride has been fatiguing. I have but one desire,\nand that is to rest. Can you show me to my room at once? I feel\nas though I should drop asleep as soon as my head touches the\npillow. When I do sleep, please don't wake me.\"\n\nWhen she lay down to rest the afternoon sun was gilding the trees\nin the square opposite, flaring on the long white-washed walls of\nthe hospital in their midst, and brightening momentarily the pale\nfaces pressed close to the window-bars of the jail beyond. When\nshe woke from the deep and dreamless sleep that seemed to have\nalmost drawn the breath from her lips, it was night. Some one had\nset a star of gas burning in her room, and left a plate of cake\nand a glass of wine on the stand at her bedside.\n\nMargaret raised herself like one who has been nearly drowned and\nstill catches for breath, gathered her benumbed faculties and\nrecollected where she was. All was quiet within the house; and\nwithout there was stillness of another sort, a silence that was\nliving and aware, a sense as of thousands waking and watching.\nNow and then there came from the hospital across the street some\nvoice of a sleepless sufferer, the long, low moan of almost\nexhausted endurance, the broken cry of delirium, or the hoarse\ngasp of pneumonia.\n\nAfter a while these sounds became deadened, and finally lost in\nanother that rose gradually, deepening like the roll of the sea\nheard at night.\n\nMargaret went to her window and leaned out. The sultry air was\nheavily-laden with fragrance from the flower-gardens around, and\nin the sky the large stars trembled like over-full drops of a\ngolden shower descending through the ambient purple dusk.\n\nThat sea-roll grew nearer as she listened, and became the\nmeasured tramp of men. Soon they appeared out of the darkness at\nthe left, marching steadily line after line, and company after\ncompany, to disappear into darkness at the right. They moved like\nshadows, save for that multitudinous muffled tread, and save\nthat, at certain points, a street-light would flash along a line\nof rifle-barrels, or catch in a flitting sparkle on a spur or\nshoulder-strap. Then, like a dream, they were gone; darkness and\ndistance had swallowed them up from sight and hearing; and again\nthere was that strange, live stillness, broken only by the\ncomplaining voices of the sick.\n\n{595}\n\nAs Margaret looked, the dim light in one of the hospital-wards\nflared up suddenly and showed three men standing by a bed near\none of the windows. They lifted the rigid form that lay there,\nand placed it on a stretcher; two of the men bore it out, and the\nlight was lowered again, After a little while the men appeared\noutside bearing that white and silent length between them,\nthrough the dew and the starlight, and were lost from sight\nbehind the trees. When they returned, they walked side by side;\nand what they had carried out they brought not back again.\n\nThe watcher's heart sent out a cry: \"O Father in heaven! see how\nthy creatures suffer.\"\n\nIn the excitement of the last part of her journey, and the\nexhaustion following it, she had almost forgotten her object in\ncoming; but this sight brought it all back. She remembered, too,\nthat she had been dropping into the old way of taking all the\nburden on her own shoulders; and even in crying out for pain, she\nrecollected the way of comfort. How sweet the restfulness of that\nrecollection! As though a child, wandering from home, lost,\nweary, and terrified, should all at once see the hearth-light\nshining before him, and hear the dear familiar voices calling his\nname. She thought over the lessons learned during that blessed\nretreat, that Mecca toward which henceforth her thoughts would\njourney whenever her soul grew faint by the way. The\nhalf-forgotten trust came back. Who but He who had set the\ntangles of this great labyrinth could lead the way out of it? Who\nbut He whose hand had strung the chords of every human heart\ncould ease their straining, and bring back harmony to discord?\nWhere but with Him, the centre of all being, could we look for\nthose who are lost to us on earth?\n\nWhen, long after sunrise, Mrs. Black entered her visitor's\nchamber, she found Margaret kneeling by the window, fast asleep,\nwith her head resting on the sill.\n\nThere was plenty of news and excitement that morning. All\ncommunication with the North was cut off, the President and his\nfamily had come rushing in at midnight from their country-seat,\nand there was fighting going on only a few miles out of town. It\nwas altogether probable that the Confederates would be in the\ncity before night.\n\nMrs. Black told all this with such an air of satisfaction in the\nmidst of her terror that Margaret made some allowance for\nembellishment in the story. Evidently the good woman enjoyed a\npanic, and was willing to be frightened to the very verge of\nendurance for the sake of having it to tell of afterward. She\nwent about in a sort of delighted agony, gathering up her spoons\nand forks, and giving little shrieks at the least unusual sound.\n\n\"If they should bombard the city, my dear,\" she said, \"we can go\ndown cellar. I have an excellent cellar. It is almost certain\nthat they will come. We must be in a strait when the\ntreasury-clerks come out. And such a sight! They passed here just\nbefore I went up to call you, all in their shirt-sleeves, and\nlooking no more like soldiers, dear, than I do this minute. Half\nof them carried their rifles over the wrong shoulder, and seemed\nscared to death lest they should go off. And no wonder; for the\nway the barrels slanted was enough to make you smile, even if\nthere were a bomb-shell whizzing past your nose.\n{596}\nThe muzzles looked all ways for Sunday, so to speak. There were\nlittle boys with them, too. I don't see where their pas and mas\nwere, if they've got any. It's a sin and shame. Do eat some more\nbreakfast, pray! You may as well have a full stomach; for if we\nshould be obliged to hide in the cellar, we might not dare come\nup to get a mouthful for twenty-four hours. I do hope it won't be\na long siege. If they've got to come in, let'em come. I'm sure\nthey would be too much of gentlemen to molest a houseful of\ndefenceless females. As for poor Mr. Black, he doesn't count.\nThough he is my husband, I have seen braver men, not to speak of\nwomen. I had to threaten him, this morning, within an inch of his\nlife, to prevent him from running a Confederate flag out of the\nwindow. He keeps one in his trunk, in case it should be needed.\nHe declared he heard firing in the avenue. Bless me! What is\nthat?\"\n\n\"One of the servants has broken a dish.\"\n\n\"The destructive minxes! But where are you going, dear? Over to\nthe hospital? Oh! they don't admit visitors on Sunday. Even on\nweek-days you can't get in till after the surgeons have gone\ntheir rounds, and that is never before ten o'clock. It is\nmilitary rule, you know; as regular as clock-work. It won't come\nten till sixty minutes after nine o'clock, not if you perish. The\nfirst time I went in there, the soldier on guard came near\nrunning me through with his bayonet, just because I didn't walk\nin a certain particular road. I tried to reason with him; but you\nmight as well reason with stocks and stones. There was the man in\nthe middle of the road, and there was the point of his bayonet\nwithin an inch of my stomacher; and the upshot of the matter was,\nthat I had to turn about and walk in a straight road instead of a\ncurved one, for no earthly reason that I could see. You really\ncannot get in to-day. Wait till to-morrow, and I will go over\nwith you.\"\n\nMargaret smoothed on her gloves.\n\n\"Mrs. Black,\" she said, \"did you ever hear of the man who said\nthat whenever he saw 'Positively no admittance' posted up\nanywhere, he always went in there directly?\"\n\n\"Well,\" the lady sighed, \"I can't say but you may get in. You are\nyour grandfather's granddaughter, and he never said fail. Only,\nbe sure you look your best. You remember the song your mother\nused to sing about the chief who offered a boatman a silver pound\nto row him and his bride across the stormy ferry; and the\nHighland laddie said he would, not for the 'siller bright,' but\nfor the 'winsome lady.' Many's the time I cried to hear your poor\nmother sing that, and how they all perished in the storm, and the\nfather they were running away from stood on the shore lamenting.\nYour grandfather would wipe his eyes on the sly, and wait till\nshe had finished every word of it; and then he would speak up and\nsay that she had better be singing the praises of God. May be the\nofficers over there will be like the Highland boatman, and do for\nyou what they would n't do for an ugly old woman like me.\"\n\nMargaret closed her ears to that piercing sentence, \"the song\nyour mother used to sing \"--O silent lips!--and going out,\ncrossed over to the hospital.\n\nAs she turned into a curved road that approached the door, a\nsoldier pacing there presented his bayonet, probably the same one\nthat had threatened Mrs. Black's plaited linen stomacher.\n\n\"You must go the other way,\" he said with military brevity.\n\n{597}\n\nThe smaller the warrior, the greater the martinet. Doubtless this\nyoung man regarded his present adversary with far more fierceness\nthan he would have shown toward a six-foot Texan grey coat, with\na belt bristling with armor, and two eyes like two blades.\n\nMargaret retreated with precipitance, hiding a smile, and took\nthe other road.\n\n\"Your pass, ma'am,\" said a second soldier at the step.\n\n\"I haven't any,\" she said pitifully, and looked with appealing\neyes at an officer just inside the door.\n\nHe came out immediately.\n\n\"What is your pleasure, madam?\" he asked, touching his hat.\n\nShe told her errand briefly, and handed him the letters she had\nbrought.\n\nMrs. Black had not overrated the power of the winsome lady. The\nsurgeon in charge, for this was he, merely glanced over the\nletters to learn the bearer's name and State. He had already\nfound her face, voice, and gloves such as should, in his opinion,\nbe admitted anywhere and at all times.\n\n\"Please come in,\" he said courteously. \"It is almost inspection\ntime now, and I must be on duty. But if you will wait in my\noffice a little while, I shall be happy to escort you through the\nwards.\"\n\n\"Thank you! But cannot I go now, by myself?\" said Margaret.\n\nHe drew himself up stiffly, in high dudgeon at the little value\nshe set on his escort. \"Certainly! You can do just as you\nplease.\"\n\nShe thanked him again, and went up the hall, utterly unconscious\nthat she had been greatly honored.\n\nThe hall was very long, so long that the door at the furthest end\nlooked as though only a child could go through without stooping,\nand the wards were built out to right and left. She visited every\none, walking up and down the rows of beds, her eager glance\nflashing from face to face. There was no face there that she had\never seen before. With a faint voice she asked for the names of\nthose who had lately died. The names were as strange as the\nfaces. Finally she sat down in one of the wards to rest.\n\nThe inside of the hospital was altogether less gloomy than the\noutside had appeared. They were in a bustle of preparation for\ninspection, putting clean white covers on the beds and the\nstands, regulating the medicine-table and the book-shelves,\nsquaring everything, looking out that the convalescents were in\ntrim, belt-buckles polished, shoes bright, hair smooth, jackets\nbuttoned up to the chin.\n\nThe ward looked fresh and cheerful. The white walls were\nfestooned with evergreen, green curtains shaded the windows, and\nthe floor was as white as a daily scouring could make it. Nearly\nhalf of the patients were dressed, and eagerly talking over the\nnews; and even the sickest there looked on with interest, and\nbrightened occasionally.\n\n\"Fly round here!\" cried the ward-master, a fair-faced, laughing\nyoung German. \"They've gone into the next ward. Hustle those\nclothes out of sight somewhere. Tumble 'em out the window! Kohl,\nif you groan while the surgeons are here, I'll give you nothing\nbut quinine for a week. Can't somebody see to that crazy fellow\nup there! He's pulling the wreath down off the wall. Pitch into\nhim! Tell him that he shan't have a bit of ice to-day if he\ndoesn't lie still. And there's that other light-head eating the\npills all up. I'll be hanged if he hasn't swallowed twenty-five\ncopper and opium pills!\n{598}\nWell, sir, you're dished. Long Tom, mind yourself, and keep your\nfeet in bed.\"\n\n\"I can't!\" whispered Tom, who seemed to be a mere boy, though his\nlength was something preposterous. \"The bed is too short.\"\n\n\"Well, crumple up some way,\" said the ward-master, laughing.\n\"I'll have you up next week, fever or no fever. If you lie there\nmuch longer, you'll grow through the other side of the ward.\"\n\n\"It isn't my fault,\" Tom said pitifully to Miss Hamilton, who sat\nnear him. \"When I went to bed here, five weeks ago, I wasn't any\ntaller than the ward-master; and now I believe I'm seven feet\nlong. I believe it was that everlasting quinine!\" And poor Tom\nburst into tears.\n\n\"Here they are!\" said the ward-master. \"Attention!\"\n\nInstantly all was silence. Each convalescent stood at the foot of\nhis bed, and the nurses were drawn up inside the door. The little\nprocession of surgeons appeared, marched up one side of the ward\nand down the other, and out the door; and the inspection was\nover.\n\nAs they passed by her, one of them, in drawing his handkerchief\nfrom his pocket, drew with it a card, which, unseen by him,\ndropped at Margaret's feet. She took it up, and saw the\nphotograph of the gentleman who had dropped it, dressed in the\nuniform of a Confederate colonel.\n\n\"Who was that last surgeon in the line?\" she asked of Tom.\n\n\"That's our surgeon, Doctor A----. He is a Virginian.\"\n\n\"Who is his guarantee here, do you know?\" she inquired.\n\n\"He's a friend of Senator Wyly's,\" Tom said.\n\nAn orderly came to the door. \"Every man who is able to carry a\nrifle get ready to go down to Camp Distribution,\" he said. \"Don't\nlet any of 'em shirk, Linn. Send some of those fellows down to\nthe office to be examined. Every man is wanted.\"\n\nAs Margaret went out, she saw Surgeon A---- hasten from one of\nthe wards, and look along the floor of the hall, as if in search\nof something. His face was very pale, she saw, and he looked up\nsharply at her as she approached him.\n\n\"Perhaps you miss this photograph, Col. A---,\" she said, offering\nit to him.\n\nHis face reddened violently as he took it. \"Has any one seen it\nbesides you, madam?\" he asked.\n\n\"No one.\"\n\n\"Will you give me an opportunity to explain?\" he asked eagerly.\n\"If you would permit me to call on you, or accompany you out\nnow--\"\n\n\"By no means,\" she replied coldly. \"I do not wish to hear any\nexplanation. I am here on business of my own, and shall not,\nprobably, take any further notice of what I have seen. But if on\nsecond thought I should consider myself obliged to mention it,\nyou can make your explanation to Mr. Lincoln.\"\n\nShe left him at that, and went home to hear Mrs. Black's\ncompliments on her success.\n\nThere were no more visits that day; but the next morning a close\ncarriage was sent to the door, and Margaret began her rounds.\n\nIn the afternoon she found herself going out Fourteenth street\ntoward Columbia Hospital. There was a shower, and as the horses\nplodded along through the pouring floods of southern rain, she\nleaned her face upon her hand and wondered sadly what was to come\nof this search of hers, and if that strange, irresistible impulse\non which she had been shot, like Camilla on her spear, over every\nobstacle to her coming, had been, after all, but a vain whim.\n\n{599}\n\nLooking up presently, she found that they were in the midst of\nwhat seemed to her an army, soldiers crowding close to the\ncarriage, and stretching forward and backward as far as she could\nsee. It was the Sixth corps, one of them told her, going out to\nmeet Early and Breckinridge.\n\nThey were marching in a mob, without order, plodding wearily\nthrough the rain that just served to wash from them the stains of\ntheir last battle. Their faces were browned and sober, their\nclothes faded and stained; many, foot-sore with long marches,\ncarried their shoes in their hands. They were little enough like\nthe gay troops she had seen march away from home.\n\nWhen they came to the college hospital, it was found impossible\nto reach the side-walk through that crowd, and Margaret ordered\nthe driver to wait till they should pass. As she leaned back in\nher carriage and watched the living stream flow slowly over the\nhill, a gentleman came out of the hospital, and, standing on the\nsidewalk opposite her, seemed to be looking for some one among\nthem. Presently his face brightened with a recognizing smile, and\nhe waved his handkerchief to one who was riding near. As the\nhorseman drew up between her and the sidewalk, Margaret's heart\nseemed to leap into her mouth. He was wrapped in a cloak, and a\nwide-brimmed hat, still dripping from the spent shower, shaded\nhis face; but she knew him at the first glance.\n\n\"O Mr. Granger!\"\n\nA shout from the convalescents collected outside the tent wards\ndrowned her glad cry, and the next instant she would not for the\nworld have repeated it. By a sudden revulsion of feeling, the\nface that had flushed with delight now burned with unutterable\nshame and humiliation.\n\nFor the first time she looked on what she had done as the world\nmight look upon it--as Mr. Granger himself might look upon it.\nFriends or foes, he was a gentleman, and she a lady, and not a\nbaby. She, wandering from place to place, unbidden, in search of\nhim, weeping, praying, making a fool of herself, she thought\nbitterly, and he sitting his horse there gallantly, safe and\nmerry, within reach of her hand, showing his white teeth in a\nlaugh, stroking down his beard with that gesture she knew so\nwell, taking off his hat to shake the raindrops from it, and loop\nup the aigrette at the side!\n\nShe had time to remember with a pang of envy the quiet, guarded\nwomen who sit at home, and take no step without first thinking\nwhat the world will say of it.\n\n\"If he should think of me at all,\" she said to herself, \"he would\nfancy me at home, trailing my dress over his carpets, making\nlittle strokes with a paint-brush, having a care lest I ink my\nfingers, or teaching Dora to spell propriety--as I ought to be!\nas I ought to be! I need a keeper!\"\n\nBut still, with her veil drawn close, she looked at him steadily;\nfor, after all, he was going into battle, and he was her friend.\nAs she looked, he glanced up at one of the hospital windows, and\nimmediately his glance became an earnest gaze. He ceased\nspeaking, and his face showed surprise and perplexity.\n\n\"What do you see?\" his friend asked.\n\n{600}\n\n\"Strange!\" he muttered, half to himself. \"It is only a\nresemblance, of course, but I fancied I saw there a face I know,\nlooking out at me. It is gone now.\"\n\nWhatever it was, the sight appeared to sober as well as perplex\nhim. He took leave of his friend, and, drawing back to join his\nregiment, brought his horse round rather roughly against Miss\nHamilton's carriage.\n\n\"I beg your pardon, madam!\" he said at once, taking off his hat\nto the veiled lady he saw there.\n\nHe must have thought her scarcely courteous; for she merely\nnodded, and immediately turned her face away.\n\nHe rode slowly on, looking back once more to the hospital window,\nand in a few minutes was out of sight.\n\n\"Will you get out now?\" asked the driver.\n\nMargaret started.\n\n\"Why, yes.\"\n\nShe went in and seated herself in the hall. \"I want to rest,\" she\nsaid to a soldier who stood there. \"I don't feel quite well.\"\n\nA slight, elderly lady in a black dress, and with her bonnet a\nlittle awry, came down the stairs, and stood looking about as\nthough she expected some one.\n\n\"Can you tell me where Miss Blank is to be found?\" she asked of\nthe soldier to whom Margaret had spoken. \"She has been out in the\ntent wards, and there she comes,\" he said, nodding toward a young\nwoman who came in at the door furthest from them, and, with a\nface expressive of apprehension, approached the waiting lady.\n\n\"You wished to see me?\" she asked tremulously.\n\n\"Yes,\" was the reply. \"You will be ready to return home\nto-morrow, or as soon as communication is reestablished. I will\nsend your transportation papers to-night. You need not go into\nthe wards again.\"\n\nThe young woman stared in speechless distress and astonishment,\nher eyes filling with tears.\n\n\"Is that Miss Dix?\" Margaret asked of the soldier.\n\n\"Yes,\" he replied. \"She makes short work of it. That is one of\nthe best nurses, and the best dresser in the hospital.\"\n\n\"Why is she dismissed?\"\n\n\"Miss Dix has probably heard something about her. She's a good\nyoung woman, but the old lady is mighty particular.\"\n\nMargaret rose to meet Miss Dix as she came along the hall.\n\n\"I am going to stay in Washington a few days,\" she said, \"and I\nwould like to be useful while I am here. Can I do anything for\nyou?\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked the lady. Margaret presented her\ncredentials, and Miss Dix glanced them over, then looked sharply\nat their owner.\n\n\"I am afraid you are too young,\" she said.\n\n\"I am twenty-eight, and I feel a hundred,\" said Margaret.\n\n\"Do you know anything about nursing?\"\n\n\"As much as ladies usually know.\"\n\n\"Will you go to a disagreeable place?\"\n\n\"Yes, if it is not out of the city.\"\n\n\"Come, then; my ambulance is at the door.\"\n\nIn two minutes the carriage was dismissed, and Margaret was\nseated in the ambulance, and on her way down to the city again.\n\n\"You will be very careful who you speak to,\" the lady began; \"you\nwill dress in the plainest possible manner, wear no ornaments,\nand, of course, high necks and long sleeves. Your hair--are those\nwaves natural?\"\n\n\"Yes'm!\" said Margaret humbly, and was about to add that perhaps\nshe could straighten them out, but checked herself.\n\n{601}\n\n\"Well, dress your hair very snugly, wear clean collars, and don't\nlet your clothes drag. It looks untidy. Is that dress quite\nplain?\"\n\nMargaret threw back the thin mantle she wore, and showed a gray\ndress of nunlike plainness.\n\n\"That will do,\" the lady said approvingly.\n\nHere they turned into the square, and got out at the door of the\nhospital Margaret had visited the day before. She was introduced\nto the officer of the day, received an astonished bow from the\nsurgeon-in-charge in passing, caught a glimpse of Doctor A----,\nand was escorted to her ward.\n\n\"Be you the new lady nurse?\" asked Long Tom.\n\n\"So it seems; but I am not quite sure,\" she said.\n\n\"I'm proper glad,\" said Tom, with an ecstatic grin. \"I liked the\nlooks of you when I saw you yesterday.\"\n\n\"And so here I am 'at the court of the king,'\" she thought.\n\n\n\n            Chapter XIV.\n\n         Out Of Harm's Way.\n\nCommon sense goes a great way in nursing; and when there is added\na sympathetic heart, steady nerves, a soft voice, and a gentle\nhand, your nurse is about perfect, though she may not have gone\nthrough a regular course of training.\n\nWard six considered itself highly favored in having Miss\nHamilton's ministrations, even for a few days. The nauseous doses\nshe offered were swallowed without a murmur, fevered eyes\nfollowed her light, swift step, and men took pride in showing how\nwell they could bear pain when such appreciative eyes were\nlooking on.\n\nMrs. Black, rushing over to expostulate and entreat, became a\nconvert. It was certainly very romantic, she said; and since her\nyoung friend was not treated like a common nurse, but had\neverything her own way, it was not so bad. And without, perhaps,\nhaving ever heard the name of Rochefoucauld, the good lady added,\n\"Anything may happen in Washington now.\"\n\nMoreover, Miss Hamilton would sleep and take her meals at Mrs.\nBlack's, which was another palliating circumstance.\n\nMr. Lewis, with a fund of gibes ready, came also to see the new\nnurse. But the sight of her silenced him.\n\nBending over a dying man to catch the last whisper of a message\nto those he would never see again; speaking a word of\nencouragement to one who lay with his teeth clenched and with\ndrops of agony standing on his forehead; mediating in the chronic\nquarrel between regulars and volunteers; hushing the ward, that\nthe saving sleep of an almost exhausted patient might not be\nbroken--in each of these she seemed in her true place. As he\nlooked on, he began to realize how impertinent are\nconventionalities when life and death are in the balance.\n\n\"I don't blame you, Margaret,\" he said seriously, \"though I am\nglad that you don't think of staying any longer than I do. I will\ngive you till Friday afternoon. If we start then, we can reach\nhome by Sunday morning. The track is open, and I am just off for\nBaltimore. Good-by.\"\n\nShe accompanied him to the door. \"If you should see Mr. Granger,\nor write to him,\" she said, with some confusion, \"don't mention\nwhy I came here. I am ashamed of it.\"\n\n{602}\n\n\"Oh! you needn't feel so,\" he replied soothingly. \"We have had a\nnice little adventure to pay us for the journey; and you were\nbreaking your heart with inaction and anxiety.\"\n\n\"Women should break their hearts at home!\" she said proudly, her\ncheeks glowing scarlet.\n\nThat was Wednesday. Thursday morning, as she rose from a five\no'clock breakfast to go over to the hospital, a carriage stopped\nat the door, and, looking out, she saw Mr. Lewis coming up the\nwalk.\n\nO God! The blow had fallen! No need even to look into his white\nand smileless face to know that.\n\nHe stopped, and spoke through the open window. \"Come, Margaret!\"\n\nMorning, was it? Morning! She could hardly see to reach the\ncarriage, and the earth seemed to be heaving under her feet.\n\nAs they drove through that strange, feverish world that the sunny\nsummer day had all at once turned into, she heard a long, heavy\nbreath that was almost a groan. \"O dear!\" said Mr. Lewis.\n\nShe reached out her hand to him, as one reaches out in the dark\nfor support. \"Tell me!\"\n\n\"It is a wound in the head,\" he said; \"and any wound there is\nbad. I got the dispatch at Baltimore last night, and came right\nback. They forwarded it from Boston. Why did not you tell me that\nyou saw him Monday?\"\n\n\"Saw him!\"\n\n\"Then you didn't know him?\" Mr. Lewis said. \"I thought it strange\nyou shouldn't mention it. Louis says that when they were going\nout past Columbia College, he glanced up at one of the windows,\nand saw you leaning out and looking at him. You were very sober,\nand made no motion to speak; and after a moment your face seemed\nto fade away. It made such an impression on him that he asked to\nbe carried there and to that room, though it isn't an officers'\nhospital. He was almost superstitious about it, till I told him\nthat you were really here.\"\n\nIt was true then. The intensity of her gaze, and the\nconcentration of her thoughts upon him at that moment had by some\nmystery of nature which we cannot explain, though guesses have\nbeen many, impressed her image on his mind, and thrown the\nreflection of it through his eyes, so that where his glance\nchanced to fall at that instant, there she had seemed to be.\n\n\"You must try to control yourself, Margie,\" Mr. Lewis went on,\nhis own lip trembling. \"There is danger of delirium. He is afraid\nof it, and watches every word he says. He can't talk much. I'll\ngive you a chance to say all you want to; and whenever I'm\nneeded, you can call me. I will wait just outside the door. Give\nyour bonnet and shawl to the lady. There, this is his room, and\nthat is yours, just across the entry.\"\n\nThen they went in.\n\nThe pleasant chamber was clean, cool, and full of a soft flicker\nof light and shade from trees and vines outside. On a narrow,\nwhite bed opposite the windows lay Mr. Granger. Could it be that\nhe was ill? His eyes were bright, and his face flushed as if with\nhealth. The only sign of hurt was a little square of wet cloth\nthat lay on the top of his head. But in health, in anything short\nof deadly peril, he would have smiled on seeing her after so long\na time, and when she stood in such need of reassuring. His only\nwelcome was an outstretched hand, and a fixed, earnest gaze.\n\nShe seated herself by the bedside. \"I have come to help take care\nof you, Mr. Granger.\" Then smiling, faintly, \"You don't look very\nsick.\"\n\n{603}\n\n\"I was in high health before I got this,\" he said, motioning\ntoward his head.\n\nPerhaps he saw in her face some sharp springing of hope; for he\nclosed his eyes, and added almost in a whisper, \"It isn't as wide\nas a barn-door, nor as deep as a well; but it will do.\"\n\nThe room swam round before her eyes a moment, but she kept her\nseat.\n\nPresently the surgeon came in, and she gave place to him. But as\nhe removed the cloth from his patient's head, she bent\ninvoluntarily, with the fascination of terror, and looked, and at\nthe sight, dropped back into her chair again. She had looked upon\nnature in her inmost mysterious workshop, to which only death can\nopen the door. It was almost like having committed a sacrilege.\n\nMr. Lewis wet a handkerchief with cologne, and put it into her\nhand. The others had not noticed her agitation.\n\nWhen the surgeon left the room, he beckoned Margaret out with\nhim. \"All that you can do is, to keep his head cool,\" he said.\n\"Don't let him get excited, or talk much without resting. He has\nkept wonderfully calm so far; but it is by pure force of will. I\nnever saw more resolution.\"\n\nThere was nothing to do, then, but to sit and wait; to make him\nfeel that he was surrounded by loving care, and to let no sign of\ngrief disturb his quiet.\n\nShe returned to the room, and Mr. Lewis, after bending to hold\nthe sick man's hand one moment in a silent clasp, went out and\nleft them together.\n\nAfter a little while, when she had resumed her seat by him, Mr.\nGranger spoke, always in that suppressed voice that told what a\nstrain there was on every nerve. \"I should have asked you to\nmarry me, Margaret, if I had gone back safe,\" he said, looking at\nher with a wistful, troubled gaze, as if he wished to say more,\nbut could not trust himself.\n\n\"No matter about that now,\" she replied gently. \"You have been a\ngood friend to me, and that is all I ever wanted.\"\n\n\"We could be married here, if you are willing,\" he went on. \"Mr.\nLewis will see to everything.\"\n\nMargaret lightly smoothed his feverish hands. \"No,\" she said, \"I\ndo not wish it. I didn't come for that. We are friends; no more.\nLet me wet the cloth on your head now. It is nearly dry.\"\n\nHe closed his eyes, and made no answer. If he guessed confusedly\nthat his proposal, and what it implied, so made, was little less\nthan an insult, it was out of his power to help it then. And if\nfor a breath Margaret felt that all her obligations to him were\ncancelled, and that she could not even call him friend again, it\nwas but for a breath. His case was too pitiful for anger. She\ncould forgive him anything now.\n\n\"I shall always stay with Dora, if you wish it,\" she said softly.\n\"Do not have any fears for her. I will be faithful. Trust me. I\ncould gladly do it for her sake, for I never loved any other\nchild so much. But still more, I will take care of her for\nyours.\"\n\n\"I arranged everything before I came away,\" he said, looking up\nagain. And his eyes, she saw, were swimming in tears. \"I looked\nout for both of you. Your home was to be always with her, and Mr.\nLewis to be guardian for both.\"\n\nMargaret could not trust herself to thank him for this proof of\nhis care for her.\n\n\"Have you seen the chaplain?\" she asked, to turn the subject.\n\n{604}\n\n\"Yes; but I don't feel like seeing him again. He does me no good,\nand his voice confuses me. You are all the minister I\nneed\"--smiling faintly--\"and yours is the only voice I can bear.\"\n\nWhile he rested, she sat and studied how indeed she should\nminister to him.\n\nMr. Granger had never been baptized; and, though nominally what\nis called an orthodox Congregationalist, he held their doctrines\nbut loosely. He had that abstract religious feeling which is the\nheritage of all noble natures, the outlines of Christianity even\nbefore Christianity is adopted, as Madame Swetchine says; but his\nexperience of pietists had not been such as to tempt him to join\ntheir number. If a man lived a moral life, were kind, just, and\npure, it was about all that could be required of him, he thought.\nSuch a life he had lived; and now, though he approached death\nsolemnly, it was with no perceptible tremor, and no painful sense\nof contrition.\n\nShe watched him as he lay there, smitten down in the midst of his\nlife and of health. He was quiet, now, except that his hands\nnever ceased moving, tearing slowly in strips the delicate\nhandkerchief he found within his reach, pulling shreds from the\npalm-leaf fan that lay on the bed, or picking at the blanket. It\nwas the only sign of agitation he showed. His face was deeply\nflushed, his breathing heavy, and his teeth seemed to be set.\n\nOnce he raised himself, and looked through the open window at the\ntreetops, and the city spires and domes. Margaret wondered if\nthey looked strange to him, and what thoughts he had; but she\nnever knew.\n\nAfter waiting as long as she dared, she spoke to him. \"Can I talk\nto you a little, Mr. Granger, without disturbing you?\" she asked.\n\n\"Speak,\" he said; \"you never disturb me.\"\n\nShe began, and without any useless words, explained to him the\nfundamental doctrines of the church, original sin, the\nredemption, the necessity and effects of baptism. What she said\nwas clear, simple, and condensed. A hundred times during the last\ntwo years she had studied it over for just such need as this.\n\n\"You know of course,\" she concluded, \"that I say this because I\nwant you to be baptized. Are you willing?\"\n\n\"I would like to do anything that would satisfy you,\" he said\npresently. \"But you would not wish me to be a hypocrite? You\ncannot think that baptism would benefit me, if I received it only\nbecause you wanted me to. I don't think that I have led a bad\nlife. I have not knowingly wronged any one. I am sorry for those\nsins which, through human frailty, I have committed. But if I\nwere to live my life over again, I doubt if I should do any\nbetter. No, child, I think it would be a mockery for me to be\nbaptized now.\"\n\nShe changed the cloth on his head, laid the ice close to his\nburning temples, and fanned him in silence a few minutes.\n\nThen she began again, repeating gently the command of our Saviour\nregarding baptism, and his charge to the church to baptize and\nteach.\n\n\"It is impossible to force conviction,\" he said. \"I cannot\nprofess to believe what I do not.\"\n\nThe words came with difficulty, and his brows contracted as if\nsome sudden pain shot through them.\n\n\"I am not careless of the future, dear,\" he said after a while.\n\"I know that it is awful, and uncertain; but it is also\ninevitable! It is too late now for me to change. But I wish that\nyou would pray for me. Let me hear you. Pray your own way. I am\nnot afraid of your saints.\"\n\n{605}\n\nMargaret knelt beside the bed, and repeated the Our Father. He\nlistened reverently, and echoed the Amen. She repeated the Acts,\nand there was no response this time; the Creed, and still there\nwas no answer. She could not rise. In faltering tones she said\nthe Memorare, with the request, \"Obtain for this friend of mine\nthe gift of faith, that though lost to me he may not be lost to\nhimself.\"\n\nStill he was silent. All the pent emotion of her soul was surging\nup, and showing the joints in her mail of calmness. He was going\nout into what was to him the great unknown, and she, with full\nknowledge of the way, could not make him see it. One last, vain\neffort of self-control, then she burst forth with a prayer half\ndrowned in tears.\n\n\"O merciful Christ! I cannot live upon the earth unless I know\nthat he is in heaven. Thou hast said, Knock, and it shall be\nopened unto you. With my heart and my voice I knock at the door.\nOpen to me for thy word's sake! Thou hast said that whatever we\nask in thy name, we shall receive. I ask for faith, for heaven,\nfor my friend who is dying. Give them for thy word's sake! Thou\nhast said that whoever does good to the least of thy children has\ndone it unto thee. Remember what this man has done for me. I was\nmiserable, and he comforted me. I was at the point of death, and\nhe saved me. I was hungry, and he fed me. I was a stranger, and\nhe took me in. Oh! look with pity on me, who in all my life have\nhad only one year of happiness, but many full of sorrow; see how\nmy heart is breaking, and hear me for thy word's sake! for thy\nword's sake!\"\n\nAs her voice failed, a hand touched her head, and she heard Mr.\nGranger's voice.\n\n\"I cannot make you distrust the truth of God,\" he said. \"I do not\nbelieve; but also, I do not know. I am willing to do all that he\nrequires. Perhaps he does require this. Such faith as yours must\nmean something. Do as you will.\"\n\n\"May I send for a priest right away? And will you be baptized?\"\n\n\"Dear little friend, yes!\" he said.\n\n\"O Mr. Granger! God bless you! I am happy. Doesn't he keep his\npromises? I will never distrust him again.\"\n\nHis grave looks did not dampen her joy. Of course it was not\nnecessary that he should have much feeling. The good intention\nwas enough. She wet his face with ice-water, laid ice to his\nhead, put the fan in his hand, in her childish, joyful way,\nshutting his fingers about it one by one, then went out to send\nMr. Lewis for a priest.\n\nHe stared at her. \"Why, you look as if he were going to get\nwell,\" he said almost indignantly.\n\n\"So he is, Mr. Lewis,\" she answered. \"He is going to have the\nonly real getting well. I shall never have to be anxious about\nhim any more. He will be out of harm's way.\"\n\nShe went back to the sick-room then, quiet again. \"Forgive me if\nmy gladness jarred on you,\" she said. \"I forgot everything but\nthat you were now all safe. You will go straight to heaven, you\nknow. And of course, since it is to be now, then now is the best\ntime.\"\n\n{606}\n\nHe said nothing, but watched her with steady eyes, wherever she\nmoved. What thoughts were thronging behind those eyes, she could\nnever know. Nothing was said till Mr. Lewis came back with the\npriest.\n\nIt was sunset when he came, and the father staid till late in the\nevening. Then he went, promising to say mass the next morning for\nhis new penitent, and to come early to see him.\n\nMr. Granger was evidently suffering very much, and Margaret would\nnot talk to him. Only once, when he opened his eyes, she said,\n\n\"You wish Dora to be a Catholic?\"\n\n\"Yes, surely! O my child!\" with a little moan of pain.\n\nWhen the priest came up in the morning, they had some difficulty\nin rousing Mr. Granger; and when at length he comprehended their\nwishes, he looked from one to the other with an expression of\nincredulity.\n\n\"Communion for me!\" he repeated.\n\nThe priest sat beside him, and as gently as possible prepared him\nfor the sacrament.\n\n\"What! it is really and indeed the body and blood of Jesus Christ\nthat is offered me as a viaticum?\" he asked, now thoroughly\nroused.\n\n\"God himself has said so; and who shall dispute his word?\"\n\nThe patient raised himself upright. \"After I have spent all my\nlife in forgetfulness of him, when I turn to him only on my\ndeath-bed, will he come to me now, and give me all himself?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" the priest answered. \"He forgives generously, as only God\ncan. He does not wait, he comes to you. 'Behold! I stand at the\ndoor, and knock.'\"\n\nThe sick man lifted his face; \"O wonderful love!\" he exclaimed.\n\nThe priest smiled, and put on his stole.\n\n\"The angels wonder no less than you,\" he said.\n\nLeft alone with him once more, Margaret knelt, praying\ncontinually, but softly too, so as not to disturb one sacred\nthought in that soul for the first time united to its Saviour.\nWhen a half-hour had passed, she touched his folded hands. He had\nalways before opened his eyes at her faintest touch; but now he\ndid not.\n\n\"He has lost consciousness,\" the surgeon said, when she called\nhim. \"He will never speak again.\"\n\n\"Oh! never again? What? never again?\"\n\nMr. Lewis took her by the hand. \"Try to bear it, Maggie,\" he\nsaid. \"Think what comfort you have.\"\n\n\"But he never said good-by to me! I wanted to say something to\nhim. I had so much to tell him; but I thought of him first!\"\n\nAh! well. When we go down to the valley of the shadow of death\nwith our loved ones, and find the iron door that admits them shut\nin our faces, then indeed we know, if never before, how precious\nis faith. And those who can see the pearly gates beyond the iron\none should take shame to themselves if they refuse to be\ncomforted.\n\n-------\n\n{607}\n\n            Beethoven.\n\n            His Youth.\n\nAt eighteen, Louis Beethoven became conscious of new perceptions,\nand new capacities for joy. A young kinswoman of his mother, a\nbeautiful, sprightly girl, whose parents lived in Cologne, came\non a visit to Bonn. The voice and smile of Adelaide called his\ngenius into full life, and he felt he had power to do as he had\nnever done. But Adelaide could not understand him, nor appreciate\nhis melodies, which were now of a bolder and higher, yet a\ntenderer cast. He never declared his love in language; but his\nbrother Carl discovered it, and one evening, Louis overheard him\nand Adelaide talking of his boyish passion, and laughing at him.\nThe girl said she \"was half inclined to draw him out, it was such\na capital joke!\"\n\nPale and trembling, while he leaned against the window-seat\nconcealed by the folds of a curtain, Louis listened to this\ncolloquy. As his brother and cousin left the room, he rushed past\nthem to his own apartment, locked himself in, and did not come\nforth that night. Afterward he took pains to shun the company of\nthe heartless fair one; and was always out alone in his walks, or\nin his room, where he worked every night till quite exhausted.\nThe first emotions of chagrin and mortification soon passed away;\nbut he did not recover his vivacity. His warmest feelings had\nbeen cruelly outraged; the spring of love was never again to\nbloom for him; and it seemed, too, that the fair blossoms of\ngenius also were nipped in the bud. The critics of the time,\nfettered as they were to the established form, were shocked at\nhis departure from their rules. Even Mozart, whose fame stood so\nhigh, whose name was pronounced with such enthusiastic\nadmiration, what struggles had he not been forced into with these\nwho would not approve of his so-called innovations! The youth of\nnineteen had struck out a bolder path! What marvel, then, that,\ninstead of encouragement, nothing but censures awaited him? His\nmaster, Neefe, who was accustomed to boast of him as his pride\nand joy, now said, coldly and bitterly, his pupil had not\nfulfilled his cherished expectations--nay, was so taken up with\nhis newfangled conceits, that he feared he was for ever lost to\nreal art.\n\n\"Is it so indeed?\" asked Louis of himself in his moments of\nmisgivings and dejection. \"Is all a delusion? Have I lived till\nnow in a false dream?\"\n\n\n\nYoung Beethoven sat in his chamber, leaning his head on his hand,\nlooking gloomily out of the vine-shaded window. There was a knock\nat the door; but wrapped in deep despondency, he heard it not,\nnor answered with a \"come in.\"\n\n{608}\n\nThe door was opened softly a little ways, and in the crevice\nappeared a long and very red nose, and a pair of small, twinkling\neyes, overshadowed by coal-black bushy eyebrows. Gradually became\nvisible the whole withered, sallow, comical, yet good-humored\nface of Master Peter Pirad.\n\nPeter Pirad was a famous kettle drummer, and was much ridiculed\non account of his partiality for that instrument, though he also\nexcelled on many others. He always insisted that the kettle-drum\nwas the most melodious, grand, and expressive instrument, and he\nwould play upon it alone in the orchestra. But he was one of the\nbest-hearted persons in the world. It was quite impossible to\nlook upon his tall, gaunt, clumsy figure---which, year in and\nyear out, appeared in the well-worn yellow woolen coat,\nbuckskin-colored breeches, and dark worsted stockings, with his\npeculiar fashioned felt cap--without a strong inclination to\nlaugh; yet, ludicrous as was his outward man, none remained long\nunconvinced that, spite of his exterior, spite of his numerous\neccentricities, Peter Pirad was one of the most amiable of men.\n\nFrom his childhood, Louis had been attached to Pirad; in later\nyears, they had been much together. Pirad, who had been absent\nseveral months from Bonn, and had just returned, was surprised\nbeyond measure to find his favorite so changed. He entered the\nroom, and walking up quietly, touched the youth on the shoulder,\nsaying, in a tone as gentle as he could assume, \"Why, Louis! what\nthe mischief has got into your head, that you would not hear me?\"\nLouis started, turned round, and, recognizing his old friend,\nreached him his hand.\n\n\"You see,\" continued Pirad, \"you see I have returned safely and\nhappily from my visit to Vienna. Ah! Louis! Louis! that's a city\nfor you. As for taste in art, you would go mad with the Viennese!\nAs for artists, there are Albrechtsberger, and Haydn, Mozart, and\nSalieri--my dear fellow, you _must_ go to Vienna.\" With that\nPirad threw up his arms, as if beating the kettle-drum, (he\nalways did so when excited,) and made such comical faces, that\nhis young companion, spite of his sorrow, could not help bursting\nout laughing.\n\n\"Saker!\" cried Pirad, \"that is clever; I like to see that you can\nlaugh yet, it is a good sign; and now, Louis, pluck up like a\nman, and tell me what all this means. Why do I find you in such a\nbad humor, as if you had a hole in your skin, or the drums were\nbroken--out with it? My brave boy, what is the matter with you?\"\n\n\"Ah!\" replied Beethoven, \"much more than I can say; I have lost\nall hope, all trust in myself. I will tell you all my troubles,\nfor, indeed, I cannot keep them to myself any longer!\" So the\nmelancholy youth told all to his attentive auditor; his unhappy\npassion for his cousin; his master's dissatisfaction with him,\nand his own sad misgivings.\n\nWhen he had ended, Pirad remained silent awhile, his forefinger\nlaid on his long nose, in an attitude of thoughtfulness. At\nlength, raising his head, he gave his advice as follows: \"This is\na sad story, Louis; but it convinces me of the truth of what I\nused to say; your late excellent father--I say it with all\nrespect to his memory--and your other friends, never knew what\nwas really in you. As for your disappointment in love, that is\nalways a business that brings much trouble and little profit.\nWomen are capricious creatures at best, and no man who has a\nrespect for himself will be a slave to their humors. I was a\nlittle touched that way myself, when I was something more than\nyour age; but the kettle-drum soon put such nonsense out of my\nhead.\n{609}\nMy advice is, that you stick to your music, and let her go. For\nwhat concerns the court-organist, Neefe, I am more vexed; his\nabsurdity is what I did not precisely expect. I will say nothing\nof Herr Yunker; he forgets music in his zeal for counterpoint; as\nif he should say he could not see the wood for the tall trees, or\nthe city for the houses! Have I not heard him assert, ay! with my\nown living ears, slanderously assert, that the kettle-drum was a\nsuperfluous instrument? Only think, Louis, the kettle-drum a\nsuperfluous instrument! Donner and--! Did not the great\nHaydn--bless him for it!--undertake a noble symphony expressly\nwith reference to the kettle-drum? What could you do with\n'_Dies irae, dies illa_,' without the kettle-drum? I played\nit at Vienna in _Don Giovanni_, the chapel-master Mozart\nhimself directing. In the spirit scene, Louis, where the statue\nhas ended his first speech, and Don Giovanni in consternation\nspeaks to his attendants, while the anxious heart of the appalled\nsinner is throbbing, the kettle-drum thundering away--\" Here\nPirad began to sing with tragical gesticulation. \"Yes, Louis, I\nbeat the kettle-drum with a witness, while an icy thrill crept\nthrough my bones; and for all that the kettle-drum is a useless\ninstrument! What blockheads there are in this world! To return to\nyour master--I wonder at his stupidity, and yet I have no cause\nto wonder. Now, my creed is, that art is a noble inheritance left\nus by our ancestors, which it is our duty to enlarge and increase\nby all honest and honorable means. My dear boy, I hold you for an\nhonest heir, who would not waste your substance; who has not only\npower, but will to perform his duty. So take courage, be not cast\ndown by trifles; and take my advice and go to Vienna. There you\nwill find your masters: Mozart, Haydn, Albrechtsberger, and\nothers not so well known. One year, nay, a few months in Vienna,\nwill do more for you than ten years vegetating in this good city.\nYou can soon learn, there, what you are capable of; only mind\nwhat Mozart says, when you are playing in his hearing.\"\n\nThe young man started up, his eyes sparkling, his cheeks glowing\nwith new enthusiasm, and embraced Pirad warmly. \"You are right,\nmy good friend!\" he cried. \"I will go to Vienna; and shame on any\none who despises your counsel! Yes, I will go to Vienna.\"\n\nWhen he told his mother of his resolution, she looked grave, and\nwept when all was ready for his departure. But Pirad, with a\nsympathizing distortion of countenance, said to her, \"Be not\ndisturbed, my good Madame van Beethoven! Louis shall come back to\nyou much livelier than he is now; and, madame, you may comfort\nyourself with the hope that your son will become a great artist!\"\n\nYoung Beethoven visited Vienna for the first time in the spring\nof the year 1792. He experienced strange emotions as he entered\nthat great city; perhaps a dim presentiment of what he was in\nfuture years to accomplish and to suffer. He was not so fortunate\nthis time as to find Haydn there; the artist had set out for\nLondon a few days before. He was disappointed, but the more\nanxious to make the acquaintance of Mozart. Albrechtsberger,\nHaydn's intimate friend, undertook to introduce him to Mozart.\n\n{610}\n\nThey went several times to Mozart's house before they found him\nat home. At last, on a rainy day, they were fortunate. They heard\nhim from the street, playing; our young hero's heart beat wildly\nas they went up the steps, for he looked on that dwelling as the\ntemple of art. When they were in the hall, they saw, through a\nside-door that stood open, Mozart, sitting playing the piano;\nclose by him sat a short, fat man, with a shining red face; and\nat the window, Madame Mozart, holding her youngest son, Wolfgang,\non her lap, while the eldest was sitting on the floor at her\nfeet.\n\nThe composer greeted Albrechtsberger cordially, and looked\ninquiringly on his young companion. \"Herr van Beethoven from\nBonn,\" said Albrechtsberger, presenting his friend; \"an excellent\ncomposer, and skilful musician, who is desirous of making your\nacquaintance.\"\n\n\"You are heartily welcome, both of you, and I shall expect you to\nremain and dine with me to-day,\" said Mozart; and taking Louis by\nthe hand, he led him to the window where his wife sat. \"This is\nmy Constance,\" he continued, \"and these are my boys; this little\nfellow is but three months old\"--and throwing his arm around\nConstance's neck, he stooped and kissed the smiling infant.\n\nLouis looked with surprise on the great artist. He had fancied\nhim quite different in his exterior; a tall man, of powerful\nframe, like Handel. He saw a slight, low figure, wrapped in a\nfurred coat, notwithstanding the warmth of the season; his pale\nface showed the evidences of long-continued ill-health; his\nlarge, bright, speaking eyes alone reminded one of the genius\nthat had created _Idomeneus_ and _Don Giovanni_.\n\n\"So you, too, are a composer?\" asked the fat man, coming up to\nBeethoven. \"Look you, sir, I will tell you what to do; lay\nyourself out for the opera; the opera is the great thing!\"\n\nLouis looked at him in surprise and silence.\n\n\"Master Emanuel Schickaneder, the famous impressario,\" said\nAlbrechtsberger, scarcely controlling his disposition to laugh.\n\n\"Yes,\" continued the fat man, assuming an air of importance, \"I\ntell you I know the public, and know how to get the weak side of\nit; if Mozart would only be led by me, he could do well! I say if\nyou will compose me something--by the way, here is a season\nticket; I shall be happy if you will visit my theatre; to-morrow\nnight we shall perform the _Magic Flute_, it is an admirable\npiece, some of the music is first-rate, some not so good, and I\nmyself play the Papageno.\"\n\n\"You ought to do something in that line,\" said Mozart, laughing,\n\"your singing puts one in mind of an unoiled door-hinge.\"\n\nThe impressario took a pinch of snuff, and answered with an\nimportant air, \"I can tell you, sir, the singing is quite a\nsecondary thing in the opera, for I know the public.\"\n\nHere several persons, invited guests of the composer, came in;\namong them Mozart's pupils, Sutzmayr and Holff, with the Abb\u00e9\nStadler and the excellent tenorist, Peyerl. After an hour or so\nspent in agreeable conversation, enlivened by an air from Mozart,\nthey went to the dinner-table. Schickaneder here played his part\nwell, doing ample justice to the viands and wine. The dinner was\nreally excellent; and the host, notwithstanding his appearance of\nfeeble health, was in first-rate spirits, abounding in gayety,\nwhich soon communicated itself to the rest of the company. After\nthey had dined, and the coffee had been brought in, Mozart took\nhis new acquaintance apart from the others, and asked if he could\nbe of any service to him.\n\n{611}\n\nLouis pressed the master's hand, and without hesitation gave his\nhistory, and informed him of his plans; concluding by asking his\nadvice.\n\nMozart listened with a benevolent smile; and when he had ended,\nsaid, \"Come, you must let me hear you play.\" With that, he led\nhim to an admirable instrument in another apartment; opened it,\nand invited him to select a piece of music.\n\n\"Will you give me a theme?\" asked Louis.\n\nThe master looked surprised; but without reply wrote some lines\non a leaf of paper, and handed it to the young man. Beethoven\nlooked over it; it was a difficult chromatic fugue theme, the\nintricacy of which demanded much skill and experience. But\nwithout being discouraged, he collected all his powers, and began\nto execute it.\n\nMozart did not conceal the sur prise and pleasure he felt when\nLouis first began to play. The youth perceived the impression he\nhad made, and was stimulated to more spirited efforts.\n\nAs he proceeded, the master's pale cheek flushed, his eyes\nsparkled; and stepping on tiptoe to the open door, he whispered\nto his guests, \"Listen, I beg of you! You shall have some thing\nworth hearing.\"\n\nThat moment rewarded all the pains, and banished all the\napprehensions of the young aspirant after excellence. Louis went\nthrough his trial-piece with admirable spirit, sprang up, and\nwent to Mozart; seizing both his hands and pressing them to his\nthrobbing heart, he murmured, \"I also am an artist!\"\n\n\"You are indeed!\" cried Mozart, \"and no common one! And what may\nbe wanting, you will not fail to find, and make your own. The\ngrand thing, the living spirit, you bore within you from the\nbeginning, as all do who possess it. Come back soon to Vienna, my\nyoung friend--very soon! Father Haydn, Albrechtsberger, friend\nStadler, and I will receive you with open arms; and if you need\nadvice or assistance, we will give it you to the best of our\nability.\"\n\nThe other guests crowded round Beethoven, and hailed him as a\nworthy pupil of art! Even the silly impressario looked at him\nwith vastly increased respect, and said, \"I can tell you, I know\nthe public-well, we will talk more of the matter this evening\nover a glass of wine.\"\n\n\"I also am an artist!\" repeated Louis to himself, when he\nreturned late to his lodgings.\n\nMuch improved in spirits, and reinspired with confidence in\nhimself, he returned to Bonn, and ere long put in practice his\nscheme of paying Vienna a second visit.\n\nThis he accomplished at the elector's expense, being sent by him\nto complete his studies under the direction of Haydn. That great\nman failed to perceive how fine a genius had been intrusted to\nhim. Nature had endowed them with opposite qualities; the\ninspiration of Haydn was under the dominion of order and method;\nthat of Beethoven sported with them both, and set both at\ndefiance.\n\nWhen Haydn was questioned of the merits of his pupil, he would\nanswer with a shrug of his shoulders--\"He executes extremely\nwell.\" If his early productions were cited as giving evidence of\ntalent and fire, he would reply, \"He touches the instrument\nadmirably.\" To Mozart belonged the praise of having recognized at\nonce, and proclaimed to his friends, the wonderful powers of the\nyoung composer.\n\n-------\n\n{612}\n\n           Sauntering.\n\n             NO. 11.\n\n\nAmong the churches of Paris which I visited in my saunterings,\nwhose very stones seemed to have a tongue and cry aloud, was the\ninteresting one of St. Germain des Pr\u00e8s.\n\n  \"Each shrine and tomb within thee seems to cry.\"\n\nHere were buried Mabillon and Descartes, and also King Casimir of\nPoland, who laid aside his crown for a cowl in 1668, and died\nabbot of the monastery in 1672. He is represented kneeling on his\ntomb offering his crown to heaven. Two of the Douglases are\nlikewise buried here, with their carved effigies lying on their\ntombs clad in armor. One was the seventeenth earl, who died in\n1611. He had been bred a Protestant, but, going to France in the\ntime of Henry III., was converted to the faith of his fathers,\nthose old knights of the Bleeding Heart, by the discourses at the\nSorbonne. He returned to Scotland after his conversion, but was\npersecuted there on account of his religion, and had the choice\nof prison or banishment. So he chose to be exiled, and went back\nto France, where he ended his days in practices of piety. He used\nto attend the canonical hours at the abbey of St. Germain des\nPr\u00e8s, and even rose for the midnight office. It was no unusual\nthing in the middle ages for the laity to assist at the night\noffices, and the church encouraged the practice. There was a\nconfraternity in Paris, in the thirteenth century, composed of\ndevout persons who used to attend the midnight service. This was\nnot confined to men, but even ladies did the same. Many people\nused to pass whole nights in prayer in the churches, as, for\nexample, King Louis IX. and Sir Thomas More.\n\nThere is in this church a statue of the Blessed Virgin, under a\nGothic canopy all of stone, at the west end of the edifice, and\nlooking up the right aisle. It pleased me so much that I never\npassed the church afterward without turning aside for a moment to\nsay my Ave before it. Tapers were always burning before it, and\nthere was always some one in prayer, who, like me, would\ndoubtless forget for a few moments the cares and vanities of life\nat the feet of the Mother of Sorrows. This statue was at St.\nDenis before the revolution, having been given to that church by\nQueen Jeanne D'Evereux.\n\nKing Childebert's tomb formerly occupied a conspicuous place in\nthis church, but it is now at St. Denis, where he is represented\nholding a church in his hands, and with shoes which have very\nsharp and abrupt points at the ends, like an acuminate leaf. He\nwas the original founder of this church and the abbey once\nadjoining. It was called the Golden Church, because the walls\noutside were covered with plates of brass, gilt, and inside with\npictures on a gold ground. It took its name from St. Germain,\nBishop of Paris, who was buried here, and was the spiritual\nadviser of Childebert. St. Germaine l'Auxerrois was named from\nthe sainted bishop of Auxerre of that name, renowned for his\ninstrumentality in checking Pelagianism in England. He visited\nthat country twice for that purpose. And at the head of the\nBritons he was the instrument of the great Alleluia victory in\n430.\n\n{613}\n\nWhatever other people discover, I found a great deal of piety in\nParis. The numerous churches and chapels are frequented at an\nearly hour for the first masses; and all through the day is a\nsuccession of worshippers. I particularly loved the morning mass\nin the Lady Chapel at St. Sulpice, at which a crowd of the common\npeople used to assist and sing charming cantiques in honor of the\nMadonna or the Blessed Sacrament. And at Notre Dame des\nVictoires, one of the most popular churches in the city, and\nrenowned throughout the world for its arch-confraternity to which\nso many of us belong, there is no end to the stream of people.\nThe wonderful answers to prayer and the many miracles wrought\nthere draw needy and heavily-laden hearts, not only from all\nparts of the kingdom, but of the world. The altar of Notre Dame\ndes Victoires looks precisely as it is represented in pictures.\nThe front and sides are of crystal, through which are seen the\nrelics of St. Aurelia, from the Roman catacombs. Seven large\nhanging lamps burn before it, and an innumerable quantity of\ntapers. On the walls are _ex voto_ and many marble tablets\nwith inscriptions of gratitude to Mary; such as: \"_J'ai invoqu\u00e9\nMarie, et elle m'a exauc\u00e9._\" \"_Reconnaissance \u00e0 Marie_,\"\netc. It is extremely interesting and curious to examine all\nthese, and they wonderfully kindle our faith and fervor.\n\nAmong them is one of particular interest---a silver heart set in\na tablet of marble fastened to one of the pillars of the grand\nnave. On it are the arms of Poland and a votive inscription. This\nheart contains a portion of the soil of Poland impregnated with\nthe blood of her martyred people--hung here before her whom they\nstyle their queen, as a perpetual cry to Mary from the bleeding\nheart of crushed and Catholic Poland. This was placed here on the\ntwo hundredth anniversary of the consecration of that country to\nthe Blessed Virgin Mary, by King John Casimir, on the first of\nApril, 1656. On the same day, 1856, all the Polish exiles in\nParis assembled at Notre Dame des Victoires, to renew their vows\nto Mary and make their offering, which was received and blessed\nby M. l'Abb\u00e9 Desgenettes, the venerable cur\u00e9, and founder of the\nrenowned arch-confraternity of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. A\nlamp burns perpetually before this touching memorial, emblem of\nthe faith, hope, and charity of the donors.\n\nIn the national prayer of the Poles is the following touching\ninvocation:\n\n  \"Give back, O Lord! to our Poland her ancient splendor. Look\n  down on our fields, soaked with blood! When shall peace and\n  happiness blossom among us? God of wrath, cease to punish us.\n  At thy altar we raise our prayer; deign to restore us, O Lord!\n  our free country.\"\n\nThis prayer is a _Parce nobis_ which will be echoed by every\none who sympathizes with the down-trodden and oppressed.\n\nComing out of the church of Notre Dame des Victoires I heard the\nwords, \"Quelques sous, pour l'amour de la Sainte Vierge,\" and\nlooking around I saw an old man holding out his hat in the most\ndeferential of attitudes--one of the few beggars I met in the\ncity. I could not resist an appeal made in the holy name of Mary,\nand on the threshold of one of her favorite sanctuaries. I\nthought of M. Olier, the revered founder of the Sulpicians, who\nmade a vow never to refuse anything asked in the name of the\nBlessed Virgin--a resolution that would not often be put to the\ntest in the United States, but one which in Catholic countries is\nless easy to be kept, where the name of Mary is so often on the\nlips.\n{614}\nM. Olier never left his residence without encountering a crowd of\ncunning beggars crying for alms in the name of the Sainte Vierge,\nand, when he had nothing more, he would give them his\nhandkerchief or anything else he had in his pocket.\n\nSome do not approve of indiscriminate charity; but if God were to\nbestow his bounties only on the deserving, where should we all\nbe? Freely ye have received; freely give.\n\nThe Sainte Chapelle has peculiar attractions. It was built in the\nmiddle of the thirteenth century for the reception of the\nprecious relics connected with the Passion of our Lord, given by\nBaldwin II., Emperor of Constantinople, to Louis IX., in 1238.\nThere is a nave with four windows on each side, and a\nsemi-circular choir with seven windows, all filled with beautiful\nold stained glass, representing the principal events of the life\nof St. Louis and of the first two crusades.\n\nAmong the relics enshrined here was the holy crown of thorns. The\nking sent two Dominican friars, James and Andrew, to\nConstantinople for it. When it approached Paris, St. Louis, Queen\nBlanche his mother, with a great many of the court, went out\nbeyond Sens to meet it. Entering Paris, the king and his brother\nRobert, clad in woollen and with feet bare, bore the shrine on\ntheir shoulders to the church. The bishops and clergy followed\nwith bare feet. The streets through which they passed were\nsumptuously adorned. In 1793, the holy crown was transferred to\nthe Hotel des Monnaies, where it was taken from its reliquary and\ngiven with other relics to the commission of arts under the care\nof Secretary Oudry, from whom the Abb\u00e9 Barth\u00e9lemi obtained it in\n1794. He was one of the conservateurs of the antique medals in\nthe Biblioth\u00e8que Nationale, where the sacred relic remained till\n1804, when the Cardinal de Belloy, Archbishop of Paris, reclaimed\nthe relics from the ministre des cultes. Every proper means was\ntaken to identify them, which being satisfactorily done, the holy\ncrown was transported with great pomp to Notre Dame, August 10,\n1806.\n\nA portion of the holy cross, once in the Sainte Chapelle, was\nsaved in 1793 by M. Jean Bonvoisin, a member of the commission\ndes arts and a painter. He gave it to his mother, who preserved\nit with veneration during the revolution and restored it to the\nchapter of Paris, in 1804, after M. Bonvoisin and his mother had\nsworn to the truth of these facts in order to authenticate the\nrelic. It was then allowed to be exposed in the reliquary of\ncrystal in which we see it.\n\nThere were at Paris other portions of the holy and true cross on\nwhich our Saviour was crucified. One was the Vraie Croix\nd'Anseau, so called because it was sent in 1109 to the archbishop\nand chapter of Paris by Anselle or Anseau, _grand-chantre_\nof the church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem, who had\nobtained it from the superior of the Georgian nuns in that city,\nthe widow of David, king of Georgia. In 1793, M. Guyot de St.\nH\u00e9l\u00e8ne obtained permission to keep the cross of Anseau. He\ndivided it with Abb\u00e9 Duflost, guardian of the four crosses made\nof the part he kept, of which three only have been restored to\nNotre Dame. M. Guyot took the precaution to have them\nauthenticated, and they were restored to the veneration of the\nfaithful in 1803.\n\n{615}\n\nAnother portion of the true cross was called the Palatine cross,\nbecause it belonged to Anna Gonzaga of Cleves, a Palatine\nprincess, who left it by her will to the Abbey of St. Germain des\nPr\u00e8s, attesting that she had seen it in the flames without being\nburnt. This relic was enclosed in a cross of precious stones,\ndouble, like the cross of Jerusalem. This cross had belonged to\nManuel Comnenus, Emperor of Constantinople, who presented it to a\nprince of Poland. It is eight inches high, without measuring the\nfoot of _vermeil_ of about the same height, ornamented with\nprecious stones. It has two cross-pieces, like the crosses of\nJerusalem, which are filled with the wood of the true cross. It\nis bordered with diamonds and amethysts. The Palatine princess\nreceived it from John Casimir, King of Poland, who took it with\nhim when he retired to France. It was preserved by a cur\u00e9 in\n1793, and restored, in 1828, to Notre Dame.\n\nThere are two portions of the holy nails at Notre Dame de\nParis--one formerly at the abbey of St. Denis, and the other at\nSt. Germain des Pr\u00e8s. The first was brought by Charles the Bald\nfrom Aix-la-Chapelle, it having been given Charlemagne by the\nPatriarch of Jerusalem.\n\nIn 1793, M. Le Li\u00e8vre, a member of the Institute, begged\npermission to take it from the commission des arts to examine and\nanalyze it as a specimen of mineralogy. He thus saved it from\nprofanation, and restored it to the Archbishop of Paris in 1824.\n\nThe second portion was given to St. Germain des Pr\u00e8s by the\nPrincess Palatine, who had received it from John Casimir of\nPoland.\n\nThere are many curious old legends respecting the wood of the\ncross. Sir John Mandeville says it was made of the same tree Eve\nplucked the apple from. When Adam was sick, he told Seth to go to\nthe angel that guarded paradise, to send him some oil of mercy to\nanoint his limbs with. Seth went, but the angel would not admit\nhim, or give him the oil of mercy. He gave him, however, three\nleaves from the fatal tree, to be put under Adam's tongue as soon\nas he was dead. From these sprang the tree of which the cross was\nmade.\n\nOne of the first portions of the holy cross received in France\nwas sent by the Emperor Justin to St. Radegonde. It was adorned\nwith gold and precious stones. When it arrived with other relics,\nand a copy of the four Gospels richly ornamented, the archbishop\nof Tours and a great procession of people went out with lights,\nincense, and sound of holy chant to bear them into the city of\nPoitiers, where they were placed in the monastery of the Holy\nCross founded by St. Radegonde. The great Fortunatus composed in\nhonor of the occasion the Vexilla Regis, now a part of the divine\noffice. I quote two verses of a fine translation of this\nwell-known hymn:\n\n  \"O tree of beauty, tree of light!\n   O tree with royal purple dight!\n   Elect on whose triumphal breast\n   Those holy limbs should find their rest!\n\n  \"On whose dear arms, so widely flung,\n   The weight of this world's ransom hung,\n   The price of human kind to pay,\n   And spoil the spoiler of his prey!\"\n\nOne pleasant morning I took the cars to visit St. Denis, the old\nburial-place of the kings of France. As Michelet says, \"This\nchurch of tombs is not a sad and pagan necropolis, but glorious\nand triumphant; brilliant with faith and hope; vast and without\nshade, like the soul of the saint who built it; light and airy,\nas if not to weigh on the dead or hinder their spring upward to\nthe starry spheres.\"\n\n{616}\n\nMabillon was at one time the visitor's guide to the tombs of St.\nDenis. I do not know whether I should prefer his learned details\nand sage reflections over the ashes of the illustrious dead, or\nbe left as I was to wander alone with my own thoughts through the\nchurch of the crypts. What a great chapter of history may be read\nin this sepulchre of kings! What a commentary on the text,\n\"_Dieu seul est grand,_\" is that stained page of the\nrevolution, when the bones of the mighty dead were torn from\ntheir magnificent tombs and cast into a trench! It was then earth\nto earth and ashes to ashes, like the meanest of us. What a long\nstride may be made here from King Dagobert's tomb at the\nentrance, all sculptured with legendary lore, to the clere-story\nwindow, all emblazoned with Napoleon's glory; from the recumbent\nDu Guesclin to the tomb of Turenne, and from the chair of St.\nEloi to the stall of Napoleon III.! A fit place to moralize,\namong these statues of kneeling kings and queens, with their\nhands folded as if they had gone to sleep in prayer.\n\n  \"For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground,\n   And tell sad stories of the death of kings.\"\n\nI sought out the tomb of one of my favorite knights of the middle\nages--that of Bertrand du Guesclin, who, by his devotion to his\ncountry and his prowess, merited a place here among kings and to\nhave his ashes mingled with theirs in 1793. There are four of\nthese knights of the olden time in this chapel, all in stone,\nlying in armor on their tombs. I sat down at the feet of Du\nGuesclin to read my monographie before going around the church.\n\nMy visit was in the octave of the festival of St. Denis and his\ncompanions, and their relics were exposed on an altar covered\nwith crimson velvet. Huge wax tapers burned around them, and the\nchancel was hung around with old tapestry after the designs of\nRaphael--\n\n  \"Whose glittering tissues bore emblazoned\n   Holy memorials, acts of zeal and love\n   Recorded eminent.\"\n\nThis church is a monument of the genius and piety of Suger, one\nof the most noble and venerable figures in French history, the\nAbbot of St. Denis, and a statesman. He has been styled \"the true\nfounder of the Capetian dynasty.\" He was one of those eminent men\nso often found in the church of the middle ages who were raised\nfrom obscurity to positions of authority. In his humility, when\nregent of France, he often alluded to his lowly origin, and once\nin the following words: \"Recalling in what manner the strong hand\nof God has raised me from the dunghill and made me to sit among\nthe princes of the church and of the kingdom.\"\n\nThe princes of France used to be educated in the abbey of St.\nDenis, and it was here Louis VI. formed a lasting friendship for\nSuger, which led him afterward to make him his prime minister.\n\nThe monk Suger was on his way home from Italy in 1122 when he\nheard of his election as abbot of St. Denis. He burst into tears\nthrough grief for the death of good old abbot Adam, who had cared\nfor him in his youth. That very morning he had risen to say\nmatins before leaving the hostelry where he lodged, and,\nfinishing the office before it was light, he threw himself again\non his couch to await the day. Falling into a doze, he dreamed he\nwas in a skiff on the wide raging sea, at the mercy of the waves,\nand he prayed God to spare and to conduct him into port. He felt,\non awakening, as if threatened with some great danger, but, as he\nafterward said, he trusted the goodness of God would deliver him\nfrom it.\n{617}\nAfter travelling a few leagues, he met the deputation from St.\nDenis announcing his election as abbot.\n\nWhen Louis le Jeune, with a great number of nobles, decided to go\nto the Holy Land, it was resolved to choose a regent to govern\nthe kingdom during his absence. The Holy Spirit was invoked to\nguide the decisions of the nobles and bishops. St. Bernard\ndelivered a discourse on the qualities a regent should possess.\nThe Count de Nevers and Abbot Suger were chosen. The former\ndeclined the office, wishing to enter the Carthusian order. Suger\naccepted this office with extreme reluctance, and only at the\ncommand of the pope. He showed himself an able statesman. St.\nBernard reproached him for the state in which he lived while at\ncourt, but he proved his heart was not in such a life by resuming\nall his austerities when he returned to his monastery.\n\nHe rebuilt the abbey church of St. Denis in a little more than\nthree years. He assembled the most skilful workmen and sculptors\nfrom all parts. But he himself was the chief architect. The very\npeople around wished to have a share in the work, believing it\nwould draw down on them the blessing of Heaven. They brought him\nmarble from Pontoise, and wood from the forest of Chevreuse,\nsixty leagues distant. But he himself selected the trees to be\ncut down. Bishops, nobles, and the king assisted in laying the\nfoundations, each one laying a stone while the monks chanted,\n\"_Fundamenta ejus in montibus sanctis._\" While they were\nsinging in the course of the service, \"_Lapides pretiosi omnes\nmuri tui,_\" the king took a ring of great value from his\nfinger and threw it on the foundations, and all the nobles\nfollowed his example.\n\nWhen the church was consecrated, the king and a host of church\ndignitaries were present. Thibaud, Archbishop of Canterbury,\nconsecrated the high altar, and twenty other altars were\nconsecrated by as many different bishops.\n\nSuger had a little cell built near the church for his own use. It\nwas fifteen feet long and ten wide. When he built for God his\nideas were full of grandeur, but for himself nothing was too\nlowly. This little cell beside the magnificent church was a\ncontinual act of humility before the majesty of the Most High.\n\"Whatever is dear and most precious should be made subservient to\nthe administration of the thrice holy Eucharist,\" said he. We\nread how Peter the Venerable, Abbot of Cluny, came to visit St.\nDenis. After admiring the grandeur of the church, they came to\nthe cell. \"Behold a man who condemns us all!\" exclaimed Peter\nwith a sigh. The cell had neither tapestry nor curtains. He slept\non straw, and his table was set with strictest regard to monastic\nseverity. He never rode in a carriage, but always on horseback,\neven in old age.\n\nWhen Abbot Suger felt his end approaching, he went, supported by\ntwo monks, into the chapter room where the whole community was\nassembled, and addressed them in the most solemn and impressive\nmanner on the judgments of God. Then he knelt before them all,\nand with tears besought their pardon for all the faults of his\nadministration during thirty years. The monks only answered with\ntheir tears. He laid down his crosier, declaring himself unworthy\nthe office of abbot, and begged them to elect his successor, that\nhe might have the happiness of dying a simple monk. There is a\ntouching letter from St. Bernard written at this time, which\ncommences thus:\n\n{618}\n\n  \"Friar Bernard to his very dear and intimate friend Suger, by\n  the grace of God abbot of St. Denis, wishing him the glory that\n  springs from a good conscience, and the grace which is a gift\n  of God. Fear not, O man of God! to put off the earthly man\n  --that man of sin which torments, oppresses, persecutes\n  you--the weight of which sinks you down to earth and drags you\n  almost to the abyss! What have you in part with this mortal\n  frame--you who are about to be clothed with glorious\n  immortality?\"\n\nToward Christmas Suger grew so weak that he rejoiced at the\nprospect of his deliverance, but fearing his death would\ninterrupt the festivities of that holy time, he prayed God to\nprolong his life till they were over. His prayer was heard. He\ndied on the twelfth of January, having been abbot of St. Denis\ntwenty-nine years and ten months, from 1122 to 1152. His tomb\nbore the simple inscription:\n\n  \"Cy gist l'Abb\u00e9 Suger.\"\n\nThe charter for the foundation of the abbey of St. Denis was\ngiven by Clovis. It was written on papyrus, and among others the\nsignature of St. Eloi was attached to it. Pepin and Charlemagne\nwere great benefactors of the abbey. Pepin was buried before the\ngrand portal of the old church with his face down, wishing by his\nprostrate position to atone for the excesses of his father\nCharles Martel. Charlemagne with filial reverence built a porch\nto the church, as a covering over his father's tomb, and that he\nmight not lie without the church. In rebuilding it, Suger had the\nporch removed and the body transferred into the interior.\n\nThe treasury of the abbey was once exceedingly rich. The old\nkings of France left their crowns to it, and on grand festivals\nthey were suspended before the high altar. Here were the cross\nand sceptre of Charlemagne, and the crown and ring of the holy\nLouis IX. Philip Augustus gave the abbey in his will all his\njewels and crosses of gold, desiring twenty monks to say masses\nfor his soul. The chess-board and chess-men of Charlemagne were\nkept here for ages. Joubert, the Coleridge of France, says:\n\n  \"The pomps and magnificence with which the church is reproached\n  are in truth the result and proof of her incomparable\n  excellence. Whence came, let me ask, this power of hers and\n  these excessive riches, except from the enchantment into which\n  she threw all the world? Ravished with her beauty, millions of\n  men from age to age kept loading her with gifts, bequests, and\n  cessions. She had the talent of making herself loved and the\n  talent of making men happy. It is that which wrought prodigies\n  for her, it is thence she drew her power.\"\n\nSixty great wax candles used to burn around the high altar of St.\nDenis on great festivals. Dagobert left one hundred livres a year\nto obtain oil for lights, and Pepin allowed six carts to bring it\nall the way from Marseilles without toll.\n\nIn the middle ages there were fairs near the abbey which lasted\nfor a month. Merchants came from Italy, Spain, and all parts of\nEurope, and, to encourage them to be mindful of their souls as\nwell as of their purses, indulgences were granted to all who\nvisited the church.\n\n\n\nThese are a few notes of my saunterings. Each one of these holy\nplaces, as well as every church in those old lands, has its\nhistory which is interesting, and its legends that are poetical\nand full of meaning. They would fill volumes. Travelling is like\neating; what gives pleasure to one only aggravates the bile of\nanother. Some only find tyranny in the authority of the church, a\nlove of pomp and display in her splendor, and superstition in her\npiety. Thoreau says, \"Where an angel treads, it will be paradise\nall the way; but where Satan travels, it will be burning marl and\ncinders.\"\n\n-------\n\n{619}\n\n       Spiritualism and Materialism.\n\nProfessor Huxley, as we saw in a late number of this magazine, in\nthe article on _The Physical Basis of Life_, while rejecting\nspiritualism, gives his opinion that materialism is a\nphilosophical error, on the ground of our ignorance of what\nmatter is, or is not. There is some truth in the assertion of our\nignorance of the essence or real nature of matter or material\nexistence, though the professor had no logical right to assert\nit, after having adopted a materialistic terminology, and done\nhis best to prove the material origin of life, thought, feeling,\nand the various mental phenomena. Yet we are far from regarding\nwhat is called materialism as the fundamental error of this age,\nnor do we believe that there is any necessary or irrepressible\nantagonism between spirit and matter, either intellectual or\nmoral. In our belief, a profound philosophy, though it does not\nidentify spirit and matter, shows their dialectic harmony, as\nrevelation asserts it in asserting the resurrection of the flesh,\nand the indissoluble reunion of body and soul in the future life.\n\nThe fundamental error of this age is the denial of creation, and,\ntheologically expressed, is, with the vulgar, atheism, and with\nthe cultivated and refined, pantheism. Atheism is the denial of\nunity, and pantheism the denial of plurality or diversity, and\nboth alike deny creation, and seek to explain the universe by the\nprinciple of self-generation or self-development. What is really\ndenied is God THE CREATOR.\n\nThere are, no doubt, moral causes that have led in part to this\ndenial, but with them we have at present nothing to do. The\nassertion of moral causes is more effective in preventing men\nfrom abandoning the truth and falling into error than in\nrecovering and leading back to the truth those who have lost it,\nor know not where to find it. We lose our labor when we begin our\nefforts, as philosophers, to convert those who are in error by\nassuring them that they have erred only through moral perversity\nor hatred of the true and the good, the just and the holy,\nespecially in an age when conscience is fast asleep. We aim at\nconvincing, not at convicting, and therefore take up only the\nintellectual causes which lead to the denial of creation. Among\nthese causes, we shall, no doubt, find materialism and a\npseudo-spiritualism both playing their part; but the real causes,\nwe apprehend, are in the fact that the philosophic tradition,\nwhich has come down to us from gentilism, has never been fully\nharmonized with the Christian tradition, which has come down to\nus through the church.\n\nGentilism had lost sight of God the Creator, and confounded\ncreation with generation, emanation, or formation. Why the\ngentiles were led into this error would be an interesting chapter\nin the history of the wanderings of the human mind; but we have\nno space at present for the inquiry. It is enough, for our\npresent purpose, to establish the fact that the gentiles did fall\ninto it. The conception of creation is found in none of the\nheathen mythologies, learned or unlearned, of which we have any\nknowledge; and that they do not recognize a creative God, may be\ninferred from the fact that in them all, so far as known, was\nworshipped, under obscure symbols, the generative forces or\nfunctions of nature.\n{620}\nIn no gentile philosophy, not even in Plato or Aristotle, do you\nfind any conception of God the Creator. P\u00e8re Gratry, indeed,\nthinks he finds the fact of creation recognized by Plato,\nespecially in the _Timaeus_; but though we have read time\nand again that most important of Plato's dialogues, we have never\nfound the fact of creation in it; all we can find in it bearing\non this point is what Plato, as we understand him, uniformly\nteaches, the identity of the idea with the essence or _causa\nessentialis_ of the thing. As, for instance, the idea of a man\nis the real, essential man himself; and is simply the idea in the\ndivine mind, impressed on a preexisting matter, as the seal upon\nwax. God creates neither the idea nor the matter. The idea is\nhimself; the matter is eternal. Aristotle does not essentially\ndiffer from Plato on this point. The individual existence,\naccording to him, is composed of matter and form; the form alone\nis substantial, and matter is simply its passive recipient. The\nsubstantial forms are supplied, but not created by the divine\nintelligence. In no form of heathenism that existed before the\nChristian era have we found any conception of creation. The\nconception or tradition of creation was retained only by the\npatriarchs and the synagogue, and has been restored to the\nconverted gentiles by the Christian church alone.\n\nSt. Augustine, and after him the great medieval\ndoctors--especially the greatest of them all, the Angel of the\nschools--labored assiduously, and up to a certain point\nsuccessfully, to amend the least debased gentile philosophy so as\nto make it harmonize with Christian theology and tradition. They\ntook from gentile philosophy the elements it had retained from\nthe ancient wisdom, supplied their defects with elements taken\nfrom the Christian tradition, and formed a really Christian\nphilosophy, which still subsists in union with theology.\n\nThis work of harmonizing faith and philosophy, or, perhaps, more\ncorrectly, of constructing a philosophy in harmony with faith and\ntheology, was nearly, if not quite completed by the great western\nscholastics or medieval doctors; but, unhappily, the East,\nseparated from the centre of unity, or holding to it only loosely\nand by fits and starts, did not share in the great intellectual\nmovement of the West. It made little or no progress in\nharmonizing gentile philosophy and Christian theology. It\nretained and studied the gentile philosophers, especially of the\nPlatonic and Neoplatonic schools; and when the Greek scholars,\nafter the taking of Constantinople by the Turks, in 1453, sought\nrefuge in the West, they brought with them, not only their\nschism, but their unmitigated gentile philosophy, corrupted the\nwestern schools, and unsettled to a fearful extent the confidence\nof scholars in the scholastic philosophy. We owe the false\nsystems of spiritualism and materialism, of atheism and\npantheism, to what is called the Revival of Letters in the\nfifteenth century, or the Greek invasion of western Christendom.\n\nThe scholastics, especially St. Thomas, had transformed the\nperipatetic philosophy into a Christian philosophy; but the other\nGreek schools had remained pagan; and it was precisely these\nother schools, especially the Platonic, and Neoplatonic, or\nAlexandrian eclecticism, that now revived in their\nunchristianized form, and were opposed to the Aristotelian\nphilosophy as modified by the schoolmen.\n{621}\nSome of the early fathers were more inclined to Plato than to\nAristotle, but none of these, not Clemens Alexandrinus, Origen,\nor even St. Augustine, had harmonized throughout Plato's\nphilosophy with Christianity, and we should greatly wrong St.\nAugustine, at least, if we called him a systematic Platonist.\n\nWith the study of Plato was revived in western Europe a false and\nexaggerated spiritualism, and a philosophy which denied creation\nas a truth of philosophy, and admitted it only as a doctrine of\nrevelation. The authority of the scholastic philosophy was\nweakened, a decided tendency in pantheistic direction to thought\nwas given, and the way was prepared for Giordano Bruno, as well\nas for the Protestant apostasy. We say _apostasy_, because\nLuther's movement was really an apostasy, as its historical\ndevelopments have amply proved. With Plato was revived the\nAcademy with its scepticism, Sextus Empiricus, and after him\nEpicurus; and before the close of the sixteenth century, Europe\nwas overrun with false mystics, sceptics, pantheists, and\natheists, who abounded all through the seventeenth century, in\nspite of a very decided reaction in favor of faith and the\nchurch. What is worthy of special note is, that in all this\nperiod of two centuries and a half it was no uncommon thing to\nfind men who, as philosophers, denied the immortality of the\nsoul, which as believers they asserted; or combining a childlike\nfaith with nearly universal scepticism, as we see in Montaigne.\n\nGradually, however, men began to see that, while they\nacknowledged a discrepancy between what they held as philosophy\nand the Christian faith, they could not retain both; that they\nmust give up the one or the other. England, in the latter half of\nthe seventeenth century, swarmed with free thinkers who denied\nall divine revelation; and France, in the eighteenth century,\nrejected the church, rejected the Bible, suppressed Christian\nworship, rebuilt the Pantheon, and voted death to be an eternal\nsleep. But the eighteenth century was born of the seventeenth, as\nthe seventeenth was born of the sixteenth, as the sixteenth was\nborn of the revival of Greek letters and philosophy, thoroughly\nimpregnated with paganism, supposed by unthinking men to be the\nmost glorious event in modern history, saving, always, Luther's\nReformation.\n\nIn the seventeenth century, Descartes undertook to reform and\nreconstruct philosophy after a new method. He undertook to erect\nphilosophy into a complete science in the rational order,\nindependent of revelation. If he recognized the creative act of\nGod, or God as creator, it was as a theologian, not as a\nphilosopher; for certainly he does not start with the creative\nact as a first principle, nor does he, nor can he, arrive at it\nby his method. God as creator cannot be deduced from _cogito,\nergo sum;_ for, without presupposing God as my creator, I\ncannot assert that I exist. Gentilism had so far revived that it\nwas able to take possession of philosophy the moment it was\ndetached from Christian theology and declared an independent\nscience; and as that has no conception of creation, the tradition\npreserved by Jews and Christians was at once relegated from\nphilosophy to theologian, from science to faith. Hence we fail to\nfind creation recognized as a philosophical truth in the system\nof his disciple Malebranche, a profounder philosopher than\nDescartes himself. The prince of modern sophists, Spinoza,\nadopting as his starting point the definition of substance given\nby Descartes, demonstrates but too easily that there can be only\none substance, and that there can be no creation, or that nothing\ndoes or can exist except the one substance and its attributes,\nmodes, or affections. Calling the one substance God, he arrived\nat once at pantheism, now so prevalent.\n\n{622}\n\nThat Descartes felt a difficulty in asserting creation in its\nproper sense, may be inferred from the fact that he always calls\nthe soul _la pens\u00e9e_, thought; never, if we recollect\naright, a substance that thinks, which was itself a large stride\ntoward pantheism, for pantheism consists precisely in denying all\nsubstantive existences except the one only substance, which is\nGod. Spinoza developed his principles with a logic vastly\nsuperior to his own, and brought out errors which he probably did\nnot foresee. Indeed, we do not pretend that Descartes intended to\nfavor or had any suspicion that he was favoring pantheism; but he\nmost certainly did not recognize any principle that would enable\nhis disciples to oppose it, and in former days, before we knew\nthe church, we ourselves found, or thought we found, pantheism\nflowing logically from his premises, and we escaped it only by\nrejecting the Cartesian philosophy.\n\nDescartes revived in modern philosophy that antagonism between\nspirit and matter which was unknown to the scholastic philosophy,\nand which renders the mutual commerce of soul and body\ninexplicable. The scholastic doctors had recognized, indeed,\nmatter and form; but with them matter was simply possibility,\nexisting only _in potentia ad formam_, and was never\nsupposed to be the basis or substratum of any existence whatever.\nThe real existence was in the form, the _forma_ or the\n_idea_. They distinguished, certainly, between corporeal and\nincorporeal existences; but not, as the moderns do, between\nspiritual and material existences, and the question between\nspiritualism and materialism, as we have it to-day, did not and\ncould not come up with them. The distinction with them was\nbetween sensibles and intelligibles, the only distinction that\nphilosophy by her own light knows. _Spirit_ was a term very\nnearly restricted to God, and _spiritual_ meant partaking of\nspirit, living according to the spirit; that is, living a godly\nlife begotten by the Holy Spirit, as in the inspired writings of\nSt. Paul.\n\nEven the ancients did not distinguish, in the modern sense,\nbetween spirit and matter. Their gods were corporeal, but\nordinarily impassible. The spirit was not a distinct existence,\nbut was the universal principle of life, thought, and action, and\nthe spirit of man was an emanation from the universal spirit,\nwhich at death flowed back and was reabsorbed in the ocean from\nwhich it emanated. Their ghosts were not disembodied spirits, as\nours are, were not departed spirits, but the umbra or shade--a\nthin, aerial apparition, bearing the exact resemblance of the\nbody, and had formed during life, if I may so speak, its inner\nlining, or the immediate envelope of the spirit. It is the body\nthat after death still invests the soul, according to Swedenborg,\nwho denies the resurrection of the flesh. According to ancient\nGreek and Roman gentilism it was not spirit, nor body, but\nsomething between the two. It hovered over and around the dead\nbody, and it was to allay it, and enable it to rest in peace that\nthe funeral rites or obsequies of the dead were performed, and\njudged to be so indispensable. The Marquis de Mirville, in his\nwork on _The Fluidity of Spirits_, seems to think the umbra\nwas not a pure imagination, and is inclined to assert it, and to\nmake it the basis of the explanation of many of the so-called\nspirit-phenomena.\n{623}\nHe supposes it is capable of transporting the soul, or of being\ntransported by the soul, out of the body, and to a great distance\nfrom it, and that the body itself will bear the marks of the\nwounds that may be given it. In this way he also explains the\nprodigies of bilocation.\n\nBut however this may be, the ghost of heathen superstition is\nnever the spirit returned to earth, nor is it the spirit that is\ndoomed to Tartarus, or that is received into the Elysian Fields,\nthe heathen paradise. Hades, which includes both Tartarus and\nElysium, is a land of shadows, inhabited by shades that are\nneither spirit nor body; for the heathen knew nothing, and\nbelieved nothing, of the resurrection of the flesh, and the\nreunion of soul and body in a future life. The spirit at death\nreturns to its fountain, and the body, dissolved, loses itself in\nthe several elements from which it was taken, and only the shade\nor shadow of the living man survives. Even in Elysium, the ghosts\nthat sport on the flowery banks of the river, repose in the green\nbowers, or pursue in the fields the mimic games and pastimes that\nthey loved, are pale, thin, and shadowy. The whole is a mimic\nscene, if we may trust either Homer or Virgil, and is far less\nreal and less attractive than the happy hunting grounds of the\nred men of our continent, to which the good, that is, the brave\nIndian is transported when he dies. The only distinction we find,\nwith the heathen, between spirit and matter, is, the distinction\nbetween the divine substance, or intelligence, and an eternally\nexisting matter, as the stuff of which bodies or corporeal\nexistences, the only existences recognized, are formed or\ngenerated.\n\nBut Descartes distinguished them so broadly that he seemed to\nmake them each independent of the other. Why, then, was either\nnecessary to the life and activity of the other? And we see in\nDescartes no use that the soul is or can be to the body, or the\nbody to the soul. Hence, philosophy, starting from Descartes,\nbranched out in two opposite directions, the one toward the\ndenial of matter, and the other toward the denial of spirit; or,\nas more commonly expressed, into idealism and materialism, but as\nit would be more proper to say, into intellectism and sensism.\nThe spiritualism of Descartes, so far as it had been known in the\nhistory of philosophy, was only the Neoplatonic mysticism, which\nsubstitutes the direct and immediate vision, so to speak, of the\nintelligible, for its apprehension through sensible symbols and\nthe exercise of the reasoning faculty. From this it was an easy\nstep to the denial of an external and material world, as was\nproved by Berkeley, who held the external world to consist simply\nof pictures painted on the retina of the eye by the creative act\nof God; and before him by Collier, who maintained that only mind\nexists. It was an equally short and easy step to take the other\ndirection, assert the sufficiency of the corporeal or material,\nand deny the existence of spirit or the incorporeal, since the\nsenses take cognizance of the corporeal and the corporeal only.\nEither step was favored by the ancient philosophy revived and set\nup against the scholastic philosophy. It was hardly possible to\nfollow out the exaggerated and exclusive spiritualism of the one\nclass without running into mystic pantheism, or the independence\nof the corporeal or material, without falling into material\npantheism or atheism. These two errors, or rather these two\nphases of one and the same error, are the fundamental or mother\nerror of this age--perhaps, in principle, of all ages--and is\nreceiving an able refutation by one of our collaborateurs in the\nessay on Catholicity and Pantheism now in the course of\npublication in this magazine.\n\n{624}\n\nIt is no part of our purpose now to refute this error; we have\ntraced it from gentilism, shown that it is essentially pagan, and\nowes its prevalence in the modern world to the revival of Greek\nletters and philosophy in the fifteenth century, the discredit\ninto which the study of Plato and the Neoplatonists threw the\nscholastic philosophy, and especially to the divorce of\nphilosophy from theology, declared by Descartes in the\nseventeenth century. Yet we do not accept either exclusive\nmaterialism or exclusive spiritualism, and the question itself\nhardly has place in our philosophy, as it hardly had place in\nthat of St. Thomas. It became a question only when philosophy was\ndetached from theology, of which it forms the rational as\ndistinguishable but not separable from the revealed element, and\nreduced to a mere _Wissenchaftslehre_, or rather a simple\nmethodology. True philosophy joined with theology is the response\nto the question, What is, or exists? What are the principles and\ncauses of things? What are our relations to those principles and\ncauses? What is the law under which we are placed? and what are\nthe means and conditions within our reach, natural or gracious,\nof fulfilling our destiny, or of attaining to our supreme good?\nNot a response to the question, for the most part an idle\nquestion, How do we know, or how do we know that we know?\n\nMany of the most difficult problems for philosophers, and which\nwe confess our inability to solve, may be eluded by a flank\nmovement, to use a military phrase. Such is the question of the\norigin of ideas, of certitude, and the passage from the\nsubjective to the objective, and this very question of\nspiritualism and materialism. All these are problems which no\nphilosopher yet has solved from the point of view of exclusive\npsychology, or of exclusive ontology, or of any philosophy that\nleaves them to be asked. But we are much mistaken if they do not\ncease to be problems at all, when one starts with the principles\nof things, or if they do not solve themselves. We do not find\nthem, in the modern sense, raised by Plato or Aristotle, nor by\nSt. Augustine or St. Thomas. When we have the right stand-point,\nif Mr. Richard Grant White will allow us the term, and see things\nfrom the point of view of the real order, these problems do not\npresent themselves, and are wholly superseded. Professor Huxley\nis right enough when he tells us that we know the nature and\nessence neither of spirit nor of matter. I know from revelation\nthat there is a spirit in man, and that the inspiration of the\nAlmighty giveth him understanding, but I know neither by\nrevelation nor by reason what spirit is. God is a spirit; but if\nman is a spirit, it must be in a very different sense from that\nin which God is a spirit. Although the human spirit may have a\ncertain likeness to the Divine spirit, it yet cannot be divine,\nfor it is created; and they who call it divine, a spark of\ndivinity, or a particle of God, either do not mean, or do not\n_know_ what they literally assert. They only repeat the old\ngentile doctrine of the substantial identity of the spirit with\ndivinity, from whom it emanates, and to whom it returns, to be\nreabsorbed in him--a pantheistic conception. All we can say of\nspiritual existences is, that they are incorporeal intelligences;\nand all we can say of man is, that he has both a corporeal and an\nincorporeal nature; and perhaps without revelation we should be\nable to say not even so much.\n\n{625}\n\nWe know, again, just as little of matter. What is matter? Who can\nanswer? Nay, what is body? Who can tell? Body, we are told, is\ncomposed of material elements. Be it so. What are those elements?\nInto what is matter resolvable in the last analysis? Into\nindestructible and indissoluble atoms, says Epicurus; into\nentelecheia, or self-acting forces, says Aristotle; into\nextension, says Descartes; into monads, each acting from its\ncentre, and representing the entire universe from its own point\nof view, says Leibnitz; into centres of attraction and\ngravitation, says Father Boscovich; into pictures painted on the\nretina of the eye by the Creator, says Berkeley, the Protestant\nbishop of Cloyne, and so on. We may ask and ask, but can get no\nfinal answer.\n\nTake, instead of matter, an organic body; who can tell us what it\nis? It is extended, occupies space, say the Cartesians. But is\nthis certain? Leibnitz disputes it, and it is not easy to attach\nany precise meaning to the assertion \"it occupies space,\" if we\nhave any just notion of space and time, the _pons asinorum_\nof psychologists. What is called actual or real space is the\nrelation of co-existence of creatures; and is simply nothing\nabstracted from the related. It would be a great convenience if\nphilosophers would learn that nothing is nothing, and that only\nGod can create something from nothing. Space being nothing but\nrelation, to say of a thing that it occupies space, is only\nsaying that it exists, and exists in a certain relation to other\nobjects. This relation may be either sensible or intelligible; it\nis sensible, or what is called sensible space, when the objects\nrelated are sensible. Extension is neither the essence nor a\nproperty of matter, but the sensible relation of an object either\nto some other objects or to our sensible perception. It is, as\nLeibnitz very well shows, only the relation of continuity. Whirl\na wheel with great force and rapidity, and you will be unable to\ndistinguish its several spokes, and it will seem to be all of one\ncontinuous and solid piece. Intelligible space as distinguished\nfrom sensible space is the logical relation of things, or, as\nmore commonly called, the relation of cause and effect. When we\nconform our notions of space to the real order, and understand\nthat the sensible simply copies, imitates, or symbolizes the\nintelligible, we shall see that we have no authority for saying\nextension is even a property of body or of matter.\n\nThat extension is simply the sensible relation of body, not its\nessence, nor even a property of matter, is evident from what\nphysiologists tell us of organic or living bodies. There can be\nno reasonable doubt that the body I now have is the same\nidentical body with which I was born, and yet it contains,\nprobably, not a single molecule or particle of sensible matter it\noriginally had. As I am an old man, all the particles or\nmolecules of my body have probably been changed some ten or\ntwenty times over; yet my body remains unchanged. It is evident,\nthen, since the molecular changes do not affect its identity,\nthat those particles or molecules of matter which my body\nassimilates from the food I take to repair the waste that is\nconstantly going on, or to supply the loss of those particles or\nmolecules constantly exuded or thrown off, do not compose, make\nup, or constitute the real body. This fact is commended to the\nconsideration of those learned men, like the late Professor\nGeorge Bush, who deny the resurrection of the body, on the ground\nthat these molecular changes which have been going on during life\nrender it a physical impossibility. This fact also may have some\nbearing on the Catholic mystery of Transubstantiation.\n{626}\nSt. Augustine distinguishes between the visible body and the\nintelligible body--the body that is seen and the body that is\nunderstood--and tells us that it is the intelligible, or, as he\nsometimes says, the spiritual, not the visible or sensible, body\nof our Lord that is present in the Blessed Eucharist. In fact,\nthere is no change in the sensible body of the bread and the\nwine, in Transubstantiation. The sensible body remains the same\nafter consecration that it was before. The change is in the\nessence or substance, or the intelligible body, and hence the\nappropriateness of the term _transubstantiation_ to express\nthe change which takes place at the words of consecration. Only\nthe intelligible body, that is, what is non-sensible in the\nelements bread and wine, is transubstantiated, and yet their real\nbody is changed, and the real body of our Lord takes its place.\nThe nonsensible or invisible body, the intelligible body, is\nthen, in either case, assumed by the sacred mystery to be the\nreal body; and hence, supposing us right in our assumption that\nour body remains always the same in spite of the molecular\nchanges--which was evidently the doctrine of St. Augustine--there\nis nothing in science or the profoundest philosophy to show that\neither transubstantiation or the resurrection of the flesh is\nimpossible, or that God may not effect either consistently with\nhis own immutable nature, if he sees proper to do it. Nothing\naids the philosopher so much as the study of the great doctrines\nand mysteries of Christianity, as held and taught by the church.\n\nThe distinction between seeing and intellectually apprehending,\nand therefore between the visible body and the intelligible body,\nasserted and always carefully observed by St. Augustine when\ntreating of the Blessed Eucharist, belongs to a profounder\nphilosophy than is now generally cultivated. Our prevailing\nphilosophy, especially outside of the church, recognizes no such\ndistinction. It is true, we are told, that the senses perceive\nonly the sensible properties or qualities of things; that they\nnever perceive the essence or substance; but then the essence or\nsubstance is supposed to be a mere abstraction with no\nintelligible properties or qualities, or a mere substratum of\nsensible properties and qualities. The sensible exhausts it, and\nbeyond what the senses proclaim the substance has no quality or\nproperty, and is and can be the subject of no predicate. This is\na great mistake. The sensible properties and qualities are real,\nthat is, are not false or illusory; but they are real only in the\nsensible order, or the _mimesis_, as Gioberti, after Plato\nand some of the Greek fathers, calls it in his posthumous works.\nThe intelligible substance is the thing itself, and has its own\nintelligible properties and qualities, which the sensible only\ncopies, imitates, or mimics. All through nature there runs, above\nthe sensible, the intelligible, in which is the highest created\nreality, with its own attributes and qualities, which must be\nknown before we can claim to know anything as it really is or\nexists. We do not know this in the case of body or matter; we do\nnot and cannot know what either really is, and can really know of\neither only its sensible properties.\n\nWe know that if matter exists at all, it must have an essence or\nsubstance; but what the substance really is human science has not\nlearned and cannot learn. We really know, then, of matter in\nitself no more than we do of spirit, except that matter has its\nsensible copy, which spirit has not.\n{627}\nMatter, as to its substance, is supersensible, and as to the\nessence or nature of its substance is superintelligible, as is\nspirit; and we only know that it has a substance; and of\nsubstance itself, we can only say, if it exists, it is a _vis\nactiva_, as opposed to _nuda potentia_, which is a mere\npossibility, and no existence at all. Such being the case, we\nagree with Professor Huxley, that neither spiritualism nor\nmaterialism is, in his sense, admissible, and that each is a\nphilosophical error, or, at least, an unprovable hypothesis.\n\nBut here our agreement ends and our divergence begins. The Holy\nSee has required the traditionalists to maintain that the\nexistence of God, the immateriality of the soul, and the liberty\nof man can be proved with certainty by reason. We have always\nfound the definitions of the church our best guide in the study\nof philosophy, and that we can never run athwart her teaching\nwithout finding ourselves at odds with reason and truth. We are\nalways sure that when our theology is unsound our philosophy will\nbe bad. There is a distinction already noted between spirit and\nmatter, which is decisive of the whole question, as far as it is\na question at all. Matter has, and spirit has not, sensible\nproperties or qualities. These sensible properties or qualities\ndo not constitute the essence or substance of matter, which we\nhave seen is not sensible, but they distinguish it from spirit,\nwhich is non-sensible. This difference, in regard to sensible\nqualities and properties, proves that there must be a difference\nof substance, that the material substance and the immaterial\nsubstance are not, and cannot be one and the same substance,\nalthough we know not what is the essence or nature of either.\n\nWe take matter here in the sense of that which has properties or\nqualities perceptible by the senses, and spirit or spiritual\nsubstance as an existence that has no such properties or\nqualities. The Holy See says the _immateriality_, not\n_spirituality_, of the soul, is to be proved by reason. The\nspirituality of the soul, except in the sense of immateriality,\ncannot be proved or known by philosophy, but is simply a doctrine\nof divine revelation, and is known only by that analogical\nknowledge called faith. All that we can prove or assert by\nnatural reason, is, that the soul is immaterial, or not material\nin the sense that matter has for its sign the mimesis, or\nsensible properties or qualities. We repeat, the sensible is not\nthe material substance, but is its natural sign. So that, where\nthe sign is wanting, we know the substance is not present and\nactive. On the other hand, where there is a force undeniably\npresent and operating without the sign, we know at once that it\nis an immaterial force or substance.\n\nThat the soul is not material, therefore is an immaterial\nsubstance, we know; because it has none of the sensible signs or\nproperties of matter. We cannot see, hear, touch, smell, nor\ntaste it. The very facts materialists allege to prove it\nmaterial, prove conclusively, that, if anything, it is\nimmaterial. The soul has none of the attributes or qualities that\nare included, and has others which evidently are not included, in\nthe definition of matter. Matter, as to its substance, is a\n_vis activa_, for whatever exists at all is an active force;\nbut it is not a force or substance that thinks, feels, wills, or\nreasons. It has no sensibility, no mind, no intelligence, no\nheart, no soul. But animals have sensibility and intelligence;\nhave they immaterial souls? Why not? We have no serious\ndifficulty in admitting that animals have souls, only not\nrational and immortal souls.\n{628}\nSoul, in them, is not spirit, but it may be immaterial. Indeed,\nwe can go further, and concede an immaterial soul, not only to\nanimals but to plants, though, of course, not an intelligent or\neven a sensitive soul; for if plants, or at least some plants,\nare contractile and slightly mimic sensibility in animals,\nnothing proves that they are sensitive. We have no proof that any\nliving organism, vegetable, animal, or human, is or can be a\npurely material product. Professor Huxley has completely failed,\nas we have shown, in his effort to sustain his theory of a\nphysical or material basis of life, and physiologists profess to\nhave demonstrated by their experiments and discoveries that no\norganism can originate in inorganic matter, or in any possible\nmechanical, chemical, or electrical arrangement of material\natoms, and is and can be produced, unless by direct and immediate\ncreation of God, only by generation from a preexisting male and\nfemale organism. This is true alike of plants, animals, and man.\nNothing hinders you, then, from calling, if you so wish, the\nuniversal basis of life _anima_ or soul, and asserting, the\npsychical basis, in opposition to Professor Huxley's physical\nbasis, of life; only you must take care and not assert that\nplants and animals have human souls, or that soul in them is the\nsame that it is in man.\n\nThere are grave thinkers who are not satisfied with the doctrine\nthat ascribes the apparent and even striking marks of mind in\nanimals to instinct, a term which serves to cover our ignorance,\nbut tells us nothing; still less are they satisfied with the\nCartesian doctrine that the animal is simply a piece of mechanism\nmoved or moving only by mechanical springs and wheels like a\nclock or watch. Theologians are reluctant chiefly, we suppose, to\nadmit that animals have souls, because they are accustomed to\nregard all souls, as to their substance, the same, and because it\nhas seemed to them that the admission would bring animals too\nnear to men, and not preserve the essential difference between\nthe animal nature and the human. But we see no difficulty in\nadmitting as many different sorts or orders of souls as there are\ndifferent orders, genera, and species of living organisms. God is\nspirit, and the angels are spirits; are the angels therefore\nidentical in substance with God? The human soul is spiritual; is\nthere no difference in substance between human souls and angels?\nWe know that men sometimes speak of a departed wife, child, or\nfriend as being now an angel in heaven; but they are not to be\nunderstand literally, any more than the young man in love with a\ncharming young lady who does not absolutely refuse his addresses,\nwhen he calls her--a sinful mortal, not unlikely--an angel. In\nthe resurrection men are _like_ the angels of God, in the\nrespect that they neither marry nor are given in marriage; but\nthe spirits of the just made perfect, that stand before the\nthrone, are not angels; they are still human in their nature. If,\nthen, we may admit spirits of different nature and substance, why\nnot souls, and, therefore, vegetable souls, animal souls, and\nhuman souls, agreeing only in the fact that they are immaterial,\nor not material substances or forces?\n\nIt perhaps may be thought that to admit different orders of souls\nto correspond to the different orders, genera, and species of\norganisms, would imply that the human soul is generated with the\nbody; contrary to the general doctrine of theologians, that the\nsoul is created immediately _ad hoc_.\n{629}\nThe Holy See censured Professor Frohshamer's doctrine on the\nsubject; but the point condemned was, as we understand it, that\nthe professor claimed _creative_ power for man. But it is\nnot necessary to suppose, even if plants and animals have souls,\nthat the human soul is generated with the body, in any sense\ninconsistent with faith. The church has defined that \"anima est\nforma corporis,\" that is, as we understand it, the soul is the\nvital or informing principle, the life of the body, without which\nthe body is dead matter. The organism generated is a living not a\ndead organism, and therefore if the soul is directly and\nimmediately created _ad hoc_, the creative act must be\nconsentaneous with the act of generation, a fact which demands a\nserious modification of the medical jurisprudence now taught in\nour medical schools. Some have asserted for man alone a vegetable\nsoul, an animal soul, and a spiritual soul, but this is\ninadmissible; man has simply a human soul, though capable of\nyielding to the grovelling demands of the flesh as well as to the\nhigher promptings of the spirit.\n\nBut we have suffered ourselves to be drawn nearer to the borders\nof the land of impenetrable mysteries than we intended, and we\nretrace our steps as hastily as possible. Our readers will\nunderstand that what we have said of the souls of plants and\nanimals is said only as a possible concession, but not set forth\nas a doctrine we do or design to maintain; for it lies too near\nthe province of revelation to be settled by philosophy. All we\nmean is that we see on the part of reason no serious objection to\nit. Perhaps it may be thought that we lose, by the concession,\nthe argument for the immortality of the soul drawn from its\nsimplicity; but, even if so, we are not deprived of other, and to\nour mind, much stronger arguments. But it may be said all our\ntalk about souls is wide of the mark, for we have not yet proved\nthat man is or has a soul distinguishable from the body, and\nwhich does or can survive its dissolution, and that our argument\nonly proves that, if a man has a soul, it is immaterial. The\nmaterialist denies that there is any soul in man distinct from\nthe body, and maintains that the mental phenomena, which we\nascribe to an immaterial soul, are the effects of material\norganization. But that is for him to prove, not for us to\ndisprove. Organization can give to matter no new properties or\nqualities, as aggregation can give only the sum of the\nindividuals aggregated. Matter we have taken all along, as all\nthe world takes it, as a substance that has properties and\nqualities perceptible by the senses, and it has no meaning except\nso far as so perceptible. Any active force that has no mimesis or\nsensible qualities, properties, or attributes, is an immaterial,\nnot a material substance. That man is or has an active force that\nfeels, thinks, reasons, wills, we know as well as we know\nanything; indeed, better than we know anything else. These acts\nor operations are not operations of a material substance. We know\nthat they are not, from the fact that they are not sensible\nproperties or qualities, and therefore there must be in man an\nactive force or substance that is not material, but immaterial.\nMaterial substance is, we grant, a _vis activa_; but if it\nhas properties or qualities, it has no faculties. It acts, but it\nacts only _ad finem_, or to an end, never _propter\nfinem_, or for an end foreseen and deliberately willed or\nchosen. But the force that man has or is, has faculties, not\nsimply properties or qualities, and can and does act\ndeliberately, with foresight and choice, for an end. Hence, it is\nnot and cannot be a substance included in the definition of\nmatter.\n\n{630}\n\nThat this immaterial soul, now united to body and active only in\nunion with matter, survives the dissolution of the body and is\nimmortal, is another question, and is not proved, in our\njudgment, by proving its immateriality. There is an important\ntext in Ecclesiastes, 3:21, which would seem to have some bearing\non the assumption that the immortality of the soul is really a\ntruth of philosophy as well as of revelation.\n\n  \"Who knoweth if the spirit of the children of Adam ascend\n  upward, and if the spirit of the beasts descend downward?\"\n\nThe doubt is not as to the immortality of the soul, but as to the\nability of reason without revelation to demonstrate it.\nCertainly, reason can demonstrate its possibility, and that\nnothing warrants its denial. The doctrine, in some form, has\nalways been believed by the human race, whether savage or\ncivilized, barbarous or refined, and has been denied only by\nexceptional individuals in exceptional epochs. This proves either\nthat it is a dictate of universal reason, or a doctrine of a\nrevelation made to man in the beginning, before the dispersion of\nthe human race commenced. In either case the reason for believing\nthe doctrine would be sufficient; but we are disposed to take the\nlatter alternative, and to hold that the belief in the\nimmortality of the soul, or of an existence after death,\noriginated in revelation made to our first parents, and has been\nperpetuated and diffused by tradition, pure and integral with the\npatriarchs, the synagogue, and the church; but mutilated,\ncorrupted, and travestied with the cultivated as well as with the\nuncultivated heathen. With the heathen Satan played his pranks\nwith the tradition, as he is doing with it with the spiritists in\nour own times.\n\nBut if the belief originated in revelation and is a doctrine of\nfaith rather than of science, yet is it not repugnant to science,\nand reason has much to urge in its support. The immateriality of\nthe soul implies its unity and simplicity, and therefore it can\nnot undergo dissolution, which is the death of the body. Its\ndissolution is impossible, because it is a monad, having\nattributes and qualities, but not made up by the combination of\nparts. It is the form of the body, that is, it vivifies the\norganic or central cell, and gives to the organism its life,\ninstead of drawing its own life from it. Science, then, has\nnothing from which to infer that it ceases to exist when the body\ndies. The death of the body does not necessarily imply its\ndestruction. True, we have here only negative proofs, but\nnegative proofs are all that is needed, in the case of a doctrine\nof tradition, to satisfy the most exacting reason. The soul may\nbe extinguished with the body, but we cannot say that it is\nwithout proof. Left to our unassisted reason, we could not say\nthat the soul of the animal expires with its body. Indeed, the\nIndian does not believe it, and therefore buries with the hunter\nhis favorite dog, to accompany him in the happy hunting grounds.\n\nThe real matter to be proved is not that the soul can or does\nsurvive the body, but that it dies with the body. We have seen\nthat it is distinguishable from the body, does not draw its life\nfrom the body, but imparts life to it; how then conclude that it\ndies with it? We have not a particle of proof, and not a single\nfact from which we can logically infer that it does so die. What\nright then has any one to say that it does? The laboring oar is\nin the hands of those who assert that the soul dies with the\nbody, and it is for them to prove what they assert, not for us to\ndisprove it.\n{631}\nThe real affirmative in the case is not made by those who assert\nthe immortality of the soul, but by those who assert its\nmortality. The very term _immortal_ is negative, and simply\ndenies mortality. Life is always presumptive of the continuance\nof life, and the continuance of the life of the soul must be\npresumed in the absence of all proofs of its death.\n\nWe have seen that the immateriality, unity, and simplicity of the\nsoul prove that it does not necessarily die with the body, but\nthat it _may_ survive it. The fact that God has written his\npromise of a future life in the very nature and destiny of the\nsoul, is for us a sufficient proof that the soul does not die\nwith the body. That God is, and is the first and final cause of\nall existences, is a truth of science as well as of revelation.\nHe has created all things by himself, and for himself. He then\nmust be their last end, and therefore their supreme good,\naccording to their several natures. He has created man with a\nnature that nothing short of the possession of himself as his\nsupreme good can satisfy. In so creating man, he promises him in\nhis nature the realization of this good, that is, the possession\nof himself as final cause, unless forfeited and rendered\nimpossible by man's own fault. To return to God as his supreme\ngood without being absorbed in him, is man's destiny promised in\nhis very constitution. But this destiny is not realized nor\nrealizable in this life, and therefore there must be another life\nto fulfil what he promises, for no promise of God, however made,\ncan fail. This argument we regard as conclusive.\n\nThe resurrection of the flesh, the reunion of the soul and body,\nfuture happiness as a reward of virtue, and the misery of those\nwho through their own fault fail of their destiny, as a\npunishment for sin, etc., are matters of revelation or theology\nas distinguished from philosophy, and do not require to be\ntreated here, any further than to say, if reason has little to\nsay for them, it has nothing to say against them. They belong to\nthe mysteries of faith which, though never contrary to reason,\nare above it, in an order transcending its domain.\n\nWe have thus far treated spiritualism and materialism from the\npoint of view of philosophy, not from that of psychology, or of\nour faculties. The two doctrines, as they prevail to-day, are\nsimply psychological doctrines. The partisans of the one say that\nthe soul has no faculty of knowing any but material objects, and\ntherefore assert materialism; the partisans of the other say that\nthe soul has a faculty by which she apprehends immediately\nimmaterial or spiritual objects or truths, and hence they assert\nwhat goes by the name of spiritualism, which may or may not deny\nthe existence of matter. Descartes and Cousin assert the\ncognition of both spirit and matter, but as independent each of\nthe other; Collier and Berkeley deny that we have any cognition\nof matter, and therefore deny its existence, save in the mind.\nThe truth, we hold, lies with neither. The soul has no direct\nintuition of the immaterial or intelligible. We use\n_intuition_ here in the ordinary sense, as an act of the\nsoul--knowing by looking on, or immediately beholding; that is,\nin the sense of intelligible as distinguished from sensible\nperceptions--intellection, as some say, as distinguished from\nsensation. This empirical intuition, as we call it, is very\ndistinct from that intuition _a priori_ by which the ideal\nformula is affirmed, for that is the act of the divine Being\nhimself, creating the mind, and becoming himself the light\nthereof.\n{632}\nBut that constitutes the mind, and is its object, not its act. No\ndoubt, the intellectual principles of all reality and of all\nscience are affirmed in that intuition _a priori_, and hence\nthese principles are ever present to the soul as the basis of all\nintelligible as well as of all sensible experience. Yet they are\nasserted by the mind's own act only as sensibly represented,\naccording to the peripatetic maxim, \"Nihil est in intellectu,\nquod non prius fuerit in sensu.\" The mind has three faculties,\nsensibility, intellect, and will, but it is itself one, a single\n_vis_ or force, and never acts with one faculty alone,\nwhether it feels, thinks, or wills; and, united as it is in this\nlife with the body, it never acts as body alone or as spirit\nalone. There are then no intellections without sensation, nor\nsensations without intellection; purely noetic truth, therefore,\ncan never be grasped save through a sensible medium.\n\nWe have already explained this with regard to material objects,\nin which the substance, though supersensible, has its sensible\nsign, through which the mind reaches it. But immaterial or ideal\nobjects are, as we have seen, precisely those which have no\nsensible sign of their own--properties or qualities perceptible\nby the senses. For this order of truth the only sensible\nrepresentation is language, which is the sensible sign or symbol\nof immaterial or ideal truth. We arrive at this order of reality\nor truth only through the medium of language which embodies it;\nthat is to say, only through the medium of tradition, or of a\nteacher. So far we accord with the traditionalists. We do not\nbelieve that, if God had left men in the beginning without any\ninstruction or language in which the ideas are embodied, they\nwould ever have been able to assert the existence of God, the\nimmateriality of the soul, and the liberty or free will of\nman--the three great ideal truths which the Holy See requires us\nto maintain can be _proved_ with certainty by reason; and we\ndo not hold that, like the revealed mysteries, they are\nsuprarational truth, and to be taken only on the authority of a\nsupernatural revelation. If God had not infused the knowledge of\nthem into the first of the race along with language, which he\nalso infused into Adam, we should never by our reason and\ninstincts alone have found them out, or distinctly apprehended\nthem; but being taught them, or finding them expressed in\nlanguage, we are able to verify or prove them with certainty by\nour natural reason, in which respect we accord with those whom\nthe traditionalists call rationalists.\n\nWe have studiously avoided, as far as possible, the metaphysics\nof the subject we have been considering, and perhaps have, in\nconsequence, kept too near its surface; but we think we have\nestablished our main point, that neither spiritualism nor\nmaterialism, taken exclusively, is philosophically defensible. We\nare able to distinguish between spirit and matter, but we can\ndeny the existence or the activity, according to its own nature,\nof neither. We know matter by its sensible properties or\nqualities, We know spirit only as sensibly represented by\nlanguage. Let language be corrupted, and our knowledge of ideal\nor non-sensible truth, or philosophy, will also be corrupted,\nmutilated, or perverted. This will be still more the case with\nthe superintelligible truth supernaturally revealed, which is\napprehensible only through the medium of language. Hence, St.\nPaul is careful to admonish St. Timothy to hold fast \"the form of\nsound words,\" and hence, too, the necessity, if God makes us a\nrevelation of spiritual things, that he should provide an\ninfallible living teacher to preserve the infallibility of the\nlanguage in which it is made.\n{633}\nWe may see here, too, the reason why the infallible church is\nhardly less necessary to the philosopher than to the theologian.\nWhere faith and theology are preserved in their purity and\nintegrity, philosophy will not be able to stray far from the\ntruth, and where philosophy is sound, the sciences will not long\nbe unsound. The aberrations of philosophy are due almost solely\nto the neglect of philosophers to study it in its relation with\nthe dogmatic teaching of the church.\n\nSome of our dear and revered friends in France and elsewhere are\nseeking, as the cure for the materialism which is now so\nprevalent, to revive the spiritualism of the seventeenth century.\nBut the materialism they combat is only the reaction of the mind\nagainst that exaggerated spiritualism which they would revive.\nWhere there are two real forces, each equally evident and equally\nindestructible, you can only alternate between them, till you\nfind the term of their synthesis, and are able to reconcile and\nharmonize them. The spiritualism defended by Cousin in France has\nresulted only in the recrudescence of materialism. The trouble\nnow is, that matter and spirit are presented in our modern\nsystems as antagonistic and naturally irreconcilable forces. The\nduty of philosophers is not to labor to pit one against the\nother, or to give the one the victory over the other; but to save\nboth, and to find out the middle term which unites them. We know\nthere must be somewhere that middle term; for both extremes are\ncreations of God, who makes all things by number, weight, and\nmeasure, and creates always after the logic of his own essential\nnature. All his works, then, must be logical and dialectically\nharmonious.\n\nWhether we have indicated this middle term or not, we have\nclearly shown, we think, that it is a mistake to suppose the two\nterms are not in reality mutually irreconcilable. Nothing proves\nthat, as creatures of God, each in its own order and place is not\nas sacred and necessary as the other. We do not know the nature\nor essence of either, nor can we say in what, as to this nature\nand essence, the precise difference between them consists; but we\nknow that in our present life both are united, and that neither\nacts without the other. All true philosophy must then present\nthem not as opposing, but as harmonious and concurring forces.\n\nWe do not for ourselves ever apply the term spiritualism to a\npurely intellectual philosophy. We do not regard the words spirit\nand soul as precisely synonymous. St. Paul, Heb. iv. 12, says,\n\"The word of God is living and effectual, ... reaching unto the\ndivision of the soul and the spirit,\" or, as the Protestant\nversion has it, \"quick and powerful, ... piercing even to the\ndividing asunder of soul and spirit.\" There is evidently, then,\nhowever closely related they may be, a distinction between the\nsoul and the spirit. Hence there may be soul that is not spirit,\nwhich was generally held by the ancients. The Greeks had their\n[Greek text] and [Greek text], and the Latins their _anima_\nand _spiritus_. The term spirit, when applied to man, seems\nto us to designate the moral powers rather than the intellectual,\nand the moral powers or faculties are those which specially\ndistinguish man from animals. St. Paul applies the term spiritual\nuniformly in a moral sense, and usually, if not always, to men\nborn again of the Holy Ghost, or the regenerated, and to the\ninfluences and gifts of the Holy Spirit; that is, to designate\nthe supernatural character, gifts, graces, and virtues of those\nwho have been translated into the kingdom of God and are\nfellow-citizens of the commonwealth of Christ, or the Christian\nrepublic.\n{634}\nHence, we shrink from calling any intellectual philosophy\nspiritualism. If it touches philosophy, as it undoubtedly\ndoes--since grace supposes nature, and a man must be born into\nthe natural order before he can be born again into the\nsupernatural order, or regenerated by the Spirit--it rises into\nthe region of supernatural sanctity, into which no man by his\nnatural powers can enter; for it is a sanctity that places one on\nthe plane of a supernatural destiny.\n\nBut even taken in this higher sense, there is no antagonism\nbetween spirit and matter. There is certainly a struggle, a\nwarfare that remains through life; but the struggle is not\nbetween the soul and the body; it is, as is said, between the\nhigher and inferior powers of the soul, between the spirit and\nconcupiscence, between the law of the mind, which bids us labor\nfor spiritual good which will last for ever, and the law in the\nmembers, which looks only to the good of the body, in its earthly\nrelations. The saints, who chastise, mortify, macerate the body\nby their fastings, vigils, and scourgings, do not do it on the\nprinciple that the body is evil, or that matter is the source of\nevil. There is a total difference in principle between Christian\nasceticism and that of the Platonists, who hold that evil\noriginates in the intractableness of matter, that holds the soul\nimprisoned as in a dungeon, and from which it sighs and struggles\nfor deliverance. The Christian knows that our Lord himself\nassumed flesh and retains for ever his glorified body. He\nbelieves in the resurrection of the body and its future\neverlasting reunion with the soul. Christ, dying in a material\nbody, has redeemed both matter and spirit. Hence we venerate the\nrelics of our Lord and his saints, and believe matter may be\nhallowed. In our Lord all opposites are reconciled, and universal\npeace is established.\n\n----------\n\n     Translated From The German Of\n        Conrad Von Bolanden.\n\n             Angela.\n\n             Chapter I.\n\n\t     Crinoline.\n\nAn express train was just on the eve of leaving the railway\nstation in Munich. Two fashionably dressed gentlemen stood at the\nopen door of a railway carriage, in conversation with a third,\nwho sat within. These two young men bore on their features the\nmarks of youthful dissipation, indicating that they had not been\nsparing of pleasures. The one in the carriage had a handsome,\nflorid countenance, two clear, expressive eyes, and thick locks\nof hair, which he now and then stroked back from his fine\nforehead. He scarcely observed the conversation of the two\nfriends, who spoke of balls, dogs, horses, theatres, and\nballet-girls.\n\nIn the same carriage sat another traveller, evidently the father\nof the young man. He was reading the newspaper--that is, the\nreport of the money market--while his fleshy left hand dallied\nwith the heavy gold rings of his watch-chain. He had paid no\nattention to the conversation till an observation of his son\nbrought him to serious reflection.\n\n{635}\n\n\"By the by,\" said one of the young men quickly, \"I was nearly\nforgetting to tell you the news, Richard! Do you know that Baron\nLinden is engaged?\"\n\n\"Engaged? To whom?\" said Richard carelessly.\n\n\"To Bertha von Harburg. I received a card this morning, and\nimmediately wrote a famous letter of congratulation.\"\n\nRichard looked down earnestly and shook his head.\n\n\"I commiserate the genial baron,\" said he. \"What could he be\nthinking of, to rush headlong into this misfortune?\"\n\nThe father looked in surprise at his son; the hand holding the\npaper sank on his knee.\n\n\"Permit me, gentlemen,\" said the conductor; the doors were\nclosed, the friends nodded good-by, and the train moved off.\n\n\"Your observation about Linden's marriage astonishes me, Richard.\nBut perhaps you were only jesting.\"\n\n\"By no means,\" said Richard. \"Never more earnest in my life. I\nexpressed my conviction, and my conviction is the result of\ncareful observation and mature reflection.\"\n\nThe father's astonishment increased.\n\n\"Observation--reflection---fudge!\" said the father impatiently,\nas he folded the paper and shoved it into his pocket. \"How can a\nyoung man of twenty-two talk of experience and observation!\nEnthusiastic nonsense! Marriage is a necessity of human life. And\nyou will yet submit to this necessity.\"\n\n\"True, if marriage be a necessity, then I suppose I must bow to\nthe yoke of destiny. But, father, this necessity does not exist.\nThere are intelligent men enough who do not bind themselves to\nwoman's caprices.\"\n\n\"Oh! certainly, there are some strange screech-owls in the\nworlds--some enthusiasts. But certainly you do not wish to be one\nof them. You, who have such great expectations. You, the only son\nof a wealthy house. You, who have a yearly income of thousands to\nspend.\"\n\n\"The income can be enjoyed more pleasantly, free and single,\nfather.\"\n\n\"Free and single--and enjoyed! Zounds! you almost tempt me to\nthink ill of you. Happily, I know you well. I know your strict\nmorality, your solidity, your moderate pretensions. All these\namiable qualities please me. But this view of marriage I did not\nexpect; you must put away this sickly notion.\"\n\nThe young man made no answer, but leaned back in his seat with a\ndisdainful smile.\n\nHerr Frank gazed thoughtfully through the window. He reflected on\nthe determined character of his son, whose disposition, even when\na child, shut him out from the world, and who led an interior,\nmeditative life. Strict regularity and exact employment of time\nwere natural to him. At school, he held the first place in all\nbranches. His ambition and effort was to excel all others in\nknowledge. His singular questions, which indicated a keen\nobservation and capacity, had often excited the surprise of his\nfather. And while the companions of the youth hailed with delight\nthe time which released them from the benches of the school and\nfrom their studies, Richard cheerfully bound himself to his\naccustomed task, to appease his longing for knowledge.\nApproaching manhood had not changed him in this regard.\n{636}\nHe was punctual to the hours of business, and labored with zeal\nand interest, to the great joy of his father. He recreated\nhimself with music and painting, or by a walk in the open\ncountry, for whose beauties he had a keen appreciation. The few\nshades of his character were, a proud haughtiness, an unyielding\nperseverance in his determinations, and a strength of conviction\ndifficult to overcome. But perhaps these shades were, after all,\ngreat qualities, which were to brighten up and polish his\nmaturity. This obstinacy the father was now considering, and, in\nreference to his singular view of marriage, it filled him with\ngreat anxiety.\n\n\"But, Richard,\" began Herr Frank again, \"how did you come to this\nsingular conclusion?\"\n\n\"By observation and reflection--and also by experience, although\nyou deny my years this right.\"\n\n\"What have you experienced and observed?\"\n\n\"I have observed woman as she is, and found that such a creature\nwould only make me miserable. What occupies their minds?\nFineries, pleasures, and trifles. The pivot of their existence\nturns on dress, ornaments, balls, and the like. We live in an age\nof crinoline, and you know how I abominate that dress; I admit my\naversion is abnormal, perhaps exaggerated, but I cannot overcome\nit. When I see a woman going through the streets with swelling\nhoops, the most whimsical fancies come into my mind. It reminds\nme of an inflated balloon, whose clumsy swell disfigures the most\nbeautiful form. It reminds me of a drunken gawk, who swaggers\nalong and carries the foolish gewgaw for a show. The costume is\nindeed expressive. It reveals the interior disposition. Crinoline\nis to me the type of the woman of our day--an empty, vain,\ninflated something. And this type repels me.\"\n\n\"Then you believe our women to be vain, pleasure-seeking, and\ndestitute of true womanhood, because they wear crinoline?\"\n\n\"No, the reverse. An overweening propensity to show and frivolity\ncharacterizes our women, and therefore they wear crinoline in\nspite of the protestations of the men.\"\n\n\"Bah! Nonsense; you lay too much stress on fashion. I know many\nwomen myself who complain of this fashion.\"\n\n\"And afterward follow it. This precisely confirms my opinion.\nWomen have no longer sufficient moral force to disregard a\ndisagreeable restraint. Their vanity is still stronger than their\ninclinations to a natural enjoyment of life.\"\n\n\"Do you want a wife who would be sparing and saving; who, by her\nfrugality, would increase your wealth; who, by her social\nseclusion, would not molest your cash-box?\"\n\n\"No; I want no wife,\" answered the young man somewhat pettishly.\n\"And I am not alone in this. The young men are beginning to\nawaken. A sound, natural feeling revolts against the vitiated\ntaste of the women. Alliances are forming everywhere. The last\npaper announced that, at Marseilles, six thousand young men have,\nwith joined hands, vowed never to marry until the women renounce\ntheir ruinous costumes and costly idleness, and return to a plain\nstyle of dress and frugal habits. I object to this propensity to\nease and pleasure--this desire of our women for finery and the\ngratification of vanity. Not because this inclination is\nexpensive, but because it is objectionable. Every creature has an\nobject. But, if we consider the women of our day, we might well\nask, for what are they here?\"\n\n{637}\n\n\"For what are women here, foolish man?\" interrupted Herr Frank.\n\"Are they to go about without any costume, like Eve before the\nfall? Are they to know the trials of life, and not its joys? Are\nthey to exist like the women of the sultan, shut up in a harem?\nFor what are they here? I will tell you. They are here to make\nlife cheerful. Does not Schiller say,\n\n  \"'Honor to woman! she scatters rife\n    Heavenly roses,'mid earthly life;\n      Love she weaves in gladdening bands;\n    Chastity's veil her charm attires;\n    Beautiful thoughts' eternal fires,\n      Watchful, she feeds with holy hands.'\"\n\nRichard smiled.\n\n\"Poetical fancy!\" said he. \"My unhappy friend Emil Schlagbein\noften declaimed and sang with passion that same poem of\nSchiller's. Love had even made a poet of him. He wrote verses to\nhis Ida. And now, scarcely three years married, he is the most\nmiserable man in the world--miserable through his wife. Ida has\nstill the same finely carved head as formerly; but that head, to\nthe grief of Emil, is full of stubbornness--full of whimsical\nnonsense. Her eyes have still the same deep blue; but the\ncharming expression has changed, and the blue not unfrequently\nindicates a storm. How often has Emil poured out his sorrows to\nme! How often complained of the coldness of his wife! A ball\nmissed--missed from necessity--makes her stupid and sulky for\ndays. In vain he seeks a cheerful look. When he returns home\nworried by the cares of business, he finds no consolation in\nIda's sympathy, but is vexed by her stubbornness and offended by\nher coldness. Emil sprang headlong into misery. I will beware of\nsuch a step.\"\n\n\"You are unjust and prejudiced. Must all women, then, be Ida\nSchagbeins?\"\n\n\"Perhaps my Ida might be still worse,\" retorted Richard sharply.\n\nHerr Frank drummed on his knees, always a sign of displeasure.\n\n\"I tell you, Richard,\" said he emphatically. \"Your time will come\nyet. You will follow the universal law, and this law will give\nthe lie to your one-sided view--to your contempt of woman.\"\n\n\"That impulse, father, can be overcome, and habit becomes a\nsecond nature. Besides--\"\n\n\"Besides--well, what besides?\"\n\n\"I would say that the time of which you speak is, in my case,\nhappily passed,\" answered Richard, still gazing through the\nwindow. \"For me the time of sentimental delusion has been short\nand decisive,\" he concluded with a bitter smile.\n\n\"Can I, your father, ask a clearer explanation?\"\n\nThe young man leaned back in his seat and looked at the opposite\nside while he spoke.\n\n\"Last summer I visited Baden-Baden. On old Mount Eberstein, which\nis so picturesquely enthroned above the village, I fell in with a\nparty. Among the number was a young lady of rare beauty and great\nmodesty. An acquaintance gave me an opportunity of being\nintroduced to her. We sat in pleasant conversation under the\nblack oaks until the approaching twilight compelled us to return\nto the town. Isabella--such was the name of the beauty--had made\na deep impression on me. So deep that even the detested crinoline\nthat encircled her person in large hoops found favor in my sight.\nHer manner was in no wise coquettish. She spoke with deliberation\nand spirit. Her countenance had always the same expression. Only\nwhen the young people, into whose heads the fiery wine had risen,\ngave expression to sharp words, did Isabella look up, and a\ndispleased expression, as of injured delicacy, passed over her\ncountenance.\n{638}\nMy presence seemed agreeable to her. My conversation may\nhave pleased her. As we descended the mountain, we came to a\ndifficult pass. I offered her my arm, which she took in the same\nunchanging, quiet manner which made her so charming in my sight.\nI soon discovered my affection for the stranger, and wondered how\nit could arise so suddenly and become so impetuous. I was ashamed\nat abandoning so quickly my opinion of women. But this feeling\nwas not strong enough to stifle the incipient passion. My mind\nlay captive in the fetters of infatuation.\"\n\nHe paused for a moment. The proud young man seemed to reproach\nhimself for his conduct, which he considered wanting in manly\nindependence and clear penetration.\n\n\"On the following day,\" he continued, \"there was to be a\nhorse-race in the neighborhood. Before we parted, it was arranged\nthat we would be present at it. I returned to my room in the\nhotel, and dreamed waking dreams of Isabella. My friend had told\nme that she was the daughter of a wealthy merchant, and that she\nhad accompanied her invalid mother here. This mark of love and\nfilial affection was not calculated to cool my ardor. Isabella\nappeared more beautiful and more charming still. We went to the\nrace. I had the unspeakable happiness of being in the same car\nand sitting opposite her. After a short journey--to me, at least,\nit seemed short--we arrived at the grounds where the race was to\ntake place. We ascended the platform. I sat at Isabella's side.\nShe did not for a moment lose her quiet equanimity. The race\nbegan. I saw little of it, for Isabella was constantly before my\neyes, look where I would. Suddenly a noise--a loud cry--roused me\nfrom my dream. Not twenty paces from where we sat, a horse had\nfallen. The rider was under him. The floundering animal had\ncrushed both legs of the unfortunate man. Even now I can see his\nfrightfully distorted features before me. I feared that\nIsabella's delicate sensibility might be wounded by the horrible\nsight. And when I looked at her, what did I see? A smiling face!\nShe had lost her quiet, weary manner, and a hard, unfeeling soul\nlighted up her features!\n\n\"'Do you not think this change in the monotony of the race quite\nmagnificent?' said she.\n\n\"I made no answer. With an apology, I left the party and returned\nalone to Baden.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the father, \"your Isabella was an unfeeling\ncreature granted. But now for your application of this\nexperience.\"\n\n\"We will let another make the application, father. Listen a\nmoment. In Baden a bottle of Rhine wine, whose spirit is so\ncongenial to sad and melancholy feelings, served to obliterate\nthe desolate remembrance. I sat in the almost deserted\ndining-room. The guests were at the theatre, on excursions in the\nneighborhood, or dining about the park. An old man sat opposite\nme. I remarked that his eyes, when he thought himself unobserved,\nwere turned inquiringly on me. The sudden cooling of my passion\nhad perhaps left some marks upon me. The stranger believed,\nperhaps, that I was an unlucky and desperate player. A player I\nhad indeed been. I had been about to stake my happiness on a\nbeautiful form. But I had won the game.\n\n{639}\n\n\"The wine soon cheered me up and I entered into conversation with\nthe stranger. We spoke of various things, and finally of the\nrace. As there was a friendly, confiding expression in the old\nman's countenance, I related to him the unhappy fall of the\nrider, and dwelt sharply on the impression the hideous spectacle\nmade on Isabella. I told him that such a degree of callousness\nand insensibility was new to me, and that this sad experience had\nshocked me greatly.\n\n\"'This comes,' said he, 'from permitting yourself to be deceived\nby appearances, and because you do not know certain classes of\nsociety. If you consider the beautiful Isabella with sensual\neyes, you will run great danger of taking appearances for\ntruth--the false for the real. Even the plainest exterior is\noften only sham. Painted cheeks, colored eyebrows, false hair,\nfalse teeth; and even if these forms were not false, but true--if\nyou penetrate these forms, if, under the constraint of graceful\nrepose, we see modesty, purity, and even humility--there is then\nstill greater danger of deception. A wearied, enervated nature,\nnerves blunted by the enjoyment of all kinds of pleasures, are\nfrequently all that remains of womanly nature.\n\n\"'Do you wish to see striking examples of this? Go into the\ngaming saloons--into those horrible places where fearful and\nconsuming passions seethe; where desperation and suicide lurk. Go\ninto the corrupt, poisonous atmosphere of those gambling hells,\nand there you will find women every day and every hour. Whence\nthis disgusting sight? The violent excitement of gambling alone\ncan afford sufficient attraction for those who have been sated\nwith all kinds of pleasures. Is a criminal to be executed? I give\nyou my word of honor that women give thousands of francs to\nobtain the best place, where they can contemplate more\nconveniently the shocking spectacle and read every expression in\nthe distorted features of the struggling malefactor.\n\n\"'Isabella was one of these exhausted, enervated creatures, and\nhence her pleasure at the sight of the mangled rider.'\n\n\"Thus spoke the stranger, and I admitted that he was right. At\nthe same time I tried to penetrate deeper into this want of\nsensibility. Like a venturesome miner, I descended into the\npsychological depth. I shuddered at what I there discovered, and\nat the inferences which Isabella's conduct forced upon my mind.\nNo, father, no,\" said he impetuously, \"I will have no such\nnuptials--I will never rush into the miseries of matrimony!\"\n\n\"Thunder and lightning! are you a man?\" cried Herr Frank.\n\"Because Emil's wife and Isabella are good-for-nothings, must the\nwhole sex be repudiated? Both cases are exceptions. These\nexceptions give you no right to judge unfavorably of all women.\nThis prejudice does no honor to your good sense, Richard. It is\nonly eccentricity can judge thus.\"\n\nThe train stopped. The travellers went out, where a carriage\nawaited them.\n\n\"Is everything right?\" said Herr Frank to the driver.\n\n\"All is fixed, sir, as you required.\"\n\n\"Is the box of books taken out?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nThe coach moved up the street. The dark mountain-side rose into\nview, and narrow, deep valleys yawned beneath the travellers.\nFresh currents of air rushed down the mountain and Herr Frank\ninhaled refreshing draughts.\n\nRichard gazed thoughtfully over the magnificent vineyards and\nluxurient orchards.\n\n{640}\n\nThe road grew steeper and the wooded summit of the mountain\napproached. A light which Frank beheld with satisfaction glared\nout from it. Its rays shot out upon the town that, amid rich\nvineyards, topped the neighboring hill.\n\n\"Our residence is beautifully located,\" said Herr Frank. \"How\ncheerful it looks up there! It is a home fit for princes.\"\n\n\"You have indeed chosen a magnificent spot, father. Everything\nunites to make Frankenh\u00f6he a delightful place. The vineyards on\nthe slopes of the hills, the smiling hamlet of Salingen to the\nright. In the background the stern mountain with its proud ruins\non the summit of Salburg, the deep valleys and the dark ravines,\nall unite in the landscape: to the east that beautiful plain.\"\n\nThese words pleased the father. His eyes rested long on the\nbeautiful property.\n\n\"You have forgotten a reason for my happy choice,\" said he, while\na smile played on his features. \"I mean the habit of my friend\nand deliverer, who, for the last eight years, spends the month of\nMay at Frankenh\u00f6he. You know the singular character of the\ndoctor. Nothing in the world can tear him from his books. He has\nrenounced all pleasure and enjoyment, to devote his whole time to\nhis books. When Frankenh\u00f6he entices and captivates the man of\nscience, so strict, so dead to the world, it is, as I think, the\nhighest compliment to our place.\"\n\nRichard did not question his father's opinion. He knew his\nunbounded esteem for the learned doctor.\n\nThe road grew steeper and steeper. The horses labored slowly\nalong. The pleasant hamlet of Salingen lay a short distance to\nthe left. A single house, separated from the village, and\nstanding near the road in the midst of vineyards, came into view.\nThe features of Herr Frank darkened as he turned his gaze from\nFrankenh\u00f6he to this house. It was as though some unpleasant\nrecollection was associated with it. Richard looked at the\nstately mansion, the large out-houses, the walled courts, neat\nand clean.\n\n\"This must be a wealthy proprietor or influential landlord who\nlives here,\" said Richard. \"I have indeed seen this place in\nformer years, but it did not interest me. How inviting and\npleasant it looks. The property must have undergone considerable\nchange at least, I remember nothing that indicated the place to\nbe other than an ordinary farmhouse.\"\n\nHerr Frank did not hear these observations. He muttered some\nbitter imprecation. The coach gained the summit, left the road,\nand passed through vineyards and chestnut groves to the house.\n\nFrankenh\u00f6he was a handsome two-story house whose arrangements\ncorresponded to Frank's taste and means. Near it stood another,\noccupied by the steward. A short distance from it were stables\nand out-houses for purposes of agriculture.\n\nHerr Frank went directly to the house, and passed from room to\nroom to see if his instructions had been carried out.\n\nRichard went into the garden and walked on paths covered with\nyellow sand. He strolled about among flower-beds that loaded the\nair with agreeable odors. He examined the blooming dwarf\nfruit-trees and ornamental plants. He observed the neatness and\nexact order of everything. Lastly, he stood near the vineyard\nwhence he could behold an extensive view.\n{641}\nHe admired the beautiful, fragrant landscape. He stood\nthoughtfully reflecting. His conversation made it evident to him\nthat his feelings and will did not agree with his father's\nwishes. He saw that between his inclinations and his love for his\nfather he must undergo a severe struggle--a struggle that must\ndecide his happiness for life. The strangeness of his opinion of\nwomen did not escape him. He tested his experience. He tried to\njustify his convictions, and yet his father's claims and filial\nduty prevailed.\n\n\n                Chapter II.\n\n             The Weather-cross.\n\nThe next morning Richard was out with the early larks, and\nreturned after a few hours in a peculiar frame of mind. As he was\nentering his room, he saw through the open door his father\nstanding in the saloon. Herr Frank was carefully examining the\narrangements, as the servants were carrying books into the\nadjoining room and placing them in a bookcase. Richard, as he\npassed, greeted his father briefly, contrary to his usual custom.\nAt other times he used to exchange a few words with his father\nwhen he bid him good-morning, and he let no occasion pass of\ngiving his opinion on any matter in which he knew his father took\nan interest.\n\nThe young man walked to the open window of his room, and gazed\ninto the distance. He remained motionless for a time. He ran his\nfingers through his hair, and with a jerk of the head threw the\nbrown locks back from his forehead. He walked restlessly back and\nforth, and acted like a man who tries in vain to escape from\nthoughts that force themselves upon him. At length he went to the\npiano, and beat an impetuous impromptu on the keys.\n\n\"Ei, Richard!\" cried Herr Frank, whom the wild music had brought\nto his side. \"Why, you rave! How possessed! One would think you\nhad discovered a roaring cataract in the mountains, and wished to\nimitate its violence.\"\n\nRichard glanced quickly at his father, and finished with a\ntender, plaintive melody.\n\n\"Come over here and look at the rooms.\"\n\nRichard followed his father and examined carelessly the elegant\nrooms, and spoke a few cold words of commendation.\n\n\"And what do you say to this flora?\" said Herr Frank pointing to\na stepped framework on which bloomed the most beautiful and rare\nflowers.\n\n\"All very beautiful, father. The doctor will be much pleased, as\nhe always is here.\"\n\n\"I wish and hope so. I have had the peacocks and turkeys sent\naway, because Klingenberg cannot endure their noise. The library\nhere will always be his favorite object, and care has been taken\nwith it. Here are the best books on all subjects, even theology\nand astronomy.\"\n\n\"Frankenh\u00f6he is indeed cheerful as the heart of youth and quiet\nas a cloister,\" said Richard. \"Your friend would indeed be\nungrateful if this attention did not gratify him.\"\n\n\"I have also provided that excellent wine which he loves and\nenjoys as a healthful medicine. But, Richard, you know\nKlingenberg's peculiarities. You must not play as you did just\nnow; you would drive the doctor from the house.\"\n\n\"Make yourself easy about that, father; I will play while he is\non the mountain.\"\n\n{642}\n\nRichard took a book from the shelf, and glanced over it. Herr\nFrank left him, and he immediately replaced the book and returned\nto his own room. There he wrote in his diary:\n\n  \"12th of May.--Man is too apt to be led by his inclination. And\n  what is inclination? A feeling caused by external impressions,\n  or superinduced by a disposition of the body. Inclination,\n  therefore, is something inimical to intellectual life. A vine\n  that threatens to overgrow and smother clear conviction. Never\n  act from inclination, if you do not wish to be unfaithful to\n  conviction and guilty of a weakness.\"\n\nHe went into the garden, where he talked to the gardener about\ntrees and flowers.\n\n\"Are you acquainted in Salingen, John?\"\n\n\"Certainly, sir. I was born there.\"\n\n\"Do strangers sometimes come there to stop and enjoy the\nbeautiful neighborhood?\"\n\n\"Oh! no, sir; there is no suitable hotel there--only plain\ntaverns; and people of quality would not stop at them.\"\n\n\"Are there people of rank in Salingen?\"\n\n\"Only farmers, sir. But---stay. The rich Siegwart appears to be\nsuch, and his children are brought up in that manner.\"\n\n\"Has Siegwart many children?\"\n\n\"Four--two boys and two girls. One son is at college. The other\ntakes care of the estate, and is at home. The oldest daughter has\nbeen at the convent for three years. She is now nineteen years\nold. The second is still a child.\"\n\nRichard went further into the garden; he looked over at Salingen,\nand then at the mountains. His eye followed a path that went\nwinding up the mountain like a golden thread and led to the top.\nThen his eye rested for a time on a particular spot in that\nyellow path. Richard remained taciturn and reserved the rest of\nthe day. He sat in his room and tried to read, but the subject\ndid not interest him. He often looked dreamily from the book. He\nfinally arose, took his hat and cane, and was soon lost in the\nmountain. The next morning Richard went to the borders of the\nforest, and looked frequently over at Salingen as it lay in rural\nserenity before him. The pleasant hamlet excited his interest. He\nthen turned to the right and pursued the yellow path which he had\nexamined the day before, up the mountain. The birds sang in the\nbushes, and on the branches of the tallest oak perched the\nblack-bird whose morning hymn echoed far and wide. The sweet\nnotes of the nightingale joined in the general concert, and the\nshrill piping of the hawk struck in discordantly with the varied\nand beautiful song. Even unconscious nature displayed her\nbeauties. The dew hung in great drops on the grass-blades and\nglittered like so many brilliants, and wild flowers loaded the\nair with sweet perfumes. Richard saw little of these beauties of\nspring. He ascended still higher. His mind seemed agitated and\nburdened. He had just turned a bend in the road when he saw a\nfemale figure approaching. His cheeks grew darker as his eyes\nrested on the approaching figure. He gazed in the distance, and a\ndisdainful flush overspread his face. He approached her as he\nwould approach an enemy whose power he had felt, and whom he\nwished to conciliate.\n\nShe was within fifty paces of him. Her blue dress fell in heavy\nfolds about her person. The ribbons of her straw bonnet, that\nhung on her arm, fluttered in the breeze. In her left hand she\nheld a bunch of flowers. On her right arm hung a silk mantle,\nwhich the mild air had rendered unnecessary.\n{643}\nHer full, glossy hair was partly in a silk net and partly plaited\nover the forehead and around the head, as is sometimes seen with\nchildren. Her countenance was exquisitely beautiful, and her\nlight eyes now rested full and clear on the stranger who\napproached her. She looked at him with the easy, natural\ninquisitiveness of a child, surprised to meet such an elegant\ngentleman in this place.\n\nFrank looked furtively at her, as though he feared the\nfascinating power of the vision that so lightly and gracefully\npassed him. He raised his hat stiffly and formally. This was\nnecessary to meet the requirement of etiquette. Were it not, he\nwould perhaps have passed her by without a salutation. She did\nnot return his greeting with a stiff bow, but with a friendly\n\"good-morning;\" and this too in a voice whose sweetness, purity,\nand melody harmonized with the the beautiful echoes of the\nmorning.\n\nFrank moved on hastily for some distance. He was about to look\nback, but did not do so; and continued on his way, with\ncontracted brows, till a turn in the road hid her from his view.\nHere he stopped and wiped the sweat from his forehead, His heart\nbeat quickly, and he was agitated by strong emotions. He stood\nleaning on his cane and gazing into the shadows of the forest. He\nthen continued thoughtfully, and ascended some hundred feet\nhigher till he gained the top of the mountain. The tall trees\nceased; a variegated copsewood crowned the summit, which formed a\nkind of platform. Human hands had levelled the ground, and on the\nmoss that covered it grew modest little violets. Near the border\nof the platform stood a stone cross of rough material. Near this\ncross lay the fragments of another large rock, that might have\nbeen shattered by lightning years before. A few steps back of\nthis, on two square blocks of stone, stood a statue of the Virgin\nand Child, of white stone very carefully wrought, but without\nmuch art. The Virgin had a crown of roses on her head. The Child\nheld a little bunch of forget-me-nots in its hand, and as it held\nthem out seemed to say, \"Forget me not,\" Two heavy vases that\ncould not be easily overturned by the wind, standing on the upper\nblock, also contained flowers. All these flowers were quite\nfresh, as if they had just been placed there.\n\nRichard examined these things, and wondered what they meant in\nthis solitude of the mountain. The fresh flowers and the\ncleanliness of the statue, on which no dust or moss could be\nseen, indicated a careful keeper. He thought of the young woman\nwhom he met. He had seen the same kind of flowers in her hand,\nand doubtless she was the devotee of the place.\n\nScarcely had his thoughts taken this direction when he turned\naway and walked to the border of the plot, and gazed at the\ncountry before him. He looked down toward Frankenh\u00f6he, whose\nwhite chimneys appeared above the chestnut grove. He contemplated\nthe plains with their luxuriant fields reflecting every shade of\ngreen--the strips of forests that lay like shadows in the sunny\nplain--numberless hamlets with church towers whose gilded\ncrosses gleamed in the sun. He gazed in the distance where the\nmountain ranges vanished in the mist, and long he enjoyed the\nmagnificence of the view. He was aroused from his dreamy\ncontemplation by the sound of footsteps behind him.\n\n{644}\n\nAn old man with a load of wood on his shoulders came up to the\nplace. Breathing heavily, he threw down the wood and wiped the\nsweat from his face. He saw the stranger, and respectfully\ntouched his cap as he sat down on the wood.\n\nFrank went to him.\n\n\"You are from Salingen, I suppose,\" he began\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"It is very hard for an old man like you to carry such a load so\nfar.\"\n\n\"It is indeed, but I am poor and must do it.\"\n\nFrank looked at the patched clothes of the old man, his coarse\nshoes, his stockingless feet, and meagre body, and felt\ncompassion for him.\n\n\"For us poor people the earth bears but thistles and thorns.\"\nAfter a pause, the old man continued, \"We have to undergo many\ntribulations and difficulties, and sometimes we even suffer from\nhunger. But thus it is in the world. The good God will reward us\nin the next world for our sufferings in this.\"\n\nThese words sounded strangely to Richard. Raised as he was in the\nmidst of wealth, and without contact with poverty, he had never\nfound occasion to consider the lot of the poor; and now the\nresignation of the old man, and his hope in the future, seemed\nstrange to him. He was astonished that religion could have such\npower--so great and strong--to comfort the poor in the miseries\nof a hopeless, comfortless life.\n\n\"But what if your hope in another world deceive you?\"\n\nThe old man looked at him with astonishment.\n\n\"How can I be deceived? God is faithful. He keeps his promises.\"\n\n\"And what has he promised you?\"\n\n\"Eternal happiness if I persevere, patient and just, to the end.\"\n\n\"I wonder at your strong faith!\"\n\n\"It is my sole possession on earth. What would support us poor\npeople, what would keep us from despair, if religion did not?\"\n\nFrank put his hand into his pocket.\n\n\"Here,\" said he, \"perhaps this money will relieve your wants.\"\n\nThe old man looked at the bright thalers in his hand, and the\ntears trickled down his cheeks.\n\n\"This is too much, sir; I cannot receive six thalers from you.\"\n\n\"That is but a trifle for me; put it in your pocket, and say no\nmore about it.\"\n\n\"May God reward and bless you a thousand times for it!\"\n\n\"What does that cross indicate?\"\n\n\"That is a weather cross, sir. We have a great deal of bad\nweather to fear. We have frequent storms here, in summer; they\nhang over the mountain and rage terribly. Every ravine becomes a\ntorrent that dashes over the fields, hurling rocks and sand from\nthe mountain. Our fields are desolated and destroyed. The people\nof Salingen placed that cross there against the weather. In\nspring the whole community come here in procession and pray God\nto protect them from the storms.\"\n\nRichard reflected on this phenomenon; the confidence of these\nsimple people in the protection of God, whose omnipotence must\nintervene between the remorseless elements and their victims,\nappeared to him as the highest degree of simplicity. But he kept\nhis thoughts to himself, for he respected the religious\nsentiments of the old man, and would not hurt his feelings.\n\n\"And the Virgin, why is she there?\"\n\n\"Ah! that is a wonderful story, sir,\" he answered, apparently\nwishing to evade an explanation.\n\n\"Which every one ought not to know?\"\n\n\"Well--but perhaps the gentleman would laugh, and I would not\nlike that!\"\n\n{645}\n\n\"Why do you think I would laugh at the story?\"\n\n\"Because you are a gentleman of quality, and from the city, and\nsuch people do not believe any more in miracles.\"\n\nThis observation of rustic sincerity was not pleasing to Frank.\nIt expressed the opinion that the higher classes ignore faith in\nthe supernatural.\n\n\"If I promise you not to laugh, will you tell me the story?\"\n\n\"I will; you were kind to me, and you can ask the story of me.\nAbout thirty years ago,\" began the old man after a pause, \"there\nlived a wealthy farmer at Salingen whose name was Schenck.\nSchenck was young. He married a rich maiden and thereby increased\nhis property. But Schenck had many great faults. He did not like\nto work and look after his fields. He let his servants do as they\npleased, and his fields were, of course, badly worked and yielded\nno more than half a crop. Schenck sat always in the tavern, where\nhe drank and played cards and dice. Almost every night he came\nhome drunk. Then he would quarrel with his wife, who reproached\nhim. He abused her, swore wickedly, and knocked everything about\nthe room, and behaved very badly altogether. Schenck sank lower\nand lower, and became at last a great sot. His property was soon\nsquandered. He sold one piece after another, and when he had no\nmore property to sell, he took it into his head to sell himself\nto the devil for money. He went one night to a cross-road and\ncalled the devil, but the devil would not come; perhaps because\nSchenck belonged to him already, for the Scripture says, 'A\ndrunkard cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.' At last a suit was\nbrought against him, and the last of his property was sold, and\nhe was driven from his home. This hurt Schenck very much, for he\nalways had a certain kind of pride. He thought of the past times\nwhen he was rich and respected, and now he had lost all respect\nwith his neighbors. He thought of his wife and his four children,\nwhom he had made poor and miserable. All this drove him to\ndespair. He determined to put an end to himself. He bought a rope\nand came up here one morning to hang himself. He tied the rope to\nan arm of the cross, and had his head in the noose, when all at\nonce he remembered that he had not yet said his three \"Hail!\nMarys.\" His mother who was dead had accustomed him, when a child,\nto say every day three \"Hail! Marys.\" Schenck had never neglected\nthis practice for a single day. Then he took his head out of the\nnoose and said, 'Well, as I have said the \"Hail! Marys\" every\nday, I will say them also to-day, for the last time.' He knelt\ndown before the cross and prayed. When he was done, he stood up\nto hang himself. But he had scarcely stood on his feet when he\nwas snatched up by a whirlwind and carried through the air till\nhe was over a vineyard, where he fell without hurting himself. As\nhe stood up, an ugly man stood before him and said, 'This time\nyou have escaped me, but the next time I will get you.' The ugly\nman had horses' hoofs in place of feet, and wore green clothes.\nHe disappeared before Schenck's eyes. Schenck swears that this\nugly man was the devil. He declares also that he has to thank the\nMother of God, through whose intercession he escaped the claws of\nthe devil. Schenck had that statue placed there in memory of his\nwonderful escape--and that is why the Mother of God is there.\"\n\n{646}\n\n\"A wonderful story indeed!\" said Richard. \"Although I do not\nlaugh at it, as you see, yet I must assure you that I do not\nbelieve the story.\"\n\n\"I thought so,\" answered the old man. \"But you can ask Schenck\nhimself. He is still living, and is now seventy. Since that day\nhe has changed entirely. He drinks nothing but water. He never\nenters a tavern, but goes every day to church. From that time to\nthis Schenck has been very industrious, and has saved a nice\nproperty.\"\n\n\"That the drunkard reformed is the most remarkable and best part\nof the story,\" said Frank. \"Drunkards very seldom reform. But,\"\ncontinued he smiling, \"the devil acted very stupidly in the\naffair. He should have known that his appearance would have made\na deep impression on the man, and that he would not let himself\nbe caught a second time.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said the old man. \"But I believe the devil was\nforced to appear and speak so.\"\n\n\"Forced? By whom?\"\n\n\"By Him before whom the devils must believe and tremble. Schenck\nwas to understand that God delivered him on account of his pious\ncustom, and the devil had to tell him that this would not happen\na second time.\"\n\n\"How prudent you are in your superstition!\" said Frank.\n\n\"As the gentleman has been kind to me, it hurts me to hear him\nspeak so.\"\n\n\"Now,\" said Richard quickly, \"I would not hurt your feelings. One\nmay be a good Christian without believing fables. And the flowers\nnear the statue. Has Schenck placed them there too?\"\n\n\"Oh! no--the Angel did that.\"\n\n\"The Angel. Who is that?\" said Frank, surprised.\n\n\"The Angel of Salingen--Siegwart's angel.\"\n\n\"Ah! angel is Angela, is it not?\"\n\n\"So she may be called. In Salingen they call her only Angel. And\nshe is indeed as lovely, good, and beautiful as an angel. She has\na heart for the poor, and she gives with an open hand and a\nsmiling face that does one good. She is like her father, who\ngives me as many potatoes as I want, and seed for my little patch\nof ground.\"\n\n\"Why does Angela decorate this statue?\"\n\n\"I do not know; perhaps she does it through devotion.\"\n\n\"The flowers are quite fresh; does she come here every day?\"\n\n\"Every day during the month of May, and no longer.\"\n\n\"Why no longer?\"\n\n\"I do not know the reason; she has done so for the last two\nyears, since she came home from the convent, and she will do so\nthis year.\"\n\n\"As Siegwart is so good to the poor, he must be rich.\"\n\n\"Very rich--you can see from his house. Do you see that fine\nbuilding there next to the road? That is the residence of Herr\nSiegwart.\"\n\nIt was the same building that had arrested Richard's attention as\nhe passed it some days before, and the sight of which had excited\nthe ill-humor of his father. Richard returned by a shorter way to\nFrankenh\u00f6he. He was serious and meditative. Arrived at home, he\nwrote in his diary:\n\n  \"May 13th.--Well, I have seen her. She exhibits herself as the\n  'Angel of Salingen.' She is extremely beautiful. She is full of\n  amiability and purity of character. And to-day she did not wear\n  that detestable crinoline. But she will have other foibles in\n  place of it. She will, in some things at least, yield to the\n  superficial tendencies of her sex. Isabella was an ideal, until\n  she descended from the height where my imagination, deceived by\n  her charms, had placed her. The impression which Angela's\n  appearance produced has rests on the same\n  foundation--deception. A better acquaintance will soon discover\n  this. Curious! I long to become better acquainted!\n\n{647}\n\n  \"Religion is not a disease or hallucination, as many think. It\n  is a power. Religion teaches the poor to bear their hard lot\n  with patience. It comforts and keeps them from despair. It\n  directs their attention to an eternal reward, and this hope\n  compensates them for all the afflictions and miseries of this\n  life. Without religion, human society would fall to pieces.\"\n\nA servant entered, and announced dinner.\n\n\"Ah Richard!\" said Herr Frank good-humoredly. \"Half an hour late\nfor dinner, and had to be called! That is strange; I do not\nremember such a thing to have happened before. You are always as\npunctual as a repeater.\"\n\n\"I was in the mountain and had just returned.\"\n\n\"No excuse, my son. I am glad the neighborhood diverts you, and\nthat you depart a little from your regularity. Now everything is\nin good order, as I desired, for my friend and deliverer. I have\njust received a letter from him. He will be here in two days. I\nshall be glad to see the good man again. If Frankenh\u00f6he will only\nplease him for a long time!\"\n\n\"I have no doubt of that,\" said Richard. \"The doctor will be\nreceived like a friend, treated like a king, and will live here\nlike Adam and Eve in paradise.\"\n\n\"Everything will go on as formerly. I will be coming and going on\naccount of business. You will, of course, remain uninterruptedly\nat Frankenh\u00f6he. You are high in the doctor's esteem. You interest\nhim very much. It is true you annoy him sometimes with your\nunlearned objections and bold assertions. But I have observed\nthat even vexation, when it comes from you, is not disagreeable\nto him.\"\n\n\"But the poor should not annoy him with their sick,\" said\nRichard. \"He never denies his services to the poor, as he never\ngrants them to the rich. Indeed, I have sometimes observed that\nhe tears himself from his books with the greatest reluctance, and\nit is not without an effort that he does it.\"\n\n\"But we cannot change it,\" said Herr Frank; \"we cannot send the\npoor away without deeply offending Klingenberg. But I esteem him\nthe more for his generosity.\"\n\nAfter dinner the father and son went into the garden and talked\nof various matters; suddenly Richard stopped and pointing over to\nSalingen, said,\n\n\"I passed to-day that neat building that stands near the road.\nWho lives there?\"\n\n\"There lives the noble and lordly Herr Siegwart,\" said Herr Frank\nderisively.\n\nHis tone surprised Richard. He was not accustomed to hear his\nfather speak thus.\n\n\"Is Siegwart a noble?\"\n\n\"Not in the strict sense. But he is the ruler of Salingen. He\nrules in that town as absolutely as princes formerly did in their\nkingdoms.\"\n\n\"What is the cause of his influence?\"\n\n\"His wealth, in the first place; secondly, his charity; and\nlastly, his cunning.\"\n\n\"You are not favorable to him?\"\n\n\"No, indeed! The Siegwart family is excessively ultramontane and\nclerical. You know I cannot endure these narrow prejudices and\nthis obstinate adherence to any form of religion. Besides, I have\na particular reason for disagreement with Siegwart, of which I\nneed not now speak.\"\n\n{648}\n\n\"Excessively ultramontane and clerical!\" thought Richard, as he\nwent to his room. \"Angela is undoubtedly educated in this spirit.\nStultifying confessionalism and religious narrow-mindedness have\nno doubt cast a deep shadow over the 'angel.' Now--patience; the\ndeception will soon banish.\"\n\nHe took up Schlosser's History, and read a long time. But his\neyes wandered from the page, and his thoughts soon followed.\n\nThe next morning at the same hour Richard went to the weather\ncross. He took the same road and again he met Angela; she had the\nsame blue dress, the same straw hat on her arm, and flowers in\nher hand. She beheld him with the same clear eyes, with the same\nunconstrained manner--only, as he thought, more charming--as on\nthe first day. He greeted her coolly and formally, as before. She\nthanked him with the same affability. Again the temptation came\nover him to look back at her; again he overcame it. When he came\nto the statue, he found fresh flowers in the vases. The child\nJesus had fresh forget-me-nots in his hand, and the Mother had a\ncrown of fresh roses on her head. On the upper stone lay a book,\nbound in blue satin and clasped with a silver clasp. When he took\nit up, he found beneath it a rosary made of an unknown material,\nand having a gold cross fastened at the end. He opened the book.\nThe passage that had been last read was marked with a silk\nribbon. It was as follows:\n\n  \"My son, trust not thy present affection; it will be quickly\n  changed into another. As long as thou livest thou art subject\n  to change, even against thy will; so as to be sometimes joyful,\n  at other times sad; now easy, now troubled; at one time devout,\n  at another dry; sometimes fervent, at other times sluggish; one\n  day heavy, another day lighter. But he that is wise and well\n  instructed in spirit stands above all these changes, not\n  minding what he feels in himself, nor on what side the wind of\n  instability blows; but that the whole bent of his soul may\n  advance toward its due and wished-for end; for thus he may\n  continue one and the self-same without being shaken, by\n  directing without ceasing, through all this variety of events,\n  the single eye of his intention toward me. And by how much more\n  pure the eye of the intention is, with so much greater\n  constancy mayest thou pass through these   divers storms.\n\n  \"But in many the eye of pure intention is dark; for men quickly\n  look toward something delightful that comes in their way. And\n  it is rare to find one who is wholly free from all blemish of\n  self-seeking.\"\n\nFrank remembered having written about the same thoughts in his\ndiary. But here they were conceived in another and deeper sense.\n\nHe read the title of the book. It was _The Following of\nChrist_.\n\nHe copied the title in his pocketbook. He then with a smile\nexamined the rosary, for he was not without prejudice against\nthis kind of prayer.\n\nHe had no doubt Angela had left these things here, and he thought\nit would be proper to return them to the owner. He came slowly\ndown the mountain reading the book. It was clear to him that\n_The Following of Christ_ was a book full of very earnest\nand profound reflections. And he wondered how so young a woman\ncould take any interest in such serious reading. He was convinced\nthat all the ladies he knew would throw such a book aside with a\nsneer, because its contents condemned their lives and habits.\nAngela, then, must be of a different character from all the\nladies he knew, and he was very desirous of knowing better this\ncharacter of Angela.\n\nIn a short time he entered the gate and passed through the yard\nto the stately building where Herr Siegwart dwelt. He glanced\nhastily at the long out-buildings--the large barns; at the\npolished cleanliness of the paved court, the perfect order of\neverything, and finally at the ornamented mansion.\n{649}\nThen he looked at the old lindens that stood near the house,\nwhose trunks were protected from injury by iron railings. In the\ntops of these trees lodged a lively family of sparrows, who were\nat present in hot contention, for they quarrelled and cried as\nloud and as long as did formerly the lords in the parliament of\nFrankfort. The beautiful garden, separated from the yard by a low\nwall covered with white boards, did not escape him. Frank\nentered, upon a broad and very clean path; as his feet touched\nthe stone slabs, he heard, through the open door, a low growl,\nand then a man's voice saying, \"Quiet, Hector.\"\n\nFrank walked through the open door into a large room handsomely\nfurnished, and odoriferous with a multitude of flowers in vases.\nA man in the prime of life sat on the sofa reading and smoking.\nHe wore a light-brown overcoat, brown trousers, and low, thick\nboots. He had a fresh, florid complexion, red beard, blue eyes,\nand an expressive, agreeable countenance. When Frank entered he\narose, laid aside the paper and cigar, and approached the\nvisitor.\n\n\"I found these things on the mountain near the weather-cross.\"\nsaid Frank, after a more formal than affable bow. \"As your\ndaughter met me, I presume they belong to her. I thought it my\nduty to return them.\"\n\n\"These things certainly belong to my daughter,\" answered Herr\nSiegwart. \"You are very kind, sir. You have placed us under\nobligations to you.\"\n\n\"I was passing this way,\" said Frank briefly.\n\n\"And whom have we the honor to thank?\"\n\n\"I am Richard Frank.\"\n\nHerr Siegwart bowed. Frank noticed a slight embarrassment in his\ncountenance. He remembered the expressions his father had used in\nreference to the Siegwart family, and it was clear to him that a\nreciprocal ill feeling existed here. Siegwart soon resumed his\nfriendly manner, and invited him with much formality to the sofa.\nRichard felt that he must accept the invitation at least for a\nfew moments. Siegwart sat on a chair in front of him, and they\ntalked of various unimportant matters. Frank admired the skill\nwhich enabled him to conduct, without interruption, so pleasant a\nconversation with a stranger.\n\nWhile they were speaking, some house-swallows flew into the room.\nThey fluttered about without fear, sat on the open door, and\njoined their cheerful twittering with the conversation of the\nmen. Richard expressed his admiration, and said he had never seen\nanything like it.\n\n\"Our constant guests in summer,\" answered Siegwart. \"They build\ntheir nests in the hall, and as they rise earlier than we do, an\nopening is left for them above the hall door, where they can go\nin and out undisturbed when the doors are closed. Angela is in\ntheir confidence, and on the best of terms with them. When rainy\nor cold days come during breeding time they suffer from want of\nfood. Angela is then their procurator. I have often admired\nAngela's friendly intercourse with the swallows, who perch upon\nher shoulders and hands.\"\n\nRichard looked indeed at the twittering swallows, but their\nfriend Angela passed before his eyes, so beautiful indeed that he\nno longer heard what Siegwart was saying.\n\nHe arose; Siegwart accompanied him. As they passed through the\nyard, Frank observed the long row of stalls, and said, \"You must\nhave considerable stock?\"\n\n{650}\n\n\"Yes, somewhat. If you would like to see the property, I will\nshow you around with pleasure.\"\n\n\"I regret that I cannot now avail myself of your kindness; I\nshall do so in a few days,\" answered Frank.\n\n\"Herr Frank,\" said Siegwart, \"may the accident which has given us\nthe pleasure of your agreeable visit, be the occasion of many\nvisits in future. I know that as usual you will spend the month\nof May at Frankenh\u00f6he. We are neighbors--this title, in my\nopinion, should indicate a friendly intercourse.\"\n\n\"Let it be understood, Herr Siegwart; I accept with pleasure your\ninvitation.\"\n\nOn the way to Frankenh\u00f6he Richard walked very slowly, and gazed\ninto the distance before him. He thought of the swallows that\nperched on Angela's shoulders and hands. Their sweet notes still\nechoed in his soul.\n\nThe country-like quiet of Siegwart's house and the sweet peace\nthat pervaded it were something new to him. He thought of the\nsimple character of Siegwart, who, as his father said, was\n\"ultramontane and clerical,\" and whom he had represented to\nhimself as a dark, reserved man. He found nothing in the open,\nnatural manner of the man to correspond with his preconceived\nopinion of him. Richard concluded that either Herr Siegwart was\nnot an ultramontane, or the characteristics of the ultramontanes,\nas portrayed in the free-thinking newspapers of the day, were\nerroneous and false.\n\nBuried in such thoughts, he reached Frankenh\u00f6he. As he passed\nthrough the yard, he did not observe the carriage that stood\nthere. But as he passed under the window, he heard a loud voice,\nand some books were thrown from the window and fell at his feet.\nHe looked down in surprise at the books, whose beautiful binding\nwas covered with sand. He now observed the coach, and smiled.\n\n\"Ah! the doctor is here,\" said he. \"He has thrown these unwelcome\nguests out of the window. Just like him.\"\n\nHe took up the books and read the titles, _Vogt's Pictures from\nAnimal Life, Vogt's Physiological Letters, Colbe's Sensualism._\n\nHe took the books to his room and began to read them. Herr Frank,\nwith his joyful countenance, soon appeared.\n\n\"Klingenberg is here!\" said he.\n\n\"I suspected as much already,\" said Richard. \"I passed by just as\nhe threw the books out of the window with his usual impetuosity.\"\n\n\"Do not let him see the books; the sight of them sets him wild.\"\n\n\"Klingenberg walks only in his own room. I wish to read these\nbooks; what enrages him with innocent paper?\"\n\n\"I scarcely know, myself. He examined the library and was much\npleased with some of the works. But suddenly he tore these books\nfrom their place and hurled them through the window.\"\n\n\"'I tolerate no bad company among these noble geniuses,' said he,\npointing to the learned works.\n\n\"'Pardon me, honored friend,' said I, 'if, without my knowledge,\nsome bad books were included. What kind of writings are these,\ndoctor?\"\n\n\"'Stupid materialistic trash,' said he.' If I had Vogt,\nMoleschott, Colbe, and B\u00fcchner here, I would throw them body and\nbones out of the window.'\n\n\"I was very much surprised at this declaration, so contrary to\nthe doctor's kind disposition.'What kind of people are those you\nhave named?' said I.\n\n{651}\n\n\"'No people, my dear Frank,' said he.' They are animals, This\nVogt and his fellows have excluded themselves from the pale of\nhumanity, inasmuch as they have declared apes, oxen, and asses to\nbe their equals.'\"\n\n\"I am now very desirous to know these books,\" said Richard.\n\n\"Well, do not let our friend know your intention,\" urged Frank.\n\nRichard dressed and went to greet the singular guest. He was\nsitting before a large folio. He arose at Richard's entrance and\npaternally reached him both hands.\n\nDoctor Klingenberg was of a compact, strong build. He had\nunusually long arms, which he swung back and forth in walking.\nHis features were sharp, but indicated a modest character. From\nbeneath his bushy eyebrows there glistened two small eyes that\ndid not give an agreeable expression to his countenance. This\nunfavorable expression was, however, only the shell of a warm\nheart.\n\nThe doctor was good-natured--hard on himself, but mild in his\njudgments of others. He had an insatiable desire for knowledge,\nand it impelled him to severe studies that robbed him of his hair\nand made him prematurely bald.\n\n\"How healthy you look, Richard!\" said he, contemplating the young\nman. \"I am glad to see you have not been spoiled by the seething\natmosphere of modern city life.\"\n\n\"You know, doctor, I have a natural antipathy to all swamps and\nmorasses.\"\n\n\"That is right, Richard; preserve a healthy naturalness.\"\n\n\"We expected you this morning.\"\n\n\"And would go to the station to bring me. Why this ceremony? I am\nhere, and I will enjoy for a few weeks the pure, bracing mountain\nair. Our arrangements will be as formerly--not so, my dear\nfriend?\"\n\n\"I am at your service.\"\n\n\"You have, of course, discovered some new points that afford fine\nviews?\"\n\n\"If not many, at least one--the weather cross,\" answered Frank.\n\"A beautiful position. The hill stands out somewhat from the\nrange. The whole plain lies before the ravished eyes. At the same\ntime, there are things connected with _that_ place that are\nnot without their influence on me. They refer to a custom of the\nultramontanists that clashes with modern ideas; I will have an\nopportunity of seeing whether your opinion coincides with mine.\"\n\n\"Very well; since we have already an object for our next\nwalk--and this is according to our old plan--tomorrow after\ndinner at three o'clock,\" and saying this he glanced wistfully at\nthe old folio. Frank, smiling, observed the delicate hint and\nretired.\n\n           To Be Continued.\n\n----------\n\n{652}\n\n        Antiquities of New York.\n\n\nIt is as true of nations as it is of individuals that they \"live\nmore in the past and the future than in the present;\" and when\neither are young and have a very limited past, their thoughts\ndwell most upon the future. This is one marked difference between\nthe peoples of the old world and us on this continent. Our past\nis so small in comparison with theirs, that antiquarian\nsocieties, so common with them, are quite unknown among us, and\nit is not often that we throw our thoughts back.\n\nYet in that respect, as in others, we are daily improving, and we\nbegin, now and then, to find something to think upon in the days\nof our forefathers.\n\nThese thoughts have arisen in our mind from having come across a\nbook recently published by the State of New York: \"Laws and\nOrdinances of New Netherlands, 1638-1674, compiled and translated\nfrom the original Dutch records in the office of the Secretary of\nState. Albany, N.Y. E.B. O'Callaghan.\" From that book a good deal\ncan be learned of the manners and customs in our goodly city some\ntwo hundred years ago, that cannot fail to be interesting.\n\nIt was in 1621 that the States General of the United Netherlands\nincorporated a West India Company, with power to establish\ncolonies in such parts of America as were not already occupied by\nother nations.\n\nUnder this authority, the company established a colony embracing\nthe land from the present State of Maryland to the Connecticut\nRiver, and called NEW NETHERLAND.\n\nThe Amsterdam Chamber of the company exercised supreme government\nover this colony until 1664, when it was captured by the English,\nbut recovered by the Dutch in 1673, but was finally ceded to the\nEnglish.\n\nIt was in 1609 that Hendrik Hudson discovered the country, and in\n1623 it was that the West India Company sent its first colony of\nfamilies, who settled at what was then Fort Orange, now Albany,\nand settled a colony of families at New Amsterdam, now New York.\n\nThe colonial government, including legislative and executive\npowers, was administered by a director-general and council; and\nit is from the laws which they enacted that we can gather much\nknowledge of the manners and customs of our Dutch progenitors and\nfrom which we now proceed to make some extracts.\n\n\n          Slavery.\n\nOn the 7th of June, 1629, the West India Company granted what we\nwould call a charter to all settlers in the new world, but which\nthey called \"freedoms and exemptions,\" to all patroons, masters,\nor private persons who would plant colonies in New Netherland.\n\nThey consisted of thirty-one articles; and among them was that\nwhich, if it may not be considered the origin, in this country,\nof that slavery which it took us some two hundred and fifty years\nto get rid of, was, by one of the articles, not only tolerated,\nbut was actually established, with a covenant on the part of the\nhome government to supply the settlers with slaves.\n\n{653}\n\n              Article XXX.\n\n  \"The Company will use their endeavors to supply the colonists\n  with as many Blacks as they conveniently can, on the conditions\n  hereafter to be made, in such manner, however, that they shall\n  not be bound to do it for a longer time than they shall think\n  proper.\"\n\nOn the 19th of November, 1654, the Amsterdam board allowed the\nimportation of negroes direct from Africa, by the ship Witte\nPaert, and on the 6th of August, 1655, the director-general and\ncouncil of New Netherland imposed an _ad valorem_ duty of\nten per cent on the exportation of any of the slaves brought in\nby that ship.\n\n\n           The Yankees.\n\nThe discord between the quiet, stolid Dutchmen of those days, and\nthe restless \"Yengees,\" of whom they had so much dread, soon\nbegan to show itself, and every once in a while we find a paper\nbomb-shell fired off at them, in the shape of a law, and hitting\nthem in a tender spot, by forbidding trade.\n\nTake this, the first instance:\n\n          \"Ordinance\n  Of the Director and Council of New Netherland, prohibiting the\n  purchase of produce raised near Fort Hope.--Passed 3 April,\n  1642.\n\n  \"Whereas our territory which we purchased, paid for, and took\n  possession of, provided in the year 1633 with a Blockhouse,\n  Garrison, and Cannon, on the Fresh River of _New\n  Netherland_, a long time before any Christians were in the\n  said river, hath now, for some years past, been forcibly\n  usurped by some englishmen, and given the name of Hartford,\n  notwithstanding we duly protested against them; who, moreover,\n  treat our people most barbarously, beating them with clubs and\n  mattocks even unto the shedding of blood; cut down our corn,\n  sow the fields by night which our people ploughed by day; haul\n  home by force the hay which was mowed by our people; cast our\n  ploughs into the river, and forcibly impound our horses, cows,\n  and hogs, so that no cruelty, insolence, nor violence remains\n  which is not practised toward us, who yet have treated them\n  with all moderation; Yea, even at great hazard, have redeemed\n  and sent back home their Women, who were carried off by the\n  Indians; And although we are commanded by the States-General,\n  his Highness of Orange, and the Honorable West India Company to\n  maintain our Limits and to assert our Right by every means,\n  which We, also, have the power to do, yet rather have We chose\n  patiently to suffer violence, and to prove by deeds that we are\n  better Christians than they who go about there clothed with\n  such outward show, until in its time the measure shall be\n  entirely full.\n\n  \"Therefore, our order and command provisionally is, & We do\n  hereby Ordain that our Inhabitants of _New Netherland_ be\n  most expressly forbidden from purchasing, either directly or\n  indirectly, by the third or second shipment, or in any manner\n  whatsoever, any produce which has been raised on our land near\n  _Fort Hope_ on the Fresh River, on pain of arbitrary\n  correction, until their rights are acknowledged, and the\n  sellers of the produce which shall arrive from our _Fresh\n  River_ of _New Netherland_ and from _New England_\n  shall first declare upon oath where the produce has been grown,\n  whereof a certificate shall be given them, and thereupon every\n  one shall be at liberty to buy and to sell.\"\n\nAnd finally the quarrel went so far as to give rise to the\nfollowing\n\n         \"Ordinance\n\n  Of the Governor-General and Council of New Netherland further\n  prohibiting the entertainment of Strangers, forbidding\n  intercourse or correspondence with the people of New\n  England.--Passed, 12 December, 1673.\n\n  \"Whereas, it is found by experience that notwithstanding the\n  previously published Ordinance and Edicts, many Strangers, yea\n  enemies of this State, attempt to come within this government\n  without having previously obtained any consent or passport, and\n  have even presumed to show themselves within this city of\n  _New Orange_; also that many Inhabitants of this Province,\n  losing sight of and forgetting their Oath of Allegiance,\n  presume still daily to correspond, and exchange letters with\n  the Inhabitants of the neighboring colonies of _New\n  England_ and other enemies of this State, whence nothing\n  else can result but great prejudice and loss to this Province,\n  and it is, accordingly, necessary that seasonable provision be\n  made therein.\n\n{654}\n\n  \"Therefore, the Governor-General of _New Netherland_, by\n  and with the advice of his Council, reviewing the aforesaid\n  Ordinances and Edicts enacted on that subject, have deemed it\n  highly necessary strictly to order and command that all\n  Strangers and others, of what nation or quality soever they may\n  be, who have not as yet bound themselves by Oath and promise of\n  fealty to the present Supreme government of this Province, and\n  have not been received by it as good subjects, do within the\n  space of four and twenty hours from the publication hereof\n  depart from out this province of New Netherland, and further\n  interdicting and forbidding any person, not being actually an\n  inhabitant and subject of this government, from coming within\n  this government without first having obtained due license and\n  passport to that end, on pain and penalty that the contraveners\n  shall not be considered other than open enemies and spies of\n  this State, and consequently be arbitrarily punished as an\n  example to others. And to the end that they may be the more\n  easily discovered and found out, all Inhabitants of this\n  Province are interdicted and forbidden from henceforth\n  harboring or lodging any strangers over night in their houses\n  or dwellings unless they have previously given due\n  communication thereof to their officer or Magistrate before\n  sun-down, under the penalty set forth in the former Edict.\n\n  \"Furthermore, the Inhabitants of this Province are strictly\n  interdicted and forbidden, from this day forward, from holding\n  any correspondence with the neighboring Colonies of _New\n  England_, and all others actual enemies of our State, much\n  less afford them any supplies of any description, on pain of\n  forfeiting the goods and double the value thereof, likewise\n  from exchanging any letters, of what nature soever they may be,\n  without having obtained previous special consent thereto.\n  Therefore all messengers, skippers, travellers, together with\n  all others whom these may in any wise concern, are most\n  expressly forbidden to take charge of, much less to deliver,\n  any letters coming from the enemy's places, or going thither,\n  but immediately on their arrival to deliver them into the\n  Secretary's office here in order to be duly examined, on pain\n  of being fined One hundred guilders in Beaver, to be paid by\n  the receiver as well as by the deliverer of each letter which\n  contrary to the tenor hereof shall be exchanged or delivered.\"\n\n\n         Their Currency.\n\nGold and silver were scarce among them. The modern device of\npaper money had not then come in vogue, and so they had to use\nwampum--the Indians' currency or medium of exchange.\n\nThis was made from oyster-shells, and was worn by the natives as\nornaments, and had no intrinsic value, but only a conventional\none. And it seems to have been hard work to keep it up to its\nstandard. Every body could make it that could catch oysters, and\nits plenty or scarcity causing a fluctuation of prices, gave them\na great deal of trouble, especially when their old rock of\noffence, \"the Yankees,\" began to manufacture it and buy away from\nthem all they had to sell, for what was actually of no value.\n\nSo we find every once in a while \"Ordinances\" passed on the\nsubject, which in their quaint and simple way show the state of\nthings. Between April 18th, 1641, and December 28th, 1662, we\nfind in this book twelve different ordinances on the subject;\nsome of them fixing their value, some punishing frauds, some\nmaking them a legal tender, some declaring them merchandise, some\nproviding that they shall be paid out by measure, some exempting\nthem from import duty, and some providing for their depreciation.\n\nThe following extracts will afford an idea of their difficulties\non the subject.\n\n         \"Resolutions\n\n  Of the Director and Council of New Netherland respecting loose\n  Wampum.--Passed, 30 November, 1647.\n\n  \"_Resolved_ and concluded in Council at _Fort\n  Amsterdam_, that, until further Order, the loose Wampum\n  shall continue current and in circulation only that, in the\n  mean while, all imperfect, broken, or unpierced beads can be\n  picked out, which are declared Bullion, and shall, meantime, be\n  received at the Company's counting-house as heretofore.\n  Provided that the Company, or any one on its part, shall, in\n  return, be at liberty to trade therewith among the Merchants or\n  otter Inhabitants, or in larger parcels, as may be agreed upon\n  and stipulated by any individual, or on behalf of the Company.\"\n\n{655}\n\n          \"Ordinance\n  Of the Director and Council of _New Netherland_ further\n  regulating the currency.--Passed 14 September, 1650.\n\n  \"The Director-General and Council of _New Netherland_, To\n  all those who hear, see, or read these presents, Greeting.\n  Whereas, on the daily complaints of the inhabitants, we\n  experience that our previous Ordinance and Edict relative to\n  the poor strung Wampum, published under date 30 May, A\u00b0 1650,\n  for the accommodation and protection of the people, is not\n  observed and obeyed according to our good intention and\n  meaning; but that, on the contrary, such pay, even for small\n  items, is rejected and refused by Shopkeepers, Brewers,\n  Tapsters, Tradespeople, and Laboring men, to the great\n  confusion and inconvenience of the Inhabitants in general,\n  there being, at present, no other currency whereby the\n  Inhabitants can procure from each other small articles of daily\n  trade; for which wishing to provide as much as possible, for\n  the relief and protection of the Inhabitants, the Director and\n  Council do hereby Ordain and command that, in conformity to our\n  previous Ordinance, the poor strung Wampum shall be current and\n  accepted by every one without distinction and exception for\n  small and daily necessary commodities required for\n  housekeeping, as currency to the amount of Twelve guilders and\n  under only, in poor strung wampum; of twelve to twenty-four\n  guilders half and half, that is to say, half poor strung and\n  half good strung Wampum; of twenty guilders to fifty guilders,\n  one third poor strung and two thirds good strung wampum, and in\n  larger sums according to the conditions agreed upon between\n  Buyer and Seller, under a penalty of six guilders for the first\n  time, to be forfeited on refusal by contraveneor hereof; for\n  the second time nine guilders, and for the third time two\n  pounds Flemish and stoppage of his trade and business, pursuant\n  to our previous Edicts.\n\n  \"Thus done and enacted in Council by the Director and Council,\n  this 14 September, 1650, in _New Amsterdam_.\"\n\n\n           \"Ordinance\n\n  Of the Director-General and Council of _New Netherland_\n  regulating the currency.--Passed 3 January, 1657.\n\n  \"The Director-General and Council of New Netherland,\n\n  \"To all those who see or hear these presents read, Greeting,\n  make known.\n\n  \"Whereas they, to their great regret, are by their own\n  experience daily informed, and by the manifold complaints of\n  Inhabitants and Strangers importuned, respecting the great,\n  excessive and intolerable dearness of all sorts of necessary\n  commodities and household supplies, the prices of which are\n  enhanced from time to time, principally among other causes, in\n  consequence of the high price of Beaver and other Peltries in\n  this country beyond the value, which, by reason of the great\n  abundance of Wampum, is advanced to ten, eleven and twelve\n  guilders for one Beaver; And Wampum being, for want of Silver\n  and Gold coin, as yet the most general and common currency\n  between man and man, Buyer and Seller, domestic articles and\n  daily necessaries are rated according to that price, and become\n  dearer from time to time; the rather, as not only Merchants,\n  but also, consequently, Shopkeepers, Tradesmen, Brewers,\n  Bakers, Tapsters, and Grocers make a difference of 30, 40, to\n  50 per cent when they sell their wares for Wampum or for\n  Beaver. This tends, then, so far to the serious damage,\n  distress and loss of the common Mechanics, Brewers, Farmers and\n  other good Inhabitants of this Province, that the Superior and\n  inferior magistrates of this Province are blamed, abused and\n  cursed by Strangers and Inhabitants, and the Country in general\n  receives a bad name, while some greedy people do not hesitate\n  to sell the most necessary eatables and drinkables, according\n  to their insatiable avarice; viz., the can of Vinegar at 18 @\n  20 stivers; the can of Oil at 4 @ 5 guilders; the can of French\n  wine at 40 @ 45 stivers; the gill of Brandy at 15 stivers, and\n  two quarts of home brewed Beer, far above its price, at 14@15\n  stivers, &c., which the greater number endeavor to excuse on\n  the ground that they lose a great deal in the counting of the\n  Wampum; that it is partly short and partly long; that they must\n  give 11@12 and more guilders before they can convert the wampum\n  into Beaver.\"\n\nSo that, at last, the home government took it up, and in 1659\nthey wrote to the council at New Amsterdam, among other things:\n\n{656}\n\n  \"From this particular reduction of the Wampum a second general\n  reduction must necessarily follow, if the depreciation thereof\n  is to be prevented. This arises in consequence of the great\n  importation of Wampum from New-England, which barters therewith\n  and carries out of the country not only the best cargoes sent\n  hence, but also a large quantity of beaver and other peltries,\n  whereby the Company is defrauded of its revenues and the\n  merchants here of good returns, while the Factors and\n  inhabitants there remain with chests full of Wampum, which is a\n  currency utterly valueless except among New Netherland Indians\n  only,\" etc.\n\nThe rate of depreciation may be discovered from the fact that an\nordinance passed in April, 1641, fixed it at 4 polished and 5\nunpolished for one stiver, while another, passed in December,\n1662, fixed it at 24 for one stiver; and that in 1650 it was\nfixed at 6 white and 3 black for one stiver, and twelve years\nafterward at 24 white and 12 black for one stiver--making what\nPresident Johnson would call a depreciation of 400 per cent in\nthat short time.\n\n\n              Religion.\n\nThe government interfered very much in religious matters, seeming\nto aim not so much at protection against molestation as to\nproduce conformity of opinion, by making the people view such\nthings as the Director and Council did.\n\nBetween April, 1641, and November, 1673, fourteen ordinances were\npassed concerning Sunday. And between June, 1641, and November,\n1673, there were sixteen ordinances as to religion.\n\nAs to Sunday, the laws were:\n\n  11 April, 1641.--\"No person shall attempt to tap beer or any\n  other strong drink during divine service, nor use any other\n  measure than that which is in common use at Amsterdam.\"\n\nThis law was preceded by a recital:\n\n  \"Whereas complaints have been made to us that some of the\n  inhabitants here are in the habit of Tapping Beer during Divine\n  Service, and of making use of small foreign Measures, which\n  tends to the dishonor of religion and the ruin of this state.\"\n\n\n  13 May, 1647.--\"None of the Brewers, Tapsters and\n  Tavern-keepers shall on the rest day of the Lord by us called\n  Sunday, before two of the clock when there is no sermon, or,\n  otherwise, before four o'clock in the afternoon, set before,\n  tap or give any people any Wine, Beer or strong liquors of any\n  kind whatever, and under any pretext, be it what it may,\" etc.\n\nThat law has this preamble:\n\n  \"Whereas we see and observe by experience, the great disorders\n  in which some of our inhabitants indulge in drinking to excess,\n  quarreling, fighting, and smiting, even on the Lord's day of\n  rest, whereof, God help us! we have seen and heard sorrowful\n  instances on last Sunday,\" etc.\n\n\n10 March, 1648.--After reciting that the former edict is\ndisobeyed, they say,\n\n  \"The reason and cause why this our good Edict and well meant\n  Ordinance is not obeyed according to the tenor and purport\n  thereof, are that this sort of business and the profit easily\n  accruing therefrom divert and lead many from their original and\n  primitive calling, occupation and business, to resort to\n  Tavern-keeping, so that nearly the just fourth of the city of\n  New Amsterdam consists of Brandyshops, Tobacco or Beer-houses.\"\n\nAnd they enact, among other things, that tapsters and\ntavern-keepers shall not\n\n  \"sell nor furnish Beer or Liquor to any person, travellers and\n  boarders alone excepted, on the Sunday, before three o'clock in\n  the afternoon, when Divine Service is finished.\"\n\n{657}\n\n29 April, 1648.--After complaining again of non-observance of\nformer laws, they renew and amplify previous edicts, and declare\nthat,\n\n  \"having for the stricter observance thereof, with the preadvice\n  of the Minister of the Gospel, deemed it expedient that a\n  sermon shall be preached from the sacred Scriptures, and the\n  usual prayers and thanksgivings offered from this time forward\n  in the afternoon as well as the forenoon,\" etc., and forbid all\n  tapping, fishing, hunting, and business during divine service.\n\n26 October, 1656.--Repeating their complaints, they enact an\nordinance against performing on Sunday any work, such as\nploughing, mowing, building, etc., and, as they term it,\n\n  \"much less any lower or unlawful exercise and amusement.\n  Drunkenness, frequenting Taverns or Tippling-houses, Dancing,\n  Playing ball, Cards, Trick-Track, Tennis, Cricket or Nine-pins,\n  going on pleasure parties in a boat, car or wagon, _before,\n  between or during Divine Service_,\" and forbidding the sale\n  of liquor \"_before, between or during the sermons_,\" etc.\n\n12 June, 1657.--They forbid all persons, \"of what nation or rank\nhe may be,\" to entertain any company on Sunday or during divine\nservice.\n\n18 November, 1661.--They forbid all work on Sunday under \"the\npenalty of \u00a31 Flemish for the first time, double as much for the\nsecond time, and _four times double as much_ for the third\ntime.\" (Silent as to the fourth time.)\n\nAnd they forbid all entertainments in taverns, and any giving\naway or selling any liquor.\n\n10 September, 1663.--The director-general and council of New\nAmsterdam passed an ordinance against which the burgomasters and\nschepens of New Amsterdam rebelled, and which they refused to\nenforce, for the reason that it was \"too severe and too much in\nopposition to the Freedoms of Holland.\"\n\nThat law extended the former laws to the whole of Sunday from\nsunrise to sunset, and in addition prohibited any riding in cars\nor wagons, any roving in search of nuts or strawberries, and the\n\"too unrestrained and excessive playing, shouting and screaming\nof children in the streets.\"\n\n16 June, 1641.--They began by securing to all Englishmen who\nmight settle with them \"the free exercise of Religion.\"\n\n16 November, 1644.--They granted to the town of Hempstead the\npower of using and exercising \"the Reformed Religion with the\nEcclesiastical discipline thereunto belonging.\"\n\n10 October, 1645--They granted to the town of Flushing the\n\"Liberty of Conscience according to the Custom and manner of\nHolland, without molestation or disturbance from any magistrate\nor any other Ecclesiastical minister.\"\n\n19 December, 1645.--They made the same grant to Gravesend.\n\nAt a later day a change seems to have come over them, as witness\nthe following:\n\n         \"Ordinance\n\n  Of the Director and Council of New Netherland against\n  Conventicles.--Passed 1 February, 1656.\n\n  \"Whereas the Director and Council of _New Netherland_ are\n  credibly informed and apprized that here and there within this\n  Province not only are Conventicles and Meetings held, but also\n  that some unqualified persons in such Meetings assume the\n  ministerial office, the expounding and explanation of the Holy\n  word of God, without being called or appointed thereto by\n  ecclesiastical or civil authority, which is in direct\n  contravention and opposition to the general Civil and\n  Ecclesiastical order of our Fatherland; besides that many\n  dangerous Heresies and Schisms are to be apprehended from such\n  manner of meetings. Therefore, the Director General and Council\n  aforesaid hereby absolutely and expressly forbid all such\n  conventicles and meetings, whether public or private, differing\n  from the customary and not only lawful but scripturally founded\n  and ordained meetings of the Reformed Divine service, as this\n  is observed and enforced according to the Synod of Dordrecht,\"\n  etc.\n\n{658}\n\nOn 21 September, 1662, they enacted that \"beside the Reformed\nworship and service, no conventicles or meetings shall be kept in\nthe province, whether it be in houses, barnes, ships, barkes, nor\nin the woods nor fields.\"\n\nIn December, 1656, they enacted an ordinance containing this,\namong other things:\n\n  \"Further, whenever, early in the morning or after supper in the\n  evening, prayers shall be said, or God's word read, by any one\n  thereunto commissioned, every person, of what quality soever he\n  may be, shall repair to hear it with becoming reverence.\n\n  \"No man shall raise or bring forward any question or argument\n  on the subject of religion, on pain of being placed on bread\n  and water three days in the ship's galley. And if any\n  difficulties should arise out of the said disputes, the author\n  thereof shall be arbitrarily punished.\"\n\nThey repeatedly passed ordinances requiring their officers to be\nof the reformed religion.\n\n         \"Ordinance\n\n  Of the Director-General and Council of New Netherland\n  prohibiting the bringing of Quakers and other Strollers into\n  New Netherland.--Passed 17 May, 1663.\n\n  \"The Director-General and Council of New Netherland, To all\n  those who shall see or hear these Presents read, Greeting, make\n  known.\n\n  \"Whereas we daily find that many Vagabonds, Quakers and other\n  Fugitives are, without the previous knowledge and consent of\n  the Director General and Council, conveyed, brought and landed\n  in this Government, and sojourn and remain in the respective\n  Villages of this Province without those bringing them giving\n  notice thereof, or such persons addressing themselves to the\n  government and showing whence they come, as they ought to do,\n  or that they have taken the oath of fidelity the same as other\n  Inhabitants; the Director General and Council, therefore, do\n  hereby Order and command all Skippers, Sloop Captains and\n  others, whosoever they may be, not to convey or bring, much\n  less to land, within this government, any such Vagabonds,\n  Quakers and other Fugitives, whether Men or Women, unless they\n  have first addressed themselves to the government, have given\n  information thereof, and asked and obtained consent on pain of\n  the importers forfeiting a fine of twenty pounds Flemish for\n  every person, whether Man or Woman, whom they will have brought\n  in and landed without the consent or previous Knowledge of the\n  Director General and Council, and, in addition, be obliged\n  immediately to depart out of this government with such\n  persons.\"\n\n17 March, 1664, they ordained that the schoolmasters shall appear\nin church with their scholars, on Wednesday before divine\nservice, and be examined after service by the minister and\nelders, \"as to what they have committed to memory of the\nChristian Commandments and Catechism, and what progress they have\nmade.\"\n\nOn 1 October, 1673, 8 November, 1673, and 15 January, 1674, they\npassed ordinances that the sheriff and magistrates, or the schout\nand magistrates, each in his quality, take care that the reformed\nChristian religion be maintained in conformity to the Synod of\nDordrecht, (or Synod of Dort,) without suffering or permitting\nany other sects attempting any thing contrary thereto, or\nsuffering any attempt to be made against it by any other\nsectaries.\n\nOn 12 November, 1661, they passed a law imposing \"a land tax at\nEsopus to defray the expense of building a Minister's House\nthere.\"\n\nOn 13 February, 1657, the court of Breuckelen (Brooklyn) imposed\nan assessment on that town to pay \"the Rev. Minister De J.\nTheodorus Polhemius fl 300,\" as a supplement of his promised\nsalary and yearly allowance.\n\n\n         Miscellaneous.\n\nA few more instances of the manner in which our staid and quiet\nDutch progenitors managed their affairs will suffice for this\npaper, already long enough.\n\n{659}\n\n_The Ferry_.--In an ordinance regulating the ferry at the\nManhattans, passed 1 July, 1654, it was among other things\nenacted:\n\n  \"Item. The Lessee shall be bound to accommodate the passengers\n  on summer days only from 5 O'clock in the morning till 8\n  O'clock in the evening, provided the windmill [Footnote 167]\n  hath not taken in its sail.\n\n    [Footnote 167: The windmill here spoken of stood on the old\n    Battery, and seemed to serve as a barometer or indicator of\n    bad weather to all the people.]\n\n  \"Item. The Lessee shall receive ordinary Ferriage during the\n  Winter from 7 O'clock in the morning to 5 O'clock in the\n  evening; but he shall not be bound, except he please, to convey\n  any one over in a tempest, or when the windmill hath lowered\n  its sail in consequence of storm or otherwise.\"\n\n_Wages_.--In 1653, the director and council of New\nNetherland passed an ordinance fixing the rate of wages to be\npaid to carpenters, masons, etc. But the directors at Amsterdam\ndisapproved of it \"as impracticable.\"\n\n_Fast Driving_.--Here, now, is a law which would illy enough\nsuit our times, and which shows us how queer were the times when\nsuch a regulation could exist.\n\n         \"Ordinance\n\n  Of the Director and Council of New Netherland regulating the\n  driving of Wagons, Carts, etc., in New Amsterdam.--Passed 27\n  June, 1652.\n\n  \"The Director-General and Council of _New Netherland_, in\n  order to prevent accidents, do hereby Ordain that no Wagons,\n  Carts or Sleighs shall be run, rode or driven at a gallop\n  within this city of _New Amsterdam;_ that the drivers and\n  conductors of all Wagons, Carts and Sleighs within this city\n  shall not sit or stand on them, but now henceforth within this\n  City (the Broad Highway alone excepted) shall walk by the\n  Wagons, Carts or Sleighs, and so take and lead the horses.\"\n\n_Danger from Fire_s.--They passed quite a number of\nordinances on this subject.\n\nIn January, 1648, they recite that the people do not keep their\nchimneys clean, whereby \"greater damage is to be expected in\nfuture from fire, the rather as the houses here in New Amsterdam\nare, for the most part, built of wood, and thatched with reed,\nbeside which the chimneys of some of the houses are of wood,\nwhich is most dangerous;\" and they forbid any more wooden\nchimneys, but those already built may remain.\n\nThey appoint as fire wardens to see that the chimneys are kept\nclean, \"from the Hon. Council, Commissary Adriaen D'Keyser; from\nthe commonalty, Thomas Hall, Marten Crigier and George Wolsey.\"\n\nOn 28 September, 1648, they direct the fire wardens to visit\nevery house, \"and see that every one is keeping his chimney\nproperly clean by sweeping.\"\n\nAnd finally, on 15 December, 1657, they passed a law which\ncomplains, as usual, of the non-observance of former laws, and\nrecites that \"divers calamities and accidents have been caused,\nand are still to be apprehended, from fire; yea, a total ruin of\nthis city, inasmuch as it daily begins to be compactly built,\"\netc.;\n\nAnd enact that \"all thatched roofs and wooden chimneys, Hay ricks\nand hay stacks within this city shall be broken up, and removed\nwithin the time of four consecutive months,\" \"to be promptly put\nin execution for every house, whether small or large, Hay rick,\nor hay stack, or wooden chimney, hen houses, or hog pens,\" etc.;\n\nAnd then, after reciting that \"whereas, in all well ordered\nCities and Towns it is customary that Fire Buckets, Ladders, and\nHooks be found provided about the corner the streets and in\npublic houses,\" they authorize the burgomaster, \"to send by the\nfirst opportunity to Fatherland for one hundred to 150 Leather\nFire Buckets,\" etc.\n\n{660}\n\n_Marriages_.--On 15 January, 1658, after reciting that \"the\nDirector General and Council not only are informed, but have even\nseen and remarked that some persons, after the proclamation and\npublication for the third time of their bans, or intention of\nmarriage, do not proceed further with the solemnization of their\nmarriage, as they ought, but postpone it from time to time, not\nonly weeks, but some months, which is directly contrary to, and\nin contravention of, the good order and custom of our\nFatherland:\"\n\nThey enact that marriage must be solemnized within one month\nafter the last publication, or appear in council and show cause:\n\nAnd that \"no man and woman shall be at liberty to keep house as\nmarried persons before and until they are lawfully married, on\npain of forfeiting one hundred guilders, more or less, as their\nquality shall be found to warrant, and all such persons may be\namerced anew therefor every month by the officer, according to\nthe order and the custom of our Fatherland.\"\n\n----------\n\n            The Charms Of Nativity.\n\n\nIn this day, when a spirit of restlessness seems to have seized\nupon the various peoples of the world, and operates to produce\ngreat movements from one locality to another, or from one country\nto another, we propose to devote some pages to the discussion of\nthis interesting subject. The world may be said to be grossly\nmaterial; for surely no land of flowering beauty, however rich in\nthe wealth of nature's charms, can, to a sentimental and\nspiritual soul, be at all comparable to those heavenly flowers of\nlove which bloom in the vicinage in which we were reared. In\nleaving a cold and bleak country even, we may go to one where\nnature has stamped her own warmth, as she is sure to do, on the\nhearts of her inhabitants; but those scenes to which we were\nearliest used are, by far, dearer to the sensitive soul, than\nothers which, in distant lands, crop out more gorgeously; and the\nplaymates, the associates of our hearts, our early lives, even\nthough it may be in the very chill and frost of barren rocks and\ndreary plains, are far dearer to us than the welcome of\nstrangers, let it be as warm and as sunny as genial and glowing\nhearts can make it. The stranger, with soul, in a strange land,\nhas fully felt the truth of these remarks. These are\nconsiderations which should operate powerfully with us to bind us\nto our homes and our own communities. But the benefits of staying\nat home, or of enlarging the area of \"civilization\" and of\nsettlement but slowly, are not confined, by any means, to our\nfeelings. To prevent the loneliness which we naturally feel in a\nstrange country is not the only object to be gained by migrating,\nwhen we migrate at all, slowly, and but little at a time, (say a\nfew miles only,) and by making our habitations as permanent as\npossible. There are, perhaps, weightier considerations, even,\nwhich should govern in the matter than the loneliness and the\nestrangement which we must suffer for years, when we make distant\nremovals.\n\nHome is, in its full meaning, a most heavenly word. It is a word\nthat is allied with every principle of our natures. It is the\nnursery in which our spirits are trained. It is the seat of our\nreligion and the abode of our loves. There can be to us but one\nhome, that is, in the full sense of the term.\n{661}\nAnd that home is a locality, a place, where, with the kindred\nideas, elements, and social and spiritual partnerships of our\nearlier lives and beings, we can enjoy life pure and perfect as\nwe at first received it. Any local or social estrangements from\nthese pure elements of life, no matter how complete the\nsurrounding appointments of comfort may seem to be which draw us\naway from them, do not constitute and make up the bulk of what,\nproperly, is to the human spirit to be considered home.\n\nThe loss of home, then, by removal to a distance from those\nearlier scenes, localities, peoples, ideas, and customs of which\nwe are a part, is a far greater loss to us, considered in the\naggregate, than is at first apparent by any mere feelings of\nloneliness or estrangement which we may suffer in a strange\ncommunity. Because, while these feelings undoubtedly indicate to\nus the part of our lives with which we have parted in leaving\nthose scenes and associations of which we were a part, they do\nnot always reflect back to us the painful vacuum which is created\nat home by our absence; and therefore, our feelings are not\nalways an accurate measurement of the full injury done by the\ndetaching of human elements from their proper places, to be\nthereafter located in strange and distant lands. And it may\nproperly be said that the suffering of these feelings by those\nwho have removed is not the greatest injury done by such\nremovals. For, while feelings represent some of the injury done\nto us by such removals, they certainly do not represent all of\nit. The strongest powers of a man, naturally considered, are in\nthe locality or in the society in which he was raised. He may, in\ndistant communities, where social life is just taking root, or\nwhere, indeed, it has already taken root, be, to outward\nappearances, a more prominent person than at home, where he was\nraised. He may be called into public life oftener, and be made to\nassume offices of trust which at home he never would have\nassumed, and, perhaps, never could have assumed. But, after all,\nhe is really not so important a personage in his new locality,\nand in his new offices, as he would have been at home in his\nnatural offices. This statement may appear, to some minds,\nparadoxical. But it really is not so, examined by the light and\nthe law of uses and of natural adaptations. We shall not go into\nany extended discussion, however, of this particular question,\nbut we shall assume, at the outset, that the circle of\n\"civilization\" or of settlement, should be but slowly and\ngradually enlarged. There are a great many strong reasons for\nthis plea of widening and enlarging the circle of \"civilization\"\nor of settlement. The same reasons which operate to show that no\nsingle individual can be as useful (in the scale of nature) in a\ncommunity distant and remote from his birthplace, as he could in\nserving out his natural uses in his birthplace, will operate\nequally to show that such distant removals are not healthy for\nwhole communities of people. Our border States, some of which are\nvery far out from the centres of settlement, have been peopled by\npersons leaving the older and denser communities where they were\nborn and raised, and repairing to these new \"settlements.\" The\neffect of it has been, in many instances, to change the wheel of\nindividual fortune, and to place some in high positions who, in\ntheir native communities, would never have reached those\npositions. But we shall argue that this result has not always\nbeen beneficial to the parties so elevated.\n{662}\nThe natural growth of communities, that is, the growth by\nenlarging the circle of settlement but slowly and connectedly, is\nsustained by every healthy law of economy. Even in the gross\nmatter of material wealth, the bulk of the people are better off\nin an old than in a new community. We venture the assertion that\nthis remark will hold good even as between the outer border\nStates of the West, and the inhabitants of those countries from\nwhose populations these States have, in a large measure, been\nsettled. But it will especially hold true as between the people\nof those outer border States and the people of a corresponding\nclass of our older States.\n\nBut what is the moral exhibit? What do the facts here prove? They\nprove, incontestably, that the standard of law, of morals, of\nreligion, and of society, in all the vast multitude of its\nmeaning, is, in the \"new settlements,\" incomparably below what it\nis in the old communities. These are grave proofs, and of\nimportance enough, in our judgment, to settle a national policy\nagainst the building up of new communities at great distances\nfrom the old ones.\n\nIf it were physically possible to detach one half of the\nterritory of an old state, and to send the detached portion, with\nits entire population, to some distant and remote country, and\nthere locate it, even this huge mass of matter and of peoples\nwould greatly suffer by the shock of the new situation. The earth\nhas its affinities as well as people have theirs, and no\nconsiderable portion of the earth (that is, if such a thing were\npossible at all) could be detached from its proper place, where\nall of its connections are natural and healthy, and could be\ntransported to another portion of the globe where the materials\nand the fashions of nature are not exactly of the same kind,\nwithout suffering by the change. How much more, then, will human\nbeings, who are more subject to influences, suffer by a\ncorresponding change? The laws of affinity and of sympathy must\nbe preserved in the commonest things even; and if such a change\nas we have spoken of were possible in any considerable portion of\nthe earth's surface, the peoples carried along with the detached\nportion would, for a time, have the same laws, the same customs,\nthe same religions--would see the same scenery, and would, to\nsome extent, breathe the same air to which they had all along\nbeen accustomed; but, in the course of time, they would find\nthemselves laboring and struggling in full sympathy with the\nearth so detached for sympathy with the new objects and new\nexternal surroundings of the new situation, until a perceptible\nchange would take place in their feelings, and in the very ardor\nof their religious worships.\n\nWe have put the case in this strong form to show what will be\ndone by change. Change in one thing necessarily involves change\nin another thing. We cannot change our habitations and our\nabodes, without also changing all in us which is peculiar to\nlocality and the law of locality; and in this alone there is a\nlarge volume of life. That society is always the best which holds\nthe closest together, and in which the work of adaptation and\nassimilation has been carried on the longest between its members.\nThe superior frame of English society, which is the growth of an\nold community, and the sturdy world of the English people, will\ndemonstrate this. There is a certain morality in locality, too,\nand the morality developed by a particular locality is always the\nhealthiest for its people. We do not, however, mean to say that\nthe morality of locality is _sui generis_--that it is\nsomething which is peculiar to particular localities independent\nof the people of those localities.\n{663}\nThis is an absurdity which we will not utter. But we merely mean\nto say that the morality of localities, or of the people of\nparticular localities, is influenced, more or less, by the\nsurrounding circumstances of locality. This remark will be\nstrongly verified in the different social habits and moral\nsentiments of people whose occupation, from natural causes,\ndiffers; circumstances, for instance, of different situation,\nsuch as make some people nautical and seafaring, while others are\nagricultural and domestic. It is in this wise that locality may\nbe said to have its morality, and that the peculiar phases of\nmorality developed by the natural and unavoidable circumstances\nof situation are the best for the people of that locality. This\nis a proposition which we imagine no one will dispute. But there\nare very often carried into a particular locality certain phases\nof morality, or rather the want of it, which have no connection\nwith the locality, and with which the genius of the locality has\nnothing to do. These are positive conditions of vice and\nimmorality which may be engendered in any community.\n\nSensibilities are the most delicate and refined things\nconceivable. They are the result of the most delicate nurture of\nthe feelings, the associations, and the relationships of life.\nThe peculiar modes of association of a people--the peculiar frame\nand structure of their domestic relationships--has a great deal\nto do with the type and kind of their sensibilities. In a new\ncountry, where everything is rough, the sensibilities cannot be\nas nice and as refined as in an older community where they are\nnursed. Sensibilities, then, depend for their flexibility, and\nfor the grain of their qualities, on the fineness--on the\nniceness--of the social food on which they have been fed. This is\nconstantly being illustrated to us in the treatment of animals,\neven, which certainly have sensibilities of a certain kind.\n\nWhere the finer threads of society, then, are preserved, and\nwhere there are close-knit sympathies between the people, without\ntoo much of the rough work of a rough country to harden them and\nto dry up the fountains of the sensibilities, we may always there\nexpect to find the flowers of love blooming in the greatest\nabundance. New countries, then, are not as favorable to the\ndevelopment of these feelings as older ones are, and the moral\nhavoc in such countries is, usually, very great. But, apart from\nthe rough circumstances of a new country, which have upon the\nfeelings a hardening effect, the mental sensibilities are greatly\ninfluenced by scenery, and by the natural effect of air,\ntemperature, etc. These refined elements are just as much a part\nof the mental food on which we feed as anything else is. All our\nideas of comfort, of beauty, and of healthiness do not come from\nartificial surroundings and from the frame-work of society which\nwe may have constructed. Mental emotions are excited in us by\nscenery; and that of the particular kind to which we have been\nused, though in reality it may, to some extent, be barren and\nbleak, is to us the most charming. The appearance of things in\nnature is indissolubly associated with our earlier lives,\nmemories, incidents, occurrences, and sentiments; and so we, in\nthe very nature of things, must love this earlier record better\nthan any subsequent one which we may make. It necessarily follows\nthat we love those peculiar features in nature the best which are\nthe closest associated with our earlier experiences of life.\n{664}\nThe analyzing spirit will detect, at a slight glance, even the\nminute and particular differences between the outward features of\ndifferent localities. The eye of the student of nature will at\nonce perceive the smallest shades of difference in the leaves of\ntrees of the same class in different localities. To the sensitive\nmind the rain, even, of different localities will have a\ndifferent spirit, and its falling will make a different\nimpression upon the mind. We are a wonderfully constructed\nbattery, and the effect of these manifold things in nature upon\nthe organism cannot be estimated, or correctly judged of, by any\nbut those who, by living in new and strange countries, have had\nfull experience of it. The chemistry of the soul is more\nmarvellous than that of flesh and matter, and the effect of\nscenery, of air, of the spirit of the air, and of all the vast\nand grand combinations of matter on the brain, and on the life\nprinciples of man, cannot be judged of until, to him, some\nforeign country has written its strange history on his organism,\nand he discovers that, though in reality he is the same\nindividual, still he does not see nature through the same eyes\nthrough which he was wont to see it, and does not feel its\nrefreshing spirit as he was wont to feel it. These are some of\nthe sad mental impressions made by great changes from one distant\nlocality to another. Could anything be more hurtful or injurious\nto the human spirit? Could anything be more obliterative of\nmorality, than not to respect and act out, every day of our\nlives, its sacred lessons in close connection with those old\nschool associations with which we linked life the fondest, and\nthrough which we enjoyed it the dearest? The early dawn as it\ncame to us shaded by the hills and the forests common to the\nlocalities in which we were born and reared; our parting with the\ngreat companion of the day, influenced by the same surroundings;\nthe familiar notes of the night-birds common to our localities;\nthe peculiarities of the very gusts of wind there; the peculiar\nhaze of the atmosphere; the methods in which the very trees droop\ntheir branches; these, these are all familiar scenes and things\nto us all, and are, we may say, the school-house associates of\nour earlier lives, when our spirits were first learning the great\nlessons of life--those lessons under which life in us was\norganized and under which it has spread its richest and its\ngrandest panorama. Change these localities and these scenes, and\nwe feel as though we had parted with dear friends whose\nassociation is necessary to our lives, and for years afterward,\nthey form, in our minds, an ever present picture of their\nappearance. These familiar scenes are the old oaken trees, so to\nspeak, under whose umbrageous bowers we learned our first lessons\nof virtue and of life; and we cannot give them up, and part from\nthem, without also surrendering some of the sacred lessons which,\nin their midst and in their hallowed shadow, we learned. But,\nthroughout, the parting with home, and going into new localities,\nmakes a new era in our lives. The village boy, who is the object\nof charity, and who has no ties to bind him but those of the\nguardian public, feels it. He even feels, when he parts with the\ndear scenes of his nativity, almost as though he had taken leave\nof the very God, whom he had been taught to worship, and that he\nlay launched out upon a great wide ocean of uncertainties, there\nto hunt for another God, and other friends. How must it, then, be\nwith those who are a part of the household and the inheritance of\nhuman affections? Mother, father, brothers and sisters are\ngathered for the sad parting.\n{665}\nTears of deep grief fall thick and fast. There is, indeed,\noccasion for them. The heir of the possession, or the mate of\nfraternal friendship and love, is about to become a stranger. He\nis about to seek a home! (ah! sad word, in this connection,) it\nmay be in the midst of olive-groves and of vineyards--away from\nthe home of his inheritance, and the family are summoned to\nbemoan their loss. Years are to pass between him and them before\nthey meet again, and when they do meet they are to each other\nstrangers. This is indeed a sad picture. Can the growth and the\nbuilding up of \"a new country\" compensate for it? I say not. I\nsay that the planting of empire even, in the name and under the\ntitles of the home government, it may be in some grandly tropical\ncountry, will not repay for these losses and for these\nsacrifices. Political grandeur is not the only object to be\nattained in this world. In fact, it is but an epitome of the\ngrand and the beautiful objects of life. The comforts of home,\nand its solid connections, are worth more to us than all the\noffices in the world could be without them. And how few are there\nwho nowadays appreciate and enjoy the comforts of home, even in\ntheir own natural communities, who are weighed down with the\nshackles and the plunder of office? How much more deplorable,\nthen, the fate of the poor office-holder at a distance from his\nnatural home, and those associates of his early life, found\nnowhere outside of home, which make life agreeable, and give to\nit its charms and its zest? His fate must indeed be pitiable and\ndeplorable in the extreme. It is only, then, viewed generally, in\nthe interests \"of the public,\" (a most false \"public interest,\")\nthat we heretofore have been enabled to find so much heroism in\nthe spirit of venture and of distant emigration that the almost\nentire press of the country have lauded it, and have praised it\n\"as a spirit of public enterprise;\" which praise has done much\ntoward exciting in the people of the world that restlessness and\nfeverish spirit of excitement, which has led so many men and\nfamilies to leave their natural attachments, and to seek location\neither in foreign and distant countries, or in States, at least,\nremote from those in which they were reared. These removals have\nalways, when viewed in a moral and social light, been more\nproductive of harm to the parties concerned than of good. Avoid\nthem, in the future, would be our earnest advice to all good\npeople. The best and greatest men of the world have invariably\nstaid at home.\n\nBut are not the boundaries of civilization to be extended, may be\nasked? Most assuredly they are; but only slowly and by degrees,\nlike waves as they spread and enlarge from a centre of disturbed\nwaters. This is, undoubtedly, the true method of enlarging the\narea of settlement and of \"civilization.\"\n\nThe parties immediately concerned are not alone the parties\ninjured by distant removals. They affect, more or less, the world\nat large. The bad morals, engendered by innumerable people\nleaving their homes, where the sediments of society have settled\nto the bottom, and repairing to new and remote localities where\nthere is no strongly constructed web of society, are not confined\nalone to the localities where the social connections are loose;\nbut they spread like some terrible plague, and seize upon the\nminds of people of the denser and older communities.\n{666}\nA reciprocal interchange in morals is finally established between\nthese remote and unlike communities, until the tone of the one is\nmeasurably improved, while that of the other is gradually\nreduced, and made worse by the interchange than it was before.\nThese are some of the damaging effects of \"new settlements,\" at a\ndistance from the older ones. The law perfected is to be found\nonly in the close and tight connections of society, with all of\nthe social interests well defined, and with social rights so\nclear that one person will not interfere with those of another.\nThis degree of social security and comfort is the perfection of\nthe law; and no civilized government has any interest in\nupholding a system of \"settlement\" and of colonization which\nimpairs the strength of the social structure.\n\nSociety has been built under the guardianship of the church, and\nany system either of \"settlement,\" or of politics, which\nthreatens the integrity of society, is against the interests of\ngovernment, and equally against the interests of the Christian\nreligion. Government is the secular means which we employ to\nenforce those wholesome moral inspirations of the church which\nhave constructed society on sure foundations. Anything which\nattacks this wholesome system is at war with the Christian\nreligion, and, consequently, against the higher civilization of\nthe age. The sacred affinities and congenialities of home should\nnot be disturbed, and society debauched, by a mania amongst the\npeople for separations and removals. \"Those whom God hath joined\ntogether let no man put asunder,\" applies also to the firm\nwelding together of those whose lots he has made similar by\nnature, as it does to that holy matrimonial alliance by which a\nman takes to himself a consort and a mate, and by which a woman\ntakes to herself a husband. That government is not truly and\nreliably built on the foundations of the Christian religion which\ndisregards any of these sound maxims of social life, and which\nmakes provision for scattering those members of society who are\nthe most natural to each other, and which holds out to them the\nvery strongest inducements to scatter and to form new\nassociations. Such is certainly not a healthy law of society, and\nis in direct contravention of the great natural order. We must\npay attention, in this as in all other things, to the\nassociations made by nature. It is a monstrosity to suppose that\nthere is not power enough in nature to adapt those to each other\nwho were born together. It is a faith in this sort of power which\nassociates people together in family groups, and which upholds\nthe vast system of paternal and fraternal relations established\nthroughout the world. If it were not for the belief in the\nperfect natural adaptation to each other of persons born of the\nsame parents, we would not have so strong a system for rearing\nthem together, and for imposing upon those who are responsible\nfor their being so large a duty to keep them together whilst\ntaking care of them. Nature, it is true, would suggest this duty,\nbut society has strengthened it. It is the perfect fitness,\nnaturalness, and adaptation of beings for each other, who were\nborn together, which makes the family system strong, and which\nimposes upon parents the moral duty of keeping their offspring\ntogether while they take care of them; by which means the\nbeautiful and sacred relations of brother and sister are\nestablished in something more than in the mere name. But we will\nnot discuss a proposition which is so plain. It is not necessary\nfor us to do it. The main feature which, in this connection, it\nis the most necessary for us to notice, is the necessity for some\nsystem by which violent separations between members of the same\ncommunity and family may be avoided, and by which society may be\nstrengthened in its foundations.\n{667}\nFor, if these separations tend, as they most assuredly do, to the\nweakening of the family ties, it is necessary for us to take some\nstrong measures in order to bind families more closely together;\nor else, the whole system of society, through these very means of\nneglect, will ultimately be disorganized, and will go to pieces.\nIndeed, we are rather verging on such a condition in this country\nnow. We have what we call homes, it is true; but we now have\nreally very little of the true family system. Nearly one half of\nthe time of the younger members of the family--if not more--is\nnot now spent, in the great majority of cases, under the paternal\nroof; and there is now in American society a perfect mania for\nbeing anywhere else except at home, and there may be said to be\nno family law. This is certainly a most deplorable state of\nthings, and if pushed to further extremes, will ultimately\ndisorganize society altogether. Whenever that may be done,\ngovernment will then be impossible. So it behooves the public men\nof this country to look about for some remedy for this most\ndistressing evil. Where can it be found? is the important inquiry\nof to-day. Our opinion is, that emigration, the restless spirit\nof movement, which our system of legislation has developed, is\nthe fruitful source of the evil, and consequently, to correct it,\nwe must change our migratory habits and policy. We have organized\ntoo many \"territories,\" and have encouraged the building of too\nmany railroads in far distant and remote regions from the centres\nof settlement, thereby causing our people to emigrate and to move\nabout from one place to another. We have not sufficiently\nencouraged stability in the people. We have pursued a course of\nlegislation which has made them restless, speculative, and\nventuresome. In this way we have not developed the real wealth\nwhich we might have developed had our people staid at home, and\npreserved their even, temperate avocations. But the material\ninjury done by this system of removals has not been the principal\nevil of it by any means. Society has been unhinged by it. The\nstrong attachments of home have been violently rent asunder, and\nby that means, our people have been compelled to look for their\namusements, their enjoyments, and their entertainments, more in\npublic than in private. This has had upon their dispositions,\ntheir habits, and their morals a most unbalancing effect, until\nnow very little indeed is held by them to be any longer secured.\nThese are the gigantic evils of the day with which we now have to\nbattle, and the important question of the hour is, How are they\nto be met?\n\nThe question is much more easily asked than answered. A huge evil\nis upon us, however, and we must devise ways of ridding ourselves\nof it. Indeed, we do but develop the strength of the human, by\ndevising means for the overthrow--the complete overthrow--of all\nof our evil conditions. No condition, then, however bad, may be\nsupposed to be too gigantic for our efforts. Let us but keep\nsteadily in view the great and important aims of life, and we\ncertainly can make all else succumb to them. In working out the\ngreat problem of life, we must expect often to have to go back,\nand work it over again. We must often undo much of the work which\nwe may suppose ourselves to have done, and must do it over again,\nin order to avoid errors and to correct mistakes.\n{668}\nIt may be a hard task for us to perform; but nevertheless, we\nmust do it. We know that there is a common error that in national\naffairs God is at the helm, and that we cannot steer wrong; that\neverything that has been done in the national \"destiny\" has been\nrightly done, and that God is certainly with us there in every\nstep that we may take. This is certainly a most fatal error. God\nis no more with us in our national course than he is in our\nindividual business, and in this we very often find it necessary\nto retrace our steps, and to correct errors. If we were to accept\nevery individual misfortune, and every individual piece of bad\nmanagement, as the direct work of God, and should make no effort\nto correct it, our private fortunes would be in a most deplorable\ncondition. Without, then, being irreverent, we must recognize God\nin ourselves, in our national as well as in our individual\nmatters, and must understand that good results are invariably the\noffspring of good motives and of good efforts, and that bad\nresults are invariably the offspring of bad motives and bad\nefforts. We must understand this, and we must make results the\nguide and the criterion of divine will and divine favor. If\nresults are good, we must suppose that God favors them; if they\nare bad, we must suppose that he disapproves them; and, as we\nhonor him, we must set about correcting them. This, in my\njudgment, is the true criterion by which to judge of the divine\nwill and the divine favor. Under this rule, then, we are at\nliberty, and we are expected to scrutinize every act of national\nconduct, and to see whether or not it is full of the seeds of\ngood results; and if we find that it is not, then, at whatever\ncost to us the thing may have been done, to expunge it, and\ncorrect the error. This is sound national wisdom, as it would be\nsound individual wisdom. We have, then, already, too many\nrailroads extending into far, remote regions of our country,\ndistant from the centres of settlement, inviting our people to\nleave their homes and their families, and to emigrate in quest of\nfortune and of new honors. These invitations by our government\nare like so many snares set by the tempter to tempt us into sin\nand wickedness. I would say that all of the sacred interests of\nsociety would dictate to us the policy of abandoning the building\nof these roads, and equally to abandon the policy of organizing\n\"new territories,\" to thereby tempt our people to hunt for new\nfields of \"settlement.\" Let us make that strong which we already\nhave. Let us refine and civilize as we go, and let us make but\nslow haste in extending the boundaries of our \"settlements.\" This\nwould seem, to our mind, to be the suggestion of wisdom. We must\nnot conclude, either, that because money has been spent, and\nlabor has been performed, that therefore we may not abandon\naltogether huge enterprises of \"settlement\" which have already\nbeen begun, and that our people now in remote \"settlements\" may\nnot, in a great measure, return to their former homes. Such a\ncourse, undertaken on a large scale, might be productive of the\nbest results, and perhaps, in the course of time, would be. But\nwe must not anticipate too much. We must reach this proposition\nby degrees. We must, in a matter so grave as this, be, as in the\nprocess of settlement, slow. We must not proceed with it too\nfast.\n\nThe degrees of civilization are remote from each other. Indeed,\ngovernment would be of but little use if it were not productive\nof the best results, where it is applied in the best spirit and\nunder the soundest administration.\n{669}\nWe cannot, from the very nature of the circumstances, expect\nthese results for it in distant and remote regions from the\ncentres of settlement, where the population is sparse, and where,\non account of the formidable difficulties of a new country and\nnew fields of labor, there is but little time on the part of the\npeople to devote to social improvements. These are difficulties,\ncertainly, to be considered, in estimating the scale of\ncivilization of a people. We naturally look for a much healthier\ntone in an old community than we do in a new one. In an old\ncommunity there is a much larger surface from which to choose an\noccupation, and the various interests of society are much better\nconnected than they are in the new communities. These are\nimportant things to be considered by the adventurer after a\nhome--if so paradoxical a thing is to be allowed as that a home\nmay be found by adventure! In fact, the thing is impossible.\nAdventure can never make a home. A home is the product of\ncontinuing possession, and of careful culture. It is not\nnecessarily a particular house, or a particular piece of land,\nwhich has been in the same hands for generations, which makes a\nhome. But it is a continuous abiding of the same family and its\nmembers for several generations in the same neighborhood, the\nsame locality, which makes, in the fullest sense, a home. They\nare then a part--incorporated as such by nature--of the community\nand of the locality in which they may chance to dwell. It is\nthis, more than the continuous possession of a particular house\nor a particular piece of ground, which makes home. The woods, the\nstreams, the outer walls of nature to which people have been\naccustomed, must have been the same, or similar and kindred ones,\nfor at least several generations, in order to make for them a\nhome. Where this has been the case, there nature is fully\nincorporated in those beings. There is not, then, in their own\npeculiar locality, a leaf, or a tree, or a flower, or a bird,\nthat is not fully understood, and interiorly possessed by them.\nThrough the manifold processes of nature, they, in this time,\nhave made acquaintance with things in nature, and have become a\nmuch stronger part of the creation. Any traveller will tell us\nthat, when he first begins to wander, things in nature at a\ndistance from home appear strange to him, and that he never does\nbecome as well acquainted with them as he is with those\ncorresponding things which he has left behind, that have been not\nonly his, but also the familiar associates of his parents before\nhim. This, we will venture to say, will be the testimony of all\ntravellers. There is, in this testimony, a great lesson to be\nlearned by us. It is the lesson that, if we want to be a\npart--absolutely a part--of creation, so as to have immediately\nunder our control, at all times, a commanding sense and\nconsciousness of our power in nature, and over it, as a part of\nit, we must stay where our organisms command the elements the\nbest, and where, by long residence, they have become the strong\nmasters of things in nature. This is certainly no new philosophy.\nIf it has not been fully heretofore eliminated as a philosophy,\nin this form, it certainly has in other forms, just as\nsubstantial and far more practical. What are our feelings\nconnected with our return to the earth but a confirmation of this\ndoctrine? Every man who has a soul in him loves his own native\nsoil; and when the solemn hour of dissolution approaches, he\nfeels, as one of the last of his earthly hopes, that he would\nlike to be gathered to the graves of his fathers, in the land of\nhis and of their wanderings.\n{670}\nThis is an event which is capable of testing the matter, and of\nproving the attractions which our earliest homes have for our\nspirits. When all nature is dissolving in us, we naturally look\nfor support to those localities where life was organized in us,\nand which have fortified us the strongest with those forces on\nwhich we must rely the most to ward off dissolution. Thus our\nminds and our affections are naturally carried back to the land\nof our birth, in a way to make us love it above all other spots\nof earth, and in a way to cause us to desire it as our last\nresting-place. If these last trials do not show to the human\nspirit--drawing upon all of its resources for support--where its\nchief strength in nature lies, whether in the new home, or the\nold one, then perhaps our theory that we lose many of the\nessential elements of life by migrating, and by going to a great\ndistance from the home of our nativity, may not, indeed, be a\nsound one. But we must take the case of the normal spirit to\nprove it. The moods of the spirit that has been debauched and\nmade common; that has lost the love of its sanctuaries by\ndishonorable and aimless wanderings, are not a fair test of our\nphilosophy. We must take some spirit who has gone into a distant\nland seeking fortune, with the love of home in his heart, and\nwith the responsibilities of family upon him; and let the trial\nof dissolution come upon him, even after years of absence, and\nsee if his last thoughts are not directed to the home of his\nchildhood, and if the last appeals which he makes in his mind to\nnature to save him are not addressed to the genius, the\nlocalities, the scenes, the cherished associations, of his\nearlier home. This must be so. It is unavoidable. The cool stream\nfrom which we drank in our boyhood thirst often has power, when\nvividly called to mind, to abate the rage of some terrible fever;\nand the maternal hand, as we see it in imagination laid upon us,\nlong years, even, after that hand has been stilled, has power to\nsoothe us. Thus fancy makes medicine from the past, and the\nchosen spots of the spirit's earlier wanderings are the places to\nwhich she goes for her healing arts.\n\nThe maternal breast has attractions for us as long as we live.\nIts sorrows are our sorrows, and it is upon the same principle\nand by the same laws of correspondence that we love our earlier\nhomes the best, and that they have over our morals a stronger\ncontrol and a more salutary influence than any other society or\ncommunity can have. In fact, a removal from our own community and\nour own home is too often looked upon as a license to do as we\nplease, and is interpreted as a relaxing of the social traces in\nwhich we had been bound. It is not worth while, at present, to\nexplore the philosophy of this fact, but it is a fact, and we\ntherefore deal with it accordingly. We know that the white man is\nthe representative of civilization, and that he carries with him\na Christian inheritance wherever he goes. We know that in any\nsituation in which he may be placed, he will strive to ally\nhimself with his God. We know that he has fixed the cross of his\nworship upon many a bleak mountain of this land, and that he has\nplanted the vineyard of peace in the remote regions of the\nwilderness. We know that he has established government, erected\nschools, built churches, and planted the seeds of society in far\nand distant regions from the centres of civilization. We know all\nthis, and yet we know, or believe, that if this same potent mass\nof human beings, thus scattered and toiling separate and apart\nfrom each other, had held together under the strong covenants of\na powerful society, and had advanced in a body to occupy and\npossess the land, holding together at every step, the rainbow of\nGod's favor would have spanned over them in such luminous light\nthat we of this continent would now have been a strong and\npowerful and united people, in the enjoyment of a civilization\nand in the possession of a purity of social life neither enjoyed\nnor possessed by any other people on the earth.\n\n{671}\n\nIt may be supposed by some that this position assumes too much;\nbut our own opinion is, that it may be brought almost down to a\ndemonstration. Such a social wreck as follows the violent\nsegregation of members of the same family or community, to form\nin new communities, must be followed by a corresponding civil\nprostration. But wild and incoherent ideas of government will be\nentertained, and the strength of the masses in such communities,\nor in old ones, either, that have been much affected by these\nseparations, may, upon any wild and great excitement, although in\nreality springing but from trivial causes, be organized to\noverturn rather than to sustain a government. Without intending\nin the least to be sectional, or even to verge, in the slightest\ndegree, on the brink of politics, we will venture to say that the\nhistory of events in this country within the last few years will\nsustain this position. Too much liberty--such as is usually\nenjoyed in new communities free from proper social\nrestraints--confuses the reason. Law, as a centre of action, is\nthe only safeguard of any people; and to be law, it must be\nfirmly planted in constitutions beyond the reach of the passions\nof the populace. To maintain law as a centre, there must not be\ntoo many flying forces connected with it at a distance from those\nregular and steady communities which have developed it. For,\nunless the system of law is equally developed, and the structure\nof society (upon which the law is founded) is equally perfected\nin every part of a country where the central source of labor is\nequally controlled by law-givers from every part, we must expect\na general deterioration of morals, corresponding to the mixture\nof good and bad elements which are the active forces of the\nlawmaking power. Too many \"territories,\" and too many new States\nat a distance from the older communities, tend, in our judgment,\nto unsettle the morals of the country, and, through the morals,\nthe laws, and ultimately through the laws, the government itself.\nWe have divided our people into fractions too fast. It would have\nbeen better for our own, and for the interests of humanity, if we\nhad held more firmly together in better connected and more\ncontiguous communities. Our people would not then have had the\nsame wild ideas about \"law\" that many of them have to-day, and\nthe better united interests of the country would have made a more\nloving and united people.\n\nUnity, in the affairs of men, is certainly a great desideratum.\nImmense geographical and social divisions between people usually\nproduce a spirit of alienation, and, in many instances, of\nabsolute hostility. Mere navigable streams of water and railroad\nconnections cannot so connect a people at the distance of many\nhundreds of miles from each other as to make them but one people.\nThe nearest possible approach that can be made to a close social\nand sympathetic connection between peoples who are separated from\neach other by so much space, is to bridge the space over by\ndensely packed masses of human beings, and then we establish\nlines of mental and social sympathy which will make them but one\npeople. This is the only method, aside from the bond of religious\nunity, by which a close and hearty cooperation can be secured\nbetween people even of one blood and living under the same laws.\nThe human bridge connecting together remote parts of a country is\nthe most complete.\n\n{672}\n\nThe true policy, then, is not to plant colonies or \"settlements\"\nat distances from the centres of settlement, and to bridge over,\nwith human beings, the intervening space, by degrees. But on the\ncontrary, for us to advance in a body, closely connected, and to\ncarry, unbroken, our civilization with us as we go. There will\nthen be no spasmodic disturbances of the law. The wild passions\nof the wild tribes who roam our borders will not then be\nincorporated (as is now too often the case) by our people, who go\nin fragmentary bodies to great distances from the solid\nsettlements, and there make their dwellings amidst the rude\ntimbers of nature. There would be, under this plan of settlement,\nan equipoise and a balance. It would be regular, steady, and not\nas now fragmentary. The arrangement of the State divisions--as a\nform of government--would not, in the least, be interfered with.\nWe only propose that, instead of disjointed masses of human\nbeings going off by themselves at great distances from the main\nsettlements, people hold, as they go, more together as a body,\nand that we encourage wild schemes of emigration less. They have\nhad upon our people, upon our laws, and upon society, a most\ndisastrous and unsettling effect. The policy which we propose\ndoes not interfere with commerce or with healthy travel, but is\nonly against the wild spirit of emigration which has seized upon\nthe world, and which moves those not engaged in commerce to seek\nnew homes.\n\nThe charms of nativity will be greatly increased by educating the\nmind to look upon our earlier homes as the theatres in which we\nare to act our parts in life. It will develop in us a more\nconformatory spirit in life, and will secure for us the\nmeasureless blessings of a compact and united society. A\ndifferent training and a different practice are the fruitful\nsources of those wild idiosyncrasies in society which teach us\nthat all men should be to us alike, and that there are no sacred\nfountains of the affections where the faith of the heart ever\nbeams bright, and where the hallowed altars of love and\nconfidence have established their holiest worship. In a word, the\nhome-training, continuing through a life, and ending, for the\nmost part, where begun, that is, under the genius of the same\nstate laws, and amongst people of a kind, is indispensable to\nhappiness, and to the natural enjoyment of life. It is equally,\nalas! indispensable to a full understanding of the genius of law\nand to the development of that conservative spirit in us which\nwill teach us to value the blessings of social life far too much\nfor us ever to interfere in their sacred enjoyment by other\npeople. The man of home, then, as against the emigrant and the\nwanderer, is a man of peace, a man of law, a man of religion, and\na man of society. He does not go with his rifle to destroy, nor\nwith his individual will to make it the law of the surrounding\ncountry; but he is content to stay at home, and he accepts the\ndevelopments of society there as he finds them, and labors\nconscientiously, when improvement is needed, to improve them; but\nalways within the boundaries of those barriers which Christianity\nand conscience have set up as the landmarks of his labors.\n{673}\nIf we would preserve our stability, then, as a people, and make\nour government and society what they ought to be, we must change\nour wandering habits, and must cultivate the flowers of home-love\nas the only sure guarantee of peace and happiness. We must not\nallow our wandering ambitions to stretch away into other domains;\nbut we must put upon ourselves the bridle of wisdom, and must be\ncontent to people our fields at home with the laborers which we\nnow offer to other lands, to other climes, and to other states.\nThis policy will make us _truly_ great.\n\n----------\n\n      A Mother's Prayer.\n\n  The regent of a goodly realm,\n      A sovereign wise and fair,\n  Gazed fondly on her youthful son,\n      And breathed her earnest prayer;\n  The one wish of her loving heart,\n      Her ceaseless, solemn thought,\n  Sole boon her love had craved for him,\n      The only prize she sought.\n\n  Was it new conquests? blood-bought gems\n      To deck his kingly hand?\n  Fair realms by cruel triumphs wed\n      Unto his rightful land?\n  Rich trappings? robes of royal state?\n      A fawning courtier throng?\n  Or minstrels' ringing lays, to pour\n      The flatteries of song?\n\n  Nay, nay, no earthly leaven base,\n      No worldly dross could cling\n  Unto that pure, maternal prayer\n      For France's youthful king.\n  'My precious son! more dear than life,\n      More prized than aught on earth,\n  In all this false and fleeting world\n      My only gift of worth!\n\n{674}\n\n  \"Oh! loved and treasured as thou art,\n      Far rather would I weep\n  Above the bier where thou wert laid\n      In thy last, dreamless sleep,\n  Than live to know this form of thine\n      Held, foully shrined within,\n  A tarnished gem, a soul defiled,\n      By _e'en one mortal sin._.\"\n\n  Well answered was that mother's prayer:\n      No foul, polluting taint\n  E'er marred the white and shining soul\n      Of France's royal saint.\n  His pure baptismal robe of grace\n      Unstained through life he wore;\n  The lily sceptre of the just\n      King Louis brightly bore.\n\n  O Christian matron! in thy heart\n      This lesson fair enshrine;\n  And let the blest, heroic prayer\n      Of holy Blanche be thine.\n  For what are all the gifts of earth,\n      The charms of form and face,\n  If the immortal soul hath lost\n      Its bright, baptismal grace?\n\n  Ay! what avails the wealth of worlds,\n      If, lured by syren vice,\n  God's heir hath sold his birthright fair,\n      His only \"pearl of price\"?\n  In vain may proud ambition grasp\n      Vast realms to tyrants given,\n  If from his guilty hand hath passed\n      The heritage of heaven.\n\n-------\n{675}\n\n        Two Months In Spain\n    During The Late Revolution.\n\n\nMADRID.\n\nMonday, Oct. 19.\n\nWe visit the \"Museo\" to-day--the richest picture-gallery in the\nworld. Ten Raphaels, forty-six Murillos, sixty-two Rubens,\nsixty-four Velasquez, forty-three Titians, etc. But even\nRaphael's \"Perla,\" (that holy family called the Pearl,) even his\n\"Spasmo de Silicia,\" (Christ falling beneath the cross,) even\nGuido's exquisite Magdalen and Spagnoletto's \"Jacob's Dream,\"\neven these great pictures sink to nothingness beside Murillo's\n\"Annunciation,\" his \"Adoration of the Shepherds,\" \"Eleazar at the\nWell,\" \"The Martyrdom of St. Andrew,\" the \"Divine Shepherd,\" the\nInfant Saviour giving St. John to drink from a shell, called \"Los\nNi\u00f1os de la Concha,\" the \"Vision of St. Bernard,\" and those\nwonderful \"Conceptions\" which embody \"all that is most sublime\nand ecstatic in devotion and in the representation of divine\nlove.\"\n\nThe more one sees of Murillo, the more one is convinced that he\nis the greatest painter of the world. Others may have points of\nexcellence superior to his; but his subjects are so full of piety\nand tenderness, so fascinating in coloring, and appeal so at once\nto the heart and the common sense of mankind, that they please at\nonce the learned and the unlearned. The Spaniards say of him that\nhe painted \"Con leche y sangre,\" with milk and blood, so\nwonderful are his flesh tints.\n\nThe \"Spasmo de Silicia\" is so called from the convent for which\nit was painted, \"St. Maria della Spasima,\" in Palermo. \"The\nVirgin's Trance on the way to Calvary\" is considered by some\ncritics only second to the \"Transfiguration.\"\n\nThe \"Perla\" is so named because Philip IV., beholding it for the\nfirst time, exclaimed, \"This is the pearl of my pictures.\" It\nbelonged to the Duke of Mantua, was bought by Charles I., and was\nsold with his other pictures by the \"tasteless puritans and\nreformers.\"\n\n\nTuesday, Oct. 20.\n\nSpend another hour in the \"Museo,\" looking at the pictures of the\nFlemish and Dutch schools--fifty-three Teniers, twenty-two Van\nEycks, fifty-four Breughels, twenty-three Snyders, ten\nWouvermans, etc. A wonderful gallery, so rich in great masters.\n\nWe then go to see the \"House of the Congress,\" which is\nhandsomely decorated. The ministers' bench is here blue, while\nthe others are red.\n\nThe library is small but very handsome. From this we go to the\ninteresting artillery museum, and then to see the coach-houses\nand stables of the palace, begun by Charles III. and finished by\nFerdinand VII. One felt more than ever sorry for the poor\nfugitive queen, at sight of all this majesty. Beautiful Arabian\nand Andalusian horses and mules, over a hundred carriages of\nevery hue and shape, from the black, cumbrous thing in which poor\nJeanne la Folle carried about the coffin of her handsome husband,\nto the beautiful modern carriage in which the lovely Infanta went\nso lately to her bridal! All had a personal sort of interest; but\nmost touching of all was the sight of the little carriages and\nperambulators which bore evidence of having been long used by the\nroyal children.\n\n{676}\n\nThe state carriages are very grand, many of them gifts from\ncrowned heads: one from the first Napoleon; another from the\npresent emperor to Queen Isabella; and a handsome plain English\ncoach from Queen Victoria to her majesty. But even more than the\ncarriages do the saddles and embroidered housings, the plumes,\nand harness, and trappings, and liveries, give one an idea of\nthis splendor-loving court, especially those belonging to the\ndays of Charles III. and Philip V. Above all these stood the\ncrowned lion, with his feet on two worlds, significant of the\ngreatness of Spain. And where is she, so lately the mistress of\nall this grandeur? The people told us that there had been\nthirteen thousand people dependent upon the queen's privy purse;\nthat she had a school in the palace for all the children of her\nservants; and that there was no end to her generosity and\nkindness; and that, had she not been away, the revolution would\nnever have occurred.\n\nAnd just here we meet a long line of troops, horse, foot, and\nartillery, who proved to be the men who had fought so bravely for\ntheir queen at Alcolea, and at such fearful odds. The men of\nNovaliches!\n\nAnd no man cried, \"God bless them!\" as they passed, weary and\ndispirited, through the streets; their enemies would not do them\nhonor, and their friends dared not.\n\nWhen we reached the hotel, General Prim was making a speech to a\nragged, dirty mob, who were shouting for \"Libertad.\" He told them\nit was his saint's day--that they need not work, he would give\nthem money. So, after distributing some coppers, he got into a\nfine carriage and drove off. While we struggled to get in, one of\nour party heard some of the poor women exclaim softly, \"Our poor\nqueen!\" and then the usual piteous exclamation, \"Ay Dios mios!\"\n\"Ay Dios mios!\"\n\n\n\nWednesday, Oct. 21.\n\nGo this morning to \"finish\" the pictures in the Museo--if such a\nthing could be done--but the more one looks, the more one feels\nit impossible ever to finish with them.\n\nThe sculpture-gallery (gallery of Isabella II.) is very handsome,\nbut contains only a few antiques of interest and a beautiful\nmodern statue of St. John of God carrying a sick man out of his\nburning hospital. Next we go to the gallery of the Belli Arti,\nwhere, among other good pictures, are four of Murillo's, and\nfirst of these \"St. Elizabeth of Hungary washing the Lepers,\" one\nof the greatest pictures in the world--by some considered\nMurillo's very best. It was painted for the \"Caritad\" of Seville,\nfor which its subject made it peculiarly appropriate. The\nbeautiful saint is the centre of a group of nine persons plainly\ndressed in black, an apron before her, the crown upon her head,\nand above and around a soft luminous halo seems to beam from her\nwhole person. Her white hands are washing the head of a ragged\nboy who leans over the basin, and writhes with pain. A lovely\nyoung girl holds a pitcher, another the ointments, and an old\nwoman with spectacles peers between them. In front of the\npicture, a beggar-man is taking off the dirty bandage from his\nleg, ready for his turn to be washed. On the other side, a\nwithered old crone, with stick in hand, gazes eagerly on the\nsaint, who speaks with her. A lame beggar on crutches is behind,\nand in the distance is the palace and a dinner-table upon the\nterrace, surrounded by beggars, upon whom the queen waits,\nshowing her charity in another form.\n{677}\nAn artist who was copying the picture made us remark the\nwonderful variety and harmony in the figure, the tender pity of\nthe saint's expression, the natural and graceful grouping, and\nthe soft light over all. Many critics find the sores too truly\npainted to be agreeable to look upon; but (as some Protestant\ntraveller says of it) \"her saint-like charity ennobles these\nhorrors, on which her woman's eye dares not look; but her royal\nhand does not refuse to heal, and how gently! The service of love\nknows no degradation.\"\n\nIn another room are two semicircular pictures, taken also from\nSeville, (from the church of St. Maria de la Blanca,)\nrepresenting the legend of the founding of the great church of\nSt. Maria Maggiore in Rome, in the year 360.\n\nThe first picture represents the \"Dream\" of the Roman patrician\nand his wife, in which he sees the Blessed Virgin in the heavens,\npointing out the spot where the church shall be built--upon which\nspot the snow will fall in August. In the companion picture, the\nfounder and his wife are kneeling before the pope relating the\nvision, while in the dim distance is seen a procession advancing\nto the appointed place.\n\nComing from the Museo, we go to see the palace of the Duke of\nMedina Coeli, one of the richest nobles of Spain and one of the\nhighest in rank. A regal establishment, with a greater air of\ncomfort than prevails in most palaces. Gardens and\npicture-galleries, a theatre, suites of magnificent rooms--one in\nrose-colored satin, with walls hung in gray silk.\n\n\nThursday, Oct. 22.\n\nSet out for Toledo; pass the palace of \"Aranjuez,\" the St. Cloud\nof Spain, as la Grandja, built by Philip V., is its Versailles.\nWe mistake our way, and are left on the plains of la Mancha in a\nmiserable \"posada,\" or rather a \"venta,\" (the lower grade of\ninn,) where we remain all day with nothing visible save one of\nDon Quixote's windmills, which we are sorely tempted to battle\nwith after the fashion of that redoubtable hero. How truly it has\nbeen said of this sterile-looking country, the \"old Castile of la\nMancha,\" by a witty traveller--\" the country is brown, the man is\nbrown, his jacket, his mantle, his wife, his _stew_, his\nmule, his house--all partake of the color of the saffron, which\nis profusely cultivated, and which enters into the composition of\nhis food as well as his complexion.\"\n\nAt length we are cheered by the arrival of a lovely Spanish woman\nand her daughter, who are returning from their estate near by,\nand come, like ourselves, to wait the train for Madrid.\n\nThe daughter had been educated in the Sacr\u00e9 Coeur Convent near\nMadrid. Spoke French well. She told us in her lively way that,\nthough these plains looked so brown and desert-like, they brought\ngood crops and \"put money in the pocket,\" and that back from the\nroads were fine plantations of olive and vine.\n\n\n\nSaturday, Oct. 24.\n\nSome Spanish friends come to show us some of the hospitals and\nother great charities of Madrid, which numbers forty in all.\nFirst, to the general hospital, attended by the Sisters of\nCharity--a city in itself, where are over eighteen hundred sick\npoor. It covers an immense extent of ground, and, like all\nSpanish hospitals, has shady courts, and gardens, and corridors\nrunning around the courts. All was clean and comfortable, the\nsisters tenderly feeding the sick children and old people, and\nreading or praying beside the beds.\n\n{678}\n\nFrom this we go to the most interesting of all, called the\n\"Maison de la Providence,\" supported by the ladies of rank in\nMadrid, and under the care of the French Sisters of Charity, who\nwear the familiar \"cornette.\" Here, besides _enfants\ntrouv\u00e9s_ and orphans, they have (or had) six hundred poor\nchildren, taken out of the streets. Many of these are kept for\nthe day, the parents seeking them at night: all of them are\ntaught gratuitously. We were shown a room in which forty of the\nsmallest (not one over two years) had been put to bed for the\nnoonday sleep, perfect little cherubs, side by side, on the\ntiniest and whitest of beds, with fringed curtains above them.\nThe sister opened the window-shutters to give us a look at this\nlovely picture; and the light woke many of them, who sat up\nrubbing their bright eyes, and looking with wonder at the\nstrangers, but not one cried. In one corner were great basins and\ntowels showing why the faces were so clean and rosy.\n\nThe sister then took us to the playground, where hundreds of\nlittle things, from the ages of three to six years, were playing;\nthe boys on one side, the girls on the other; the sisters with\nthem. We were invited to remain and see them go into school, that\nwe might see the system of uniting instruction with amusement,\nwhich has been so successfully employed by these charitable\nteachers. At the sound of an instrument, (something like a\ncastanet,) the little things fell into ranks, one behind the\nother, the hindmost holding on with both hands to the shoulders\nof the one who preceded him. In this way, and slowly keeping time\nwith their little feet, they marched into the room, marching and\ncountermarching with admirable precision. Three divisions of\neight, headed by a \"captain,\" (a well-drilled soldier,) form, and\ngo to their seats; each captain helps to seat his division, and\nthen counts to see if he has the correct number. The children\nthen rise to say the Lord's Prayer, all in concert, slowly and\nreverently, preceding it with the \"sign of the cross,\" made with,\nsome, such tiny fingers! The sister next proceeds to give a\nlesson. Great black letters, on wooden blocks, (so large as to be\nseen by all,) are one by one laid in grooves upon an inclined\nplane, the children all (together) calling out the letter as it\nis placed, spelling the word, then reading (or rather, singing)\nthe sentence. If the sister makes a mistake, a dozen little\nvoices correct it. A child of six is next chosen to spell a\nsentence, and severe were the little critics when he misplaced a\nletter. Next came a lesson in Scripture history. A book of\ncolored prints was opened here and there, and the stories were\ntold by the children in their own pretty way, of Adam and Eve,\nDavid and Absalom, etc. We were presently shown the children old\nenough to be taught to work, little things of five and six years,\nknitting or sewing; and then a class making plain sewing; and\nthen the larger orphan girls, working the finest needlework and\nembroidery.\n\nAnd this is one of eight such institutions in Madrid! It is kept\nup by individual charity; and the fear is, that it must be\ncurtailed if not closed on account of the revolution; the ladies\nwho contributed most to it having been forced to leave with the\nqueen's party, or having absented themselves from fear of getting\ninto trouble. These high-born ladies have had also many schools\nin different parts of the city, where they taught the poor every\nSunday, as in our Sunday-schools. The provisional government has\nstopped all these, on the pretext that they are \"incendiary,\" as\nthey have also that of the \"Conferences of St. Vincent de Paul\"!\n\n{679}\n\nOur Spanish friends tell us of the closing, yesterday, of the\n\"royal school,\" (founded many centuries ago by one of the kings\nof Spain, and supported from the privy purse of the reigning king\nor queen,) for the daughters of the nobility who have met with\nreverse of fortune, orphans and others of good birth but of no\nmeans. Yesterday these poor girls were turned out, homeless,\nhouseless; and as they passed along, the brutal rabble insulted\nthem with cries of, \"Come out, you thieves; you have eaten our\nbread long enough; come out, and let us have place.\" To-day, we\nsee them tearing down the building. And this is \"progress!\"\n\nWe hear that the carriage of the Duchess Medina Coeli has been\nassaulted to-day, the crown upon her carriage pelted, the glasses\nbroken, with the cry of \"Down with the aristocrats!\"--that fatal\ncry, which (with many other bad things) they borrow from the\nFrench, and which was the signal to spill so much \"good\" blood.\n\n\n               Toledo.\n\nOctober 25.\n\nOnly three hours' time (by rail) separate Toledo and Madrid, the\nold and new world of Spain! What a contrast between the two!\nToledo towers like an eagle's nest on the steep rock, the \"dark,\nmelancholy\" Tagus winding below, with walls and Moorish gates and\nsteep crags, with Roman and Gothic and Arabic ruins, with\nglorious memories of the fierce and warlike Goths, and of its\nimperial renown under Charles V.; while the modern upstart,\nMadrid, has nothing of which to boast, save fine houses, and\nshops, bustle and traffic, noise and dirt, \"progress\" and\nrevolution!\n\nToledo is said to have been a Phoenician or Grecian colony, then\nconquered by the all-absorbing Romans, 146 B.C., and the favorite\nresort of the Jews who fled from Jerusalem after its fall, and\nwho became here rich and powerful, and exercised an important\ninfluence in the history of the country until expelled by\nFerdinand and Isabella, in 1492.\n\nIn the fifth century, the Goths conquered Spain and founded that\nsplendid and powerful kingdom which, after three hundred years,\nended with Roderick in 712, when the Moors, under Taric,\noverthrew the Goths in the battle of the Guadalete, and overran\nall Spain. In 1085, it was reconquered by Alonzo V., and Toledo\nwas the seat of the court until removed by Philip II. to Madrid\nin 1560, and (for a few years) to Valladolid.\n\nOur first duty is to the cathedral, considered by many persons to\nbe the finest building in the world. It was commenced by St.\nFerdinand in 1227, on the site of a mosque, which, in turn, had\nbeen built upon a church founded in 587 by St. Eugenius, the\nfriend and disciple of St. Denis, who introduced Christianity\ninto Spain. It employed one hundred and forty-nine of the\ngreatest artists of the world two hundred and sixty-six years to\ncomplete and render it the masterpiece it now is. The cathedral\nof Seville is grander, higher, more impressive from its austere\nsimplicity; but this, from its greater lightness, the mingling of\nthe early Gothic with the later and more florid style, from the\nMoorish carvings on the white stone of which it is built, is more\ngraceful and beautiful; and from the thousand memories of great\nmen and great deeds with which it is associated, its royal tombs\nand statues, its Muzurabic chapel, its great relics, its grand\ntreasures, is infinitely more interesting.\n\n{680}\n\nWe arrived in time to hear the high mass--the glorious organs,\nand fine voices, while the morning sunlight streamed through\nseven hundred and fifty stained windows and among eighty-eight\ncolossal pillars. Picturesque groups knelt before the different\nshrines. We chose the chapel of St. Ildefonso, raised upon the\nspot where, according to the legend, he received the chasuble\nfrom the hands of the Blessed Virgin, which Murillo has made the\nsubject of one of his finest pictures.\n\nNear this chapel is the altar at which Ferdinand and Isabella\nheard mass after the conquest of Granada. The grand retablo of\nthe main altar extends from the altar to the ceiling, and is\nconsidered a marvel of exquisite carving, representing the scenes\nin the passion of our Lord--the work of twenty-five artists, of\nwhom John of Bologna was one.\n\nOn either side of this, (in niches,) are the tombs of Sancho the\nBrave, Alfonso VII., and Sancho the Wise, and, below these, that\nof the great Cardinal Mendoza. On each side of the altar are\nscreens, of which the carvings in marble are exquisite, as are\nthe seventy stalls of the choir, which are divided by jasper\npillars. The two pulpits are of gilt metal resting on marble\ncolumns, and are of the finest workmanship. The chapels are\nexceedingly rich, especially that of Santiago, built by that\nworthless favorite of John II. of Castile, Don Alvaro de Luna, as\nthe burial-place of his family. Upon his tomb was originally a\nstatue which was contrived so as to rise and kneel at the time of\nthe \"elevation\" during mass; but Queen Isabella, the wife of John\nII., (who was the means of bringing him to justice,) had it\nchanged. He lies quietly enough now, with his sword between his\nlegs, while kneeling figures of knights pray at each corner of\nthe tomb.\n\nThe chapter-house contains portraits of all the archbishops of\nToledo, many pictures, and a superb carved and inlaid ceiling of\nalerce wood. Here have been held all the important councils of\nSpain. There is a chapel filled with interesting relics, and the\ntreasures of the church surpass those of all Spain in value.\nAmong these is the cross which Cardinal Mendoza carried in\nprocession at the surrender of Granada, and planted on the walls\nof the Alhambra; a custodia of gold and silver, weighing\ntwenty-five arobas--about six hundred pounds--nine feet high, and\ncovered with myriads of statuettes and exquisite ornaments. It\nwas given by Queen Isabella, and made from the first gold sent by\nColumbus from America. There was one vestment covered with\neighty-five thousand pearls; another with as great profusion of\ncoral; a crown, and other ornaments of diamonds and other jewels;\na missal, given by St. Louis; some silver plate carved by\nBenvenuto Cellini; and in the vestuario is the grandest display\nof vestments in the world. Those at St. Peter's are not so fine.\nMany of these were given by cardinals Mendoza and Ximenes, by\nQueen Isabella, and other sovereigns; and most of them many\ncenturies old, yet preserving the brightness of the gold and\nsilver work, and the colors of the embroidery. There were the\nchairs used by these great dignitaries, and the hangings used to\nadorn the church on the occasion of the thanksgiving for the\nvictory of Lepanto.\n\n{681}\n\nBut above all this is the interest felt in the \"Muzarabic\nChapel,\" built by Cardinal Ximenes, (_Cisneros_, as they\ncall him in Spanish,) to preserve the ancient liturgy of the\nMuzarabes, (Muzarabes--mixed Arabs,) who were the Goths who,\nafter the conquest of Spain by the Moors, agreed to live under\nthe Moslem rule, retaining the Christian worship. This is the\noldest ritual in Spain, introduced here by the apostles of this\ncountry, St. Torquatus and his companions. It was at first, in\nmost respects, similar to the Roman liturgy; but underwent many\nchanges after the conquest of Spain by the Visi-Goths and\nVandals, who were Arians, and brought with them to Spain their\nliturgy, which was Greco-Arian, written in Latin.\n\nThis Gothic liturgy was almost exclusively adopted in Spain,\nafter the fourth council of Toledo in 633, when St. Isidore of\nSeville and other celebrated Spanish bishops of this period, to\nput a stop to the disorders in the churches, arranged the ritual\nand obliged all to follow it. Even after the introduction of the\nGregorian liturgy, the Spaniards retained their own, and it was\nuniversal up to the eighth century, when the Moors conquered\nSpain. By those Goths who submitted to the Moors, and who were\npromised freedom of their religion, it was guarded with the\nutmost vigilance; and even after Spain was conquered by the free\nSpaniards, (who had meantime adopted the Gregorian rite,) the\nMuzarabes retained their own Gothic rite, and it was allowed to\nthem in six parishes, just as it had existed during the six\nhundred years of Moorish domination.\n\nBut as the Muzarabic families disappeared or mingled with others,\ntheir venerable and ancient liturgy gradually disappeared; and\nbut for cardinals Mendoza and Ximenes, it must have been lost\nentirely. The first formed the design which Ximenes carried\nout--gathered up all the manuscripts of their liturgy, had them\nrevised by their own priests, and printed a great number of the\nmissals, and built this chapel in his own cathedral, (called \"ad\nCorpus Christi,\") and founded a college of thirteen priests to\nserve it, confiding to the chapter of the cathedral the\nprotection of this religious foundation. Other bishops followed\nhis example, and in the sixteenth century a chapel was founded in\nSalamanca, and another in Valladolid; but the one in Toledo seems\nto be the only one now existing: here the mass is said every day\nat nine o'clock; but few attend it, and it has become a mere\nliturgic curiosity.\n\nIt commences with a prayer very little different from the Roman\nliturgy; then the same psalm \"Judica me,\" the introit, the\n\"Gloria in Excelsis,\" a lesson from the Old Testament, then the\ngradual and epistle. The prayers of the offertory are almost\nidentical with those of the Roman liturgy; then follow prayers\nlike the Greek and Milanese liturgies; then the preface. But the\ncanon of the mass is different; the trisagion is followed\nimmediately by the consecration, and the credo is said at the\n\"elevation.\" The host is divided into two parts; the priest then\ndivides one part into five, and the other into four small bits;\nplaces them upon the paten, upon which is engraved a cross\ncomposed of seven circles, so that seven pieces of the host are\nplaced in the seven circles. He then places (on the right) at the\nside of the cross upon the paten, the other two parts; each of\nthese nine parts has a name corresponding to a mystery in the\nlife of Christ, and they form, placed upon the paten the\nfollowing figures,\n\n  Incarnation,    Passion,\n  Nativity,       Death,\n  Circumcision,   Resurrection,\n  Epiphany,       Ascension,\n      Eternal Kingdom.\n\n{682}\n\nAfter this division, follows the \"Pater,\" a prayer for the\nafflicted, for prisoners, the sick and the dead. The priest then\ntakes a particle of the host corresponding to the words, \"Eternal\nKingdom,\" and lets it fall into the chalice, pronouncing the\nappropriate words; then he blesses the people, and communicates;\nthen the particle of the host corresponding to the word\n\"Ascension,\" recites a prayer for the dead, says the \"Domine, non\nsum dignus,\" and communicates with the particle of the host just\nmentioned, and so successively with all the others; empties the\nchalice, takes the ablutions, says the post-communion, the \"Salva\nRegina,\" blesses the people, and leaves the altar.\n\nOver the altar of the Muzarabic chapel is a picture of the taking\nof Oran, (in Africa,) which Ximenes conquered at his own risk and\nhis own expense, and made a gift of it to the crown of Spain.\n\nOpposite the cathedral is the archbishop's palace, where is a\nlibrary open to the public, and adjoining this is the \"Casa del\nAyuntamiento,\" house of the municipality, built by Del Greco, a\nGreek who came to Toledo in 1577, where he became famous as\npainter and architect.\n\nWe now travel through the narrow, precipitous streets, visiting\ncurious and beautiful architectural remains of the Gothic and\nMoorish times, found in public and private buildings, strange\nprojecting door-posts, with cannon-ball ornaments; traverse the\n\"Zocodover,\" the market square, which is most Moorish looking,\nwith irregular windows and balconies, and is as well the\nfashionable promenade, and lounging place as place of traffic.\nAmong the many churches, two are especially interesting in\narabesque remains--St. Maria de la Blanca and El Transitu, built\nin 1326, which were once synagogues; the latter was afterward\ngiven by Queen Isabella to the order of Calatrava.\n\nNext to the cathedral in interest is the church of St. Juan de\nlos Reyes, (St. John of the Kings,) St. John being the special\npatron of the kings of Spain. This was built by Ferdinand and\nIsabella in 1496, in thanksgiving for the victory of Toro, where\nthey defeated the king of Portugal, who had set up a rival to the\nthrone of Castile, in the person of Jeanne Beltranea, the natural\ndaughter of Jeanne of Portugal, wife of Henry II., the elder\nbrother of Isabella. Upon the outside walls of this church hang\nthe chains taken off the Christians found in captivity in\nGranada. The interior has been much changed; but there still\nremain the high tribunes used by the royal family, and much of\nthe curious and elaborate carving, whose richness was once past\nall description. The cloisters of the adjoining convent of\nFranciscans, now in ruins, were once one of the most splendid\nspecimens of florid Gothic art in the world. The fine pointed\narches and delicate arabesque carvings are now half covered by\npassion-vine and ivy, and the pretty garden is a desert wild. In\nthis convent the great Cardinal Ximenes made his novitiate as a\nFranciscan monk, from which retirement he was called, by Cardinal\nMendoza, to be the confessor of Queen Isabella; and this\nwonderful woman, who had the discernment to know and choose men\nwho could aid her in her great designs, when Mendoza died, named\nas successor to the \"great cardinal\" the poor monk Francis\nXimenes, who became at one time bishop of Toledo, primate of\nSpain, and grand chancellor of Castile; and though, in this\nposition, the first personage of the court, and the greatest\ngrandee of the kingdom, he still retained the simple habits of\nthe Franciscan; and it was necessary to have an order from the\npope to induce him to assume the appendages belonging to his\nrank.\n{683}\nIndeed, it is said that under his robes of silk and velvet he\nwore the \"cilice\" and the coarse brown habit of his order; and\nafter his death was found the little box with the needles and\nthread with which the great primate of Spain mended his own\ngarments. He concluded the treaties which made Spain at this time\nthe greatest power of the world; and it is wonderful how this\nman, already old--for he was sixty when he assumed the\nprimacy--how he could at once attend to the various and\nmultiplied duties of which he is said never to have neglected\nanything. He lived in the age of great men, of Mendoza, (el gran\ncardinal,) of Gonzales de Cordova, (el gran capitan,) of\nChristopher Columbus, and many others, and took part in all the\ngreat events of this great age. Immediately upon the invention of\nprinting, he had printed the celebrated polyglot Bible of Alcala,\nwhich cost him 500,000 francs of our money, and was in itself\nenough to immortalize him. He founded universities, built\ncolleges, endowed professorships and scholarships, and built\nconvents and schools for the education of poor children. Raumer,\nin his _History of Europe_, says of him, \"His sagacity and\nhis activity were equal to his sanctity. Embracing all the\nbranches of administration, nourishing the grandest plans and\nprojects, he neglected for these neither piety nor science. As a\nwarrior, he commanded in 1509 the crusade which made a descent in\nAfrica, and conquered Oran. He founded, upon principles which do\nhonor to his intelligence, the university of Alcala, and directed\nthe printing of the celebrated Bible to which this city gives its\nname. He is the only man admired by his contemporaries as a\npolitician, a warrior, and a saint at the same time.\"\n\nFrom the esplanade in front of the church of St. Juan de los\nReyes is a fine view. The great manufactory of the \"Toledo\nblades\" lies below upon the wild and melancholy Tagus, which\nwinds through the plain; beyond are the mountains. The bridge of\nSt. Martin spans the Tagus on one side, with its Moorish towers\nat either end. The tower of Cambron, one of the great Moorish\ntowers, is in front, in which is a lovely statue of St. Leocadia,\nand near the bridge of St. Martin, on the city side, is the site\nof the palace of the Gothic kings. Here are some arches of a ruin\ncalled \"Los Va\u00f1os de Florinda\"--she who was the daughter of the\napostate Don Julian, and with whose unhappy fate is involved that\nof the last of the Gothic kings.\n\nThe Alcazar, which overlooks the whole city, was a Moorish\npalace, then a fortress, with additions made by Alonzo VI., in\n1085. Improved by Don Alvarado de Luna, and then by Charles V. in\n1548, and by Philip II.'s great architect, Herara, there only\nremains the great patio, with its fine columns and the\nmagnificent staircase for which Philip sent directions from\nEngland. Burned in the war of the succession, it was repaired by\nCardinal Lorenzana, a munificent patron of arts, and whose whole\nlife was devoted to good works, who made it a silk factory for\npoor girls. The French injured it again in 1809, and it has been\na ruin until now, when some repairs seem to be going on by order\nof the queen.\n\n{684}\n\nThe esplanade in front commands a fine view. Just below is the\nmilitary college, formerly the great hospital of Santa Cruz,\nfounded by Cardinal Mendoza. On a height near are the ruins of\nthe castle of Cervantes, not the author Cervantes, but one which\nbelonged to the Knights Templars. We pass through the Puerta del\nSol, one of the great Moorish gates, follow the steep and winding\nway by the remains of an old Roman bridge and fortress, cross the\nbridge of Alcantara, and so--leave Toledo.\n\n----------\n\n         All For The Faith.\n\n\nThere is a mystery, an evangel, in suffering; and this fiery\nevangel, God's message to our immortality, prepares and perfects\nthe soul for the long hereafter.\n\nIn a humble room sat Sir Ralph de Mohun and the Lady Beatrice.\nThe soft sunlight of Provence was fading, and athwart the rose\nleaves the dying flush rested on this fairest type of girlish\nloveliness. Absorbed in her rosary, she sat at the open window;\nwhile, bending near, Sir Ralph watched the gorgeous heavens,\ngazing with no thought of the surroundings, and\nthinking--thinking as we so often do in the hours that fate\nallows us for decision.\n\nGlimpses of his proud English home stole upon the old man's\nvision; of the shadowy oak-lined halls and stately corridors\nwhere, as a boy, he had looked with childish pride upon portraits\nof a brave line that had passed their own childhood there; the\ncross of the old chapel glittered in his dreams, for beneath it\nthe mother of his children slept. But now, homeless and an alien,\nhe would never again see the white cliffs of the land his heart\nloved best.\n\nThe battle of the Boyne had crushed the lingering hopes of the\nCavaliers who had forsaken home and kindred to follow the last\nStuart king. If James had only possessed average tact, he might\nhave retained the affection of his subjects; but strong-willed\nwithout discrimination, zealous without wisdom, his whole reign\nwas a succession of errors which could not but alienate the\nmiddle classes, all ways practical and struggling against the\nencroachments of the aristocracy. Nobly did the Cavaliers rally\nto the rescue of this last Catholic king, when, forsaken even by\nthose of his blood, he stood alone, held at bay by the same\nsubjects who had sworn him fealty. All through the darkness of\nhis mistaken flight, through the changeful, disastrous campaign,\nand, so trying to their haughty spirit, even unto the court of\nLouis, where sneering courtiers dared to greet them with slights\nand contumely, they neither swerved nor varied. All this had\ntested their loyalty, tried their faith; yet they neither changed\nnor forsook him: and of this band none had suffered more than\ngallant Sir Ralph de Mohun.\n\nA very pleasant life was that of the Catholic gentry in England;\nthey hunted, they were jovial at their meetings, but devout in\nthe chapel; and no class of the English subjects were more\norderly and refined. But when the old crown rested on other than\nthe brow of a Stuart, they left the broad moors and sunny downs,\nand fled with the monarch who represented not only their\ngovernment, but their faith, in old England.\n\n{685}\n\nStripped of the wealth that had given him comfort, despoiled of\nall that makes a man's position a blessing, the brave knight\nsteadily, defiantly met an adverse fate. \"_Noblesse\noblige!_\" spoke in every phase of his stormy life; he would\nsuffer, ay, die, as a gentleman, with no murmur to the world of\nthe sorrow and strife within. But an uncontrolled, unsubdued\nfeeling warred with the iron resolve which supported him, and\nthis was his devotion to the last bairn left him by his fair\nScottish wife.\n\nTwenty summers had deepened her girlhood into that rare\nwomanhood, refined through suffering, strengthened by discipline;\nand the sweet eyes shone with a softer light, a more earnest\nloveliness, as they gazed from under the long, dark lashes; while\nthe gentle, low voice owned a subdued tone, very different from\nthe lightsome carol that had gladdened bluff Sir Ralph at the gay\nmeet in old Suffolk. But times were different now, and the table\nwas becoming scantier, while the silver grew very low; and the\nsoldier who had rallied the dragoons at the Boyne, had stood\nunmoved when advancing squadrons of the English, his own blood in\nthe front ranks, swept on to attack him, felt his eyes dim as he\nwatched his frail, last blossom, and knew that soon she would be\nin a strange land all alone.\n\nThe afternoon faded into night, and the scanty fire could not\nwarm the chill and bare chamber in which the old man lay. He was\ndozing in the great arm-chair, and Beatrice was crouched on a low\ncushion near, when softly the door opened. Was the young girl\ndreaming, as with her large eyes larger still, she rose\ninstinctively, rose as though swayed by an unseen spirit, and\nwalked out upon the terrace?\n\n\"Beatrice, I have risked life, almost honor for this.\"\n\n\"Philip Stratherne, life belongs to honor, and honor should never\nbe risked.\"\n\nThe speech cost her an effort, for her voice was faint and very\nlow.\n\n\"I have come to offer peace and comfort, my darling, and--dare I\nwhisper the story which you used to listen to, under the elms at\nhome?\"\n\n\"Sir Philip Stratherne, you forget the past; you will not\nremember the blood that lies between us.\"\n\n\"My darling! my darling! we have no past save what you gave to\nme. Life belongs to honor, your own sweet voice has told me, and\nwe are commanded to 'love without dissimulation;' therefore the\nlogic of courts and battle-fields shall claim no power here.\"\n\n\"Philip! Philip!\" was all the maiden could find speech to answer,\nuttered in a tone meant to be reproachful.\n\nTwo years of sorrow had passed since the fatal battle of the\nBoyne, and the heart of the maiden was very sore, very lonely,\nvery hungry for the one love that made her life.\n\n\"Beatrice!\" called from the room, and she entered.\n\n\"Come and sing to me, little one; for I have been dreaming sad\ndreams of the old home.\" And so she sat on her cushion at his\nfeet, and sang in her soft alto:\n\n  \"It was a' for our rightful king,\n      We left fair Scotia's strand;\n   It was a' for our rightful king,\n      We e'er saw Irish land,\n         We e'er saw Irish land!\n\n  \"The sodger frae the war returns,\n      The sailor frae the main;\n   But I hae' parted frae my love,\n      Never to meet again,\n         Never to meet again.\n\n  \"When day is done, and night is come,\n      And a' things wrapt in sleep;\n   I think o' one who's far away,\n      The lee lang night, an' weep,\n         The lee lang night, an' weep.\"\n\n\"Will Sir Ralph Mohun welcome the son of an old friend?\"\n\n{686}\n\nThe old man turned hastily, and Philip Stratherne stood before\nhim.\n\n\"The time was, Sir Philip, when I should have grasped your hand\nwith all the feeling which my love for the boy inspired. Now, you\nare under the roof of what is left me, and therefore I am\nsilent.\"\n\nThere was a stately courtesy in all this which embarrassed and\nwounded the young man.\n\n\"This, certainly, is not my former welcome; but the times have\nchanged the manners, Sir Ralph, and we must accept the change.\"\n\n\"True, Sir Philip. There is little that I can offer you now; yet\nmethinks there is a seat for you.\"\n\nThe young man hesitated, and then sat down.\n\n\"I have not learned diplomacy on battle-fields, Sir Ralph,\ntherefore I will without preamble tell you what is heavy on my\nheart. First, to be selfishly eager, I have come to ask you for\nwhat you promised years ago--your daughter. Sir Ralph de Mohun,\nyou were once young, and blood coursed as fiery then as now. Can\nyou find it in your heart to separate us? Then, secondly, your\nold friends at court offer entire restitution and pardon, if you\nwill accept the new _r\u00e9gime_, with England's faith.\"\n\n\"If I have been true to my country, then must I still be true to\nmy God! Philip Stratherne, if I had not loved you from your\nboyhood, the words that would come to my lips would tell you what\nmy heart wills to speak to _all_ who have proved false! For\nthe rest, my daughter has the Mohun blood, and she knows what her\nchurch teaches.\"\n\nAnd Beatrice sat silent, crushed as a lily powerless from the\nstorm. She knew her duty, she felt her love. Reason--honor told\nher that even love could not span the chasm through which the\nblood of her gallant brothers flowed. They, too, had followed the\nfortunes of the Stuart king, and one lay dead before the bastions\nof Londonderry, while another gave up his young life with the\nwar-shout on his fearless lips, in the van of his father's\nregiment at Newtown-butler.\n\nIt was Philip Stratherne who led the detachment of Enniskillen\nhorse that rode down the mere handful of Irish dragoons, inspired\nby Guy Mohun's ringing cry; and Sir Ralph had listened to Philip\nStratherne's voice, as, clear and steady, it rallied the\nEnniskilleners to the charge that had snatched that last son from\nhim. Not only for the Stuart had he yielded his glorious life,\nbut for the cross, for the faith, in the defence of which\ncenturies had borne brave testimony for the Mohuns, not only in\nbonnie England, but on every battle-field in Christendom.\n\nA stern self-control subdued the old man; but the girl, the woman\nwas suffering; honor commanded, duty pleaded, but a wilder,\nstronger, stormier feeling fought within her now. The color\ncrimsoned the fair face, and the sweet eyes turned, rested for\none moment on the young man with all the girl's tenderness, all\nthe woman's passion--a mute appeal, a dying cry for help; then\nwith the delicate hands clasped tightly over her breast, as\nthough to keep down the heart's mad struggling, she spoke so low\nthat the words seemed almost inarticulate, yet to the man\nlistening with such painful eagerness each sound knelled the\ndeath which knows no \"resurgam!\" Only the simple words came\nfaltering forth, came sobbing as the wind soughs the prelude to\ndestruction, ere the lightning scathes its fiery death; and so in\nthis whisper he heard,\n\n\"Were I a false Mohun, I could not be a true Stratherne.\"\n\n{687}\n\nThen without a word she left them; and when the old man sought\nher, he found her lying as one dead before her crucifix. Tenderly\nhe raised her, and from his lips sounded the prayer:\n\n\"May the Lord receive the sacrifice from thy hands, to the praise\nand glory of his name, and to the benefit both of us and of his\nholy church.\"\n\n\"Amen!\" whispered a low voice, and the soft eyes unclosed all dim\nwith tears.\n\nNo murmur escaped her lips, no regret was ever spoken, but fairer\nand frailer in her rare loveliness, the old man trembled as he\nwatched her, and he cried in the bitterness of his agony,\n\n\"Save me, O God! for the waters are come in even unto my soul.\"\n\nIt was Holy-week, the most solemn of the Lenten season, and\nBeatrice Mohun knelt in the old cathedral during the impressive\n_Tenebrae_, and as the fourteen candles were extinguished,\nand the solemn _Miserere_ rose, from the depths of her heart\ncame the prayer:\n\n\"Let not the tempest of water drown me, nor the deep swallow me\nup.\"\n\nAnd the pervading gloom corresponded with her own spirit; her\nlife owned no brightness, and the one tie left her seemed fast\nwearing away. Trouble had weakened the iron constitution of Sir\nRalph; for more exhausting than mere physical pain is the\nceaseless care that preys upon the vitals, claiming life as its\ntribute.\n\nHe felt that he could buy back ease and comfort for his darling,\nand he knew that for him earth held but a very few years; but to\nobtain all this, he must barter his honor, yield his creed, and\nthe old blood still owned the fierceness of a changeless\nfidelity. No Mohun had ever swerved, not even in the dark days of\nthe last Tudor, nor after, when his graceless daughter held the\nsceptre. And now, though bereft of home, with his gallant sons\nlying far from their kindred, his fair young daughter\nlife-wrecked, his own existence a burden, when even starvation\nmocked them, the loyal spirit knew no change; but staunchly by\nthe old faith, true to the weak king, the brave knight still\nfought his adverse destiny.\n\nAnd Beatrice came back through the darkness, and leaned against\nthe couch on which her father lay.\n\n\"Come to me, little one; for I fear that you are not as strong as\nin the days when wild Bess bore you to the hunt. Have you any\nregrets for the past, my darling?\"\n\n\"Duty gives us discipline, papa, and it would not be right to\nquestion Providence.\"\n\n\"Bravely spoken, my daughter; you nerve a courage which was\ngrowing too human to be strong. But you grieve at the choice\nwhich has kept you the slave of an old man's caprice?\"\n\n\"O papa!\" and a low quick sob stopped her; then with more control\nshe quietly said, \"You forget that it was not only to be with\nyou, but to remain firm and loyal to holy church; and papa, I\noften think that earth is only the high road to a better world;\ntherefore I only pray that the end may be very near.\"\n\n\"Little one, bring the light nearer--let me look upon your face;\nhold it nearer, darling. Ah God! this is the dimness which brings\nmy warning. Quick, daughter mine, send for Father Paolo. Now, O\nGod! my eyes, darkened with the mist of death, fix their last\ndying looks on thy crucified image. Merciful Jesus, have mercy on\nme!\"\n\n{688}\n\nFather Paolo did come, and in the gray dawn of Good-Friday the\nold knight lay dying.\n\n\"Kyrie Eleison!\" said the clear voice of the holy father, and,\nclasping closer the blessed crucifix, the old man's voice was\nsteady as he responded, \"Christe eleison!\" And alone in her agony\nthe young girl knelt.\n\nA clattering of hoofs sounded in the court-yard, and a quick\nstep, that startled her even then, broke the solemn stillness.\n\n\"In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum,\" prayed the\npriest.\n\n\"Domine Jesu Christe, suscipe spiritum meum,\" in clear, earnest\ntones rung out the old man's voice; then the door was flung open,\nand Philip Stratherne entered.\n\n\"Not too late, thank God! Hold her not away from me. Say now that\nyou die William's subject, and all your own shall be hers.\"\n\nThe closing eyes opened, the old strength came back to them, and\na sweet smile illumed his face, as the words came,\n\n\"Maria, mater gratis, mater misericordiae, tu me ab hoste\nprotege, et in hora mortis suscipe!\" And with a long low sigh the\nspirit passed away to God.\n\nWith a sob that rent her heart in twain, Beatrice threw herself\nbeside her father.\n\n\"My darling, come with me; the last obstacle has passed away, and\nGod has given you as my legacy.\"\n\nShe made no answer. The solemn monotone of the priest alone was\nheard, \"Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat\nei.\"\n\nBut to all this the man was deaf; he only saw the prostrate girl,\nand listened to her sobs of agony.\n\n\"My waif has drifted to her haven, and I will guard her with my\nlife.\"\n\nHis strong arms were around her, and the voice that thrilled her\nsoul was sounding in her ears. How could she send him from her?\n\"Ah! God help me!\" she cried.\n\n\"Et ne nos inducas in tentationem,\" came in deep, sonorous tones\nfrom the priest.\n\n\"Sed libera nos a malo,\" sounded the response.\n\nAnd further, \"Domine, exaudi orationem meam!\"\n\n\"Et clamor meus ad te veniat!\" and Beatrice fainted with these\nwords upon her lips.\n\n\"Son, leave her to us,\" urged the priest, but he would not go\ntill she opened her sweet eyes.\n\n\"Daughter!\"--and she caught the hand of Father Paolo, as in the\ndesperation of agonized despair. A shadow darkened Philip\nStratherne's brow.\n\n\"The cursed priest again!\" he muttered between his closed teeth.\n\"Tell me when I may see you again, Beatrice, free from these\nfearful surroundings.\"\n\n\"The Monday of Easter-week,\" was all she replied, and he left\nher.\n\nAnd when the Monday dawned, bright with the carol of birds, he\nsought her; but the old chateau by the valley was silent, the\nshutters barred, and the flowers drooping and dead. An aged woman\ncame hobbling to him, who said, with the tears dimming her old\neyes, \"Ah! the sweet bird has flown, master, and St. Ursula\nguards her from behind the bars.\"\n\n\"God of heaven, save me! Here is gold if you will prove this\nfalse.\"\n\n\"Keep your gold for charity, master; for the truth is strong; and\nour holy Mother keeps her safe from all evil.\"\n\n{689}\n\nWild with the horror of losing her, he strode across the valley\nto the convent near. The angelus was sounding, and over the\nhills, up the broad river, the holy prayer-call echoed, for the\nEaster season rejoiced the earth; her _jubilate_ for the\nblessed link connecting the God-man with humanity.\n\nBlade, and leaf, and blossom gloried in the new life, and the\nspring sun spread over the natural world the same light with\nwhich the resurrection gladdened the soul; but to all this was\nthe young man blind and deaf and dumb--for surging and beating\nwithin his heart was the stormy, o'er-mastering human feeling. He\nonly knew that the woman to whom he bent the knee in this mad,\nidolatrous love was lost to him, he only felt that fate had\nsnatched her from him for ever! The sister started, as his\ndeathly face presented itself. With scarcely human utterance, he\nasked for the Lady Beatrice, and after a few moments, the\nmessenger returned, and a folded paper was put in his hand. He\nread:\n\n  \"The Lord keepeth thee from all evil:\n   may the Lord keep thy soul!\"\n\nAnd she, with her intenser passion, clinging steadily, loving\nunselfishly, as only a woman can, gave him up; yielded her costly\ntribute to the faith which taught her that loyalty to God\ndemands, if need be, all that life and love can give. Then, faint\nand weary, bruised and suffering, yet staunch and true to her\nfaith as she was, the holy church opened its arms to her,\ncomforting the broken spirit, healing the bleeding heart, and\nblessing her with the precious benediction that brings its calm\nto those who seek the life that dieth not. In deeds of unselfish\nlove and sacrifice, she passed her days; all the strength within\nher clinging to the cross, all the human passion purified,\nglorified into the worship of the Lamb whose blood had made her\nwhiter than snow. And safe in her haven, the dove of peace rested\nupon her heart; for the \"fellowship of the Holy Ghost\" had\nsanctified her: and thus, when her summers were yet in their\nflush, she passed away to God.\n\nBut he forgot her in the years that came after, and found\nhappiness in the fair English Protestant, whose children heired\nthe broad lands of the brave Mohuns. Verily man's love is\nfleeting, but in God is eternal life; and while we pay our\ntribute to one who was so strong in resisting, we pray that all\nwho are thus tempted may likewise prove ready to yield all for\nthe faith.\n\n-------\n{690}\n\n  The Struggle Between Letter And Spirit In The Jewish Church.\n  Conference Preached In The Cathedral Of Notre Dame,\n  In Paris, By R. Pere Hyacinthe, January 3, 1869.\n\n\n  Littera occidit, spiritus autem vivificat.\n\n  \"The letter killeth; but the spirit giveth life.\"\n\n\n  [It is due to R. P. Hyacinthe to say that the following\n  translation is made from a short-hand report, published in the\n  _Semaine Religieuse de Paris_. In style, in development of\n  ideas, the _compte rendu_ is incomplete. But to us who\n  cannot listen to the great Carmelite's eloquence, in the nave\n  of Notre Dame, even an outline of this conference, so full of\n  fresh and healthy thought, will be acceptable.--TRANS.]\n\n\nRev. P. Hyacinthe takes this text from St. Paul, at once as the\nbasis and the summary of his entire conference. On previous\noccasions he had pointed out two elements in the Jewish Church,\nopposed to each other yet equally essential to the aims of that\nchurch; the one exclusive, securing the preservation of the\nsacred deposit of revelation; the other universal, insuring the\ndiffusion of this deposit throughout the whole human race. These\ntwo elements he now calls, in the language of the apostle,\n_letter_ and _spirit_. According to the letter, the\nBible--that is to say, the Old Testament, is exclusive; according\nto the spirit, it is universal. The internal struggle of these\ntwo elements forms the history of Judaism, thoughtfully viewed.\nTheir startling rupture during the life of Jesus Christ\nintroduced the Christian era, inaugurated the Catholic Church. As\nsons of that holy and infallible church, we need not fear the\ntriumph of the letter; but as members of a church composed of and\ngoverned by imperfect men and sinners, we should not disregard\nthe struggles of the letter for predominance. Let us, then,\nreview the profitable history of these combats between letter and\nspirit in the bosom of Judaism, considering successively the\nrepresentatives of the letter and the representatives of the\nspirit in the Jewish Church.\n\n\n\n  I. The Representatives Of The Letter.\n\n\nThese were the kings and priests. The kings represented the\nletter in the political order; the priests, in the religious\norder.\n\nI. David prophesied, \"He shall rule from sea to sea, and from the\nriver unto the ends of the earth. And all kings of the earth\nshall adore him; all nations shall serve him.\" And discerning in\nthe far-off radiance that one among his sons whom he called the\nAnointed, the Christ _par excellence_, he said, or let the\nLord say by his lips: \"Sit thou at my right hand until I make thy\nenemies thy footstool. With thee is the principality in the day\nof thy strength: in the brightness of the saints: from the womb\nbefore the day star I begot thee.\"\n\n{691}\n\nIn the throne of the son of David, the God-engendered, two\nroyalties were united: a temporal royalty, created to reign over\nthe house of Jacob, confined within the narrow limits of its own\nblood, _regnabit in domo Jacob_; and a royalty destined to\nextend throughout all humanity, within the wide boundary of the\nfaith of Abraham, _regnabit in aeternumn_.\n\nThe danger lay in confounding these two royalties, in absorbing\nthe celestial in the terrestrial royalty--an error so frequent in\nsimilar unions. To this danger succumbed the synagogue.\n\nIn a national church, or in a religious nation, no peril is more\nimminent, none more fatal, than the confusion of religious and\npolitical forms. [Footnote 168] Already great while remaining\nhuman, for such it is in character and origin, political thought\nbecomes still greater in ascending to the heavenly spheres of\nmorality and religion. But religion shrinks in dimensions,\nabdicating its true position, revolting against human instinct,\nand wounding the attributes of Divine Majesty, when it assumes\npolitical forms, adopting the ideas, the habits, the paltry\ninterests of politics.\n\n    [Footnote 168: Lest those who may be unacquainted with\n    previous conferences of P\u00e8re Hyacinthe should interpret this\n    passage as referring to the temporal power, we subjoin a\n    quotation from a conference delivered by him in Notre Dame in\n    the year 1867. Speaking of the complications caused by\n    placing political power and religious power in the same\n    hands, R. P. Hyacinthe says: \"Nowhere under the sun of the\n    Catholic world do I find this dreadful confusion. If you bid\n    me look toward Rome, it is not the confusion, it is the\n    exceptional alliance of the two powers that I hail in that\n    place, itself exceptional as a miracle. Beneficent alliance,\n    knot of the liberty of conscience, never to be united,\n    because it unites there what it must separate elsewhere,\n    never were you more fearfully necessary to us than now! You\n    have received the testimony of French blood, shed by those\n    who have been called mercenaries while they are simply\n    heroes! You are defended by the eloquent words, the national\n    words of our orators, by the energetic and loyal declarations\n    of our government.\"\n\n    In a conference preached at Rome during the Lent of 1868, R.\n    P. Hyacinthe compares those who urge the church to throw\n    aside the temporal power, and lead a purely supernatural\n    existence, to Satan tempting Christ to cast himself from the\n    pinnacle of the temple, that angels may bear him up.]\n\nSuch, however, was the kingdom which kings, and the partisans of\nkings, persistently dreamed of giving to humanity. For one single\ninstant, under David, that prophetic ideal foreseen and pictured\nby the prophet king shone with unblemished purity, soon to be\nveiled under the worldly, (we will speak in plain terms,) under\nthe pagan ideal of Solomon.\n\nSolomon was a great king, especially at the outset of his career.\nHe was always great, even in his errors and crimes. But\nintoxicated with the science of nature, which he possessed, says\nthe inspired text, from the cedar growing on the summit of\nLebanon to the hyssop piercing the cracks of the walls, Solomon,\nnot content with knowledge leading to God, wished to possess all\nthe riches and the loves of earth. He built him palaces bearing\nlittle resemblance to the palm-tree beneath which Deborah\nadministered justice, or to the tents where David camped with his\nsoldiers; palaces so sumptuous that the queen of Sheba came from\nthe depths of Arabia to admire them. He had harems filled with\nwomen, chiefly foreigners and idolaters; seven hundred sultanas\nand three hundred concubines! Then letting this inebriation\nmount, I will not say from heart, but from sense to brain, he\nfell down with his women at the feet of all their idols,\nvenerating, under poetic symbols, that great nature which is the\nwork of God and so easily takes the place of God.\n\nSuch was the spectacle presented by Jerusalem under the successor\nof David--a hideous spectacle, but made less repulsive in the\ndays of Solomon by a glory he had no power to bequeath to his\nheirs in Judah and to his Israelitish emulators. He left them\nonly his pride, his sensuality, his idolatry; and when the two\ninimical yet analogous monarchies succumbed at last beneath the\nblows of powerful neighbors, of those northern conquerors whose\nfavors they had so often solicited, and whose arms they had so\noften braved, they left behind them, in the history of the holy\nnation, a long track of mire and blood.\n\n{692}\n\nSuch was the royalty of Judea, such the royalty of Israel;\npromised to the world under the name of the kingdom of God!\n\nSo perverted were the Jews by their kings--or, to speak more\njustly, for we must not misjudge these kings, so perverted were\nthey by national pride, that they could not throw aside this\ngross ideal, but contemplated still, under the profaned name of\nthe kingdom of God, the domination of races with the sword and\nwith a rod of iron. When the true Messiah, Jesus, came to them,\nthey misunderstood him, chiefly because he rejected this low and\nnarrow royalty, proclaiming the true principle of the kingdom of\nGod--a spiritual kingdom which should be in the world, but not of\nthe world; _regnum meum non est de hoc mundo;_ a spiritual\nkingdom which comes to bear witness of the truth, _ego in hoc\nnatus sum et ad hoc veni in mundum, ut testimonium perhibeam\nveritati._ They preferred, before him, the seditious Barabbas,\nwho had fought in the streets of Jerusalem, shedding blood to\ndeliver them from the Romans. They preferred, before him, all the\nfalse Messiahs, all the impotent and treacherous Christs, who\nclosed their mad career by precipitating the ruin of the nation,\nthe city, and the temple they had pretended to save.\n\nBreak, then, vase of Jewish nationality! formed so lovingly by\nGod through the hand of Moses; royal and sacerdotal vessel,\nbreak! since thou wilt have it so. Thou wert formed to keep the\ntreasures of religious life for all humanity; thou didst close\nupon thyself in jealous egotism; break! and let thy shivered\natoms, scattered through the world, spread abroad the balm which\nshall intoxicate all nations. \"The vase was shattered,\" says Holy\nWrit, \"and the whole house was filled with the odor.\" _Et domus\nimpleta est ex odore unguenti._\n\nWhat kings effected in the political order, priests accomplished\nin the religious order. Indeed, fatal as is the mistake of\nconfounding religious with political forms, still more lamentable\nis the error of identifying, within the very heart of religion,\naccidental and accessory forms with essential forms. Every\nreligion--above all, the true religion, the Christian\nreligion--going back to Moses, Abraham, Adam, is not merely a\nreligious idea, a religious sentiment, as it pleases contemporary\nrationalism to call it. It is a fact, and therefore has positive\nforms; it is a living fact, and therefore has a determined\norganism. But, placed amid time and space, the fact of religion\nmust consider the varying conditions of space, the changing\nconditions of time. Its organism must discharge its functions\namid dissimilar or even contradictory surroundings. Therefore,\nside by side with substantial, permanent forms, we find variable,\naccessory forms, clothing the first, so to speak, according to\nthe exigencies of races and centuries. By trying to confound\nreligion with accessory forms peculiar to certain countries or\nraces, we should isolate it from the great current of humanity in\nthe present. By trying to bind it to worn-out forms, we should\nisolate it from the great current of humanity in the future. We\nshould misinterpret St. Paul's words to the ancient synagogue:\n\"_Quod autem antiquatur et senescit, prope interitum est_.\"\nNo worse service could be rendered to religious unity. On this\nshoal the Jewish priesthood stranded.\n\n{693}\n\nI would speak respectfully of that priesthood. Last Sunday we\ninhaled the perfume of its censers, we listened to the harmony of\nits canticles. The rod of Aaron had not blossomed in his hands in\nvain, and in the ancient tabernacle we almost adored the body of\nChrist Jesus prefigured in the manner, the word of Christ Jesus\nprepared in the decalogue. But however respectable in origin and\nessence the Levitical priesthood, it no longer merits respect,\ncorrupted as it now is; or, at least, corrupted as are most of\nits members. This corruption bears a special name, pharisaism.\n\nIs pharisaism hypocrisy? No. Whatever the dictionary may say, in\nthe biblical sense pharisaism is not hypocrisy, unless in that\nsubtle form, at once most innocent and most fatal, that\nunconscious hypocrisy which believes itself sincere. Jesus often\nsaid, \"Pharisees, hypocrites,\" _pharisaei, hypocriae_; but\nhe explained this expression by another, \"Blind guides,\"\n_pharisaee caece_. And the great apostle Paul, himself a\npharisee, reared, as he says, at the feet of the pharisee\nGamaliel, bears witness in a striking manner to their sincere\nzeal for God, _habent zelum Dei_, but not according to\nknowledge, _sed non secundum scientiam_.\n\nPharisaism, thoughtfully considered, is religious blindness, the\nblindness of priestly depositaries of the letter, who think they\nguard it best by explaining it least; blindness bearing on all\npoints of the sacred deposit--blindness in dogma, predominance of\nformula over truth; blindness in morals, predominance of external\nworks over interior justice; blindness in worship, predominance\nof external rites over religious feeling. Blindness in dogma.\nThey taught the truth. \"The scribes and pharisees sit on the\nchair of Moses,\" said Christ; \"all, therefore, whatsoever they\nshall say to you, observe and do: but according to their works do\nye not; for they say, and do not.\"\n\nThere is no revealed idea enlightening and vivifying the world\nthat has not words to contain it: _lucerna verbum tuum,\ndomine_. But when speech compresses itself, when it encloses\nthe idea as in a jealously narrow prison, obscuring and choking\nit, that is pharisaism. That is what the apostle Paul called\nguarding the word, but keeping it captive in iniquity. That is\nwhat forced from the meek lips of our Saviour Jesus the terrible\nanathema _Vae vobis!_ \"Wo to you who have taken the key of\nknowledge, and will not enter, and all those who would try to\nenter, you prevent.\"\n\nIn morals, it is exterior works, it is a multiplicity of human\npractices, resting like a despicably tyrannical load upon the\nconscience, making it forget, in unhealthy dreams, that it is an\nhonest man's conscience, a Christian conscience. The pharisees\nsaid to Jesus Christ, \"Why do thy disciples transgress the\ntraditions of the ancients? for they wash not their hands when\nthey eat bread.\" And our Saviour replied, \"Why do you trample\nunder foot the commandments of God, to keep the commandments of\nmen?\" Rites are essential to worship, as formula is essential to\ndogma--wo to him who tears the formula of biblical revelation, or\nthe formula of the definitions of the church; and, since works\nare essential to morality, wo to him who sleeps in a dead and\nsterile faith, without works.\n\nWorship! but worship is the expansion of the religious soul; it\nis the heart's emotion rising odorous and harmonious to God. It\nis action working from within outward; it is, also, the not less\nlegitimate reaction from without inward. Rites elevate religious\nfeeling, and arouse inspiration in heart and conscience.\n\n{694}\n\nBut when there is no religious feeling, when heart and conscience\nbend beneath the weight of exterior practices; \"Yea, verily,\"\nsaid Jesus Christ again, (for the gospels are full of these\nthings; the gospels are the eternal reprobation of pharisaism,)\nyea, verily, the prophet Isaias spoke truly when he said, \"This\npeople honoreth me with their lips, and with their hands, but\ntheir heart is far from me.\"\n\nThis is the yoke of which St. Peter said, \"You would impose it on\nthe head of nations; neither our fathers nor we have been able to\nbear it.\" This is the smothered and exhausted breath with which\nthey thought to renew the world. This is not the Judaism of\nMoses, but the decrepit Judaism of the scribes and pharisees.\nWhen the entire world, by the eloquent lips of Greece and Rome,\nasked of the East salvation; when, by the sudden stir of\nbarbarians quivering in the depths of Germany and Scythia, the\nworld demanded light and civilization, this was offered to them!\nJudaism became the more inadmissible as the world had more need\nof it. Pharisaism, in its blind fanaticism, stood before the\ngates of the kingdom of heaven to prevent generations from\nentering.\n\nAway! men of the letter; away! enemies of humanity.\n_Adversantur omnibus hominibus_, says St. Paul. And thou,\nJesus, arise, my Saviour and God!--thou who wert moved by wrath\ntwice only in thy life! Jesus felt no anger against poor sinners.\nHe sat at their table; and when the woman taken in adultery fell\nat his feet, burning with shame and weeping with remorse, he\nraised her up, thinking only of absolving her: \"Go in peace, and\nsin no more.\" He felt no anger against heretics and schismatics.\nHe sat by Jacob's well, beside the woman of Samaria, announcing\nto her, with the salvation which comes from the Jews, _quia\nsalus ex Judaeis est_, worship in spirit and in truth. But\nJesus was moved with wrath on two occasions: once, scourge in\nhand, against those who sold the things of God in the temple, and\nagain, with malediction on his lips, against those who perverted\nthe things of God in the law.\n\nArise, then, meek Lamb! arise in thy pacific wrath against the\nenemies of all men, and against the true enemies of God's\nkingdom! Arise and drive them from the temple! Thus did the\nsynagogue perish, and the Christian Church come to life.\n\n\n  II. The Representatives Of The Spirit.\n\nI have said (and you already knew it) that we have nothing to\nfear from the triumphs of the _letter_. Yet we cannot\noverlook the struggles and temptations, not only of every\npriesthood, but of all pious persons; the temptation of the\nfaithful, as well as of priests, to allow the letter to\npredominate over the spirit. Let us glorify God because we are\nborn in a holy and infallible church, which Jesus Christ\nprotects, and will protect until the consummation of his work, in\nthe course of ages, against the ignorance of our minds and the\nweakness of our wills.\n\nBut what voice strikes my ear? These are no longer the coarse\ntones of earthly domination, nor of carnal legislation. Nor yet\nis it a Christian voice, the voice of Christ speaking to us a\nmoment ago; but, though anterior to Christ, how like to him it\nsounds:\n\n{695}\n\n  \"Hear the word of the Lord, ye rulers of Sodom; give ear to the\n  law of our God, ye people of Gomorrha,\" saith the voice; and\n  yet it is speaking to the church of Sion. \"To what purpose do\n  you offer me the multitude of your victims, saith the Lord? I\n  am full; I desire not holocausts of rams, and fat of fatlings,\n  and blood of calves, and lambs, and buck-goats. Offer sacrifice\n  no more in vain: incense is an abomination to me. The new\n  moons, and the sabbaths, and other festivals, I will not abide;\n  your assemblies are wicked. My soul hateth your new moons, and\n  your solemnities: they are become troublesome to me; I am weary\n  of bearing them. And when you stretch forth your hands, I will\n  turn away my eyes from you: and when you multiply prayer, I\n  will not hear: for your hands are full of blood.\n\n  \"Wash yourselves, be clean, take away the evil of your devices\n  from my eyes: cease to do perversely, learn to do well: seek\n  judgment, relieve the oppressed, judge for the fatherless,\n  defend the widow. And then come and accuse me, saith the Lord:\n  if your sins be as scarlet, they shall be made as white as\n  snow: and if they be red as crimson, they shall be white as\n  wool.\"\n\nThis is the voice of Mosaic spirituality in all its energy and\nlight. How different from the pharisaism we were speaking of just\nnow; from the letter, smothering beneath its murderous weight\nreason, conscience, and heart! How like the gospel, the law of\nChrist, with its two commandments: an insatiable hunger, an\ninextinguishable thirst after righteousness, and a heart ever\nopen to mercy! Ah! I feel that this is no local law, no national\norganization, no restricted or temporary code. It is the law of\nall people and of all ages. It needs but the breath of St. Paul\nto bear it from one end of the world to the other.\n\nBut the voice of the Spirit still speaks--no longer, now, of the\ncarnal law, but of the earthly _kingdom:_\n\n  \"And in the last days, the mountain of the house of the Lord\n  shall be prepared on the top of mountains, and it shall be\n  exalted above the hills: and all nations shall flow into it,\n  _fluent ad eum omnes gentes_. And many people shall go,\n  and say: Come and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, and\n  to the house of Jacob, and he will teach us his ways, and we\n  will walk in his paths: for the law shall come forth from Sion,\n  and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem, _quia de Sion exibit\n  lex et verbum Domini de Jerusalem._ Come, let us break our\n  swords and make ploughshares; let us shatter our lances and\n  turn them into sickles, for the anointed of the Lord will reign\n  in justice and peace; all idols shall be broken, _et idola\n  penitus conterentur_, and in those days the Eternal shall\n  alone be great.\"\n\nSuch was the future _disfigured_ by kings and the successors\nof kings. Understand it well; this is not oppression, but\ndeliverance! It belongs to the letter to impose itself by force;\nthis is its necessity; it has no other way, if this can be called\na way. To the spirit belongs the appeal summoning us to the\nliberty of man and the liberty of God. _Ubi spiritus, ibi\nlibertas_. \"Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is\nliberty.\" Therefore, I do not see in the Messiah's hands a sword\nbesmeared and gory. I see nations rise up spontaneously, like a\nsea shuddering to its deepest abysses. _Fluent ad eum omnes\ngentes;_ this is not servitude; it is deliverance. This is not\nthe reign of the Messiah victor; but it is the reign of the\nMessiah liberator.\n\nBut you ask me whose is this voice preaching a spiritual kingdom\nto priests, a divine royalty to kings and nations? The voice\nshall interpret itself; it shall tell its origin and mission.\n\nHere P\u00e8re Hyacinthe relates the famous vision in which Isaiah\nreceives his mission after a seraph has purified his lips with a\nburning coal. This is prophecy.\n\nAnd were not prophets and saints; necessary to the Jewish Church,\nas they are necessary to the Catholic Church? The two beggars in\nthe dream of Innocent III. upholding the crumbling Lateran\nbasilica, as if symbolizing the decadence of the hierarchical\nchurch in the middle ages; those two mendicants, Dominic de\nGuzman and Francis of Assisi, what were they but prophets of the\nNew Testament, sprung not from the hereditary tradition of ages,\nbut from the living kiss of Jehovah?\n{696}\nYes, we need saints, we need prophets--that is to say, men of\nlove, martyrs; men of vision who read not only according to the\nletter but according to the spirit, who see God in the vision of\ntheir reason enlightened by faith; in the ecstasy of their\nconscience elevated by grace. \"I have seen the Lord with my\neyes\"--_Oculis meis vidi Dominum_. We need men who speak to\nhim face to face like Moses, and, above all, men who love him\nheart to heart, and pass through the struggles of days and ages,\nstruggles only to be fully understood by contemplating them in\nthe final future. _Vidit ultima, et consolatus est lugentes in\nSion._ Such men were the prophets.\n\nThey were _seers_. They saw the future. They did not look\nonly upon the present, so accurately fitted to the measure of\nnarrow minds and hearts. They did not return with cowardly tears\ntoward the past, never to be born again. It was for Gentiles, for\npagan antiquity, to dream of a golden age for ever lost. The\nprophets, gazing into the future, saw the golden age of Eden\nreappear, under a form more full and lasting, at the gates of\nheaven, yet still upon the earth.\n\nThe prophets believed in the future because they believed in God.\nThey believed in progress; they were in all antiquity the only\nmen of progress. Antiquity did not believe in it, not even\nknowing its name. But the prophets believed in the most\nincredible and the most necessary of all progress, moral and\nreligious progress. They believed in it despite the fall, or\nrather because of the fall and of the redemption. To them evil\ndid not lie in radical vice, essential to our nature, or in the\ninflexible decree of destiny; it was in the liberty of man, and\nmust find its remedy in the liberty of God. If God had allowed\nthe starting-point of man to recoil, be cause of sin, into the\nabyss, it was in order to raise, through the redemption; his goal\nto the very heavens. From the summits to which their faith lifted\nthem, they saw salvation spread from individuals to nations, from\nnations to the human race, from the human race to all nature.\n\nSuch was progress to the prophets; such the future universal Sion\nthey hailed in the future? Isaiah prophesied it in the existence\nand in the relative prosperity of Jerusalem. Jeremiah mingled it\nwith tears shed over the smoking ruins of his beloved city.\nEzechiel in the bosom of captivity pictured Sion, no longer\nJewish, but humanitarian, where all nations were to find their\nplace. He engraved upon the pediment of the gates this immortal\ndevice, \"The Lord is there;\" _Dominus ibidem_.\n\nII. This was what the prophets, men of faith in vision and men of\nvision in faith, believed and respected. This was the object of\ntheir love, for they were men of understanding, and also men of\nheart.\n\nI do not love Utopians, I do not love thought which dwells\nexclusively in the future, feeding on sterile and chimerical\ndreams. I love men of the future who are also men of the present;\ncontemplatives, but workers too. The prophets were workers. They\ndid not love the future in the future, but in the present where\nit germinates. They did not love humanity in humanity--too\nabstract if it be an idea, too vast if it embrace all\nindividuals; they loved humanity in their nation; they loved the\ntypical Jerusalem of their vision in their terrestrial Jerusalem\nof their existence.\n\n{697}\n\nI love to follow them in their writings; to see them rise up in\nthe face of every national fact, every religious fact of that\ngross people--rise up to meet every evil deed with anathema, to\nconsecrate in the Lord's name every moral or religious act\ntending toward true progress. I love to see them go down into the\ndeep ravines, to the borders of the torrent of Cedron, where the\nMessiah was to drink before lifting up his head; climb the abrupt\nacclivity to the citadel, to the temple where Jesus was to teach;\ntraverse the public squares where ever and anon the wind from the\ndesert, as if to mock their hopes, caught up the dust beneath the\nburning sun and flung it in their faces.\n\nNow, in the ravine, in the citadel, and in the temple of Sion, in\nthe streets possessed by the whirlwind, everywhere in that city\nenvironed with their love and their devotion, they saw that Sion\nwhich was to grow up in its bosom and embrace the world. They\nloved the future; they loved humanity in God; they loved them in\nthe house of Abraham and in the church of Jesus Christ.\n\nIn the presence of these great examples, let me say to you of the\nlove of country all that I have said of domestic love. We no\nlonger know, or rather we no longer rightly know, what it is to\nlove country and people; to see and love, in them, the city of\nhumanity, the city of Jesus Christ, the city of time and\neternity.\n\nIII. Men of vision and of love, the prophets were also men of\ncombat, and, when necessary, martyrs, soldiers, and victims. No\nman passes without effort that Red Sea which separates present\nand future. The prophets crossed it bearing with them on their\nvigorous shoulders the ark of God and the ark of mankind. But\nwhat combats and struggles!--struggles majestic as their visions\nand their love. They shrunk from them in their infirm human\nnature; they dreaded these struggles. They knew that the word of\nGod ends by slaying those who hear it: \"I have slain them, saith\nthe Lord, in the word of my mouth.\" \"Ah Lord God!\" cried\nJeremiah, \"behold I cannot speak, for I am a child;\" and the Lord\nanswered, \"Say not, I am a child; for thou shalt go to all that I\nshall send thee: and whatsoever I shall command thee thou shalt\nspeak. Behold, I have given my words in thy mouth. Lo, I have set\nthee this day over the nations, and over kingdoms, to root up and\nto pull down, and to waste and to destroy, and to build and to\nplant. For, behold, I have made thee this day a fortified city,\nand a pillar of iron, and a wall of brass, over all the land, to\nthe kings of Judea, to the princes thereof, and to the priests\nand to the people of the land. And they shall fight against thee\nand shall not prevail, for I am with thee to deliver thee.\"\n\nAnd to Ezechiel, colleague and successor of Jeremiah, God ever\nspoke the language of struggle: \"Fear not; I send thee to an\napostate people that hath revolted from me, _ad gentem\napostatricem;_ but I have made thy face stronger than their\nfaces, and thy forehead harder than their foreheads; I have made\nthy face like an adamant and like flint. I will set thee up like\na wall of iron and like a city of brass, for I will be with\nthee.\"\n\nThus did the prophets struggle for that Sion which fought against\nthem, repudiating them. They never forsook it, they always loved\nand always served it.\n\nWe are about to part for another year. Let me entreat you now to\nunite yourselves with me in a consecration to that kingdom of\nGod, to that church whose courts we have traversed. Christianity\nis not of today nor of yesterday. It belongs not merely to the\nhistorical period of Jesus Christ and his apostles.\n{698}\nIt comes from David, from Abraham, it comes to us from Adam, our\nfather, our king, our pontiff. In this unique religion, this\nchurch changeable in form, immovable in foundation, friends,\nbrothers--let me use words which come from my heart--let us\nconsecrate ourselves, following the example of the prophets, to\nthe love and service of God's kingdom. The kingdom of God is for\never established in Christianity, in the Catholic, Apostolic,\nRoman Church. But, as I said just now, this church must ever pass\nfrom form to form--_de forme en forme_-from brightness to\nbrightness--_transformamur claritate in claritatem_--until\nher pacific empire shall cover the whole earth, until with\nhumanity she shall attain the age of the perfect man in Christ\nJesus.\n\nDo we not wish to work for this kingdom? What are we to do if not\nthat? What are the works of our public and private life if they\ndo not relate finally to the kingdom of truth, justice, charity,\nto all which constitutes Christianity, to the Catholic and\nApostolic Roman Church? I do not ask you to love her as she does\nnot wish to be loved--to love her as a sect is loved, as the\ngross Jews loved the synagogue, with a heart and mind restricted\nto the letter. I do not ask you to love our grand Catholic Church\nby glorifying the infirmities of her life, which are your\ninfirmities and mine; or by condemning all the truths professed\nand all the virtues practised outside of her by men who are often\nher sons without knowing it. No; let us have no sectarian love! I\nask you to love the church with the heart of the church herself;\nwith a heart commensurate only with the heart of Jesus Christ,\n_dilatamini et vos_. \"You are not straitened in us,\" said\nSt. Paul to the Corinthians; \"but in your own bowels you are\nstraitened. But having the same recompense, (I speak as to my own\nchildren,) be you also enlarged.\" _Dilatamini et vos_.\n\nBefore leaving you, let me tell you the secret of my youth. Let\nme speak to you of the day of my priestly consecration, when in\nthis nave, less crowded then than it is to-day, stretched upon\nthat icy pavement, filled with burning palpitations, I was\nsustained, I was inebriated with one thought--the conviction that\nI had but one love and one service, the kingdom of God and\nhumanity.\n\nYes, let us love the church in every man, and every man in the\nchurch! What matters condition? Rich or poor, ignorant or\nlearned, _omnibus debitor sum_, I am every man's debtor,\nsays St. Paul. What matters country? Whether Frenchman or\nforeigner, Greek or barbarian, _omnibus debitor sum_, I\nanswer with St. Paul. I am the debtor of barbarism as of\ncivilization. In a certain sense, what matters even religion, if\nwe would love a man?\n\nAh! if he is not a son of the Catholic Church in the body, by\nexternal union, he is so, perhaps--he is, I hope, in the soul, by\ninvisible union. If he is a son of the Catholic Church neither\naccording to the body nor in the spirit, nor in the letter, he is\nso at least by preparation in the design of God. If the water of\nbaptism is not on his brow, I grieve to know it; but I see there\nthe blood of Jesus Christ, for Jesus Christ died for all, opening\nwide his arms to all the world upon the cross! The world belongs\nto Jesus Christ, therefore the world belongs to the church, if\nnot in act, at least in power. Let me, then, love all men; and\nyou, too, love all men with me--not only in person, not only in\ntheir narrow earthly individuality, but in the great Christian\ncommunity, in the great divine community which summons each and\nall.\n\n{699}\n\nWhen Moses, founder of the Jewish church, died on the mountain\nwithin sight of the land of promise, the Hebrew text says that he\ndied in the kiss of Jehovah. Before dying let us learn to live in\nthe kiss of Jehovah, which is also the kiss of all humanity. O\nholy Church! thou art more than man and thou art more than\nGod--than God alone in heaven, than man alone on earth. O holy\nChurch! thou art the kiss of God to man, the kiss of man to God;\nthe embrace of all men, all races, all ages, in the flame of\nuniversal and eternal love. \"He who abideth in love abideth in\nGod, and God abideth in him.\"\n\n----------\n\n    A Sketch Of Leo X. And His Age.\n\n\nIn the annals of literature and art, the name of Florence peers\nabove that of any other Italian city, Rome excepted. Here were\nthe poets who tuned the Italian language and made it the most\nmusical of modern idioms; here was the illustrious astronomer,\nwho was not the discoverer of a planet, but the revealer of the\nwhole celestial machinery; and here, too, were the artist and\npolitician who were not only the first sculptors and statesmen of\ntheir time, but the inventors of the very art and craft in which\nthey excelled. Every day the pilgrim scholar arrives at her gates\nand requests to be shown the monuments of her great men, and\nevery day genius worships at the shrine of genius.\n\nAt the time of which we write, the middle ages had seen their\npalmiest days, when a Charlemagne courteously entertained\nambassadors from the Mussulmans of Florence and the Caliphs of\nBagdad, and when the flower of chivalry, headed by a valiant\nPhilip, a lion-hearted Richard, and a sainted Louis, rushed to\nthe plains of the east to battle with the Moslem foe; they had\npresided over the erection of those great Gothic piles whose\nsublime architecture towered to the clouds, and had beheld the\npontiffs of Rome issuing orders for the foundation of\nuniversities not only in Italy, but on the very outskirts of the\ncivilized world; [Footnote 169] and finally they had seen the\nlaborious and prolific genius of the schoolmen multiplying\ninventions and discoveries, fathoming the profound depths of\ntheological science, and disserting on those great metaphysical\nproblems, which, like so many apples of discord, have caused\nendless dissension and controversy among modern philosophers.\n[Footnote 170]\n\n  [Footnote 169: Gibbon tells us in a foot-note to his _Decline\n  and Fall of the Roman Empire_ that, \"at the end of the\n  fifteenth century, there were about fifty universities in\n  Europe.\" Though this is indeed a glorious tribute, considering\n  from whom it came, paid to the mediaeval ages, we are, however,\n  more inclined to believe with the _New American\n  Cyclopaedia_ that, \"before the year 1500, there were over\n  sixty-four universities in Europe.\"]\n\n  [Footnote 170: Mackintosh says, \"Scarcely any metaphysical\n  controversy agitated among recent philosophers was unknown to\n  the schoolmen.\" (_Dissertation on the Progress of Ethical\n  Philosophy_.)]\n\nBut before these great medieval ages had reached their terminus,\nthey again shone forth with brilliant splendor. That, indeed, was\na glorious epoch in the world's history, when the most important\ninvention recorded in the annals of mankind came forth from the\nbrain of Guttenberg; when the stormy Atlantic was first ploughed\nby adventurous keels, and new worlds discovered; when letters,\nphilosophy, and the fine arts were cultivated in such schools as\nthe Medicean palaces, and were patronized by such men as Cosmo\nand Lorenzo de' Medici.\n\n{700}\n\nUnder the enlightened patronage of these princely merchants,\nFlorence became the Athens of Italy, and one of the favorite\nretreats of the muses. Her public halls were crowded with youths\neager to listen to an eloquent hellenist, expatiating upon the\nbeauties of Homer; her poets sang in the idiom of the great\nMantuan; her philosophers were smitten with love for the divine\nPlato; and her scholars were so well read in antiquity, that\nstudents from every country came thither, to slake their thirst\nat what was then considered the fountain-head of ancient lore.\nThe gardens of the Medici recalled the groves of the Academies in\nwhich the Athenian philosopher descanted upon human and divine\nthings, and the shady porches of the Lyceum, in which the\nStagirite perambulated whilst delivering his sublime lessons.\n\nA great bustle might have been observed in these gardens on the\n11th of December, 1475; artists and humanists were vieing with\none another in congratulating Lorenzo the Magnificent on the\nbirth of his second son, who, in memory of his paternal uncle,\nwas christened Giovanni. Lorenzo was proud of his little\nBenjamin, and he listened with complacency to those who admired\nhis keen, restless eye, his pure and noble forehead, his flowing\nhair and snowy neck. In contemplating the sweet expression of his\ncountenance, the poet declared that he would revive classic\nliterature; and the Neoplatonician predicted a bright era for\nphilosophy; whilst a fugitive Hellene read in the Greek profile\nof the infant happy days for his dispersed countrymen; and an old\nsage, endowed with Simeon-like prophecy, exclaimed, \"My soul,\npraise the Lord! Giovanni shall be the honor of the sanctuary.\"\n\nThe education of the young child's heart and the embellishment of\nhis mind were, for his enlightened parents, objects of supreme\nimportance. The former duty necessarily devolved upon themselves;\nand how well they succeeded was best shown by the mild and\nplacable temper, polished manners, and kind and affable\ndisposition of their little favorite; the latter they entrusted\nto scholars whose names even then were running through the\nschools of Europe, especially to Politiano, one of the best\nclassical writers of the _renaissance_, and the preceptor of\na pleiad of illustrious men. Naturally docile, well endowed with\nparts, in constant intercourse with men of rank and talent,\nGiovanni acquired a dignity of deportment, a facility of\nconversation, and a fund of knowledge, much beyond his years. At\nsixteen, he had completed the curriculum of Pisa, was graduated\ndoctor and invested with the insignia of the cardinalate, and\nthus entitled to take his seat among the princes of the church.\nThese precocious acquirements and early preferments ought to have\nripened into days of serenity; but no, they were more like the\ncalm that precedes the storm. Brought up in the school of\nprosperity, he was to acquire his last finish amidst the rude\ntrials of adversity. Before attaining the highest dignity that\ncan adorn the brow of man, he was destined to experience the\ninstability of human affairs and the fickleness of men. The death\nof his father, and the demise of his munificent protector,\nInnocent VIII., inflicted deep wounds on his sensitive heart.\n{701}\nIn the mean time, a terrific storm was gathering in Florence. The\ninhabitants of this metropolis, exasperated at the seemingly\nunpatriotic conduct of Piero de' Medici, his elder brother,\nexpelled from within their walls even the last scion of their\nnoblest family; something like the ungrateful Athenians, who\nostracized the very man on whom they had conferred the title of\njust. To cheer the dreary hours of exile, no less than to enrich\nhis mind with useful knowledge, the expatriated cardinal resolved\nupon visiting the principal cities of Europe. Even here,\ndifficulties and disquietudes unforeseen lurked in the background\nof the smiling ideal that he had formed of his itinerary. The\nsuspicious authorities of Ulm and Rouen arrested the little\ncaravan, and ordered him and his companions to confinement; the\nfoaming billows deterred him from proceeding to England, and thus\ndeprived him of the pleasure of visiting the land of Bede and of\nKing Alfred. On his return, he was cast by a storm on the Genoese\ncoast, and, thinking it advisable to relinquish his voyage,\nproceeded by land to Savona, where he met the celebrated Cardinal\nDella Rovere--a remarkable coincidence, if we consider that Della\nRovere, Giulio de' Medici, and he himself were afterward raised\nto the dignity of the tiara. Notwithstanding all the afflictions\nthat poured in on him, the future pontiff invariably preserved\nthat equanimity of mind and amenity of manners which were the\nprominent features in his character. Better and brighter days\nwere now about to dawn. The premature death of Piero, partially\ndisarmed the hostility of the Florentines, and they finally threw\nopen their gates to the illustrious representative of the\ntime-honored family of the Medici. A year had hardly elapsed\nafter his restoration before Rome was plunged into mourning by\nthe death of that wary and energetic pontiff, Julius II. The\nconclave assembled immediately after the obsequies, and Cardinal\nde' Medici was called by the unanimous vote to the see of St.\nPeter. Giovanni de' Medici was now Leo X., and the choice of that\nname, as Erasmus spiritually remarks, was not without its\nsignificance. If Leo I. saved the eternal city from the ravages\nof the \"scourge of God;\" if Leo IV. again repelled from her walls\nthe barbaric bands of Saracens, Leo X. was to make her the\ncapital city of the republic of letters, as she was already the\nstarry centre of the Christian world.\n\nItaly had already taken the lead in the restoration of ancient\nlearning, and supplied the fire from which the other nations\nlighted their torches. [Footnote 171] As may easily be fancied,\nthe elevation to the pontificate of the son of Lorenzo the\nMagnificent spontaneously awoke the most sanguine expectations of\nthe artists and literati. In their fervor, they imagined that\ngenius, worth, and talent could not remain unnoticed or\nunremunerated. \"Under these impressions,\" says a Protestant\nwriter, [Footnote 172]\n\n    [Footnote 171: Hallam, _Literature of Europe_, vol. i.\n    ch. i.]\n\n    [Footnote 172: Roscoe, _Life and Pontificate of Leo_,\n    vol. i. p. 306.]\n\n\"Rome became, at once, the general resort of those who possessed\nor had pretensions to superior learning, industry, or ability.\nThey all took it for granted that the supreme pontiff had no\nother objects of attention than to listen to their productions\nand to reward their labors.\" That their hopes were to be\nrealized, was evident to all from the very first act of the new\npontiff's administration, the selection as apostolic secretaries\nof Bembo and Sadoleti, two scholars who resume in themselves the\nintellectual life of the time--Sadoleti, a profound philosopher\nand the best exegete of his age; and Bembo, who emulated Virgil\nand Cicero with equal success, and recalled in his writings the\nelegance of Petrarch and Boccaccio. [Footnote 173]\n\n    [Footnote 173: Bettinelli. It is to Bembo that we are\n    indebted for the restoration of the long-lost art of\n    abbreviated or shorthand writing.]\n\n{702}\n\nA new era in literature and art was about to dawn; its first\nbright rays were for Italy, that \"land of taste and sensibility.\"\nWith a pontiff who could say, \"I have always loved accomplished\nscholars and _belles-lettres_; this love was born with me,\nand age has but increased it; for literature is the ornament and\nglory of the church; and I have always remarked that it knits its\ncultivators more firmly to the dogmas of our faith;\" with such a\npontiff, the intellectual movement that then pervaded Italian\nsociety was nobly sustained and enlivened, until at last the\ngolden age again reappeared on earth. All sorts of\nencouragements, such as honorary employments, lucrative offices,\npecuniary gratuities, and even ecclesiastical preferments, were\nlavished upon talent and genius. Every latent energy luxuriantly\nbudded forth and blossomed in the genial sunshine of such\nmunificence.\n\nThe academies of literary men philosophized on the banks of the\nTiber or in the cool recesses of a fragrant villa. The lovers of\nthe arts, the votaries of the muses, and the cultivators of\npolite literature sat side by side at the sumptuous banquets\nfrequently given in the Vatican. At these grand entertainments\nall topics were convivially canvassed, and fancy soared aloft to\ndelight the guests by her sublime improvisations. Popular\nfavorites, like the poet of Arezzo and the \"celestial\" Accolte,\nread their productions in public halls to admiring multitudes;\nwhile the best scholars of the age, yielding to the invitation of\nLeo, filled the professorships of the great universities. Italy\nwas then, in the beautiful words of Audin, \"the promised land of\nthe intellect;\" [Footnote 174] and Rome the centre of learning\nand the nursery of great men. No wonder, then, that the\nsnow-capped Alps presented but a feeble barrier to the\ntransalpine scholar, and that every day some new Hannibal\ndescended their craggy flanks and pushed forward to the\nseven-hilled city, to pay a courteous visit to the accomplished\npontiff, and gratify a long-entertained desire of conversing with\nthe celebrities of the age. The whole world thus recognized that\n\n    \"The fount at which the panting mind assuages\n  Her thirst of knowledge, quaffing there her fill,\n  Flows from th' eternal source of Rome's imperial hill.\" [Footnote 175]\n\n    [Footnote 174: _Vie de Luther_, vol. i. p. 179.]\n\n    [Footnote 175: Byron, _Childe Harold_, Canto III.]\n\nSince the days of Petrarch, the Italian muse had all but hushed\nher lovely strains; her lyre was silent and unstrung. Politiano\ncame, swept its music-breathing chords, and sent its sweet notes\non the wings of the zephyrs throughout the Italian peninsula. All\nlistened with rapture to the enchanting strains of the Tuscan\nsiren, and, after a moment of hesitation, prepared their pens to\nwrite on every theme and to illustrate every department of\nscience and letters. The classic models of heroic poetry, fresh\nfrom the Aldine presses or half consumed by the dust of ages,\nwere taken down from their shelves and studied with passionate\nardor. The children of song were delighted with the epic muse,\nand were now hard at work at their great poems.\n{703}\nMozarello elaborates his _Porsenna_; Querno, the archpoet,\ncadences the twenty thousand verses of his _Alexias_; Vida,\nlike Horace of old, draws up the rules of the metrical art, and\nsings his _Christiad_ in verses of Augustan purity and\nelegance; Ariosto, the Homer of Ferrara, condenses into his\n_Orlando Furioso_ a vein of poetry so remarkable for its\ngrace and energy as to leave it doubtful whether the palm of\nsuperiority should be awarded to him, or to the author of the\n_Jerusalem Delivered_. [Footnote 176] The terrible\neventualities of tragedy and the more pleasing casualties of\ncomedy were brought upon the stage by Trissino, Ruccellai, and\nBibbiena; the protean burlesque assumed its most humorous forms\nunder Berni's magic pen, and the shafts of satire were keenly\npointed by Aretino, whose virulent epigrams drew upon him such an\namount of physical retaliation that a contemporary writer calls\nhim \"the loadstone of clubs and daggers.\" [Footnote 177]\n\n    [Footnote 176: Laharpe. _Cours de Litt\u00e9rature_, vol. i.\n    p. 435.]\n\n    [Footnote 177: See Addison, _Spectator_, No. 23.]\n\nGuicciardini wrote the history of his country with the elegant\ndiction of the great historians of Rome; Giovio's periods were so\nflowing as to make Leo X. declare that next to Livy he had not\nmet with a more eloquent writer. The _Prince_ of\nMacchiavelli enjoys a world-wide reputation, and his _History\nof Florence_ is so remarkable for the beauty of its style,\nthat it is said to have had more influence on Italian prose than\nany other work, except the _Decameron_ of Boccaccio. Besides\nthese reigning stars, there was a host of other literary\ncelebrities who shed a brilliant lustre on Leo's golden reign.\nThere was Fracastoro, who, at the early age of nineteen, had won\nthe highest academic degree of the Paduan university, and was\nnominated to the professorship of logic; Navagero, whose aversion\nto an affected taste was so intense that he annually consigned to\nthe flames a copy of Martial; Aleandro, who was only twenty-four\nwhen the celebrated Manuzio dedicated to him his edition of the\n_Iliad_, alleging as a reason for conferring this honor on a\nperson so young, that his acquirements were beyond those of any\nother person with whom he was acquainted, and it is well known\nthat the Venetian typographer was the friend and correspondent of\nalmost all the literary characters of the day; Augurelli, whom a\ncontemporary historian calls the most learned and elegant\npreceptor of his time; Castiglione, who was called by Charles V.\nthe most accomplished gentleman of the age; Leonardo da Vinci,\nwho, long before the philosopher of Verulam, proclaimed\nexperiment the base of the physical sciences, and, before the\nastronomer of Thorne, taught the annual motion of the earth; and\nCalcagnini, who wrote an elaborate work to defend this startling\nthesis. The correction of the calendar was investigated by\nDulciati, and even hieroglyphics found an expounder in the\nencyclopedic Valeriaro, who wrote no less than fifty-eight books\non that abstruse subject. Literature, indeed, was a universal\nhobby; it was the royal road to distinction in an age when the\nlove of the well-turned period and the mellifluous sonnet was\nepidemic. The lady cultivators of polite letters were numerous,\nand not only accomplished proficients but formidable rivals. The\nsonnets of Veronica Gambara rank among the best; Vittoria\nColonna, in lively description and genuine poetry, excelled all\nher contemporaries with the sole exception of the inimitable\nAriosto; and Laura Battifera is represented as the rival of\nSappho.\n\n{704}\n\nNotwithstanding this general enthusiasm for the amenities of\nliterature, great attention was bestowed upon the more arid study\nof languages. Already the Latin muse had come to dwell again\nbeneath the beautiful sky of Ausonia; and the humanists, fleeing\nfrom the savage fury of the triumphant Ottomans, sang, in the\ngardens of Florence and on the banks of the Tiber, the fall of\nTroy and the adventures of Ulysses. Leo X. was not only a Latin\nscholar, he was also a refined hellenist. Moreover, he knew what\nvast treasures of patristic lore are contained in the Greek\nfathers, and hence, as a lover of sacred and profane literature,\nhe lavished his treasures on the revival of that beautiful\ntongue. A little colony, fresh from the Morea, was installed in a\nmagnificent mansion on the Esquilian hill, and a Greek seminary\nwas opened to impart to the Italians the true pronunciation and\nthe very genius of the Homeric idiom. The famous Lascaris, at the\ninvitation of Leo X., relinquished his position at the French\ncourt, in order to direct the studies of his young countrymen and\nsuperintend the editions of the Greek classics that were issued\nfrom the Roman press. The Hebrew was taught at Rome by\nGuidacerio, who published a grammar of that language and\ndedicated it to Leo X.; the Syriac and Chaldaic were taught at\nBologna by Ambrozio, a regular canon of the Lateran, who at\nfifteen could converse in Greek and Latin with as much ease and\nfluency as any of his contemporaries, and who subsequently\nmastered eighteen languages. A useful and authentic lexicon was\nfirst given to the learned world by Varino. A new Latin version\nof the Bible from the Hebrew having been announced by Pagnini,\nLeo X. requested an interview with the author, and was so well\npleased with his competency as well as with the elegance and\naccuracy of the work, that he defrayed all the expenses of\ntranscription and publication. Erasmus, who corresponded with\nLeo, and, more than any one else, knew his great desire to\npromote biblical studies, inscribed to him his _New\nTestament_ in Greek and Latin with corrections and\nannotations. Giustiniani commenced, in 1516, a new edition of the\nBible in Greek, Latin, Hebrew, Arabic, and Chaldaic. If to this\nwe add that the famous Cardinal Ximenes dedicated to Leo X. his\nherculean work, the Complutensian Polyglot, we shall have some\nidea of the efforts made in the beginning of the sixteenth\ncentury toward the promotion of scriptural and philological\nstudies. [Footnote 178]\n\n    [Footnote 178: It may here be remarked, in passing, that,\n    before the Reformation, the Bible was translated into not\n    only the classic and oriental languages, but also the\n    vernacular of every nation of Europe. For particulars, see\n    Cantu, _Histoire Universelle_, vol. xv. p. 12.]\n\nIt has been said that a genuine love of literature invariably\nevinces its existence by an insatiable thirst for books, \"those\nsouls of ages past.\" This love Leo X. possessed to an eminent\ndegree; he was a second Nicholas V. At his request and under his\npatronage, sterling bibliophiles set out from Rome to overrun the\nworld in quest of manuscripts. The monasteries of Britain and\nGermany and the ruins of the Byzantine libraries were diligently\nsearched; ample pecuniary remuneration was everywhere offered for\nunpublished works; and as kings and princes encouraged this hunt\nafter books, it may easily be fancied that volumes teemed in from\nevery quarter. The Vatican was made the recipient of these\nliterary treasures; and, thanks to the zeal of the popes, it now\npossesses the most valuable collection of manuscripts in the\nworld.\n\n{705}\n\nLeo X. was not only a man of letters, he was also well versed in\nantiquities. Prior to his elevation to the pontificate, his\ngreatest delight was to shut himself up in his library or museum,\nand there pore over his hoarded treasures. This antiquarian taste\nhe inherited from his illustrious ancestors, whose collections\nwere famous throughout all Italy. One day, while he was yet a\ncardinal, a statue of Lucretia was exhumed; his joy was supreme,\nand in the heat of his enthusiasm, he strung his lyre and\ncommemorated the happy event in beautiful iambics. On another\noccasion, a piece of sculpture, representing the ship of\nAEsculapius, was, owing to his exertions, discovered in the\nTiber. This was considered by his omen-liking friends as an\naugury of his future dignity. The discovery of the famous group\nknown as the Laoco\u00f6n was an epoch in Rome. That evening, the\nbells were rung to announce the event; the poets, among whom was\nSadoleti, lucubrated all night, preparing their hymns, sonnets,\nand canzoni, to welcome the reappearance of the masterpiece. Next\nmorning, all Rome was on foot, and the public works were\nsuspended while the antique statue, festooned with flowers and\nverdure, was carried processionally to the capitol, amidst the\nsound of vocal and instrumental harmony. Such was the joy of the\nRoman artists on the discovery of a relic of ancient art.\n\nThe twin arts painting and sculpture shared largely in the\nmunificence of the pontiff. Bramarte, Michael Angelo, Raphael,\nand Leonardo da Vinci, the princes of modern art, were the worthy\nemulators of Phidias and Apelles. In immortalizing their names\nand that of their patron, they immortalized their age and their\ncountry. At their call, genius again returned to earth, and\nexhibited, in the chiselled marble and on the glowing canvas,\nsuch animated representations as filled the eye with wonder and\nstirred the deep foundations of the heart. Bramarte planned and\ncommenced St. Peter's, which, in the estimation of the sceptic\nGibbon, is the most glorious structure that has ever been applied\nto religion; for\n\n                           \"Majesty,\n  Power, glory, strength, and beauty, all are aisled\n  In the eternal ark of worship undefiled.\"\n\nMichael Angelo, whose very fragments have educated eminent\nartists, continuing the noble structure, placed the pride of\nRoman architecture in the clouds, and drew the design of the Last\nJudgment, which connoisseurs pronounce a miracle of genius.\nRaphael covered the Vatican with his inimitable frescoes and\nsketched his Transfiguration, which was hailed by the Roman\npeople as the type of the beautiful, a paragon of art, and the\nmasterpiece of painting. The profound Da Vinci painted the Last\nSupper and thus afforded Christian families a neat ornament for\ntheir refectories and a piece of artistic finish for their\ndrawing-rooms. Sansovino's productions, according to the\nhistorian of the arts, were among the finest specimens of the\nplastic art, and Romano's were worthy of his \"divine\" master.\n\nSuch was the flourishing state of the arts and the great impulse\ngiven to all branches of learning just before the memorable epoch\nwhen the fetters of the human intellect were, forsooth, burst\nasunder by the great Saxon hero, the unfrocked monk of\nWittemberg, against whom Leo X. hurled the bolt of\nexcommunication. If this grand impetus was not followed up, if\nthe pen was forgotten for the sword, and the altars of Apollo\nwere deserted for those of the homicide Mars; if the era of the\nreformation \"was truly a barbarous era,\" [Footnote 179] it most\ncertainly was not owing to incapacity on the part of the Roman\npontiffs, since sectarians themselves proclaim them \"in general\nsuperior to the age in which they lived,\" [Footnote 180] while\nhistorians of the depth of Neander are struck with admiration to\nfind the popes \"ever attentive to the moral and religious wants\nof their people;\" [Footnote 181] but it must be attributed to the\nimmediate effects of the so-called Reformation, that spirit of\nblind fanaticism which was equalled only by the wholesale\nbrigandage and all-destroying vandalism of the sainted\nevangelicals.\n\n    [Footnote 179: Schlegel, _Philosophy of History_.]\n\n    [Footnote 180: Roscoe, _Life and Pontificate of Leo X_.]\n\n    [Footnote 181: Neander, _General History of the Christian\n    Religion and Church_.]\n\n{706}\n\nA kind dispensation of Providence it was, that saved Leo X. the\nsight of the harrowing scenes that Europe then presented. He had\nalready occupied the throne of St. Peter eight years, eight\nmonths, and nineteen days, during all which time he had\nfaithfully guarded the interests of the church against royal\nencroachments, and the liberty of his dominions against foreign\naggression; he had presided over the last seven sessions of the\noecumenical council of Lateran, and conferred on an English\nmonarch the title of _Defensor fidei;_ and now, in the\nforty-seventh year of his age, cruel death takes him from the\naffection of his subjects, the love of his cardinals, and the\nveneration of men of letters. Sad was the day when it was told\nthat Leo X. was no more. Artists and humanists dropped a tear for\ntheir friend and benefactor; the sculptor and the painter\ncommemorated their deceased Maecenas in the virgin marble and on\nthe glowing canvas, while the historian wrote the annals of his\nreign and the poet embalmed his memory in immortal verse. Rome\nerected his monument, and posterity, admiring the virtues of the\nChristian, reverencing the eminent qualities of the pontiff, and\nidolizing the protector of letters and art, has called the age in\nwhich he lived the golden age of Leo the Tenth.\n\n----------\n\n      Translated From The Spanish.\n\n        Little Flowers Of Spain.\n\n          By Fernan Caballero.\n\n\n  \"Humble flowers of religious poetry, and derivations of popular\n  expressions and proverbs,\" is the title given by the authoress\n  to the article headed \"Cosas (humildes) de Espa\u00f1a\"\n  --_Humble Things of Spain_.\n\n\nIf there exists an individual who has read all that we have\nwritten--and the case, though not probable, is nevertheless not\nimpossible--he must have noticed that our zeal, our labor, and\nour specialty is to find out origins and causes, draw inferences\nand conclusions, and trace things to their why and wherefore. We\nare really apprehensive lest in this branch we may become too\nnotable.\n\nOur system is the same that is followed nowadays by writers of\nhistory. Let it be understood that we do not meddle with such\nweighty subjects, nor venture into profound depths, and that our\nemployment of the aforesaid modern system is solely in questions\nof the humble schools. Our information is all obtained from\npopular traditions, romances, and beliefs. The data which it is\nour delight to place in relief, all the world has handled as the\nIndians did gold before their conquerors gave it value; as future\ngenerations will give value to the things of which we treat when\nthey lament their loss.\n\n{707}\n\nOur explorations in these rich mines have been rewarded. We have\nascertained that the first tree that God planted was the white\npoplar; therefore the white poplar is the most ancient of\ntrees--the vegetable Adam. We have learned that the serpent went\nstraight, erect, and proud of his triumph in Paradise, until the\nflight into Egypt, when, encountering the Holy Family, he\nattempted to bite the child Jesus, and the indignant St. Joseph\nprevented him with these words, \"Fall, proud one, and never rise\nagain!\" From that good day to this he has crawled. We have\nlearned, moreover, that snakes and toads are permitted to exist\nsolely for the purpose of absorbing the poisons of the earth. We\nhave found out that the evergreen trees are endowed with their\nprivileges of life and beauty in recompense for having given\nshelter and shade to the Mother and Child whenever they stopped\nto rest in their flight from the sword of Herod; that the\nrosemary enjoys its fragrance and always blossoms on Friday, the\nday of Our Lord's Passion, because the Blessed Virgin, when she\nwashed the little garments of the babe, used to hang them to dry\nupon its branches; also, that for this very reason it has the\ngift of attracting peace and good-hap to the dwellings that are\nperfumed with it on Holy-night. That everybody has sympathy,\naffection, and even reverence for the swallows, because\ncompassionately and with such sweet charity they pulled out the\nthorns that were piercing the temples of the divine Martyr. That\nthe red-owl, which, grieved and appalled, witnessed the cruel\ncrucifixion of the God-man, has done nothing ever since but\nrepeat the melancholy cry \"Cruz! Cruz!\" That the rose of Jericho,\nwhich was white before, owes its purple hue to a drop of the\nwounded Saviour's blood that fell into its cup. That on Mount\nCalvary, and all along the way of agony, the gentle plants and\nfresh herbs wilted and died when our Lord passed by bearing his\ncross, and that these places were presently covered with briers.\nThat the lightning loses its power to hurt in the whole\ncircumference that is reached by the sound of praying. That at\nHigh Mass on Ascension-day, at the moment of the elevation, the\nleaves of the trees incline upon each other, forming crosses, in\ntoken of devotion and reverence. When newborn infants smile, in\ndreams or waking, we know that it is to angels, visible only to\nthem. A murmur in the ears is the noise made by the falling of a\nleaf from the tree of life. When silence settles all at once upon\nseveral persons forming a company, it is not, as the wise ones\nsay, because \"the carriage is running upon sand,\" but because an\nangel has passed over them, and the air that is moved by his\nwings communicates to their souls the silence of respect, though\ntheir comprehension fails to divine the cause. Likewise, we have\nascertained that the tarantula was a woman extravagantly fond of\nthe dance, and so inconsiderate that when, on one occasion, she\nwas dancing, and His Divine Majesty [Footnote 182] passed by, she\ndid not stop, but continued her diversion with the most frightful\nirreverence. For this she was changed into a spider with the\nfigure of a guitar delineated upon its back, and possessed of a\nvenom that causes those who are bitten by it to dance and dance\nuntil, fainting and exhausted, they fall down in a swoon.\n\n    [Footnote 182: The Blessed Sacrament.]\n\nIn effect, we have learned many other things: some of them we\nhave already written; the rest we mean to write; that is to say,\n\"If the rope does not break, all will go on as usual.\"\n\n{708}\n\nBut, among these things, there is one which we are going to\ncommunicate immediately, for fear lest we die of cholera, and it\ndescend with us into the tomb; for it barely survives at present,\nand with it would perish its remembrance.\n\nIn times when faith filled hearts to overflowing, offerings and\n_ex-votos_ were brought by thousands to the house of God.\nNow that we are enlightened, we have other uses for our gold, our\nrare objects, and fine arts; for, as the poet says,\n\n  \"En el sigh diez y nueve\n   Nadie \u00e1 tener f\u00e9 se atreve,\n   Y no huy que en milagros cred.\" [Footnote 183]\n\n    [Footnote 183: In the nineteenth century, no one dares to\n    have faith and there is no one who believes in miracles.]\n\nIt is well--or, better said, it is ill.\n\nThe first ostrich eggs procured by the Spaniards, in their\nvoyages to Africa, were regarded as marvels, and deposited,\neither as offerings or _ex-votos_, in the churches, where,\nbound and tied with gay ribbons, they hung before the altars and\nwere looked upon as ornaments of great value. And even now,\nbefore modest altars in humble villages are sometimes seen these\nenormous eggs; presenting with their worn and faded decorations\nthe appearance of porcelain melons. By whom were they brought?\nwhere were they found? who hung them here? are questions that\nassault the mind of the beholder, and send his thoughts and fancy\ninto the vast field of conjectures impossible to verify, but all\nsweet, romantic, and holy.\n\nThe imagination of the Spanish people is an _instinct_. They\ncannot see a material object without attaching to it an ideal.\nOut of the fervor of their own heart they made a symbol of this.\n\nThe belief adapted to the ostrich egg, hung in front of the\naltar, is one that will be sagely qualified by sanctimonious\ndevotees of literal truth as superstitious and fanatical. We\noffer it to the Protestant missionaries who favor us with their\npropaganda, as a killing weapon against the benighted and\nmalignant papists.\n\nIt is said that the mother-bird cannot hatch these eggs, which\nappear to be of marble, because it is impossible for her to cover\nthem, and because there is not heat enough in her body to warm\nthem through; but that she has in her look such fire, kindled by\nher great desire to free her offspring, that by keeping her eyes\ncontinuedly and without distraction fixed upon the eggs, the\nardor and concentration of her love penetrates the hard shell and\ndelivers her little ones. And they hung these eggs before the\nplaces where the holy sacrifice of the mass is offered, to teach\nus to keep our eyes fixed upon the altar with equal desire, equal\nlove, and exclusive attention and devotion. O poets! if you would\nfulfil your mission, which is to move the heart, learn less in\npalaces, and more from the people who feel and believe.\n\nAmong sayings and proverbs that have been accepted everywhere\nwithout having to show their parentage, is the well-known\nexpression, _Ahi me las den todas:_ May I get them all\nthere.\n\nOne of the creditors of a certain dishonest fellow, that owed all\nthe world and paid nobody, laid his complaint before the judge,\nwho sent an alguacil to suggest to the debtor the necessity of\npaying at once.\n\nFor response to the intimation, the debtor gave the alguacil, who\nwas a very dignified man, a slap on his face. The latter,\nreturning to the tribunal, addressed the magistrate thus: \"Sir,\nwhen I go to notify an individual on the part of your worship,\nwhom do I represent?\" \"Me,\" answered the judge. \"Well, sir,\"\nproceeded the alguacil, touching his cheek, \"to this cheek of\nyour worship they have given a slap.\" \"May I get them all there,\"\nreplied the judge.\n\n{709}\n\nHere is the etymology of another saying, _Quien no te conozea\nte compre:_ Let some one buy you that don't know you. Three\npoor students came to a village where there was a fair. \"What\nshall we do to amuse ourselves?\" asked one as they were passing a\ngarden in which an ass was drawing water from a well. \"I have\nalready hit upon a way,\" answered another of the three. \"Put me\ninto the machine, and you take the ass to the fair and sell him.\"\nAs it was said, so it was done. When his companions had gone, the\nstudent that had remained in the place of the ass stood still.\n\"Arre!\" [Footnote 184] shouted the gardener, who was at work not\nfar off.\n\n    [Footnote 184: Geho!]\n\nThe improvised ass neither started nor shook his bell, and the\ngardener mounted to the machine, in which, to his great\nconsternation, he found his ass changed into a student. \"What is\nthis?\" he cried. \"My master,\" said the student, \"some ill-natured\nwitches transformed me into an ass, but I have fulfilled the term\nof my enchantment and returned to my original shape.\"\n\nThe poor gardener was disconsolate, but what could be done? He\nunharnessed the student, and, bidding him go with God-speed, set\nout sorrowfully for the fair to buy another beast. The very first\nthat presented itself was his own, which had been bought by a\ncompany of gipsies. The moment he cast his eyes upon it, he took\nto his heels, exclaiming, \"Let some one buy you that don't know\nyou.\"\n\n_Yo te cono c\u00ed ciruelo_--I knew you when you were a\nplum-tree--is a common saying. The people of a certain village\nbought a plum-tree of a gardener, for the purpose of having it\nconverted into an effigy of St. Peter. When the image was\nfinished and set up in the church, the gardener went to see it,\nand, observing the somewhat lavish coloring and gilding of its\ndrapery, exclaimed:\n\n  \"Gloriosisimo San Pedro,\n   Yo te cono c\u00ed ciruelo,\n   Y de tu fruta comi;\n   Los misagros que tu hagas\n   Que me me los cuelgan \u00e1 mi!\"\n\n  \"Most glorious Saint Peter!\n   I knew you when you were a plum-tree,\n   and ate of your fruit;\n   the miracles you do,\n   let them hang upon me.\"\n\n_Ya saco raja_--He has got a share--is often said, and we\ntrace it to Estremadura, where the live-oak groves are divided\ninto rajas; _raja_ being the name of an extension yielding\nacorns enough to feed a given number of hogs. When the\n_rajas_ are public property, they are distributed at a\ntrifling rent to the poorer householders, who are, as will be\nsupposed, very anxious to have them. But to obtain one is\ndifficult, for the _ayuntamientos_, or town councils,\ngenerally give them to their _prot\u00e9g\u00e9s_ and hangers-on; and,\nfrom this circumstance, \"He has got a hog-pasture,\" has come to\nbe said of any person that by skill, cunning, audacity, or good\nluck succeeds in obtaining an advantage difficult to get, or of\nwhich the getting depends upon some one else.\n\n_El que tiene capa escapa_--He that wears a cloak\nescapes--dates from the giving way of the new bridge at Puerto\nSanta Maria, under the weight of the great crowd that had\ncollected upon it. To prevent thefts and disturbances,\nCaptain-General O'Kelly issued an order to the effect that no\nperson wearing a cloak should be allowed to cross the bridge. In\nconsequence of this order, no one wearing a cloak fell into the\nriver.\n\n{710}\n\nIt is usual to indicate that a person is poor by saying, _El\nesta \u00e1 la cuarta pregunta_--He is at the fourth question. This\nassertion is derived from the interrogation of witnesses for the\ndefence in suits when, among other circumstances, that of poverty\nis wished to be proved. This extreme being comprehended in the\nfourth question, as follows: \"Does the witness know, of his own\nknowledge, that the party he represents is poor, and possesses\nneither landed property nor income; so that he has absolutely no\nmeans of support except the product of his own labor?\"\n\n----------\n\n    The Pearl And The Poison.\n\n        From The French.\n\n\n  Chanced it, where along the strand\n      Softly foaming broke the sea,\n  Lay an oyster on the sand\n      'Mid her neighbors merrily:\n  And her shelly doors, ablaze\n  With the sapphire's thousand rays,\n  She had opened to the sigh\n  Of the zephyrs flitting by.\n  Fell into her bosom there\n      Just a single drop of rain--\n      Just a rain-drop dull and plain:\n  When, behold! a jewel rare--\n  A sudden pearl exceeding fair!\n\n  Chanced it on the heath hard by\n      That a viper, lurking dread,\n  Uttered then her hissing cry--\n      To the zephyr raised her head:\n  When upon her dart accurst\n  Fell a rain-drop like the first:\n  Just a drop of poison more\n  To recruit her venom's store.\n\n  With twofold nature are our hearts endued,\n  Nor open less to evil than to good:\n  Responding kindly to the tiller's care,\n  The soil becomes what skilful hands prepare.\n  Dear parents, take you heed. If yours the will\n      To guard your children's sacred innocence,\n      Be timely care and foresight the defence;\n          And drop by drop instil\n      Into their little spirits thoughts of good,\n          To be their daily food.\n      If you are wise, through years to come\n          A pearl of a child will make you blest:\n      If not, you'll cherish in your home\n          A very poison to your rest.\n\n-------\n\n{711}\n\n        Foreign Literary Notes.\n\nThe testimony of so distinguished an authority as M. E. Littr\u00e9,\nof the French Institute, is now added to that of Digby, Maitland,\nMontalembert, and so many others, to show that the middle ages\nwere not \"barbarous.\" M. Littr\u00e9, as is well known, is very far\nfrom being a Catholic; but, treating the subject with his great\nerudition from a purely historical point of view, he shows, in\nhis _Etudes sur les Barbares et le Moyen Age_, that, after\nthe frightful degeneration of the Roman world--a degeneration\naggravated and precipitated by the violent immixtion of barbarous\npeoples--the period of the middle ages was an era of renovation\nin institutions, in letters, and in morals; a renovation, slow,\nit is true, but certain and continuous; a renovation entirely due\nto Catholicity, revivifying by powerful and fecund impulsion the\nantique foundation formed by pagan society, and augmenting it by\nall that Christianity possesses superior to paganism. On this\nbeneficial and constantly civilizing influence of the church,\nwhich formed the moral unity of a world whose material unity had\ndisappeared, re-educating people fallen into infancy, rescuing\nletters by her schools, clearing the forests by her monks,\nfounding social and political institutions worthy of the name,\nand the like of which the Roman empire had never seen--for the\nreason that all its conceptions of man and of liberty were false,\nand it could never raise itself to the idea of a spiritual power\nthat was independent of the lay power--on all these points, so\nworthy the attention of the historian, there are, particularly in\nthe first two chapters, some admirable pages. M. Littr\u00e9 speaks\nwith admiration of the spread of monachism in the west, and\ndistinctly recognizes the many great blessings that followed in\nits train. He (p. 3) reproaches Gibbon with having ignored the\nimportance of the religious fact of Christianity. And yet his\n\"naturalism\" has led him astray from the conclusion to which the\ninvincible logic of his own presentation of facts must bring him.\n\n----\n\nA valuable addition to biblical criticism is, unquestionably, the\nlately published _Saint Paul's Epistle to the Philippians_.\nA revised text, with introduction, notes, and dissertations. By\nJ. B. Lightfoot, D.D., Hulsean Professor of Divinity, and Fellow\nof Trinity College, Cambridge. London, Macmillan. 8vo, 337 pp.\nThis book forms the second volume of an exegetical work that is\nto embrace all the epistles of St. Paul. Galatians has already\nbeen published. The present volume is particularly valuable for\nits introduction of the results of the latest archeological and\nhistorical research. The commentaries on Seneca and the doctrines\nof the Stoics are interesting, as also the remarks on the [Greek\ntext] in verse 13 of first chapter.\n\n----\n\nA distinguished priest of the Oratory, H. de Valroger, has\nrecently published an able and learned disquisition on biblical\nchronology. He terminates it thus: \"No more than the Bible has\nthe church laid down a dogmatic system of precise dates strictly\nconnected and confining the primitive history of the world and of\nman within narrow and inflexible limits. No more than the Bible\ndoes the church deprive astronomers, geologists, paleontologists,\narchaeologists, or chronologists of the liberty of ascertaining\nscientifically the period of time elapsed since the creation of\nthe world and of man, or since the deluge, which terminated the\nfirst of the reign of humanity.\"\n\n----\n\nIn the Foreign Literary Notes of our number for June, we noticed\nan important publication by the Abb\u00e9 Lamy on the Council of\nSeleuciae, a translation from one of the numerous productions of\nearly Syrian literature, so rich in works relative to the church,\nits history, its discipline, and its dogmas. And, in this\nconnection, it may be proper here to note a typographical\ntransposition seriously interfering with a correct reading of the\nnotice in question, namely, the six paragraphs of the first\ncolumn of p. 432 that precede \"Concilium Seleuciae et\nCtesiphonti,\" etc., should follow the second paragraph on the\nsecond column of the same page.\n\n{712}\n\nThis work of the Abb\u00e9 Lamy is one out of many recent publications\nshowing the great attention lately given to the monuments of\nearly Syrian literature by theologians of Europe. Especially in\nGermany is the activity great in this new field. It has long been\nknown that a serious chronological break existed in this\nliterature, covering a period of nearly three hundred years,\nstretching from the translation of the Scriptures to the\nclassical period of Syrian patristic literature.\n\nOnly of late years has this void been partially filled by the\nimportant work of Cureton, (W.,) entitled, _Ancient Syriac\nDocuments relative to the earliest Establishment of Christianity\nin Edessa_. With a preface by W. Wright. London: Williams &\nNorgate. 1864. This work of Cureton was preceded by his\n_Spicilegium Syriacum_, containing remains of Bardesan,\nMeliton, Ambrose, and Mara bar Serapion. London: Francis &\nRivington. 1855.\n\nIn connection with these may be mentioned Cardinal Wiseman's\n_Horae Syriacae_, Rome, 1828; Pohlmann, _S. Ephraemi Syri\nCommentariorum in S. Scripturum;_ Lamy, _Diss. de Syrorum\nfide et disciplina in re eucharistica; S. Ephraemi Syri Rabulae,\nBalaei aliorumque opera selecta_. Oxford, Clarendon. 1865.\n\n----\n\nAn interesting historical controversy has for some time been\ngoing on between M. Cretineau Joly, of Paris, and the Rev. Father\nTheiner, Prefect of the Archives of the Vatican, concerning the\nauthenticity of the memoirs of Cardinal Consalvi, published by M.\nCretineau Joly, in 1864. Father Theiner, in his History of the\nConcordat, throws serious doubts upon the genuineness of these\nmemoirs. On the other hand, M. Joly, in his lately published\n_Bonaparte, the Concordat of 1801, and the Cardinal\nConsalvti_, defends his position, and declares that he\ntranslated with the most conscientious exactitude the memoirs in\nquestion, \"such as they were confided to me at Rome, such as I\nnow possess them in MSS. at Paris, such as any one is free to\ntest by examination.\"\n\n----\n\n_Logicae, Metaphysicae, Ethicae Institutiones quas tradebat\nFranciscus Battaglinius, Sacerdos, Philosophiae Lector_.\nBologna, typogr. Felsinea. 1869. 1 vol. in 8vo, 712 pp. This work\nis a collection of the lectures delivered at the Seminary of\nBologna, by Professor Battaglini. The spirit of the learned\nprofessor's philosophy is, as he himself states, _secundum divi\nThomae doctrinas_. No slight task, certainly, to bring the\n\"Angelic Doctor\" within the grasp of the young theological\nstudent.\n\nThe work has attracted the attention of many of the French\nclergy, and is highly approved by them.\n\n----\n\nThere appears to be serious danger that the French people are in\na way soon to know all about the Bible. Besides the numerous\ncopies of the sacred Scriptures already in existence in France,\nthe publisher Lethielleux now has in press the first volume of a\nnew edition of the entire Bible, which will give the Latin text\nof the Vulgate, with the French translation, and a full body of\ncommentaries--theological, moral, philological, and historical,\nedited so as to include the results of the best works in France,\nItaly, Germany, and elsewhere, with a special introduction for\neach book, by the Abb\u00e9 Drach, D.D., and the Abb\u00e9 Bayle, Professor\nof the Faculty of Aix.\n\n----\n\nThe mantle of Mai and of Mezzofanti has fallen upon Cardinal\nPitra, recently appointed to the important position of librarian\nof the Vatican. The office could not be filled by one more\nerudite and worthy of it in every respect, and his holiness could\nhardly have made a better choice. Cardinal Pitra is well known as\nthe author of several learned works in theological and canonical\nscience. Like a true Benedictine, his life has been devoted to\nstudy and scientific\n\n{713}\n\nA succession of articles lately given in the _Revue des Deux\nMondes_, by M. d'Haussonville, [Footnote 185] has thrown fresh\nlight on the long and interesting struggle between Pope Pius VII.\nand Napoleon; between moral and physical force, between the\ninspiration of heaven and the inspiration of the world. M.\nd'Haussonville, by the publication of numerous documents until\nnow unpublished, and by the letters and despatches of Napoleon\nthe First, lately given to the world by the present imperial\ngovernment, has added a new interest to the sad story of the\ncaptivity of the holy father, and the negotiations at Savona.\n\n    [Footnote 185: Lately elected a member of the French\n    Academy.]\n\nThe dignity, firmness, and elevated piety of the noble pontiff\nstand out in more striking relief from their necessary comparison\nwith the rude and merciless tyranny of his oppressor, and have\nwrung the strongest expression of admiration from sources the\nmost unexpected. In an article entitled, \"The Papacy and the\nFrench Empire,\" the _Edinburgh Review_ (October, 1868) says:\n\n  \"The meek resistance of Pius VII. to the overwhelming force\n  which had crushed every independent power on the continent of\n  Europe, was therefore a protest worthy of the sacred character\n  of the head of the Latin Church in favor of the dignity and\n  liberty of man; and, by the justice of Heaven, the victim\n  survived the conqueror, the feeble endured, the mighty one\n  perished.\"\n\n----\n\nGreat activity prevails throughout Europe in the search for and\npublication of documents, long buried in libraries and private\ncollections of MSS., which are calculated to throw light upon the\nhistory and workings of the so-called Reformation. And this\nactivity is probably greatest in Switzerland, where every canton,\nseparately or with an adjoining canton, has its historical\nsociety in active and industrious operation. German and French,\nCatholic and Protestant, vie with each other in their\npraiseworthy efforts to rescue from decay and ruin old\nparchments, chronicles, protocols, and letters, that are\ncalculated to throw any light on the events of past centuries. In\nthis direction works the Protestant Berner in the _Helvetia\nSacra_, and the _Pius Verein_ promises great results in a\ncollection of which the first volume has lately appeared,\nentitled, _Archiv f\u00fcr die Schweizerische\nReformnationsgeschichte. Herausgegeben auf Veranstaltung des\nSchweizerischen Piusvereins_. Erster Band. Solothurn. 8vo, 856\npp. The central committee of this society consists of Count\nScherer Beccard, of Lucerne, and Prebendary Fiala and Professor\nBarmwart, both of Solothurn. The volume announced contains\nchronicles, monographs, and extracts from the archives of\nLucerne, the mere enumeration of which would be too much for our\nspace.\n\n----\n\nThe old Benedictine abbey of La Cava, in Italy, has long been\nknown to possess in its archives a mass of documents and MSS.\nsaid to contain treasures of diplomatic and archaeological\nerudition. They cover the period from Pepin le Bref to Charles V.\nFather Morcaldi, one of the most distinguished savants of Italy,\nhas undertaken their classification and publication. They will\nfill, when printed, eight or ten folio volumes, and require from\nfive to seven years for publication.\n\n----\n\nA recent number of the _Literarischer Handweiser_, edited at\nM\u00fcnster by Dr. Franz H\u00fclskamp and Dr. Herrmann Rump, contains an\narticle on Catholic journalism in the United States. Here is an\nextract:\n\n  \"Since the cessation of the well-known Quarterly, edited by Dr.\n  Brownson, American Catholics possess but one really first-class\n  periodical, namely, _The Catholic World_, founded some\n  four years since, and published at New York, in handsomely\n  printed monthly numbers. This monthly, founded by Father\n  Hecker, of the Congregation of the Paulists, a zealous convert,\n  distinguished for his effective dialectic and polemic ability,\n  is one of the most welcome manifestations in the field of North\n  American periodical literature. Already, during the short\n  period of its existence, it has gained numberless friends, and\n  bears favorable comparison with the best productions of the\n  European press. The influence and writings of Father Hecker and\n  his collaborators are sufficient warrant that _The Catholic\n  World_ has an important future before it in the field of\n  defence and polemics, and that it will most probably be for\n  many the guide to the bosom of the church.\"\n\n----\n\n{714}\n\nAmong new English books announced is _Mary, Queen of Scots, and\nher Accusers; embracing a Narrative of Events from the Death of\nJames V., in 1552, until the close of the Conference at\nWestminster, in 1569_. By John Hosack, Barrister in Law. The\nwork is to contain the \"Book of Articles\" produced against Queen\nMary at Westminster, which, it is said, has never hitherto been\nprinted, and will be published by Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh.\n\nIf this work be in Mary's defence, it is not the first one--to\ntheir credit be it said--produced by the Protestants of Scotland.\nWe confess to some surprise that some one of the many English\nCatholic writers, with their peculiar facilities for reference to\nauthorities, have not taken up and exposed the scandalous malice\nof Mr. Froude's attack on the memory of the unfortunate queen.\nHis desperate attempt to advocate the genuineness of the silver\ncasket letters, bold and ingenious though it be, is nevertheless\na failure, and its unfairness and sophistry should be exposed.\n\n----------\n\n         New Publications.\n\n  Life Of Mother Margaret Mary Hallahan, O.S.D.,\n  Foundress of the English Congregation of St. Catherine of\n  Sienna, of the Third Order of St. Dominic.\n  By her religious children.\n  With a preface by the Right Rev. Dr. Ullathorne.\n  New York: The Catholic Publication House,\n  126 Nassau street. 1869.\n\nAll who are interested in the extraordinary, not to say\nmiraculous, revival of the Catholic faith in English-speaking\ncountries, will hail with delight the appearance of this book. It\nis a simple and evidently a truthful narrative of the life of one\nof those providential personages who, in all great movements,\nstand out as beacon lights to mark their progress. Margaret Mary\nHallahan was born in London in 1802, of Irish parents, who had\nfallen from a respectable position in life to honorable poverty.\nShe was their only child, and became a complete orphan at the age\nof nine years. Her education had been provided for, as well as\ncircumstances would permit, by her kind-hearted father, in the\nschools established in London by the Abb\u00e9 Carron, a refugee\npriest of the French revolution. Slender, indeed, were the\nprospects of a poor Catholic orphan girl in the capital of a\ncountry so full of bigotry as was England in 1811. Having spent a\nshort time in the orphan asylum at Somerstown, she was placed\nunder the care of a Madame Caulier, whose harsh discipline was\nhardly compensated by occasional acts of kindness. In her\ntwentieth year, she was introduced by this lady to the family of\nDoctor Morgan, once physician to George III. Being then an\ninvalid, he was attended by Margaret during the last six months\nof his life; and after his death she became the bosom friend of\nhis daughter, Mrs. Thompson, whom she served, rather as a sister\nthan as a domestic, for twenty years. Five years of this time\nwere spent in England and fifteen in Belgium. In the latter\ncountry she became a member of the Third Order of St. Dominic, on\nthe feast of St. Catherine of Sienna, in the year 1835.\n\nOn her return to England, in 1842, she took charge of the\nCatholic schools of Coventry, where Father Ullathorne, of the\nBenedictine order, was pastor. Her days were spent in the\neducation of young children, and her evenings in the instruction,\nreligious and secular, of the poor factory girls of the place.\n{715}\nIn a short time, there was a visible improvement in the Catholic\ncommunity of Coventry; and Sister Margaret had the happiness of\nbeholding a religious procession, the first of the kind seen in\nEngland since the change of religion, at the head of which was\nborne her own image of the Blessed Virgin, the only treasure she\nhad carried with her from Belgium. A few pious companions, having\nunited with Sister Margaret in the performance of good works, she\nand three others, by the advice of Father Ullathorne, and with\nthe authorization of the general of the Dominican order, received\nthe habit of the Third Order of St. Dominic, with a view to\nliving in community, on the 11th of June, 1844. On the 8th of\nDecember, 1845, they made their religious profession. Soon after\nthis, Father Ullathorne was appointed by the holy see vicar\napostolic of the western district; and, having established his\nresidence at Bristol, it was deemed advisable for the young\ncommunity, of which he was the father and protector, to remove to\nClifton, near his episcopal city. This was in 1848; and when, in\n1850, the Catholic hierarchy was reestablished in England, Bishop\nUllathorne, now transferred to Birmingham, founded the second\nconvent of the Dominican Sisters at Stow. This became the general\nnovitiate of the order in England, and here were established by\nMother Margaret her boarding and free schools, her orphanage, and\nhospital for incurables. In 1858, she went to Rome to obtain of\nthe holy see the canonical erection of her community into a\ncongregation governed by a provincial prioress. Her request was\ngranted by a brief given in 1859, by which she was named\nprovincial prioress, which office she retained until her death,\nin 1868. Here we may be allowed to quote the words of her friend,\nBishop Ullathorne, in his preface to her life:\n\n  \"And now behold this lonely and poor woman, made ripe in\n  spiritual wisdom and in human experience, returning, a stranger\n  and unknown, to the land of her birth. Yet God has already\n  prepared a way for her, and she begins a spiritual work which\n  slowly rises under her hands, from humble beginnings, into the\n  highest character, and surrounds itself with numerous\n  institutions of mercy and charity. Foundress of a congregation\n  of the ancient Dominican order, she trained a hundred religious\n  women, founded five convents, built three churches, established\n  a hospital for incurables, three orphanages, schools for all\n  classes, including a number for the poor; and, what is more,\n  left her own spirit in its full vigor to animate her children,\n  whose work is only in its commencement.\"\n\nThe history of her life will amply repay perusal. It is a\ncontinual exemplification of her great maxim, _All for God_.\nThe most prominent feature in her administration of the affairs\nof her order was, that she never allowed external employments,\nundertaken for the benefit of her neighbor, to encroach in the\nleast upon the hours assigned for prayer and meditation. Her zeal\nin decorating altars, and in providing all things necessary for\nthe decency of divine worship, knew no bounds.\n\nWe heartily recommend the life of Mother Margaret Mary to all our\nreaders.\n\n----\n\n  Die Jenseitige Welt.\n  Eine Schrift \u00dcber Fegefeuer,\n  H\u00f6lle Und Himmel.\n  Von P. Leo Keel, Capitular des\n  Stiftes Maria Einsiedeln.\n  Einsiedeln, New York,\n  and Cincinnati: Benziger. 1869.\n\nThe first two books of this work are out, and we anxiously expect\nthe third, on Heaven, a topic on which it is very difficult to\nwrite anything worth reading, and on which very little has been\nwritten in our modern languages. German books are generally\nbetter than others, and a work which merits the praise of German\ncritics is sure to be solid. The present work is highly esteemed\nin Germany, and we have examined the part which treats of\npurgatory sufficiently to convince us that the author has written\nsomething far superior in learning, and vigor of thought, to the\nordinary treatises on religious doctrines which are to be met\nwith. To those clergymen who are Germans, or who read the\nlanguage, we can recommend this book as well worth its price. It\nis printed in the neatest and most attractive style.\n\n{716}\n\n  Warwick;\n  or, the Lost Nationalities of America: A Novel.\n  By Mansfield Tracy Walworth.\n  New York: Carleton. 1869.\n\nThis novel is a remarkable production, exhibiting vivid\nimagination, extensive and curious research, descriptive power of\na high order, chivalrous sentiments, and a lofty moral ideal, in\nthe author. Its principal scenes, events, and characters belong\nto an ideal world entirely beyond the possibilities of real and\nactual life, with an intermingling of some minor sketches drawn\nfrom nature which show the author's power to depict the real if\nhe pleases to do so. It seems to us that the serious arguments\nwhich are interspersed through the book, and the curious\nspeculations respecting the original inhabitants of America,\nwhich are not without at least historical and scientific\nplausibility, would be presented with far greater effect if they\nwere detached from a plot which is too absorbing to leave the\nmind leisure to give them due attention. The moral effect\nintended to be produced by the story itself would be also greater\nif the characters were more real, the events more natural and\nprobable, and the scenes drawn more from real life. The great\npraise, so seldom deserved, must be given to the author, that he\ninculcates high moral and religious principles in an eloquent and\nattractive manner, and will therefore undoubtedly exercise a\nrefining and elevating influence over the mind of many a young\nreader who would reject graver lessons. Highly-wrought works of\nfiction have become a necessity to a large class of readers, and\nhere is one which will give their imagination a wild ride on a\nracer over a safe road. The young and accomplished author of\n_Warwick_, will, we trust, follow up his literary career,\nand produce other and maturer fruits of his genius, which will\nadd more renown to the illustrious name he bears.\n\n----\n\n   The Life Of John Banim, the Irish novelist,\n   author of _Damon and Pythias_, etc., and one of the\n   writers of _Tales by the O'Hara Family_.\n   With extracts from his correspondence, general and literary.\n   By Patrick Joseph Murray.\n   Also selections from his poems.\n   New York: D. & J. Sadlier & Co. 1869.\n\n   The Ghost-hunter And His Family.\n   By the O'Hara Family.\n   New York: D. & J. Sadlier& Co. 1869.\n\nJohn Banim was born in the city of Kilkenny, on the 3d day of\nApril, 1798. His parents were in humble life, but, through\nindustry and economy, were enabled to bestow upon their son the\ninestimable advantage of a good literary education, while their\nprecepts and example united to secure for him a thorough\nChristian training. His genius for novel writing manifested\nitself at an early age. While in his sixth year, his ready fancy\ngave birth to a story of no little merit.\n\n  \"He was not sufficiently tall to write conveniently at a table,\n  even when seated, and having placed the paper upon his bedroom\n  floor, he lay down beside it and commenced the construction of\n  his plot. During three months he devoted nearly all his hours\n  of play to the completion of his task; and when at length he\n  had concluded, the writing was so execrable that he alone could\n  decipher it. In this dilemma he obtained the assistance of his\n  brother Michael, and of a school-fellow; they acted as\n  amanuenses, relieving each other when weary of writing from\n  John's dictation. When the tale was fully transcribed, it was\n  stitched in a blue cover, and John determined that it should be\n  printed. But here the important question of expense arose to\n  mind, and, after long deliberation, the youthful author thought\n  of resorting to a subscription publication. Accordingly the\n  manuscript was shown to several of his father's friends, and,\n  in the course of a week, the subscribers amounted to thirty, at\n  a payment of one shilling each. Disappointment was again the\n  lot of our little genius; for in all Kilkenny he could not\n  induce a printer to undertake the issuing of his story. This\n  was a heavy blow to his hopes; but honorable even as a child,\n  he no sooner found that he could not publish the tale than he\n  waited upon his subscribers for the purpose of restoring to\n  them their shillings.\n{717}\n  All received him kindly and refused the money, telling him that\n  they were quite satisfied with reading the manuscript.\"\n\nIn this little incident of his boyhood, the salient features of\nthe character of John Banim, the man and the author, are easily\ndiscernible. His extreme facility of conception, his hurrying\nenergy of execution, his confidence in the merits of his\nproductions, his indomitable persistence in commanding public\nattention, his patience and courage under defeat and\ndisappointment, and his scrupulous honesty of purpose, which\ncontrolled alike his writings and his business relations, are all\ncontained and foreshadowed in the circumstances of this almost\ninfantile enterprise. Maturer years darkened the shadows,\ndeepened the lines, heightened the lights of Banim's character;\nbut such as he was, when he ran home from his school-mates in\ntheir hours of play, \"to see that 'Farrell the Robber' had not\nstolen his mother,\" such also was he, till, in his last hours, he\nbegged of his brother,\n\n  \"That I would stand by while his grave was digging, and that,\n  when his body was lowered to its last resting place, I should\n  be certain the side of his coffin was in close contact with\n  that of his beloved parent.\"\n\nOf the literary life and achievements of Banim, of his privations\nand discouragements, of his physical sufferings, and his\npremature decay and death, the pages of Mr. Murray's book contain\na tolerably full description. It is to be regretted, however,\nthat the task did not fall into the hands of Michael Banim, his\nbrother and co-laborer in the O'Hara Tales. The work before us is\ntoo evidently the accomplishment of \"an outsider\"--of one who\ndraws his information from letters, from books, from the accounts\nand descriptions of others, and not of one who \"knew his man,\"\nand delineates the results of his own personal sight and hearing.\nJohn Banim was a man whose biographer should have been his most\nintimate and dearest friend, whose choicest qualities those who\nknew him most thoroughly could alone adequately value, and whom a\ndistant public can be taught fully to appreciate only by a writer\nwho himself has learned the lesson through long and close\nassociation.\n\nOf the works of Banim, (one of the best of which we have also\njust received,) it is needless for us to make particular mention.\nThey are worthy to be classed among the standard fictions of the\ncentury, whether for their rhetorical or dramatic power, and are\nalmost wholly free from the loose sensationalism which disgraces\nthe pages of so many modern tales. We have found them to\ninculcate virtue and industry, to do honor to purity and\ndevotion, to abound in filial affection and religious fidelity to\nduty; and there is no half-heartedness in our wish that they, and\nsuch as they, may supplant, at least among Catholic readers, the\nnoisome volumes which come swarming faster and faster both from\nthe American and English press.\n\n----\n\n  Problematic Characters: A Novel.\n  By Freidrich Spielhagen.\n  New York: Leypoldt & Holt. 1869.\n\nIt seems unnecessary, to say the least, to translate from the\nGerman pictures of life like those contained in this romance,\nsince there are innumerable English and American novels, filled\nwith the same sensuous details, and teeming with shameless\ndescriptions of illicit love. In all the family life introduced\nto our notice in the course of this thick volume, the only\nmarried pairs that are described as living comfortably together\nare objects of ridicule, while men who make love to their\nneighbors' wives, and the married women who respond to these\nadvances, are made to appear exceedingly interesting and lovely,\nand their wicked words and deeds justified on the ground, so\npopular in these days, _incompatibility_ in the conjugal\nrelations.\n\nAs might be expected from such immoral teaching, utter infidelity\nfollows in its wake.\n\n{718}\n\nResponsibility to God or man is ignored throughout these pages,\nthough much is said about the great eternal laws of nature, which\nseems to mean, according to this author, unbelief in the God of\nrevelation; since the only persons who profess to have any faith\nin the life beyond are proved arrant hypocrites, and excite only\nour disgust by their assumed piety.\n\nSuch reading should be condemned without qualification, although\nthe style may be, as in this volume, graceful and polished, the\nlanguage vigorous, often piquant, the descriptions of natural\nbeauties glowing with light and warmth, social questions\ndiscussed with equanimity and calmness--but the trail of the\nserpent is over them all. We unhesitatingly pronounce this a\ndangerous book--not _problematically_, only, but positively\nbad reading.\n\n----\n\n  Walter Savage Landor. A Biography.\n  By John Forster.\n  8vo, pp. 693.\n  Boston: Fields, Osgood & Co.\n\nMr. Forster has led us to expect so much from him, by his\nexcellent biography of Goldsmith and other works, that we are not\nonly disappointed but a great deal surprised by the defects of\nthe present bulky volume. Landor's life was a tempting theme to\none who knew it so well as Mr. Forster. Stretching far beyond the\nordinary limit of human longevity, crowded not perhaps with very\nstirring incidents, yet with figures of deep historical and\nliterary interest, and curious for its extraordinary\nmanifestations of a strong character, it was a subject of which\nan accomplished writer might have made one of the best\nbiographies in the language. Mr. Forster has committed a grave\nfault, however, in being too diffuse, and, valuable as his book\nmust be to the student of Landor's history and times, it\ncertainly cannot be called very interesting. What with the\nprolixity of the narrative, and the prolonged summaries and\nanalyses of Landor's writings, the reader is too often tempted to\nclose the book from utter weariness. Yet there is a remarkable\nattraction in the life of that violent, wrongheaded, wonderful\nold man of genius, who left so many enthusiastic friends, though,\nit has been truly said, nobody could possibly live with him, and\nwho has enriched English literature with poetry worthy of the\nclassic ages of Greece, and prose among the purest and most\neloquent in the language, though there is probably no other\nauthor of equal pretensions of whom the mass of readers are so\ncompletely ignorant. For this reason, Mr. Forster's biography,\ncumbrous as it is, deserves an extensive circulation, and it\ncontains so much merit, that we hope he may be induced to bring\nit into better shape.\n\n----\n\n  Wandering Recollections Of A Somewhat Busy Life:\n  An Autobiography.\n  By John Neal.\n  Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1869.\n\nIf the Messrs. Roberts had desired to issue a book \"_for the\nseason_,\" they could hardly have selected one more appropriate\nthan this pleasant autobiography of John Neal. Like the life of\nits author and subject, it is full of variety, \"everything by\nstarts, and nothing long,\" and runs as naturally from the piling\nup of bricks and mortar in the resurrection of Portland from the\nashes of 1866, to the traditions and incidents of two centuries\nago, as Mr. Neal himself seemed to slip from shop-keeping into\nauthorship, and from peddling into law.\n\nIt is a book that one can take up anywhere, and find somewhat of\namusement and instruction; and can lay down anywhere without\nfearing to lose the train of thought or the thread of narrative.\nThere is method enough in it to entitle it to be called an\nautobiography; there is also a complete justification of the\ntitle which its author has appropriated to it. It is the pleasant\nchat of an old man of seventy-three, over events and personages\ninto contact with whom extensive travel and a long life have\nbrought him; a \"_potpourri_\" of the memories and\nobservations of two continents and of over three-score years. Its\npublishers have done for it in print and paper what the matter\nand the manner of the work deserved; and if it finds its way into\nthe portmanteau of the summer tourists whether by mountain-side\nor sea-side, it will hardly fail to be read, and so put to good\nuse otherwise perhaps wasted hours.\n\n----\n\n{719}\n\n  Sogarth Aroon; Or, The Irish Priest.\n  A Lecture. By M. O'Connor, S.J.\n  Baltimore: Murphy & Co. 1869.\n\nThe author of this lecture was once the bishop of Pittsburg, a\nprelate hardly second to any member of the American hierarchy in\nlearning and all the highest qualities of a bishop; and, as all\nknow, he resigned his dignity to become a simple Father in the\nSociety of Jesus, where, in spite of his broken health, he has\never since been zealously laboring for the salvation of souls.\nFather O'Connor has always been remarkable for his intense\ndevotion to his native country and to the best interests of\nIrishmen. More than once, his learned and powerful pen and voice\nhave been employed in their cause. In this lecture he has once\nagain given a just and glowing tribute to the Irish priesthood.\nThere are some, both here and in Ireland, who are fearing lest\nthe tie which has bound the Irish people to their priests should\nbe weakened by the efforts of demagogues seeking political\ninfluence, and by other causes of like nature. We trust this may\nnever be the case; but it behooves all who love the Irish people\ntruly to imitate Father O'Connor, and do everything in their\npower to strengthen this tie, and keep alive the spirit of\nCatholic faith in the bosoms of the children of the Martyr Church\nof Ireland. We recommend this lecture to general circulation both\nhere and in Ireland, as an antidote to the poison which some\ntraitors to their race and their religion are seeking to\ndisseminate.\n\n----\n\n  Young Christian's Library, containing the lives of more than\n  eighty eminent saints and servants of God.\n  12 vols.\n  Philadelphia: Henry McGrath. 1869.\n\nThis miniature library should be found in every Catholic\nhousehold. While necessarily abbreviated, \"The Lives\" it contains\nare by no means mutilated condensations, and can be read, not\nalone with much spiritual benefit, but with real pleasure, in so\nadmirable a manner has the editor performed his allotted task.\nHence, although specially designed for youth, we have no\nhesitation in recommending it to persons advanced in years as an\nexcellent substitute for the Rev. Alban Butler's more elaborate\nwork, from which they are severally abridged. The series is very\nbeautifully got up, and reflects great credit on the taste and\nliberality of the publisher.\n\n----\n\n  Appleton's Annual Cyclopedia For 1868.\n\nThis well-known annual sustains its reputation as a valuable\nrepertory of contemporaneous history. One great merit it has, is\nthe careful manner in which authentic documents are reproduced\n_in extenso_. In regard to Catholic matters, it is, as\nusual, guardedly respectful, evidently intending to be impartial\nto every body. This is, of course, attempting the impossible, and\nit is easy to see which way the drift and current of the work do\nrun. We say this in order that the younger and more inexperienced\nCatholic students may understand that works of this kind,\nproceeding from non-Catholic sources, are only to be used as\nlexicons and books of reference, but never to be trusted as\nguides or authorities for forming their opinions.\n\n----\n\n  The Habermeister.\n  Translated from the German of H. Schmid.\n  New York: Leypoldt & Holt.\n  Price, $1.50.\n\nIn this novel we have a vivid picture of German peasant life. The\nplot rests upon the assumption of unlawful authority, in the name\nof an ancient custom, the necessity of which has long since\ndisappeared; and the catastrophe is brought about by the use made\nof it by infamous persons. The characters are well delineated.\nThe rag-picker's ride and the grave scene will be found to\nexhibit to advantage the talents of an author whose greatest\nsuccess lies in his description of men. The denouement is\nsatisfactory, although brought about by slightly distorting the\ntruth in regard to the convent reception-room. But the changes in\nthe butcher's character were impossible, if we regard terror as\nthe cause, for terror brings only degradation.\n\n----\n\n{720}\n\n  The Irish Brigade, And Its Campaigns:\n  with some account of the Corcoran\n  Legion, and sketches of the principal officers.\n  By Capt. D. P. Conyngham, A.D.C.\n  Boston: Patrick Donahoe. Pp. 559. 1869.\n\nIn this, the second edition of Captain Conyngham's well-known\nwork, the publisher has left nothing to be desired, but has given\nus a book which, with its clear type, good paper, handsome and\nsubstantial binding, will compare not unfavorably with any recent\nissue of the press.\n\n----\n\nTHE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY will have ready, in a few days,\na new edition of _St. Liguori's Way of Salvation_, and a new\nedition of the Douay Bible, 12mo, printed on fine paper. Also an\n8vo edition, on superfine paper, illustrated.\n\n----\n\nTHE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY is now printing a cheap edition\nof Challoner's _Catholic Christian Instructed_, 24mo, to be\ndone up in strong paper covers, and sold at 20 cents per copy, or\n_ten dollars_ for _one hundred copies_. This will\nenable clergymen and others to distribute this valuable book\namong non-Catholics. The Society will also print a cheap 12mo\nedition (large type) of the some book, which will be sold at a\nlow price. At the same time, cheap editions will be issued of\n_The Poor Man's Catechism_, (two editions,) _Poor Man's\nControversy_, Bossuet's _Exposition_. Gallitzin's\n_Defence of Catholic Principles_, and Gallitzin's _Letters\non the Bible_. Also cheap editions, bound, of _The Following\nof Christ_ are in press. These, with several other new\neditions of valuable books, will be printed during the fall. The\nnew edition of Bishop Bayley's _History of the Church on New\nYork Island_ will be enriched by several new notes, and\nportraits on steel of Bishops Concannon, Connolly, Dubois, and\nArchbishop Hughes.\n\n----\n\nMessrs. John Murphy & Co.,\nBaltimore, will soon publish _The Life of the Very Rev.\nFrederick W. Faber, D.D._\n\nMr. Patrick Donahoe,\nBoston, has in press a _Life of Christopher Columbus_,\ntranslated from the French.\n\nD. & J. Sadlier & Co.\nare preparing for publication _Ten Working Designs for Catholic\nChurches_. The work is highly recommended by several\narchbishops and bishops.\n\n----\n\n         Books Received.\n\nFrom Leypoldt & Holt, New York:\n  Stretton. A Novel.\n  By Henry Kingsley.\n  With illustrations. Pp. 250. 1869.\n\nFrom Lee & Shepard, Boston:\n  Credo; an American Woman in Europe.\n  Patty Gray's Journey from Boston to Baltimore.\n\nFrom Benziger Bros., New York and Cincinnati:\n  Cantarium Romanum.\n  Pars Prima.\n  Ordinariun Missae.\n\n----------\n\n{721}\n\n           The Catholic World.\n\n     Vol. IX., No. 54. September, 1869.\n\n----------\n\n\t      Daybreak.\n\n             Chapter XV.\n\n     \"The Coming Of The Messenger.\"\n\n\nAll through that terrible day, the two staid by Mr. Granger's\nbedside, holding his hands, cooling his fevered face, and\nwatching for a sign of consciousness that came not. At evening\nthere was a struggle, short but sharp, and before they had\nbreathed forth the breath they caught as he started up, the soul\nhad broken loose, and a lifeless form sank back upon the pillow.\n\nDo they listen to us when they are gone? Could he, in the first\nsurprise of sudden freedom, hear the cry, like that of a bereaved\nLear, that sought to follow him, \"Oh! stay a little!\" or the\nweeping testimony of the other, \"There stopped the noblest,\nkindest heart that ever beat\"?\n\nBut, listen though he might, from one he heard no word of\nmourning or appeal after that. Since he was happy, and had no\nlonger any need of her, and since she had done all in her power\nto do for him, she could now remember herself. That his\nhumiliating offer of an empty hand had been kindly meant, did not\nlessen her resentment, but rather increased it. However confident\nhe had been that his interpretation of her perfectly frank\nconduct was the true one, he should never have allowed her to\nknow it, she said. Her heart seemed hardened toward him, and all\nher friendship dead. \"How I have wasted myself!\" was the bitter\ncomment with which she turned away from taking her last look at\nhim.\n\nMore than once, in the first days of their loss, that fiery anger\nof an insulted heart broke forth. On their way home, as she sat\non the steamer-deck at night, slowly touching bead after bead of\nher rosary, not praying, but waiting for a prayerful feeling that\nmight come, there came, instead, a recollection of the year\nbefore. It rose and painted itself, like a picture, between her\nand the wide, cool shade and sparkle of midnight sea and sky.\nThere was the home parlor, the window where she sat that day\nafter her retreat was over, so happy, half with heaven and half\nwith earth, the curtain fanning her, the vines swinging in and\nout in the light breeze. She saw Mr. Granger come to her side and\ndrop a rosary into her hands, saw the silver glitter of his\npretty gift, and heard the words that accompanied it, \"And\nindeed, it should have been of gold, had not Jupiter been so\npoor.\"\n\n{722}\n\nThe words caught a new meaning as she recollected them.\n\n\"If not gold, then nothing!\" she exclaimed; and, leaning over the\nrail, flung his gift as far as she could fling it out over the\nwater.\n\nThe waning moonlight ran around the frosted chain and pearl\nbeads, as if some spirit hand had swiftly told every Pater and\nAve of them in expiation of that rash act. Then the waters caught\nthem, and they slipped twinkling down through the green deeps.\n\nMargaret left the deck, and went down to where Mr. Lewis walked\nto and fro, keeping his mournful watch. His face was pale, and\nhis eyes heavy. He looked perfectly grief stricken.\n\n\"What is the matter?\" he asked. \"Has any one spoken to you?\"\n\n\"No; but I have been thinking.\" She leaned on his arm, and looked\ndown upon the casket at their feet. \"That man thought that I\nwanted him to marry me. Is it only a wicked pride, I wonder, that\nrises up in revolt when I remember it? Should not there be a\nbetter name? I could not be angry then, because he was dying; and\nI forgot it till the next night, after all was over, when I went\nin to see him. I was full of grief then, and had some silly\nnotion, just like me! of telling him, and that he would hear. The\nwind had blown the hair over his forehead, and just as I started\nto put it back, I recollected, and caught my hand away and left\nhim. I had nothing to say to him then, nor since. What did he\nwant to kill my friendship so for? His memory would have been\nsweet to me.\n\nIt is poisoned.\" \"Well,\" Mr. Lewis said, with a sort of despair,\n\"women are queer beings, and you are ultra womanish. One day you\nwill risk your life for a man, and the next you will look with\nscorn upon him in his coffin. A better name than pride, do you\nsay? I call it the most infernal kind of pride. Where is your\ngratitude, girl, toward the man who never had any but a kind word\nand thought for you? He arranged everything for you, that first\nnight, just as much as he did for Dora, and made me promise that\nyou should never want for a friend while I live. You ought to\nhumble yourself, Margaret, and beg his pardon.\"\n\n\"Do you think so?\" she asked faintly. \"I hope that you are right.\nI would rather blame myself than him.\"\n\n\"Of course I think so!\" he answered indignantly. \"Did he ever\ngive you one unkind look, even? Did he ever prefer any one else\nbefore you? Did he ever allow any one to speak against you in his\npresence? I never, before nor since, saw him take fire as he did\nonce when some one criticised you to him.\"\n\n\"Did he? Did he?\" exclaimed Margaret, kneeling by the casket, and\nlaying her cheek to the cold wood. \"Ah! that was indeed\nfriendship!\"\n\nIn that softened mood she reached home.\n\nWhen death, in visiting a household, is unaccompanied by sordid\ncares, the lost one being necessary to our hearts alone; when the\nliving have no remorse for the past and no terror for the future\nof their friend; when the silent face is peaceful; and when the\nearth that opens to receive it is warm and full of life, like the\nbosom of a mother where a sleeping child hides its face--then\ndeath is more beautiful than life.\n\n{723}\n\nThus this celestial visitant came to the Granger household; and\nif an angel had alighted visibly in their midst, and folded his\nwhite wings to tarry there a day, the presence could not have\nbeen more sacred or more sweet. Every sign of gloom was banished.\nThe light was no more shut out than it always was in summer; all\nthe rooms were perfumed with flowers; and the master of the house\nwas not left alone, but lay at the front end of the long parlor\nsuite, in full sight of the family as they came and went.\n\nAmong the many callers who came that day was the Rev. Dr.\nKenneth, the old minister with whom we have seen Mr. Southard\ntaking theological counsel. This gentleman listened with\nastonishment and indignation while Mrs. Lewis told him that Mr.\nGranger had died a Catholic, and would have a requiem mass the\nnext morning.\n\n\"He must have been unduly influenced, madam!\" said the minister\nexcitedly. \"Mr. Granger would never have taken such a step of\nhimself. It is impossible!\"\n\nSomewhat embarrassed, Mrs. Lewis drew back, and disclosed Miss\nHamilton sitting in the shadow behind her, and, at the first word\nof reply, gladly left the room, having no mind to stand between\ntwo such fires, though the doctor's opponent looked too pale and\nquiet to be very dangerous.\n\n\"With God all things are possible, Dr. Kenneth,\" was what\nMargaret said. He regarded her sternly; yet after a moment\nsoftened at sight of the utter mournfulness of her face.\n\n\"O child of many prayers!\" he exclaimed, \"whither have you\nwandered?\"\n\n\"Please don't!\" she said. \"I can not bear anything; and we don't\nwant any harsh words while he is here.\"\n\nThe doctor hesitated, and turned to go; but she stopped him.\n\n\"While I saw you standing out there and looking at him, I\nremembered how often you used to come to my grandfather's, and\nhow you petted me when I was a little girl. One day I was trying\nto carry you the large Bible, and I fell with it. Grandfather\nscolded me; but you patted my head when you saw that I was on the\npoint of crying, and said that the Highest and the Holiest fell,\nnot once only, but thrice, under his burden. And you pulled my\ncurls, and said, laughing, that if strength dwelt in length of\nlocks, then I ought to be able to carry not only the Bible, but\nthe house. What makes the difference now? Are you harder? or am I\nin less need of charity?\"\n\n\"You have your friends,\" he said coldly, \"those for whom you left\nus.\"\n\n\"Not so,\" she replied. \"I have those in this house; but in the\nchurch I had only him out there. My church, here, at least, does\nnot receive converts as yours does. I suppose it must be because\nthey know that we are only coming home to our own Father's house,\nand they think it would be presumptuous in them to come to meet\nus, as if we needed to be welcomed.\"\n\n\"What! was no courtesy, no kindness shown you?\" he asked\nincredulously.\n\n\"Scarcely a decent civility,\" she replied. \"But no matter about\nthat. Only, I want you to remember it, and to send my old friends\nback to me. If they will not come, then their talk of religious\nfreedom is hardly sincere; and if you do not tell them, then I\nshall think you unchristian. Indeed, doctor, when you have passed\nme ill the street, without any notice, I haven't thought that you\nwere very good just then.\"\n\n{724}\n\nThe doctor looked at her keenly. \"I will be friends with you on\none condition,\" he said.\n\n\"And that?\"\n\n\"Let Mr. Southard alone!\" he said with emphasis.\n\nBefore she could utter a protestation, he had left the room.\n\nThe day crept past, and the night, and another day; and then\nthere was nothing for them to do but take up their life, and try\nto make the best of it.\n\nThe first event to break the monotony came in September, when\nDora was baptized. All the family attended the ceremony, for the\ntime putting aside whatever prejudices they might feel. Then they\nbegan to look eagerly for Mr. Southard's return.\n\nHe might be expected on the first Sunday of October, he wrote\nmost positively, but, for the rest, was very indefinite. He wrote\nso vaguely, indeed, that his congregation were rather displeased.\nHis leave of absence had expired, yet he seemed to consider his\ncoming home a furlough. Rather extraordinary, they thought it.\n\nMr. Southard was not one of those pastors who live in a chronic\ndeluge of worsted-work from their lady friends. On his first\ncoming to the pulpit, there had been symptoms of such an\ninundation; but he had checked them with characteristic\npromptness, representing to the fair devotees the small need he\nhad of four-score pairs of pantoufles, even should his life be\nprolonged as many years, and suggesting that those who had so\nmuch leisure might profitably employ it in visiting and sewing\nfor the poor. But the repulse was given with such simplicity and\ncandor, and so utterly unconscious did he appear that any motive\ncould have prompted their labors save a profound conviction that\ntheir pastor was shoeless, that even the most inveterate\nneedle-woman forgave him. He was not in the least sentimental, he\nwas indeed strict, and often cold, though never harsh.\n\nStill, though he lacked many of the qualities of a modern popular\nminister, his people were much attached to him. They trusted him\nthoroughly, and they were proud of him. He had talent, culture,\nand a high character and reputation. He was not a sensational\npreacher; but his directness and earnestness were unique, and\noccasionally his hearers were electrified by some eloquent\noutburst, full of antique fire kindled at the shrines of the\nprophets. It also did not go against him that he was the\nhandsomest man in the city, a bachelor, and rich enough in his\nown right to dispense with a salary.\n\nGreat, therefore, was their delight when his return was\npositively announced, and they set about preparing for it with a\ngood will.\n\nThe church was renovated, a new Bible and a sofa were purchased,\nand a beautiful Catharine-wheel window, full of colored glass,\nwas put in over the choir. Receptions were arranged, flowers\nbespoken, committees appointed, the barouche which was to take\nhim home from the depot was chosen, and the two dignitaries who\nwere to occupy it with him were, after due deliberation,\nselected. All this was done decently and in order. Mr. Southard's\npeople were far from being of the vulgar, showy sort, and prided\nthemselves on being able to accomplish a good deal without any\nfuss whatever. Even the newspaper chorus which proclaimed each\nprogressive step of the minister's homeward journey, as\nClytemnestra the coming of the sacred fire, sang in subdued\nlanguage and unobtrusive type. At last, all that was wanting was\nthe final announcement, in the Saturday evening papers, that the\nreverend gentleman had arrived.\n{725}\nIndeed, the notice had been written, with all particulars, the\nevening before, and had almost got into print, when it was\ndiscovered that Mr. Southard had not arrived. The barouche had\nreturned from the depot without him, the two dignified personages\nwho went as escort suffering a temporary diminution of dignity\nand an access of ill-temper. It is rather mortifying to see\npeople look disappointed that it is only you who have come, and\nto know that not only have you lost the glory which was to have\nbeen reflected on you from the principal actor in the scene, but\nthat your own proper lustre is for the time obscured. +\n\nIt was found, however, that a letter had been written by Mr.\nSouthard, not a pleasing one, by any means, to his disappointed\nmasters of ceremonies. He would be in his pulpit on Sunday\nmorning, he informed them; and after Sunday would be happy and\ngrateful to see any of his dear and long-tried friends who would\nbe so kind as to call on him. But till that time he did not feel\nequal to the excitement of any formal reception. He had scarcely\nrecovered his strength after a long illness, he was fatigued with\ntravel, and also, he was returning to a house made desolate by\nthe death of one of his oldest and dearest friends.\n\n\"They are terribly wilted,\" Mr. Lewis said, as the family sat\naround the centre-table that evening. \"You never saw anybody so\ngrumpy as the deacons are. They are scandalized, moreover, in\nview of the only way in which he can come now. Of course, he will\nhave to travel all night, and come into town Sunday morning.\nThere's Sabbath-breaking for you.\"\n\n\"One good thing,\" Mrs. Lewis said; \"they have stopped ringing the\ndoor-bell. I do believe there have been a hundred people here\nto-day to ask if Mr. Southard had come.\"\n\n\"Auntie,\" said Aurelia, with a look of mild horror, \"you don't\nknow what uncle said to the last gentleman who came. He told him\nthat when the minister made his appearance, he would hang out a\nflag over the portico, and fire rockets from the front windows.\"\n\nThe three ladies were sewing, and Dora sat beside Margaret with a\ncatechism in her hand, learning the Acts.\n\n\"Aunt Margaret,\" whispered the child, \"what do you think God told\nme when I said, 'O my God! I firmly believe'? Says he,' Oh! what\na lying little girl you are!'\"\n\n\"Why should he say that?\" was the grave inquiry.\n\n\"Because I told him that I believed all the sacred truths; and\nhow can I believe when I don't know 'em? This is what I did; I\nsaid, 'Please don't listen to me now, O Lord! I'm not talking to\nyou. I'm only learning my lesson.'\"\n\n\"Come to bed now, my dear,\" said Margaret, \"and we will talk\nabout it.\"\n\n\"I did not expect Mr. Southard to show so much feeling,\" Mrs.\nLewis said, when the two had gone out. \"He received the news of\nMr. Granger's change of religion with such silent displeasure\nthat I supposed he would discard even his memory. He shows\ncourage, too, in still speaking of him as a friend; for some of\nhis people will be displeased.\"\n\n\"I'm sure, aunt,\" Aurelia replied rather hastily, \"no one can say\nthat Mr. Southard ever lacked the courage to utter his\nsentiments.\"\n\n\"No,\" Mrs. Lewis said in a very moderate tone, but looked sharply\ninto her niece's drooping face.\n\n{726}\n\nAurelia had not looked up in speaking, and seemed to be engrossed\nin her work; but there was a glistening of tears through the\nthick lashes, and the delicate rose in her cheeks had grown\ncrimson-hearted. She seldom spoke with spirit; but when she did,\nit always woke that rich bloom.\n\nThe bell rang again, and in a few minutes the parlor-door opened,\nand the Rev. Doctor Kenneth came in.\n\n\"The servant told me that Mr. Southard has not arrived,\" he said;\n\"but as she did not absolutely forbid me, I came in to see the\nrest of you.\"\n\nThey welcomed him cordially. The doctor had got in the way of\ndropping in occasionally, and they were always glad to see him.\nThe venerable gentleman was something of a courtier, and knew how\nto make himself all things to all men.\n\n\"I have my colleague at last,\" he said, \"and to-morrow I promise\nmyself the pleasure of hearing Mr. Southard, if he comes.\"\n\nMargaret returned to the parlor, and was pleasantly saluted by\nthe doctor who made room for her to sit beside him. She took the\nplace willingly, being especially pleased with him just then;\nfor, by his influence, her old friends were beginning to gather\nabout her, coldly at first, it is true, but that would mend in\ntime.\n\nThey resumed the conversation which her coming had interrupted.\n\n\"I have never denied that Mr. Maurice Sinclair might possess some\nnoble qualities,\" the doctor said, in his stateliest manner. \"And\nI have never said nor thought that he could rightly be called a\nbase man. But I have said, and I still think that he was a\ndangerous man; and moreover, that last letter of his, instead of\nsoftening my judgment, makes me condemn him all the more; for it\nshows unmistakably what light he sinned against.\"\n\n\"But, doctor,\" interposed Aurelia's soft voice, \"he seemed to be\na Christian at last.\"\n\n\"By no means, my dear,\" the doctor answered decidedly. \"His\nunbelief was nobler, that is all. The Christian soul strains\nupward, and drops off the earthly; the pagan soul strains\noutward, and grasps what is greatest on earth. He was a pagan. I\nhave always, during my whole ministry, had more fear of those who\nstand on the border-lands between good and evil, than of those\nwho are clearly in the enemy's country. Do you want to take wine\nwith a drunkard? Certainly not. The faithful can resist a glaring\ntempter; but let one of these gallant chieftains come up with his\nmouth full of fine sentiments, and presto,\n\n  'All the blue bonnets are over the border!'\n\nBut what can we preachers do when the ladies decide to canonize a\nman? I'm afraid they are disposed to believe that a fine head\nmust deserve a fine crown.\"\n\n\"There's one exception, doctor,\" Mr. Lewis said, pointing to his\nwife.\n\nThe lady appeared not to notice the allusion to herself, but\nspoke in a musing, silvery voice, her eyes fixed dreamily on\nspace.\n\n\"What a wise arrangement of Providence it is, that interesting\nmasculine penitents should awaken the gushing philanthropy of\nladies, gentlemen standing aloof; while interesting feminine\npenitents almost as invariably excite the pious charity of men,\nladies, in their turn, holding off. In both cases, there are the\nfeast and the skeleton quite correct. I recollect, doctor,\nhearing you preach, years ago, a sermon on the Magdalen. It was\nvery edifying; but I was sorry that you found it necessary to\nmention her golden hair. Indeed, I have always thought that the\nold painters would have made a better point if they had\nrepresented her as a plain, middle-aged woman, with great haggard\neyes, like pits of darkness through which the soul was\nstruggling, only a spark, but kindled to a conflagration which\nshould consume with holy fire that poor, desecrated clay of hers.\nThat is the true Magdalen; not your light Correggio, who might be\na _danseuse_ reading a French novel after the ballet.\"\n\n{727}\n\nThe lady had dropped her careless air, and was speaking almost\nvehemently. It seemed, indeed, that some personal experience lent\na poignancy to her convictions on the subject.\n\n\"I am glad of the chance to express my opinions,\" she said, \"and\nglad that you have made me angry enough to have courage to speak.\nI protest against this pernicious indulgence which latter-day\nChristians show to vice, persuading themselves that they are\ncharitable.'Swear him, and let him go,' as the soldier said of\nthe rattlesnake. When I see these sentimentalists seek out real\npenitence where it hides speechless and ashamed, then I will call\nthem charitable, and not before. But no; real penitence is not\ninteresting. It cannot attitudinize, it stammers, it has red and\nswollen eyes, it shrinks almost from being forgiven, it never\nholds its head up again.\"\n\n\"But, madam,\" said the doctor, somewhat disconcerted, \"all are\nliable to mistakes; and in being too strict with doubtful\npenitents, we may discourage the true ones.\"\n\n\"They are easily distinguished,\" she said curtly. \"Besides, you\nlose sight of another risk you run. You appear to take for\ngranted that none are tempted save those who fall. How do you\nknow how many may be holding on to their integrity by a mere\nthread, struggling desperately but silently, needing every help,\nin so precarious a condition that a breath, a word, may destroy\nthem? Such people do not speak; you hear nothing of them but the\ncrash of their fall. Or, if they fall not, you never know. To me,\nthat conflict is more pathetic, more tragical, than all the\nparaded sighs and tears of those who have found that dishonesty\ndoesn't pay. Those who do right simply and purely for God's sake\nare few and far between. Most people need the support of public\nopinion and the approbation of those whom they look up to. Let it\nbe seen that, do what they may, if only they can excuse\nthemselves prettily and plausibly, they will be easily forgiven,\nand set still higher than before, and what will be the result?\nYou can see it in society to-day. Charity, so-called, has\nincreased; has virtue increased?\"\n\n\"If good women would not make themselves so disagreeable, as they\noften do,\" Mr. Lewis said gruffly.\n\n\"Try to please them,\" his wife replied. \"Praise them a little; be\nagreeable yourselves, and see if they don't improve in that\nrespect. Meet a person with a glum face, and if that person is\nsincere and sensitive, you are not likely to get smiles in\nreturn.\"\n\nAurelia leaned toward her aunt, put an arm around her, and\nwhispered, \"Dear auntie, you're an angel; but please don't say\nany more.\"\n\n\"I do not like to hear men and women criticise each other,\" the\ndoctor said calmly, introducing a switch into the track of the\nconversation. \"They are neither of them fitted to think for and\njudge the other. They, in the moral universe, are like earth and\nsea in the physical. And as air is common to earth and sea, so\nspirit, and all higher influences, are common to man and woman\nalike.\"\n\n{728}\n\n\"Yes,\" Miss Hamilton said, \"and while the earth has gold, and\nsilver, and iron, and gems, the sea has only pearls, and they are\ntears, woman's proper _parure_. And while the earth\nmaintains its place, and is not moved, the sea goes moaning\nabout, breaking itself on rocks, and climbing even to heaven,\nonly that it may fall again upon the land.\"\n\n\"Blessed showers!\" said the doctor, who had watched her smilingly\nwhile she spoke. \"Be sure, Margaret, sooner or later those for\nwhose sakes you and your sisters have climbed to heaven with such\ntoil and pain will see some heavenly likeness in you, and hail\nyou as welcome messengers. Don't lose courage, dear. Don't join\nthe bitter waves that break themselves against the rocks, or the\nsly, insidious waves that steal away the land and drag it down.\nBut let your part be with those who visit us by the way of\nheaven. Wouldn't you rather we should look up when we want you,\nthough it were seldom, than look down, though it were often?\"\n\nShe looked up, bright and blushing for a moment, like her old\nself, trembling with gladness, she knew not why. It seemed to be\na prophecy of good tidings.\n\nInto the silence that followed a deep sigh broke. They all looked\nup, then rose, speechless, changed suddenly into a group of\nmourners. For Mr. Southard stood before them with that in his\ncountenance which showed how much more plainly than even their\nliving faces he saw the shadow of one who was gone for ever.\n\nPallid with sickness, fatigue, and trouble, he came forward to\nreceive their almost voiceless welcomes.\n\n\"God knows,\" he said, \"that if the choice had been with me, my\nplace, rather than his, should have been made vacant.\"\n\n\n           Chapter XVI.\n\n         A Deserted Flock.\n\n\nBostonians have been accused of putting too much Sabbath into\ntheir Sundays; but long may it be before the noisy waves of\nbusiness or pleasure shall wash away that quiet island in the\nweary sea of days. There is a suggestion of peace, if not of\nsacredness, in the silence almost like that of the country, in\nthe closed doors and empty streets; and when the bells\n\n  \"Sprinkle with holy sounds the air, as the priest with the hyssop\n   Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters blessings upon them,\"\n\nhe must be insensible indeed who does not--at least,\nmomentarily--remember that there is another world than this.\n\nOn the morning after his return, Mr. Southard resumed his old\nSunday habit of breakfasting in his own room, and none of the\nfamily saw him before service. He always went to his church\nearly, and alone, and never spoke to any one on the way.\n\n\"Margaret, you really ought to go with us this time,\" Mrs. Lewis\nsaid. \"I think you might unbend for once.\"\n\n\"To stoop from the presence of God to the presence of a creature\nis bending too far,\" was the reply. \"Such bending breaks. I and\nmy pet are going to see the heavens open, and the Lord descend;\nare we not, Dorothea, gift of God?\"\n\nMrs. Lewis turned herself about before the cheval-glass to see\nthe effect of a superb toilet that she had made in honor of the\noccasion. \"Ah! well,\" she said. \"You may be right. I have indeed\na faithful heart, but a woefully skeptical head; shall we go\nnow?\"\n\n{729}\n\nThe night had been very sharp for the season; but when they all\nwent out together, the sun was shining warmly through the morning\nhaze, the air was still, and the dripping, splendid branches of\nthe October trees were hesitating between hoarfrost and dew, and\nglittering with both. People in holiday attire, and with holiday\nfaces, went past, the bells clanged out, then paused, and left\nonly a tremulous murmur in the air, the very spirit of sound. Far\naway, a chime rang an old-fashioned hymn, in that quaint, stiff\nway that chimes have.\n\nAt a street-corner the party separated, and went their several\nways.\n\nAs the Lewises entered their own church, they involuntarily\nexchanged a smile. Nothing could be prettier than that interior.\nThe side-lights were all shut out, and for the first time the new\nwindow was unveiled, and threw its rich light over the choir, and\nup the nave, kindling the flowers that profusely draped the\npulpit and platform, and edging with crimson the garnet velvet\ncushions. The people in this church had usually easy elbow-room,\nbut to-day they permitted themselves to be crowded a little by\nvisitors. There were even chairs brought into the galleries; and\nwhen the hour for service arrived, there was a row of gentlemen\nstanding behind the last pews. But there was no sound save the\nsoft rustle of ladies' dresses, and now and then a hushed\nwhisper. There was the most perfect decorum and composure, and a\nsilence that was respectful if not reverential. No belligerent\nmutterings ever rose through the voice of prayer or praise within\nthese walls; no belated worshipper ever went tramping up to the\nvery front after service had begun; and moreover, neither in\nthis, nor in any other Protestant church, did visitors come with\nopera-glasses and chattering tongues, to turn what was meant as a\nplace of worship into a place of amusement.\n\nQuite late, Dr. Kenneth came up the aisle, and seated himself in\nthe Lewis pew; and while every one looked at him, the door\nleading back from the platform to the vestry was opened, and\nalmost before they were aware, Mr. Southard had entered and taken\nhis place.\n\nThere was a soft stir and rustle all through the church, and the\nchoir sang an anthem--that beautiful one of Brasbury's:\n\n  \"How beautiful is Zion\n     Upon the mountain's brow,\n   The coming of the messenger,\n     To cheer the plains below.\"\n\nMr. Southard sat with his eyes fixed on the cornice-wreath, and\nlet his congregation stare at him, and they did not scruple to\ntake advantage of the opportunity. The impression was not the one\nthey had expected to receive. He was too pale and spiritual, and\nhis expression was too much that of some lofty martyr fronting\ndeath unmoved, a St. Sebastian, pierced with arrows, his soul\njust pluming itself for flight through those lifted eyes.\n\nMoreover, not only were all their flowers invisible to him, but\nhe never looked at their new window, though the light from one of\nits golden panes streamed full in his face as he sat. Where was\nthe smiling glance that might, surely, have made one swift\nscrutiny of their familiar faces, unseen so long? Where was the\nprayer of thanksgiving that he had been brought safely back to\nhis people, after such an absence, and through so many dangers?\nWhere was the joyful hymn of praise?\n\nWhen Mr. Southard rose, he repeated only the Lord's prayer; and\nthe first hymn he read was anything but joyful:\n\n  \"Nearer, my God, to thee,\n     Nearer to thee,\n   E'en though it be a cross\n     That raiseth me.\"\n\n{730}\n\n\"Dear me! doctor,\" Mrs. Lewis could not help whispering, \"I do\nwish that for to-day, at least, he could have hidden the cross\nunder the crown.\"\n\nThe text was unexpected: \"_Little children, love one\nanother._\"\n\nNot a single war-note, not a word of that Aceldama from which he\nhad but just come, but an impassioned exhortation that, casting\naside all differences, dissensions, and uncharitableness, they\nshould love each other even as Christ had loved them.\n\nMr. Southard seldom displayed any strong feeling except\nindignation or a lofty fervor; but now he seemed deeply moved,\nand full of a yearning tenderness toward those whom he addressed.\nAnd they, after the first, forgot their disappointment, and were\nalmost as much affected as he.\n\n\"Why do I choose for my text words which recall the sufferings of\nour divine Lord?\" he asked. \"And why do I select words of parting\nexhortation rather than words of greeting? Because the passion is\nnot yet ended; because Christ is no more a king to-day than he\nwas nineteen centuries ago; because even among those who call\nupon his name, his commands, his entreaties are disregarded.\nStill his sceptre is but a reed, his purple still covers the\nmarks of the lash, his brow still bleeds under its crown. Lastly,\nbecause I am not a pastor returning joyfully to his flock, hoping\nfor no more partings, but one who comes sorrowfully to say\nfarewell, scarcely daring to hope for any other meeting with you.\n\n\"A pastor? And who is he that leadeth the flocks of the Lord? He\nto whom the divine Shepherd hath given the charge, bidding him\ngo. Brethren, he has not spoken to me, save in rebuking. Instead\nof green pastures, I have led you in the desert. For still\nwaters, I have brought you to the banks of Marah. Who is he in\nwhose hands the baptismal waters are cleansing, who can bind man\nand woman as husband and wife, who can consecrate the bread and\nwine, who can loosen its burden from the penitent soul? He who,\nlooking up the line of his spiritual descent, sees the tongues of\nfire alighting upon his ancestors in the Lord. Bear with me, my\nfriends! At the head of my line stands the traitor who sat at\nmeat with Christ, and ate the bread he broke, and drank the wine\nhe blessed, and then betrayed him.\"\n\nThe congregation were too much startled and puzzled by this\nsudden turn to notice that Doctor Kenneth's head was bowed\nforward on the front of the pew, and that Aurelia Lewis was\nleaning with her face hidden on her aunt's shoulder.\n\nBut Mr. Southard saw them, and grew yet paler. When he spoke\nagain, it was with difficulty.\n\n\"This is no place for me to stand and advocate doctrines denied\nby you. Yet surely it is no treason to the trust you reposed in\nme when you invited me to become your pastor, if I ask, if I\nentreat that you will examine fairly and prayerfully before you\ncondemn my course.\n\n\"I dare not trust myself to thank you for all your past\nfriendship for me, to utter my wishes for your future good, or to\ntell you how my heart is torn by this parting. I have only\nstrength to go.\n\n\"Do you ask whither I am going? After years of mental torment\nunsuspected by you, and when at last my strength was deserting\nme, and the waters were going over my soul, where did I find\nrefuge and safety? In that glorious old ship whose sails are full\nof the breath of the Spirit, who has faith for an anchor, the\ncross as her ensign, and St. Peter at the helm. Brethren, I am a\nRoman Catholic, thank God!\"\n\n{731}\n\nImmediately the congregation were in confusion, and one gentleman\nstood up and called, \"Stop, sir!\"\n\nThe light that had sprung to Mr. Southard's face at the last\nwords dropped out again. He leaned over the pulpit, and commanded\nsilence with a gesture at once imploring and imperative.\n\n\"One word more!\" he said. \"Believe in my unaltered affection for\nyou; and believe also that though my hands are not anointed to\ngive benediction, I fervently pray that God may bless you now and\nfor ever. Farewell!\"\n\nHe turned away from them, and walked slowly toward the\nvestry-door. Before he had closed it behind him, a silence fell,\nand he heard Doctor Kenneth's trembling voice exclaim, \"Let us\npray!\" Glancing back, Mr. Southard saw the old minister standing\nwith upraised hands in his deserted pulpit.\n\nWhere he passed the rest of that day, the family did not know. It\nwas early twilight when they saw him coming up the street toward\nthe house. By that time they had recovered from their first\nexcitement, all but Aurelia. She still kept her room.\n\nMr. Southard walked with a firm and dignified step, and his face\nwas perfectly serene. He even smiled when he saw Margaret\nstanding in the parlor window, watching for him.\n\n\"No servant shall open the door for him this time, at least,\" she\nthought, and hastened to open it herself.\n\n\"Welcome home!\" she said exultingly, holding out both hands to\nhim. \"You did that nobly! A thousand times, welcome!\"\n\nMr. Southard closed the door, then looked at her boldly, putting\nher hands back. \"Do not mock my empty life with so slight a gift\nas mere kindness,\" he said. \"If you give me your hand, give it to\nme to keep.\"\n\nShe stood one instant wavering, then gave him her hand again.\n\"Keep it,\" she said.\n\nLingering behind him as he went to meet Mr. and Mrs. Lewis,\nMargaret flung her pledged hand upward as if she flung a gauge.\n\"Louis Granger, you shall not look down and think that I am\nbreaking my heart for you!\"\n\n\n            Chapter XVII.\n\n\t   In Exitu Israel.\n\n\nSome one tells of a wind so strong that he could turn and lean\nhis back against it, as against a post. Mr. Southard found some\nsuch effect as this in the excitement caused by his change of\nreligion. For there are times when a strong opposition is\nwonderfully sustaining. It fans the flame, and keeps the soul in\na lively glow, without any expenditure of our own breath.\n\nBeing thus saved the pains of maintaining his fervor, the new\nconvert took up tranquilly his religious studies, viewing from\nthe inside that church which heretofore he had seen only from the\noutside. The study was an ever fresh delight; and as, one after\nanother, new beauties were revealed, and new harmonies unfolded\nthemselves, the miracle seemed to be, not that he should see now,\nbut that he should have been blind so long.\n\nNo one knows, save those who have been born away from this home\nof the soul, the full delight of that succession of surprises and\ndiscoveries in the search made by him who comes late to his\nfather's house. The first dawn or flash of faith, come as faith\nmay, shows only the door, and a dim and long-stretching\nperspective. But once inside, with what wonder, what curiosity,\nwhat incredulity, even, we wander about examining the treasures\nof this new-found inheritance of ours.\n{732}\nSurely, we say, here we shall be disappointed. Here there will be\na shade on the picture. But, looking closely, we find instead a\nstill more eminent beauty. Nor are these varied discoveries\nexhausted in a few months, nor in a few years, nor in many years.\nEven when the noon of life has been spent in the quest, and\ntwilight comes, still there are\n\n             \"such suites to explore,\n  Such closets to search, such alcoves to importune.\"\n\nBut the most spiritual of us are not all spirit; and when, after\na few weeks, the storm of denunciation against him subsided a\nlittle, weary of its own violence, Mr. Southard began to feel the\nvacuum left by his loss of occupation, and to depend more on the\nhome life.\n\nHere the prospect was not without shadows. Mr. and Mrs. Lewis had\nbehaved nobly, and, after the first shock, had stood by him\nthrough every trial. \"Not that I am so fond of Catholicism,\" Mr.\nLewis said. \"But I like to see a man who has a mind of his own,\nand isn't afraid to speak it.\"\n\nThe shadow in this case was Mr. Lewis's niece, who showed an\nunconquerable coldness toward her former minister. This was not\nto him a matter of vital consequence, certainly, though it\ntroubled him more than he would have expected. She had always\nlooked up to him with undoubting faith as her religious guide.\nNow he perceived with pain and mortification that he had not only\ndestroyed her respect for his own authority, but had made her\ndistrustful of all authority.\n\nHe attempted to justify himself to her; but she stopped him.\n\n\"I do not occupy myself in criticising your conduct and opinions,\nMr. Southard,\" she said; \"and I would rather say nothing about\nit.\"\n\nFor the first time, it struck him that Miss Lewis had a very\nstately manner.\n\nNeither was Miss Hamilton just what Mr. Southard wished his\npromised wife to be to him, though he could scarcely have told in\nwhat she was lacking. Her evident desire that for the present the\nengagement should be unsuspected, even by their own family, he\ndid not find fault with, though it prevented all confidential\nintercourse between them; but he would have preferred that she\nhad not been quite so positively friendly, and no more. It seemed\na little odd, too, that he should never, even by accident, find\nher alone, though they had frequently met so in the old times.\n\nWeary, at length, of waiting on chance, he requested an\ninterview, and stated his wishes. He would like to go to Europe\nas soon as possible, and stay there a year. He could not feel\nhimself settled in the church, till he had been in Rome a\nCatholic, having once been there an unbeliever. Of course he\nwould expect to take his wife with him. Why should they delay.\nWhy not be married at Christmas, and start so as to reach Rome\nbefore Easter?\n\nMargaret grew pale. \"It is so soon,\" she said in a frightened\nway. \"And you know I cannot leave Dora. You might go without me.\"\nThen, as his countenance fell, she added, trying to smile, \"I\nlove my freedom, and want to keep it as long as I can. But when I\ndo take bonds on myself, I shall be very dutiful.\"\n\n\"I do not think that you will lose any freedom which you need\ngreatly desire to keep,\" he said gently, but with a shade of\ndisapproval. \"And as to Dora, Mrs. Lewis would take good care of\nher.\"\n\n{733}\n\n\"Dora is a sacred charge to me, Mr. Southard,\" Margaret said\nhastily; \"not only her person, but her faith. I cannot intrust\nher to any one else. Besides, she would break her heart if parted\nfrom me. No one else can comfort her when--when she needs\ncomfort.\"\n\nMr. Southard considered awhile.\n\n\"I approve of your being careful to do your duty by the child,\"\nhe said presently. \"But, you know, some priest could have her\nreligious education under his supervision while we are gone. I\nwould not, on any account, urge you to violate a scruple of\nconscience. Possibly, however, if you should consult your\nconfessor, he might decide that your duty to the child should\nbend to your duty to me.\"\n\nMargaret's face blushed up crimson, and her eyes emitted a spark.\n\"The confessor whom I shall consult when I name my wedding-day,\nwill be my own heart,\" she said, in anything but a humble tone of\nvoice.\n\nMr. Southard looked at her searchingly. \"Can it be,\" he asked,\n\"that a lack of affection on your part is the cause of this\nreluctance?\"\n\n\"I esteem you highly, Mr. Southard,\" she replied faintly,\nshrinking a little. \"But I am not very reasonable, and you must\nhave patience with me. Please don't say any more now. This is\nvery sudden. I will think of it.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" he replied. \"Perhaps when you have thought, you may\naccede to my first proposal. It is not worth while to delay, you\nknow, when one's mind is made up.\"\n\n\"I must go now with Dora to make her first confession,\" Margaret\nsaid, anxious to change the subject. \"Will you excuse me? I am\nafraid the storm may grow worse. The rain is falling gently now;\nbut you know the old proverb:\n\n  'When the wind comes before the rain,\n   You may hoist your topsails up again;\n   But when the rain comes before the winds.\n   You may reef when it begins.'\"\n\n\"And a true proverb it is in more ways than one,\" Mr. Lewis said,\nappearing at that moment. \"When my wife begins by flying at me\nand tearing my hair out, and then goes to crying afterward, I\nhope for fair weather soon. But when she starts with a gentle\ndrip of tears, I always look out for squalls before it is over.\nRemember that for your future guidance, Mr. Southard.\"\n\nMargaret escaped from the room, and in a few minutes was on her\nway to the church, with Dora half hidden under her cloak, and\nnestled close to her side. As she rode along, feeling, some way,\nas if they were flying from pursuit or from a prison, she\nexperienced one of those tender touches of recollection with\nwhich the Spirit, ever following us, seeks to recall our wayward\nhearts. \"What should I do if I had no church to go to?\" was the\nthought that came; and as it came, the altar toward which she was\napproaching, glowed through the chill November rain like the fire\nin happy homes.\n\nOutside, in the corridor leading to that familiar chapel of St.\nValentine, endeared by so many sacred and tender memories, they\npaused a moment and recollected themselves.\n\n\"My dear little one, Christ Jesus the Lord is in there!\"\n\n\"Do you truly think that he likes me?\" whispered Dora\napprehensively, glancing askance at the lambent little flame that\nburned inside.\n\n\"Oh! yes,\" was the confident answer. \"He is very fond of you when\nyou are good.\"\n\nThe sweet face smiled again.\n\n\"Then I an't afraid of him, auntie. Come.\"\n\n{734}\n\nAfter an act of contrition on her own account, and a prayer for\nthe child, Margaret led Dora to the confessional, placed her on\nher knees there, and, dropping the curtain behind her, retired to\nwait at a distance.\n\nVerifying the proverb, it was blowing quite violently when the\ntwo started for home again. Margaret went directly up to her\nchamber, having need to be alone. What was it striving within\nher, what memory, almost at the surface of her mind, yet unseen,\nlike a flower in spring just ready to burst through the mould\nthat feels but knows it not? On her table was a bunch of English\nviolets that some one had left there for her. At the sight of\nthem, her trouble sharpened to pain that had yet some touch of\ndelight in it. The wind was full of voices, it caught the rain,\nand lashed the windows, it shook the doors, and called sighingly\nabout the chimneys, and swung the vines against the panes. As she\nleaned there wondering and troubled, a faint, sweet perfume from\nthe violets stole into her face. It was magical. She sank on her\nknees and drew the flowers to her bosom.\n\n\"O my friend! how could I ever dream of forgetting you?\"\n\nHow it came back, that rainy day at the seaside, the terror of\nthe tempest, the fire she had kindled, the watch she had kept,\nthe presentiment of sorrow, then the muffled figure coming down\nthe road, the rain, the wind, and his smile, all meeting her at\nthe door, and the perfume of the violets he had brought her!\n\nWho knows not the power that perfumes have over the memory? The\ninfluence of sound is evanescent, that which the eyes have seen\nthe imagination changes in time; but a perfume is the most\nsubtile and indestructible of reminders. You have walked in the\nworld's beaten ways many a year, till the country home of your\nchildhood is a picture almost effaced from your mind. Its tones\necho no more, its faces are faded, its scenes forgotten.\n\nSome sultry summer day, wandering from the city, but only half\nweaned from the thoughts of it, your listlessly straying feet\ncrush the warm, wild herbage, and a thick perfume of sweet-fern\nrises about you. What does it mean? Thrilling to your\nfinger-tips, you bend and inhale that strange yet familiar scent.\nIts touch is as potent as the touch of the rod of Moses.\n\n  \"A score of years roll back their tide\n     Of mingled joy and pain;\n   Dry-shod I cross the torrent's bed,\n     And am a child again.\"\n\nOld scenes come up: gray rocks start out, lichen-jewelled; there\nare billows of butter-cups, mayweed, and clover, over which your\nyoung fancies sailed moth-winged, and brought rich freights from\nevery port; the long lines of pole and stone fences are built up\nagain in a twinkling; the boiling spring leaps bubbling into the\nheart of the sunshine; in the woods the cold, bright waters run\nhurrying over the pebbles; there is the homestead, the smoke from\nthe chimney, the open windows, some one standing in the door,\nsome one calling you with a voice as real as your breath; there\nare faces with eyes that see you, every feature plain, there are\nhands stretched out.\n\nHow it rises and tramples on your present, that past that hides\nbut never dies! How your heart-strings strain with the vain\nlonging to stay for ever in this bright, recovered country, and\nlook no more on the desert and the land of bondage!\n\n  \"Flow back, O years! into your channel,\n     Flow, and stop the way!\n   Let me forget how vain the fancies\n     Of that childish day.\"\n\n{735}\n\nIf we did not know that every hope and sweetness in the past were\nbut seeds for future blossom and fruit; if we did not know that\nchildhood is but a bee's load of honey, but a babe's sip of milk,\nto those flowing streams in the promised land; if we did not\nbelieve that God's denial is brief, his bounty endless; that\nsurely he sees and marks every pain; and that he holds the\nfulfilment of our utmost wish just at the verge of our utmost\nendurance--if we were not sure of this, could human nature bear\nthe cross that sometimes is laid upon it? It could not!\n\nMiss Hamilton did not appear at the dinner-table that day; but in\nthe evening Mr. Southard was summoned to her in the library. She\nmet him with an April face full of a grieved kind of joy, or a\njoyful grief, crossed the room toward him when he came in, and\nheld out her hands to him.\n\n\"Forgive me!\" she said hurriedly. \"But, Mr. Southard, I cannot\nmarry you. I made a mistake. Don't be angry with me. I cannot\nhelp it. And I think, too, that you mistook also.\"\n\n\"I do not understand this,\" he said, dropping her hand.\n\n\"I should never have thought of marrying, if I had not been angry\nwith him,\" she said. \"That was wicked and foolish, and I have got\nover it now. We are reconciled. I shall never forget him.\"\n\n\"Am I to understand that your remembrance of Mr. Granger is a bar\nto your union with me?\" asked Mr. Southard, regaining his\ncomposure.\n\n\"An insurmountable bar!\"\n\nHe bowed gravely. \"Then there is no more to be said. I wish you\ngood-evening.\"\n\nShe watched him go; and when the door had closed, broke into a\nsoft laugh. \"In exitu Israel;\" she said. \"I am free!\"\n\nThe door opened again, and Mr. Lewis came in. \"You here?\" he\nsaid. \"I want to get the first volume of--But what's the matter\nwith you? I just met Mr. Southard going into his room. Have you\npromised to marry him?\"\n\n\"No, I have promised not to,\" Margaret said, smiling.\n\nMr. Lewis looked at her with a softening face, and eyes that grew\ndim.\n\n\"I'm glad of it, Maggie,\" he said. My wife and Aurelia were sure\nthat you and he would make a match; and I couldn't say anything\nagainst it. But I hated the thought of your forgetting\n_him_.\"\n\nThere was no danger, indeed, of her forgetting him. It was\nimpossible for her. She had not one of those facile hearts that\nrest here and there, on whatever offers, growing worn and\nthreadbare at last, till there is nothing left to give. Hers was\nan imperious constancy which, having once chosen, did not know\nhow to change, and perpetually renewed itself, like a fountain,\nas fresh to-day as it was a century ago. Such affection does not\nabsolutely need the happiness of earth; for its root is in the\nsoul, not in the flesh, and the time of its perfecting is\nhereafter.\n\n\n            Chapter XVIII.\n\n              Daybreak.\n\n\nAs there are plants that need crushing to bring out their\nperfume, so there are natures that become thoroughly amiable only\nthrough pain and humiliation. Mr. Southard's was one of these.\nEvery blow that struck him made some breach in his puritanic\nseverity, and revealed some hidden grace of mind or heart. He had\npossessed an intellectual humility, and had submitted himself\nwith all the force of his reason.\n{736}\nBut such humility is like the weight of snow that in winter\npresses the head of the slender sapling to earth, whence it is\never ready to spring back again at the first fiery sun-touch. It\nsavored too much of the arrogant self-accusation of those who, as\nMr. Lewis said, think they are the sun because they have spots on\nthem. Now, he seemed really humble, he distrusted himself, and he\naccepted kindness with a gratitude that touched the hearts of\nthose who gave it.\n\nTo Mrs. Lewis's surprise, he made a confident of her, and spoke\nquite freely of his disappointment.\n\n\"I do not blame Margaret,\" he said. \"It was ungenerous of me to\ntake advantage of her first moment of enthusiastic sympathy for\nme to exact a promise from her. But the temptation was strong.\nExistence with her would never be mere vegetation. She always\ngets at the inside of life. However, since God has willed it\notherwise for me, I shall try to act like a Christian and like a\nsensible man. All the difference it makes in my plans is that I\nshall go away a little sooner.\"\n\nThey were sorry to have him go; for their esteem for him had\ninsensibly grown into affection, and their affection constantly\nincreased.\n\n\"I declare, I had no idea that I should feel so bad about it,\"\nMr. Lewis said when the time came for good-byes. \"Give me your\nshawl to take out. I am going to the depot with you.\"\n\nMargaret and Dora had taken leave of Mr. Southard, and were\nstanding in one of the front windows, watching to see him off.\nMrs. Lewis walked slowly out of the parlor with him.\n\n\"Where is Aurelia?\" he asked, looking about. \"I have not seen\nher.\"\n\n\"Oh! she told me to say good-by for her,\" answered Mrs. Lewis\ncarelessly. He hesitated, and looked hurt. \"I suppose she doesn't\ncare to take the trouble to see me,\" he said. \"Tell her I said\ngood-by, and God bless her.\"\n\n\"I will do nothing of the kind!\" said the lady, with emphasis.\n\nMr. Southard stared at her in astonishment.\n\n\"'Doesn't care to take the trouble!\" she repeated indignantly.\n\"It is rather you who haven't cared to treat her with common\ngratitude or civility. You have had eyes for only Miss Hamilton,\nwho didn't care a fig for you; while Aurelia, the poor simpleton!\nwho made a hero of you, and broke her heart because you were in\ndisgrace with the world and disappointed in love--you hadn't a\nglance for. No; I won't say good-by to her. I will let her\nbelieve that you went without remembering her existence, as you\ncame near doing. It will help her to forget you. There, take that\nwith my blessing, and good-by. The carriage is waiting.\"\n\n\"Where is she?\" he exclaimed, his whole face changed, and become\nalive all at once. \"I shall not stir from the house till I have\nseen her, if I have to wait a year.\"\n\n\"What will Miss Hamilton think of your constancy?\" asked Mrs.\nLewis with a toss of the head.\n\n\"Madam,\" said Mr. Southard, \"for me there is but one woman in the\nworld, and that is she who loved me without waiting to be asked.\nWill you be so good as to tell Aurelia that I wish to see her in\nthe library?\"\n\nHe went toward the library, and Mrs. Lewis leisurely returned to\nthe parlor, a curious little smile on her lips.\n\n{737}\n\nAurelia Lewis was seated before the library fire, with her hands\nfolded in her lap.\n\nAs Mr. Southard paused an instant at sight of her, then came\nhastily in and shut the door after him, she rose and looked at\nhim with an air of dignified composure. Her face was perfectly\ncolorless.\n\n\"Is it true,\" he began at once, \"that you have sympathized with\nme more than I knew? Tell me! A disappointment now would be too\ncruel.\"\n\nAurelia's full bright eyes opened a little wider, and a faint\ncolor warmed her cheeks; but she seemed too much astonished or\ntoo indignant to speak. Yet after the first glance, she drooped a\nlittle, and leaned on the back of her chair, as if, like that\nfair Jewish queen, _for delicateness and overmuch tenderness,\nshe were not able to bear up her own body_.\n\nHow pure and sweet she was! Silent as dew. How utterly womanly\nher untainted loveliness!\n\n\"Esther!\" exclaimed Mr. Southard.\n\nAfter ten minutes Mr. Lewis put his head out of the carriage\ndoor, and made a sign to his wife, who was benevolently\ncontemplating him from the parlor. She raised the window.\n\n\"Where is Mr. Southard?\" he asked.\n\n\"He is saying good-by to Aurelia,\" was the reply; and the window\nwent down again.\n\nMinutes passed, but no Mr. Southard appeared. It was the day\nbefore Christmas, and the air was too sharp to make a long\ntarrying out doors agreeable.\n\n\"I've heard of eternal farewells, but I never before had the\nhonor of assisting at one,\" muttered Mr. Lewis; and having waited\nas long as endurance seemed a virtue, he went into the house.\n\n\"Where is Mr. Southard?\" he asked, looking round the parlor.\n\n\"In the library, saying good-by to Aurelia,\" replied his wife\nsuavely.\n\nMr. Lewis looked at Margaret.\n\n\"Will you tell me what she means? I don't believe her. She always\nputs on that truthful look when she tells a lie.\"\n\nMargaret laughed. \"I think you may as well dismiss the carriage,\"\nshe said.\n\nIn something less than half an hour Mr. Southard and Aurelia made\ntheir appearance. They were received with great cordiality.\n\n\"I hope you liked your journey to Europe,\" said Mr. Lewis with\nimmense politeness. \"Is the pope in good health?\"\n\nMr. Southard was beyond the reach of mocking. \"I have postponed\nmy journey till this lady can be ready to accompany me,\" he said.\n\"And I have convinced her that four weeks will be enough for her\npreparation.\"\n\nAurelia went to lean on Margaret's shoulder. She was trembling,\nbut her face showed full contentment. \"I would rather be Esther\nthan Vashti,\" she whispered.\n\n\"I'm delighted enough to forgive you even a greater impertinence\nthan that, if greater could be,\" was the whispered answer. \"I am\nnot Vashti, though you are Esther.\"\n\nThe next day, after coming home from early mass, Margaret sat in\nher chamber toward the east, with Dora and her two friends, Agnes\nand Violet, leaning on her lap, and watching her face. She had\nbeen telling them the story of that miraculous birth, and,\nfinishing, looked up into the morning sky, and forgot them;\nforgot the sky, too, presently, with all its vapory golden\nstretches, and glimpses of far-away blue, and saw instead her\nlife past, present, and to come. Looking calmly, she forgave\nherself much, for had not God forgiven her? and hoped much, for\nthere was no room for despair; and grew content, for all that she\ncould desire was within her reach.\n\n{738}\n\nBeginning at the lowest, she had an assured home, kind friends,\nand a dear and sacred duty in the care of this child. So far, all\nwas peace.\n\nOne step higher then. Could the friend who still lived on in her\nheart forget her in that heaven to which her love had led him?\nAnd, weak and childish though she was, with her impatience, her\nscarcely broken pride, her obstinately clinging affection, could\nshe be altogether unlovely to him? Some strong assurance answered\nno.\n\nHigher yet her thought took its stand. There was faith, that\nsecond sight by which the soul sets her steps aright as she\nclimbs, never missing the way. There was an unfading hope, and a\ncharity that embraced the world. There was God. And all were\nhers!\n\nAs Margaret sat there, the three children leaned motionless,\nhushing themselves lest they should break that beautiful trance.\nIt was no momentary glow of enthusiasm, no mere uprising of\nfeeling; for mounting slowly, through pain, and doubt, and\nweakness, she had reached at last the heights of her soul, and\nsaw a wide, bright daybreak over the horizon of a loftier life.\n\n----------\n\n           A Glimpse Of Ireland.\n\n\nI had long cherished the desire to visit Ireland, a country for\nmany reasons so interesting to every American Catholic. The\nopportunity of making a brief tour in Europe during a summer\nvacation having unexpectedly presented itself, I determined,\ntherefore, to leave the steamer at Queenstown and make the\njourney to London by way of Dublin. On the 29th of July, 1867,\nafter a remarkably pleasant passage, we found ourselves, at an\nearly hour of the morning, in sight of the famous Skellig\nrocks--called by sailors the Bull, Cow, and Calf--and thus gained\nthe welcome advantage of sailing all day in sight of the Irish\ncoast. The first impression one receives from the appearance of\nthe country between Valentia and Cork is sad and desolate; in\nharmony with the tragic history of the suffering, oppressed race,\nwhose home is seen for the first time, by the voyager from the\nNew World, under one of its most barren and lonely aspects. The\nonly interest which can attract the eye and the mind is that of a\nsort of wild and rugged grandeur, coupled with the historical\nassociations which give a charm to the names of Bantry and\nDingle. The lonely waters, where scarcely a sail was to be seen\nduring the live-long day, told of the suppression of the\nindustrial and commercial life of the Irish nation by the\nlong-continued tyranny of that power which absorbs all its\nresources to feed its own greatness.\n\nThe long, barren stretches, showing scarcely a sign of vegetable,\nanimal, or human life, where for miles one could see only here\nand there a little shealing and a few sheep cropping the brown,\nscanty herbage, seemed to give the lie to the well-known, and, as\nI afterward saw, well deserved appellation of \"the Emerald Isle.\"\n{739}\nExpressions of surprise escaped from some of my\nfellow-passengers, agreeable and intelligent American gentlemen,\nwho, like myself, were on their maiden trip to Europe; and from\nsome others of the party who were children of Irish parents,\nlooking for the first time on the land of their exiled ancestors.\nThe coast is frequently steep and precipitous, suggesting to the\nmemory the many tales of shipwreck in wild nights of tempest one\nhas read in boyhood. The Martello towers stand at intervals along\nthe horizon, like gigantic watchmen looking out seaward to spy\nthe smuggler or the foreign invader, and in the distance the line\nof the Kerry Mountains completes the view of the wild, desolate\nlandscape. The heights of Bantry are rendered for ever sacred and\nmemorable by the martyrdom of the Franciscan fathers, Donald and\nHealy, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. They were revisiting the\nruined monastery of Bantry, for the purpose of ministering to the\nspiritual wants of their poor, persecuted flock, when they were\nseized by the agents of the glorious reformation, tied back to\nback, and hurled headlong down the precipice into the ocean. What\na wonder that the Irish people are so insensible to the value of\na gospel brought to them with so much pains and trouble, so\nkindly presented to them, enforced by such lovely examples of\nChristian virtue, and supported so long, notwithstanding their\nobstinacy, at such great expense!\n\nEarly in the morning, we stopped our engines off the Cove of\nCork, a little steamer boarded us, the freight and baggage were\nspeedily, though, in the case of rocking-chairs, not very safely,\ntumbled aboard of her decks, under the herculean direction of our\nfat boatswain. Three cheers went up from the City of Paris, which\nsteamed off grandly for Liverpool, and we puffed in, not grandly\nbut very pleasantly, toward Queenstown. The Cove of Cork is\nworld-renowned for its beauty and excellence as a haven for\nships, but desolate-looking from the fact that it is better\nsupplied with fortresses, cannon, and ships of war than with the\npeaceful, plenty-bringing steamers and sailing-vessels of\ncommerce. I once heard a little American boy utter the\nexclamation, as we were entering the port of Havana and espied\nthe soldiers on duty, \"How afraid they must be, guarding\neverything that way!\" It appears to be the same case in Ireland.\nThe English government is very much afraid of its Irish subjects,\nif we may measure its fears by the display of force which meets\nthe eye everywhere. The only consolation which a sincere lover of\nthe Irish people can find in looking upon this state of things\nis, that, since the endurance of this coercive tyranny is for the\ntime a necessary evil, the force is so very irresistible as\neffectually to prevent the bloody horrors which would follow a\ngeneral insurrection. A young English officer, whom I met at the\nhotel in Cork, expressed his regret that an open rebellion had\nnot broken out, which, he said, would have been an affair of a\nmonth, and which of course would only have increased the miseries\nand riveted the chains of the Irish people. For myself, I could\nnot help shuddering at the thought of the fearful tragedy which\nwould have been enacted if the people had been goaded by\ndemagogues to such an attempt, and blessing God that the efforts\nof these madmen had failed. It is plain enough that Ireland\ncannot be governed in this way much longer.\n{740}\nThere is but one hope and one method for the English crown to\nretain Ireland as a portion of the British empire; which is, to\nwin the willing loyalty of the people by an ample redress of\ntheir grievances, and the inauguration of a policy which has in\nview the real good of the Irish people.\n\nOur little steamer landed us at about eight in the evening; the\nofficers were very polite and obliging, and we were soon ashore\non the sacred soil, with our luggage in the hands of a couple of\nlively gossoons, and our steps free to go anywhere we pleased.\n\nAs soon as one steps ashore on the Irish soil, he feels that he\nis in the land of frolic and drollery. The irrepressible and\nindomitable spirit of the Celtic race rebounds under the strokes\nof adversity like an india-rubber ball under the blows of a bat.\n\"The harder you do knock him down, the higher he do bounce.\" My\nfellow-voyagers who came ashore at Queenstown fell into a state\nof hilarity at once which was wonderful to behold, and which\ncontinued during their whole stay in Ireland. They held their\nsides and laughed uproariously, not, be it understood, with any\nfeeling of contempt or ridicule--for they were gentlemen, and\naltogether free from snobbish prejudice or religious bigotry--but\nfrom pure, genial sympathy with the comedy which was going on in\nthe crowd that pressed eagerly around the welcome passengers from\nAmerica, contending for their luggage. Old women whose vivacity\nold age had only sharpened, and little boys who were so many\nFlibbertigibbets in fun and smartness, with huge cars drawn by\ndiminutive donkeys, on which they piled pyramids of trunks, if\nthey were lucky enough to get them; boys with barrows, and boys\nwith only hands and shoulders--struggled and jibed and danced and\nscolded, and rushed upon every passenger as he emerged from the\nbarrier, in a good humored and tumultuous manner that can only be\nappreciated by one who has seen it. We pushed off for the last\ntrain to Cork, followed by a dozen runners of the Queenstown\nhotels, vociferating the praises of their several houses,\nassuring us that the train had left five minutes before, and\nurging us most affectionately to go up the next morning after a\ngood night's sleep, by the boat, that we might enjoy the scenery\nof the beautiful river Lee. This piece of advice was good, and I\nrecommend every traveller to follow it. We turned a deaf ear to\nit, however, reached the train in time, and in half an hour were\ncomfortably deposited in the well-known and most excellent\nImperial Hotel of Cork.\n\nThe rather singular English name of Cork is not, as one is apt to\nsuppose, our common word designating a certain very light\nsubstance, and applied without any reason or propriety that\nanybody can see to a very substantial city and county. It is a\ncorruption of the Irish word _Carroch_, signifying a valley,\nwhich has been Anglicized, like many other foreign words, by a\nmost perverse and stupid English custom of changing them into\nEnglish words of somewhat similar sound. The first beginning of\nthe city was a monastery founded in the seventh century by St.\nFinnbar, whom I recognized as an old acquaintance, from the\ncathedral dedicated to his honor at Charleston, S. C., by the\nillustrious Bishop England, who was a native of Cork. The old\ncathedral of St. Finnbar, which was rebuilt in 1735, has been\ndemolished, to make way for a new one, which I most devoutly hope\nmay never be built on the sacred spot consecrated by the ancient\nIrish monk until this shall revert to its rightful possessors.\n{741}\nAnother holy site, that of Gil Abbey, which is extremely\npicturesque and beautiful, is occupied by the Queen's College.\nThe Sisters of Mercy are fortunate enough to possess another\npleasant spot, rising to a wooded hill, which was also the seat\nof an ancient monastery, and where is now situated their very\nneat and commodious convent. There are three very good Catholic\nchurches in the city--St. Patrick's, St. Mary's, and Holy\nTrinity; the latter founded by F. Matthew, and containing a\nstained glass window as a memorial of O'Connell. The Mardyke, an\navenue shaded with elms for the distance of a mile, is a pleasant\nwalk, and I passed an hour there in company with a small party of\nfriends, from New York, in a most amusing and agreeable manner,\nsurrounded by a group of children with whom we soon established a\nmost intimate friendship by means of plums. The Irish children\nare remarkable for their beauty, their blooming health, and for a\nmixture of fun and innocence, of brightness and simplicity, of\nboldness and modesty, indicating a state as near to that of\nunfallen childhood as I can imagine. The pranks of the young\nCorkonians afford a source of unfailing amusement to the stranger\nwithin their gates; but I was most amused by the boys with\ndonkeys, who were to be seen riding in state to school in the\nmorning, and, in the afternoon, all about the environs scattered\nin groups on the grass, ready to exchange a biting sarcasm with\nevery passing coachman, while their dear little friends, the\ndonkeys, fed quietly near by. It would be useless, however, to\nattempt to describe all that is droll and comic in the population\nof Cork, for it seems as if it were the business of their lives\nto be as funny as they can, for their own delight and that of the\nbeholder.\n\nCork is a fine, well-built town, of 90,000 inhabitants, the third\nin importance in Ireland. The environs are extremely beautiful. I\nwas there at midsummer; the weather was perfect, and I could see\nto the best advantage the tilth and verdure which make the\nEmerald Isle so famous. Certainly, they have not been\nexaggerated, and no one can wonder at the praise which the\nIrishman bestows upon his soil, or the intense love which he\ncherishes for it. I only wonder that those who were born and bred\nthere can ever be contented elsewhere; and surely nothing but the\nmost unendurable poverty and want would ever drive such numbers\nof them into exile. Perhaps the most picturesque objects which\nmeet the eye, in the country, are the white farm-houses with\nthatched roofs, standing in their neat little flower-gardens,\ntheir walls covered with honeysuckle or other creeping vines. The\nonly thought which mars the pleasure of looking on the rich\nmeadows, the waving fields, the herds of superb cattle, and\nflocks of fat sheep, is, that the outward show of beauty and\nprosperity is obtained by the sacrifice of the poor people, and\nenjoyed by a small number only. If you drive out, your carriage\nis followed by a troop of ragged, fleet-footed young beggars; and\nif you chance to pass a factory when the hour for stopping work\nhas come, you may see a long procession of young women,\nbareheaded, barefooted, ragged, and emaciated, who are glad to\nwork for a shilling a day.\n\nThe most interesting place to visit in the neighborhood of Cork\nis Blarney Castle. I am ashamed to say that I was afraid to go on\na jaunting-car, although at Dublin I made the experiment with\ngreat success and pleasure. It seemed to me, when I looked at the\njaunting-car for the first time, that it would shake one off as\nsoon as it turned a corner.\n{742}\nWe accordingly drove out to Blarney in an open carriage, going by\nthe road to Kanturk, and returning by Sunday-Well road. Aside\nfrom the merely jocose associations of the Blarney-stone, the\nold, ivy-clad tower is an extremely interesting and picturesque\nobject, and the grounds of the demesne, so celebrated in Irish\nlyrics, are charming. The cromlech and pillar stones, on which\nare inscriptions in the ancient Ogham characters, carry back the\nimagination to an antiquity almost without limits, and suggest\nthe thought that perhaps as long ago as the time of King David,\nor even the Exodus, Druids may have performed their sacred rites\nin these still groves. Our guide was a poor little sickly\nhumpbacked boy of sixteen rejoicing in the _sobriquet_ of\nLord John Russell, and possessing very sharp wits and\ninexhaustible good-humor. Every one about the castle seemed to\ntake especial delight in a standing joke at his expense, that he\nwas an old man with a heavy family. The poor fellow seemed to\nenjoy our company very much, and expressed the intention of\nemigrating to America. The only reason he could give was that the\nweather was too warm in summer at Blarney. At the castle gate his\njurisdiction terminated, and we were handed over to another\namusing original, the lame old gardener, who has many a story to\ntell of Walter Scott, and Tom Moore, and Father Prout. As for the\nBlarney-stone, I will not say how many of our party kissed it. In\nLord John Russell's opinion, there was no need of our doing so;\nhe was sure we had one of our own in America which we had all\nkissed frequently before leaving home. Whoever has spent an\nafternoon at Blarney, in genial company, will admit that it was\none of the pleasantest days of his life, if his soul is not too\nfull of steam and railroads to be capable of simple and natural\nenjoyments.\n\nThe journey by rail from Cork to Dublin is a most tantalizing\none. Flying at full speed through several counties, one catches\nglimpses at every moment of places and scenes of historic\ninterest and natural or artificial beauty, which he longs to\nvisit and inspect at leisure. The distance is one hundred and\nsixty-five miles; the railway is an admirable one; everything\nabout the way stations is neat and attractive, and the route\npasses in a direct line through the counties of Cork, Limerick,\nTipperary, King's, Queen's, and Kildare. Among the objects of\ninterest which are passed are the abbeys of Mourne, Bridgetown,\nKilmallock, Knocklong, Holy Cross, Thurles, Templemore, Moore\nAbbey, Old Connell, Kildare Cathedral, with St. Bridget's chapel;\nthe castles of Barrett, Carrignacenny, Kilcolman, which the poet\nSpenser received as his share in the spoliation; Charleville; the\nRock of Dunamase, with the ruins of Strongbow's Castle; the Rock\nof Cashel; the Hill of Allen, where Fin McCoul lived; several\nround towers; the famous bog of Allen; the Curragh of Kildare;\nand quantities of others--which keep one perpetually, and to a\ngreat extent vainly, looking out of window, first on one side,\nthen on the other, while you are hurried over a country every\nstep of which is rich in history, poetry, and legend, and should\nbe slowly traversed on foot and at leisure. Three of my agreeable\ncompanions of the voyage were with me in the same carriage; a\nvery pleasing gentleman, with his son, a bright youth of sixteen,\njoined us an hour or two before reaching Dublin, and they were as\ncurious about America, especially Indians, and our sea-voyage, as\nwe were about the antiquities and curiosities of Ireland.\n{743}\nOur trip was therefore wanting in nothing to make it lively and\nagreeable, and we were finally deposited at the Gresham Hotel,\nSackville street, Dublin, in high good humor, and quite ready for\na good dinner.\n\nAs I had only that evening and the following day to remain in\nDublin, I was obliged to content myself with a superficial view\nof the city, and a visit to a few places of particular interest.\nIn its general features, Dublin is at least equal to our finest\nAmerican towns of the same class, although more quiet, and\nshowing signs of stagnation in commercial prosperity. Its\nagreeable climate makes it a delightful place of residence at all\nseasons of the year, especially in the summer.\n\nMy first visit was made to the scene of the life and labors of\nthe saintly Catherine McAuley, foundress of the Sisters of Mercy,\nthe convent in Baggott street, where also repose her mortal\nremains--a lovely spot for the cradle of a religious order, and\nsuggestive of the time, I hope not far distant, when Ireland\nshall once again be full of these sacred homes of the monastic\nlife, as she was before the spoliation of her holy places by the\nruthless minions of Henry and Elizabeth. I visited also Clontarf,\nthe scene of Brian Boru's decisive victory over the Danes, and\ndeath, and went to see what is said to have been his harp, and is\nundoubtedly a relic of very ancient times, at the museum of\nTrinity College. The college is a most attractive place, and\ndelightfully situated, on ground of course originally stolen from\nthe Catholic Church, and endowed out of the spoils of\nmonasteries. Quite in keeping with its origin is the fact that\nits library contains a large number of valuable manuscript\nrecords, originally stolen from the papal archives. The learned\nbody which rules within its classic halls has also made itself\nremarkable by sustaining a claim, perhaps the most absurd ever\nadvanced by persons professing to be scholars, namely, that the\nProtestant Church of Ireland is the lineal and legitimate\nsuccessor, in a direct, unbroken line, of the ancient church of\nSaint Patrick. This is adding insult to injury. As if it were not\nenough to rob the Irish people of their property, to persecute,\ntorture, exile, and massacre them by millions, on account of\ntheir fidelity to their hereditary faith, their title to the very\nname of Catholic must be denied to them, and arrogated for the\nintruders who have forced themselves into their heritage by the\npoint of the bayonet and the violation of treaties. Two terrible\nantagonists have arisen, however, out of their own camp to smite\nthese pretenders; Dr. Maziere Brady, an Irish Protestant\nclergyman, and Froude, the English historian. The former\ngentleman, in several learned and unanswerable works, has\ndemonstrated the regular, unbroken succession of the present\nCatholic hierarchy and people of Ireland, from the bishops and\nfaithful who preceded the reign of Henry VIII., and has shown\nthat the Irish Protestant Church is nothing but an English\ncolony. The learned and accomplished Dr. Moran, also, whom I had\nthe pleasure of meeting, has written with great ability and\nresearch upon the same topics.\n\nStephen's Green, which is near by Trinity College, witnessed the\nburning of the heroic martyr Archbishop O'Hurley, tortured and\nput to death, at the instigation of the infamous Loftus,\narchbishop of Dublin. A few days later, I saw in the private\nchapel of Archbishop Manning, at London, a cloth stained with the\nblood of Archbishop Plunkett, another illustrious martyr, who was\npublicly executed by the English government on false charges.\n{744}\nI venerate the relics of the older martyrs, and the places made\nsacred by the hallowed memories of other countries and ages far\nremote; but nothing stirs my blood like the holy mementoes of the\nmen who suffered in Ireland and England, for the faith, under the\ntyranny of the apostate sovereigns and bishops of Great Britain.\nThese men are our fathers in the faith, the heroes who fought our\nbattles, from whom we have received the precious heritage we\nenjoy in comparative peace. Their memory ought to be kept alive\nand honored among us, in every possible way, as a powerful\nincitement to imitate their example, and a means of endearing to\nour people that religion which has been handed down, bathed in\nthe blood of so many noble Christians.\n\nSt. Patrick's Cathedral is the most interesting and venerable\nmonument of antiquity in Dublin. My fellow-travellers were\nastonished at seeing a Protestant St. Patrick's, with a statue of\nthe great apostle over the principal door. Probably most\nAmericans who have not made themselves specially familiar with\nIrish history fancy that most of the fine churches of Dublin are\nCatholic churches. Perhaps many of them are not aware that every\nchurch, graveyard, glebe-house, abbey, every rood of land, every\nbuilding, and every farthing of revenue belonging to the Catholic\nChurch in Ireland, has been confiscated by the English\ngovernment. In Dublin, out of eighty-four churches, forty\nbelonged to the English church, and only twenty to the Catholics,\nin 1866. At the close of the last century there was not a\nCatholic church in Dublin, nor could there be one according to\nlaw. All the churches and other institutions in Dublin are\ntherefore the creation of the present century, the fruit of the\nfree-will offerings of the poor people, and a few wealthy\npersons, such as Catherine McAuley, who consecrated her handsome\nfortune entirely to religion.\n\nSt. Patrick's dates from the year 1190, though the spire was\nadded in the fourteenth century. It has been thoroughly repaired\nand renovated, at a cost of one hundred thousand pounds, which\nwas given by the well-known brewer, Mr. Guinness. It contains one\nof St. Patrick's holy wells, which is visible through an opening\nin the floor, and guarded with great respect. Tradition says that\nthe saint baptized the first Irish convert in this fountain. This\nis probably not true; but it is very likely that he did use it\nfor baptism, and perhaps baptized in it the first converts in\nthat part of the country. There are some ancient monuments of\nbishops and knights, and some modern ones of persons who have\nfigured during the Protestant ascendency--Brown and Loftus,\nSwift, Stella, and the late Dr. Whately, who was Dr. Trench's\nimmediate predecessor. It is painful enough to see the old\nchurches and abbeys of England in the hands of aliens from the\nfaith, although the mass of the people have fallen away and\ncannot appreciate the fearful loss they have suffered, in the\nsubstitution of a creature of parliament in the place of the\nspouse of Christ. In Ireland, where the people remain fervently\nand devoutly Catholic, it is a far more painful sight to witness\ntheir ancient shrines and holy places in the hands of the\ndescendants of their spoilers, who are unable to make any use,\neven for Protestant worship, of the greater part of them.\n{745}\nWhile the respectable sexton, whose appearance was that of a\nfaded dean, was showing me the church for the consideration of a\nshilling, I was busily occupied in my own mind invoking St.\nPatrick to take his own again, bring back the altars, restore the\nunbloody sacrifice, and cause the chants of High Mass to resound\nonce more within the walls of the venerable cathedral dedicated\nto his honor. It is a great consolation to reflect that since\nthen the death-blow has been levelled at the state church by the\nsame power which created it. And although justice has not yet\nbeen done to the Catholic people of Ireland, or any step taken to\nrestore to them the sacred property of which they have been\nrobbed, there is the greatest reason to hope that, in the course\nof events, they will yet regain it by fair and peaceable means,\nwithout violence or revolution.\n\nTwo other objects which interested me greatly, were the chamber\nof the Irish House of Lords, preserved still in the same state as\nwhen the last session was held in it, and the tomb of O'Connell,\nat the beautiful cemetery of Glasnevin.\n\nThe next morning I bade adieu to Ireland from the deck of the\nKingstown and Holyhead steamer, and although it was only a\npassing glimpse I had obtained of this fair island, I shall\nalways be thankful to have had even this glimpse.\n\nIreland has the strongest claims on the love and gratitude of all\nCatholics throughout the English-speaking world. Her Celtic race,\nalthough distinct in character, language, and history from the\npeople whose mother tongue is English, has been brought into such\nclose relations with it, and is now blending with it to such a\nremarkable extent in this country, and other British colonies,\nthat its history becomes as interesting to us as the early\nhistory of England. Moreover, although a handful of English and\nScotch remained true to the faith during the revolution of the\nsixteenth century, it is to Ireland that is due the honor of\nholding aloft the banner of religion, around which are now\ngrouped one fifth of the bishops owning allegiance to St. Peter.\nAmerican converts are especially bound to gratitude to that Irish\npeople who, above all others, have been the founders of the\nCatholic Church throughout the largest portion of our republic.\nFor fourteen centuries, that people has handed down and witnessed\nto the faith which St. Patrick brought from France and Rome in\nthe fifth century, when St. Augustine was yet scarcely cold in\nhis grave. Without disparaging the great services which other\nnationalities have rendered to religion in our country, it is\nundoubted that, in our portion of it, it is through the Irish\nsuccession chiefly that we communicate with past ages, and\nthrough their rich life-blood that our Catholicity has become\nvigorous. As Catholics and as Americans, we are the natural\nfriends of Ireland and the Irish. One very good and pleasant way\nof showing this friendship is, for those who have money enough to\ntravel, to spend a portion of their time and money in Ireland.\nThe advantage will be mutual. Those who are in search of health,\npleasure, and improvement, cannot spend a month or two more\ndelightfully or beneficially than on such a tour. On the other\nhand, the money spent, whether in purchases or in alms to the\npoor, will do great good, and the sympathy, kindness, respect for\ntheir religion and themselves, manifested toward the people so\nlong borne down by the _peine forte et dure_ of oppression\nand contempt, will be fully appreciated by their warm hearts, and\nencourage them to hope for the full coming of that better day\nwhose dawning already appears in the horizon.\n\n{746}\n\nIt is much to be desired that the good beginning already made by\nseveral excellent writers, in publishing books on the religious\nhistory of Ireland, should be actively followed up. A\nwell-written, popular history, with illustrations, of all the\nprincipal places of interest in the secular and ecclesiastical\nhistory of the country, with sketches of the monastic\ninstitutions formerly flourishing; of the old churches, and\nepiscopal sees; and lives of the saints and great men who have\nflourished, especially the martyrs, would be of the greatest\nservice to religion. Such a volume would enable the Catholic\ntourist to visit the country with the greatest possible advantage\nand pleasure, beside the more important help it would give in\nstrengthening the faith and devotion of the rising generation in\nIreland, and the countries to which she has sent her colonies.\nThe richest and most abundant field is open to literature of all\nkinds, both of the lighter and the more solid character, and it\nis to be hoped that it will be thoroughly explored and well\nworked by those who are true and faithful to the ancient,\nvaliantly defended faith of the Island of Saints.\n\n----------\n\n            Primeval Man.\n          [Footnote 196]\n\n    [Footnote 186: _Primeval Man_. An Examination of some\n    Recent Speculations. By the Duke of Argyll. New York:\n    Routledge & Sons. 1869. 16mo, pp. 210.]\n\n\nThere are few more active or able members of the English House of\nLords or of the British ministry than the Scottish Duke of\nArgyll, and, if we could forget the treason to the Stuarts and\nthe Scottish nation of some of his ancestors, there are few\nscholars and scientific men in the United Kingdom whom we should\nbe disposed to treat with greater respect. He is at once a\nstatesman, a scientist, and a theologian; and in all three\ncapacities has labored earnestly to serve his country and\ncivilization. In politics, he is, of course, a whig, or, as is\nnow said, a liberal; as a theologian, he belongs to the Kirk of\nScotland, and may be regarded as a Calvinist; as a man of\nscience, his aim appears to be to assert the freedom and\nindependence of science, without compromising religion. His work\non the _Reign of Law_, reviewed and sharply criticised in\nthis magazine for February, 1868, was designed to combat the\natheistic tendencies of modern scientific theories, by asserting\nfinal causes, and resolving the natural laws of the physicists\ninto the direct and immediate will of God.\n\nIn the present work, quite too brief and sketchy, he treats of\nthe primeval man, and maintains man's origin in the creative act\nof God, against the developmentists and natural selectionists,\nwhich is well, as far as it goes. He treats, also, of the\nantiquity of man, and of his primeval condition. He appears\ndisposed to allow man a higher antiquity than we think the facts\nin the case warrant; but, though he dissents, to some extent,\nfrom the theory of the late Anglican Archbishop of Dublin, we\nfind him combating with great success the savage theory of Sir\nJohn Lubbock, who maintains that man began in the lowest form of\nbarbarism in which he can subsist as man, and has risen to his\npresent state of civilization by his own spontaneous and\nunassisted efforts--a theory just now very generally adopted in\nthe non-Catholic world, and assumed as the basis of the modern\ndoctrine of progress--the absurdest doctrine that ever gained\ncurrency among educated men.\n\n{747}\n\nThe noble duke very properly denies the origin of species in\ndevelopment, and the production of new species by \"natural\nselection,\" as Darwin holds, and acceded to by Sir Charles Lyell\nand an able writer in _The Quarterly_ for last April. The\nduke maintains that man was created man, not developed from a\nlower species, from the tadpole or monkey. But, while he asserts\nthe origin of species in the creative act of God, he supposes God\nsupplies extinct species by creating new species by successive\ncreative acts; thus losing the unity of the creative act, placing\nmultiplicity in the origin of things, and favoring that very\natheistical tendency he aims to war against. His _Reign of\nLaw_, though well-intended, and highly praised by our amiable\nfriend, M. Augustin Cochin, of _Le Correspondant_, showed us\nthat the noble author has failed both in his theology and\nphilosophy. In resolving the natural laws into the will of God\nenforcing itself by power, he fails to recognize any distinction\nbetween first cause and second cause, and, therefore, between the\nnatural and the supernatural. God does all, not only as first\ncause, or _causa eminens_, as say the theologians, but as\nthe direct and immediate actor, which, of course, is pantheism,\nitself only a form of atheism. Yet we know not that his grace\ncould have done better, with Calvinism for his theology, and the\nScottish school, as finished by Sir William Hamilton, for his\nphilosophy. To have thoroughly refuted the theories against which\nhe honorably protests, he must have known Catholic theology, and\nthe Christian view of the creative act.\n\nWe have no disposition, at present, to discuss the antiquity\neither of man or the globe. If the fact that God, _in the\nbeginning_, created heaven and earth, and all things therein,\nvisible and invisible, is admitted and maintained, we know not\nthat we need, in the interest of orthodoxy, quarrel about the\ndate when it was done. Time began with the externization of the\ndivine creative act, and the universe has no relation beyond\nitself, except the relation of the creature to the creator.\nConsidering the late date of the Incarnation, we are not disposed\nto assign man a very high antiquity, and no geological or\nhistorical facts are, as yet, established that require it for\ntheir explanation. We place little confidence in the hasty\ninductions of geologists.\n\nBut the primitive condition of man has for us a deeper interest;\nand we follow the noble duke with pleasure in his able refutation\nof the savage theory of Sir J. Lubbock. Sir John evidently holds\nthe theory of development, and that man has been developed from a\nlower species. He assumes that his primitive human state was the\nlowest form of barbarism in which he can subsist as man. With\nregard to man's development from lower animals, it is enough to\nsay that development cannot take place except where there are\nliving germs to be developed, and can only unfold and bring out\nwhat is contained in them. But we find in man, even in the lowest\nform of savage life, elements, language or articulate speech, for\ninstance, of which there are no germs to be found in the animal\nkingdom. We may dismiss that theory and assume at once that man\nwas created, and created man. But was his condition in his\nprimitive state that of the lowest form of barbarism? Is the\nsavage the primitive man, or the degenerate man?\n{748}\nThe former is assumed in almost every scientific work we meet; it\nis defended by all the advocates of the modern doctrine that man\nis naturally progressive. Saint-Simon, in his _Nouveau\nChristianisme_, asserts that paradise is before us, not behind\nus; and even some who accept the Biblical history have advanced\nso little in harmonizing their faith with what they call their\nscience, that they do not hesitate to suppose that man began his\ncareer, at least after the prevarication of Adam, in downright\nsavagism. Even the learned D\u00f6llinger so far falls in with the\nmodern theory as to make polished gentilism originate in\ndisgusting fetichism.\n\nThe noble duke sufficiently refutes the theory of Sir John\nLubbock, but does not seem to us to have fully grasped and\nrefuted the assumptions on which it is founded. \"His two main\nlines of argument,\" he says, (page 5,) \"connect themselves with\nthe two following propositions, which he undertakes to prove,\nFirst, that there are indications of progress even among savages;\nand second, that among civilized nations there are traces of\nbarbarism.\"\n\nThe first proposition is not proved or provable. The\ncharacteristic of the savage is to be unprogressive. Some tribes\nmay be more or less degraded than others. The American Indian\nranks above the New Hollander; but, whether more or less\ndegraded, we never find savages lifting themselves by their own\nefforts into even a comparatively civilized state. Niebuhr says\nthere is no instance on record of a savage tribe having become a\ncivilized people by its own spontaneous efforts; and Heeren\nremarks that the description of the tribes eastward of the\nPersian Gulf along the borders of the Indian Ocean, by the\ncompanions of Alexander, applies perfectly to them as we now find\nthem. No germs of civilized life are to be found among them, or,\nif so, they are dead, not living germs, incapable of development.\nThe savage is a thorough routinist, the slave of petrified\ncustoms and usages. He shows often great skill in constructing\nand managing his canoe, in making and ornamenting his bow or his\nwar-club; but one generation never advances on its predecessor,\nand the new generation only reproduces the old. All the arts the\nsavage has have come, as his ideas, to a stand-still. He is\nstern, sad, gloomy, as if oppressed by memory, and exhibits none\nof the joyousness or frolicsomeness which we might expect from\nhis fresh young life, if he represented the infancy or childhood\nof the race, as pretended.\n\nEven in what are called civilized heathen nations we find a\ncontinual deterioration, but no indication of progress in\ncivilization, or in those elements which distinguish civilized\nfrom barbaric or savage life. Culture and polish may be the\nconcomitants of civilization, but do not constitute it. The\ngenerations that built the pyramids, Babylon, Nineveh, Thebes,\nRome, were superior to any of their successors. No subsequent\nGreek poet ever came up to Homer, and the oldest of the Vedas\nsurpass the powers of the Indian people in any generation more\nrecent than that which produced them. The Chinese cannot to-day\nproduce new works to compare with those of Confucius. Where now\nare the once renowned nations of antiquity whose ships ploughed\nevery sea, and whose armies made the earth tremble with their\ntread? Fallen, all have fallen, and remain only in their ruins,\nand the page of the historian or song of the bard.\n{749}\nIf these nations, so great and powerful, with many elements of a\nstrong civilization, could not sustain themselves from falling\ninto barbarism, how pretend that the lowest and most degraded\nsavages can, without any foreign assistance, lift themselves into\na civilized state?\n\nThe second proposition, that civilized nations retain traces of\nbarbarism, proves nothing to the purpose. These traces, at most,\nprove only that the nations in which we detect them have passed\nthrough a state of barbarism, as we know modern nations have; not\nthat barbarism was, in any form, the primitive condition of the\nrace. It is not pretended that no savage tribe has ever been\ncivilized; what is denied is, that the race began in the savage\nstate, or that, if it had so begun, it could ever have risen by\nits own natural forces alone to civilization. There is no\nevidence that the cruel and bloody customs, traces of which we\nfind in civilized nations, were those of the primeval man. The\npolished and cultivated Romans were more savage in their customs\nthan the northern barbarians who overthrew their civilization,\nmuch to the relief of mankind. When the late Theodore Parker drew\na picture of the New Zealander in order to describe Adam, he\nproceeded according to his theory of progress, but without a\nshadow of authority. We find a cruelty, an inhumanity, an\noppression, bloody and obscene rites, among polished nations--as\nRome, Syria, Phoenicia, and modern India--that we shall look in\nvain for among downright savages; which shows that we owe them to\ncultivation, to development, that is, to \"development,\" as the\nnoble duke well says, \"in corruption.\"\n\nBut these traces of so-called barbarism among civilized nations\nare more than offset by remains of civilization which we find in\nsavage tribes. Sir J. Lubbock and others take these remains as\nindications of progress among savages; but they mistake the\nevening twilight deepening into darkness, for that of the morning\nushering in the day. This is evident from the fact that they are\nfollowed by no progress. They are reminiscences, not promises. If\ngerms, they never germinate; but have been deprived of their\nvitality. To us, paganism bears witness in all its forms that it\nhas degenerated from its _normna_, or type; not that it is\nadvancing toward it. We see in its incoherence, its incongruities\nand inequalities, that it is a fall or departure from something\nhigher, more living and more perfect. Any one studying\nProtestantism, in any of its forms, may see that it is not an\noriginal system of religion; that it is a departure from its\ntype, not an approach to it; and, if we know well the Catholic\nChurch, we see at once that in her is the type that Protestantism\nloses, corrupts, or travesties. So paganism bears unmistakable\nevidence of what we know from authentic history, that, whether\nwith polished gentiles or with rude savages and barbarians, its\ntype, from which it recedes, is the patriarchal religion. We know\nthat it was an apostasy or falling away from that religion, the\nprimitive religion of the race, as Protestantism is an apostasy\nor falling away from the Catholic Church. Protestantism, in the\nmodern world, is what gentilism was in the ancient; and as\ngentilism is the religion of all savage or barbarian tribes, we\nhave in Protestantism a key for explaining whatever is dark or\nobscure in their history. We see in Protestant nations a tendency\nto lose or throw off more and more of what they retained when\nthey separated from the church, and which before the lapse of\nmany generations, if not arrested, will lead them to a hopeless\nbarbarism. The traces of Catholic faith we find in them are\nreminiscences, not prophecies.\n\n{750}\n\nWe find with the lowest and most degraded savages, language, and\noften a language of great richness, singular beauty and\nexpressiveness. Terms for which savages have no use may sometimes\nbe wanting, but it is rare that the language cannot be made to\nsupply them from its resources. In the poorest language of a\nsavage tribe, there is always evidence of its having been the\nlanguage of a people superior in ideas and culture to the present\ncondition of those who speak it. Language, among savage tribes,\nwe take to be always indicative of a lost state far above that of\nbarbarism; and it not only refutes the theory of natural\nprogress, but, as far as it goes, proves the doctrine of\nprimitive instruction by the Creator, maintained by Dr. Whately,\nand only partially accepted by his Grace of Argyll.\n\nLanguage is no human invention, nor the product of individual or\nsocial progress. It requires language to invent language, and\nthere is no individual progress out of society, and no society is\npossible without language. Hence, animals may be gregarious, but\nnot sociable. They do not, and never can, form society. Max\nM\u00fcller has disposed of the bow-wow theory, or the origin of\nlanguage in the imitation of the cries of animals, and also of\nthe theory that supposes it to originate in the imitation of the\nsounds of nature, as buzz, rattle, etc.; for if a few words could\noriginate in this way, language itself could not, since there is\nmuch more in language than words. The more common theory, just\nnow, and which has respectable names in its favor, is that God is\nindeed the author of language, but as _causa eminens_, as he\nis of all that nature does; that is, he does not directly teach\nman language, but creates him with the power or faculty of\nspeaking, and making himself understood by articulate speech. But\nthis theory will not bear examination.\n\nBetween language and the faculty of using it there is a\ndifference, and no faculty creates its own object. The faculty of\nspeaking could no more be exercised without language, than the\nfaculty of seeing without a visible object. Where there is no\nlanguage, the faculty is and must be inoperative. The error is in\nsupposing that the faculty of using language is the faculty of\ncreating language, which it cannot be; for, till the language is\npossessed and held in the mind, there is nothing for the faculty\nof speech to operate on or with. To have given man the faculty of\nspeech, the Creator must have begun by teaching him language, or\nby infusing it with the meaning of its words into his mind. We\nmisapprehend the very nature and office of language, if we\nsuppose it can possibly be used except as learned from or taught\nby a teacher. Man, as second cause, can no more produce language\nthan he can create something from nothing. If God made us as\nsecond causes capable of creating language, why can we not do it\nnow, and master it without a long and painful study? Since the\nfaculty must be the same in all men, why do not all men speak one\nand the same dialect?\n\nWe will suppose man had language from the first. But there is no\nlanguage without discourse of reason. A parrot or a crow may be\ntaught to pronounce single words, and even sentences, but it\nwould be absurd to assert that either has the faculty of\nlanguage. To have language and be able to use it, one must have\nknowledge, and the sense of the word must precede, or at least be\nsimultaneous with the word. Both the word and its meaning must be\nassociated in the mind.\n{751}\nHow then could the Creator give man the faculty of language,\nwithout imparting to him in some way the ideas and principles it\nis fitted to express, and without expressing which it cannot be\nlanguage? He must do so, or there could be no _verbum\nmentis_, and the word would be spoken without meaning.\nMoreover, all language is profoundly philosophical, and conforms\nmore nearly to the reality of things than any human system yet\nattained to, not only by savages, but by civilized and cultivated\nmen; and whenever it deviates from that reality, it is when it\nhas been corrupted by the false systems and methods of\nphilosophers. In all languages, we find subject, predicate, and\ncopula. The copula is always the verb _to be_, teaching\nthose who understand it that nothing existing can be affirmed\nexcept by being and in its relation to being, that is God, who is\nQUI EST. Were ignorant savages able distinctly to recognize and\nembody in language the ideal formula, when no philosopher can\never apprehend and consider it unless represented to him in\nwords? Impossible.\n\nWe take language, therefore, as a reminiscence among savages of a\nprevious civilization, and a conclusive proof that, up to a\ncertain point at least, the primeval man, as Dr. Whately\nmaintains, was and must have been instructed by his Maker. As\nlanguage is never known save as learned from a teacher, its\nexistence among the lowest and most degraded barbarians is a\nproof that the primeval man was not, and could not have been an\nuntutored savage. The Anglican archbishop, having, as the\nScottish duke, no proper criterion of truth, may have included in\nthe primitive instruction more than it actually contained. An\nerror of this sort in an Anglican should surprise no one. Truth\nor sound philosophy from such a source would be the only thing to\nsurprise us. We do not suppose Adam was directly instructed in\nall the mechanic arts, in the whole science and practice of\nagriculture, or in the entire management of flocks and herds, nor\nthat he had steam-engines, spinning-jennies, power-looms,\nsteamboats, railroads, locomotives, palace-cars, or even\nlightning telegraphs. We do not suppose that the race, in\nrelation to the material order, received any direct instructions,\nexcept of the most elementary kind, or in matters of prime\nnecessity, or high utility to his physical life and health. The\nornamental arts, and other matters which do not exceed man's\nnatural powers, may have been left to man to find out for\nhimself, though we have instances recorded in which some of them\nwere taught by direct inspiration, and many modern inventions are\nonly the reproduction of arts once known, and subsequently lost\nor forgotten.\n\nIt is not difficult to explain how our modern advocates of\nprogress have come to regard the savage as the primeval man, and\nnot as the degenerate man. Their theory of natural progress\ndemands it, and they have always shown great facility in\naccommodating their facts to their theories. They take also their\nstarting-point in heathenism of comparatively recent origin, and\nstudy the law of human development in the history of gentilism.\nThey forget that gentilism originated in an apostasy from the\npatriarchal or primitive moral and religious order, and that,\nfrom the first, there remained, and always has remained, on earth\na people that did not apostatize, that remained faithful to\ntradition, to the primitive instruction and wisdom.\n{752}\nThey fail to consider that, language confounded and the race\ndispersed, those who remained nearest the original seats of\ncivilization, and were separated by the least distance from the\npeople that remained faithful, became the earliest civilized or\npolished gentile nations, and that those who wandered further\ninto the wilderness--receding further and further from light,\nlosing more and more of their original patrimony, cut off from\nall intercourse with civilization by distance, by difference of\nlanguage, and to some extent, perhaps, by physical changes and\nconvulsions of the globe, degenerated gradually into barbarians\nand savages. Occasionally, in the course of ages, some of these\nwandering and degenerate tribes were brought under the influence\nof civilization by the arts, the arms, and the religion of the\nmore civilized gentile nations. But in none has the gentile\ncivilization, in the proper sense of the term, ever risen above\nwhat the gentiles took with them from the primitive stock, when\nthey apostatized. Protestant nations are below, not above, what\nthey were at the epoch of the Reformation. The reformers were\ngreatly superior to any of their successors.\n\nBut our philosophic historians take no account of these things,\nnor of the fact that history shows them no barbaric ancestors of\nthe Egyptians, Indians, Assyrians, Babylonians, Syrians,\nPhoenicians, etc. They find, or think they find, from the Greek\npoets and traditions, that the ancestors of the Greeks and\nRomans, each a comparatively modern people, were really savages,\nand that suffices them to prove that the savage state is the\nprimeval state of the race! They find, also, that a marvellous\nprogress in civilization, under Christianity has been effected,\nand what hinders them from concluding that man is\n_naturally_ progressive, or that the savage is able, by his\nown efforts, to lift himself into civilized life? Have not the\nnorthern barbarians, who overthrew the Roman empire of the west,\nand seated themselves on its majestic ruins, become, under the\nteachings and the supernatural influences of the church, the\ngreat civilized nations of the modern world? How, then, pretend\nto deny that barbarians and savages can become civilized by their\nown spontaneous efforts and natural forces alone?\n\nWhether any savage tribe was ever civilized under gentilism is,\nperhaps, doubtful; but if the philosophers of history would take\nthe right line, instead of a collateral line or bastard branch of\nthe human family, and follow it from Adam down, through the\npatriarchs, the synagogue, and the Catholic Church, they would\nfind that there has always been a believing, a faithful, an\nenlightened, and a civilized people on earth, and they never\nwould and never could have imagined any thing so untrue as that\nman began \"in the lowest form of barbarism in which he can\nsubsist as man.\" We have no indication of the existence of any\nsavage or barbarous tribes before the flood; nor after the flood,\ntill the confusion of language at Babel, and the consequent\ndispersion of the human race; that is, till after the gentile\napostasy, of which they are one of the fruits. Adam, by his fall,\nlost communion with God, became darkened in his understanding,\nenfeebled in his will, and disordered in his appetites and\npassions; but he did not lose all his science, forget all his\nmoral and religious instruction, and become a complete savage.\nBesides, his communion with God was renewed by repentance and\nfaith in the promised Messiah, or incarnate Son of God, who\nshould come to redeem the world, and enable man to fulfil his\ndestiny, or attain his end.\n\n{753}\n\nWe do not by any means deny progress. We believe in it with St.\nPaul, and struggle for it in individuals and in society. We only\ndo not believe in progress or perfectibility by the simple forces\nof nature alone, or that man is naturally progressive. Existences\nhave two movements or cycles: the one, their procession, by way\nof creation, from God as first cause; the other, their return,\nwithout absorption in him, to God as their final cause or\nbeatitude, as we have on several occasions very fully shown. In\nthe first cycle, man is explicated by natural generation, and his\npowers are determined by his nature, or the physical laws of his\nexistence. In the second cycle, his explication is by\nregeneration, a supernatural act; and his progress is directed\nand controlled by the moral law prescribed by God as final cause,\nand is limited only by the infinite, to which he aspires, and, by\nthe assistance of grace, may attain. The first cycle is initial,\nand in it there is no moral, religious, or social progress; there\nis only physical development and growth. It is under the natural\nlaws of the physicists, who never look any further. The second\ncycle is teleological, and under the moral law, or the natural\nlaw of the theologians and the legists. In this teleological\ncycle lies the whole moral order, as distinguished from the\nphysical; the whole of religion; its means, influences, and ends;\nand, consequently, civilization, in so far as it has any moral or\nreligious character, aims, or tendency.\n\nCivilization, we are aware, is a word that has hardly a fixed\nmeaning, and is used vaguely, and in different senses. It is\nderived from a word signifying the city--in modern language, the\nstate--and relates to the organization, constitution, and\nadministration of the commonwealth or republic. It is used\nvaguely for the aggregate of the manners, customs, and usages of\ncity life, and also for the principles and laws of a well ordered\nand well-governed civil society. We take it chiefly in the latter\nsense, and understand by it the supremacy of the moral order in\nsecular life, the reign of law, or the subjection of the passions\nand turbulent elements of human nature in the individual, the\nfamily, and society to the moral law; or, briefly, the\npredominance of reason and justice over passion and caprice in\nthe affairs of this world, and therefore coincident with liberty,\nas distinguished from license. The race began in civilization,\nbecause it began with a knowledge of the law of human existence,\nman's origin and destiny, and of the means and conditions of\ngaining the end for which he exists; and because he was placed in\nthe outset by his Maker in possession of these means and\nconditions, so that he could not fail except through his own\nfault. Those who reject, neglect, or pervert the moral order,\nfollow only the natural laws, separate from the communion of the\nfaithful, and remain in the initial cycle, gradually become\nbarbarians, superstitious, the slaves of their own passions,\ncruel and merciless savages, even if still cultivated, refined,\nand mild-mannered.\n\nWe place civilization, then, in the second cycle or movement of\nexistences, under the moral law, and must do so or deny it all\nmoral basis or moral character. What is not moral in its aims and\ntendencies, or is not in the order of man's return to God as his\nlast end, we exclude from civilization, as no part of it, even if\ncalled by its name. There is no civilization where there is no\nstate or civil polity; and there can be no state or civil polity,\nthough there may be force, tyranny, and slavery, out of the moral\norder.\n{754}\nThe state lies in the moral or teleological order, and is under\nthe moral law--the law prescribed by God as final cause. It\nderives all its principles from it, and is founded and governed\nby it. Its very mission is the maintenance of justice, freedom,\nand order; and, as far as it goes, to keep men's faces towards\nthe end for which they are created. And hence the concord there\nis, or should be, between the state and the church.\n\nMost of those things, it will be seen from this, after which the\ngentiles seek, and which the moderns call civilization, may be\nadjuncts of civilization, in the sense of our Lord, when he says,\n\"Seek first the kingdom of God and his justice, and _all these\nthings shall be added_ unto you;\" but they do not constitute\ncivilization, are not it, nor any part of it. Here is where\nmodern gentilism errs, no less than did the ancient. Take up any\nof the leading journals of the day, and you will find what with\ngreat emphasis is called modern civilization is in the initial\norder, not the teleological; and is only a development and\napplication of the natural laws of the physicists, not the\nnatural or moral law of the theologians and legists. The press\nand popular orators called, a few years ago, Cyrus W. Field, who\nhad taken a leading share in laying a submarine telegraph from\nthe western coast of Ireland to the eastern coast of\nNewfoundland, a \"second Messiah.\" When, after much urging and\nsome threats, President Lincoln proclaimed, as a war measure, the\nemancipation of the slaves in certain States and parts of States\nthen at war with the general government, the press and orators\nthat approved, both at home and abroad, forthwith pronounced him\nalso a \"second Messiah,\" and without stopping to inquire whether\nthe emancipation would be any thing more than the exchange of one\nform of compulsory physical labor for another, perhaps no better.\nNow, when a new Atlantic cable is laid from France to\nMassachusetts, we are told in flaring capitals and lofty periods\nthat it is another and a glorious triumph of modern\ncivilization--of mind over matter, man over nature. If our San\nFrancisco friend succeeds in constructing an aerial ship, with\nwhich he can navigate the air, it will be a greater triumph still\nof modern civilization, and the theologians and moralists will\nhave to hide their heads. All this shows that civilization, by\nthe leaders of public opinion in our day, is placed wholly in the\nphysical order, and consists in the development and application\nof the natural laws to the accomplishment of certain physical\nends or purposes of utility only in the first cycle of our\nexistence, and without the least moral significance. So\ncompletely have we become devoted to the improvement of our\ncondition in the initial order, that we forget that life does not\nend with it, or that the initial exists only for the\nteleological, and that our development and application of the\nphysical laws of nature imply no progress in civilization, or the\nrealization of a moral ideal.\n\nBut whatever success we may have in developing and applying to\nour own purposes the physical laws of man and the globe he\ninhabits, we must remember that no success of that sort initiates\nus into the second cycle, or the life of our return to God. To\nenter that life we must be regenerated, and we can no more\nregenerate than we can generate ourselves. Here, we may see why\neven to civilization the Incarnation of the Word is necessary.\nThe hypostatic union of the divine and human natures in the\ndivine person of the Word carries the creative act to its summit,\ncompletes the first cycle, and initiates the second, into which\nwe can enter only as we are reborn of Christ, as we were born in\nthe first cycle of Adam.\n{755}\nHence, Christ is called the second Adam, the Lord from heaven.\nCivilization, morality, salvation, are in one sense in the same\norder and under one and the same law.\n\nProgress being possible, except in the sense of physical\ndevelopment, only in the movement of return to God as final\ncause, and that movement originating in the Incarnation only, it\nfollows that those nations alone that are united to Christ by\nfaith and love, either united to him who was to come, as were the\npatriarchs and the synagogue, before the Incarnation, or to him\nin the church or the regeneration, as are Catholics since, are or\ncan be progressive, or even truly civilized nations. They who\nassert progress by our natural forces alone, confound the first\ncycle with the second, generation with regeneration, and the\nnatural laws, which proceed from God as first cause, with the\nnatural or moral law which is prescribed by God as final cause.\nIt is a great mistake, then, to suppose, as many do, that the\nmysteries of faith, even the most recondite, have no practical\nbearing on the progress of men and nations, or that it is safe,\nin studying civilization, to take our point of departure in\ngentilism.\n\nIn accordance with our conclusion, we find that gentile nations,\nancient or modern, are really unprogressive, save in the physical\nor initial order; which is of no account in the moral or\nteleological order. We deny not the achievements of Protestant\nnations in the physical order; but, in relation to the end for\nwhich man exists, they not only do not advance beyond what they\ntook with them from the church, but are constantly deteriorating.\nThey have lost the condition of moral and spiritual progress,\nindividually and collectively, by losing communion with Christ in\nhis church; they have lost Christ, in reality, if not in name;\nand by losing the infallible word preserved by the church alone,\nthey have lost or are losing the state, civil authority itself,\nand finding themselves reduced to what St. Paul calls \"the\nnatural man.\" They place all their hopes in physical success,\nalways certain to fail in the end, when pursued for its own sake.\n\nWe have raised and we raise here no question as to what God might\nhave done, or how or with what powers he might have created man,\nhad he chosen. We only take the plan he has chosen to adopt; and\nwhich, in his providence and grace, he carries out. In the\npresent decree, as say the theologians, he has subjected the\nwhole teleological order to one and the same law; and\ncivilization, morality, and Christian sanctity are not separable\nin principle, and depend on one and the same fundamental law.\nGentilism divorces religion and the state from morality; and\nmodern heresy recognizes no intrinsic relation between them. It\ntells us religion is necessary to the stability of the political\norder; that Christianity is the basis of morality, and that it is\nthe great agent of progress; but it shows us no reason why it is\nor should be so, and in its practical doctrine it teaches that it\nis not so. Every thing, as far as it informs us, depends on\narbitrary appointment, and without any reason of being in the\nsystem of things which God has seen proper to create. Hence,\npeople are unable to form to themselves any clear view of the\nrelation of religion and morality, of morality and civilization,\nor to arrive at any satisfactory understanding of the purpose and\nlaw of human existence; and they either frame to themselves the\nwildest, the most fanciful, or the most absurd theories, or give\nthe whole up in despair, sink into a state of utter indifference,\nand say, \"Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.\"\n{756}\nThey simply vegetate in vice or crime, or, at best, only take\nthemselves to the study of the physical sciences, or the\ncultivation of the fine arts. We have shown that their\ndifficulties and discouragements are imaginary, and arise from\nignorance of the divine plan of creation, and the mutual relation\nand dependence of all its parts. One divine thought runs through\nthe whole, and nothing does or can stand alone. We study things\ntoo much in their analysis, not enough in their synthesis.\n\n----------\n\n       Translated From The German\n        Of Conrad Von Bolanden.\n\n              Angela.\n\n\n          Chapter III.\n\n      Quod Erat Demonstrandum.\n\n\nOn the following day, Richard went to the weather-cross. He did\nnot meet Angela. She must have been unusually early; for the\nflowers had evidently just been placed before the statue.\n\nHe returned, gloomy, to the house and wrote in his diary:\n\n  \"May 14th.--She did not meet me today, and probably will not\n  meet me again. I should have left the book where it was; it\n  might have awakened her gratitude; for I think she left it\n  purposely, to give me an opportunity to make her acquaintance.\n\n  \"How many young women would give more than a book to get\n  acquainted with a wealthy party. The 'Angel' is very sensitive;\n  but this sensibility pleases me, because it is true womanly\n  delicacy.\n\n  \"She will now avoid meeting me in this lonely road. But I will\n  study her character in her father's house. I will see if she\n  does not confirm my opinion of the women of our times. It was\n  for this purpose alone that I accepted Siegwart's invitation.\n  Angela must not play Isabella; no woman ever shall. Single and\n  free from woman's yoke, I will go through the world.\"\n\nHe put aside the diary, and began reading Vogt's Physiological\nLetters_.\n\nAt three o'clock precisely, Richard with the punctual doctor left\nFrankenh\u00f6he. They passed through the chestnut grove and through\nthe vineyard toward Salingen. The doctor pushed on with long\nsteps, his arms swinging back and forth. He was evidently pleased\nwith the subject he had been reading. He had, on leaving the\nhouse, shaken Richard by the hand, and spoken a few friendly\nwords, but not a syllable since. Richard knew his ways, and knew\nthat it would take some time for him to thaw.\n\nThey were passing between Siegwart's house and Salingen when they\nbeheld Angela, at a distance, coming toward them. She carried a\nlittle basket on her arm, and on her head she wore a straw hat\nwith broad fluttering ribbons. Richard fixed his eyes attentively\non her. This time, also, she did not wear hoops, but a dress of\nmodest colors. He admired her light, graceful movement and\ncharming figure. The blustering doctor moderated his steps and\nwent slower the nearer he came to Angela, and considered her with\nsurprise. Frank greeted her, touching his hat. She did not thank\nhim, as before, with a friendly greeting, but by a scarcely\nperceptible inclination of the head; nor did she smile as before,\nbut on this account seemed to him more charming and ethereal than\never. She only glanced at him, and he thought he observed a\nslight blush on her cheeks.\n\n{757}\n\nThese particulars were engrossing the young man's attention when\nhe heard the doctor say,\n\n\"Evidently the Angel of Salingen.\"\n\n\"Who?\" said Richard in surprise.\n\n\"The Angel of Salingen,\" returned Klingenberg. \"You are surprised\nat this appellation; is it not well-merited?\"\n\n\"My surprise increases, doctor; for exaggeration is not your\nfashion.\"\n\n\"But she deserves acknowledgment. Let me explain. The maiden is\nthe daughter of the proprietor Siegwart, and her name is Angela.\nShe is a model of every virtue. She is, in the female world, what\nan image of the Virgin, by one of the old masters, would be among\nthe hooped gentry of the present. As you are aware, I have been\noften called to the cabins of the sick poor, and there the quiet,\nunostentatious labors of this maiden have become known to me.\nAngela prepares suitable food for the sick, and generally takes\nit to them herself. The basket on her arm does service in this\nway. There are many poor persons who would not recover unless\nthey had proper, nourishing food. To these Angela is a great\nbenefactor. For this reason, she has a great influence over the\nminds of the sick, and the state of the mind greatly facilitates\nor impedes their recovery.\n\n\"I have often entered just after she had departed, and the\nbeneficial influence of her presence could be still seen in the\ncountenances of the poor. Her presence diffused resignation,\npeace, contentment, and a peculiar cheerfulness in the meanest\nand most wretched hovels of poverty, where she enters without\nhesitation. This is certainly a rare quality in so young a\ncreature. She rejoices the hearts of the children by giving them\nclothes, sometimes made by herself, or pictures and the like. Her\nwhole object appears to be to reconcile and make all happy. I\nhave just seen her for the first time; her beauty is remarkable,\nand might well adorn an angel. The common people wish only to\nGermanize 'Angela' when they call her 'Angel.' But she is indeed\nan angel of heaven to the poor and needy.\"\n\nFrank said nothing. He moved on in silence toward the\nweather-cross.\n\n\"I have accidentally discovered a singular custom of your\n'angel,' doctor. There is at the weather-cross a Madonna of\nstone. Angela has imposed upon herself the singular task of\nadorning this Madonna, daily, with fresh flowers.\"\n\n\"You are a profane fellow, Richard. You should not speak in such\na derisive tone of actions which are the out-flowings of pious\nsentiment.\"\n\n\"Every one has his hobby. What will not people do through\nambition? I know ladies who torture a piano for half the night,\nin order to catch the tone of the prima-donna at the opera. I\nknow women who undergo all possible privations to be able to wear\nas fine clothes, as costly furs, as others with whom they are in\nrivalry. This exhaustive night-singing, these deprivations, are\nsubmitted to through foolish vanity. Perhaps Angela is not less\nambitious and vain than others of her sex. As she cannot dazzle\nthese country folk with furs or toilette, she dazzles their\nreligious sentiment by ostentatious piety.\"\n\n\"Radically false!\" said the doctor. \"Charity and virtue are\nrecognized and honored not only in the country, but also in the\ncities. Why do not your coquettes strive for this approval?\nBecause they want Angela's nobility of soul.\n{758}\nAnd again, why should Angela wish to gain the admiration of the\npeasants? She is the daughter of the wealthiest man in the\nneighborhood. If such was her object, she could gratify her\nambition in a very different way.\"\n\n\"Then Angela is a riddle to me,\" returned Richard. \"I cannot\nconceive the motives of her actions.\"\n\n\"Which are so natural! The maiden follows the impulses of her own\nnoble nature, and these impulses are developed and directed by\nChristian culture, and convent education. Angela was a long time\nwith the nuns, and only returned home two years ago. Here you\nhave the very natural solution of the riddle.\"\n\n\"Are you acquainted with the Siegwart family?\"\n\n\"No; what I know of Angela I learned from the people of\nSalingen.\"\n\nThey arrived at the platform. Klingenberg stood silent for some\ntime admiring the landscape. The view did not seem to interest\nRichard. His eyes rested on Angela's home, whose white walls,\nsurrounded by vineyards and corn-fields, glistened in the sun.\n\n\"It is worth while to come up here oftener,\" said Klingenberg.\n\n\"Angela's work,\" said Richard as he drew near the statue. The\ndoctor paused a moment and examined the flowers.\n\n\"Do you observe Angela's fine taste in the arrangement of the\ncolors?\" said he. \"And the forget-me-nots! What a deep religious\nmeaning they have.\"\n\nThey returned by another way to Frankenh\u00f6he.\n\n\"Angela's pious work,\" began Richard after a long pause, \"reminds\nme of a religious custom against which modern civilization has\nthus far warred in vain. I mean the veneration of saints. You, as\na Protestant, will smile at this custom, and I, as a Catholic,\nmust deplore the tenacity with which my church clings to this\nobsolete remnant of heathen idolatry.\"\n\n\"Ah! this is the subject you alluded to yesterday,\" said the\ndoctor. \"I must, in fact, smile, my dear Richard! But I by no\nmeans smile at 'the tenacity with which your church clings to the\nobsolete remnants of heathen idolatry.' I smile at your queer\nidea of the veneration of the saints. I, as a reasonable man,\nesteem this veneration, and recognize its admirable and\nbeneficial influence on human society.\"\n\nThis declaration increased Frank's surprise to the highest\ndegree. He knew the clear mind of the doctor, and could not\nunderstand how it happened that he wished to defend a custom so\nantagonistic to modern thought.\n\n\"You find fault,\" continued Klingenberg, \"with the custom of\nerecting statues to these holy men in the churches, the forest,\nthe fields, the houses, and in the market?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do object to that.\"\n\n\"If you had objected to the lazy Schiller at Mayence, or the\nrobber's poet Schiller, as he raves at the theatre in Mannheim,\nor to the conqueror and destroyer of Germany, Gustavus Adolphus,\nwhose statue is erected as an insult in a German city, then you\nwould be right.\"\n\n\"Schiller-worship has its justification,\" retorted Frank. \"They\nerect public monuments to the genial spirit of that man, to\nremind us of his services to poetry, his aspirations, and his\nGerman patriotism.\"\n\n\"It is praiseworthy to erect monuments to the poet. But do not\ntalk of Schiller's patriotism, for he had none. But let that\npass; it is not to the point. The question is, whether you\nconsider it praiseworthy to erect monuments to deserving and\nexalted genius?\"\n\n{759}\n\n\"Without the least hesitation, I say yes. But I see what you are\ndriving at, doctor. I know the remorseless logic of your\ninferences. But you will not catch me in your vise this time. You\nwish to infer that the saints far surpassed Schiller in nobility\nand greatness of soul, and that honoring them, therefore, is more\nreasonable, and more justifiable, than honoring Schiller. I\ndispute the greatness of the so-called saints. They were men full\nof narrowness and rigorism. They despised the world and their\nfriends. They carried this contempt to a wonderful extent--to a\nrenunciation of all the enjoyments of life, to voluntary poverty\nand unconditional obedience. But all these are fruits that have\ngrown on a stunted, morbid tree, and are in opposition to\nprogress, to industry, and to the enlightened civilization of\nmodern times. The dark ages might well honor such men, but our\ntimes cannot. Schiller, on the contrary, that genial man, taught\nus to love the pleasures of life. By his fine genius and his odes\nto pleasure, he frightened away all the spectres of these\nenthusiastic views of life. He preached a sound taste and a free,\nunconstrained enjoyment of the things of this beautiful earth.\nAnd for this reason precisely, because he inaugurated this new\ndoctrine, does he deserve monuments in his honor.\"\n\n\"How does it happen then, my friend,\" said the doctor, in a\ncutting tone that was sometimes peculiar to him, \"that you do not\ntake advantage of the modern doctrine of unconstrained enjoyment?\nWhy have you preserved fresh your youthful vigor, and not\ndissipated it at the market of sensual pleasures? Why is your\nmode of life so often a reproach to your dissolute friends? Why\ndo you avoid the resorts of refined pleasures? Why are the\ncoquettish, vitiated, hollow inclinations of a great part of the\nfemale sex so distasteful to you? Answer me!\"\n\n\"These are peculiarities of my nature; individual opinions that\nhave no claim to any weight.\"\n\n\"Peculiarities of your nature--very right; your noble nature,\nyour pure feelings rebel against these moral acquisitions of\nprogress. I begin with your noble nature. If I did not find this\ngood, true self in you, I would waste no more words. But because\nyou are what you are, I must convince you of the error of your\nviews. Schiller, you say, and, with him, the modern spirit,\nraised the banner of unrestrained enjoyment, and this enjoyment\nrests on sensual pleasures, does it not?\"\n\n\"Well--yes.\"\n\n\"I knew and know many who followed this banner--and you also know\nmany. Of those whom I knew professionally, some ended their days\nin the hospital, of the most loathsome diseases. Some, unsatiated\nwith the whole round of pleasures, drag on a miserable life, dead\nto all energy, and spiritless. They drank the full cup of\npleasure, and with it unspeakable bitterness and disgust. Some\nended in ignominy and shame--bankruptcy, despair, suicide. Such\nare the consequences of this modern dogma of unrestrained\nenjoyments.\"\n\n\"All these overstepped the proper bounds of pleasure,\" said\nRichard.\n\n\"The proper bounds? Stop!\" cried the doctor. \"No leaps, Richard!\nThink clearly and logically. Christianity also allows enjoyment,\nbut--and here is the point--in certain limits. Your progress, on\nthe contrary, proclaims freedom in moral principles, a disregard\nof all moral obligations, unrestricted enjoyment--and herein\nconsists the danger and delusion. I ask, Are you in favor of\nrestricted or unrestricted enjoyment?\"\n\n{760}\n\nFrank hesitated. He felt already the thumbscrew of the\nirrepressible doctor, and feared the inferences he would draw\nfrom his admissions.\n\n\"Come!\" urged Klingenberg, \"decide.\"\n\n\"Sound reason declares for restricted enjoyment,\" said Frank\ndecidedly.\n\n\"Good; there you leave the unlimited sphere which godless\nprogress has given to the thoughts and inclinations of men. You\nadmit the obligation of self control, and the restraint of the\ngrosser emotions. But let us proceed; you speak of industry. The\nmodern spirit of industry has invoked a demon--or, rather, the\ndemoniac spirit of the times has taken possession of industry.\nThe great capitalists have built thrones on their money-bags and\ntyrannize over those who have no money. They crush out the\nwork-shop of the industrious and well-to-do tradesman, and compel\nhim to be their slave. Go into the factories of Elfeld, or\nEngland; you can there see the slaves of this demon\nindustry--miserable creatures, mentally and morally stunted,\nsocially perishing; not only slaves, but mere wheels of the\nmachines. This is what modern industry has made of those poor\nwretches, for whom, according to modern enlightenment, there is\nno higher destiny than to drag through life in slavery, to\nincrease the money-bags of their tyrants. But the capitalists\nhave perfect right, according to modern ideas; they only use the\nmeans at their command. The table of the ten commandments has\nbeen broken; the yoke of Christianity broken. Man is morally and\nreligiously free; and from this false liberalism the tyranny of\nplutocracy and the slavery of the poor has been developed. Are\nyou satisfied with the development, and the principles that made\nit possible?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Frank decidedly. \"I despise that miserable\nindustrialism that values the product more than the man. My\nadmissions are, how ever, far from justifying the exaggerated\nnotions of the saints.\"\n\n\"Wait a bit!\" cried Klingenberg hastily. \"I have just indicated\nthe cause of this wretched egotism, and also a\nconsequence--namely, the power of great capitalists and\nmanufacturers over an army of white slaves. But this is by no\nmeans all. This demon of industry has consequences that will ruin\na great portion of mankind. Now mark what I say, Richard! The\nrichness of the subject allows me only to indicate. The\nprogressive development of industry brings forth products of\nwhich past ages were ignorant, because they were not necessary\nfor life. The existence of these products creates a demand. The\nincreased wants increase the outlay, which in most cases does not\nsquare with the income, and therefore the accounts of many close\nwith a deficit. The consequences of this deficit for the\nhappiness, and even for the morals of the family, I leave\nuntouched. The increased products beget luxury and the desire for\nenjoyment; the ultimate consequences of which enervate the\nindividual and society. Hence the phenomenon, in England, that\nthe greater portion of the people in the manufacturing towns die\nbefore the age of fifteen, and that many are old men at thirty.\nEnervated and demoralized peoples make their existence\nimpossible. They go to the wall. This is a historical fact. Ergo,\nmodern industry separated from Christian civilization hastens the\ndownfall of nations.\"\n\n{761}\n\n\"I cannot dispute the truth of your observations. But you have\ntouched only the dark side of modern industry, without mentioning\nits benefits. If industry is a source of fictitious wants, it\naffords, on the other hand, cheap prices to the poor for the most\nnecessary wants of life; for example, cheap materials for\nclothing.\"\n\n\"Very cheap, but also very poor material,\" answered Klingenberg.\n\"In former times, clothing was dearer, but also better. They knew\nnothing of the rags of the present fabrication. And it may be\nasked whether that dearer material was not cheaper in the end for\nthe poor. When this is taken into consideration, the new material\nhas no advantage over the old. I will freely admit that the\ninventions of modern times do honor to human genius. I\nacknowledge the achievements of industry, as such. I admire the\nimprovements of machinery, the great revolution caused by the use\nof steam, and thousands of other wonders of art. No sensible man\nwill question the relative worth of all these. But all these are\ndriven and commanded by a bad influence, and herein lies the\ninjury. We must consider industrialism from this higher\nstandpoint. What advantage is it to a people to be clothed in\ncostly stuffs when they are enervated, demoralized, and\nperishing? Clothe a corpse as you will, a corpse it will be\nstill. And besides, the greatest material good does not\ncompensate the white factory-slaves for the loss of their\nliberty. The Lucullan age fell into decay, although they feasted\non young nightingales, drank liquified pearls, and squandered\nmillions for delicacies and luxuries. The life of nations does\nnot consist in the external splendor of wealth, in easy comfort,\nor in unrestrained passions. Morality is the life of nations, and\nvirtue their internal strength. But virtue, morality, and\nChristian sentiment are under the ban of modern civilization. If\nChristianity does not succeed in overcoming this demon spirit of\nthe times, or at least confining it within narrow limits, it will\nand must drive the people to certain destruction. We find decayed\npeoples in the Christian era, but the church has always rescued\nand regenerated them. While the acquisitions of modern\ntimes--industrialism, enlightenment, humanitarianism, and\nwhatever they may be called--are, on the one hand, of little\nadvantage or of doubtful worth, they are, on the other hand, the\ngraves of true prosperity, liberty, and morality. They are the\ncause of shameful terrorism and of degrading slavery, in the\nbonds of the passions and in the claws of plutocracy.\"\n\nFrank made no reply.\n\nFor a while they walked on in silence.\n\n\"Let us,\" continued Klingenberg, \"consider personally those men\nwhose molten images stand before us. Schiller's was a noble\nnature, but Schiller wrote:\n\n  \"'No more this fight of duty, hence no longer\n      This giant strife will I!\n    Canst quench these passions evermore the stronger?\n      Then ask not virtue, what I must deny.\n\n  \"'Albeit I have sworn, yea, sworn that never\n      Shall yield my master will;\n    Yet take thy wreath; to me 'tis lost for ever!\n      Take back thy wreath, and let me sin my fill.'\n\nIs this a noble and exalted way of thinking? Certainly not.\nSchiller would be virtuous if he could clothe himself in the\nlustre of virtue without sacrifice. The passionate impulses of\nthe heart are stronger in him than the sense of duty. He gives\nway to his passions. He renounces virtue because he is too weak,\ntoo languid, too listless to encounter this giant strife bravely\nlike a strong man. Such is the noble Schiller. In later years,\nwhen the fiery impulses of his heart had subsided, he roused\nhimself to better efforts and nobler aims.\n\n{762}\n\n\"Consider the prince of poets, Goethe. How morally naked and poor\nhe stands before us! Goethe's coarse insults to morality are well\nknown. His better friend, Schiller, wrote of him to Koerner, 'His\nmind is not calm enough, because his domestic relations, which he\nis too weak to change, cause him great vexation.' Koerner\nanswered,' Men cannot violate morality with impunity.' Six years\nlater, the 'noble' Goethe was married to his 'mistress' at\nWeimar. Goethe's detestable political principles are well known.\nHe did not possess a spark of patriotism. He composed hymns of\nvictory to Napoleon, the tyrant, the destroyer and desolator of\nGermany. These are the heroes of modern sentiment, the advance\nguard of liberty, morality, and true manhood! And these heroes so\nfar succeeded that the noble Arndt wrote of his time, 'We are\nbase, cowardly, and stupid; too poor for love, too listless for\nanger, too imbecile for hate. Undertaking every thing,\naccomplishing nothing; willing every thing, without the power of\ndoing any thing.' So far has this boasted freethinking created\ndisrespect for revealed truth. So far this modern civilization,\nwhich idealizes the passions, leads to mockery of religion and\nlets loose the baser passions of man. If they cast these\nrepresentatives of the times in bronze, they should stamp on the\nforeheads of their statues the words of Arndt:\n\n  \"'We are base, cowardly, and stupid; too poor for love, too\n  listless for anger, too imbecile for hate. Undertaking every\n  thing, accomplishing nothing; willing every thing, without the\n  power of doing any thing.\"'\n\n\"You are severe, doctor.\"\n\n\"I am not severe. It is the truth.\"\n\n\"How does it happen that a people so weak, feeble, and base could\noverthrow the power of the French in the world?\"\n\n\"That was because the German people were not yet corrupted by\nthat shallow, unreal, hollow twaddle of the educated classes\nabout humanity. It was not the princes, not the nobility, who\noverthrew Napoleon. It was the German people who did it. When, in\n1813, the Germans rose, in hamlet and city, they staked their\nproperty and lives for fatherland. But it was not the enlightened\npoets and professors, not modern sentimentality, that raised\ntheir hearts to this great sacrifice; not these who enkindled\nthis enthusiasm for fatherland. It was the religious element that\ndid it. The German warriors did not sing Goethe's hymns to\nNapoleon, nor the insipid model song of 'Luetzows wilder Jagd,'\nas they rushed into battle. They sang religious hymns, they\nprayed before the altars. They recognized, in the terrible\njudgment on Russia's ice-fields, the avenging hand of God.\nTrusting in God, and nerved by religious exaltation, they took up\nthe sword that had been sharpened by the previous calamities of\nwar. So the feeble philanthropists could effect nothing. It was\nonly a religious, healthy, strong people could do that.\"\n\n\"But the saints, doctor! We have wandered from them.\"\n\n\"Not at all! We have thrown some light on inimical shadows; the\nlight can now shine. The lives of the saints exhibit something\nwonderful and remarkable. I have studied them carefully. I have\nsought to know their aims and efforts. I discovered that they\nimitated the example of Christ, that they realized the exalted\nteachings of the Redeemer. You find fault with their contempt for\nthe things of this world. But it is precisely in this that these\nmen are great.\n{763}\nTheir object was not the ephemeral, but the enduring. They\nconsidered life but as the entrance to the eternal destiny of\nman--in direct opposition to the spirit of the times, that dances\nabout the golden calf. The saints did not value earthly goods for\nmore than they were worth. They placed them after self-control\nand victory over our baser nature. Exact and punctual in all\ntheir duties, they were animated by an admirable spirit of\ncharity for their fellow-men. And in this spirit they have\nfrequently revived society. Consider the great founders of\norders--St. Benedict, St. Dominic, St. Vincent de Paul! Party\nspirit, malice, and stupidity have done their worst to blacken,\ndefame, and calumniate them. And yet, in a spirit of\nself-sacrifice, the sons of St. Benedict came among the German\nbarbarians, to bring to them the ennobling doctrines of\nChristianity. It was the Benedictines who cleared the primeval\nforests, educated their wild denizens, and founded schools; who\ntaught the barbarians handiwork and agriculture. Science and\nknowledge flourished in the cloisters. And to the monks alone we\nare indebted for the preservation of classic literature. What the\nmonks did then they are doing now. They forsake home, break all\nties, and enter the wilderness, there to be miserably cut off in\nthe service of their exalted mission, or to die of poisonous\nfevers. Name me one of your modern heroes, whose mouths are full\nof civilization, humanity, enlightenment--name me one who is\ncapable of such sacrifice. These prudent gentlemen remain at home\nwith their gold-bags and their pleasures, and leave the stupid\nmonk to die in the service of exalted charity. It is the\nhypocrisy and the falsehood of the modern spirit to exalt itself,\nand belittle true worth. And what did St. Vincent de Paul do?\nMore than all the gold-bags together. St. Vincent, alone, solved\nthe social problem of his time. He was, in his time, the\npreserver of society, or rather, Christianity through him. And\nto-day our gold-bags tremble before the apparition of the same\nsocial problem. Here high-sounding phrases and empty declamation\ndo not avail. Deeds only are of value. But the inflated spirit of\nthe times is not capable of noble action. It is not the modern\nstate--not enlightened society, sunk in egotism and gold--that\ncan save us. Christianity alone can do it. Social development\nwill prove this.\"\n\n\"I do not dispute the services of the saints to humanity,\" said\nFrank. \"But the question is, Whether society would be benefited\nif the fanatical, dark spirit of the middle ages prevailed,\ninstead of the spirit of modern times?\"\n\n\"The fanatical, dark spirit of the middle ages!\" cried the doctor\nindignantly. \"This is one of those fallacious phrases. The saints\nwere not fanatical or dark. They were open, cheerful, natural,\nhumble men. They did not go about with bowed necks and downcast\neyes; but affable, free from hypocrisy, and dark, sullen\ndemeanor, they passed through life. Many saints were poets. St.\nFrancis sang his spiritual hymns to the accompaniment of the\nharp. St. Charles played billiards. The holy apostle, St. John,\nresting from his labors, amused himself in childish play with a\nbird. Such were these men; severe toward themselves, mild to\nothers, uncompromising with the base and mean. They were all\nabstinent and simple, allowing themselves only the necessary\nenjoyments. They concealed from observation their severe mode of\nlife, and smiled while their shoulders bled from the discipline.\nPride, avarice, envy, voluptuouness, and all the bad passions,\nwere strangers to them; not because they had not the inclinations\nto these passions, but because they restrained and overcame their\nlower nature.\n\n{764}\n\n\"I ask you, now, which men deserve our admiration--those who are\ngoverned by unbounded selfishness, who are slaves to their\npassions, who deny themselves no enjoyment, and who boast of\ntheir degrading licentiousness; or those who, by reason of a pure\nlife, are strong in the government of their passions, and\nself-sacrificing in their charity for their fellowmen?\"\n\n\"The preference cannot be doubtful,\" said Frank. \"For the saints\nhave accomplished the greatest, they have obtained the highest\nthing, self-control. But, doctor, I must condemn that\nsaint-worship as it is practised now. Human greatness always\nremains human, and can make no claims to divine honor.\"\n\nThe doctor swung his arms violently. \"What does this reproach\namount to? Where are men deified? In the Catholic Church? I am a\nProtestant, but I know that your church condemns the deification\nof men.\"\n\n\"Doctor,\" said Frank, \"my religious ignorance deserves this\nrebuke.\"\n\n\"I meant no rebuke. I would only give conclusions. Catholicism is\nprecisely that power that combats with success against the\ndeifying of men. You have in the course of your studies read the\nRoman classics. You know that divine worship was offered to the\nRoman emperors. So far did heathen flattery go, that the emperors\nwere honored as the sons of the highest divinity--Jupiter.\nApotheosis is a fruit of heathen growth; of old heathenism and of\nnew heathenism. When Voltaire, that idol of modern heathen\nworship, was returning to Paris in 1778, he was in all\nearnestness promoted to the position of a deity. This remarkable\nplay took place in the theatre. Voltaire himself went there.\nModern fanaticism so far lost all shame that the people kissed\nthe horse on which the philosopher rode to the theatre. Voltaire\nwas scarcely able to press through the crowd of his worshippers.\nThey touched his clothes--touched handkerchiefs to them--plucked\nhairs from his fur coat to preserve as relics. In the theatre\nthey fell on their knees before him and kissed his feet. Thus\nthat tendency that calls itself free and enlightened deified a\nman--Voltaire, the most trifling scoffer, the most unprincipled,\nbasest man of Christendom.\n\n\"Let us consider an example of our times. Look at Garibaldi in\nLondon. That man permitted himself to be set up and worshipped.\nThe saints would have turned away from this stupidity with\nloathing indignation. But this boundless veneration flattered the\nold pirate Garibaldi. He received 267,000 requests for locks of\nhis hair, to be cased in gold and preserved as relics. Happily he\nhad not much hair. He should have graciously given them his\nmoustaches and whiskers.\"\n\nFrank smiled. Klingenberg's pace increased, and his arms swung\nmore briskly.\n\n\"Such is the man-worship of modern heathenism. This\nhumanitarianism is ashamed of no absurdity, when it sinks to the\nworship of licentiousness and baseness personified.\"\n\n\"The senseless aberrations of modern culture do not excuse saint\nworship. And you certainly do not wish to excuse it in that way.\nThere is, however, a reasonable veneration of human greatness.\nMonuments are erected to great men. We behold them and are\nreminded of their genius, their services; and there it stops. It\noccurs to no reasonable man to venerate these men on his knees,\nas is done with the saints.\"\n\n{765}\n\n\"The bending of the knee, according to the teaching of your\nchurch, does not signify adoration, but only veneration,\" replied\nKlingenberg. \"Before no Protestant in the world would I bend the\nknee; before St. Benedict and St. Vincent de Paul I would\nwillingly, out of mere admiration and esteem for their greatness\nof soul and their purity of morals. If a Catholic kneels before a\nsaint to ask his prayers, what is there offensive in that? It is\nan act of religious conviction. But I will not enter into the\nreligious question. This you can learn better from your Catholic\nbrethren--say from the Angel of Salingen, for example, who\nappears to have such veneration for the saints.\"\n\n\"You will not enter into the religious question; yet you defend\nsaint-worship, which is something religious.\"\n\n\"I do not defend it on religious grounds, but from history,\nreason, and justice. History teaches that this veneration had,\nand still has, the greatest moral influence on human society. The\nspirit of veneration consists in imitating the example of the\nperson venerated. Without this spirit, saint-worship is an idle\nceremony. But that true veneration of the saints elevates and\nennobles, you cannot deny. Let us take the queen of saints, Mary.\nWhat makes her worthy of veneration? Her obedience to the Most\nHigh, her humility, her strength of soul, her chastity. All these\nvirtues shine out before the spiritual eyes of her worshippers as\nmodels and patterns of life. I know a lady, very beautiful, very\nwealthy; but she is also very humble, very pure, for she is a\ntrue worshipper of Mary. Would that our women would venerate Mary\nand choose her for a model! There would then be no coquettes, no\nimmodest women, no enlightened viragoes. Now, as saint-worship is\nbut taking the virtues of the saints as models for imitation, you\nmust admit that veneration in this sense has the happiest\nconsequences to human society.\"\n\n\"I admit it--to my great astonishment, I must admit it,\" said\nRichard.\n\n\"Let us take a near example,\" continued Klingenberg. \"I told you\nof the singular qualities of Angela. As she passed, I beheld her\nwith wonder. I must confess her beauty astonished me. But this\nastonishing beauty, it appears to me, is less in her charming\nfeatures than in the purity, the maidenly dignity of her\ncharacter. Perhaps she has to thank, for her excellence, that\nsame correct taste which leads her to venerate Mary. Would not\nAngela make an amiable, modest, dutiful wife and devoted mother?\nCan you expect to find this wife, this mother among those given\nto fashions--among women filled with modern notions?\"\n\nWhile Klingenberg said this, a deep emotion passed over Richard's\nface. He did not answer the question, but let his head sink on\nhis breast.\n\n\"Here is Frankenh\u00f6he,\" said the doctor. \"As you make no more\nobjections, I suppose you agree with me. The saints are great,\nadmirable men; therefore they deserve monuments. They are models\nof virtue and the greatest benefactors of mankind; therefore they\ndeserve honor. '_Quod erat demonstrandum_.'\"\n\n\"I only wonder, doctor, that you, a Protestant, can defend such\nviews.\"\n\n\"You will allow Protestants to judge reasonably,\" replied\nKlingenberg. \"My views are the result of careful study and\nimpartial reflection.\"\n\n{766}\n\n\"I am also astonished--pardon my candor--that with such views you\ncan remain a Protestant.\"\n\n\"There is a great difference between knowing and willing, my\nyoung friend. I consider conversion an act of great heroism, and\nalso as a gift of the highest grace.\"\n\nRichard wrote in his diary:\n\n  \"If Angela should be what the doctor considers her! According\n  to my notions, such a being exists only in the realm of the\n  ideal. But if Angela yet realizes this ideal? I must be\n  certain. I will visit Siegwart to-morrow.\"\n\n            To Be Continued.\n\n----------\n\n           From The German\n\n        The Flight Into Egypt.\n\n\n  Greenwood tent, new splendors wear,\n     Let thy festal tree-tops glisten;\n     Stag, come here to look and listen;\n  For the world's joy draweth near!\n     Flowers, unclose your lids, that clearer\n     Light your dew-wet eyes may mirror.\n        Blossom! blossom!\n\tOn her bosom\n  Lo! the mother bears the Child!\n\n  Glad-winged birds, from forest dim,\n     Hither fly, where peace long-sought is;\n     Sing melodious jubilates,\n  With the bless\u00e8d cherubim.\n     Morning airs, come quick! with tender\n     Thrill breathe on the branches slender;\n        Breathe and hover!\n\tRough ways over\n   Comes the mother with the Child!\n\n   Stag, birds, trees, and breezes blest,\n      Triumph in harmonious numbers--\n      Fear not to disturb the slumbers\n   Of the Babe upon her breast.\n      Gently lull him with your voices,\n      O'er whom all the world rejoices!\n         Sing, adore him!\n         Bend before him!\n   Hail the mother with the Child!\n\n----------\n\n{767}\n\n  Hon. Thomas Dongan, Governor of New York. [Footnote 187]\n\n    [Footnote 187: Authorities: O'Callaghan's _Documentary and\n    Colonial Histories of New York_. Bancroft's _History of\n    the United States_. Lingard's _History of England_.\n    Bishop Bayley's _History of the Catholic Church in New\n    York_. O'Callaghan's _Journal of the Legislature of New\n    York_, especially a note thereto, by George H. Moore, Esq.\n    Shea's _History of the Catholic Missions_. Campbell's\n    _Life and Times of Archbishop Carroll_. DeCourcy and\n    Shea's _Catholic Church in the United States_, etc.]\n\n\nThe student of Catholic history may be permitted to recall, with\nan honorable pride, the illustrious name and recount the eminent\npublic services of Colonel Thomas Dongan, who, while the only\nCatholic, was one of the most able and accomplished, of the\ncolonial governors of New York. His life and exploits are but\nlittle known, even among Catholics; and while his merits place\nhim without a superior in the honored list of our governors, it\nyet remains, for the Catholic historian especially, to rescue his\nfame from obscurity, and to weave together, from scattered\nhistorical fragments, the story of a career at once brilliant and\nuseful, checkered and romantic. As soldier, ruler, exile,\nnobleman, or Christian gentleman, he is equally entitled to a\ndistinguished place among the remarkable men of his age. His\nposition was a most difficult and delicate one--a Catholic ruler\nover Protestant subjects, at a time when religious rivalries and\nanimosities formed the mainspring of public and private political\naction. It is no small achievement that, in so trying an office,\nhe acquitted himself to the satisfaction of friend and foe; and\nthat Protestant and Catholic historians unite in commending his\nwise and honorable course. As a patriot, he has won our national\ngratitude; for it is to his courage and address that we are\nindebted for the invaluable service of having extended the\nnorthern frontier of our republic to the great lakes. His\ndevotion to civil and religious liberty places his name with that\nof Calvert, in the hearts of Catholics; while both should be\nhallowed together by all lovers of free government.\n\nThe subject of this memoir was descended from a noble and ancient\nIrish family, distinguished for an energy of character and\nenterprising spirit which he did not allow to expire with his\nancestors. His father was Sir John Dongan, baronet, of\nCastletoun, in the county of Kildare, Ireland. He was also nephew\nto Richard Talbot, Earl of Tyrconnel, who figured conspicuously\nin the reign of Charles II., as he did in that of James II. This\nEarl of Tyrconnel, uncle to Governor Dongan, was one of those\nagainst whom Titus Oates informed. He was made\nlieutenant-governor of Ireland, and afterward lord deputy, on the\nrecall of Clarendon, by James II.; and he aimed at rendering\nIreland independent of England, in the event of the Prince of\nOrange succeeding in his efforts to gain the throne. In\nfurtherance of his patriotic designs, Earl Tyrconnel solicited of\nJames permission to hold an Irish parliament; but that monarch,\nsuspecting his purpose, rejected the measure.\n\nThomas Dongan was born in 1634; and, after being well-grounded in\nhis religion, and in secular learning, was trained to the\nprofession of a soldier. He entered the military service of\nFrance, and served as colonel of a French regiment, under Louis\nXIV.[Footnote 188]\n\n    [Footnote 188: We find his name rendered in French documents\n    as _Colonel D'Unguent_.]\n\n{768}\n\nHis services there were so highly prized that it was with great\ndifficulty and at considerable sacrifice that he was able to\nwithdraw from it. In 1677-8, after the English parliament had\nforced Charles II. to break with Louis XIV., an order was issued\ncommanding all British subjects in the service of France to\nreturn home. Colonel Dongan obeyed the order of his own\nsovereign; and he himself informs us that he was obliged to quit\n\"that honorable and advantageous post, and resisted the\ntemptations of greater preferment, then offered him, if he would\ncontinue there; for which reason the French king commanded him to\nquit France in forty-eight hours, and refused to pay him a debt\nof sixty-five thousand livres, then due him for recruits and\narrears, upon an account stated by the intendant of Nancy.\" No\nsubsequent efforts of Colonel Dongan succeeded in appeasing the\nFrench king's resentment, or in securing the payment of his\nclaim.\n\nOn his return from the French service to England, he was\nappointed, by Charles II., a general officer in the English army,\nthen destined for Flanders, and had an annual pension of \u00a3500\nsettled on him for life, in consideration of his losses in\nFrance. But it is regarded as quite certain that he did not go to\nFlanders under this appointment, to defend and support the\nEnglish garrisons in that country, then menaced by the French;\nfor, in the same year, he was appointed lieutenant-governor of\nTangier, a position which he accepted, and continued to fill\nuntil the year 1680.\n\nAt this time, the American province of New York was under the\nproprietary government of James, Duke of York, whose deputy's\nadministration of the affairs of the colony had produced great\ndiscontent among the people. His governor, Andros, had been\nrecalled to answer the charges of the people; had returned to New\nYork, acquitted by the duke, and resumed the imposition of the\nheavy system of taxation which had weighed so heavily on the\ncitizens, and produced such discontent. But the resistance of the\npeople, not stopping short even of calling in question the\nsupreme authority of the duke, seconded by the remonstrances of\nWilliam Penn, finally had the desired effect. Andros was\nrecalled, and Colonel Dongan appointed to succeed him as governor\nof New York. His commission from the Duke of York, bearing date\nSeptember 30th, 1682, contains the following appointing clause:\n\n  \"And whereas, I have conceived a good opinion of the integrity,\n  prudence, ability and fittness of Coll. Thomas Dongan, to be\n  employed as my Lieutent there, I have therefore thought fitt to\n  constitute and appoint him ye said Coll. Thos to be my Lt and\n  Govr within ye lands, islands, places aforesaid (except the\n  said East and West New Jersey) to performe & execute all and\n  every the powers wch are by the said lettrs pattents granted\n  unto me to be executed by me, my Deputy, Agent or Assignes.\"\n\nThe written instructions received by the new governor from the\nDuke of York, bearing date January 27th, 1683, direct him: First,\nto call together the council of the duke, consisting of\nFredericke Phillipps, Stephen Courtland, and other eminent\ninhabitants, not exceeding ten councillors. Second, and most\nimportant of all, to issue warrants to the sheriffs of the\ncounties for an election of a general assembly of all the\nfreeholders of the province, to pass laws \"for the good weale and\ngovernment of the said Colony and its Dependencyes, and of all\ninhabitants thereof.\"\n{769}\nThe assembly was not to exceed eighteen members, and was to\nassemble in the city of New York. Third, to give or withhold his\nassent to such laws as the general assembly might pass, as he\nmight approve or disapprove of the same, etc. Fourth, the laws so\npassed to be permanent. Fifth, \"And I doe hereby require and\ncommand you yt noe man's life, member, freehold, or goods, be\ntaken away or harmed in any of the places undr yor government but\nby established and knowne laws not repugnant to, but as nigh as\nmay be agreable to the laws of the kingdome of England.\" Sixth,\nto repress \"drunkennesse and debauchery, swearing and blasphemy,\"\nand to appoint none to office who may be given to such vices; and\nto encourage commerce and merchants. Seventh, to exercise general\ndiscretionary powers, except that of declaring war, without the\nduke's consent. The eighth relates to assessment of the estates\nof persons capable of serving as jurors. Ninth, to establish\ncourts of justice, and to sell the royal lands. Tenth, to pardon\noffences. Eleventh, to erect custom-houses and other public\nbuildings. Twelfth, to organize the militia. Thirteenth, to\nsettle the boundaries of the province. Fourteenth, to encourage\nplanters, and to lay no tax on commerce, except according to\nestablished laws. Fifteenth, to purchase Indian lands. Sixteenth\nrelates to the granting of a liberal charter to the city of New\nYork. Seventeenth, to send reports, by every ship, of the\nprogress of the colony, and to regulate internal trade; and\neighteenth, to devote his life, time, etc., to the faithful\ndischarge of his duties.\n\nThe admirable document of which the foregoing is a brief\nsynopsis, containing as it does the general principles of all\ngood government, was, no doubt, designed to meet the former evils\ncomplained of by the people of New York. That the influence of\nColonel Dongan, during the eight months or so that he remained in\nEngland between his appointment and departure for New York, was\nwholesomely exerted in impressing a liberal and enlightened\ncharacter upon the policy and instructions of the home\ngovernment, cannot be doubted. No one was better fitted by\nexperience, good judgment, and inclination, for such a task. The\ndocument itself, the most just and liberal that ever emanated\nfrom an English sovereign, goes far to vindicate the name and\ncharacter of James II.\n\nThe new governor arrived at New York on the 25th of August, 1683,\nand entered upon the duties of his office--duties rendered more\ndelicate and embarrassing by the excitement through which the\ncommunity had just passed, the high and extravagant expectations\nbuilt upon a new appointment, made with the view of remedying old\ncomplaints, and by the fact that he himself was a professed and\nzealous Catholic, while the community whose destinies he was\ncommissioned to guide were almost without exception Protestants,\nand peculiarly inclined, at that time, to look with distrust and\nhatred upon all \"Papists.\" That such was the case, we are told by\nall the historians of the state and city; but that, by his\naddress, good government, and enlightened policy, Governor Dongan\nsoon removed this difficulty, we have the same authority for\nasserting. Smith says of him, \"He was a man of integrity,\nmoderation, and genteel manners, and, though a professed papist,\nmay be classed among the best of our governors;\" and adds \"that\nhe surpassed all his predecessors in a due attention to our\naffairs with the Indians, by whom he was highly esteemed.\"\n{770}\nValentine writes, that \"he was a Roman Catholic in his religious\ntenets, which was the occasion of much remark on the part of the\nProtestant inhabitants of the colony. His personal character was\nin other respects not objectionable to the people, and he is\ndescribed as a man of integrity, moderation, and genteel manners,\nand as being among the best of the governors who had been placed\nin charge of this province.\" And Booth also writes of him, \"He\nwas of the Roman Catholic faith, a fact which rendered him, at\nfirst, obnoxious to many; but his firm and judicious policy, his\nsteadfast integrity, and his pleasing and courteous address, soon\nwon the affections of the people, and made him one of the most\npopular of the royal governors.\" Colden, in his history of the\nFive Nations, calls him an \"honest gentleman,\" and \"an active and\nprudent governor.\"\n\nThe governor at once organized his council, which, as well from\nnecessity as from prudent policy, was composed of gentlemen of\nthe Dutch Reformed and English churches. Regarding his functions\nas purely civil, he did not, in the government of the colonists,\nwho were Protestants, advance his views upon subjects not\nconnected with civil government offensively before them, as they\nfeared he would do. He might have induced over from the old\ncountry members of his own church to form his council; but\nneither duty nor prudence recommended this measure. Catholics,\nhowever, were no longer excluded from office, nor from the\npractice of their religion. The governor had a chapel, in which\nhimself, his suite, his servants, and all the Catholics of the\nprovince, could attend divine service according to their own\ncreed. A Jesuit father, who accompanied him from England, was his\nchaplain.\n\nHe proceeded at once, according to his instructions, to issue his\nwarrants for the election of a general assembly. This was an\nauspicious beginning of his administration, as it was a\nconcession from the Duke of York for which the people had long\nstruggled. This illustrious body, consisting of the governor, ten\ncouncillors, and seventeen representatives elected by the people,\nassembled in the city of New York, on the 17th of October, 1683.\nAs he was the first, so he was the most liberal and friendly\nroyal governor, that presided over the popular legislatures of\nNew York; and the contests between arbitrary power and popular\nrights, which distinguished the administration of future\ngovernors, down to the Revolution, did not have their origin\nunder his administration. The first act of the general assembly\nwas the framing of a charter of liberties--the first guaranty of\npopular government in the province; and Governor Dongan, as he\nwas the first governor to sign the charter of civil and religious\nliberty in New York, was, not many years afterward, the first\ncitizen persecuted for his religion after its adoption. This\nnoble charter ordained,\n\n  \"That supreme legislative power should for ever reside in the\n  governor, council, and people, met in general assembly; that\n  every freeholder and freeman might vote for representatives\n  without restraint; that no freeman should suffer but by the\n  judgment of his peers, and that all trials should be by a jury\n  of twelve men; that no tax should be assessed, on any pretext\n  whatever, but by the consent of the assembly; that no seaman or\n  soldier should be quartered on the inhabitants against their\n  will; that no martial law should exist; that no person,\n  professing faith in God, by Jesus Christ, should, at any time,\n  be in any way disquieted or questioned for any difference of\n  opinion in matters of religion.\"\n\n{771}\n\nIt was provided that the general assemblies were to convene at\nleast triennially; new police regulations were established;\nSunday laws were enacted; tavern-keepers were prohibited from\nselling liquor except to travellers; children were prohibited\nfrom playing in the street, citizens from working, and Indians\nand negroes from assembling, on the Sabbath; twenty cartmen were\nlicensed, on condition that they should repair the highways\ngratis, when called on by the mayor, and cart the dirt from the\nstreets beyond the limits of the city. The inhabitants were\nrequired to sweep the dirt of the streets together every Saturday\nafternoon, preparatory to its removal by the cartmen. On the 8th\nof December, 1683, the city was divided into six wards, each of\nwhich was entitled to elect an alderman and councilman annually,\nto represent them in the government of the city. The appointment\nof the mayor was reserved to the governor and council, and was\nnot made elective by the people until after the American\nRevolution.\n\nIn 1685, on the death of Charles, the Duke of York succeeded to\nthe English crown, under the title of James II. Governor Dongan,\nby special orders from the home government, proclaimed King James\nthroughout the province. Indian and French disturbances having\nceased, all was now quiet along the northern frontier, and the\ngovernor, skilfully availing himself of the opportunity, caused\nthe king's arms to be put upon all the Indian castles along the\nGreat Lake, and they, he writes to Secretary Blathwayt, submitted\nwillingly to the king's government. In 1686, Governor Dongan\nreceived a new commission, bearing date on the 10th of June of\nthat year. This was a very different document from his first\ncommission, and manifests the change in favor of arbitrary power\nwhich took place in the sentiments and policy of James on his\naccession to the throne. The general assembly was abolished and\nthe legislative power was vested in the governor and council,\nsubject to the approval of the king; they were also authorized to\nproclaim and enforce martial law, to impose taxes, etc. It has\nbeen erroneously stated by one of our historians that James, in\nthis document, instructed Governor Dongan \"to favor the\nintroduction of the Roman Catholic religion into the province--a\ncourse of policy which the governor, himself a Catholic, was\nreluctant to adopt;\" whereas, the only provision therein relating\nto religion is in these words:\n\n  \"And wee doe, by these presents, will, require, and command you\n  to take all possible care for the Discountenance of Vice and\n  encouragement of Virtue and good-living, that by such example\n  the Infidels may bee invited and desired to partake of the\n  Christian Religion.\"\n\nAccording to this commission, the general assembly was dissolved\non the 6th of August, 1685, and no other was convened during the\nreign of James. Notwithstanding this radical change in the\norganic law of the province, the mild, liberal, and judicious\nadministration of the governor caused the exercise of arbitrary\npower to be but lightly felt by the people.\n\nIn 1686, Governor Dongan signalized his administration by\ngranting, in the name and by the authority of the king, the\ncelebrated charter of the city of New York known as the _Dongan\nCharter_, bearing date the 22d of April of that year. This\ndocument constitutes to this day the basis and foundation of the\nmunicipal laws, rights, privileges, public property, and\nfranchises of the city. It was confirmed and renewed by Governor\nMontgomery, on the 15th day of January, 1730, in the reign of\nGeorge II.\n{772}\nThis charter was granted on the petition of the mayor and common\ncouncil of the city of New York, addressed \"To the Right\nHonorable Colln. Dongan, Esqr., Lieutennant & Governor & Vice\nAdmirall under his Royall Highness, James Duke of York and\nAlbany, &c., of New York and Dependencyes in America.\" In this\npetition are recited the ancient privileges and incorporation of\nthe city, and especially the fact that the whole island of\nManhattan had been made a part of the corporation, and all the\ninhabitants thereof were subject to the government of the city;\nand praying a re-grant and confirmation of the same, and of all\ntheir ancient rights and privileges. The charter itself confirms\nall the ancient franchises and grants to the city, and confers\nmany new ones upon it; it grants to the city the waste or\nunappropriated lands on the island, and concedes the right of\nlocal or municipal legislation, the ferries, markets, docks,\netc., and covers thoroughly the whole ground of municipal\ngovernment. It would seem, from an endorsement made on the\npetition in the office of the home government, by the secretary\nthrough whose hands it passed, that the new charter should be\ngranted on the express condition that the old charter be\nsurrendered; \"otherwise, they may keep all their Old Priviledges\nby virtue of that, and take ye additions by this new one, without\nSubjecting their Officers, &c., to the approbation & Refusall,\n&c., of ye governors.\"\n\nAmong other public measures and acts of Governor Dongan may be\nmentioned, that he proposed to the home government the\nestablishment of post-offices, or \"post-houses,\" as they were\ncalled, all along the Atlantic coast within the English\ndominions, and the establishment of a mint. French Protestants,\nresorting to the colony for trade or business of any kind, were\nnot to be molested. The fort was supported for one year at his\nprivate expense, during the insufficiency of the public revenue\nunder Collector Santen. He obtained a release from the Ranseleers\nto the lands in Albany, and then granted a charter to that town;\nand he endeavored to bring about the union of New Jersey and\nConnecticut, under one and the same government with New York, as\na measure of public safety and strength. In 1686, the governor's\nsalary was raised from \u00a3400 to \u00a3600 per annum. The governor's\nresidence was at the fort, and there was attached to the office\nthe products or rents of a farm, called, at various times, the\ngovernor's, duke's, or king's farm, and of another smaller piece\nof land, called the queen's garden, which were subsequently\ngranted to and remain to this day the property of the corporation\nof Trinity Church. It may also be mentioned, as an evidence of\nGovernor Dongan's popularity, that there is to be found, in a\nlist of the titles of acts passed by the general assembly in\n1684, the following title, \"A Bill for a present to the\nGovernor.\"\n\nWe are told by the historians that \"considerable improvements\nwere made in the city in Governor Dongan's time.\" [Footnote 189]\n\n    [Footnote 189: Valentine.]\n\nThe city wall, erected in 1653, on the present line of Wall\nstreet, which derived its name from this circumstance, ran\nthrough the farm of Jan Jansen Damen; and from Broadway to Pearl\nstreet, the lands north of the wall were, in Governor Dongan's\ntime, in possession of Damen's heirs, who were now induced to\npart with the same, so that the wall was removed and these\nvaluable lots brought at once into the market, and were soon\nimproved.\n{773}\nAfterward, Governor Dongan determined still further to enlarge\nthe city, to demolish the old fortifications, which were in a\nstate of decay, and to erect new defences further out. Wall\nstreet was laid out on the site of the old city wall. \"The street\nwas afterwards favored by the erection of the city hall on the\nsite of the present custom-house, and of Trinity Church, facing\nits westerly extremity, and soon became one of principal streets\nof the city.\" In 1687, a new street was laid out between\nWhitehall street and Old Slip, and the corporation sold the lots\non condition that the purchasers should build the street out\ntoward the water and protect it against the washing of the tide.\nThese improvements were not carried into effect until several\nyears afterward. This is the present Water street. In the second\nyear of Governor Dongan's administration, 1684, the vessels of\nNew York consisted of three barques, three brigantines,\ntwenty-six sloops, and forty-six open boats; facts which convey\nsome notion of the commerce and prosperity of New York at that\ntime.\n\nGovernor Dongan manifested great activity and energy in the\nconduct of public affairs. His report on the condition of the\ncolony is a document replete with intelligence, vigor, and\npractical experience, and shows that no part of the colony,\nhowever remote, escaped his attention and care; and no branch of\nthe public service was neglected by him. Mr. Santen, the\ncollector of the port, became a defaulter to the amount of \u00a33000,\nand was the occasion of great embarrassment and loss to Governor\nDongan, who, however, on his part, acted promptly in the\npremises, by seizing the books of the delinquent official,\ncausing him to be arrested and brought before the council for\ntrial, and, on his proving refractory, sending him to England.\nWhile in England, the displaced collector preferred charges\nagainst Governor Dongan, who defended himself in that able and\nconclusive document, or report, on the condition of the colony,\naddressed to the lords of the home government, to which allusion\nhas just been made. The following extract will show how\ncharacteristically he defended himself against one of Mr.\nSanten's charges:\n\n  \"To the Tenth: Concerning my Covetousness, as hee is pleased to\n  term it. Here, (if Mr. Santen speaks true, in saying I have\n  been covetous,) it was in the management of this small Revenue\n  to the best advantage, and had Mr. Santen been as just as I\n  have been careful, the King had not been in debt, and I had\n  more in my pocket than now I have.\"\n\nThis document also shows how active Governor Dongan was to secure\nthe beaver and other Indian trade for the province; his zeal\nwould not stop short of confining the French to the other side of\nthe great lakes, and William Penn and his people south of a line\ndrawn from a point on the Delaware \"to the falls in the\nSusquehanna.\" [Footnote 190]\n\n    [Footnote 190: Wyalusing Falls, Bradford County,\n    Pennsylvania.]\n\nThe report is also full of valuable suggestions on the future as\nwell as the past and present government of the province, and\ncontains valuable statistics relating to the courts of justice,\nthe public revenues, trade and commerce, population, the Indians,\nshipping, agriculture, and every other public interest.\n\nGovernor Dongan distinguished his administration in an especial\nmanner by his attention to the relations and interests of the\nprovince connected with the Indian tribes within and adjoining\nit; and he is admitted by historians to have surpassed all his\npredecessors in this department of public affairs, and to have\nbeen held in the greatest esteem by the Indians themselves.\n{774}\nWhile seeking their alliance, their trade, and their submission\nto his government, he ever treated them with frankness,\ngenerosity, and true friendship. The grateful savages always\naddressed him by the friendly name of \"Corlear;\" [Footnote 191]\n\"and the name of 'Dongan, the white father,' was remembered in\nthe Indian lodges long after it had grown indifferent to his\ncountrymen at Manhattan.\" His master-stroke of Indian policy was\nin gaining the alliance of the Five Nations, securing their\nsubmission to the English government in preference to that of\nFrance, and carrying our northern frontier to the great lakes.\n\n    [Footnote 191: This was the name of one of the old Dutch\n    inhabitants, who had conferred a great boon upon the Indians,\n    and by his timely intervention saved a large number of them\n    from a contemplated massacre in one of their wars. Whenever\n    afterward they wished to address a person in terms of strong\n    attachment and confidence, they called him \"_Corlear_.\"]\n\nThe Five Nations were a confederacy of the five most powerful\nIndian tribes of the north: the Mohawks, the Oneidas, the\nOnondagas, the Cayugas, and the Senecas. They were usually\ncalled, by the French, by the name of \"Iroquois.\" Their\nconfederation dates back beyond the limits of their history, as\nknown to the white race; and both, like that of other nations in\ntheir origin, are only known to us through dim traditions and\nfabulous exaggerations. They were united when the French came to\nCanada; for we are told, that, \"when Champlain arrived in Canada,\nhe found them united in a war against the Adirondacks, or\nAlgonquins; and, as he settled in the country of the latter, he\naccompanied them in one of their hostile incursions, and, by the\nassistance of the French, a body of the Five Nations was\ndefeated.\" They long felt a resentment for this act of hostility,\nalthough they received missionaries from the French, and, in a\ngreat measure, embraced the Christian faith. On the arrival of\nthe Dutch, a trade sprang up between the inhabitants of New\nAmsterdam and the Indians of the Five Nations; and the latter, by\nexchanging their furs for fire-arms, became more powerful and\nmore terrible to their enemies. It does not seem that the Dutch\ngovernment laid any claim to their country, or to their\nallegiance; though Governor Dongan, in his controversy with the\nFrench, claimed that his pretensions were based upon a Dutch\ntitle. Their form of government was federal, like our own. Each\nnation had its own separate government, for the regulation of\ntheir local and individual affairs, and a general government in\nall things relating to their common interests. They were the most\npowerful, the most permanent, and the most capable Indian\norganization in America. Like the Romans, they incorporated the\nnations they conquered into the confederacy, with equal rights;\nor, if this were impracticable, they destroyed their enemies\nentirely. Such was their power that they exacted tribute from\nneighboring tribes. In 1715, the Tuscaroras of North Carolina\nwere aggregated to the original confederacy, which was thereafter\nknown by the name of the Six Nations.\n\nGovernor Dongan soon perceived the importance of securing the\nfriendship and alliance of these powerful and warlike tribes. The\nDutch had made a treaty of peace with the Five Nations, which had\nnever been openly broken; but as it was necessary to keep\ntreaties with the Indians constantly renewed, in order to prevent\nthem from being forgotten; and, as the Indians had considered\nthemselves, on several occasions, slighted by the English\ngovernors, they had more than once invaded the territories of the\nlatter.\n{775}\nThe French in Canada, as the first Europeans who had visited\ntheir country, claimed it and the allegiance of the tribes.\nFrench missionaries, men of heroic self-sacrifice and profound\npiety, were among them, preaching the Gospel, receiving their\nconfessions of faith, offering up the Christian sacrifice in\ntheir midst, and doing all in their power to improve their\ntemporal and spiritual condition. It was natural, it was probably\nnecessary, that these pious missionaries should bring their\nflocks in contact with their own government; and, while their\nmission and holy office among the Indians were utterly divested\nof all political or worldly motives, they could not avoid being\npowerful instruments, with the French government, in securing the\nadvancement of French interests among those nations. Governor\nDongan, on the other hand, had by his kindness and frankness\ncompletely gained their confidence, and was succeeding well in\ncementing the relations between himself and the Five Nations. He\nsoon discovered the presence of the French missionaries in their\nmidst an obstacle to this policy; and, at the same time, as a\nCatholic, he felt a profound interest in their religious\nenlightenment, and in their adherence to the church of which he\nwas himself a devoted member. To avoid the conflict which might\narise between the duty he owed, on the one hand, to his church\nand his conscience, and, on the other, to his king, he resolved\non the plan of insisting upon his claim to the allegiance of the\nFive Nations, claiming the country to the great lakes, and upon\nthe withdrawal of the French missionaries, and the substitution\nof English Jesuit missionaries in their place. Though receiving\nlittle encouragement from the home government in these measures,\nGovernor Dongan carried them so far into effect as to secure the\nwithdrawal of the French missionaries from three of the Five\nNations, and to obtain the services of English Jesuits at New\nYork, destined for the Indian missions, in the place of French\npriests. Father Harrison arrived in New York in 1685, and Father\nGage arrived there in 1686. But, in consequence of their\nignorance of the Indian language, they were compelled to remain\nin the city while studying it and preparing for the mission. War,\ntoo, soon rendered the field of their missionary zeal and labor\ninaccessible to them, and the sequel of events shows that it was\nneither their own nor the good fortune of the Indians that they\nshould ever reach it. A Catholic writer [Footnote 192] thus\nalludes to Governor Dongan's position on this, to him, delicate\nsubject:\n\n  \"There can be no doubt that Governor Dongan, on coming among\n  the New Yorkers, found that if the measures for converting the\n  Indians were to proceed, the political interests of his own\n  country required that English missionaries should take the\n  place of the French Jesuits, some of whom were incorporated\n  among the Five Nations. The historians of New York assert that\n  no previous governor had made himself so well acquainted with\n  Indian affairs, or conducted the intercourse between the\n  settlers and Indians with so much ability and regard to the\n  interests of the subjects of Great Britain; while, at the same\n  time, he was held in high esteem by the Indians themselves. And\n  it is mentioned, to his honor, by the same historians, who are\n  unsparing in their condemnation of his religion, that he did\n  not permit the identity of his faith with that of the Catholic\n  missionaries of France to prevent him from opposing their\n  residence among the Indian tribes in his province; their\n  influence being calculated to promote the interests and policy\n  of France, and weaken the authority of the English. But it was\n  loyalty to his own government, and a just regard for the\n  interests confided to him, and not indifference to the pious\n  work of Christianizing the Indians, that induced Governor\n  Dongan to oppose the missions of the French.\"\n\n    [Footnote 192: Campbell's _Life and Times of Archbishop\n    Carroll_.]\n\n{776}\n\n\nAnother Catholic author [Footnote 193] thus writes on the same\nsubject:\n\n    [Footnote 193: Shea's _Hist. Cath. Missions_.]\n\n  \"The English colony of New York had now passed under the sway\n  of Colonel Dongan, one of the most enterprising and active\n  governors that ever controlled the destinies of any of the\n  English provinces. His short but vigorous administration showed\n  that he was not only thoroughly acquainted with the interests\n  of England, but able to carry them out. A Catholic, who had\n  served in the French armies, he was biassed neither by his\n  religion nor his former services in the duties of the station\n  now devolved upon him. ... Claiming for England all the country\n  south of the great lakes, he it was who made them a boundary.\n  His first step was to extend the power of New York over the\n  five Iroquois cantons, and bind those warlike tribes to the\n  English interest. His next, to recall the Caughnawagas to their\n  ancient home, by promises of a new location on the plains of\n  Saratoga, where a church should be built for them, and an\n  English Jesuit stationed as their missionary. In this plan he\n  found his efforts thwarted by the missionaries, who, French by\n  birth and attachment, looked with suspicion on the growing\n  English influence in the cantons, as fatal to the missions\n  which had cost so much toil, and who relied little on Dongan's\n  fair words, and subsequent promise to replace them by English\n  members of their society.\"\n\nThe same author, in another work, expresses his confidence in the\nsincerity of Governor Dongan's intentions and promises, and\npoints to the three English Jesuits brought to New York by him,\nas proof of both. [Footnote 194]\n\n    [Footnote 194: _New York Doc. Hist._ Letter of Mr. Shea,\n    iii. 110.]\n\nThe French government of Canada was equally bent on reducing the\nFive Nations to subjection to the king of France. It required no\nserious pretexts to induce the French to carry their plans into\neffect by open war; and pretexts were not long wanting. The\nmurder of a Seneca chief at Mackinaw; an attack by the Iroquois\non a French post in Illinois; the seizure of a flotilla--fanned\nthe embers of war into a flame, and the subjugation of the Five\nNations seemed to be at hand. A large Canadian army was organized\nfor this purpose. It is said by historians, and with probable\ntruth, that the French king had remonstrated with James II.\nagainst Colonel Dongan's interference with the French missions,\nand that James had instructed his governor to desist from this\npolicy; also, that James, on hearing of the designs of the\nCanadians on the Five Nations, supposing that these warlike and\nrefractory tribes, either as subjects or enemies, would be always\na thorn in the side of his province, while within its limits,\nordered Colonel Dongan not to interfere with those designs. But\nColonel Dongan entertained very different views on these\nsubjects. Not only did he insist on replacing the French Jesuits\nwith English members of the same society, but he also proposed,\nboth to the home government and to the governors of Maryland and\nVirginia, that these two provinces should unite with New York in\nresisting the encroachments of the French. He also proposed to\nthe home government a plan of emigration from Ireland to New\nYork, and that one of his own nephews should be appointed to\nconduct and manage the enterprise. He wrote to the home\ngovernment on this subject as follows:\n\n  \"It will be very necessary to send over men to build those\n  forts [the proposed forts along the northern frontier.] ... My\n  lord, there are people enough in Ireland, who had pretences to\n  estates there, and are of no advantage to the country, and may\n  live here very happy. I do not doubt, if his majesty think fit\n  to employ my nephew, he will bring over as many as the king\n  will find convenient to send, who will be no charge to his\n  majesty after they are landed.\"\n\n{777}\n\nGovernor Dongan, notwithstanding his instructions to the\ncontrary, \"was far too honorable to see his allies, (the Five\nNations,) murdered in cold blood, in obedience to the will of his\nsuperiors.\" He sent his messengers to warn the Iroquois of the\nimpending danger, and invited them to meet him at Albany, to\nrenew the old treaty of peace, which had been long ago made\nbetween them and the Dutch, and which had almost faded from the\nmemories of the chiefs.\n\nBoth met punctually at the appointed rendezvous; and Colonel\nDongan made one of his most characteristic and effective speeches\nto them, in which he explained his claims upon them, demonstrated\nthe hostility of the French and his own friendship for them, made\npromises of future aid, and proposed an alliance. The treaty here\nentered into \"was long respected by both parties.\" The clouds of\nwar now burst upon the Five Nations, but found them not\nunprepared. Two invasions of the French were repelled, and\nfinally the invaders, weakened by sickness and unacquainted with\nthe Indian modes of war, returned with scattered ranks to their\nown country, to await the terrible retaliation of an injured foe.\nThe warriors of the Five Nations burst with fury on the Canadian\nsettlements, \"burning, ravaging, and slaying without mercy, until\nthey had nearly exterminated the French from the territory. The\nwar continued until, of all the French colonies, Quebec,\nMontreal, and Three Rivers alone remained, and the French\ndominion in America was almost annihilated; Governor Dongan\nremaining,\" says the historian, \"a firm friend of the Indians\nduring his administration, aiding them by his council, and doing\nthem every good office in his power.\" [Footnote 195]\n\n    [Footnote 195: Booth's _History of the City of New\n    York_.]\n\nBy his bold and independent course, so much at variance with the\nviews of his royal master, Governor Dongan incurred the\ndispleasure of James II., who suspended him from his functions,\nand about April, 1688, the governor resigned his office. The\nfunctions of the office of governor then devolved upon the\ndeputy-governor, Nicholson. Smith, the historian, says of\nDongan's removal from the office which he had graced so well, and\nin which he had done so much for the good of his king and his\nfellow-citizens, that \"he fell into the king's displeasure\nthrough his zeal for the true interest of the province.\"\n\nThe voluminous correspondence between Governor Dongan and Mons.\nDenonville, governor of Canada, on the relations of the two rival\nEnglish and French colonies, published in the _Colonial_ and\n_Documentary_ histories of New York, is replete with\ninterest, as containing valuable information concerning the\naffairs of the day, and as fairly illustrating the character of\nour governor. Though frequently running into bitter personalities\nand irreconcilable conflict, the letters of these two officials\nwere not devoid of personal courtesies and amenities. Thus, we\nsee the French governor acting as a mediator with his sovereign\nin behalf of Governor Dongan, in order that he might recover his\nclaim for services rendered in the French army; and we find\nGovernor Dongan, at one time, regretting that distance prevented\nhim from meeting and interchanging social civilities with his\nrival; and, at another, sending to the Canadian governor a\npresent of oranges, which, he had heard, were a great rarity in\nCanada, and regretting that the messenger's want of \"carriage\"\nprevented him from sending more.\n\n{778}\n\nThere was one point, however, upon which Governor Dongan was ever\nuncompromising; this was his determination to claim the great\nlakes as his boundary, and to submit to nothing short of this. He\ncarried his point even in his own day; for the royal arms of\nEngland were emblazoned on the Indian castles along that border,\nEnglish forts defended it, and the Five Nations recognized the\nking of England as their father. Though wars intervened, this\nboundary was afterward recognized, by solemn treaty, as the line\ndividing the English and French dominions in our day, the visitor\nto the great lakes, and the tourist at the falls of Niagara, sees\nthe American flag floating where Governor Dongan planted its\npredecessor, the standard of our English ancestors. Then,\n\n  \"Proudly hath it floated\n     Through the battles of the sea,\n   When the red-cross flag o'er smoke-wreaths played\n     Like the lightning in its glee.\"\n                       _Hemans_.\n\nNow,\n\n  \"When Freedom from her mountain height\n     Unfurled her standard to the air,\n   She tore the azure robe of night,\n     And set her stars of glory there.\"\n                         _Drake_.\n\nAfter his retirement from office, Governor Dongan spent his time\nin New York and on Staten Island, in both of which places he had\nacquired some property, but resided mostly on his estate on\nStaten Island. He was offered the commission of a major-general\nin the British army, and the command of a regiment in the service\nof James II., all of which he declined to accept.\n\nFrom the time that James II. ascended the English throne,\ndiscontents began to arise among his Protestant subjects, on both\nsides of the ocean, at the transfer of power from the Protestants\nto the Catholics. The appointment of Governor Dongan, \"a\nprofessed papist,\" was offensive at first to the people of the\nprovince of New York; but his upright administration, his\ndevotion to the best interests of the colony, and his personal\npopularity, quelled all actual disturbance during his term of\noffice. We have seen that, soon after his arrival, civil and\nreligious liberty were guaranteed, and that he selected the\ncouncil from members of the Dutch Reformed Church, in order to\ndisarm all prejudices. He certainly was not disposed, however, to\ndebar himself and his fellow-Catholic subjects from the enjoyment\nof that religious liberty which he had done so much to secure for\nothers. He had been accompanied to New York, in 1683, by Father\nThomas Harvey, S.J., who performed the divine services in the\ngovernor's chapel, in the fort, and attended to the spiritual\nwants of the governor, and of such Catholics as were in New York\nduring his administration. Fathers Harrison and Gage were sent\nfor, and arrived in New York afterward, with the view of\nsuperseding the French missionaries among the Indians. It does\nnot appear that large numbers of Catholics emigrated to New York,\nduring his administration, for his plan for encouraging\nemigration from Ireland was not carried into effect; yet it is\nreasonable to suppose that the number of Catholics increased\nsomewhat under the favorable auspices of a Catholic governor.\nAnd, although Matthias Plowman, the successor to Mr. Santer, the\nlate collector, was a Catholic, we do not find that Governor\nDongan filled many of the public offices in his gift with\nCatholics. Mr. Nicholson, the deputy-governor, into whose hands\nGovernor Dongan resigned his office, was not appointed by him,\nbut was the deputy of Governor Andros, who had been appointed by\nthe home government governor of New England and New York, and\nwhose headquarters were at Boston; this Mr. Nicholson was said to\nhave been \"an adherent of the Catholic faith.\" Religious\ncontroversies ran high, however, during this period, and\nhistorians generally inform us that plots were formed by the\nProtestants, not only in England, under James, but also in the\nprovince of New York, under Governor Dongan.\n{779}\nThis seems probable from the readiness with which the people on\nboth sides of the Atlantic rose on their Catholic rulers as soon\nas the opportunity presented itself. This opportunity was\nafforded not long after Governor Dongan's retirement from office,\nin 1689, on the invasion of England by William Prince of Orange,\nand the abdication and flight of James II. from England.\n\nThe tone of public sentiment in New York in 1689 is thus\ndescribed by Bishop Bayley, in his treatise on the _History of\nthe Catholic Church on the Island of New York:_\n\n  \"Smith, describing the disposition and temper of the\n  inhabitants of the colony at the time, shows that,\n  notwithstanding the personal popularity of the governor, the\n  increase of Catholics was looked upon with a suspicious eye. 'A\n  general disaffection,' he says,'to the government prevailed\n  among the people. Papists began to settle in the colony under\n  the smiles of the governor. The collector of the revenues and\n  several principal officers threw off the mask, and openly\n  avowed their attachment to the doctrines of Rome. A Latin\n  school was set up, and the teacher strongly suspected for a\n  Jesuit; in a word, the whole body of the people trembled for\n  the Protestant cause.' The news of the revolution in England,\n  and the subsequent proceedings under Leisler, probably caused\n  such Catholics as were in a situation to get away, to withdraw\n  at the same time with the governor. The documents connected\n  with Leisler's usurpation of authority, as published by\n  O'Callaghan in his _Documentary History of New York_, show\n  how studiously he appealed to the religious prejudices of the\n  people, in order to excite odium against the friends of the\n  late governor, and establish his own claims. The 'security of\n  the Protestant religion,' and the 'diabolical designs of the\n  wicked and cruel papists,' are made to ring their changes\n  through his various proclamations and letters. Depositions and\n  affidavits were published, in which it was sworn that\n  Lieutenant-Governor Nicholson had been several times seen\n  assisting at mass; that the papists on Staten Island 'did\n  threaten to cut the inhabitants' throats,' and to come and burn\n  the city; 'that M. De La Prearie had arms in his house for\n  fifty men; that eighty or a hundred men were coming from Boston\n  and other places, that were hunted away, (no doubt, not for\n  their goodness,) and that there were several of them Irish and\n  papists; that a good part of the soldiers that were in the fort\n  already were papists,' etc. Among other depositions, is one of\n  Andries and Jan Meyer, in which they declare that, 'being\n  delivered from a papist governor, Thomas Dongan, they thought\n  that the deputy-governor in the Fort would defend and establish\n  the true religion; but we found to the contrary. There was a\n  cry that all the images erected by Col. Thomas Dongan in the\n  fort would be broken down and taken away; but when we were\n  working in the fort with others, it was commanded, after the\n  departure of Sir Edmond Andros, by said Nicholson, to help the\n  priest, John Smith,' (supposed to be a name assumed for the\n  sake of safety by one of the Jesuit fathers of New York,) 'to\n  remove, for which we were very glad; but it was soon done,\n  because said removal was not far off, but in a better room in\n  the fort; and ordered to make all things ready for said priest,\n  according to his will, and perfectly, and to erect all things\n  as he ordered, from that time,'\" etc.\n\nMr. Graham says of the state of public feeling prevailing at this\ntime in New York, that\n\n  \"An outrageous dread of popery had invaded the minds of the\n  lower classes of the people, and not only diminished real and\n  substantial evils in their esteem, but nearly extinguished\n  common sense in their understandings, and common justice in\n  their sentiments.\"\n\nDeputy-Governor Nicholson took possession of the government in\nAugust, 1688. On the 24th of that month, Governor Andros issued a\nproclamation for a general thanksgiving throughout the English\nprovinces for the birth of a prince, the son of King James, and\nheir to the English throne. But by the next mail news of quite a\ndifferent character arrived: the invasion of England by the\nPrince of Orange, the flocking of the people to his standard, the\nabdication and flight of King James, and the proclamation of\nWilliam and Mary as king and queen of England.\n{780}\nMr. Nicholson and his followers recognized the authority of\nWilliam and Mary, and, claiming that the commissions issued under\nJames II. still held good, proposed to exercised the functions of\nthe public offices under them, until instructions should be\nreceived from the new government at home. They were supported by\nthe more respectable and wealthy part of the citizens. But the\npopular party took the opposite ground, and contended that all\nthe commissions were now invalid, and that the people should take\nthe government into their own hands until the will of their\npresent majesties should be heard from. They were led on by one\nJacob Leisler, a successful merchant, but a bitter bigot and\nambitious demagogue, and the leader of such as refused all social\nintercourse with Catholics. Leisler had been appointed as early\nas 1683, by Governor Dongan, commissioner of the Admiralty; but,\nwhile holding this office, he was deeply disaffected, and had\npreviously gained some notoriety by his opposition to Rensselaer,\nan Episcopal minister and suspected papist, at Albany, who had\nbeen sent to the province by the Duke of York.\n\nThe revolution commenced in New York by the refusal of Leisler\nand others to pay revenue and taxes to Mr. Plowman, the\ncollector, because he was a Catholic. The people of Long Island\ndeposed their magistrates and elected new ones, and despatched a\nlarge body of militia to New York, \"to seize the fort, and keep\noff popery, French invasion, and slavery.\" The public money,\namounting to \u00a3773 12s., had been deposited, for safe keeping, in\nthe fort which was garrisoned by a few soldiers commanded by a\nCatholic ensign. In order to secure this treasure, the popular\nparty assembled on the 2d of June, 1689, and seized the fort.\nLeisler, who had refused to lead them to attack, on hearing of\nits seizure, went, with forty-seven men, to the fort, was\nwelcomed by the citizens, and acknowledged as their leader. At a\nmeeting of the people, a so-called \"Committee of Safety\" was\nappointed for the immediate government of the province, and\nLeisler was appointed to the chief command. Then followed the\nreign of terror described by Smith, Graham, and other historians.\nCatholics were hunted down in every direction, and many\nProtestants, suspected of being \"papists\" at heart, were treated\nin the same manner. Orders were issued for the arrest of Governor\nDongan--who, since his retirement from office, had been quietly\nresiding on his estate at Staten Island--and all other Catholics,\nwho were compelled to fly for safety. Governor Dongan and other\nCatholics took shelter on board of a vessel in the harbor, where\nthey remained for weeks, during the height of the excitement. He\nprobably was obliged to keep himself concealed. He fled to Rhode\nIsland, and soon afterward returned to Staten Island; his\nservants were arrested, his personal effects--charged, in the\nfrenzy of the hour, to embrace a number of arms--were seized at\nhis mill on Staten Island; and all who pretended to hold\ncommissions under him were ordered to be arrested. So effectually\nwere the Catholics driven from the province that, in 1696, seven\nyears afterward, on a census of Catholics, taken by the mayor of\nthe city by order of Governor Fletcher, only nine names were\nreturned, namely, Major Anthony Brockholes, William Douglass,\nJohn Cooley, Christiane Lawrence, Thomas Howarding, John\nCavalier, John Patte, John Fenny, and Philip Cunningham.\n\n{781}\n\nWhether Governor Dongan returned to England, and again came out\nto the province after the excitement had abated, or remained\nconcealed in the province or neighborhood, seems not to be clear.\nIt is certain, however, that he was in New York in 1791 [sic]. It\nneed only be added here that the \"Charter of Liberties,\" passed\nin 1683, under a Catholic governor, was, with all other laws\npassed by the late general assembly, repealed by the Protestant\nassembly of New York, in 1691, and a so-called \"Bill of Rights\"\npassed, which expressly deprived Catholics of all their political\nand religious _rights_. In 1697 this \"Bill of Rights\" was\nrepealed by King William, \"probably as being too liberal,\" says\nBishop Bayley; and, in 1700, an act was passed which recited that\n\"Whereas, divers Jesuits, priests, and popish missionaries have,\nof late, come, and for some time have had this province, and\nothers of his majesty's adjacent colonies, who, by their wicked\nand subtle insinuations, industriously labored to debauch,\nseduce, and withdraw the Indians from their due obedience to his\nmost sacred majesty, and to excite and stir them up to sedition,\nrebellion, and open hostility against his majesty's priest, etc.,\nremaining in or coming into the province after November 1st,\n1700, should be \"deemed and accounted an incendiary and disturber\nof the public peace and safety, and an enemy of the true\nChristian religion, and shall be adjudged to suffer _perpetual\nimprisonment_,\" that, in case of escape and capture, they\nshould suffer _death_, and that harborers of priests should\npay a fine of two hundred pounds, and stand three days in the\npillory. If it is alleged that the law of 1691 was the result of\nhigh party excitement and public alarm, what excuse, it may be\nasked, is to be alleged for the more illiberal and persecuting\nlaw of 1700? It is but justice to James II., to point to the\n\"Charter of Liberties\" of 1683, passed with his own approbation,\nand at his suggestion, and then to the laws of 1691 and 1700,\npassed under William and Mary, and remark that, though the\nrevolution gave the colonies William and Mary in the place of\nJames, it also gave penal and odious laws, and a deceptive \"Bill\nof Rights,\" in exchange for a \"Charter of Liberties\" that gave\nwhat its title professed to confer. In Maryland, too, whose\nCatholic founders proclaimed civil and religious liberty as the\nbasis of their commonwealth, the same scenes, on a more extended\nscale, were at the same time being enacted; the persecutors in\nNew York were in intimate correspondence with their co-laborers\nin Maryland and New England.\n\nIn 1691, when Governor Dongan saw, from the passage of the \"Bill\nof Rights,\" that Catholics were excluded from the benefits of\ngovernment, and subjected to persecution, he returned to England.\n\nWhile he was governor of New York, in 1685, his brother William,\nwho had, in 1661, been created Baron Dongan and Viscount Claine\nin the Irish peerage, was advanced to the earldom of Limerick,\nwith remainder, on the failure of direct issue, to Colonel Thomas\nDongan. On the breaking out of the revolution and the flight of\nJames II., William, Earl of Limerick, adhered to that monarch,\nand followed him into France; whereupon his estates were\nforfeited, and granted to the Earl of Athlone, an adherent of\nWilliam.\n{782}\nThis grant was confirmed by an act of the Irish parliament, but\nwith a clause saving the right of Colonel Thomas Dongan. Colonel\nDongan, on his return to England, made every effort to recover\nsome portion of his brother's estates. His brother, the Earl of\nLimerick, died at St. Germain in 1698, whereupon Colonel Dongan\nwas introduced to William III. as successor of the late Earl of\nLimerick, and the new earl did homage to the king for his\nearldom, and, according to the feudal custom, kissed the king's\nhand on succeeding to the rank. He was allowed by the government,\nabout the same time, \u00a32500, in tallies, in part payment for\nadvances made by him for public purposes while governor of New\nYork. His persevering efforts to recover the estates of his\ndeceased brother so far finally succeeded as to induce the\npassage of an act of parliament for his relief, on the 25th of\nMay, 1702. He subsequently offered himself for service in the\nAmerican colonies, but it does not appear that he was ever in the\nservice of the crown after his return to England. He died in\nLondon, on the 14th day of December, 1715, and was interred in\nthe church-yard of St. Pancras, Middlesex. The inscription on his\ntombstone reads as follows:\n\n  \"The Right Honble Thomas Dongan,\n        Earl of Limerick.\n       Died December 14th,\n      aged eighty-one years,\n             1715.\n      Requiescat in Pace. Amen.\"\n\nIn addition to the encomiums passed upon him both by Catholic and\nProtestant historians, the following, from De Courcy and Shea's\n_Catholic Church in the United States_, is here inserted:\n\n  \"This able governor was not long enough in office to realize\n  all his plans for the good of the colony, where he had\n  expended, for the public good, most of his private fortune. In\n  this, as in many other points, the Catholic Governor Dongan\n  forms a striking contrast with the mass of colonial rulers, who\n  sought their own profit at the expense of the countries\n  submitted to them. To Dongan, too, New York is indebted for the\n  convocation of the first legislative assembly, the colony\n  having been, till then, ruled and governed at the good pleasure\n  of the governor; and this readiness to admit the people to a\n  share in the government is a fact which the enemies of James\n  II. should not conceal in their estimate of that Catholic\n  monarch.\"\n\nMr. Moore gives us the following particulars in his note, cited\namong the authorities to this article:\n\n  \"This nobleman died without issue. His estates in America were\n  settled chiefly on three nephews, John, Thomas, and Walter\n  Dongan. Lieutenant-Colonel Edward Vaughan Dongan, of the third\n  battalion of New Jersey Volunteers, who died of wounds received\n  in an attack on the British posts on Staten Island, in August,\n  1777, was son of the last-mentioned gentleman. John Charlton\n  Dongan, another collateral relative of the Earl of Limerick,\n  represented Richmond County in the New York Assembly, from 1786\n  to 1789. Representatives of this ancient family are still to be\n  found in New York.\"\n\n  [NOTE.--The above article is condensed from a forthcoming work\n  of Mr. R. H. Clarke, to be entitled, _Lives of Eminent\n  Catholics of the United States_.]\n\n----------\n\n{783}\n\n              Beethoven.\n\n             His Warning.\n\n\nYears passed on, and Beethoven continued to reside at Vienna with\nhis two brothers, who had followed him thither, and took the\ncharge of his domestic establishment, so as to leave him entirely\nat leisure for composition. His reputation had advanced gradually\nbut surely, and he now stood high, if not highest, among living\nmasters. The prediction was beginning to be accomplished.\n\n\n\nIt was a mild evening in the latter part of September, and a\nlarge company was assembled at the charming villa of the Baron\nRaimond von Wetzlar, situated near Sch\u00f6nbrunn. They had been\ninvited to be present at a musical contest between the celebrated\nWolff and Beethoven. The part of Wolff was espoused with great\nenthusiasm by the baron; that of Beethoven by the Prince de\nLichnowsky, and, as in all such matters, partisans swarmed on\neither side. The popular talk among the music-loving Viennese\nwas, everywhere, discussion of the merits of the rival candidates\nfor fame.\n\nBeethoven was walking in one of the avenues of the illuminated\ngarden, accompanied by his pupil, Ferdinand Ries. The melancholy\nthat marked the composer's temperament seemed, more than ever, to\nhave the ascendency over him.\n\n\"I confess to you, Ferdinand,\" said he, apparently in\ncontinuation of some previous conversation, \"I regret my\nengagement with Sonnleithner.\"\n\n\"And yet you have written the opera?\"\n\n\"I have completed it, but not to my own satisfaction. And I shall\nobject to its being produced first at Vienna.\"\n\n\"Why so? The Viennese are your friends.\"\n\n\"For that very reason I will not appeal to their judgment; I want\nan impartial one. I distrust my genius for the opera.\"\n\n\"How can that be possible?\"\n\n\"It is my intimacy with Salieri that has inclined me that way;\nnature did not suggest it; I can never feel at home there.\nFerdinand, I am self-upbraided, and should be, were the applause\nof a thousand spectators sounding in my ears.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the student, \"the artist assumes too much who judges\nhimself.\"\n\n\"But I have not judged myself.\"\n\n\"Who, then, has dared to insinuate a doubt of your success?\"\n\nBeethoven hesitated; his impressions, his convictions, would seem\nsuperstition to his companion, and he was not prepared to\nencounter either raillery or ridicule. Just then the host, with a\nparty of the guests, met them, exclaiming that they had been\neverywhere sought; that the company was all assembled in the\nsaloon, and every thing ready for the exhibition.\n\n\"You are bent on making a gladiator of me, dear baron,\" cried the\ncomposer, \"in order that I may be mangled and torn to pieces, for\nthe popular amusement, by your favorite Wolff.\"\n\n{784}\n\n\"Heaven forbid I should prejudge either combatant!\" cried Von\nWetzlar. \"The lists are open; the prize is not to be awarded by\nme.\"\n\n\"But your good wishes--your hopes--\"\n\n\"Oh! as to that, I must frankly own I prefer the good old school\nto your new-fangled conceits and innovations. But come--the\naudience waits.\"\n\nEach in turn, the two rivals played a piece composed by himself,\naccompanied by select performers. Then each improvised a short\npiece. The delight of the spectators was called forth in\ndifferent ways. In the production of Wolff a sustained elevation,\nclearness, and brilliancy recalled the glories of Mozart's\nschool, and moved the audience to repeated bursts of admiration.\nIn that of Beethoven there was a startling boldness, an impetuous\nrush of emotions, a frequency of abrupt contrasts--and withal a\ncertain wildness and mystery--that irresistibly enthralled the\nfeelings, while it outraged, at the same time, their sense of\nmusical propriety. There was little applause, but the deep\nsilence, prolonged even after the notes had ceased, told how\nintensely all had been interested.\n\nThe victory remained undecided. There was a clamor of eager\nvoices among the spectators; but no one could collect the\nsuffrages, nor determine which was the successful champion in the\ncontest. The Prince Lichnowsky, however, stood up, and boldly\nclaimed it for his favorite.\n\n\"Nay,\" interrupted Beethoven, advancing, \"my dear prince, there\nhas been no contest.\" He offered his hand to his opponent. \"We\nmay still esteem each other, Wolff; we are not rivals. Our style\nis essentially different; I yield to you the palm of excellence\nin the qualities that distinguish you.\"\n\n\"You are right, my friend,\" cried Wolff; \"henceforth let there be\nno more talk of championship between us. I will hold him for my\nenemy who ventures to compare me with you--you so superior in the\npath you have chosen. It is a higher path than mine--an original\none; I follow contentedly in the course marked out by others.\"\n\n\"But our paths lead to the same goal,\" replied Beethoven. \"We\nwill speed each other with good wishes; and embrace cordially\nwhen we meet _there_ at last.\"\n\nThere was an unusual solemnity in the composer's last words, and\nit put an end to the discussion. All responded warmly to his\nsentiment. But amidst the general murmur of approbation, one\nvoice was heard that seemed strangely to startle Beethoven. His\nface grew pale, then flushed deeply; and the next moment he\npressed his way hastily through the crowd, and seized by the arm\na retreating figure.\n\n\"You shall see me in Vienna,\" whispered the stranger in his ear.\n\n\"Yet a word with you. You shall not escape me thus.\"\n\n\"_Auf wiedersehen!_\" And shaking off the grasp, the stranger\ndisappeared.\n\nNo one had observed his entrance; the host knew him not, and\nthough most of the company remarked the composer's singular\nemotion, none could inform him whither the unbidden guest had\ngone. Beethoven remained abstracted during the rest of the\nevening.\n\n{785}\n\nThe opera of _Leonore_ was represented at Prague; it met\nwith but indifferent success. At Vienna, however, it commanded\nunbounded applause. Several alterations had been made in it; the\ncomposer had written a new overture, and the _finale_ of the\nfirst act; he had suppressed a duo and trio of some importance,\nand made other improvements and retrenchments. Not small was his\ntriumph at the favorable decision of the Viennese public. A new\nturn seemed to be given to his mind; he revolved thoughts of\nfuture conquests over the same portion of the realm of art; he no\nlonger questioned his own spirit. It was a crisis in the artist's\nlife, and might have resulted in his choice of a different career\nfrom that in which he has won undying fame.\n\nBeethoven sat alone in his study; there was a light knock at the\ndoor. He replied with a careless \"come in,\" without looking up\nfrom his work. He was engaged in revising the last scenes of his\nopera.\n\nThe visitor walked to the table and stood there a few minutes\nunobserved. Probably the artist mistook him for one of his\nbrothers; but, on looking up, he started with indescribable\nsurprise. The unknown friend of his youth stood beside him.\n\n\"So you have kept your word,\" said the composer, when he had\nrecovered from his first astonishment; \"and now, I pray you, sit\ndown, and tell me with whom I have the honor of having formed\nacquaintance in so remarkable a manner.\"\n\n\"My name is of no importance, as it may or may not prove known to\nyou,\" replied the stranger. \"I am your good genius, if my counsel\ndoes you good; if not, I would prefer to take an obscure place\namong your disappointed friends.\"\n\nThere was a tone of grave rebuke in what his visitor said that\nperplexed and annoyed the artist. It struck him that there was\naffectation in this assumption of mystery, and he observed\ncoldly,\n\n\"I shall not attempt, of course, to deprive you of your\n_incognito_; but if you assume it for the sake of effect, I\nwould merely give you to understand that I am not prone to listen\nto anonymous advice.\"\n\n\"Oh! that you would listen,\" said the stranger, sorrowfully\nshaking his head, \"to the pleadings of your better nature!\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" demanded Beethoven, starting up.\n\n\"Ask your own heart. If that acquit you, I have nothing to say. I\nleave you, then, to the glories of your new career; to the\npopular applause--to your triumphs--to your remorse.\"\n\nThe composer was silent a few moments, and appeared agitated. At\nlast he said, \"I know not your reasons for this mystery; but\nwhatever they may be, I will honor them. I entreat you to speak\nfrankly. You do not approve my present undertaking?\"\n\n\"Frankly, I do not. Your genius lies not this way,\" and he raised\nsome of the leaves of the opera music.\n\n\"How know you that?\" asked the artist, a little mortified. \"You,\nperhaps, despise the opera?\"\n\n\"I do not. I love it; I honor it; I honor the noble creations of\nthose great masters who have excelled in it. But you, my friend,\nare beckoned to a higher and holier path.\"\n\n\"How know you that?\" repeated Beethoven, and this time his voice\nfaltered.\n\n\"Because I know you; because I know the aspirations of your\ngenius; because I know the misgivings that pursue you in the\nmidst of success; the self-reproach that you suffer to be stifled\nin the clamor of popular praise. Even now, in the midst of your\ntriumph, you are haunted by the consciousness that you are not\nfulfilling the true mission of the artist.\"\n\nHis piercing words were winged with truth itself. Beethoven\nburied his face in his hands.\n\n{786}\n\n\"Woe to you,\" cried the unknown, \"if you suppress, till they are\nwholly dead, your once earnest longings after the pure and the\ngood! Woe to you, if, charmed by the syren song of vanity, you\nclose your ears against the cry of a despairing world! Woe to\nyou, if you resign unfulfilled the trust God committed to your\nhands, to sustain the weak and faltering soul, to give it\nstrength to bear the ills of life, strength to battle against\nevil, to face the last enemy!\"\n\n\"You are right--you are right!\" exclaimed Beethoven, clasping his\nhands.\n\n\"I once predicted your elevation, your world-wide fame,\"\ncontinued the stranger; \"for I saw you sunk in despondency, and\nknew that your spirit must be aroused to bear up against trial.\nYou now stand on the verge of a more dreadful abyss. You are in\ndanger of making the gratification of your own pride, instead of\nthe fulfilment of Heaven's will, the aim--the goal of your life's\nefforts.\"\n\n\"Oh! never,\" cried the artist, with you to guide me.\"\n\n\"We shall meet no more. I watched over you in boyhood; I have now\ncome forth from retirement to give you my last warning;\nhenceforth I shall observe your course in silence. And I shall\nnot go unrewarded. I know too well the noble spirit that burns in\nyour breast. You will--yes, you will fulfil your mission; your\nglory from this time shall rest on a basis of immortality. You\nshall be hailed the benefactor of humanity; and the spiritual joy\nyou prepare for others shall return to you in full measure,\npressed down and running over!\"\n\nThe artist's kindling features showed that he responded to the\nenthusiasm of his visitor; but he answered not.\n\n\"And now, farewell. But remember, before you can accomplish this\nlofty mission, you must be baptized with a baptism of fire. The\ntones that are to agitate and stir up to revolution the powers of\nthe human soul come not forth from an unruffled breast, but from\nthe depths of a sorely wrung and tried spirit. You must steal the\ntriple flame from heaven, and it will first consume the peace of\nyour own being. Remember this--and droop not when the hour of\ntrial comes! Farewell!\"\n\nThe stranger crossed his hands over Beethoven's head, as if\nmentally invoking a blessing--folded him in his embrace, and\ndeparted. The artist made no effort to follow him. Deep and\nbitter were the thoughts that moved within him; and he remained\nleaning his head on the table, in silent revery, or walking the\nroom with rapid and irregular steps, for many hours. At length\nthe struggle was over; pale but composed, he took up the sheets\nof his opera and threw them carelessly into his desk. His next\nwork, _Christ in the Mount of Olives_, attested the high and\nfirm resolve of his mind, sustained by its self-reliance, and\nindependent of popular applause or disapprobation. His great\nsymphonies, which carried the fame of the composer to its highest\npoint, displayed the same triumph of religious principle.\n\n\n  The Last Hours Of Beethoven.\n\nOnce more we find Beethoven, in the extreme decline of life. In\none of the most obscure and narrow streets of Vienna, on the\nthird floor of a gloomy-looking house, was now the abode of the\ngifted artist. For many weary and wasting years he had been the\nprey of a cruel malady, that defied the power of medicine for its\ncure, and had reduced him to a state of utter helplessness.\n{787}\nHis ears had long been closed to the music that owed its birth to\nhis genius; it was long since he had heard the sound of a human\nvoice. In the melancholy solitude to which he now condemned\nhimself, he received visits from but few of his friends, and\nthose at rare intervals. Society seemed a burden to him. Yet he\npersisted in his labors, and continued to compose,\nnotwithstanding his deafness, those undying works which commanded\nfor him the homage of Europe.\n\nProofs of this feeling, and of the unforgotten affection of those\nwho knew his worth, reached him in his retreat from time to time.\nNow it was a medal struck at Paris, and bearing his features; now\nit was a new piano, the gift of some amateurs in London; at\nanother time, some honorary title decreed him by the authorities\nof Vienna, or a diploma of membership of some distinguished\nmusical society. All these moved him not, for he had quite\noutlived his taste for the honors of man's bestowing. What could\nthey--what could even the certainty that he had now immortal\nfame--do to soften the anguish of his malady, from which he\nlooked alone to death as a relief?\n\n\"They wrong me who call me stern or misanthropic,\" said he to his\nbrother, who came in March, 1827, to pay him a visit. \"God\nknoweth how I love my fellow-men! Has not my life been theirs?\nHave I not struggled with temptation, trial, and suffering from\nmy boyhood till now, for their sakes? And now if I no longer\nmingle among them, is it not because my cruel infirmity unfits me\nfor their companionship? When my fearful doom of separation from\nthe rest of the human race is forced on my heart, do I not writhe\nwith terrible agony, and wish that my end were come? And why,\nbrother, have I lived, to drag out so wretched an existence? Why\nhave I not succumbed ere now?\n\n\"I will tell you, brother. A soft and gentle hand--it was that of\nart--held me back from the abyss. I could not quit the world\nbefore I had produced all--_had done all that I was appointed\nto do_. Has not such been the teaching of our holy church? I\nhave learned through her precepts that patience is the handmaid\nof truth; I will go with her even to the footstool of the\neternal.\"\n\nThe servant of the house entered and gave Beethoven a large\nsealed package directed to himself. He opened it; it contained a\nmagnificent collection of the works of Handel, with a few lines\nstating that it was a dying bequest to the composer from the\nCount de N----. He it was who had been the unknown counsellor of\nBeethoven's youth and manhood; and the arrival of this posthumous\npresent seemed to assure the artist that his own close of life\nwas crowned with the approval of his friend. It was as if a\n_seal_ had been set on that approbation, and the friendship\nof two noble spirits. It seemed like the dismissal of Beethoven\nfrom further toil.\n\nThe old man stooped his face over the papers; tears fell upon\nthem, and he breathed a silent prayer. After a few moments he\narose, and said, somewhat wildly, \"We have not walked to-day,\nCarl. Let us go forth. This confined air suffocates me.\"\n\nThe wind was howling violently without; the rain beat in gusts\nagainst the windows; it was a bitter night. The brother wrote on\na slip of paper, and handed it to Beethoven.\n\n{788}\n\n\"A storm? Well, I have walked in many a storm, and I like it\nbetter than the biting melancholy that preys upon me here in my\nsolitary room. Oh! how I loved the storm once; my spirit danced\nwith joy when the winds blew fiercely, and the tall trees rocked,\nand the sea lashed itself into a fury. It was all music to me.\nAlas! there is no music now so loud that I can hear it.\n\n\"Do you remember the last time I led the orchestra at Von ----'s?\nAh! you were not there; but I heard--yes, by leaning my breast\nagainst the instrument. When some one asked me how I heard, I\nreplied, '_J'etntends avec mes entraillies._'\"\n\nDisturbed by his nervous restlessness, the aged composer went to\nthe window, and opened it with trembling hands. The wind blew\naside his white locks, and cooled his feverish forehead.\n\n\"I have one fear,\" he said, turning to his brother and slightly\nshuddering, \"that haunts me at times--the fear of poverty. Look\nat this meanly furnished room, that single lamp, my meagre fare;\nand yet all these cost money, and my little wealth is daily\nconsumed. Think of the misery of an old man, helpless and deaf,\nwithout the means of subsistence!\"\n\n\"Have you not your pension secure?\"\n\n\"It depends upon the bounty of those who bestowed it; and the\nfavor of princes is capricious. Then again, it was given on\ncondition I remained in the territory of Austria, at the time the\nking of Westphalia offered me the place of chapel-master at\nCassel. Alas! I cannot beat the restriction. I must travel,\nbrother--I must leave this city.\"\n\n\"You-leave Vienna?\" exclaimed his brother in utter amazement,\nlooking at the feeble old man whose limbs could scarcely bear him\nfrom one street to another. Then, recollecting himself, he wrote\ndown his question.\n\n\"Why? Because I am restless and unhappy. I have no peace, Carl!\nIs it not the chafing of the unchained spirit that pants to be\nfree, and to wander through God's limitless universe? Alas! she\nis built up in a wall of clay, and not a sound can penetrate her\ngloomy dungeon.\"\n\nOvercome by his feelings, the old man bowed his head on his\nbrother's shoulder, and wept bitterly. Carl saw that the delirium\nthat sometimes accompanied his paroxysms of illness had clouded\nhis faculties.\n\nThe malady increased. The sufferer's eyes were glazed; he grasped\nhis brother's hand with a tremulous pressure.\n\n\"Carl! Carl! I pardon you the evil you did me in childhood. Pray\nfor me, brother!\" cried the failing voice of the artist.\n\nHis brother supported him to the sofa and called for assistance.\nIn an hour or two, his friend and spiritual adviser, summoned in\nhaste, had administered the last rites of the church, and\nneighbors and friends had gathered around the dying man. He\nseemed gradually sinking into insensibility.\n\nSuddenly he revived; a bright smile illumined his whole face; his\nsunken eyes sparkled.\n\n\"I shall _hear_ in heaven!\" he murmured softly, and then\nsang in a low but distinct voice the lines from a hymn of his\nown:\n\n  \"Br\u00fcder! \u00fcber'm Sternenzelt,\n   Muss ein lieber _Vater_ wohnen.\"\n\nIn the last faint tone of\nthe music his gentle spirit passed away.\n\nThus died Beethoven, a true artist, a good and generous man, a\ndevout Catholic. Simple, frank, loyal to his principles, his life\nwas spent in working out what he conceived his duty; and though\nhis task was wrought in privation, in solitude, and distress,\nthough happiness was not his lot in this world, doth there not\nremain for him an eternal reward?\n\n{789}\n\nThe Viennese gave him a magnificent funeral. More than thirty\nthousand persons attended. The first musicians of the city\nexecuted the celebrated funeral march composed by him, and placed\nin his heroic symphony; the most famous poets and artists were\npall-bearers, or carried torches; Hummel, who had come from\nWeimar expressly to see him, placed a laurel crown upon his tomb.\nPrague, Berlin, and all the principal cities of Germany, paid\nhonors to his memory, and solemnized with pomp the anniversary of\nhis death. Such was the distinction heaped on the dust of him\nwhose life had been one of suffering, and whose last years had\nbeen solitary, because he felt that his infirmities excluded him\nfrom human brotherhood.\n\n----------\n\n       The Assumption Of Our Lady.\n\n\n  If sin be captive, grace must find release;\n    From curse of sin the innocent is free.\n  Tomb prison is for sinners that decease;\n    No tomb but throne to guiltless doth agree.\n  Though thralls of sin lie lingering in the grave,\n  Yet faultless corse with soul reward must have.\n\n  The dazzled eye doth dimm\u00e8d light require,\n    And dying sights repose in shrouding shades;\n  But eagles' eyes to brightest light aspire,\n    And living looks delight in lofty glades.\n  Faint-wing\u00e8d fowl by ground do faintly fly:\n  Our princely eagle mounts unto the sky.\n\n  Gem to her worth, spouse to her love ascends;\n    Prince to her throne, queen to her heavenly king;\n  Whose court with solemn pomp on her attends,\n    And choirs of saints with greeting notes do sing.\n  Earth rendereth up her undeserv\u00e8d prey:\n  Heaven claims the right, and bears the prize away.\n\n\t\t\t           Southwell.\n\n----------\n\n{790}\n\n          The Conversion of Rome.\n          [Footnote 196]\n\n    [Footnote 196:\n    1. History of European Morals, from Augustus to Charlemagne.\n    By W. E. H. Lecky. London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1869. 2\n    vols. 8vo.\n    2. History of the Rise and Influence of the Spirit of\n    Rationalism in Europe. By the same. From the London edition.\n    New York: Appleton & Co., 1868. 2 vols. 8vo.]\n\n\nTwo irreconcilable systems of morals have disputed the empire of\nthe earliest times. The one is founded on the fact that God\ncreates man; the other on the assumption that man is himself God,\nor, at least, a god unto himself. The first system finds its\nprinciple in the fact stated in the first verse of Genesis, \"In\nthe beginning God created heaven and earth;\" the second finds its\nprinciple in the assurance of Satan to Eve, \"Ye shall be as gods,\nknowing good and evil.\" The first system is that of the Biblical\npatriarchs, the synagogue, the Christian church, and all sound\nphilosophy as well as of common sense--is the theological system,\nwhich places man in entire dependence on God as principle,\nmedium, and end, and asserts as its basis in us, HUMILITY,\n\"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of\nheaven.\" The other system is the gentile or pagan system, or that\nwhich prevailed with the Gentiles after their falling away from\nthe patriarchal religion. It assumed, in its practical\ndevelopments, two forms, the supremacy of the state and the\nsupremacy of the individual; but in both was asserted the\nsupremacy of man--or man as his own lawgiver, teacher, and\nmaster, his own beginning, middle, and end, and therefore, either\nindividually or collectively, man's sufficiency for himself. Its\nprinciple or basis, then, is PRIDE.\n\nMr. Lecky adopts, as we have shown in our former article, the\npagan, or, more properly, the satanic system of morals, at least\nas to its principle, though in some few particulars he gives the\nsuperiority to Christian morals, particulars in which Christians\nadvanced further than had advanced the best pagan school before\nthe conversion of Rome, but in the same direction, on the same\nprinciple, and from the same starting-point. He nowhere accepts\nthe Christian or theological principle, and rejects everywhere,\nwith scorn, Christian asceticism, which, according to him, is\nbased on a false principle--that of appeasing the anger of a\nmalevolent God. He accepts Christianity only so far as reducible\nto the pagan principle.\n\nThe only points in which Christian morals--for Christian dogmas,\nin his view, have no relation to morals, and are not to be\ncounted--are a progress on pagan morals, are the assertion of the\nbrotherhood of the race and the recognition of the emotional side\nof human nature. But even these two points, as he understands\nthem, are not peculiar to Christianity. He shows that some of the\nlater Stoics, at least, asserted the brotherhood of the race, or\nthat nothing human is foreign to any one who is a man--that all\ngood offices are due to all men; and whoever has studied Plato at\nall, knows that Platonism attached at least as much importance,\nand gave as large a scope to our emotional nature, as does\nChristianity. Christian morals have, then, really nothing\npeculiar, and are, in principle, no advance on paganism. The most\nthat can be said is that Christianity gave to the brotherhood of\nthe race more prominence than did paganism, and transformed the\nPlatonic love, which was the love of the beautiful, into the love\nof humanity.\n{791}\nThis being all, we may well ask, How was it that Christianity was\nable to gain the victory over the pagan philosophers, and to\nconvert the city of Rome and the Roman empire?\n\nMr. Lecky adopts the modern doctrine of progress, and he\nendeavors to prove from the historical analysis of the several\npagan schools of moral philosophy, that the pagan world was\ngradually approaching the Christian ideal, and that when\nChristianity appeared at Rome it had all but attained it, so that\nthe change was but slight, and, there being a favorable\nconjuncture of external circumstances, the change was easily\neffected. The philosophers of the empire had advanced from\nprimitive fetichism to a pure and sublime monotheism; the\nmingling of men of all nations and all religions in Rome,\nconsequent on the extension of the empire over the whole\ncivilized world, had liberalized the views, weakened the narrow\nexclusiveness of former times, and gone far towards the\nobliteration of the distinction of nations, castes, and classes,\nand thus had, in a measure, prepared the world for the reception\nof a universal religion, based on the doctrine of the fraternity\nof the race and love of humanity.\n\nAll this would be very well, if it were true; but it happens to\nbe mainly false. The fact, as well as the idea of progress, in\nthe moral order, is wholly foreign to the pagan world. No pagan\nnation ever exhibits the least sign of progress in the moral\norder, either under the relation of doctrine or that of practice.\nThe history of every pagan people is the history of an almost\ncontinuous moral deterioration. The purest and best period, under\na moral point of view, in the history of the Roman republic, was\nits earliest, and nothing can exceed the corruption of its morals\nand manners at its close. We may make the same remark of every\nnon-Catholic nation in modern times. There is a far lower\nstandard of morals reached or aimed at in Protestant nations\nto-day than was common at the epoch of the Reformation; and the\nmoral corruption of our own country has increased in a greater\nratio than have our wealth and numbers. We are hardly the same\npeople that we were even thirty years ago; and the worst of it\nis, that the pagan system, whether under the ancient Greco-Roman\nform or under the modern Protestant form, has no recuperative\nenergy, and the nation abandoned to it has no power of\nself-renovation. Pagan nations may advance, and no doubt, at\ntimes, have advanced, in the industrial order, in the mechanic\narts, and in the fine arts, but in the moral, intellectual, and\nspiritual order, never.\n\nMr. Lecky confines his history almost entirely to the moral\ndoctrines of the philosophers; but even in these he shows no\nmoral melioration in the later from the earlier, no progress\ntowards Christian morals. In relation to specific duties of man\nto man, and of the citizen to the state, the Christian has,\nindeed, little fault to find with the _De Officiis_ of\nCicero; but we find even in him no approach to the Christian\nbasis of morals. The Greeks never have any conception of either\nlaw or good, in the Christian sense. The [Greek text] was only a\nrule or principle of harmony; it had its reason in the [Greek\ntext], or the beautiful, and could not bind the conscience. The\nLatins placed the end, or the reason and motive of the moral law,\nin the _honestum_, the proper, the decent, or decorous. The\nhighest moral act was _virtus_, manliness,  and consisted in\nbravery or courage.\n{792}\nThe rule was, to be manly; the motive, self-respect. One must not\nbe mean or cowardly, because it was unmanly, and would destroy\none's self-respect. We have here pride, not humility; not the\nslightest approach to the Christian principle of morals, either\nto the rule or the motive of virtue as understood by the\nChristian church.\n\nYet Mr. Lecky tells us the moral doctrines of the philosophers\nwere much superior to the practice of the people. He admits the\npeople were far below the philosophers, and were very corrupt;\nbut we see no evidence that he has any adequate conception of how\ncorrupt they were. What the people were we can learn from the\nsatirists, from the historians, Livy, Sallust, and Tacitus,\nespecially from the _De Civitate Dei_ of St. Augustine, and\nthe writings of the early Greek and Latin fathers. Our author\nacknowledges not only that the philosophers were superior to the\npeople, but also that they were impotent to effect their moral\nelevation or any moral amelioration of their condition. Nothing\nmore true. How, then, if Christianity was based on the pagan\nprinciple of morals, was in the same order with paganism, and\ndiffered from it only in certain details, or, as the schoolmen\nsay, certain accidents--how explain the amelioration of morals\nand manners which uniformly followed whenever and wherever it was\nreceived?\n\nIf, as the author holds, Christianity was really only a\ndevelopment of the more advanced thought of the pagan empire, why\ndid it not begin with the philosophers, the representatives of\nthat advanced thought? Yet nothing is more certain than that it\ndid not begin with them. The philosophers were the first to\nresist it, and the last to hold out against it. It spread at\nfirst among the people, chiefly among the slaves--that is, among\nthose who knew the least of philosophy, who were least under the\ninfluence of the philosophers, and whose morals it is confessed\nthe philosophers did not and could not elevate. This of itself\nrefutes the pretence that Christianity was an offshoot of heathen\nphilosophy. If it had been, and its power lay in the fact that\nthe empire in its progress was prepared for it, its first\nconverts should have been from the ranks of the more advanced\nclasses. But the reverse was the fact. \"You see your calling,\nbrethren,\" says St. Paul to the Corinthians, \"that not many are\nwise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble; but\nthe foolish things of the world hath God chosen, that he may\nconfound the wise; and the weak things of the world hath God\nchosen, that he may confound the strong; and the mean things of\nthe world, and the things that are contemptible, hath God chosen,\nand things that are not, that he might destroy the things that\nare; that no flesh should glory in his sight.\" [Footnote 197] So\nsaid the great teacher of the Gentiles, as if anticipating the\nobjection of modern rationalists. Evidently, then, the pretended\npreparation of the Roman empire for Christianity must count for\nnothing, for Christianity gained its first establishments among\nthose whom that preparation, even if it had been made, had not\nreached.\n\n    [Footnote 197: Cor. i. 26.]\n\nWe cannot follow step by step the author in the special chapter\nwhich he devotes to the conversion of Rome, and the triumph of\nChristianity in the empire. We have already indicated the grounds\non which he explains the marvellous fact.\n{793}\nHe denies all agency of miracles, will recognize no supernatural\naid, and aims to explain it on natural principles or by natural\ncauses alone. Thus far he has certainly failed; but let us try\nhim on his own ground. We grant that the breaking down of the\nhundred nationalities and fusing so many distinct tribes and\nraces into one people, under one supreme political authority, did\nin some sense prepare the way for the introduction of a universal\nreligion. But it must be remembered that the fusion was not\ncomplete, and that the work of amalgamating and Romanizing the\nseveral nations placed by conquest under the authority of Rome\nwas only commenced, when Christianity was first preached in the\ncapital of the empire. Each conquered nation retained as yet its\nown distinctive religion, and to a great extent its own\ndistinctive civilization. Gaul, Spain, and the East were Roman\nprovinces, but not thoroughly Romanized, and it was not till\nafter Christianity had gained a footing in the empire that\nprovincials out of Italy were admitted to the rights and\nprivileges of Roman citizenship. The law recognized the religion\nof the state, but it tolerated for every conquered nation its own\nnational religion. There was as yet nothing in the political,\nsocial, or religious order of the empire to suggest a universal\nreligion, or that opened the way for the introduction of a\ncatholic as distinguished from a national religion. All the\nreligions recognized and tolerated were national religions.\nChristianity was always catholic, for all nations, not for any\nparticular nation alone. If, then, at a subsequent period, the\nboasted universality of the empire favored the diffusion of\nChristianity, it did not favor its introduction in the beginning.\nIn all other respects there was, as we read history, no\nevangelical preparation in Rome or the Roman empire. The\nprogress, if progress it may be called, of the Gentiles, had been\naway from the primitive religion reasserted by Christianity, and\nin a direction from, not towards, the great doctrines and\nprinciples of the Gospel. What of primitive tradition they had\nretained had become so corrupted, perverted, or travestied as to\nbe hardly recognizable. They had changed, even with the\nphilosophers, the true basis of morals, and the corrupt morals of\nthe people were only the practical development of the principles\nadopted by even the best of the Gentile philosophers, as\nrationalism is only the development of principles adopted by the\nreformers, who detested it, and asserted exclusive\nsupernaturalism. Even the monotheism of some pagan philosophers\nwas not the Christian doctrine of one God, any more than simple\ntheism--the softened name for deism--or even theophilanthropy is\nChristianity. The Christian God is not only one, but he is the\ncreator of the world, of all things visible and invisible, the\nmoral governor of the universe, and the remunerator of all who\nseek him. The God of Plato, or of any of the other philosophers,\nis no creative God, and the immortality of the soul that Plato\nand his master Socrates defended had hardly any analogy with the\nlife and immortality brought to light through the Gospel. The\nStoics, whom the author places in the front rank of pagan\nmoralists, did not regard God as the creator of the world, and\nthose among them who held that the soul survives the body,\nbelieved not in the resurrection of the flesh, nor in future\nrewards and punishments. Their motive to virtue was their own\nself-respect, and their study was to prove themselves independent\nof the flesh and its seductions, indifferent to pleasure or pain,\nserene and unalterable, through self-discipline, whatever the\nvicissitudes of life.\n{794}\nThe philosophers adopted the morality of pride, and aimed to live\nand act not as men dependent on their Creator, but as independent\ngods, while the people were sunk in the grossest ignorance and\nmoral corruption, and subject to the most base and abominable\nsuperstitions. Such was the pagan empire when Christianity was\nfirst preached at Rome, only much worse than we venture to depict\nit.\n\nNow, to this Roman world, rotten to the core, the Christian\npreachers proclaimed a religion which arraigned its corruption,\nwhich contradicted its cherished ideas on every point, and\nsubstituted meekness for cruelty, and humility for pride, as the\nprinciple of morals. They had against them all the old\nsuperstitions and national religions of the empire, the religion\nof the state, associated with all its victories, supported by the\nwhole power of the government, and by the habits, usages,\ntraditions, and the whole political, military, social, and\nreligious life of the Roman people. They could not move without\nstepping on something held sacred, or open their mouths without\noffending some god or some religious usage; for the national\nreligion was interwoven with the simplest and most ordinary\nusages of private and social life. If a pagan sneezed, no\nChristian could be civil enough to say, \"Jupiter help you,\" for\nthat would recognize a false god. Yet the Christian missionaries\ndid succeed in converting Rome and making it the capital of the\nChristian world, as it was, when they entered it, the capital of\nthe heathen world. You tell me this mighty change was effected,\ncircumstances favoring, by natural and human means! _Credat\nJudaeus Appelles, non ego_.\n\nThe cause of the success, after the preparation named, which\nturns out to have been no preparation at all, were, according to\nthe author, principally the zeal, the enthusiasm, and the\nintolerance or exclusiveness of the Christians, the doctrines of\nthe brotherhood of the race and of a future life, and their\nappeals to the emotional side of human nature. He does not think\nthe conversion of Rome any thing remarkable. The philosophers had\nfailed to regenerate society in the moral order, the old\nreligions had lost their hold on men's convictions, the old\nsuperstitions were losing their terrors, and men felt and sighed\nfor something better than any thing they had. In fact, minds were\nunsettled, and were ready for something new. This description,\nnot very applicable to Rome at the period in question, is not\ninapplicable to the Protestant world at the present time.\nProtestants are no longer satisfied with the results, either\ndogmatic or moral, of the Reformation, and the thinking portion\nof them wish for something better than any thing they have; yet\nnot, therefore, can we conclude that they can easily, or by any\npurely human means, be converted to the Catholic Church; for they\nhave--with individual exceptions, indeed--not lost their\nconfidence in the underlying principle of the Reformation, or\nopened their minds or hearts to the acknowledgment of the\nprinciple, either of Catholic dogma or of Catholic morals. It is\nnot so much that they do not know or misconceive that principle,\nbut they have a deep-rooted repugnance to it, detest it, abhor\nit, and cannot even hear it named with patience. So was it with\nthe pagan Romans. The whole pagan world was based on a principle\nwhich the Christian preacher could not speak without\ncontradicting.\n{795}\nThe Christian ideal was not only above, but antagonistic to the\npagan ideal, and, consequently, the more zealous the Christian\nmissionary, the more offensive he would prove himself. His\nintolerance or exclusiveness might help him whose faith was\nstrong, yet little heeded in practice; but when faith itself was\nnot only wanting but indignantly rejected, it could only excite\nanger or derision.\n\nThe apostle had no _point d'appui_ in the pagan traditions,\nand it was only rarely that he could find any thing in heathen\nauthors, poets, or philosophers that he could press into his\nservice. The pagan, no doubt, had natural reason, but it was so\ndarkened by spiritual ignorance, so warped by superstition, and\nso abnormally developed by false principles, that it was almost\nimpossible to find in it anything on which an argument for the\ntruth could be based. The Gospel was not in the pagan order of\nthought, and the Christian apologists had to support it by\nappealing to a line of tradition which the Gentiles had not, or\nhad only as corrupted, perverted, or travestied. The only\ntraditions they could appeal to were those of the Hebrews, and\nthey found it necessary, in some sort, to convert the pagans to\nJudaism, before they could convince them of the truth of the\nGospel. This was any thing but easy to be done; for the Gentiles\ndespised the Jews and their traditions, and the Jews themselves\nwere the most bitter enemies of the Christians, had crucified the\nfounder of Christianity, and rejected the Christian\ninterpretation of their Scriptures.\n\nThe doctrine of the brotherhood of the race taught by the church\nwas something more than was taught by the philosophers, in fact,\nanother doctrine; and, though it had something consoling to the\npoor, the oppressed, the enslaved, yet these are precisely the\nclasses with whom old traditions linger the longest, and\nprejudices are the most inveterate and hardest to be overcome.\nThey are the classes the most opposed to innovations, in the\nmoral or spiritual order. The Protestant reformers proved this,\nand the peasantry were the last to accept the new gospel they\npreached, and rarely accepted it at all but through the influence\nor compulsion of their princes and nobles. We see, also, now, in\nProtestant countries, that, the peasantry having become\nProtestant, are far more difficult to convert than persons by\nbirth or education belonging to the upper classes. Yet, it was\nprecisely among the lower classes, or rather the slave class,\nthat the Christian missionary had his greatest success; though\nthe emancipation and equality he preached were spiritual only,\nnot physical or social.\n\nThe doctrine of future life the church taught was coupled with\ntwo other doctrines hard for pagans to receive. The mere\ncontinuance of the spirit after the death of the body was, in\nsome form, no doubt, held by the whole pagan world, a few\nsceptics excepted; but the resurrection of the body, or that what\nhad once ceased to live would live again, was a thing wholly\nforeign to the pagan mind. Plato never, to my recollection, once\nhints it, and could not with his general principles. He held the\nunion of the soul with the body to be a fall, a degradation from\nits previous state, the loss of its liberty; regarded the body as\nthe enemy of the soul, as its dungeon, and looked upon death as\nits liberation, as a restoration to its original freedom and joy\nin the bosom of the divinity. The pagans had, as far as I can\ndiscover, no belief in future rewards and punishment in the\nChristian sense.\n{796}\nThey believed in malevolent gods, who, if they failed to appease\ntheir wrath before dying, would torture them after death in\nTartarus; but the idea that a God of love would doom the wicked\nto hell, as a punishment for their moral offences or sins, was as\nhard for them to believe as it is for Mr. Lecky himself. Yet\nChristianity taught it, and brought the whole empire to believe\nit. Christianity, while it delivered the pagans from the false\nterrors of superstition, replaced them by what to the pagan mind\nseemed even a still greater terror.\n\nIn what the author says of appeals to the emotional side of our\nnature, he shows that he has studied paganism with more care and\nless prejudice than he has Christianity. The emotions, as such,\nhave for the Christian no moral or religious value. The love the\nGospel requires is not an emotional love, and Christian morals\nhave little to do with the moral sentiment which Adam Smith\nasserted, or the benevolence which Hucheson held to be the\nprinciple of morality. There is no approach to the Christian\nprinciple in the fine-spun sentiment of Bernardine Saint-Pierre,\nMadame de Sta\u00ebl, or Chateaubriand. Sentimentalism, in any form,\nis wholly foreign to Christian morals and to Christian piety, and\nneither has probably a worse or a more dangerous enemy than the\nsentimentalism so rife in modern society, and which finds its way\neven into the writings of some Catholics. The sentiment of\nbenevolence may be a _mobile_, but it is never the\n_motive_ of Christian virtue. No doubt, one of the great\ncauses of the success of Christianity was the inexhaustible\ncharity of the early Christians, their love for one another,\ntheir respect for and tenderness to the poor, the forsaken, the\noppressed, the afflicted, the suffering. But that charity had not\nits origin in our emotional nature, and though it may be attended\nby sentiment, is itself by no means a sentiment; for its reason\nand motive was the love of God, especially of God who had assumed\nour nature, and made himself man for man's sake, and died on the\ncross for man's redemption. The Christian sees God in every\nfellow-man who needs his assistance, or to whose wants he can\nminister. \"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my\nbrethren, ye have done it unto me.\" The Christian finds his Lord,\nthe Beloved of his soul, wherever he finds one for whom Christ\ndied, to whom he can be of service.\n\nThis charity, this love, may be mimicked by the sentiment of\nbenevolence, but it does not grow out of it, is not that\nsentiment developed or intensified; it depends on the great\ncentral mystery of Christianity, that of \"the Word made flesh,\"\nand can never be found where faith in the Incarnation is wanting,\nand faith is, always and everywhere, an intellectual act, not a\nsentimental affection. If it were a natural sentiment or emotion,\nwhy was it to be found among Christians alone? The heathen had\nall of nature that Christians have; they even recognized the\nnatural brotherhood of the race, as does the author; how happens\nit, then, if Christianity is only a development of heathenism,\nand Christian charity is only a natural sentiment, that you find\nno trace of it in the pagan world? There is no effect without a\ncause, and there must have been something operating with\nChristians that was not to be found in paganism, and which is not\nincluded even in nature.\n\nThe pagans, like modern Protestants, worshipped success, and\nregarded success as a mark of the approbation of the gods.\nMisfortune, ill-luck, failure was a proof of the divine\ndispleasure. Cromwell and his Roundheads interpreted uniformly\ntheir victories over the royalists as an indisputable proof of\nthe divine approval of their course.\n{797}\nIt never occurred to them that the Almighty might be using them\nto chastise the royalists for their abuse of his favors, or to\nexecute vengeance on a party that had offended him, and that,\nwhen he had accomplished his purpose with them, he would break\nthem as a potter's vessel, and cast them away. The heathen looked\nupon the poor, the needy, the enslaved, the infirm, the helpless,\nand the suffering, as under the malediction of the gods, and\nrefused to offer them any aid or consolation. They left the poor\nto struggle and starve. They did not do even so much for them as\nto shut them up in prisons called poor-houses. They looked with\nhaughty contempt on the poor and needy, and if they sometimes\nthrew them a crust, it was from pride, not charity, without the\nleast kindly sympathies with them. As with modern non-Catholics,\npoverty, with them, was regarded and treated as a misfortune or\nas a crime.\n\nYet the Christians looked upon the poor with love and respect.\nPoverty, in their eyes, was no misfortune, no crime, but really a\nblessing, as bringing them nearer to God, and giving to the\nChristian more abundant in this world's goods an opportunity to\ndo good, and lay up treasures in heaven. The Christian counts\nwhat he gives to the poor and needy as so much treasure saved,\nand placed beyond the reach of thieves and robbers, or any of the\nvicissitudes of fortune. Whence this difference between the pagan\nand the Christian, we might say, between the Catholic and\nnon-Catholic? It cannot come from the simple recognition of the\nnatural brotherhood of the race, for the natural ties of race and\nof kindred fail to call forth a love so strong, so enduring, so\nself-forgetting as Christian charity. Indeed, Christian charity\nis decidedly above the forces of nature. The brotherhood that\ngives rise to it is not the brotherhood in Adam, but the closer\nbrotherhood in Christ; not in generation, but in regeneration.\nGive, then, as large a part as you will to Christian charity, in\nthe conversion of Rome, you still have offered no proof that the\nconversion was effected by natural causes, for that charity\nitself is supernatural, and not in the order of natural causes.\n\nMr. Lecky wholly fails to adduce any natural causes adequate to\nthe explanation of the conversion of Rome and the triumph of\nChristianity over paganism. He cannot do it, for this one\nsufficient reason, that paganism was impotent to reform itself,\nand yet it had all the natural causes working for it that\nChristianity had. The Christians had no more of nature than had\nthe pagans, while all the natural advantages, power, wealth,\ninstitutions, human learning and science, the laws, habits,\ncustoms, and usages of the entire nation, or aggregation of\nnations, were against them. How, then, not only do by nature what\nthe same nature in paganism could not do, or by nature alone\ntriumph over nature clothed with so many advantages, and\npresenting so many obstacles? Why should nature be stronger, and\nso much stronger, in Christians than in Pagans, that a few\nilliterate fishermen from the lake of Genesareth, belonging by\nrace to the despised nation of the Jews, could change not only\nthe belief, but the moral life of the whole Roman people?\nClearly, the Christians could not succeed without a power which\npaganism had not, and therefore not without a power that nature\ndoes not and cannot furnish.\n\n{798}\n\nThe author denies the supernatural, and seeks to combat the\nargument we use by showing that several eastern superstitions,\nespecially the worship of Isis, were introduced into Rome about\nthe same time with Christianity, and gained no little currency,\nin spite of the imperial edicts against them. This is true, but\nthere was no radical difference between those eastern\nsuperstitions and the state religion, and they demanded and\neffected no change of morals or manners. They were all in the\norder of the national religion, were based on the same principle,\nonly they were a little more sensual and corrupt. Their temporary\nsuccess required no other basis than Roman paganism itself\nfurnished. And the edicts against their mysteries and orgies were\nseldom executed. It needs no supernatural principle to account\nfor the rapid rise and spread of Methodism in a Protestant\ncommunity, for it is itself only a form of Protestantism. But\nChristianity was not, and is not, in any sense, a form or\ndevelopment of paganism; in almost every particular, it is its\ndirect contradictory. It was based on a totally different\nprinciple, and held entirely different maxims of life. A\nworshipper of Bacchus or Isis could without difficulty conform to\nthe national or state religion, and comply with all its\nrequirements. The Christian could conform in nothing, and comply\nwith no pagan requirements. He could take no part in the national\nfestivities, the national games, amusements, or rejoicings, for\nthese were all dedicated to idols. There is no analogy in the\ncase.\n\nMr. Lecky denies that the conversion of Rome was a miracle, and\nthat it was effected on the evidence of miracles. He admits that\nmiracles are possible, though he confounds miracles with\nprodigies, and says there is five times more proof in the case of\nmany miracles than would be required to prove an ordinary\nhistorical fact; but he rejects miracles, not for the want of\nproof, nor because science has disproved them, but because the\nmore intelligent portion of mankind have gradually dropped them,\nand ceased to believe in them, as they have dropped the belief in\nfairies, dwarfs, etc. The enlightened portion of mankind, it must\nbe understood, are those who think like Mr. Lecky, and profess a\nChristianity without Christ, moral obligation without God the\ncreator, and hold effects are producible without causes. We\nconfess that we are not of their number, and probably shall never\nbe an enlightened man in their sense. We believe in miracles, and\nthat miracles had not a little to do with the introduction and\nestablishment of Christianity. As the author admits them to be\npossible, and that many are sustained by far greater proof than\nis needed to prove ordinary historical events, we hope that it\nwill be allowed, that, in believing them, we are not necessarily\ninvolved in total darkness. But we have no space, at present, to\nenter upon the general question of miracles--a question that can\nnot be properly treated without treating the whole question of\nthe natural and the supernatural.\n\nThe author tells us that the early Christians at Rome rarely\nappealed, if at all, to miracles as proofs either of their\ndoctrines or their mission. Yet that they sometimes did would\nseem pretty certain from the pains the pagans took to break the\nforce of the Christian miracles by ascribing them to magic, or by\nsetting up analogous or counter miracles of their own. Certain it\nis, however, that they appealed to the supernatural, and adduced\nnot only the miracle of the resurrection of our Lord, which\nentered into the very staple of their preaching, and was one of\nthe bases of their faith, but to that standing miracle of\nprophecy, and of a supernatural providence--the Jewish, people.\n{799}\nThe very religion they preached was supernatural, from beginning\nto end, and they labored to prove the necessity of faith in\nChrist, who was crucified, who rose from the dead, and is Lord of\nheaven and earth. There is no particular miracle or prophecy\nadduced to prove this that cannot, indeed, be cavilled at; but\nthe Hebrew traditions and the faith of the Jewish people could\nnot be set aside. Here was a whole nation whose entire life\nthrough many thousand years had been based on a prophecy, a\npromise of the Messiah. This prophecy, frequently renewed, and\nborne witness to by the national organization, the religious\ninstitutions, sacrifices, and offerings, and the entire national\nand moral life through centuries, is a most stupendous miracle.\nWhen you take this in connection with the traditions preserved in\nthe Hebrew Scriptures, which go back to the creation of the\nworld--developing one uniform system of thought, one uniform\ndoctrine, one uniform faith, free from all superstition; one\nuniform plan of divine providence, and throwing a marvellous\nlight on the origin, duty, and end of man--you find a\nsupernatural fact which is irresistible, and sufficient of itself\nto convince any unprejudiced mind that Christianity is the\nfulfilment of the promises made to Adam after his expulsion from\nthe Garden, to the patriarchs, to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and\nto the Jewish people.\n\nWe have no space here to develop this argument, but it is the\nargument that had great weight with ourselves personally, and, by\nthe grace of God, was the chief argument that brought us to\nbelieve in the truth of Christianity, and in the church as the\nfulfilment of the synagogue. The apostles and early apologists\ncontinually, in one form or another, appeal to this standing\nmiracle, this long-continued manifestation of the supernatural,\nas the basis of their proof of Christianity. They adduced older\ntraditions than any the pagans could pretend to, and set forth a\nfaith that had continued from the first man, which had once been\nthe faith of all mankind, and from which the Gentiles had fallen\naway, and been plunged, in consequence, into the darkness of\nunbelief, and subjected to all the terrors of the vilest, most\ncorrupt, and abominable superstitions. They labored to show that\nthe Gentiles, in the pride of their hearts, had forsaken the God\nthat made them, creator of heaven and earth, and all things\ntherein, visible or invisible, for Satan, for demons, and for\ngods made with their own hands, or fashioned by their own lusts\nand evil imaginations. They pursued, indeed, the same line of\nargument that Catholics pursue against Protestants, only modified\nby the fact that the Protestant falling away, so clearly foretold\nby St. Paul in his Epistles, is more recent, less complete, and\nProtestants have not yet sunk so low as had the Gentiles of the\nRoman empire.\n\nBut it was not enough to establish the truth of Christianity in\nthe Roman mind. Christian morals are above the strength of nature\nalone; yet the pagans were not only induced to give up their own\nprinciple of morals, and to accept as true the Christian\nprinciple, but they gave up their old practices, and yielded a\npractical obedience to the Christian law. Those same Romans\nchanged their manner of life, and attained to the very summits of\nChristian sanctity. The philosophers gave many noble precepts,\npreserved from a purer tradition than their own, but they had no\npower to get them practised, and our author himself says they had\nno influence on the people; yet they enjoined nothing above the\nforces of nature.\n{800}\nThe Christians came, taught the people a morality impracticable\nto nature even in its integrity, and yet what they taught was\nactually practised even by women, children, and slaves. How was\nthis? It was not possible without supernatural aid, or the\ninfusion of grace which elevates the soul above the level of\nnature, enabling it at once to act from a supernatural principle,\nand from a supernatural motive. All who have attempted the\npractise of Christian perfection by the strength of nature alone,\nhave sadly failed. Take the charitable institutions, societies\nfor relieving the poor, providing for the aged and infirm,\nprotecting the fatherless and widows, for restoring the fallen,\nand reforming the vicious or criminal, established by\nnon-Catholics--they are all comparative, if not absolute\nfailures. Though modelled after institutions of the church, and\nsupported at lavish expense, none of them succeed. They lack some\nessential element which is efficacious in Catholic institutions,\nand that element is undoubtedly supernatural grace, for that is\nall Catholics have that they have not in far greater abundance.\nThey have humanity, natural benevolence, learning, ability, and\nample wealth--why do they not succeed? Because they lack\nsupernatural charity, and the blessing of God that always\naccompanies it. No other reasons can be assigned.\n\nMr. Lecky thinks the persecutions by the state, which the early\nChristians had to endure, or that the spread of Christianity in\nspite of them, are not worth anything in the argument. In the\nfirst place, he pretends that the persecutions were not very\nsevere, and were for the most part confined to particular\nlocalities, and rarely became general in the empire; they were of\nbrief duration, and came only at distant intervals, and the\nnumber of martyrs could not have been great. In the second place,\nthe persecutions rather helped the persecuted religion, as\npersecution usually does. Rome, in reality, was tolerant, and\nmost of the pagan emperors were averse to harsh measures, and\nconnived at the growth of the new religion, which they regarded\nas one of the innumerable superstitions hatched in the East, and\nwhich must soon pass away.\n\nRome tolerated for conquered nations their national religion, or\nworship, but no religion except the state religion for Romans.\nThe national gods recognized by the senate, and whose images were\nallowed to stand by the side of the Roman gods, might be\nworshipped; but no Roman citizen was allowed to desert the state\nreligion, and nowhere in the empire was any religion tolerated\nthat was not the national worship of some people subject or\ntributary to Rome. Now, Christianity was no national religion,\nand was hostile to the state religion, and utterly irreconcilable\nwith it; for it there was no toleration; it was prohibited by the\nlaws of the empire as well as by the edicts of the emperors. The\nChristians might at first be overlooked as too insignificant to\nexcite hostility, or they might have been regarded, since they\nwere chiefly Jews, as a Jewish sect; they might also, as they\nwere a quiet, peaceable people, obeying the laws when not\nrepugnant to the law of God, performing all their moral, social,\nand civil duties, and never mingling in the affairs of state,\nhave been connived at for a time. But they had no legal\nprotection, and if complained of and brought before the\ntribunals, and proved to be Christians, they had no alternative\nbut to conform to the national religion or suffer death, often in\nthe most excruciating forms; for the Romans were adepts in\ncruelty, and took delight in watching the writhings and\nsufferings of their victims.\n{801}\nEven Trajan, while he prohibited the search for them, ordered, if\naccused and convicted of being Christians, that they should be\nput to death. Such being the law, the prefect or governor of a\nprovince could at any time, without any imperial edict, put the\nlaw in force against the Christians, if so disposed; and that\nthey did so in all the provinces of the empire, frequently and\nwith unsparing severity, we know from history. The Christians\nwere safe at no time and nowhere in the empire, and it is\nprobable that the number of victims of the ten general\npersecutions were by far the smaller number of those who suffered\nfor the faith prior to the accession of Constantine. We place no\nconfidence in the calculations of Gibbon or our author, and we\nhave found no reason for believing that the Christian historians,\nor the fathers, exaggerated the number of those who received the\ncrown of martyrdom.\n\nIt is a great mistake to suppose that paganism had lost its hold\non the Roman mind till long after the Christians had become a\nnumerous body in the empire. There were, no doubt, individuals\nwho treated all religions with indifference, but never had the\npagan superstitions a stronger hold on the mass of the people,\nespecially in Rome and the western provinces, than during the\nfirst two centuries of our era. The republic had been transformed\ninto the empire, and the government was never stronger, or the\nworship of the state more intolerant, more fervent, or more\nenergetically supported by the government. The work of Romanizing\nthe various conquered nations was effected under the emperors,\nand the signs of decline and dissolution of the empire did not\nappear till near the close of the third century. The Roman state\nand paganism seemed to be indissolubly linked together--so\nclosely that the pagans attributed to the rise and progress of\nChristianity the decline and downfall of both. Certain it is,\nthat paganism lost its hold on the people or the state only in\nproportion to the progress of Christianity; and the abandonment\nof the heathen gods and the desertion of the heathen temples were\ndue to the preaching of the Gospel, not a fact which preceded and\nprepared the way for it. Converts are seldom made from the\nirreligious and indifferent classes, who are the last, in any\nage, to be reached or affected by truth and piety.\n\nThe fact is, that paganism fought valiantly to the last, and\nChristianity had to meet and grapple with it in its full force,\nand when supported by the strongest and most effective government\nthat ever existed, still in the prime and vigor of its life. The\nstruggle was harder and longer continued than is commonly\nsupposed, and by no means ended with Constantine. Paganism\nreascended the throne--in principle, at least--under Constantius,\nthe son, and avowedly under Julian, the nephew of the first\nChristian emperor. Every pagan statesman saw, from the first,\nthat there was an irrepressible antagonism between Christianity\nand paganism, and that the former could not prevail without\ndestroying the latter, and, of course, the religion of the state,\nand apparently not without destroying the state with it. The\nintelligent and patriotic portion of the Roman people must have\nregarded the spread of Christianity very much as the Protestant\nleaders regard the spread of Catholicity in our own country. They\nlooked upon it as a foreign religion, and anti-Roman.\n{802}\nIt rejected the gods of Rome, to whom the city was indebted for\nher victories and the empire of the world. We may be sure, then,\nthat the whole force of the state, the whole force of the pagan\nworship, backed by the passions and fanaticism of the people,\nwhether of the city or the provinces, was exerted to crush out\nthe new and offensive worship; and, whether the numbers of\nmartyrs were a few more or a few less, the victory obtained by\nChristianity against such fearful odds is not explicable without\nthe assumption of supernatural aid--especially when that victory\ncarried with it a complete change of morals and manners, and the\npractice in not a few who underwent it of a heroic sanctity, or\nvirtues which are confessedly above our natural strength.\n\nNo false or merely natural religion could have survived, far less\nhave vanquished, such opposition as Christianity encountered at\nevery point. The very fact that it thrived, in spite of the\nfearful persecution to which it was subjected, is a proof of its\ntruth and divinity. We grant the blood of the martyrs was the\nseed of the church, but persecution fails only when it meets\ntruth, when it meets God as the resisting force. We know the\nstrength of superstition and the tenacity of fanaticism; but we\ndeny that persecution has ever increased or multiplied the\nadherents or aided the growth of a false religion. There is no\nexample of it in history. It is only the truth that does not\nsuccumb; and even they who profess the truth, when they have lost\nthe practice of it, have yielded to the spirit of the world, and\nhave ceased to be faithful to God, fail to stand before\npersecution, as was seen in the almost entire extinction of\nCatholics in the European nations that accepted the Protestant\nReformation. The inefficacy of persecution to extinguish the\ndoctrine persecuted is a commonplace of liberalism; but history\nproves the contrary, and hence the fact that Christianity,\ninstead of being extinguished by the heathen persecution, spread\nunder it, and even gained power by it, is no mean proof of its\ntruth and its supernatural support.\n\nThe author obtains his adverse conclusion by substituting for the\nChristianity to which Rome was actually converted, and which\nactually triumphed in the empire, a Christianity of his own\nmanufacture, a rationalistic Christianity, which has nothing to\ndo with Christ Jesus, and him crucified; a Christianity despoiled\nof its mysteries, its doctrinal teachings, its distinctive moral\nprecepts, and reduced to a simple moral philosophy. It is with\nhim a theory, a school; not a fact, not a law, not an authority,\nnot a living organism, nor of an order essentially different from\npaganism. His Christianity has its starting point in paganism,\nand only marks a particular stage in the general progress of the\nrace. He does not see that it and paganism start from entirely\ndifferent principles, and come down through separate and hostile\nlines, or that they have different ancestors. He does not\nunderstand that Christianity, if a development at all, is not the\ndevelopment of paganism, but of the patriarchal and Jewish\nreligion, which placed the principle of duty in man's relation to\nGod as his creator and final cause, not in the assumption of\nman's own divinity or godship. Hence he finds no need of\nsupernatural aid to secure its triumph.\n\nThe author, placing Christianity in the same line with paganism,\nsupposes that he accounts sufficiently for the conversion of Rome\nby the assumption that the Christians placed a stronger emphasis\non certain doctrines held by the pagan philosophers, and were\nactuated by a greater zeal and enthusiasm than were those\nphilosophers themselves.\n{803}\nYet he does not show the origin of the greater zeal, nor its\ncharacter; and he entirely misapprehends the enthusiasm of the\nearly Christians. They were, in no received sense of the word,\nenthusiasts, nor were they, in his sense of the word, even\nzealots. They in no sense corresponded to the character given\nthem in _The Last Days of Pompeii_. They were neither\nenthusiasts nor fanatics; and their zeal, springing from true\ncharity, was never obtrusive nor annoying. We find in the earlier\nand later sects enthusiasts, fanatics, and zealots, who are\nexcessively offensive, and yet are able to carry away the simple,\nthe ignorant, and the undisciplined; but we never find them among\nthe early orthodox Christians, any more than you do among\nCatholics at the present day. The early Christians did not \"creep\ninto houses and lead away silly women,\" nor assault people in the\nstreets or market-place, and seek to cram Christianity down their\nthroats, whether they would or not, but were singularly sober,\nquiet, orderly, and regular in their proceedings, as Catholics\nhave always been, compelling not people to hear them against\ntheir will, and instructing in the faith only those who\nmanifested a desire to be instructed. The author entirely\nmistakes both the Christian order of thought and the character of\nthe early Christians who suffered from and finally triumphed over\nthe pagan empire.\n\n----------\n\n      Translated From The French.\n\n             Paganina.\n\n\n                I.\n\nMaster Aloysius Swibert was an organist in a small Austrian town;\nbut from afar his perfect knowledge of harmony, and freshness and\ndelicacy of inspiration, were known and praised; and many a\nstranger artist, having heard him, wondered that he did not seek\nrenown and even glory in larger cities, and saw with astonishment\nhow his art and his simple friendships contented and ornamented a\nlife requiring nothing more.\n\nHe gave his time to the study of the great masters, a study full\nof pure enjoyment, but laborious and difficult, and, with a\nsingular simplicity of character, he never approached them\nwithout the greatest reserve and respect.\n\nObstinately he worked, allowing himself but little respite to\nindulge the flights of his fancy, or the inspiration which, now\nand then, came to him so luminously, so brightly that the brave\nartist cried out his thanks in ecstasy, in the fulness of his\njoy.\n\nHis musical thoughts are all in a tiny volume. No long\nfantasies--half pages mostly--sometimes only lines, short and\nexcellent and original; blessed originality, not coarse or\nconfusing, but healthy and true--the daughter and messenger of\ninspiration!\n\n{804}\n\n                II.\n\nThus rolled the weeks, returning ever the Sunday so ardently\ndesired; for to Master Swibert each Sunday was an event. He\nthought of the one passed, and looked forward to the coming one;\nall were equally dear. From the Saturday evening previous, all\nthings sang to him his feast-day songs, and the next morning,\ncollected and serious, in his best clothes, he sought his church\nand his organ.\n\nHe had his own ideas, considered extreme by some, on the ministry\nof the musician in the services of the church, on the respect due\nthe place and the instrument. His heart beat when he approached\nthe organ, and he played, following his conscience, sometimes\nwell, sometimes better, never seeking success--on the contrary,\ndreading it.\n\nHis work accomplished, he walked with his sister, serious and\nhappy. The people loved to see them pass, and, from the doors of\ntheir houses, saluted them amicably. In return, they gave each a\npleasant smile, and rejoiced that men and things should wear\ntheir holiday robes, their Sunday colors. If the trees were green\nand the weather fine, their happiness was complete. It made the\ngood man sad, though, if men or children worked, or even planned\ntheir occupations. \"Poor creatures!\" he said, \"is not even Sunday\nfor them?\" And his heart beat as he spoke. But when he met whole\nfamilies enjoying themselves, the fathers important, the mothers\nbusy and happy, and the children gay and prattling, he entered\nhis lodging so happily, kissed his sister, and awaited his\nfriends.\n\n\n                III.\n\nHe had but two--that is too many--and these could only remember\nhaving passed one Sunday evening away from Master Swibert. On\ntheir arrival, there were three just men under the same roof--one\nmore than is necessary in order that our Lord may be in the midst\nof them.\n\nThey supped, and the organist's sister, twelve years younger than\nhe, a fresh and graceful girl, waited on his guests, and offered\nthem some nice white cakes, prepared the day before. Each one\npaid her his heartfelt compliments, while, smiling and silent,\nwith pleasure she received them.\n\nAfter supper, Master Swibert seated himself at his piano and\nplayed for his friends his studies of the past week. The music\nwas mingled with conversation, and art and philosophy beguiled\nthe hours. Seated around a good-sized pot of beer, with\nconsciences at ease, with active bodies and cheerful spirits,\nthese companions pursued endless conversations in all that\ninterested their honest hearts until, as night closed round them,\ntheir souls were elevated and they spoke of heaven. There seemed\nto be a marvellous contact between their natures and all that is\nspiritual.\n\nSuch was Master Swibert's interior on Sunday evenings. Could\nchance have led thither some growing youth, all ardor and\nenthusiasm, and had he essayed the eternal temptations of love\nand glory, his answer would have been a smile. There they had no\nplace. The three friends were happy.\n\n\n                 IV.\n\nBut in this world every thing passes, happiness especially. The\nday came when Master Swibert had to part from all he loved--his\nquiet habits, his home, and his country.\n\nHe was tall, and looked strong and healthy; yet his friends were\ndisquieted about him, for he seemed restless, like a tree which\noutwardly appears vigorous, but at heart decayed and liable to\nfall with the first rough wind. His physicians gave a reason for\ntheir uneasiness, and ordered him south.\n\n{805}\n\nThe organist and his sister set out one day, hurrying their\nadieus as people who run away. When they were at the foot of the\nAlps in Italy, they stopped at a sunny little town, a day's\njourney from Milan, which we will call Ar\u00e8se. Master Swibert was\nthen forty-four.\n\nHow this man, who, till now, had lived more like a priest than a\nman of the world, could be led by his passions to marry an\nItalian and a singer, is difficult to explain. Besides, it is\nsuperfluous to look for a reason for any unreasonable act.\nPerhaps the good old sun was the cause, laughing behind the trees\nat the follies of which he makes us guilty.\n\nBut the girl was pretty, reputed good, and dedicated to her\nparents every moment her vanity did not require. So the organist\nmarried her.\n\n\n                V.\n\nThey say love lives by contrasts; the god of such a union should\nhave been well fed. But his life was short, for, after a few\nmonths only, he died. Perhaps of a fit of indigestion.\n\nThe Italian did not like the retired and exclusive life demanded\nof her, and the German could not accept the free behavior of his\nwife. He could not believe in the purity of a soul that sought\nvulgar homage and common admiration.\n\nHe was wrong to judge her by the ideas of his own country. His\nname there had been so honorably borne that, if it was for the\nsinger too heavy a burden, death only could release her. This\ndeath took place under peculiar circumstances.\n\nPaganini was just then being heard at Milan, and exercising that\nsingular fascination that made his artistic personality the most\ncharacteristic of our time.\n\nThis age, which believes in no thing, accords him a legend, and,\nin truth, his power with the instrument he used was surprising\nand unequalled.\n\nThe fascination he possessed by his eccentric and well-executed\nperformances is well known; how, for instance, he only appeared\nin a demi-obscurity, in some romantic scene; or, in some fit of\ninspiration, broke rudely the three strings of his instrument,\nand performed on the remaining one his most astonishing\nvariations.\n\nWhether it was skill, or a want of genius, no matter; the effect\nproduced was marvellous. On the wife of Master Swibert the result\nwas astonishing. Her child was born before its time, and in one\nof the side-scenes of the theatre of La Scala.\n\nIts life seemed so feebly assured that it was baptized\nimmediately with the name of Rose Marie; but Paganini, flattered\nby the adventure, insisting upon being godfather on the occasion,\nthe little one was only known by the name of Paganina.\n\nThus was born the singular artist whose history we relate. We\nknow the exterior facts, the accidents, we may say, of her life.\nPopular imagination has made of them an interesting legend; but\nthese facts were produced by interior emotions little understood,\nand would be perfectly unintelligible could we not trace in her\nthe two tendencies, the two natures, which she inherited from her\nparents.\n\nMaster Swibert arrived in time to say adieu to his wife, who did\nnot survive her confinement. Then, as a miser with his treasure,\nhe carried off his daughter. The child was feeble, but the\norganist felt within himself such an intensity of paternal love\nthat he could not doubt she would live; \"for,\" said he, \"the\nvital forces of a creature are not wholly in itself, but in the\nlove of its parents.\"\n\n{806}\n\nThe sister of Master Swibert had married and left him. Therefore\nalone with his daughter, he entered an unoccupied house, where\ntheir new lives should develop themselves.\n\n\n                  VI.\n\nHappy the children born of Christian parents! They alone\nunderstand the integrity of affection that addresses itself to\nthe soul, the delicacy of love which envelops the infant, from\nthe bosom of its mother, conducting it through every danger, and,\neven in spite of maternal instinct, to the port of safety.\n\nThe organist could put in practice no personal theories of\neducation. He thought a father and mother (he was both) have but\none thing to do--to love and love on, to watch on their knees\nnear the cradle of their child, to observe attentively the\nmovements of the soul in its dawning light, to direct it on high,\nalways on high, guard it from all that is impure, (triviality,\neven, he considered so;) and so, in fine, enforce the impressions\nof a saintly and ideal character, before even the child has\nconsciousness of its perceptions.\n\nGive your imagination to the interior of a family where such\nsentiments prevail; one sees marvellous things, that no painter\ncan paint in colors true enough to render public. O pure and holy\nfamily joys! If we hesitate to describe you, it is from respect.\nWe know with what discretion we should touch on holy things, and\nwe hardly dare to make ourselves understood, to those who are\nfathers, by sketching the scenes of these first years of\nchildhood between Master Swibert and his daughter.\n\n\n                 VII.\n\nNight has come; the child is going to sleep. Her father, pursuing\nhis studies, is seated at the piano near the little being who has\nall his heart, and is now his inspiration; the waves of harmony\ngo out into the night, white apparitions encircle the cradle,\ngraze the earth, and fly away. The child sleeps.\n\nAttentive and listening, her angel looks at her, opening slightly\nits wings to better protect her, and throwing over her closed\neye-lids the bluish and transparent veil. The little face smiles\nsweetly.\n\nIn the morning she awakes, her soul filled with the joys of the\nnight. She hears the birds sing, and the bright morning sun with\nheavenly rays gilds the cover of her little bed. She watches it\nplay on her white curtains and turns toward her father, her eyes\nfilled with tears, a weight on her heart. \"Why do you weep, my\ndaughter?\" \"Because, my father, I love you dearly, and I am too\nhappy.\"\n\nYes, well may we discuss the joys of childhood. To sing them,\npoets lose their breath; to paint them, exhaust the colors of\ntheir palettes; and heap image upon image as their heated fancies\nmay suggest, yet what have they done? Nothing. Yet the subject is\nworth their study. And how is it that there are so many who have\nknown these joys in all their purity, who in their manhood gaze\non into the future, and so seldom look to that past which made\nthem so happy? Would they not, at times, give worlds to be again\nthat little child at its mother's knee?\n\n\n                VIII.\n\nPaganina was nearly seven years old, when she found a companion;\nthe organist's sister died, leaving her only child to the care of\nher brother.\n\n{807}\n\nThe little boy, named Andr\u00e9, seemed to be of a gentle and even\nweak character. He was the same age as his cousin, but never was\npresented a more perfect contrast.\n\nPaganina had not yet acquired that marvellous beauty that\nafterward became so celebrated, but something there was about her\nvery strange and very attractive.\n\nShe was reticent and retiring, nonchalant in gesture and careless\nin behavior. Her face was always sad, an indescribable, almost\nferocious _ennui_ seeming completely to overpower her. But\nif some recital, some sudden expression touched her imagination,\nor music entranced her, her deep black eyes threw out a violet\nflame, and even sparkled. But that was all. The calm of an\naffected, scornful carelessness returned immediately.\n\nRestlessness is the common host of the domestic hearth.\n\nMaster Swibert trembled to see the worldly and theatrical genius\nof the mother develop in the child; he knew well that, in a\nnature strong and deep as hers, such tastes would make terrible\nravages. And the development of each successive year was not\ncalculated to dispel his fears.\n\nEverything in the child alarmed him, from her habitual\nconcentration to her fits of passionate tenderness--the outburst\nof the moment, volcano-like, a jet of brilliant flame which\nsparkles and goes out.\n\n\n                  IX.\n\nMaster Swibert could boast in his dying hours of never having\ndeserted the child for an hour even. After having devoted the\nearly hours of the day to her and her cousin's education, he\nsuperintended and guided their recreations--an important part, in\ngood hands, of the training of a child.\n\nHe had the habit of taking every day a long walk. The route they\nloved best he called the German road. It was that by which the\norganist had come to Italy. The sight of it revived his memories,\nand flattered the melancholy love he gave his country.\n\nOn the way, the children listened to the stories of the good\nmusician, who so willingly related them. They spoke of Germany;\nfor on this chapter Master Swibert never tired. He led his little\nauditors into the world of ballads and legends, and we can\nreadily imagine the pretty curiosity and happy astonishment\nwhich, at their age, he awakened. Their favorite legend was that\nof the great emperor Barbarossa, who slept so many centuries in\nan obscure grotto, leaning on a table of stone into which his\nbeard had grown. These stories were better than our nurses tell;\nfor the organist related them, not to impose on the credulity of\nhis youthful auditory, but to extract the poetry they contained;\nand this he did wonderfully. Poetry never did harm to any one.\n\nBut the children loved, even better than the legends, the\nrecitals suitable for them from the German poets. The story of\nMignon delighted them. What could be told them sufficed; and they\nloved the little girl who had no other language than song, who\ntook the face of an angel and aspired to heaven, where she went\nwithout scarcely having lived on earth.\n\nTheir imagination was inflamed. They longed to see the country of\ntheir dreams. Sometimes, at the turn of the road, they began to\nrun, in the unavowed hope of seeing, at last, what was behind the\nmountain; but, the circuit passed, and only a long road,\napparently without end, presenting itself, the poor little things\ncried with disappointment.\n{808}\nTheir father, ready to weep with them, took them in his arms to\ncontrol them, and told them for the hundredth time one of his\npretty ballads.\n\n\n                   X.\n\nThe route into Germany is through a beautiful country. After\ntraversing a plain for some distance, one enters into a deep\ngorge in the mountain and then begins to ascend.\n\nThis gorge gives passage to a torrent, dry in summer, but,\nbecoming furious during the rains of autumn, uproots trees,\ncarries away bridges, and, undermining the stones at their base,\nlowers, each year, the level of the neighboring elevations. The\nroute accommodates itself poorly to this terrible neighbor, and\nfollows it as far off as possible. Around on the left shore, it\nturns quickly at a certain height, and crosses the torrent over a\nvery high bridge. There, continuing to ascend, it makes a circuit\nover a plain of moderate extent, while a narrow and badly\nconstructed road, bordering the sides of the ravine, leaves it to\ndescend to the magnificent residence which, from time immemorial,\nbelongs to the family of the Ligonieri. It is called the Ch\u00e2teau\nSarrasin.\n\nA view unequalled presents itself from this elevation. Below it,\non the first ladder of the heights, is seen the black mass of the\nchateau, so near that one can almost penetrate into the interior\nof the edifice; and beyond, the plain, displaying under the\nsilvery net-work of its water-courses the richness of its\nvegetation; and finally, on the left, the wooded slopes of the\nmountain, crowned with glaciers, and developing into a gigantic\nhemicycle. When the dazzled eye is at rest, or gazing afar, it\never returns to the Chateau Sarrasin; and worthy is it of the\nclosest regard.\n\nIts name indicates its antiquated pretensions; but it has no\nuniformity of style; each age has given it a stone, and from the\nlabor of centuries has resulted a whole of a character grand and\nmajestic.\n\nProudly encamped on a perpendicular rock, accessible only on one\nside, it commands the plain and defies the mountain with its\nblack and menacing tower, that seems to have been placed there to\nprotect the other less hardy constructions.\n\nFrom the road, the traveller raises his eyes to this eagle's\nnest; he contemplates with pleasure the terraces which shelve\nbelow, suspending over the precipice their flowering groves and\nmassive oaks, and, naturally, he demands its history. Yet this\nhistory was not always to be praised. The chronicle credits those\nwho inhabited it in past ages with a series of adventures more\ncurious than moral, and enough to fill a book of legends.\n\nThe Ligonieri have followed the progress of civilization. In our\nday, they respect the laws, and even make themselves respected.\nThey serve the state in the highest ranks of the administration,\nthe army, and diplomacy. Yet it would seem that, after all, the\ndevil has not lost much; for they tell wild stories of the\ncastle's being fatal to conjugal love, of its reigning queens\never suffering in silence the affronts of some rival under its\ncursed roof. Popular recitals represent them isolated, lifting to\nheaven their innocent hands, and mingling their prayers with the\nnoise of orgies and the songs of feasts. The favorites of the\nChateau Sarrasin belonged mostly to the theatre, and among them\nwas she who reigned a certain evening when the scene took place I\nam going to relate.\n\n{809}\n\n                  XI.\n\nThis evening, then, the organist and his two children had arrived\non the elevation that commands the residence of the Ligonieri,\nand were looking about them. There was a _f\u00eate_ at the\nCh\u00e2teau Sarrasin.\n\nThe grand _salon_ of the ground floor was illuminated, and\ncrowded with a brilliant assembly of guests. Long waves of light\ncame from the windows and doors, and showed the crowd pressing\naround every opening, and in the shadows revealed groups seated\nattentively at cards.\n\nAll heads were turned toward one point; all looks were in the\nsame direction, and attached themselves to a woman standing in\nthe centre of the light, and surrounded by a chorus and a\nnumerous orchestra.\n\nThis woman was clothed in green, and wore a crown of ivy, the\nornament of the old bacchantes. A green diamond threw its\nlustrous rays from her impure forehead. She sang--not the songs\nthat carry tired souls into the regions of the ideal, and make\nthem forget for a moment the sadness of earth; but guilty joys\nand culpable pleasures were her theme. The metallic voice sang in\nresponse to her chorus; and, becoming more and more excited, the\nquick, passionate notes mounted into a demoniacal laugh. How sad,\nhow true it is, that the human soul, once beyond the bounds of\npurity, rejoices in and receives new excitement from the delirium\nof blasphemy.\n\n\n                  XII.\n\nAttracted by the light, Paganina advanced toward the precipice.\nThe passionate music had turned her brain. Her growing agitation\nbecame extreme, and she betrayed it in gestures and ardent words.\nWhen Master Swibert called her, she refused to obey.\n\nUnderstanding at last, her father rose, pale as a corpse.\n\n\"Unfortunate child!\" he cried, \"thy bad angel is approaching\nthee. Now comes the hour when I regret thy birth. God grant that\nI may not be punished for having shown thee the spectacle of evil\nthou comprehendest so quickly.\"\n\nThe child advances, her father follows, and she begins to run.\nWildly through the midst of the rocks she risks her life at every\nstep. Her father, breathless, pursues her, frightened, and\ncovered with a cold perspiration. His eyes, grown large already\nwith fear, see his daughter precipitated into an endless abyss;\nand discover, also, in the future another abyss still more\nshadowed and more horrible, where, perhaps, will be lost the\ndeeply-loved soul of his child.\n\nThe guests of the Ch\u00e2teau Sarrasin heard two cries mingle with\nthe joyousness of their _f\u00e9te_. The organist seized his\nchild just at the moment when, from the edge of the precipice,\nshe would have plunged into eternity.\n\nHe had saved her life, but not regained her soul. That evening,\nthe child separated herself from him in a spirit of revolt which\nalmost broke his heart to witness.\n\n\n                 XIII.\n\nMaster Swibert slept but little, and badly. When he awoke, he\nwondered how he had been able to omit to Paganina his usual\ngood-night. His eyes fell instinctively on the door where, every\nmorning, she came, half-clothed, to salute him. The sun's rays\ngilded the sill, and the good father's heart beat, thinking how\nhappy he would be if at that moment she would appear. He said,\n\"She is coming;\" but she came not.\n\n{810}\n\nThe organist walked up and down his room, interrupting, from time\nto time, his monotonous promenade, to listen, in hopes of hearing\na word, a creaking, a fluttering of a robe. He heard nothing but\nthe uncertain step of Andr\u00e9, wandering sad and lonely in the\nparts of the house least occupied.\n\nThe hours passed. The organist still waited, his suffering\nbecoming anguish. Sometimes he felt he must call out, \"My child!\nmy child!\" Already he opened his arms to receive her; but his\nsense of duty prevailed, and he waited for her.\n\nThe night again returned, and Paganina had shown no signs of\nlife. A bitter sadness, drop by drop, was accumulating in the\nheart of her unfortunate father. The most mournful thoughts took\npossession of him. He dreamed of his approaching death, and saw\nhis child alone, abandoned to interior and exterior enemies, and\nin his weakness he reproached himself for having brought her into\nthis world.\n\nAlready more than half the night had gone. Overwhelmed with\nsorrow, exhausted, he threw himself into an arm-chair, wondering\nif he could bear to suffer more, when Paganina entered\nnoiselessly, on tiptoe, lest she should awaken her father, whom\nshe believed asleep. She approached him gently, knelt by his\nside, and, taking one of his hands, covered it with silent tears.\n\nWhat a change for our poor organist! An immense joy overflowed\nhis heart, and spread over his whole being in delicious emotion.\nHe forgot all past suffering and future inquietude. He lost all\nconsciousness of the present but the knowledge that his daughter\nwas there, pressed to his heart, and palpitating midst her sobs.\n\nHe leaned over, and two tears, the first shed by this austere\nman, fell on the young bowed head--her baptism of peace and\npardon. Grief, repentance, the love of the child, obscured for a\ntime, now manifested themselves violently. She hung convulsively\non the neck of her father, and begged his pardon. They exchanged\nkisses, stifled cries, and little words of tenderness, that are\nthe first elements of that pure and passionate, delicate and\nviolent language of the domestic hearth, so little capable of\ndescription.\n\n\n                  XIV.\n\nThe stars sparkled peacefully in a cloudless sky. The breath of\nthe night, with its penetrating odors, came noiselessly, and\nmingled the white hair of the father with the black curls of the\nchild. It refreshed their burning foreheads.\n\nPeace has descended into their souls. Now and then a sob from\nPaganina is the only witness of the past storm.\n\nMaster Swibert, with his head inclined, speaks in a low voice. He\nsays:\n\n\"My daughter, my tenderness for you knows no bounds. Trust to me.\nArrived at the summit of life, I, whose head is whitening toward\neternity, will tell you that, in this world, the only happiness\ngiven man is in the affections of his family. You cannot tell,\nbefore being a mother, what paternal affection is, and still less\nwill you understand mine. I was ignorant of it myself until\nyesterday.\"\n\nThe child standing, her little feet united, pressed her head\nagainst the heart of her father.\n\nThe organist continued: \"The angel of a woman never leaves the\ndomestic hearth. If she lives in the world, her angel has\nforsaken her. A woman's crown is formed in shadow and silence;\nthe gaze and admiration of a crowd will wither it. Your soul I\nlove, my daughter; and our mutual love must never end. Do you\nunderstand me? Never! provided our souls rise together toward the\nabode of infinite love.\"\n\n{811}\n\nThe child listens attentively; divining, by a sort of intuition,\nthe sense of these teachings, engraving themselves, in letters of\nfire, on her heart; and which she will understand, each day, more\nand more.\n\nLittle by little, lulled by the whispering of her father;\nrefreshed, as if bathed in such admirable tenderness, she fell\nasleep. Her father held her in his arms, and, raising his eyes,\nhe prayed.\n\nDay has come. The aurora awakes in its humid splendor, and throws\nits first rays over the mountain violets. The bells of the town\ndance into the air their clear and joyous notes.\n\n\"My father,\" said Paganina in a low voice, and without opening\nher eyes, \"what do those bells say? Their ringing sound makes me\ntremble with joy.\"\n\n\"My daughter, they celebrate, as they may, the day of the\nAscension, when Christ ascended into heaven.\"\n\n\"To heaven! my father;\" and she added, in so weak a voice that he\ncould scarcely hear her, \"It seems that I am there now--that I\nrepose in your arms.\"\n\nThe organist looked at his daughter, whose closed eyes seemed to\nenjoy interior contemplation; while his pale face expressed his\ndelight. He raised her; held her up, as if to offer her to God;\nthen laid her quietly on her little bed, and let her sleep.\n\n\n                  XV.\n\nFrom that day, the organist possessed perfect control over his\ndaughter. If she seemed disposed to escape from his influence, he\nrecalled the night of the Ascension, and that sufficed. Paganina\nwas still a little girl; but soon she would cease to be one. Her\nfuture beauty was crystallizing. The features could be seen; but\nthey had not yet blended into their after harmony. There was\nsomething surprising about her.\n\nMorally, the incomprehensible little creature was all dissonance\nand violent contrasts, promising to be equally powerful for good\nor evil, as she should be led by superior or inferior influences.\n\nThe distinctive character of her nature, habitually concentrated\nand sometimes impetuous to excess, was her passion for every\nthing beautiful. Music exercised an extraordinary influence over\nher. It was, properly speaking, her language; and she understood\nin it what others could not. Already she spoke in it wonderfully.\n\nHer father taught her his instrument; and she gave herself with\nlove to the study. However, it was easy to see that the demon of\nsong would make her his; so Master Swibert hesitated to give her\na master, restrained by his personal ideas on the subject. He had\nhis theory, which appeared singular, no doubt, and he revealed it\nto his daughter, saying, \"Too perfect an instrument is a snare\nfor a musician; for when he has at his service an organ of this\nkind, he forgets too often to raise it to the ideal, and gives it\nto matter. Where are those who can disengage themselves from\nmatter to arrive at an idea? Where are those who know that the\nbeauty of the body is the shadow of the beauty of the soul? To\npursue exclusively the first is to lose both.\n\n\"Look at the immortal composers of my country, whose genius will\nradiate unto the last of posterity. The shrill notes of the piano\nare the most common expression of their glorious thoughts. The\nmusicians of this nation find voices neither pure nor powerful\nenough to express their pitiful imaginations. When I see such\nanxiety for the sign, I esteem poorly the thing signified, and I\nthink that its beauty is, above all, material.\n\n{812}\n\n\"I love the human voice. What an admirable instrument! But I\ntremble to see how it is used to express the passions of earth\nand the enchantments of pleasure. It is dangerous to possess it.\nI warn you of your danger, my daughter.\"\n\nI have already said that this theory was singular. The word\nappears weak, perhaps; but it came from Germany.\n\nHowever, it had no influence on the destiny of Paganina; for,\nhaving finished his reasoning, her father gave her a master.\nHappily, logic alone does not govern the world.\n\nThe little one then learned to sing. Her success in this study\nwas rapid, and passed all foresight. Sometimes Master Swibert was\nconfounded when he heard her, and trembled before this power\nwhich had come from himself.\n\n\n                  XVI.\n\nThe moment came when Andr\u00e9 was to be submitted to the proof of a\npublic education. His uncle considered such a course necessary to\nmake him a man. It was decided that he should receive at the\nconservatory of Naples the classic traditions of Italian art. The\norganist and his daughter wished to accompany him to his\ndestination.\n\nThey travelled by short stages. Master Swibert proposing,\naccording to his habit, an elevated result, communicated to his\nchildren the riches of his erudition. They stopped wherever they\ncould hope to gather some fruit, curious to visit every place of\nwhich they knew the history, and he desirous to give them a\nliving knowledge which would be for ever impressed upon them.\n\nHis studies and affections induced him to neglect the mere\nvestiges of antiquity to seek with greater love the souvenirs of\nChristianity and the relics of the saints. We know if they abound\non this illustrious earth.\n\nEvery day, then, the travellers turned a new leaf of the book\nwhich they had lisped from their childhood. The history of the\nmartyrs particularly seized upon the imagination of Paganina. She\nnever tired of listening to it on the very places they had\nsanctified by such sublime acts as the world rarely knows.\n\nWe may scoff at or disdain the wonders of interior sanctity, but\nindifference is arrested by the heroism of martyrdom.\n\nThe martyrs wear the double crown of divine and human glory.\nAfter their God, they are the vanquishers of death. Inspired\ncourage burns on their faces; and when are added to their ranks\nthe grace and beauty of woman and child, why refuse to their\nmemory the homage of love and admiration, if even not to be\nChristian is considered worthy of worldly honor.\n\nPaganina had the intelligence of greatness; she loved courage and\ntrue nobility. The recitals of her father drew tears from her\neyes; and in traversing the arenas made memorable by some bloody\ntriumph, she felt within her every inspiration to celebrate them.\nHere she was true to her Italian nature; but she spoke with an\nelevation of accent and depth of emotion which are the privileges\nof northern nations.\n\nOne evening she was at the Colosseum. She felt an enthusiasm\nwithin her, an inspiration unaccountable, and pictured in\nlife-colors the crowd of excited people, watching and crying out\nto the poor Christian martyrs struggling and dying, in the\nbrightness of a supernatural light. She entirely forgot herself.\n\n{813}\n\nSomething like a hymn breathed from her oppressed heart;\neloquence overflowed from her lips. The passers-by were attracted\ntoward her, and her father listened overcome and astonished.\nWhile she appeared transfigured, standing in the light of the\nsetting sun, which seemed to throw around her the bloody purple\nof which she chanted, a ray of the glory of her ancestors rested\non the forehead of this grandchild of the martyrs.\n\nThat evening, her father, in taking her home again, said to her,\n\"Go on, my little one; many have passed for eloquent who had not\nyour inspiration; many have sought for poetry, and great they\nwere; but they have not found the fruit your tiny hands have\ngathered. Mignon sang: you sing and speak; and if you use your\npower for good, Mignon may not compare with you.\"\n\nExcuse the blindness of a father, if you please.\n\n\n                 XVII.\n\nWhen the time came for the children to part, Andr\u00e9 was overcome\nin a manner which seemed incompatible with his nature, so\nordinarily tranquil. The father and daughter returned alone, and\nlived afterward with no other company than themselves. They felt\nno need to seek their diversion among their neighbors. The simple\nties of friendship or convenience to them were unnecessary, and\nthe organist preserved with the outside world only the\nacquaintance that strict politeness demanded.\n\nPaganina's affection increased daily. A profound sentiment\nwithout display, and only recognizable by certain mute signs that\nmight have escaped an indifferent eye. Her father, however, could\nnot be deceived.\n\nSo these two beings were never separated. They worked together;\nthe organist conducted his daughter into the highest regions of\nmusic, and was astonished, in teaching her, to discover horizons\nhitherto unknown. Paganina made wonderful progress.\n\nThose who find in art their happiness in this world, and seek the\ndepths of those mysterious tongues of which so many speak and\nknow nothing--those alone can form an idea of the happy moments\npassed in their solitude.\n\nAt times these two souls rose together, mounted even to the pure\nheights where, to those who attain to them, is given a\nsupernatural felicity.\n\nTo these joys Paganina aspired with an immoderate ardor; but in\nattaining them she experienced a reaction of extreme sadness.\nThis disquieted her father; so, in the language of parable which\nhe liked to use, and which sometimes proved more original than\ngracious, he said, \"My daughter, my daughter, drink with\nprecaution; at the bottom of the purest streams are hidden the\nmost dangerous reptiles. Be prudent, or you will swallow the\nleech. There is only one fountain to quench your thirst, and\nwhere, with your impetuous humor, you may drink with safety: it\nis that which gushes toward eternal life.\"\n\n            To Be Continued.\n\n-------\n\n{814}\n\n  [Transcriber's note: This discussion is impressive, considering\n  that quantum theory and the internal structure of the atom\n  appears many decades in the future.]\n\n      Translated From The Etudes Religieuses.\n\n         Recent Scientific Discoveries.\n\n           By Fr. Carbonelle.\n\n\nThe hypothesis of an ethereal medium everywhere diffused, is\nstill, in spite of some vague objections urged against it,\nuniversally received, and the most recent theories and researches\nhave not suggested its abandonment or modification in any\nimportant respect. On the contrary, they point to its more exact\nestablishment, and to its application to large classes of\nphenomena in which, until lately, it was hardly supposed to be\ninvolved. There is no longer any branch of natural philosophy\nwhich can dispense with it; and in the theory of heat as a mode\nof motion, which will soon be the basis of a new system of\nphysics more full and clear than the previous one, the motion\nmust probably be explained by the principle of ethereal\nundulations or vibrations.\n\nThese vibrations show themselves by three different effects,\nnamely, heat, chemical action, and color. The first two were for\na long time neglected, but the third offered quite a large field,\nin which many very beautiful discoveries were made. It was known,\nfor instance, that the oscillations were made with prodigious\nrapidity. Thus, the red of the spectrum is produced by vibrations\nrepeated four hundred and eighty-three trillions of times in a\nsecond; while for the violet, more than seven hundred and eight\ntrillions are required. Between these limits all the visible rays\nare contained, and, taken successively, they produce all the\nshades of the spectrum, and, by their combination, all possible\ncolors. But as there are vibrations in the air too rapid or too\nslow to give the sense of sound to the ear, so there are, in the\nether, slower than the red, or quicker than the violet, and hence\ninvisible. The first have been detected by their calorific, the\nsecond by their chemical effects. The spectrum has thus been\nconsiderably extended at both ends, and we cannot be sure that\nits true limits have even yet been found.\n\nThese facts have been known for some time, and are found in all\ntreatises on physics. We only speak of them in order to explain\nbetter the theories proposed by modern science to explain the\nthree effects of ethereal radiation.\n\nThe hypothesis of three essentially different kinds of rays has\nnow been abandoned. The solar beam, for example, which causes six\nhundred and thirty trillion vibrations a second, has the three\nproperties of producing in the eye the sensation of blue, of\nheating Melloni's thermo-electric pile, and of decomposing the\nchloride of silver used in photography; but it does not appear\nthat three different rays vibrating with this velocity are sent\nto us, each the cause of a separate effect. Notwithstanding the\nmost careful experiments, no one of these properties has ever\nbeen diminished in a ray without diminishing the rest in the same\nproportion. Of course, these properties are differently\nproportioned in the different rays of the spectrum; but in two\nrays from the same part, and hence having the same velocity of\nvibration, these properties always consist in the same relative\nintensity.\n{815}\nAt the red end of the spectrum, the heating power predominates;\nat the other extremity, the chemical; in the middle, the\nluminous. The reason of this seems to be merely the difference of\nvibratory velocities; and we shall see that this will suffice to\naccount for it.\n\nLet us first explain how we conceive the production of the\nphenomena of chemical action and of heat. For clearness, we must\nadvert to a theory familiar to all, according to which ponderable\nmatter is composed of excessively small volumes, called atoms,\nwhich, though perhaps theoretically divisible, are never divided\nby any physical or chemical action. In the constitution of\nbodies, these atoms are supposed to be grouped in some manner,\neach group forming what is called a molecule. These, unlike the\natoms, are decomposed in chemical changes, though not in physical\nones, by which we understand such as evaporation, melting,\ncrystallization, heating, magnetizing, electrifying, etc., unless\nthese happen to affect the chemical constitution as well as the\nphysical condition of the substance. All these do not alter the\narrangement of the atoms in the molecule, but only the position\nor distance of the molecules with regard to each other. A\ncollection of molecules may be called a particle; physical action\nthen alters the constitution of the particle as chemical does\nthat of the molecule. It may be remarked that our senses give us\nno direct evidence of the existence of molecules, much less of\nthat of atoms, and they are supposed to be so extremely small\nthat it will probably never be possible to detect them in this\nway.\n\nIn the application of this chemical theory to that of light, a\nnew hypothesis is made, namely, that the ethereal fluid, whether\nitself continuous or composed of separate elements, penetrates\nall the interstices between the atoms of a molecule, as well as\nthose between the molecules. The motions of this fluid, and of\nthe matter which it penetrates, are communicated to each other,\naccording to laws not yet ascertained, but of which we already\nhave some glimpses. Thus, in treating of the effects of the\nethereal vibrations on ponderable bodies, great importance is\nprobably due to what is called _isochronism_, or equality of\ntimes; that is, the agreement of the rapidity of vibration of the\nether with that of which the matter is susceptible; for in all\nknown communications of vibratory movements, this isochronism\nplays a very notable part. If, for example, we place upon the\nsame stand two clocks, having pendulums of the same length, and\nconsequently swinging in the same time, and start one of them,\nthe slight impulses communicated by this to the other will\nfinally set the latter also in motion. If, on the other hand, the\npendulums are not isochronous, no such effect will be produced.\nIn the same way, a stretched cord will vibrate if one of the\nsounds of which it is capable is produced near by; but it will\nnot be affected by other notes, even though much louder--showing\nthat isochronism is more important than intensity. Another\nillustration of the same thing struck me forcibly some ten years\nago. I had ascended with some photographic apparatus to the top\nof an old square tower, very high and massive, to take some\nviews. The tower belonged to a church, the bells of which were\nrung several times while I was there. The great bell, though of a\nvery considerable size, shook the building very slightly; it\nhardly caused any tremor in the image of the landscape.\n{816}\nBut a second and much smaller bell could not be rung without\ngiving to the tower, after two or three minutes, a strong swaying\nmovement like that of a tree shaken by the wind. This was owing\nto the isochronism between the oscillations of the tower and of\nthe small bell, which more than compensated for the difference of\nmass.\n\nWe have here an explanation of the physical and chemical\nphenomena produced by the ethereal rays. A few vibrations of this\nmedium, probably, would produce no perceptible effect on a mass\nof matter; but these movements are repeated hundreds of trillions\nof times in a second, and however feeble their influence at\nfirst, isochronism may finally give it great power. Let us\nconsider, first, the molecules, which have some connection\nbetween them, as yet unknown, but probably only allowing a\ncertain set of vibratory velocities, (as a cord will only vibrate\nso as to produce a definite series of musical notes.) If, then,\nthese are isochronous with those of the surrounding ether, the\nmovement of the latter will be communicated to the molecules; or,\naccording to the new theory of heat, the body will be warmed.\nThese movements may even become so violent as to permanently\nmodify the manner of union of the molecules--that is, to change\nthe state of the body from solid to liquid or gaseous; and, by\nthis change of state, the molecules may become insensible to the\nvibrations which previously affected them; for the set which they\ncan now perform may have been entirely altered. The phenomena of\nheat are then well accounted for by this theory. To explain\nsimilarly the chemical ones, we have only to suppose ethereal\nvibrations, such that the movement affects the atoms separately,\ninstead of the whole molecule, so that, after they have been\nsufficiently prolonged, the connection between the atoms will be\ndestroyed. According to this, the chemical action of light should\nalways be one of decomposition; it is so undoubtedly in most\ncases, and in the rest, where a combination is produced--as, for\ninstance, in the formation of chlorhydric acid by the action of\nthe violet rays on a mixture of chlorine and hydrogen--we shall\nadduce hereafter some facts which explain them, and show that\neven here the real action of the rays is a decomposing one. It\nmay be remarked that the introduction of these ethereal\nvibrations, whose dimensions and velocities are well known, into\nthe region, still so mysterious, of atoms and of molecules,\npromises to lead to results long unhoped for. If, for example,\nthe theory above stated is correct, it would appear that the\nunion of the atoms is such that their necessary time of\noscillation is shorter than that of the molecules; since the red\nrays, which have the greatest heating power, vibrate more slowly\nthan the violet, which are the most active chemically, as stated\nsome distance back.\n\nThe luminous action of the rays is no doubt the most important\nfor us, but also the most difficult to study; we have, however,\nsomething to say about it, for real progress has lately been made\nin this department. In the first place, since we are speaking of\nsensations, it is necessary to notice that this subject has two\nvery different parts, one of which belongs to natural science,\nand the other to psychology. We shall here speak only of the\nfirst, that is, of three classes of phenomena which are produced\nat the exterior extremities of the nervous fibres, on the line of\nthe fibres, and in the brain respectively.\n{817}\nIt has been said, in a previous paper, that each of these\nrequires a certain time, and the experimental results as to these\ntimes were there given. But this is all, or almost all, the\nknowledge, unfortunately, which we yet have as to what takes\nplace in the brain. The conjecture has been made that the\ndifferent kinds of sensations are due to different modifications\nof the cerebral extremities of the various nerves; or that at the\ninterior extremity of the optic nerve, a different action occurs\nfrom that at the nerve of hearing, which seems probable, since\nthere are good reasons for believing that the action of the main\nbody of the nerve itself is precisely the same for all the\nsensations. In more than one way, our nervous system would then\nresemble the telegraph. All the wires are traversed by similar\ncurrents, but the registering apparatus is different in each. In\none, the dispatch is read off upon a dial; in another, it is\nprinted on a moving band; in a third, a facsimile is given of it,\netc. The sending is also accomplished by different means; but in\nall cases the same agent, the electric current, is employed.\n\nSince we are treating of the sensation of sight only in\nconnection with the external vibrations, we need here only\ndiscuss the first of the three classes of phenomena mentioned\nabove, those which correspond to the transmission of the\ndispatch. In explaining this, we shall follow the celebrated\nprofessor of Heidelberg, M. Helmholtz.\n\nThe use of the spectroscope, and the analysis of light as now\nmade in physics, chemistry, and astronomy, might induce the idea\nthat color is an intrinsic property of the rays, depending\nentirely upon the length of the undulation in each, and\ninseparably connected with it; but this is not the case. Color is\nan organic phenomenon, only produced in the living animal; and,\nin one sense, is very independent of the length of the wave,\nsince it can even exist without the presence of any luminous ray.\nIts laws are admirably exhibited in a figure called Newton's\ncircle. This circle has been modified by recent experiments, and\nhas received three enlargements, which make it a sort of triangle\nwith rounded corners; but it is very well to preserve its name,\nfor, as yet, the claims of Newton in optics have not been\ncontested in any \"_Commercium epistolicum_.\" Let us briefly\ndescribe this figure. The red, green, and blue of the spectrum\noccupy the three corners respectively. Passing round the\ncircumference, we go from red to green through yellow, from green\nto blue through greenish blue, and from blue to red through\nviolet and purple. If we draw a straight line from any point of\nthe circumference to the centre, we find the same color on all\npoints of the line, but more and more diluted, so that the centre\nitself is perfectly white. This figure contains all possible\nshades of color, and has the following remarkable property,\nestablished by experiment. If we wish to know what color will be\nproduced by the mixture of any others, we have only to mark upon\nthis figure the points where the several colors are found, and\nplace weights there proportional to the intensities in which the\ndifferent colors are to be used in the combination; at the centre\nof gravity of these weights, that is, at the point on which the\ncircle (supposed itself to be without weight) would balance when\nthus loaded, we shall find the resulting shade. This point does\nnot need to be found by experiment, being more easily calculated\nmathematically.\n\n{818}\n\nNow it is evident from this that color is a mere matter of\nsensation; for it is obvious that the same centre of gravity can\nbe obtained by an infinity of arrangements of the original\ncolors, notwithstanding the diversity of their wave-lengths; and\nit will also be found that these various mixed rays, though\nhaving precisely the same color--that of the centre of\ngravity--will differ entirely in their other properties. They act\nvariously upon the thermometer and on the sensitive photographic\nplate, and give different tinges to colored objects which they\nillumine. But upon the retina the action of all is the same. How\nis this result to be explained? We will answer without stating\nthe proofs, which the limits of this article would forbid.\n\nFrom what has been said, it will be seen that all colors can be\nproduced by the mixture of the three fundamental or primary ones,\nred, green, and blue, which were placed at the three rounded\ncorners of Newton's circle. It will also be supposed that, as in\nthe theory of Thomas Young, nervous fibres of three kinds are\nfound at every point of the retina. When these are excited in any\nway, whether by the vibrations of the ether, by lateral pressure\non the ball of the eye, by a feeble electric current, or by any\nother means, they transmit the excitement to the brain; but the\nred fibres, (so to speak,) if they should act alone, would only\nproduce, however they were irritated, the uniform sensation of a\nred such as we hardly ever actually see, more _saturated_\nthan the ordinary red, and which would be found in our figure at\nthe extreme summit of the rounded corner. The two other kinds of\nfibres would, of course, act similarly, producing colors more\npure than are usually seen; since, in our usual sensations, the\nthree are always mixed, each predominating in its turn; and this\nis the case even in the spectrum itself. The effect of the pure\ncolors in the latter may, however, be heightened as follows: Let\nus fix our eyes, for instance, for a few moments on the\nblue-green. This is the complementary of the red. The fatigue\nwill produce a momentary insensibility in the fibres\ncorresponding to the blue and green, and, turning the eyes to the\nred part of the spectrum, the slight admixture of these colors\nthere present will fail to excite sensibly the corresponding\nnerves, so that the red will be seen for a few seconds in great\npurity. But to return. The stimulus of the first set of fibres,\nthough found more or less in all parts of the spectrum, will\npredominate at the red end, where the vibrations are slowest;\nthat of the second set in the middle, where the green is found;\nthat of the third, at the blue extremity. Why these inequalities?\nWhy, also, do the dark rays, preceding the red and following the\nviolet, fail to act on the retina? No certain reason can be\nassigned, but there are two very plausible ones: first, the media\nwhich the rays have to traverse in the eye before reaching the\nnerves have, like all other transparent bodies, the power of\nabsorbing the vibrations, not all uniformly, but some in\npreference to others. This elective absorption would destroy or\ndiminish the effect of the rays on the nervous fibres. The second\nreason, as will readily be surmised, is the want of isochronism\nbetween the vibrations of the rays and those of the nervous\nfibres.\n\nIn confirmation of this theory, a remarkable anatomical fact,\nnoticed among many birds and reptiles, may be cited. These\nactually have in the retina three kinds of fibres: the first\nterminated by a small, oily red drop, the second by a yellow one,\nwhile the third have no perceptible appendage.\n{819}\nEvidently, the red rays will arrive most purely at the first, the\ncentral rays of the spectrum at the second, while the blue and\nviolet ones will act freely only on the third. It must be granted\nthat no such thing has been observed in man and the other\nmammalia; but something similar may be found in the singular\npathological phenomenon to which the chemist Dalton has given his\nname. Daltonism is most frequently an inability to perceive red.\nFor eyes thus affected, the chromatic triangle or circle just\nmentioned is considerably simplified; but sad mistakes are the\nconsequence. \"All the differences of color,\" says Helmholtz,\n\"appear to them as mixtures of blue and green, which last they\ncall yellow.\" This disorder would be, according to the above\ntheory, a paralysis of the first, or red fibres. The simplicity\nof this explanation is certainly in favor of the theory which\ngives it. But we had determined not to bring up arguments. Let\nus, then, pass on; remarking, however, one respect in which the\neye, otherwise so superior to the rest of the senses, is inferior\nto the ear. Sounds, though combined to any extent in harmonies or\ndiscords, can readily be separated by an experienced ear. The\neye, on the other hand, only sees the result of mixed colors; it\nneeds instruments to rival the ear; and it is only by means of\nthe prism that it can separate and classify the various\nvibrations which reach it.\n\nBut, provided with this prism, or _spectroscope_, it has\nlately done wonders. It has discovered and measured a whole world\nof new phenomena, which, according to the theory just developed,\nmust be attributed to reciprocal exchanges of movement between\nthe ether and the ponderable molecules. The light given by these\nhas disclosed to us many secrets of chemistry, and especially of\nastronomy.\n\nBefore specifying the most recent of these discoveries, we will\nprofit by what has already been said to explain very briefly the\nfundamental principles of spectral analysis. Transparent bodies,\nwhether solid, liquid, or gaseous, exercise upon the rays an\nabsorption which is called elective, because some undulations are\nallowed to pass, while others are stopped, according to their\nvelocities; and one of the effects of this absorption is the\ncolor of such bodies. This is to be explained by the principle of\nisochronism. Those vibrations which, for want of it, cannot be\nimparted to the surrounding matter, pass freely; the others are\nabsorbed. But it is remarkable that gases and vapors only absorb\na small number of them, while solids and liquids retain a great\nmany. Thus, supposing that we have obtained, in any way, a\ncontinuous spectrum--that is, one with no breaks--containing all\nthe known rays, not only the visible ones between the red and\nviolet, but also the rest outside of these limits, a liquid or\nsolid body intercepting this light will entirely destroy, or\nconsiderably weaken, large portions of this spectrum; whereas a\ngas or vapor generally will only efface a few small ones, whose\nabsence is detected in the luminous part of the spectrum by the\ndark, transverse lines which have been so long known in that of\nthe sun. This is certainly quite extraordinary, since it would\nsuggest the inference that in gaseous bodies, the molecules,\nthough less condensed, or further from each other, than in solids\nor liquids, have a much smaller range of possible vibrations.\nBesides this, the researches of Mr. Frankland on flames have\nlately shown that, even in gases, this range increases as the\ndensity augments. These results must undoubtedly be considered as\nstrange; but what, after all, do we know of the connection of the\nelements of matter?\n{820}\nWithout dwelling further on this point, we will mention the most\nimportant fact learned by these experiments: that this elective\nabsorption is a complete test of the chemical composition of\ngases. In given conditions of temperature and pressure, each gas\nis perfectly distinguished from all others by the special\nabsorption which it exercises upon the luminous rays. The\nprinciple by which chemical analysis is performed\nspectroscopically is thus evident. To find if any particular gas\nis to be found on the path of the ray, it is only necessary to\ndevelop the latter into a spectrum, and to see, by the position\nof the particular dark lines produced in it, if the absorption\ndue to this gas has been effected.\n\nBut this is not all. Bodies sufficiently heated become luminous.\nAccording to the theory, this means that the molecules of matter,\nin their turn, communicate their vibrations to the ether; and\nhere again we should find the influence of isochronism. The\nether, it is true, is susceptible of vibrations of any velocity\nwithin certain very wide limits; but the molecules can give it\nnone which are not isochronous with their own. Let us see what\nwill result. Evidently, that the light which is emitted will,\nwhen developed into a spectrum, be concentrated in brilliant\nlines at those points where the velocities of undulation are the\nsame as those of which the gas is capable; and, further, these\nlines should also evidently be in the same places, as the dark\nlines which this gas produces, as explained above, in a\ncontinuous spectrum, by absorption. This actually takes place in\nmost cases, but some exceptions must be expected; because\nvariations of temperature and pressure change the mutual\nconnections of the gaseous molecules, and hence should also\nchange the velocities of their oscillations. Thus, it is often\nfound that the same gases change their systems of brilliant lines\nas their temperature or pressure changes; and Mr. Frankland has\neven obtained gases giving continuous spectra, sometimes\nattaining this result by pressure alone. The influence of heat\nalso explains why solid or liquid bodies, when incandescent, give\ncontinuous spectra; while, at a low temperature, their\ninterposition produces an elective absorption. For it is known\nthat transparent solids or liquids become opaque when heated\nsufficiently to shine; the reason apparently being that, like the\nether, they are capable of vibrations of any degree of rapidity\nwithin the usual limits, and hence allow no ethereal ones--or, in\nother words, no light--to pass through them, but absorb them all.\nMost flames or incandescent vapors, on the contrary, do not\nentirely lose their transparency. This property is of inestimable\nvalue in our investigations of nature.\n\nGases, by the combination of their elective absorption with their\nequally elective emission, produce results which at first sight\nmight appear singular, but which can now readily be explained.\nSuppose that a flame is situated on the path of some rays which,\nwithout this interposition, would give a brilliant continuous\nspectrum. This flame only absorbs the ray having vibrations\nisochronous with its own; on the other hand, it emits rays\nsimilar to those which it absorbs. The resulting spectrum will\nvary according to the relative intensity of the emitted and\nabsorbed rays. If these two intensities are equal, the spectrum\nwill remain continuous; but if the absorption predominates, there\nwill be dark lines in it; if the emission, brilliant ones.\n{821}\nSimilar phenomena of reversal have been often met with in the\nrecent examinations of different parts of the sun.\n\nThe principles just explained have been known for several years,\nand were sufficient for astronomy as long as it restricted its\ninvestigations to the chemical analysis of the atmospheres of the\nheavenly bodies. But it was soon perceived that much greater use\ncould be made of the spectroscope. Information is now beginning\nto be acquired by means of it which had previously appeared to be\nunattainable, regarding, for instance, the rapidity of the motion\nof stars the distance of which is still unknown; the great\nmovements which are continually taking place in the great masses\nof gas in the solar photosphere, and the pressure of these masses\nat different depths; and it is even hoped that a direct\ndetermination of their temperature may be made. Let us speak\nfirst of the observations of stellar velocities. Their\npossibility may easily be shown by means of an acoustic\nphenomenon which the reader must frequently have noticed. Let us\nsuppose two trains of cars to be moving rapidly in opposite\ndirections, and that one of them whistles as it passes the other.\nIf we are seated in the latter, we shall perceive that the pitch\nof the whistle suddenly falls as it passes us. The reason is\nmanifest. A certain time is necessary for the sound to reach us;\nand while the train is approaching, this time is sensibly shorter\nfor each succeeding vibration, so that the interval between the\nvibrations is apparently diminished, and the note is higher than\nit would be were the trains at rest. On the other hand, as the\nwhistle recedes after passing, its pitch is lowered for a similar\nreason. Of course, no such effect is produced by that of our own\ntrain, which always remains at the same distance from us. By the\namount of flattening of the sound, it is quite possible to\ncalculate the velocity of the train, as compared with that of\nsound. [Footnote 198]\n\n    [Footnote 198: Suppose the sum of the velocities of the\n    trains to be one-ninth of that of sound, and that the whistle\n    is, at a given moment, 1140 feet (which is about the distance\n    travelled by sound in a second) from our ear. The vibrations\n    emitted at this instant will reach us in one second; and all\n    those emitted in the nine seconds required for the train to\n    arrive will be condensed into the remaining eight. Their\n    frequency will then be nine-eighths of what it would be\n    without the motion. It will be diminished in nearly the same\n    ratio after the passage; since the vibration emitted nine\n    seconds afterward will require an additional second to reach\n    us; thus, the frequency will now be nine-tenths of what it\n    would be without the motion, or four-fifths of what it was\n    before meeting; corresponding to a flattening of two whole\n    musical tones. This would require a relative velocity of 127\n    feet a second, or 87 miles an hour; which gives the rule,\n    that, for every half-tone of flattening, the sum of the\n    velocities, or the velocity of the moving train, if we are at\n    rest, is 22 miles an hour.]\n\nIt is very easy to apply what has just been said of the waves of\nsound to those of light. The motion of the sonorous body\ndisplaces its sounds on the acoustic scale; in the same way, the\nmotion of the luminous body will displace its light on the optic,\nplacing any particular line, dark or brilliant, in the spectrum\nnearer to the violet or rapid end, if the body is approaching;\nand nearer to the red, if it is receding. And we are not obliged\nto wait till the change has taken place in the character of the\nmotion, as in the case of the train, since we can always obtain\nlines similar to those thus displaced, and having the same\nvelocity of vibration, from some terrestrial substance,\nrelatively at rest, and put the two side by side in the same\nfield; and by this means we obtain at once the difference between\nthe apparent number of vibrations in a second of the ray from the\nmoving body, and the real number, and thus the velocity of the\nmoving object. This observation has the advantage of being\nindependent of the distance of the objects observed, being as\naccurate for the most distant stars as for the nearest.\n{822}\nWe may notice, in passing, also a singular consequence. If the\nmotion were rapid enough, it would change the colors of objects;\nand, since outside the visible spectrum there are dark rays, it\nwould even be possible for a luminous body to become invisible,\nby the mere effect of movement away from or to us. But the\nprodigious velocity of light places such a result among mere\nmetaphysical possibilities. Indeed, it was thought, for a time,\nthat the effect of motion on the spectral lines would never be\nperceptible. The first trials only gave negative results, either\nbecause the bodies observed were moving too slowly, or because\nthe instruments used were not sensitive enough. This is no longer\nthe case, as we shall soon see.\n\nTo conclude this explanation of principles, it only remains to\nsay a few words on the spectroscopic observations of temperature\nand pressure. But here we shall indeed be obliged to be brief;\nsince Messrs. Frankland and Lockyer, who have undertaken\ninvestigations on these important points, have not yet finished\ntheir labors; and what they have as yet communicated to the Royal\nSociety of London, and the Academy of Sciences of Paris, is not\nsufficiently detailed. In 1864, Messrs. Pl\u00fccker and Hittorf\ndiscovered that variations in temperature of some of the chemical\nelements, such as hydrogen, nitrogen, sulphur, and selenium,\ncaused sudden changes in their spectra. At a certain degree of\nheat, their former lines instantly disappeared and were succeeded\nby new ones. This is evidently somewhat analogous to what takes\nplace in a sonorous pipe when it is blown more forcibly. At\nfirst, the sound only becomes louder, then its pitch is suddenly\nraised. But here we know the relation of the new note to the old\none; but the connection between the successive spectra has not\nyet been ascertained. As regards pressure, Messrs. Frankland and\nLockyer inform us that one of the lines of hydrogen increases in\nbreadth with increased compression of the gas. We have also\nalready said that under very high pressures the gases have not\nonly shown broader bright lines, but even continuous spectra. (It\nwill be remembered that the usual spectrum given by a luminous\ngas consists of isolated bright lines.) Father Secchi, whose\nattention has lately been turned to composite rather than to\nsimple substances, has observed, among other things, that the\nspectrum of benzine vapor is gradually modified with a gradual\nincrease of density.\n\nLet us pass to the recent applications which astronomers have\nmade of these various principles. The eclipse of the 18th of\nAugust, 1868, and the beautiful discovery of M. Janssen, have\nnaturally turned their attention to the sun, and some most\ninteresting discoveries have been made. To study its various\nportions, an image of it is first produced in the focus of a\nlarge telescope, which image is afterward enlarged by a lens\nsimilar to those used for the objectives of microscopes; and its\ndifferent parts are successively placed upon the slit of the\nspectroscope. (The slit is the small aperture of that shape\nthrough which the light enters before falling upon the analyzing\nprism.) This slit thus receives light from only a part of the\nsun's disc; for the light diffused in our atmosphere and falling\nupon it, although coming indeed from all parts of the sun, is too\nfeeble to interfere with the observations. Suppose, then, that\nour eye is at the spectroscope, and that the slit is receiving\nrays from the centre of the sun.\n{823}\nThe movement of the heavens will bring all the points of the\nsolar radius successively upon it, from the centre to the edge;\nand if the slit is placed perpendicular to this radius, it will\ncome out, of course, tangent to the edge. Under these conditions,\nand if the atmosphere is steady, the phenomena will be as\nfollows.\n\nAs long as we are upon the disc, we shall see nothing but the\nusual solar spectrum with its colors and its numerous dark lines.\nThe region from which this light comes is called the photosphere;\nand its spectrum would be continuous were not its light absorbed\nby the interposed vapors of a great many substances. These vapors\nproduce the dark lines; but where are they? It was for a long\ntime supposed that they formed an immense atmosphere round the\nsun, only visible during total eclipses under the form of a\nbrilliant aureola. This hypothesis seems now to have been\nabandoned, for reasons which will soon be given. It is generally\nthought that these absorbing vapors form the atmosphere in which\nthe luminous clouds float, or, at least, that they are in\nimmediate contact with the photosphere.\n\nSecondly, when we have nearly arrived at the edge, the spectrum\nis covered with a number of bright lines. According to Messrs.\nFrankland and Lockyer, these probably indicate a very thin\ngaseous covering of the photosphere, the elective emission of\nwhich has no effect for want of sufficient thickness, except upon\nthe borders of the sun, where it is seen very obliquely. Upon the\nrest of the surface it only acts by its elective absorption, and\nperhaps may be the only cause of the dark lines. This conjecture\ncertainly agrees with the principles just developed.\n\nThirdly, at the moment of passing off the disc, the lines all\ndisappear, and the spectrum becomes continuous. Father Secchi,\nwho informs us of this fact, naturally ascribes it to a\nparticular layer enveloping the photosphere. He adds that this\nlayer is very thin, so that tremulousness in the air suffices to\nprevent its observation, on account of the mixture of lights. It\nis not found on the whole circumference of the disc; but we shall\ngive an explanation of this. He supposes that it is the seat of\nthe elective absorption which produces the dark lines; but how\ncan this be reconciled with the continuity of the spectrum which\nit emits?\n\nThis spectrum soon disappears, and some brilliant lines take its\nplace, particularly a red, a yellow, a green, and a violet one.\nAt this moment the slit is illumined by the famous rose-colored\nlayer, now called the _chromosphere_, upon which rest the\nprotuberances, formerly so mysterious, seen in total eclipses. We\ncannot see it in the ordinary way, on account of the atmospheric\nlight; but it comes out in the spectroscope, its light being\nconcentrated in a few bright lines, while that of our atmosphere\nis spread out in a long spectrum, and consequently much weakened.\nIt has been found that the mean thickness of this gaseous\nenvelope of the sun is more than 5000 kilometres, (3107 miles,)\nor about four tenths of the earth's diameter, and that its\ncontour is very variable; it is often agitated like the waves of\na stormy sea, while in some places it sometimes has a very\nuniform level. It is now regarded as forming the outer limit or\ncoating of the sun. The only reason which formerly supported the\nbelief in a gaseous atmosphere outside of it, the elective\nabsorption of which gave the dark lines of the solar spectrum,\nwas the phenomenon of the aureola, already mentioned. But the\nthin layer discovered by F. Secchi will probably account for\nthis; and there are, on the other hand, very strong reasons for\nrejecting the idea of such a vast exterior envelope.\n{824}\nOne is the appearance, mentioned above, of the numerous bright\nlines which Messrs. Frankland and Lockyer attribute to a thin,\ngaseous coating of the photosphere. The light of these ought\nseemingly to be absorbed by a thick atmosphere, and the lines\nreversed to dark ones. Besides, these same observers consider\nthat the change of breadth of the lines shows that the pressure\nis insignificant at the summit of the chromosphere, and that even\nat the base it is less than that of our own air. Lastly, no\ntraces have been found of the bright-line spectrum which this\nenvelope ought itself to give in the vicinity of the disc.\n\nTo return to the chromosphere: of what gases is it formed? It\ncertainly is principally composed of hydrogen, perhaps in many\nparts entirely so. When a series of electric sparks is passed\nthrough a tube containing pure hydrogen at a very low pressure,\nthe tube is illumined with a light of the same color as that of\nthe protuberances. If this light is examined with the\nspectroscope, it shows a fine spectrum with a number of brilliant\nand very fine lines, among which four are conspicuous, broader\nand brighter than the others. The first is red, the second green,\nthe third and fourth are violet; but this fourth is much the\nfaintest, and even the third is not so bright as the other two.\nThe first is called C, the second F, because their positions\nexactly correspond to those of the two dark lines thus designated\nby Fraunhofer in the solar spectrum. The third is very near the\ndark line G of the sun, which is produced by the vapor of iron.\nNow, the two first are always found among the lines of the\nchromosphere; the third also is often visible; and M. Rayet has\nrecently seen the fourth. Hydrogen, then, exists in this layer;\nfor though its other lines are not seen, this may easily be\nascribed to their faintness. But there is one line of the\nchromosphere which is still unexplained, the yellow one between C\nand F. It would at first seem to be the well-known double line of\nsodium, called D, which is so frequently met with in\nspectroscopic experiments; but it is certain that it is somewhat\nmore refrangible than this; and it is not yet known to what\nsubstance it is due; it may, perhaps, also belong to hydrogen,\nunder a different pressure or temperature from any under which it\nhas been observed here.\n\nIt has been said that the outline of the chromosphere is\ngenerally very irregular. Immense columns rise from it, the\ncelebrated protuberances, the height of which is sometimes as\nmuch as eleven diameters of the earth, (or 85,000 miles.) It\nmust, therefore, be subject to great agitation, to which the\nspectroscope bears witness. Mr. Lockyer has observed several\ntimes that foreign substances were projected into it; for\nexample, magnesium into one protuberance as far as the sixth part\nof its height; barium and sodium, and probably other bodies also,\nwere seen, but at smaller elevations. We now understand the\nbreaks in the thin layer detected by F. Secchi; it is probably\ntorn by the upward movement of various substances toward the\nprotuberances. It is, in fact, wanting near the bright spots on\nthe sun, called faculae, and it is now known that these faculae\nare always covered by protuberances.\n\nNear these bright spots are also usually found the dark spots\nwhich have been observed for more than two centuries. Some\ndiscoveries have just been made regarding these which are perhaps\nthe most interesting of any yet made in the sun.\n{825}\nEvery one knows that they are composed of two distinct parts--the\nnucleus, which appears black in a telescope, but which is really\nquite bright, since it gives a spectrum of its own; and the\npenumbra, which surrounds this nucleus. The latter consists of\nportions of the photosphere, drawn out in the form of threads\ntoward the centre of the nucleus; these threads sometimes unite\nwith each other and form bridges, as it were, over the dark\nspace. All the spectral observations confirm the idea previously\nentertained, that these spots are really cavities in the\nphotosphere; also they indicate that these cavities are filled\nwith absorbing vapors, whose high degree of pressure is manifest\nby the broadening of their lines. Mr. Lockyer has seen in them\nsodium, barium, and magnesium; F. Secchi, calcium, iron, and\nsodium. Above these spots the hydrogen of the chromosphere\nappears in quantities sufficient for its elective emission to\ndestroy the black lines produced by its absorption upon other\nparts of the disc, and even sometimes to change them into bright\nones. But there are many other peculiarities in the spectra of\nthe spots; and F. Secchi, in examining them, has hit upon an idea\nwhich seems to us very suggestive. It was already known by\nobservations of their frequency and size, that the sun is a\nslightly variable star, with a period of ten and one third years.\nWe now find a new resemblance between it and the other variable\nstars. It may be remembered that the Roman astronomer has lately\ndivided the stars into four classes, according to the general\ncharacter of their spectra. He has just compared the different\nportions of the sun with these four groups, and finds that if its\nsurface was all like the nuclei of the spots, it would have to be\nput in the class whose type is Betelgeux, all of which are more\nor less variable; that the penumbras are like Arcturus, and the\ngeneral surface of the photosphere like Pollux. He has also\nconcluded, from the presence of many of the dark lines in the\nnuclei, that the vapor of water exists in these regions of the\nsun; and the appearance of others not yet named has caused him to\nsuspect the presence of many other compound bodies. Up to this\ntime, hardly any thing but the simple substances has been looked\nfor, as the heat of the sun would seem to be so great as to\nseparate all the composite ones; but this temperature probably is\nnot so high in the spots. It became, therefore, of interest to\nexamine the faint red stars which form his fourth group; and in\ndoing so, F. Secchi has obtained the surprising result that the\nvapor of a compound substance, namely, benzine, gives, when\nincandescent, a spectrum having bright lines exactly\ncorresponding to the dark ones of one of the stars of this group.\nThis star, then, appears to have an atmosphere of benzine.\n\nFinally, the spectroscope has demonstrated the movement of at\nleast one star. Mr. Huggins has found that the hydrogen lines in\nthe spectrum of Sirius do not exactly coincide with those of this\ngas when at rest, but are displaced toward the violet; this\nobservation was confirmed at Rome. It would follow from this that\nSirius is rapidly approaching us. This is the only observation of\nthis description which seems yet to be well established. But may\nit not be possible to make others, and even elsewhere than among\nthe stars? The chromosphere is, as we know, the scene of very\nrapid movements; and may not these be visible by the displacement\nof the spectral lines?\n{826}\nThe following remark of Mr. Lockyer, in one of his communications\nto the Royal Society, would induce us to  hope for this: \"In the\nprotuberance of which we are speaking, the line F was strangely\ndisplaced. It seemed that some disturbing cause altered the\nrefrangibility of this line of hydrogen _under certain\nconditions and pressures_.\" But is it really to pressure that\nthis displacement is due, when we know that rapid movement\nproduces this effect, which has never been known to follow from\npressure? But let us hasten to acknowledge that, in a subsequent\ncommunication of the same author, we find a sentence much more to\nthe point, and which only needs to be a little more developed to\nanswer our question. Mr. Lockyer is here speaking of movements in\nthe vapors which fill the cavities of the spots. \"The changes of\nrefrangibility,\" says he, \"of the rays in question show that the\nabsorbing matter is rising and falling relatively to the luminous\nmatter, and that these movements can be determined with great\nprecision.\" Let us hope that this will be verified by\nobservation, and that exact measures will show the fertility of\nsuch a promising theoretical principle. [Footnote 199]\n\n    [Footnote 199: The rapidity of some of these movements has\n    been said to be about one hundred miles a second.]\n\nThe length of this bulletin is beginning to alarm us; but since\nit should include all the last scientific developments concerning\nthe subject of ethereal vibrations, a word must be added on some\ncurious experiments of Mr. Tyndall. The chemical action of these\nvibrations had hardly been examined hitherto, except in the\nnutrition of plants, in the formation of chlorhydric acid, and in\nthe transformation of various substances, principally used in\nphotography. The successor of Faraday has recently studied their\neffects upon vapors, and has applied the curious results of his\ninvestigations to some as yet unexplained facts of meteorology\nand astronomy. Passing a cylindrical  beam of light down a long\nglass tube full of the vapor which he wished to examine, he found\nthat the vapor soon ceased to be completely transparent. An\nincipient cloud, as he calls it, soon appeared, so thin that it\ncould only be seen by the light of the beam producing it, but\nbecame invisible in the full light of day. Some vapors\nundoubtedly will not produce it; but the experiment succeeds\nperfectly with many different ones, especially with nitrite of\namyle, bisulphide of carbon, benzine, etc. The following\nexplanation of this phenomenon seems quite probable. The\nvibrations of the ethereal medium, or at least some of them, are\ncommunicated to the _atoms_ of which the composite\n_molecules_ of the vapor are formed. Owing to isochronism,\nthe movement becomes strong enough to break up the molecule, the\natoms of which are formed into new combinations, which are better\nable to resist the action of light. If the new substance cannot\nremain under the given pressure and temperature in the gaseous\nstate, it will be precipitated in liquid particles, which are at\nfirst extremely small, but gradually increase in size, so as to\nintercept the light and become visible. If the vapor employed\nsatisfies these conditions, the experiment ought to succeed. The\nchemical analysis of the products has, we believe, in some cases\nconfirmed this explanation; we will now confirm it by some facts\nof another kind.\n\nIn Mr. Tyndall's experiments, the vapor examined was never\nunmixed; when it was put into the tube, some other gas was also\nintroduced, usually atmospheric air; but other gases were also\nemployed. With hydrogen, a remarkable effect was produced. On\naccount of its small density, it failed to sustain the liquid\nparticles, and they slowly settled in the bottom of the tube.\n{827}\nBy a suitable diminution of the pressure of these mixtures of gas\nand vapor, the chemical action of the rays could be retarded at\npleasure. The \"incipient cloud\" could then be seen to form\ngradually; and whatever was the character of the vapor used, the\ncloud had always at first a magnificent blue color. Continuing\nthe experiment, the brilliancy of the cloud increased, but its\nblue tinge diminished, until it became as white as those usually\nformed. The natural explanation of this change is found in the\ngradual growth of the liquid particles.\n\nThe cloud was not usually formed all along the course of the\nrays. After having traversed a certain thickness of vapor, the\nrays, though seeming as bright as ever, lost their chemical\npower. This result might easily be predicted by the theory. Only\na few of these rays had the proper length of wave to act by\nisochronism upon the atoms of the vapor. These would be absorbed\nshortly after entering; and the others, though vastly more\nnumerous and escaping absorption, would produce no chemical\neffect. It was even probable that, by passing the light at the\noutset through a small thickness of the liquid, the vapor of\nwhich was contained in the tube, all its active rays could be\ntaken out; and experiment confirmed this conclusion. It is to be\nregretted that the light was not examined with the prism before\nbeing employed; the wave-length of the active rays would then\nhave been known. It is no doubt very probable that they are\ntoward the violet extremity, either among the visible rays or\nbeyond. But the colored glasses, which the English physicist\ninterposed, only partially resolve the question. The prism would\nundoubtedly have shown that the wave-length of the active rays\nvaries with the substance exposed to them.\n\nSome vapors taken alone are almost insensible, while their\nmixture is immediately affected by the passage of the rays. Such\nis the case of that of nitrite of butyle with chlorhydric acid.\nThis is very easily explained theoretically. The disturbance\ncommunicated to the atoms by the ethereal vibrations, though very\ndecided, may be insufficient to break up the molecules. But if\nanother cause, though itself insufficient alone, comes to its\nassistance, the atoms may be separated. Such another cause is\nthat which chemists have long known as _affinity_, the\nmanifestations of which are very numerous; but which has not yet\nbeen submitted to a precise analysis. In the case just mentioned,\nthe affinity of the elements of the nitrite of butyle for those\nof the chlorhydric acid conspires with the vibrations to destroy\nthe molecules of the two substances and form a new one, which is\nprecipitated. The phenomenon is like that observed in the growth\nof plants. Light alone is not sufficient to decompose the\ncarbonic acid of the air; neither are the leaves when in the\ndark. But when the sun's rays fall upon them, the carbonic acid\nis decomposed, its oxygen uniting with the atmosphere and its\ncarbon with the plant. It is now easy to justify what was said in\nthe beginning as to the formation of chlorhydric acid by the\naction of the rays on a mixture of chlorine and hydrogen. It is\nonly necessary that the molecules of these gases, or, at least,\nof one of them, should be composed of several atoms. Affinity\nalone could only break the union of these very slowly; but the\nlight would shake them apart, and enable the affinity to act\nimmediately.\n\n{828}\n\nSo far Mr. Tyndall's experiments agree perfectly with the theory;\nthey confirm it, but they do not extend it. He has, however, made\nothers, which seem to disclose new points in the theory of\nexchange of movements between the ether and ponderable matter. It\nmight no longer be the atoms or the molecules which would have to\nbe considered in respect to the ethereal vibrations, but even the\nparticles, if sufficiently small. In fact, these particles\nreflect the rays not absorbed, according to entirely new laws. In\nthe first place, although belonging to colorless liquids, they\nreflect the blue rays much better than the others. This is true\nof all the vapors tried, without exception. This elective\nreflection only holds when their dimensions are small, since it\ndisappears as the size of the particles increases. This is quite\na new fact, and, it must be acknowledged, as yet quite\nunexplained. Secondly, they polarize light according to laws\nwhich must also be called new, being entirely different from\nthose given by theory and experiment for polarization by\nreflection. In one respect these laws are not new; for they have\nbeen long observed in atmospheric polarization; but this has\nalways been one of the knotty points of the undulatory theory.\nEvidently, Mr. Tyndall's experiments do not clear it up entirely;\nbut they have made an important advance in that direction, by\nshowing to what physical circumstance this polarization is\nprobably due. It would appear, that is, that in the higher\nregions of our atmosphere there are vapors which, instead of\ncondensing in particles large enough to form ordinary clouds, are\nprecipitated like those used by Mr. Tyndall, and fill the air\nwith extremely small particles and with incipient clouds. This\nhypothesis is certainly very probable. It accounts at once for\nthe blueness of the sky, and for its polarization of light.\n\nHere is, then, a problem for theorists, in a better condition\nthan previously. We hope to return to it shortly, in a subsequent\nbulletin. In conclusion, let us point out a new application of\nthese experiments to the physical theory of comets. Mr. Tyndall\nconsiders the cometary matter to be a vapor on which the sun's\nrays act physically and chemically. These two actions would be\nsomewhat contrary to each other; for the first would tend to\nevaporate the liquid particles and expand the vapor, while the\nsecond would precipitate this vapor in the form of incipient\ncloud. As the comet approaches solar action, forming an immense\nvolume, of which the visible part will be only a small fraction,\nthe head being the most condensed portion. If, now, we suppose\nthe head to absorb the heating rays more abundantly than the\nremaining ones, in the cool shadow behind it the chemical action\nmay prevail, and form an incipient cloud, which will be the tail\nof the comet. Elsewhere, the calorific action will predominate,\nand the vapor will remain invisible. Such is substantially the\nnew theory of comets. It certainly satisfies the general\nconditions of the problem, and especially it explains very\nnaturally the enormously rapid movements observed in the tails of\nthese bodies. But will what is still undetermined in it enable it\nto be accommodated to the numerous facts already observed, and\nhereafter to be so? Here, also, it may be regretted that the\nspectroscope was not employed by the English physicist. The\nspectra of the incipient clouds might have been compared with\nthose of comets' tails; and would have given an excellent test of\nthe theory. Perhaps, however, he has reserved this part of his\nresearches for a future publication.\n\n----------\n\n{829}\n\n         St. Oren's Priory.\n     Or, Extracts From The\n     Note-book Of An American In A\n     French Monastery.\n\n      \"Pour chercher mieux.\"\n  --Device of Queen Christina of Sweden.\n\n\n              PART I.\n\n  \"I hear a voice you cannot hear,\n     Forbidding me to stay:\n   I see a hand you cannot see,\n     Which beckons me away.\"\n\n\nSuch were the words on my lips, my dear friend, when I bade you\nfarewell and promised that I would, from time to time, give you a\npicture of my convent life, that you might in spirit follow me\nclosely into the sealed garden of the Beloved, though forced by\ncircumstances to remain far from me in body.\n\nFatigued with my long journey, you can imagine I was very glad\nwhen I reached this city. I hastened to find the _Rue du\nPrieur\u00e9_, a narrow, gloomy street, paved with cobble-stones,\ncheerless and uninviting. But about half-way down, I saw a statue\nof Mary Most Pure, in a niche over a large doorway, with her\nall-embracing arms extended in welcome. That was a _sursum\ncorda_ which reassured me. The place where Mary is honored is\nalways a home for her children. The sight of her image brings\npeace and repose to the soul, and I turned aside to rest under\nher shadow. It was the grand portal of St. Oren's Priory, an\narched passage through the very building, wide enough to admit a\ncarriage. I stopped before the ponderous door that was to open\nfor me a new life. This was the door I had so often heard\ncompared with another portal which bears the inscription:\n\n  \"All ye who enter here, leave hope behind.\"\n\nBut above my head was the Madonna which meant love and peace.\n_Peace_; yes, that was what I sought, like the Tuscan poet\nat the Italian monastery:\n\n  \"And as he asks what there the stranger seeks,\n   My voice along the cloister whispers, Peace!\"\n\nThe door opened just wide enough to admit me, and, passing\nthrough the arch, I found myself in a small paved court, enclosed\nby the monastery on all sides, where the sun only comes for a\nshort time at midday--a grateful refuge from its heat. In it is a\nfine large linden-tree, under whose wide-spreading branches I\nfound a group of nuns--it being the hour of daily reunion. I felt\nbewildered by the sight of so many strange faces, but my first\nimpression was one of general kindness and cordiality. I could\nnot have asked for a kinder welcome, and surely hope and peace\nwere on every face. One of the mothers, seeing my fatigue, took\nme to the chapel for a moment, and then, through long corridors,\nto a small cell; thus giving me a general glance at my foreign\nhome. I found thick stone walls, long passages, paved floors, a\ndim old chapel, and narrow cells. You will think this fearful; on\nthe contrary, it is charming because monastic. One of the narrow\ncells is mine; furnished with a table, chair, bed, and\n_prie-dieu_. On the latter stands a crucifix, and on the\nwall hangs a print of Notre Dame de Bon Secours. There is one\nwindow in it,\n\n  \"Looking toward the golden Eastern air.\"\n\n{830}\n\nIt opens in the middle, longitudinally, like all the windows\nhere; each part swinging back like a folding-door. Looking\nthrough it upon the convent garden, the first thing I saw was a\nlay-sister, bearing on her head an antique-looking jar, which she\nhad just filled from a huge well. There are two of these immense\nwells in the garden, dug by the monks of old! Yes, _monks_,\nfor our monastery was once a Benedictine abbey, and dates from\nthe tenth century. There's hoary antiquity for you, which has\nsuch a charm for us people of the new world. These first days,\nwhile resting from my fatigue, I have been looking over the\nannals of this old establishment, and must give you an outline of\nthem.\n\nDo you remember reading, in the _Chronicles_ of Sir John\nFroissart, of the Armagnacs, so long at enmity with the house of\nFoix? The first Count of Armagnac, was the founder of St. Oren's\nPriory. He was known by the name of Bernard _le Louche_. He\nmade this city the capital of his _comt\u00e9;_ and one of his\nfirst acts, after his establishment here, was to build this\nmonastery. The old parchment in the archives of the priory, quite\nin accordance with the spirit of the times, runs thus:\n\n  \"Bernardus Luscus, mindful of his sins, unable to fulfil a vow\n  he had made to visit the Holy Places at Jerusalem, and desirous\n  of liquidating his debts to Divine Justice, resolved, by the\n  counsel of his wife, the Domina Emerina, and the advice of the\n  magnates, his lieges, to found a monastery _in honorem\n  Sanctorum Joannis Baptistae et Evangelistae et Beati\n  Orentii_, that therein prayer might be daily offered for his\n  sins and for those of his posterity.\"\n\nThe site selected for the erection of this monastery was on the\nbanks of a branch of the Garonne, at the foot of an old city\nknown in the time of the Caesars as Climberris, and built _en\namphith\u00e9atre_, with superb terraces, upon the side of an\nelevation. It was fitting that the abbey, which Count Bernard had\nfounded for the spiritual weal of himself and his posterity, and\nendowed with \"lands and livings many a rood,\" should find shelter\nbeneath his fostering eye at the very foot of his crescent-shaped\ncity, which was itself surmounted by the embattled walls of his\nown stronghold. Thus enclosed by hills on the north and west, and\nthe peaceful, sluggish Algersius on the east, threading its way\ntoward the Garonne--its current soft-gliding and calm as the life\nof the cloister--what spot more suitable could Count Bernard have\nfound on which to build a house of prayer? The warm sun of France\nto which it thus lay exposed was tempered by the keen,\ninvigorating winds that came from the snowy Pyrenees, which\nglitter away to the south.\n\nIn this very place, before the advent of the Messiah, in\nmythological times, a temple had stood in honor of Diana, the old\nideal of a people's reverence for purity, and one of nature's\nforeshadowings of the Christian exaltation of chastity. The\nAuscitains being early converted to Christianity, their zealous\napostles overthrew the high places of the Gentiles, and thereon\nset up the victorious ensign of the cross--_Vexilla regis\nprodeunt!_\n\nOn the ruins of Diana's temple was erected an altar to the true\nGod, and a baptistery, named, as all baptisteries are, after the\nprecursor of Christ, where came the warlike Ausci to be\nregenerated at the holy hands of the zealous St. Taurin, and the\nfearless, idol-demolishing St. Oren, who in turn fixed their\nabode hard by. Other saints too have lived on the same spot, and\ntheir bodies were enshrined hereon after their spirits had passed\naway.\n{831}\nSt. Taurin, St. Oren, St. L\u00e9othade, St. Austinde, names ever\nvenerable to the heart of an Auscitain, living in the shadow of\nyour shrines, sheltered by your votaries who merit for me your\nprotection, I should be ungrateful to you, untrue to my own\nheart, did I not often murmur your potent names and praise you to\nthose afar off!\n\nSt. Taurin was the fourth successor of St. Paterne, whom St.\nSernin, the great apostle not only of Toulouse but of all this\npart of France, consecrated first bishop of Eauze, then the\nmetropolis of Novempopulania, as Gascony was called. Forced by\nbarbarians, who came in search of spoils, to quit Eauze, St.\nTaurin took refuge in Climberris, bringing with him, among other\nrelics, the bodies of his four sainted predecessors in the\nepiscopacy: St. Paterne, St. Servand, St. Optat, St. Pompidien.\nAt that time, there were two distinct cities here--Climberris, a\nGaulish city, on the side and crest of the hill, and Augusta\nAuscorum, on the eastern bank of the Algersius, which last\nreceived its name from the Emperor Augustus, who passed through\nit on his return from Spain, and gave it the rights of a Roman\ncity. St. Saturnin had first preached the gospel here, and built\na church under the invocation of St. Peter in the city of\nAugusta; and at the foot of Climberris, where our priory now\nstands, was a church of St. John. St. Taurin chose the latter as\nhis metropolitan church--a rank it retained for a long\nperiod--and there enshrined the holy bodies he had brought with\nhim.\n\nThe zeal of St. Taurin was not confined to his own flock. Hearing\nof a great Druidical celebration in the woods of Berdale, he\nrepaired thither. The unholy rites had commenced, and a profound\nsilence reigned, when all at once a loud voice was heard. It was\nthat of St. Taurin, denouncing their idolatry and calling upon\nthe multitude to turn to the true God. The crowd was at first too\nmuch astonished at his boldness to move, but after some\nhesitation, incited by the Druids, overwhelmed the apostle with a\nshower of stones. Finding he still breathed, they cut off his\nhead. His feast is solemnized with the utmost pomp in this\ndiocese, on the fifth of September, which is believed to be the\nday of his martyrdom.\n\nSt. Oren belonged to a Spanish family of high rank, his father\nbeing the Duke of Urgel and Governor of Catalonia. He early\nrenounced his right of heritage, but, after the death of his\nbrother, succeeded to the family estates. He sold all his\nproperty, distributed the money among the poor, and retired to a\nhermitage amidst the mountains of Bigorre, where he led an\nangelic life, giving himself up to severe austerities and the\ncontemplation of divine things. The renown of his virtues and his\nreputation for learning caused his nomination to this see, of\nwhich he reluctantly took possession in the year 400. He\ndisplayed extraordinary energy and zeal in rooting out the\nvestiges of idolatry still lingering in his diocese, and in\nreviving true piety among the lukewarm of his flock.\n\nSt. Oren was a learned man and a poet. The great Fortunatus,\nBishop of Poitiers, who lived in the sixth century, mentions his\npoems, of which some fragments have come down to us. His\n_Nomenclature_, in particular, has always been known and\nquoted. It is more extensive than any other ancient list of the\nsymbols of the God-Man. Sylvius, in the fifth century, gives\nforty-five of these symbolical names in seven verses. Clement of\nAlexandria, in his hymn to our Saviour, gives ten. St. Cyril\nmentions twelve, in a sermon.\n{832}\nThe list of St. Ph\u00e9bade of Agen, in the fourth century, comprises\ntwenty-one. The _Nomenclature_ of Constantinople mentions\ntwelve; that of Rome, twenty-two; but that of St. Oren, composed\nin his solitude of Bigorre, gives, in five distichs, fifty-two of\nthese emblematical names of our Saviour. I quote it entire:\n\n  De Epithetis Salvatoris Nostri.\n\n    Janua,\n    Virgo,\n    Leo,\n    Sapientia,\n    Verbum,\n    Rex,\n    Baculus,\n    Princeps,\n    Dux,\n    Petra,\n    Pastor,\n    Homo,\n    Retia,\n    Sol,\n    Sponsus,\n    Semen,\n    Mons,\n    Stella,\n    Magister,\n    Margarita,\n    Dies,\n    Agnus,\n    Ovis,\n    Vitulus,\n    Thesaurus,\n    Fons,\n    Vita,\n    Manus,\n    Caput,\n    Ignis,\n    Aratrum,\n    Flos,\n    Lapis angularis,\n    Dextra,\n    Columba,\n    Puer,\n    Vitis,\n    Adam,\n    Digitus,\n    Speculum,\n    Via,\n    Botryo,\n    Panis,\n    Hostia,\n    Lex,\n    Ratio,\n    Virga,\n    Piscis,\n    Aquila,\n    Justus,\n    Progenies regis,\n    regisque Sacerdos;\n    Nomina Magna Dei,\n    major at ipse Deus.\n\n\"These are the great names of God, but he himself is still far\ngreater!\" says the last line.\n\nSt. Oren never lost his love for solitude, and this attraction,\nadded to the burden of his episcopal duties, induced him at last\nto resume his hermit's staff and set out for the grotto, which\nhad been the witness of his former austerities and was the\nnever-ceasing object of his regret. His flock, in consternation,\npursued him and brought him back to his post, where his piety,\nhis talents, and the miracles he wrought, gave him preeminence\namong all the bishops of Aquitaine. When Theodoric I., King of\nthe Visigoths, was besieged at Toulouse, by Lictorius, lieutenant\nof the celebrated A\u00e9tius, the former sent St. Oren, with several\nother bishops, to arrange terms of peace with the Roman\ncommander. Lictorius received them with haughty contempt, and,\nsure of victory, rejected all their propositions. Then Theodoric\nhumbled himself before the Lord of Hosts. He covered himself with\nsackcloth, prostrated himself in prayer, and then went forth to\nbattle and to victory.\n\nShortly after this embassy, St. Oren felt his end approaching,\nand armed himself with the holy sacraments for the last earthly\ncombat. His soul passed away, with a sweet odor, on the first of\nMay, and his body was enshrined in the church of St. John, which\nsubsequently took his name. He has always been greatly venerated\nin this country, and is invoked in all diseases of the mind.\nCount John I. of Armagnac gave a magnificent silver bust as a\nreliquary for the skull of St. Oren. His feast is still\nreligiously celebrated, and is a great holiday among the common\npeople, who assemble after vespers to dance their _rondeaux_\nin the open air.\n\nThe church of St. John, where reposed a long line of holy\napostles and prelates, was, with the two cities, destroyed by the\nSaracens, in the eighth century. But in the year of grace 956, as\nI have said, Bernard le Louche, inspired by God, built on the\nsame spot a magnificent church with three naves, to which he\njoined a Benedictine abbey. They were built of the stones of the\ncity walls, which, two centuries before, had been levelled to the\ndust by the Moors. A hundred years later, this abbey was reduced\nto a priory by St. Hugo, and affiliated to his abbey at Cluny.\nThe names of a long succession of abbots and priors are recorded\nin the chronicles of St. Oren's Priory, most of whom belonged to\nthe noblest families of the country. During the French Revolution\nof 1793, the abbatial church and a part of the monastery were,\nalas! destroyed; but there is a quadrangular tower--a part of the\noriginal abbey--still standing, and a fine Gothic chapel, which\ndates from the fourteenth century, besides a more modern, and\nstill large, edifice, with long dim corridors leading away to\naustere cells, or to spacious sunny _salons_. These were\ntaken possession of by a venerable community of Ursuline nuns,\nwho had been dispersed during the Reign of Terror, but who, as\nsoon as permitted, hastened like doves to find a new ark.\n\n{833}\n\nA steep spiral staircase, of hewn stone, lighted only by long\nnarrow chinks left purposely in the thick walls, leads to the top\nof the old tower, which commands a delightful view of the valley\nof the Algersius. At the foot, toward the south, lies the convent\ngarden, with its wells, its almond-trees, acacias, vines, and\nrose-bushes--loved haunts of the nightingales, which I heard\nthere for the first time in my life. On the east passes the\n_route imp\u00e9riale_, beneath the very convent walls, and\nbeyond, parallel with it, flows the river which gives its name to\nthe _d\u00e9partement_. Centuries ago, when the country was more\nthickly wooded, it is said to have been a navigable river, and\nmerited to be sung by Fortunatus, who was a poet as well as\nbishop. The eastern bank is shaded by a long grove of noble\ntrees--a public promenade--where, at due hours, may be seen all\nthe fashion, valor, and sanctity of the city. Through the trees\nmay be caught a glimpse of an old Franciscan monastery, now an\nasylum for the insane, where once stood a temple of Bacchus,\nwhose memory is still perpetuated in this land of vineyards.\nThere, in the fourteenth century, was buried Reine, niece of Pope\nClement V., and wife of John I., the thirteenth Comte d'Armagnac.\nNear by is the airy tower of St. Pierre, first built by St.\nSaturnin, in the third century, and rebuilt several times\nsince--the last time, after its destruction by the Huguenots in\nthe civil and religious disturbances of the sixteenth century.\nThe music of its _carillon_ floats through the valley at an\nearly hour every morning, summoning the devout to mass.\n\nCradling the valley toward the west is the quaint old city. Its\nhouses of cream-colored stone with red tiled roofs rise one\nbehind the other on terraces, and, crowning all, are the towers\nof one of the finest cathedrals of France.\n\nDue east from the tower, in the background, rises a high hill,\ncalled in the time of the Romans Mount Nerveva, but which now\nglories in the more Christian appellation of Mount St. Cric.\nThere our glorious St. Oren battered down a temple of Apollo, but\nits summit is still lit up by that god at each return of hallowed\nmorn.\n\nAway to the south stretch the Pyrenees, hiding Catholic and\nchivalric Spain, and gleaming in the sun like the very walls of\nthe celestial city. Even Maldetta, with its name of ill omen,\nlooks pure and holy.\n\nThis old tower is for me a loved haunt on a bright sunny day. I\noften betake myself to its top to enjoy all the reveries inspired\nby the scene before me. Its venerable, almost crumbling walls,\nits curious recesses and carvings, speak loudly of the monks of\nold. There I seem nearer to heaven; I breathe a purer, a more\nrefined atmosphere, which exalts the heart and quickens its\nvibrations.\n\nThere is a large sunny apartment in the tower in which I\nwitnessed a most affecting event--the death of a nun. So\nimpressed was I by this flight of an angelic soul to the\neverlasting embraces of the Spouse of virgins, that I cannot\nrefrain from giving you a sketch of its closing scenes.\n\n{834}\n\nWhen I first arrived at the priory, poor Sister Saint Sophie\nwandered around like a ghost, already far gone with pulmonary\nconsumption. She entered the cloister while only seventeen years\nof age, wishing to offer the flower of her life to him who loves\nthe fragrance of an innocent heart. Now, at the age of\ntwenty-eight, she was called to exchange the holy chants of the\nchoir for the divine _Trisagium_ of the redeemed above. Her\nhealth had long been delicate; but the innocence of her soul, the\nnatural calmness of her disposition, her strong religious faith,\nand her detachment from earth, made her look forward to death\nwithout the slightest apprehension. She spoke of the event as she\nwould of going to the chapel where dwells the Beloved.\n\nAbout a week before her death, she went to the infirmary, by her\nown request--to die. The infirmary is a commodious apartment in\nthe second story of the tower, a room which most of the nuns\nshrink from approaching, for there they have seen so many of\ntheir sisters die. I went every day to see poor Sister Sophie.\nThe room was adorned with religious engravings, a crucifix, a\nstatue of the Madonna, and a holy-water font. On the mantel were\nsome books of devotion, among which I noticed the New Testament\nin French. I always found this dying sister calm, excepting one\nevening, when her cheeks glowed with a burning fever. It was only\na few days before her death, and was caused by her last struggle\nwith earth. When that was past, she was ready to die. Her sister,\nlonging to see her once more, had obtained permission of the\necclesiastical superiors to enter the monastery. But Sister\nSophie, wishing to avail herself of this last opportunity of\nself-sacrifice, opposed her entrance; and it was this struggle\nbetween natural affection and a sense of duty which produced so\nviolent a fever. This act of self-denial affected me deeply.\n\nOne Saturday, at about half-past eight in the morning, I was\nhastily summoned by the M\u00e8re St. J---- to go to the infirmary,\nfor Sister Sophie was dying. I hurried down. Poor Sophie lay,\nghastly white, with her crucifix in her hands. Her rosary and\ngirdle lay, on the bed, at the foot of which was placed an\nengraving of the Sacred Heart of our Lord Jesus Christ, in the\nopening of which reposed a dove--emblem of the soul that trusts\nin the Saviour. She was perfectly calm. There was not a sign of\napprehension. Her brother-in-law, who was her physician, stood by\nher bedside, and said she could not survive the day. Her\nconfessor, the Abb\u00e9 de B----, a venerable priest of more than\nfour score years, asked if she had any thing on her conscience.\nShe shook her head. Her soul was clad in its pure bridal robe,\nready for the marriage supper of the Lamb. All went to the\nchapel, and, with lighted tapers, two and two, followed the holy\nviaticum to the infirmary. It was borne by the _cur\u00e9_ in a\nsilver ciborium, and placed on an altar erected in the middle of\nthe room. It was a most solemn scene--the nuns kneeling all\naround with wax tapers in their hands, their heads bowed down in\nadoration, and their black robes and veils flowing around them,\nall responding to the priest, who, in white surplice and stole,\nbrought comfort to the dying. He demanded of the dying nun a\nprofession of her faith; if she died in charity with all mankind;\nand if she were sorry, and begged pardon of God, for all her\nsins--to which she faintly but distinctly responded. He then gave\nher the divine viaticum, and prepared to administer to her the\nsacrament of extreme unction.\n{835}\nAs he anointed each organ, he said, before repeating the formula\nof the church, \"O God! forgive me the sins I have committed by\n_such an organ_,\" (of sight, hearing, etc.) After this\nsacrament he accorded her the plenary indulgence of Bona Mors. I\nwas very much affected by these holy rites, and the more so as I\nthen witnessed them for the first time.\n\nI went to see the departing sister several times in the course of\nthe day. The death-struggle was long, but there was no appearance\nof suffering.\n\nAt eight o'clock in the evening, while we were reading the\nmeditation for the following morning, a nun came in haste.\n\"Quick! quick! pray for Sister Sophie. She is dying!\" In a moment\nthe infirmary was crowded with nuns. Sister Sophie was in her\nagony. The crucifix was still in her hand. A blessed candle of\npure white wax was burning beside her, and the sub-prioress was\nreading solemn prayers for the departing soul, to which the nuns\nsobbingly responded. At the head of her bed stood a sister, who\nsprinkled her from time to time with holy water. Near her stood\nanother prompting pious aspirations: \"Jesus! Mary! Joseph! may I\nbreathe out my soul with you in peace!\"\n\nAt half-past eight she had given up her soul as calmly as if\ngoing to sleep. The _Sub-venite_ was said, and then we all\nwent to the chapel to pray for the departed.\n\nThe next morning, (Sunday,) on my way to the chapel, I stopped at\nthe infirmary. Sister Sophie was lying on a bier, clad in her\nreligious habit, with the sacred veil upon her head, and in her\nclasped hands a crucifix, and the vows which bound her to the\nSpouse of virgins. Her countenance was expressive of happiness\nand repose. A wax candle burned on each side of her head. A\nholy-water font stood near, and some nuns knelt around, praying\nfor their departed sister. That day, masses were offered for her\nin every church and chapel in the city, and at a later hour the\nnuns said the office of the dead in choir. At four o'clock, I\nwent again to the infirmary, to see her placed in her coffin. I\nhave witnessed among those who are vowed to a life of holy\npoverty many examples of detachment from every thing the world\ndeems essential, but I have never seen any thing which so went to\nmy heart as when I saw Sister Sophie's coffin. It was simply a\nlong deal box, unpainted and without lining. The body was placed\ntherein, still in the religious costume. The black veil covered\nthe face, and on her head was a wreath of white flowers. How\nbitterly did the nuns weep as they placed their sister in her\nnarrow cell--even more austere than that in which she had lived!\nI too wept profusely to see one buried thus humbly, but perhaps\nsuitably. The lid being nailed down, the coffin was covered with\na pall, on which was a great white cross, and on it the novices\nspread garlands of fresh white flowers mingled with green leaves.\n\nThe nuns are buried in the cemetery of St. Oren's parish, and\nnothing is more affecting than when, at the portal of the\nconvent, the coffin is entrusted to the hands of strangers; the\nnuns not being able to go beyond the limits of the cloister. It\nis then conveyed to the exterior church. Several priests received\nSister Sophie at the door, and sprinkled the coffin with holy\nwater, chanting meanwhile the _De Profundis_ and _Requiem\naeternam_. How awfully solemn are these chants of the dead!\nEvery tone went to my very heart. The coffin was then borne to\nthe centre of the church, where it was surrounded by lights, and\nthe priests chanted the office for the dead, at the close of\nwhich they went in procession to the cemetery.\n{836}\nFirst were three acolytes, the middle one bearing an immense\nsilver cross, which gleamed aloft in the departing sunlight; and\nthe other two bore the censer and the _b\u00e9nitier;_ then came\nthe priests, two and two, chanting the _Miserere_. The\ncoffin followed, borne on a bier by six peasant women dressed in\nwhite, with curious white caps and kerchiefs. Their sepulchral\nappearance made me shudder. Then went four young ladies bearing a\npall, on which was the great white cross and the significant\ndeath's-head. Many other ladies followed in procession. Arriving\nat the cemetery, the grave was blessed, while we all knelt about\nit. Water that had been sanctified with prayer was sprinkled on\nthe fresh earth; clouds of incense rose from the smoking censer,\nand _Ego sum resurrectio et vita_ burst in solemn\nintonations from the lips of the priests. Then the coffin was\nlowered into the grave; the young ladies threw in garlands of\nflowers which were soon covered. Poor Sophie was at rest, and her\nsoul was enjoying the reward of her sacrifices. I bedewed her\ngrave with my tears. Never was I so peculiarly affected by any\ndeath as by this, every circumstance of which is fastened most\nvividly in my memory. The _De Profundis_ and the\n_Miserere_ still ring in my ear, and poor Sister Sophie, as\nshe lay in her agony, surrounded by the spouses of Christ,\npraying amid their sobs, for her admittance into Paradise, will\nnever be forgotten. \"_Requiescat in pace!_\"\n\nBut of all parts of the priory, I love best the antique chapel of\nthe Immaculate Conception. It is entered through the cloister by\na low, dim vestibule, supported by \"ponderous columns, short and\nlow.\" A few steps, and the arches spring lightly up, forming a\nperfect gem of a Gothic chapel, with its altar faithful to the\neast--\n\n  \"Mindful of Him who, in the Orient born,\n     There lived, and on the cross his life resigned,\n   And who, from out the regions of the morn,\n     Issuing in pomp, shall come to judge mankind.\"\n\nThree ogival windows in the chancel throw on the pavement the\nwarm gules of an escutcheon emblazoned on the glass. They diffuse\nnot too strong a light--only enough for a glow around the\ntabernacle, leaving the rest of the chapel in a shade that\ndisposes the heart to contemplation and prayer. In the morning,\nat mass, the rising sun streams through, mingling with the light\nof the tapers, like that of nature and grace in the hearts of the\nworshippers. Over the altar, in a niche, is a statue of Mary Most\nPure, with the divine Babe in her arms--as I love to see all her\nstatues, that the remembrance of the Blessed Virgin may never be\ndisconnected from that of the Incarnation. \"The Madonna and\nChild--a subject so consecrated by antiquity,\" says Mrs. Jameson,\n\"so hallowed by its profound significance, so endeared by its\nassociations with the softest and deepest of our human\nsympathies, that the mind has never wearied of its repetition,\nnor the eye become satiated with its beauty. Those who refuse to\ngive it the honor due to a religious representation yet regard it\nwith a tender, half-unwilling homage, and when the glorified type\nof what is purest, loftiest, holiest, in womanhood stands before\nus, arrayed in all the majesty that accomplished art, inspired by\nfaith and love, could lend her, and bearing her divine Son,\nrather enthroned than sustained, on her maternal bosom,'we look,\nand the heart is in heaven!' and it is difficult, very difficult,\nto refrain from an 'Ora pro nobis!'\"\n\n{837}\n\nIn this chapel Mary has been honored for ages. The chronicles of\nthe priory tell us that in the days of the monks of St. Benedict\ncrowds of the faithful filled, as now, this chapel on the eighth\nof December, its patronal _f\u00e9te_. The deep-toned voices that\nthen chanted the praises of Mary have died away, but the notes\nhave been caught up and continued in softer, sweeter tones by the\nlips of the spouses of Christ.\n\nI can never enter this chapel without a thrill. I love to linger\nbeneath its vault of stone, the arches of which spring from\ncorbells quaintly sculptured, and form, at their intersection,\nmedallions of Jesus and Mary, who look benignly down on the\nsuppliant beneath. Prostrate on the pavement which holy knees\nhave worn, and breathing an air perfumed by the prayers of\ncenturies, my mind goes back to former times, and I think of the\ncowled monks who once bowed in prayer before the same altar, and\nmurmured the same prayers I so love to repeat:\n\n  \"Their book they read and their beads they told,\n   To human softness dead and cold,\n       And all life's vanity.\"\n\nI must tell you something of St. Mary's Cathedral, which is the\nglory of this place. You should see it from our garden, crowning\nthis city built upon a hill, with its towers and pinnacles. It is\nperfectly majestic. There, on the same spot, before the\nIncarnation, stood a temple of Venus. Christianity, which always\nloved to sanctify these high places, made the lascivious Venus\nyield to the Mother of pure love. Toward the end of the third\ncentury, St. Taurin brought a venerated statue of our Lady from\nEauze, and erected a chapel here in her honor. It was not till\nabout the year 800 that a cathedral was erected in the same\nplace. It has been four times demolished, and as often rebuilt.\nIn 1793, it was preserved with great difficulty. During that time\nit served as a prison for many of the _noblesse_, and was\nstripped of many of its most precious ornaments. The holy image\nof Mary was superseded by the Goddess of Reason, and horses were\nstabled in its chapels. But one does not love to linger over such\nprofanation.\n\nThis cathedral is particularly remarkable for the carvings of the\nchoir and for the fine stained-glass windows of the Renaissance.\nWishing to examine it minutely, I obtained permission to visit it\nat those hours when it is closed--that is, from noon till three\no'clock. Accompanied by a servant, I was there precisely at\ntwelve. The Angelus bell pealed forth just as I entered the\nchurch, and\n\n  \"Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with his hyssop\n   Sprinkles the congregation and scatters blessings upon them.\"\n\nThe _Suisse_, who was an old soldier under Napoleon I., and\nwas in the Russian campaign, locked us in, free to wander at will\nand unremarked in this vast cathedral, with the excellent\n_Monographie_ by the learned Abb\u00e9 Can\u00e9to in hand. At the\nvery portal we passed over the tomb of an old archbishop, who\nwished through humility to be buried under the pavement of the\nprincipal entrance to the church, that he might be trodden under\nfoot by all men. Perhaps there was something of natural instinct\nin this choice. I know not whether I should prefer some quiet and\nshady nook for my grave, or a great thoroughfare like this, with\nthe almost constant ring of human feet above my head. This\nprelate has lain there about two centuries, \"awaiting,\" as the\ninscription says, \"the resurrection of the dead.\"\n\nWe entered the church beneath the tribune of the organ, a fine\ninstrument--the master-piece of Joyeuse, a famous organ-maker of\nthe time of Louis XIV. On its front panels are beautifully\ncarved, _en relief_, St. Cecilia and the Royal Harper.\n\n{838}\n\nThe whole building is over three hundred feet long. Four rows of\npillars divide it into three naves and collateral chapels, which\nare twenty-one in number, extending quite around it, each with\npaintings, and statues, and altars of marble, and its oaken\nconfessional,\n\n  \"Where the graveyard in the human heart\n    Gives up its dead at the voice of the priest.\"\n\nThe baptismal font, in the first chapel to the left, is of a\nsingle block of fine black Belgian marble. One lingers\nreverentially before it, to think of all the souls that have\nthere been regenerated, and of the holy joy of the guardian\nangels around it.\n\nThe windows are glorious in their effect. Thereon are represented\nall the principal characters of the Bible, beginning with Adam\nand Eve; interspersed are the sibyls _(Teste David cum\nsibylla)_ and saints of the middle ages. The bright sun,\nstreaming through these \"storied windows richly dight,\" revealing\nin brightest hues \"many a prophet, many a saint,\" casts a rich\nlight of purple and crimson and gold over altar and saint and\nshrine; not the _dim_ religious light of the poets, but\nbright and glorious as the rainbow that spans the Eternal Throne!\nI could sit in their light for ever. What a beautiful missal,\ngorgeously illuminated, they form for the common people, and a\nbook ever open, full of the beauty of holiness! I envy those who\nhave worshipped in such a church from infancy, whose minds and\ntastes have been formed, in part, by its influences, whose\nearliest religious associations are connected with so much that\nis beautiful as well as elevating. There must be a certain tone\nto their piety, as well as to their minds, wanting to those who\nhave only frequented the humbler chapels of the new world. I can\nnever enter the plainest Catholic church without emotion. The\nvery sight of a humble altar surmounted by the rudest cross, goes\nto my heart; how much more a magnificent church like this, where\nevery thing appeals to the heart, the soul, the imagination!\n\nOver the doors leading to the transepts are the rose-windows.\n\n  \"Flamboyant with a thousand gorgeous colors,\n   The perfect flower of Gothic loveliness!\"\n\nBeyond the transepts is the choir--a church within a church; for\nit is enclosed by a high wall with a screen and rood-loft in\nfront. Here the canons chant the divine office seven times a day.\nThe stalls in which they sit are fit for princes--each one a\nmarvellous piece of workmanship, like the handiwork of a fairy\nrather than of man.\n\nThe panels with their large figures in relief, the Gothic niches\nwith their statuettes, the desks all covered with carved animals\nand plants almost in the perfection of nature, the canopy with\nits hangings, beautiful as lace, are all perfectly wrought in\nblack oak, and surpass all conception. I have heard it said the\nwood was kept under water twenty years, and the carver was fifty\nyears in completing his work; and you would believe it could you\nsee the effect. I have seen finer churches, in some respects, but\nno carvings to surpass these. One is never weary of examining\nevery inch of this exquisite choir, so full of perfection is\nevery part. Sacred and profane history, mythological and\nlegendary lore, the fauna and flora, are all mingled in these\nstalls. There are one hundred and thirteen of them--sixty-seven\nsuperior, and forty-six inferior; and three hundred and six\nstatuettes in wonderful little Gothic niches. Each superior stall\nhas its large panel, on which in demi-relief is the image of some\nsaint or sibyl.\n{839}\nOne of them represents St. Martha of Bethany, with an\n_aspersoir_ in her hand and the _Tarasque_ at her feet,\nalluding to the old legend so popular in Provence, of her\nsubduing a monster which ravaged the banks of the Rhone by\nsprinkling him with holy water. The city of Tarascon commemorates\nthe tradition. A magnificent church built there, under the\ninvocation of St. Martha, was endowed by Louis XI.\n\nAt three o'clock the canons came for vespers, after which we went\nto the tower to see the view and examine the bells, the largest\nof which is covered with medallions of the apostles and the\nBlessed Virgin, and with mottoes. It bears the name of Mary.\n\n  \"These bells have been anointed\n   And baptized with holy water.\"\n\nPerhaps you do not know that in the ceremony of consecrating a\nbell, the bishop prays that, as the voice of Christ appeased the\ntroubled waters, God would endow the sound of the bell with power\nto avert the malign influence of the great enemy; that it may\npossess the power of David's harp, which dispelled the dark cloud\nfrom the soul of Saul; and that at its sound hosts of angels may\nsurround the assembled multitudes, preserve their souls from\ntemptation and defend their bodies from all danger. The smaller\nbells are rung daily for the Angelus and ordinary occasions. The\ntones of the great Bourdon are reserved for the grand festivals\nof Christmas, Easter, etc. I was curious to see them, for they\nare like friends from whom we have had many kind tokens, but have\nnever met. They are always ringing above the priory; and their\ntones say so many things to our hearts--solemn and funereal, or\ntender, or joyful. \"There is something beautiful in the\nchurch-bell,\" says Douglas Jerrold--\"beautiful and hopeful. They\ntalk to the high and low, rich and poor, in the same voice. There\nis a sound in them that should scare away envy and pride and\nmeanness of all sorts from the heart of man; that should make him\nlook on the world with kind, forgiving eyes; that should make the\nearth itself seem, to him at least, a holy place. Yes, there is a\nwhole sermon in the very sound of the church-bells, if we only\nhave the ears to understand it.\" As Longfellow says:\n\n  \"For the bells themselves are the best of preachers; Their\n  brazen lips are learned teachers. From their pulpits of stone\n  in the upper air, Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw,\n  Shriller than trumpets under the law, Now a sermon and now a\n  prayer. The clamorous hammer is the tongue; This way, that way,\n  beaten and swung, That from mouth of brass, as from mouth of\n  gold, May be taught the Testaments, New and Old: And above it\n  the great cross-beam of wood Representeth the holy rood, Upon\n  which, like the bell, our hopes are hung. And the wheel\n  wherewith it is swayed and rung Is the mind of man, that round\n  and round Sways, and maketh the tongue to sound! And the rope,\n  with its twisted cordage three, Denoteth the scriptural Trinity\n  Of morals, and symbols, and history; And the upward and\n  downward motions show That we touch upon matters high and low:\n  And the constant change and transmutation Of action and of\n  contemplation, Downward, the Scripture brought from on high;\n  Upward, exalted again to the sky; Downward, the literal\n  interpretation, Upward, the vision and mystery!\"\n\nIn the undercroft of the cathedral reposes, among other saints,\nthe body of St. L\u00e9othade. He was of royal blood, being a near\nrelative of Eudes, Duke of Aquitaine, who was of the race of\nClotaire II. He was also related to Charles Martel, and to the\nwell-known sylvan saint, Hubert, who was contemporary with St.\nL\u00e9othade, and a native of this part of France. St. L\u00e9othade\nembraced the monastic state early in life, and, after being abbot\nat Moissac, was called to govern this diocese, which he did for\ntwenty-seven years. In the wars between Charles Martel and Eudes\nhe retired into Burgundy, his native place, where he died at the\nbeginning of the eighth century. His body was reclaimed by the\nAuscitains.\n{840}\nHis tomb is all sculptured with the symbols of our Saviour--the\nfish, wine, etc.\n\nSt. L\u00e9othade is invoked in various diseases, particularly for\nepilepsy.\n\nThrough the kindness of the _m\u00e8re prieure_ I had the\nprivilege of assisting at the office of Holy Week at St. Mary's\nCathedral. I witnessed all those affecting rites from the\n_jub\u00e9_, or rood-loft, which is reached by a dark, winding\nstairway in one of the huge pillars. My position was one of\nseclusion, and yet overlooked both the choir and the nave. To\nfully appreciate the ceremonies of the church, one must witness\nthem in one of these old churches of the middle ages, to which\nthey seem adapted. The long procession of white-robed clergy,\nthrough the forest of columns, with palm branches in their hands;\n\"Hosanna to the son of David!\" resounding through the arches; the\ntapers, rich vestments, the heavenly light streaming through the\nstained-glass windows, not dimly, but like a very rainbow of hope\nencircling us all--impress the heart with sentiments of profound\ndevotion.\n\nI was particularly struck by the vivid picture of the Passion\ngiven in the gospel of Palm-Sunday, as sung by the choir. One\npriest chanted the historical parts in a recitative way; a\nsecond, the words of our Lord; and a third, the words of the\ndisciples and others. The insolent cries of the multitude, the\nconfident tones of St. Peter, the loud bold tones of Judas, were\nwell reproduced; while the sacred words of Christ were repeated\nin the clearest, calmest, most subdued and plaintive of accents,\nthat sank into my soul and moved me to tears. That voice seemed\nto sweep over the sea of surging hearts that filled the church,\nlike the very voice of Jesus calming the tempest on the lake! It\nrung in my heart for days. It rings there yet, a sermon more\npowerful than any man could preach. When the priest comes to the\nwords, \"_and gave up the ghost_,\" the sight of the vast\nmultitude prostrating to the ground is most impressive.\n\nThe gospel of the Passion, succeeding the triumphant procession\nwith the palm branches, becomes doubly impressive by the\ncontrast. \"Oh! what a contrast,\" cries St. Bernard, \"between\n'_Tolle, tolle, crucifige eum_,' and '_Benedictus qui\nvenit in nomine Domini, Hosanna in Excelsis!_' What a contrast\nbetween '_King of Israel_,' and '_We have no king but\nCaesar!_' Between the green branches and the cross! Between\nthe flowers and the thorns! Between taking off their garments to\ncast before him, and stripping him of his own and casting lots\nfor them!\"\n\nThe nave was one forest of waving green branches, and the common\npeople seemed to enter into and enjoy the ceremonies very\nheartily. These grand services give such a vivid idea of the\ngreat events of the life of Christ that they must be very\nbeneficial to the people, who come in throngs to witness them;\nand there are no pews here, with their invidious distinctions, to\nshut them out. The peasant and the nobleman are brought on a\nlevel in that place where alone is to be found true\ndemocracy--the Church.\n\nThe archbishop presided at these ceremonies, a venerable,\naustere-looking prelate, who moved about with gravity, always\nattended by his servant, a pale, cadaverous-looking man in black,\nwith a white cravat, reminding me so forcibly of one of our New\nEngland ministers that I never could resist a smile when my eye\nfell on him, as he obediently followed the dignified prelate.\n\n{841}\n\nSt. Mary's Cathedral was once one of the richest in France, being\nendowed by the kings of Arragon, Navarre, and of France, and by\nthe Counts of Fezensac and of Armagnac. In those days the\narchbishop was a magnate in the land. The Counts of Armagnac paid\nhomage to him, and when he came to take possession of his see,\nthe Baron de Montaut, with bared head and one limb bare, awaited\nhim on foot at the gates of the city, took his mule by the\nbridle, and so conducted him to the cathedral. He was then, as he\nstyles himself now, primate of Novempopulania and of the two\nNavarres.\n\nOne of the old archbishops, of the race of the Counts d'Aure,\naccompanied Richard the Lion-hearted to Palestine in 1190, and\ndied there the next year.\n\nOn Holy Thursday all business was suspended. The streets were\ncrowded with people going to visit the different churches where\nthe Blessed Sacrament was exposed. I visited fourteen churches\nand chapels. At every turn in the streets were boys erecting\nlittle altars and chapels by the way-side, and importuning the\npasser-by for a _sou_ to aid in fitting them up. Of course,\nI saw the greater part of the city, which is picturesque, as seen\nfrom the valley, but rather ugly when one has mounted the weary\nflights of steps, and gained its heart. The streets are mostly\nnarrow and treeless, but there are two promenades with fine old\ntrees, and the public buildings are a credit to the place. There\nis a _grand_ and _petit s\u00e9miniaire_ here, a lyceum,\nnormal school, two boarding-schools, besides several day and free\nschools; so there is no lack for means of instruction.\n\nThe famous Nostradamus, renowned for his _Centuries\nproph\u00e9tiques_, was once a professor in this place. And St.\nFrancis Regis was regent of the Jesuits' college which was here\nbefore the suppression of that order in the last century.\n\nOn Good-Friday I went to the chapel of the Carmelites, for the\nThree Hours' Agony. Daylight was wholly excluded. The altar was\nfitted up like a Calvary, with a large crucifix on the summit.\nTall wax candles burned around it as round a bier. The rest of\nthe chapel was in darkness. The black grating that separates the\nchancel from the choir of the nuns was so closely curtained that\nthey were wholly invisible. The agony was a paraphrase of the\nlast words of our Saviour upon the cross, making it like seven\ndiscourses, or rather meditations. At the end of each part all\nknelt, while the preacher made an extempore prayer, and then rose\na sweet solemn wail of music. One by one the lights around the\nCalvary were extinguished--a deeper gloom shrouding the chapel\nand settling on our hearts. At last, only one light was left,\nemblematic of Him who came to give light to the world. That, too,\nwent out at three o'clock, leaving us in utter darkness. Then the\npreacher cried: _Jesus is dying!--Jesus is dead!_ All fell\non their knees. The most profound silence reigned. When\nsufficiently recovered from the awe and solemnity which pervaded\nevery heart, all prostrated themselves, and softly left the\nchurch. The effect was indescribable. Nothing could so powerfully\nincite the heart to repentance for sin, and unite it to the\nsufferings and death of Christ, as this three hours' meditation\non his agony upon the cross.\n\n  \"Holy Mother, pierce me through;\n   In my heart each wound renew\n   Of my Saviour crucified!\"\n\n{842}\n\nAfter the weight of sorrow that had been accumulating on the\nheart during the great week of the Passion, you cannot imagine\nthe effect when, on Holy Saturday, the joyful Alleluias rang out\nwith all the bells of the city, which had been hushed for days,\nannouncing the Resurrection. A great rock seemed rolled away from\nthe heart, and hope and joy rose triumphant over sorrow, and\nanguish, and fear.\n\nOn Easter-Sunday I saw something at St. Mary's quite new to me.\nAfter mass, a basket of bread was blessed, broken in pieces, and\npassed around the church. All took a piece, made the sign of the\ncross, and said a short prayer before eating it. This _pain\nb\u00e9nti_ is in commemoration of the _Agapae_ of the\nprimitive Christians, I suppose. It is a common custom here.\nWhile still at our devotions, a man came around with a dish,\nsaying in a queer, sing-song tone, _Pour les \u00e1mes du\nPurgatoire_, (For the souls in purgatory,) and offered the\ndish as if doing you a favor to receive your mite, which,\nperhaps, was right enough.\n\n\n\nLast Sunday evening I went to St. Oren's parish church, to assist\nat the month of Mary. On each side of the pulpit is a large\nstatue. One is of Moses, the Hebrew lawgiver, with two horns. He\nis often represented so by the old masters, because the same word\nwhich expresses the brightness of his face when he descended from\nthe mount, may also be rendered horns. They give him a comical\nlook, any thing but saint-like. Such a statue would seem more\nsuitable, to my unaccustomed eyes, for some rural spot. Then it\nwould look like some link between man and the lower animals, and\nso have some claims to our sympathy.\n\nI went into the sacristy to see the ivory horn said to have been\nused by St. Oren, in the fifth century, to call the people to the\nholy mysteries. It was still used, last century, during Holy\nWeek. It is curiously carved in the Byzantine style, with leaves,\nbirds, beasts, etc., upon it. It is popularly believed to have\nthe power of restoring hearing to the deaf. In the sacristy was\nan old statue of St. Jago in a pilgrim's garb. In former times\nthere was a hospice in this city for the reception of pilgrims to\nhis shrine at Compostella.\n\n\n\nIn making some excavations in our grounds, where once were the\ncloisters of the monks, the workmen have found many old graves,\nand also some curiosities. The other day a marble slab was found,\non which is a Latin inscription in quaint old characters, stating\nthat it was erected by Amaneus II., an archbishop of this diocese\nin the thirteenth century. Beneath the inscription was carved a\ncross, on one side of which was a crosier, and on the other a\nleopard lion, the cognizance of the house of Armagnac. It bore\nthe date of 1288. The said Amaneus was of the celebrated house of\nArmagnac, the head of which founded this priory. I should not be\na true daughter of the house did I not, with pious memory, love\nto recall our benefactors, for, replacing the old monks, we take\nupon ourselves their sweet debt of gratitude. I will give you,\nthen, an outline of this once proud family, that you may share\nall our glorious memories.\n\nThe counts of Armagnac descended from the Merovingian race of\nkings. They were connected by marriage with the proudest families\nof Europe, and at one time they gave their name to a faction of\nFrance against the Burgundians. Their proud name and royal blood\nwere fit to merge again into a race of kings.\n{843}\nThe first Count d'Armagnac was Bernard le Louche, who, through\nCharibert, sovereign of Toulouse and Aquitaine, descended from\nClotaire II. Count Bernard was distinguished for his piety and\nhis benefactions to the church. The third count of Armagnac\ndivested himself of his worldly goods, and became a monk of the\norder of St. Benedict.\n\nThe famous contest of the Armagnacs with the house of Foix began\nin the time of Bernard VI., the twelfth count. The pope in vain\nendeavored to reconcile them. Philippe of Navarre finally decided\ntheir differences, and peace was declared in 1329. The war was\nrenewed some years after, in the time of Count John, who was\ntaken prisoner, and had to pay a ransom of one thousand livres.\n\nCount Bernard VII. is the most famous of the Armagnacs. He was\nthe fifteenth count. His daughter Bonne married Charles, Duke of\nOrleans, then only nineteen years of age, and the son of the Duc\nd'Orl\u00e9ans who was killed by Jean-sans-peur, Duke of Burgundy.\nCount Bernard became, by the youth of his son-in-law, the head of\nthe Orleans faction against the Burgundians. He was made\nconstable of France in 1415. To the dignity of supreme commander\nof the army was added in a short time that of prime minister.\nDescended from the old French monarchs, he had great sway in the\nsouth of France, and was one of the greatest warriors of his age.\nHe displayed remarkable talents in remedying the frightful evils\nwhich broke out throughout the kingdom. His efforts would\ndoubtless have been successful, had he not had to struggle\nagainst the Burgundian party. By his experience and firmness he\nestablished discipline among his troops, and kept them constantly\nready for action. Active, intrepid, gifted with a bold and\nelevated character, he became a fearful rival for Jean-sans-peur.\n\nThe numerous partisans of the latter, having succeeded in\ndeceiving the vigilance of the constable, introduced the\nBurgundian troops into Paris in the middle of the night. The\nmassacre of the principal royalists was the consequence, and the\nCount of Armagnac himself was slaughtered in the most frightful\nmanner, on the 12th of June, 1418, in the fiftieth year of his\nage. He was concealed in the house of a mason. The Burgundians\nthreatening the partisans of the Armagnacs with death and\nconfiscation, the mason treacherously denounced his guest, who\nwas immediately imprisoned in the _conciergerie_, amid the\nimprecations of a multitude of his enemies. Forcing themselves\ninto the prison, they slew the count. In their fury they cut off\na piece of his skin, two inches wide, from the right shoulder to\nthe left side, in ridicule of the scarf which was the\ndistinguishing badge of the Armagnacs. He was buried at St.\nMartin des Champs.\n\nHis successor, Count John IV., greatly aided Charles VII. against\nthe English, but finally offended him by desiring to marry the\ndaughter of the King of England, and by styling himself, \"_by\nthe grace of God_, Count of Armagnac,\" though his ancestors\nhad used the expression for six centuries.\n\nThe haughty pretensions of the counts of Armagnac were the cause\nof their final ruin. King Louis XI., ever jealous of the claims\nof the nobility, decreed the downfall of their house. Count John\nV. was besieged at Lectoure, and obliged to capitulate. The\nsoldiers entered the palace, ascended to the count's chamber, and\nslew him on the first Saturday in Lent, 1473. At the third blow\nhe died, invoking the Virgin. All the people of Lectoure were\nmassacred, and for two months wolves were the only inhabitants of\nthe place.\n{844}\nThe lands of Count John were united to the crown of France. His\nbrother Charles, who had been kept prisoner for fifteen years,\nwas finally restored to liberty, and to the possession of the\nComt\u00e9 d'Armagnac in 1483. He married Jane of Foix, who had no\nchildren; but he left a natural son, the Baron de Caussade, whose\nonly son, George d'Armagnac, embraced the ecclesiastical state,\nand became a cardinal. He was the last of the male line of the\nArmagnacs.\n\nThe Comt\u00e9 d'Armagnac was afterward given by Louis XII. as the\ndowry of his niece, Margaret of Valois, when she married Charles\nd'Alen\u00e7on, the grandson of Marie d'Armagnac, daughter of Count\nJohn IV. Charles dying without children, Margaret married Henri\nd'Albret, King of Navarre, who descended from a daughter of Count\nBernard VII. of Armagnac. Henri Quatre, King of France, was their\ngrandson, and from his time the Comt\u00e9 d'Armagnac has been\npermanently united to the crown.\n\nLouis XIV., after consummating his marriage at St. Jean de Luz,\nreturned to Paris through this city, where he assisted at the\ndivine office in St. Mary's Cathedral, and, in quality of Count\nof Armagnac, took his place in his exquisitely carved stall as\n_chanoine honoraire_.\n\nThe stronghold of the Armagnacs was long since laid low. Their\nvery name and blood are lost in those of another race, and their\nlands given to another; but still in the green valley of the\nAlgersius rise the gray walls of a remnant of St. Oren's abbey to\npropitiate the mercy of God in behalf of Count Bernard and his\nlady Emerina, and still for them and their posterity goes up from\nthe nuns in choir the daily \"_Oremus pro benefactoribus\nnostris!_\"\n\n\n\nLast evening I went to the cathedral to hear Hermann improvise\nupon the organ, or, I should say, Fr\u00e8re Augustin, for he is a\nbarefooted Carmelite monk. He was the favorite pupil of Liszt,\nunder whose instructions he became a celebrated musical artist\nand composer. He was miraculously converted at Paris some years\nsince, by some particular emanation from the blessed sacrament,\nthe full particulars of which he has never given. \"_Secretun\nmeum mihi_,\" he says, when speaking of it. He had gone to\nchurch, at the request of a Christian friend, to play on the\norgan. His conversion was succeeded by the desire of becoming a\nmonk, that he might daily receive our Lord in the blessed\nsacrament, to which, from the first, he felt the most tender\ndevotion. He now belongs to a monastery in Agen. You should have\nheard him last night, as I did, amid a crowd of all ranks. I do\nnot enjoy music scientifically, but it gives expression to a\nthousand emotions and desires which are floating in the soul, and\nwhich the tongue knows not how to express. That of Hermann\npartakes of the enthusiasm and tenderness of his nature.\n\nI stationed myself at the baptismal font, that I might see the\nfr\u00e8re as he came down from the tribune. He was dressed in the\ncostume of his order, which is of the natural color of the wool.\nHis cowl was thrown back. His head was shaven closely with the\nexception of a circlet of hair, as we see in pictures. He is an\nIsraelite and his features are of the Jewish type, but not too\nstrongly marked. His face was pale. In fact, he is out of health\nand on his way to a place of rest. His manner was refined but\nunpretending, and he seemed quite unconscious of the curiosity\nand interest displayed by the crowd.\n{845}\nHe is a poet as well as musician, and some of his\n_cantiques_ in honor of the blessed sacrament are very\nbeautiful, particularly the one entitled _Quam dilecta\nTabernacula Tua!_ I quote two verses from it:\n\n  \"Ils ne sont plus les jours de larmes:\n     J'ai retrouv\u00e9 la paix du coeur\n   Depuis que j'ai go\u00fbt\u00e9 les charmes\n     Des tabernacles du Seigneur!\n\n  \"Trop long-temps, brebis fugitive,\n     Je m'eloignai du Bon Pasteur.\n   Aujourd'hui, colombe plaintive,\n     Il l'appelle--il m'ouvre Son Coeur!\"\n\nA friend sent me this morning a pamphlet containing the\ndedication of a collection of his hymns, which is a flame of\nlove. I give you an extract, which is only the echo of my own\nheart:\n\n  \"O adorable Jesus! as for me, whom thou hast led into solitude\n  to speak to my heart--for me whose days and nights glide\n  deliciously away in heavenly communications with thy adorable\n  presence; between the remembrance of the communion of to-day\n  and the hope of the communion of to-morrow, I embrace with\n  transport the walls of my cherished cell, where nothing\n  distracts my only thought from thee; where I breathe only love\n  for thy divine sacrament. ... If the church did not teach me\n  that to contemplate thee in heaven is a still greater joy, I\n  should never believe there could be more happiness than I\n  experience in loving thee in the holy eucharist, and in\n  receiving thee in my heart, so poor by nature but so rich\n  through thy grace!\"\n\n      To Be Concluded Next Month.\n\n----------\n\n          The New Englander On\n      The Moral Aspects Of Romanism.\n\n\nIn _The Catholic World_ of April last, we vindicated the\nfair fame of the Catholic Church from some foul aspersions of a\nProtestant minister, the Rev. M. Hobart Seymour, contained in a\nbook of his entitled, _Nights among the Romanists_.\n\nThe matter was a very simple one. This reverend gentleman, in the\nopening chapter of his book, gave us the \"moral results of the\nRomish System,\" as he elegantly, in accordance with the\nexigencies of modern controversy, styles the Catholic Church.\nThis \"moral result\" was, that Catholics are, everywhere, beyond\ncomparison, more unchaste than Protestants--say from three or\nfour to twelve times as much so. We do not exaggerate in the\nleast. Every reader who reads this book will draw this\nconclusion. As _The New Englander_ says, \"The effect of this\nexhibit on the mind of the reader is overwhelming. To the\nProtestant reader it serves to close the case, at the outset,\nagainst the pretensions of the Roman Catholic Church to be the\ninstitution ordained of Christ to destroy the works of the\ndevil.\"\n\nThis conclusion was reached by a comparison of the statistics of\nmany Roman Catholic countries of Europe with Protestant England,\nin regard to homicide.\n\nThen by comparing the amount of illegitimacy in certain Catholic\n_cities_ with that in certain other Protestant _cities_\nin Europe. Passing by the first branch of the subject for reasons\nwhich we assigned, and which prevent us from taking up the matter\nnow, we considered the second very fully and completely. We\nexamined, with the utmost care and fidelity, the statistics of\nillegitimacy of all the leading countries of Europe, including\nthe whole population of both city and country, and found Mr.\nSeymour's conclusions, in this respect, were utterly and\ncompletely false.\n{846}\nThe complete exhibit showed that, taking the number of\nillegitimate births as a standard of comparison, Catholic\ncountries are not in any degree more unchaste than Protestant,\nbut, on the contrary, the difference is in their favor quite\ndecidedly, though not with that overwhelming preponderance\nclaimed by Mr. Seymour in favor of Protestantism.\n\nHe states that he has taken his figures from official documents,\n(and we have not disputed this,) but these same documents give\nthe account for the countries as well as for the cities, and Mr.\nSeymour cannot be allowed to plead ignorance in reference to\nthem. He cannot, therefore, be excused from wilful and deliberate\ndeception, when he suppresses these statistics so necessary to\nform a judgment in the case, and only gives such portions of them\nas shall seem to sustain a false conclusion. This is the true\n_suppressio veri_ and _suggestio falsi_, which is\ncertainly one of the meanest and most cowardly forms of lying\nknown.\n\nWe felt a natural indignation at being made the victims of such\ntreatment, and denounced the Rev. Mr. Seymour as a calumniator,\nand called on the Rev. L. W. Bacon, who had warmly recommended\nhim and his book, to withdraw his recommendation, and cease to\nabet the circulation of a vile calumny, even though the Catholic\nChurch were the object of it.\n\nMr. Bacon, in reply to our article, comes out in _The New\nEnglander_, endorsing not only the statements, but the unjust\nand wicked conclusions of Mr. Seymour, and claims to have refuted\nthe statements of _The Catholic World_. We will now proceed\nto show in what fashion he has done this.\n\nThe conclusions of Mr. Seymour in regard to the \"moral results of\nthe Romish system,\" rest mainly in a comparison of the city of\nLondon with the capitals of four Catholic countries, showing that\nwhile the rate of illegitimacy is only 4 per cent in the former,\nit varies from 33 to 51 per cent in the latter. This is\nreinforced by tables of ten Prussian cities (of which, by the by,\nthe best two are Catholic cities) with ten Austrian; another of\nfive English cities with the same number of Italian, with\nsimilar, though by no means such striking results. Then, lest\ncountries should seem to get the go-by, various Protestant\ncountries are compared with provinces of the Austrian empire,\nwhich, it is needless to say, make a bad show in the comparison.\n\nAs we have said before, we did not impugn in _The Catholic\nWorld_ the accuracy of these figures, but we pointed out that\nwe could not trust them as indicating the morality of London,\nLiverpool, and the English cities, because the rate of\nillegitimacy in them was lower than in the whole of England; and\nit is a most violent and incredible supposition, that cities\nacknowledged to be the hotbeds of vice should be purer than the\ncountries in which they are situated. We suggested that other\nforms of impurity had probably replaced illegitimacy, and that,\nafter all, London, Liverpool, etc., were not much, if any, better\nthan the continental cities. We quoted some figures in reference\nto the amount of what is called the \"social evil\" in London,\netc., from _The Church and the World_, a ritualistic\njournal. This, and this alone, Mr. Bacon attacks, of all that is\ncontained in our article. Our other reasons in regard to the\nmorality of London, etc., are left entirely unnoticed. We gave\nalso some, as we conceived, very grave and strong reasons why the\nfigures of illegitimacy should not be regarded as conclusive in\nregard to the continental cities.\n{847}\nWe pointed out the existence of very large establishments in them\nfor the reception of foundlings, receiving all infants deposited\nin them; and suggested that, for this reason alone, the\nillegitimacy of whole districts of country would all show itself\nin the city. This is obvious enough; for example, if a large\nhospital of this kind existed in New York City, no one doubts it\nwould receive infants from New Jersey, Connecticut, and all the\nadjacent country, and the rate of illegitimacy would represent\nall this part of the country, rather than the city alone. Mr.\nBacon has not vouchsafed to give one word of reply to all this,\nor to discuss the matter at all. Now, as it concerns the good\nname of a large class of his fellow-men, and is evidence in\nrebuttal of a very grave accusation against them, this really\nseems more like the conduct of a partisan determined on victory\nat any rate, rather than of a Christian gentleman seeking to\nvindicate a fellow-Christian from an imputation against his\ncharacter.\n\nBut whatever might be said about the comparative morality of\ncertain cities, we vindicated the Catholic Church from the charge\nof having produced a moral result incomparably worse than\nProtestantism, and completely destroyed the overwhelming effect\ncalculated to be produced on the Protestant mind by Mr. Seymour's\nconclusions, by giving one complete table of the percentage of\nillegitimacy in all the chief countries of Europe, both\nProtestant and Catholic, as follows:\n\n   _Catholic Countries._\n   1825-37, Kingdom of Sardinia,    2.1\n   1859,    Spain,                  5.6\n   1853,    Tuscany,                6.\n   1858,    Catholic Prussia,       6.1\n   1859,    Belgium,                7.4\n   1856,    Sicily,                 7.4\n   1858,    France,                 7.8\n   1851,    Austria,                9.\n\n   _Protestant Countries._\n   1859,    England and Wales,      6.5\n   1855,    Norway,                 9.3\n   1858,    Protestant Prussia,     9.3\n   1855,    Sweden,                 9.5\n   1855,    Hanover,                9.9\n   1866,    Scotland,              10.1\n   1855,    Denmark,               11.5\n   1838-47, Iceland,               14.\n   1858,    Saxony,                16.\n   1857,    Wurtemberg,            16.1\n\nEvery item of which was taken by ourselves, after a patient and\nminute examination, from the _Journals of the Statistical\nSociety of London_, in the Astor Library, taking the latest\naccounts of each country in every case.\n\nHere the whole question lies in a nut-shell. As Mr. Bacon says,\n\"the criterion is in the number of illegitimate births.\" This\ntable gives a complete view of this criterion, and therefore it\nrequires to be refuted before it can be said that any refutation\nhas been made of _The Catholic World_. How does Mr. Bacon\nmeet it?\n\nHe does not meet it at all. He says that the figures of _The\nCatholic World_ are \"outrageously false,\" and \"that he shall\npresently prove it.\" We have looked in vain for the proof that\nany figure of this table is either \"outrageously false\" or false\nat all. We do not see that he has said one word to bring any of\nthem under even the least shadow of suspicion. We will give the\nsubstance of his arguments against the truth of our statements:\n\n1. Mr. Seymour's book appeared, and no answer was made to it for\nmany years, and therefore it must be presumed to be truth, as to\nits facts and conclusions.\n\n{848}\n\nTo this we reply, that it makes no difference what presumptions\nmay exist when they are upset by positive proof. Whether Mr.\nSeymour has been answered or not, does not change the rate of\nillegitimacy in any country of Europe in the least. Catholics may\nnot deem it more worth while to reply to Seymour than to the\nMcGavins and the Brownlees. The obviously sinuous and unfair\nselection of Mr. Seymour's statistics is a sufficient reason for\nallowing them to slide along with a thousand other calumnies so\nobviously false as not to be worth the trouble of refuting.\nHowever that may be, we have given the refutation, and that ends\nall the presumptions.\n\n2. Mr. Bacon tries to produce an impression on the minds of his\nreaders that we shall add up and arrange the figures to suit our\nconvenience, and are not to be trusted because we profess\nconfidence, in the outset, of the result of the investigation, on\naccount of our belief that the Catholic Church is the church of\nChrist.\n\nWe will give an extract, that our readers may judge:\n\n  \"But _The Catholic World_ for April last crushes these\n  formidable allegations with one single stroke of _a\n  priori_ argument: 'We know that she (the Roman Church) is\n  Christ's church, and that just in proportion as she exerts her\n  influence, virtue and morality must prevail; and that it is\n  impossible to prove, unless through fraud and\n  misrepresentation, that the practical working of her system\n  produces a morality inferior to that of any other.' This, of\n  course, is 'the end of controversy.' To go into details of\n  argument would be superfluous, not to say ridiculous, after a\n  demonstration so sweeping. But scorning criticism and ridicule,\n  straightway down into details and figures marches _The\n  Catholic World_. Having at the start announced it as _de\n  fide_ that the figures must be so found and so added up as\n  to show a satisfactory balance in favor of his side, or else\n  the foundations of the faith were destroyed and the hope of\n  salvation cut off, he proceeds to the statistical business with\n  that eminently fair, candid, and philosophical spirit which\n  might be expected to result from such convictions.\"\n\nThe Christian, then, according to the reasoning of the Rev. Mr.\nBacon, who, firmly believing in the divinity of the religion of\nChrist, expresses confidence in the result of any investigation\nas to the moral result of Christianity, is to be deemed a rascal\nwho will not hesitate to employ any unworthy arts in selecting\nand adding up his figures so as to make the result come out in\naccordance with a foregone conclusion. We dismiss insinuations\nlike this with the contempt they deserve. If we have done any\nthing of this kind let it be proved; if not, do not insinuate it\nto our prejudice.\n\n3. Mr. Bacon says: \"The gist of the article in _The Catholic\nWorld_ is taken from one in _The Church and the World_,\nan ultra-ritualist journal, London, 1867.\"\n\nThis is entirely untrue. The \"criterion\" of the \"moral results of\nthe Romish system\" was illegitimacy, and the \"gist of the\narticle\" is in the comparison embraced in the tabular statement\nof the Roman Catholic and Protestant countries of all Europe, of\nwhich nothing whatever has been taken from _The Church and the\nWorld_. We cited the statistics of Ireland from this journal,\nwarning our readers of the fact that we could not verify it out\nof the statistical journals, and therefore we did not include it\nin our table, as can be seen by referring to the article itself.\n\nBesides this, nothing is taken on the authority of _The Church\nand the World_, except some statistics in relation to a side\nissue, the amount of prostitution in London, and other English\ncities. Mr. J. D. Chambers, M.A., Recorder of Salisbury, the\nauthor of the article in _The Church and the World_, states\nthat there are 28,100 bad women in London, known to the\nMetropolitan Police, while it should be, that number, in all\nEngland, known to the Metropolitan Police.\n{849}\nHe also gives a table of the number of houses in other English\ncities _where abandoned women resort_, and this number does\nnot correspond at all with the number of _brothels_ reported\nby the police. It seems to us that Mr. Chambers may have been\nmisled by the term \"Metropolitan Police,\" in setting down the\nnumber of abandoned women to London rather than to England,\nwithout attributing to him any wilful falsification. And if these\nwomen are so well known to the Metropolitan Police, it may be\ninferred that, wherever they belong, they must carry on their\nnefarious occupation in London a good part of the time, and thus\nMr. Chambers be substantially correct in his statement, after\nall. Mr. Bacon roundly asserts that Mr. Chambers has given the\nnumber of _brothels_ in the leading English cities. This is\nincorrect, and, when the object is to fasten a brand of infamy on\nanother's character, an inexcusable proceeding. Mr. Chambers has\nnot given the number of _brothels_, but the number of\n_houses_ to which bad women resort. There are many such\nresorts in New York City, which would not be reported as\n_brothels_ in the police returns.\n\nWe wish the public to understand this fully. Mr. Bacon accuses\nMr. Chambers of a gross exaggeration in the number of\n_brothels_ in the English cities. He gives the table as\nfollows:\n\n  Brothels in   According to CATHO. WORLD      in Fact\n  Birmingham            966                       183\n  Manchester           1111                       410\n  Liverpool            1573                       906\n  Leeds                 313                        63\n  Sheffield             433                        84\n\nand hence deduces that Mr. Chambers is a wilful liar, to be\nbranded as such.\n\nNow, Mr. Chambers never stated the above number of\n_brothels_ in those cities, but that number of _houses\nwhere prostitutes resort_, a very different thing.\n\nWe find in _Thom's Almanac_ of 1869 the following table, for\nEngland and Wales, of _houses of bad character:_\n\n  Receivers of stolen goods,           2230\n  Resorts of thieves and prostitutes,  5689\n  Brothels and houses of ill-fame,     6614\n  Tramps' lodging-houses,              5614\n\nThe last three figures may well be added up to give us the number\nof _houses where prostitutes resort;_ the tramps'\nlodging-houses, according to Mr. Kaye's description of them, (in\nhis _Social State of England_,) being little better than\nbrothels. The public may now form an intelligent judgment which\nis the most guilty of misrepresentation, Mr. Bacon or Mr.\nChambers, and which most deserves to be branded as a calumniator\nof his neighbor.\n\nHe thus finishes up the unlucky Mr. Chambers:\n\n  \"The witness is impeached and kicked out of court with a very\n  ugly letter burned too deep in his forehead to be rubbed out.\n  We are glad to acknowledge that _The Catholic World_ is\n  not the guilty author of these impostures, and to express our\n  unfeigned and most willing belief that that every way\n  respectable magazine would be incapable of contriving such\n  tricks.\"\n\nAlas Mr. Bacon! we fear that in your inconsiderate haste to brand\nanother, the ugly letter will be burned so deep in your own\nforehead that you will find it very hard to efface it.\n\n4. Having finished up Mr. Chambers in this style, he considers\nthat his refutation of _The Catholic World_ is complete. He\nsays:\n\n  \"The figures with which _The Catholic World_ attempts to\n  vindicate the superior morality of Romish over Protestant\n  countries, are taken from a discredited and refuted writer in\n  _The Church and the World_... We have given facts enough\n  now to discredit without any particular refutation whatever\n  else of assertion may be contained in the article on the\n  'comparative morality of Catholic and Protestant countries' in\n  _The Catholic World _ for April, 1869. We do not need to\n  rebut the testimony of this article point by point.\"\n\n{850}\n\nThese facts given relate exclusively to Mr. Chambers and the\nstatistics of prostitution, as we have shown above, and do not\naffect those relating to the \"criterion\" of illegitimacy.\n\nThe substance--as Mr. Bacon calls it, the gist--of the article of\n_The Catholic World_ remains as yet intact; it has not even\nbeen examined by the critic. Who gave Mr. Bacon the right to say,\nas he does, that the substance of our article was taken from\n_The Church and the World?_ There is an unblushing\neffrontery about this statement which is astonishing. There is\nnothing in the article to warrant it. Whenever we quoted _The\nChurch and the World_, the reference is made at the foot of\nthe page, and we distinctly state, there, that our figures on\nillegitimacy are taken from the _Journals of the Statistical\nSociety of London_. Our readers can judge of this proceeding\nfor themselves.\n\nBut Mr. Bacon criticises us in severe terms for using these\n_Journals_, and says:\n\n  \"If we had been in search of truth, how much easier and better\n  to go to the census returns, and get facts that can be trusted.\n  But when the object is, as with _The Catholic World_, to\n  find figures which shall tally with a conclusion already\n  determined by theological considerations, doubtless it is well\n  to keep clear of authoritative documents, and take only such\n  figures as have been manipulated in a succession of magazine\n  articles, constructed to serve a purpose.\"\n\nWhat better authority can we have in this country, on statistics,\nthan the _Statistical Journals of London?_ It is all an idle\npretence to speak of getting the governmental returns in any\ngreat public library. We hunted for them in the Astor Library,\nand could not find one of them. The Society of London is composed\nof Protestants. Mr. Lumley, the author of the principal article\non statistics, is probably one too. He has taken his information,\nhe tells us, in regard to Great Britain, from the Registrar's\nReports; the others, from reports made to parliament, and from\nthe _Annuaire de l'Economie et de la Statistique_, of Paris.\nWe have not a shadow of reason to doubt either the accuracy or\nfairness of the returns, or that they have been taken from the\nbest governmental census returns. It would have been more\ncreditable if Mr. Bacon had favored us with a table taken from\nthese same returns, which he says are so easy to be obtained, to\nshow the \"outrageous falsity\" of our statements, rather than to\nattempt to refute us by the method of pure insinuation.\n\nWe challenge Mr. Bacon or any one else to produce a table of\nillegitimacy embracing all or nearly all the Protestant and\nCatholic countries of Europe, from the latest governmental\nreturns, which shall differ essentially from ours, or from which\nany one may not draw precisely the conclusions we have drawn in\nrespect to the moral results of Protestantism and Catholicity.\n\nThis is all we need say on the main issue in question.\n\nWe will now explain what was stated about the rate of\nillegitimacy in Ireland. Had we been inclined to proceed in the\nunscrupulous manner which Mr. Bacon insinuates in regard to us,\nwe could have given this rate of three per cent from _The\nChurch and the World_ without remark, as it is simply given\nthere among the other figures; but as we could not verify it in\nthe _Statistical Journals_, we said so, in order to warn the\npublic, and we stated that probably Mr. Chambers had access to\nthe Registrar's Report, which we had not.\n{851}\nFor this, Mr. Bacon pitches into us in this style:\n\n  \"What will be the amazement of the reader to be informed that\n  there are no 'Registrar's Reports' for Ireland; that the Romish\n  priests and the Romish party have constantly succeeded in\n  preventing, for reasons satisfactory to themselves, any act of\n  parliament for securing such returns from Ireland; and that the\n  supposed 'Registrar's Report' of three per cent of illegitimate\n  births is a mere fiction!\"\n\nHold on, Mr. Bacon! do not go ahead quite so fast. There are\nRegistrar's Reports for Ireland, plenty of them, to be seen in\nthe _Statistical Journals_ in the Astor Library. In Thom's\n_Official Almanac and Directory_, Dublin, 1869, we read,\n\"The act for the registration of births and deaths in Ireland\ncame into operation on the 1st of January, 1864.\" Then follows\nregistrar's returns of these for 1864, 1865, 1866, and 1867.\n\nThe first return of illegitimate births has just been published.\nOur supposition was, that these returns were in existence, though\nnot perhaps complete enough to warrant publication, and that they\nwere known in England to Mr. Chambers and others, and this seems\nto be the truth. The rate for Ireland is 3.8 per cent, not so\ndifferent from the figure of _The Church and the World_. We\ntake the following from\nthe _Catholic Opinion_, London, June 19:\n\n  \"Statistics Of Illegitimate Births.\n\n  \"_The Scotsman_, one of the leading organs of Presbyterian\n  Scotland, gives the following:\n\n  \"'We come next to a very painful and important point, and shall\n  get away from it as soon as possible. The proportion of\n  illegitimate births to the total number of births, is, in\n  Ireland, 3.8 per cent. In England, the proportion is 6.4; in\n  Scotland, 9.9. In other words, England is nearly twice, and\n  Scotland nearly thrice worse than Ireland. Something worse has\n  to be added, from which no consolation can be derived. The\n  proportion of illegitimacy is very unequally distributed over\n  Ireland, and the inequalities are such as are rather humbling\n  to us as Protestants, and still more as Presbyterians and as\n  Scotchmen. Takings Ireland according to registration divisions,\n  the proportion of illegitimate births varies from 6.2 to 1.9.\n  The division showing this lowest figure is the western, being\n  substantially the province of Connaught, where about\n  nineteen-twentieths of the population are Celtic and Roman\n  Catholic. The division showing the highest proportion of\n  illegitimacy is the north-eastern, which comprises or almost\n  consists of the province of Ulster, where the population is\n  almost equally divided between Protestant and Roman Catholic,\n  and where the great majority of the Protestants are of Scotch\n  blood and of the Presbyterian Church. The sum of the whole\n  matter is, that semi-Presbyterian and semi-Scotch Ulster is\n  fully three times more immoral than wholly Popish and wholly\n  Irish Connaught--which corresponds with wonderful accuracy to\n  the more general fact that Scotland, as a whole, is three times\n  more immoral than Ireland as a whole. There is a fact, whatever\n  may be the proper deduction. There is a text, whatever may be\n  the sermon; we only suggest that the sermon should have a good\n  deal about charity, self-examination, and humility.\"'\n\nSo that, after all, now that the truth is at last out, the\n\"Romish priests and the Romish party\" have no reason to be\nashamed of it. Probably their reason is best known to themselves;\nfor it would puzzle any one else to devise any earthly reasons\nwhy they should oppose the publication of the Registrar's Report,\nso honorable to the Catholic people of Ireland.\n\nMr. Bacon is \"happy to announce\" that, as a result of the attack\nof _The Catholic World_, a new edition of Seymour's book,\nwith its opening chapter, is soon to appear. So, all the old\ncalumnies and falsehoods are to be circulated with redoubled\nactivity, and the commandment, \"Thou shalt not bear false witness\nagainst thy neighbor,\" conveniently be thrust aside. The\nstatistics of London are to be reproduced, while those of England\nare kept in the dark.\n{852}\nParis is to be compared with London, to produce, as Mr. Bacon\nsays, \"an overwhelming effect on the mind of the Protestant\nreader,\" while not a word is to be breathed of England and\nFrance. Five Italian cities are still to be compared with five\nEnglish, to show that the Italian Catholics are four times as\ndepraved as the English Protestants, while the rate of\nillegitimacy in all Italy is considerably less than that of\nEngland.\n\nAnd the tell-tale official reports of the census of Scotland, of\nCatholic and Protestant Prussia, are to be passed over in\ncomplete silence. The countries of Norway, Sweden, Denmark, are\nto be offset by provinces of the Austrian empire in which, as we\nshowed in _The Catholic World_, a grinding law of the\ngovernment hinders us from getting any real knowledge of the\nstatistics of illegitimacy, and while the whole empire shows a\nrate smaller than any of those different countries. But we are\ntired of this disgusting enumeration of the fraud and trickery of\nthe Rev. M. Hobart Seymour. The republication of his book cannot\nhurt us, and only tends to increase the growing distrust on the\npart of the public of the thousand and one calumnies so\nunscrupulously circulated concerning Catholics.\n\nWe have only to add that _The New Englander_ very\nappropriately finishes its article against us by bringing out a\nvery infamous falsehood of Mr. Seymour's about the morality of\nthe city of Rome, which we shall not fail to pay our respects to\nin the next number of _The Catholic World_.\n\n----------\n\n                  Sick.\n\n  My brother, o my brother! how my heart,\n  Uncertain, sad, doth yearn for thee to-day!\n  And my deep soul her earnest prayer doth say,\n  That God not yet will loose the fearful dart;\n  Not yet, sweet mercy, call on thee to part,\n  Prepared so scantily for the long, long way;\n  Nor till his lamp lights with her blessed ray\n  The narrow line along the shadowy chart.\n  Dear Lord, a stranger, far away he lies,\n  Where fevered pestilence about him leers;\n  His breath the yellow death! And yet my cries\n  Are not for that loved body whose weak sighs\n  First warmed _her_ breast--'tis nine and twenty years--\n  The soul, poor soul 'tis needs these prayers and tears.\n\n-------\n\n{853}\n\n\n       Translated From The Spanish.\n\n   How Matanzas came to be called Matanzas.\n   [Footnote 200]\n\n     Or, Uncle Curro And His Club.\n\n   [Footnote 200: Matanzas signifies murders or slaughters.]\n\n\n_Fernan Caballero._ Here I am, Aunt Sebastiana, with a fixed\nintention to make you tell me a story.\n\n_Aunt Sebastiana_. Say that to my Juan, se\u00f1or; he can tell\nno end of stories, and when he don't remember them, he makes them\nto suit himself.\n\n_Fernan_. Here comes Uncle Romance, who, if he wants a cigar\nand desires to give me pleasure, will tell me the story you have\npromised me in his name.\n\n_Uncle Romance_. You must know then, se\u00f1or, that there was\nonce a man who lived gayly, without thinking of to-morrow; and,\nsince to spend, to owe, and not to pay, is the way to the\npoorhouse, our man soon found himself without _hacienda_,\nand with but thirty days to the month for possessions, and\nnothing to eat but his finger-nails. He grew so spiritless that\nhis wife used to beat him, and his children insult him, and say\nimpertinent things to him when he came home bringing no\nprovisions for the house.\n\nHe got so desperate at last that he borrowed a rope of his\ngossip, and went away to a field to hang himself. He had fastened\nthe rope to an olive-tree; but just as he was going to put it\naround his neck, a little fairy-man appeared to him, dressed like\na friar. \"What are you doing, man?\" said the friar. \"Hanging\nmyself, as your worship sees.\" \"So, then, Christian, you are\ngoing to do like Judas. Go away from there. It wouldn't be well\nfor you. Take this purse, which is never empty, and mend your\nfortune.\"\n\nOur man took the purse, and drew out a dollar, then another, then\nanother, and saw that it was like a woman's mouth, that pours out\nto all eternity words, and words, and still words, and its words\nare never exhausted. Seeing this, he untied the rope, wound it\nup, and started for home. There was an inn on the road; he\nentered it and began to ask for whatever they had to eat and\ndrink, paying when it was brought; for the innkeeper, seeing him\nso greedy, would not trust him for all he wanted. He ate so much\nand drank so much that he fell under the table, and lay there\nmore sound asleep than the dead in Holyfield.\n\nThe innkeeper, who had perceived that the purse was none the\nlighter, told his wife to make one just like it, and while Uncle\nCurro slept, went and stole the enchanted purse out of his pocket\nand put the other in its place.\n\nWhen Uncle Curro woke up, he took the road again, and reached his\nhouse more jolly than a sunshiny day.\n\n\"Hurrah!\" he shouted to his wife and children, \"here's money and\nto spare; our troubles are over.\"\n\nHe put his hand into the purse and drew it out empty; put it in\nagain; but what was there to take out? When his wife saw that,\nshe flew at him and beat him into a new shape.\n\n{854}\n\nMore desperate than ever, he snatched the rope and went back to\nhang himself. He went to the same place, and tied the rope to a\nbranch of the olive. \"What are you going to do, Christian?\" said\nthe little fairy-man, appearing in the form of a cavalier, in the\ncrotch of the tree. \"Hang myself like a string of garlics from a\nkitchen ceiling,\" answered Uncle Curro quite composedly. \"So you\nhave lost patience, again?\" \"And if I have nothing to eat,\nse\u00f1or?\" \"' It is your own fault, your fault; but--go away. Take\nthis table-cloth, and while you keep it you will never find\nyourself without something to eat.\" Then the little fairy-man\ngave him a table-cloth, and disappeared among the branches.\n\nUncle Curro unfolded the cloth upon the ground. The minute it was\nspread out, it covered itself with dishes, some of them good and\nthe rest better than the king's cook could have made them, if he\nhad tried his best.\n\nAfter Uncle Curro had stuffed himself till he could hold no more,\nhe gathered up the cloth and set out for his house. When he got\nas far as the inn, he felt sleepy and lay down to take a nap. The\ninnkeeper knew him, and guessed that he had something valuable;\nso, as cool as you please, he pulled the cloth away from him, and\nput another in its place.\n\nUncle Curro reached home, and shouted to his wife and children,\n\"Come, come to dinner; I'll take it upon me to see that you get\nyour fill this time.\" Thereupon he undid the cloth, but only to\nbehold it covered with stains of all sorts and sizes.\n\nAt him she went. Mother and children all fell upon the poor man\nat once, and an object of charity they left him.\n\nUncle Curro seized the rope once more and went off to hang\nhimself. He was determined to do it this time, and the fairy-man\nwas determined he shouldn't. He gave Uncle Curro a little club,\nand told him that with it he would be able to possess his soul in\ncomfort; for that he had nothing to do but say, \"Bestir yourself,\nlittle club!\" to make all the world run away and leave him in\npeace, with a wide berth.\n\nUncle Curro set out for home with the club, as happy as an\nalcalde with his stick. As soon as he saw the young ones coming\ntoward him demanding bread with insults and impertinences, he\nsaid to the club, \"Bestir yourself, little club!\" and before the\nwords were fairly out of his mouth, it began to deal about it in\na way that speedily routed the children. Their mother ran out to\nhelp them, but, \"_At her!_\" cries Curro, \"_at her with all\nyour might!_\" and with one rap the club killed her.\n\nThey gave notice to the magistrate, and presently the alcalde\nmade his appearance with his officers. \"Bestir yourself, little\nclub!\" ordered Curro, and the club came down on them as if it had\nbeen paid at the rate of a dollar a thump. It killed the alcalde,\nand the others ran away with such might that not one of them had\na sole left to his foot. Then they sent a messenger to let the\nking know what was going on, and the king sent a regiment of\ngrenadiers to take Uncle Curro of the little club.\n\nBut, \"Bestir yourself, club!\" bawled Uncle Curro, as soon as they\ncame in sight, and threw the club in the midst of the files. The\nclub begun its dance upon the ribs of the grenadiers, with a\nsound like a fulling-mill. It crippled this one's leg, and that\none's arm; knocked out one of the captain's eyes, and, in short,\nthe grenadiers threw away their muskets and knapsacks, and took\nto their heels, in the full belief that the devil was running\nloose.\n\n{855}\n\nFree from care, Uncle Curro lay down to sleep, with his club\nhidden in his bosom, for fear that somebody might steal it.\n\nWhen he awoke, he found himself tied hand and foot, and on the\nway to prison. They sentenced him to ignominious death. The next\nmorning they took him out of the dungeon, and, when they had\ncaused him to ascend the scaffold, untied his hands. Out he drew\nhis little club, and as he said, \"Bestir yourself!\" threw it at\nthe executioner, who speedily yielded up the ghost under its\nblows. \"Free that man,\" commanded the king, \"or he'll finish with\nevery one of our subjects. Tell him that he shall have an estate\nin America if he will leave the country.\"\n\nUncle Curro consented, and the king made him lord of lands in the\nisland of Cuba, where he built himself a city, and killed so many\npeople in it with his club that its name was called, and has\nremained, Matanzas.\n\n----------\n\n\n      Correction Of A Mistake.\n\nThe writer of the article on \"Spiritualism and Materialism,\" in\nthe Magazine for August, page 627, says, \"The Holy See says the\n_immateriality_, not _spirituality_, of the soul is to\nbe proved by reason.\" This is a mistake. The language of the Holy\nSee is, \"Ratiocionatio Dei existentiam, animae\n_spiritualitatem_, hominis libertatem cum certitudine\nprobare potest--Reasoning can prove with certainty the existence\nof God, the spirituality of the soul, and the liberty of man.\"\nThe writer wishes us to say that he is wholly unable to account\nfor his blunder; for in writing, he had the words of the Holy See\nbefore his eyes, and certainly thought he read\n_immaterialitatem_; but in re-reading the words since a\nfriend called his attention to the mistake, he finds that the\nword is plainly printed _spiritualitatem_. Of course the\nmisstatement was wholly unintentional, and whatever in the\narticle rests on it must be withdrawn, and the writer fully and\nexplicitly retracts it.\n\nYet the writer requests us to say that he thinks the doctrine\nmaintained in the article is not affected by this mistake,\nblunder, or misstatement. The writer does not question the\n_spirituality_ of the soul, but maintains that the soul's\nspirituality, save in the sense of its immateriality, is not\nprovable by reason without revelation. He thinks\n_immateriality_, in the sense he explains it, covers all\nthat is really meant by _spiritualiy_ in the decision of the\nHoly See. We certainly do not, by reason alone, know what either\nspirit or matter is in its essence. We can prove by reason the\nsubstantiality, activity, unity, simplicity, indissolubility, and\nimmateriality of the soul, or that it is not matter. Does the\nHoly See decide that we can do more, or go further? Does the\nspirituality of the soul, as provable by reason, mean any thing\nmore? If not--and the writer, till better informed, must think it\ndoes not--he has erred only in using one word when he should have\nused another, and mistaking the word actually used by the Holy\nSee. So much the writer of the article wishes us to say for him,\nwhich we do cheerfully; for we are well assured of his devotion\nto the Holy See and his loyalty to the Holy Father.\n\n----------\n\n{856}\n\n              New Publications.\n\n\n  Cantarium Romanum, Pars Prima, Ordinarium Missae.\n  Studio et sumptibus Monachorum Ord. S. Benedicti.\n  Conv. St. Meinradi, Ind. 1869.\n  Cincinnati and New York: Benziger Bros.\n\nThis publication purposes to give, in modern notation, the\nmelodies of Gregorian Masses; that is, those portions which are\ncommon to all masses--the Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Agnus\nDei, with the Responses. We hail this as a step in the right\ndirection, but are forced to find some fault with this volume.\n\nIn the first place, we do not find the notation at all in\nconformity with the Roman Gradual or Missal, and suppose that it\nis according to one of those numerous \"propers\" which, in course\nof time, have been patched up for the use of various particular\ndioceses and religious orders. The spirit of the church to-day is\none which inspires a return to unity in even minor points of\ndiscipline, of which the unity of the chant is, in our judgment,\nnot the least. Again, the division of the words, their adaptation\nto the notes, and the length of notes given, makes horrible work\nin some places with the accent of the Latin, and destroys the\nmajestic march of the melody. The effeminate sharp reigns\nsupreme, and fancy responses take the place of those given in the\nMissal.\n\n----\n\n  Meditations On The Sufferings, Life,\n  And Death Of Our Lord Jesus Christ.\n  Translated from the French by a Sister of Mercy.\n  Part First.\n  Cincinnati: Robert Clarke & Co. 1869.\n\nThis is a very excellent book of meditations, well translated,\nand published in the best style; to be completed in thirteen\nnumbers. The proceeds are to be devoted to the building of a\nchurch annexed to the Convent of the Sisters of Mercy, in\nCincinnati, to be called \"The Church of the Atonement,\" and to be\ndevoted especially to the adoration of the Sacred Heart of our\nLord, in reparation of the injuries and outrages which it suffers\nfrom the neglect of tepid Christians and the more open sins of\nthe wicked. The book is one which will be very useful to those\nwho desire to practise meditation, and the object to which the\ngood sisters intend to devote the profits, which we hope they may\nreceive from it abundantly, is one that must commend itself to\nthe heart of every good Catholic. We give them our best wishes\nfor their complete success, and recommend their book most\nheartily to general circulation.\n\n----\n\n  An American Woman In Europe.\n  By Mrs. S. R. Urbino.\n  Boston: Lee & Shepard.\n\nA journal of two years and a half sojourn in Germany,\nSwitzerland, France, and Italy, in only 338 duodecimo pages, is,\nas things go and as people write, really very moderate. It is a\nsimple, straightforward story of what the authoress saw and\nheard, with a variety of practical information that many\nAmericans on a first European tour might find useful.\n\nThere is no affectation of style or sentiment in the book, and\nthe authoress may be said to belong to the realistic school of\ntravellers, who keep a bright lookout for railroad fares, hotel\nbills, and the prices of things in general.\n\nWith disquisitions on art, Mrs. Urbino does not trouble us much,\nalthough she admires the works of that queen of Jarleys, Madame\nTussaud, whose name she ungratefully prints Trousseau. At p. 228,\nthe authoress indulges in this reflection: \"How out of place\ncrosses look in the Coliseum!\n{857}\nI cannot see why they were put there, since there are a\nsufficient number of churches in the city.\" The good lady does\nnot appear to be aware of the fact that if the cross had not been\nplaced in the Coliseum, we people of the nineteenth century would\nnever have seen the noble ruin of that grand monument.\n\n----\n\n  Service Manual;\n  for the instruction of newly-appointed Officers, and the Rank\n  and File of the Army, as compiled from Army Regulations, the\n  Articles of War, and the Customs of the Service.\n  By Henry D. Wallen, Brevet Brigadier-General United States\n  Army, and Commander of the General Service Department, Fort\n  Columbus, New York Harbor.\n  1 vol. 8vo, pp. 166.\n  New York: D. Van Nostrand. 1869.\n\nGeneral Wallen has compiled this excellent manual from the\nauthorized sources, and added to it the fruit of his mature\nexperience and intimate practical knowledge of the subject. The\nwork possesses value, not only as an authentic guide to the young\nofficer in all the details of company, camp, and garrison duty,\nhis relations of subordination and responsibility, and his duties\nand obligations to those above and below him in the military\norder, but also is mellowed and animated by a spirit of kindness\nand good-will, and that genuine characteristic of the good\nsoldier and thorough gentleman to whom duty is honorable, and\nboth command and obedience acceptable for their own sakes and the\ninherent virtue they imply. This spirit animates this work\nthroughout, and gives to it a character far superior to ordinary\ndry regulations. General Wallen is well qualified for the task he\nhas undertaken. He is an old and faithful officer, and intimately\nacquainted with the service in all its branches and\nramifications. He served with credit in the war with Mexico, and\nwas one of the pioneers of the settlement of Oregon. Owing to the\nfact of having been born in Georgia, General Wallen was\ndistrusted during the late war by Mr. Stanton, and ordered to New\nMexico. General Grant, who is his life-long friend, as soon as he\ncame into power, ordered him to the East, and did what he could\nto repair the injury he had experienced from the suspicious\ndisposition of the late secretary of war.\n\nThis work is of equal value to soldiers and officers, and will\nhave a tendency to promote that mutual goodwill and cordial\nsympathy between the two classes growing out of the faithful\nperformance of their respective duties, which we alone need to\nmake our military system perfect, and absolutely invincible in\nwar, as well as an example of honor and fidelity in peace.\n\n----\n\n  A Report On The Excisions Of The\n  Head Of The Femur For Gun Shot Wounds.\n  By George A. Otis, M.D.,\n  Assistant Surgeon and Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel U.S.A.\n  Being Circular No. 2 War Department,\n  Surgeon-General's Office.\n  Jan. 1869. 4to, pp. 141.\n  Washington: Government Printing Office.\n\nIt is not our purpose, in calling the attention of the readers of\n_The Catholic World_ to this work, to enter upon any\ndiscussion or details of a purely surgical character, which would\nbe obviously out of place. _The Catholic World_ is\nessentially _Catholic_, and while strictly and purely so,\naims to embrace within the scope of its critical observation\nevery subject of interest and importance to society; and\nespecially to award its cordial praise to those efforts which\nhave for their object genuine science, true humanity, and\nnational and individual honor and intellectual and moral\nadvancement.\n\nThe work before us is of the character indicated. In reverting to\nthe public calamities and private miseries of the late war, it is\na matter of satisfaction to know that out of the eater has come\nforth some meat; out of the strong, some sweetness.\n{858}\nWith the exception of the doubtful advantage of the knowledge\nwhich we have gained of our brute strength, some improvement in\ngunnery, and the familiarization of the public mind with battle,\nmurder, and sudden death, we have reaped no substantial benefit\nexcepting in the department of military surgery. The medical\nprofession gave during the war an extraordinary example of\ncourage, devotion to duty, labor, and self-sacrifice, which we\nfear is not fully appreciated either by the country or the\ngovernment. They rose as a body above the political issues\ninvolved, and the personal passions evoked, and, acting on the\ngreat principle of charity underlying their vocation, saw, in\nmany a sick and wounded man, a friend and brother.\n\nThis principle was acted upon on both sides, it was the most\nhumanizing element which entered into the conflict, and aided and\nseconded the chivalric spirit which animated the graduates of\nWest Point. These two qualities redeemed the late war from utter\nbarbarism.\n\nThere was, on the part of the medical officers, an earnest,\nconscientious, and zealous determination to ascertain the best\nmethods of treatment in all cases, and an ardent desire to\nrelieve suffering, save life, and preserve limbs in the best\npossible condition for future usefulness. The publications of the\nMedical Department and the admirable museum collected at\nWashington bear testimony to the accuracy of this statement, and,\nwhile they are a terrible and sickening commentary on man's\ninhumanity to man, they are also a sublime and beautiful\nillustration of that power which turns temporary calamities into\npermanent benefits, and of that humanity and science which are\nboth motives and objects of the profession of medicine.\n\nThe reports issued from time to time by the surgeon-general are\nthe concentrated and distilled expression of multitudes of crude\nand detached observations, carefully elaborated, compared,\nanalyzed, and corrected, till they come to express the precise\nknowledge and experience of the present day on a given subject.\n\nThe portion of this great work before us is prepared by Doctor\nGeorge A. Otis, Assistant Surgeon and Lieutenant-Colonel U.S.A.,\nand is a model of patient labor, exact knowledge, just\ndiscrimination, and acutely intelligent appreciation. It presents\nall that is known in regard to a class of terrible and\nexceedingly fatal injuries. The facts, evidence, and opinions are\ncarefully and impartially weighed and estimated, and the\nconclusions are such as will be accepted by every discriminating\nsurgeon throughout the world.\n\nThe voice of the medical profession will, we believe, endorse the\nopinion which we somewhat apodictically express.\n\nSociety and the country owe Doctor Otis a debt of gratitude for\nhis great work, and also the medical bureau which aids and\ndirects his labors. Such works belong to the class of benefits\nwhose value cannot be expressed by human standards. They reflect\nhonor upon the age and country which produce them, and are an\ninvaluable legacy to the future.\n\nWe cannot conclude this imperfect notice without expressing the\nhope that Congress, influenced by the universal sentiment of the\ncountry, will give all the material aid required to the\nSurgeon-General's Department in prosecuting its great and most\nfruitful labors.\n\n----\n\n  Silver Jubilee Of The University\n  Of Notre Dame, June 23d, 1869.\n  Compiled and published\n  by Joseph A. Lyons, A.M.\n  Chicago: E. B. Myers & Co.\n\nThis is a tastefully gotten-up volume, designed as a \"memorial\"\ntribute to the students, past and present, of the University of\nNotre Dame, in Northern Indiana, on the occasion of the\ncelebration of the twenty-fifth or _silver_ anniversary of\nthe corporate existence of that now large, flourishing, and\nimportant Catholic institution of learning. It gives a brief but\ninteresting history of the university, from its humble\nbeginnings, a quarter of a century since, under the zealous and\neffective labors of the Very Rev. Father Sorin and his\nwell-chosen and able co-workers, to its present wide and ample\nproportions.\n{859}\nThis is followed by an account of its internal economy or\narrangements; its study, discipline, and amusements; its\nsocieties--religious, literary, and others; its library, museum,\netc., etc. Sketches are also given of the lives of its\npresidents, vice-presidents, professors, and teachers, as well as\nof its alumni, with a full account of the exercises of its recent\n_Jubilee_ commencement. Altogether, the volume must prove a\nvery interesting and acceptable one to the numerous graduates,\npupils, and friends of Notre Dame.\n\n----\n\n  Nora Brady's Vow, And\n  Mona The Vestal.\n  By Mrs. Anna H. Dorsey.\n  Boston: Patrick Donahoe. 1869.\n\nThe first of these stories is of modern times, and the other is\nof the time of St. Patrick. Mrs. Dorsey, like all writers not to\nthe _Irish manner_ born, makes fearful work with what some\npersons are pleased to call the _Irish brogue_. This is,\nhowever, a small fault, with which we do not wish to quarrel. The\nstories are presented to the public in a beautifully printed and\nelegantly bound volume, and will, we doubt not, be welcomed in\nmany an Irish-American household.\n\n----\n\n  The Way Of Salvation,\n  in Meditations for all times in the year.\n  By St. Alphonsus Liguori.\n  Translated from the Italian by the Rev. James Jones.\n  New York: Catholic Publication Society,\n  126 Nassau St.\n\nOne of the best signs of the present time, and a sign most\nencouraging to Catholics of all classes and professions, is that\nbooks of genuine piety are more and more in demand every day. It\nwas this fact that induced the Catholic Publication Society to\nbring out in a neat and very convenient form the celebrated\n_Way of Salvation_, by St. Liguori. It is one of the most\npopular works of that sainted author; and the mere announcement\nof its publication is sufficient recommendation.\n\n----\n\n  The Two Schools. A Moral Tale.\n  By Mrs. Hughs.\n  New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1869.\n\nThis book presents in a striking manner the results of two\nsystems of home education. In it we have a vivid picture of the\nconsequences of wealth, recklessly lavished on an only daughter,\ncontrasted with the encouraging way in which the virtue of a\nmuch-injured girl triumphs over the designs of base and cunning\nenemies. The authoress possesses a happy talent of describing\npersons in an easy and remarkably concise style, and she succeeds\nin causing her characters to act and speak in a natural manner.\nThe book will be read, by girls especially, with the keenest\nenjoyment. The conduct of Mary will seldom fail to draw forth\ntheir approval, and all readers will agree that this is a good\nstory.\n\n----\n\n  A German Reader.\n  In Prose and Verse.\n  With Notes and Vocabulary.\n  By William D. Whitney.\n  New York: Leypoldt & Holt.\n\nThe text of this Reader has at length reached us; and in regard\nto accuracy, arrangement, and clearness of type it is all that\ncan be desired. The selections are very good, although many of\nthem have already done service in German educational works.\nOriginality is only claimed for the vocabulary and notes, which\nhave not yet been published, so that we may only remark that the\nvolume will enjoy a very high reputation, if the forthcoming part\nbe prepared with the same attention that has been devoted to the\ntext.\n\n----\n\n  The Poetical Works Of Samuel Lover.\n  London and New York: George Routledge & Sons.\n\nA most beautiful edition of the beautiful songs of Lover, written\nmostly, as all know, about love and lovers. Yet not all. We are\nindebted to him for many charming ballads, of sweetest melody and\ndeepest pathos, to which indeed Lover owes his fame as a poet.\n\n----\n\n{860}\n\n  The Irish Widow's Son;\n  Or, The Pikemen Of Ninety-eight.\n  A story of the Irish Rebellion, embracing an historical account\n  of the Battles of Antrim and Ballinahinch.\n  By. Con O'Leary.\n  Boston: P. Donahoe. 1869.\n\nThis book is interesting, and free from the coarseness which is\nfound in so many stories of Ireland. The author has succeeded in\nproducing a readable tale of that epoch in Ireland's history when\nsecret associations became the controlling power of that\nmisgoverned country.\n\n----\n\n  Essay On Divorce And Divorce Legislation,\n  with special reference to the United States.\n  By Theodore D. Woolsey, D.D., LL.D.,\n  President of Yale College.\n  New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1869.\n\nThis book, by one of the first scholars of our country, is a very\nlearned and laudable effort to effect a reform in our divorce\nlegislation. It would require a long and elaborate article to do\njustice to the work and the subject. At present we can only say\nthat the community ought to thank Dr. Woolsey for the labor he\nhas performed in their service, and which he has done as well as\nit can be done by one who stands on the Protestant platform.\n\n----\n\nTHE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY has in preparation, and will\npublish early in October, _The Illustrated Catholic Family\nAlmanac_ for 1870. It will contain the astronomical tables,\ncalendars, a great amount of valuable statistics, as well as\nseveral well-written sketches of places and things in various\ncountries. It will be illustrated with over twenty splendid\nwood-cuts, and will be sold for 25 cents per copy. Orders from\nthe trade should be sent in at once.\n\n\nP. O'SHEA, New York, has in press, and\nwill publish this season,\n  Lacordaire's _Sketch of the Order of St. Dominic;_\n\n  _Memoir, Journal, and Correspondence of Mrs. Seton,_\n  by Mgr. Seton, in 2 vols. 8vo;\n\n  _Love of our Lord Jesus Christ_, by St. Jure, vol. 2;\n\n  Library of Good Examples, 12 vols.\n\n\nJohn Murphy & Co., Baltimore, announce _A Memoir of the Life\nand Character of the Rev. Demetrius Augustin de Gallitzin,\nFounder of Loretto and Catholicity in Cambria County, Pa.,\nApostle of the Alleghanies._ By Very Rev. Thomas Heyden, of\nBedford, Pa.\n\n\nPatrick Donahoe, Boston, has in\npress\n\n  _Mary and Mi-Ka_, a story of \"The Holy Childhood;\"\n\n  _Five Years in a Protestant Sisterhood,\n  and Ten Years in a Catholic Convent;_\n\n  and a _Life of Christopher Columbus._\n\n\nKelly, Piet & Co., Baltimore,\nannounce the republication of the\nRoman periodical,\n  _Acta ex Iis decerpta quae apud Sanctam Sedem geruntur.\n  The Double Sacrifice: a tale of Castelfidardo.\n  The Life of   Madame Louise de France, Daughter\n  of Louis XV., in religion Mother\n  Terese de St. Augustin. The Day\n  Sanctified_; being meditations and\n  spiritual readings for daily use.\n\n  _Popular Tales_. By Maria Edgeworth.\n\n  _Moral Tales_. By Maria Edgeworth.\n\n-------","title":"The Catholic World, Vol. 09, April, 1869-September, 1869","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":513036}