{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_59433/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_59433","id":"gutenberg_59433","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/59433","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: History - Religious","Category: Journals","Category: Poetry","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Catholic Church -- Periodicals"],"text":"Produced by David King and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n Transcriber\u2019s Note:\n\nThis version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.\nItalics are delimited with the underscore character as _italic_.\n\nFootnotes have been moved to follow the articles in which they are\nreferenced.\n\n The Catholic World, Vol. XXVII\n\n\n\n\n The Catholic World, Vol. XXVII\n\n A Monthly Magazine Of General Literature and Science\n\n Vol. XXVII.\n\n April, 1878, To September, 1878.\n\n Copyright: Rev. Isaac T. Hecker. 1878.\n\n New York:\n The Catholic Publication Society Co.,\n 9 Barclay Street.\n\n 1878.\n\n Contents.\n\n\n A Bishop\u2019s Liberty of Conscience in the New German Empire, 66\n\n _Acta Sanctorum_, The Bollandist, 756\n\n Among the Translators, 35\n\n Anglican Development, 383\n\n Archiepiscopal Palace at Beneventum, The, 234\n\n Atheism, Pantheism _versus_, 471\n\n\n Beatitude in Human Nature, Principle of, 532\n\n Beneventum, The Archiepiscopal Palace at, 234\n\n Blessed Virgin, Breton Legends of, 696\n\n Breton Legends of the Blessed Virgin, 696\n\n\n Caxton Celebration, Lessons of, 359\n\n Christianity, Preparation for, 4\n\n Conrad and Walburga, 163, 312, 487\n\n Coronation of Pope Leo XIII., 280\n\n\n Destiny of Man in a Future Life, The, 145\n\n Diplomatic Service, A Sectarian, 223\n\n Dr. Ewer on the Question, What is Truth?, 577\n\n\n English Press, The, and the Pan-Anglican Synod, 850\n\n English Statesmen in Undress, 549, 813\n\n English Tories and Catholic Education in Ireland, 829\n\n Ewer, Dr., On the Question, What is Truth?, 577\n\n\n Faith, The Future of, 417\n\n France, Respectable Poverty in, 276\n\n French Proverbial Sayings, 204\n\n Future of Faith, 417\n\n\n German Glossaries, 259\n\n German Socialism, 433\n\n\n Have we a Novelist?, 375\n\n Helen Lee, 405, 454\n\n Hell and Science, 321\n\n Hermitages in the Pyr\u00e9n\u00e9es, 302, 460\n\n His Irish Cousins, 794\n\n Home-Rule Candidate, The, 16, 210\n\n Human Nature, The Principle of Beatitude in, 532\n\n Humanity, The Religion of, 660\n\n\n Italy, Regionalism _vs._ Political Unity in, 27\n\n\n Judaism, Relations of to Christianity, 351, 564\n\n\n Kitty Darcy, 337\n\n\n Lessons of the Caxton Celebration, 359\n\n Liberty of Conscience in the New German Empire, 66\n\n Literary Extravagance of the Day, 248\n\n Lope de Vega, 819\n\n\n Mabel Willey\u2019s Lovers, 627\n\n Man\u2019s Destiny in a Future Life, 145\n\n Marshall, The Late Mr., 106\n\n Mathematical Harmonies of the Universe, The, 721\n\n Montserrat, 74\n\n My Friend Mr. Price, 519\n\n\n New York, The Newspaper Press of, 511\n\n Newspaper Press of New York, 511\n\n Novelist? Have we a, 375\n\n\n Pantheism _vs._ Atheism, 471\n\n Parisian Contrasts, 597\n\n Papal Elections, 97\n\n Pearl, 671, 734\n\n Pilate\u2019s Story, 51\n\n Pius IX., The Death of, 129\n\n \u201cPolitical Rapacity of the Romish Church,\u201d Strictures on, 111\n\n Pope Leo XIII., Coronation of, 280\n\n Preparation for Christianity, The, 4\n\n Prohibitory Legislation, 182\n\n Proverbial Sayings, French, 204\n\n Prussian Persecution in its Results, 644\n\n Pyr\u00e9n\u00e9es, Hermitages in, 302, 460\n\n\n Ralph Waldo Emerson, 90\n\n Regionalism _vs._ Political Unity in Italy, 27\n\n Relations of Judaism to Christianity, 351, 564\n\n Religion of Humanity, The, 660\n\n Respectable Poverty in France, 276\n\n\n Science, Hell and, 321\n\n Sectarian Diplomatic Service, 223\n\n Socialist Idea, The, 391\n\n St. Paul on Mars\u2019 Hill, 779\n\n\n Thoreau and New England Transcendentalism, 289\n\n Three Roses, The, 837\n\n Tombs of the House of Savoy, 765\n\n Tractarian Movement in its Relation to the Church, 502\n\n Transcendentalism and Thoreau, 289\n\n Translators, Among the, 35\n\n\n Venerable Mother Mary of the Incarnation, 608\n\n Voltaire and his Panegyrists, 688\n\n Poetry.\n\n\n A Romaunt of the Rose, 404\n\n A Soul\u2019s Holy Week, 1\n\n A True Lover, 777\n\n\n Child-Wisdom, 595\n\n Created Wisdom, The, 486, 607, 818\n\n\n Dante\u2019s Purgatorio, 272, 498\n\n\n Espousals of Our Lady, The, 754\n\n\n Juxta Crucem, 247\n\n\n Lac du Saint Sacrement, 834\n\n Lines, 161\n\n\n Malcolm of Scotland, 374\n\n\n On Calvary, 64\n\n One to One, 793\n\n On the Summit of Mount Lafayette, 643\n\n\n Palm Sunday, 104\n\n\n Rosary Stanzas, 180, 349, 470\n\n\n Sorrow, 336\n\n St. Ceadda, 15\n\n St. Cuthbert, 50\n\n St. Francis of Assisi, 390\n\n\n The Blue-Bird\u2019s Note, 258\n\n The Fountain\u2019s Song, 300\n\n The Moral Law, 659\n\n\n Unconscious Faculties, 670\n\n\n New Publications.\n\n\n A History of the United States, 857\n\n Ancient History, 858\n\n An Introductory History of the United States, 857\n\n A Saint in Algeria, 859\n\n Art of Knowing Ourselves, 717\n\n\n Book of Psalms, 432\n\n Books for Summer Reading, 432\n\n\n Cantus Ecclesiasticus, 144\n\n Church and the Gentile World, The, 142\n\n\n Daily Meditations, 717\n\n De Ecclesia et Cathedra, 140\n\n Divine Sanctuary, 576\n\n Dosia, 859\n\n\n Elements of Ecclesiastical Law, 430\n\n Erlestone Glen, 719\n\n Ethics, or Moral Philosophy, 855\n\n\n Forbidden Fruit, 719\n\n Frederic Ozanam, 716\n\n\n \u201cGhosts,\u201d 144\n\n Good Things, 576\n\n\n History of John Toby\u2019s Conversion, 144\n\n History of Rome, 859\n\n History of the Middle Ages, 859\n\n Holy Church, 712\n\n\n Ireland, 718\n\n\n Legends of Holy Mary, 860\n\n Leo XIII. and his probable Policy, 143\n\n Le Progr\u00e8s du Catholicisme Parmi les Peuples d\u2019Origine Anglo-Saxonne,\n 858\n\n Letters of John Keats, 286\n\n Life of Henri Planchat, 286\n\n Life of Pope Pius IX., 285\n\n\n Manual of Nursing, 716\n\n Mysterious Castle, The, 717\n\n\n New Ireland, 137\n\n\n One of God\u2019s Heroines, 287\n\n Our Sunday Fireside, 715\n\n\n Philochristus, 711\n\n\n Sayings and Prayers of the Foundress of the Sisters of Mercy, 143\n\n Select Works of Venerable Fr. Lancicius, S.J., 716\n\n Seven Years and Mair, 714\n\n St. Joseph\u2019s Manual, 144\n\n St. Teresa\u2019s Own Words, 717\n\n St. Winfrid, Life of, 713\n\n\n Thalia, 718\n\n The Christian Reformed, 715\n\n The Four Seasons, 288\n\n The Nabob, 140\n\n The Notary\u2019s Daughter, 717\n\n The Precious Pearl, 718\n\n The Young Catholic, 860\n\n Thirty-nine Sermons, 288\n\n Total Abstinence, 719\n\n To the Sun, 287\n\n\n Vacation Days, 716\n\n Vatican Library, The, 143\n\n Voyage of the Paper Canoe, 714\n\n\n Way of the Cross, 144\n\n Wrecked and Saved, 719\n\n\n Young Girl\u2019s Month of May, 288\n\n\n\n\n THE CATHOLIC WORLD.\n VOL. XXVII., No. 157.\u2014APRIL, 1878.\n\n\n A SOUL\u2019S HOLY WEEK.\n\n\nPALM SUNDAY.\n\n\n What shall I spread beneath thy feet, dear Lord,\n Meek Son of David drawing near to-day\n With wide hearts\u2019 worship for thy king\u2019s array,\n With love\u2019s full measure for thy blessing poured?\n How shall my weakness its deep longing prove?\n Not mine the martyr\u2019s fadeless branch of palm,\n Nor mine the priestly olive giving balm,\n For hearts\u2019 consoling, healing wounds with love.\n Alas! not mine baptismal robe unstained\n To offer thee with pure and child-like trust:\n Dark are its folds with clinging wayside dust.\n Yet even this poor raiment, world-profaned,\n Thou wilt not scorn, since veils it heart contrite\n Grieving so sore its trespass in thy sight.\n\n\nMONDAY.\n\n\n Rabbi, one little moment only, wait\n Till I kneel down and wet with tears of shame\n Thy blessed feet, thy garment\u2019s sacred hem\u2014\n O thou so long unheeded, loved so late!\n Let me pour forth the ointment of my soul,\n The precious store wherewith thou fill\u2019st my vase,\n My love\u2019s devotion and my sorrow\u2019s grace;\n Withholding naught from thee that givest all.\n The more I give the richer grows my share,\n Since unto thee one cannot give and lose.\n Thou givest e\u2019er; we but thy gifts diffuse.\n Worthless all gold unless thy stamp it bear.\n Worthless my tears unless their source be thee:\n What gem shall, then, outshine their purity?\n\n\nTUESDAY.\n\n\n I dare not wish that my life\u2019s days had been\n When thou, O Christ! didst come in human guise\n As seeming weak as poorest child that lies\n On mother\u2019s breast in infant sleep serene;\n When thou the Father\u2019s wisdom unto men\n Didst speak with lips of little more than child;\n Didst preach the kingdom of the undefiled;\n Didst pardon sin and pity human pain.\n I know thee now, although I have not seen.\n Perchance in those old days I had denied,\n With Bethlehem\u2019s matrons turned my face aside,\n Spurned from my threshold heaven\u2019s chosen Queen,\n And\u2014O dread thought!\u2014my God a mockery made,\n Even as Judas with a kiss betrayed!\n\n\nWEDNESDAY.\n\n\n \u201cThy Saviour cometh.\u201d O my soul, behold!\n Arise and greet Him smitten for thy sin,\n Wounded for thee the Father\u2019s grace to win,\n True Shepherd, stricken for the frightened fold.\n Art thou asleep, my soul? Art thou afraid\n To meet the sorrow of that face despised?\n Ah! see the love with which thy love is prized:\n He bleeds for thee that hast so oft betrayed;\n His soul is sorrowful to death for thee,\n For thee is borne the crown of pitying thorn,\n For thee his people\u2019s cruel taunts are borne,\n Carried the heavy cross to Calvary.\n He weeps thy sins: weep thou his infinite woe.\n What have we done that he should love us so?\n\n\nHOLY THURSDAY.\n\n\n Was\u2019t not enough, dear Lord, that thou shouldst give\n Thy body to the scourge, the thorn, the reed,\n That thou in dark Gethsemani shouldst bleed,\n The purple garment from rude hands receive,\n But that thou still must give thyself to bear\n New stripes, new Calvary in that dim life\n That is our refuge in the weary strife\n Earth offers all who seek thy life to share?\n O Love divine! was\u2019t not enough to hold\n Thine own so dear thou lovedst to the end,\n Deep-wounded hands on Calvary to extend,\n Seeking poor earth in Love\u2019s wide arms to fold,\n But still thou giv\u2019st thyself, Love\u2019s sacrament,\n As with thy love and sorrow uncontent?\n\n\nGOOD FRIDAY.\n\n\n Dear Mother, unto thee I come to-day,\n Because I dare not look upon the face\n Of Him in whose least wound my sins I trace:\n Dear Mother, for his love\u2019s sake bid me stay.\n He calls: \u201cI thirst.\u201d Ah! offer him my tears\n Repentance hath made pure of all their gall.\n Tell him, who nothing has would offer all,\n But yet to bring the gift unworthy fears,\n Lest so some added thorn be wreathed within\n The crown wherewith the wounded brow is bound,\n The mocking people\u2019s sovereignty\u2019s round\n That saints, with joy, shall lose all life to win.\n Mother, thy Son gives me in thy fond care:\n Fold thou my helpless hands in perfect prayer.\n\n\nHOLY SATURDAY.\n\n\n \u201cThis day in Paradise.\u201d O fortunate thief!\n What strange surprise, what happiness, was thine\n In that dim land to see the Sun divine,\n To win so soon the crown of late belief.\n This day in Paradise! O soul released\n By cleansing sign of Resurrection cross,\n Earth may bewail thy Lord: thine is no loss,\n With fresh forgiveness holding wealth increased.\n Soul, hast thou hung on Calvary\u2019s cross with him,\n Thou, justly, like the thief, for thine offence,\n Breathe thou thy prayer of humble penitence:\n Glory of dawn shall break thy shadows dim,\n \u2019Mid which the Sun of Justice glad shall rise\u2014\n Poor pardoned thief!\u2014this day in Paradise!\n\n\nEASTER SUNDAY.\n\n\n Through Lent, dear Lord, I seemed to walk with thee\n As thy disciples once; thy tender voice,\n From Mary won, making my soul rejoice\n E\u2019en through the sorrow of Gethsemani,\n Though oft I wept such infinite love to grieve.\n And seemed thy human life to mine so near\n That ever shadowed all my joy the fear\n The end must come, and thou that life must leave.\n To-day with Magdalen I weep once more\u2014\n My Lord is risen and my life\u2019s love lost.\n O silly soul, on sorrow\u2019s ocean tossed,\n Does he not tell thee, as to her before,\n \u201cBe not afraid\u201d?\u2014to thee is he less near?\n Dead, yet arisen; crucified, yet here!\n\n\n\n\n THE PREPARATION FOR CHRISTIANITY IN THE SIX CENTURIES BEFORE CHRIST.\n\n\nThe period of six centuries before Christ may be taken as the immediate\nperiod of preparation for Christianity\u2014not in a precise numerical sense\nof exactly six hundred years, but as a general term denoting an epoch\nwhose beginning is somewhat vague and indeterminate. Some of the great\nevents are prior to B.C. 600, and the larger number of those which are\nimportant are much later. What we would do is to describe an historical\ncycle including the great prophetic cycle of Daniel, which embraces\nseventy weeks in the mystical numeration of Holy Scripture\u2014_i.e._, a\nperiod of four hundred and ninety years; beginning at the rebuilding of\nthe city and temple of Jerusalem, and ending with the promulgation of\nthe New Law to the nations of the earth by St. Peter. We consider this\nlast event as the culmination and ultimate term of the preceding\nhistorical period of preparation, from which history takes a new point\nof departure, thenceforward moving directly towards its final\nconsummation through its last period, the one in which we live. These\nsix centuries comprise what is specially the pre-Christian historical\nperiod. The greatest part of ancient profane history is taken up with\nthe record of its events. The history of the ages going before is vague\nand scanty, and even the chronology is uncertain. A few dates will show\nhow great a portion of what is known to us from childhood as historical\nantiquity is comprised within this relatively recent and modern period.\n\nHerodotus, the father of history, is said to have recited parts of his\nhistory at the Olympic games, B.C. 456, and Thucydides, who was then a\nboy, to have heard him; and this is also the date of the death of\n\u00c6schylus. The date of the battle of Thermopyl\u00e6 is 480, of the death of\nSocrates 399, of the birth of Alexander 356. The period of Confucius,\nLao-Tseu, and Pythagoras is in the vicinity of the year 550. The\nbeginning of the Persian Empire under Cyrus was in 559. The common date\nof the building of Rome is 753 B.C. Carthage was destroyed in 146.\nJulius C\u00e6sar began his career in the year 80. Within this period\noccurred also the restoration of the Jews to their own country, the\nfounding of the Jewish temple and community at Alexandria, the\ntranslation of the Hebrew Scriptures into Greek, the rise and triumph of\nthe Asmon\u00e6an dynasty of the Machabees, the usurpation of Herod, and the\nbeginning of Roman supremacy in Palestine.\n\nWe now proceed to show the relation between this period and its great\nevents, as making the most important chapter in ancient universal\nhistory, with the origin and extension of Christianity. The modern\nrationalist theory of a purely natural origin of the Christian religion\nby development from previous stages of purely natural phases of the\nhuman intellect, should be refuted by a true exposition of the\nconnection between the natural and the supernatural causes which\nconcurred in producing the great historical phenomenon of Christianity.\nThe history of the one true and revealed religion, and specifically of\nits latest form in Christianity, is not isolated and separate from the\ngeneral history of mankind.\n\nIt is a topic in universal history. The Christian era succeeds by a\nclose historical connection to the period which preceded it, and that\nperiod was the outcome of the ages going before. These preceding ages\nappear to us historically under a merely natural aspect. That is to say,\nthe nations of the earth have no divine revelation or religion. Their\nreligions are different and national, mere human creations, and their\npolity, morals, philosophy, and literature are products of natural\nintelligence. Their early history loses itself in obscurity or fable.\nHence the manifest connection of the Christian period with the ages\nforegoing gives some plausible ground for the hypothesis that the origin\nof Christianity is natural, that it is only an outcome of mere natural\nprogress and development. When we proceed to show a preparation for\nChristianity in the ages immediately preceding, we may be asked if we do\nnot thereby tacitly admit and argue from this hypothesis. If God created\nall mankind for a supernatural destiny, under a supernatural providence;\nneeding a divine revelation, in which a divine religion, one,\nunchangeable, demanding absolute, universal faith and obedience, is made\nknown and imposed on the intellect and will of man as obligatory; how is\nit that we seek for the causes and events which prepared the way for its\npromulgation in a previous state of things so unlike that which we\ndeclare God intended to produce by Christianity?\n\nThe answer to this is easy. God began by giving a revelation and a\ndivine religion to all mankind. The general falling away from this\nprimitive religion was not so far advanced as to make it necessary for\nGod to select a special race as the recipient and preserver of a renewed\nform of the divine religion until two thousand years before Christ. The\nperiod of the old and universal form of religion, therefore, embraces\nall the time from the calling of Abraham to the creation of man, at\nleast two thousand years, and, according to the opinion of many, from\ntwo thousand five hundred to four thousand years. During the entire\nperiod of human history, therefore, from the creation of man to the\npresent moment, embracing from sixty to eighty centuries, the divine\nreligion derived from revelation has been more or less universally\npromulgated, with the exception of its medi\u00e6val portion\u2014that is, during\na time including from two-thirds to three-fourths of the whole time in\nwhich the human race has existed. The period in which the mass of\nmankind was left to itself apparently, without the law of God manifested\nby revelation\u2014the period called by St. Paul \u201cthe time of ignorance which\nGod winked at\u201d\u2014embraces only the remaining third or fourth part of time,\nthat is, twenty centuries. This state of ignorance was not original, and\nnot natural in the sense of being conformed to the exigencies of human\nnature and human destiny, or intended and directly produced by the\nAuthor of nature. It was the result of an apostasy, a degeneration, a\nwilful departure, a rebellion, a schism, a voluntary fall from the\nprimitive state. Moreover, in this very state of apostasy, the\nprinciples of all the good which remained, the principles of\ncivilization, science, virtue; political, social, and personal\nwell-being and improvement; were all remnants from the first period in\nwhich the divine religion was universal. Therefore, when we point out in\nheathendom the preparation for a new promulgation of the universal\nreligion, we are not tracing Christianity back to its natural causes and\nto its origin, but are tracing the movement of humanity along its\nre-entering curve, from the ultimate term of its departure, to its point\nof contact with a new motive power, the true and divine cause of the\nre-conversion and restoration of mankind through Christ, _qui restauret\nomnia_.\n\nIn addition to this, we must remember that it is only wilful ignorance\nand sophistical perversion of historical truth which assigns the origin\nof the human race and its institutions to an unknown, pre-historic\nchaos. Far back of the period of written, profane history, of\nhieroglyphic and cuneiform inscriptions, of the scattered, uncertain\nrecords of every kind which we can gather up from the remote past, the\nauthentic, written documents of the people of Judea throw a clear light\non the beginning of things. Divine revelation is in possession from the\nbeginning. Profane history is modern history. We alone are ancient; and\nwe may say to the infidel, as the Egyptian said to Solon: \u201cYou have\nneither knowledge of antiquity, nor antiquity of knowledge.\u201d\n\nEven during the period of the universal excommunication of mankind from\nthe church of God that church existed, the divine revelation was\npreserved and increased, and the line of continuity between the past and\nthe future was kept unbroken, in the nation of the children of Abraham.\nIt was from Juda that the Lawgiver and the law came forth to the\nsubjugation of the nations. The historical and rational basis of the\nsupernatural origin and power of Christianity reaches down, therefore,\nto the first foundations of the world and the human race. So, then, we\ncan have no fear of searching after and pointing out any natural and\nconcurrent causes in the progress of human events which have prepared\nthe way for Christianity and facilitated its universal conquests. The\nstate of heathendom is not to be considered as a normal, natural, and\nnecessary stage in the evolution and progress of mankind, from which\nChristianity was educed. The plan of divine Providence proposed to\nconduct mankind from one degree of development to another, until the\nperfection of religion and civilization was attained in the Catholic\nChurch and carried forward to its last results in the universal\nresurrection and the everlasting kingdom of heaven, for which all the\nprogeny of Adam, without exception, were destined. According to this\nplan, the church would always have been one and universal, and whatever\nmight have been the special mission and privileges of the people of\nIsrael, the covenant of God with them, and the possession of\ndivinely-revealed doctrine, discipline, and worship would not have been\nexclusive. The national and exclusive constitution of the church in the\nposterity of Abraham and Jacob through the Law of Moses was a\ndispensation established on account of the general apostasy of mankind,\na measure of protection against an absolute and final defection of the\nhuman race. And the preparation which went on in heathendom for the new\npromulgation of the divine law to all the world by Jesus Christ was also\na measure of remedy and rescue, a \u201csecond plank after shipwreck,\u201d thrown\nto the nations who were drowning in a sea of errors and miseries.\n\nThe object of that preparation was to furnish a sufficient ground and\nterritory for the kingdom of Christ, the Catholic Church; to make ready\nthe people who were fit to receive his law and doctrine; to produce the\nconditions and circumstances requisite for the universal conquest and\npermanent dominion of Christianity in the world. The discipline of\ndivine Providence over the nations during the long centuries of their\nwandering through the waste and howling wilderness of ignorance, error,\nsin, warfare, and misery of all kinds, is like that over the children of\nIsrael during their wandering of forty years in the desert which lay\nbetween Egypt and Palestine. They were condemned to this wandering as a\npunishment for their unbelief and disobedience. This punishment was\nnevertheless made the means of their training and education as a nation,\nand a better generation, born in the wilderness, was formed, which was\nfit to go into, conquer, and possess the Promised Land. We can also draw\nan illustration front individual examples, of which history furnishes a\ngreat number. A youth, highly gifted, brought up in faith and virtue,\nwell educated, and with every kind of means and opportunity for pursuing\na noble career to the glory of God, the welfare of men, and his own\nhighest advantage both in time and eternity, comes to the morning of his\nmanhood, with the straight path of duty stretching out its narrow and\nascending course before him. Instead of pursuing this path steadily from\nthe beginning, he is seduced to turn aside and wander over the more\npleasant lands which are on the border of his right road, following the\nillusions of ambition, of pride, and of pleasure. For a while God leaves\nhim to his wanderings, but his mercy does not abandon him. Through\ncircuitous paths, through the lessons of experience, through trials,\ndisappointments, and sufferings, he is led back to the right road. He\nbecomes a hero, a saint, an apostle. The science, the fame, the\ninfluence, the wealth, the experience he acquired during those years,\nand which he labored to acquire for a low and unworthy end, are all now\nmade the means and instruments of fulfilling a noble and holy purpose.\nEven his errors and sins serve as a warning lesson to others, and cause\nin himself a more vivid appreciation of the goodness of God, the value\nof divine faith and grace, and the happiness of a holy life.\n\nIn like manner the human race, in its youth, went forth from the\ncradle-land of Armenia to take possession of the wide inheritance of the\nearth. Carried away by the illusions of the senses and the imagination,\nin the pride of its youthful strength, the human race sought to find its\ndestiny and create its paradise on the earth, forgetful of God, of his\nlaw, of his doctrine, and of his promises. The colonization of new\ncountries, the foundation of empires and cities, the cultivation of\nscience, literature, art, and every sort of commerce, handicraft, and\nindustry, all that is included in the term civilization, employed the\nenergies of that portion of mankind whose doings find a place in\nuniversal history, until everything was accomplished which was possible\nto man and God saw fit to permit him to achieve. As for his relations\nwith the world above this earth, with the duration which is beyond time,\nand with superhuman and divine powers, since he could not ignore them or\nconfine his intellect of divine origin and immortal destiny to merely\ntemporal and earthly things, he invented religions, or sought by the\nlight of reason to discover the truth about the supersensible world. The\nresult of all was that a state of things was produced in which mankind,\nunable to proceed further, dissatisfied and sighing after something\nbetter, cried out for God to come and accomplish the work which was too\nmuch for man. A young man or a young woman, feeling deeply the emptiness\nof all the enjoyments to be obtained by wealth, gives up his or her\nfortune for charitable purposes. A prince, tired of war and politics,\ndevotes his castle and domain to the foundation of a monastery and\nassumes the religious habit. An artist, a poet, an orator, a great\nscholar, convinced of the futility of chasing the shadow of earthly\nglory, consecrates his gifts and acquisitions to religion. In like\nmanner all that the human race had gained in civilization, in empire, in\nwealth, in philosophy and literature and art, was so much material\naccumulated for the spirit and genius of Christianity to appropriate and\nemploy in the work of the regeneration of mankind.\n\nThis statement is, of course, restricted to that part of the human race\nwhich forms the principal subject of universal history and is included\nwithin the sphere of the Greco-Roman intellectual and political\ndominion. The Chinese, and the nations of similar origin and character,\nare a nullity in universal history. The Hindoos have remained to this\nday outside of the current of the catholic movement of Christianity. The\nbarbarian and savage races have only been capable of receiving\nChristianity together with civilization from nations previously\ncivilized. What conquests Christianity may yet make among the great mass\nof the heathen who constitute the numerical majority of mankind, only\nthe future can disclose. Probably the dominion of European intelligence\nand political power will be a necessary condition for the extension of\nthe spiritual dominion of the Catholic Church in those regions of the\nworld, if it is ever accomplished. Leo says of the Mongolian races:\n\n \u201cIt seems to us that it is only their conversion to Christianity\n which can entitle them to admission into the domain of universal\n history as we have conceived its plan, and this conversion can\n hardly become general except through some kind of political\n subjugation and dependence. Certainly, the place of these nations in\n history is one foreseen by God; but the period of their intellectual\n importance for us has not yet arrived, and will perhaps never come\n until they are conquered by the Caucasian race and mingled with it.\n It is therefore only upon the Caucasians, in their great division of\n Semites, Japhetians, and Chamites, that we can direct our view, as\n being hitherto the workmen whose labors are recorded by universal\n history.\u201d\n\nIt is only with the past history of that select portion of the human\nrace which has advanced steadily on the road of progress toward the\ncompletion attained in Christianity that our theme is concerned. Even\nsome portions of the Aryan race, as the Hindoos, have but little\nconnection with it. And in that later period upon which our attention is\nat present specially directed, the Jews, the Greeks, and the Romans make\nthe principal factors in producing the result which we wish to\nestimate\u2014viz., the preparation for the actual conquest and extension of\nChristianity as a universal religion, which has been thus far achieved,\nand has become an historical fact. Jewish faith, Hellenic intellectual\nculture, Roman polity, were the chief agents in preparing the way for\nChristianity as the world-religion and the world-subduing power. The\nHellenic philosophy and literature we leave aside for the present. The\nRoman imperial and universal monarchy is the topic to be specially\nconsidered in this article. This great world-subduing power is\nhistorically and logically connected with the great monarchies of a\nsimilar character which preceded it, and which are all presented under\none figure, that of a colossal statue, whose members are cast from\ndifferent metals, in the celebrated vision of Nabuchodonosor,\ninterpreted and recorded by the prophet Daniel. It is remarkable that\nthis vision, which presents emblematically a summary of the universal\npolitical history of the world in prophecy, was given to the monarch of\nthe great Assyrian Empire, yet in such a way that it passed before his\nmind like an evanescent flash. He could not understand or even remember\nit until the great prophet of Juda repeated and explained it. The date\nof this vision is a little later than B.C. 600, just at the beginning of\nthe period we are considering. \u201cThou, O king! didst begin to think, in\nthy bed, what should come to pass hereafter: and He that revealeth\nmysteries showed thee what shall come to pass. Thou, O King! sawest, and\nbehold there was, as it were, a great statue: this statue, which was\ngreat and tall of stature, stood before thee, and the look thereof was\nterrible. The head of this statue was of fine gold, but the breast and\nthe arms of silver, and the belly and the thighs of brass: and the legs\nof iron, the feet part of iron and part of clay. Thus thou sawest, till\na stone was cut out of a mountain without hands: and it struck the\nstatue upon the feet thereof, that were of iron and clay, and broke them\nin pieces: but the stone that struck the statue became a great mountain\nand filled the whole earth.\u201d\n\nDaniel then interpreted the vision as a prophecy of the destinies of the\nworld under four universal monarchies, the Assyrian being the first,\nrepresented by the head of gold. The other three are manifestly the\nMedo-Persian, Macedonian, and Roman. The weak feet and toes of the\nstatue are the extension of the empire among the barbarians of the West.\nThe prophet finishes by declaring that after the decadence of the last\nempire God will set up a kingdom which shall never be destroyed or\ntransferred to another power, but which shall destroy entirely the whole\nfabric of world-monarchy which was represented by the statue of gold,\nsilver, brass, and iron, terminating in clay\u2014_i.e._, the Babylo-Roman\nEmpire. Thus, at the very beginning of the course of events which took\nplace during the six centuries of the period preceding the Messianic\nepoch, the great prophet who is inspired to foretell with minute\ndistinctness the times of the Messianic kingdom is made the counsellor\nand prime minister of the last monarchs of the Assyrian Empire, and of\nthe first of the succeeding Medo-Persian kings, and Nabuchodonosor and\nCyrus are instructed by divine revelation in the designs and purposes\nfor which God has raised them up to prepare the way for the coming and\nreign of his Son upon the earth. The great world-empire, whose seat is\nfirst established in Babylon, and afterwards transferred to Rome, has a\nmission to accomplish, and, when that has been fulfilled, it is finally\nabolished to make way for the Catholic Church and the Christendom of\nwhich it is the nucleus, the Christian political, social, and moral\norder, the unification and restoration to one universal fraternity of\nthe regenerated human race.\n\nThe Roman Empire, the inheritor of all the power, the civilization, the\nintellectual and material wealth and grandeur of its predecessors, with\nits own new and specific force in addition, made of the whole world one\ndominion, brought the East into subjection to the West, and established\nin Rome, the Eternal City, the permanent capital of the earth. Thus the\nway was prepared, by the general diffusion of the Greek and Latin\nlanguages, by universal commerce and communication between all nations,\nby the organizing and educating force of political and military\ndiscipline, and by many other efficient agencies, for a rapid and\nirresistible transmission of the spirit, the doctrine, the moral law,\nthe entire supernatural and regenerating grace of Christianity\nthroughout the civilized world. At the same time the civilizing power\nwas brought into contact with that great mass of European barbarians who\nwere destined to form the most vigorous portion of Catholic Christendom.\nJulius C\u00e6sar is considered as the great author of modern European\ncivilization. The empire reached its acme in the reign of Augustus. Near\nthe close of his reign, and somewhere in the vicinity of A. U. C. 747,\nthe Temple of Janus was closed, and the epoch of universal pacification,\nthe effect of irresistible, triumphant Roman power, came to a world\nwhich was expecting the advent of the Prince of Peace, and made a\nmoment\u2019s stillness, a brief pause of silent wonder through the universe,\nwhile the mystery of the incarnation and human birth of the great King\nwas accomplished.\n\nLet us turn now to Judea, whose mission was much higher in the order of\nmoral grandeur, though not so dazzling to the imagination as that of\nRome. Daniel foretold the end of the captivity of the Jews when a period\nof seventy years should be completed, and the birth and death of the\nMessias after another period of seven times seventy years from the\nrebuilding of the city and Temple. The schism and captivity of the ten\ntribes had freed the kingdom of David from putrescent parts and given a\nmore pure and healthy life to Juda. The corruption of Juda found a\nsevere and efficacious remedy in the captivity which befell that tribe\nalso at a later period. A purified remnant, the _\u00e9lite_ of the nation,\nwere restored to their own land under Cyrus. The city and temple were\nrebuilt. Alexander the Great extended the same favor to the Jewish\nnation which had been granted by the Persian monarchs. Under his\nsuccessors, the kings of Syria and Egypt, Judea flourished both in a\npolitical and a religious sense for three centuries, although not exempt\nfrom vicissitudes, a second temple was established in Egypt, and in\nAlexandria, the new capital founded by Alexander, the Jews became\nnumerous and attained to great consideration and importance. The Hebrew\nScriptures were translated into Greek and the important books of the\nsecond canon were written. Under Antiochus Epiphanes a new crisis\narrived, which threatened the total extinction of Judaism. A large\nportion of the priests and people were infected with the corrupted Greek\ncivilization of that period, the practice of the Mosaic law was\nforbidden and suppressed by the most oppressive edicts sanctioned by the\nmost cruel penalties, and Jerusalem was changed into an apparently\nheathen city. The sacred ark containing all the hopes of the world in\nthe ages to come seemed about to be wrecked. But God raised up the\nheroic family of the Machabees to rescue once more Jerusalem and Judea\nfrom the ruin which seemed to be imminent.\n\nThere is no greater and more wonderful hero in all history than Judas\nMachabeus, a new and more sublime Leonidas, standing with his small but\ninvincible host in the world\u2019s Thermopyl\u00e6, as the defender, even unto\ndeath, not of Greece but of all mankind; the saviour, not of mere\nnational and temporal interests, but of the precious inheritance of\nfaith, the supernatural treasure by which all men were to be enriched\nwith those blessings which are eternal. The history of the Asmon\u00e6an\ndynasty, its period of glory and of decay, and, next, of the Idum\u00e6an\nusurpation in the person of the cruel tyrant, Herod the Great, a mere\ncreature and dependent viceroy of the Roman emperor, brings us to the\nend of the dispensation of Abraham and Moses, to the epoch of the new\nProphet, Priest, and King, who teaches, sanctifies, and rules mankind by\nhis own personal and inherent might and right, as the Emmanuel, who is\nboth the Creator and the Redeemer of the world.\n\nSt. Paul declares that the mystery of divine Providence respecting both\nthe Jews and the Gentiles, made known in the full Christian revelation,\nwas to \u201cestablish all things in Christ, in the dispensation of the\nfulness of times\u201d (Eph. i. 10). We infer from this statement, that all\nthe ages preceding the birth of Christ were a preparation for the\nfoundation of the Catholic Church, which was completed at the epoch of\nhis coming. The work of Judaism was done and its mission completed.\nHenceforth it was only an obstacle in the way of the universal religion\nwhich it had been created to serve. The oracles of God which it\npreserved and transmitted, the faith which it inherited from Abraham,\nits genuine spirit, the essence of religion which had been embodied in\nits outward organization, were transmitted to Christianity. The lifeless\nmass which was left behind was only fit to be buried as a putrescent\ncarcass. The mission of the Roman Empire was also completed, its\ndestruction decreed, and dimly foretold by the apostles. The entire\nGreco-Roman civilization, with its philosophy, its literature, its\nreligious superstitions, had run its course, and its ultimate result was\nan intellectual and moral abyss of vacancy and unfulfilled longing for\nthe truth and the good which alone can fill the frightful void in the\nhuman soul and in universal humanity caused by the absence of God. St.\nPaul says that Christ, having first descended to the lowest depth,\nascended to the highest celestial summit, \u201c_ut impleret omnia_\u201d\u2014that he\nmight fill all things. The Emmanuel, the God in humanity, the very\nsovereign truth and sovereign good impersonated in a twofold nature,\ndivine and human, is the only fulfilment of universal history, of human\ndestiny, as the term and expression of the thoughts and purposes of God.\nHis kingdom on the earth, the Catholic Church, is the instrument and\nmedium by which he extends his action through time and upon universal\nhumanity during the period of universal history which is now in the\nprocess of fulfilment. The material part of the substantial essence of\nthis new Messianic empire was furnished by the commingling of the\nelements of Judaism and Greco-Roman civilization. The vital and\ninforming principle was supernatural and divine, inspired into the now\norganic structure by a new out-breathing of the creative and life-giving\nSpirit.\n\nThis supernatural character of Christianity is capable of a rigorous\nhistorical and rational demonstration. Rationalists, as they call\nthemselves, having first made themselves their own dupes, have duped the\ngreat mass of the unlearned and the unthinking in this age, and even\nimposed to a greater or a lesser degree on numbers of Catholics whose\ninstruction in sound Christian knowledge is defective and superficial,\nby a shallow and pretentious system vaunted under the name of scientific\ncriticism. Like the pseudo-Smerdis, its pretence to be the true,\nlegitimate possessor of dominion, and heir to the acquisitions of reason\nand experience historically transmitted from the past, is founded on an\nillusory semblance of likeness to genuine science. As the impostor who\npassed himself off on a credulous people for the son of Cyrus was\ndetected and exposed by stripping off the royal head-dress which he had\nstolen, and showing that his head had long since been deprived of the\nears as an ignominious punishment for crime, so this base-born\nrationalism, when the logic of facts and sound reasoning seizes hold of\nit, meets the fate which befell the Persian usurper under the iron grasp\nand death-dealing sword of Darius, the son of Hystaspes. It is an old\nculprit, long since marked by the sword of truth, and doomed to perish\nunder the blows of the genuine offspring of the noble, ancestral chiefs\nin the intellectual kingdom. Christianity is historical and rational,\nresting on the principles of contradiction and of the sufficient reason.\nThat which has occurred and which exists cannot be denied or doubted,\nand must be referred to a sufficient reason and an adequate cause. The\nfacts and events of the religion of Christ, as well those which preceded\nas those which have followed his human birth, are historically certain.\nThe flimsy hypotheses of sceptical criticism have been destroyed by\ncritical science. The penetrating acid of critical investigation, a\nsolvent which is destructive of all counterfeits and semblances, has\nonly made more manifest and clear of all accidental adhesions the real\nsubstance and imperishable solidity of the great historical structure of\nthe primeval and universal religion. The books of Moses and his\nsuccessors, the four Gospels and the other apostolic documents, together\nwith all else that is accessory and corroborative of sacred history in\nthe genuine records and works of antiquity, have come unscathed, and\nwith brighter and clearer evidence than before, out of the restless and\naudacious researches of that modern school of rationalists who have\nsought to destroy all ancient science and belief, to make way for a new\nfabric of hypothesis which they call modern science and philosophy.\nTheir visionary systems stand confronted with unassailable facts and\nconvicted of falsehood. These great facts, from the creation of man to\nthe resurrection of Christ, and from his resurrection to the present,\nactual existence of the Catholic Church, irresistibly, and with all the\nforce of invincible logic, demand the recognition of their sole,\nassignable sufficient reason, a supernatural cause. It is because of\nthis necessary connection of the great facts upon which Christianity is\nfounded with a supernatural cause that rationalists deny, in so far as\nthat is possible, these facts. But, as they cannot deny altogether the\nreality of all, they deny the principle of causality itself, like Hume\nand the whole sceptical sect of pseudo-philosophers, or, at least, by\ntheir hypotheses, ignore and subvert the principle of causality, through\nthe contradiction of necessary deductions from the principle which is\ncontained in these hypotheses.\n\nThe fact of Christianity cannot be denied, because it is too immediately\npresent and evident before the minds of all men. Unless one avowedly\nabjures reason, it must be accounted for. The hypothesis of the\nrationalists supposes that a young man of Galilee, without education,\nevolved out of his own mind and the Scriptures of the Old Testament a\ndoctrine which he taught for about one year to the people of Judea and\nGalilee, and was then crucified as a teacher of false doctrine and a\ndisturber of the religion of his country. The effect of his moral\nexcellence and heroism in dying for his convictions, together with that\nof his teaching of a few simple and sublime doctrines of theology and\nethics, was the astounding revolution which has resulted in historical\nChristianity. This is a theory of lunatics. The birth of Jesus precisely\nat the period which was the fulness of the times, the promulgation of a\nuniversal religion which appropriated and subjected to its dominion and\nutility all the results of previous preparation, combined opposite\nelements into a new form, conquered and regenerated the human race; and\nall the phenomena of the origin and progress of Christianity; prove the\nintervention of the same power which created the world and has governed\nit since the beginning. The divine mission of Jesus is proved by the\nwork which he accomplished. The precise nature and comprehension of that\nmission and work, as God intended it, and as Jesus Christ revealed it to\nhis apostles, is proved by the effect actually produced, by the argument\n_a posteriori_, from the effect to the cause. The religion which\nactually became universal is the religion which is founded on the\nconfession of the Trinity, the true and proper divinity of the Son of\nGod, his assumption of human nature by a miraculous birth from the\nVirgin, his redemption of the human race, fallen through the sin of the\nfirst Adam, by the cross, his absolute sovereignty over the earth and\nthe whole universe, and his delegation of authority to the apostles\nunder their prince and head, St. Peter. The conversion of the Roman\nEmpire to this religion demands a sufficient cause, and the only cause\nto which it can possibly be traced is the divine power of its founder,\nJesus Christ. The law did not go forth from Sion and Jerusalem to the\nwhole world by virtue of any power which Judaism put forth. The Roman\nimperial power did not undergo a transmutation into the kingdom of\nChrist. Catholic theology was not the fruit of Greek philosophy, and the\nregeneration of mankind was not the natural result of Greco-Roman\ncivilization. All these forms were overmastered and supplanted by a\nsuperior force which overcame a most violent and stubborn resistance on\ntheir part. They had only prepared the way, and were destroyed when\ntheir work was done. Jesus Christ proved himself to be the possessor of\nthat divine power which had employed them to prepare his way before him,\nby establishing his new kingdom upon their territory, and making their\nwork subservient to his own conquest and dominion. Rome was made the\nseat of his own Vicar, the monarch of his spiritual kingdom. The\nthirteen great dioceses of the Roman Empire were parcelled out to the\ngreat princes of the church, the patriarchs, exarchs, and primates, who\nreceived a delegated share of the supremacy of the Sovereign Pontiff of\nthe city of Rome. The great provincial cities were made the seats of the\nmetropolitans, and the thousands of minor cities the sees of the bishops\nof the Catholic Church. This great work was substantially accomplished\nwithin three centuries from the death and resurrection and ascension of\nJesus Christ. One must be demented not to recognize a supernatural cause\nfor this effect, and, as directed by and concurring with this first,\nsupreme, efficient cause, a chain-work of second causes extending\nthrough all previous history backward to the origin of the human race\nand of the great nations of the earth.\n\nMgr. Delille, Bishop of Rodez, thus contrasts the theory of universal\nhistory which presents the incarnation of the divine Word as the central\nfact of the whole circle of human events with that of modern\nrationalism:\n\n \u201cIn presence of all the remains of the past actions of the human\n race which are buried in the catacombs of history, only two theories\n can be found by which to account for them\u2014the theory of chance or\n fatalism, and the theory of a divine plan.\n\n \u201cThe first explains nothing, because it professedly ignores the\n final destination of humanity. Sitting amid the ruins, with its back\n turned to the future, it contents itself with making an inventory of\n the bones of the defunct generations, and weighing their dust. As\n the conclusion of this fruitless and melancholy work, it says:\n Things were thus and so, because they had to be so; they are either\n games of chance or evolutions of the universal substance. It is\n quite otherwise with that theory derived from the revelation of the\n divine plan by the way of faith, in which all the events of the\n world are viewed as an execution of a pre-conceived design of\n Providence, being nothing else than the restoration of fallen\n humanity by the Mediator. This is the true philosophy of history,\n illuminating the past of which it furnishes the explanation, and the\n future of which it gives foresight. In accordance with its results,\n the ancient era of the world can be defined, the preparation for the\n reign of the Messias, and the modern era, the reign of the Messias.\u201d\n\nIn this present article it is especially some parts of the preparation\nwhich immediately preceded the epoch of the Messias that are presented\nto the reader\u2019s consideration. It is one of the most interesting and\nuseful fields of exploration upon which any one who has taste and time\nfor solid reading can enter. There are not wanting in our modern\nliterature some excellent works in which the desirable information can\nbe obtained. In the German language the _Universal History_ of Leo, in\nthe first part, on ancient history, presents a condensed but most\ncomplete, learned, and philosophical sketch of the great historical\nevents of the pre-Christian period, conceived entirely in accordance\nwith the idea we have here endeavored to present. In French, the\n_History of the Universal Church_, by Rohrbacher, has remarkable merit\nin this respect and is very full in its details. This subject is treated\nmost explicitly and comprehensively in a work by M. l\u2019Abb\u00e9 Louis Leroy,\nentitled _Philosophie Catholique de l\u2019Histoire_. In English the learned\nworks of Father Th\u00e9baud, and a recent one entitled _De Ecclesi\u00e2 et\nCathedr\u00e2_, by Colin Lindsay, are especially valuable. As a French\nbishop, Mgr. Angebault, of Angers, has said: \u201cFor the last hundred years\nan effort has been kept up to make history lie by perverting it; it is\nrequisite that men of learning and sound faith should bring it back into\nthe right path from which it has been drawn away.\u201d\n\nHistory, like all the treasures of the past, belongs to Christianity and\nthe Catholic Church. A few years ago some marbles belonging to Nero,\nwhich had been laid aside and become buried under the accumulated\ndeposit of ages, were unearthed, and became the property of Pius IX. as\nsovereign of Rome; who made use of them for decorating a church. In like\nmanner it is our right to claim all the costly materials we can find and\ndig out of the dust of all foregoing centuries, and our duty to use them\nin adorning the walls of the temple of God on earth, his universal and\neternal church.\n\n\n\n\n ST. CEADDA.\n\n\n Hark! what sweet sounds beneath these lonely skies!\n St. Mary\u2019s Convent deep in yonder dell\n Lies hidden. Echoes thus the minster bell\n Through the thin air? or hear we litanies\n That, sung by monks at even-song, arise\n And heavenward, full of holy rapture, swell?\n No; but within the walls of yonder cell,\n Where, near his death, God\u2019s faithful servant lies,\n Led by his brother\u2019s soul, an angel throng\n Welcomes St. Chad, whose prayerful life is o\u2019er.\n His feet shall tread the Mercian vales no more.\n His work is done. Hark! fainter sounds their song,\n While his glad spirit leaves its frame outworn,\n And homeward turns, on seraph-wings upborne.\n\n\n\n\n THE HOME-RULE CANDIDATE.\n _A STORY OF \u201cNEW IRELAND.\u201d_\n CHAPTER III.\n THE RIVALS.\n\n\nBY THE AUTHOR OF \u201cTHE LITTLE CHAPEL AT MONAMULLIN,\u201d \u201cTHE ROMANCE OF A\nPORTMANTEAU,\u201d ETC., ETC.\n\n\nOn the return to Kilkenley I placed my guest beside Father O\u2019Dowd in the\ncar, as I saw that the former was bursting with impatience to get at the\nHome-Rule question. During the luncheon he had made several ineffectual\nattempts at drawing out the priest, which were deftly shunted off in\nfavor of lighter subjects; but having extracted a promise from Father\nO\u2019Dowd that during the drive he would discuss the \u201cidea\u201d with him, no\nsooner had the horse commenced to tear up the gravel in the little lawn\nthan the member for Doodleshire opened fire by asking if there was any\nreal issue at stake in the question.\n\n\u201cWhat is Home Rule? Is it Fenianism veiled or unveiled? Is it Repeal? Is\nit less than Repeal or more than Repeal? Is it a surrender or\u2014ahem!\u2014a\ncompromise of the national demand, or is it a demand founded upon\nthe\u2014ahem!\u2014supposed necessities of the country at this present time?\u201d\n\n\u201cI must go back a little in order to reply to your queries; as the\nFrench say, _Il faut reculer pour mieux sauter_\u2014one must draw back a\nlittle, in order to make a better spring. You have heard, Mr. Hawthorne,\nthat the law of defeats separates the vanquished into two or three\nwell-defined parties or sections: one party more bitter in opposition\nthan ever, one party quietly put out of the way, who retire upon their\nshields, and a little party who recognize no defeat. This is just the\noutcome in Ireland of forty-eight and forty-nine. The Young Ireland\nmovement in forty-eight was never national in dimensions or acceptance\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cThrue for ye, father darlint,\u201d exclaimed Peter O\u2019Brien from his coigne\nof vantage, and whose heart and soul were in the discussion. \u201cThe boys\nwasn\u2019t riz properly.\u201d\n\nWithout noticing the interruption Father O\u2019Dowd continued:\n\n\u201cO\u2019Connell\u2019s movement was from forty-two to forty-four; but from that\ndate, although Smith O\u2019Brien and John Mitchel came to the front, the\ncountry was not at their back.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid not the Young Irelanders break with O\u2019Connell on a war policy?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is a fallacy. _They_ had no war policy, nor had he. It was the\nblaze of revolution lighted in Paris in forty-eight that set men on fire\nhere. They seceded from O\u2019Connell on the point of the celebrated test\nresolutions, which declared it would not be lawful to take up arms for\nthe recovery of national rights. The non-acceptance of this declaration\nled to the Irish Confederation. The confederates were decidedly\nunpopular, especially after the death of O\u2019Connell, whose demise was\nlaid at their door, and they themselves became the victims of secession.\nJohn Mitchel and his following were for preparing the people for war\nagainst England. Thus we had three parties and no real national\nmovement. When Paris hurled Louis Philippe from the throne, the pulse of\nIreland became intensely agitated, and two schools of insurrectionists\nwere to be found in the new insurrectionary party: one that declared\nthat Smith O\u2019Brien wanted a rose-water revolution, the other that\nMitchel was a Red and wanted a _Jacquerie_. The refusal to rise for the\nrelease of Mitchel led to bad blood, and the subsequent rising resulted\nin a _fiasco_. The men who ordered it had no command from the nation,\nand were but a fraction of a fraction.\u201d\n\n\u201cWere you opposed to them, father\u2014I mean your order?\u201d\n\n\u201cAssuredly not in a combative sense, but in the sense of a decided\ndisapproval of the insurrection. They had also against them the bulk of\nthe Repeal millions.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the cities\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, the cities became imbued with the spirit of the revolution and a\ndesire to see it out, but, beyond their national antipathy to English\nrule, the rural population had little or no participation in the\nforty-eight movement.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey wor aisy enough beyant in Kilpeddher, where they bet Mickey Rooney\nwud his own pike-handle an\u2019 called him a bladdher-um-skite, no less,\u201d\ncried my coachman.\n\n\u201cPeter, be good enough to keep your observations to yourself,\u201d I said,\nstruggling with a laugh.\n\n\u201cFaix I will, thin, Masther Freddy, for sorra a word the darlint father\nis spakin\u2019 I\u2019d like for to lose. But as for th\u2019 other _omadhaun_,\u201d\nlowering his voice to a confidential whisper, \u201cI\u2019d as lave be spakin\u2019\nto\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cSilence!\u201d\n\n\u201cAfter the forty-eight movement had exhausted itself in transportations\nand expatriations,\u201d continued Father O\u2019Dowd, \u201cand the flower of\nIreland\u2019s intellect and patriotism was literally pining away in\nEngland\u2019s penal settlements, the gaze of the country turned\ninstinctively toward one man, Charles Gavan Duffy, and behind him\ncrouched the terrible problem: \u2018What next?\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cIs this\u2014ahem!\u2014the Mr. Duffy who holds a somewhat prominent position in\nVictoria?\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly that of prime minister,\u201d laughed the priest.\n\n\u201cAnd what was his\u2014ahem!\u2014policy in the crisis you mention?\u201d\n\n\u201cA retreat all along the line. He tried the original Irish Confederation\npolicy, but received no support. He at last got together a party under\nthe banner of \u2018tenant right.\u2019 This was a move that brought the\nPresbyterians of Ulster to take counsel with the Catholics of Munster;\nit brought Repealers, and Anti-Repealers, and men of every shade of\npolitics and religion upon one common platform, and an organization was\nformed to compel Parliament to pass a measure which would prevent the\neviction of the tenant farmer, except for the non-payment of rent, and\nto prevent also the arbitrary raising of the rent.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s me jewel!\u201d cried Peter, in an ecstasy of approbation. \u201cFaix ye\u2019d\nthink it was on th\u2019 althar he was.\u201d This latter observation being\naddressed to me.\n\n\u201cYou flooded us in the House, if I remember\u2014ahem!\u2014rightly, with a very\nstrange set of representatives as the outcome of this movement,\u201d\nobserved Mr. Hawthorne.\n\n\u201cYes, we sent you about thirty-five or forty members, returned at the\ninstance of the Tenant League and to work out its programme. They used\nthe new shibboleth to suit their own ends, and many of them being both\ncorrupt and dishonest, the pass was sold and the party bought up through\nits leaders, Sadlier and Keogh. Some of us thought it was a goodly step\nin the right direction to see Catholics on the bench, and lulled our\nconsciences with this soporific; but the cause of the poor tenant was\nlost, and we grasped the shadow while the substance floated beyond our\nreach.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe curse o\u2019 Crummle on Sadlier and Billy Keogh! Amin,\u201d muttered Peter.\n\n\u201cA cohort of the exasperated section of the forty-eight party now came\nto the front, who, seeing the utter and shameful defeat of the\nGavan-Duffy following, instantly raised their voices for war to the\nknife, war to the bitter end, and out of this cry arose the Fenian\nmovement.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should like to hear your ideas upon this insane movement,\u201d observed\nthe M.P., endeavoring to face Father O\u2019Dowd, and succeeding only in\njerking himself partly off the car, to the hand-rail of which he clung\nwith the tenacity of an octopus. \u201cWhat support did it receive?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt did not represent anything like the full force of Irish patriotism,\nor even, indeed, a considerable portion of it. The bulk of the millions\nwho believed in O\u2019Connell and Smith O\u2019Brien stood with folded arms\noutside this movement. Its policy was disbelieved in, although the\nFenians worked with an energy worthy of the highest admiration, while an\nhonest, manly, self-sacrificing spirit of patriotism marked the men who\nwere its martyrs. Never did braver men stand in the dock; and to the\nFenians Ireland owes that stirring up of public opinion upon Irish\nsubjects which hitherto had slumbered in a masterly inactivity. You see,\nMr. Hawthorne, as we say at whist, I am leading up to your strong suit,\nand if I have been a little prolix\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear sir, I am receiving more information than the Bodleian Library\nor all the blue-books could possibly give me.\u201d\n\n\u201cSorra a lie in that! Ah! wud ye?\u201d The latter addressed to the horse, in\norder to parry my inevitable censure.\n\n\u201cWell, sir,\u201d continued the priest after he had duly acknowledged the\ncompliment bestowed upon him by my guest, \u201cwe had arrived at that stage\nwhen, as Ph\u00e6drus says:\n\n _Gratis anhelans, multo agendo nihil agens._\n\nWe had been checkmated, and Britannia smiled contemptuously at us from\nbehind the glistening bayonets of the regiments with which she flooded\nthe country. It was again the horrors of the lash and triangle,\nloathsome details of the treachery of informers and prosecutors, the\nchain-gangs at Portland and Chatham, and the terrible outrages inflicted\nupon men whose only fault lay in loving Ireland not wisely but too well.\nI shall pass over that, because there is a wicked beat underneath my\nwaistcoat, and _cur\u00e6 leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent_. I shall come at\nonce to the question of Home Rule and dismiss it briefly; for there is\nthe stable dome of Kilkenley right over beyond that group of firs.\u201d\n\n\u201cYev more nor a quarther av an hour, yer riverince, for the baste\u2019s\npurty well bet up.\u201d\n\n\u201cFive minutes will do me, Peter,\u201d laughed Father O\u2019Dowd. \u201cThe Irish\npassion for national existence still glowed in our bosoms, and we cried\nfor light. A field for Irish devotion and heroism was what was wanted.\nWe were sick of the hecatombs of victims offered up by the last sad\neffort. As you are well aware, Mr. Hawthorne, the Tory party came into\npower during the Fenian scare, and they went to their work in a spirit\nwhich would have shamed Oliver Cromwell himself. They fined, fettered,\nimprisoned, and hanged, until a glut of vengeance seemed an\nimpossibility. \u2018This is my chance,\u2019 says Mr. Gladstone. \u2018I\u2019ll make\ncapital out of this Fenian scare, and, dashing at the Church\nEstablishment, I\u2019ll gather in the straying bands which once formed the\nrank and file of the liberal party. England wants a salve, and when she\nfinds herself doing a virtuous thing she will purge her conscience of\nall her recent evil-doing.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cI never heard of Mr. Gladstone\u2019s having used those words,\u201d exclaimed\nthe member for Doodleshire pompously. \u201cIf he had used them in the House,\nthey would have been ordered to be taken down by the Speaker.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are my words, not Mr. Gladstone\u2019s.\u201d\n\n\u201cBlur an\u2019 ages!\u201d began Peter O\u2019Brien, but, upon my administering no\nlight touch of the whip to his shoulders, he suddenly pulled himself in.\n\u201cNow, I ax ye, Masther Freddy, isn\u2019t that the hoighth, now\u2014the hoighth\nav an ignoraymus? Why, a turf creel\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cSilence, sir!\u201d I exclaimed, in a frenzy of terror lest my guest should\nby any possibility overhear him.\n\n\u201cWith the war-whoop of \u2018Down with the Irish Church!\u2019 Mr. Gladstone\nbounded into office at the head of a majority only equalled by that of\nSir Robert Peel in forty-one, and, with the faculty of persuading\nhimself into a fervid conscientiousness upon any subject he likes, he\nflung himself body and soul into the disestablishment of the church\nestablished in Ireland. At this uprose the Irish Protestants, who\ndeclared that, as faith had been broken with them by the English\ngovernment, they would repeal the Union by way of retaliation, and kick\nanother crown into the Boyne. \u2018Break with us,\u2019 said they, \u2018and we\u2019ll\nbreak with you. We\u2019ll become Irishmen first and anything else\nafterwards.\u2019 Well, Mr. Hawthorne, the Irish Church was disestablished\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI am happy to say that my humble vote was recorded in favor of that\nmeasure,\u201d interrupted the M.P.\n\n\u201cMore power to ye for that, anyhow,\u201d muttered Peter.\n\n\u201cAnd a good vote it was, Mr. Hawthorne. Well, sir, the Irish Protestants\nwere in a craze of indignation, and eagerly sought a vent for their\nfeelings of revenge. They wouldn\u2019t touch Fenianism, and their minds\ninsensibly reverted to eighty-two, and to such Protestants as Grattan,\nFlood, Curran, and Charlemont. Some of our most influential Protestant\ncountrymen were now prepared to take up the cudgels\u2014peers, dignitaries\nof the Protestant Church, large landed proprietors, bankers, merchants,\ndeputy lieutenants, and even fellows of Trinity College. This was no\nFalstaffian army, no mere food for powder, but a band of men who had a\nvast property at stake in the country, who saw a thousand reasons why\nIrishmen alone should regulate Irish affairs. And now Mr. Butt comes\nupon the stage.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe sorra a shupayriorer man in the counthry,\u201d observed Peter, despite\nmy previous admonition. \u201cAn\u2019, be the mortial, me own first cousin wud\nhave got six months for delayin\u2019 Jim Fogarty\u2019s ould ram from goin\u2019 home\nwan night, an\u2019 he as innocint as a cluckin\u2019 hin, av it wasn\u2019t for the\nshupayrior spakin\u2019 av Counsellor Butt. \u2018There isn\u2019t a bigger rogue in\nthe barony, me lord,\u2019 sez he, addhressin\u2019 the binch, \u2018but this wanst, me\nlord, he wasn\u2019t in it at all, at all.\u2019 That\u2019s what _I_ call spakin\u2019 up.\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. Butt, in addition to defending Peter O\u2019Brien\u2019s kinsman,\u201d said\nFather O\u2019Dowd, \u201cwas called to the front from an obscurity into which a\nwild recklessness had hurled him, to defend the Fenian prisoners in\nsixty-five. Mr. Butt became then a centre figure, and through the\nmeetings of the Amnesty Association, larger than any since Tara and\nMullaghmast, a centre figure he remained. The Protestants, who now\nchafed under the disestablishment, were many of them Butt\u2019s old\ncomrades, college chums, and political associates, and to them he\nturned, urging them no longer to act the secondary _r\u00f4le_ of an English\ngarrison. \u2018Act boldly and promptly now,\u2019 he said in one of his powerful\naddresses, \u2018and you will save Ireland from revolutionary violence on the\none side and from alien misgovernment on the other. You, like myself,\nhave been early trained to mistrust the Catholic multitude, but when you\ncome to know them you will admire them. They are not anarchists, nor\nwould they be revolutionists if men like you would but do your duty and\nlead them\u2014that is, honestly and faithfully and capably lead them\u2014in the\nstruggle for constitutional liberty.\u2019 Mr. Butt made a great impression,\nbut of course was met with the old cry of \u2018wolf,\u2019 \u2018Catholic ascendency,\u2019\n\u2018the tools of the priests,\u2019 \u2018yoke of Rome,\u2019 and all that sort of low\nOrange claptrap. The incidents of the defeat of \u2018honest John Martin\u2019 for\nLongford are too recent to bore you with now, but in that election you\nsaw a Catholic people fighting their own clergy, who had foolishly\npledged themselves to support the Fulke-Greville-Nugent candidate, as\nvehemently as they and their own clergy had ever fought the Tory\nlandlords. It was an exceptional and painful incident, but it vindicated\nboth priests and people from the unworthy sneers to which I have just\nalluded. You are familiar with the meeting in Dublin held under the\npresidency of a Protestant lord mayor, and the resolution\nenthusiastically adopted that the true remedy for the evils of Ireland\nwas an Irish Parliament. And now, Mr. Hawthorne, having given you an\nowre true but also an owre lang tale, I am happy to find ourselves\nwithin hail of the hospitable roof of Kilkenley, and\u2014yes, to be sure,\nthere are the ladies awaiting our arrival upon the steps.\u201d\n\n\u201cAv that discoorse isn\u2019t aiqual to the House o\u2019 Lords, I\u2019m an\n_omadhaun_,\u201d was Peter\u2019s muttered observation as we rattled gaily up to\nthe house.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u201cPapa is enchanted with the priest,\u201d said Miss Hawthorne.\n\nIt was just before dinner, and we were standing upon a small balcony\noverlooking the lawn.\n\nThe moon was rising in all the consciousness of her harvest beauty.\n\n\u201cI am so glad.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe says that his reverence has the Irish question at his fingers\u2019 ends,\nand gave him more information than a dozen Commons debates or ten dozen\neditions of Hansard. We are going over to visit Father O\u2019Dowd, are we\nnot?\u201d\n\nWhat induced me to say: \u201cI shall send you with great pleasure\u201d?\n\n\u201cSend us! Are you not coming?\u201d\n\n\u201cI fear not. Welstone will go. He is much better company.\u201d\n\nWhat a boy I was!\n\nShe looked at me in a puzzled, inquiring sort of way.\n\n\u201cWhat a glorious moon!\u201d I said, bitterness in my heart.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you find it a little chilly?\u201d was her reply, as she turned into\nthe drawing-room.\n\nMy own, shall I call it temper, or insanity, or what? lost me this\nchance, for which I had been longing with such fervent yearning. I felt\nterribly irritated with myself and angered against her. She should have\nexpressed sorrow at my being prevented from going over to Father\nO\u2019Dowd\u2019s. Had she cared one brass farthing she would have declined the\nexpedition; but instead of this she silently accepted Welstone\u2019s\nciceroneship, and exclaiming, \u201cDon\u2019t you find it a little chilly?\u201d left\nme standing all alone, like the idiot that I was. And yet had I not\nacted strangely, rudely, in intimating my intention of remaining at\nKilkenley? Was I not her host, and should I not make every effort within\nthe scope of my power to render her visit as agreeable as possible?\n\nI followed her into the drawing-room. The light of two moderateur lamps\nmuffled in pink shades threw a delightfully tender glow all over the\napartment. Our furniture was very old-fashioned. It bad all been\npurchased when my great-grandmother had been brought home, and was\nesteemed a wonder of its kind then. The rosewood settees and\nspider-legged chairs were upholstered in the richest flowered brocade,\nvery faded now, but highly respectable in their antiquity. The mirrors\nwere oval in gilt frames, an eagle holding a chain, to which was\nappended a golden ball, surmounting each. A sofa large enough to seat a\ndozen people in a row graced one wall, while a thin old-fashioned\ncard-table, over which many hundreds of guineas had changed hands,\nadorned the other. In the alcove, in a stiff, formal, uncompromising\narm-chair, so utterly different from the inviting lounges of to-day, sat\nMabel, turning over the leaves of a scrap-book that had been made up by\nmy grandmother.\n\nDressed in simple white, with a sprig of forget-me-not in her golden\nhair, she looked so lovely that my heart flew to her.\n\n\u201cI hope you haven\u2019t caught cold. Shall I close the window, Miss\nHawthorne?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! dear, no; it was just a passing sensation, a shiver.\u201d\n\n\u201cSomebody was treading upon your grave,\u201d I said, alluding to the popular\nsuperstition.\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean by that?\u201d she asked.\n\nWhen I had told her, \u201cI should like to know where I shall be interred.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know where I shall be, if I am not hanged or lost at sea.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the little churchyard close by; it\u2019s in the domain.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre all your family interred there?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have head-stones since 1650. Cromwell\u2019s troopers destroyed\neverything, digging up the graves in the hope of finding armlets and\ngolden ornaments of our race.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should like to visit the churchyard.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy moonlight?\u201d I said laughingly.\n\n\u201cOh! yes.\n\n \u201c\u2018If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright,\n Go visit it by the pale moonlight,\u2019\n\nsings Scott.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour wish shall be gratified.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen?\u201d\n\nAt this moment Mr. Hawthorne entered the room, carrying in his hand two\ntelegrams.\n\n\u201cStartling news!\u201d he exclaimed.\n\n\u201cWhat is it, papa?\u201d asked his daughter somewhat affrightedly.\n\n\u201cNothing alarming, my dear.\u201d Turning to me, \u201cYour county member is\ndead.\u201d\n\n\u201cDead?\u201d I cried.\n\n\u201cDropped dead on the steps of the Carlton Club.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it Mr. Bromly de Ruthven?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s awfully sudden. I had a visit from him not ten days ago. He was\nquite a young man, and, for his party, a rising one.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot agree with you there, Mr. Fitzgerald,\u201d said my guest in his\nusual pompous style. \u201cHis speech\u2014if speech it might be called\u2014on the\nmalt question was a tissue of illogical absurdity. But now, Mabel, I\nhave a big surprise for you. The great conservative party\u2014I call them\ngreat, sir, although in opposition\u2014have not been idle, and already has a\ncandidate been selected.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s rather quick work, Mr. Hawthorne.\u201d\n\n\u201cMilitary machinery, sir\u2014one man down, the next man forward. And whom do\nyou think they have selected, Mabel?\u201d\n\n\u201cHow should I know, papa?\u201d\n\n\u201cGuess.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot. Some of the rejected at the last dissolution.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; guess again. A friend of yours.\u201d\n\n\u201cA friend of mine?\u201d somewhat surprised.\n\n\u201cA particular friend, who telegraphs me to say that he will arrive here\nto-morrow,\u201d with a knowing smile.\n\nI guessed the name. My heart told it me with a pang of envy.\n\n\u201cNot Wynwood Melton?\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cThe very man!\u201d\n\n_I_ knew it.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m so glad!\u201d she cried, clapping her dainty hands together. \u201cIt will\nbe great fun to have him in the house! What capital imitations he will\ngive us of Gladstone, Disraeli, Bright, and Whalley! And what stories!\nMr. Fitzgerald,\u201d she added with considerable earnestness, \u201cyou must vote\nfor him.\u201d\n\nI think I was about to pledge myself to do so, forgetful of the dire\nconsequences of such a proceeding on my part, when her father\ninterrupted:\n\n\u201cHe cannot, my dear. Mr. Fitzgerald is one of us\u2014a liberal.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am a liberal,\u201d she laughed.\n\n\u201cI presume he will have a walk-over,\u201d said Mr. Hawthorne.\n\n\u201cWho will have a walk-over?\u201d asked Father O\u2019Dowd, who had entered\nunperceived.\n\n\u201cMy friend, Mr. Wynwood Melton.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor a seat in Parliament?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs there a vacancy?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn an Irish constituency?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have not heard the news, then?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a word; and I may exclaim with Horace, _Est brevitate opus, ut\ncurrat sententia_.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, reverend sir, your county member, Mr. Bromly de Ruthven, is\ndead.\u201d\n\n\u201cDead!\u201d\n\n\u201cDead, sir. And Mr. Wynwood Melton is to have a walk-over.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs he?\u201d asked Father Dowd with a quiet smile. \u201cWho says so?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I suppose so. He is young, clever, rich, and, better than all,\nthe nominee of the Carlton Club, which means, of course, the De Ruthven\ninterest.\u201d\n\nThe priest gave a short laugh.\n\n\u201cMr. Wynwood Melton will _not_ have a walk-over; _I_ promise you that.\nNeither will he win the election; _I_ promise you that, too.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs there another candidate in the field?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere _will_ be, please God.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you at liberty to name him?\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall name him _now_, as I mean to carry the county for him; and,\u201d\ntaking me by the shoulder, \u201ca very good figure he will cut in St.\nStephen\u2019s.\u201d\n\nMy heart gave one beat backward. Of name and fame I thought nothing. To\ndefeat Wynwood Melton I would give half my life. Here was a chance\u2014one\nof those marvellous chances which the whirl of the wheel turns out\noccasionally to fit into the exact moment. It was a high stake, but I\nwould play for it. It was my solitary hope for an advantage over the man\nwhom Mabel Hawthorne loved. Yes, I would stand the hazard of the die.\n\n\u201cMr. Fitzgerald dislikes politics,\u201d observed Mabel.\n\n\u201cYou may bring a horse to the water, but you can\u2019t make him drink,\u201d\nadded her father.\n\n\u201cBesides, he will not be ungallant enough to oppose my nominee,\u201d she\nlaughed.\n\n\u201cI shall be greatly disappointed if my young friend will not stand in\nthe gap for the old county and the old faith,\u201d said Father O\u2019Dowd.\n\n\u201cHow can you expect to carry him in the teeth of the overwhelming\nmajority which the conservatives possess in this county?\u201d asked the M.P.\n\n\u201cThank Heaven! we have the ballot, and now or never is the time to try\nits efficacy.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, Mr. Fitzgerald, may I hope to meet you in St. Stephen\u2019s?\u201d asked\nmy guest.\n\n\u201cYou may.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo oppose _my_ nominee?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\nI braved even _her_ displeasure in my agony of anxiety to cross swords\nwith my rival.\n\n\u201c_Bravissimo!_\u201d cried Father O\u2019Dowd. \u201cThe day is ours. I knew you had\nthe Fitzgerald pluck, dashed with the hot blood of the Ormondes. I look\nupon victory as certain. All the tenants on the De Ruthven estate are\ngood Catholics and will vote with us\u2014_I_ know it. All the\nDerryslaghnagaun people will come up to a man. Father Brady and Father\nTim Duffy will work the northern side of the county; Father Quaid and\nFather Ted Walsh will carry the southern side; I\u2019ll take the Ballytore\ndistrict, and\u2014but no details now; dinner, and then I\u2019m off. We\u2019ll send\nthe \u2018hard word\u2019 round like wild-fire, and, Miss Mabel, you\u2019ll see real\nIrish bonfires on the hills to-morrow night. Tell your friend to stay\nwhere he is, Mr. Hawthorne; for with Virgil I may say, _Animum pictura\npascit inani_. Why, I feel like a war-horse:\n\n \u201c\u2018My soul\u2019s in arms, and eager for the fray.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s all this about?\u201d asked my mother.\n\n\u201cAllow me to present to you the Hon. Frederick Fitzgerald Ormonde,\nM.P.,\u201d gaily exclaimed Father O\u2019Dowd, informing her in a few words of\nwhat _had_ happened and what was expected to happen.\n\n\u201cGod bless my boy!\u201d she faltered, and, bursting into tears, kissed me as\nif I had been in my cradle.\n\nIt was a moment of fierce inner glow. I almost tasted the sweets of\nvictory\u2014of victory over Mabel, for whom, had I consulted my own self, I\nwould have sacrificed anything\u2014everything.\n\n\u201cWe haven\u2019t a minute to lose,\u201d exclaimed my Mentor, all ablaze with\nexcitement. \u201cWe shall have to rush out and fight helter-skelter. A\nsurprise has been sprung upon us. Oh! for one week. My brave people will\nbe taken at a disadvantage if we be not up and stirring. Every dexterity\nwill be used to outwit us, every dodge resorted to, bribery especially.\nWe must arrange committees in every town and village to sit _en\npermanence_ until you are elected. We must have special messengers by\nthe hundred. Ormonde, you will place all your horses at my disposal.\nNorth, south, east, and west we must nail the Home-Rule flag to the\nmast. North, south, east, and west the cry _Pro aris et focis_ must go\nforth. This is our first genuine election under the ballot. We allowed\nourselves to be cozened by false promises when Mr. Gladstone sprung his\nmine last year, but now the ballot, and free and fearless voting. No\nmore coercion, no more intimidation by landlords, no more bullying or\nbribing. At last we have a chance of freeing the country from the yoke\nwhich has been put upon its neck for centuries, and now we have a chance\nof letting its voice be heard and to pass a verdict on the Act of\nUnion.\u201d\n\n\u201cI _do_ wish Mr. Melton was not in the field against _you_,\u201d almost\nwhispered Mabel as I led her into dinner.\n\nThere was a something in her tone, like a faint note in melody, that\nvibrated through me. What was it?\n\nFather O\u2019Dowd would only swallow a few mouthfuls of food. \u201cUp, guards,\nand at them! Eh, Mr. Hawthorne?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe duke never uttered those words. I can give you exactly what\noccurred. When Napoleon was advancing at the head of the remnant of his\nshattered army the duke\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cExcuse me, my dear sir, but I have to marshal an army for _my_\nWaterloo. _Animum curis nunc huc, nunc dividit illuc_\u2014this way and that\nway my anxious mind is turning. Ormonde, you\u2019ll come over to me\nto-morrow, and be prepared to address a meeting of your constituents.\nDon\u2019t be later than one o\u2019clock. And now _sans adieux_ all!\u201d And the\nworthy priest, buttoning up his ulster, sprang upon the car.\n\nIn vain we implored of him to stay. In vain I asked to be permitted to\naccompany him. No. \u201cI am all aflame,\u201d he cried. \u201cI go to light a fire\nthat will not be extinguished until the high-sheriff is compelled to\ndeclare a Catholic and a Home-Ruler the member for this Orangest of all\nOrange counties. I feel like one inspired. _Nemo vir magnus sine aliquo\nafflatu divino unquam fuit._\u201d And with this quotation ringing in our\nears Father O\u2019Dowd sped upon his mission out into the night.\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 so yer goin\u2019 for to be the mimber? Good luck to ye, Masther Fred\ndarlint!\u201d exclaimed Peter O\u2019Brien, who was wild with delight at the\nintelligence, regarding the election as a foregone conclusion.\n\n\u201cI hope so, Peter.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor to repale the Union, Masther Fred?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot quite so fast, Peter.\u201d\n\n\u201cOch, murther!\u201d he groaned, with disappointment delineated in every\nfeature. \u201cI thought ye wor for tee-total separation like Dan.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll go as near to it as I can.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo, avic; an\u2019 begorr, av ye don\u2019t take the consait out av some av thim\non th\u2019 other side, I\u2019m a boneen, no less. Mind the dalin\u2019 thrick, and\nkeep your thumb on the ace av hearts\u2014the card that always is thrumps.\u201d\n\nOn the following morning, as I was preparing for my drive over to Father\nO\u2019Dowd\u2019s, and endeavoring to pull my ideas together on the burning topic\nof the hour, my mind being a prey to love, jealousy, politics, and\ndespair-a crushing _m\u00e9lange_\u2014an outside car whirled up the avenue, and\ngracefully lounging upon the back cushion, attired in the fulness of\nfashionable travelling costume, a cigar in his mouth, and dainty\nlavender-colored kid gloves upon his hands, sat, or lay, Mr. Wynwood\nMelton. I recognized him even before he came within clear eye-shot, and,\ndespite my bitter feeling against him, could not help paying him an\ninvoluntary tribute of admiration.\n\nI knew what brought him to Kilkenley. It was not to seek my vote, it was\nnot to visit Mr. Hawthorne\u2014it was to see Mabel; and now, with a dull,\ndead ache at my heart, I should play host to my rival in love and my\nopponent in the hustings. I hastened downstairs and met him in the hall.\nI resolved that no one should come between me and my _devoir_ as a\ngentleman.\n\nMelton was a pale, finely-featured, almost effeminate-looking young\nfellow, whose _Henri Quatre_ beard and thin, dark moustache set off a\nround, carefully-groomed head\u2014one of those heads that reveal the\nexecution done by double brushes and hand-mirrors, as a woman\u2019s bespeaks\nthe delicate manipulations of the _fille de chambre_. He was quite\npictorial in his get-up, from a Vandyke collar to black velveteen coat,\nknee-breeches, purple stockings, and shoes with great strings almost\nresembling those coquettish rosettes so much in vogue with ladies whom\nnature has blessed with Lilliputian feet. He might, but for his soft\nplaid woollen ulster, have represented one of the old portraits of my\nancestors that hung in the dining-room; and as he stood thus I could not\navoid contrasting my own homely appearance with his, and bitterly\nflinging the heavy odds into the scale against myself.\n\n\u201cMr. Melton?\u201d I said.\n\n\u201cYaas,\u201d with a drawl and a bow.\n\n\u201cYou are welcome to Kilkenley,\u201d extending my hand.\n\n\u201cMr. Ormonde! Ah! glad to meet you. What a drive I\u2019ve had, over such\nroads and such a vehicle! Caun\u2019t say I like your cars. _Per Bacco!_\none\u2019s spine gets divided into sections during the drive. You\u2019ve got old\nHawthorne here. I suppose he has bored you to death. I expected to find\nthis place like the enchanted wood\u2014everybody asleep, even the princess.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhom you would like to awaken as in the fairy tale,\u201d I added bitterly.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t care for kissing. How does Miss Hawthorne like this precious\ncountry?\u201d\n\n\u201cI assume she will like it all the better for your arrival.\u201d\n\nI was going to resent the impertinence, but withheld the burning retort\nthat rose to my lips.\n\nA self-sufficient smile appeared as he almost yawned:\n\n\u201cI should hope so.\u201d\n\nAt this moment Mabel appeared upon the steps.\n\n\u201cAh! Mr. Melton,\u201d she exclaimed, a bright, happy flush upon her lovely\nface; \u201cthis is a surprise,\u201d shaking hands with him.\n\n\u201cAgreeable?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course. You have introduced yourself, I see, to Mr. Ormonde.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow\u2019s the governor?\u201d not noticing her observation.\n\n\u201cPapa is wonderfully well; his trip has agreed with him _\u00e0 merveille_.\nHe will be able to encounter the late hours of the coming session\nwithout flinching.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey shau\u2019n\u2019t catch me sitting up, except at the club. You know what\nbrought me over?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! dear, yes.\u201d\n\n\u201cI saw the De Ruthven lot, and, as I could have been elected without\nleaving London, I\u2019m doosid sorry I came away, except,\u201d he added, \u201cfor\nthe pleasure of seeing you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you quite sure of being returned?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cRather,\u201d with a quiet, self-satisfied smile.\n\nMiss Hawthorne glanced at me.\n\n\u201cYou are to be opposed,\u201d I said.\n\n\u201cHaw! haw!\u201d he laughed. \u201cThat for opposition,\u201d flinging away his\ncigar-butt.\n\n\u201cBut I tell you it will be a fierce fight, Mr. Melton,\u201d exclaimed Mabel.\n\u201cYou\u2019ve got a foeman worthy of your steel.\u201d\n\n\u201cSome cad of a farmer\u2019s son or a briefless Irish barrister. Ireland\nwants Englishmen to sit for her and _upon_ her.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am going to oppose you, Mr. Melton,\u201d my heart beating very fast as I\nuttered the words.\n\n\u201cAw!\u201d And extracting an eye-glass from the folds of his coat, he\ndeliberately stuck it in his eye and coolly surveyed me from head to\nfoot.\n\nI would have knocked him heels over head, if Miss Hawthorne had not been\npresent.\n\n\u201cFire away,\u201d he said; \u201cbut, if you take my advice, you will not run your\nhead against a stone wall.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if you take my advice,\u201d I hotly retorted, \u201cyou\u2019ll take the next\ntrain _en route_ for London, for you have come upon a bootless errand.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Nous allons voir_,\u201d with a shrug.\n\n\u201cYes, we shall see the outcome.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t mean to go on?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo the bitter end.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe sinews of war are at my command.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe sinews of the county are at mine; but come,\u201d I added, suddenly\nrecollecting my position of host, \u201clet us talk the coming campaign over\na cutlet and a bottle of champagne.\u201d\n\nWe entered the house together. Mr. Hawthorne met us in the hall.\n\n\u201cGlad to see you, Wynwood, although,\u201d with a ponderous laugh, \u201cI find\nyou in the camp of the enemy.\u201d\n\nAs I proceeded cellarwards to look up the wine I heard Mr. Melton say:\n\u201c_That_ cad; I\u2019ll lick him into a cocked hat.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ll eat those words, my fine fellow,\u201d I muttered, \u201cor my name isn\u2019t\nOrmonde; and for every sneer against Ireland you\u2019ll have my riding-whip\nacross your shoulders.\u201d\n\nI couldn\u2019t play the hypocrite, I couldn\u2019t act the Arab, and, while\nsharing bread and salt with mine enemy, plot his downfall as soon as he\nquitted my tent; so, making a very plausible excuse, I betook myself to\nmy gay little dog-cart, and was about to give the mare her head when\nPeter O\u2019Brien whispered to me:\n\n\u201cIsn\u2019t that the spalpeen that\u2019s cum over for to thry a fall wud ye,\nMasther Fred?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is Mr. Melton,\u201d I replied.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s enough. The boys is waitin\u2019 for to ketch him below at the\ncrass-roads; and faix it\u2019s little he\u2019ll be thinkin\u2019 av Parlimint if\nTeddy Delaney wanst gets a rowl out av him.\u201d\n\n\u201cPeter,\u201d I said, \u201cif there is any insult offered to Mr. Melton while on\nmy land, I\u2019ll take it as to myself, and I will not contest the county. I\npledge my honor to this.\u201d\n\n\u201cShure a little bit av a fight wudn\u2019t be amiss.\u201d\n\n\u201cI won\u2019t have it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe pond below is convaynient.\u201d\n\n\u201cSilence, sir!\u201d\n\n\u201cTim Moriarty, the boy that dhruv him from the station, only wants the\nword for to land him in Brierly\u2019s Pool\u201d\u2014a great slimy ditch about half a\nmile from the gate lodge.\n\nI\u2019m afraid I swore at my retainer.\n\n\u201c_Wirra, wirra!_ is there to be no _divarshin_ at all, at all?\u201d he\nmuttered to himself as I ordered him to let go the mare\u2019s head.\n\nMiss Hawthorne suddenly appeared upon the steps.\n\n\u201c_Bon voyage_,\u201d she gaily cried. \u201cGo where glory waits you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am going to lick that cad into a cocked hat!\u201d I fiercely shouted,\ndashing from her presence like a lightning-bolt.\n\nTO BE CONCLUDED NEXT MONTH.\n\n\n\n\n REGIONALISM _VERSUS_ POLITICAL UNITY IN ITALY.[1]\n\n\nMatters do not run smoothly in United Italy. There is a screw of\nconsiderable magnitude loose in the national machine. It jerks in its\nmotion, pitches, staggers, and men who affect a knowledge of the\nmechanism of nations predict for Italy\u2014unless the screw adverted to\nreceive proper attention\u2014a dead, disastrous standstill. There are\nfashions in politics nowadays, as there are in the styles of dress, just\nas capricious, just as irrational, equally expensive in their own\nsphere, but unconscionably malicious. It is the fashion, then, in the\npolitics of Italy, to attribute to the Papacy the only obstacle to the\nfull enjoyment of political unity and its consequent blessings. The\ndeep-rooted antipathy of the Vatican to a _nationality_ in Italy, its\ntraditional hatred of new institutions, and its equally prolonged and\npowerful influence over the people\u2014who, after all, are the mainspring of\naction\u2014all this is adduced by the liberal party in explanation of the\npalpable want of unity in Italy.\n\nThe explanation may be satisfactory to conceited sciolists, especially\nif a hatred of the Papacy be one of the component parts of their moral\nconstitution. Latterly, however, a veritable enemy to the political\nunity of Italy has begun to assert itself, in a manner so striking as to\nalarm even the most sanguine liberals. Not a spectre but a startling\nreality assists at the deliberations of the Italian legislature, and,\ninsinuating itself with deadly effect into every department of\ngovernmental administration, produces jealousies, feuds, and schisms\nwhich threaten ultimately to dismember the nation. This danger is what\nis called _Regionalism_.\n\nSolomon\u2019s apothegm on the newness of nothing under the sun is applicable\nto Regionalism. It is of ancient birth in Italy, albeit of recent\nmanifestation, at least in its present form. It may be defined as the\ninterested affection which an Italian has for the geographical part of\nthe Peninsula in which he was born\u2014for the abode of his domestic gods,\nso to say, with its surroundings. The affection must be _interested_,\nand of its very nature aim at effecting the prevalence of the interests,\nmoral or material, of his own region over those of the others. A\nPlatonic affection for one\u2019s own natal region does not, according to the\nliberals, constitute Regionalism; for, say they, such an affection\nmerely contemplates historical rights, and the love of one\u2019s rights is\npurely Platonic. Moreover, this affection should be directed to the\n_region_ and not to the city or town of one\u2019s birth. An interested\naffection for the latter has its own appellation already, being known as\n_amore di campanile_, and bears the same relation to Regionalism as a\npart to a whole. But the Regionalism of today, which threatens to\nproduce fatal consequences in Italy, is referable to those portions of\nItaly which in times past formed separate states, or at least notable\nportions of an independent state, which, in its history, its traditions,\nits genius, its style of speech, and its interests, differed from the\nother states of Italy\u2014as, for instance, Tuscany from Piedmont, the two\nSicilies from Lombardy and Venice, or even the island of Sicily itself\nfrom continental Sicily, Venice from Lombardy.\n\nHaving explained our terms, we would remind the reader of the fact that,\nwhen the question of uniting Italy into one body with Piedmont at the\nhead was first mooted, a formidable obstacle at once presented itself in\nthe shape of the difficulties arising at once from the different and\nalmost contradictory elements to be united. It was argued\u2014and with\nreason, too\u2014that to build up a new state upon the foundation of new\ninstitutions, and annul disparities which had existed for centuries, was\neasier to plan than to carry through. The conflict of interests, of\nlocal affections and jealousies, notoriously characteristic of the\nItalian states, was pronounced by the distinguished statesmen of Italy\nand Europe a fatal obstacle, if not to the formation, at least to the\npreservation, of unity. Count Cavour himself was of the number of those\nwho proposed such a consideration, and, for his own part, expressed\nhimself perfectly satisfied if Lombardy and Venice were but annexed to\nSardinia. But the liberals and sectarians were urged on to the\nunification of Italy by the irresistible force of Mazzini\u2019s mind, and to\ndo so quickly, even without Venice and Rome, because the arms of\nNapoleon III. were at their disposal. A happy opportunity had presented\nitself, and they seized it. They obviated the difficulties alleged above\nby a heroic compact. Arrogating to themselves the right of representing\nthe sentiments of the Italian people at large, and assuming the moral\npersonality of the various regions to which they belonged, they\nproclaimed to the whole world that the all-absorbing desire of the\npeople was to be united in one nation, and that they sacrificed for ever\nupon the altar of their country the interests, traditions, jealousies,\nand local affections which had hitherto divided them, and swore to seek\nno other glory for the future but the one only glory of Italy united.\n\nCavour resigned himself with so much tact to the situation that he\nseemed to have created it. And thus, by assiduous application of his\nmaxim, that, in order to _make Italy, morality must be put aside_, and\nof that other, promulgated by Salvagnoli, _one cannot govern and tell\nthe truth_, the great undertaking was accomplished. Two Italies soon\nbegan to exist, the _legal_ and the _real_, which, as Iacini, a minister\nof the Italian Cabinet, wrote, are directly contradictory to each other.\n_Legal_ Italy, the supplanter, conquered, and _real_ Italy had to bow\nthe head and submit to a series of civil and fiscal persecutions without\nexample in modern history. But Regionalism was immolated to unity, and\nthe world lauded the sacrifice.\n\nItaly is a land of promise, or rather a promissory land. Promises are\ngiven with amazing facility\u2014only to be equalled, however, by the\nreluctance with which they are fulfilled. While it was a question of\nsacrificing the interests of some one else\u2014the majority of the liberals\nwho labored in the construction of the national fabric had very little\nof their own to sacrifice, but everything to gain\u2014all went well,\nespecially while the novelty of the situation lasted. But when the\nexcitement consequent on the formation of the nation had subsided,\npeople began to perceive that the much-vaunted political unity of the\ncountry was not real. The promissory notes of the liberals touching the\neternal sepulture of provincial differences remained unhonored. The\npractical sacrifice was impossible. It is now more than eighteen years\nsince the promise was given, and during that time Venice and Rome have\nbeen added to the kingdom of Italy, with a view of consolidating for\never the nationality. But the great obstacle remains unmoved, ay, and\navows itself, by the eloquence of facts, immovable.\n\nWe assert this much on the authority of a member of the Italian\nParliament. In an address to his constituents, delivered on the 9th of\nSeptember last, Federico Gabelli said: \u201cDo differences and divisions\nexist in the country? Yes, great ones; and no wonder. We have had in\nItaly different histories, different glories, different sufferings, and\ndifferent styles of education. We have ideas, habits, tendencies, and\ncharacters, different in different regions. For many years we were\nunknown to one another. The sole fact of our accomplished unity\u2014the\nliving together, so to speak\u2014has revealed to us the existence of these\ngreat diversities. But the most profound diversity has been constituted\nby the material wants of the different parts of Italy. I do not take\ninto account the petty desires of municipalities. I look at the matter\nvery broadly. A real difference exists between the wants of the\nnortherners and southerners, greater still between the demands of the\ntwo parties. There, the great word is said, the fearful phrase\npronounced\u2014a real and profound disparity between _meridionali_ and\n_settentrionali_ (southerners and northerners). But why hide it? Is it\npossible to hide it? This division is felt by all, but all are afraid to\ndeclare its existence. They are afraid (and their fear is honorable,\nbecause inspired by the holy love of country) to compromise, by the\ndeclaration, the grand fact of the unity of Italy.\u201d\n\nGreat was the scandal produced among the liberals by this declaration of\nGabelli, and greater still when he subsequently made a careful diagnosis\nof the evil, and prescribed a remedy\u2014nothing less, by the bye, than a\nconfederation similar to that proposed by Pope Pius IX. thirty-one years\nago.\n\nWhen the first Italian legislature assembled in Turin it was observed\nthat nearly all the deputies formed themselves into groups, separate and\ndivided, not politically in parties, but geographically in regions.\nThere was the Tuscan group, the Sicilian group, the Neapolitan group,\nand later on the Lombard and the Venetian groups, which were the\noccasion of constant lamentations on the part of the Piedmontese. Then\nbegan the general struggle for power, to the almost incurable laceration\nof poor, real Italy. All the _martyrs_ and _confessors_ of the country\nclamored for offices in compensation for their heroic sufferings. As\ntheir number bordered on the infinite for such a puny state as Italy, so\ninfinite was the number of positions created, and, consequently,\ninfinite was (and continues to be) the number of peculations. But with\nmasterly tact the Piedmontese element maintained the preponderance in\npower, and so great was the fury of the other patriots that they\nfinally, with one accord, devoted all their energies to the\nextermination of _Piedmonteseism_. The molestations and bitternesses\nwhich fell to the lot of Count Cavour in the struggle that ensued were,\nin the opinion of many Piedmontese, among the causes which hastened his\ndeath. Whenever a new ministry was to be formed, to the personal\nrivalries which are inseparable from such an occasion were superadded\nthe jealousies, the intrigues, and the pretensions of the different\nregions. Every region clamored for the exaltation to the ministerial\nbench of its own representative, not as the exponent of a political\nprinciple, but as the defender of some provincial interest. The _Unit\u00e0\nCattolica_, apropos of this, observes (September 21, 1877): \u201cWhen it is\na question of forming a cabinet in England, in France, in Spain, do they\ntake care to have representatives of the various English, French, and\nSpanish regions? Certainly not. Personages are chosen according to their\nopinions, not according to the regions from which they come. But here in\nItaly a ministry cannot spring into existence but there enters at least\none Piedmontese, one Neapolitan, one Lombard, one Sicilian, one Tuscan.\nExamine all our ministries, from 1861 down, and you will find that they\nwere formed more on a regional than a political basis.\u201d This is quite\ntrue as regards the past few years. Formerly, however, as we have\nalready intimated, the Piedmontese held the majority in the cabinets, to\nthe unquenchable ire of the other provincials.\n\nAnother cause of jealousy to the provinces, and the occasion, at least,\nof the pre-eminence of the Piedmontese, was the existence of the capital\nat Turin. The Peruzzi-Minghetti ministry, however, according to the\nconvention with Napoleon III. of September 14, 1864, succeeded in having\nthe capital transferred to Florence. This roused the hatred of the\nPiedmontese against the Tuscans, and was the cause of some bloody scenes\nin Turin. But Lanza and Sella, both Piedmontese, vindicated their\ncountrymen by bearing the national _lares_ away from the banks of the\nArno, and enshrining them for ever, as they thought, on the banks of the\nTiber. Nor did the evil disappear with the annexation of the Venetian\nprovince and the Pontifical territory. The Venetians constituted another\ngroup in Parliament, and, if the Romans did not do likewise, it was\nsimply in default of the necessary elements, considering the aversion of\nthe Eternal City and the neighboring provinces for the invaders. Rome\nbecame what the Baron d\u2019Ondes Reggio predicted\u2014a very Tower of Babel.\nThe war of interests broke out afresh and was carried on with redoubled\nfury. The combatants ranged themselves into two grand divisions of\nnortherners and southerners. The Tuscan group alone enacted the part of\nmoderator. The Piedmontese element asserted its pre-eminence anew in\nRome, and invaded not only every department of state, but extended its\nruling influence even over municipal matters. The patriots of meridional\nItaly prepared themselves, during the intervals when a common attack\nagainst the church did not withdraw their attention from provincial\nfeuds, to give battle to the Piedmontese, whose ascendency was stoutly\nmaintained by Ponza di San Martino, Lanza, Sella, and General Cadorna.\nThe language of the southern papers was in something like the following\ntenor: \u201cHere we are at last in Rome! It is high time now that the\npatronage of the Piedmontese should be suspended, and a check put upon\nthat political monopoly which they arrogate to themselves as a right of\nconquest. They gave us a dynasty\u2014good. They also gave us a constitution,\nbut we mean to perfect it and adapt it to the demands of progressing\ncivilization. But in Rome Italy belongs to the Italians, not to the\nPiedmontese. Piedmonteseism oppresses us. Everything in the kingdom has\na subalpine odor\u2014the organic laws, bureaucratic systems, fiscal\narrangements. The administrative machine is run entirely by Piedmontese.\nThe ministers, their secretaries (with rare exceptions), the\nsupernumeraries who lackey these\u2014all Piedmontese. The secret offices are\ngiven to Piedmontese, and the Piedmontese enjoy the sinecures of the\nsecret funds. The national bank itself is but a transformation of the\nold subalpine bank. The army is in the hands of the Piedmontese, with a\nPiedmontese as the Minister of War. In short, the nerve and fibre of\ngovernment is Piedmontese. There must be an end of this!\u201d\n\nIt took seven years of laborious intrigues, amalgamations, and\ncombinations of parties to effect the downfall of the Piedmontese. Their\nobituary notice is dated March 18, 1876. On the same day began the reign\nof the Neapolitans, and within the short space of nineteen months they\nhave so thoroughly disposed of Piedmonteseism in every branch of civil\nand military administration that even the word _Buzzurri_\n(chestnut-roasters), applied seven years ago by the Romans to their new\nmasters, has become obsolete. The Venetian Gabelli has given us a\ndescription of the condition of affairs at present. In the discourse\nalluded to he proposes a league of the septentrionals. He says: \u201cThere\nis nothing, gentlemen, that drives people to an abuse of power more than\nthe certainty of having so much of it that there is no danger of being\nmade responsible for the abuse. The meridionals are in this position\nto-day, because they are supported therein by the division of the\nseptentrionals. A part, and a great part, of our votes and forces is\nsubordinate to the votes and forces of the meridionals. But is it true\nthat in Parliament they vote for regional interests?\u201d He answers in the\naffirmative, and adduces a series of amusing yet startling facts to\nprove his assertion. He then continues: \u201cI might go on indefinitely with\nthe enumeration of facts proving the existence of the struggle of\ninterests between the northerners and the southerners. This struggle is\nreal and active. Many preach that, even admitting the unfortunate\nexistence of these divisions in the country, they should be kept secret,\nshould not be proclaimed or discussed; above all, they should not be\nconsidered as a test in government. What would you say, gentlemen, of\nthe logic of a physician who would reason in this wise: \u2018I have a\npatient prostrate with typhoid fever. But, as this disease is very\nserious, I will hide it from myself, deny its existence; and because\nthis disease can terminate fatally for my patient I will treat it as a\nsimple inflammation of the bowels.\u2019 That physician would be a fool. But\nwould those rulers be more logical who, recognizing the existence of a\ncondition so serious for the country, would persist in governing without\ntaking it into account? The struggle of interests is an evil. Let us\ncure it. But to cure it let us begin with an exact diagnosis, and with a\nrecognition that the evil exists. Without an exact diagnosis an\nefficacious cure would be a miracle. I am for unity. But the unity, and\neven the existence, of Italy might be threatened by mistrust in our\nsystems of government, by the ever-increasing discontent. The country\nwill always be governed badly, unless consideration be had for its\nactual condition. I am for unity. But I hold it to be _fatal_ for Italy\nto pass through a crisis determined by the war of northern and southern\ninterests. What the vicissitudes of this war will be, or who will\nprevail, no one can foresee. If we northerners remain united and form a\ncompact party, our more advanced civilization, and, let us speak\nfrankly, our honesty, more extensive and serious, will ensure for us a\njust predominance. If we continue to be divided, while the southerners\nform one phalanx, we will have to submit to the law of their interests,\nto the influence of a social condition entirely different from our own.\u201d\n\nWe have said nothing in reference to Regionalism\u2014of that faction in the\nliberal camp which is always conspiring against the _monarchical_ unity\nof Italy, with a view of substituting a regional confederation of\nindependent republics; nothing of the multitude of liberals who are\nclamoring for administrative decentralization, as a restoration, in\npart, of the independence in administration which was taken from the\nindividual regions by political unity; nothing of the absolute\nimpossibility of having a territorial army in Italy, for the reason that\nRegionalism might assert itself in a more material style, to the\nimminent peril of the government. We have simply narrated facts\nfurnished by the liberals themselves\u2014_by legal_ Italy, which assumes to\nbe the nation. Narration has the force of demonstration in this\ninstance, and clearly establishes the fact that Regionalism exists in\nthe very core of Italy, nay, rules supreme, regulating politics,\nconstituting parties, biassing every discussion, and threatening, in the\nlong run, not only the unity of the nation but the monarchy personified\nin the unity.\n\nThis much established, a very reasonable doubt may be put forth as to\nwhether the unity of Italy be accomplished, even among the liberals, who\narrogated to themselves the right and the faculty to unite it, spite of\nthe nature, the history, the traditions, the genius, and the diverse and\ncontrary interests of the Peninsula. That there is a species of unity we\ndo not question. But it is neither moral nor organic unity, such as\nforms one whole, ordained to a living purpose, founded on the same\nprinciple, agreeing in its operations, harmonious in its members. It is\na mechanical and artificial unity, without bonds of life, without order\nin purpose, without concord in action, without harmony in its parts; in\nshort, it is merely _fiscal_, not national, unity. This is a logical\nconclusion, derived entirely from a consideration of _legal_ Italy.\n\nOur conclusion does not assume a more favorable aspect for the unity of\nItaly if we consider its passive subject\u2014that is to say, the immense\nnumber of Italians who were united against their own wish; who never\nentered into the calculations of the demagogues; who, in deference to\nthe Unity described above, have been outraged in the tenderest\naffections of the heart and in the most sacred rights of nature; who\nhave gathered no other fruits from unity than regional, municipal, and\ndomestic impoverishment; who perceive that, in the name of this unity,\ntheir nation is perverted and their religion vilified, and who\nconsequently recognize in the government naught but an enemy of their\npurse, their conscience, their family, and their liberty.\n\nFrom what has been said already the absurdity and, we will add, the\nmalice of the accusation that the Papacy is the only obstacle to the\nperfection and enjoyment of political unity in Italy become quite\napparent. The most powerful obstacle to such unity is not in the Papacy,\nbut in the very nature of things; it is in the history of ages, in the\nvaried character of the people, in the contrariety of the material and\nmoral interests of the different portions of the country. Let liberalism\neradicate from its bosom the gnawing worm of Regionalism; let it\nreconcile opposing interests, quiet regional passions, which are the\nseeds of civil war; and, having done this much, let it effect a unity\nwith the _real_ country. Until this much be accomplished, to charge the\nPapacy with the ill success of the national unity is absurd. It is\nmalicious, also, inasmuch as it manifestly tends to separate the people\nfrom the Catholic Church, making them regard the spiritual head of the\nchurch and their father in the faith as an enemy of their country. Nay,\nwere the liberals successful in effecting their daring purpose, which is\nthe separation of the people from the see of Peter, then indeed would\nthe political unity of Italy receive its death-blow; then indeed would\nthe bond which unites the Italian people be severed, the bond of one\nfaith, the bond of the only unity they really can boast of\u2014religious\nunity. It were well if the demagogues of Italy bestowed the necessary\nconsideration upon the incomparable uniting force of religion to a\npeople, instead of promoting and hailing with delight every measure\ndevised to destroy it. Since they deem it advisable to affect Prussian\nand Russian ways and means, why do they not perceive the manifest wisdom\nof Bismarck\u2019s measures against the Catholic Church?\u2014measures the\nfundamental purpose of which is not the extinction of the church, as\nmuch as the establishment of a firm and lasting basis to the unity of\nthe empire in a uniformity of worship\u2014Protestant, of course. And with\nthis intent were the Falk laws promulgated. Russia, too, fully alive to\nthe importance of a religious uniformity as the indestructible basis of\npolitical unity, has peopled Siberia and the squalid prisons of the\nempire with non-conformists to the so-called _Orthodox_ creed of the\nland. Never yet was there a dynasty which did not find its main support\nand perpetuation in the religious unity of its subjects. True or false\nthough the religion may have been, the principle of support was there.\nAnd Italy\u2019s patriots, with the connivance, not to say the active\nconcurrence, of a petty provincial dynasty, would perpetuate unity by\nsowing religious discord among the people; by making of a people, one in\nfaith, in baptism, and actual religious profession, a discordant,\ndivided multitude of Evangelicals, Calvinists, Waldensians, Quakers,\nPresbyterians, and Methodists. The discord produced in Italy to-day by\nRegionalism is a great and, in all probability, a fatal evil to the\nunity of the country. Add the religious disunion of the people to that\ncaused by Regionalism, and the result will be simply chaotic.\n\nThe reader may add to these conclusions: If the Pope came to terms with\nItaly, as she now exists, would not the political unity of the country\nimprove, not to say receive its formal perfection, in consequence? We\nanswer, the hypothesis is inadmissible. Waiving the fact that, as\ngovernments are conceived nowadays, the Pope cannot be the subject of\nany one of them, and that he cannot in conscience accept terms from the\nItalian government without compromising rights which he is bound to\nmaintain\u2014though in fact they be trampled under foot and no human\nprobability predict their restoration\u2014it is sufficient for us that he\ndeclares a _Non possumus_. But admitting the supposition of a\nreconciliation, of a cession of imprescriptible rights, would the\nconfusion which now predominates in Italy give place to order? Would the\nonly beatitude to which Italy now aspires be realized? Would the\npolitical unity of the nation be established for ever? Would the war of\ninterests cease? Would the interests themselves change their nature?\nWould the \u201cmore civilized\u201d northerners of Italy leave off increasing\ntheir prosperity at the expense of the southerners, and these be content\nwith contributing as taxpayers of the land, not as rulers? Would\nSicilians and Calabrians live _en famille_ with Venetians and Ligurians?\nWould Turin, and Venice, and Modena, and Parma, and Florence, and Naples\nforget that they were once the flourishing capitals of separate,\nindependent states, and be beatified in their present condition, simply\nthe residence of a prefect, and he a favorite of an ill-favored\nministry? The glory of being made the capital of Italy _presumably_\nsatisfies Rome. Think you, however, that the old city is never\nretrospective? If the puny provincial cities and regions, in struggling\nfor their own regional interests and asserting their importance, cause\npeople to yield to dark forebodings, and to re-peruse and reflect upon\nthe history of the Italian states, what confusion could not the mistress\nof the world produce, were she to fall back upon her eighteen centuries\nof glory as the centre of Christendom?\n\nThe great obstacle to the enjoyment of political unity in Italy is not\nin the Vatican, but in the character, genius, history, traditions, and\nconflicting interests of the Italians themselves, and it is called\nRegionalism.\n\nFootnote 1:\n\n _Del Regionalismo in Italia\u2014Civilt\u00e0 Cattolica, Quad._ 656.\n\n\n\n\n AMONG THE TRANSLATORS.\n VIRGIL AND HORACE.\u2014IV.\n\n\nIn passages of quiet beauty such as the first six books are full of\u2014the\n_Odyssey_, we may call them, of the _\u00c6neid_, as the last six are its\n_Iliad_\u2014Conington is almost always happy. Take, for instance, the\npicture of the happy valley in Elysium (book vi. 703):\n\n \u201cMeantime, \u00c6neas in the vale\n A sheltered forest sees,\n Deep woodlands where the evening gale\n Goes whispering thro\u2019 the trees,\n And Lethe river which flows by\n Those dwellings of tranquillity.\n Nations and tribes in countless ranks\n Were crowding to its verdant banks;\n As bees afield in summer clear\n Beset the flowerets far and near,\n And round the fair white lilies pour,\n The deep hum sounds the champaign o\u2019er.\u201d\n\nIn such lines, too, Mr. Morris, judging from his own poetry, should be\nat his best; and here again it is hard to choose between him and his\npredecessor:\n\n \u201cBut down amid a hollow dale, meanwhile, \u00c6neas sees\n A secret grove, in thicket fair, with murmuring of the trees,\n And Lethe\u2019s stream that all along that quiet place doth wend;\n O\u2019er which there hovered countless folks and peoples without end.\n And as when bees, amid the fields in summer-tide the bright,\n Settle on diverse flowery things, and round the lilies white\n Go streaming, so the fields were filled with mighty murmuring.\u201d\n\nHypercriticism might here point out as a blemish the use of the same\nword \u201cmurmuring\u201d to express the different sounds indicated in the Latin\nby the words _sonantia_ and _murmure_; these are just the delicacies to\nbe looked for in Virgil and not to be overlooked by his translator.\nMoreover, the line,\n\n \u201cA secret grove, in thicket fair, with murmuring of the trees,\u201d\n\nasks considerable good-will and knowledge of the Latin to make it sound\nquite reasonable, and \u201cdiverse flowery things\u201d we have some private\ndoubts about. But \u201chovered\u201d is certainly a better equivalent for\n\u201c_volabant_\u201d than \u201ccrowded,\u201d which gives no hint of the shadowy,\nunsubstantial nature of these dwellers in the realms of Dis\u2014_anim\u00e6,\nquibus altera fato corpora debentur_:\n\n \u201cL\u00e0, les peuples futurs sont des ombres l\u00e9g\u00e8res,\u201d\n\nas Delille puts it by an anticipative paraphrase. Here Mr. Cranch may\nmeet his antagonists on somewhat better terms, though still we seem to\nmiss in his lines the poetical flavor, which he rarely catches\nthroughout:\n\n \u201cMeanwhile, \u00c6neas in a valley deep\n Sees a secluded grove, with rustling leaves\n And branches; there the river Lethe glides\n Past many a tranquil home; and round about\n Innumerable tribes and nations flit.\n As in the meadows in the summer-time\n The bees besiege the various flowers, and swarm\n About the snow-white lilies; and the field\n Is filled with murmurings soft.\u201d\n\nThe pathos, too, of his author\u2014that exquisite pathos of Virgil which\npervades the _\u00c6neid_ like a perfume, which one feels not more in the\neloquent compression of the _En Priamus_ wherewith \u00c6neas recognizes his\ncountry\u2019s painted woes on the walls of the Carthaginian temple, or the\npassionate heartbreak of the\n\n \u201cO patria, o div\u00fbm domus, Ilium, et incluta bello\n M\u0153nia Dardanidum,\u201d\n\nor the subtle, touching beauty of the epitaph on \u00c6olus, scarcely to be\nread even now without a quiver of the eyelids:\n\n \u201cDomus alta sub Ida,\n Lyrnessi domus alta, solo Laurente sepulcrum,\u201d\n\nthan in the\n\n \u201cVivite felices, quibus est fortuna peracta\n Jam sua,\u201d\n\nof the farewell to Helenus, or the manly fortitude of the hero\u2019s\nadmonition to his son:\n\n \u201cDisce, puer, virtutem ex me verumque laborem,\n Fortunam ex aliis\u201d\n\n\u2014the pathos of the _\u00c6neid_ Prof. Conington has not been unsuccessful in\npreserving, as we might show in more quotations than we have room for.\nBut for the expression of sublimity or intense emotion the octosyllabic\nverse is scarcely so apt; and in striving to do justice to the tragic\ngrandeur of the second book, the passionate despair of the fourth, and\nthe elevated majesty of the sixth, or even the splendid rhetoric of Juno\nand Turnus in the tenth and eleventh, Prof. Conington must often \u201chave\nbeen made sensible,\u201d as he says in his preface, \u201cof the profound\ndifference between the poetry of Scott and the poetry of Virgil.\u201d In the\nbattle-scenes, however, he takes his full revenge, and in his\nnimble-footed verse Turnus falls on with a fire and fury, or swift\nCamilla scours the plain with a grace and lightness, which most of his\ncompetitors toil after in vain. And in rendering those epigrammatic\nturns of phrase of which the _\u00c6neid_ is full, and which are so\ncharacteristic a feature of Virgil\u2019s style, we know of no version which\nsurpasses his. Take such examples as these:\n\n \u201cUna salus victis nullam sperare salutem\u201d:\n\n \u201cNo safety can the vanquished find\n Till hope of safety be resigned\u201d;\n\n \u201cMixtoque insania luctu\n Et furiis agitatus amor et conscia virtus\u201d:\n\n \u201cA warrior\u2019s pride, a father\u2019s pain,\n In mingled madness glow\u201d;\n\n \u201cSed neque currentem se nec cognoscit euntem\n Tollentemve manu saxumque immane moventem\u201d\n\n(how well in the heavy movement of the last line the sound echoes the\nsense!\u2014a beauty which the translator certainly misses):\n\n \u201cRunning, he knew not that he ran:\n Nor, throwing, that he threw\u201d;\n\nthe description of Turnus\u2019 horses in book xii.:\n\n \u201cQui candore nives anteirent, cursibus auras\u201d:\n\n \u201cTo match the whiteness of the snow,\n The swiftness of the breeze\u201d;\n\nor Cor\u0153bus\u2019 appeal to his comrades in book ii.:\n\n \u201cDolus an virtus, quis in hoste requirat?\u201d\n\n \u201cWho questions, when with foes we deal,\n If craft or courage guides the steel?\u201d\n\nHave we not here all needful fidelity united to the air of genuine\npoetry? Compare Mr. Cranch\u2019s versions of the first and last of these\nexamples:\n\n \u201cThe only safety of the vanquished is\n To hope for none\u201d;\n\nand\n\n \u201cWhether we make use\n Of stratagem or valor who inquires\n In dealing with an enemy?\u201d\n\nIf \u00c6neas and Cor\u0153bus had harangued their fellow-Trojans in this wise, we\ndoubt if they would have helped them so gallantly to make some of the\nfinest poetry in the _\u00c6neid_. There is no trumpet in such lines as\nthese.\n\nNevertheless, in spite of many suspicious flavors of prose in his\nversion, Mr. Cranch, we suppose, is to be called a poet. The Boston\nmuses are liberal to their votaries, and do not ask that a man shall be\nShakspere or Milton before crowning him with all their laurels. At\nleast, we may fairly say that he is a gentleman of accomplishments\nand\u2014we should be tempted to add culture, the proper term, we believe,\nfor a person \u201cin society\u201d who knows all the things that are proper for\n\u201cpersons in society\u201d to know, were it not that glib dilettanteism and\nnewspaper sciolists have well-nigh sent that much-abused word into the\nCoventry of cant. Mr. Cranch is, moreover, a writer of much poetic taste\nand no little poetic faculty, as he has shown in many pleasant essays in\nmany varieties of metre. Among the kinds of metre which he can write,\nhowever, his version of the _\u00c6neid_ has not convinced us that\nblank-verse is included; or, to put it more agreeably, if not more\njustly, we are not persuaded that the kind of blank-verse he writes is\nbest fitted to do justice to Virgil.\n\nSo much we are led to say, because in his preface Mr. Cranch hints that\nonly a poet can or should attempt to translate the _\u00c6neid_, and asserts\nthat only in blank-verse can it be fitly translated at all. Into that\ninterminable controversy as to whether any but a poet can translate a\npoet, or whether rhyme is a curb or a spur, a help or a hindrance, to\nthe judicious translator who knows how to follow its inspiration, we do\nnot propose to enter. But Mr. Cranch, in declaring against the rhymed\ncouplet of Dryden and his followers, delivers himself in a way which to\nus seems to imply a curious misconception of Virgil\u2019s manner, and leads\nus to anticipate on the threshold one of the points in which Mr.\nCranch\u2019s version most strikingly fails. \u201cThe incessantly-recurrent\nrhyme,\u201d he says, \u201cgives an appearance of antithesis which disturbs the\nvery simplicity and directness of the original.\u201d Adjectives are apt to\nbe used somewhat vaguely\u2014or, as our Western friends would say in their\ndelightful, breezy idiom, \u201cto be slung about with a looseness\u201d\u2014in\nspeaking of the style of ancient writers, of which so few of us nowadays\nknow enough to be justified in speaking at all. We have no desire to\nmeddle more than is needful with these dangerous epithets, double-edged\nweapons as they are. But unless we have read Virgil quite amiss, he is\nespecially fond of antithesis, which Mr. Cranch seems to think he is\nnot; and he is not especially simple or direct, which Mr. Cranch seems\nto think he is. Not that he cannot be, as in truth he often is, both\nsimple and direct; but that simplicity and directness are not the\nfeatures of his style which we should select to characterize it, as we\nshould select them, for example, to characterize the style of Homer.\nWhatever simplicity Virgil has belongs, we think, to the general\nconception and conduct of his story, by no means to the manner of his\ntelling it, to the general quality of his thought or style. What\ndirectness he has belongs to the general movement of his verse and the\nnecessities of epic composition, and is in spite of a tendency to dwell\ncuriously on incidents not in the track of his narrative, to turn, as it\nwere, from his epic path and linger over wayside flowers of rhetoric or\nsentiment\u2014a tendency illustrated by that subtlety of allusion which all\nhis critics have remarked, and the habit of hinting at two or three\nmodes of expression while employing one. These characteristics of his\npoetry would naturally have resulted from the quality of his genius\u2014the\ngenius of taste the Abb\u00e9 Delille calls it; he was the first of the\n_racinien_ poets, says Sainte-Beuve[2]\u2014and the character of his time.\nThe age he wrote for was one of extreme literary and social refinement,\nof keen philosophical speculation; the Latin he wrote in was already a\nliterary language\u2014as much so as the French of Racine or the English of\nPope. The age of Augustus, in many points, was strikingly like that of\nLouis XIV. in France and of Charles II. or, still closer, of Queen Anne\nin England, as has been more than once pointed out. Sainte-Beuve, with\nhis usual insight, has seized upon this resemblance to explain why\nVirgil, in the account of the shipwreck in the first book (vv. 81\n_seq._), which is an ingenious cento from the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_,\nshould have dropped two of Homer\u2019s most striking similes: that the\npilot, struck by the falling mast, went overboard \u201clike a diver,\u201d and\nthat the scattered swimmers\u2014_rari nantes in gurgite vasto_\u2014were borne\nlike sea-birds on the wave. Virgil omits these images, says the French\ncritic, just because they are so salient, so life-like, so frank and\nreal. \u201cComparisons of that sort the age of Augustus, like the age of\nLouis XIV., rather eschewed. They were by no means to the taste of\nFrenchmen in the days of Saint-Evremond and Segrais (I use extreme terms\npurposely)\u2014men of society, of the drawing-room, nice scholars who had\nbeen often in the H\u00f4tel Rambouillet but little at sea, and to whom\ndivers and sea-birds were unfamiliar sights. The Frenchman of that time\npreferred general descriptions to images too minutely particularized,\nand so, too, in a measure, did the Roman of the time of Augustus and the\ncircle of M\u00e6cenas. M\u00e6cenas is not so far, either in taste or philosophy,\nfrom Saint-Evremond.\u201d\n\nWith some reservations, much the same thing applies to the ages of\nDryden and of Pope\u2014to Pope\u2019s age and to Pope himself more strictly,\nperhaps, than to Dryden or his time; so that one is half inclined to\nthink it a caprice of literary destiny that Pope should have been set to\ntranslate Homer, and Dryden Virgil, rather than the reverse. Not that\nthe result would have been a better Homer, if we may judge from Dryden\u2019s\nsample work in the first book of the _Iliad_; a better Homer than Pope\u2019s\nwas perhaps not to be looked for in an age which in its poetry thought\nit fine to call a spade\u2014about which it was apt to be only too\nplain-spoken in free fireside prose\u2014an agricultural implement, and the\nbucolic person who wielded it a swain. Pope\u2019s famous ironical essay in\nthe _Guardian_ on his own and Ambrose Phillips\u2019 pastorals is a curious\nillustration of the then passion for putting Nature into hoops and\nperiwig. Phillips, in a dim, blundering way, is nearer right with his\nCecilias and Rogers, who talk at least like ploughmen and milkmaids,\nthan Pope with his gentle Delias and sprightly Sylvias, who converse\nlike masquerading duchesses; but as all the world happened to be\nmasquerading, the laugh was with Pope.\n\nYet, as between the Greek and Roman poet, it should seem that the former\n_ought_ to have been more congenial to Dryden, and the latter to Pope.\nIn many of the points where Pope was farthest from Homer he was nearest\nto Virgil\u2014not least in his love of antithesis, his epigram and point,\nhis brilliant rhetoric, the studied elegance, nay, the artifice, of his\nstyle. Even in his most didactic vein he would scarcely have been so far\nfrom Virgil as in his most epic strain he was from Homer. Virgil is not\naverse to a bit of sermonizing _sub rosa_; he writes with a moral; his\n\u00c6neas is a sort of fighting parson born before his time. One cannot help\nfeeling, too, in his most impassioned moments, that he is writing with\nhis eye on his style, as Pope always is, as we can never fancy Homer\ndoing. Is the rhetorical artifice any less plain in\n\n \u201cO dolor atque decus magnum rediture parenti\u201d\n\nthan in\n\n \u201cDaphne, our grief, our glory, now no more\u201d?\n\nIs the antithesis less pointed in\n\n \u201cQui candore nives anteirent, cursibus auras\u201d\n\nthan in\n\n \u201cSees God in clouds, and hears him in the wind\u201d?\n\nThere are hardly more lines of the kind in Pope than in the _\u00c6neid_.\n\nWhen, therefore, Mr. Cranch tells us that he has taken blank-verse\nrather than the rhymed couplet in order to avoid the appearance of\nantithesis, and to secure the clear simplicity and directness of his\noriginal, he shows us where to look for some of his failures. His\nsimplicity is too often baldness, his directness not seldom prose, and\nto the pointedness of the Latin he does much less than ample justice.\nHis blank-verse seems to us monotonous in its modulation and is not\nalways correct. Lines like the following occur too often:\n\n \u201cThou seekest counsel, gracious sovereign,\n In matters which to none of us are dark\n Nor needing our voices. All must own\n They know what best concerns the public good,\n Yet hesitate to speak.\u201d\n\nIndeed, we must confess that we are at a loss to know what Mr. Cranch\nmeans by saying: \u201cI am far from pretending that my versification may not\nfrequently fail to convey the movement of the Latin lines to the ear of\nthose to whom they are familiar.\u201d If he means that his versification\noften, or even sometimes, or at all, conveys the movement of the Latin\nlines to his own ear, then his ear must be as curiously constructed as\nthe \u201carrected ears\u201d he bestows on \u00c6neas in the famous shepherd simile in\nthe second book.[3]\n\nBut it is ungracious to linger on faults which we have only dwelt on\nbecause they seemed to flow from what we must take to be a misconception\non the part of Mr. Cranch of the true spirit of his author. His version\nhas certainly the merit of fidelity to the sense of the original, though\nthis, it seems to us, is sometimes bought by a sacrifice of the spirit.\nHis verse is, for the most part, what he claims it to be, smooth,\nflowing, and compact, though it does not recall to us, as to him, the\nbest models of blank-verse, and he does not sin, as one other of our\ntranslators does, against that \u201csupreme elegance\u201d which is Virgil\u2019s\nchief fascination. We find him best in the least essentially poetic\npassages, which is, perhaps, not so bad a sign as it appears. The speech\nof Juno in the tenth book is no unfavorable specimen of his best style:\n\n \u201c... Then, stung with rage,\n The royal Juno spake: \u2018Wherefore dost thou\n Force me to break my silence deep, and thus\n Proclaim in words my secret sorrow? Who\n Of mortals or of gods ever constrained\n \u00c6neas to pursue these wars, and face\n The Latian monarch as an enemy?\n Led by the fates, he came to Italy;\n Be it so: Cassandra\u2019s raving prophecies\n Impelled him. Was it we who counselled him\n To leave his camp and to the winds commit\n His life? or to a boy entrust his life\n And the chief conduct of the war? or seek\n A Tuscan league? or stir up tribes at peace?\n What gods, what unrelenting power of mine,\n Compelled him to this fraud? What part in this\n Had Juno or had Iris, sent from heaven?\n A great indignity it is, forsooth,\n That the Italians should surround with flames\n Your new and rising Troy, and that their chief,\n Turnus, should on his native land maintain\n His own, whose ancestor Pilumnus was,\n Whose mother was the nymph Venetia.\n What is it for the Trojans to assail\n The Latins with their firebrands, and subdue\n The alien fields and bear away their spoils?\n Choose their wives\u2019 fathers, and our plighted brides\n Tear from our breasts? sue with their hands for peace,\n Yet hang up arms upon their ships? Thy power\n May rescue \u00c6neas from the Greeks, and show\n In place of a live man an empty cloud;\n Or change his ships into so many nymphs.\n Is it a crime for us to have helped somewhat\n The Rutuli against him? Ignorant\n And absent, as thou sayst, \u00c6neas is;\n Absent and ignorant, then, let him be.\n Thou hast thy Paphos, thy Idalium too,\n And lofty seat Cythera. Why, then, try\n These rugged hearts, a city big with tears?\n Do we attempt to overturn your loose,\n Unstable Phrygian state? Is it we or he\n Who exposed the wretched Trojans to the Greeks?\n Who was the cause that Europe rose in arms\n With Asia, or who broke an ancient league\n By a perfidious theft? Did I command\n When the Dardanian adulterer\n Did violence to Sparta? Or did I\n Supply him weapons and foment the war\n By lust? Thou shouldst have then had fear for those\n Upon thy side; but now too late thou bring\u2019st\n Idle reproaches and unjust complaints.\u201d\n\nIn rendering the phrase _fovive cupidine bello_ (\u201cor battles flame with\npassion fanned,\u201d says Conington) Delille has a characteristic touch\nalmost worthy of Segrais:\n\n \u201cMe vit-on allumer, pour embraser les terres\n Au flambeau de l\u2019amour les torches de la guerre.\u201d\n\nIn the speech of Turnus in the eleventh book the Trojans become\n\u201cbrigands\u201d and \u201cbarbarous assassins,\u201d quite as if the Rutuli chief were\na deputy of the Left Centre addressing his friends on the Right. If the\ngood abb\u00e9 had written a few years later he would no doubt have made them\nCommunists. But his speech of Juno, though rather free, has many fine\ntouches; and, indeed, the French seems to hit off the women\u2019s part of\nthe _\u00c6neid_ better than our English. Thus, the dumb rage with which Juno\nmust have listened to Venus is well hinted in the line,\n\n \u201cJunon muette \u00e9coute aupr\u00e8s de son \u00e9poux,\u201d\n\nthough it is by no means so literal as Cranch\u2019s.\n\nOf the three translators of Virgil we are now considering, Mr. Morris\ncertainly brought to his task the greatest natural and acquired gifts.\nNay, had we been asked from the ranks of living English writers to pick\nout the one who could give us Virgil most fitly, with least loss of\nmajesty or beauty, in an English dress, we think we should have named\nthe author of _Jason_ and the _Earthly Paradise_. For Mr. Morris is not\nonly a poet\u2014a poet of very nearly the first order; whereas Mr. Cranch,\nwe are constrained to say in the teeth of the Boston muses, is hardly\nmore than a poet by brevet\u2014he is also a classical scholar who, in point\nof general acquirements at least, is a rival whom even Prof. Conington\nwould respect. Since the time of Dryden, and not excepting him, we know\nof no English poet\u2014unless, perhaps, Pope and the present laureate\u2014whose\nnatural genius should seem to have fitted him so well as Mr. Morris to\ninterpret the _\u00c6neid_. His own poetry shows many of the most distinctive\nqualities of Virgil\u2019s verse: its elegance, its pathos, its pregnant\nallusiveness, above all the pensive grace, the under-note of tender\nsadness, that runs through all the strain of the _\u00c6neid_, the underlying\n_motif_ of its theme. And though the form of narrative verse, in which\nMr. Morris has chiefly exercised his powers, is sufficiently remote in\ntone and spirit from the tone and spirit of epic narrative, yet here and\nthere, as in passages of _Jason_ and of the _Lovers of Gudrun_, he has\ncome as near to striking the true epic note as any modern poet we\nrecall, unless it be Mr. Matthew Arnold in his admirable and touching\nfragment of _Sohrab and Rustum_. Add to this his minute and\nwell-digested knowledge of classic mythology and legend, and his rare\nmastery of the Saxon and Romance elements of the language, in which so\nmuch of its tear-compelling power resides\u2014what Joubert might have called\n_les entrailles des mots_\u2014his possession of the secret, so hard to\nlearn, of the sweetness of short and simple words,[4] and we had every\nreason to expect from Mr. Morris a version of the _\u00c6neid_ which should\nbe in the highest degree original, elegant, and fresh, which should even\ntake rank as the best English translation of Virgil\u2019s poem that had yet\nappeared. That pre-eminence, indeed, has by many English critics been\nassigned to it; but to their verdict we cannot assent.\n\nFresh and original this version certainly is; for it is altogether\nunlike any that has preceded it, in conception, in method, in treatment,\nwe might almost say in metre, since Mr. Morris\u2019 long Alexandrines are,\nin metrical effect, no more the Alexandrines of Phaer than those of\nChapman. Elegant it is, too, so far as regards artistic workmanship and\nfinish; that everything that Mr. Morris sets his hand to is sure to\nhave. But it is not the elegance of Virgil; it is not even the elegance\nof the _Earthly Paradise_. The final grace of proportion and fitness it\nhas not, and in spite of many and singular beauties\u2014of beauties which\nscarcely any living English writer that we know of, except Mr. Morris,\ncould give us\u2014it is not to us, upon the whole, a satisfactory version.\nNay, it is most unsatisfactory, and it is so because of the two\nqualities which should otherwise have made its chief charm\u2014its freshness\nand its originality; because to the attainment of these Mr. Morris seems\nto us to have sacrificed the most important quality of all in a\ntranslation\u2014fidelity to the spirit of his author.\n\nWe need go no farther than the title-page to read the story of his\ndesign and, as we incline to hold, his failure. \u201cThe _\u00c6neids_ of Virgil\n_done_ into English verse\u201d is what he offers us, and the affectation of\nthe title runs through the performance and mars it. If from the result\nwe may derive the intent, Mr. Morris set out to produce such a version\nof the _\u00c6neid_ as might have been written anywhere between the time of\nChaucer and Phaer, had any poet then lived who joined to the simplicity\nand freshness of his own age the culture and self-consciousness of ours.\nAt least, this is the only way we can account for Mr. Morris\u2019 choice of\nthe peculiar style in which he has seen fit to couch, we might almost\nsay to smother, his version\u2014a style which is not, indeed, the style of\nChaucer, or of Phaer, or of Chapman (to whom it has been rashly referred\nby an English critic in the _Saturday Review_), or, for the matter of\nthat, of any other English author we are acquainted with, living or\ndead; but which is nevertheless plainly inspired by the same effort in\nthe direction of medi\u00e6valism and the earlier manner that has borne such\npleasant fruit in the author\u2019s former productions. But the effort is\nhere carried, it seems to us, to \u201ca wasteful and ridiculous excess,\u201d and\nis, besides, quite out of place in a translation where the writer is not\nfree to form his own manner, but is bound to the manner of his original;\nunless, indeed, Mr. Morris finds in the style of Virgil the same effect\nof quaintness and antiquity which he has striven but too successfully to\ngive his translation, and that he is too good a scholar to permit us to\nbelieve. Virgil\u2019s style was that of his age, and his unfrequent\narchaisms, such as _faxo_ for _fecero_, _aulai_ for _aul\u00e6_, and the\nlike, can scarcely have produced on the reader of the Augustan era any\nstronger impression of quaintness than such poetical forms as \u201cspake\u201d\nand \u201cdrave\u201d and \u201cbrake\u201d produce on us when we meet them in English\npoetry today. We must, therefore, assume that Mr. Morris aimed at some\nsuch reproduction of the literary manner of a past age as Thackeray\ngives us in _Esmond_, or Balzac, with still greater ingenuity but much\nworse art, in the _Contes Drolatiques_. This, and a resolve to use only\nSaxon words as far as possible\u2014a right idea in the main, perhaps, for\ntranslation from the Latin, certainly a most interesting and instructive\none\u2014and (a less useful idea) to say nothing in the common way which\ncould at all be said out of the common, seem to have been his\ncontrolling influences. To these he has subordinated all else but verbal\nfidelity, and the result is a queer composite production of a strong\nmedi\u00e6val flavor\u2014a romanticized _\u00c6neid_ which one of the seekers after\nthe _Earthly Paradise_ might have told his comrades\n\n \u201cUnder the lime-trees\u2019 shade\n By some sweet stream that knows not of the sea,\u201d\n\nbut which, except for fidelity to its meaning, seems to us hardly nearer\nbeing Virgil\u2019s _\u00c6neid_ than Pope\u2019s _Iliad_ was to being Homer\u2019s. Close\nit certainly is; we may say marvellously close. Indeed, so far as we\nhave been able to collate, it surpasses in this respect all previous\nrhymed versions, even Conington\u2019s, and falls but little below any of\nthose in blank-verse. Not only does it render the Latin line for line\u2014no\ntrifling task, even for the Alexandrine, with its unvarying fourteen\nsyllables against the average fifteen of the hexameter\u2014but not seldom\nword for word. Moreover, notwithstanding its exactness, it reads as\nsmoothly and as spiritedly as an original poem; it is everywhere set off\nwith those verbal graces of which Mr. Morris is a master, and the metre,\nwhich has many merits for the purpose, is throughout handled with\nadmirable skill. Wherein and how, then, does it fail of giving us\nVirgil?\n\nBecause, we answer, not only is Virgil\u2019s tone\u2014his coloring, his local\natmosphere-conspicuously absent from Mr. Morris\u2019 translation, not only\nis the tone of the latter as unlike the tone of the _\u00c6neid_ as can well\nbe, but it is even carefully, studiously, nay, laboriously, removed from\nit. It may be taken as a rule in translation that any word is out of\nplace which violently disturbs the associations that belong to the\noriginal, the train of ideas raised by the original in the reader\u2019s\nmind. For instance, when Mr. Theodore Martin makes use of the word\n\u201cmadrigal\u201d in his translation of the _Carmen Am\u0153b\u00e6um_ of Horace, we\nsomehow feel that he has struck a false note; we are sensible of a\ndiscord. The word to the English reader brings up associations wholly\nforeign to Horace and his time, turns the thoughts of the English reader\ninto a widely different track, and dispels the Horatian effect. Mr.\nMorris not only does this in single words, but his very design is based\non doing it as often as he can; his entire vocabulary is carefully\nselected with a view to doing it uniformly throughout his work. From the\nstately towers of Ilium, city of the gods, the _arces Pergame\u00e6 and\nincluta bello m\u0153nia Dardanidum_; from the splendid temples of Carthage;\nfrom the fertile plains of Hesperia, the royal city of Laurentum, and\nthe mighty hundred-pillared palace of Picus; from the Ausonian\nbattle-fields, ringing with the clatter of chariots, the clang of sword\non helm and spear on buckler, the shouts and shocks of the contending\nheroes\u2014from all the scenes and characters so familiar to us in the\nVirgilian story, Mr. Morris ushers us into a strange, remote, wild\nWestland, where all the famous doings we thought we knew so well are\ntransformed in the most grotesque fashion. It is a land of \u201csteads\u201d and\n\u201cfirths,\u201d of \u201cmeres\u201d and \u201cleas\u201d and \u201cfells,\u201d he takes us into, inhabited\nnot by a people but by \u201ca folk,\u201d who are not named but \u201chight\u201d; who\ndwell in \u201cgarths\u201d and \u201cburgs\u201d and worship \u201cvery godheads\u201d in \u201cfanes\u201d;\nwho never by any chance go anywhere, but either \u201cwend\u201d or \u201cfare\u201d when\nthey are not engaged in \u201cflitting\u201d\u2014a mysterious kind of locomotion which\nthey sometimes achieve by means of \u201cwains\u201d\u2014and who hold converse among\nthemselves not in words but in \u201cspeech-lore,\u201d which they at times\ncondescend to speak, but very much prefer, when the rhyme will give them\nthe ghost of a chance, \u201cto waft\u201d through \u201ctooth-hedge\u201d (_ore locutus_).\nIn this mysterious region are neither times nor numbers, but only\n\u201ctales\u201d and \u201ctides\u201d; what would be mere tillers of the soil (_agricol\u00e6_)\nin Virgil are here become \u201cacre-biders\u201d or \u201cfield-folk,\u201d who for cattle\nhave \u201cmerry, wholesome herds of neat\u201d (_l\u00e6ta boum armenta_), and for\nhorses \u201cwar-threatening herd-beasts.\u201d Here things are rarely carried,\nbut, like the \u201cspeech-lore\u201d above spoken of, are \u201cwafted\u201d whenever\nhumanly possible, and are never done or made when they can by any means\nbe \u201cdight.\u201d Here we are puzzled to recognize our old friends, the Muses,\nunder the disguise of \u201cSong-maids\u201d; we fairly cut those amiable sisters,\nthe Furies, when they are introduced to us as the \u201cWell-willers\u201d; and of\nthe heroes who roar and ruffle so gallantly through the battlefields of\nthe _\u00c6neid_ we have scarcely a glimpse, but instead a \u201ctale\u201d of \u201clads of\nwar,\u201d \u201cbegirded\u201d with \u201cwar-gear\u201d and led by \u201cDukes of man,\u201d who are for\never falling on and smiting or being smitten by a \u201csort of fellows\u201d\ndight in \u201cwar-weeds,\u201d who fare around in \u201cwar-wains\u201d and \u201cdeal out\niron-bane\u201d (_dant funera ferro_) with \u201cshot-spears\u201d or \u201cweapon-smiths\u201d\nand \u201cwound-smiths\u201d instead of simple javelins and swords. Following Mr.\nMorris\u2019 lead, in short, we find ourselves in a land where Virgil would\nbe as much at home as he would in Asgard or Valhalla, or as the hero\nBeowulf might be in Elysium. It is a pleasant land enough in its way,\nand the folk are entertaining folk, but we feel that we have left the\n_\u00c6neid_ behind us.\n\nIt is far from our wish or aim to set Mr. Morris\u2019 work in an unworthy or\nridiculous light. Our respect for him is too great, our admiration too\nsincere, to treat any performance of his lightly. But some such\nimpression as that we have given above is the chief one left on our mind\nby reading his _\u00c6neids_. We are no longer in Italy but in Norseland, or,\nif in Italy, an Italy after the Gothic irruption; \u00c6neas and Turnus,\nPallas and Lausus, _fortisque Gygas fortisque Cloanthus_, are no longer\nTrojans or Rutules, but Norse jarls and vikings. They bear their Latin\nnames, but that is all that is Latin about them: the hand is the hand of\nEsau, but the voice is the voice of Jacob. What associations connect\nthemselves in the mind of the English reader with such words as \u201cgarth\u201d\nand \u201cburg\u201d and \u201cfirth\u201d? Are they not as unlike as possible to any that\nbelong to Virgil? Do they not disturb and trouble, even totally obscure,\nthe effect the English reader habitually derives from Virgil\u2014these\nincongruous words dropped into the clear current of the poet\u2019s manner\u2014as\na stone flung into a limpid pool may trouble and obscure it? What is\nthere in common between Morris\u2019 \u201clads of war in vain beleaguered\u201d and\nVirgil\u2019s _nequidquam obsessa juventus_?\u2014between Morris\u2019 \u201cvery Duke of\nman\u201d and Virgil\u2019s _ipsis ductoribus_? (v. 249). What impression is the\nEnglish reader apt to get from phrases like \u201cflitting by in wain\u201d? It is\ncertainly not that of a hero rushing to battle, but, if any\u2014and we are\nnot sure that upon our own mind any very tangible impression is left at\nall\u2014rather of a bucolic ghost disappearing somewhere in a spectral\nhay-cart. To say Carthage is to be \u201cLady of all lands\u201d is surely to\nproduce an utterly different effect from that of _dea gentibus esse_ (i.\n17); and they must have shrewder eyes than ours who can find in such\nlines as\n\n \u201cLo! what was there to heave aloft in fashioning of Rome,\u201d\n\nor\n\n \u201cThose fed on good hap all things may because they deem they may,\u201d\n\nanything more than the shell of Virgil\u2019s\n\n \u201cTant\u00e6 molis erat Romanam condere gentem\u201d\n\nor,\n\n \u201cHos successus alit; possunt quia posse videntur,\u201d\n\nwhere the pretence of verbal fidelity only makes the verbal affectation\nmore annoyingly weak. These ever-recurring eccentricities of phrase\ntease the reader and spoil half his enjoyment. In a translator whose\ndaily speech was of \u201ctrowing\u201d instead of \u201ctrusting,\u201d of \u201ctale\u201d for\nnumber or \u201csort\u201d for company, of \u201cwending\u201d and \u201cwafting,\u201d and \u201cfolk\u201d in\nthe singular, and who used \u201cvery\u201d rather profusely, and on slight\nprovocation, as an adjective, and \u201cfeared\u201d and \u201clearned\u201d as transitive\nverbs, and agreed with some modern great men in thinking grammar\ngenerally a bore, such lines as\n\n \u201cO Palinure, that _trowed_ the shies and soft seas overmuch\u201d;\n\n \u201cThese tidings hard for us to _trow_ unto our ears do win\u201d;\n\n \u201cIn all thou needest toil herein, from me the deed should _wend_\u201d;\n\n \u201cA hundred more, and youths withal of age and _tale_ the same\u201d;\n\n \u201cThere with his hand he maketh sign and mighty speech he _wafts_\u201d;\n\n \u201cFrom the open gates another _sort_ is come\u201d;\n\n \u201cAnd her much _folk_ of Latin land were fain enow to wed\u201d;\n\n \u201cHard strive the _folk_ in smiting sea, and oar-blades brush the\n main\u201d;\n\n \u201cThe straits besprent with many a _folk_\u201d;\n\n \u201cTo Helenus his _very_ thrall me very _thrall_ gave o\u2019er\u201d;\n\n \u201cSo with their weapons every show of _very_ fight they stir\u201d;\n\n \u201cBut _learn_ me now who fain the sooth would wot\u201d;\n\n \u201cAbout me senseless, _throughly feared_ with marvels grim and\n great\u201d;\n\n \u201cAnd many a saying furthermore of God-loved seers of old\n _Fears_ her with dreadful memories\u201d;\n\n \u201cNor was he _worser_ than himself in such a pinch bestead\u201d\n\n\u2014such lines in a translator to whom this dialect was still a living\nlanguage would not seem unnatural. They would be simply the expression\nof the effect made by Virgil on the mind of that age, and so far, since\nevery age has its own idiom, they would not necessarily be un-Virgilian\nat all. Even such extraordinary phrases as\n\n \u201cAn ash ...\n Round which, sore smitten by the steel, the _acre biders_ throng,\n And strive in speeding of the axe,\u201d\n\nfor\n\n \u201cOrnum\n Cum ferro accisam crebrisque bipennibus instant\n Eruere agricol\u00e6 certatim\u201d;\n\nor\n\n \u201cWhen Jove, a-looking down\n From highest lift on sail-skimmed sea, and lands that round it lie,\n And shores and many folk about in topmost burg of sky,\n Stood still,\u201d\n\nfor\n\n \u201cCum Jupiter, \u00e6there summo\n Despiciens mare velivolum terrasque jacentes\n Litoraque et latos populos, sic vertice c\u0153li\n Constitit\u201d;\n\nor\n\n \u201cAn ancient mighty rock, indeed, which lay upon the lea,\n Set for a landmark, _judge and end of acre-strife to be_,\u201d\n\nfor\n\n \u201cSaxum antiquum, ingens, campo quod forte jacebat,\n Limes agro positus, litem ut discerneret arvis\u201d;\n\nor,\n\n \u201cNo footstrife but the armed hand must doom betwixt us twain,\u201d\n\nfor\n\n \u201cNon cursu, certandum s\u00e6vis est comminus armis\u201d\n\n\u2014such phrases as these, if to any translator at any time they could have\nseemed a natural way of saying things, would not then, in such a\ntranslator\u2019s version, have struck us with more than the passing and not\nunpleasant sense of quaintness which is part of the charm we find in the\ndiction of a past age when used by its lawful owners. But when a poet of\nthe nineteenth century sacrilegiously invades the tomb and seizes upon\nthis castoff and moth-eaten verbal bravery of buried ages to bedeck\nhimself withal, it is much as if he should come to make his bow in a\nmodern drawing-room arrayed in the conventional dress-coat, Elizabethan\nruff and trunks, Wellington boots, and a Vandyke hat. The novelty might\nplease for a moment, but the incongruity must offend in the end. In the\nvery time which Mr. Morris so much admires they knew this to be false\nart. \u201cThat same framing of his stile to an old rusticke language,\u201d says\nSir Philip Sidney in his _Apologie for Poesie_, speaking of _The\nShepherd\u2019s Calendar_, \u201cI dare not alowe, since neither Theocritus in\nGreeke, Virgile in Latin, nor Sannazar in Italian did affect it.\u201d\n\nStill worse is it when our amateur of second-hand finery, the\n_bric-\u00e0-brac_ of language, selects such a poet as Virgil\u2014Virgil, whose\nname is a synonym for supreme, for perfect elegance, whose \u201ctaste was\nhis genius\u201d\u2014as a lay figure to drape with these shreds and tatters of an\nobsolete, fantastic verbiage, \u201cmouldy-dull as Eld herself\u201d\u2014to quote and\nillustrate at once from Mr. Morris[5]\u2014and smelling of the grave. This\npersistence in going out of the way to hunt for archaisms at once\u2014to\nrepeat a word which best hits our own feeling\u2014teases the reader and\ndistracts him. We seem to feel Mr. Morris amiably tugging our\ncoat-sleeve at every turn to point out this or that fresh eccentricity\nof language. We fancy we see him chuckling and rubbing his hands\ngleefully here and there over the discovery of some more than usually\nexasperating way of violating the usages of modern speech. So vexed and\nharassed, it is impossible to get much taste of the _\u00c6neid_; through\nthis word-jugglery we catch such glimpses of it as of the painted scene\na conjurer has set behind him to throw his tricks into relief Of a piece\nwith this laborious renaissance of a forgotten tongue are the studied\nmispronunciations, such as \u00c6n\u0115as for \u00c6n\u0113as and Er\u0101to for Er\u0103to:\n\n \u201cSo did the Father \u00c6n\u0115as, with all at stretch to hear\u201d;\n\n \u201cTo aid, Er\u0101to, while I tell what kings, what deedful tide\u201d;\n\nthe false rhymes, such as \u201cwrath\u201d and \u201cforth,\u201d \u201cpoured\u201d and \u201cabroad,\u201d\n\u201cabroad\u201d and \u201creward,\u201d which might be forgiven to the stress of so\nlong and difficult a task had we not such reason for suspecting them\nto be intentional; the occasional use of phrases familiar, even low,\nand totally at variance with Virgil\u2019s lofty and cultivated style, such\nas \u201cgobbets of the men\u201d for _frusta_, iii. 632; \u201cPhrygian fellows\u201d\n(_Phrygii comites_); \u201cthose Teucrian fellows\u201d; \u201cthe other lads\u201d for\n_juventus_; \u201cbut as they gave and took in talk\u201d (_hac vice sermonum_);\n\u201che spake and footed it afore\u201d (_dixit et ante tulit gressum_);\n\u201cunlearned \u00c6neas fell aquake\u201d (_Horruit ... inscius \u00c6neas_)\u2014surely a\nmost undignified proceeding for a hero; \u201cso east and west he called to\nhim, and _spake such words to tell_\u201d (_dehinc talia fatur_)\u2014the list\nis long, scarce a page but would swell it; or the compound epithets\nwhich Mr. Morris\u2014herein, no doubt, taking his cue from Chapman, but\nnot so happily or with such good reason\u2014has coined profusely. \u201cIn the\nAugustan poets,\u201d says Prof. Conington, \u201ccompound epithets are chiefly\nconspicuous by their absence, and a translator of an Augustan poet\nought not to suffer them to be too prominent a feature of his style.\u201d\nThis assertion must be qualified with regard to Virgil, who, in\nimitation of his model, Homer, and in obedience, perhaps, to a\nsupposed law of epic composition, has too many compounds to permit it\nto pass unchallenged\u2014such, for instance, as _armisonus_ (_Palladis\narmison\u00e6_\u2014\u201cPallas of the weapon-din\u201d), _velivolus_ (\u201csail-skimmed\u201d),\n_legifer_ (_legifer\u00e6 Cereri_\u2014\u201cCeres wise of law\u201d), _letifer_\n(\u201cdeadly\u201d), _c\u00e6licolus_ (\u201cheaven-abider\u201d), _laniger_ (\u201cwoolly\u201d),\n_noctivagus_ (\u201cnightly-straying\u201d), and the like. Yet, not content to\nrender these by English compounds even where it is not always\nexpedient\u2014since the compound form in our own language will often, from\nits strangeness in a familiar tongue, seem strained and awkward, where\nin the less familiar Latin it seems only natural and elegant[6]\u2014Mr.\nMorris has introduced many other compounds of his own invention for\nwhich there is no authority in Virgil at all, which in many instances\nare discordant with his style and not seldom downright grotesque\u2014such\ncombinations as \u201chot-heart\u201d for _ardens_, or \u201ccold-hand in the war\u201d\n(_frigidus bello_) or even \u201cfate-wise,\u201d \u201cweapon-won,\u201d \u201cwar-lord,\u201d\n\u201cbattle-lord,\u201d \u201cair-high,\u201d \u201cstar-smiting,\u201d \u201coutland-wrought,\u201d\n\u201cheaven-abider\u201d (_c\u0153licolus_), \u201clike-aged,\u201d \u201cgoddess-led,\u201d etc., which\nmeet us at every turn. And what _are_ we to say of such inventions as\n\u201cmurder-wolf,\u201d \u201cdeath-stealth\u201d (\u201con death-stealth onward the Trojan\nwent\u201d\u2014_hic furio fervidus instat_), \u201cdreaming-tide\u201d for _somnus_,\n\u201cwar-Turnus,\u201d \u201cweapon-great,\u201d \u201chelpless-fain\u201d for _nequidquam avidus_,\n\u201chero-gathered stone\u201d (_lapis ipsi viri_), \u201canger-seas,\u201d\n\u201cwounding-craft,\u201d \u201cbit-befoaming,\u201d \u201cspeech-masters,\u201d or those others,\nif possible still more extraordinary, already mentioned,\n\u201cweapon-smith,\u201d \u201cwound-smith,\u201d \u201ctooth-hedge\u201d? These, and scores of\nother such we have marked for notice, are surely as little like Virgil\nas they are like any English that is spoken to-day; and they are\nscarcely less potent than Mr. Morris\u2019 archaisms in disturbing and\naltering the Virgilian tone. Of a like effect are the quaint and\nunconsequential translations now and then of Latin names\u2014as of _Mus\u00e6_\ninto \u201cSong-maids,\u201d _Eumenides_ into \u201cWell-willers,\u201d _Avernus_ into\n\u201cFowlless,\u201d and soon\u2014whereby for a perfectly familiar and intelligible\nterm of the Latin is substituted in the English a grotesque and\npuzzling word, and which again stops the current of the story until\nthe reader can readjust his mind to the novel ideas it awakes. The\nmost unclassical of readers has his notions formed of the Muses and\nthe Furies, at least, if not of the Eumenides; but of these\nSong-maids\u2014who might as well be milk-maids\u2014and of these\nWell-willers\u2014who rather suggest well-diggers\u2014he must form a new notion\nas he reads. And one might add, at the risk of seeming to split hairs,\nthat in thus translating the word _Eumenides_ we lose much of the\neffect of that euphemism with which the Greeks, like all strongly\nimaginative peoples, sought to keep disagreeable subjects at arm\u2019s\nlength\u2014the form \u03c4\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b8\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd, as a synonym for dying, is exactly\nparalleled by the Irish phrase \u201csuffered,\u201d applied to an executed\nrebel\u2014or perhaps to ward off the wrath of these ticklish neighbors, as\nCeltic races, again, are in the habit of calling fairies \u201cthe good\npeople.\u201d A more substantial objection is that Mr. Morris seems\ncapricious in the matter, for we see no particular reason for his\ntranslating one such name and others not at all\u2014-why he should not\ngive us Quail-land for Ortygia, or Chalk Island for Crete, as well as\nWestland for Hesperia, or Fowlless for Avernus.\n\nIt is a result of these affectations, or\u2014for we are loath to press the\ncharge of affectation against a poet whose own writing is so genuine and\nsincere\u2014of these peculiarities of style, which have on the reader all\nthe seeming and effect of affectation, that the pathos of Virgil, the\none quality to which Mr. Morris should have been best fitted to do\njustice, he has greatly impaired. Affectation is fatal to pathos; one\ncannot have much feeling for the woes which are carefully set forth in\nverbal mosaic. Take but a single example\u2014a passage in Virgil already\nreferred to\u2014which sets forth admirably that faculty the Latin poet has\nto so curious a degree of infusing sadness into mere words, but in which\nMr. Morris is little behind him. It is the death of \u00c6olus, which Mr.\nMorris renders thus:\n\n \u201cThee also, warring \u00c6olus, did that Laurentine field\n See fallen and cumbering the earth with body laid alow;\n Thou diest, whom the Argive hosts might never overthrow,\n Nor that Achilles\u2019 hand that wrought the Priam\u2019s realm its wrack.\n Here was thy meted mortal doom: high house \u2018neath Ida\u2019s back\u2014\n High house within Lyrnessus\u2019 garth, grave in Laurentine lea.\u201d\n\nIt only needs to compare this with the original to see how far it misses\nthe pathos of the Latin; it needs only to compare it with Mr. Morris\nhimself, where he has forgotten or failed to be sufficiently archaic, to\nsee the reason of the miss. Take, again, the passage from the shipwreck\nin the second book already referred to:\n\n \u201cNow therewithal \u00c6neas\u2019 limbs grew weak with chilly dread;\n He groaned, and, lifting both his palms aloft to heaven, he said:\n O thrice and four times happy ye that had the fate to fall\n Before your fathers\u2019 faces there by Troy\u2019s beloved wall!\n Tydid\u0115s, thou of Danaan folk, the mightiest under shield,\n Why might I never lay me down upon the Ilian field?\n Why was my soul forbid release at thy most mighty hand,\n Where eager Hector stooped and lay before Achilles\u2019 wand,\n Where huge Sarpedon fell asleep, where Simois rolls along\n The shields of men and helms of men and bodies of the strong?\u201d\n\nThe word \u201cwand\u201d for _telo_ has an odd look, but that may be forgiven to\nthe rhyme; and the rest is simple, emotional, and true. In like happy\nmoments of oblivion we catch an echo of _Jason_, as in the opening of\nbook vii.:\n\n \u201cThe faint winds breathe about the night, the moon shines clear and\n kind;\n Beneath the quivering, shining road the wide seas gleaming lie....\n The fowl that love the river-bank and haunt the river-bed\n Sweetened the air with plenteous song and through the thicket fled.\u201d\n\nThe rising of the Rutules in vii. 623 is an animated picture unmarred by\ntoo many of the mannerisms we have spoken of:\n\n \u201c... All Ausonia yet unstirred brake suddenly ablaze;\n And some will go afoot to field, and some will wend their ways\n Aloft on horses dusty-fierce; all seek their battle-gear.\n Some polish bright the buckler\u2019s face and rub the pike-point clear\n With fat of sheep; and many an axe upon the wheel is worn.\n They joy to rear the banners up and hearken to the horn.\n And now five mighty cities forge the point and edge anew\n On new-raised anvils: Tibur proud, Atina stanch to do,\n Ardea and Crustumerium\u2019s folk, Antenn\u00e6 castle-crowned.\n They hollow helming for the head; they bend the withe around\n For buckler-boss; or other some beat breastplates of the brass,\n Or from the toughened silver bring the shining greaves to pass.\n Now fails all prize of share and work, all yearning for the plough;\n The swords their fathers bore afield anew they smithy now.\n Now is the gathering trumpet blown; the battle-token speeds,\n And this man catches helm from wall; this thrusteth foaming steeds\n To collar; this his shield does on, and mail-coat threesome laid\n Of golden link, and girdeth him with ancient trusty blade.\u201d\n\nPassages like this\u2014and, indeed, there are many of them\u2014only deepen our\nregret that Mr. Morris should let a whim of doubtful taste deprive us of\nwhat might have been otherwise the best rendering of the _\u00c6neid_ yet.\nOne other passage we will give, and then cease to tax longer the\npatience of the reader. It shall be the gallant picture of Turnus\nsallying forth to battle (xi. 486), which, as it is taken from the like\ndescription of Paris, near the end of the sixth _Iliad_, will permit us\nto compare Morris\u2019 manner with Chapman\u2019s:\n\n \u201cNow eager Turnus for the war his body did begird:\n The ruddy gleaming coat of mail upon his breast he did,\n And roughened him with brazen scales; with gold his legs he hid;\n With brow yet bare, unto his side he girt the sword of fight,\n And, all a glittering, golden man, ran down the castle\u2019s height.[7]\n High leaps his heart, his hope runs forth the foeman\u2019s force to\n face;\n As steed, when broken are the bonds, fleeth the stabling place,\n Set free at last, and, having won the unfenced open mead.\n Now runneth to the grassy ground wherein the mare-kind feed;\n Or, wont to water, speedeth him in well-known stream to wash,\n And, wantoning, with uptost head about the world doth dash,\n While wave his mane-locks o\u2019er his neck, and o\u2019er his shoulders\n play.\u201d\n\nCompare Chapman, _Iliad_ vi. 503 (\u039f\u1f50\u03b4\u03ad \u03a0\u03ac\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b4\u03ae\u03b8\u03c5\u03bd\u03b5\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u1f51\u03c8\u03b7\u03bb\u03bf\u1fd6\u03bf\u03b9\n\u03b4\u03cc\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd):\n\n \u201cAnd now was Paris come\n From his high towers, who made no stay when once he had put on\n His richest armor, but flew forth; the flints he trod upon\n Sparkled with lustre of his arms; his long-ebb\u2019d spirits now flow\u2019d\n The higher for their lower ebb. And as a fair steed, proud,\n With full-giv\u2019n mangers, long tied up, and now his head-stall broke,\n He breaks from stable, runs the field, and with an ample stroke\n Measures the centre; neighs and lifts aloft his wanton head,\n About his shoulders shakes his crest, and where he hath been fed,\n Or in some calm flood wash\u2019d, or stung with his high plight, he\n flies\n Amongst his females; strength put forth his beauty, beautifies,\n And like life\u2019s mirror bears his gait: so Paris from the tower\n Of lofty Pergamos came forth.\u201d\n\nIs not the modern older in style than the ancient?\n\nWe lay aside Mr. Morris\u2019 book with a mingling of admiration and regret.\nThe critical and poetical ability shown in it is of the first order\u2014no\nman could have spoiled Virgil so thoroughly as we think Mr. Morris has\nin places who did not know him _au bout des ongles_, just as a clever\nparody shows true appreciation of an author\u2014and its ingenuity is\namazing. But one feels it to be a wasted ingenuity, and the predominant\nsentiment with which we leave the book is one of annoyance that a man\nshould so wilfully do ill what his very errors prove him capable of\ndoing so well. Yet for all that the book wins upon us as most of Mr.\nMorris\u2019 work has a way of doing; and if one could but get reconciled to\na Norseland \u00c6neis, we should no doubt find it pleasant enough.\n\nPerhaps we cannot better dismiss our subject than by saying, in the\nold-time fashion of comparison, that of these three translations\nConington\u2019s will probably be read for the story by those who know Virgil\nnot at all; Mr. Cranch\u2019s for its literalness by those who half know\nVirgil and are willing to know him better; and Mr. Morris\u2019 for its very\ningenuity of perversion by those who know Virgil so well that to see him\nin any new light, even a false light, only adds a fillip to their love\nfor him.\n\nFootnote 2:\n\n Cf. what Joubert says of Racine: that \u201chis genius, too, lay in his\n taste,\u201d and that he is \u201cthe Virgil of the ignorant.\u201d\n\nFootnote 3:\n\n \u201cAnd stand and listen with arrected ears\u201d\u2014_atque arrectis auribus\n adsto_. We may add that to our mind Simmons\u2019 version of this simile,\n which we regret not to have space to quote, is one of the very best.\n\nFootnote 4:\n\n Dr. Johnson never learned it. \u201cHis heroic lines,\u201d he said of Cowley,\n \u201care often formed of monosyllables; but yet they are often sweet and\n sonorous.\u201d\n\nFootnote 5:\n\n \u201cEld the mouldy-dull, and empty of all sooth,\u201d is Mr. Morris\u2019\n equivalent for \u201c_verique effeta senectus_,\u201d _\u00c6n._ vii. 439.\n\nFootnote 6:\n\n Mr. Matthew Arnold\u2019s remark to a like effect in his admirable essay on\n translating Homer was curiously anticipated by Tickell in the preface\n to his (or Addison\u2019s) version of the first book of the _Iliad_, where\n he says the double epithets of the _Iliad_, \u201cthough elegant and\n sonorous in the Greek, become either unintelligible, unmusical, or\n burlesque in English.\u201d He adds: \u201cI cannot but observe that Virgil,\n that sunge in a language much more capable of composition than ours,\n hath often conformed to this rule.\u201d\n\nFootnote 7:\n\n Mr. Morris here unaccountably sacrifices an opportunity. _Decurrens\n aureus arce_ the Latin is, and yet he gives us \u201ccastle\u201d instead of\n \u201cburg,\u201d which, in his own translating dialect, is the true meaning of\n _arx_. To such shifts will rhyme reduce the ablest translators!\n\n\n\n\n ST. CUTHBERT.\n\n\n Behold the shepherd lad of Lammermuir\n Tending his small flock on the uplands bleak.\n Alone he seems, yet to his young heart speak\n Voices that none may hear except the pure.\n His dreaming eyes\u2014where duller souls, secure\n Of earth alone, see naught\u2014are quick to seek\n Angels howe\u2019er disguised; and week by week\n The higher call within grows clear and sure.\n Now see him, humbly clad, with staff in hand,\n Thread the wild vales of Tweed and Teviot,\n To bear God\u2019s Word through a benighted land,\n And bless with prayer each peasant\u2019s lonely cot.\n Brave soul wert thou, though few thy worth may sing,\n Thou chosen saint of England\u2019s noblest king.\n\n\n\n\n PILATE\u2019S STORY.\n\nCaligula was reigning, C. Marcius was pr\u00e6tor at Vienne, in Dauphiny,\nwhen a litter, escorted by a number of cavaliers, one evening entered\nthe triumphal gate of this metropolis of Gaul. Many gathered together at\nthe unusual display. On the door of the modest little house before which\nthey stopped, and which stood close by the Temple of Mars, was the name\nof F. Albinus in bright red letters. An old man, tall in stature, but\nnow bent with age and fatigue, alighted from the litter, and, preceded\nby two of his attendant Hebrew slaves, entered the reception-room, where\nhe was greeted by his friend, the master of the house.\n\nAfter having bathed and received the usual attentions at the hands of\nthe slaves, he proceeded with his host to the supper-room to enjoy the\nevening meal. The lamps were lighted, and Albinus was alone with the new\nguest, with whom he entered into conversation as soon as the dish of\nfresh eggs was placed before them.\n\n\u201cMany years have passed since we separated,\u201d said Albinus; \u201clet us empty\na cup of Rhone wine to your return.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, many years!\u201d sighed the old man; \u201cand cursed be the day whereon I\nsucceeded Valerius Gratus in the government of Judea! My name is\nunlucky; a fatality is attached to all who bear it. One of my ancestors\nleft the stamp of infamy on the name of Roman when he passed under the\nyoke in the Caudine Forks, after fighting against the Samnites; another\nperished in Parthia, fighting against Phraates; and I\u2014I\u2014\u201d\n\nThe wine remained untasted, while his unbidden tears fell into the cup.\n\n\u201cWell! you\u2014what have you done? Some injustice of Caligula exiles you to\nVienne; and for what crime? I read your affair in the _tabularium_. You\nwere denounced to the emperor by your enemy, Vitellius, the prefect of\nSyria; you punished a few Hebrew rebels who, after assassinating some\nnoble Samaritans, entrenched themselves on Mount Garizim. You were\naccused of doing this out of hatred to the Jews.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no, Albinus; by all the gods! it is not the injustice of C\u00e6sar\nwhich afflicts me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat exactions did you impose?\u201d\n\n\u201cNone.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid you carry off any Jewish women?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever!\u201d\n\n\u201cDid you gibbet any Roman citizens, as Verres did in Sicily?\u201d\n\nPilate did not reply.\n\n\u201cI always took you to be good and sensible,\u201d continued Albinus; \u201chence I\ndid not hesitate to proclaim aloud in the city that your spoliation and\nexile were an outrage. It was never referred to the senate. The whole\naffair was evidently owing to some caprice of Vitellius.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlbinus, let us talk of other things. I am tired, having just arrived\nfrom Rome. Serious things for to-morrow, says the sage. This Rhone wine\nis exquisite.\u201d\n\n\u201cBeware of it, Pontius; it disturbs the brain.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo much the better. But I am not afraid of it. I am accustomed to the\nwine of Engaddi; that is a potent Bacchus.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs you please. But tell me, you who come from Rome, what stirs men\u2019s\nminds there? Have you aught to interest my ear?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe auguries are bad. I did not recognize Rome; she no longer goes\nforward, but steadily sinks!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat say you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI say what is. From here you cannot detect the mysterious subterranean\nnoise which rumbles as with the approach of that invisible, superior\npower now irresistibly pushing the empire to its ruin. Our gods are\nvanquished; they abandon us. Listen, Albinus; let me this evening throw\na smile to your _Penates_, and no more words of what is sorrowful. Night\nis the mother of sadness, but the _triclinium_ counsels gayety. Tell the\nchild to turn me a cup of wine of Cyprus, and ask the slave to bring my\nsandals and prepare my bed. I love not the gloom of night; let us haste\nto sleep, that the day may sooner come.\u201d\n\nAlbinus bowed, and the desires of Pilate were complied with. As the\nslave approached him with a silver hand-basin for washing his hands,\nPilate\u2019s face turned pale as with fright, while the light of his eyes\nwas terrible to behold.\n\nThe next day was the eve of the kalends of August. Pilate took a walk\nwith Albinus in the Roman city of Vienne, and listened abstractedly to\nthe conversation of his friend, who pointed out the various localities\nas they passed along, and the many splendid monuments rising on every\nside.\n\n\u201cThere is left no trace of the domination of the Allobroges here,\u201d said\nAlbinus. \u201cSince the death of Julius C\u00e6sar they have ceased to disturb\nthe city. Life is quiet and peaceable at Vienne, and you can spend here\nthe years which the gods still grant you in secure contentment.\n\n\u201cHere before us is the palace of the emperors; it is not so grand, so\nsumptuous as that on Mount Palatine, but it is good enough for those who\nnever visit it. Look to the left, and see the temple of Augustus and\nLivia; unless your eyes are weakened by the sun of Judea, you can read,\nfrom here, the inscription: _Divo Augusto et Livi\u00e6_. Beyond is that\ndedicated to the Hundred Gods. If we go down to the river we can get a\nlittle fresh air on the bridge. Vienne, as you may have already\nremarked, is a very pleasant place of residence; the climate is quite\nmild, being so thoroughly sheltered by the surrounding mountains from\nthe violence of the winds. We are only fifteen leagues from Lyons; and\nby the Rhone our away to both Marseilles and Arles is shortened. These\nthree important cities are under the government of Vienne, as Tiberius\nhas decreed; so thank fate, which has sent you to so pleasant a place of\nexile.\u201d\n\nAlbinus remarked a look of trouble in the face of the old man, whose\neyes were fixed on a point of dust in the direction of the river-bank,\nand from which were seen gradually to emerge horsemen with armor\nglistening in the sun.\n\n\u201cIt is the pr\u00e6tor,\u201d said Albinus; \u201che has been visiting the works at the\namphitheatre. That is his daily ride.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us avoid the pr\u00e6tor,\u201d said Pilate; \u201cmay he never know my face!\u201d\n\nAs they reached the \u201cQuirinal\u201d street on the way back, they were met and\nseparated by a crowd of idlers who, attracted by the trumpets, had\ngathered from every side to witness the passage of the pr\u00e6torian escort.\nPilate found himself isolated, and soon became an object of interest, as\nis the case with one who seeks alone to stem a popular current. His\ndress was enough to attract insulting remarks. For from his long sojourn\nin Judea Pilate had insensibly adopted Hebrew fashions in dress,\ngesture, and deportment. His very figure, black hair, and dark\ncomplexion (he was of Iberian origin) betrayed more the Hebrew than the\nRoman.\n\n\u201cLet the Jew pass; he is going to the synagogue,\u201d said one at his side.\n\n\u201cMothers! watch your little ones,\u201d said another; \u201cthe wolf is out of the\nQuirinal.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe had better take him and crucify him,\u201d muttered a third.\n\nBut nothing further was done to molest him, and Pilate passed safely\nthrough the crowd, with head sunk upon his breast and suppliant bearing,\nas far as the head of the street, where a different scene awaited him.\n\nSeeing a house which closely resembled that of Albinus (for a number of\nthem were similar in construction), and finding the door standing open,\nhe hastily entered, glad to find its shelter at last, and closed the\ndoor behind him.\n\nA fearful cry chilled the blood in his very veins; he heard his own name\nuttered, and thrust his fingers in his ears at the ominous sound.\n\nThe master and his family were at their daily labor, as basket-makers,\nbeneath the interior peristyle called the _impluvium_. When he entered\nthe master recognized Pilate, for he knew the more than famous name of\nthe stranger whose exile to Vienne had been made public. \u201cPilate!\nPilate!\u201d he cried; and the women and children dropped their wicker-work\nas they, too, repeated this formidable name, stained with the blood of\nGod himself. The family were Christians.\n\nPilate asked an asylum, but they did not understand him, as he spoke a\nsort of Hebrew-Latin and they were Gallic Allobroges. Still, as they\ncaught the name of Albinus twice or thrice repeated, the father made\nsigns to the rest of the family to be seated, and, as if recalling some\ndivine precept of charity learned in the secret assembly of the\nfaithful, he approached Pilate and quietly showed him the house of his\nneighbor Albinus. Pilate crossed the street and entered his friend\u2019s\nhouse.\n\nAlbinus was not over-displeased when the rude crowd separated him from a\ncompanion whose appearance bade fair to compromise him before the\npublic. Like a good courtier he prudently stayed to see the pr\u00e6tor,\nshouted _Vivat imperator!_ and praised the rare magnificence of the\nescort and the beauty of the horses; after which he quietly returned to\nhis house, where he found his friend in an agony of despair.\n\n\u201cI am recognized,\u201d cried Pilate as Albinus entered; \u201cthe little children\npointed their fingers at me on the street. O Albinus! remember that our\nlips as very children uttered words of friendship; remember that we\nplayed together on the banks of the Tiber; that we have sat at the same\nbanquets and raised our cups in the same libations. Remember the past\nand protect me beneath the inviolable shelter of thy roof. I seek a\nrefuge beneath the sacred wings of thy hospitality.\u201d\n\nAlbinus was too moved for utterance, and silently pressed the hands of\nPilate.\n\n\u201cThere are Christians, then, at Vienne also?\u201d asked Pilate, as he passed\nhis hand over his aching brow.\n\n\u201cOh! yes, as there are everywhere,\u201d replied Albinus, \u201cexcept in our\ntemples. You are afraid of those people, then?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! yes, yes. I fear them. I fear everybody. Jews, Romans, Pagans\u2014all\nare odious, terrible to me! The Romans see in me a criminal fallen into\ndisgrace before C\u00e6sar; the Jews, a severe proconsul who persecuted them;\nand the Christians, the executioner of their God!\u201d\n\n\u201cTheir _God_! their _God_! The impious wretches!\u201d\n\n\u201cAlbinus, have a care what you say!\u201d\n\n\u201cThey adore as a God that Jesus of Nazareth who was born in a stable and\nput to death on a cross?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey would not adore him if he had dressed in garments of velvet and\nlived in princely halls.... Albinus, I am about to submit my life to\nyour judgment; you will see whether I am worthy of the hospitality which\nyou offer me.\u201d\n\nChanging his seat for one more comfortable, Pilate continued:\n\n\u201cAlbinus, order your doors to be closed, and let a slave watch at the\nporch, as when a young virgin first enters the doors of her spouse. The\near of C\u00e6sar is everywhere on the alert. And now listen. All my\nmisfortunes spring from the death of this man, this Nazarene. Tiberius\ncursed me because of him; Caligula now exiles me because of him; for\nthis boldness of the Christian sect, which to-day threatens the empire,\nbegan at the foot of Calvary. If Jesus had not been put to death, his\nfollowers would never have crossed the Jordan nor the sea of C\u00e6sarea. It\nis the death of that man which has made so many martyrs. But could I\nprevent that death?\n\n\u201cWhen I was about to set out as successor to Valerius Gratus, Sejanus\nsummoned me to the Palatine and gave me his instructions. \u2018You are\nintimate,\u2019 he said, \u2018with the Roman policy; hence a few words will do.\nJudea is a beautiful country; after completing its conquest we must\nstrengthen its possession by a paternal government. Let all your care be\nto draw blessings down upon the Roman name. We have left the Jews a king\nof their own race, their temple, their laws, their religion. They are a\nbrave and haughty race, with heroic deeds inscribed in their history,\nand which they well remember. Govern them wisely, that they may regard\nyou more as a stranger visiting than as a master holding the reins.\u2019\n\n\u201cI set out with my wife and my servants. When near the quarter of the\n_Tres tabern\u00e6_ I met Tiberius, then returning from Pannonia. Recognizing\nthe imperial escort, I immediately alighted to salute C\u00e6sar. He had\nreceived at Brundisium my nomination, and confirmed it, and now,\noffering me his hand most graciously, he said:\n\n\u201c\u2018Pontius, you have a fine government; let your hand be firm and your\nspeech conciliatory. Act in public matters according to your own good\nsense, and never forget the eternal maxim of the Romans:\n\n \u2018Parcere subjectis et debellare superbos.[8]\n\nGo and be happy.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe auguries were favorable, you see.\n\n\u201cI reached Jerusalem, took solemn possession of the government, and gave\norders for a splendid feast, to which I invited the tetrarch of Judea,\nthe high-priest, and the other Hebrew dignitaries and princes of the\npeople. At the appointed time not a guest appeared! This was a mortal\naffront. Some days later the tetrarch deigned to honor me with a visit,\nbut he was cold and full of dissimulation. He pretended that their\nreligion did not permit them to sit at our table nor offer libations\nwith Gentiles. I thought best to accept this excuse graciously; but from\nthat day the conquered were in declared hostility with the conquerors.\n\n\u201cJerusalem was, at that time, the most difficult subject-city in the\nworld to govern; the people were so turbulent that from day to day I was\nalways expecting a sedition. To suppress this I had only a centurion and\na handful of soldiers, so I wrote to the prefect of Syria to send me a\nreinforcement of troops, but he answered that he had hardly enough for\nhimself. Ah! what a misfortune that the empire is so large; we have more\nconquests than soldiers.\n\n\u201cAmong the thousand rumors which circulated about me there was one that\nattracted my special notice. Public rumor and my secret agents alike\nreported that a young man had appeared in Galilee with a remarkable\nsweetness of speech and a noble austerity of manner, and that he went\nabout the city and the borders of the sea, preaching a new law in the\nname of the God who had sent him. I at first thought that this man\nintended to arouse the people against us, and that his words were\npreparatory to a revolt. But my fears were soon dissipated; Jesus the\nNazarene spoke as a friend rather of the Romans than of the Jews.\nPassing one day, in my litter, near the pool of Siloe, I saw a large\ngathering of people, and remarked in the midst a young man standing with\nhis back to a tree and quietly addressing the crowd. I was told that it\nwas Jesus, but I could have guessed it at once, so different was he in\nappearance from those who listened. He seemed about thirty years of age,\nand the wonderful reddish-blond tint of his hair and beard gave a\nluminous appearance to his noble countenance. Never have I seen so mild\na glance, so calm a face; he was a striking contrast to the dark skins\nand black beards of his auditors. From fear of disturbing the liberty of\nhis speech by my presence I passed on, leaving my secretary to mingle\nwith the crowd and hear his words. This man\u2019s name was Manlius; he was\ngrandson of that chief among the conspirators who awaited Catiline in\nEtruria, and, having dwelt many years in Judea, understood perfectly the\nHebrew tongue. He was, moreover, sincerely devoted to my interests, and\nI could always trust him. On my return home I found Manlius awaiting me\nwith a detailed account of the speech which Jesus had pronounced. Never\nin the Forum, never in the books of sages, have I met anything\ncomparable to the maxims which had that day reached the ears of Manlius.\nOne of those rebellious Jews such as abound at Jerusalem having asked if\ntribute were to be paid to C\u00e6sar, Jesus answered him: \u2018Render under\nC\u00e6sar what is C\u00e6sar\u2019s, and unto God what is God\u2019s.\u2019\n\n\u201cThence the great liberty which I gave to the Nazarene; it was doubtless\nin my power to arrest him at any time, put him on a galley, and send him\nto Pontus, but I should have felt myself acting against justice and good\nRoman sense. The man was neither seditious nor rebellious. I gave him,\nperhaps without his knowledge, the benefit of my protection; he was free\nto act, to speak to the people, to fill a whole square with his\naudience, to create a legion of disciples to follow him from city to\ndesert, or lake to mountain, and never did an order from me interpose to\ntrouble either orator or auditory. If some day\u2014may the gods forefend!\u2014if\nsome day the religion of our fathers fall before the religion of Jesus,\nRome will pay a noble tribute to her own generous toleration, and I,\nunhappy I! will be called the instrument of what the Christians call\nProvidence\u2014what we call fate.\n\n\u201cBut this great liberty which Jesus enjoyed from my protection\ndispleased the Jews\u2014not the common people, but the rich and powerful.\nTrue, they were the very ones whom Jesus did not spare in his discourse,\nand that was for me an additional political reason for allowing him free\nspeech. He told them\u2014that is, the Scribes and Pharisees\u2014that they were a\nrace of vipers and no better than whited sepulchres. And another time he\nsharply criticised the ostentatious charity of the rich man, saying that\nthe mite of a poor widow woman was far more precious to God. New\ncomplaints against the insolence of his speech came to me nearly every\nday. Deputations came with their griefs before my tribunal. I was told\nthat he would be assaulted; that it would not be the first time that\nJerusalem had stoned those who called themselves prophets; and that if\nthe pr\u00e6tor refused them justice they would appeal to the emperor.\n\n\u201cSo I was beforehand with them. I at once wrote letters to C\u00e6sar, and\nthe galley _Ptolemais_ carried them to Rome. My conduct was approved by\nthe senate, but I was refused the reinforcement of troops which I asked,\nor at least I was given to hope that the garrison of Jerusalem should be\nstrengthened after the war with Parthia was terminated. That was an\ninterminable delay, for our wars with Parthia never end.\n\n\u201cBeing too weak to repress a sedition, I determined to make a move which\nwould pacify the city, without obliging me to make any humiliating\nconcessions; so I at once sent for Jesus of Nazareth.\n\n\u201cHe received my messenger with due respect, and came straightway to the\npr\u00e6torium.\n\n\u201cO Albinus! now that age has weakened every part of my bodily frame, and\nthat my muscles in vain ask a little vigor from my thin and cold blood,\nI am not astonished if Pilate occasionally trembles; but I was younger\nthen, and my Spanish blood, mingled with the Roman which coursed through\nmy veins, was proof against any ordinary emotion of fear. When I saw the\nNazarene enter my _basilica_, where I was walking, it seemed as if a\nhand of iron held me to the marble of the pavement. I thought I heard\nthe very bucklers of gilt-bronze, dedicated to C\u00e6sar, sigh as they hung\nagainst the columns. The Nazarene was as calm as innocence itself; he\nstood before me, with a single gesture, as if to say: Behold me. For\nsome time I remained contemplating, with mingled terror and admiration,\nthis extraordinary man, type of a physical perfection unknown to any of\nthe innumerable sculptors who have given face and form to so many gods\nand heroes. \u2018Jesus,\u2019 said I at last, when my emotion had subsided\u2014\u2018Jesus\nof Nazareth, for nearly three years I have allowed you freely to speak\nin public and everywhere, nor do I now regret it. Your words have ever\nbeen those of a true sage. I know not whether you have ever read\nSocrates or Plato, but there is in your language a majestic simplicity\nwhich raises you far above even those great philosophers. The emperor\nhas been informed of it, and I, his humble representative at Jerusalem,\ncount myself happy to have allowed you the toleration of which you are\nworthy. I must not, however, disguise from you that your words have\nprovoked against you powerful and terrible enemies; be not astonished\nthat you have thus become an object of hatred, for so was Socrates to\nthose who encompassed his death. Your enemies are doubly irritated,\nagainst you and against me: against you, because of your sharp\ncriticisms; against me, because of the liberty which I have allowed you.\nI am even accused of complicity with you to destroy what little civil\npower has been left to the Hebrews by Rome. I give you no commands, but\nI charge you seriously to spare the pride of your enemies, that they may\nnot stir up against you a stupid populace, and that I may not be obliged\nto detach from these trophies the axe and the fasces, which should serve\nhere only as an ornament and never as an occasion of fear.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Nazarene answered me:\n\n\u201c\u2018Prince of the earth, thy words spring from a false wisdom. Tell the\ntorrent to stop midway on the mountain-side, lest it uproot the trees of\nthe valley. The torrent will tell thee it obeys the voice of God. He\nalone knows whither goeth the water of the impetuous stream. Amen, amen\nI say unto thee, before the roses of Sharon bud the blood of the just\nshall be shed.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I do not wish your blood to be shed,\u2019 I exclaimed hastily. \u2018You are\nmore precious in my eyes, because of your wisdom, than all those\nturbulent and haughty Pharisees, who abuse our Roman patience, conspire\nagainst C\u00e6sar, and mistake our forbearance for fear. The dolts!\u2014not to\nknow that the wolf of the Tiber sometimes conceals himself under an\ninnocent fleece! But I will defend you against them; my pr\u00e6torium is\nopen to you as a place of refuge. You will find it an inviolable\nasylum.\u2019\n\n\u201cHe shook his head quietly with an air of godlike grace, and replied:\n\n\u201c\u2018When the day comes, there will be no shelter on earth, nor in the\ndepths, for the Son of Man. The only asylum of the just is above. What\nis written in the books of the prophets must be accomplished.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Young man,\u2019 said I, \u2018I have just made you a request. I now give you a\ncommand. The preservation of order in the province confided to my charge\nrequires it. I demand that the tone of your speech become more moderate.\nBeware of opposing my will! You know my intentions; go and be happy.\u2019\n\n\u201cWith these words my voice lost its severity and became mild again, for\nit seemed that a harsh word could not be uttered before this\nextraordinary being, who calmed the storms of the lake with a motion of\nhis head, as his own disciples testified.\n\n\u201c\u2018Prince of the earth,\u2019 said he, \u2018I do not bring war to the nations, but\ncharity and love. I was born the very day when C\u00e6sar Augustus proclaimed\npeace to the Roman world. Persecution cannot come from me; I expect it\nfrom others, and do not flee before it. I go before it, in obedience to\nthe will of my Father, who has appointed my way. Keep thy foolish\nprudence. It is not in thy power to stop the victim at the foot of the\naltar of expiation.\u2019\n\n\u201cSaying these words, he disappeared like a luminous shadow behind the\ncurtain.\n\n\u201cWhat could I do further? Fate could not be averted. The tetrarch who\nthen reigned in Judea, and who has since died, devoured by worms, was a\nfoolish and a wicked man. The chiefs of the law had chosen this man to\nbe the tool of their hate and vengeance. To him the whole cohort\naddressed themselves in their thirst for vengeance against the Nazarene.\n\n\u201cHad Herod consulted only his passion, he would have put Jesus to death\nat once; but although he regarded his impotent royalty as a matter of\nimportance, still he shrank from an act which might injure him with\nC\u00e6sar.\n\n\u201cSome days later I saw him coming to the pr\u00e6torium. He began a\nconversation with me on indifferent subjects, in order to conceal the\ntrue object of his visit; but, as he rose from his seat to go, he asked,\nwith an air of indifference, what I thought of the Nazarene.\n\n\u201cI replied that Jesus seemed to me one of those grave philosophers such\nas arise among the nations from time to time; that his language was by\nno means dangerous; and that it was the intention of Rome to leave to\nthis sage perfect liberty of speech and action.\n\n\u201cHerod smiled at me with malignity, and with an ironical gesture\ndeparted.\n\n\u201cThe great feast of the Jews was near at hand, and their leaders\ndetermined to take advantage of the popular exaltation which is always\nmanifested at the Paschal season. The city was crowded with a turbulent\nrabble, who shouted for the death of the Nazarene. My emissaries\nreported that the treasure of the Temple had been used to stir the\npopular feeling. The danger was imminent, and my very power was insulted\nin the person of my centurion, whom they hustled about and spat upon.\n\n\u201cI wrote to the prefect of Syria, then at Ptolemais, and asked for one\nhundred horse and as many foot-soldiers, but he reiterated his former\nrefusal. I was alone, in a mutinous city, with a few veterans, too weak\nto suppress the disorder, and with no choice but to tolerate it.\n\n\u201cThey had already seized Jesus, and the triumphant people, knowing that\nthey had nothing to fear from me, and hoping, on the word of their\nleaders, that I would tacitly acquiesce in their designs, rushed after\nhim through the streets, shouting: \u2018Crucify him! crucify him!\u2019\n\n\u201cThree powerful sects had coalesced in this plot against Jesus: first\nthe Herodians and the Sadducees, who had a double motive\u2014hatred against\nhim and impatience at the Roman yoke. They had never forgiven me for\nentering the holy city with the banners of the empire; and although I\nmade them an unwise concession in this matter, the sacrilege still\nremained in their eyes. Yet another grief stood against me, because I\nhad wished a contribution from the treasures of the Temple towards\ncertain buildings of public importance, and which had been coarsely\nrefused. Then the Pharisees, who were the direct enemies of Jesus: they\ndid not trouble themselves about the governor, but for three years they\nhad angrily heard and endured the severe language of Jesus against their\nweaknesses. Too weak and pusillanimous to act alone, they eagerly\nembraced the quarrel of the Herodians and Sadducees. Besides these three\nparties, I had also to struggle against a crowd of those idle, worthless\nbeings who are always ready to rush into a sedition out of love for\ndisorder and a taste for blood.\n\n\u201cJesus was dragged before the council of priests and condemned to death;\nafter which Caiphas, the high-priest, made a hypocritical act of\nsubmission by sending the condemned man for me to pronounce the sentence\nand have it executed. My answer was that as Jesus was a Galilean it did\nnot concern me; so I sent him to Herod. The wily tetrarch pretended\ngreat humility, protesting his remarkable deference for the lieutenant\nof C\u00e6sar, and left the fate of the man to be determined on by me. My\npalace resembled a citadel besieged by an army; for at every moment the\nseditious crowd was reinforced by fresh arrivals from the mountains of\nNazareth, the cities of Galilee, the plains of Esdrelon. It seemed as if\nall Judea had invaded Jerusalem.\n\n\u201cMy wife was from Gaul, and had, like most women of her nation, the gift\nof reading the future. She now came, and, throwing herself in tears at\nmy feet, exclaimed: \u2018Beware of laying a violent hand on this man. His\nperson is sacred. I saw him in a dream this night; he walked upon the\nwaters, he rode upon the wings of the wind, he spoke to the tempest, to\nthe palm-trees of the desert, to the fish in the waters, and they all\nresponded to his voice. The torrent of the brook Kedron was as blood\nbefore me; the imperial eagles were in the dust, and the columns of this\nvery pr\u00e6torium were crumbled, while the sun was in darkness, as a vestal\nat the tomb. There is misfortune about us, Pilate; and if you do not\nbelieve in the words of the Gaul, listen hereafter to the maledictions\nof the senate and of C\u00e6sar against the cowardly proconsul!\u2019\n\n\u201cJust then my marble staircase trembled, as I may say, beneath the steps\nof the angry multitude. They had returned with the Nazarene. Entering\nthe hall of justice, followed by my guards, I demanded in a stern voice\nof the crowd: \u2018What will ye?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018The death of the Nazarene!\u2019 shouted the mob.\n\n\u201c\u2018What is his crime?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018He has blasphemed; he has predicted the ruin of the Temple; he calls\nhimself the Messias, the Son of God, and says that he is the King of the\nJews!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018The justice of Rome does not punish these crimes by death!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Seize him! Crucify him! crucify him!\u2019\n\n\u201cTheir ferocious cries seemed to shake the very foundations of the\npalace, and but one man amid all this tumult was calm: it was the\nNazarene! One might have taken him for the statue of innocence in the\ntemple of the Eumenides.\n\n\u201cAfter many useless efforts to withdraw him from the hands of the\nself-willed multitude, I had the fatal weakness to command what, at the\ntime, occurred to me as the only thing that might perchance save his\nlife. I ordered him to be beaten with rods, and, calling for a basin,\nwashed my hands before the crowd, which, if not hearing my voice, might\nat least catch the allegorical meaning of my act.\n\n\u201cBut they would have his life. Often in our civil troubles I have seen\nwhat an angry crowd can be capable of, but all my memories and\nexperience of the past were effaced by what I saw then. I might almost\nsay that Jerusalem was peopled by all the infernal spirits of Hades, and\nas they crowded about me there seemed an odor as of sulphur exuding from\ntheir bloodshot eyes and inhuman countenances. Their very movements were\nnot as of men, but, like the waves of an angry sea, they rolled and\ndashed, in ceaseless undulations, from the pr\u00e6torium to Mount Sion;\nyelling, shouting in a most unearthly manner, such as never in the\ntroubles of the Forum or the seditions of the Pantheon assaulted a Roman\near.\n\n\u201cThe day had slowly darkened, as in a winter evening, such as we saw it\nwhen the great Julius died\u2014\u2019twas also near the ides of March\u2014and I, the\nmortified governor of a province in full and unrestrained rebellion,\nstood leaning against a column, gazing through the gray, unnatural light\nat the infuriated spirits who bore the innocent Jesus to his death.\n\n\u201cIt became gradually quiet about me, for the whole population had\nfollowed to the place of execution, leaving the city as silent and as\nmournful as the tomb, even my very guards having disappeared, save the\ncenturion alone. I, too, felt alone; isolated from the rest of mankind,\nand in my strangely-excited heart, I understood that what was passing\naround me pertained rather to the history of the gods than to that of\nmen. The sounds brought by the wind from Golgotha announced to my\nhorrified ear a death-agony such as never human nature underwent before.\nDense leaden clouds shrouded the pinnacle of the great Temple, and\nthence seemed to envelop the vast city as with a veil of impenetrable\ndarkness. Terrible signs of perturbation were manifest on earth and in\nthe air, prodigious enough to make Dionysius the Areopagite exclaim:\n\u2018Either the Author of nature suffers or the whole universe is being\ndissolved.\u2019\n\n\u201cAt the first hour of the night I wrapped myself in a cloak and walked\ndown into the city towards the gate leading to Golgotha. The sacrifice\nwas consummated! The attitude of the people was no longer the same, for\nthe crowd re-entered Jerusalem, disorderly, of course, but silent and\nmoody, as if filled with shame and despair. Fear and remorse were in\nevery heart. My little cohort passed by, as silent as the populace; the\nvery eagle had been draped as in mourning, and in the last ranks I heard\nsome soldiers talking in a curious manner of things which I could not\ncomprehend. Others were relating prodigies somewhat like those that have\noften terrified Rome by the will of the gods. Now and then I came across\ngroups of men and women in grievous sadness as they moved over that\nsorrowful way, or as, in some cases, they turned back towards the mount\nof expiation, expecting, perhaps, some new prodigy.\n\n\u201cReturning to the pr\u00e6torium, my own breast seemed to embrace all the\ndesolation of this painful scene, and as I climbed the stairs I saw, by\nthe lightning flash, the marble still covered with His blood. There\nstood, awaiting me in most humble attitude, an old man, accompanied by\nseveral women, sobbing in the darkness.\n\n\u201cThrowing himself at my feet, the old man wept.\n\n\u201c\u2018What do you ask, my father?\u2019 I said in a mild voice. He answered:\n\n\u201c\u2018I am Joseph of Arimathea, and I come to beg, on my knees, the favor of\nburying Jesus of Nazareth.\u2019\n\n\u201cRaising him up gently, I promised that his wishes should be complied\nwith. At the same time I called Manlius, who went with some soldiers to\nsuperintend the burial, and to place a few sentinels over the grave,\nthat it might not be profaned. A few days afterwards the grave was\nempty, and the disciples of Jesus published everywhere that their Master\nhad risen again, as he had foretold.\n\n\u201cThere now remained for me a last duty to perform: to send a full\naccount of this extraordinary event to C\u00e6sar, which I did that very\nnight; and the minute relation which I gave was not yet completed when\ndaylight appeared.\n\n\u201cThe sound of trumpets drew me from my task, and, glancing towards the\ngate of C\u00e6sarea, I saw an unusual stir among the soldiers and sentinels,\nand heard in the distance other trumpets playing C\u00e6sar\u2019s march; it was\nmy reinforcement of troops, two thousand in number, who had, in order to\narrive more promptly, made a night-march. \u2018Oh! the great iniquity had to\nbe completed,\u2019 I cried, wringing my hands in despair. \u2018They arrive the\nnext morning to save a man who was sacrificed the day before. O cruel\nirony of fate! Alas! as the Victim said on the cross: \u201dAll is\nconsummated.\u201c\u2019\n\n\u201cFrom that moment, invested with abundant power, I set no limits to my\nhatred against the people who had forced me into both crime and\ncowardice. I struck terror into Jerusalem. And, as if further to excite\nmy vengeance, I shortly afterwards received a letter from the emperor,\nwherein he blamed my conduct very severely. My official account of the\ndeath of Jesus had been read before a full senate, and had excited a\nprofound sensation. The image of the Nazarene, honored as a god, had\nbeen placed in the sacred place of the imperial palace. The courtiers,\nwho were opposed to me, seized the pretext to begin that long series of\naccusations which now, years after the death of Tiberius, have at last\nbrought me to this city of exile, where my life is to go out in anguish\nand remorse.\n\n\u201cI have told you all, Albinus, and my words have opened to you my\ninnermost soul; you will surely do me the justice to say that Pilate was\nmore unfortunate than wicked.\u201d\n\nThe old man ceased; tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks, while his\nfixed and hollow eyes seemed to gaze with fright upon some scene,\ninvisible to other eyes, the lugubrious phantasm of an ever-present\npast. Albinus was wrapt in sombre thought, seeking in what manner of\nspeech to simulate pity for his guest.\n\n\u201cPontius,\u201d said he, \u201cyour misfortunes are not ordinary ones, yet there\nmay be a balm for the ulcers of your memory and heart. You must invoke\nthe Fates, whose good-will may disarm the anger of the gods.\u201d\n\nPilate gave such a smile, amid his tears, as distressed the prudent\nAlbinus.\n\n\u201cThe city is a bad place for you,\u201d pursued Albinus; \u201chatred is at home\nin public assemblies, and Janus, who watches at the threshold, cannot\nprotect the domestic hearth against violence from without. Why not ask\nof our mountains the quiet and peace which seem refused to you here? The\nair of the fields invites repose and counsels forgetfulness of canker\ncare.\u201d\n\n\u201cI fear to understand you,\u201d said Pilate, turning suddenly pale and with\nquivering lips. \u201cYes, I am afraid I comprehend your meaning too well;\nlike a serpent, you take a long turn to attain your end. You wish to\nclose the door of your house against the old man!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe gods, whom I invoke, and who hear me,\u201d said Albinus, \u201cknow that I\nhave never violated the sacred laws of hospitality, but\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d interrupted the old man\u2014\u201cyes, towards others, but towards me you\nwill find an excuse for violating them. I understand\u2014do not finish! I\nmust spare a friend the embarrassment of words which his lips refuse to\nutter. Albinus, I feel the spirit of a Stoic revive in me; the waxen\ntorch flashes up yet once before going out. Listen; I am about to salute\nyour _Penates_. I will depart.\u201d\n\nAlbinus lowered his eyes and was silent.\n\n\u201cWell! well! your silence speaks, as Marcus Tullius says. I will call my\nservants.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour servants?\u201d said Albinus, as Pilate rose from his seat. \u201cYour\nservants? You have none; they have fled from you!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is well!\u201d answered Pilate.\n\n\u201cOne alone has remained faithful\u2014an old soldier.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! that is Longinus; I know him. Tell the servant to call Longinus,\nand permit me to blow out your lamp; the oil is exhausted, and here is\nthe dawn.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! blame me not, Pontius. Let not your farewell insult my household\ngods!\u201d\n\n\u201cI blame you? No, I pity you. The blood of Rome weakens in every vein;\nthere are no Romans now. Let altars be everywhere erected to Fear; the\nhouse of Albinus is built on the very threshold of the Temple of Mars!\u201d\n\nAnd Pilate uttered a loud, hard laugh, which ceased at the entrance of\nthe soldier.\n\n\u201cMay your fidelity be rewarded, Longinus! You did not follow the\ndeserters. Albinus, do you know what this soldier did? He was in the\nspearmen; he was at Golgotha, at the foot of the gibbet, when the\nNazarene died; he pierced his heart with his lance. Longinus will die a\nChristian. Have you girded on your sword, old soldier, my last friend?\u201d\n\nThe soldier made a sign of assent.\n\n\u201cAll is, then, ready.\u201d And Pilate saluted Albinus.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAn hour after these two men had reached midway the side of a mountain\noverlooking the city of Vienne. The sun was rising in all the calm\nbeauty of a summer morn; its first rays glistened upon the gilt-bronze\ndome of the Temple of Victory and the marble roof of the Temple of the\nHundred Gods. Mysterious night still reigned in the sacred woods which\ncrowned the dwelling of the Immortals. The city, inclined towards the\nRhone, seemed listening in unbroken silence to the harmonious murmurings\nof the stream; the hill-tops floated in an atmosphere of molten gold,\nwhile the noise of cascades, the song of birds, and the countless\nmelodies of a fresh, delicious morning, rising from valley to\nmountain-top, filled all whose hearts were light with joy and gratitude\nto the Powers above.\n\nPilate halted, his eyes fixed on a dark chasm which, yawning, stood\nbefore him. In the depths below could be heard the mournful plash of\nwaters, to the eye unseen; dense brush, interwoven with dwarf oaks and\nthe wild fig, hung over and, half-concealing, yet increased the horrid\nabyss, and a piece of the rock, detached and hurled over, struggled and\ntossed awhile among the resisting vines before dropping into the gloomy\nwaters to send up a series of ill-boding, mournful echoes.\n\nPilate smiled at the gulf of horror, then turned to contemplate the\nimmense sublimity which surrounded his agony of despair; he thought of\nthe death of the Nazarene\u2014that death so calm amid the universal distress\nof nature\u2014and wept bitterly.\n\n\u201cLonginus,\u201d said he, \u201cput up your sword; I do not need it. I can die\nwithout you; I do not wish you to soil your hands with my blood, for you\nare yet covered with another blood which will never be effaced. Yes,\nLonginus, the Sage of Golgotha was one of the superior intelligences;\nretain that belief. All who stained their hands with his blood have\nperished miserably; think of Herod and Caiphas. Tiberius likewise was\nsuffocated in his bed at Capre\u00e6, and I yet survive\u2014I! See how I imitate\nthem!\u201d\n\nAnd he threw himself into the abyss. Longinus heard the interlacing\nbranches crack, but saw only the torn remnants of a toga here and there\nadhering to the thorny plants which grew upon the sides. He heard the\ndull bound of the body from rock to rock, and a last unearthly cry of\nagony, enhanced by echo, and fading to the splash of water as its\ndisturbed surface leaped and glistened in the rays of the now\npenetrating sun.\n\nSo died the man under whom Christ suffered.\n\nFootnote 8:\n\n Spare the submissive and crush the haughty.\n\n\n\n\n ON CALVARY.\n\n\nSUGGESTED BY A PAINTING BY J. L. G\u00c9R\u00d4ME.\n\n\n In the strong sunshine lies Jerusalem,\n Undarkened yet by shadow of the doom\n That hideth in the terror-freighted gloom\n Lying afar along the low hills\u2019 hem.\n Twinkle the silver-leav\u00e8d olive-trees,\n Resting in garish light \u2019neath heaven\u2019s cloudy seas.\n\n From Calvary\u2019s Mount descends the winding train;\n Glitter the Roman eagles in the sun,\n Leading the soldiers and the people on\n To tread the city\u2019s dolorous streets again,\n Whose blood-tracked stones would cry, had they but breath,\n \u201cWoe! woe! Jerusalem, for this day\u2019s deed of wrath.\u201d\n\n Almost unheeding passes on the crowd,\n Save, here and there, turned from the populace,\n Rests look of doubting or malignant face\n On That we see not in death\u2019s anguish bowed.\n Wild cries of hate mount up and break the still\n And ominous glare that broodeth dumbly o\u2019er the hill.\n\n Our sad hearts hear the very footsteps fall,\n The horse-hoofs striking hard against the stones,\n And distant echoes of heart-broken moans\u2014\n Jerusalem\u2019s daughters mourning so the thrall\n Of Him, their fairest one, to death betrayed,\n The hands that blessed their little ones so sore arrayed.\n\n Where is the dying King the cross uplifts?\n We cannot see him, and our upraised eyes\n Meet but the awful gloom in far-off skies,\n The lurid moon dull gazing through the rifts\n Of gathering darkness; here the waiting glare\n Of cruel sunshine making all the city fair.\n\n Fain would we kneel with Magdalen and weep,\n Clasp wounded feet in passionate embrace,\n Win with the loved disciple word of grace,\n Vigil with God\u2019s woe-stricken Mother keep:\n We cannot find Him, and blaspheming cries\n From that retreating train still in fierce chorus rise.\n\n Is He not here? Lo! sadly looking down,\n Just at our feet a shadow strange we trace\n Falling across the sunlit grassy place\u2014\n The likeness of three crosses darkly thrown,\n And His, the centre one, e\u2019en so most fair\n Through semblance of a form divine it dim doth bear.\n\n Here, \u2019gainst the sunshine traced, lie those bent knees\n That knew the sorrow of Gethsemani\n As trembled they \u2019neath its dread mystery;\n Here droops the thorn-crowned head in silent peace,\n And here, in the unswerving shadow lined,\n Are stretched the arms that bear the ransom of mankind.\n\n So rests unseen the presence of the Lord\n Whose shadow seems as bless\u00e8d aureole,\n A holy writing on a sacred scroll,\n Rich oil from consecrated vessel poured\u2014\n All merit his, the Infinite Son of God,\n Whose death so lightly falls on earth\u2019s poor, soulless sod.\n\n Within the painted shadow is no life,\n Save in the grassy sward whereon it falls.\n Beyond arise the city\u2019s firm-built walls.\n With spring\u2019s swift-coursing sap the boughs are rife\n Of the gnarled olives with their silver leaves\n Shining against the dusky veil the storm-wind weaves.\n\n We see the wild-faced moon in skies far-off,\n The bare and weary light of undimmed sun,\n And Caesar\u2019s glittering eagles leading on\n The thoughtless people, who, with jeer and scoff,\n An abject God in proud derision scorn,\n Alike from barren shade and living presence turn.\n\n O weary thought! hath earth lost sight of Him?\n And do her children with dulled vision grope,\n With fain-believing heart and doubting hope,\n His cross a parable with meaning dim?\n A shadow resting in the feeble clasp\n Of them that fear the bitterness of truth to grasp?\n\n Is all that sorrow of the Son of Man\n A dreary darkness shutting out the light?\n Poor human pain dwarfing eternal might?\n An o\u2019ergrown bramble with its prickly span\n Piercing the delicate leaves of earth-born flowers,\n And blighting with harsh touch kind nature\u2019s generous powers?\n\n Alas! that men that Infinite Love should fear,\n Should dread its glory and its shade despise,\n Banish its semblance from imploring eyes,\n Give men but empty shadow to revere\u2014\n Blind beggars leaving them unto whose cry\n None answereth when He of Nazareth goes by.\n\n Of this sad modern world of ours to-day\n The artist\u2019s picture seemeth counterpart,\n When men erase old lessons from the heart,\n Striving who farthest from the cross may stray\u2014\n Swift, swift descending \u2019neath the eagles\u2019 shine,\n Some longing face still turned to meet the gaze divine.\n\n In her long-ordered way the earth moves on,\n The moon doth change with steady law her face,\n Swift-growing grass still hides our footsteps\u2019 trace,\n And dew falls softly when the day is done:\n All nature\u2019s tale seems old, but one thing strange\u2014\n The Christ of God a shade the westering sun shall change!\n\n Nay, fear not! Stand to-day as e\u2019er of old\n The faithful Maries, who brave vigil keep,\n The loved disciple with a love as deep\n As in old days lay shrined in heart of gold;\n And rests God\u2019s patience till from shadowed sod\n The piercing cry break forth, \u201cThis was the Son of God.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n A BISHOP\u2019S LIBERTY OF CONSCIENCE IN THE NEW GERMAN EMPIRE.[9]\n\n\nThe diocese of Paderborn is one of the largest in Germany. Its bishop,\nDr. Conrad Martin, has just published a little work[10] which may vie\nwith Silvio Pellico\u2019s _Le mie Prigioni_, being an account of a three\nyears\u2019 banishment from his see. It is not \u201cpoetry _and_ truth,\u201d remarks\nthe writer of this pamphlet in his preface, \u201cbut only the truth which is\nwritten down in these pages.\u201d[11] And true to his statement, the bishop\ntells us in dispassionate language of his captivity, of its joys and\nsorrows, of the friends who were so true to him in his adversity, of the\nwhole Catholic Church, who shared his banishment in a measure, and of\nthat most august prisoner whose sympathy is so freely given to his\nsuffering brethren, and whose captivity is in itself, perhaps, a pledge\nthat they too must taste of his own chalice.\n\nWith the presentiment of future events, or rather of the storm which was\nabout to break over their pastor on account of the _Kulturkampf_, the\npeople of Paderborn came in large numbers in the spring of 1874 to\nassure him of their love and devotion. The demonstration began on the\n25th of March, when the train deposited five thousand pilgrims in the\nancient city of Paderborn. They repaired to the bishop\u2019s house, and\nterminated the meeting by simultaneously falling on their knees to\nrecite aloud the Apostles\u2019 Creed. These deputations lasted for two\nmonths, and on one occasion the number of deputies amounted to fifteen\nthousand. It is not an insignificant fact to see how well and bravely\nthe flock stood by the pastor in his hour of need. But at last the cloud\nburst. Repeated infringements of the May Laws were laid to the bishop\u2019s\ncharge; and the fine in proportion rose to a sum altogether beyond his\nmeans, and a corresponding term of imprisonment was the only\nalternative. Here an unknown, and therefore doubly generous, benefactor\ninterposed, and paid the money required without the bishop\u2019s knowledge.\nBut, to use his own simple language, Dr. Martin, \u201cfrom higher\nconsiderations, thought he could not accept the benefit,\u201d and protested\nagainst it,[12] whereas the local authority said that he could. At last\nan answer came from Berlin deciding that he should submit himself to\nimprisonment. As the bishop would not consent to that, force was used,\nand on the 4th of August, 1874, he was taken from his house through a\ndense crowd of sympathizers to his prison, where he was witness of a\nscene \u201cnot to be described by words.\u201d Bouquets of flowers fell at his\nfeet from all sides, and the steps leading up to the abode of his sorrow\nwere thick with them. Two works had been near his heart as a pastor\u2014the\nestablishment of ecclesiastical institutions for the fitting education\nof the clergy, and the labor of love which is expressed by the perpetual\nadoration of the Blessed Sacrament. This touching devotion was therefore\none of the first-fruits of his own workings, and it has become widely\nknown through the world. But never before had the bishop of Paderborn\nshared the prison common to malefactors of every degree. The prisoner\nwas then conducted to his two cells. One he describes as \u201ccertainly not\nroomy, but still not wholly unpleasant\u201d;[13] the second was to serve\nmerely as a bed-room. Loneliness is the prisoner\u2019s trial, and when first\nthe bishop heard the lock and key tell him of his utter solitude, sad\nthoughts pressed themselves upon him. Many years before he had paid a\npastoral visit to this same prison, and his own encouraging words spoken\nthen came home to him now. \u201cCould you only have imagined then,\u201d he said\nto himself, \u201cthat you yourself should be confined in the same dungeon,\nand come to need the recommendation to resignation and patience which\nyou gave to those prisoners? Oh! what a change, what a comparison _then_\nand _now_\u2014_then_, when there was no _Kulturkampf_, but an undisturbed\nand joyous peace. _O tempora, o mores!_\u201d[14] But the angel of\nconsolation was at hand. The thought of that divine Providence whose\ncare of us is so beautifully specified in Holy Scripture brought peace.\n\u201cEvery hair of our head is numbered.\u201d The bishop determined upon active\nendurance, and during those first few hours of his imprisonment planned\nfor himself an order of duties for the coming solitary days. That night\nthe breaking of a pane of glass in his bed-room window, caused by the\nhurling of a stone from an unknown hand outside, was a little alarming,\nand, in spite of inquiries on the subject, it could not be discovered\nwhether the missile was directed by a friend in a serenading spirit, or\nby a foe who might have taken umbrage at the demonstrations of intense\naffection on the part of the people of Paderborn.\n\nFor the rest the bishop, according to his own account, had small cause\nfor complaint during his confinement at Paderborn.[15] His food was\nprovided and sent from his house. He was allowed to read and write when\nand what he liked. Strict supervision was, however, exercised on his\ncorrespondence and on the visits which he received. These were permitted\nin the presence of a third person only, and letters might be read and\nsent under the same condition. The Holy Sacrifice, which was his daily\nrefreshment, supplied many deficiencies in that lonely heart. But the\n\u201cbody of death\u201d had still to suffer much from privation of air and\nexercise. It is true that once a day the prison bolt was withdrawn for\nan exercise of two hours in the court-yard. This had to be taken in\ncommon with the other prisoners, in a very limited space, so that the\nbishop often preferred to sit by an open window in his room, there to\nenjoy what air he could get.\n\nOn the 17th of August, the eighteenth anniversary of his episcopal\nconsecration, the widowed cathedral of Paderborn was filled with an\nassembly of the bishop\u2019s faithful children, who celebrated the occasion\nby heartfelt prayers for him to God. Flags adorned the houses of the\nCatholic inhabitants. But the pastor\u2019s heart was further gladdened by\nthe intelligence that from the very first day of his captivity a certain\nnumber of the faithful gathered every evening in the _Gaukirche_ to\noffer up the rosary for their oppressed church. And now, after the lapse\nof three years, the same practice is kept up, and who would be so\npresumptuous as to say that the divine Head of the whole body will not\nallow pleading so constant finally to bring about the desired end? It\nreminds us of that supplication of the infant church to remove Peter\u2019s\nchains, or of a case which was brought before our personal observation\nin Germany.[16] Our Lord\u2019s presence in the Holy Eucharist had been\nbanished from his sanctuary through the working of the May Laws, but the\nvillagers succeeded each other during the day in unremitting prayer\nbefore the altar where he once dwelt.\n\nUpon the bishop\u2019s six weeks of confinement followed eighteen of custody.\nThe only distinguishable difference between the two consisted in the\nnon-bolting of the prison-door from the exterior. On the outset he was\nsaddened by the command to surrender his office as bishop. The summons\ncame to him through the Oberpr\u00e4sident von K\u00fchlwetter, whose attitude to\nDr. Martin from the beginning of the _Kulturkampf_ had been most\nhostile. One act in particular of the bishop\u2019s seems to have roused the\nenmity of the non-Catholic party, but the principle of authority must\nfall to the ground where demands wholly contrary to his conscience are\nurged upon a spiritual ruler. The act in question had been a certain\npastoral letter in the affair of the Old Catholics. The bishop replied\nimmediately that \u201cdevotion to the Catholic Church had been his first\nlove, and that it would be his last.\u201d Ten days of respite were allowed\nfor the reconsideration of the question, under the threat of ultimate\nexpulsion from his dignity. But, thanks to an energetic nature and the\nquiet peace which is the fruit of a brave determination, it had small\ninfluence over the bishop. He labored to finish his work on the\n_Christian Life_, and time, which is so often the greatest trial of the\nprisoner, passed rapidly away. His feast-day was the next small event to\nbreak the monotony of his life. From his window he could see the festive\nappearance of some neighboring houses, and from far and wide came wishes\nof sympathy and affection. The telegraphic messages and letters of\ncongratulation numbered over eight hundred on this day, and proved a\nprovision of encouragement for several succeeding days. They were the\nflowers of persecution, and as such most dear to the bishop\u2019s Catholic\nspirit.\n\nOppression does indeed often bring the work of the Lord to a timely and\npalpable development, and we may echo the prisoner\u2019s words: \u201cWould years\nof hard work have given evidence of so close a union as well as this\nshort and fleeting sorrow?\u201d[17] At the same time two other addresses\nreached him which were a source of particular joy: the one from a good\nnumber of Belgian noblemen, who thereby drew forth a remonstrance on the\npart of Prince Bismarck, the other from two imprisoned bishops of the\nfar west who were themselves confessors of the faith, and protesting by\ntheir personal suffering against the evil spirit of Freemasonry. They\nwere the bishops of Para and Pernambuco, who, profiting by the journey\nof a priest to Europe, took occasion to express their love and sympathy\nto the fellow-sufferer in Germany who was bearing the self-same\ntestimony to Catholic truth as they themselves. Comfort, too, came from\nthe Holy Father, who sent first a gold medal, and then, on the feast of\nSt. Conrad, a telegraphic message of greeting and good wishes. But the\nprice of these favors was suffering and greater suffering. The threat on\nthe part of the secular power to depose the bishop was now carried out.\nMany and grievous had been his shortcomings, according to the standard\nestablished by the May Laws, and amongst the accusations brought against\nhim was the erroneous charge that he alone amongst the German bishops\nhad worked in favor of the Papal Infallibility at the Vatican Council.\nExtensive quotations from his pastoral letters were given in the\nindictment, whilst the words he had addressed on various occasions to\nhis faithful children, their constant devotion to him, the legal\nmeasures recently carried out, and the cause now pending were alleged as\nthe ground why he could not continue to exercise his office. He was\ninvited to appear on the 5th of January, 1875, to answer these charges,\nafter which day, and having simply refused to accept the act of\ndeposition, it was nailed to his door inside. There it remained quietly\nhanging, says the bishop with dry German humor, \u201cwithout my casting one\nsingle glance upon its contents.\u201d[18] The feast of Christmas, which\noccurred in the midst of these cares, found him not altogether joyless.\nThe prison chapel bore for him a resemblance to the lonely grotto of\nBethlehem.\n\nThe bishop fancied that after enduring his twenty-four weeks of\nimprisonment he might hope for fresh air and liberty. That hopefulness\nwas rather surprising. Instead of the accomplishment of this\nexpectation, his house was stripped of its furniture (which was\nafterwards sold), and he himself was conveyed on very short notice to\nthe fortress of Wesel, it being explicitly stated that this penalty was\nthe consequence of the before-mentioned pastoral regarding the Old\nCatholics. The same sympathizing crowd met him on his way to the\nstation, and his private secretary accompanied him by choice to the\nscene of his new imprisonment. It was on the 20th of January, 1875, that\nthe bishop entered on the two months\u2019 penalty at Wesel, and there he\nseems on the whole to have been better off than at Paderborn. He could\nwalk freely on the ramparts, and enjoy to a certain extent social\nintercourse with the other prisoners, who were in most cases priests of\nhis own diocese. Three cells were assigned to him for his use; the third\nwas an act of thoughtfulness on the part of the commandant, who had\nreserved it for the bishop\u2019s daily Mass. If, indeed, it had not been for\nthe Holy Sacrifice\u2014for every day, Dr. Martin remarks, \u201choly\u201d Masses were\nsaid up till ten o\u2019clock by the imprisoned priests[19]\u2014the fortress\nwould have borne a resemblance to the middle state where souls are\ndetained for a time on account of their sins. The supervision exercised\nwas slight, beyond the visitation of all the cells twice every day. Once\nwhen the bishop was taking exercise on the ramparts which overlooked the\nRhine\u2014in itself like the face of an old friend to Dr. Martin\u2014some of the\nfaithful who descried him in the distance knelt for his blessing. The\nact, the bishop knew not how, was communicated to the commandant, who\nforbade him in writing to repeat it. At Wesel correspondence was free,\nand even newspapers of all kinds were permitted. Feelers were sent out\nby the government to test the bishop\u2019s sentiments with regard to his\ncivil deposition, but his consent could never be obtained. And he was\ncheered and supported by an address which was brought to him towards the\nmiddle of March by a nobleman on the part of his diocese. It contained\nthese words: \u201cIt is true that your lordship as bishop has been deposed\nby the Royal Court of Justice in Berlin, but you are, and will remain,\nour bishop, and we will be faithful to you until death.\u201d[20] Two thick\nvolumes bore the signatures to this statement, and they numbered\nninety-six thousand.\n\nAfter his life in the fortress the bishop was refreshed by a little\nbreathing-time in a friendly house in Wesel itself. His host had just\nmarried and taken his bride to Rome. On their return they brought to the\nexiled pastor a new token of sympathy from the Holy Father in the shape\nof another gold medal. The days passed pleasantly for the bishop, as far\nas that was possible out of his diocese, until he made the discovery\nthat he had not yet paid the entire penalty of the famous pastoral. He\nwas sentenced to another month\u2019s imprisonment in the fortress. \u201cI had\nalways thought,\u201d he writes, \u201cthat for one offence it sufficed to be\npunished once. But the powers of the state said no.\u201d[21] Summer had\ncome, and a return to the fortress in that season was no small penance.\nThe sun\u2019s penetrating rays made the prisoner\u2019s little cells almost\nintolerable, and the bishop\u2019s health began visibly to decline. He lost\nhis appetite and his sleep, and the only remedy, according to the\ndoctor, to produce return of vital power would have been change of air\nand a course of sea-baths. But for this desired end he learned from the\nmayor of Wesel that it would be necessary to undergo an examination from\nthe district doctor, and to procure a written statement that such\ntreatment was necessary. Moreover, it was enjoined that the place chosen\nfor the cure should be at least twenty miles distant from the diocese of\nPaderborn. A Protestant district doctor was accordingly consulted, and\nhis opinion exactly corresponded with the bishop\u2019s own account of his\nstate, whereupon Dr. Martin gave himself up to the pleasant hope of soon\nbeing able to leave Wesel. \u201cI wished for haste the more,\u201d he says, \u201cas\nmy state became worse from day to day. The continual agitation in which\nI was kept helped to aggravate things. For day after day I received\ntidings of new ruins which the unhappy _Kulturkampf_ worked in my poor\ndiocese.\u201d[22] In the autumn of 1873\u2014that is, after the promulgation of\nthe May Laws\u2014the bishop had given faculties to four newly-ordained\npriests. This is the most natural and harmless action of a bishop, for\nwhat spiritual act can take place without that exercise of his\njurisdiction? Pronouncing a priest competent for the care of souls is\nanalogous to the action in law of giving a brief to a barrister. What if\nthe church should require a barrister to present himself to the bishop\nfor approbation before he received such a brief? But the May Laws\ncompletely confuse spiritual and temporal things. The bishop was accused\nof breaking article fifteen of those regulations, which runs that\n\u201cspiritual rulers are bound to present such candidates as are about to\nreceive a spiritual office to the _Oberpr\u00e4sident_, whilst at the same\ntime the office is specified.\u201d If the barrister obtain briefs after he\nhas been called, the bishop does not meddle with him; but because the\npriests in question _had_ exercised their faculties Berlin thought well\nto condemn the bishop to a further imprisonment of six months.\n\nBut now a new phase began in the life of Dr. Martin. Having \u201cwaited and\nwaited\u201d for the permission to follow out the cure which a disimpassioned\nauthority had pronounced absolutely necessary, he resolved to act in\nspite of the law, and to fly from Wesel. He considered this course not\nonly allowable, but even obligatory, seeing two principal reasons. His\nhealth was seriously endangered, if he could not have the required\ntreatment, and that health belonged not to himself but to his diocese.\nFurthermore, in Wesel his movements were so closely watched that one\nsingle act of the pastoral office might give the government a plea for\nstill more rigorous measures. Therefore on the 3d of August he wrote an\nofficial letter stating his intended departure from Wesel on the morrow;\nand so, as the clock struck the hour of midnight, he was quietly\ncrossing the bridge over the Rhine, and on the following day, the 5th of\nAugust, he was received at the Castle of Neuburg by the family of\nAusemburg. How full his heart was of his appointed work we may gather\nfrom the attempt to return to Paderborn. At Aix-la-Chapelle two railway\nauthorities recognized him, and he was counselled by a valued friend to\ngo back to Holland in \u201cGod\u2019s name!\u201d The document which reached him a few\ndays later proved the soundness of the advice. It was from the Minister\nof the Interior at Berlin, announcing to him the fact that he was from\nhenceforth an outlaw in the eyes of his country. The May Laws further\nexhausted their bitterness against him by the warrant which was issued\nfrom the district court in Paderborn for another imprisonment of six\nmonths. But it seems that these punishments did not affect the bishop\u2019s\npeace of mind. Amidst tokens of universal love and devotion he was\nspending his time chiefly with the Ausemburg family, occupying his\nleisure with writing on religious subjects, amongst which one was\nDevotion to the Sacred Heart. After his fruitless attempt to join his\nbereaved flock he had directed his efforts in the first place towards\nhis own physical restoration. After a three weeks\u2019 cure in Kattwyk,\nwhich worked a wonderful change for the better in his state, he visited\nthe bishops of Haarlem and Roermond, and rejoiced his spirit by\nwitnessing some of the fruits of the new and vigorous Catholic life\nwhich has been promoted in Holland by the re-establishment of the\nhierarchy. Whilst Dr. Martin was with the bishop of Haarlem he received\nintelligence of the dreadful fire which the \u201cdear Paderstadt\u201d had\nsustained.\n\nThese peaceful days, however, were not of long duration. They were\nshortened by one of the bitterest experiences which a pastor can be\ncalled upon to endure\u2014that is, an unfaithful friend. A priest of his\ndiocese (the only one besides M\u00f6nnikes, he remarks) had gone over to the\nenemies of the church, and vainly had the bishop tried the power of\nloving exhortation. He was obliged at last to use that spiritual weapon\nwhich has ever been obnoxious to a world impatient of restraint, and to\npronounce excommunication, fully conscious of the possible consequences\nof the step, and therefore prepared to accept them. The government of\nHolland was too weak to protect an exile. It gave way under more\npowerful pressure, and the bishop was ordered to leave.\n\n\u201cI prayed to God for light,\u201d he says. \u201cI asked St. Joseph (it was in\nMarch, 1876) to lead me where I should go.\u201d[23] His steps were directed\nto Catholic Belgium; but whatever the character of the population may\nbe, that of the policy of its government is rightly defined by the\nbishop as the effort to keep out of the way of Prince Bismarck\u2019s\ncomplications, which effort is the _ne plus ultra_ of political wisdom.\nHe was not, therefore, much astonished when he received orders to leave\nthe Belgian frontier.\n\nA homeless, houseless exile, the bishop once more wandered forth in\nstrict _incognito_, we are not told where, but the place must have been\nwisely chosen, for there he remained in great retirement from April,\n1876, till the following April. Then it was that Rome, the home of all\nCatholic hearts, once more awoke his desires; but, owing to the\nwell-known sentiments of the Italian government, he was aware that the\njourney had its dangers for a bishop under the ban of the _Kulturkampf_.\nHe set out, nevertheless, and on his journey through France experienced\nnumberless consolations and the warmest reception from the French\nbishops. Persecution imprints on the heart the device, _Cor unum et\nanima una_.\n\nOn the 24th of May, 1877, the feast of St. Monica, he arrived in Rome\nfor the fifth time. Men are trying to make even the Eternal City new,\nand as the bishop walked through the familiar streets he felt that the\nvoice might indeed be the voice of Jacob, whilst the hands were the\nhands of Esau. The Colosseum, consecrated by remembrances so\nheart-stirring, now appeared to him as a dearly-loved face whence the\nspirit had fled. It is the nature of Rome to be the most conservative of\ncities, and never are natural laws overturned with comfort. These were\nthe German bishop\u2019s thoughts as again he compared what had been to what\nwas, the more so as he found the improvement wholly exterior and\nmaterial, and, along with finer streets in course of erection, was\nobliged to notice a lowering of moral tone in their inhabitants. Even\nthe faces of the men he met seemed to have altered; for, he says, they\nare mostly not Romans, but a kind of heterogeneous mob gathered from all\nquarters of the globe.\n\nWhen Pius VII. returned to Rome after the persecution which had\nthreatened to annihilate his power, he invited his enemy\u2019s family to\npartake of hospitality in that city, as the land of great misfortunes;\nbut now the Holy Father, his successor, could offer nothing but an\naffectionate greeting to a bishop who had borne so noble a witness to\nthe truth. The shadow of Pius IX.\u2019s captivity must fall upon all his\nchildren. An exiled bishop sought refuge in Rome as the home of his\nfather, and Rome could not give him what he sought. By the advice of\nseveral cardinals Dr. Martin changed his residence and went out only in\nsecular dress, but not before he had been denounced by unfriendly papers\nas one who was under arrest. On the 24th of May, in consequence of\ncontinued persecution from the press, and in honest fear of more serious\nill-treatment, strengthened by the loving farewell and the apostolical\nblessing of the Holy Father for himself and his diocese, the bishop of\nPaderborn set out for an unknown place of exile, happy at least in his\nresemblance to One who, coming unto his own, was not received by them.\n\nThe early church wrote the acts of her martyrs, in order that the\nremembrance of their deeds should never perish, and the church of the\nnineteenth century may be allowed to record the struggle of her\nconfessors not only for a perpetual memorial of them, but also that\nothers who are not in the fight may realize at once the presence of the\nbattle-field and the nature of the warfare. We have seen that it exists;\nits nature cannot be better defined than by the words of him whose\nconfessorship we are recording:\n\n\u201cThe Papacy is in fact the one and only point round which the\n_Kulturkampf_ is raging, and I am convinced that if the \u2018deposed\u2019 and\nbanished bishops were to break off their connection with the Papacy\nto-day, to-morrow they would be re-established in all their honors and\nprivileges.... On the 3d of August last it was three years since I\nparted from my beloved flock. After God that flock is daily my first and\nlast thought. My prayers, my anxieties, my studies, and my occupations\nof whatever nature belong to it. I will be true to it till death, and I\nhope by God\u2019s grace that it will be true to me. Hours of temptation come\nupon me sometimes, it is true\u2014hours when the painful doubt suggests\nitself whether I shall ever return to it. But I take courage to myself\nagain through a trusting look up to God. He has counted every hair of\nour heads, and, if my return is in accordance with his providence, no\n_Kulturkampf_ will have power to prevent it. But should it be his good\npleasure that I close my eyes to this world separated from my flock, I\nsay with most humble resignation: May His will be done!\n\n\u201cBut even supposing that all we \u2018deposed\u2019 and exiled bishops should die\nin banishment, the church, and the church in our German Fatherland, will\nfinally conquer. He to whom all power in heaven and on earth is given is\nher protector; and, let her enemies be as numerous and powerful as it is\npossible to be, an hour will come when of them also it will be said:\n\u2018They who sought after her life are dead.\u2019\u201d[24]\n\nFootnote 9:\n\n _Three Years of my Life._ By Dr. Conrad Martin, Bishop of Paderborn.\n Mainz, 1877.\n\nFootnote 10:\n\n _Drei Jahre aus meinem Leben._\n\nFootnote 11:\n\n _Ibid._ p. 3.\n\nFootnote 12:\n\n _Ibid._ p. 8.\n\nFootnote 13:\n\n _Ibid._ p. 14.\n\nFootnote 14:\n\n _Ibid._ p. 15.\n\nFootnote 15:\n\n _Ibid._ p. 16.\n\nFootnote 16:\n\n At K\u00fcnigstein, in Nassau.\n\nFootnote 17:\n\n _Drei Jahre aus meinem Leben_, p. 23.\n\nFootnote 18:\n\n _Ibid._ p. 30.\n\nFootnote 19:\n\n _Ibid._ p. 37.\n\nFootnote 20:\n\n _Ibid._ p. 41.\n\nFootnote 21:\n\n _Ibid._ p. 45.\n\nFootnote 22:\n\n _Ibid._ p. 51.\n\nFootnote 23:\n\n _Ibid._ p. 83.\n\nFootnote 24:\n\n _Ibid._ pp. 160, 169.\n\n\n\n\n MONTSERRAT.\n\n\n O streams, and shades, and hills on high,\n Unto the stillness of your breast\n My wounded spirit longs to fly\u2014\n To fly and be at rest;\n Thus from the world\u2019s tempestuous sea,\n O gentle Nature, do I turn to thee!\n\n \u2014_Fray Luis de Leon._\n\nNo one visits Barcelona, or ought to visit it, without going to\nMontserrat, the sacred mountain of Spain, and one of the most\nextraordinary mountains in the world: the naturalist, to study its\nsingular formation and the thousand varieties of its flora; the mere\ntourist, to visit its historic abbey and explore the wonderful grottoes\nwith which the mountain is undermined; and the pilgrim, as to another\nSinai, torn and rent asunder as by the throes of some new revelation,\nwhere amid awful rifts and chasms is enthroned its Syrian Madonna, like\nthe impersonation of mercy amid the terrors of divine wrath. It is one\nof those wonderful places in Catholic Christendom around which centres\nthe piety of the multitude. Hermits for ages have peopled its caves. The\nmonks of St. Benedict for a thousand years have served its altars.\nSaints have kept watch around its venerable shrine. The kings and\nknights of chivalric Spain have come here with rich tributes to offer\ntheir vows. And the poor, with bare and bleeding feet, have, century\nafter century, climbed its rough sides out of mere love for their\nfavorite sanctuary.\n\nPoets, too, have come here to seek inspiration. Several Spanish poets of\nnote have celebrated its natural beauties and its legendary glory.\nGoethe could find no more suitable place than this wild, mysterious\nmountain for the scenery of one of the most wonderful parts of\n_Faust_\u2014the scene where he makes the _Pater Ecstaticus_ float in the\ngolden air, the hermits chant from their mystic caves, and the bird-like\nvoices of the spirits come between like the breathings of a wind-swept\nharp.[25]\n\nWe took the Zaragoza railway, and in an hour after leaving Barcelona\nwere in sight of the towering gray pinnacles that make Montserrat like\nno other mountain in the world. It rises suddenly out of the valley of\nthe Llobregat more than three thousand five hundred feet into the air,\nand looks as if numberless liquid jets, sent up from the bowels of the\nearth, had suddenly been congealed into colossal needles or cones. These\ncones unite in a rocky base, about fifteen miles in circumference, which\nis cleft asunder by an awful chasm, at the bottom of which flows the\ntorrent of Santa Maria. The base of the mountain is fringed with pines,\nbut the cones are ash-colored and bare, being utterly devoid of\nvegetation, except what grows in the numerous clefts and ravines. This\nserrated mountain, standing isolated in a broad plain, strange and\nsolitary, seems set apart by nature for some exceptional purpose. It\nlooks like a vast temple consecrated to the Divinity. Even the Romans\nthought so when they set up their altars on its cliffs. It is the very\nplace for the gods to sit apart, each on his own pinnacle, and talk from\npeak to peak, and reason high, and arbitrate the fate of man.\n\nThe sharp needles which give so peculiar an appearance to the mountain\nare mostly of a conglomerate stone composed of fragments of marble,\nporphyry, granite, etc., and not unlike the Oriental breccia. Some say\nthat these enormous clefts have been produced by the agency of water or\nvolcanic force; others, that the mountain, like Mt. Alvernia in Italy,\nwhere St. Francis received the sacred stigmata, was rent asunder at the\ngreat sacrifice of Mount Calvary, of which these profound abysses and\nsplintered rocks are so many testimonials. Padre Francesco Crespo, in a\nmemorial to Philip IV. on the Pur\u00edsima Concepcion, says of it:\n\u201cAstonishing monument of our faith, divided into so many parts in\nsorrowful proof of the death of the Creator!\u201d And Fray Antonio, a\nCarmelite monk: \u201cAnd in Montserrat is verified that which was spoken in\nSt. Matt. xxvii.: And the earth did quake and the rocks were rent.\u201d\n\nWe stopped at the station of Monistrol, two miles from the town of that\nname which stands at the very foot of the mountain, and walked along the\nbanks of the Llobregat by an excellent road, often bordered with olives\nat the right, while the other side was overhung by cliffs fragrant with\nrosemary and wild thyme. We passed several cotton manufactories, for\nthis is the region of contrasts: Industry is running to and fro in the\nfertile valley, while Contemplation kneels with folded palms on the\nrocky heights above. But what divine law is there that makes physical\nactivity superior to moral, or productive of greater results, as so many\nwould have us believe in these _cui bono_ days? Who knows what rich\nreturns the cloud-wrapped altar above has rendered to these heavens? or\nhow much the proud world owes to the solitary Levite who in the temple\nkeeps alive\n\n \u201cThe watchfire of his midnight prayer\u201d?\n\nMonistrol derives its name from monasteriolum\u2014a little monastery, which\nwas built here by the early Benedictines. It is said that Quirico, a\ndisciple of St. Benedict, came to Spain in the sixth century, and,\nhearing of an extraordinary mountain in the heart of Catalonia, called\nEstorcil by the Romans, he came to see it and said to his disciples: \u201cOn\nthis mount let us build a temple to the _Mater pulchr\u00e6 dilectionis_.\u201d\nHis project was not realized till three centuries after, but he is\nbelieved to have built a small convent at the foot of the mountain.\n\nIt was late in the afternoon when we drew near the spot where St.\nQuirico and his disciples set up their altar, and the little white town\nof Monistrol lay closely hugged in at the foot of the mountain, behind\nwhich the sun sets by two o\u2019clock, so that it was already in the shadow.\nOn the outskirts we were surrounded by a swarm of swarthy gipsies ready\nto tell our future destiny for a _real_, as if we did not already know\nit! We crossed one of those bombastic bridges so common in Spain, as if\nthere were a flood for the immense arches to span, and just beyond met\nthe cura\u2014a tall, thin man, with an abstract, speculative look, but who\nproved himself able to give good practical advice, which we followed by\ngoing to the little _posada_ hard by for the night, and awaiting the\nmorning to ascend the holy mountain. It was a clean little inn, but as\nprimitive as if it had come down from the time of St. Quirico. Not a\nsoul could we find on presenting ourselves at the door, and it was only\nby dint of repeatedly shouting _Ave Maria Pur\u00edsima!_ that a brisk little\nwoman at length issued from some cavernous depth, as if called forth by\nour magical words. She gave us a dusky little room, with a crucifix and\ncolored print of St. Veronica over the bed, and, after exploring the\ntown, we took possession of it for the night while the tops of the\nmountain, that rose up thousands of feet directly behind the house, were\nstill flushed with light.\n\nThe following morning was warm and cloudless, though in the middle of\nFebruary. The _tartana_ came at ten o\u2019clock\u2014a wagon with a hood, drawn\nby three stout mules\u2014and we set off with two men and three women, all\nSpanish, and all as gay as the crickets on the wayside. If their\nforefathers ascended the mountain with streaming eyes and unshod feet,\nthey, at least, went up on stout wheels, and with many a song and quirk,\nthough perfectly innocent withal. They were light-hearted laborers,\nreleased from toil, going with their lunch to spend a holiday at Our\nLady of Montserrat\u2019s. Just after starting we passed the little chapel of\nthe Sant\u00edsima Trinidad, built, as the tablet on it says, to commemorate\nthe happy ending of the African war in 1860. We soon left Monistrol\nbelow us. The view at every moment became more extended as we wound up\nthe steep sides of the mountain. At the right was always the towering\nwall of solid rock, while the left side of the road was often built up,\nor at least supported, by masonry. Vines and olives clung to the crags\nas long as they could find foothold, and here and there was an aloe on\nthe edge of the precipice. The bells of Monistrol could be heard far\nbelow. The plain began to assume a billowy appearance, swelling more and\nmore to the north till lost in the mountains. The air grew more\nexhilarating. In two hours\u2019 time we came to a chapel with a tall cross\nbefore it, and nearly opposite suddenly appeared the abbey of Our Lady\nof Montserrat, seven or eight stories high, with a cliff rising hundreds\nof feet perpendicularly behind, divided by deep fissures, and\nterminating in needles that looked inaccessible, but where we could see\na hermitage perched on the top like the nest of an eagle. There is no\nbeauty about the convent, or pretension to architecture, but there is a\ncertain austere simplicity about it that harmonizes with the mountain.\nThe narrowness of the terrace has prevented its extending laterally, so\nit has been forced to tower up like the peaks around it. The mountain,\nas M. Von Humboldt says, seems to have opened to receive man into its\nbosom. But nearly everything is modern, and everywhere are ruins and\ntraces of violence left by the French in their ravages of 1811. Passing\nthrough an arched gateway, we found ourselves in a close, around which\nstood several large buildings for the accommodation of pilgrims. These\nare of three classes, according to the condition of the visitor, and\nnamed after the saints, such as Placido, Ignacio, Pedro Nolasco,\nFrancisco de Borja, etc. The poor have two houses for the different\nsexes, where they are lodged and fed gratuitously. Bread is distributed\nto them at seven in the morning; at noon, more bread with olla and wine;\nand at night the same. Pilgrims of condition sometimes go to receive the\nbread of charity, which they preserve as a relic. No one, rich or poor,\nis allowed to remain over three days without special permission. Even\nthe better class of rooms are of extreme simplicity, containing the bare\nnecessaries for comfort. They are paved with brick, and the walls are\nplastered, but not whitewashed. A man brought us towels, sheets, and a\njug of water, and left us to our own devices. The visitor offers what he\npleases on leaving. Nothing is required. Meals are obtained at a\nrestaurant at fixed prices. After taking possession of our rooms we went\nto pay homage to Our Lady of Montserrat.\n\nThe first thing that struck us on entering the large atrium, or court,\nthat precedes the church, was a marble tablet recording one of the\ngreatest memories of Montserrat:\n\n B. Ignativs\u2014A\u2014Loyola\u2014\n hic-mvlta\u2014prece\u2014fletv-\n qve\u2014Deo\u2014se\u2014virginiqve\n devovit\u2014hictamqvam\n armis\u2014spiritalib\u2019\u2014\n sacco\u2014se\u2014mvniens\u2014perno-\n ctavit\u2014hinc\u2014ad\u2014socie\n tatem\u2014Iesv\u2014fvndan\n dam\u2014prodiit\u2014an\n no M\u2014D\u2014XXII.\u2014F. Lavren ne\n to. Abb. dedicavit.\n An. 1603.\n\nFor here it was that in 1522 came the chivalrous hero of Pampeluna, who\nhad passed his youth in the court of Ferdinand V., trained in the\npractice of every knightly accomplishment, but now smitten down, like\nSt. Paul, by divine grace, and come here in accordance with the\nprinciples of Christian chivalry in which he had been nurtured, to\ndevote himself to Jesus and Mary as their knight. He laid aside his\nworldly insignia, and put on the poverty of Christ as the truest armor\nof virtue, and, on the eve of the Annunciation, kept his vigil of arms\nbefore the altar of Our Lady, whom he now chose as the _Se\u00f1ora de sus\npensamientos_\u2014\u201cno countess,\u201d as he said, \u201cno duchess, but one of far\nhigher degree\u201d\u2014and he hung up his sword on a pillar of her sanctuary as\na token that his earthly warfare was over.\n\n \u201cWhen at thy shrine, most holy Maid,\n The Spaniard hung his votive blade\n And bared his helm\u00e8d brow,\n \u2018Glory,\u2019 he cried, \u2018with thee I\u2019ve done!\n Fame, thy bright theatres I shun,\n To tread fresh pathways now;\n To track thy footsteps, Saviour God!\n With willing feet by narrow road;\n Hear and record my vow.\u2019\u201d\n\nSo, in the _Book of Heroes_, Wolf-dietrich, \u201cthe prince without a peer,\u201d\nstopped short in his career of glory, and, going to the abbey of St.\nGeorge, laid his arms and golden crown on the altar and consecrated\nhimself to God.\n\nOn the other side of the entrance is a similar tablet relating to St.\nPeter Nolasco, a knight of Languedoc, who, after serving in the\nreligious wars of the times, ascended Montserrat on foot, and, when he\narrived at the threshold of the house of Mary, fell on his knees, and in\nthis position approached her altar, where he spent nine days in watching\nand prayer. It was during one of his prolonged vigils that he conceived\nthe project of founding the celebrated Order of Mercy, which required of\nits members to give themselves, if need were, for the liberty of their\nbrethren in bondage, and which in the course of about four hundred years\n(1218-1632) ransomed, at the price of millions, four hundred and ninety\nthousand seven hundred and thirty-six Christians (among whom was the\ngreat Cervantes) from the prisons of the Moors, where they had endured\nsufferings no pen could describe.\n\nDwelling on these saintly memories, we passed through the arcades of the\ncourt, green and damp with mould, and came to the church. The exterior,\nof the Renaissance style, is by no means striking. There are columns of\nSpanish jasper on each side of the door, with niches between for the\ntwelve apostles, of whom only four remain. And over the entrance stands\nour Saviour giving his blessing to the pilgrim. There is a single nave\nof fine proportions, divided transversely by one of those iron _rejas_,\nor parcloses, peculiar to Spain, with a succession of chapels at the\nsides, by no means richly decorated. It was noon, and there was not a\nperson in the large church. Divested of its ancient riches, and simply\nornamented, it needed the crowds of pilgrims for whom it was intended to\ngive it animation and effect. But the antique Virgin was there, in the\ncentre of the retablo over the high altar, surrounded by lights, and we\nwere glad of the silence and solitude that surrounded her.\n\nThe sacred image of Our Lady of Montserrat is believed to be one made by\nSt. Luke the Evangelist at Jerusalem, and brought to Spain by St. Peter,\nand long preserved in a church erected by St. Paciano at Barcelona under\nthe title of the Blessed Maria Jerosolimitana,[26] where it was still\nvenerated in the time of San Severo, a bishop under the rule of the\nGoths. According to an old chronicle, it was to preserve it from the\nprofanation of the Moors that, on the tenth of the kalends of May, 718,\nPedro the bishop, and Eurigonio, a captain of the Goths, took the holy\nimage of the Blessed Mary, and carried it to the mountain called\nAsserado, and hid it in a cave.\n\nAmid all the wars and commotions of that age, it is not surprising that\nthe remembrance of the holy statue became a dim tradition, and the\nprecise spot of its concealment utterly forgotten. It was not till two\ncenturies after that some young shepherds, guarding their flocks at the\nfoot of the mountain, observed that every Saturday night, as soon as the\ndarkness came on, a light descended from the heavens and gathered in a\nblaze around one of the lofty peaks. Their story was at first made light\nof at Monistrol, but, coming to the ear of the curate, a great servant\nof God and Our Lady, he resolved to ascertain its truth for himself.\nAccordingly, the next Saturday night, he set forth at an early hour with\na number of people for the most favorable point of observation. As soon\nas it grew dark the supernatural light was seen, and a soft, delicious\nmusic heard issuing as from the depths of a cave. The curate did not\nventure to approach, but returned to consult the bishop of Vich, then\nresiding at Manresa, the former place being in the hands of the Moors.\nThis bishop, whose name was Gondemaro, took the curate and other members\nof the clergy, and, accompanied by several knights, ascended the\nmountain at the usual hour of the wonderful occurrence. They found the\ncliff enveloped in a cloud of fragrance. A shower of stars settled\naround the summit like a crown, and dulcet symphonies came forth from\nits bosom. This phenomenon lasted till midnight, when the music died\naway, the stars returned to their spheres, and silence and darkness\nresumed their empire.\n\nThe bishop passed the remainder of the night in dwelling on what he had\nwitnessed, and at the first ray of dawn summoned the curate and\nrequested him to take the necessary means for examining the place by\ndaylight. He was not obliged to repeat the command. The curate took his\nparishioners, and, accompanied by the bishop, went in procession along\nthe banks of the Llobregat, and up the sides of the mountain as far as\npracticable. Then he despatched several young shepherds, who could climb\nthe rocks like goats, to explore the cliff. After no little fatigue and\ndanger they discovered a cave on the edge of a precipice, and within it\nthe sacred image of the Mother of God, surrounded by an odor like that\nof a garden of flowers. The joyful cries of the shepherds, repeated by\nall the echoes of the mountain caves, made known their discovery. The\nbishop took the statue in his arms, and, desirous of carrying it to\nManresa, they went circling the wild peaks with songs of joy in the\ndirection of Monistrol; but when he attempted to go past a certain place\non the mountain his feet became fastened to the ground like iron to a\nloadstone. The Virgin had chosen the mountain for her abode, and would\nnot abandon it. After the first moment of astonishment the bishop\ncomprehended the meaning of the Soberana Se\u00f1ora, and a chapel was soon\nbuilt to receive the statue, which he entrusted to the care of the\ncurate of Monistrol.\n\nBut this was not the first chapel on the mountain. The oldest was that\nof San Miguel, on the other side of the ravine of Santa Maria, said to\nhave been built out of the ruins of a temple of Venus. We went to see it\nthat afternoon. It stands on a lofty ridge of the mountain to the north,\ncommanding a magnificent prospect. Beneath is the whole valley of the\nLlobregat, but what below seemed like a vast plain here looked like the\nsea in a storm, in which wave after wave succeeded each other till lost\nin the Pyrenees. And these, capped with snow, looked like the foaming\nsea, run mountains high, all along the northern horizon. The whole\ncountry was dotted with villages. The river looked like a thread of\nsilver winding through the surging valley. The sounds came up from below\nin a subdued murmur. At the right lay the Mediterranean, calm as a sea\nof crystal. Behind the chapel rose the tall cones, like the watch-towers\nof a vast fortress.[27] The solitude, the wildness, the awful depths\nover which we hung made a profound impression on us all. \u201cHow easy for\nthe soul to rise to God in such a place!\u201d we said. \u201cLet us remain here\nthe rest of our lives. With books to read, the chapel in which to pray,\nthe mountain-side on which to meditate, and such a glorious view of\nGod\u2019s world around us, what more in this world could we ask for?\u201d Every\nnow and then came the peal of the convent bells. The air was fragrant\nwith the balsamic odor of the shrubs. The glowing sun lit up mount and\nsea. And a certain melancholy about these gray peaks and unfathomable\nabysses, the ruined hermitages and violated chapels, and even the wintry\naspect of yonder plain, gave them an additional charm. While sitting on\nthe rocks a Spaniard came along with his daughter, and, entering into\nconversation, we learned that they were visiting the holy mountain for\nthe last time together, she being on the point of entering a sisterhood.\nThey both showed the most lively faith, and talked with enthusiasm of\nMontserrat, telling us how it had been rent asunder at the Crucifixion.\nAfter they had gone on in the direction of Collbato we sat a long time\nin silence, and then went slowly down the winding path, bordered with\nlaurel, holly, heather, and shrubs of various kinds. On the way we met a\nlong file of pupils from the abbey, ranging from ten to twenty years of\nage, all in gowns and leather belts like young monks. Two of the\nBenedictine fathers came behind them.\n\nIt was nearly night when we got back to the monastery, and as soon as we\nhad dined we went to the church. It was wrapped in utter darkness, all\nbut the sanctuary, which was blazing with lamps around the Madonna and\nthe tabernacle. We knelt down in the obscurity close to the _reja_. In a\nshort time thirty or forty students entered in their white tunics, and,\nencircling the altar, began the _Rosario_ in a measured, recitative way\nthat was almost a chant. Then they gathered around the organ and sang\nthe _Salve_ and _Tota pulchra es_ with admirable expression. The\nlateness of the hour, the vast nave shrouded in darkness, the blazing\naltar, with the black Madonna above in her golden robes after the\nSpanish fashion, the groups of worshippers motionless as statues, the\nvenerable monks of St. Benedict in the choir, and the white-robed\nsingers around the organ, gave great effect to the scene. We wished we\nmight keep our vigil before the altar, like St. Ignatius; but one of the\nlay brothers, with a queer old lantern that must have been handed down\nfrom the Goths, began to hustle us out of the church as soon as the\ndevotions were over, and we went stumbling through the dark court into\nthe open air; and giving one look at the violet heavens, across which\nflashed a shooting-star, and to the tall black cliffs that overshadowed\nus, we went to our rooms, our hearts still under the influence of the\nmusic. The bells of the monastery kept ringing from time to time as long\nas we were awake, and they roused us again at an early hour the\nfollowing morning, as if the _laus perennis_ were still kept up as in\nthe olden time.\n\nIt was not yet day, but we hurried to the early Mass, which is sung with\nthe aid of the students, followed by another chanted by the monks, and\nthe sun was just rising out of the sea when we came from the church. As\nsoon as breakfast was over we went to visit the cave of Fray Juan Garin,\nwhich is in the side of an enormous cliff it seemed fearful to live\nunder. He was lying there in effigy, with his book and rosary, a\nwater-jar at his feet, and a basket at his head, as if he had just gone\nto sleep. His legend, though not pleasing, is too closely connected with\nthe early history of the mountain to be wholly omitted. It has been\nsung, too, by poets, and one scene, at least, in his life has been\nperpetuated in sculpture.\n\nFray Juan Garin is said to have been born in the ninth century of a\nnoble family of Goths at Valencia, and in the time of Wifredo, Count of\nBarcelona, became a hermit on the lone heights of Montserrat. He is\nrepresented as a man of wasted aspect, with a long beard, who lived in\nthe cave of an inaccessible cliff, and, when he went forth, carried a\nlong staff in his hands, which were embrowned by the sun. Here he\nattained to such consummate sanctity that the very bells which hung\nbetween the two pillars before the ancient chapel of SS. Acisclo and\nVictoria rang out of their own accord whenever he approached. Every year\nhe made a pilgrimage to the capital of the Christian world, and\ntradition says the bells of the Holy City spontaneously rang out at his\narrival, like those of Montserrat. It would seem as if this holy hermit,\nregardless of the world, and by the world forgot, could have nothing to\ndisturb his peace. But the great adversary had his evil eye on him, and\nresolved on his fall. For this purpose he turned hermit himself, as in\nthe old rhyme, and put on a penitential robe and long white beard, which\nmade such an impression on the count of Barcelona, when he presented\nhimself before him, that he took his advice and brought his beautiful\ndaughter Riquilda, who was thought to be possessed, to try the efficacy\nof Fray Juan\u2019s prayers.\n\nMeanwhile, the devil established himself in the very cave on the top of\nthe cone above the monastery still known as the _Ermita del Diablo_, and\nsoon after the two hermits met as if by accident.\n\nThey looked at each other, but without at first breaking the holy\nsilence that set its seal on their contemplative life. At length the\nDiablo addressed Fray Juan, saying he was a great sinner who had come to\nthe mountain three years previously to seek pardon of God for his\ninnumerable offences in solitude and mortification, and expressing\nsurprise that they had never met before. Garin at first repulsed his\nadvances, as if by instinct, but the Diablo continued to speak with so\nmuch unction on the redoubled fervor that would result from a holy union\nof prayer and penitential exercises that Garin at length yielded, and\nfinally let no day pass without meeting him and unveiling the innermost\nrecesses of his heart.\n\nWe will not enter into the details of the tragedy which ended in the\nmurder of the beautiful Riquilda. But when Fray Juan awoke to a sense of\nhis crime, he was seized with so terrible a remorse that he once more\nset off for Rome to throw himself at the feet of him to whom are given\nthe keys of earth and heaven, and confess his heinous sin. But the bells\nno longer rang out as he drew near. He was now\n\n \u201cA wretch at whose approach abhorr\u2019d,\n Recoils each holy thing.\u201d\n\nEven the pope, with the power to him given to wash men\u2019s sins away, had\nno ghostly word of peace for him. But he sent him not away in utter\ndespair. He imposed on him by way of expiation to go forth from his\npresence like a beast of the earth, to live on the herbs of the field,\nand keep an unbroken silence till a sinless child a few months old\u2014O\npower of innocence!\u2014should assure him God had remitted his sin.\n\nAnd Fray Juan submissively went forth from the Holy City on his hands\nand feet, and directed his weary course once more to Montserrat.\nMeanwhile, the Virgin, as Mr. Ticknor says, \u201cappearing on that wild\nmountain where the unhappy man had committed his crime, consecrates its\ndeep solitudes by founding there the magnificent sanctuary which has\never since made Montserrat holy ground to all devout Catholics.\u201d[28]\n\nIn the course of time Fray Juan\u2019s garments were worn out; exposed to the\nblazing sun of Spain, he grew swarthy of hue, and his body became\ncovered with hair that made him look like a wild beast, for which, in\nfact, he was taken by the royal foresters, who fastened a rope around\nhis neck and led him to Barcelona, where he was put in the stables of\nthe count\u2019s palace of Valdauris, and became at once the wonder and\nterror of the people.\n\nNot long after the lord of Catalonia made a great feast to celebrate the\nbirth of his son, now four or five months old, and one of the guests\nexpressing a wish to see the curious beast from Montserrat, Fray Juan\nwas led into the hall. As soon as he appeared the infant prince,\nspeaking for the first time in his life, said: \u201cRise up, Fray Juan\nGarin; thou hast fulfilled thy penance. God hath pardoned thee.\u201d And the\npenitent rose up and resumed his original form as a man.[29] He then\nthrew himself at the count\u2019s feet and confessed his crime. Wifredo could\nnot refuse a pardon God had granted through his child. He ordered Fray\nJuan to conduct him to his daughter\u2019s grave, and, followed by all the\nlords and knights of his court, he went to the mountain, and there,\nbeside the newly-erected chapel of the Virgin, he found the tomb of the\nprincess. When it was unsealed, to their amazement Riquilda opened her\neyes and came forth from the grave. Around her neck was a slight mark,\nlike a thread of crimson silk. As Faust says of Margaret:\n\n \u201cHow strangely does a single blood-red line,\n Not broader than the sharp edge of a knife,\n Adorn her lovely neck!\u201d\n\nThe overjoyed count took his daughter back to Barcelona, where an\nimmense crowd came to see her whom the great _Madre de Dios_ had\nawakened from the sleep of death. One of the knights of the court,\nstruck with her beauty, requested her hand in marriage, but Riquilda\nfelt that after so strange a restoration to life, she ought to\nconsecrate herself to God on the mount where the wonder had been\naccomplished.\n\nWifredo, who was a great builder of churches, determined to erect a\nmagnificent convent on the mountain. Fray Juan worked on it with his own\nhands, and after its completion retired to a cave, where he penitently\nended his days. The convent was peopled with nuns of noble birth, and\nRiquilda placed at their head. Eighty years after Count Borrell, who was\nnow lord of Catalonia, fearful of a Saracen invasion, substituted monks\nand transferred the nuns to the royal foundation of Santa Maria de\nRipoll.\n\nThis legend of a rude age, gross in some of its details, has been\ncelebrated in several poems, one of which, still read and admired, takes\na high place in Spanish literature. This is _El Monserrate_, by\nCrist\u00f3bal de Virues, a dramatic poet, who was a great favorite of Lope\nde Vega\u2019s. Virues had served as a captain in the Spanish wars, and taken\npart in the battle of Lepanto. He belonged to an age when, as Mr.\nTicknor says, many a soldier, after a life of excess, ended his days in\na hermitage as rude and solitary as that of Garin.\n\nThe old counts of Barcelona made great donations to the convent of\nMontserrat, as well as the kings of Aragon after them. The monks were\nexempted from imposts and taxes, and made honorary citizens of\nBarcelona. They not only had possession of the mountain, but held feudal\nsway over several towns and lordships. The rule of St. Benedict is known\nto have been observed here in 987, when Prior Raymundo was at the head\nof the house. It was a dependence of the abbey of Ripoll until the\nfourteenth century, but on account of its miraculous Virgin, and the\nextraordinary history of its foundation, it at once acquired great\ncelebrity, and not a day passed without numerous pilgrims. In the\ntwelfth century there were so many that Don Jaime el Conquistador\nordered all who went to the mountain to take with them the provisions\nnecessary for their subsistence. These pilgrims, who were often from\ndistant provinces, used to come with bare feet, sometimes with torches\nin their hands, or bearing heavy crosses, or scourging their bodies, or\nwith a halter around their necks and manacles on their hands, as if they\nwere criminals. And when the monks saw them coming in this manner, they\nwent out to meet them, and released them from their vow by special\nauthority from the pope, and brought them in before the holy image of\nthe Mother of God, where their sighs and tears broke forth into piteous\nprayers.\n\nThese pilgrims had a kind of sacred character which prevented them from\nbeing cited before tribunals till they returned, except for crimes\ncommitted on the way, under a penalty of five hundred crowns. Leonora,\nthe wife of Don Pedro el Catolico, was the first queen of Aragon to\nvisit the sanctuary, and Don Pedro the Great the first king. The latter\npassed the night before the altar of Our Lady, imploring her aid against\nthe French, who were invading Catalonia. Don Jaime and his wife Blanca\ncame together and endowed the monastery, of which their son was then\nprior. Don Pedro el Ceremonioso came twice: on his way to the conquest\nof Majorca, and again at his return, when he presented a silver galley\nin thanksgiving for his success. Queen Violante, wife of Juan I., came\nhere with bare feet, out of pure love for the Virgin, bringing with her\nrich gifts.\n\nWhen Ferdinand the Catholic was nine years old his mother brought him to\nMontserrat and consecrated him to the Virgin. After the conquest of\nGranada he and Queen Isabella came here together, with Prince Juan,\ntheir son, Isabella, widow of Don Alonso of Portugal, Do\u00f1a Juana,\nafterwards called _la Loca_, and others of the royal family. They\nbrought with them the two young sons of the last king of Granada, who\nwere baptized under the names of Juan and Fernando. In the retinue were\nthe great Cardinal Mendoza and a number of prelates. On this or some\nother occasion their Catholic majesties presented two magnificent silver\nlamps to burn before Our Lady of Montserrat, and Queen Isabella gave\ntwelve yards of green velvet, and two of brocade, to the sacristy.\n\nIt was about this time that thirteen monks from Montserrat were chosen\nto accompany Christopher Columbus in order to establish the faith in the\nnew regions he might discover. At their head was Dom Bernardo Boil, a\nnoble Catalonian, who was raised to the dignity of patriarch and papal\nlegate. Columbus gave the name of Montserrat to an island he discovered\nin 1493, on account of the resemblance it bore to the holy mountain of\nSpain, and the first Christian church erected in America was called\nNuestra Se\u00f1ora de Montserrat.\n\nCharles V. came to Montserrat when nineteen years of age, accompanied by\nhis tutor, Adrian of Utrecht, afterwards pope. They found the court full\nof soldiers, with lighted torches in their hands, and the Count Palatine\nat the head of an embassy to offer him the crown of Carlo Magno in the\nname of the electors of Germany. Charles went to prostrate himself at\nthe feet of the Virgin, and the following day left for Barcelona, after\ngiving the father abbot the title and privileges of _Sacristan Mayor_ of\nthe crown of Aragon. He subsequently bestowed many gifts on the abbey,\nand gave it rule over the town of Olessa and other places. He visited it\nrepeatedly, and not only remained several days at a time, but is even\nsaid to have tried the monastic life he afterwards embraced in the\nconvent of Yuste. The third time he came here was in 1533, and on Corpus\nChristi day he walked in the procession with the monks, carrying a\nlighted candle in his hand. He liked to pass such great solemnities in a\nmonastery, contributing by his presence and generosity to the brilliancy\nof the festival. He always invoked Our Lady of Montserrat before\nengaging in battle, and attributed to her his victories. He was at\nMontserrat when he received notice of the discovery of Mexico by\nHernando Cortes, and when he heard of one of his important victories\nover the Moors. And on St. Margaret\u2019s day, 1535, the parish of Santa\nMaria del Mar at Barcelona sent a deputation of twelve persons to the\nmountain, habited as penitents, to pray for the success of the royal\narms. They united with the monks and hermits in a devout procession\naround the cloister, and made such prevailing prayer at the altar of Our\nLady that Charles V. that very day took possession of Tunis. When the\nemperor, in 1558, found he was dying, he called for the taper blessed on\nthe altar of Montserrat, and holding it in one hand, with the crucifix\nthat had been taken from the dead hand of his mother Juana in the other,\nthis great monarch, who, as he acknowledged to his kinsman, St. Francis\nBorgia, had never, from the twenty-first year of his age, suffered a day\nto pass without devoting some part of it to mental prayer, now slept for\never in the Lord.\n\nIsabella of Portugal, wife of Charles V., likewise came here, and in her\ntrain the Marques de Lombay, afterwards Duke of Gandia, and Viceroy of\nCatalonia, now venerated on our altars under the name of San Francisco\nde Borja. With him was his wife, the beautiful Leonora de Castro, lady\nof honor to the empress. As a memorial of her visit, Isabella presented\nthe church with a silver pax of artistic workmanship worth two thousand\nducats, and a little ship garnished with diamonds valued at 10,800\n_pesos_.\n\nSome years after Do\u00f1a Maria, daughter of Charles V., came here with her\nhusband, Maximilian II., Emperor of Austria, to obtain a blessing on\ntheir marriage, and she spent several days here on her return to Spain.\nHer page, at that time, was the young Louis de Gonzaga, son of the\nMarquis of Castiglione, who afterwards entered the Society of Jesus, and\nis now canonized.\n\nWith this empress came also her daughter, the Princess Margarita, who\nprostrated herself at the feet of the Virgin and implored the grace of\nbecoming the spouse of her divine Son. Tradition says the Virgin gently\ninclined her head in token of consent. At all events, the princess,\nafter her prayer, took a dagger from one of the cavaliers, and with\nblood from her own veins thus wrote:\n\n\u201cI solemnly pledge myself to become the spouse of Christ, to whom I here\noffer myself, begging his Virgin Mother to be my mediator. In faith of\nwhich I subscribe myself,\n\n\u201cMARGARITA.\u201d\n\nShe placed this vow in the Virgin\u2019s hand, and afterwards fulfilled it by\nbecoming a nun in the royal foundation of the Carmelites at Madrid under\nthe name of Sr. Margarita de la Cruz. This interesting document was long\npreserved in the abbey, but disappeared when the house was ravaged under\nNapoleon.\n\nPhilip II., the monarch who boasted that the sun never set on his\ndominions, visited Montserrat four times, one of which was on Candlemas\nday, when he took part in the procession, devoutly carrying his taper.\nHe presented Our Lady with a silver lamp weighing over a hundred pounds,\nand an elaborate retablo for her altar which cost ten thousand\n_ducados_.\n\nDon John of Austria came here after the battle of Lepanto, and brought\nseveral flags taken from the enemy, as trophies to the Virgin of\nMontserrat, and hung up in the centre of the church the signal-lantern\ntaken from the vessel of the Turkish admiral.\n\nThe abbey at this time was one of the richest in Spain. It was\nsurrounded by ramparts and towers for defence. It had its courts and\ncloisters full of sculptures, and carvings, and tombs of precious\nmarble, whereon knights lay in their armor, and abbots with mitre and\ncrosier. But the church was too small for the number of pilgrims, and\ndim in spite of its seventy silver lamps. Abbot Garriga, one of the\nablest men who ever ruled over the monastery, resolved to build a new\none. This distinguished abbot rose from the humblest condition in life.\nWhen he was only seven years old his father, a poor man, ascended the\nmountain on an ass, with a kid in one pannier and his son in the other,\nand offered them both at the convent gate. The porter accepted the kid,\nbut refused the boy. The father, however, persisted in leaving him, and\nthe abbot, struck with his intelligence, gave him a place in the school.\nHe received the monastic habit at the age of nine. While a novice he\nused to lament the inadequate size of the church, and predicted he\nshould rebuild it. He subsequently became abbot, and fulfilled his\nprophecy, but he ended his days in the lofty hermitage of St. Dimas,\nwhere he had retired to prepare for eternity.\n\nWhen the new church was completed, as the Virgin could not be removed\nunder penalty of excommunication, the sanction of the pope had to be\nobtained. Philip III. came to take part in the ceremony, and with him a\ncrowd of courtiers and Spanish grandees. On Sunday, July 11, 1593, the\nking and all the court went to confession and holy Communion in the\nmorning. In the afternoon the sacred image was taken down from the place\nit had occupied for centuries, and clothed in magnificent robes, given\nby the Infanta Isabella and the Duchess of Brunswick. Then the\nprocession was formed, preceded by a cross-bearer carrying a cross of\npure silver, in which was set a piece of the Lignum Crucis surrounded by\nfive emeralds, five diamonds, a topaz as large as a walnut, and a great\nnumber of pearls. Then came forty-three lay brothers, fifteen hermits,\nand sixty-two monks, chanting the _Ave Maris Stella_, each one carrying\na wax candle weighing a pound. After them were twenty-four scholastics,\nand then the statue of Our Lady, borne by four monks in orders, wearing\nrich dalmaticas. Over it was a gorgeous canopy supported by noble lords.\nBehind followed Abbot Garriga and his attendants, and, after the\npeasant\u2019s son, King Philip III., bearing a torch on which was painted\nthe royal arms, and a long train of lords and ladies, the highest in the\nrealm. With all this pomp the Madonna was borne up the nave of the new\nchurch, and, amid the ringing of bells and the chant of the _Te Deum_,\nwas placed on her silver throne, given by the Duke of Cardona.\n\nAll the kings of Spain, down to the end of the eighteenth century, came\nhere with their votive offerings. The church had a font of jasper, a\n_reja_ of beautiful workmanship that cost fourteen thousand ducats, and\naround the altar of the Virgin burned over two hundred costly lamps, the\ngifts of kings, princes, and nobles. She had four gold crowns studded\nwith gems; one estimated at fifty thousand ducats, sent by the natives\nof Mexico converted to the faith. The monstrance for the exposition of\nthe Host gleamed like the sun with its rays of sparkling jewels.\nChalices were covered with rubies. There were golden candlesticks for\nthe altar, and ornaments of amber and crystal, and vestments of cloth of\ngold embroidered with precious stones, and a profusion of other valuable\nthings that may to Judas eyes seem uselessly poured out in this favored\nsanctuary.\n\nTo this wonderful church, for the gilding of which he had contributed\nfour thousand crowns, came Don John of Austria in the seventeenth\ncentury, and, penetrating into the sanctuary, he placed his hands on the\nsacred altar, and in a distinct voice pronounced the following: \u201cI swear\nand promise to maintain with my sword that the Blessed Virgin Mary was\nconceived without the stain of original sin from the first instant of\nher being,\u201d which vow was repeated by all the knights in his train.\nThere was formerly a painting in one of the chapels to commemorate this\nscene.\n\nMany children of the first families of Spain used to be brought to\nMontserrat and consecrated to the Virgin. Sometimes they were even left\nhere to pass their boyhood. Don John of Cardona, a Spanish admiral, who\ndistinguished himself in the wars with the Turks, and at one time was\nviceroy of Navarre, was educated here, and said he valued the honor of\nbeing a page of Our Lady of Montserrat more than having been the\ndefender of Malta against the infidel. He took for his standard her\nglorious image, and, when he died, was buried, at his own request, at\nher feet. So were many others, famous as soldiers or statesmen, reared\non this secluded mountain. The pupils, as now, wore a semi-monastic\ndress. They daily recited the Office of the Blessed Virgin, sang at the\nearly Mass, and ate in the monks\u2019 refectory. Nor were they all nobles.\nThere were peasants\u2019 children, too, among them, but they were all reared\ntogether in that simplicity of life that seems traditional among the\nBenedictines. The divine words that for ever ennobled the innocence of\nchildhood have done more to efface artificial distinctions in monastic\nhouses than the second sentence in the Declaration of Independence has\never done in our beloved republic. But in Spain there has always been a\ncertain courtesy towards the lower classes that has tended to elevate\nthem, or, at least, to maintain their self-respect. It is said that the\ndignity of man in that country seems to rise in proportion as his rank\ndescends.\n\nAmong the more recent memories of the school, it is told how, September\n30, 1860, Queen Isabella II. came here with her son, now King Alfonso\nXII., then only three years old, and had him made a page of Our Lady of\nMontserrat, and he was clothed in the dress of the pupils in the\npresence of the court.\n\nBut to return to the history of the abbey. The day came when all its\nriches were suddenly swept away. Catalonia was the first to rise against\nthe government of Napoleon. Montserrat, being considered almost\nimpregnable, was made a depot of provisions and munitions of war. It was\nfortified, and bristled with cannon like a citadel. Suchet attacked the\nmountain. It was vigorously defended by three hundred Spaniards\nentrenched in the defiles, but the French succeeded in gaining\npossession of it. The monastery was blown up. The hermitages were\nruined. The hermits were \u201chunted like chamois from rock to rock,\u201d and\nthe treasures of the church were carried off as spoils of war. All the\ntestimonials of the faith of Spain that had been accumulating here for\ncenturies were swept away: the gold and the jewels, the paintings and\ncarvings, the Gothic cloister and the tombs of alabaster\u2014all, all\ndisappeared. Only one priceless jewel remained, around which all the\nothers had been gathered\u2014the ancient Madonna brought from the East,\nwhich was once more concealed in a cave, as in the time of the Moors.\n\nTowards the close of our second day on Montserrat we passed through an\navenue of cypresses behind the monastery, and came to a small terrace on\nthe very edge of the precipitous mountain-side, around which was a wall\nadorned with great stone saints that were gray and mossy, and worn by\nthe elements. Against the wall were seats, and, in the centre of the\nplot, a tank for gold fish, with a few plants and shrubs around it. Here\nis an admirable view to the northwest, and we stood leaning a long time\nagainst the wall, looking at the broad _Vega_ beneath, and the long\nrange of Pyrenees that stood out with wonderful distinctness against the\npure evening sky. Directly beneath us was Monistrol, and, beyond,\nManresa, only three leagues off, but seemingly much nearer; and along\nyonder road winding through the Valley of Paradise, as it used to be\ncalled, must have gone St. Ignatius from Montserrat in his newly-put-on\ngarments of holy poverty, which could not, we fancy, hide his courtly\nbearing or eagle glance.\n\nNothing could surpass the exquisite gradations of light and color that\npassed over the landscape while the sun was going down. The pleasant\nvalley grew dim. Manresa receded, and her white walls soon looked like a\nship at sea. A purple mist began to creep up the mountain-sides. The\nsnowy summits were suffused with a blush of rosy light. The last gleam\nof the sun, now below the western horizon, flashed from peak to peak\nlike signal-fires, and then died away. The purple hills grew leaden. The\nrosy peaks became paler and paler till they were actually livid, and\nfinally faded away into mere fleecy clouds.\n\nThen we walked reluctantly back through the tall, dark cypresses to the\nconvent, and through the shadowy cloister to the church, which we found\ndark but for the usual cluster of lamps around the altar, suspended\nthere\u2014beautiful emblem of prayer\u2014to consume themselves before God, in\nplace of the hearts forced to live amid the cares of the world.\n\nThere is an old legend, embodied in a Catalan ballad, that tells how an\nangel one night ordered Fray Jos\u00e9 de las Llantias, a lay brother of\nMontserrat, now declared Venerable, to quickly trim the dying lamps lest\nthe world be overwhelmed in darkness because of iniquity.\n\nThe next morning, after the usual offices, we went to receive the father\nabbot\u2019s blessing and visit the treasury of the Virgin\u2014no longer filled\nwith countless jewels, but containing many touching offerings that tell\nof perils past, such as soldiers\u2019 knapsacks and swords, sailors\u2019 hats,\ninnumerable plaits of hair, etc. Then we went up a winding stair, on\nwhich, at different turnings, three white angels pointed the way, to\nkiss Our Lady\u2019s hand, according to the custom of pilgrims. Afterwards we\ntook a guide, and went to visit several of the hermitages, most of which\nare still in ruins. That of the Virgin has been restored, and from below\nlooks like a small ch\u00e2teau rising straight up from the edge of the\nprecipice overhanging the ravine of Santa Maria. The ancient _Cueva_, or\ncave, where the Madonna was found, is now converted into a pretty chapel\nlighted by small stained windows. The adjoining cell has a balcony that\nhangs over the abyss, commanding a lovely view.\n\nThe hermitage of San Dimas, or Dismas, is on one of the most\ninaccessible peaks.\n\n \u201cGistas damnatur, Dismas ad astra levatur,\u201d\n\nsays the old Latin rhyme. This cell is now in ruins, but it was once\nfortified and had a drawbridge. Col. Green entrenched himself here in\n1812 with a detachment of soldiers, and cannon had to be put on a\nneighboring height to dislodge him. It was in one of its chapels the\ngreat Loyola made his general confession, and to a Frenchman. In ancient\ntimes there was a den of robbers here, for which reason it was placed\nunder the protection of the Good Thief when it was converted into a\nhermitage.\n\nThe hermitage of Santa Cruz is approached by a flight of one hundred and\nfifty steps cut in the solid rock. It is said to be so called because\nCharlemagne, when fighting against the Moors in the north of Spain,\nordered a white banner, on which was a blood-red cross, to be set up on\nthis peak. Here lived the Blessed Benito de Aragon for sixty-three\nyears. The hermits generally lived to an advanced age, to which the pure\nair, as well as their simple life and regular habits, conduced. There\nare about thirteen of these hermitages scattered over the mountain. That\nof Santa Magdalena, one of the most picturesque, is two miles from the\nmonastery. They are all built on a uniform plan. There is a chapel, and\nconnected with it is a small house containing an antechamber, a cell\nwith an alcove for a bed, and a kitchen. On one side there is a little\ngarden with a cistern. The hermits made a vow never to leave the\nmountain. On the festival of St. Benedict they received the Holy\nEucharist together and had dinner in common. On certain days in the year\nthey descended to the abbey, and always took part in the great\nsolemnities. Their director, appointed by the abbot, lived in the\nhermitage of San Benito. Their rule was very austere. They observed an\nalmost continual fast, and their abstinence was perpetual. Fish, bread,\nand the common wine of the region constituted their food. Most of their\ntime was passed in exercises of piety, varied by the culture of their\nlittle gardens. They were allowed no pets of any kind, but the birds of\nthe air became so familiarized with their presence as to approach at a\nsignal and eat from their hands. This was no small pleasure, for there\nare nightingales, goldfinches, robin red-breasts, larks, thrushes, etc.,\nin abundance on the mountain. When ill they were removed to the\ninfirmary at the abbey.\n\nThe most elevated hermitage is that of San Geronimo. The way to it lies\nalong the edge of deep ravines, over steep cliffs, through narrow\nfissures\u2014a rough, fatiguing, enchanting excursion. There is a fresh\nsurprise at every instant, from the continual variety of nature. We\ngathered fragrant violets, daisies, the purple heather, delicate ferns,\nbranches of holly and box, that grew in crevices along the\nmountain-paths. We were so fatigued when we arrived that we were glad to\nsit down against the crumbling walls of the hermitage, and eat our\nlunch, and take a draught from the cool cistern. The cell is on the\nbrink of a gulf worn by torrents, into which it makes one giddy to look.\nClose by rises a tall cone which is the highest point of Montserrat.\nHere is a magnificent prospect of mountain, and sea, and four provinces\nof Spain. On the north is Catalonia and the glorious Pyrenees; at the\neast the blue Mediterranean, with the Balearic Isles in the distance; to\nthe south the coasts of Castillon and Valencia; and to the west Lerida\nand the mountains of Aragon.\n\nThe hermit of San Geronimo was always the youngest, and as the others\ndied he descended to a cell less exposed to the inclemency of the\nseasons, leaving his place to a new-comer. It is a solitary peak,\nindeed, to live on, and yet in sight of so vast a world. We were there\nat noon, when the sun was in all its splendor, lighting up the snows of\nthe mountain and the waves of the sea. The wind began to rise with a\nsolemn swell, giving out that hollow, ominous sound which De Quincey\nsays is \u201cthe one sole audible symbol of eternity.\u201d The holy mountain,\nshivered into numberless peaks; the abysses and chasms that separate\nthem, only inhabited by birds of prey; the variety of aromatic plants\nthat grow in the rich soil collected wherever it can find room; the\nexhilarating air; the marvels of creation on every side, seemingly\n\u201cboundless as we wish our souls to be,\u201d constitute an abode in which one\nwould wish for ever to live. The lines of Fray Luis de Leon in his\n_Noche Serena_ might have been inspired by this very spot:\n\n \u201cWho that has seen these splendors roll,\n And gazed on this majestic scene,\n But sighed to \u2019scape the world\u2019s control,\n Spurning its pleasures poor and mean,\n And pass the gulf that yawns between?\u201d\n\nFootnote 25:\n\n Mr. Bayard Taylor.\n\nFootnote 26:\n\n This church is now that of San Justo y San Pastor which perpetuates\n the memory of the holy image by a chapel and confraternity of Our Lady\n of Montserrat, as well as by frequent pilgrimages to the mountain\n itself.\n\nFootnote 27:\n\n The Moors called Montserrat _Gis Taus_\u2014the watch-peaks or towers.\n\nFootnote 28:\n\n _History of Spanish Literature._\n\nFootnote 29:\n\n There was formerly an old sculpture in this palace of the counts of\n Barcelona, representing the prince in the arms of his nurse, and the\n hermit of Montserrat at their feet. This is now in the museum of\n antiquities in the old convent of San Juan at Barcelona.\n\n\n\n\n RALPH WALDO EMERSON.\n\n\nTall, gaunt, with clear-cut and unmistakably New England features, and\nfeet that would not admit of Cinderella slippers, is the _tout ensemble_\nwhich Emerson photographed upon our retina when we heard him lecture\nrecently. We liked his calm and self-poised manner. There was no heated\nconcern when the Sibylline leaves on which his lecture was written\nbecame inextricably mixed. Paradoxically enough, his theme was \u201cOrators\nand Oratory.\u201d His high, shrill voice, his ungainly manners, and his\nutter absence of gesture make him the most unattractive of speakers. But\nthere was a certain \u201cfury in his words\u201d which fastened the attention.\nThe next thing to being an orator is to love oratory; and his reverence\nand admiration for the eloquent in speech pass his own eloquent\nexpression.\n\nEmerson\u2019s sentences are so pointed that frequently the point is so fine\nas to be lost. His eloquence is anything but Asiatic, and, indeed, its\nterseness very much resembles affectation. He is called the American\nCarlyle, but his proper title is the American Montaigne. There is not an\nidea in Emerson that cannot be traced to the garrulous old Frenchman.\nThe first reading of Emerson is an era in a young man\u2019s life. The short,\napothegmic sentences strike him with the force of proverbs. The happy\nquotation and illustration seem inspirations of genius. The misty\ntranscendentalism has a roseate hue, in delightful contrast with the\nbald practicality of Watts\u2019 hymns and orthodox sermons. The stimulating\nstyle, resultant from exquisite taste and the manly resolve to carry out\nPope\u2019s advice about the \u201cart to blot,\u201d is high perfection when compared\nwith the weak and weary prosing of moral essayists. Yet there is nothing\noriginal in Emerson. He has contributed little or nothing to the body of\nideas. Not even his poetry, which is supposed to be productive of ideas,\npresents anything new or striking. The passion for nature-worship, which\nWordsworth carried to its highest expression, becomes tiresome and\nunnatural in Emerson\u2019s short metre and careless versification.\n\nWhat is the source of his power? Why do New England critics rave over\nhim? Even J. Russell Lowell, who, with all the limitations of a narrowed\nculture, ranks respectably as a literary critic, cannot find words in\nwhich to laud the New England philosopher. _He_ finds the secret of his\ninfluence to consist in his \u201cwide-reaching sympathy\u201d and his being able\nto understand the use of a linchpin equally with the stellar influences.\nLowell himself is under the witchery of mere words. His cultivated mind\nis drawn to the beautiful by acquired \u00e6sthetic taste. His estimate of\nDante, as published in the _New American Cyclop\u00e6dia_ and afterward in\n_Among my Books_, fills the thoughtful Italian student with amazement.\nHe is a critic of words, and is childishly led by a bright figure or\nexquisite metaphor. Emerson, whilst seeming to disregard words, pays\nprofound attention to their collocation and effectiveness. This school\nis not a school of thoughts but of words; and it is under this aspect\nthat we intend examining it. It is the thorough embodiment of poor\nHamlet\u2019s objection to the book which he is reading: \u201cWords, words,\nwords.\u201d We read and read, and are charmed with Thucydidean terseness and\nSolomonic wisdom; but when we begin to reflect \u201call the riches have\nescaped out of our hands.\u201d It is about time to expose this wily old\nphilosopher, who has been throwing rhetorical dust into the eyes of\nseveral generations. He may have a noble manhood; he may be sincere; but\nthere can be no question that it is the _ignotum pro magnifico_ which\nhas been the cheap cause of his popularity.\n\nThomas \u00e0 Kempis tells us that \u201cwords fly through the air and hurt not a\nstone.\u201d There is certainly no objection to a writer\u2019s careful\nelaboration of his style. The study of words is a part of rhetoric. But\nthere is a subtle and elusive application of words, outside of their\nobvious and generally-used meaning, which is at once a rhetorical and a\nlogical vice. And as ideas fail, so words are sedulously cultivated. The\nstyle is the man, as Buffon did _not_ say; but what of an affected\nstyle? If there is any truth in the saying, it convicts Emerson of being\nstilted, unnatural, and affected. No man thinks by jerks and starts, and\nno man writes so. The fanciful and abrupt indicate either affectation or\nan unbalanced intellect. All the great philosophers write calmly and\nequably. The sustained strength of Plato, on whom Emerson professes to\nmodel himself, is in direct contrast with the abruptness of Seneca, who\nwas a mass of conceit and hypocrisy. We have no quarrel with Mr. Emerson\non account of his studied style; only, with Sydney Smith, we object to a\ndiscourse in which are hung out preconcerted signals for tears or\nexcitement. It is quite easy to form a quaint style. The success of\nCharles Lamb\u2019s imitation of Sir Thomas Browne, or of Bret Harte\u2019s or\nThackeray\u2019s burlesques of popular novels, shows how quickly a ready\nwriter can fall into a philosophical diction. Emerson attempts the\nepigrammatic. Like Pythagoras, he disdains reasons. The _ipse dixit_, he\nsupposes, will suffice for his disciples. He contradicts himself on his\nvery self-satisfactory theory of \u201cnot being in any mood long.\u201d He\nadmires opposite characters; but, to the credit of American good sense\nbe it said\u2014good sense even in a _philosophe_\u2014he does not \u201cboil over,\u201d\nlike Carlyle, in all sorts of oddities of hero-worship. The Yankee hard\nhead which he has cannot be softened by all the philosophy and poetry in\nthe world; and, notwithstanding his ethereal views, he drives a hard\nbargain.\n\nCan we review this philosopher to the satisfaction of our readers, or\nmust they peruse him themselves in order to form a vague idea of his\nsystem?\n\nIt may be Emerson\u2019s boast that he has no system. This restlessness under\nany, even nominal, _r\u00e9gime_ is a characteristic of contemporaneous\nphilosophy outside the church. There is liberty enough in the church;\nand, in fact, beyond it we see nothing but imprisonment, for nothing so\npractically chains the intellect of man as irresponsible freedom. It is\nlike the liberty of the ocean enjoyed (?) by a mariner without sails or\ncompass. A Catholic philosopher can speculate as much as he pleases. The\nsecurity of the faith gives him a delightful sense of safe freedom. Like\nO\u2019Connell\u2019s driving a coach and four through an act of Parliament, he\nmay go to the outermost verge of speculation. St. Thomas moves the most\noutrageous fallacies, speculations, and objections, and discusses them,\ntoo, with all the boldness of intellectual freedom. It is Dr. Marshall,\nwe think, who shows that all intellectual activity and freedom are\nenjoyed within the spacious bounds of Catholic truth. Even in theology\nthere are wide differences. The Catholic intellect is supposed to be\ncompletely bridled. We once read a powerful arraignment of our\nScriptural proofs for purgatory, written by an eminent Protestant\ntheologian. He must have been surprised to learn that Catholic\ntheologians do not attach all importance to the Scriptural argument for\npurgatory. The different schools of Catholic theology argue _pro_ and\n_con_. as keenly as old Dr. Johnson himself would have desired, but\nwithout the slightest detriment to the unity of the faith. Nothing can\nbe falser than the received Protestant notion that we are helplessly\nbound by a network of petty definitions and regulations. There are,\nhowever, great and immovable principles which are understood to guide\nand vivify the Catholic intellect. And such systemization is necessary\nto all knowledge. Without it a man\u2019s mind, like Emerson\u2019s, wanders\ncomet-like, attracting attention by its vagaries, but is of no\nintelligible use to the universe, and gives no light, except of a\nnebulous and perplexing nature.\n\nNathaniel Hawthorne, who, of all American writers, had the true\ntranscendental mind, ridicules it unsparingly. His doleful experience\nupon Brook Farm, when he attempted to milk a cow, may have had a\npractical awakening effect upon his dreams. In a little sketch entitled\n_The Celestial Railroad_, in which he whimsically carries out Bunyan\u2019s\n_Pilgrim\u2019s Progress_, he introduces Giant Transcendentalism, who has\ntaken the place of Giant Pope, and Giant Despair, that interrupted\nChristian\u2019s progress to the Delectable Mountains. Giant\nTranscendentalism is a huge, amorphous monster, utterly indescribable,\nand speaking an unintelligible language. This language, which Emerson\nstrives to make articulate, we read with mingled amusement and\nastonishment in the German writers. Emerson is not a member of the\n_Kulturkampf_, like Carlyle. His mind does not take in their wild\nrhapsodies. His essay on Goethe (in _Representative Men_) is cold and\nunappreciative when compared with the Scotchman\u2019s eulogies. We firmly\nbelieve that no healthy intellect can feed upon Fichte, Schelling,\nHegel, or even Kant, who was the most luminous intellect of the group.\nEmerson has not the stolid pertinacity of Herr Teufelsdr\u00f6ckh. His genius\nis French. He delights in paradox and verbal gymnastics. Carlyle works\nwith a sort of furious patience at such a prosaic career as Frederick\nthe Great\u2019s. He gets up a factitious enthusiasm about German _Herzhogs_\nand _Erstfursts_. Emerson would look with dainty disdain upon his\nCyclopean work among big, dusty, musty folios and the hammering out of\nshining sentences from such pig-iron.\n\nWhence his transcendentalism? We believe that it has two elements,\nnature-worship and Swedenborgianism. Of nature-worship we have very\nlittle. Like Thomson, the author of the _Seasons_, who wrote the finest\ndescriptions of scenery in bed at ten o\u2019clock in the morning, we are\nfrightfully indifferent to the glories of earth, sea, and sky, whilst\ntheoretically capable of intense rapture. This tendency to adore nature,\nand this intense modern cultivation of the natural sciences, we take as\nindicative of the husks of religion given by Protestantism. Man\u2019s\nintellect seeks the certain, and where he cannot find it in the\nsupernatural he will have recourse to the natural. The profound\nattention paid to all the mechanical and natural sciences, to the\nexclusion, if not denial, of supernatural religion, is the logical\nresult of the absurdity of Protestantism. Perhaps Emerson\u2019s poetic\nfeeling has much to do with his profound veneration for fate, nature,\nand necessity, which are his true god, with a very little\nSwedenborgianism to modify them.\n\nAnd here we meet him on his philosophy of words. A word, according to\nSt. Thomas, should be the _ad\u00e6quatio rei et intellectus_, for a word is\nreally the symbol and articulation of truth. Where words convey no clear\nor precise idea to the mind they are virtually false. The terminology of\nEmerson falls even below Carlyle\u2019s in obscurity. What does he mean by\nthe one-soul? What by compensation? What by fate and necessity? _Explica\nterminos_ is the command of logic and reason; yet he maunders on in\nvague and extravagant speech, using terms which it is very probable he\nhimself only partly or arbitrarily understands. He is not master of his\nown style. His own words hurry him along. This fatal bondage to style\nspoils his best thoughts. He seems to aim at striking phrases and ends\nin paradox. His very attempt to strengthen and compress his sentences\nweakens and obscures his meaning. The oracular style does not carry\nwell. He is happiest where he does not don the prophetic or poetical\nmantle. When we get a glimpse of his shrewd character, he is as gay as a\nlark and sharp as a fox. He muffles himself in transcendentalism, but\nfails to hide his clear sense, which he cannot entirely bury or\nobfuscate. It seems strange to us that such a mind could be permanently\ninfluenced by the fantasies of Swedenborg, whom he calls a mystic, but\nwho, very probably, was a madman. The pure mysticism of the Catholic\nChurch is not devoid of what to those who have not the light to read it\nmay seem to wear a certain air of extravagance, which, apparently, would\nbe no objection to Emerson; but it is kept within strict rational bounds\nby the doctrinal authority of the church. We do not suppose that Emerson\never thought it worth his while to study the mystic or ascetic theology\nof the church, though here and there in his writings he refers to the\nexample of saints, and quotes their sayings and doings. But it must be a\nstrange mental state that passively admits the wild speculations of\nSwedenborgianism with its gross ideas of heaven and its fanciful\ninterpretations of Scripture. Besides, Emerson clearly rejects the\ndivinity of Jesus Christ, which is extravagantly (if we may use the\nexpression) set forth in Swedenborgianism, to the exclusion of the\nFather and the Holy Ghost. He is, or was, a Unitarian, and his allusions\nto our Blessed Lord have not even the reverence of Carlyle.\n\nNaturalism, as used in the sense of the Vatican decrees, is the proper\nword to apply to the Emersonian teaching. He has the Yankee\nboastfulness, materialistic spirit, and general laudation of the natural\npowers. His transcendentalism has few of the spiritual elements of\nGerman thought. He does not believe in contemplation, but stimulates to\nactivity. In his earlier essays he seemed pantheistic, but his last book\n(_Society and Solitude_) affirmed his doubt and implicit denial of\nimmortality. He appears to be a powerful personality, for he has\ncertainly influenced many of the finer minds of New England, and, no\ndoubt, he leads a noble and intellectual life. His exquisite \u00e6stheticism\ntakes away the grossness of the results to which his naturalistic\nphilosophy leads, and it is with regret that we note in him that\nintellectual pride which effectually shuts his mind even to the gentlest\nadmonitions and enlightenments of divine grace.\n\nIt is a compliment to our rather sparse American authorship and\nscholarship that England regards him as the typical American thinker and\nwriter. We do not so regard him ourselves, for his genius lacks the\nsturdy American originality and reverent spirit. But Emerson made a very\nfavorable impression upon Englishmen when he visited their island, and\nhe wrote the best book on England (_English Traits_) that, perhaps, any\nAmerican ever produced. The quiet dignity and native independence of the\nbook charmed John Bull, who was tired of our snobbish eulogiums of\nhimself and institutions. Emerson met many literary men, who afterward\nread his books and praised his style. He has the air of boldness and the\ncourage of his opinions. Now and then he invents a striking phrase which\nsets one a-thinking. He has also in perfection the art of quoting, and\nhis whole composition betokens the artist and scholar.\n\nThere is a high, supersensual region, imagination, fantasy, or\nsoul-life, in which he loves to disport, and to which he gives the\nstrangest names. One grows a little ashamed of what he deems his own\nunimaginativeness when he encounters our philosopher \u201cbestriding these\nlazy-pacing clouds.\u201d He wonders at the \u201cimmensities, eternities, and\nfates\u201d that seem to exert such wondrous powers. When Emerson gets into\nthis strain he quickly disappears either in the clouds or in a burrow,\naccording to the taste and judgment of different readers. There is often\na fine feeling in these passages which we can understand yet not\nexpress. Sublime they are not, though obscurity may be considered one of\nthe elements of sublimity. They are emotional. Emerson belongs rather to\nthe sensualistic school; at least, he ascribes abounding power to the\nfeelings, and, in fact, he is too heated and enthusiastic for the\ncoldness and calmness exacted by philosophical speculation. Many of his\nessays read like violent sermons; and his worst ones are those in which\nhe attempts to carry out a ratiocination. He is dictatorial. He\nannounces but does not prove. He appears at times to be in a Pythonic\nfury, and proclaims his oracles with much excitement and contortion. It\nis impossible to analyze an essay, or hold on to the filmy threads by\nwhich his thoughts hang together. It is absurd to call him a philosopher\nwho has neither system, clearness of statement, nor accuracy of thought.\n\nIt is a subject of gratulation that Emerson, who has been before New\nEngland for the past half-century, has wielded a generally beneficial\ninfluence. With his powers and opportunities he might have done\nincalculable harm; but the weight of his authority has been thrown upon\nthe side of general morality and natural development of strength of\ncharacter. We know, of course, how little merely natural motives and\npowers avail toward the building up of character; but it is not against\nfaith to hold that a good disposition and virtuous frame of mind may\nresult from purely natural causes. He has preached the purest gospel of\nnaturalism, shrinking at once from the bold and impious counsellings of\nGoethe and from the muscularity of Carlyle. He has given us, in himself,\nglimpses of a noble character, and his ideals have been lofty and pure.\nNew England could not have had a better apostle, humanly and naturally\nspeaking. Its cultivated and rational minds turned in horror and disgust\nfrom its rigid Calvinism, its _outr\u00e9_ religious frenzies, and its sordid\nand prosaic life. They found a voice and interpreter in Emerson. He\nmarks the recoil from unscriptural, irrational, and unnatural religion.\n\nPuritanism, always unlovely, despotic, and gloomy, began to lose its\nhold even upon the second generation of the Puritans. Its life will\nnever be thoroughly revealed to the sunshiny Catholic mind. Perhaps its\nablest exponent was Nathaniel Hawthorne, who, in the _Scarlet Letter_,\nrevealed its possibilities and, in fact, actualities of hideousness. We\nhave no fault to find with any elements of stern self-control or ascetic\ncharacter that it might develop, but its effect on the intellect was\ndarkening and crippling. The whole Puritan exodus from England was a\nsuppressed and blinding excitement. The rebound from their harsh and\nunbending discipline was terrific. The frowning-down of all amusement,\nthe irritating espionage over private life, the high-strung religious\nenthusiasm which it was necessary to simulate if not feel, the abnormal\ndevelopment of ministerial power and influence, and the baleful gloom of\nCalvinistic doctrine, were elements that had necessarily to be\ndestroyed, or they would madden a nation. They could no more endure, if\nit were possible to extirpate them, than could a colony of rabid dogs.\nHuman nature, as created by God, tends to preserve the primal type. It\nasserts its functions, its rights, its powers, and its aptitudes. After\na century, in which religious intolerance ruled New England with a rod\nof iron, the long-pent-up storm burst with indescribable fury and\nscattered orthodoxy to the four winds. The people breathed more freely;\nthe atmosphere cleared; there was a healthy interchange of sentiment.\nThe predominance of public-school education, combining with the\nmultiplication of books, developed that crude and half-formed culture\nwhich has characterized New England to the present day. The\nbest-educated portion of the Union, filled with all the insolence of a\nlittle learning, aspired to rule the nation, and succeeded. Its ideas\nwere zealously propagated. Wherever a Yankee settled he planted all New\nEngland around him. The peddler did not need religion, but the\nphilosopher did. The culture of \u00e6sthetics engaged some; others went off\ninto Socinianism. The doctrines of Fourierism had charms for many, among\nwhom was Emerson. He longed for an ideal life. The country was not\nleavened then, as now, by the solid thought and practice of Catholicity.\nThe mystic radiance and grace of the Adorable Sacrament did not sweetly\npervade the whole atmosphere of the land. Satan was busy and jubilant.\nThe strangest and most eccentric forms of religion sprang up like rank\nmushroom growths, with neither beauty nor wholesome nutriment. It was\nthen that Emerson\u2019s call to a high manhood seemed to have the right ring\nin it. At least, it attracted and fixed the wandering attention of New\nEngland. For many a winter he lectured, speaking great words, the heroic\nwisdom of old Plutarch and the practical sense and insight of Montaigne.\nHis fine scholarship won the scholars and his homely maxims charmed the\nfarmers. It was well that in that dreary, chaotic period there was a\nbrave and bold speaker who did not entirely despair of humanity, even\nwhen he and his companions had broken adrift from their anchorage in the\nrotten and worn-out systems of Protestant theology.\n\nThe grace of the faith has thus far escaped the Concord philosopher, but\nwho shall speak of the ways of God? The theologian will solve you\nquickly all questions in his noble science, except questions upon the\ntract of grace. There he hesitates, for the most intimate and personal\ncommunications of God with the soul take place in the mystery of grace.\nEvery man has his own _tractatus de gratia_ written upon his own heart\nin the all-beautiful handwriting of God, sealing us, as St. Paul says,\nand writing upon us the mark that distinguishes us as his beloved. It is\nthe miserable consequence of the New England system of early education,\nwhich inheres in a man\u2019s very spirit, that it perversely misrepresents\nthe Catholic Church. It is simply astounding how little Americans know\nabout our divine faith. They have never deemed it worth their while to\nexamine it, taking it for granted that all that is said against it is\ntrue. We remember, as a boy, reading Peter Parley\u2019s histories, which\nwere very popular in New England, and not a page was free from some\nmisrepresentation of the church. Emerson classes \u201cRomanism\u201d with a\nhalf-dozen absurd theories; which goes to show that he has not even\nreached that point of culture which, according to its advocates,\nunderstands and embraces all the great creeds of humanity, in their best\nand most universal truth.\n\nMr. Emerson is now in the sere and yellow leaf, and it is to be feared\nthat his intellectual pride, and that nauseating flattery which\nweak-minded people assiduously pay to men of great intellectual\nattainments, have left in him a habit of vanity which is fatal to truth.\nWe have known very able men who were prevented from seeing the truth of\nCatholicity by the dense clouds of incense that their admirers\ncontinually wafted before their shrines. The fulness of divine faith\nwhich he lacks, and for which he seems mournfully to cry out, is in the\nhappy possession of the humblest child of the Catholic religion; not, as\nhe would think, merely instinctive or the result of education, but\nliving and logical, the gift and grace of the Holy Ghost. Emerson is no\ntheologian, though once a Protestant minister, which fact, however,\nwould not argue much for his theology. But he has a heroic and poetic\nmind whose native strength manifests itself even in the very eccentric\norbit through which it passes.\n\n\n\n\n PAPAL ELECTIONS.\n III.\n\n\nIn view of the sad affliction which has so recently befallen the church\nin the demise of Pope Pius IX.\u2014now of happy memory\u2014we shall preface this\narticle on papal elections with a brief account of the ceremonies that\nfollow upon the death of a Sovereign Pontiff.\n\nAs soon as the pope has breathed his last amidst the consolations of\nreligion, and after making his profession of faith in presence of the\ncardinal grand-penitentiary\u2014who usually administers the last\nsacraments\u2014and of the more intimate members of his court, the\ncardinal-chamberlain of the Holy Roman Church, accompanied and assisted\nby the right reverend clerks of the apostolic chamber, takes possession\nof the palace and causes a careful inventory to be made of everything\nthat is found in the papal apartments.[30] He then proceeds to the\nchamber of death, in which the pope still lies, and, viewing the body,\nassures himself, and instructs a notary to certify to the fact, that he\nis really dead. He also receives from the grand chamberlain of the\ncourt\u2014_Monsignor Maestro di Camera_\u2014a purse containing the Fisherman\u2019s\nring which His Holiness had used in life. The cardinal, who, by virtue\nof his office of chamberlain of the Holy Roman Church, has become the\nexecutive of the government, sends an order to the senator of Rome, who\nis always a layman and member of one of the great patrician families, to\nhave the large bell of the Capitol tower tolled, at which lugubrious\nsignal the bells of all the churches throughout the city are sounded.\nTwenty-four hours after death the body of the pope is embalmed, and lies\nin state, dressed in the ordinary or domestic costume, upon a bed\ncovered with cloth of crimson and gold, the pious offices of washing and\ndressing the body being performed by the penitentiaries or confessors of\nthe Vatican basilica, who are always Minor Conventuals of the Franciscan\nOrder. It is next removed to the Sistine Chapel, where it is laid out,\nclothed in the pontifical vestments, on a couch surrounded with burning\ntapers and watched by a detachment of the Swiss Guard. On the following\nday the cardinals and chapter of St. Peter assemble in the Sistine and\naccompany the transport of the body to the chapel of the Blessed\nSacrament in the Vatican basilica, where it remains exposed for three\ndays, the feet protruding a little through an opening in the iron\nrailing which closes the chapel, that the faithful may approach\nand kiss the embroidered slipper. The nine days of funeral\nservices\u2014_Novendialia_\u2014which the Roman ceremonial prescribes for the\npope now begin. These are his public obsequies. For the first six days\nthe cardinals and prelates of the court and Holy See assemble daily in\nthe choir chapel of the canons of St. Peter, where, the Office for the\nDead being chanted, a cardinal says Mass; but during the remaining three\ndays the services are performed around an elevated and magnificent\ncatafalque which in the meanwhile has been silently erected in the great\nnave of the basilica. This structure is a perfect work of art in its\nway, every part of it being carefully designed with relation to its\nsolemn purpose, and in harmony of form and proportions with the vast\nedifice in which it is reared. It is illustrated by Latin inscriptions\nand by paintings of the most remarkable scenes of the late pontificate,\nand adorned with allegorical statues. A detachment of the Noble Guard\nstands there motionless as though carved in stone. Over the whole is\nsuspended a life-size portrait of the pope. A thousand candles of yellow\nwax and twenty enormous torches in golden candelabra burn day and night\naround it. On each of these three days five cardinals in turn give the\ngrand absolutions, and on the ninth day a funeral oration is pronounced\nby some one\u2014often a bishop, or always at least a prelate of distinction\nwhom the Sacred College has chosen for the occasion. In former days the\ncardinal nephew or relative of the deceased had the privilege, often of\ngreat importance for the future reputation of the pontiff and the\npresent splendor of his family, raised to princely rank, of selecting\nthe envied orator. Ere this, however, the final dispositions of the\npope\u2019s body have been made. On the evening of the third day, the public\nhaving been excluded from the basilica, the cardinal-chamberlain,\ncardinals created by the late pope, clerks of the chamber and chapter of\nSt. Peter, headed by monsignor the vicar\u2014who is always an archbishop _in\npartibus_\u2014vested in pontificals, assemble in the chapel of the Blessed\nSacrament, in which the pope still lies in state. The body is then\nreverently enfolded in the gold and crimson cover of the couch, and\ntaken up to be laid in a cypress-wood coffin, into which are also put\nthree red purses containing medals of gold, silver, and bronze, as many\nof each sort as there were years of the pontificate, bearing the pope\u2019s\neffigy on one side, and a design commemorative of some act of his\ntemporal or spiritual government on the other. If there should be a\nrelative of the late pope among the cardinals, he covers the face with a\nwhite linen veil, otherwise this last office of respect is performed by\nthe major-domo. When the coffin has been closed it is placed inside of a\nleaden case, which is immediately soldered and sealed, while the metal\nis hot, with the arms of the cardinal-chamberlain and major-domo. A\nbrief inscription is cut at once on the face of this metal case, giving\nsimply the name, years of his reign, and date of death. The coffin and\ncase are now enclosed in a plain wooden box, which is covered with a red\npall ornamented with golden fringes and an embroidered cross, and\ncarried in sad procession to the uniform temporary resting-place which\nevery pope occupies in turn in St. Peter\u2019s, in a simple sarcophagus of\nmarbled stucco which is set into the wall at some distance above and\nslightly overhanging the floor of the church, on the left-hand side of\nthe entrance to the choir chapel. A painter is at hand to trace the name\nof the pope and the Latin initials of the words High Pontiff\u2014_Pius IX.,\nP.M._ Before the pope\u2019s body is taken up from the chapel of the Blessed\nSacrament, some workmen, under the direction of the prelates and\nofficers of the congregation for the supervision of St.\nPeter\u2019s\u2014_Reverenda Fabrica di San Pietro_\u2014have broken in the sarcophagus\nat the top and removed its contents (which in this case were those of\nGregory XVI., who had been there since 1846) to the crypt under the\nbasilica until consigned to the tomb prepared, but not always in St.\nPeter\u2019s, either by the pope himself before his death[31] or by his\nfamily or by the cardinals of his creation, and the new claimant for\nrepose takes his place there.\n\nDuring the nine days that the obsequies of the pope continue the\ncardinals assemble every morning in the sacristy of St. Peter\u2019s to\narrange all matters of government for the States of the Church and the\ndetails of the approaching conclave. These meetings are called general\ncongregations. At them the bulls and ordinances relating to papal\nelections are read, and the cardinals swear to observe them; the\nFisherman\u2019s ring and the large metal seal used for bulls are broken by\nthe first master of ceremonies; two orators are chosen, one for the\nfuneral oration and the other for the conclave; all briefs and memorials\nnot finally acted upon are consigned to a clerk of the chamber, etc.,\netc. On the tenth day the cardinals assemble in the forenoon in the\nchoir chapel of St. Peter\u2019s, where the dean of the Sacred College\npontificates at a votive Mass of the Holy Ghost, after which the orator\nof the conclave\u2014who, if a bishop, wears amice, cope, and mitre\u2014is\nintroduced into the chapel, and, after making the proper reverences,\nascends a decorated pulpit and holds forth on the subject of electing an\nexcellent pontiff: the pope is dead; long live the pope; the Papacy\nnever dies![32]\n\nAfter the sermon and the singing by the papal choir of the first strophe\nof the hymn _Veni Creator_, the cardinals ascend in procession to the\nPauline Chapel in the Vatican palace, where the dean recites aloud\nbefore the altar the prayer _Deus qui corda fidelium_, and afterwards\naddresses his brethren on the great business which they are about to\nengage in, exhorting them to lay aside all human motives and perform\ntheir duty without fear or favor of any man. All the persons who are to\nremain in conclave, as the prelates, custodians, conclavists or\nattendants on the cardinals, physicians, barbers, servants, are passed\nin review, and take an oath not to speak even among themselves of\nmatters concerning the election. Every avenue leading into the conclave,\nexcept the eight loop-holes or windows, as mentioned in a former\narticle, are carefully closed by masons; one door, however, is left\nstanding to admit any late-coming cardinal, or let out any one expelled\nfrom, or for whatever cause obliged to leave, the conclave. It is locked\non the outside by the prince-marshal, and on the inside by the\ncardinal-chamberlain, both of whom retain the key of their own side. The\nlock is so combined that it requires both keys to open the door. On the\nfollowing day the cardinal-dean says a votive Mass _de Spiritu Sancto_,\nat which all the cardinals in stoles receive Holy Communion from his\nhands.... _Fervet opus_....\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs soon as the cardinal upon whom the requisite two-thirds of all the\nvotes cast have centred consents to his election, he becomes pope. This\nconsent is absolutely necessary, and, although the Sacred College\nthreatened Innocent II. (Papareschi, 1130-1143) with excommunication if\nhe did not accept,[33] it is now admitted that no one can be constrained\nto take upon himself such a burden as the Sovereign Pontificate.\n\nThirty-eight popes, from St. Cornelius, in 254, to Benedict XIII., in\n1724, are recorded in history as having positively refused to accept the\nelection, although they were afterwards induced by various motives,\nhowever much against their own inclinations, to ratify it. As soon as he\nhas answered in the affirmative to the question of the cardinal-dean,\nproposed in the following very ancient formula: _Acceptasne electionem\nde te canonic\u00e8 factam in Summum Pontificem?_ the first master of\nceremonies, turning to certain persons around him, calls upon them in an\naudible voice to bear witness to the fact.[34] The new pope then retires\nand is dressed in the ordinary or domestic costume of the Holy Father,\nthree suits of which, of different sizes, are ready made, and disposed\nin the dressing-room for the elect to choose from. It consists of white\nstockings, cassock and sash with gold tassels, white collar and\nskull-cap, red mozzetta, stole, and shoes. He then takes his seat on a\nthrone and receives the first homage\u2014_adoratio prima_\u2014of the cardinals,\nwho, kneeling before him, kiss his foot and afterwards his hand, and,\nstanding, receive from him the kiss of peace on the cheek. We see, from\nthe ceremonial composed in the thirteenth century by Cardinal Savelli,\nthat the present custom is not very different from the medi\u00e6val one;\nfor, speaking of the pope\u2019s election, he says: _Quo facto ab episcopis\ncardinalibus ad sedem ducitur post altare, et in ea, ut dignum est,\ncollocatur; in qua dum sedet electus recipit omnes episcopos cardinales,\net quos sibi placuerit ad pedes, postmodum ad osculum pacis._ The custom\nof kissing the pope\u2019s foot is so ancient that no certain date can be\nassigned for its introduction. It very probably began in the time of St.\nPeter himself, to whom the faithful gave this mark of profound\nreverence, which they have continued towards all his successors\u2014always,\nhowever, having been instructed to do so with an eye to God, of whom the\npope is vicar. In which connection most beautiful was the answer of Leo\nX. to Francis I. of France, who, as Rinaldi relates (_Annal. Eccles._,\nan. 1487, num. 30), having gone to Bologna, humbly knelt before him and\nkissed his foot, _se l\u00e6tissimum dicens, quod videret facie ad faciem\nPontificem Vicarium Christi Jesu_. \u201cThanks,\u201d said Leo, \u201cbut refer all\nthis to God himself\u201d\u2014_Omnia h\u00e6c in Deum transferens, et omnia Deo\ntribuens_. To make this _relative_ worship more apparent a cross has\nalways been embroidered on the shoes since the pontificate of that most\nhumble pope, St. Gregory the Great, in the year 590. It is curious to\nread of the objection made to this custom by Basil, Tzar of Muscovy, to\nFather Anthony Possevinus, S.J., who was sent to Russia on a religious\nand diplomatic mission by Gregory XIII. in the sixteenth century. His\neloquent defence of the custom, appealing, too, to prophecy,[35] is\nfound in the printed account of his embassy (_Moscovia_, Cologne, 1587,\nin fol.)\n\nWhen the pope is dressed in the pontifical costume he receives on his\nfinger a new Fisherman\u2019s ring, which he immediately removes and hands to\none of the masters of ceremonies to have engraved upon it the name which\nhe has assumed. The popes have three special rings for their use. The\nfirst is generally a rather plain gold one with an intaglio or a cameo\nornament; this is called the papal ring. The second one, called the\npontifical ring, because used only when the pope pontificates or\nofficiates at grand ceremonies, is an exceedingly precious one. The one\nworn on these occasions by Pius IX., and which his successor will\ndoubtless also use, was made during the reign of Pius VII., whose name\nis cut on the inside. It is of the purest gold, of remarkably fine\nworkmanship, set with a very large oblong diamond. It cost thirty\nthousand francs (about $6,000), and has a contrivance on the inside by\nwhich it can be made larger or smaller to fit the wearer\u2019s finger.\n(Barraud, _Des Bagues \u00e0 toutes les \u00c9poques_. Paris, 1864.) The\nFisherman\u2019s ring, which is so called because it has a figure of St.\nPeter in a bark throwing his net into the sea (Matthew iv. 18, 19), is a\nplain gold ring with an oval face, bearing the name of the reigning pope\nengraved around and above the figure of the apostle, thus: _Leo XIII.,\nPont. Max_. On the inside are cut the names of the engraver and of the\nmajor-domo. The ring weighs an ounce and a half. It is the official seal\nof the popes, but, although the first among the rings, it is only the\nsecond in the class of seals, since it serves as the privy seal or papal\nsignet for apostolic briefs and matters of lesser consequence, whereas\nthe great seal of the Holy See is used to stamp the heads of SS. Peter\nand Paul in lead, and sometimes, but rarely, in gold, on papal bulls.\nThis ring was at first a private and not an official one, as we learn\nfrom a letter written at Perugia on March 7, 1265, by Clement IV. to his\nnephew Peter Le Gros, in which he says that he writes to him and to his\nother relatives, not _sub bulla, sed sub piscatoris sigillo, quo Romani\nPontifices in suis secretis utuntur_. From this it would appear that\nsuch a ring was already in well-known use, but it cannot be determined\nat what period it was introduced, or precisely when it became official,\nalthough it is certain that it was given this character in the fifteenth\ncentury; but another hundred years passed before it became customary to\nmention its use in every document on which the seal was impressed by the\nnow familiar expression, \u201cGiven under the Fisherman\u2019s ring,\u201d which is\nfirst met with in the manner of a curial formula in a brief given by\nNicholas V. on the 15th of April, 1448: _Datum Rom\u00e6, apud Sanctum\nPetrum, sub annulo Piscatoris, die xv. Aprilis, MCCCCXLVIII.,\npontificatus nostri II._[36]\n\nBriefs are no more sealed with the _original_ ring, which is always in\nthe keeping of the pope\u2019s grand chamberlain, who, as we have said,\ndelivers it to the cardinal-camerlengo on the pope\u2019s decease, to be\nbroken in the first general congregation preliminary to the conclave,\naccording to a custom dating from the death of Leo X. A fac-simile is\npreserved in the _Secretaria de\u2019 Brevi_ which serves in its stead; but\nsince June, 1842, red sealing-wax, because too brittle and effaceable,\nis no longer used, but in its place a thick red ink or pigment is\nemployed. _Briefs_ are pontifical writs or diplomas written on thin,\nsoft parchment and more _abbreviated_ than bulls, and treating of\nmatters of less importance, requiring, therefore, briefer\nconsideration[37]\u2014whence, perhaps, they derive their distinctive name,\nalthough it has been suggested that the word comes from the German\n_Brief_, a letter, and was introduced into Rome from the imperial court\nduring the middle ages. They are signed by the cardinal secretary of\nbriefs, and differ from bulls in their manner of dating and their forms\nof beginning and ending. Their heading always contains the name of the\nreigning pope and the venerable formula, _Salutem et apostolicam\nbenedictionem_, which was first used by Pope John V. in the year 685.\nWhen the pope sends a brief to a person who is not baptized he\nsubstitutes for this form the other one, _Lumen divin\u00e6 grati\u00e6_. Both\nbriefs and bulls are always dated from the basilica nearest to which the\npope resides at the time; thus, we understand why the brief erecting the\ndiocese of Baltimore was dated (6th of November, 1789) from St. Mary\nMajor\u2019s, although Pius VI. was then living at the Quirinal palace.\nAnother of the very ancient and venerable forms used by the popes is\n_Servus servorum Dei_\u2014Servant of the servants of God. It is a title\nfirst assumed by St. Gregory the Great in the sixth century as a hint to\nthe arrogant patriarch of Constantinople, John the Faster, who had taken\nthe designation of _universal bishop_, which belongs only to the Roman\nPontiff: \u201cWhoever will be first among you shall be servant of all\u201d (Mark\nx. 44).\n\nAs soon as the cardinal who has been elected gives his assent to the\nelection, the cardinal-dean asks him what name he would wish to take.\nThis custom of assuming a new name is very old, and has been much\ndisputed about by writers on papal matters. The great Baronius has\nexpressed the opinion in his _Ecclesiastical Annals_ that John XII., who\nwas previously called Octavian, was the first to make the change, which\nhe did probably out of regard for his uncle, who was Pope John XI.\nCardinal Borgia has observed in this connection, as showing that the\nchange of name was yet a singularity, that the pope used to sign himself\n_Octavian_ in matters relating to his temporal, and _John_ in those\nrelating to his spiritual, government. Martinus Polonus started a fable\nthat Sergius II., elected in 844, was the one who first changed his\nname, because known by the inelegant appellation of Pigsnout\u2014_Bocca di\nPorco_; but the truth is, as Muratori says in one of his dissertations\non Italian antiquities (_Antiquitatum Italic._, tom. iii. dissert. xli.\np. 764), that Sergius IV. (1009-1012), and not Sergius II., had this\nonly for a surname or sobriquet, as was commonly given in that age at\nRome, but was baptized Peter. He changed his name, indeed, according to\nthe custom then becoming established as a rule, but, as Baronius\nobserves, not _ob turpitudinem nominis (Os porci), sed reverenti\u00e6 causa:\ncum enim ille_ PETRUS _vocaretur, indignum putavit eodem se vocari\nnomine, quo Christus primum ejus sedis Pontificem, Principem\nApostolorum, ex Simone Petrum nominaverat_. It has long been usual for\nthe new pope to take the name of the pope who made him cardinal. There\nhave been, however, several exceptions even in these later times. In\nsome special cases, as in the signature to the originals of bulls, the\npope retains his original Christian name, but, like all sovereigns, he\nomits his family name in every case. There have also been exceptions to\nthis change, and both Adrian VI. and Marcellus II. kept their own\nnames\u2014the only two, however, who have done so in over eight hundred\nyears.\n\nThe word pope\u2014in Latin _Papa_, and by initials _PP._\u2014was once common to\nall bishops, and even to simple priests and clerics; but when certain\nschismatics of the eleventh century began to use it in a sense opposed\nto the supreme fatherhood of the Roman Pontiffs over all the faithful,\nclergy as well as people, it was reserved as a title of honor to the\nbishops of Rome exclusively. Cardinal Baronius says, in a note to the\nRoman Martyrology, that St. Gregory VII. held a synod in Rome against\nthe schismatics in the year 1073, in which it was decreed \u201c_inter alia\nplura, ut _PAP\u00c6_ Nomen unicum esset in universo orbe Christiano, nec\nliceret alicui seipsum, vel alium eo nomine appellare_.\u201d[38] Another\nsingularity about one of the pope\u2019s titles deserves to be noted. The\nword _Dominus_ in Latin\u2014lord\u2014was originally used only of Almighty God,\nand a contracted form\u2014_Domnus_\u2014was employed in speaking of saints,\nbishops, and persons of consideration; but in course of time, although a\nvestige of the once universal custom still lingers in the _Jube Domne\nbenedicere_ of the Office recited in choir, the term _Domnus_ came to be\nspecially reserved to the Roman Pontiff, for whom we pray in the litany\nas _Domnum Apostolicum_. Cancellieri, who, as usual, has sought out an\nabstruse subject, gives everything that can be said upon the matter in\nhis _Lettera sopra l\u2019Origine Delle Parole Dominus e Domnus e Del Titolo\nDon che Suol Darsi ai Sacerdoti ai Monaci ed a Molti Regolari_. In Roma,\nMDCCCVIII.\n\nFootnote 30:\n\n The apostolic chamber, called in Rome the _Reverenda Camera\n Apostolica_, dates from the pontificate of Leo the Great, who\n constructed in the year 440 a small but elegant suite of chambers\n which served as a sanctuary for the bodies of the apostles SS. Peter\n and Paul until proper crypts, called _Confessions_, had been prepared\n for them beneath the high altars of their respective basilicas at the\n Vatican and on the Ostian Way. When these relics had been deposited in\n their present resting-places, the Leonine sanctuary was used, as a\n strong and venerable place, to contain the public treasury of the Holy\n See, which was given into the safe-keeping of certain officials called\n _camerarii_. Their successors are the present _chierici di camera_,\n who are eight in number and form one of the great prelatic colleges of\n Rome. The present institution was reorganized by Pope Urban V. in the\n fourteenth century. The cardinal-chamberlain is _ex officio_ its head,\n and it acts as a board of control over the finances.\n\nFootnote 31:\n\n It is known to all visitors to Rome that Pius IX. prepared a beautiful\n tomb for himself before the high altar of St. Mary Major\u2019s.\n\nFootnote 32:\n\n Roman bibliophilists anxious to possess\u2014what is rare indeed\u2014a complete\n set (_una biblioteca_, as the Italians say) of the funeral orations\n pronounced over the popes, and of the hortatory discourses addressed\n to the Sacred College about to enter conclave, eagerly contend at\n book-sales for these pamphlets, which are always in the choicest Latin\n of the age, and sometimes have a sentimental value on account of the\n subsequent fortunes, or misfortunes, of their authors. They are much\n more than mere literary curiosities for book-worms to feed upon. The\n form of the title-page, excepting of course in proper names and dates,\n is about the same in all; for instance, _Oratio habita ad Collegium\n Cardinalium in funere Innocentii IX., Pont. Max., vi. Id. Januarii,\n 1592_: Rom\u00e6, 1592, in 4to: by Father Giustiniani, a famous Jesuit; and\n _Oratio habita in Basilica SS. Apostolorum Petri et Pauli pridie\n Kalend. Aprilis, 1721, ad Emos. et Rmos. cardinales conclave\n ingressuros pro Summo Pontifice eligendo_: Rom\u00e6, ex Typographia\n Vaticana, 1721, in 4to: by Camillo de Mari, Bishop of Aria.\n\nFootnote 33:\n\n Arnulfus of Seez apud Muratori, _Rerum Italicarum Scriptores_, tom.\n iii. p. 429, says that on this occasion the cardinals told the elect\n of their choice: _Si acquiescis, exhibemus obsequium; si recusas,\n exigimus de inobedientia p\u0153nam_; and on his still hesitating _parabant\n excommunicationis pr\u00e6ferre sententiam_.\n\nFootnote 34:\n\n This notarial function which the first master of ceremonies here\n performs is the reason why he is always an apostolic prothonotary; but\n his title to this prelatic rank rests entirely on _custom_, since he\n is not appointed by papal brief, as others are. It is by a similar\n analogy, although in matters theological, that the master of the\n Sacred Palace, who is always a Dominican, ranks with the auditors of\n the _Rota_.\n\nFootnote 35:\n\n \u201cKings shall be thy nursing fathers, and queens thy nurses: they shall\n worship thee with their face toward the earth, and they shall lick up\n the dust of thy feet.\u201d\u2014Isaias xlix. 23, which St. Jerome interprets of\n the apostles; but in Peter\u2019s successors all honors and prerogatives\n continue. A very learned writer of the last century, Gaetano Cenni,\n has gone profoundly into the historical and antiquarian part of this\n singular and most venerable custom, in his dissertation _Sul Bacio De\u2019\n Piedi Del Romano Pontefice_, which is the thirty-fourth of the third\n volume of Zaccaria\u2019s great collection of dissertations on subjects of\n ecclesiastical history\u2014_Raccolta Di Dissertazioni Di Storia\n Ecclesiastica_.... Per cura Di Francesco Antonio Zaccaria, etc.\n Seconda edizione. Four vols. Rome, 1841.\n\nFootnote 36:\n\n The celebrated antiquarian Cancellieri has written with his usual\n diffuseness and erudition on this matter in a little work, _Notizie\n sopra l\u2019Origine e l\u2019uso dell\u2019 Anello Pescatorio_, etc., etc.,\n published at Rome in 1823.\n\nFootnote 37:\n\n Briefs, says the learned Benedictine Mabillon, _De Re Diplomatic\u00e2_\n (lib. ii. cap. xiv.), _brevi via, seu manu, remotis omnibus ambagibus,\n absolvuntur; quippe qu\u00e6 a Pontifice, ut plurimum sponte et absque rei\n longa discussione conficiuntur_.\n\nFootnote 38:\n\n We had the good fortune once to pick up at a book-sale in Rome for a\n few cents a rare and curious little book on this topic, which gives\n the very marrow of the subject in a very agreeable form: _Lettera di\n A. L. Nuzzi, Prelato Domestico Del Sommo Pontefice Sull\u2019 Origine ed\n Uso Del Nome PAPA_. Padova, 1 Settembre, MDCCXCVIII.\n\n\n\n\n PALM SUNDAY.\n\n\n Claiming the hill-crowned city as its own,\n The gray cathedral rears its rough-hewn front\n Like ancient fortress built to bear the brunt\n Of leaguering ram on e\u2019er unyielding stone;\n Signing with holy cross the land it claims,\n Its walls protecting seek the infinite blue\n Grown, softly falling painted window through,\n High heaven brought down to shape life\u2019s noblest aims.\n\n In this strong fortress, safe from those salt waves\n Of doubt that curve and break and evermore repeat\n The weary lesson of life incomplete,\n Moaning and groping in unsunny caves,\n Beating against a rock that will not break,\n Flinging their bitter anger far on high,\n Seeking to chill the tender flowers that lie\n Close nestled to the rock for its warmth\u2019s sake,\n\n I kept sad feast one doubting April day,\n When robins\u2019 song had drifted from the hills,\n When buds were bursting, and the golden bells\n Of town-nursed bloom were ringing ill away.\n With folded hands St. Helen\u2019s glance beneath,\n I trod in thought the highway of the cross\u2014\n Jerusalem\u2019s triumph blending with her loss,\n The palm-bough changing for the thorny wreath.\n\n And clasped the folded hands about the bough\n Of northern hemlock that as palm I bore,\n Listening the words of sorrow chanted o\u2019er\u2014\n The old evangel\u2019s solemn voice of woe;\n O wondrous power of a passing breath!\n O tearful sweetness of that voice of God\n Breaking amid the clamor of the crowd\n Of Jews and soldiers hastening him to death!\n\n Often the chant bad stirred my soul before\n In humbler church, till had familiar grown\n Almost each word and every varying tone\n That with each added year a new grace wore;\n But never grace so pitiful as this\n That filled the arches with all deep distress,\n With passionate sense of human guiltiness\u2014\n Our God sore bruised for our infirmities!\n\n Oh! blinding sweet the vision that awoke\n Within my soul to fill my eyes with tears!\n To-day was it, not in those long-past years,\n That Heart divine, with love unbounded, broke.\n Oh! blinding sweet in its strange melody\n The voice that, rending heart, called from the cross,\n In that dark hour of life\u2019s bitterest loss,\n \u201c_Eli, Eli, lamma sabacthani!_\u201d\n\n O strong gray walls! blessed was that little space\n Ye left our souls with Christ on Calvary,\n Where hearts might weep their living cruelty,\n In their own depths Jerusalem\u2019s lesson trace.\n O cross-boughed branch of spicy northern spruce\n That witness bore on that dim April day\n To faith no waves of doubt shall wash away,\n To love\u2019s dear chains no envious state shall loose,\n\n Blessing was ours who bore thee that gray morn\n Through all the heedless glances of the street,\n Through longing looks that knew thy meaning sweet,\n And spoken words of unbelieving scorn.\n Alas! for those, of eyes and heart both blind,\n Who in such symbol find but empty rite,\n Who, dazzled by a false and flickering light,\n See not the cross wherewith the palm is signed.\n\nCATHEDRAL OF THE HOLY CROSS, BOSTON, MASS.\n\n\n\n\n THE LATE Mr. T. W. M. MARSHALL.[39]\n\n\nOn the 14th of December, 1877, died, at the age of sixty-two years and a\nhalf, Mr. T. W. M. Marshall. He had borne a long and trying illness of\nmany months with invariable patience and resignation, and gave up his\nsoul to his Maker and Redeemer after a most Christian preparation. He\nhas well deserved that some more explicit notice of his life and what he\ndid in it should be made public than what has hitherto, so far as we\nknow, been given in any native or American source of information. The\nfollowing slight account is drawn up by one who has known him well for\nnearly a quarter of a century.\n\nMr. Marshall was born the 19th of June, 1815; was educated under Dr.\nBurnup at Greenwich and at Trinity College, Cambridge. He was ordained\nin the Anglican Church by the bishop of Salisbury in 1842. In 1844 he\npublished his _Notes on the Episcopal Polity of the Church of England_,\nfor which he received the thanks of the then archbishop of Canterbury,\nDr. Howley. This was the prelate, it may be remarked, to whom the\nwriters of the famous _Tracts for the Times_ dedicated their translation\nof what they called \u201cthis library of ancient bishops, Fathers, doctors,\nmartyrs, confessors of Christ\u2019s Holy Catholic Church,\u201d with, as they\nadded, \u201chis grace\u2019s permission, in token of reverence for his person and\nsacred office, and of gratitude for his episcopal kindness.\u201d We mention\nthis, because thanks from such a man in such an office for a work on the\nepiscopal polity of the Church of England in 1844, when that polity was\nnot a little canvassed, was an omen of good things to come for the\nwriter, who was then nestled in a very small and poor cure among the\nWiltshire downs, once a house of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem.\nThese prospects were blighted for ever by Mr. Marshall\u2019s conversion in\nthe following year, 1845. Indeed, he seems in that year to have\ncommitted two acts, one blameless and the other highly to be commended,\nwhich yet in their conjunction foreboded a life of no small anxiety in\ntemporal matters; we mean to say that his marriage was followed in a few\nmonths by his reception into the church at Oscott by Dr. Wiseman. Thus\nthe nest in the southern hills was lost just as he wanted its shelter\nmost, and instead of the future protection of him whom the Tractarian\ndedication called \u201cThe most reverend Father in God, Lord Archbishop of\nCanterbury, Primate of all England\u201d\u2014a patron, it may be added, of one\nhundred and seventy livings, besides canonries and options\u2014Mr. Marshall,\nat the age of thirty, with a young wife, commenced a new life without a\nprofession and without prospect, and with fifty pounds in his pocket. It\nmay be said Mr. Marshall was true all his life long to the spirit which\nhe thus showed at the first crisis of it.\n\nIt may be conjectured that the studies made by Mr. Marshall in composing\nhis work on the episcopal polity of the Church of England predisposed\nhis mind in the following year to seek admission into that world-wide\ncommunity over which presides the head and source of the episcopate.\n\nIt was hardly possible that a clear and conservative and eminently\nlogical mind such as that with which he was naturally endowed could have\nits attention fixed for so long a time as is requisite to compose a\nwell-thought-out work upon the relations of the bishops to each other\nthroughout the world, without coming to the conclusion that the Anglican\nepiscopate rests on no definite basis whatever; without noticing that no\none of its defenders has ever yet been able to state on what positive\nbasis it claimed to stand. It exists, in fact, by reviling the Church of\nRome, being itself nothing else but a fragment of Western Christendom\nsevered by Tudor lust and despotism from the _compages_ of Christian\nunity to which it once belonged, and dragging on an existence in\nsubjection to the state which eminently represents in ecclesiastical\nmatters the insular pride and independence of the English mind. Its root\nis national, not Catholic; its soil human, not celestial; and for a\nthinking mind, such as Mr. Marshall\u2019s, to examine its position could\nlead but to one result when it was accompanied by such honesty of\npurpose as, by the grace of God, Mr. Marshall possessed and manifested.\n\nFor let none misconstrue what Mr. Marshall was doing. To give up at\nthirty years of age, just married, with no private fortune, the\nprofession of clergyman in the Church of England to become a Catholic\nlayman, was an act not only of remarkable honesty but of superhuman\ncourage. At thirty human life presents a long avenue of years. The\nprospect of traversing these in poverty and obscurity, with a young wife\nby your side, when the reasonable hope of honor and affluence has just\nbeen presented, is one which perhaps it requires greater trust in God,\ngreater fortitude to meet, nay, to choose, than those, for instance,\nexhibited who heard themselves ordered to summary execution by the\n\u201cabagi jussit\u201d of the refined and philosophic Roman gentleman, Pliny the\nYounger, for having addressed their hymns in the early morning to Christ\ntheir God.\n\nAnything, humanly speaking, more absolutely hopeless than Mr. Marshall\u2019s\nposition, after taking that step in 1845, as a married ex-clergyman\nconvert, cannot be conceived. At that time private education offered no\nemolument, for pupils were entirely in the hands of institutions taught\nby priests or of individual priests; and as even now the services of a\npriest, well educated and intellectually gifted, are thought among\nCatholics in England to be adequately remunerated by the salary of one\nhundred pounds a year, what chance had a married convert to pick a\nliving out of that mode of employing his brains? Much more was\nwriting\u2014that is to say, for Catholic objects\u2014unremunerative. Brains are\nstill at a fearful discount among Catholics in England. They are not\npaid as much as the lowest unskilled labor; and if this is true in 1878,\njudge how it was true in 1845. The writer believes that it was the very\nlast time he saw Mr. Marshall when he complained bitterly of the\ninadequate remuneration that he received for writing. Then, further, for\nany occupation in the outside world, to be an ex-clergyman Catholic\nconvert was the worst possible recommendation. The writer remembers a\nmost distinguished author in Anglican history quitting the railway\ncarriage in which he was sitting, in order not to converse with one who\nhad lately deserted what was called \u201cthe church of his baptism\u201d\u2014as if\nChristian baptism was insular in its nature, and was a peculiar\npossession belonging to the \u201cpenitus toto divisos orbe Britannos.\u201d Such\nis the lot which, for a whole generation since Mr. Marshall\u2019s conversion\nin 1845, he and a host of others have voluntarily encountered. Mr.\nMarshall may be taken as a typical instance of the class. He may be\nspoken of freely now. He has run his course; he has kept the faith; he\nknows now fully, as none of us yet know, the wisdom of such a course; as\nhe knew once, as none of us can more fully feel, the folly of such a\ncourse in the estimation of the world.\n\nMost unexpectedly, however, and in a way that he could not the least\nhave foreseen, this common lot of indigence and inaction, in which the\n_work_ of life and the _head_ which supports it are together taken away\nin the case of a married clergyman-convert, was terminated about three\nyears after by his appointment as an inspector of schools in the\ngovernment system of primary education. The Catholics were entering into\nthat system in 1847, and, as a consequence of the rules and conditions\nobtained by the Catholic poor-school committee with reference to such\nentry, the appointment of a Catholic to the office of inspector by the\ngovernment, whose nomination, however, was to be approved by the\ncommittee as representing the Catholic body, became necessary. The first\nso appointed was Mr. Marshall, and he held the office from 1848 to 1860.\nThere cannot be a doubt that the functions which he there had to\ndischarge were in certain respects functions which required great\ndelicacy of touch. It was not without many suspicions that Catholic\nclergy admitted an officer of the government into their schools. That\nthose who had been in old times forbidden every act of their ministry,\npursued by ferocious spies of the state into their most secret\nlurking-holes, unearthed in order to be tortured by the race of Cecils\nand Walsinghams, and then hanged, drawn, and quartered\u2014this in the first\nstage of the state\u2019s enmity; then, in the second, who had been\ncontemptuously ignored, and left to struggle with every trial of\npoverty, and to collect their scattered sheep in holes and corners\u2014that\nthe descendants and inheritors of such men, in whom the royal blood of\nPeter was flowing, should suspect at first the servants of a government\nwhich had done such things in hatred of Peter\u2019s royal blood, this was\nmost natural. We are convinced that during the five years in which Mr.\nMarshall was the only Catholic inspector of primary schools, he did much\nby courtesy, and yet more by his character as an uncompromising\nCatholic, to do away with this suspicion, and to lead an ever-increasing\nnumber of Catholic primary schools to accept inspection. By this conduct\nhe indirectly raised greatly their standard of efficiency in secular\ninstruction; and he commenced that union of the spiritual and the\nsecular authority in the work of education which is now bearing great\nfruit, and which is incomparably fairer to the dearest interests of\nCatholics than the system existing in the primary schools of the United\nStates. We think, indeed, that Mr. Marshall, in his anxiety to\nconciliate, may sometimes have pushed the limits of indulgence somewhat\ntoo far. It is honorable to him that he never spared in his reports to\ngovernment the open commendation of religious teachers. Some of those\nreports contain the most enthusiastic praise of Catholic teaching which\nwe remember to have read. And they were reports of a government\nofficial.\n\nHis occupation of inspector ceased in 1860; and being fully conversant\nwith the circumstances which led to his quitting a post of honor and\ntrust, which was then producing to him an income of eight hundred pounds\na year, we must express our strong feeling that it was a great error of\njudgment on his part which led him so to act that it was possible to\ndeprive him of this office. He was thus thrown back into all those\ndifficulties of maintenance which he had so bravely encountered fifteen\nyears before. It is true that Mr. Marshall was in fibre an author; the\nelementary character of the education he had to control, and the\nconstant iteration of its petty details, besides the exclusion from his\nrange of inspection of all those religious instructions in which he\nwould naturally have taken a great interest\u2014these things galled him. He\nfled for refuge to the more interesting subject of \u201cChristian Missions,\u201d\non which he composed the well-known work published by him at Brussels in\n1862, but which, in spite of the vast number of volumes which it\nrequired him to look over for his facts, he managed to compose before he\nquitted the inspectorship. If he could have had the place of a professor\nin some great Catholic institution, which would have afforded him a\nmoderate income and a fitting subject on which he could have thrown the\npowers of his most active and apprehensive mind, that would have been to\nhim an earthly elysium. But elysiums are not of the earth, at least not\nof nineteenth-century earth to Catholics in England. He gave up eight\nhundred pounds a year to be for the rest of his life a vigorous, witty,\nsarcastic, and trenchant Catholic champion and a wanderer on the face of\nthe earth. From henceforth he was of those who have \u201cno abiding city.\u201d\nIf he began this second stadium of his life with an act of imprudence\nwhich religion did not call for, which, in our individual judgment, we\nthink it did not even justify, he traversed those seventeen years of\nbitter trial with the spirit of a confessor, and he ended them with the\ndeath of an humble, contrite, earnest Christian. He on whose words,\ndefending Catholic doctrines, illustrating Catholic truths, excited\nmultitudes in great cities have hung, who could make them thrill through\nwith the emotions which he felt himself, died in a small room over a\nshop in an obscure outskirt of London, tended by an unwearied,\nuncomplaining affection which had been proof against every sorrow and\nevery trial, and was the only earthly consolation left to him. In the\neyes of the world it was a sad end of an agitated life. But we make bold\nto say that he is not sorry now for his choice; and that what he\naccepted rashly he transformed by endurance into matter for lasting\nreward, for the praise which does not pass away.\n\nFor in this last stadium of his life he showed most conspicuously that\nwhich we consider to have been the special honor of it. Let us state\nsuccinctly the remaining facts in that life, and then pass to a brief\nconsideration of them. Mr. Marshall went in 1869 to the United States\nwith his family, intending to settle there, which intention, however, he\nabandoned on a further acquaintance with the country. He lectured there\nduring the winters of 1870-1 and 1871-2 on \u201cThe Liberty of the Catholic\nChurch,\u201d \u201cSt. Paul and Protestantism,\u201d \u201cIreland\u2019s Providential Mission,\u201d\nin most of the large cities. In 1872 he brought out _My Clerical\nFriends_, and later on _Protestant Journalism_, reprinted from the\nLondon _Tablet_, for which he wrote a series of articles on Russia and\non ritualism. It was the latter series which was brought to an abrupt\ntermination by his illness in June, 1877. In 1866 he was decorated with\nthe Cross of St. Gregory the Great by the Holy Father as a recognition\nof his services in the cause of the church; and in 1871 he received the\nhonorary degree of LL.D. in the Jesuit College at Georgetown, near\nWashington. He broke down at the age of sixty-two. A life which, under\nless trying circumstances, might have been considerably prolonged, in\nthe possession and exercise of those mental gifts with which he was\nrichly endowed, was thus terminated before its natural time.\n\nWhat is the lesson which it presents to us? We say without hesitation\nthat the Cross of St. Gregory which the Holy Father presented to him\nhung on the breast of a true Christian knight. Not for gold nor earthly\nhonor would he sacrifice one jot of Christian liberty. He preferred to\nbe paid poorly for his work as a Catholic than to be paid richly, as he\nmight have been, had he chosen to lay out the gifts of eloquence and\nclear reasoning and the power of satire which he possessed, in some of\nmany non-Catholic causes. Had he even chosen to write, as many Catholics\nthink themselves constrained to do, on secular subjects, merely taking\ncare not to offend the spirit of the time\u2014intensely anti-Catholic as\nthat spirit is\u2014had he written with all his energy and wit, not against\nhis religion, but keeping it in his pocket, he would, we think, not have\ndied at sixty-two nor in penury. But, so doing, he would not have been\nworthy of the Cross of St. Gregory; he would have been the world\u2019s\njourneyman, not the Cross\u2019s knight. Rather than so live, he has died\n_sans peur et sans reproche_, with his career shortened, as is the wont\nof knights; with his shield battered but stainless; with his lance\nunlowered. God grant many knights of such temper to his church in the\nlast quarter of the nineteenth century, for the times are coming when\nthey will be wanted!\n\nFootnote 39:\n\n In our last number we published an article on the works of this\n illustrious Catholic layman by one closely connected with him.\n Immediately on receiving the sad news of Dr. Marshall\u2019s death we wrote\n to his friend, Mr. T. W. Allies, who will be known to our readers as\n the author of _The Formation of Christendom_, asking him to prepare\n for THE CATHOLIC WORLD a more adequate notice than we had seen of one\n who had done so much for the Catholic cause. The result is the present\n article, which, though it comes after the other, will be none the less\n pleasing to our readers, coming from such a pen as that of Mr. Allies,\n and dealing as it does rather with the personal life and character\n than with the public work of its subject.\u2014ED. C. W.\n\n\n\n\n STRICTURES ON AN ARTICLE ENTITLED \u201cPOLITICAL RAPACITY OF THE ROMISH\n CHURCH.\u201d\n\n\nFollowing the advice once given by an old Anglican preacher to a\nnewly-fledged brother, \u201cWhen you have nothing else to say, pitch into\nthe pope,\u201d Rev. Mytton Maury contributes to the January number of the\n_American Church Review_ an article having for title \u201cThe Political\nRapacity of the Romish Church.\u201d Intrinsically the article hardly\ndeserves a reply, owing to the recklessness with which it puts forth\nmere assertions and inferences as though they were facts; while yet it\nshould, perhaps, under present circumstances, not be silently passed by\nwithout at least a statement of historical truth in regard to some of\nthe events and their causes, which are therein so perverted as to seem\nto present a sort of partial foundation for deductions that are utterly\nfalse. The explicit aim of the article is to show that \u201cin recent as in\npast times, the unalterable aim of the Church of Rome has been the\nestablishment of its unconditional supremacy, as in things spiritual, so\nin things political.\u201d\n\nIt is the old, often-exploded tale that took very well with the\n_gobemouches_ in the days when everything said against the church, true\nor false, was grist to the Protestant mill, but which cannot stand for a\nmoment against a clear, full, and impartial examination of history. The\ngist of Mr. Maury\u2019s argument is that, as the demeanor of the Papacy was\nintolerably overreaching and overbearing during the pontificate of\nGregory VII., as the Church of Rome is always the same, as not even the\ngratitude which Pope Pius VII. owed (_teste_ Maury) to the Allied Powers\nwho overthrew Napoleon was sufficient to make that pontiff bate a jot or\ntittle of the rights of the church, and as not even outrage, injustice,\nand spoliation were sufficient to induce Pius IX. to forget or barter\nany of the doctrines or claims of the church, so there is nothing to be\nexpected of any future occupant of the Holy See but that he shall be\npolitically a ravening wolf. _Q. E. D._ There pervades the article a\ncurious after-taste of a once straight-forwardly-asserted but\nthroughout-insinuated straining on the part of the church in these\nUnited States after political aggrandizement\u2014a charge well suited in\nitself, could it only be made plausible, and we think intended, to catch\nthe ears of the groundlings. Reference is made to a late pamphlet of Von\nSybel, from which the writer would seem to have culled his one-sided\nstatements; and we have in the meantime tried to procure that pamphlet,\ndeeming it far better to examine the original than to refute mere\n_excerpta_. The _brochure_ in question has not yet been received, and we\nmust content ourselves with a refutation of the ill-founded charges and\nan exposition of the baseless statements contained in Mr. Maury\u2019s\narticle.\n\nThere is an exquisite appropriateness in the fact that the charge of\n_political rapacity_ comes from a minister of that sect of which Henry\nVIII., half-Catholic, half-Protestant, and wholly beast, was the\nacknowledged supreme head, the so-called bishops of which sit in the\nBritish House of Lords, and owe their appointment to anybody, Jew or\nGentile, who may happen to be prime minister. Lord Melbourne\u2014by no means\na model Christian, unless as entitled to the name by being an adept in\nprofanity\u2014leaves us ample testimony of the cliquing and caballing by\nwhich the appointments to vacant sees were secured, and puts on record a\njocose saying that they (bishops and deans) just died to plague him. It\nis true that their presence in the Lords means nothing, and that they\nhave no power but that of being a little obstructive. That, however, is\nnot their fault. They would fain have more power, if they could. Even in\ntheir dioceses they have no sort of effective power belonging to a\nbishop. Neither clergy nor laity obey them even in spiritual matters,\nwhether in England or in the United States; nor can we for our life see\nwhy, on Protestant grounds, in view of the utter nullity of their\noffice, so far as its influence for good is concerned, they have not\nlong ago been abolished, as much more valuable articles have been done\naway with. In political life other sinecures have in this century been\ngot rid of. Irish disestablishment, which these bishops opposed to their\nutmost, will infallibly prove the precursor of a similar _fait accompli_\nin England. If, after that, the members of their sect choose to maintain\nthem, and even to add to their number, we can have no sort of objection,\nbecause then those who utterly repudiate their ministry will not, as\nnow, be obliged to contribute to their support. They may, if they\nplease, match the American army in the proportion of highly-paid, showy,\nand useless officials to the number of rank and file; in fact, they come\nin the United States pretty near doing so already. But that is not our\nbusiness, since we do not pay for them; still, we cannot help having an\nopinion in the matter.\n\nAgain, an impartial observer might reasonably think that a preacher of a\nsect whose ministers, and, we suppose, their congregations, are of every\npersuasion or utter want of creed touching the essentials of faith, from\nthe narrowest Calvinism to the most pronounced Puseyism\u2014some of whose\nhighest dignitaries deny the inspiration of Scripture, while others are\nUniversalists, and others, again, denounce the doctrine of baptismal\nregeneration\u2014a sect which has, in short, less claim to consistency\neither of faith or practice than any other of all Protestantism\u2014would\nhave enough to attend to in trying to find out what his church did\nbelieve and what he should preach, without travelling away to Rome and\nback to the days of \u201cHildebrand\u201d for the purpose of raking up falsehoods\nor misapprehensions with which to bespatter or cast suspicion upon the\nChurch of Rome. This is, perhaps, but a matter of taste; and Mr. Maury\u2019s\nidea both of taste and duty differs from what ours would be in the same\npremises. In any case let us see what he has to say, giving his\nstatements such credit as they may prove to deserve.\n\nIt is strange, by the way, how the ignorant and insane prejudice which\nexists among many Protestants against the church warps otherwise fair\nminds and kindly hearts in the consideration of any question in which\nshe is a party or her rights are in question. We venture to say that if\nany government attempted the same sort of tyrannical interference at\nthis day with the Jews, not to speak of any Christian sect, that Prussia\nis now striving to exercise over the Catholics of her dominion, a cry of\nrighteous indignation against the wanton and palpable injustice would go\nup from all the rest of Christendom. We should, perhaps, except the\nAnglicans, who are less a sect of Christendom than a clique or set of\nrecipients of government pap, with no fixed doctrinal or moral\nprinciples save an overweening idea of their own eminent respectability,\na thorough knowledge of the buttered side of their own bread, and a keen\nappreciation of number one. They have become hereditarily accustomed to\nconsider Anglicanism less as a scheme of doctrine and morals than as an\ninstitution for distributing government patronage among their ministers,\nand for securing in these a somewhat superior police in aid of the\nstate. Yet some of the best minds even among these have been very\noutspoken in condemnation of the aggressions of Prussia upon the\nprinciples of religious freedom. Let us imagine even a George Washington\nappointing the rabbins who should minister to the adults, and the\nteachers who should instruct in Judaism the rising generation of Hebrews\nin this country. Is there anybody who does not see at a glance the wrong\nthereby done these people? Does any one need argument on the subject?\nSuppose, in addition, he were to claim the right to appoint the\ninstructors in the rabbinical seminaries, to select schismatic or\nsuspended rabbins for the purpose, and to insist on prescribing the\ncurriculum of the establishment in which young men are instructed for\ntheir ministry. Would we not all consider them very unjustly treated,\nand do our utmost to rectify the wrong? Yet this is exactly what the\nPrussian government has for some years been attempting to do with the\nCatholics within their territorial limits; and the vast majority of\nProtestants either look on with indifference or actually encourage the\nefforts made for rendering the church but a subordinate bureau of\ngovernment under Bismarck and Falk, of whom it would be exceedingly\ndifficult to say whether they are Protestants, simply infidels, or\ndownright atheists. What is certain is that they are not Catholics and\nthat they hate the church. Not long since the body of a drowned man was\nbeing towed ashore in the East River, and a considerable crowd had\ngathered to see it, when some one on the edge of the dock remarked, \u201cOh!\nit\u2019s only a negro.\u201d Nobody took any further interest in the corpse, and\nthe crowd dispersed at once, every one going his way. So, in this case,\nthe idea seems to be that it is only the Catholics that suffer. But\nthese gentlemen will find out, in the long run, that it is a blow at\nliberty of conscience (for which theoretically they express great\nregard), struck, it is true, at Catholics only as yet; they will find\nout, if any sect of Protestantism but holds together long enough, or\never believes anything with sufficient seriousness to imagine it vital,\nthat the same Prussian government has just as strong an objection to any\nother decided conscience as to the Catholic. In the references that Mr.\nMaury makes to this struggle we will assume him to be honest; and, in so\ndoing, we must also take for granted that he does not understand the\nnature of the contest between Prussia and her Catholic population, else\nhe would not attempt to represent it as a flaming instance of \u201cunsparing\npolitical rapacity\u201d on the part of the church. The fable of the wolf and\nthe lamb has rarely had a more apt illustration.\n\nIt will simplify matters very much if we state once for all at the\noutset that Mr. Maury entirely mistakes the ground held by the church or\nby Catholic writers on her behalf when he represents them as apologizing\nfor what he calls _medi\u00e6val pretensions_, and deprecating any\napprehensions as to their renewal. No Catholic writer takes any such\nground; and as the salient instances adduced of such medi\u00e6val\npretensions is the controversy about investitures, and the action of\nPope Gregory VII. towards Henry IV. of Germany, which produced their\nmeeting at Canossa, we, as Catholics, have no apology to make for\neither. As head of the church, Pope Leo XIII. must to-day protest just\nas strongly against the right of lay investiture in spirituals; and had\nhe lived at that day, he could, as minister of the sacrament of penance,\nin view of the shameless debaucheries, atrocious cruelties, monstrous\nacts of injustice, and heinous sacrileges of Henry, not have done\notherwise than impose on the emperor a penance that should be known of\nall men. The church has yet to learn that one of her members, though he\nmay wear a crown, is any more exempt from her spiritual jurisdiction\nthan if he were clad in corduroy and wielded the pick. St. James would\nseem quite to have agreed with her; and as before God in heaven, so\nthere can be within the church of God no exception of persons. We\naccept, then, as crucial instances by which this alleged political\nrapacity of the church is to be tested, both the question of\ninvestitures and the excommunication and deposition of the Emperor Henry\nby St. Gregory. They really contain all that can or need be said on the\nsubject at issue. If it be shown that only malevolence and ignorance of\nthe times and circumstances could have twisted them to an apparent\nsupport of the accusation founded upon them, and not now for the first\ntime brought against the church, we shall have accomplished our task.\nApart from what he says on these matters, which are essentially but one\ntransaction, the rest of Mr. Maury\u2019s article is but _des paroles en\nl\u2019air_.\n\nIn the middle ages and under the feudal system all the lands of each\nseparate country were looked upon as belonging to the sovereign, and\nwere held of him _in feudum_ (hence the name of that system)\u2014on\ncondition, namely, of certain services to be rendered. In no country had\nthe feudatory process got such vogue and attained such magnitude as in\nthat portion of the Holy Roman Empire now going by the name of Germany,\nabout the beginning of the eleventh century. There is no Holy Roman\nEmpire now. Each separate parcel of it has had perhaps twenty different\nforms of government since, and may within a hundred years have as many\nmore. That emperor was at that time essentially the master of\nChristendom; and between him and the few smaller monarchs then existing\nthere was no breakwater, no umpire, but the pope. Now, it came to pass\nin course of time that many bishops and abbots in Germany became\npossessed, by legacy, gift, purchase, or otherwise, in their own\npersonal right or as appanages of their sees or abbeys, of farms,\nestates, demesnes and castles, to the possession of each of which was\nattached the condition of rendering at stated times some certain\nservices to the sovereign as their liege lord. Many archbishops,\nbishops, and abbots there also were who were not simply ecclesiastical\nrulers but at the same time temporal lords. The people, who\nunfortunately had then and for ages afterward very little to say, or at\nleast could say but little effectively, in regard to how they should be\ngoverned, have left on record an enduring monument of the view they\nentertained as to the difference between the rule of the secular knights\nand the ecclesiastical regimen in that most trustworthy of all forms,\nthat evidence which cannot be forged\u2014_i.e._, the proverb. To this day\nthere is not a dialect of Germany that has not, in one form or other,\nthe saying: \u201cUnterm Krummstab ist gut leben\u201d\u2014_Happy the tenant whose\nlandlord bears the crosier_. They were well cared for, kindly treated,\nand their complaints attended to by their clerical landlords, which, we\nall know, was far from being the case with the serfs and _villeins_\nunder the marauding knights. There was no reason for objection to the\nservice or homage by which ecclesiastical persons, dioceses, or abbeys\nheld those lands; and with the usual care of the church, which has\nalways laid stress first on the physical well-being of the people and\nthen on their moral improvement\u2014deeming the former at least highly\nconducive to the latter, and esteeming it of no use to leave a moral\ntract in a house where there is no bread\u2014the church, we repeat, for the\nbenefit of the people, encouraged at that time the holding of these\nlands by ecclesiastics, and neither pope, prelate, nor people complained\nfor over two hundred years of the acts of homage\u2014observe that the homage\nof the middle ages is not our homage of to-day\u2014by which those estates\nwere held. And this, too, though the rulers of the church, having nearly\nall the prudence, wisdom, and learning then existing in Christendom,\nmust have known, just as well as we do to-day, that every acre of land\nbeyond what is indispensably necessary held by the church, and every\nbuilding that can be utilized for any other than an ecclesiastical\npurpose, is simply an inducement to the extent of its value, a\ntemptation to plunder, sure to be acted upon sooner or later by the\ncivil government, until that one shall arise which the world has never\nyet seen, in which right shall ever be stronger than might.\n\nBut under Conrad II. and Henry III. the possession of these lands began\nto give rise to an abuse which had not been foreseen. Both these\nemperors were chronically in want of money. They were afflicted with a\nstanding incapacity to pay what they borrowed; and there resulted, as a\nnatural consequence, an exceeding hesitancy on the part of lenders to\ntake the royal word in lieu of funds. The name was no doubt regal,\nimperial, and all that, but the paper to which was attached the\nsignature or _thumb-mark_ of his imperial majesty was not what would now\nbe denominated on \u2019Change gilt-edged; and money must be procured. In the\nwords of another and later august emperor: _Kaiser bin i, und Kn\u00f6del\nmuss i hale_. So these emperors commanded on sundry occasions, when a\nbishop or abbot died, that the ring and pastoral staff, emblems and\ninsignia of spiritual dignity and jurisdiction, should be brought to\nthem. They appropriated the revenues during the vacancy of the diocese\nor abbey, prevented the canonical elections from being held, or refused\nto allow the prelates elect to exercise their functions. But to men of\nthis stamp a lump sum of money in hand was of far more importance than a\nregularly-recurring income, and they began to give over the ring and\ncrosier to that cleric (of course noble, and of course unfit) who could\npay the highest price for them. This knave was then supposed to become\nbishop or abbot, so far, at least, as to have a right to the\ntemporalities of the see or abbacy\u2014generally all that such a man would\ncare about. In this way dioceses were kept vacant for a series of years\nand flourishing monasteries went to ruin, since the pope would not (save\nwhere a deception was resorted to) permit the consecration of flagitious\npersons. We need not argue to show that this was simony of the basest\nsort. The thing had become so general in Germany, and the effect such,\nat the time of the accession of Henry IV., that, instead of the election\nof a bishop by the clergy of the diocese, or of an abbot by the monks of\nthe monastery (which is the only canonical mode), the power of\nappointing and installing both had been seized by the emperor; and it\nmay more readily be imagined than described in words what sort of men\nthe purchasers were. Bishoprics and other prelacies were shamelessly put\nup at auction; and not merely the right to the temporalities (in itself\nsufficiently unjust) but the sacred authority itself was currently\nbelieved to be conferred by the investiture _per annulum et baculum_. It\nwas only when things had come to this pass\u2014one plainly not to be borne,\nunless with the loss of all ecclesiastical liberty and the grievous\ndetriment of religion\u2014that the Roman pontiffs, who had previously\nintervened but in special instances of complaint, deemed that the foul\nsystem must be plucked up by the roots. A more flagrant abuse, or one\nmore imperatively demanding redress, it would be hard to find in all\nhistory.\n\nHenry IV. made no scruple whatever of selling all ecclesiastical\nbenefices to the highest bidder, and had already twice disposed in that\nway of the archiepiscopal see of Milan. He seems to have been a sort of\nprototype of Henry VIII. of England, but to have ruled over a people of\na much less elastic conscience and possessing a stronger sense of\nreligion. In the early part of his reign he sought by all means in his\npower to procure from the pope a divorce from his wife, Bertha, using\nthe basest means for the purpose of tempting her into seeming\ncriminality. He saw at the time a Gospel light beaming from the eyes of\nanother Anne Boleyn of that day. The refusal of the pope, coupled with\nthe threats of his subjects (we mean the nobility, for there were at\nthat time no subjects in the modern sense), who were more willing to put\nup with his tyranny than to see the innocent empress treated as poor\nKatharine of Aragon subsequently was, caused him to desist; but he was a\nmonster of lust, injustice, mendacity, and cruelty. Hildebrand, while\nyet cardinal, wrote to him that, should he ever become pope, he would\nsurely call him to account for his tyranny, licentiousness, and for his\nmaking merchandise of benefices. Having been elected in 1073, Hildebrand\nassumed the tiara under the name of Gregory VII.; wrote at once to the\nCountess Mathilda not to recognize or countenance in any way the\nsimoniacal bishops of Tuscany; to the archbishop of Mainz to the same\neffect concerning the intruding prelates of that country; and to Henry\nhimself he addressed at intervals three several letters, warning him of\nthe injury he was doing to religion by his uncanonical and simoniacal\ncourse toward the church of God, and exhorting him to desist from his\ndetestable presumption. These several letters and all of them having\nproved of no effect, he issued his decree, the important words of which\nbegin: _Siquis deinceps_.\n\nThis decree, repeated and confirmed in several Roman synods under St.\nGregory, iterated and amplified by Victor III. in 1087, and reiterated\nby Urban II. in two councils, ended in an agreement between Paschal II.\nand the Emperor Henry V. that the emperors should cease henceforward to\nclaim the right of investiture, while the bishops and abbots should give\nup the estates for which they owed service to the crown. It was found\nimpossible to carry this agreement into effect, principally on account\nof the unwillingness of the people to accept the proposed change of\nmasters; and the last-mentioned pope granted to the emperor that he\nmight go through the form of investiture _per annulum et baculum_,\n\u201cproviding the elections of bishops and abbots were freely and\nlegitimately held by the clergy and monks, _all stain of simony being\nremoved_.\u201d However, this agreement, notwithstanding that the liberty of\nthe church was fairly guarded by its provisions, was regarded by the\nCatholic world as but a temporary repressal of the arrogant claims of\nthe state, which would infallibly be but held in abeyance, to burst\nforth again under the pretext of the form by ring and crosier; and the\nagreement was recalled in 1112. The matter was at length finally\nsettled, to the entire satisfaction of the church, by a convention at\nWorms between Callistus II. and Henry V., which mutual agreement was\ndefinitely sanctioned by the First Council of Lateran.\n\nIt would be hard to imagine anything more absurd in the face of history\nthan the charge of rapacity, and that, too, _political_ rapacity,\nalleged against St. Gregory because he would not allow ecclesiastical\nbenefices, abbacies, and bishoprics to be sold like meat in the\nshambles, and the miscreants who could gather together the largest sums\nof money to minister at the altar and bear rule over God\u2019s people. That\ncontroversy was not excited on account of, or in opposition to, the\nhomage exacted or the investiture conferred on the transfer of secular\nestates. Those ceremonies were both legal and right. Nobody objected to\nthem then, nor would anybody object to them at this day if lands were\nheld on feudal tenure. If Mr. Hayes chose to grant an estate to the\narchbishop of Cincinnati in trust for the church (the archbishop has no\nother use for it), on condition that the archbishop should appear on a\ncertain day of every year and bow three times reverentially toward him,\nwe suppose there is not a Catholic in the State of Ohio that would enter\nthe smallest objection to the annual ceremony. But let Mr. Hayes, or any\nPresident of the United States, on the death of, say, the bishop of\nColumbus, send for or take his crosier and ring; still more, let him\nappoint some one (cleric or not), who is willing to pay for the billet,\nto the vacant see, and we promise that there would be unpleasant times\nand doings. There never has been but one legitimate way to preferment,\nhigh and low, in the church\u2014that is, the canonical; and now, as in the\ndays of the apostle, he that comes not in by the door, the same is a\nthief and a robber. As to the statement that the action of the pope, in\nabolishing investiture by ring and crosier, was in any sense a blow\naimed at the independence of civil government, it is simply false; while\nit is manifest that neither the dignity, the liberty, nor even the very\nexistence of the church was consistent with simony and the advancement\nof the most unworthy men to her dignities. The pope, whoever he might\nbe, could not have acted otherwise than did St. Gregory; and had the\nlatter not done as he was inspired by the Almighty to do, he could, when\ndying at Salerno, not have used those words which thrill one as do no\nother dying words, save those uttered from the cross: \u201c_Dilexi_,\u201d said\nthe dying saint\u2014\u201c_dilexi justitiam et odi iniquitatem: propterea morior\nin exilio_.\u201d\n\nSo far is the whole, or any portion, of the history of the church from\nlending even a semblance of color to the alleged political rapacity of\nthe popes, or any of them, that the plain inference of the man who reads\ntrue history in order to find out truth will be that they invariably\nspurned every consideration of the kind. To keep what influence they\nheld, or to gain any in future, their plan would have been to divorce\nthose bestial monarchs whenever they desired it\u2014to play (like Parker and\nthe Elizabethan bishops) a perpetual minor accompaniment to the\nmonarch\u2019s fiddle. Had they done these things, leaving duty undone and\nright disregarded, there would have been fewer execrable, political\nanti-popes in history, fewer popes would have died in exile, and there\nwould have been no trouble whatever about investitures. The complaisance\ndisplayed by Luther and Melanchthon toward the landgrave of Hesse, if\nshown by the pope toward the original head of Anglicanism, would have\nobviated the necessity for any outward change of religion in England\nherself. It must be admitted that conscience and not interest seems to\nhave carried the day at Rome.\n\nUnder the head of this controversy about investitures, of which we have\ngiven the true, as Mr. Maury has given a false and garbled, history\n(principally from Mosheim, who seems to have manipulated every event\nsimply with a view to favoring Protestantism), he has made incidentally\nseveral random and several false assertions. Observe that we do not\nattribute to him wilful falsehood; but his zeal outruns his judgment,\nand, if a statement seems to make in his favor, he is not sufficiently\ncareful in verifying it; _e.g._, \u201cIn view of the fact that this church\n(the Catholic) is making rapid advances in the acquisition of political\ninfluence in the United States,\u201d etc.\n\nHere is a statement very glibly uttered and flatly untrue. The church,\nas such, neither has nor desires to have any political influence in this\nor in any other country; and we challenge the assertor to the proof of\nhis slander. Her members have votes like other people; and there are\nprobably in the United States within her communion (taking the ordinary\nstatistics and ratio of voters to population) about a million voters.\nBut they vote on both sides, like their neighbors; and whenever there\nare three parties the third always presents a sprinkling of Catholic\nvoters. The proportion of Catholic office-holders in our country never\nhas been in any sort of proportion to the Catholic population; nor do we\nmention the fact to complain of it. Our prayer is that they may be long\nkept out of the foul wallow. The only prominent official that we can for\nthe moment recollect was Judge Taney. We believe there is one Catholic\nin the present Senate, but we doubt very much whether the present House\nof Representatives contains ten Catholic members. Men like James T.\nBrady and Charles O\u2019Conor are not apt to be chronic office-holders.\nThese alleged advances toward political aggrandizement, if made at all,\nhave not been made in the dark or in a corner. They must be capable of\nbeing pointed out. Put your finger on them; show them to us. What are\nthey? Where are they? Where were they made? We had occasion lately in\nthese pages to insist that the statement was false by which Catholics\nwere represented as all voting one way, or as voting under the direction\nof their priests and bishops; and we reproduce the words then used,\nviz.:\n\n \u201cBut we appeal to the Catholic voters of this country, of American\n or foreign birth, to answer: Has your bishop or parish priest ever\n undertaken to dictate to you how you should vote? Has your vote, on\n whatever side given, interfered in the slightest degree with your\n status in the church? Do you know of a single instance in which one\n or the other of these things has taken place? We cannot lay down a\n fairer gage. If such things happen, they cannot occur without the\n knowledge of those among and with whom they are done. Had the proof\n been forthcoming, the country would have rung with it long ere this.\n We demand and defy the proof.\u201d\n\nWe stand now by what is therein said, adding that people who are\nunwilling to be brought to law should not assert, at least in print,\nwhat they do not know to be true, or might, with very little pains,\nascertain to be false. It will not do to make hap-hazard assertions,\nmerely on the ground that they will be well received by a portion of the\ncommunity, whether small or large. There are people who do not think\nthat it is honest, and who characterize such conduct by a very harsh\nname. If a writer in the _Church Review_ chooses to address\nEpiscopalians, and those alone, on matters connected with their own\nspecial organization, we shall care but very little what he says, and\nshall certainly not interfere. With them be it. But he shall not make\nsweeping, false statements about the Catholic Church, without being\ninformed that, however it may have happened, these utterances lack the\nessential element of truth.\n\nAgain, he says: \u201cThey (the bishops and abbots) assumed the leadership of\nthe soldiers of the district over which they had jurisdiction,\u201d etc.\n\nWe did not imagine that there was any man at this day, pretending to an\ninkling of education, who did not know that it has at no time been\nlawful for a clergyman of the Church of Rome to bear arms. Clergymen\nbearing arms are excommunicated by the law of the church. Mr. Maury, in\nanother part of his article, undertakes to give a definition of canon\nlaw which is misleading, and bears every appearance of having been\nculled from some writer who knew as little of the canon law as does Mr.\nMaury. The drill-master needs only to see a recruit take up a musket in\norder to state positively: \u201cMy lad, you never had a lesson on\nmusket-drill in your life.\u201d To us Mr. Maury\u2019s uncouth and largely false\ndefinition of canon law is proof positive that he never opened a book on\nthe subject in his life. And yet he undertakes deliberately to enlighten\npeople upon its nature in print. Fie, Mr. Maury! Let us give you your\nfirst lesson on canon law, and it is this: Those clerics who enlist are\nirregular, and it is prescribed by canon law that \u201c_they shall be\npunished by loss of their grade, as contemners of the holy canons and\nprofaners of the sanctity of the church_.\u201d Of course we, like others,\nhave frequently read that little story, well befitting a Protestant\necclesiastical history, in which it is stated that a certain bishop of\nBeauvais was taken prisoner in arms, and that, on the pope\u2019s interceding\nfor him, the coat of mail in which the prisoner is said to have been\nclad was sent to His Holiness with the message: \u201c_Discerne an h\u00e6c sit\nvestis filii tui._\u201d It is more than probable that the story was made for\nthe sake of the supposed jest. Certain it is that the attempt to trace\nit deprives it of any authority, while even as a fiction it shows on the\npart of its author what Mr. Maury has not\u2014viz., a knowledge of the canon\nlaw on the subject. Did not a late bishop of Louisiana act as a\nmajor-general in the army? Now, canon law is not binding on members of\nthat sect, nor are its ministers at all bound to know the canons,\nunless, indeed, they undertake to instruct others upon them, and then we\nhumbly submit that things are different.\n\nOnce more: \u201cIt (the state) expressly limited its right to the temporal\nadvantages belonging to the endowments, and made no claim to conferring\nthe spiritual functions,\u201d etc.\n\nWhat the state actually did was this. It said: \u201cWe have sold to the\nhighest bidder this see or that abbacy. We know full well that to be\nsimony, and that the person on whom we have conferred the crosier and\nring is _ipso facto_ excommunicated by reason of that simony. We also\nknow him to be an unfit, and even a grossly immoral, person. But there\nhe is; and you must either consecrate him or that prelature shall not be\nfilled. At all events he shall have the revenues. He has bought and paid\nfor them.\u201d How any man of ordinary honesty, how any one not previously\ndetermined by his prejudices to make out a case, should talk of its \u201cnot\nsuiting the views of the ambitious pontiff that the church should be\nsubjected to the state even to this limited (_sic!_) extent,\u201d is one of\nthose things that must remain a mystery till the day when we shall be\nable to look back on the affairs and actions of this world with a\nclearer mental vision than any we have borne while in it. Mr. Maury\u2019s\nsect, founded by a king, the doctrines of which (if it have any) are in\nEngland defined by a parliament and its practice decided by the courts,\nthe convocation of which has for two hundred years not ventured to\ncheep, and then hardly above its breath, can of course endure, in view\nof the loaves and fishes, to be subject to the state in _all_ matters.\nBut the church of God can only, like her Master, render to C\u00e6sar the\nthings which are C\u00e6sar\u2019s; and she does not deem conscience to be one of\nhis perquisites. Instructive, if not edifying, reading in regard to the\nresults brought about by the secular power\u2019s appointment of bishops,\ndeans, etc., may be found in the lives, autobiographic and otherwise, of\nthe prime ministers of England. The doctrines of Anglicanism are now,\nnotwithstanding parliaments and courts, just what they have been from\nthe beginning\u2014a series of incomprehensible shifts and evasions, a set of\nenigmas with no fixed response to any of them. The columns of the London\n_Times_ will show how \u201clivings\u201d are disposed of, canted at public sale,\npuffed into fictitious value by representations of the age of the\npresent incumbent and the short-livedness of his family. If we must take\ninstructions from anybody, surely ministers of such a sect as this are\nnot the persons to be listened to either in matter of religion or of\ntaste.\n\nFurther on, and in relation to the decree of Pope St. Gregory, we find:\n\u201cIt is impossible to conceive of (_sic_) presumption surpassing that\nwhich inspired this, or to imagine a more absolute disregard of the\nrights of sovereigns. It was a declaration of war by the church upon the\nstate. Disobedience to it was absolutely unavoidable under the existing\nsystem of feudal tenure,\u201d etc.\n\nAfter what has been given of the history of this controversy it is but a\nwork of supererogation to show that each one of the statements in these\nthree sentences is a separate and distinct falsehood. St. Gregory\nexcommunicated and debarred from entrance into the church the simoniacal\nholders of bishoprics or abbacies, as also every emperor, duke, marquis,\ncount, knight, or other person who should presume to confer the\ninvestiture of a bishopric or other _ecclesiastical_ dignity; he finds\nno fault with the temporal homage or service due on account of secular\nestates, whether pertaining to the incumbent or to the prelature. Being\nhead (not of a sect nor of _a_ church, but) of the church, he was not,\nlike a titular archbishop of Canterbury, a mere figure-head, whose\npresence served to give a false show of authority to ecclesiastical\ndecrees made by a collection of laymen, perhaps not even Christians; and\nhis excommunication must consistently strike all the accomplices in a\nmost nefarious work. It is impossible for a Catholic to conceive how the\npope could have acted otherwise than he did, since the church knows to\nthis day, and will till the end of time know, no different rules to\napply to those of her members who are highest in temporal dignity from\nthose which affect the poorest inmate of the almshouse. The state had\nnow for nearly a century been making war upon the church; and as to the\nimpossibility under feudal tenure of anything but disobedience to the\ndecree of His Holiness, we see in point of actual fact that the matter\nwas quietly and satisfactorily settled by the withdrawal on the part of\nthe state of the offensive and impious claim to confer investiture _in\nspiritualibus_. No one found any fault with the purely temporal homage,\nand it was only when, by seizure and sale of cross and crosier (with\nwhich, according to the rude ideas of many people in that age, was\ninvolved the spiritual authority), the king put forth a claim to the\npower of appointing bishops, that the church withstood him to the face.\nHe strove to usurp a spiritual power which never belonged to him or to\nany other temporal authority. We can all see in history what has been\nthe fate of those sects of Protestantism which, for the sake of mere\nexistence or of temporary courtly favor, have given up the rights and\npowers that would have been inherent in them, were they a church. Their\ndoctrines are a mass of doubt and contradiction. Their ministry, having\nneither authority nor message to the world, consists of dumb dogs that\nbark not. Perhaps Anglicanism has been the most successful of them. Is\nthere any thoughtful man, even among its own members, that can in reason\nlook hopefully forward to its future?\n\nBut it will be objected: \u201cAll this, however satisfactory so far as it\ngoes, only proves that Henry IV. attempted a very gross outrage against\nthe church; and we freely admit that the pope could then, as he can, in\ncase of necessity, now, excommunicate from the church. The church would\nbe a sham if he could not. But how about the claim to the right of\ndeposing kings, set up by the popes and carried out by St. Gregory\nagainst the emperor of Germany?\u201d We entirely acknowledge the\nreasonableness of the question, not merely from the Protestant point of\nview, but from the general standpoint of our own days; and we propose to\nanswer concisely (allotted space allowing nothing else) the question\nput, though a complete response thereto would require a separate book.\nMeantime, we refer such as wish a full and expansive treatise on the\nsubject to M. Gosselin\u2019s \u201cPouvoir du Pape au Moyen-Age.\u201d\n\nThis power was not, nor was it ever claimed to be, inherent in the\nPapacy, but was simply the result of a necessity, alike felt and\nacknowledged by all in those turbulent and unruly times, for some\ntribunal of final arbitrament. It had its source in the common consent\nof all Christendom\u2014in the fact that the popes were, in the language of\nCount de Maistre, \u201cuniversally recognized as the delegates of that power\nfrom which all authority emanates. The greatest princes looked upon the\nsacred unction as the sanction and, so to speak, as the complement of\ntheir right.\u201d Even the highest of all the monarchs of the middle ages,\nthe German emperor, derived his august character and was regarded as\nemperor in virtue of the unction and coronation by the pope. It was \u201cthe\npublic law of the middle ages,\u201d as F\u00e9nelon has well explained; and it is\nthe universal acquiescence in that law which explains the conduct of\npopes and councils in deposing incompetent or vicious rulers. \u201cIn\nexercising this power,\u201d says M. Gosselin, \u201cthe popes but followed and\napplied the principles received, not merely by the mass of the people\nbut _by the most virtuous and enlightened men of the age_.\u201d We sometimes\nnowadays have sense enough to avoid a war by leaving the decision of a\nquestion to a convention of arbitrators, as in the case of the Geneva\nconference; sometimes to a single umpire, as the difficulty about the\noccupancy of the island of San Juan was submitted to the decision of the\nlate king of Belgium. Several international disputes, which might\ndoubtless otherwise have eventuated in war, have been left to the\nemperor of Brazil as arbiter. We know very well that the right to bind\nby such decisions is in no way inherent in the sovereignty of Brazil or\nof Belgium, but in the fact that mankind agrees to abide by their\ndecision in the matters submitted to them. Now, in those days, while\nunfortunately, as history shows us but too many proofs, knaves and\nscoundrels existed as now, yet while feudalism lasted the theory was\nthat civil society was completely swayed by the spirit of Christianity.\nAll the new governments which had sprung up from the _d\u00e9bris_ of the\nRoman Empire were indebted both for foundation and nurture, during what\nmay be termed their infancy and childhood, to the fostering care of the\npopes and bishops. Had it not been for the church, mankind would without\ndoubt have relapsed into a state of barbarism. It is not, then, matter\nof surprise that common consent should, under those circumstances, have\nvested in the pope the right of deposing a sovereign in cases where no\nother remedy existed. Our sole remedy nowadays for such evils rests in\nthe power of insurrection, which may or may not be successful, but must,\nin either case, be the cause of at least as much misery and far more\nactual bloodshed than the evils it was meant to remedy. There is room\n_extra ecclesiam_ for difference of opinion on the subject, and minds\ndo, no doubt, honestly differ as to which of the two is the better plan.\nFor our own part, while we utterly disclaim the remotest sympathy with\nthe feudal system, yet we are not prepared to say that it was not the\nbest possible in that age, and should most unhesitatingly give the\npreference, first, to papal intervention, as being least likely to be\nbiassed, and, second, to any fixed and recognized, fairly impartial\ntribunal, rather than risk the doubts and undergo the horrors of\nrebellion, successful or otherwise. Far be it from us to wish to recall\nthe middle ages with their utter disregard for the rights of the people,\nwho, but for the popes, would have had none to put in a word in their\nbehalf; and it was only under the feudal system that the public law of\nEurope could call for the interference of him whom all then believed the\nvicegerent of the Almighty. Laws, nationalities, customs, languages, and\nreligion have all changed. What then was legal and desirable, nay,\nabsolutely necessary, is no longer law; and the lapse of whole nations\nand of large parts of others from the faith of Christ has abrogated a\ncustom which, like all other civil regulations, could but derive its\nauthority from international consent. It may, however, \u201cbe doubted\nwhether in a historical light,\u201d to use the words of Darras, \u201cthe system\nof the middle ages was not quite equal to our modern practice.\u201d But this\ntroublesome and invidious duty thus thrown upon the popes was, however,\nnever claimed to be an integral or essential part of their authority,\nbut simply to attach temporarily to the office by law, consent, and\nnecessity. Of course there were then, as there are now, men who imagined\nthat the political system of their day would never change, and that the\nHoly Roman Empire and the feudal system would last for ever. It is well\nto remember that there is but one institution that is sure and steadfast\namong men\u2014the church to which He has promised who can perform.\n\nThe right and duty of excommunicating professing Catholic kings and\nprinces is, on the other hand, and always has been, inherent in the\nPapacy, to be exercised by the pope when all other means have failed, in\ncase of stern necessity and for the good of the church. Such right is\ninseparable from his office, and can be exercised just as fully from the\nCatacombs or from a dungeon as from the high altar of St. Peter\u2019s at\nRome.\n\nIt astonishes us somewhat to find that the mind sufficiently clear to\nindite the following sentiments should have failed so completely to\nunderstand the nature of the struggle over the investitures, and should\nhave seen but through a glass darkly the condition of governments, men,\nand things requiring the application of his doctrines to practice. Mr.\nMaury says, and says well:\n\n \u201cIt is to be admitted that the intervention of the popes in foreign\n political affairs in early and medi\u00e6val European history was not\n unfrequently matter of moral necessity. The papal authority\n constituted for those periods the High Court of International\n Arbitration. Not seldom the pontiffs stood forth as the solitary\n champions of right and justice.... We cannot but make ample\n allowance for their interference; nay, in many cases we must admire\n it.... In the case of the popes themselves moral necessity must\n often be allowed to have more than justified their interference in\n the domestic policy of foreign governments,\u201d etc.\n\nWe must hasten through the remainder of Mr. Maury\u2019s article. A great\nportion of it strikes wide of the mark, having no application to the\npoint at issue, which we understand to be the political rapacity of the\n\u201cRomish\u201d Church. The sketch of the career of Napoleon, his imprisonment\nof the pope, the theological opinions of the _canaille_ of generals that\nthe Little Corporal gathered about him, and the action (not of the\nFrench people, but) of the rude rabble of the large cities at the time\nof the Revolution, would seem even to evince that the rapacity existed\nelsewhere. Again, it would be mere waste of ammunition to argue with an\nopponent who seriously maintains that gratitude for what he terms \u201cthe\nrestoration of the Papacy\u201d ought to have induced Pius VII., or any other\npope, to govern the church thenceforward on such principles as would\nmeet the approval of the so-called Holy Alliance. The man who can\nentertain such a notion has not the first rudimentary idea making toward\na conception of what the church of God is, however well he may\nunderstand that of Queen Victoria.\n\nOnly two further points shall we briefly notice. One is the restoration\nof the Jesuits by Pius VII.\u2014a fact upon which Mr. Maury lays great\nstress, as indicating the political rapacity of the church. The order\nhad been suppressed by Pope Clement in 1773, not as having been proved\nguilty of any wrong whatever, but simply because their existence as an\norder, under the then circumstances and state of feeling in Europe,\nseemed to that pope and his council to give not cause but pretext for\nscandal to a certain portion of nominal Christendom. It is admitted that\nthe prime movers in exciting this enmity against the Jesuits were the\ninfidels in France, the Pombal faction in Portugal, the persons bearing\nin Spain the same relations to the monarch which were in France held by\nMadame de Pompadour, and those weak people who believe all that is\ndiligently sounded in their ears from the rostrum or presented to their\neyes by the press. Pope Clement deemed it the most prudent course to\nsuppress the order, and he did so. It was their duty to obey, and they\nobeyed to the letter. Had he been a Protestant archbishop or bishop,\nwould he have been so thoroughly obeyed? Would there even have been a\npretence of obedience? Had the Jesuits been the wily knaves they are\nfrequently represented as being, would they have disbanded on the\ninstant? Has any association in history, we will not say so powerful,\nbut even one-tenth part so numerous, so able, and so well disciplined,\never been extinguished by the myrmidons of the most powerful civil\ngovernment? Had they been Protestants, we should at once have had a new\nand powerful sect. Had they been merely a conscienceless, oath-bound\nsociety, they could have gone on, despite all the civil governments on\nearth. Being Jesuits, they obeyed the mandate of the Vicar of God. Pius\nVII. deemed the time opportune for their revival. It may be that his\nexperience of the favor shown to the usurping Napoleon during the period\nof his own imprisonment, and the manifest tergiversations of nearly all\nthe higher French clergy at that unhappy time, caused him to long for\nthe faithful Jesuits. Of this we know nothing. His right to restore them\nwas just as clear as had been that of Pope Clement to suppress them. We\npropose neither to go into a eulogy of the Jesuits nor to defend them\nfrom the slurs and slanders cast upon them, mostly by those who know\nlittle more of them than the name. They need no eulogy from us, and are\nquite competent to defend themselves by word and pen. Mr. Maury (who\nseems to be an ardent Jesuit-hater; we know nothing of him but his\narticle) is evidently one of those who fancy that the church is a\npolitical party, and that, on gaining an advantage over her opponents,\nshe may bargain to shift principles and suit discipline to those who\nhave been instrumental in bringing about the result. We quite agree with\nhim, however, that, judging by all history, the church does not seem to\nregard herself in that light. Very many popes have died in exile. For\nseventy continuous years the head of the church was in captivity at\nAvignon. Pope Pius VII. was long a prisoner at Savona. For all that we\nknow, the present pontiff may yet have to hide in the Catacombs. But\nneither in the past has there been, nor will there be found in the\nfuture, a pope who for personal duress or temporal domain (however clear\nhis right thereto) will barter away one iota of the sacred deposit of\nfaith and practice. The church leaves it to the politicians to seek foul\nends by base means\u2014to bargain that \u201cin case you commit this forgery or\nthat perjury for me, I shall, on attaining power, see that you are not\nonly held guiltless but rewarded.\u201d Were this her way of acting, she\nwould be very unlike her Founder, and certainly would not be the\ninstitution with which our Saviour has promised to be till the\nconsummation of the world. Mr. Maury would seem to think that he is\nmaking a point in charging the church with being true to her principles,\nwith being changeless, with not giving way to feelings of gratitude (?)\nso far as, upon occasion, to give up her position as the conservatrix of\nfaith and morals. He repeats the charge, under different forms, sundry\ntimes in the course of his article. Does he perchance not know that this\nis exactly the characteristic of the church in which Catholics glory?\nDid he never hear of the church before? Does she now come before his\nmental vision for the first time? One is really tempted to think so from\nthe fact that he speaks of the pope\u2019s styling himself \u201cGod\u2019s vicar upon\nearth,\u201d as though it were a new title never assumed until Pope Pius used\nit in his encyclical of March, 1814. If it will do Mr. Maury any good or\nsave him future labor in writing, we can inform him that we Catholics\nwould have neither faith nor confidence in a church that could sway and\nswerve, that allowed herself to be ruled by politicians or by heretics;\nand that we all believe Pope Leo XIII. to be, like his predecessor St.\nPeter, \u201cGod\u2019s vicar here on earth.\u201d Let him stop the first Catholic boy\nhe meets who attends catechism class, ask him what is the pope, and he\nwill get that answer in so many words.\n\nThe other point is this: Mr. Maury takes it very ill that the church\nshould find fault with the Falk laws and the supervision that the German\ngovernment claims and attempts to exercise over her in that country;\nwhile he asserts that no fault is found with the Bavarian government,\nwhich (he says) exercises the self-same jurisdiction over the church\nthat Germany is now striving to carry out. The latter part of his\nstatement is untrue. But, admitting that it were true, cannot even Mr.\nMaury see that there would be all the difference in the world between\npermitting to a Catholic ruler certain rights of supervision touching\necclesiastical matters, and giving the same rights to infidels,\nrationalists, transcendentalists, atheists\u2014in any case to non-Catholics?\nPerhaps we should hardly expect this, since, unless our information be\nvery incorrect, wardens or vestrymen, or both, may be, and often are, in\nhis own sect, not mere non-communicants but of no profession of religion\nwhatever. That such is the case in England we know; and Mr. Thackeray\npainted from life both the Rev. Charles Honeyman and Lady Whittlesea\u2019s\nchapel, which is there depicted as a speculation of Sherrick, the Jewish\nwine-merchant. True, the Bavarian government has adopted a new\nconstitution subsequent to the establishment of its concordat with the\nHoly See; and we are far from denying that things would be on a very\nunsatisfactory footing in Bavaria were the reigning house to become\nProtestant, or the government, by an accidental (and we admit possible)\ninflux of free-thinkers, to determine to give trouble. This, however,\nhas not yet taken place, and the proverb holds that it is unnecessary to\ngreet his satanic majesty till one actually meets him. We doubt not but\nthat any overt act against the freedom of the church will, in that\ncountry, be as promptly resented and rendered as thoroughly ineffective\nas has hitherto been the case in Prussia. All the power and influence of\nthe German government has, so far, been unable to push the so-called Old\nCatholics into even a decent show of repute; and no Catholic in\ncommunion with the pope will ever lend himself to any such thing as the\nBismarckian scheme of a German national church, or national church of\nany other empire, kingdom, or republic. An independent provincial church\nis to the mind of the Catholic an utter absurdity; and no proposition\nlooking to any such end would for a moment be entertained at Rome.\nCatholics do not and cannot exist without being in communion with the\npope, whosoever or wheresoever he or they may be. It seems grievously to\nvex Mr. Maury that in no single instance has the church allowed herself\nto be made, as has the legal sect in England, a mere tool in the hands\nof the state; and he takes pains to stigmatize what he ironically\ndescribes as the \u201cgentle suavity\u201d of Pope Pius and the Cardinal\nConsalvi, intimating that it was mere stratagem; but he forgets that\nthere is no sort of hypocrisy in doing the best that can be done under\ngiven circumstances, providing always that no principle be given up.\nEven on his own showing the church has under no circumstances abandoned\nfor a moment the principle that she should and must be entirely free\nfrom any control of the state _in matters spiritual_. Were it any one of\nthe little sects that set up such claim for religious freedom as against\ngovernmental interference, a cry in its favor would go up along the line\nfrom Dan to Beersheba; but in the case of mother church it only\nfurnishes a reason for an article on her political rapacity. Some\noriginal genius once remarked that consistency is a jewel. It certainly\nis very rare; and here is a radiant instance of it on the part of our\nopponents. The moment that the state presumes to trench upon the domain\nof conscience we must all obey God rather than man. _Usque huc et ne\nplus ultra._ Up to that point we stand ready to act and obey loyally as\ncitizens. Beyond that line we neither can nor will be bound; and they\nwho demand that we should put our consciences in the keeping of\nReichstag, Parliament, or Congress know but little of human rights and\nless of the rightful domain of civil law.\n\nA little reflection might have shown Mr. Maury the absurdity of his\nstatement that Consalvi demanded of the Bavarian government the\nexpulsion of the Protestant population of that country, then amounting\nto nearly a million. Surely Mr. Maury is joking! In the many centuries\nduring which the popes have had full sway in the Eternal City, not one\nof them has ever proposed the expulsion of the Jews, a large number of\nwhom have at all times resided in Rome. Mr. Maury represents Cardinal\nConsalvi as an eminently shrewd man, whereas he must have been little\nbetter than an idiot to entertain such an idea, much more to express it\nin writing, even to the dullest court in Europe. He never did do so.\nSurely this must be, like several other statements of the writer which\nwe have not time at present to take up, a _lapsus penn\u00e6_ into which\nhaste in writing and zeal for \u201cthe good cause\u201d betrayed him. Authority\nfor it we have been utterly unable to find, though the account of the\nnegotiations of that cardinal are in the main given with tolerable\nfulness in the books at our hand.\n\nThat system of religion is surely in a very bad way the hold of which on\nthe minds and consciences of its adherents cannot be maintained without\nthe aid of government; nor does it deserve the name of religion at all\nwhen its ministers are such as those must be who owe their appointment\nto the back-stair intrigues by which men attain political offices. The\nRoman Curia has shown both wisdom and a high sense of honor in\npersistently refusing, on principle, to recognize any other than the\ncanonical election of her prelates. But it does seem somewhat hard that\nher unwillingness to curry favor with the various reigning houses and\ntheir ministries should be attributed to _political rapacity_. So far as\nthe pope is concerned, he was just as much the head of the church under\nthe persecution of Diocletian as in the days of Leo X., and is just as\nreally and effectually the father of all the faithful to-day as on the\nday when the Papal States were restored to him by Pepin in 768. The\nminds of men have, however, become so accustomed to acts of injustice\nthat they regard them with comparative indifference. The justice of the\npope\u2019s claim to the patrimony of St. Peter is infinitely clearer and of\nfar more ancient standing than that of any sovereign in Christendom to\nthe throne he occupies. Necessary to the existence of the Papacy those\nstates certainly are not, save in the sense that he who is not a\ntemporal sovereign must to a certain extent be a subject, and that an\nill-disposed government, under or within control of which the pope may\nbe, will always be in a condition to hamper him, and to put trammels on\nhis intercourse with his people over the entire world. As it may well be\ndoubted whether there ever was a period when the Holy Father was more\nfirmly entrenched in the affections and confidence of his faithful\nchildren than now, when despoiled of territory, courtly pomp and\nsplendor\u2014all of which he might have retained had he been willing to\nstretch principle to compliance with iniquity\u2014so a more unsuitable\nseason could hardly, in the view of any impartial on-looker, have been\nselected for charging the church with political rapacity. Had she\npossessed that, or desired its results, her position, however high in a\nworldly point of view, would hardly have been so honorably glorious in\nthe eyes of her faithful members.\n\n\n\n\n THE DEATH OF PIUS IX.\n THE CONCLAVE AND ELECTION.\n\n\n(FROM A SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD IN ROME.)\n\nROME, February 21, 1878.\n\nHe is no more! As a Christian, he loved justice with the charity of his\ndivine Master; as a priest, his vows; as a bishop, his flock; as a\nSovereign Pontiff, he kept the deposit of faith with a great,\nintelligent love. And we loved him dearly in life, as pontiff never was\nloved before, and shall ever think of him as the one colossal figure of\njustice, unmoved and immovable, of the nineteenth century. _In memoria\n\u00e6terna erit justus ille; ab auditione mala non timebit._\n\nWe thought, as we gazed upon his loving face on the Feast of the\nPurification, and the seventy-fifth anniversary of his First Communion,\nthat he never looked better. He looked younger, \u2019twas said by those\npresent. His face had a glow that suggested his early manhood. His\nvoice, too, was vigorous and robust as he addressed the parish priests,\nthe heads of the religious orders, and the rectors of the colleges, who\nhad presented him with the Candlemas taper, according to custom. And\nwhen he had thanked all present, and requested them to bear his thanks\nto the faithful for having offered up prayers to God and the Virgin\nImmaculate for his recent recovery from illness, he pronounced the\nsweetest little homily, so characteristic of Pius IX., on the necessity\nof giving religious instruction to the little ones. Alas! it was the\nsweetest song of the swan, because the last.\n\n\n THE LAST HOURS.\n\n\nTowards evening, on the 6th inst., it was observed by his physicians\nthat the Holy Father was somewhat feverish. This excited no alarm, for\nsuch attacks seemed but the lingering traces of his recent illness. The\nPope retired to bed at his usual hour, about ten o\u2019clock. His rest,\nhowever, was not tranquil. He seemed to be oppressed in his breathing.\nAbout four o\u2019clock on the morning of the 7th he was seized with a\nshivering chill, his breathing became quick and hard, his pulse excited.\nAbout half-past six o\u2019clock the fever came on with greater force,\nproducing an utter prostration of the august patient. His mental\nfaculties remained clear and undisturbed, and at half-past eight he\nreceived the Viaticum with great devotion from the hands of his\nsacristan, Mgr. Marinelli. The malady became more intense, the\ncatastrophe inevitable; so at nine o\u2019clock he was anointed. Meanwhile,\nthe news of the Pope\u2019s sudden and dangerous illness had spread through\nthe city, and the cardinals hastened to the Vatican. By order of the\ncardinal-vicar the Blessed Sacrament was exposed in all the churches of\nthe city. That fact contained the dread significance that the Pope was\ndying. The Romans flocked to the churches and prayed fervently against\nthe crisis, yet trembled at the thought that, when the Blessed Sacrament\nwould be restored to the tabernacle, all would be over, well or ill. The\ncardinals and prelates assembled around the bed of the sufferer knew too\nwell what the issue would be. He knew it himself, for, taking the\ncrucifix from under his pillow, he blessed them. His suffering\nincreased. At one o\u2019clock p.m. Cardinal Bilio, the grand-penitentiary,\nbegan to repeat the last prayers of the church for the dying. The Holy\nFather pronounced distinctly, though with the greatest difficulty, the\nact of contrition. Then he subjoined in a voice that betokened great\ntrust, _\u201cIn domum Domini ibimus\u201d_\u2014We will go into the house of the Lord.\nWhen the cardinal came to pronounce the last address to the departing\nsoul, he hesitated at the word _proficiscere_ (depart); but the Pope\nadded quickly, \u201c_Si! proficiscere_\u201d\u2014Yes! _proficiscere_. When he had\nrepeated the exhortation the cardinal knelt down and asked the dying\nPope to bless the cardinals. There were present Cardinals Borromeo,\nSacconi, De Falloux, Manning, Howard, and Franchi. He raised his right\nhand and made the triple sign of the cross. It was the last Apostolic\nBenediction imparted by Pius IX. At half-past two in the afternoon the\nrumor spread through the city that the Pope was dead. Telegrams to the\nsame effect were sent to all parts of the world by the correspondents of\nthe press. The secretary of the Minister of the Interior had caused a\nbulletin of the same tenor to be posted up in the vestibule of\nParliament. But the agony of death had not even set in upon the\nvenerable patient, though all hope of a change for the better was\nabandoned. At half-past three the struggle began in very earnest. It was\na sight that brought copious tears to the eyes of the beholders\u2014Pius IX.\nin his agony. Never more strongly than during those supreme moments did\nthe youthful vitality of the Pontiff manifest itself. Two hours and a\nhalf of a death-agony is something we associate only with robust\nconstitutions in the flower of manhood. At five o\u2019clock the physician\nrequested Cardinal Bilio to pronounce a second time the recommendation\nof the departing soul. He did so, and then, kneeling down, he began the\nrosary, giving out for contemplation the Five Sorrowful Mysteries. At\nthe fourth\u2014the carrying of the cross\u2014he stopped, looked anxiously at the\nface of the Pontiff, stood up, and gazed still more eagerly upon those\nloving features. The eyes had closed sweetly, a pearly tear, just born,\nglistened on the lids, the lines of agonizing pain seemed to disappear\nperceptibly\u2014it was all over, and the _Angelus_ bell rang out over a\nfatherless city, ay, a fatherless world.\n\n\n HOW ROME RECEIVED THE NEWS.\n\n\nThe news created no excitement. There was no crowd to speak of in the\nSquare of St. Peter. Only a few loiterers stood for a moment gazing up\nat the bronze doors which open into the Vatican; but they \u201cmoved on\u201d at\nthe quiet request of a policeman. There were no soldiers visible\u2014nothing\nwar-like, if exception be made to the bristling bayonets of the Swiss\nGuards. Soon after the _Ave Maria_ the bronze doors were closed, and the\nloiterers betook themselves across the Bridge of St. Angelo into the\ncity. There all was quiet, too, save and except the theatres; _they went\non performing_, though the authorities had a superabundance of time to\norder them to be closed. The two lesser theatres, in which Pulcinella\ngives nightly amusement to the unlaved of Rome, closed of their own\naccord on hearing of the Pope\u2019s death. The other theatres received\nofficial notice to suspend performances until further notice, on the\nfollowing day. During the day of Pius IX.\u2019s suffering King Humbert and\nQueen Margherita sent repeatedly to the Vatican to inquire after his\nhealth. During the night the following notification from the\ncardinal-vicar of Rome was affixed to the churches:\n\n \u201cTO THE CLERGY AND PEOPLE OF ROME.\n\n \u201cRaffaele, of the title of _St. Croce in Gerusalemme_,\n cardinal-priest of the Holy Roman Church, Monaco La Valletta,\n Vicar-General and Judge-Ordinary of Rome and its district,\n Commendatory Abbot of Subiaco.\n\n \u201cThe Majesty of God Omnipotent has called to himself the Sovereign\n Pontiff, Pius IX., of holy memory, as we have just been advised by\n the most eminent cardinal-chamberlain of the Holy Roman Church, to\n whom it belongs to give public testimony of the death of the Roman\n Pontiffs. At this announcement the Catholic people in every corner\n of the world, devoted to the great and apostolic virtues of the\n immortal Pontiff and to his sovereign magnanimity, will mourn. But\n above all let us weep profoundly, O Romans! for to-day has\n unfortunately ended the most extraordinarily glorious and prolonged\n pontificate which God has ever granted to his vicars on earth. The\n life of Pius IX., as Pontiff and as sovereign, was a series of most\n abundant benefits, both in the spiritual and temporal order,\n diffused throughout all the churches and nations, and especially\n upon his own Rome, where at every step monuments of the munificence\n of the lamented Pontiff and father are met with.\n\n \u201cAccording to the sacred canons, in all the cities and distinguished\n places solemn obsequies and suffrages shall be celebrated for the\n soul of the deceased hierarch, and every day, until the Holy\n Apostolic See be provided with a new chief, solemn prayers shall be\n offered up to implore from his divine Majesty a most speedy election\n of the successor of the never-to-be-sufficiently-lamented deceased.\n\n \u201cTo this effect, 1. Notice is given that public and solemn funeral\n services will be celebrated in the patriarchal Vatican basilica by\n the chapter thereof, whither, as soon as possible, the body of the\n immortal Pontiff will be carried, and placed, according to custom,\n in the chapel of the Most Holy Sacrament. 2. It is ordained that in\n all the churches of this illustrious city, as well of the secular as\n the regular clergy, and privileged in any way, all the bells be rung\n in funeral notes for the space of an hour, from three to four,\n to-morrow. 3. As soon as the precious mortal remains of the\n Sovereign Pontiff be carried into the Vatican basilica, solemn\n obsequies shall be celebrated in the aforesaid churches. 4. The\n reverend clergy, secular and regular, are exhorted to offer up the\n unbloody Sacrifice in suffrage for the soul of the august deceased,\n as has always been done, and the communities of both sexes, as also\n all the faithful, are invited to recommend his blessed soul in their\n prayers. 5. Finally, it is prescribed that in each of the aforesaid\n churches, in the Mass and other functions, the collect _Pro\n Pontifice_ be added as long as the vacancy of the Apostolic See\n shall last.\n\n \u201cGiven from our residence, February 7, 1878.\n\n \u201cR. CARD. MONACO, Vicar.\n \u201dPLACIDO CAN. PETACCI, Secretary.\u201d\n\nSoon after the soul of Pius IX. had departed his physicians returned to\nthe chamber of the dead, now guarded by two of the Noble Guards\u2014who\nnever lose sight of the body until it is consigned to the tomb\u2014and made\na formal autopsy, which they couched in these terms: \u201cWe, the\nundersigned, attest that His Holiness Pope Pius IX., already affected\nfor a long time by slow bronchitis, ceased to live, through pulmonary\nparalysis, to-day, February 7, at 5.40 p.m.\u2014Dr. Antonini, physician; Dr.\nCeccarelli, surgeon; Dr. Petacci, assistant; Dr. Topai, assistant.\u201d\n\nDr. Ceccarelli then composed the body reverently on the bed, and covered\nit with a white cloth; whereupon it was carried into a neighboring\nchamber, looking north, towards the Belvedere wing of the palace.\nDetachments of the chapter of St. Peter\u2019s kept a vigil, reciting psalms\nthe night long. On the following morning, the 8th inst., Mgr. Macchi,\nMaster of the Chamber, attended by Mgri. Casali del Drago and Della\nVolpe, Participating Secret Chamberlains of His Holiness, repaired to\nthe apartment taken possession of the previous evening by Cardinal\nPecci, Chamberlain of the Holy Roman Church, and gave him a formal\nannouncement of the death of the Pope. The cardinal, having put on robes\nof violet, which is the mourning of the church, repaired in procession\nwith the rest to the room in which the venerable remains lay, to effect\na solemn mortuary recognition. All knelt down and prayed for a while in\nsilence. His eminence then recited the _De profundis_, and, standing up,\nhe reverently raised the cloth from the face of the dead. Taking a\nlittle silver hammer from the hand of a master of ceremonies, he struck\nthe forehead of the Pontiff with it thrice, pronouncing at each stroke,\nin a loud voice, the name of the Pope. After a momentary silence he\nturned to those present and said: _Papa vere mortuus est_\u2014The Pope is\nindeed dead. The cardinal then tendered a request to Mgr. Macchi, Master\nof the Chamber, for the Fisherman\u2019s ring, which was still on the finger\nof the Pope. The monsignore removed it and gave it to the cardinal, who\nwrote a receipt for it. Thereupon Mgr. Pericoli, Dean of the Apostolic\nProthonotaries, knelt down and read the following attestation: \u201cThis\nmorning, February 8, at eight o\u2019clock A.M., the Most Eminent and\nReverend Cardinal Pecci, Chamberlain of the Holy Roman Church,\naccompanied by the College of Clerics of the Chamber, by Mgr. the\nVice-Chamberlain, by Mgr. the Auditor of the Reverend Chamber, by the\nadvocate-general of the Apostolic Chamber, by the procurator-general,\nand by the two secretaries and chancellors of the Chamber, repaired to\nthe private rooms of His Holiness, in one of which he found on the death\nbed the corpse of his same Holiness.\n\n\u201cHaving ascertained the death of the Holy Father, and recited opportune\nprayers in suffrage of the blessed soul, his aforesaid most reverend\neminence made a request to the Most Illustrious and Reverend Mgr.\nMacchi, Master of the Chamber of His Holiness, for the Fisherman\u2019s ring,\nwhich was immediately consigned by the same Mgr., the Master of the\nChamber, to the most eminent chamberlain, who received it, with a view\nof presenting it in the first cardinalitial congregation (to be broken);\nfor which ring his most reverend eminence gave an act of receipt to the\naforesaid Mgr. the Master of the Chamber.\n\n\u201cWhereof, at the request of the most eminent and reverend chamberlain, a\nsolemn act was drawn up, _rogated_ by the Most Illustrious and Reverend\nMgr. Pericoli, cleric of the Chamber, and Dean of the College of\nApostolic Prothonotaries, the act being signed by the most eminent and\nreverend chamberlain, by the others above named, and by the two secret\nchamberlains of His Holiness, the Most Illustrious and Reverend Mgri.\nCasali del Drago and Della Volpe, in the quality of witnesses.\n\n\u201cAccording to the injunctions made by the eminent and reverend\nchamberlain to the clerics of the Reverend Apostolic Chamber, these\nassembled in the presence of his most reverend eminence, in an apposite\ncongregation, and in the regular manner, divided among themselves the\ndifferent offices.\u201d\n\n\n THE INTERREGNUM.\n\n\nThe supreme government of the church during the vacancy of the Apostolic\nSee belongs to the cardinal-chamberlain of the Holy Roman Church, and to\nthe deans of the three orders of cardinals\u2014bishops, priests, and\ndeacons. These are respectively Cardinal Pecci, Cardinal Amat, dean of\nthe cardinal-bishops, Cardinal Schwarzenberg, dean of the\ncardinal-priests, and Cardinal Caterini, dean of the cardinal-deacons.\nCardinal Simeoni\u2019s office as Secretary of State ceased with the death of\nPius IX., and will be discharged _ad interim_ by Mgr. Lasagni, secretary\nof the Council and of the Consistory. He retains the office of prefect\nof the apostolic palaces. Every day during the _Novendiales_ (that is,\nthe nine days on which solemn obsequies are celebrated for the deceased\npontiff) there is a congregation of the cardinals, whereat their\neminences appear with the rochet uncovered, as a sign of jurisdiction.\nThey are all popes _in fieri_. In consideration of this a cardinal\nalways rides alone in his carriage during the vacancy. Moreover, during\nthe conclave, in the general reunions of the cardinals, each one has a\ncanopy erected over his seat. When the election takes place all the\ncanopies are removed, save that which is over the seat of the\npontiff-elect.\n\nImmediately after the ceremony described, an extraordinary congregation\nof the cardinals was held in the palace of the Vatican. Object, the\nmanner of celebrating the funeral services; and the question, Where is\nthe conclave to be held? The first question was disposed of quickly, it\nbeing unanimously resolved to observe the constitutions as regards the\nfuneral. The question of where the conclave should be held presented\nmany difficulties, considering the political circumstances of the Holy\nSee at present. The foreign cardinals, and Cardinal Manning in\nparticular, supported the proposal of not holding the conclave in Rome,\nnot only because little faith was to be placed in the Law of the\nGuarantees, but for the reason that it would be a new and powerful\nprotest against the usurpations consummated by the Italian government.\nThe Italians overruled these considerations, and constituted a majority\nin favor of holding the conclave in Rome. Cardinal Manning\u2019s project of\nholding the conclave at Malta received thirteen votes.[40] Some city on\nthe Adriatic coast of Austria was also proposed, but with little favor.\n\nPending this discussion the canons of St. Peter\u2019s washed the body of the\nHoly Father in scented water, and then gave it to the physicians to be\nembalmed. This was on the evening of the 8th inst. They performed the\noperation in the traditional way, taking out the _pr\u00e6cordia_ and\nembalming them separately; afterwards the body. The _pr\u00e6cordia_,\naccording to an old tradition, are interred in the parish church near\nwhich the pontiff dies; consequently those of Pius IX. will be buried in\nSt. Peter\u2019s. Had he died at the Quirinal, the church of SS. Vincenzo and\nAnastasio would receive them. The operation of embalming was brought to\na successful termination on the morning of the 9th.\n\nThe city on the 8th presented a sad appearance. All the shops were\nclosed, traffic for the most part was suspended, the Bourse was closed,\nand the soldiers marched to and from their regular stations without\nmusic. There were no amusements in the evening, and very few people to\nbe seen in the streets. A shadow rested on the city. There was a great\nblank. Something was wanting\u2014is wanting. The world seems strange,\npurposeless, and unutterably dreary without Pius IX.\n\n\n THE DEAD PONTIFF.\n\n\nAfter the embalming process his body was vested in the white cassock,\nthe red cope bordered with ermine, and the _camauro_, or red cap,\nlikewise bordered with ermine, placed on the head. He was then laid out\non a modest catafalque, under a canopy, in one of the halls of the\nVatican. The Roman nobles and persons of distinction were permitted to\nsee him. Never have we seen death so beautiful as in Pius IX. His face,\nalways aglow with a sweet smile, was now doubly sweet and restful. There\nwas not a trace of pain left on it, and its beautiful whiteness seemed a\nsupernatural glow which God had breathed there for his well-meriting\nservant. The hands, too, clasping his beloved crucifix, seemed to have a\nwarmth about them which is not associable with death. Indeed, he seemed\nto sleep, did our Holy Father. Towards nightfall the body was habited in\nfull pontificals, golden mitre, red chasuble, red satin gloves,\ngold-embroidered, and red satin slippers, also richly wrought in gold;\nand when darkness descended upon the Eternal City they carried Pius IX.\ndown into St. Peter\u2019s. The Swiss Guards formed themselves into a double\nline in the halls of the Vatican and along the _Loggie_ of Raphael,\nwhose classic beauty, recently restored and enhanced, will bear\ntestimony ages hence to the munificence of Pius IX. as a M\u00e6cenas.\nMasters of the horse in their fantastic and quaint liveries, the canons\nof St. Peter\u2019s bearing torches and chanting the psalms, mace-bearers\nrobed in sable velvet, and a detachment of the Swiss, bearing their\npikes reversed, preceded the bier. This was borne on the shoulders of\nthe throne-bearers, and a square was formed around it by the Noble\nGuards in full uniform and the penitentiaries of St. Peter\u2019s. They were\nfollowed by the domestic prelates of the papal household, and the\nsecular and military officials, likewise in dress uniform. The cardinals\nsucceeded, marching two abreast, bearing torches, and responding to the\npsalms as intoned by the clergy in advance. They were followed by a\ndetachment of the Palatine Guard. The Roman nobles, and other personages\nof distinction, brought up the rear of the procession. The flaming\ntorches lighting up the halls, the corridors, the regal stairway, down\nwhich the _cort\u00e8ge_ moved, the liveries of the servants, the uniforms of\nthe soldiers, the robes of the priests, the purple of the cardinals,\nand, above all, that already heaven-lit face looking upwards, as if in\nplacid and joyous contemplation of the Truth Eternal, the assertion and\nvindication of which was his dearest object in life, produced a\nsensation in the beholder which baffles description, there being no term\nof comparison to which we can liken it. And the muffled psalmody in\nthose silent halls, inexhaustibly silent because of the circumstance and\nthe hour, seemed to be, what it indeed was, the music of another and a\ntranquil sphere, where there is no \u201chostile domination,\u201d no death.\n\nThe procession entered St. Peter\u2019s, by an inner door communicating with\nthe palace, at seven o\u2019clock. It was met by the chapter of St. Peter\u2019s,\nwho led the way to the chapel of the canons in the right aisle. The bier\nwas placed precisely within the iron railing of the chapel, so that the\nfeet of the venerable Pontiff extended outside sufficiently far to allow\nthe people to kiss the papal slipper. It gently inclined towards the\nrailing, thus giving a perfect view of its precious burden even at a\ndistance. It was covered with a red silk pall, delicately embroidered\nwith gold thread. At either side hung a red cardinalitial hat of the\nprimitive form, which used to be carried before His Holiness in grand\nprocessions.\n\nAt an early hour on Sunday morning, long before dawn, the steps of the\ngreat temple were crowded with people, waiting for the moment when the\nbronze doors would swing open and admit them to view the remains of\ntheir father. Detachments of the Italian soldiery had taken up positions\nwithin the vestibule and outside. Others marched around the basilica and\nentered by the sacristy door. They formed a double line from the door of\nentrance on the left, up along the corresponding aisle, across the nave,\nand down to the door of egress. Those stationed at the iron gates of the\nvestibule had a difficult task in trying to stem the onflowing and\nirresistible tide of thousands of people when the gate at last swung\nopen. They acquitted themselves well, poor fellows, and as reverently\ntoo, both within and without the temple, as could be expected under the\ncircumstances. As the people entered the temple at half-past six A.M. a\nsolemn Mass of requiem had already commenced in the chapel of the\ncanons. It was the first of the _Novendiales_. Throughout that day and\nthe three following a continuous stream of people of all classes flowed\ninto and out of St. Peter\u2019s, and every individual paused, at least, to\ncontemplate that figure lying in peaceful repose, a heavenly contrast,\nto the intelligent, against the pleasure-surfeited and revolting mass\nwhich defied the embalmer\u2019s art, yet was enshrined at the Quirinal not a\nmonth since. And thou, Mark Minghetti, who didst abandon this sainted\nfigure to serve that other in the name of liberty, forsooth, what has\nbrought thee into St. Peter\u2019s, and face to face with the holy dead?\nSpeak, thou whose deeds for the past quarter of a century have been at\ncross-purposes with good faith; unbosom thy sentiments as thou didst\nlinger at the catafalque of thy old and too-trusting master! Thou, too,\nVisconti Venosta, author of the notorious _Memorandum_ of 1870, wouldst\ngaze once more on the face of him thou conspiredst to betray? Many a\ntraitor besides these two went there, and the exponents of their\niniquity, the liberal papers, said that Pius IX. seemed to sleep, and\ncommended the martial bearing of the four Noble Guards who stood erect\nand vigilant around the catafalque.\n\nOn Wednesday, the 13th, in the churches of St. Mary Major and St. John\nLateran, solemn obsequies were also celebrated, and every parochial\nchurch in the city was on that day the scene of pious suffrages for the\nsoul of Pius IX. In the basilicas lofty catafalques were erected,\nsurmounted by a tiara, and surrounded with blazing torches. That in the\nchurch of St. Mary Major bore, inscribed on its four sides, a pithy yet\nadequate panegyric of the Pontiff\u2014_Religio, Fides, Spes, Caritas_.\n\n\n THE LAST ACT.\n\n\nIt is Wednesday evening; the great aisles of St. Peter\u2019s at seven\no\u2019clock are empty. The bronze doors are shut. Torches, blazing in the\nnave of the basilica, reveal to our gaze a procession of cardinals\nemerging from the door of the sacristy, and moving with measured and\nreverential steps to the chapel of the Blessed Sacrament; the domestic\nprelates of the papal household, already there; the canons in\nsurplice\u2014one of them, Mgr. Folicaldi, in black pontificals and a snowy\nmitre, attended by deacons and subdeacons of honor, also in black; the\nofficials, civil and military, of the palace in full dress; the Noble\nGuards; the Swiss in burnished helmets and cuirasses; the little\ngarrison of the Vatican; the gentlemen of the pontifical court, and the\nRoman nobles. All form themselves into a procession. The choir sings the\n_Miserere_. Eight canons take up the catafalque. The procession moves up\npast the bronze statue of St. Peter, around the tomb of the apostles,\nand down the further aisle, to the chapel of the canons. It is the\nfuneral of Pius IX. The catafalque is placed in the middle of the\nchapel. Arranged in order on the floor are three coffins\u2014one of\ncypress-wood, one of zinc, and a third of chestnut. The officiating\nprelate blesses the first, sprinkling it with holy water, and then\nincensing it. Meanwhile, the cardinals press around the bier, and\nreverently kiss that sacred right hand which had so often blessed them,\nand the feet of the Pontiff. All who can come near enough do likewise.\nMgr. Ricci, major-domo, spreads a white cloth over the face of the\nPontiff, thus hiding it for ever from the view of man. The canons take\nup the pall, with its precious burden, and place it in the coffin. When\nthe body had been properly composed, Mgr. Macchi, Master of the Chamber,\nplaced beside it three purses of red velvet, containing respectively as\nmany medals, gold, silver, and bronze, as there were years of the\npontificate of Pius IX. A violet ribbon was sealed crosswise over the\nbody to the edge of the coffin, with four separate seals: that of the\ncardinal chamberlain, that of the major-domo of the palace, a third of\nthe archpriest of St. Peter\u2019s, and a fourth of the chapter. Two masters\nof ceremonies spread a red silk cloth over the body, and a third dropped\nat the feet a tin tube containing a roll of parchment, on which was\nwritten in Latin the eulogy of the Pontiff. The carpenters do the rest.\nOn the lid of the zinc coffin there is the following inscription:\n\n CORPUS.\n PII. IX. P.M.\n VIXIT. AN. LXXXV. M. VIII. D. XXVI.\n ECCLES. UNIVER. PR\u00c6FUIT.\n AN. XXXI. M. VII. D. XXIII.\n OBIIT. DIE. VII. FEBR. AN. MDCCCLXXVIII.\n\nWhen the workmen had closed the last coffin they carried it out of the\nchapel to a place on the left, where there was an opening in the wall\nhigh up. It was the temporary resting-place of Gregory XVI., and is of\nevery deceased pope until he obtain permanent sepulture. It is\nsurmounted by a marble sarcophagus adorned with a tiara. By means of\nropes and pulleys they hoisted the coffin into the niche, and, after\nhaving walled up the aperture with bricks and cement, they laid on the\noutside a small slab of marble, with this inscription:\n\n PIUS IX. P.M.\n\nA cardinal was heard to say in a voice of emotion, as all quietly moved\naway: _Tanto nomini nullum par elogium_!\n\nTwo days after, the will of Pius IX. was opened by the\ncardinal-chamberlain in the presence of the relatives. It was written\nwith his own hand, and dated in the year 1875. A few codicils were added\nsince that date. He bequeathed 100,000 francs to the poor of Rome. He\nalways loved them, and it was to perpetuate the memory of that love that\na subscription was immediately opened after his death by the Italian\nCatholic journals, under the title of \u201cPius IX. Eternal in charity.\u201d To\nthis end, by the advice of the cardinal-vicar of Rome, a sumptuous\nchurch will be erected on the Esquiline, and dedicated to the Sacred\nHeart of Jesus and the Immaculate Conception. Side by side with the\nchurch will rise up two extensive asylums for the poor, old and young,\nof both sexes.\n\n\n THE CONCLAVE.\n\n\nThe funeral services performed by the Sacred College of Cardinals\nbegan in the Sistine Chapel on Friday morning, the 15th. They were\nattended by the diplomatic corps accredited to the Holy See, by the\nRoman nobility, and persons of distinction who received invitations. A\nwish was expressed indirectly by the King of Italy to be present. The\ncardinal chamberlain took no notice of this indirect wish. The\nobsequies lasted for three days. After each service the Sacred College\ngave a reception to the diplomatic personages in the Hall of the\nConsistory. Pending these events, the preparations for the conclave\nwere completed. The story of the Vatican above the apartments of the\nHoly Father was divided off into little cells for the cardinals and\ntheir attendants. The windows outside were covered with gratings, and\nthe court of St. Damasus entirely walled up to prevent any\ncommunication with the outer world. Physicians, an apothecary,\nbarbers, cooks, and bakers, were appointed. On Monday morning, the\n18th, the Mass of the Holy Ghost was celebrated in the Pauline Chapel\nby Cardinal Schwarzenberg. All the cardinals and officers of the\nconclave were in attendance. The diplomatic corps assisted in stalls\nallotted to them. A Latin oration _De eligendo Summo Pontifice_ was\nread after the Mass by the Secretary of Briefs. This might be termed\nthe formal inauguration of the conclave. At half-past four of the same\nevening the cardinals all, of the Holy Roman Church, with but three\nexceptions\u2014their Eminences Cullen, McCloskey, and Paya y\nRico\u2014assembled in the Pauline Chapel, whence, having recited the usual\nprayers, they proceeded in procession to the Sistine Chapel, singing\nthe _Veni Creator Spiritus_. There the sub-dean of the Sacred College,\nCardinal di Pietro, read the Papal Constitutions on Conclaves, after\nall but the cardinals had been invited to withdraw. The reading of the\nconstitutions was followed by a solemn oath, pronounced by the\ncardinals in a body, to observe them faithfully. This oath had\npreviously been sworn in the presence of the cardinal-chamberlain,\nPecci, by the patriarchs, archbishops, and auditors of the Rota, who\nwere to mount guard at the cells of the cardinals to prevent their\ncommunicating each with the other. The marshal of the conclave, Prince\nChigi, had also been sworn. The doors of the chapel were then opened,\na cleric took up the processional cross, reversing the figure toward\nthe cardinals, who followed, each one accompanied by a Noble Guard,\nand all entered the precincts of the conclave. Each cardinal entered\nthe cell which had fallen to him by lot. That night, in company with\nthe cardinal-chamberlain, and the deans of the three cardinalitial\norders, and the apostolic prothonotaries, the marshal made a formal\nvisitation of the cells and precincts of the conclave, after which the\nchamberlain consigned to him a purse containing the keys, and, with\nthe other cardinals, retired to his cell. The doors of the cells and\nthe general entrance of the conclave were locked, and a formal\ndocument attesting the operation was read and subscribed to. The reign\nof silence and communion with the Paraclete began. Pending the\ninspirations of the Holy Spirit, let us glance at the world outside.\n\n\n ROME DURING THE CONCLAVE.\n\n\nIn deference to the conclave the government postponed the opening of\nParliament until the 7th of March. Whether this was done from a sense of\ngenuine reverence for so sacred and imposing an assembly, or with a view\nof showing their loyalty to the Law of the Guarantees, is not definitely\nknown. But the fact aroused the indignation of the radicals. They at\nonce proposed to organize a mass meeting of disapproval of the\nGuarantees, and, accordingly, demanded the required permission from the\nMinister of the Interior. He refused it. _Inde ira_. As may be supposed,\nspeculations were rife in all circles as to the future Pontiff. It was\nhoped, and asserted pretty generally, that Cardinal Pecci would be\nelected. It was _feared_ by all Italians, liberals, conciliators, and\nnon-compromittals, that Cardinal Manning, who is exceedingly unpopular\nin radical Italy, would, through some unexpected combination of\ncircumstances, come out of the conclave a pontiff. It was reported that\nthe Sacred College itself was divided into three parties\u2014the\nconciliating, of which Cardinal di Canossa was supposed to be the\nexponent and hope; the extreme rigorists, of whom the favorite was the\nyoung Cardinal Parocchi, of Bologna; and the _statu-quoists_,\nrepresented by Cardinals Bilio and Simeoni.\n\nOn Tuesday, the 19th of February, an immense concourse of people,\nassembled in the Square of St. Peter\u2019s, witnessed the traditional\n_sfumata_, or smoke, rising from a particular chimney of the Vatican,\nwhich signalized the burning of the votes at the first scrutiny in the\nSistine Chapel. This meant no election. It has been ascertained since\nthat Cardinal Franchi\u2019s name was called out twenty times at that\nverification. On the following day, the memorable 20th, at half-past\ntwelve p.m., the smoke again arose over the Vatican, and the multitude\nbegan to move away towards the Bridge of St. Angelo. Comparatively few\npeople remained. But about an hour after they observed the window of the\ngreat balcony of St. Peter\u2019s to open. An acolyte appeared bearing a\ncross, and then Cardinal Caterini, who, from old age, infirmities, and\nthe emotion of the moment, could scarcely make himself heard to the\nfollowing effect: _\u201cAnnuncio vobis gaudium magnum: habemus Papam\nEminentissimum et Reverendissimum Dominum Pecci, qui sibi nomen\nimposuit_\n\n\u201c_LEONIS DECIMI TERTII!_\u201d\n\nThis announcement was received with cheers in the square below. The\ngreat bell of the basilica began to ring joyously, and every bell in the\nEternal City re-echoed the glad news to the people, and hurried them in\nhaste to St. Peter\u2019s. Let us go back an hour in our narrative. The votes\nwere counted at noon, and the name of Cardinal Pecci was read aloud\n_forty-four_ times, thus giving him the two-thirds majority required for\nelection. The sub-dean of the Sacred College then opened the door of the\nchapel and ushered in the master of ceremonies. With the assistance of\nothers, he lowered all the canopies which covered the seats of the\ncardinals, with the exception of number _nine_ on the gospel side of the\naltar. The sub-dean of the Sacred College, accompanied by Cardinals\nSchwarzenberg and Caterini, approached his Eminence Cardinal Pecci, and\nasked him if he accepted the election: \u201c_Acceptasne electionem in Summum\nPontificem?_\u201d He replied that, albeit unworthy of the great charge, he\nwould submit to the will of God. The sub-dean continued: \u201c_Quomodo vis\nvocari?_\u201d \u201c_Leo Decimus Tertius_\u201d was the reply. He was then conducted\ninto the sacristy by two cardinal-deacons, Mertel and Consolini, and\nattired in the white cassock, red slippers bearing the cross, the\nrochet, red cope, stole, and white cap of the Sovereign Pontiff.\nReturning to the chapel, he received the homage of the Sacred College,\nafter which Cardinal Schwarzenberg, just nominated pro-chamberlain of\nthe Holy Roman Church, placed upon his finger the Fisherman\u2019s ring. The\nPope immediately retired to his cell. The cardinals followed his\nexample.\n\nMeanwhile, the people had assembled in great numbers in the square and\nin the basilica, awaiting the appearance of His Holiness. It was not\nknown whether he would give his blessing from the outer or the inner\nbalcony of the temple. The traditional place was outside. Consequently,\non the appearance of any one at the window of either balcony, there was\na precipitous rush of the people in that direction. The noise in the\nbasilica was like the roar of a storm-tossed sea. At last\u2014it was\nhalf-past four o\u2019clock\u2014two prelates opened the window of the balcony\nwhich looks into the church, and hung over the railing some red bunting.\nSoon after the anthem _Ecce sacerdos magnus_ was heard, and then a\npowerful, robust voice, _Sit nomen Domini benedictum_. It reminded\npeople of another voice which erst rang out benedictions with the\nclearness of a trumpet from the outer balcony. But the figure which now\nappeared was tall, spare, yet imposing, and the features, worn and wan\nwith rigid austerities, were lit up by large, brilliant orbs, that\nbeamed gladly on the excited people below. When he had pronounced the\ntrinal blessing in a firm voice, a great, deafening cheer arose,\nstartling the dormant echoes of the vast edifice, and sending them\nquivering from nave to transept, and thence aloft into the gigantic dome\nitself. Again and again did the _evvivas_ burst forth from every lip,\nand high, unmistakably pronounced above them all rang out the Saxon\n_hurrah_! Every difference, political and religious, was forgotten in\nthat moment of joy. Jew from Ghetto, deputy from hostile Parliament,\nofficer and private of invading army, dissenting Anglican from Albion,\nand downright, practical American joined in the shout of _Viva il Papa!\nViva Leone!_ His Holiness stood for a moment gazing on the enthusiastic\nmultitude, then motioned with his hands, as if to deprecate any\ndemonstration, and moved away. He did not appear at the outer balcony.\nWe forbear putting any construction on this circumstance. The conclave\nwas opened formally in the evening by the marshal, and the cardinals\nretired at nightfall to their homes. The new Pontiff moved to his\napartments, and the attendants read in the severe lines of thought which\nhad settled on his brow that he wished to remain alone for the night.\n\nGlad words of congratulation are exchanged in all circles throughout the\ncity, and a universal, spontaneous confidence has sprung into existence;\nfor the man who has just blessed the Catholic world as its father is\npious, learned, and very severity itself in firmness.\n\nThe Church is no longer a widow.\n\nFootnote 40:\n\n The Roman Correspondent of the London _Tablet_, February 23, denies\n the truth of this \u201cproject\u201d so far as Cardinal Manning is\n concerned.\u2014ED. C. W.\n\n\n\n\n NEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\n NEW IRELAND. By A. M. Sullivan, Member of Parliament for Louth.\n Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co. 1878.\n\nMr. Sullivan has invented for his country a new name that is pregnant\nwith meaning and significance. At least, the name is new to us, and it\nrepresents a great fact. The old Ireland, the land of confiscation and\nbitter penury, of enforced ignorance and compulsory poverty, of chronic\nrevolution and periodical famine, the exercise-ground of political\nproscription and religious persecution, is passing away under our eyes.\nA new Ireland is indeed springing up in its place\u2014by no means a land as\nyet flowing with milk and honey, and stripped of all that cumbered it\nand darkened its life before, but a land full of hopeful possibilities\nfor all good in itself and for good to its neighbors and the world at\nlarge.\n\nIt was less to describe this hopeful and bright land, whose day has not\nyet come, but whose morning we see dawning in the east, than to set\nforth in a clear light the stages that led up to it, that, we take it,\ninduced Mr. Sullivan to write his brilliant, most interesting, and\nvaluable book, which, perhaps, no pen but his could have written, or at\nleast written so well, with its series of graphic pictures, its\npassionate reasoning, flecked with the gayest humor and most mournful\npathos. It is in itself an epitome of the Irish character, with a\nnotable improvement. The despairing courage of a \u201cforlorn hope\u201d that\nmarked such writings in the past has yielded here to a resolute and\npractical purpose, which of all things is the most striking and hopeful\nsign of a really new Ireland.\n\nIreland as it stands to-day presents a problem of the deepest interest\nnot only to a thinking Christian man, but also to the student of\npolitical history. It, of all nations and peoples, has resolutely\nrefused to follow after the _ignis fatuus_ of the revolutionary spirit\nof the age. This it has done in the face of the most pressing incentives\nto join hands with the agents of social and political disorder. From the\nfirst day of English rule in Ireland that country has been, perhaps,\n_the_ worst-governed country in the world; and this ill-government is\nonly _beginning_ at last to cease. No better soil could have been\noffered as a battle-ground for the agents of evil. Yet, owing chiefly to\nthe essentially conservative and Christian character of the Irish race,\ninformed and strengthened by a true conception and grasp of the religion\nof Jesus Christ, the Irish people, as a people, has steadfastly refused\nto achieve right by doing wrong. For this the English government has to\nthank that religion which it was its avowed and persistent purpose to\nroot out of the Irish heart, in which most wicked and revolting purpose\nit would certainly have succeeded long ago, were not God more powerful\nthan all the force and machinations of man, inspired and guided by the\nspirit of evil. Ireland has at last shaken off some of the strongest\nchains that bound her, a bleeding nation, to her own earth; and she has\nsucceeded in doing this by a persistent adherence to the right. She\nwould not die, because Heaven made her immortal, and because the\nprinciple of immortality was grafted deep in her soul by an Almighty\nhand. She would not live at a gift; she would not accept a false life at\na sacrifice of principle. She waited and suffered on. Her patience and\nher constancy, her virtue and her faith, have overcome all things. A new\nera opens before her. The question of questions is: What will she do\nwith it?\n\nMr. Sullivan goes back in his narrative fifty years, and gives us the\nsalient measures and movements that have affected the Irish people\nduring that period. The state of education in Ireland fifty years ago,\n\u201cO\u2019Connell and Repeal,\u201d \u201cThe Ribbon Confederacy,\u201d Father Mathew and the\ntemperance movement, the famine in \u201cthe black forty-seven,\u201d the \u201cYoung\nIreland\u201d movement, agrarian crime and its causes, the land question, the\n\u201cTenant League\u201d party, the \u201cPh\u0153nix\u201d conspiracy, the Fenian movement, the\nDisestablishment of the Irish Church, and the \u201cHome-Rule\u201d movement\u2014these\nform the chief headings of Mr. Sullivan\u2019s chapters. They are all worthy\nof study, and must be studied in order to get a right view of the actual\nstate of Ireland\u2014not under the Tudors or the Stuarts or Cromwell, but\nhere and now, within the knowledge of most of us. Much of what Mr.\nSullivan has written was already sufficiently well known. It was well,\nhowever, to link all of these together, to weave them into a continuous\nnarrative, and show how singularly one played into the other, how\nnecessarily one was a sequel of the other, until the story is laid down\nat our own doors. We are thus enabled to see how this series of\ncatastrophes, acting, apparently, independently of each other, wrought\nup secretly to the whole that is before us. The awful shocks that moved\nthe nation, now this way and now that; that tossed it up as by a\nvolcanic eruption; that shattered it and cast it to the ground as though\nby the convulsion of an earthquake, senseless and bleeding, and bereft\nof life; the storms that devastated it; the famine that decimated it\u2014all\nwere instruments of Heaven rudely, to all seeming, but surely working to\na great end. Or, if the political philosophers prefer it, they were\nmighty and gigantic social and political forces working through the dark\nup and into freedom and light. They made Ireland a spectacle to the\nnations; they scattered her children over the world, bearing their\ncrying wrongs to all lands; they welded together those who were left at\nhome into a hard and compact mass; they shocked and shamed the power\nthat was chiefly answerable for them into a sense of dawning justice. It\nwas in such throes as these that the new Ireland had its birth.\n\nIt seems to us that never before was Ireland so well fitted to play a\nlarge part in history as it is to-day. It is now, to a great extent,\ncertainly it is in the right way of being, its own master, its own\nlaw-giver, its own educator, its own priest. It has grasped the\nrealities of political life and political power. These it has in its\nhands, and we do not well see how they can be taken from it. This fact\nought to smother any smouldering fires of revolution that may be left,\nand it will smother them effectually, if the English legislature, as\nseems to us likely, can only rise to the fact that the best cure for\ndiscontent is to remove the discontent by removing its cause. We do not\nsay that Ireland will leap at once into full national life, prosperity,\nand social happiness. That, even in a far from complete state, must be a\nwork of time, and care, and struggle, not alone to the Irish but to all\npeoples. The Irish, however, have now in their own hands the adequate\nmeans of national representation; and this, it seems to us, is the great\nfirst step towards a true national life. Whether in after-years that\nlife will have its centre in London or in Dublin seems to us a question\nhardly worth discussing just now. We like to take hold of actual facts\nand shape the future out of them. At present Ireland is represented in\nthe English Parliament by a strong, resolute, and able body of Irishmen.\nThese men may not be collectively or individually the ideals of\npolitical wisdom and sagacity. They may not have any great leader among\nthem. They may be a little new in their harness yet. But their power, as\na united body, is very great and undeniable, and it can be constantly\nexercised and increased. To expect that in a session or two they are\ngoing to wring from the English government repeal of the Union, or total\nseparation, or even one-tenth part of the measures that Ireland needs in\norder to secure such prosperity as she has, or to advance it, or to do\naway with crying and cruel evils now existing, is to expect altogether\ntoo much. It is like expecting a city to be built in a day because some\nof the chief artisans and implements and material for the building are\nalready on the ground.\n\nGreat and grave and manifold grievances still exist in Ireland.\nSteadfastness and patience and right political representation must\nsucceed in removing these in time. Great dangers also threaten the\ncountry, not the least of which is the very freedom to which it is at\nlast rising. The hardest problem in regard to freedom is to use it\nwisely and well. It would be a sad thing for the Irish people if on the\naltar of a new-found freedom they sacrificed their grand old\nconservative spirit, their deep sense of the supernatural, their\nreverence for the church and the things of God. For them to drift into\nthe liberalism of the age would be to destroy them. They have gained\nwhat they now possess by having been steadfast Catholics and steadfast\nIrishmen. Let them so continue. We rejoice at the growing sympathy in\npolitical and social life between Irish Catholics and Irish Protestants.\nThere is no harm in that; on the contrary, it is a great good. But to\npass beyond that in matters vital to the faith would be wrong. To\nrenounce, for instance, the right principles of education would be\nwrong. Let the Protestants go their way in all freedom, security, and\npeace, but let the Catholics also hold to their way, and insist on it.\n\nMr. Sullivan is least satisfactory in a point on which we are most\ndeeply interested\u2014the actual position of Ireland to-day, in its\nindustries, its mode of life, its social condition, its educational\nstatus, its income, its outlay, how money circulates in the country, how\nthe people are housed, fed, and clothed, compared with former years.\nThese are matters on which, of all things, we desire as full and\naccurate information as could be obtained, for they are the outward and\nmost visible signs of a people\u2019s progress. Indeed, they are practically\nthe only gauge by which to measure the actuality of that progress. But\non this subject Mr. Sullivan gives us only a few rather hesitating words\nin his last chapter, with the consoling assurance that, \u201cdespite all\ndisaster and difficulty, Ireland is marching on.\u201d This is a very serious\ndefect in a work dealing with \u201cNew Ireland,\u201d and to remedy it we have\napplied to another quarter, as seen in the preliminary article on\n\u201cIreland in 1878\u201d (THE CATHOLIC WORLD, March, 1878). This will be\nfollowed by others on the same subject, taking up just the matters which\nMr. Sullivan has allowed to escape him.\n\nWith this exception, we heartily congratulate the author on his latest\nvolume. He is himself one of the political chieftains who has nobly\nhelped to make a new Ireland. He is a very able and ready man, whose\nvalue was at once recognized in the English Parliament, and whose\nservices to his country and to the party which he materially helped to\nform have been of the most marked and important character. His life has\nbeen an honorable one, and he has well earned the fame that now attends\nhim. No man who looks hopefully to the new Ireland can help following\nwith sympathy and interest the future career of A. M. Sullivan.\n\n\n DE ECCLESIA ET CATHEDRA; or, The Empire-Church of Jesus Christ. An\n epistle by the Hon. Colin Lindsay. Vols. i. and ii. London:\n Longmans, Green & Co. 1877. (For sale by The Catholic Publication\n Society Co.)\n\n\nMr. Lindsay, who is a Scottish convert of some ten years\u2019 standing, and\nwas formerly one of the principal lay-leaders in the ritualistic party,\nhas already won a high reputation by a valuable work on St. Peter\u2019s\nPrimacy. The present one is original in its conception and different\nfrom any other on the same subject in its method of treating the topics\nindicated by the title. The grand principles and laws of the church and\nthe Papacy are considered in their universal character as forming the\nground-plan of the government of divine Providence over the human race\nfrom the beginning. It has a wide historical sweep, and embodies a great\nmass of solid learning and sound reasoning. The author is sometimes\nfanciful in his theories and occasionally deficient in theological\naccuracy of expression, as well as in his style and construction of\nsentences. These are but faults of minor importance, however, not\nseriously detracting from the great merits of his most interesting and\ninstructive work. It is quite in the same line of argument with the\narticles on Historical Christianity we have lately published, and those\nwho are interested in that important and very attractive aspect of\nreligion will find the greatest profit and pleasure in perusing it. One\nmost valuable and quite novel portion of the author\u2019s exposition of the\napostolic and divine institution of the Papal Supremacy, is his\napplication of the principle of reserve contained in the discipline of\nthe secret to the particular doctrine in question, as explaining the\nguarded and reticent manner in which the sacred writers and the early\nFathers speak of those high prerogatives of the Christian hierarchy and\nits chief, which would give umbrage to the Jewish priesthood and the\nRoman emperors. Full justice could not be done to Mr. Lindsay\u2019s\ncomprehensive and elaborate production without making a long and careful\nanalysis and review of his positions and his manner of supporting them.\nWe trust many of our readers will gain a much better knowledge of its\ncontents than we could possibly give them in this way, by making a\ncareful study of the work itself. It contains a complete historical\ndemonstration of that which we think will soon be as universally\nadmitted as any other great fact of undisputed history\u2014that Catholicity\nand Christianity are identical and convertible terms, and that ancient\nand modern Catholicity are one and the same identity in respect to all\nwhich pertains to their essence and integrity as the one, universal\nreligion, whose continuity has remained unbroken since the creation, and\nis destined to be coeval with the world.\n\n\n THE NABOB. From the French of Alphonse Daudet, author of _Sidonie,\n Jack_, etc. By Lucy H. Hooper. Author\u2019s edition. Boston: Estes &\n Lauriat. 1878.\n\n\n_Sidonie_ and _Jack_ have been briefly noticed in these columns. _The\nNabob_ is a large advance upon either. Possessing all the\ncharacteristics that individualized those stories, it is larger in\nscope, firmer in touch, fuller in character, more vigorous and finished\nin execution. As far as writing, plot, and development go, it is a very\nremarkable book. We must say of it, however, as we said of its\npredecessors, it is not a pleasant story. There is a kind of hot-house\neffect about it, a forced process, so to say, that, while fascinating\nfor the moment, is not natural and healthy. We breathe in an overcharged\natmosphere. There is any quantity of intoxicating odors, of lights and\nflowers, and soft music and rich costumes and beautiful faces. But the\nlight is not the blessed sunlight; the odors and flowers oppress us with\ntheir heaviness like those around a bier; the beautiful faces are\npainted, and we sigh for something fresh and free, even if it be not\nhalf so elegant or well \u201cmade up.\u201d There is from the beginning a\nbrooding sense of a storm coming, and the storm comes with awful and\nrepulsive vehemence.\n\nDoubtless the author meant to produce just such an effect and to achieve\njust such a result. If this were his chief intention he is to be\ncongratulated on his success. He has given a highly dramatic\nstory\u2014melodramatic, in fact. There is wit enough and humor enough\nthroughout; but even the wit is biting and the humor sour. The laughter\nhas the sardonic tone of Mephistopheles, and an honest man shivers a\nlittle even while he joins in it. Every scene fits with niceness; the\ncurtain always falls on a strong situation; there is not a dull incident\nthroughout; and if nearly everybody in whom you have been interested\ngets murdered, or destroyed, or run away with, or debauched at the end,\nwhat will you have? A melodrama is a melodrama, and Paris is its\nparadise.\n\n_The Nabob_ is a story of Parisian life, as Parisian life is popularly\nsupposed to have been when Napoleon III. was the arbiter of Europe and\nParis Europe\u2019s capital\u2014a capital, if the novelists are to be believed,\nof political, social, literary, scientific, and moral charlatanism.\nDoubtless this is true to a great extent; for the leader of it all had,\nunfortunately for France and himself, much of the charlatan in his\ndisposition. There is everything there but honesty and purity; or if\nhonesty and purity there be, they are kept severely in the background.\nTheir garb is too homely, their faces are too fresh, for this garish\nlight and exotic atmosphere. They are out of place in this fashionable\ndance of death, as we say here the scholar and the gentleman are out of\npolitics. There is a wonderful duke and statesman\u2014De Mora\u2014whose habit is\nto give a bored half-glance to the affairs of France, and the rest of\nhis time to dilettanteism and _amours_, looking all the while to a quack\ndoctor\u2019s globules to keep his eyes bright, his step elastic, and his\nnerves steady enough for an evening party. There is a sculptor\u2014Felicia\nRuys\u2014full of the noblest aspirations, but whose bringing up has been\nbad. She has been among Bohemians from her infancy, and she is left\nalone among them, under the care of an old aunt, a famous dancer in her\nday, whose wonderful toes had turned the crowned heads of Europe.\nFelicia\u2019s noble nature finds itself bound in by an iron barrier of\nwickedness. She is surrounded always by a vicious circle from which she\nsees no outlet or escape. Is it so wonderful that she mistakes her\nnarrow circle for the universe, and sees nothing but wickedness in all\nthe world? How many do this in real life!\n\nThere is the wonderful Nabob himself, risen from nowhere, to whom one of\nthe strange turns of Fortune\u2019s wheel sent a fabulous fortune gathered by\nhis own hard and not too scrupulous hands in Algeria. He is ignorant,\nvulgar, low, without any very strong moral sense, but with a really kind\nand good heart: he goes to Paris with his millions, and his millions\nconquer Paris\u2014as long as they last. All the charlatans circle around\nhim. He is a rich man; he wants now to be a great and a distinguished\nman; and it is truly wonderful to see how many kind friends spring up to\nmake this rich man great and distinguished in a day. Even the Duke de\nMora condescends to sell him his cast-off pictures at ducal prices; the\nillustrious and philanthropic Dr. Jenkins\u2014Jenkins the great\u2014feeds him on\nhis globules at fees that are fortunes; Felicia Ruys makes a bust of\nhim, and would have married him only that he is stupid enough to have\nbeen burdened with a wife; Moessard, one of the vampires of the press,\nwrites the Nabob up, and, when the Nabob at last closes his pocket,\nwrites the Nabob down. And so they go on all of them, in a whirl of\ngold-dust and pearl-powder and moral filth that is their world until\nthey are swept out, each in his or her way, on the strong eddy that is\nfor ever noiselessly, silently, relentlessly sweeping off human lives\ninto the vast and eternal hereafter.\n\nAlphonse Daudet has all the gifts that a powerful novelist needs, and\nhas cultivated them to the highest degree. He writes with that\npassionless tone of an intense but calm observer who sees things as they\nare, and sees deeper and farther than other men, and paints his picture\nwith pitiless truth. He misses nothing that can add even incidental\neffect to the firm yet delicate stroke of his pencil. He writes with\nthat apparent effortless ease which is really the result of the\nstrongest effort in a man who is perfectly master of his work. He has\neven, we believe, that highest quality\u2014a moral purpose in what he\nwrites. But though he sees virtue and the possibilities of virtue even\nin his Paris, vice seems too strong for it and always to get the best of\nthe bargain, even if in the end it goes out in darkness, disaster, and\ndespair. This undertone of despair of the good is principally what\nimparts so unhealthy and morbid an air to his stories. Thackeray\npictured bad enough people, and with an awful accuracy. But the devil\nnever had it all his own way in Thackeray\u2019s stories, as he has not in\nreal life. He invariably came out of the fight with his tail between his\nlegs, very limp and woe-begone, and in a disgraceful condition\ngenerally. There was rude health and pure blood in all Thackeray\u2019s\nstories strongly set off against the other side. If M. Daudet could only\nmuster moral pluck enough to make his virtuous people a little more\nrobust and aggressive\u2014and there are plenty of such virtuous people in\nParis\u2014his stories would gain rather than lose in tone and make much more\npleasant reading than they do at present. After all, we tire of a crowd\nof \u201cawfully wicked\u201d people, going through all their wickedness for our\nspecial edification and instruction.\n\nMiss Hooper\u2019s translation is excellent.\n\n\n THE CHURCH AND THE GENTILE WORLD AT THE FIRST PROMULGATION OF THE\n GOSPEL. Considerations on the Catholicity of the Church soon after\n her Birth. By the Rev. Aug. J. Th\u00e9baud, S.J. Vol. I. New York: Peter\n F. Collier. 1878.\n\n\nWe can do no more now than acknowledge the receipt of advance sheets of\nthis first volume of a work that promises to be one of great value and\nimportance. Father Th\u00e9baud needs no introduction to our readers. He is\nknown to them as a man of wide and accurate knowledge, keen observation,\nand deep thought. These qualities are not conceded to him idly and for\nthe sake of saying something graceful. They are too rare in these days,\nand are still more rarely found united in one person. Nothing, then,\nthat comes from the pen of this learned Jesuit can be thought unworthy\nof careful attention by an intelligent Catholic reader. The title of the\npresent volume gives some indication of the scope and aim of the work.\nThese are still further set forth in the following words, which we quote\nfrom the preface:\n\n\u201cHer (the church\u2019s) expansion took place instantaneously, as soon as the\napostles began to preach. Thenceforth her universal sway on earth began,\nnever to end until the last day, when she will be transferred to heaven.\nThe whole world at the time was comprised in the three old continents.\nIt is doubtful if there were already on this western hemisphere any of\nthe nations which were found in it when it was discovered by Europeans\nat the end of the fifteenth century.... The church, therefore, became at\nonce universal if she filled the greatest part of the old world, and\nsubdued the chief nations that inhabited it. It can be proved at this\ntime that her conquests in Asia went much further than was for a long\ntime believed, and that she was rapidly spreading toward the Eastern\nocean when Moslem fanaticism arrested her in her career. A like result\nfollows an attentive study of her early progress in the interior of\nAfrica. Of Europe all concede that she rapidly attained the leadership,\nand that she was afterwards mainly instrumental in giving birth to\nEuropean civilization.\n\n\u201cBut what renders more attractive the detail of all these considerations\nis the enumeration of the obstacles she had to surmount in so arduous a\ntask as this. The main one was not only the natural opposition between\nthe leanings of corrupt human nature and the doctrines of the Gospel,\nbut in particular the extreme dissimilarities existing between the\nvarious races of man\u2014dissimilarities in aptitudes, in thoughts and\nideas, in language and manners, but especially in religion and worship.\nFor the Gospel of Christ was preached not only at a time of a high\ncivilization, but also of great corruption and religious disintegration.\nThe primitive traditions of mankind were then nearly all forgotten; the\npure religion and morality which existed at first had given place to the\nmost degrading polytheism; and, worse yet, this polytheism had lost all\nthe homogeneity it may have possessed formerly in many countries, and\nhad become a mere jumble of absurd superstitions.\n\n\u201cThis is, in a few words, the portraiture of humanity which met the\napostles at every step, and which must be examined in detail to\nunderstand the difficulty of their task.\u201d\n\nWe defer to a later number the criticism which a work of this kind\ndemands.\n\n\n THE VATICAN LIBRARY. New York: Hickey & Co. 1878.\n\n\nThe \u201cVatican Library\u201d has been started by Mr. P. V. Hickey, the active\nand enterprising editor of the _Catholic Review_, with the aim of\nsupplying the general Catholic public with the best Catholic works in\nthe cheapest possible form. Such an object is on the face of it its own\nbest recommendation. Two volumes from the \u201cLibrary\u201d have already reached\nus: a twenty-five-cent edition of Cardinal Wiseman\u2019s beautiful story of\n_Fabiola_, one of those stories that is destined never to grow old, and\nan original story (price ten cents) entitled _The Australian Duke_. The\nlatter we have not yet had an opportunity of examining. Both volumes are\nhandsomely produced\u2014very much more so, indeed, than many far more costly\nbooks. Quite a series is promised of \u201ccheap, amusing, entertaining, and\ninstructive Catholic literature.\u201d\n\nAn attempt of this kind, seriously undertaken, and not in a haphazard\nfashion, cannot be too highly commended. Whatever tends to cheapen\nCatholic books\u2014books, that is, that are really Catholic\u2014and spread them\nabroad among the people is a good and noble work. More harm is probably\ndone by cheap literature in these days than by any other means. The\nreadiest and most effectual antidote to this universal literary poison\nis undoubtedly a literature such as the projectors of the \u201cVatican\nLibrary\u201d aim at supplying. But they cannot work alone. Generous and\nearnest Catholics must help them generously and earnestly. It goes\nwithout saying that the attempt must prove a failure unless it is\nseconded on all sides. The purchase of a single copy of a ten cent book\nwill not help the publishers very materially. The books are chiefly\nintended for those who have the will to read but not the means to\npurchase. In such a case it is for those who have the means to come\nforward and help their poorer brethren all they can by placing in their\nhands books that cost next to nothing, yet are in themselves a long\ndelight and unceasing source of sound instruction.\n\n\n LEO XIII. AND HIS PROBABLE POLICY. By Rev. Bernard O\u2019Reilly, D. D.\n New York: Peter F. Collier. 1878.\n\n\nThis little biographical sketch of ninety-six pages has for title on the\ncover, \u201cWho is the new Pope? and What is He Likely to Do?\u201d As to who the\nnew Pope is, Dr. O\u2019Reilly gives a pleasing and picturesque sketch of him\nwhom it has pleased Providence to call to the highest dignity in the\nchurch and on earth. The personal familiarity of the author with the\nscenes where the present Pontiff passed his early youth and strong and\nvigorous manhood add value to the charm of a brisk and stirring\nnarrative. Those who wish to know the character of Leo XIII., what\nmanner of man he is, and how he passed his life previous to being\nsummoned to sit in the chair of Peter, will find Dr. O\u2019Reilly\u2019s sketch\nby far the best of any that we have thus far seen. Speculations as to\nthe future policy of the Pontiff can hardly prove very satisfactory just\nyet. It may be as well for impatient men to wait a little, and not\nattempt to forestall the Holy Father. What his future policy may be can\nonly be made plain by his own words and acts. He has thus far spoken\nvery little and done very little. Indeed, he has scarcely had time to do\neither one or the other. His position is one where the most extreme\ncaution and circumspection are needed, and it augurs well for his future\n\u201cpolicy\u201d that he is so very slow to declare any policy at all. The\npresent state of Europe hardly admits of a hard-and-fast line of\n\u201cpolicy\u201d to be drawn by any one. It is enough for us to know that the\nchurch is safe in whatever hands it falls, so far as regards the deposit\nof faith. For the rest, the march of circumstance must greatly influence\nthe actions of the supreme head of the church. Prayer is rather needed\nat this crisis than advice. These observations are not at all intended\ndisparagingly of Dr. O\u2019Reilly\u2019s interesting _brochure_, but of a\nwell-meant tendency manifesting itself, among our non-Catholic friends\nchiefly, to map out beforehand a convenient little policy for Leo XIII.\nwhich shall make everybody happy here and hereafter.\n\n\n A FEW OF THE SAYINGS AND PRAYERS OF THE FOUNDRESS OF THE SISTERS OF\n MERCY. Edited by a member of the order, authoress of _Catherine\n McAuley, Venerable Hofoauer_, etc. New York: The Catholic\n Publication Society Co. 1878.\n\n\nA beautiful little book made up of beautiful maxims and prayers. Such a\ngem will, we are sure, meet with a welcome reception by religious of all\norders. Its reading will also benefit those who are not religious.\n\n\n \u201cGHOSTS.\u201d Father Walworth\u2019s Reply to Robert G. Ingersoll. A Lecture\n delivered at St. Mary\u2019s Church, Albany, Jan. 20, 1878. Albany:\n _Times_ Company Print.\n\n THE HISTORY OF JOHN TOBY\u2019S CONVERSION. With his Views on Temperance,\n the Liquor Trade, and the Excise Law. A Lecture by the Rev. C. A.\n Walworth. Albany News Company. 1878.\n\n\nThese are two excellent lectures, deserving of a wide circulation. The\nfirst is a plain, common-sense yet effectual and eloquent reply to a\nlecture by Mr. Ingersoll, who has recently gained some notoriety as a\npreacher of a very \u201ccheap\u201d and very \u201cnasty\u201d form of infidelity. Father\nWalworth\u2019s is just the kind of argument to apply to men of average\nintelligence who are as open to the teachings of truth, when plainly\npresented to them, as they are apt to be carried away by a bold assault\nof scoffing infidelity. The lecture is a straightforward, manly,\nmatter-of-fact defence of religion as against no-religion, none the less\neffective and thorough because the lecturer has contrived to conceal\nunder the guise of a popular form of address the wide knowledge and\nlearning which give its inherent force to what he says. Mr. Ingersoll\nought to feel peculiarly flattered at being answered by a gentleman and\na man of real power and culture.\n\nThe second lecture is the story, very tenderly and charmingly told, of a\ndrunkard\u2019s conversion. It brims over with real humor and flashes with\n\u201cpalpable hits\u201d; while there is a touch here and there of pathos that\nbrings tears to the eyes, and that could only be the outcome of a tender\nheart that loves its fellows and sorrows over the woes for which their\nvice and folly are chiefly answerable.\n\n\n ST. JOSEPH\u2019S MANUAL: Containing a selection of Prayers for Public\n and Private Devotion. With Epistles and Gospels for Sundays and\n Holydays. Compiled from approved sources. By Rev. James Fitton.\n Boston: Thomas B. Noonan & Co. 1877.\n\n\nThis is an old friend with a new and very pleasing face. The _St.\nJoseph\u2019s Manual_, compiled by the skilful hand of Father Fitton, has\nlong been, and is likely to continue long to be, a favorite prayer-book\nwith Catholics. It is formed on an intelligent plan. It is a book of\nwise instruction as well as devotion. The first seventy pages are\ndevoted to a clear and sound exposition of Catholic doctrine and\npractice. With regard to this valuable portion of the book we would\noffer two suggestions for future editions: 1. The English here and there\nwould be better for a little trimming; 2. A special chapter on the dogma\nof Papal Infallibility, which might be made brief and concise as the\nrest, would do no harm. For the rest, the volume is everything that\ncould be desired. It contains over eight hundred pages, printed in a\nlarge, clear type very grateful to the eye. The illustrations are,\nwithout exception, excellent. Indeed, the whole work reflects real\ncredit on the publishers.\n\n\n CANTUS ECCLESIASTICUS PASSIONIS D. N. JESU CHRISTI, secundum\n Matth\u00e6um, Marcum, Lucam et Joannem, editus sub auspiciis Sanctissimi\n Domini nostri Pii Pap\u00e6 IX., curante Sacrorum Rituum Congregatione.\n Fasciculi III. Chronista, Christus, Synagoga. MDCCCLXXVII.\n Ratisbon\u00e6, Neo Eboraci et Cincinnatii sumptibus, chartis et typis\n Frederici Pustet, S. Sedis Apost. et Sacr. Rit. Cong. Typographi.\n\n\nThese three superb volumes exhibit the same elegance and taste in\ncomposition that mark all the ritual and choral works edited by Mr.\nPustet, and for which his house has earned a so deservedly high\nreputation. Besides the chant of the Passion as appointed for Palm\nSunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Good Friday of the Holy Week, the second\nvolume contains a form of chant for the _Lamentations_, and the third\nvolume the chant of the _Exultet_.\n\n\n THE WAY OF THE CROSS. Drawn by N. H. J. Westlake, F.S.A. With a\n letter of approbation by His Eminence Cardinal Manning. Devotions by\n St. Alphonsus Liguori. Baltimore: Kelly, Piet & Co. 1878.\n\n\nA very beautiful little volume, whose title explains itself. It is\nbrought out in a tasteful and convenient form, and is admirably adapted\nfor the Lenten season. The name of Mr. Westlake is sufficient guarantee\nfor the superiority of the drawings.\n\n\n\n\n THE CATHOLIC WORLD.\n VOL. XXVII., No. 158.\u2014MAY, 1878.\n\n\n THE DESTINY OF MAN IN A FUTURE LIFE.\n\n\nDoctrine and speculation concerning the destiny of man in that future\nwhich follows the termination of his earthly life, have always held a\nmost important place in all religions and systems of philosophy. Nothing\ninterests the human mind so much, when it escapes in any degree from the\nspell of present, sensible preoccupations, and is awakened to the\nsentiment of its own perennial nature and duration. The recent agitation\nof the public mind in England and the United States concerning\nretribution in a future life has shown how universal and deeply seated\nis the anxiety to know what lies beyond the veil which separates the\nperiod of existence on this side, from the endless duration on the other\nside, of the common grave into which all human generations descend. The\nquestion of eternal punishment has occupied the pulpits and the press,\nas the one most deeply disturbing the general mind of that great mass of\nmen whose traditions and beliefs are derived from Christianity, although\nthey are themselves actually separated from the great Christian body,\nthe Catholic Church. That which strikes the mind of an instructed\nCatholic most forcibly in all this discussion is the want of clear and\nsettled principles in philosophy and theology, the lack of the requisite\npremises and data, the absence of any sure criterion for deducing\ncertain conclusions, testing and determining doctrines and opinions. The\ncontroversy seems to be interminable, for all those who have no lawful\nand unerring external criterion in authority. And it really is so. For\nthis reason, we regard it as the only practicable way for a Catholic to\ntake in treating of this subject, that he should present the doctrine of\nrevelation as defined and declared by the church; and resort to reason\nand the Holy Scripture, only to refute objections to the Catholic\ndoctrine from these sources, and to present corroborative proofs and\nexplanations, in so far as these can be found and their validity as\ncertain or probable established.\n\nWe do not propose to discuss directly the subject of the reality and the\nnature of eternal punishment. There is a previous question respecting\nthe destiny for which man was originally created, upon which depends the\nwhole solution of the subsequent one concerning the necessity or\ncontingency of its attainment. We must know what this destiny is, and\nwhat are the means ordained by the Creator for securing its fulfilment,\nbefore we can know whether there is a danger of final and irretrievable\nfailure on the part of those who are placed in the way of attaining\ntheir end, involved in the very nature of these means.\n\nIn plain words, is there a heaven for man hereafter, and what is the way\nto obtain it? The doctrine of hell is the shadow of the doctrine of\nheaven, and follows it necessarily, when it is rightly presented.\n\nThe idea of heaven is that of a state of endless and perfect beatitude,\nin the possession of the sovereign good, and of every kind of inferior\ngood suited to the nature of man. This idea is absolutely incompatible\nwith every form of atheism, which does not acknowledge the existence of\nthe sovereign good. It is entirely above the scope of philosophy and\nnatural theology. For, although God, the sovereign and infinite good, is\nmanifested by the light of reason, as the first and final cause of all\nthings, the light of reason does not disclose the possibility of a light\nintrinsically superior to the natural light, by which the created spirit\ncan see God in his essence, and thus obtain the sovereign good as its\nown proper possession. Much less can it discover any reason why man\nshould be regarded as destined to such an elevation above his own\nnatural mode of knowledge. The utmost that can be proved by pure\nphilosophy is the possibility of a perfect and permanent state, in which\nthe ideal of humanity only partially realized in this life is brought\ninto complete and actual existence. It is certainly most consonant with\nthe dictates of sound reason to expect that God will bring all\nreasonable creatures to a state of permanent felicity, unless they\nvoluntarily thwart his benevolent purposes. But it does not seem\npossible to determine with certainty whether this benevolent will of God\ndetermines him to put an end to all moral and physical evil in the\nuniverse or not, from arguments of pure reason. The whole subject of the\nexistence of evil must remain covered with obscurity, so long as it is\nconsidered in the light of mere rational philosophy. It is only by the\nlight of divine revelation that the dealings of God with the human race\nbecome intelligible, and we are able even to reason about the future\ndestiny of man in a satisfactory manner. Even those who profess to be\nguided by this light, if they follow the rule of private judgment, fail\nto obtain clear and consistent ideas. The proper idea of the heaven for\nwhich men were created, if not lost, is obscured in the minds of the\ngreater part of those who profess to be Christian believers and yet\nreject the authority of the Catholic Church. All other doctrines\nconnected with this fundamental one are similarly obscured and\nperverted, rendering the theology which rests on them absurd or\ninadequate.\n\nIt is supernatural beatitude which the revelation of God proposed by the\nCatholic Church discloses to faith as the end for which man was created.\nBy its very essence and definition it is infinitely beyond and above the\nend which human nature spontaneously aspires to attain, in which it\nfinds the perfection and scope corresponding to its essence and its\ncapabilities. To attain this end it needs grace, or a supernatural mode\nof being and acting, elevation above every nature excepting only the\ndivine, transformation, and, in a sense, deification. Such a destiny for\na mere creature, especially one which is lowest in the intellectual\norder, would be inconceivable, and incredible, unless explicitly\nrevealed by God. Even when it is made known by revelation, its intrinsic\npossibility cannot be apprehended or proved by reason. It is one of the\nmysteries which is above reason, and the utmost we can do by a rational\nargument is to prove that it has been revealed by God, and therefore\nrationally demands our assent to its truth because of the divine\nveracity. We can, however, by a rational argument, prove that such an\nelevation of a created nature must necessarily be supernatural and\ncannot be effected by any evolution of a natural capacity, or expansion\nof the intrinsic being even of a pure spirit, although it were to\nincrease in intelligence by an indefinite progress for ever.\n\nCognition is a vital act, immanent in the intelligent spirit, determined\nin perfection by the essence of the spirit itself, and incapable of\ntranscending its limits as a created and finite being. By this act other\nbeings are received into and united with the intelligent being,\naccording to the mode of the recipient; that is, ideally, by a\nrepresentation through which they are perceived and known as objects in\ntheir own proper reality outside of the subject. This representation\ncannot exceed the capacity of the intelligence which is its active\nrecipient. The idea by which a created spirit receives God into itself\nand unites itself to him, cannot represent his essence and produce\nimmediate cognition, because the essence of God absolutely and\ninfinitely transcends all genera and species of created beings. The\nhighest angel can perceive no essence which intrinsically transcends his\nown, and must therefore represent God to himself by and through himself,\nthat is, analogically and by abstractive not intuitive cognition. His\nintellectual vision is as utterly incompetent to perceive the essence of\nGod, as the sensible vision of man is to see a pure spirit, or his\nfinger to touch the points of an argument. The indefinite increase of\nthe power of sensible vision will never bring it any nearer to spiritual\nvision, and, in like manner, the indefinite increase of intelligence\nwill never bring it any nearer to divine intuition. The essence of a\ncreated spirit is finite and its intellectual light is finite. Its\nimmediate intelligible object is within the limits of its created\nnature. As the mind of man cannot rise to any natural knowledge of God\nexcept by discursive reasoning from first principles on the works of\nGod, that is, by the argument from effects to the first cause, so the\npurely spiritual being cannot rise above his own intellectual cognition\nof God as the cause and first principle of his own intelligent nature.\nIt is vain, therefore, to think that it is the grossness of the body, or\nthe body itself, which hinders the human spirit from seeing God.\nSeparated from the body, and elevated to an equality with the highest\nangel, it could never possess itself of an intelligible object outside\nof its own supreme genus as a created spirit, outside the limit of\ncreated and finite being.\n\nIt is evident that all the perfection and felicity of an intelligent\nbeing is measured and determined by its intelligence. It possesses the\nobject in which it voluntarily rests as its chief good by cognition, and\naccording to the mode of its cognition. No creature, therefore, by its\nnature, can rise to that state of immediate communion with God which is\nproperly called friendship, which demands as its basis a similitude and\nequality resulting from a real filiation, such as the creative act\ncannot impart to a being brought into existence out of nothingness. The\npossession of the sovereign good belongs exclusively to the nature of\nGod. To the created nature is due only a participation and imitation of\nthat sovereign good within its own specific and finite limits of being.\nThe heaven in which God eternally dwells in his own infinite beatitude\nis not therefore the natural term and end of man\u2019s future destiny, nor\nof the natural destiny of any higher order of creatures. The distance\ndividing the most perfect beatitude of created nature from that of the\nuncreated and creative nature is equally infinite with the distance\nbetween the essence of God and created essences. The Father, the Son,\nand the Holy Spirit alone have natural society, each person of the\nBlessed Trinity with the other persons, in unity of intelligence and\nvolition, in the possession of the divine essence, the sovereign good,\nthe absolute beatitude.\n\nA created spirit cannot be raised to this divine level, unless God so\nunites his divine essence with the essence of his creature, in an\ninterior and vital union penetrating to its very centre and the seat of\nits intelligent and vital action, that in the essence of God present to\nit as immediately as it is present to itself, it sees as through a\ndivine medium that same divine essence as its immediate object, without\nlosing its own proper act and distinct individuality.\n\nThat God can and does thus elevate created nature we know by divine\nrevelation. Jesus Christ is true God and true man in two distinct\nnatures and one person for ever. All the blessed in heaven are\naffiliated to God after his likeness, in an inferior degree which leaves\nthem in their distinct personalities. This state of glory is properly\nspeaking what is called the kingdom of heaven. Annexed to it, as the\nproper inheritance of those who share in the royalty of the Son of God,\nis every kind of the most perfect natural beatitude, in the possession\nand enjoyment of everything which the universe contains, according to\nthe different natures of men and angels.\n\nIt is evident, without any reasoning on the subject, that in proposing\nthis supernatural and purely gratuitous beatitude to created beings, God\nmight select whom he pleased as the recipients of so great a grace, and\nprescribe any conditions which are possible and reasonable for securing\nits permanent possession. It is perfectly consonant with justice and\ngoodness, that it should be made a prize and reward of merit, and that a\nstate of trial and probation should be appointed for those who were\npermitted to aspire to this reward. Divine revelation, whose teachings\nare confirmed by universal experience, makes known to us, that in fact\nGod did place the angels, and afterwards mankind, in a state of\nprobation for this supernatural destiny. A probation must be real and\nnot illusory. It involves the possibility and danger of failure. It must\nhave a prescribed period for each individual and for the whole number.\nWhen this period is finished, those who have failed are by the very\nterms of the probation finally excluded from the hope of retrieving\ntheir loss. Divine revelation informs us that the probation of the\nangels was terminated long ago, and resulted in the winning of eternal\nbeatitude by a certain number and the loss of it by the others. One\namong the chiefs of the angelic hierarchy rebelled against God and drew\nafter him many other spirits, and with these fallen angels for his\nministers and associates, he has continued and will continue on the\nearth the revolt he began in another sphere, until the day appointed for\nthe final judgment. He has continued it on this earth, by seducing men\nto join in his rebellion, and making war against Jesus Christ and his\nkingdom, the universal church. The conditions of human probation are of\na very special and peculiar nature, in accordance with the specific\nnature of mankind, which is extremely different from that of the angels.\nThe angels, as pure spirits and having a simple, intellectual essence,\nwere created singly, and in the actual possession from the first instant\nof existence of their complete being. Man was made a rational animal, by\nthe law of his nature increasing numerically by generation, and\nprogressing from an inchoate state to his perfection through gradual and\nsuccessive stages of growth. The first progenitors of the race alone,\nwere immediately created, in full maturity of perfection, and endowed\nwith all the natural and supernatural gifts suitable for their high\ndestination, to be transmitted to their offspring. Their disobedience\nand fall entailed on themselves and their descendants the loss of the\nsupernatural destiny and of all the gifts and privileges connected with\nit. Nevertheless, the human race was restored again by another\ndispensation, which is that of the Redeemer Jesus Christ. All those who\nreceive from him the grace which he merited by his atonement, and do not\nwilfully and finally reject this grace, obtain in the end a complete\nresurrection to the glory and beatitude of heaven. The rest of mankind\nare for ever excluded from the kingdom of heaven. This is a summary of\nfirst principles and fundamental truths pertaining to the very essence\nof Christianity. In so far as the destiny of mankind is concerned, the\nfirst constitution of human nature in the person of the common\nprogenitor of the race in the state of grace and integrity, with a right\nto the kingdom of heaven; the ruin of the whole human race by the sin of\nAdam; the redemption of the race through Jesus Christ; are the sum of\nthe teaching of the Old and New Testaments, of the traditional doctrine\nconcurrent with it, and of the common belief of all generations of men\nwho have professed to make this doctrine their rule of faith, especially\nthose who have lived in the full light of Christianity. It is idle to\npretend to call any doctrine different from this by the name of\nChristianity, for the whole world knows that this is of the very essence\nof the genuine, historical religion which acknowledges Jesus Christ as\nits founder. Those who reject it, and yet call themselves Christians,\nare only philosophers, professing a merely natural religion, partly\nconstructed from materials borrowed from Christianity and altered to\nsuit their own private notions, but really in its fundamental principles\nand distinctive character nothing more than a system of rationalism. The\ntraditional and orthodox Christianity has invariably taught that all men\nnaturally descending from Adam and Eve need salvation, and can receive\nit only through an act of gratuitous mercy on account of the merits of\nthe divine Redeemer. No man is entitled by the rights of his natural\nbirth to heaven, or capable of obtaining a right to it by any exertion\nof his natural powers. All are under a doom of exclusion from the\nkingdom of heaven. That future state, with all its circumstances of\nlocality and other adjuncts and environments, to which all are destined\nby virtue of this doom, is called in the authorized language of the\nCatholic Church _Infernum_, in the English language, _Hell_. The\ndoctrine of hell as an eternal state is therefore necessarily the shadow\nwhich must accompany the doctrine of heaven. It is impossible for any\none to believe in salvation by grace through Jesus Christ, without\nimplicitly at least acknowledging that all men might have been left\nunder the doom of destination to the infernal state, without any\nprejudice to the justice or the goodness of God. The case is not one\nwhit altered, if one supposes that all men are actually saved because\nChrist died for all. If the mercy of God were universal, it would still\nremain evident that mercy is not identical with justice. It could not be\nargued that any man has a natural right to salvation, because salvation\nis bestowed as a boon upon all men. It is vain, therefore, to argue on\n_\u00e0 priori_ grounds, that all men must eventually be saved. In truth, it\nhas never been a doctrine of traditional and orthodox Christianity, that\nthe simple fact of redemption placed every one of the human race in the\npossession of an inalienable right to final salvation. That many never\nrecover the lost right to heaven, and that many who have obtained it\nlose it again irretrievably and for ever, is the common and universal\ndoctrine of Christians. The efforts made to twist the language of Christ\nand the apostles into a contrary sense are so futile, that only a fixed\ndetermination to force the Holy Scripture into agreement with one\u2019s own\nprivate opinions and feelings can account for them. The doctrine of the\nCatholic Church is unalterably determined. The fallen angels were not\nredeemed by Jesus Christ, and for them there is no restoration to the\nplace which they have forfeited. Of men, all, be their number greater or\nsmaller, who have been regenerated by the grace of Christ, and have\npassed out of this life in the state of grace, will obtain the kingdom\nof heaven, and the remainder will be forever excluded. The notion of an\n\u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 or future restitution of all angels and men, proposed as a\nmere theory by Origen, and alluded to by one or two other Catholic\nFathers of the early ages as a possible conjecture, was universally\nreprobated and condemned by the church as soon as it attracted general\nattention. There is no doubt as to the Catholic faith on this matter.\n\nThe recent discussion has turned chiefly on the question of moral\nprobation, the cause and reason of the mutability and liability to error\nin the intellect and perversion in the will of rational beings, and the\nmanner and extent of their passing through the state of mutability to a\nstate of permanent stability in good or evil. The errors of Origen were\nderived from the Platonic philosophy. So far as the _Periarchon_ really\npresents his fanciful conjectures, we must consider them as vagaries of\na man who, although richly endowed with intellectual gifts and moral\nvirtues, was destitute of a truly rational and Christian philosophy, and\ntherefore unable to think consistently, when he ventured beyond those\nprimary doctrines of the faith which were clearly known to him. We\nperceive the same cause of aberration and incoherence in most of the\ncurrent statements and expositions of theological opinion which appear\nin our modern publications. It would seem that Origen considered it to\nbe a necessary law of creation, that God must create all souls alike,\nand in an elementary state, with a most capricious and uncontrollable\nliberty to choose good or evil, so that they were for ever liable to\nindefinite mutations of character and condition, and could never become\nstable in one fixed position. His state of restitution was no more\npermanent and eternal than the previous one of degradation. There is no\neternal heaven possible, according to his hypothesis, or rather that of\nthe _Periarchon_, any more than an eternal hell. Our modern Protestant\nreligious writings are affected by a similar tendency to a chaotic\nconfusion of ideas. It would be an endless task to attempt to follow\nthem through the maze of conflicting and incoherent reasonings with\nwhich they contend mutually, and strive to construct some sort of\nrational and credible eschatology. It is only in Catholic theology based\non dogmas of faith, and a philosophy in harmony with this theology\nderived from the ancient masters of intellectual science, that a remedy\nfor this chaotic state of things can be found. We cannot do more at\npresent than merely state a few sound and certain principles, without\nattempting to reproduce the arguments by which they have been often and\nfully demonstrated.\n\nThe first principle we lay down is, that God can impart his own\nimmutability of intelligence and will to intelligent beings. It is\nbecause his intelligence is infinite that God is immutable, that is, can\nnever change his mind. His will necessarily conforms to his\nintelligence, and he therefore is, and is in full possession of, the\nsovereign good, by his self-existing essence.\n\nThe intelligent creature participates in this intelligence, in that\ndegree of being which God gives him. The object of the spontaneous and\nnatural act of intelligence is the real verity of being, and by his\nintelligent nature he can never be deceived. The object perceived by the\nintelligence contains in it the good, toward which the will moves by a\nspontaneous and natural act. It is only necessary that the object be so\nplaced before the intellect that it compels assent, to make all error,\nvoluntary or involuntary, impossible. The good which is thus perfectly\npresented necessarily draws the will to itself, and thus immutability in\ngood is produced. Error in the intellect is an accident and a defect in\nnature, and all perversion of will or evil choice is a consequence of\nerror. The liability of sinning is therefore no necessary adjunct of the\nspontaneity or liberty of will which is an attribute of intelligent\nbeings. It is removed by making the intelligence perfect. It is easy,\ntherefore, for God to make any intelligent being immutably good, even\nfrom the beginning of his existence, since it is easy for him to give to\nnature any degree of perfection, within the purely natural order.\n\nIn the supernatural order, the gift of the intuitive vision of the\ndivine essence imparts to the recipient the knowledge and possession of\nthe sovereign good, with which it is immovably united by a spontaneous\nand necessary act. It can no more lose its beatitude than it can lose\nits essence. It is as impossible for one of the blessed to be changed\ninto a sinner, as for an angel to become an ape.\n\nLiability to error and sin belongs, therefore, not to any necessary\norder of things, resulting from natural and necessary laws which God is\nobliged to follow in creation and providence, but it is a condition of\ndefectibility pertaining to a law of probation which God has established\nby his sovereign will.\n\nThis defectibility supposes an equilibrium or indetermination of the\nwill in respect to contraries which is overcome by a self-determining\npower. Such an equilibrium can only exist, when opposite objects, in\nwhich some good corresponding to the spontaneous tendency of the will is\ncontained, are presented to the intellect as desirable and worthy of\nchoice; in such a way that the motives for choice balance each other.\nThe will must follow the intellect, and therefore an error in the choice\nmust be preceded by an erroneous judgment, which is possible only when\nthe object presented to it does not compel assent. Moral probation\nrequires that there should be an obligation, arising from the eternal\nlaw of God or a positive command, to choose one of the opposite objects\nand reject the other. It is this which makes these objects contrary to\neach other in a moral respect, and is the reason why liberty of choice\nbetween them is called the liberty of contrariety, and the determination\nto the one is a virtuous, while that to the other is a vicious act. It\nis easy to understand this liberty of contrariety and the moral\ndiscipline which is requisite for its due control and direction, in\nrespect to human nature. From its complex constitution, the sensible\ngood is often opposed to the rational good, and reason, which ought to\ngovern, is easily deceived by the imagination. In the case of pure\nspirits, it is more difficult to see how they can be subject to any\nillusion, or capable of undergoing any moral probation. In the natural\norder, they are perfect, and cannot err in the apprehension of that\nwhich is truly desirable as their chief good. They are not, therefore,\ncapable of probation in the moral order of pure nature. But in the\nsupernatural order, the object proposed to them being presented in an\nobscure, supernatural light, which does not compel assent, there is room\nfor a suspension of the act of consent, and a power of rejecting the\nsovereign good by a voluntary self-determination, in adhering to the\ninferior object which they naturally comprehend and love. In fact, it\nwas in this way that the fallen angels sinned and rebelled against God.\nIn like manner, Adam, who was elevated to a perfect state like that of\nthe angels, and enjoyed absolute dominion over all sensible\nconcupiscence, underwent a supernatural probation, in which he fell\nthrough the seduction of Eve, who was the instrument of the demon, who\nhad previously made her the victim of his diabolical sophistry.\n\nThe only moral order which is known to exist as an order of probation,\nin reference to an ultimate destination and end of intelligent\ncreatures, is the one which is supernatural. If we conjecture that the\nuniverse is filled with intelligent beings who are neither angels nor\nhuman beings, we have no need and no reason to imagine that they are\nsubject to a moral probation with the trials and pains connected with\nthe order under which angels and men were constituted. The great problem\nof the reason of probation is one which is restricted within the sphere\nof those beings who have been constituted by the Creator in the order of\na supernatural destiny. The difficulty of the problem arises exclusively\nfrom the moral and physical evil which is an incident of probation. In\nitself, the sufficient reason for probation is obvious and evident. The\norigin and nature of evil really present no insoluble difficulty, when\nthe principles of sound theology and philosophy are understood. The\ndifficulty consists in accounting for the permission of sin and misery\nin view of the known attributes of infinite goodness and almighty power\nin God. If the final conclusion of the vicissitudes and temporary evils\nof the state of probation were a universal \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2, including the\neternal abolition of evil in the universe and the attainment in general\nand in each individual of a permanent good of the highest order, to\nwhich the temporary conflict of good and evil was a necessary means, the\nhuman reason might be completely satisfied. But, although in general,\nand in a multitude of individuals, this is really the predestined and\ncertain result, it is not the case with another multitude, the whole\nnumber, namely, of those who finally forfeit the sublime destiny to\nwhich they had an original right, but which they have lost\nirrecoverably. There is a repugnance in the human mind to the\ncontemplation of permanent and eternal evil in the universe, and this is\nmuch increased by the human sensibilities, and natural sympathy with\nthose of our own kind who suffer even the consequences of their own\nviolation of the eternal law. This repugnance causes the effort to find\na way of escape, or at least of mitigating the severe integrity of the\ntruth by resorting to some kind of fatalism. These efforts are all\nfutile and foolish. It is absurd to question the infinite goodness or\nthe infinite power of God. The fact that moral and physical evil exists,\nis only too well known by experience. There is but one way to account\nfor it, which is that God permits it as incident to the law of moral\nprobation. We can have no knowledge of the finality of evil except from\nthe divine revelation. And, that revelation having made known to us that\nthe decision of destiny for each individual at the term of his probation\nis irreversible, it is reasonable, as well as imperative in respect to\nfaith, to assent to the judgment of God because of his own knowledge and\nveracity, whether we can or cannot understand how and why that judgment\nis consistent with his goodness.\n\nThere is no prohibition placed on the exercise of intellect and reason\nin seeking to understand these revealed doctrines, provided we respect\nthe authority which God has established as our extrinsic rule and\ncriterion of truth. Under this regulation, reason can go very far toward\nsolving the problem of the origin, nature, and reason of evil.\n\nThe origin of evil is in the abuse of free-will by intelligent beings\nwho are placed by the Creator in a state of probation. Its nature is\nmerely privative, consisting in deficiency and disorder. The sufficient\nreason for permitting it is either that it is a necessary incident to\nany order of moral probation, or to such an order as the one actually\nestablished, in view of the greater glory of God and the greater general\ngood of the universe. The evil condition, or state of deficiency and\nprivation, into which intelligent beings are degraded in consequence of\ntheir abuse of the power of free choice, is the natural consequence of\ntheir voluntary sin, and is, in itself, permanent and irremediable.\nSince the order of probation is supernatural, and the power of\nefficaciously electing the sovereign good is a grace freely given by\nGod, sin, which is a supernatural death, is eternal in its duration and\nconsequences, unless God restores the lost state of grace by his divine\npower. He can easily do it, and it is therefore vain to attempt, as it\nwere, an apology for the Almighty, by pretending that he actually does\nall that is possible, to restore the fallen, and to bring every\nintelligent being to the perfection for which he was originally\ndestined. It is by the will of the Almighty, that each one who has been\nplaced in a state of probation, if he passes out of that state with the\nguilt of sin upon him, is for ever deprived of the grace which is\nabsolutely necessary for expiation and restoration. The probation of\nangels ended long ago, and those who sinned were left without any offer\nof pardon and reconciliation. The pardon which is offered to men, is\noffered to them as a gratuitous act of mercy on the part of God, which\nis available so long as they live and have the use of reason and\nfree-will. Probation ceases with death, and all merit and demerit become\neternal. The doom awarded to merit is eternal reward, to demerit eternal\npunishment. The final privation of that good which is the reward of\nmerit, and of that grace which is necessary for making the least\nmovement toward it, is a penalty which God has annexed to sin. This is\nthe Christian and Catholic doctrine, and to deny it is equivalent to a\ncomplete renunciation of the genuine Christian religion. The recent\ndevelopments of the extent to which this fundamental tenet of orthodox\nProtestantism is disbelieved or doubted among the various sects, are an\nevidence that their dogmatic and historical basis is crumbling and\npassing away with unexpected rapidity. The genuine dogmatic system of\nProtestantism is Calvinism. And although the Calvinistic system retains\na number of the fundamental articles of Catholic faith, its omissions\nand additions and perversions make it as a whole self-contradictory and\nabsurd. The principle of private judgment logically results in\nrationalism, and no such system as Calvinism can long stand a rational\ntest. All other theological systems which have sprung up as\nmodifications of the Luthero-Calvinistic system are too incoherent and\nincomplete to be permanent. An irresistible current is sweeping away all\nthese fabrics hastily built upon the sand, leaving only a confused\n_d\u00e9bris_ of truths and errors to the amazement of mankind. While this\nbreaking up of old and general beliefs and convictions is in many\nrespects lamentable and dangerous, we recognize, nevertheless, that\nthere is a divarication in the irresistible logical current which is\nsweeping them into the sea of oblivion. The tendency of the general mind\nis not exclusively destructive. There is a yearning and an effort toward\nuniversal truth, and a deeply-seated conviction that this truth is\nreally contained in Christianity rightly understood, which makes a\nstrong and wide counter-current, bearing away from the tide that sets so\nstrongly toward materialism and atheism. We recognize in the views and\narguments more or less rationalistic which have been recently put forth\nin respect to the future destiny of the human soul, a revival of ethical\nand theological ideas in respect to the relation of the soul toward God,\nwhich are more in harmony with the Catholic faith than those of the old\nProtestant belief. The intrinsic, inherent good qualities and state of\nthe soul itself, its voluntary determination to the good, its actual\nperfection in spiritual excellence and virtue, are acknowledged to be\nthe ground and measure of the relation of friendship with God, and the\nwant of this subjective fitness and worthiness is confessed to be a\nnecessary cause of a corresponding alienation. The state of interior\nrectitude, integrity, and likeness to God, is acknowledged to be the\nnecessary qualification of congruity and condignity in the soul, which\ngives it an aptitude to receive from the Creator that permanent and\nperfect enjoyment of its highest good which constitutes its everlasting\nbeatitude. Sin is acknowledged to be the supreme evil of the soul which\ndeprives it of its true good and degrades it below the order in which\nits proper excellence and felicity are placed. Therefore, the whole\nquestion of the final restoration of all intelligent beings who have\nlapsed from good, is resolved into a question respecting the cessation\nor the perpetual continuance of a moral order, under which renovation is\npossible, and the possibility sure to become actual, by a necessary and\neternal law, in every individual instance. What is the criterion by\nwhich those who maintain this \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 intend to determine its\ntruth or falsity? It must be either divine revelation distinctly and\ncertainly made known, or pure human reason. Every one who thinks\nlogically must select between the two. As we have before said, we judge\nit by the criterion of revelation. What is the Christian, that is, what\nis the Catholic doctrine, founded on the veracity of God, clearly\ndeclared, and unalterable? We have already stated it, and it is known to\nall men. Those who still profess that they have in the Scriptures\ninterpreted by their own private judgment an infallible rule of faith,\nare bound to demonstrate that their doctrine is clearly taught in the\nScriptures, or is at least compatible with what is taught in them. It is\nopen to any Catholic writer to discuss the matter with them on that\nground if he thinks fit to do so, and it may be of some utility. It is\nequally suitable to discuss the question on purely philosophical grounds\nwith those who do not admit revelation. But, as this is not our present\npurpose, we confine ourselves to the statement of what is the Catholic\ndoctrine, and merely affirm that it is impossible to bring any\nconclusive argument against it, either from Scripture or from reason. It\nis really only the objections from reason which have any weight in the\nminds of men. Now, it is impossible to prove from reason that God may\nnot propose to intelligent creatures a supernatural end to be attained\nby their voluntary operation under a moral law, and fix definite limits\nto their probation; or that it is not just to leave those who have\nmisused their liberty by turning away from their prefixed end, in the\npermanent state of privation of their sovereign good. Nor is it possible\nto prove that penalties are not justly inflicted as a retribution for\nviolations of law, in the state which succeeds the term of probation. It\nis God alone who is the judge of the nature and quantity of retribution\nwhich is due according to justice to individual demerits. Reason is not\nqualified to criticise the divine judgment which has decreed an eternal\npenalty for sin. The only rational mode of inquiring into the penalty\nfor sin in the future life, is by seeking to ascertain what the divine\nrevelation actually discloses and teaches on this momentous subject.\nThis is determined with certainty by the Catholic rule, and taking all\nthat is contained in this certain doctrine as a point of departure and a\nregulating principle, a theological and philosophical exposition of its\nrelations with the other known principles and doctrines of revelation\nand reason manifests its harmony with all these truths, in a\nsufficiently clear light to command a firm rational assent. If all\ndifficulties and obscurities are not completely removed, many\nmisconceptions and apparent objections are dissipated, while the\nobscurity which finally remains is shown to be a necessary accompaniment\nof the dim light, by which the human mind, in its present condition,\nperceives these remote objects of eternity; and to make part of that\nlimitation of knowledge which is an element of our moral discipline.\n\nIt is a demonstrable truth, contained in the first principles both of\nnatural and revealed theology, that God has made all things for good,\nand that he will not permit the abuse of free-will by his creatures to\nthwart the final attainment of the end he has proposed, by causing\npermanent disorder in the universe. St. Thomas teaches that the\npunishment of the future life is decreed for this very reason. \u201cIt\npertains to the perfect goodness of God, that he should not leave\nanything inordinate in existing things. Now, those things which exceed\ntheir due quantity are comprehended in the order of justice which\nreduces all things to equality; but man exceeds his due measure of\nquantity when he prefers his own will to the divine will by satisfying\nits desires inordinately; and this inequality is removed, when man is\ncompelled to suffer something contrary to his own will according to\nGod\u2019s established order\u201d (_Con. Gent._, iii. 146). F. Liberatore,\ncommenting on this text, says: \u201cPunishment is therefore a certain\nreaction of reason and justice for the restoration of the disturbed\norder. The argument which demonstrates the necessity of a sanction for\nthe natural law, shows also that when God punishes those who commit\nmischievous acts he is not impelled by a movement of vengeful ire, but\nonly by the love of goodness and order. For retribution, which proceeds\nfrom the order of justice according to the quality of the works done,\nimports in its very notion the concept of rectitude and goodness\u201d\n(_Eth._, c. iii. art. 2).\n\nIn respect to the essential nature of the punishment, the same author\nlays down the proposition: \u201cThat the punishment of retribution for the\nimpious consists principally in the loss of their ultimate end. By those\ngood works which are commanded by the law, man puts himself on the road\nwhich leads straight to his end. For virtuous actions are a kind of\nsteps by which a man walks toward this end; while on the other hand by\nvicious actions he deflects from his end and goes in an altogether\nopposite direction. Therefore, when the time destined for the journey\nhas expired, it will necessarily follow that the one who has travelled\nby the road leading to his end should attain his end. Again, it is\nnecessary for a similar reason that the one who through disregard of his\nend has followed a road leading in an entirely opposite direction should\nbe deprived of the attainment of his end. It is a contradiction to\nassert that a way leading to a certain term does not lead to it; and\nequally absurd to say that this same term is reached by a way which\nleads directly away from it. Therefore, it necessarily follows that at\nleast the loss of the ultimate end should follow the violation of the\nnatural law and be, as it were, a certain internal and natural sanction\nfor it. But the loss of the end inflicted in view of the acts which one\nhas committed has the nature of a punishment.\n\n\u201cNevertheless, that by no means suffices for a complete retribution\ncorresponding to the works done; but a positive infliction of\npunishments according to the diversity existing between individuals is\nrequisite. Therefore they are not all to be made to receive an exactly\nequal punishment (which would happen if they were only deprived of the\nattainment of their end), but to be chastised by a greater or lesser\npositive punishment according to the quality of their transgressions.\nThis is required for still another reason, viz., that by their vicious\nacts they have not only despised their end but also positively disturbed\nthe right order.\u201d (_Ibid._)\n\nThe reproach of dualism, and of a failure to establish a final\nsubjugation of evil by good and of disorder by the triumph and\ndomination of order, made against the orthodox doctrine, is shown by\nthese arguments, in connection with other well-known principles of\nCatholic theology and philosophy, to be groundless. There is no dualism\nin God, for his creative act, and all that he does for bringing it to\nits ultimate term, proceeds from love diffusive of the good of being in\na wise and benevolent order. There is no dualism in the essence and\nbeing of intelligent creatures, in respect to God or each other. Their\nessence is good, and all nature whatsoever is essentially good. No evil\nsubstance does or can exist. Evil is privation and disorder. The\ntemporary disorder, which is permitted as an incident to the liberty of\na state of probation and movement toward a stable order, is rectified in\nthe final ordination of all things under the supremacy of sovereign law.\nThe loss of some good, which might have been added to the actual sum of\ngood if all had attained their end, is compensated by the greater good\nwhich God has brought out of evil. Reason and order and law are\nvindicated and satisfied, by the compulsory subjection and homage of\nthose who have refused to give their concurrence and pay their just\ntribute of obedience and labor freely. Privation does not disfigure the\nspiritual universe in which all that is requisite to consummate order\nand beauty exists, any more than empty space disfigures a stellar\nsystem. The good has therefore a complete and universal triumph, which\nleaves no deordination in the universe.\n\nDisorder is only in the moral order of liberty in the election of\ncontraries, by which the permanent order of those who exercise this\npower is determined. Those who rise above the moral order go to a higher\norder which is permanent; those who fall below it go to an order beneath\nwhich is permanent. The moral order passes away, and with it all\nconflict between opposing moral forces. Those who have fallen below\ntheir proper destiny receive precisely what is due to them and results\nnaturally from their voluntary choice. Whatever is superadded to the\nmisery naturally involved in the state of alienation from God and the\nfrustration of their proper end, is directed to remove and prevent but\nnot to perpetuate and increase deordination; and thus eternal\npunishment, whatever its nature, qualities, and instrumentalities may\nbe, really restricts the limits of evil. It is the _bonum honestum_ and\nnot the _bonum delectabile_ which is the just and reasonable object of\nthe primary and direct complacency of intelligent beings. The _bonum\ndelectabile_ is secondary. That which is most contrary to this highest\ngood is the revolt of free-will against the will of God. When the term\nallowed by the Almighty for the rebellion of Lucifer to run its course\nhas been reached, it will be suppressed by that act of sovereign power,\nwhich places each one of those who have merited exclusion from heaven in\na fixed and unchangeable state, precisely suited to his character. No\nfurther disturbance of the moral order is possible, no further privation\ncan be incurred, no new injuries can be attempted against any of God\u2019s\ncreatures. Those who suffer, actually endure nothing beyond the\nretribution justly due to the demerits of their state of probation, and\ntheir suffering compensates in the order of the _bonum honestum_ for\ntheir offences against that order, restoring the disturbed equilibrium\nof justice. It is an effect of the divine goodness frustrated (in\nrespect to them) of its intention, and deprived of its due quality as\n_bonum delectabile_ by their own voluntary opposition to the benevolent\nwill of God. Socrates and Plato taught that it is better even for the\none who deserves punishment to undergo it than to remain in impunity.\nAssuredly it is better for the common order which he has violated.\nImpunity for great political frauds is the greatest of disorders in a\ncommunity, and the punishment of the criminals is a reparation to the\npublic honor and the sanctity of right, which adds decorum to a state.\nThis is in virtue of an eternal and universal law, and holds good in the\nsupreme order, with which the ethical constitution of human society is\nin an analogical resemblance. Justice reduces all things to equality, by\nsubjugating the inordinate wills of created beings under the coercive\nforce of the reaction of reason and order against their rebellion. The\ninequality removed by this violent reaction is measured by the voluntary\nand free excesses of the rebels and transgressors against the sovereign\nwill of God. Beyond this measure, there is no violence done to the\nspontaneous desires and natural tendency to good intrinsic to the\nessence of every intelligent being. Unless there is an inequality caused\nby voluntary contrariety to the divine will, there is no opposition, and\ntherefore there must be a perfect harmony and equality of proportion\nbetween the eternal order and the wills of those who are subject to it.\nTherefore, there is no such thing possible as pain, discontent,\ndeficiency from the _bonum honestum_ and _bonum delectabile_ of nature,\nin the eternal world, except that which is the retribution for voluntary\ntransgressions.\n\nThe thousands of millions of human beings who never attain the use of\nreason, never run the risks of probation, and pass into the eternal\nstate without merit or demerit, enjoy the good of being which is\nconsonant to their nature in whatever actual condition it exists. Those\nwhose nature is regenerate, and spontaneously seeks the sovereign good\nof the supernatural order, go immediately into the kingdom of heaven.\nThose whose nature is not regenerate possess an immortality in which\nthey enjoy the natural good of being. There is no such thing as\nfatality, calamity of chance, misfortune, or deordination of any kind in\nthe true \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 and restitution of all things, which succeeds the\npresent inchoate, temporary order. It is the absolute and universal and\neternal reign of God by his eternal law, which is identified with the\nphysical and spontaneous laws of being, and gives liberty of action\nwithin the ordained circumference, without any possibility of escape\nfrom the orbit assigned to each individual existence.\n\nWe return now to that which we proposed at the beginning as a primary\nquestion, not for those who are already certain by Catholic faith, but\nfor inquirers into the mystery of human destiny beyond the veil. Is\nthere a heaven, and what is the way by which it can be attained? Modern\nrationalism presents at best nothing higher that the eternal state into\nwhich human nature fell by the transgression of Adam, and from which we\nare redeemed by Christ. This species of philosophical and semi-Christian\nTheism, which is respectable in pagans and those who are in a similar\ncondition of dim enlightenment, has no intellectual foundation which can\nstand or give support, in opposition to the clear Christian revelation.\nThe firm assent to its really sound and rational principles and their\nlogical conclusions, inexorably demands a further assent, to the\nphysical, moral, and metaphysical demonstration by which the certain\ntruth of Christianity is made evident to reason. A consistent and\nthorough rejection of Christianity reacts with irresistible logical\nviolence against the first premises of natural theology. The prevailing\nrationalism is materialistic and atheistic. The contrary of Catholic\nfaith, the real error of the age, the logical alternative of genuine\nundiluted Christianity, is anti-spiritual, anti-theistic Nihilism. To\nthose who have a repugnance for the hell which is the shadow of heaven\nin Catholic doctrine, the night-side of the supernatural, this system\ncannot be very attractive; unless they are in despair, and already so\nunhappy and hopeless that existence seems to them an intolerable evil.\nIn this system there is nothing besides hell. Hell is the necessary,\neternal reality, the only being. The negation of all eternal good, of\nall beatitude whether natural or supernatural, is the one, fundamental\ndogma of Pessimism.\n\nThe aspiration and longing for beatitude which cannot be wholly\nextinguished in any human soul, and which manifests its vehemence even\nin the most gloomy and despairing utterances of scepticism, is strong\nand vivid among the multitude of half-believers, whose Christian descent\nhas left in their minds, as an heirloom, some indistinct idea of the\nheaven of Christian theology. Even though they practically seek to\nsatisfy their thirst for the true good by the pleasures of the present\nlife, they wish to cherish the hope of a higher future happiness in the\nnext world. Therefore, they eagerly welcome any plausible teaching or\nspeculation which seems to make a happy immortality their sure ultimate\ndestiny, and are glad to think they run no risk of losing it, and need\nnot give themselves trouble to find the way to gain it. Conscience, and\nthe moral sense which has had a semi-Christian education, will not\npermit those who still cling to their traditional religion to believe\nthat the majority of adults are actually fit for perfect happiness, or\ncapable of passing out of this life at once into heaven, without\nundergoing some thorough transformation of character. The view presented\nby the most reasonable and high-toned of the writers and preachers who\nhave recently advocated universal salvation, or a doctrine tending in\nthat direction, places a prospect of indefinite trial and suffering\nbefore those who have sinned during their mortal career, as awaiting\nthem hereafter. Its happy termination in the heaven promised to the good\nis something which is inferred by their own reasonings and conjectures,\nbut which cannot be proved with certainty by reason, much less shown to\nbe a promise of the divine word. Over against this there is the general\nbelief of mankind; the general consent of those who have read the Holy\nScriptures in the interpretation of their plain and obvious sense; and\nthe teaching of the Catholic Church from the very beginning, which she\nwill certainly never change. It is much more reasonable to take the\nauthority of the church as the criterion of truth in regard to this\nmomentous matter than to decide it by private reasonings or private\ninterpretations of Christian doctrine. The Catholic doctrine proposes a\nheaven of supernatural beatitude and glory to every one, and points out\na sure way by which any one may secure it, no matter how much he may\nhave sinned in the past. It is the most rational course to begin at once\nto follow the road which leads to the right end, and leave with God the\nresponsibility of administering his own just and sovereign laws by\ngiving to each one that retribution which he has deserved.\n\n NOTE.\u2014The reader is referred for a more full exposition of the\n relation of the supernatural to the natural order, and the other\n principal topics belonging to the subject of the future destiny of\n man, to the following works: _Aspirations of Nature_, by the Rev. I.\n T. Hecker; _Problems of the Age_ and _The King\u2019s Highway_, by the\n Rev. A. F. Hewit; _Catholicity and Pantheism_, by the Rev. J. de\n Concilio; _The Knowledge of Mary_, by the same author; and _Catholic\n Eschatology_, by H. N. Oxenham.\n\n\n\n\n LINES.\n SUGGESTED BY ST. FRANCIS DE SALES\u2019 TREATISE ON THE \u201cLOVE OF GOD.\u201d\n\n\n O precious book! in lines of fire I see\n Upon each page the record of a soul\n Which soared above the clouds, serenely free,\n Which read with eagle eye the mystic scroll;\n To whose ecstatic love th\u2019 Eternal Three\n Sublime and hidden mysteries did unroll.\n A heart, a living heart, is throbbing here!\n A heart whose every fibre[41] thrilled to One\n Unknown to human wisdom, yet most clear\n To him, whose spirit, as a luminous sun,\n Caught from the splendors of high heaven\u2019s sphere,\n A light for centuries set in shadows dun.\n O shadows dark and sad! with prophet-gaze\n Did he foresee your baneful, blinding cloud\n Enwrap man\u2019s reason, soul, and heart? the ways\n Of God enveloped in a death-like shroud\n Of folly, prejudice, and pride? Amaze\n Had seized that noble soul! Yet he had bowed\n \u2019Neath persecution\u2019s fury; toiled with heart\n Undaunted, while upraised were savage hands\n To strike, as Jews of old, the deadly dart.\n Through sufferings borne with joy he won those bands,\n Through burning zeal and (his own heavenly art)\n Divinest meekness, which all power commands.\n\n What secret charm had he so early learned\n Which made a joy of pain? of sacrifice\n His life-long pleasure? Soul and heart had burned\n Within love\u2019s fiery crucible where dies\n Nature and self and sense; for God he yearned;\n For God and souls were poured his nightly sighs.\n Thou sacred volume, fruit of years of prayer,\n Of holy contemplation, seraph love,\n Dost unto me this hidden charm declare;\n With his own life each word is interwove.\n His holy pen would oft, methinks, repair\n To Calvary\u2019s shade or to the olive grove,\n And, deep within the Wounded Side, would seek\n The living flame, as strong as death, which breathes\n In each dear line. Methinks he still doth speak,\n And with celestial sweetness still bequeathes\n His dying legacy of love; his meek\n And gentle lessons in the soul inwreathes\n Like flowers, the garden of the Spouse to grace.\n\n O zeal inflamed and generous! No rest\n While heart and hand the path to heaven may trace\n For souls brought back on Calvary\u2019s bleeding crest;\n No rest while he one tender lamb may place,\n All bruised, for healing on the Saviour\u2019s breast.\n No sweet repose of prayer and love while pure\n And virgin hearts, aspiring heavenward, pine\n For light and guidance in the way obscure\n And thorny leading to the mystic shrine\u2014\n The \u201cinner temple,\u201d where God, throned secure,\n Binds fast the soul in his embrace divine.\n No rest for him while still on earth the fire\n His Master brought remains unkindled; while\n One human heart, Grief\u2019s trembling, deep-toned lyre,\n Vibrates not to his Master\u2019s touch with smile\n Of peace, ev\u2019n while the chords are breaking; higher,\n And higher still! the sacrificial pile\n Awaits a host of generous souls who mount\n With ardor at his word; new strength endows,\n And, like the ph\u0153nix,[42] they from Light\u2019s own Fount\n Draw odorous flames of love; while sacred vows\n Bind them, like Isaac, hand and foot, who count\n The sword and fire but pleasure with their Spouse.\n\n O priceless heritage of poet-saint!\n What wisdom born of Heaven adorns each page!\n To fancy seems some master-hand to paint;\n To intellect speaks philosophic sage;\n Passion impulsive yields to sweet constraint,\n And heart and will bow down in every age.\n Strange spell which o\u2019er the soul it casts! the strong,\n Clear message more like ancient prophet\u2019s tone;\n Again, to his full gaze as mysteries throng,\n Its breathings are the loved disciple\u2019s own;\n And now it rises like th\u2019 ecstatic song\n Of some grand seraph veiled before the throne!\n\nFootnote 41:\n\n If I knew there was one fibre in my heart which was not all God\u2019s I\n would instantly pluck it out.\u2014_St. Francis de Sales._\n\nFootnote 42:\n\n St. Francis draws many beautiful illustrations from this mythical\n bird. The ancients asserted that when age had exhausted the strength\n of the ph\u0153nix it built a funeral-pile of aromatic gums and wood on the\n top of some high mountain, and, ascending it when the sun was in his\n meridian splendor, lit the pile by the fanning of its wings, and was\n consumed to ashes. From these ashes sprang another ph\u0153nix.\n\n\n\n\n CONRAD AND WALBURGA.\n CHAPTER I.\n\n\nAmong the many beautiful paintings by world-known artists which adorn\nthe old Pinakothek in Munich is one symbolizing Innocence, by Carlo\nDolce. It represents a lovely, rosy-cheeked girl gazing frankly at you;\ndown her shoulders floats a stream of golden hair, and clasped to her\nbosom is a lamb.\n\nBefore this picture, one spring day in the year 1855, stood a gentleman\nadmiring it with all the rapture of one who knows how difficult it is to\nachieve such a miracle of art\u2014to place upon canvas a face so instinct\nwith life, so full of that divine something which only genius can\nimpart.\n\n\u201cIt is indeed beautiful, most beautiful,\u201d thought Conrad Seinsheim. \u201cAnd\nyet,\u201d after an inward pause, during which his eyes rested on a young\nlady who was copying it\u2014\u201cand yet real flesh and blood, when cast in the\nmould of beauty, infinitely surpass aught that was ever accomplished by\nbrush or chisel.\u201d\n\nIt was only a profile view he had of her face\u2014for the painting hung in a\ncorner, and she was in the corner too, with her left side next to the\nwall\u2014but this view sufficed to send a thrill through every fibre of his\nbody.\n\nConrad was no longer a very young man; his age was five-and-thirty, and\nhe had already seen a good deal of the world. His father, a wealthy\nmerchant of Cologne, had died, leaving him a handsome fortune, and with\nhis last breath almost had urged him to marry. And Conrad had travelled\nand visited well-nigh every capital in Europe, enjoying to the utmost\nthe pleasures which choice society affords, but had not yet found the\nwoman whom he could really love. The fair women whom he had met had been\nmere butterflies of fashion, idlers basking in the smiles of men as vain\nand idle as themselves. But here, at last, was one who came up to his\nhigh ideal of female loveliness, and who withal was not a drone. But it\nwas Walburga\u2019s expression, rather than the exquisite classic outline of\nher countenance, that made his heart throb as it did; it imaged a soul\nnourished upon the visions of genius. The girl was evidently enjoying,\nwith delight too deep for words, this Carlo Dolce; and, guided by the\nlight of sympathy, its ethereal life, which other copyists might have\nmissed, she was catching and retaining, and you might almost have\nfancied, from her mien of rapture, that she knew the spirit of the old\nmaster was hovering over her and guiding her delicate white hand.\n\n\u201cThe sunshine of her soul is inspiring, and fills me with gladness too,\u201d\nexclaimed Conrad inwardly. \u201cShe does not turn to look at me; she goes\nright on, filled with the joy of her work. Oh! have I not found here the\nbeing whom I have been so vainly seeking?\u201d\n\nAfter admiring the young artist a few minutes he continued his way along\nthe gallery. But his mind was too occupied with the living picture which\nhe had just seen to care a jot for anything else, and all the rest of\nthe day this vision of beauty haunted him.\n\nAt three o\u2019clock the Pinakothek is closed; and at this hour Walburga\nbetook herself to her humble but cosey home in Fingergasse,[43] where,\nsummoning her friend, Moida Hofer, who lodged with her, and who kept an\nold curiosity shop in the same street, the two sallied forth for a\nstroll in the English Garden.[44] They were fast friends, these girls,\nhaving been many years together, and never were they so happy as in each\nother\u2019s company. And now, while they wandered through this delightful\npark, they talked about their school-days, and rejoiced that not yet a\nday of parting had come.\n\n\u201cWell, as for me, I shall never marry, you know,\u201d spoke Walburga.\n\n\u201cOh! yes, you will,\u201d the other smilingly answered. Yet in her heart\nMoida believed that what Walburga said might be true. Her dearest friend\nwas born with an affliction, a weighty cross\u2014one which likely enough\nwould prove a barrier to marriage. Moida, however, had no such cross,\nand already she had a devoted lover, whose name was Ulrich, and who,\nmoreover, was the brother of Walburga.\n\nUlrich was uncommonly handsome and the last representative of the\nancient and noble family of Von Loewenstein. But he was poor, and far\noff seemed the day when he should make Moida his bride. The latter,\nhowever, was patient. She built for herself no castles in the air; she\nwas one of those practical souls, full of common sense, which is the\ngenius of everyday life, and nobody had ever heard her utter a sigh.\n\u201cSometime or other our honeymoon will come,\u201d she would tell her\nbetrothed; \u201ctherefore, much as I love you, my Ulrich, I\u2019ll not die of\nimpatience.\u201d\n\nIt would have been hard to find two young women more unlike in\ntemperament as well as looks than Moida and Walburga; and perhaps \u2019tis\nwhy they dwelt in such harmony together. Miss Hofer, instead of being\ntall like her friend, was short and plump, with a little sprightly nose\nturning upward toward the sky, and she had a somewhat broad mouth. But\nthere was a pretty dimple in her chin\u2014a very pretty dimple; just the\nplace for a kiss to hide itself\u2014and she had lovely blue eyes, and such a\nfund of mirth and humor that it was impossible ever to be sad in her\ncompany. Of painting Moida knew absolutely nothing. But she was glad\nthat she was not an artist; \u201cfor if I were,\u201d she would say, \u201chow could I\nfind time to attend to my curiosity-shop and keep our little household\nin order? Ulrich is an artist, and so are you, Walburga; and we must not\nall three be making mountains and heads.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, indeed. And I don\u2019t know what I should do without you,\u201d spoke\nWalburga, as they sauntered along the gravelled path by the lake. \u201cYou\ncan\u2019t tell how much I lean upon you. I really believe I am better since\nI took your advice about the skull.\u201d\n\nWalburga, who was of a nature inclined to melancholy, had for more than\na year kept a skull in her bed-room, and before it she was wont to\nmeditate sometimes for hours, until the ugly thing stole away the bloom\nfrom her cheek and drew a black mark under each of her eyes. Her\nappetite, too, began to fail; and \u2019twere not easy to say what might have\nhappened if she had been living alone. But one morning, while she was\nplunged in one of her reveries before this death\u2019s head, Moida\napproached, and, after kneeling beside her and saying a prayer\u2014for Moida\nwas a good girl, and quite as pious as Walburga, only in a different\nway\u2014she reverently took the skull in her hands and said: \u201cNow, dear\nfriend, I think \u2019tis time to put this aside. \u2019Tis making a ghost of you.\nIt has honeycombed you with scruples, and I am sure that your\nfather-confessor would approve of the reformation which I am going to\ninaugurate. Therefore take one more good look at this eyeless, grinning\nobject ere it disappears from your sight for ever.\u201d\n\nThese bold words so astonished Walburga that for about a minute she\ncould not reply, and she turned to Moida with an expression which might\nhave deterred anybody with less spirit and determination from proceeding\nfurther. But Moida\u2014who, let us here remark, was a descendant of Andreas\nHofer, the Tyrolese patriot\u2014was not in the least frightened by the\nother\u2019s flashing eyes.\n\n\u201cI will use this skull with reverence,\u201d she continued. \u201cI promise you it\nshall be laid in consecrated ground; if necessary, with my own hands\nI\u2019ll bury it in God\u2019s-acre. But here in this room it shall be no more.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I declare!\u201d exclaimed Walburga, presently bursting into a laugh,\n\u201cyou are the dearest, sauciest girl I ever met.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen say I may do it,\u201d went on Moida. \u201cFor, although I am very\ndetermined, yet I prefer not to be too great a despot and carry the\nskull off absolutely against your will.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, let me bury it myself,\u201d answered Walburga.\n\n\u201cAgreed! But I\u2019ll accompany you to God\u2019s-acre; for I know one of the\ngrave-diggers, and before another hour this poor old head shall be\nresting in peace underground.\u201d\n\nSo the skull was buried, after which Walburga\u2019s cheeks recovered a good\ndeal of their bloom. And now, while she and her friend are enjoying\nthemselves in the open air this mild spring day, she looks more\nsprightly than we have ever seen her before.\n\n\u201cPray tell me, Moida,\u201d said Walburga, after they had gone round the lake\nand were on their way home, \u201cwhat is Ulrich doing at present? You had a\nletter from him this morning, had you not?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! yes,\u201d answered the other, her ever-bright countenance growing\nbrighter. \u201cThe dear fellow is in the Innthal,[45] where he means to make\na sketch of the home of his ancestors.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear, sweet spot!\u201d murmured Walburga.\n\n\u201cAy, and dear Tyrol!\u201d added Moida. \u201cAnd he tells me Loewenstein Castle\nhas been sold by the state to a rich gentleman from Cologne, who has\nengaged Ulrich to restore its faded frescos, and he is beside himself\nwith delight. The least thing raises his spirits ever so high, and now\nhe imagines that this undertaking will be the beginning of his fortune.\nI must caution the dear boy, in my answer, not to indulge in dreams.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! true; he is given to dreaming, like myself,\u201d said Walburga, shaking\nher head. \u201cBut this is a hard world, as you have often told me, and\ndreams will not feed us. I must sell my paintings\u2014sell them\u2014and not work\nfor pure love of the beautiful.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, indeed. Murillo, Raphael, and all of them had to eat, and bread\ncosts money,\u201d said Moida.\n\n\u201cWell, I hope this new-comer is a good man, and may he know how to keep\nhis castle. Alas! if our family had known how to manage things, instead\nof letting everything go at loose ends. If there had been heads among us\nlike yours, Moida, I should not have been living to-day in narrow, dingy\nFingergasse, trying hard to make the two ends meet, and not always\nsucceeding.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut then I should never have known you; a grand lady dwelling in a\ncastle would not stoop to look at me.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! true; and \u2019twas worth coming down in the world\u2014down to a humble\nabode\u2014in order to know you.\u201d Then, after a pause: \u201cBut what else does my\nbrother say about this gentleman?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, he says he is not a bit handsome, and that he looks stern. Ulrich\nsays, too, he is passionately fond of art, is a believer in the\naristocracy of nature, and declares he doesn\u2019t know who his\ngreat-grandfather was. The only thing that is really not good about him\nis that he has no faith.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo faith!\u201d sighed Walburga. \u201cWell, at any rate, Moida, he\u2019ll not suffer\nfor want of company; for it cannot be denied that very few of those\nlearned men are ever seen inside a church. Oh! how comes this?\u201d\n\nMoida shrugged her shoulders, but made no response. The truth is,\nalthough a very good girl, she did not think deeply on religious\nsubjects. Walburga, on the contrary, was often much distressed by the\ninfidelity which she saw spreading around her, and trembled for her dear\nbrother, who had once declared that out of every hundred students who\nfrequented the university with him seventy lost their belief in a God\nafter being there six months; and nothing is so dead as a dead faith.\nAnd now she was not certain that Ulrich himself went to church; for of\nlate he had been away from her a good deal. Walburga called to mind,\ntoo, a grave conversation which she once had with him about religion,\nwhen he told her something that had left a deep impression upon her.\n\n\u201cBelieve me, sister,\u201d said Ulrich, \u201ca boy may be very good at home and\nhave the best religious instruction from his parents, yet their advice\nand teaching will prove but a slender safeguard against the perils of\nthe university. This is the age of science; \u2019tis impossible to prevent\nyoung men from studying chemistry and geology. They will flock to our\nhalls of learning and crowd round our great professors, who are\natheists, like moths about a lamp, heedless of the risk they run. Now,\nsister, I verily believe one true Christian university would be worth a\nthousand Sunday-schools. The great need of the day is to Christianize\nscience\u2014ay, Christianize it; make it a beacon-light and not a consuming\nfire.\u201d\n\n\u201cMoida,\u201d spoke Walburga, after dwelling a moment on these words of her\nbrother\u2014\u201cMoida, do you think Ulrich says his prayers and goes to church\nas he used?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! yes, I am quite sure he does,\u201d replied her friend. \u201cHe declares\nthat for love of me he will always be good.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, although \u2019tis not the best reason he might have for keeping his\nfaith, yet some fish are held by a very slender line,\u201d added the other,\nsmiling. \u201cSo, thank God! he loves you.\u201d\n\nThus conversing about Ulrich and Tyrol, and listening to the merry songs\nof the birds, the girls continued their walk. It was dusk when they got\nhome. And what a snug little home it is!\n\nBut before we enter let us call the reader\u2019s attention to three letters,\n\u201cC M B,\u201d chalked upon the door. They stand for Caspar, Melchior,\nBalthasar, the names which tradition gives to the wise men who came with\ngifts for the infant Saviour; and beneath the letters, and likewise\nmarked in chalk, are three crosses and the year of our Lord.[46]\n\nBut now open the door and see how clean and neat everything is within.\nYonder quaint-looking closet, standing between the two bed-rooms, albeit\na century old and more, shows no sign of age; not a particle of dust\nrests upon it, not a spider\u2019s web. The floor, too, is well scrubbed and\npolished, and looks all the better for having no carpet. In one of the\nwindows are a couple of flower-pots, wherein are blooming two\nmagnificent roses; while in the other window is a cage containing a\nnightingale. The bird at this moment begins to warble a sweet melody to\ngreet Walburga, who is its mistress; while Moida, who also has a pet,\nfinds it no easy matter to prevent Caro\u2014a black, shaggy poodle\u2014from\ntearing her in pieces for joy.\n\n\u201cPoor, dear Caro!\u201d she said, holding him at arm\u2019s length, \u201cthe horrid\npolice would kill you, if they knew you were alive, and so I must keep\nyou shut up within doors. Poor, dear Caro!\u201d And this was true. In Munich\naged dogs are not allowed to live; and Caro is toothless and nearly\nblind. But his heart is as young as ever; and his tail\u2014oh! how much\nexpression there is in a dog\u2019s tail. How it wags to and fro! How it\nwhisks up and down! How it thumps on the floor! Moida sometimes, for\nfun, would try to hold fast Caro\u2019s tail while she spoke endearing words\nto him. But in vain. No sooner would she open her lips than away it\nwent, ten times quicker than the pendulum of a clock, and as impossible\nto clench as if \u2019twere a bit of machinery driven back and forth by\nsteam-power.\n\nNothing could better show the difference between Walburga and her friend\nthan a glance at the different books which each of them reads. In\nWalburga\u2019s sleeping-chamber, on a table close by her bed, lie two\nwell-fingered volumes: one is _Master Eckhart, the Father of German\nMystics_; the other is _Blessed Henry Suso\u2019s Little Book of Eternal\nWisdom_. For a number of years these have been well-nigh her constant\ncompanions, and she knows them almost by heart. More than once have they\ninspired her to renewed effort when she felt disheartened, as well as\nlightened the cross which afflicted her. \u201cThe swiftest steed to carry us\nto perfection is suffering,\u201d says Eckhart; and these words Walburga\noften repeats to herself.\n\nBut in Moida\u2019s apartment, instead of the mystics we find a song-book, an\narithmetic, and the Regensburg book of cookery.\n\nWhile Caro was frisking about and yelping, the nightingale, as we have\nalready observed, was warbling a song for its mistress, who stood\nlistening with a pensive air.\n\n\u201cYou shall never die in a cage,\u201d she murmured presently. \u201c\u2019Tis a shame\nto keep you even one day a prisoner.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow so?\u201d exclaimed Moida, who had quick ears, and was a mortal foe to\nanything like mere sentimentality. \u201cAre not birds created for our\npleasure? And you take such care of yours! Why, I\u2019m sure he is quite as\nhappy as if he were flying about in the groves, hunting here and there\nfor food, chased by other birds, and journeying hundreds of miles to\nfind a warm climate in winter; whereas you give your pet plenty to eat\u2014I\nsometimes think too much (Moida was economical)\u2014and whenever it is cold\nyour room is turned into a hot-house to please him.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! but, Moida dear,\u201d answered Walburga, \u201che has no playmate, no other\nlittle bird to love; and what is life without love?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, he loves you, doesn\u2019t he?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, and very much. But that is not the kind of love I mean. He has no\nmate to sing to. I am sure, in the song he is giving us now, he is\nsighing and pining for some other pretty bird whom he might kiss and\ncaress and woo.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I do declare!\u201d exclaimed Moida, bursting into a laugh. Then,\nsuddenly becoming grave: \u201cBut, no, no, I mustn\u2019t laugh. I agree with\nyou: love _is_ everything, and Ulrich is my nightingale. Why, every\nletter he writes to me is a sweet song of love.\u201d\n\nFor several minutes after Moida uttered these words Walburga remained\nsilent. They had awakened in her breast longings which had better have\nslept for ever. But we cannot escape from ourselves; and she was born\nwith a nature full of tenderness and sympathy. It made her yearn for\nsomething which she might call all her own, something to serve and\ncherish and suffer for. Home! home!\u2014this was the secret craving of\nWalburga\u2019s soul. But, alas! she had barely the glimmer of a hope that\nthis happiness would ever be hers; and even good Eckhart\u2019s words, which\nshe now repeated to herself, did not bring her the usual comfort.\n\nThe poor girl, too, was an orphan; her brother was away from her, and a\nday would come when Moida would fly off into Ulrich\u2019s arms. \u201cAnd, oh!\nthen I\u2019ll be lonely indeed,\u201d she sighed.\n\nWhile Walburga was thus musing on her fate Moida took up her zither,[47]\nand, seating herself by the open window, sang in a rich contralto voice\none of the old Volkslied, beginning:\n\n \u201cAch. wie ist\u2019s m\u00f6glich dann,\n Das ich dich lassen kann!\n Hab dich von Herzen lieb,\n Das Glaube mir!\u201d\n\nwhich may be rendered:\n\n \u201cAh! how can I from thee depart?\n Believe me, my heart\u2019s love thou art!\u201d\n\nWhen the song was finished Walburga, in whose eyes tears were\nglistening, said: \u201cNobody can beat my nightingale singing except you.\nOh! who will sing for me when you are gone?\u201d\n\n\u201cGone! Why, I never mean to leave you, dear Walburga; no, never!\u201d cried\nMoida.\n\n\u201cAh! Ulrich will carry you away; and then\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, so he will, the dear boy! and then I\u2019ll take you in my arms,\nand carry you away too, and thus we\u2019ll all three fly off together,\u201d\ninterrupted the sunny-hearted girl.\n\nThen Moida sang another song, and another, and another, until one by one\nall the stars came out of their hiding-places in the sky; and never did\nthey shine down upon two warmer friends than these.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn the fairest valley of Tyrol, and perched on a spur of the mountain, a\nthousand feet above the swift-flowing river which gives the Innthal its\nname, stands Loewenstein Castle. How admirably placed it is! From afar\nthe enemy might be espied approaching; and when he came near it needed\nstout lungs as well as a bold heart to climb the steep ascent which led\nto its walls, for \u2019tis like an eagle\u2019s eyrie to get at. When the castle\nwas built many an eagle used to soar above its battlements, and the\ndense pine forest which covered the land was the haunt of wolves and\nbears.\n\nTyrol is wild enough to-day. What must it have been in the ninth\ncentury? The Roman legions had once marched through the valley on their\nway to conquer Germany. But Rome had fallen, and only here and there an\nearthwork, or a paved road, or a sentinel-tower was left to tell how far\nher soldiers had penetrated into the wilderness. Afterwards barbarians\nand wild beasts had it all to themselves as before\u2014had it all to\nthemselves, until by and by, in the course of time, afoot, or perchance\nmounted on an ass which had carried him across the snowy Brenner\u2014poor\nass! how it must have longed for sunny Italy again\u2014came a monk. St.\nBenedict bade him go forth and preach the Gospel; and lo! here he was,\nquite at home amid these shaggy-looking men, very Esaus for hairiness,\nand in manners a shade removed from cannibals. And this monk\u2019s track had\nbeen followed ere long by other monks, until finally what Roman power\ncould not do they did.\n\nRound about the monastery the trees were felled and the land made to\nbloom; no farmers better than those old monks. And they cultivated the\nbarbarians, too, as well as the soil.\n\nThen, when times were ripe for him to appear, when there was something\nto plunder, on the mountain-side the robber-knight built his fastness;\nand Loewenstein did its share of plundering in those good old times.\n\nBut there was a chapel attached to the castle, and the baron\u2019s lady was\ndevout, if he was not. Gently, little by little, she persuaded her\nconsort to take part in her devotions, and in the end made a pretty fair\nChristian of him. But the Von Loewensteins loved dearly to fight; the\ndust of the battle-field was sweeter than incense to their nostrils; and\nso to the Holy Land they went, nor missed a single Crusade. The knight\u2019s\nbride with her own hands would buckle on his armor, then go take her\npost on the topmost turret, waving adieu as long as her swimming eyes\ncould see the gleaming helmet that sometimes never gleamed again for\nher.\n\nMany a century has rolled by since those brave days of battle-axes and\nhealthy men; and now Loewenstein is only a ruin. But the monastery still\nstands, the grayness of its old age hidden by the greenness of its ivy,\nand St. Benedict would not find things much changed if he were to make\nhis brethren a visit.\n\nIt is sunset, and the new owner of Loewenstein has just returned from\nMunich, whither he went to enjoy himself awhile in the Pinakothek.\n\n\u201cWhat a pleasure \u2019twill be,\u201d Conrad Seinsheim is saying to himself, \u201cto\nrestore this ancient castle! Happily, one tower is left, and in it I can\nmake shift to dwell until the rest of the edifice is completed.\u201d Then,\nspeaking aloud: \u201cAnd I will embellish my home with beautiful paintings\nand statuary; and the first statue shall be a woman.\u201d Here he turned his\ndeep-set, heavy-browed eyes upon a young man who was seated beside him\nsketching the ruin. The latter looked up and smiled.\n\n\u201cAnd a living woman it is to be,\u201d added Conrad.\n\n\u201cHave you found your dream, then, sir?\u201d inquired Ulrich, tossing back\nthe long, unkempt hair which he persisted in wearing, albeit it troubled\nhim not a little, for \u2019twas constantly falling in his eyes.\n\n\u201cI believe I have,\u201d replied Conrad. Whereupon he went on to tell of the\nyoung lady whom he had seen copying Carlo Dolce\u2019s picture of Innocence.\nWhile he was speaking a faint tinge of red spread over Ulrich\u2019s cheek;\nfor Moida had written that his sister was making a copy of this very\npainting. Suddenly he laid his pencil aside and rose to his feet. Conrad\nobserved him in silence, but without any air of contempt; if he did not\npray himself, he respected none the less those who did, and the\nmonastery bell was ringing the _Angelus_. As Ulrich murmured the prayer\nhe could not help thinking that likely at this very moment Moida was\nsaying it also.\n\nWhen the sound of the bell died away Conrad passed with him into the\ntower, where they began examining its faded frescos.\n\n\u201cThese must have a strange effect on you,\u201d remarked the former.\n\u201cDoubtless yonder barely perceptible figure of a lady stretching forth\nher hand and clasping another hand\u2014her lover or husband, perhaps\u2014was one\nof your ancestresses!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, it is indeed sad for me to view such ruin and decay in the place\nwhere myself and so many of my name were born,\u201d answered Ulrich. \u201cI feel\nall the while as if I were moving about among ghosts. But then \u2019tis\nmany, many years since Loewenstein was anything better than what it is\nto-day. The wind, I have heard my dear mother say, used to blow in\nthrough the chinks in the wall and rock my cradle.\u201d Here the poor fellow\ngave a rueful smile. \u201cYou see,\u201d he continued, \u201cold families die hard. It\noften takes them more than one generation to get down to the bottom of\nthe hill. Why, my parents were little better off than the owls when they\ninhabited this ruin; and \u2019twas high time to quit it when they did. But\nwe are out at last on the broad world, and I can truly say I thank God\nthat a man like yourself has bought my ancestral home. Again let me\nthank you, sir, thank you from the bottom of my heart, for your kindness\nin giving me employment.\u201d\n\nThese words, uttered in a frank, manly tone, pleased Conrad, who, when\nhe first met the young artist, had taken him for a silly fellow that was\nclinging to the shadow of a great name while too proud to do any work.\nUlrich certainly had rather a haughty mien; but, thanks to the girl to\nwhom he was betrothed, he had acquired a good deal of common sense, and,\nmoreover, he had a warm heart. So that Conrad, who pitied his threadbare\nappearance, soon grew to like him, and during the past week had made the\nyouth take up his quarters with him in the tower.\n\n\u201cWell, I deem it a great piece of good-fortune to have fallen in with\nyou,\u201d said Conrad. \u201cFor, although I don\u2019t believe in spirits coming back\nto molest those who occupy their former abodes, yet, really, to have\npassed a night here alone might have made my flesh creep. How old is\nLoewenstein, do you know?\u201d\n\nUlrich, who knew pretty well the whole history of his house, now\nproceeded to relate it, briefly of course; yet he told enough to make\nthe other long to hear more. And when he had finished Conrad said:\n\n\u201cAlthough I am an ardent believer in the aristocracy of nature,\nnevertheless I feel all the more drawn to you for being a Von\nLoewenstein.\u201d After a pause he added: \u201cI wonder who my Dream will turn\nout to be? Will she appreciate dwelling in a castle? Oh! yes, I am sure\nshe will.\u201d\n\nAnd Conrad went on to tell again of Walburga\u2019s look of rapture as she\nstood at her easel, and of her tall, graceful figure:\n\n\u201cI am sure, too, her hair is all her own; in fact, every part of her is\nas classic as her face.\u201d\n\nWhile he thus gave utterance to his admiration for Ulrich\u2019s sister\nUlrich\u2019s heart was in a flutter, and he could not help thinking what\nhappiness \u2019twould be if Walburga were one day to become mistress of\nLoewenstein. Yet at the same time he thought it not a little strange\nthat Conrad should express such unbounded admiration for one who did not\nexpect, any more than he did himself, that ever a man would wish her for\nhis bride.\n\n\u201cBut tell me,\u201d pursued Conrad, twitching his sleeve, \u201cis there no dear\ngirl whom you have fallen in love with? Artists, of all men, you know,\nare the most prone to the tender passion.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! indeed there is,\u201d answered Ulrich\u2014\u201cas sweet a girl as ever\nbreathed. Once a week she writes to me and I to her.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, who is she? Where does she live?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn Munich, sir. Her name is Moida Hofer; and, although of peasant\ndescent, I call her noble, for many of our mountaineers have owned their\nrough acres for generations, and, moreover, Moida\u2019s grandfather was\nHofer the Patriot.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally! Oh! then, don\u2019t let her slip; marry her by all means, for she\nbelongs to my nobility,\u201d exclaimed Conrad with enthusiasm. \u201cAnd of\ncourse she is beautiful?\u201d\n\n\u201cEvery girl, sir, is beautiful when a man loves her; and I detest Greek\nnoses and Roman noses since I have known Moida, for she hasn\u2019t one.\u201d\n\nHere the other burst into a loud laugh, which frightened away a couple\nof bats that had been circling about their heads; for bats and swallows,\nas well as owls and hawks, found their way into this ancient chamber,\nwhich had not been occupied till now since Ulrich and his sister left it\nas children.\n\n\u201cAnd you should hear Moida sing,\u201d continued Ulrich; \u201cand hear her talk,\ntoo. Oh! she is so wise. She knows how to preach to me and tell me of my\nfaults without ever making me angry. I was living in Cloudland before I\nmet her. She said: \u2018Ulrich, come down out of the clouds and earn your\nbread\u2019; and \u2019tis owing to her that I persevered in my art-studies and am\nable to paint a little.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou certainly have talent,\u201d said Conrad, \u201cjudging by the sketches in\nyour portfolio. But let me ask why you do not marry?\u201d\n\nAt this question Ulrich heaved a sigh.\n\n\u201cIs it want of money?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, our honeymoon will come some day or other,\u201d said the youth,\nevading a response. \u201cShe is patient\u2014more patient than I. She cheers me\nup; knits stockings for me; makes me shirts; in fact, she does as much\nfor me almost as if she were my wife. Dear, dear, dear Moida!\u201d\n\n\u201cMay I inquire how Miss Hofer earns a livelihood?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe keeps a small store, an old-curiosity shop, where one may buy for a\nmere trifle chairs and mirrors, and clocks and engravings, together with\nmany other articles that at some time or another adorned noble houses.\nYou may find there a number of things that used to belong to\nLoewenstein.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed! Then I\u2019ll buy out her whole stock\u2014upon my word I will\u2014and back\nto this spot shall come every chair and mirror and clock. O Ulrich,\nUlrich! why didn\u2019t you tell me this before?\u201d\n\nAfter thus conversing awhile within the tower, and it being settled that\nthe young man was to begin on the morrow his labor of restoring the\nfrescos, they passed out by what must once have been a stately\npassage-way, but was now so encumbered with fragments of stone and\nmortar that Conrad and Ulrich were obliged to stoop very low, at one\nplace almost to creep, in order to emerge into the open air. As we have\nalready observed, the tower was the only portion of the castle not\nentirely in ruin; the rest of the building was so shattered by time that\nit was difficult even for imagination to picture it as it had been in\nthe days of its glory.\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d said Ulrich, \u201cused to be the chapel. On this spot the first Mass\nwas offered up in Loewenstein.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I will rebuild this, too, unbeliever though I am,\u201d said Conrad.\n\u201cAnd oh! would that my dead faith might be quickened as easily as these\ncrumbled stones can be put into shape again. But, happily, women are\nstill prayerful, and the young lady whom I hope to win shall have her\nchapel to pray in. But, alas! what desolation has come to this hallowed\nspot\u2014what desolation! Everything gone except one tomb. I must not tread\nupon it, for doubtless one of your race lies buried underneath.\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly a few words on the monument are legible,\u201d said Ulrich, stooping\nand brushing off the dust with his hands:\n\n \u2018Hic jacet Walburga;\n Requiescat in pace!\u2019\n\nThe rest I cannot make out; but I remember hearing my father say that\nthis Walburga was a Hungarian princess, who married Hugo von Loewenstein\ntoward the close of the fourteenth century.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow sad is the fall of old families!\u201d observed Conrad after a moment\u2019s\nsilence, during which his eyes remained fixed on the blurred slab at his\nfeet. \u201cBut I sometimes believe there is a law which governs the strange\nand solemn procession of generations: as the wheel of time goes round\nand round, the king takes his turn at beggary, and the beggar shuffles\noff his rags and mounts up to the throne.\u201d\n\n\u201cTherefore at some future day, if your notion be correct, I, or one of\nmy descendants, will get this castle back again,\u201d said Ulrich, smiling.\n\n\u201cNowadays,\u201d pursued Conrad, as if in soliloquy, \u201cpeople affect to be\ndemocratic; we win our spurs by speculating in cotton, or grain, or some\nother stuff, instead of by brave deeds on the battle-field. Well, well,\nI for one prefer the helmet and the battle-axe to the chinking of the\nmoney-changers.\u201d Then, turning to Ulrich: \u201cIt surprises you to hear me\nsay this, eh?\u201d\n\nTo tell the truth, it did surprise him; but Ulrich did not show it.\n\n\u201cWell, a fortnight ago I would not have spoken thus,\u201d he continued. \u201cBut\nthe truth is, the veriest democrat loves in his secret heart a pedigree;\nand if he hasn\u2019t one, he\u2019ll pay somebody to make him a family-tree; and\nthen he\u2019ll buy a ruin, as I have done, and get to feel as I feel,\nperhaps. Why, Ulrich, I do believe somebody has thrown a spell over me;\nay, this fair lady sleeping under the old stone here has touched me with\nher spirit wand. Why, I feel as if I were a Loewenstein\u2014I do! I do!\u201d\nHere Conrad brandished his cane and repeated aloud the Loewenstein\nmotto: _Intaminatis fulget honoribus_.\n\n\u201cHow it would please Walburga to hear him talking thus!\u201d said Ulrich\ninwardly. \u201cProud as she is, I think her heart might incline towards\nhim.\u201d\n\nIt should perhaps be observed that hardship had wrought little effect\nupon Walburga. It had scarcely bent her spirit at all; and not once\nsince she quitted the home of her forefathers had she returned to visit\nthe dearly-loved spot. \u201cIt would be too bitter a sight to see vulgar\npeople wandering amid its ruins,\u201d she would tell her brother. \u201cI\u2019d\nrather have Loewenstein disappear entirely, be covered up by the\nmountain, than that some rich upstart should buy it, then pull down the\nmite that is left of its glorious walls, and erect a modern villa in\ntheir stead.\u201d\n\nNor had she for several years entered Moida Hofer\u2019s store, where so many\ncurious objects were exposed for sale; and once, when her friend had\ndisposed of a Loewenstein clock, one of the primitive kind, with\npendulum swinging in front\u2014ay, and disposed of it, too, for a pretty\ngood price\u2014Moida did not dare mention the fact. Indeed, the\nold-curiosity shop was now a banished theme of conversation between\nthem.\n\nBy and by, after telling Ulrich for the twentieth time how finely the\ncastle was to be renovated, Conrad said: \u201cNow let us go in and take some\nrepose; for to-morrow, you know, we are to be up early\u2014you to do a good\nday\u2019s work, while I must be off by the first train to Munich, where I am\ndetermined to have another look at my Dream.\u201d\n\nWith this they went back into the tower, and after trying, but without\nsuccess, to drive the bats out of their dormitory, Conrad and Ulrich lay\ndown to rest. The former was soon fast asleep; but the youth, who had a\nmore vivid imagination, stayed awake a whole hour thinking of the many\nwho had occupied this chamber in days gone by. The moon shimmering in\nthrough the iron-barred window over his head flung a weird halo round\nabout the lady painted on the wall; and he could not but think what a\nvery, very ghostly chamber it was.\n\nA month had gone by since Ulrich had laid eyes on Moida Hofer\u2014only a\nmonth, yet it seemed as long as six months. So next morning, when Conrad\nwas making ready to descend the hill on his way to Munich, the youth\nthrust his hand into his pocket, and, drawing forth some small pieces of\nsilver, counted them over carefully. With anxious heart he counted them,\nand to his great delight found that there was just enough money to carry\nhim to his betrothed and back. The other, who had a quick eye, was not\nslow to read what was passing in Ulrich\u2019s mind, and said: \u201cIs there any\nmessage you wish delivered to Miss Hofer? Or perhaps you will accompany\nme? Do; and we may visit her curiosity-shop together. To-morrow will be\ntime enough to begin work on the frescos.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I own, sir,\u201d replied Ulrich, \u201c\u2019twould give me great happiness to\nsee my lady-love; and I\u2019ll labor all the harder for making her a visit.\u201d\n\nAccordingly they both set out for Munich, which was reached in four\nhours\u2014eight it seemed to the impatient travellers, who as soon as they\narrived went straight to Fingergasse.\n\nNever was street better named, for it is little broader than a finger,\nand consequently only at high noon does the sun cheer it with its rays.\n\nBut this morning Fingergasse looked anything but dismal to the young\nartist, who knew that a pair of bright eyes were about to greet him, and\nalready were shooting floods of light into his heart.\n\n\u201cWhy, Ulrich! Ulrich!\u201d These were Moida\u2019s first words as she flew\ntowards him. Perhaps in presence of a stranger she may have expected\nonly a warm shake of the hand in response or a pat on the cheek. But in\nan instant the arms of her lover were twined about her neck. Then, when\nthe greeting was over, Conrad Seinsheim was introduced, and we need not\nsay that the girl surveyed him carefully. Moida found him not handsome\nlike her Ulrich; rather the opposite. But she admired his broad forehead\nand the energy which flashed through his eyes; even his air of sternness\ndid not displease her, for she recognized in him a man with opinions of\nhis own, a man of power and decision.\n\nAnd now, reader, blame her not for telling Conrad frankly and in her\nmost winning way that her store was the best place in town to find\nold curiosities. \u201cWhy, sir,\u201d said Moida, \u201cI have even some\nfourteenth-century chairs from Loewenstein Castle, of which\ndoubtless you have heard. \u2019Tis the oldest castle in Tyrol, and\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cMoida,\u201d interrupted Ulrich, \u201cdid I not write to you that\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, hush! hush!\u201d said Moida, blushing and putting her plump hand over\nhis mouth.\n\n\u201cWell, I am here,\u201d observed Conrad, trying hard not to smile\u2014\u201cI am here\npurposely to buy everything your store contains; for I am now owner of\nLoewenstein, and mean to fit it up as far as possible in true medi\u00e6val\nstyle.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally!\u201d exclaimed Moida. \u201cReally!\u201d\n\nWhereupon Conrad did smile outright at her look of surprise and joy.\nThen presently she turned towards Ulrich, and her lips moved as if she\nwere trying to speak. But he could only guess what she wanted to say.\nYes, Moida, if Conrad purchases all that your little store holds, then\nindeed you may name your wedding-day. And if a radiant expression can\nmake a homely face beautiful, it would have been difficult to find a\nmore beautiful girl than Moida at this moment.\n\nAfter speaking volumes to Ulrich through her blue eyes, she turned again\nto Conrad and said in an earnest tone: \u201cO, sir! how kind you are. I\ncannot find words to express my thanks.\u201d\n\nThe latter waved his hand, as if to say, \u201cPray do not thank me,\u201d then\nset about examining the curiosities. These consisted of nine chairs\nranged side by side along the wall, half a dozen breast-plates and\nhelmets, a stack of arquebuses and pikes, three crossbows, some silver\nplates and goblets, a ewer, a couple of clocks which had not ticked in a\ncentury, an earthenware stove quaintly embossed with scenes from Holy\nWrit, and apparently a countless number of smaller objects, such as\nseals, rings, miniatures, and coins.\n\nPicking up one of the miniatures, Conrad exclaimed: \u201cWhy, I declare,\nthis is very like a young lady whom I saw lately in the Pinakothek, only\nhere is a full view of her face, whereas I saw but the profile of my\nDream.\u201d\n\nAt this remark Moida stepped up and whispered: \u201c\u2019Tis the portrait of\nWalburga, the spouse of Hugo von Loewenstein; and \u2019tis the only thing I\nam not willing to part with.\u201d The other turned towards her a moment with\nan air of disappointment; then, perceiving that she was in earnest, he\nlet the subject drop.\n\nA few minutes later Conrad was on his way to the picture-gallery, while\nUlrich remained to enjoy the company of his betrothed. The first thing\nMoida did was to run out and fetch him a mug of beer. This may seem too\ntrivial a fact to relate; nevertheless, truth may as well be told. She\nknew that in Tyrol he had had only water or wine to drink; and what can\nequal Munich beer? As Ulrich quietly sipped the delicious beverage, her\nquick eye ran over his buttons. She took them all in at a glance, and in\nanother moment Moida\u2019s needle was busy mending a rent in his sleeve. But\nwhile the girl sewed, she ever and anon peeped up at his face, and\nthought to herself: \u201cIn the whole kingdom of Bavaria there is nobody can\ncompare with my Ulrich.\u201d And, moreover, full of common sense as Moida\nwas, there was nothing she admired more than the two sword-cuts on her\ndear boy\u2019s cheek, in shape like a cross; and well did she remember the\nday when he received them, now five years ago. For, like most German\nstudents, Ulrich had belonged to a corps (his was the Teutonia), and\noccasionally engaged in a duel. It was on that memorable day that he\naddressed her the first tender word, after having had his wounds sewed\nup; while Moida, as she listened with fluttering heart and drooping\neyes, thought to herself: \u201cI am the third one to whom he has said this.\nOh! I wonder which of us will win?\u201d\n\nThen she pretended that she did not care a straw for him; whereupon\nUlrich presented her with a beautiful nosegay\u2014four florins it cost\nhim\u2014and the rest we need not narrate.\n\n\u201cBy the way, how is Caro?\u201d inquired Ulrich, after holding the glass to\nher lips and making Moida take a sip of the beer.\n\n\u201cAs frisky as if he were a puppy,\u201d answered the latter, highly pleased\nat the question. Ulrich knew it would please her.\n\n\u201cWell, wouldn\u2019t it be nice to have the old dog settled at Loewenstein,\nwhere he might get plenty of fresh air and be outdoors as much as he\nchose?\u201d added the youth.\n\n\u201cAy; but what chance is there of that?\u2014unless you were to take him; and\nhe\u2019d be rather troublesome.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo pet of yours would ever trouble me,\u201d rejoined Ulrich. \u201cAnd let me\ntell you, Moida, strange things happen in the world.\u201d\n\nWith this he proceeded to reveal how much Conrad Seinsheim admired a\ncertain young lady whom he had seen in the Pinakothek.\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis the very one you heard him say that miniature is so like; and I\nknow he is gone there now purposely to see her again. And it must be\nWalburga, for isn\u2019t she copying Carlo Dolce\u2019s picture of Innocence?\u201d\n\nLeaving Ulrich and his betrothed to discuss the possibility of a union\nbetween a Von Loewenstein and a Seinsheim, let us follow the footsteps\nof Conrad.\n\nHe found the one of whom he was in quest seated at her easel, perhaps a\ntrifle nearer the wall than before, and with the same expression on her\nface which had so ravished his heart the first time he lighted upon her.\nShe seemed not to notice his approach, and when at length Conrad\nventured to ask if the copy she was making were for sale, Walburga\nreplied, apparently with indifference, and without taking her eyes off\nthe canvas: \u201cYes, sir, it is.\u201d Yet how his question set her heart\na-throbbing! For the sale of the picture would enable the girl to pay\nseveral bills that were due, as well as take a trip to Nuremberg, which\nfor years she had been longing to visit; for Nuremberg was the\nbirthplace of Albert D\u00fcrer.\n\n\u201cHow differently Miss Hofer would have answered me!\u201d thought Conrad,\nobserving Walburga with close attention. \u201cShe would have looked me full\nin the face and completed a bargain forthwith; ay, and persuaded me,\ntoo, to offer a high price for the picture.\u201d Then aloud, and addressing\nWalburga in courtly German style: \u201cWell, if the gracious lady will allow\nme to possess her beautiful copy, I shall be delighted. For I have just\nbought an old castle in the Tyrol, which I mean to restore, as far as\nmoney may, to its former state of grandeur, and I promise you your\npainting shall adorn the fairest chamber in it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn old castle, indeed!\u201d murmured Walburga, still without glancing at\nhim. She wondered whether it might be Loewenstein. Then presently,\nunable to contain her eager desire to know if it was or not, she said:\n\u201cMay I ask, sir, in what part of the Tyrol your castle is?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the Innthal, not far from Innspruck; and it once belonged to the\nnoble house of Von Loewenstein.\u201d\n\nAt these words a flush crimsoned the girl\u2019s cheek for a moment, then\ndisappeared, leaving her paler than before; while her brush, always so\nsteady, now tremblingly touched the canvas. At length, after vainly\nendeavoring to master her feelings, she let the brush drop and buried\nher face in her hands.\n\nConrad\u2019s curiosity was here raised to a high pitch; for although Ulrich\nhad not told him that he had a sister an artist, yet he was\nquick-witted, and since he had seen the miniature in the old\ncuriosity-shop\u2014and Moida, we remember, had informed him that it came\nfrom Loewenstein\u2014Conrad had been hoping that the young lady whom he\ncalled his Dream might prove to be one of the Loewenstein family, a near\nrelative of Ulrich\u2019s\u2014his sister, perhaps.\n\n\u201cAnd why not?\u201d he asked himself. \u201cA likeness may be handed down through\nmany generations; it may vanish for a space, like a lost stream, then\nreappear in the person of a far-off descendant. And verily, this\ncharming girl is the living image of Walburga, the bride of Hugo von\nLoewenstein. And, oh! if I am right, what a treasure she will be. True,\nI am not highborn, and she may not view me at first with favor. But I\u2019ll\ngo through fire to win her!\u201d\n\nPresently Walburga uncovered her face, and for the first time stole a\nfurtive glance at the one who stood beside her. Then quick her eyes were\nfastened on the canvas again; and while Conrad was wondering at her\nshyness a tear rolled down her cheek. His curiosity to know who she was\nnow increased tenfold, and he said, in a voice the tenderness of which\nhe did not care to conceal:\n\n\u201cGracious lady, pray be not offended if I ask whether you have ever been\nto Loewenstein?\u201d\n\n\u201cI was there once; I never wish to lay eyes on it again,\u201d answered\nWalburga, trying to conceal her emotion.\n\n\u201cWould it offend you if I were to inquire the reason why?\u201d pursued\nConrad, now scarcely doubting who she was.\n\nFor more than a minute Walburga did not trust herself to speak. Finally\nshe said:\n\n\u201cWhat spot, sir, can be so sad as an abandoned home? Parting with our\nbirthplace to strangers does not tear up the deep roots whereby our\nheart clings to it. We feel towards it as towards a dear friend whom we\nhave deserted. O sir! for many, many years\u2014for centuries\u201d\u2014here Walburga\ndrew herself proudly up\u2014\u201cmy race held the castle which now is yours; and\nI love it so much that I cannot speak of it with calmness. A friend dies\nand we hide him in the earth; a dead home remains, mournfully gazing on\nus whenever we pass by. \u2019Tis why I will not go near dear, dear\nLoewenstein: nothing so ghostlike as an abandoned home!\u201d\n\nBy this time tears were glistening in the dark, cavernous eyes of her\nlistener; and when Walburga finished speaking Conrad said:\n\n\u201cGracious lady, you cannot imagine how precious to me the old ruin has\nbecome. I love it, too.\u201d\n\nHere for the second time Walburga looked at him, but, as before, only by\na swift side-glance. Then she said: \u201cI must return you thanks, sir, for\nyour kindness to my brother. He wrote to a young lady, his betrothed,\nall about it, and she told me; and I sincerely rejoice that Loewenstein\nhas fallen into the hands of a gentleman like yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you are Ulrich\u2019s sister?\u201d exclaimed Conrad.\n\n\u201cHis only sister, and he my only brother. You cannot tell how I miss\nhim.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, he accompanied me today, and is now with Miss Hofer.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed! How delighted I am!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I am much pleased with his lady-love,\u201d added Conrad.\n\n\u201cWell you may be, sir. She is the salt of the earth. Ulrich needs a\nshrewd, practical woman for his wife; for the dear fellow is somewhat of\na dreamer like myself. We both of us live in the past. But now do let me\nknow how you came to meet Moida Hofer.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt happened in this wise: Your brother told me there were in her\ncuriosity-shop many relics from Loewenstein, which I determined to\npossess. And really, I was charmed with the few words she addressed to\nme; her ways are so sprightly and winning. And I, for my part, am\ncurious to know how you fell in with the granddaughter of Hofer the\nPatriot.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ll tell you all about it,\u201d answered Walburga, as she went on\nfinishing the golden hair of her picture. \u201cYou must know, sir, that\nUlrich and I were left orphans at an early age, and immediately after\nthe death of our parents the castle fell into the hands of the state;\nfor there were many taxes unpaid, as well as heavy debts owing here and\nthere. So away went Loewenstein. But, although quite penniless, God sent\nus in our uttermost need a generous lady, who had no children of her\nown, and who adopted us and gave us a home in Munich. This lady had a\nsmall fortune, enough to live comfortably on and to educate us. Ah! what\nshould we have done without her? Well, \u2019twas during this happy period\nthat Ulrich made Moida\u2019s acquaintance. She was then an orphan, too, and\nclad in the picturesque costume of Tyrol; a real mountain daisy she was,\nand brother fell in love with her. Shortly thereafter our adopted mother\ndied, bequeathing to us her fortune, and we little thought we should\never suffer want. But, alas! the bank where our money was placed failed,\nand all, or nearly all, was lost. Then poor Ulrich, who had already\nbecome engaged to Moida, feared that he could not be married\u2014at least\nnot so soon as he had hoped. \u2019Twas a bitter disappointment to them both.\nBut Moida said: \u2018Let us be patient and hope. I will never give you up.\u2019\nBrother and I were now fortunately well advanced in our art\nstudies\u2014Ulrich, moreover, had passed through the university\u2014and we\nresolved to try and earn our bread by painting.\n\n\u201cBut \u2019tis easier to paint a picture than to sell one\u201d\u2014here Walburga\u2019s\ncheek reddened\u2014\u201cand so for Ulrich and I \u2019twas Lent all the year round;\nand we grew very thin, for we did not even eat fish. Until one day dear\nMoida discovered our miserable plight: we had done our best to conceal\nit. Then she insisted on doing her utmost to help us. She made me share\nher lodging; she even clothed me. And this was most noble in her, for\nMoida knew that our high-born acquaintances had told Ulrich he would be\nmarrying infinitely beneath him if he married her. Yet not one of those\nproud families extended to us a helping hand. About this time Moida had\nset up a little store\u2014the one she keeps to-day. But she would not let me\nhelp her to dispose of anything; she treated me as if she knew I was not\nborn for such drudgery\u2014sometimes archly saying I could not make a good\nbargain, which perhaps was true.\n\n\u201cBut when the furniture of dear Loewenstein was sold at auction, and\nwhen Moida bought it all, oh! from that day I have not set foot in her\ncuriosity-shop; for I know every clock and cup and pike and helmet, and\n\u2019twould break my heart to see this man and that coming in and cheapening\nthose precious heirlooms. But Moida is not displeased with me for\nholding aloof; she respects my feelings, although not at all a\nsentimental girl herself. Unhappily during the past year business has\nbeen very dull, and she sells but few things, while the rent of the\nstore keeps high; and only that my friend has great spirit she might\nalmost fall into despair. Yet even now, in what I may call her darkest\nhour, she tells Ulrich to be cheerful, that their wedding-day will come\nsooner or later.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes; very soon,\u201d murmured Conrad, who felt tempted to lay bare at\nonce his whole heart to Walburga. But a moment\u2019s reflection deterred\nhim: it might appear too abrupt, for the young lady had never seen or\nspoken to him before. So, while admiring her more and more, he resolved\nto wait a little.\n\nBut Walburga\u2019s voice sounded so sweetly to his ears that Conrad urged\nher to go on and tell him something more about herself and Moida.\n\nWhereupon Walburga smiled and hesitated; for although she had scarcely\npaused an instant with her brush, yet his presence was felt to be a\ndistraction. If she interested him, it was no less certain that he\ninterested her. She could not feel towards Conrad as towards a stranger;\nshe knew that he had befriended Ulrich; that he was now the owner of the\nplace where she was born; and that the many precious things which debt\nand the auction-sale had scattered to the winds he was bent on\nrecovering and taking back to Loewenstein. What wrought most potently\nupon Walburga was the evident interest which he showed in herself.\nInstead of buying her picture and then retiring, Conrad had dallied half\nan hour by her side, and prevailed on her to talk about her affairs with\nan openness at which she inwardly blushed.\n\nNor was he at all like the other sight-seers who were wont to visit the\ngallery. The two shy glances she had given him had convinced her that\nConrad was no ordinary man; that whatever his origin\u2014even if he did not\nknow who his great-grandfather was, as Ulrich had written to Moida\u2014yet\nhis was not a grovelling, low-born soul.\n\nAccordingly, after remaining silent well-nigh a minute, Walburga yielded\nto his request and proceeded to tell him more about herself. \u201cMoida and\nI and two others, sir,\u201d she resumed, \u201chave a home together\u2014which makes\nfour of us in one small lodging.\u201d\n\n\u201cFour!\u201d repeated Conrad, just a little disturbed and wondering who the\nother two might be.\n\n\u201cYes, four. There is myself, Moida, Caro, and a nightingale.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! indeed\u2014Caro and a nightingale,\u201d ejaculated her admirer, with a\nsense of relief he was hardly able to conceal.\n\n\u201cAnd never was a more peaceful home. Up under the roof it is; but that\ngives us fresh air, and into our dormer windows the sunshine comes\nsooner than into any other windows on the street.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you have the sweetest of all birds to sing for you,\u201d observed\nConrad.\n\n\u201cYes, indeed. But I sometimes think of giving my pet his freedom. Moida\nlaughs at me for it. Moida is\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cNot in the least sentimental,\u201d interrupted the other, with a smile.\n\n\u201cWell, true, she is not. But my bird is now a prisoner, and I am sure he\nmust feel lonesome where he is.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! believe me, he is far happier as your prisoner than if he were\nenjoying the freedom of all the woods in Bavaria,\u201d said Conrad, with a\nfaint tremor in his voice.\n\n\u201cIndeed!\u201d exclaimed Walburga, answering his emotion by a crimson spot on\nher cheek.\n\n\u201cWell, you may be right,\u201d he added presently. \u201cYour kind heart may tell\nyou that your nightingale sighs for some other little bird to love.\u201d\n\nAt these words the sweet, pink blush spread itself with the quickness of\nlight over Walburga\u2019s whole cheek, and she answered:\n\n\u201cI declare, \u2019tis just what I told Moida.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what did she say?\u201d\n\n\u201cMoida said\u2014and no harm in repeating it\u2014she said Ulrich was her\nnightingale.\u201d\n\n\u201cHer nightingale! Well, really, your friend _is_ sentimental; and I envy\nyour brother. It must be the greatest of earthly joys to be happily\nwedded, as they soon will be.\u201d\n\nHere Walburga\u2019s countenance grew suddenly pensive, and she murmured to\nherself: \u201cAy, the greatest of earthly joys.\u201d\n\nConrad noticed the change in her expression and wondered at it. Then he\nthought to himself: \u201c\u2019Tis time for me to withdraw; I may be wearying\nher.\u201d\n\nBut ere he retired he said: \u201cMay I come again, gracious lady, tomorrow\nor the day after? I sometimes have melancholy moods, but these lovely\npictures bring the sunshine back to my heart; and the loveliest picture\nof all is in this part of the gallery.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may, sir, if it pleases you,\u201d was the answer he received. Then,\nmaking an obeisance, Conrad went away, leaving Walburga hardly in a fit\nstate to continue her work; and she inwardly repeated the words which he\nhad uttered about her nightingale: \u201cFar happier as your prisoner than\nenjoying the freedom of all the woods in Bavaria.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat did he mean?\u201d she asked herself. \u201cWhat did he mean?\u201d\n\nA few minutes later the girl rose and went away too, still murmuring the\nquestion: \u201cWhat did he mean?\u201d\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\nFootnote 43:\n\n The narrowest street in Munich; hence the name.\n\nFootnote 44:\n\n The name of the park in Munich.\n\nFootnote 45:\n\n Valley of the Inn.\n\nFootnote 46:\n\n These are made afresh every year on the feast of the Epiphany.\n\nFootnote 47:\n\n An instrument not unlike a guitar.\n\n\n\n\n ROSARY STANZAS.\n SORROWFUL MYSTERIES.\n\n\nI.\n\n_Luke_ xxii. 44.\n\n No impious hand, no torture-instrument\n The Son of Mary yet has touched. Alone\n His prostrate form upon the ground is rent\n With cruel agony of blood to atone\n For thy too easy life. A heart of stone\n Could but dissolve before the piteous sight.\n All through the _Holy Hour_ he made his moan,\n Beneath the olives, on the sacred height;\n Wrongs of the ages saw in vision that dread night!\n\n\nII.\n\nJOHN xix. 1.\n\n An act, a little word, of God made man\n Bears in itself his own immensity;\n To him the universe is but a span,\n A world\u2019s full ransom his one tear might be.\n Not as we reckon outlay reckons he,\n Until his boundless love has lavished all.\n The knotted scourge precedes the fatal tree.\n Couldst thou return him less, if he should call?\n Or would the martyr\u2019s palm thy coward soul appall?\n\n\nIII.\n\nJOHN xix. 5.\n\n A crown of thorns for him, a crown of bays\n For such as I! A fool might surely deem\n The servant greater than his Master. Praise\n Might to the sinner merest irony seem,\n The while the Sinless One is made a theme\n Of ribaldry. Before his crown of thorn\n Honor and earthly glory are a dream,\n A phantom flimsier than of vapor born:\n By that pierced brow the crown of all the worlds is worn.\n\n\nIV.\n\nMATT. xi. 30.\n\n Simon to bear thy cross they would compel;\n Yet for the deed, though done against his will,\n On him and on his sons rich blessing fell,\n As old traditions say. How richer still\n The graces that the heart\u2019s long thirst will fill\n For him who runs that sacred load to meet,\n And bear it upward to the holy hill!\n To share His burden be my footstep fleet:\n True love will make his yoke unfelt, his burden sweet.\n\n\nV.\n\nJOHN i. 29.\n\n Behold, the Lamb of God is crucified!\n His head is bowed, to impart the kiss of peace;\n Stretched are his arms, to draw thee to his side;\n Opened his heart, thy heart\u2019s love to increase.\n His all is spent to purchase thy release.\n Canst thou, my soul, love great as this refuse?\n Henceforth in thee let sin\u2019s dominion cease,\n And with the Mother of the martyrs choose,\n Rather than him in death, a whole world\u2019s wealth to lose.\n\n\n\n\n PROHIBITORY LEGISLATION: ITS CAUSE AND EFFECTS.\n\n\nIt has been well said that \u201cthe best government is that which governs\nleast\u201d; and it might with infinite propriety be added that the\nlegislative body stultifies itself when it passes laws that cannot\npossibly be carried into effect. One such law on our statute-books, yet\nconstantly and notoriously violated, does more to destroy that political\nmorality with which our people are, to say the least, not\noverburdened\u2014of which certainly there is no surplus\u2014than would ten wrong\npractices against which no law exists. We learned, during the late war,\nof how little avail legislation is when it undertakes to regulate and\ndeclare the value of gold; and it is designed briefly to set forth in\nthis article that the proposed much-vaunted prohibitory legislation\ntouching alcoholic liquors is false in theory, must be unsuccessful in\npractice; that remedial (not _repressive_) measures are what is\nrequired; and to suggest means by which the end aimed at by such\nenactments can be attained without invading the domain of the church,\nthe free-will of humanity, or placing the state in the odious light of\nexecutor of a grinding tyranny exercised by a temporary majority over a\nrecalcitrant minority.\n\nAnd here, in the outset, let it be understood that there is no\ndifference between ourselves and the most ardent favorers of the Maine\nLaw, or any similar enactment on this matter, concerning the detestable\nnature of drunkenness, which we both admit to be a damning sin in the\nsight of God and a crying scandal before man. That it is a loathsome\nvice is a proposition requiring only to be stated, not argued. Even the\nwretched being who is enthralled by it will admit this and lament his\ndeplorable condition. The days are past when Fox, Pitt, and Sheridan\nwent openly drunk to the House of Commons; when the usages of the\nhighest society were such that we still retain therefrom the saying,\n\u201cDrunk as a lord\u201d; when the literature of the age informs us everywhere\nthat _gentlemen_ were not expected to be sober after dinner; when Burns\ncould write in Presbyterian Scotland, \u201cI hae been fou wi\u2019 godly\npriests\u201d; and when, in our own country, the first thing on entering and\nthe last on leaving a house was a visit to the sideboard. Drunkenness is\nnow deservedly considered by the entire community not only a vice but an\ninherently vulgar one. Fashionable society will not tolerate it, and\nthere is no pretence of usage any longer set up that will even partially\ncondone it. In short, it is the one unpardonable sin against modern\nsociety, and we are well pleased to see it ranked in this category. But\nwhile detesting drunkenness, and deprecating, in the strongest manner,\nthe habitual use of intoxicating liquors, we dislike very much to\nperceive a tendency on the part of the public to ignore the fact that\nthere are other sins besides the abuse of liquor, and that it is not by\nlegal provision that people are to be kept sober. As Almighty God has\nbeen pleased to leave us our free-will, the reason is not evident why\nfrail man should seek to take it away; and we object utterly to that\nqueer manipulation by which the word \u201ctemperance\u201d itself, the proper\nmeaning of which is \u201cmoderation in any use or practice,\u201d should be\nrestricted to the moderate use of alcoholic drinks, much more that it\nshould falsely be twisted and perverted into implying a total abstinence\nfrom them. Why should we be wise above what is written? Has Almighty God\nfailed his church? Are we prepared to admit that Christianity is a\nmiscarriage? This we tacitly do when we invoke to her aid the arm of the\ncivil law. It is not to be doubted but there are persons so\nunfortunately constituted that they cannot use stimulants of any kind\nwithout abusing them. \u201cMadam,\u201d said Dr. Johnson to a lady who asked him\nto take a little wine\u2014\u201cmadam, I cannot take a _little_, and therefore I\ntake none at all!\u201d Such persons must plainly abstain entirely; whether\nthey shall do so of their own accord, by taking a simple pledge or by\njoining a \u201ctemperance society,\u201d is for themselves to answer. In any case\nthere is no safety for them save in total abstinence; but said\nabstinence, to have any merit whatever, must be voluntary, not one of\nlegal enforcement.\n\nWhile attention had, from time to time within the last century, been\ncalled to the intemperate use of alcoholic liquors, it is only within\ncomparatively recent times that any organized efforts have been made to\ngrapple with this monstrous evil. The first association for the purpose\nwas made in Massachusetts in 1813. By its means facts and statistics\nwere gathered and published for the purpose of calling the attention of\nthe public to the magnitude of the evil, and suggestions made for its\nabatement or suppression. Similar associations were soon formed in\nadjoining States, and these again organized branches, until associations\nof the kind existed in nearly all the Eastern and Middle States. About\n1820 there was formed in Boston \u201cThe American Society for the Promotion\nof Temperance,\u201d which in 1829 had over one thousand auxiliary societies,\nno State in the Union being without one or more. The influences relied\nupon by this institution were the dissemination of tracts in which were\nportrayed the evil effects of the use of alcohol, and the employment of\ntravelling lecturers to deliver addresses in favor of temperance. The\nfirst society professing the principle of total abstinence from\nintoxicating liquors was formed at Andover in 1826. These several\nsocieties, under one form or other, soon spread largely not only in our\nown country but in Canada, England, and Scotland, until they existed by\nhundreds in each; and about this time the word _temperance_ began to\nlose its normal signification, and to be used as a synonym for total\nabstinence from the use of liquors. _Teetotalism_ became the popular\ncry. The country was taken by storm; lecturers loomed up all over the\nStates, administered the \u201cpledge\u201d publicly to hundreds of thousands;\nvarious minor denominations refitted their terms of communion in\naccordance with the new war-cry. In Ireland the cause of total\nabstinence was so successfully advocated by Very Rev. Father Mathew that\nhe is stated to have administered the pledge to more than a million\npersons within three years from 1838; and since that time there has\nbeen, in the popular mind, no such thing as temperance, except in the\nsense of total abstinence from all that can intoxicate. All the former\nassociations which proposed to themselves any such secondary and\ninefficient object as moderation in the use of liquors, or which\nadministered either a partial pledge or one merely for a specified time,\nwere disbanded or fell out of sight. Societies of Washingtonians, Sons\nof Temperance, Good Templars, and Rechabites sprang up, most of them\nsecret and with signs, passwords, grips, tokens, etc., the members of\nwhich were pledged neither to touch, taste, handle, buy, sell,\nmanufacture, nor use as a beverage the _accursed thing_. In 1851 the\nLegislature of Maine passed the well-known \u201cMaine Law,\u201d by which it was\nmade penal to manufacture, have in possession, or sell intoxicating\ndrinks. The law was repealed in 1856, and it has since been lawful to\ndistil, keep, or sell spirits under certain restrictions, but\ndrinking-houses are prohibited. A similar law was enacted in\nMassachusetts in 1867. In many of the States there is a law prohibiting\nthe sale of liquors on Sunday, and in a majority the _local-option_ law\n(which leaves the question whether license to sell spirits shall be\ngranted or not to the decision, at the polls, of the people of each\ncity, town, township, or county) is now in full blast, with results that\nwe shall glance at hereafter. A political party has been formed in many\nStates, under the name of \u201cprohibitionists,\u201d which, though as yet but\nrarely sufficiently numerous or powerful to elect a governor on that\nsingle issue, yet numbers adherents enough frequently to hold the\nbalance of power between the two prominent parties, and thus extort from\ncandidates very important concessions in their own interests. They are\nactive, energetic, conscientious in the main, and they besiege the\nvarious legislatures with petition upon petition against the\nliquor-traffic, which, to their minds, is the sum of all iniquities. The\nvarious religious sects come to their aid, loudly decrying all traffic\nin, and use of, spirituous drink. Matters have been brought to such a\npass that a man\u2019s reputation is imperilled by taking a glass of liquor;\nand there is yet wanting but the one further step of making its use\nillegal and its procurement impossible\u2014a course strongly and\nunhesitatingly urged by almost all the various supporters of what is\nnowadays called _temperance_, and which seems quite likely to succeed,\nshould the upholders of these views increase in numbers for a few more\nyears as they have done within the last two decades.\n\nIt is a law of all fanatical movements, and one of their most peculiarly\ndangerous features, that they readily enmesh large numbers of people,\nand that their workings, tendencies, and developments fall of necessity,\nin the long run, into the hands of the extremists, the _intransigentes_,\namong themselves. Nor has this movement proved an exception, as is seen\nin the attempt made by legal enactment to coerce people into the\npractice of an enforced abstinence from stimulants\u2014an abstinence _not_\nshown to be physiologically desirable, _not_ commanded by the church,\nand most assuredly _not_ inculcated in Scripture. But in secret\nsocieties always, in sectarian combinations generally, and oftentimes in\npolitical parties, the experience of all ages shows that people first\nset up for themselves a master, and then obey him like so many slaves.\nThey do this, too, under the delusion, for the most part, that they are\ncarrying out their own convictions of right. It is much easier to join\none of these secret organizations in a flush of curiosity, enthusiasm,\nor other temporary excitement than it afterwards proves to leave them in\ncalm blood. Ties of acquaintance and _quasi_ friendship have been formed\nwhich most men strongly dislike to break. Good care is usually exercised\nthat \u201cthe rhetorician, from whom,\u201d as Aristotle says, \u201cit is an error to\nexpect demonstration,\u201d shall be on hand to stimulate, exhort, inspirit,\nand incite to still further and more vigorous exertion; the boundaries\nbetween right and wrong fade away from the mental view; and few start in\non this false track who fail to accompany their misled companions as far\nas the archbigot or archfanatic may choose to take them.\n\nWithin the Catholic Church a large number of total-abstinence societies\nhave been formed, of course with her sanction. Most of these are at the\nsame time _beneficial_ institutions, which in case of sickness give the\nmember, and in case of death to his nearest kin, a certain allotted sum.\nBut probably most priests on the mission will say that the great mass of\nCatholics who feel the necessity _for them_ of such abstinence take the\npledge as individuals at the hands of the priest, either for a certain\nterm or for life, without joining any special society. An immense amount\nof good has thus been accomplished, particularly among the poorer and\nlaboring population, a very large proportion of whom are Catholics, and,\nfrom their circumstances and inevitable surroundings, most in danger of\nfalling into temptation in the matter of drink, as well as most certain\nto suffer very severely from its effects. But it has at no time been,\nnor is it now, any part of the teaching of the church that her children\nshall not manufacture, buy, sell, and use (should they be so disposed)\nvinous, malt, or spirituous drink. Condemning the abuse of them, and\nreprobating drunkenness as a mortal sin, she yet allows to her children\nthe moderate use and enjoyment of that wine which our Blessed Lord\nhimself made for the use of the guests at the wedding at Cana, as well\nas of the other forms of it, which no physician or chemist ever found to\nbe injurious _per se_ until it chimed in with a cry emanating from a\nlarge, an influential, _possibly_ a well-meaning, but in our view\n_certainly, if so_, a false-thinking, or it may be a deceived, portion\nof the community.\n\nAnd here it may be well to note the unpardonable arrogance of assumption\nwith which the intemperately temperate of all sorts take it for granted\nthat all intelligence and morality belong peculiarly to those who\ninculcate or practise this one principle of abstinence from liquors. We\nsee it displayed most offensively, indeed, among the variously bedizened\nand becollared gentry of the divers oath-bound secret societies, and\namong such sectaries as practically make total abstinence a term of\ncommunion; but truth compels us to go further, and to admit the\ntendency, even among Catholics, on the part of those who have ardently\nattached themselves to the societies got up with this view, to treat all\noutsiders as though living on a lower plane of piety and morality than\nthemselves. \u201cStand thou off, for I am holier than thou\u201d is too\nfrequently their language in effect, if not in words; and, indeed, that\nis an almost inevitable effect of what the Scotch call \u201cunco guidness.\u201d\nHowever, the teaching and tenets of the church remain what they have\nalways been, and the Catholic manufacturer or vender of wines and\nspirits, the total abstainer and the moderate drinker, go to confession,\nreceive absolution and holy communion, together; nor do intelligent or\nwell-instructed Catholics imagine for a moment that the formal pledge of\nabstinence from intoxicants, or membership in a total-abstinence\nsociety, are anything more than _adminicula_ to the individual whom his\nown weakness, the circumstances under which he earns a livelihood, or\nother reasons place in peculiar danger with reference to this vice.\n\nBut there must be some strong reason why an all-pervading necessity has\nbeen felt, in this century, for doing something in regard to\ndrunkenness, the need of which (if ever previously perceived) has\ncertainly never been acted upon by the most enlightened nations, whether\nof antiquity or of modern times. Lot was made drunk; Noe was drunk;\nNabal and the Ephraimites were \u201cdrunken withal\u201d; and all the evils and\nphenomena of intoxication are fully described in various passages of the\nOld Testament, always with reprobation, but there is not to be found in\nthe entire book the slightest disapproval of the use of the fruit of the\nvine. On the contrary, oblations of wine to the Deity are enjoined upon\nthe children of Israel; and the most horrible judgments denounced by the\nprophets of God upon the Jews consist in their being deprived of wine.\nIn New Testament times our Saviour was called by the Pharisees (the\nprototypes of our ultra-abstainers) a wine-bibber; yet the same Jesus\ndoes not deem it at all necessary to proclaim himself on the teetotal\nside, or to leave us any precept against the use of wine. On the\ncontrary, he institutes in wine the sacrament of his love, thus\nrendering the manufacture of wine necessary till the end of time. He\nhimself changes water into wine. His apostles nowhere discourage its\nuse, while they frequently speak of and upbraid professing Christians\nwith its abuse, and one of them actually advises another to drop water\nand use a little wine for sanitary reasons. It would be sheer waste of\ntime to undertake to refute those very ignorant or very dishonest\npersons who try to make it appear that wine, when mentioned in Scripture\nwith commendation, is merely the unfermented juice of the grape, and\nthat the _shechar_, _tirosh_, and _yayin_ were only intoxicating when\nexcess in their use was reprobated. Either these people know better, and\nare wittingly making use of a dishonest argument, or their ignorance is\ntoo dense to be penetrated by any proof, however cogent. The reader who\nmay wish to see this branch of the subject succinctly yet exhaustively\ntreated should refer to an article in the _Westminster Review_ for\nJanuary, 1875, entitled \u201cThe Bible and Strong Drink.\u201d\n\nThe Greeks and Romans cultivated the vine very largely, made and used\nwine habitually; but their whole literature, while teeming with\nreference to the use, in no single instance commends the abuse, of wine.\nThat the Spartans were accustomed to make their slaves intoxicated, in\norder by their example to deter young men from becoming addicted to the\nvice, is as well attested as any fact in history; while even in the\nworst periods of Roman story drunkenness is invariably referred to as\ndisgraceful in itself, never to be predicated of people entitled to\nrespect, and relegated, even at the _Saturnalia_, to the rabble and to\nslaves.\n\nIn the _Stromata_ of St. Clement of Alexandria, who lived in the latter\npart of the second century, we find allusion made to a few who at that\nday attempted to disturb the harmony of the church by imitating the\nexample which they professed to consider set them in the narration by\nthe Prophet Jeremias of the story of the sons of Jonadab-ben-Rechab, and\nwe find those persons classed by him with those of whom the apostle\nspeaks, as \u201ccommanding to abstain from that which God hath ordained to\nbe received with thanksgiving.\u201d Two centuries later St. Chrysostom and\nSt. Augustine both pointedly condemn, as acting \u201cplainly and palpably\ncontrary to Scripture and to the doctrine of the Church,\u201d some who,\nfancying they had attained spiritual information not generally\naccessible, tried to introduce among Christians the vow of the\nNazarites. From that time till the former half of the present century we\nread, indeed, of drunkenness as existing; for that matter, we know of\nits existence in the earliest ages, and in all times and countries\nsince, just as we do of incontinence, of theft, and of suicide by\npoison. It was reserved for the nineteenth century to attempt to do away\nwith the possibility of the vice of drunkenness by rendering penal the\nproduction of the means; which is as though the law should step in to\nrender men chaste by emasculation, theft impracticable by the abolition\nof property; and not in the least more feasible than would be the\ncarrying out of an edict against the production of animal, mineral, or\nvegetable poisons.\n\nNow, we should not in the least object to any well-devised and practical\nlegislation that would do away with drunkenness entirely, if that were\npossible, which it unfortunately is not; nor will it ever be the case so\nlong as the human race exists upon earth. The question, then, arises,\nWhat would be _practical_ legislation in the matter? This, in turn,\ninvolves an inquiry into the latent causes of the great commotion raised\nwithin this generation on the subject. It will be fresh in the memory of\nreading people in the United States that some two years ago one of our\nablest metropolitan journals employed an agent to purchase samples of\nevery possibly adulterable commodity from the most reputable venders in\nthat city, drugs of the same description from the most respectable\napothecaries\u2014in short, specimens of everything on sale that was capable\nof deterioration by admixture of foreign substances; and that, on\nhanding them over to a competent chemist for analysis, there was not a\nsingle instance of an article so purchased and tested that was not found\nadulterated to the last extent. All, without exception, whether articles\nof food, drink, medicine, or products of the arts and manufactures, were\ndebased and corrupted\u2014always, of course, with an inferior and cheaper,\nfrequently with an absolutely injurious, and in some instances with a\npoisonous, admixture. The exposure occupied the columns of the paper\nreferred to for some two weeks, and was then discontinued; not, however,\nwithout leaving food for reflection in the minds of the thoughtful. Now,\nwhen we consider the still greater temptation, the patent feasibility,\nand the larger gains resulting from adulteration of the various liquors,\nowing to the many hands through which they must and do pass before\nreaching their consumers, and the almost total impossibility, as things\nare, of detection, we shall have strong reason _\u00e0 priori_ to believe\nthat such adulteration takes place. But we have before us at this moment\na book of some two hundred pages, entitled the _Bar-keeper\u2019s Manual_, in\nwhich the facts are laid down, the method explained, the ingredients\nunblushingly named, the manipulations described, and a clear reason thus\nafforded why the use of liquors _nowadays_ is so ruinous to health, so\nproductive of hitherto comparatively unknown forms of disease, and has\nbecome in this century especially such a crying abomination. In this\nbook (which forcibly recalls to our mind an advertisement for \u201ca man in\na liquor store\u201d that we once saw, and which wound up by stating that no\none need apply who did not understand \u201cdoctoring\u201d liquors) recipes are\ngiven for making from common whiskey any kind of gin, brandy, rum,\narrack, kirschwasser, absinthe, etc., as well as any other desired brand\nof whiskey; together with full directions for mixing, diluting,\ncoloring, adding strength, bead, and fruitiness, as well as for\nflavoring them each up to the required mark. When we find among the\ningredients recommended (and evidently used, as the result of experience\nin this diabolical laboratory) nux vomica, cocculus indicus, strychnia,\nhenbane, poppy-seed, creosote, and logwood, to impart strength to the\nfalse liquor, we need not inquire after the thousand other less\npernicious articles used to supply color, odor, or bead to the noxious\ncompounds. Now, from conversations held with persons who have been\nengaged in the liquor business in its various forms, as well as from\nreliable information long since spread before the public, but to quote\nwhich _in extenso_ would occupy too much space, we may generalize these\nfacts, which we take to be not only undisputed but indisputable; viz.,\nthat _wines never_, and brandies, gins, etc., _rarely_, reach our shores\nin their pure state; that the same assertion is true of every imported\nliquor; that the subsequent adulteration is something fearful to\ncontemplate; and that the advocates of prohibitory laws are talking\nwithin bounds when they call such preparations _poisons_. We may further\nlearn that rarely indeed do our home-manufactured liquors pass in a pure\nstate into the hands of the first purchaser; and that, after they have\npassed through two or three subsequent hands, whatever they may have\nbecome, they are anything in the world but pure liquors. By the time,\nthen, that they reach the small groceries, drinking-shops, doggeries,\nand the lowest classes of saloons, all liquors will, on an average, have\npassed through at least seven or eight hands, each man quite as eager as\nthe last to make all the gain he possibly can upon the article; and\nadulteration (he has the _Manual_ before him) presenting the safest and\neasiest plan, it follows that the laborer or artisan, those whose\npoverty forces them to frequent the lowest and meanest places, will be\nsupplied with the most villanous article possible to be conceived under\nthe name of liquor. Mr. Greenwood, in his work, _The Seven Plagues of\nLondon_, says:\n\n \u201cWhere there is _no pure liquor_\u2014and there is little such in London,\n even for the wealthy\u2014perhaps nothing used by man as a stimulant is\n liable to greater and more injurious adulterations than _gin_; and I\n assert that it is _not_ to-day _to be procured pure_ (I speak not of\n merely _injurious_ but) of _absolutely poisonous_ drugs at a single\n shop in London to which a poor man would go or where he would be\n served.\u201d\n\nMr. Nathaniel Curtis, the founder and first Worthy Chief of the Order of\nGood Templars, has (though his deductions from the facts are entirely\ndifferent from ours) made it abundantly evident that the adulteration of\nall liquors, fermented, vinous, and ardent, is carried on in a most\nreckless manner and without regard to consequences in our own country.\nHis words are:\n\n \u201cFrom the tramp\u2019s _glass_ of beer, through the sot\u2019s _glass_ of rum,\n _jorum_ of whiskey, or _pull_ of gin, up to the merchant\u2019s madeira\n or sherry and the millionaire\u2019s _goblet_ of champagne, we have shown\n them all to be, not what the drinker supposes\u2014and that were bad\n enough in all conscience\u2014but _universally drugged_, most frequently\n _poisoned_, and not in one case of ten thousand containing more than\n a small percentage of the article the purchaser paid for.\u201d\n\nWe might multiply authorities, chemical, medical, and purely statistic,\non this subject to an indefinite extent, but it would occupy too much\nspace; besides which, reading men are already sufficiently convinced of\nthe facts. Within the last few years such a mass of damning evidence has\nbeen put before the public on this subject that the man must be wilfully\nblind who does not admit adulteration of the most injurious sort to be\nthe rule in all the various branches and phases of the liquor-traffic.\nOne quotation, however, we must make from the pages of the _Dublin\nReview_, July, 1870, article \u201cProtestant London,\u201d in which the writer\nsuggests something very like our own view, though he seems to have an\nidea that the wholesale adulteration was, in England, confined to\nfermented liquors, which is indeed a grave mistake, whether as regards\nEngland, Scotland, Ireland, Denmark, or in fact any of the countries\npeculiarly afflicted by this demon of drink. The writer says:\n\n \u201cYet the effects of beer in England are confessedly far worse than\n those of wine in France. We believe the real explanation of this to\n be its adulteration. It is by drinking, at first in moderation,\n adulterated beer that the habit of intoxication becomes a slavery,\n by which men are afterwards led on to the abuse of gin. There are at\n this moment thousands of habitual drunkards among us who would never\n have been drunkards at all, had they not been betrayed into the\n snare by drinking in moderation adulterated beer\u2014that is, _if the\n beer sold in public-houses were not universally adulterated_. This\n evil, at least, law well administered might meet and uproot.\n Government should _not_ allow men both to _cheat_ and _poison_ their\n neighbors with impunity.\u201d\n\nIt is, then, not at all surprising that _mania a potu, delirium\ntremens_, and other disorders arising from the abuse of good or the use\nof drugged liquor should have become so common in this country as to\nfurnish a good or, at any rate, a plausible reason why many\nconscientious persons have attributed to the use of liquor effects due,\neither solely or in great measure, to the stupefying and poisonous\ndecoctions vended under that name. But while this would have been, at\nall times as it is now, an excellent and an all-sufficient reason for\ntrying to induce people to refrain, whether by pledge or otherwise, from\nsuch infernal compounds, and for having analysts appointed by law to\nexamine and test the liquors sold in every tavern, we insist that it is\nno argument at all for doing away by law with the use of liquor _in\ntoto_. We believe sincerely that no single measure (that can be carried\nout) would do more to lessen the national curse of drunkenness than the\nappointment of competent chemists to see to the purity of the liquors\nvended. And, considering the advanced state of chemical science among\nus, is it absurd to suppose, that if the government were determined that\nso it should be, the selling of adulterated liquor might not easily be\nmade so dangerous a trade as to be very soon given over? It is\nlamentable that people are so eager for gain that they will and do\nadulterate everything capable of the process. Physicians tell us that it\nis nearly impossible to get at the ordinary drug-stores any of the\nhigher-priced medicines in their pure state; that opium, quinine, etc.,\nare nearly always impure, mixed with foreign ingredients; and that, for\nthis reason, their prescriptions often fail of the intended effect.\nThis, certainly, is no good reason for enacting a law to abolish\nentirely the use of adulterable drugs; nor because tea, coffee, sugar,\ntobacco, mace, mustard, and pepper are rarely found pure should we\ntherefore abandon their use altogether.\n\nHere, of course, it will be contended that the cases are not parallel;\nthat whereas the abuse of liquor, or the use of the drugged article\ngoing by that name, renders man like the brute, degrades and obliterates\nthe image of God in us, yet such is not the case with the adulterated\ncommodities of food or with the drugs referred to. True, the analogy\ndoes not hold equally good throughout in each case, but the principle is\nexactly the same in all. We will go further, admitting that liquor is in\nvery few cases an absolute necessity; but what a large number of mankind\nregard it as of prime importance to their well-being, to their comfort,\nor, finally, to their enjoyment! How few of the great mass of humanity,\non the other hand, are of that unfortunate constitution of mind, of\nbody, or of both that they cannot restrain themselves within the bounds\nof moderation in the use of liquor vinous or fermented! Suppose even\nthat the passage of a prohibitory law by the majority were consonant\nwith church and Scriptural teachings, would it be fair or reasonable\nthat for the lamentable weakness of the very few the comfort and\nenjoyment of the vast mass of humanity should be lightly set aside as an\nunconsidered trifle? That Anglican bishop who said he \u201cwould rather see\nEngland free than England sober\u201d expressed a noble sentiment, and we\nthink, with him, that enforced sobriety (as would be that produced by\nsuch a law) would be dearly purchased at the expense of virtual slavery.\nSome one pithily condemns _that false system of morality that begins by\npledges of total abstinence_, but the falsity of such a scheme is\ntrifling compared with that which would invite us to come and admire a\nnation sober, enforcedly sober, _de par la loi!_ As well ask us to\napplaud the sobriety of the convicts in the penitentiary. We are not\nplaced in the world to be free from temptation, but to resist it. All\ntheologians assure us that this is a state of probation, nor is it the\nbusiness of the civil code either to abolish property lest many may\nsteal, or to suppress the manufacture of liquor lest some shame\nthemselves and sin against God by getting drunk. Again, if you begin\nthis business, where is it to end? Human beings are very full of kinks\nand crotchets. Each half-century is sure to have its peculiar vagary.\nWhat may not be that of the next one? King James considered tobacco as a\ndirect emanation from the devil; and John Wesley was no whit behind him\neither in the belief or its expression. It is certainly quite as\nunnecessary, quite as much an article _de pur luxe_, as beer, wine, or\nspirits. Who is bail to me that, the principle once established of\nsuppressing human nature by act of Congress, future Good Templars,\nprospective Rechabites, Sons of Temperance yet to come, nay, the whole\nMethodistic fraternity, may not revivify the views of Wesley and thunder\nanathemas against Yaras, Fine-cut, and Cavendish? Or there may arise an\nexpounder of Scripture who shall deduce thence a system of vegetarianism\n(quite as unlikely doctrines and practices have been deduced from Holy\nWrit) to his own satisfaction and that of crowds greater than wait on\nthe ministrations of our latest evangelists. Of course then, marshalled\nto victory by the \u201cSociety for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,\u201d\nthey will soon have a law enacted forbidding to us all beefsteak or\nmutton-chop! There is, in short, no end to the antics and absurdities\nthat may, nay, that must, arise under the \u00e6gis of such a precedent as\nthis law would furnish. We, for our part, fully believe in rendering to\nC\u00e6sar what belongs to him; but it is the province of the church,\nrepresenting God upon earth\u2014of religion, in other words\u2014so to dispose\nman as to enable him to withstand temptation to sin and crime; and the\nbusiness of the civil power to punish him _for offences committed_, not\nto remove all temptation to wrongdoing. In short, the law is not held to\nan impossibility, which this would plainly be, unless the world were\nmade a _tabula rasa_. The assumption, therefore, by the civil law, of\nthe divinely-conferred duty and prerogative of the church would, in any\ncase, be a usurpation, were it even practicable. We shall see that in\nthe case before us, at least, it would be purely impossible to carry out\nthe legal mandate by all the power of the government, were it multiplied\na hundred-fold.\n\nThe heavy tariff on foreign, and the large internal revenue tax on\ndomestic, liquors, necessitated by our civil war, have also been a great\ninducement to the adulteration of spirits, as well as to the advance of\nthat already too wide-spread practice of cheating the government in\nmatter of revenue, now so common as hardly to be regarded in the light\nof a moral wrong. Howsoever it may have come about, the fact is that the\ntone of political morality with us is about as low as it has ever been\nin any country that the sun shines on. From the Stocking & Leet trial,\nthrough the troubles of Tammany\u2019s magnates and the charges of complicity\nwith smugglers pending against some of our most prominent mercantile\nfirms, down to the \u201ccrooked whiskey\u201d cases of to-day, as well as the\nconstantly-bandied and the sometimes thoroughly proven charges of\nbribery against our most highly-placed public men, we see everywhere\neither a desperate resolution to evade all law, or a serene belief that\ndeception and the withholding of tax and tariff legally due cease to be\ncheating and swindling when the government is the party of the second\npart. It is now clearly made out that, since the laying on of high\nduties and revenue tax, it has cost our government an average of three\ndollars to collect every two dollars received from that source in the\npublic treasury; while as to the amount of which the government is\nannually defrauded, no calculation other than an approximate one can, of\ncourse, be made, but those whose position gives them the best chance to\nform an accurate judgment place the yearly sum at the minimum of\n$80,000,000. Before our late war we had a federal treasury ever full.\nIndeed, but a very short time before that dismal experience the general\ngovernment distributed a large surplus among the States; our treasury\nnotes were always above par, and our simple government bonds at high\npremium. With the advent of war came the necessity for raising a large\nand an immediate revenue. Taxation, direct and indirect, was resorted\nto, the like of which has rarely (if ever) been known in civilized\ncountries. Paper money, redeemable at the pleasure of the government,\nwas issued. Gold and silver entirely disappeared. An army of internal\nrevenue officers had to be created, and a supplementary host of\ndetectives to ferret out infractions of the new-made laws. The tax on\ncommon whiskey was placed at two dollars and fifty cents per gallon, and\ncorresponding sums on foreign liquors; Cognac, for example, being rated\nat seven dollars per gallon. Our people were not accustomed to, and did\nnot like, taxation; and the government neither knew how to suggest, nor\nits officials how to carry out honestly and skilfully, any well-devised\nplans for the collection of revenue on such a gigantic scale. Here there\nwas a strong inducement at once both to the illicit manufacture and to\nthe increased adulteration of liquors, the latter of which (though\nexisting too largely before) took, from that time, large strides in\nadvance, and both have uninterruptedly continued their progress till the\npresent day, threatening (unless most stringent measures be taken for\ntheir repression) to ruin our country, morally, and a large number of\nher citizens temporally and eternally. It is true that the tax on\nhome-manufactured spirits was largely cut down in 1870, and that on\nforeign wines and liquors heavily curtailed; but those at all acquainted\nwith the subject know how little this step, taken after eight years of\nthe reverse practice, was likely to interfere with clandestine\nmanufacture, and how immensely it tended to give a superadded impetus to\nthe practice of adulteration. Our internal revenue officers are now\nlegion, yet they do not collect one-half of the revenue that should be\ncollected; and of that one-half not more than two-fifths inures to the\nbenefit of the treasury. Our detectives swarm everywhere, yet illicit\ndistillation and poisonous adulteration of liquors are on a very rapid\nincrease. Now, a very large number of people, learned and lay, rich and\npoor, of practical experience in the use of liquor, and deriving their\ninformation from the experience of others, or from reading, are strongly\nof the opinion that the best and most practicable mode of decreasing\nactual drunkenness, and of mitigating or diminishing the acknowledged\nevils of drink, would be the furnishing of pure liquors instead of the\nnoxious compounds now on sale. Certainly, to put the matter in the\nmildest terms, there prevails a very extensive belief, founded, we\nthink, upon good reason, that if pure liquors alone were sold\ndrunkenness would not prevail as it now does. It is not contended that\nintoxication would thereby be done away with, any more than that the\nmost skilful devices can ever entirely prevent theft, forgery, murder,\nor other crime; but we insist that the tendency to drunkenness, now so\ninseparable (as experience shows) from the use of the drugged article,\nwould not exist in a tithe of the instances nor to a hundredth part of\nthe extent that we daily see. Certain it is that in the last century,\nand until adulteration began to prevail extensively in the present, the\nterrific effects of liquor-drinking now known to us, under so many\ndifferent names and forms of disease, did not present themselves with\nany frequency; and it is equally certain that just in proportion to the\nuniversality of adulteration has been the commonness and virulence of\nmania and delirium resulting from drink. We have said that stringent\nmeasures should be taken to guard the interests of the comparatively\nhelpless consumers, so that they may have some reasonable ground for\nbelieving that in taking a glass of ale or beer they have not imbibed a\ndose of _cocculus indicus_, that a drink of whiskey does not of\nnecessity imply an undefined amount of _nux vomica_, or that the\nsymptoms resultant from a mixture of brandy and water at dinner are not\ndue to _strychnia_ or _creosote_. We found it much easier during the war\nto raise prices on account of the enhanced value of gold than it has\nsince proved to diminish them in accordance with the approximation of\ngreenbacks to coin. So, too, in this matter of suppressing adulteration\nof drink (which is the remedy we propose, and which will be just so far\nvaluable as it is thorough and uncompromising, while comparatively\nuseless unless rigidly and strenuously carried out), we have called into\nplay a practice, we have evoked a demon, which is not to be abolished or\nbanished by feeble instrumentality. We shall illustrate what may be done\nhere in our own country by what has been successfully accomplished in\nSweden (a country in which drunkenness and its attendant evils had\nattained a magnitude beyond, perhaps, any other of Europe); nor can we\ndo it better than by the following account taken from Dr. Carnegie\u2019s\nlate book, entitled _The License Laws of Sweden_:\n\n \u201cIn the town of Gothenburg, however, these measures (_prohibitory\n laws_), partly from local reasons, were not found sufficiently\n restrictive; and a committee, appointed in 1865, readily traced a\n concurrent progress between the increasing pauperism and the\n increasing drink. The laws were evaded, the police set at naught,\n and nothing remained but to inaugurate a radically new system. This\n consisted of various measures, all subordinate to one great\n principle\u2014viz., that no individual, either as proprietor or manager,\n under a public-house license, should derive any gain from the sale\n of liquor. To carry out this principle in its integrity the whole\n liquor-traffic of the town was gradually transferred to a company,\n limited, consisting of the most highly respected gentlemen of the\n town, who undertook, by their charter, to carry on the business in\n the interests of temperance and morality, and neither to derive any\n profit from it themselves nor to allow any person acting under them\n to do so. The company now rent all the houses and licenses from the\n town, paying a moderate interest on the capital invested, and making\n over the entire profits of the trade to the town treasury. The\n places for drink\u2014the number of which was immediately curtailed\u2014are\n of two classes, public-houses and retail shops, both bound to\n purchase their wine and spirits (analyzed and authoritatively\n pronounced pure) from the company, to sell them without any profit,\n to supply good food and hot meals on the premises, and not to sell\n Swedish brandy except at meals. The public-houses are managed by\n carefully-chosen men, who derive their profits from the sale of malt\n liquors (also analyzed before being put on sale), coffee, tea, soda\n and seltzer water, cigars, etc., and from the food and lodgings. The\n retail shops are managed entirely by women, who have a fixed salary\n but no share in the profits. This system began to work in October,\n 1865. Its effects have been at once perceptible. In 1864 the number\n of fines paid in Gothenburg for drunkenness was 2,164; in 1870, with\n a largely increased population, 1,416. Cases of _delirium tremens_\n in 1864 were 118; in 1868 but 54. Nor are the financial effects less\n encouraging. In 1872 the company realized in net profits no less\n than \u00a315,846, which, being paid over to the town, far more than\n covers the entire poor-rate. Another pleasant fact is that this\n large amount of trade is virtually carried on without any paid-up\n capital, the whole outlay of the company having only amounted to\n \u00a3454.\u201d\n\nIt is interesting to learn from the same authority whence the above\nextract is taken that whilst the consumption of liquor in Sweden is\nstill enormous, it has been reduced (mainly owing to the care exercised\nin testing its purity, and partially, also, to well-regulated\nrestriction) from ten gallons per head throughout the kingdom in 1860 to\nabout two gallons in 1870, which is about the same proportion as in\nScotland at present; and that the universal testimony of the Swedish\nphilanthropists, far from favoring absolute prohibition, looks rather to\npurity of liquor, conjoined with moderate restriction, and finds the\nresults eminently satisfactory. But while we point to their experience,\nas well as to common sense, right reason, the practice both of the\nancient and modern world till the beginning of this agitation of a\nfactitious temperance; while we invoke the teachings of Scripture for\nthose who profess to be guided in matters of morals and doctrine by\nthat, and by that alone, and appeal to the constant practice and to the\nauthority of the church, which should, with Catholics, be paramount to\nall other considerations, yet we are painfully aware that to produce\nconviction in the minds of extremists is a task that no logic can\naccomplish. It is, like the cure of the vice itself which gives occasion\nfor this article, only to be accomplished by the grace of God. The\nEnglish-speaking world\u2014the most enterprising and energetic portion of\nthe human race\u2014occupying, for the most part, regions which suggest\ntoiling and striving physically and mentally so as, in the opinion of\nmany of them, to necessitate an occasional resort to alcoholic\nstimulants, have used these liquors largely, we will say too largely, if\nyou please. Other shrewd and unscrupulous Anglo-Saxons have stepped in\nand poisoned, for gain, the cup which they thought one of refreshment.\nDeath and disease, drunkenness and dipsomania, have been so long and so\nfrequently the result that the attention of the public is imperatively\ncalled to it. \u201cTake the pledge,\u201d says one; \u201cthat will settle the\nmatter\u201d\u2014forgetting that without the help of God no pledge is of any\naccount, and that with his grace no pledge is needed. \u201cJoin the order,\u201d\nbawls another; \u201chere you find the sovereign panacea for drink\u201d\u2014oblivious\nof the fact that these secret institutions are never permanent, rarely\nat peace within themselves, constantly shifting in views and practice,\nand that in joining them the neophyte simply takes as many masters as\nthere are members, exchanging the slavery to drink for one still more\ngalling and quite as sinful. \u201cNo license to sell less than a quart,\u201d\nsays yet another. The quart is soon disposed of, and many another quart\nand gallon go the same road. \u201cSell no liquor, open no drinking-house on\nSunday,\u201d screams a full-throated chorus of religionists. This, too, is\ntried, and the poor man, obliged to choose between entire dulness and\nintoxication, prepares himself on Saturday night for a Sunday\u2019s drinking\nbout. \u201cNo license less than three hundred dollars,\u201d suggest the cannie\nproperty-holders; and, presto! higher adulteration; more poison in the\ndrink; a higher rate per glass, it may be, but not a tippling-shop less\nin country or city. \u201cNo license at all,\u201d is the next cry. It is tried;\nadulteration becomes still more barefaced, but the same amount of\ndrinking is done, it can hardly be said clandestinely, for it is done in\nthe face of day, and everybody knows or may know of it. Macrae\u2019s\n_America_ tells us that when an investigation was instituted into the\nworkings of the prohibitory or no-license system in Boston, there were\nfound to be in that city over two thousand places where liquor was\nvended by the glass, and that the average annual amount spent per head\n(men, women, and children included) for liquor in the entire State was a\nlittle over ten dollars. \u201c_We\u2019re all for the Maine Law here_,\u201d said a\nman to Mr. Macrae, \u201c_but we\u2019re agin its enforcement_.\u201d It may here be\nstated once for all, without possibility of successful contradiction,\nthat not one of these laws, whether for Sunday-closing, higher license,\nno license, partial license, or entire prohibition, ever was carried\nout, or ever had any other effect than possibly to add to the cost, and\ncertainly to enlarge illicit distillation and set an enhanced premium on\nthe adulteration of liquors.\n\n Quicquid delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi!\n\nMaine was obliged, after a few years\u2019 trial, to abrogate her prohibitory\nlaw; and the most ardent favorers of _local option_, which has now had a\nfull and fair trial in many States, confess it a failure. Our own\nexperience of it is that drunkenness is nowhere so rife as in the midst\nof those very regions where no license is granted and entirely\nprohibitory laws are supposed to prevail; and there is surplusage of\ntestimony to the facts.\n\nStrange, certainly, it seems to us, that among the various modes, some\nplausible and some supremely silly, that have been proposed and acted\nupon with a view of checking the ravages of intemperance, so few should\nhave suggested, and none should have acted upon the idea of trying, what\nmight be the possible effect of pure liquor. Common sense should have at\nonce suggested it, and a portion of the redundant and exuberant\nphilanthropy of the age might have been well, at least harmlessly,\nemployed in making an experiment which could in no case have worked\ndisastrously, as all those plans have done which familiarize the people\nwith systematized violation of law, to gratify the morbid craving for\nthose poisons the use of which, growing with every indulgence, soon\nleaves the victim incapable of resisting the craving that never abandons\nhim but with life. Most people, however, once fairly inoculated with the\nviews of the temperance societies (we refer to the _secret_ institutions\nunder that name), see everything but from one point of view; the vision\nbecomes jaundiced, prejudice carries the day, argument is of no avail,\nmoderate measures are futile, liquor in any shape, alcohol in any\nquantity, are the _accursed thing_, and those who deal in them, nay,\nthose who see no objection to their use, are _Amalekites_. What to them\nare the vested interests of the eight hundred thousand persons engaged\nin the manufacture and sale of liquor in the United States alone? What\nthe employment of hundreds of thousands engaged in its transportation?\nWhat care they about the wives and families of either? It is of no sort\nof consequence to them that over sixty million dollars accrue to the\nfederal treasury, even under the present extremely defective system of\ncollection, from the tax on domestic liquors; half as much more from the\ntariff on foreign wines and spirits; and that the amounts paid for\nmunicipal, county, State, and federal purposes, by license on\nliquor-selling and drinking-houses, are simply incalculable. As well\nplant and try to cultivate the sands from high-water mark to ebb-tide as\nattempt to reason with such people! They are the _communists_ of our\ncountry, the _impracticables_, the men of one idea, and that idea a\nwrong one. We would much like to be able to reach them, to be able to\nmake them hear the words of genuine truth and soberness; but they are\n\u201cjoined to their idols,\u201d as Ephraim of old; the doctrines of the\n\u201clodge,\u201d the rulings of the _W. Patriarch, W. Chief Templar_ (or\nwhatever else may be the name of the presiding _Grand Mogul_), are of\nmore avail to them than all the philosophy and all the logic of ancient\nand modern times. What are the Fathers of the church to the Rev.\nBoanerges Blunderbuss, at Brimstone Corner, who explains to the\nsatisfaction of his hearers that wine, \u201cwhich cheers the heart of God\nand of man,\u201d is but the unfermented juice of the grape, and that our\nSaviour, at his last supper, squeezed out some three or four clusters of\ngrapes into the goblet whence he and his disciples drank? Talk to one of\nthese people about the desirableness of some regard for the habits and\ncustoms of the multitudes in this wide world who use wine and spirits\nwithout abusing them; he regards you with a withering contempt for your\nignorance, and informs you that _they are all drunkards_ and must be\n_reformed_; that if five glasses of wine make a man drunk, one-half of a\nglass must make him one-tenth part drunk; that liquor is never\nnecessary, even in disease as a remedy; that the Good Samaritan was\nreally poisoning the poor fellow to whom he gave the wine; and he leaves\non your mind the general impression that Solomon had yet a great deal to\nlearn from Sons of Temperance and prohibitory-law men when he\nover-hastily recommended in his Proverbs to \u201cgive drink to the\nsorrowful.\u201d Just as impracticable, though in a different way and for a\ndifferent reason, is the man who has no sympathy for habits and needs\nwhich he never knew; who never had a generous impulse in his life; whose\nevery act is based on cold reason and personal interest; who seldom or\nnever took, and who never longed for, a glass of wine since his\nwedding-day; who has no sympathy for those differently situated in life\nor of different physiological diathesis. He has neither genuine sympathy\nfor the unfortunate drunkard nor fellow-feeling for those who use\nliquor. Mistaking oftentimes his own plentiful surroundings for honesty,\nthe want of temptation for temperance, and his own success in life for\nvirtue, we need expect from him no other cry than \u201cdo away with the\nwhole thing.\u201d\n\nThose poor degraded wretches at the other extreme of society who, from\ncongenital inclination, bad surroundings, evil training, folly, disease,\nor the gnawing remorse engendered by failure in life, have fallen a prey\nto the accursed poisons sold as drink, their intellect shattered and\ntheir physical constitution prostrate, do not, we confess, deserve a\nvery ardent sympathy from a community for which they have done little\nbut harm. Still, that community was to blame that received money for\nlicensing the houses that sold them narcotics instead of beer, henbane\ninstead of wine, and liquid damnation for strong drink. It is, at least,\na duty which we owe in future to all who can control themselves that,\nwhen they ask for bread, they shall not be furnished with a stone.\n\nWe are very anxious not to be misunderstood. This article is not\nintended to be either a recommendation of, or an excuse for, tippling\nhabits, still less as an argument in favor of the drinking usages of the\nlast century or of any other period distinguished for copious drinking.\nThe personal habits and practice of the writer are opposed entirely to\nthe use of wine, beer, or spirits. His profession does not render them\nnecessary nor his taste crave them, and he would that in this one\nrespect the world \u201cwere altogether such as\u201d he is; but he cannot ignore\nthe fact that all men are not so constituted physically, so situated in\na worldly point of view, or mentally disposed in the same way. What all\ncan clearly see is that a cry is being raised, an attempt being made, to\nadd in a clandestine and illegitimate way something that shall in effect\nbe tantamount to a precept, and that this something so foisted upon us\nis opposed to the practice of the church, consequently to the\nScriptures. We see that this cry has become fashionable, a fear of being\nreckoned with the \u201cvulgar herd\u201d (for drunkenness is a vice of the\nvulgar) or a fear of giving offence causing many to be silent who should\n\u201ccry aloud and not spare,\u201d lest haply the harm may be done and it be too\nlate for the remedy. Now, the whole clamor, save in so far as it\ninveighs against drunkenness, \u201cthe disgrace of man and the mother of\nmisery,\u201d proceeds on the false hypotheses, 1, that the Holy Scripture\ndiscountenances the moderate use of liquor; 2, that the church opposes\nit; 3, that the ancient philosophers condemned it; 4, that it is\ninjurious in health; 5, that it is valueless as a remedy in sickness;\nand, 6, that prohibitory laws should be passed forthwith forbidding\nunder penalty the manufacture, purchase, sale, or importation of wine,\nbeer, or spirits. Not a single one of these assertions is true, or has\nabout it the semblance of verisimilitude to any but the average brain of\nthe secret-society _affili\u00e9_, or the fungus that stands in the place of\na heart for the bigoted sectary. Were they every one true, we should\nstill be opposed to the manner in which it is attempted to carry them\ninto effect; fully believing, as we do, that the whole matter of\npersonal reform lies within the domain of the church, upon which region\nthe civil power has no right to trench. Of course the state has a\nperfect and undisputed right to tax wines, liquors, etc., like all other\narticles of luxury, to any extent she may deem advisable, either for\nrevenue or repression of habits of expense among her citizens. But,\ninseparably bound up with this right, and as a corollary from it, it is\nthe duty of the state to see that the article or articles for allowing\nthe sale of which she receives revenue shall not injure, much less ruin,\nher citizens; and it is in the performance of this duty that we affirm\ngovernment to have been totally remiss and delinquent. Had it been\notherwise, and had the state been half as anxious to perform her duty as\nshe has been always eager to claim her right, there never would have\nbeen the faintest plausibility in the cry raised; no agitation could\nhave resulted; with her performance of the duty the clamor must, of\nnecessity, cease, and with it those secret societies, so powerless for\ngood, so potential for evil, that have been evoked by it.\n\nThere is, however, no limit in our age to the power of clap-trap, of a\ncry well started and persistently kept up. Back such a cry by the\nunremitting efforts of a few secret organizations, which demagogues well\nknow how to use as a means of climbing into power, and superadd the\ninfluence of some of the sects, it deepens to a howl, and a careless or\nlethargic community is easily induced to believe that there must be some\nreason for the clamor; that what so many people say must be true; that\nwhere so much smoke exists there must have been a fire at some time;\nand, finally, that the object on which so many persons seem to have set\ntheir minds, to carry which so many are combined, must be a good one.\nFrom this point to supporting it with vote and influence the step is an\neasy one. Hence it is that, absurd as is the proposal of those who favor\nCongressional prohibitory laws touching liquor, we feel no certainty\nthat its unreasonableness will prove a barrier to its being at some time\nput into effect. We have indicated previously that there exists, even\namong Catholics, who should know better, a lurking notion that in\njoining the T. B. A. or any of its congeners, they take a step forward\nin holiness, approach nearer to the imitation of the Saviour, and\noutstrip in piety those who remain outside the institution using (and\nable to enjoy without abusing) \u201cthe liberty wherewith Christ has made\nthem free.\u201d Now, this is false, and consequently is not Catholic\ndoctrine or feeling. It is according to the doctrine of the church, with\nwhich the practice of Catholics must agree, that should the experience\nof any individual prove to him that total abstinence from drink is _in\nhis special case_ easier than moderation in its use, and that he ought,\nconsequently, not to use liquor at all; and if, in addition, he is\nclearly of opinion that this, his proper course, is much facilitated by\njoining a Catholic temperance association, he has a clear right, nay, it\nis his duty, to attach himself to it. Further, should a Catholic have a\nfriend, whom he can largely influence, who is becoming over-fond of\ndrink, and whom he judges in conscience he can reclaim by taking with\nhim the pledge of total abstinence, or by accompanying him into any of\nthe Catholic associations got up and recommended for such purposes, the\nCatholic so doing acts nobly and performs a meritorious work, greater\nand more laudable just in proportion as he himself was further removed\nfrom temptation or danger of fall in the matter of drink. But it is not\na bounden duty enjoined on every Catholic Christian to abstain entirely\nfrom liquor, much less to join a temperance society; and, except where\nit is done to save another, as in the case just presented, the Catholic\nso joining it is no more laudable, certainly, than he who stands aloof,\nusing his God-given liberty in the matter.\n\nWhile the church, like her divine Lord and Founder, has never forcibly\ninterfered with man\u2019s free-will, yet her entire history proves that her\nsalutary influence has been exerted, and that, too, with the highest\nsuccess, against every shape in which the sin of luxury has appeared.\nThe Catholic countries of the world are not now, and they never have\nbeen, the drunken countries. Drunkards are not found to-day among those\nwho frequent the tribunal of penance; and, with that consistency of\naction and oneness of doctrine which is found in no other existent\ninstitution, the church maintains that against the sin of drunkenness,\nas against all other forms of sin, there is no thoroughly effectual\nremedy but the frequentation of her sacraments. Pledges and\nassociations, while sanctioned by her, are regarded as mere\n_adminicula_, tending to bring the sinner to the use of confession, the\nperformance of enjoined penance, and the worthy reception of the Blessed\nSacrament. Abstinence, whether for a time or for life, she looks upon as\na work of perfection, of remedy, or of penance for the individual. The\n_pledge_, as administered by her, is neither oath nor vow, but either a\nresolution taken by one\u2019s self in the presence of another, or at the\nutmost a solemn promise made to man. While more than fifteen hundred\nyears ago the church anathematized the heresy of the Manicheans, who\ntaught that spirituous liquors are not creatures of God, and that, as\nthey are intrinsically evil, he who uses them is thereby guilty of sin,\nyet both before and after the rise of that detestable sect all the\nwritings of her fathers and doctors, all the decrees of her synods and\ncouncils, all the decisions of her Supreme Pontiffs, and all the labor\nof her priests have been persistently directed towards teaching her\nmembers to \u201csubdue the flesh with its affections and lusts.\u201d How well\nshe succeeded let her conquest to Christianity of the conquering\nnorthern barbarian hordes testify. Of these, whose temperament rendered\nthem peculiarly inclined to debauch, whose habits by no means belied\ntheir inclinations, and whose besetting sin was drunkenness even after\ntheir conversion to the faith, she made sober nations. Acts of\nParliament, municipal and other local measures, show us the huge strides\ntoward unbounded intemperance in drink taken by the English people from\nthe time when, in giving up the true church, they abandoned the\nsacrament of penance; while the same acts, and what we have had of\nso-called repressive law-tinkering on the same subject in our own\ncountry, show us the utter futility of any and every attempt by the\ncivil law to render men moral by statute\u2014to do God\u2019s work without the\nhelp of the Omnipotent. Were it even possible for the state to succeed\nin carrying out the most stringent prohibitory or repressive laws that\nit ever entered the brain of the wildest or most narrow-minded fanatic\nto conceive, what would be the result? Simply that people would, like\ninmates of the work-house or penitentiary, endure privation without\npractising abstinence. The church of God takes no such ground; and the\nstate can no more succeed in carrying out such measures than did\nDomitian with his sumptuary decree. Legislators forget what the church\nalways bears carefully in mind and has always inculcated\u2014viz., that\n_drunkenness is the sin not of the drink but of the drunkard_. The\nassertion that alcohol in any form is an emanation of the evil spirit,\nor the denial of the lawfulness of the use of liquor, is in itself just\nas much a heresy today as it was in the days of the Egkratites. But,\nthat we may not overrun our limits in pursuing this branch of the\nsubject, we refer such readers as may be anxious to see it fully and\nably treated to the valuable little work entitled _The Discipline of\nDrink_, by Rev. T. E. Bridgett, C.SS.R.\n\nIt is not, however, from Catholic sources that the proposal emanates to\ncut off by legal enactment the supply of beer, wine, and spirits, which\nmany people\u2014indeed, the vast majority of the civilized inhabitants of\nthe earth\u2014deem necessary for their health, conducive to their comfort,\nor desirable for their enjoyment. Such schemes come from the _Radicaux\nenrag\u00e9s_; from those who addle their intellects by striving to decipher\nthe mystic number of the Apocalyptic beast; from the men of the George\nFox stripe, to whom a _steeple-house_ is the unclean thing; always from\nmen on whom the name of the Church of Rome operates as does the\nflaunting of a red rag by the picador on the bull in the amphitheatre of\nSeville; and, finally, from those who believe neither in this nor in\nanything else that man should hold sacred, but who see and seek in the\nsecret societies, and in the agitation of this and similar questions, a\nstepping-stone to power and a means of gaining influence.\n\nWere one to judge by the pamphlets and tracts written on the side of the\nprohibitionists, he would readily suppose that it is admitted on all\nhands by physicians and chemists that alcohol is of no use as a remedial\nor curative agent; that it is not food, is not life-sustaining; that no\npossible good can come out of Nazareth; that the unclean thing is\naltogether accursed, and should be relegated to the bottomless pit\nwhence it sprang. And, that we may not overburden this article, we shall\nsimply give the conclusion arrived at by a writer in the _Edinburgh\nReview_ for July, 1875, entitled \u201cThe Physiological Influence of\nAlcohol,\u201d in which the writer (himself a physician, whose yearning to\nfind against us is evident throughout), after an able comparison and\nsumming up of the cases, experiments, and arguments of Doctors\nRichardson, Thudichum, Dupr\u00e9, Anstie, and other celebrated authorities,\nthus perorates:\n\n \u201cThe inference is plain. The nutritious capability of alcohol, when\n used in appropriate circumstances and in reasonable quantity, is yet\n a matter of controversy, and a question which has yet to be further\n investigated and weighed by competent scientific authorities before\n any absolute judgment regarding it can be pronounced that shall be\n worthy of general acceptance.\u201d\n\nThose who feel any interest in this part of the subject would do well to\nread the entire article referred to, and we feel convinced that nine out\nof ten who do so will come to the conclusion, from the data given, that\nthe able writer\u2019s patent bias is what caused the very non-committal\nwording of his final dictum; while the same number will decide the large\npreponderance of proof to be in favor of the nutritive qualities of\nalcohol. We have failed to see in any of the \u201ctemperance\u201d documents the\nremotest hint that there was anything at all to be said in favor of\nalcohol as an article of nutriment. Is this honest? These people must\ncalculate largely on the gullibility of the public; but they should\nrecollect, too, that the same public, when it once discovers their\nprevarication, is very ready to apply the proverb, _Falsus in uno_, etc.\n\nThe great Swedish chancellor, Oxenstierna, said to his son: \u201cYou do not\nyet know, my son, with how little wisdom the world is governed.\u201d We are\nin this respect neither better nor worse off than other countries, with\nperhaps this exception: that our best citizens, those of largest\nexperience and soundest judgment, are too self-respecting, too proud, to\ndescend into the dirty arena of politics, a vast majority of such never\nhaving attended a primary meeting in their lives, and many, very many,\nrarely casting a vote. True, when corruption has run its course, when\nring-rule becomes unendurable, this class will sometimes, as lately in\nNew York, arouse itself. Now, the men of one idea, the canters (honest\nand dishonest), and the knaves are not so. They never miss an\nopportunity of propagating their views, and it would seem almost as\nthough there were an intimate and necessary connection between the\nfalsity or illiberality of the view and the pertinacity of its upholders\nin spreading it. Besides, they are not indifferent to, but they hate,\nbroad and liberal views on any subject; they must gauge all humanity by\ntheir own instrument, which, while it suits the pint-pot, is but ill\nadapted to the hogshead. \u201c_Les id\u00e9es g\u00e9n\u00e9rales sont toujours ha\u00efes par\nles id\u00e9es partielles_,\u201d says a French writer to whom (while we by no\nmeans agree with him in everything) ability must be conceded. Should\npeople ever have the power to do it\u2014a contingency by no means unlikely\nin this century, in which the secret societies seem to hold \u201chigh\ncarnival\u201d (May a subsequent Lenten time purge the world of such foul\nhumors!)\u2014they will infallibly enact a penal prohibitory law. This will\nbe accomplished by means of the already-organized associations, the\noath-bound classes, the pledged abstainers, some of the sects, largely\naided by the lethargy and carelessness of people who hold clearer and\nmore correct views. It will be worse than useless to pass such laws,\nunless provision be made for stringently carrying into effect their\ndetails. Suppose that the prohibitory law proposed has been enacted and\nis vigorously enforced, and let us cursorily examine what is this Golden\nAge, this antedated millennium promised us so confidently by our\nover-temperate friends.\n\nA blockade of coast will be necessary, to which the blockade of the\nConfederate territory during the late war will be as nothing, either for\nextent of coast to be guarded or for the numbers, ingenuity, and means\nat the command of the blockade-runners. The Canadian and Mexican borders\nwill require cordons of sentries day and night, to furnish which one\nhundred armies such as we possess would be ridiculously inadequate. A\ngovernment detective force of at least one-fourth our adult male\npopulation will have to be employed, organized, and paid; and not less\nthan one-half of the remainder will soon be in prison for infraction or\nevasion of the law. Meanwhile, the revenues will have diminished by\nfully one-third, while the governmental expenses will have been tenfold\nincreased. The hundreds of thousands who now make a livelihood for\nthemselves and families by the manufacture, transport, and sale of beer,\nwines, or spirits must find other employment or join the already too\nnumerous army of tramps; and in this case what becomes of the\nunfortunate families? If the laboring man finds it difficult to procure\nwork now, what will it be then? Taxation must, of necessity, be\ndecoupled; and meantime a large proportion of the population will have\ncome to the conclusion that they are suffering under the most odious of\nall tyrannies, and will be ripe for revolution. The pretext will not be\nwanting in the details of carrying out the provisions of the law. This\nstate of things might last, at the utmost, a year, during which\ninsurrections would be of constant occurrence in every part of the\ncountry; outbreaks in the cities would take place day after day; and,\nfinally, the minority, in revolution against what they considered an\nunjust and tyrannical edict, would carry the day either peacefully at\nthe polls (by aggregating to themselves such of the majority as had\nbecome convinced of the absurdity of the law) or, sword in hand and at\nthe mouth of the cannon, would revindicate to themselves the rights so\nwantonly trampled upon. The results of such a victory may be better\nimagined than described. History, fortunately, has but few examples of\nsuch revolutions against the extravagance of over-zealous reform, but\nthose few are terrifically replete with warning.\n\nWe wish, then, to insist that _no law at all_ is better by far than a\nlaw which, in its nature, _cannot be carried into effect_. That this is\nsuch a law we think manifest on the above showing; and did we wish\nfurther proof, it is readily found in the fact that all those\ncommunities, great or small, towns, counties, or states, that have\ntested this, or even much milder doses of similarly-intended laws, have\nbeen obliged either to abandon them after a longer or shorter trial, or\nto acknowledge their impotence to execute them, and to own that under\nsuch _r\u00e9gime_ the evils deprecated become more virulent and drunkenness\nmore rampant. Contempt, too, for the law, in one instance, has the\ninevitable tendency to sap the foundations of respect for all law, not\nmerely in the mind of the drunkard but in that of the moderate drinker,\nas well as of those who abet them both in their violation of legal\nenactment. Meanwhile, the sensible man, the practical but unpledged\ntotal abstainer, cannot be expected to feel strongly interested in the\nsuccess of a law which his judgment tells him to be merely an arbitrary\n_enforcement, by a majority, of their views of morality_ on a minority\nentitled to their own ideas and practices in this matter alike by\nnatural reason, Scriptural teaching, and church commands. \u201cA nation is\nnear destruction when regard for law has disappeared.\u201d\n\nFully aware, as we are, that the arguments and deductions, the\nstatements and quotations, contained in this paper are far from being in\naccord with the oral and printed teachings most in vogue and most\npalatable to the reading public, and much as we might desire to be on\nthe popular side, still we are not prepared, for the attainment of this\nend, to sacrifice our convictions of right, to ignore the experience of\nthe past, to turn a deaf ear to the teachings of the church, or to\nsuperadd to her commands practices in morals that she knows not. We\ncannot undertake to find in Scripture injunctions that do not exist;\nstill less are we willing to lie supine when erroneous views are\nstealthily creeping in (even amongst ourselves), are sedulously\npromulgated over the length and breadth of the non-Catholic world, and\nwhen the attempt is making to enforce _even desirable_ practices in\nmorals and personal discipline by false arguments and means that will\nnot stand the test of right reason. Let us review the ground and gather\ntogether the results.\n\nThe use of intoxicating liquor or strong drink has been known in all\ncountries and from the earliest times; drunkenness must have been and\nwas equally well known. In no system, even of heathenism, has\nintoxication been recommended; and in none, save that of Mohammed, has\nabstinence from liquor been enjoined. The Old and New Testaments, while\nteeming with allusions to the use of _wine_ and _strong drink_, nowhere\nlay down any precept forbidding their use, but frequently by the\nclearest implication, and in a few instances by express injunction,\ncommand the use of both; and the manufacture of wine _must_, by the\ninstitution of our Blessed Saviour, be kept up so long as the world\nshall exist. There is _no_ proof for the assertion, that alcohol is not\nfood, and _less_ for the averment that it has no efficacy as a remedial\nagent. The taste for liquor is a natural one and inherent to all men,\nbut probably stronger and more necessary of gratification among\nhard-working men, and in damp or cold climates, than in the case of\nsedentary persons or in mild and hot countries. It is _not_ the province\nof civil government to remove temptation to the infraction of the moral\nlaw; its province is _to keep order_ and _to punish infractions_ of law.\nTo pass a series of totally prohibitory laws would be to attempt the\nlegal suppression of human nature; which being impossible, such\nlegislation must be absurd. There are great evils in the present\nmanagement of the liquor-traffic, chiefly arising from the wholesale\nadulterations with poisonous drugs everywhere _largely_ practised, but\nmost ruinously in the northern countries of Europe, in Canada, and in\nthe United States. Were the traffic so taken in charge by governments or\ncarefully-appointed companies that _pure liquors only_ should be\nfurnished for consumption, all profits from the sale accruing to\ngovernment, the great mass of the evils (now justly complained of) in\nconnection with the liquor trade would disappear, while at the same time\nan immense revenue would accrue to the federal or State treasury, as the\ncase might be. If these prohibitory laws were passed, and carried out in\ntheir spirit, dreadful evils would be the result; and, finally, such\nlaws never can be carried out at all, and, by consequence, it is not\ncompetent for government to enact them. The whole matter of intemperance\ncomes purely within the domain of morals; religion alone can deal with\nit radically; and while the civil law should and must punish\ndrunkenness, with the crimes resulting therefrom, it is to Christianity\nalone that we must look for the effectual reformation of the drunkard\nand prevention of his sin.\n\nThese are the arguments that present themselves to us against the\nenactment of what are called \u201cprohibitory laws\u201d; and we believe the\nsuggestions above given, regarding the evils of the present liquor trade\nand the mode of ridding the world of those evils, to be in full\nconsonance both with the facts and with common sense.\n\n \u201cSi quid novisti rectius istis.\n Candidus imperti; si non, his utere mecum.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n FRENCH PROVERBIAL SAYINGS.[48]\n\n\nThere is, in the French language, one peculiarity amongst others which\nonly becomes perceptible to foreigners after a somewhat lengthened\nresidence in France\u2014namely, the frequent use of proverbial expressions\nof which the original meaning, as far as the speaker is concerned, is\nutterly lost.\n\nFor instance, a person grandly dressed out is said to be _sur son trente\net un_; an old piece of furniture or of attire is _vieux comme H\u00e9rode_;\nagain, _il ne se foule pas la ratte_ means \u201che takes things easily\u201d;\n_prendre les jambes au cou_ is to go as fast as possible; and a person\nwho speaks French badly is said to _parler Fran\u00e7ais comme une vache\nEspagnole_.\n\nWhen the English-speaking races use expressions of this kind, there is\nin them almost always some recognized allusion, quotation, or, it may\nbe, a quaint adaptation of the words of some well-known author, ancient\nor modern, or they point to some fact or tradition or popular notion. In\nFrench familiar conversation, however, there are numberless proverbial\nand popular sayings still in common use the sense of which has been lost\nfor centuries. Comparatively few amongst those who use them know that\nthey are expressions borrowed, it may be, from certain customs or from\nhistory or from literature; but usually the trace is lost, the\nconnection broken, and the reason of their existence forgotten.\n\nThese proverbial expressions have, for the most part, been recently\ncollected, and as far as possible accounted for, and their source and\nhistory, where not discovered, at least suggested, in an ingenious\nvolume by M. Charles Rozan, in which he gives also certain popular words\nusually qualified as vulgar, but \u201cwhose fundamental meaning it is all\nthe more acceptable to learn, from the fact of their not being yet\nadmitted into the official dictionaries; since,\u201d he adds, \u201cit is\nintruders more especially whom we would question as to who they are,\nwhence they come, and what they have done.\u201d\n\nIn the present notice we have chiefly selected examples having a local,\nhistorical, or in some way characteristic interest, and, with one or two\nexceptions, we have left aside those taken from the drama, besides the\nnumerous sayings, not by any means peculiar to France alone, which\nrelate to classical antiquity, and which any one possessing a very\nmoderate knowledge of ancient history and literature would at once\nunderstand.\n\n_Je m\u2019en moque comme de l\u2019an quarante_ is a saying which dates from the\nbeginning of the eleventh century. There was at that period an extensive\nbelief that the end of the world was at hand, and that the _thousand\nyears_ and more supposed to have been assigned by our Lord as the\nduration of his church on earth, and of society in general, were to\nexpire in the year 40 of that century. Sinners were converted in crowds;\nmany talked of turning hermit; but, once this redoubtable epoch was\nover, men changed their tone, and from that time to this the expression\nused in speaking of a thing which need inspire no alarm is: \u201cI care no\nmore for it than for the year forty!\u201d\n\n_La beaut\u00e9 du Diable_ we should naturally suppose meant an appalling\nugliness. It means nothing of the kind, but, on the contrary, that\nexceeding prettiness frequently noticeable in young girls between the\nages of fourteen and nineteen, or thereabouts, which then passes away.\nThis, the freshness of youthful beauty, seems to derive its name from\nthe old proverb, _The devil was handsome when he was young_\u2014namely,\nwhile he was yet an unfallen angel.\n\nLadies somewhat advanced in the debatable ground of life\u2019s pilgrimage,\nwhen youth has made way for the nameless years of \u201ca certain age,\u201d are\nsaid to _coiffer Sainte Catherine_.\n\nIt was formerly the custom in France, as it still is in Spain and some\nparts of Italy, on particular festivals, to array in festal garments and\nheadgear the statues of the saints. St. Catherine being the patroness of\nvirgins, the care of her adornment was always entrusted to young girls.\nThis charge, however agreeable and honorable at sixteen, might,\nnevertheless, not be desirable in perpetuity, and thus it came to be\nsaid of any middle-aged maiden: \u201cShe stays to _coiffer_ St. Catherine.\u201d\n\nTo speak French very badly, or with a bad accent, is called _parler\nFran\u00e7ais comme une vache Espagnole_. The people inhabiting the\nBasque provinces obtain their name from the indigenous word\n_vaso_\u2014mountain\u2014which, when taken adjectively, is augmented by the\nfinal _co_, and thus becomes _vasoco_, and, by contraction,\n_vasco_\u2014mountaineer. The French, knowing little enough of Spanish,\nsaid at first _vacco_, and then _vacce_. Thus, _parler comme un\nvacce Espagnol_ meant at first to allude to the _inhabitants_ of the\nBasque provinces of Spain, whose language still bears all the\ncharacteristics of a primitive tongue, and who have great difficulty\nin expressing themselves in French; but _vacce_, at a time when the\nLatin had left its traces everywhere, was said for _vache_, the\npeasants in many of the French provinces retaining it still. Thence\narose the confusion which produced the senseless comparison, \u201cto\nspeak French like a Spanish cow.\u201d\n\n_Attendez-moi sous l\u2019orme_ (wait for me under the elm) implies that \u201cthe\nrendezvous you ask is disagreeable to me, and I will not keep it.\u201d The\ntype of an unpleasant rendezvous is that which compels an appearance\nbefore the judge, and it is to this that the expression here quoted\noriginally referred. Formerly the judges administered justice under a\ntree planted in the open space before the church or the entrance of a\nseignorial mansion; hence the phrase of _juges de dessous l\u2019orme_, and\nalso that of _danser sous l\u2019orme_. _Attendez-moi sous l\u2019orme_ means,\nFind me there if you can (ironically), and to name a rendezvous which\none has no intention of keeping.[49]\n\n_Faire Charlemagne_ is to retire from the game after winning it, without\ngiving the adversary a chance of revenge. This expression evidently\nalludes to the death of the great Charles, who, when he had become the\nmonarch of the West, quitted this life without having lost any of his\nconquests.\n\nTo make unlawful profits by deceiving as to the price of any articles a\nperson has been charged to buy is called \u201cshoeing the mule\u201d (_Ferrer la\nmule_). The expression dates from the time when the counsellors of the\nParliament repaired to the _Palais de Justice_ mounted on mules, and the\nlackeys who remained outside during the sittings of the Assembly spent\ntheir time in gambling, extorting from their masters the money they\nwanted for their amusement by pretending that they had had to pay for\nshoeing the mules. Others carry the origin of the saying back to the\ntime of Vespasian; the muleteer of that emperor, when on a journey,\nhaving been bribed to do so, suddenly stopped the mules under pretext of\nhaving them shod, so as to give time to a person whom they had met on\nthe way to speak to the emperor of his affairs.\n\n_Faire danser l\u2019anse du panier_ is said of a cook who fraudulently\nobtains from her mistress more money for her purchases at market than\nthey have really cost. The idea is that of shaking the basket so as to\nmake its contents take up as much room as possible, and thus look worth\ntheir alleged price.\n\n_Conna\u00eetre les \u00eatres de la maison_ is to know the doors, staircases,\npassages, rooms, outlets, etc.\u2014in a word, the internal arrangements\u2014of\nthe house. _\u00catres_, which for a long time was written _a\u00eetres_, has for\nits origin the Latin _atria_, in the sense of dwelling.\n\n_Je l\u2019ai connu poirier_ is said of a _parvenu_ whose sudden rise from a\nmean condition has not earned him much consideration. There was in a\nvillage near Brussels an image of St. John, black and worm-eaten with\nage, and held in great veneration by the people. M. le Cur\u00e9, thinking it\ntime to replace it by a new one, sacrificed his best pear-tree for that\npurpose. One of his parishioners, who had shown great veneration for the\nancient statue, took no notice whatever of the new one. \u201cHave you lost\nyour devotion to St. John?\u201d the cur\u00e9 one day asked him. \u201cNo, M. le Cur\u00e9;\nbut the new St. John is not the real one\u2014_I knew him when he was a\npear-tree_.\u201d\n\nThe expression of _Cordon Bleu_ is a singular example of the degradation\nof an aristocratic word, and we discover its ancestry with the same\nfeeling that we once received the answer of a poor mason\u2019s apprentice,\nwho, on being asked his name, gave as his Christian and surname those of\ntwo of the oldest and noblest families in the county of Devon.\n\nTo the Order of the Holy Ghost, instituted in 1578 by Henri III., not\nevery one could aspire. It consisted of only one hundred members, at the\nhead of whom, as grand master, was the king.[50] The Dauphin, the sons\nand grandsons of the monarch, knights by right, were, as well as the\nprinces of the blood, received at the time of their First Communion.\nForeign princes were not admitted before the age of twenty-five; dukes\nand other nobles of high rank not until thirty-five; and in all cases\nnone was allowed to enter who could not trace back at least three\ngenerations of nobility on the father\u2019s side. The cord to which the\nsymbol of the order was attached was blue, and the knights themselves\nwere commonly designated _Cordons Bleus_.\n\nThe distinction being reserved to only a small number of persons of the\nhighest rank, it gradually became customary to give the name of _cordon\nbleu_ to persons of superior merit. The Order of the Holy Ghost was\nabolished at the Revolution. All the dignities as well as all the ideas\nwhich had grouped themselves around this noble order have disappeared\nwith it. Its name is no longer used in the figurative language of France\nto recall great merit or a distinguished name; the last memory of the\norder lingers in the kitchen, and the only _cordon bleu_ of the\nnineteenth century is a good cook!\n\nThose who have hard work and scant pay are wont to observe that they\nmight just as well _travailler pour le roi de Prusse_. The kingdom of\nPrussia not having been a century and a half in existence, this\nexpression cannot have an earlier origin. M. Rozan asks, therefore,\nwhich is it of the five Fredericks who thus puts in doubt the royal\ngenerosity? Some persons say that it is Frederick William I., constantly\nanxious to show himself economical of the property of his subjects,\nunlike his father, who was, according to the expression of Frederick the\nGreat, \u201cgreat in little things and little in great.\u201d Either from what\nthe one did not spend at all, or from what the other spent amiss, a\nconclusion might be drawn in the sense of the proverb. We incline,\nhowever, rather to charge upon the Great Frederick himself all the\nresponsibility of the French reproach.\n\nFrederick II. was fond of employing French workmen, but not quite so\nfond of paying them; and as no people know better than the French that\n_noblesse oblige_, it is no matter of surprise that he should have\nfurnished them with a proverb. We also find an example of his sparing\nmanagement in the conflict which arose between him and Voltaire (who was\nvery economical also) about lumps of sugar and candle-ends. In the\nagreement he had made with the poet Frederick had promised him, besides\nthe key of chamberlain and the Cross of Merit, the ordinary appointments\nof a minister of state\u2014_i.e._, an apartment at the ch\u00e2teau, board,\nfiring, two candles a day, and so many pounds of tea, sugar, coffee, and\nchocolate every month. These articles, though duly provided, were of\nsuch bad quality that Voltaire complained to the king. Frederick\nprofessed to be infinitely pained, and promised to give fresh orders.\nWere the orders given? In any case the provisions were as bad as ever,\nand Voltaire again remonstrated. The king got out of the affair with\nequal economy and cunning. \u201cIt is frightful,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cto think\nhow badly I am obeyed! I cannot hang those rascals for a lump of sugar\nor an ounce of tea; they know it, and laugh at my orders. But what most\npains me is to see M. de Voltaire disturbed in his sublime ideas by\nsmall miseries like these. Ah! let us not waste upon mere trifles the\nmoments that we can devote to friendship and the muses. Come, my dear\nfriend, you can do without these little provisions. They occasion you\ncares unworthy of you; we will speak of them no more. I will command\nthat for the future they shall be stopped.\u201d\n\nOn another occasion Frederick was having a new front put to a Lutheran\nplace of worship in Berlin. The ministers complained to the king that\nthey had not light enough to carry on the service. The building,\nhowever, being too far advanced for his majesty to wish to incur the\ncost of alteration, he sent back their address, after writing upon it:\n\u201cBlessed are they who see not, and yet believe.\u201d\n\nAs a last proof of the just implication of the proverb, an English\ntraveller, who does full justice to the eminent qualities of the\nmonarch, says: \u201cNever was there a fat soldier in any country; but the\nKing of Prussia has not even a fat sergeant. A profound knowledge of\nfinancial economy is a point on which this sovereign excels. It is also\na reason why his troops should never be otherwise than lean.\u201d\n\nThis observer might have added that Frederick made it a rule never to\nallow his soldiers any pay on the 31st day of the month. There were thus\nseven days in the year on which the whole Prussian army _travaillait\npour le roi de Prusse_.\n\n_Manger de la vache enrag\u00e9e_ is to suffer great privations, to procure\nwith difficulty the merest necessaries of life, and so to be reduced, as\nit were, to \u201ceat the flesh of a mad cow.\u201d The expression has also come\nto mean the trials of every kind which, in the course of life, ought to\nstrengthen the body to endure hardness and the mind to a habit of\nfortitude.\n\nOn entering upon a house or _appartement_ in Paris it is customary to\nmake a present of a few francs to the concierge, which present is called\n_le dernier adieu_. The newcomer, if a foreigner, wonders why the first\ndealings he has with the concierge of his new abode should be so\nsingularly misnamed as \u201cthe last farewell.\u201d The words are a corruption\nof the _Denier \u00e0 Dieu_\u2014God\u2019s penny\u2014the piece of money given to the\nperson with whom a bargain was concluded, with the intention of taking\nGod to witness that the engagement had been made, and of offering him a\npledge that it should be faithfully kept. The sums thus given were\nbestowed by the receiver in alms to the poor, and were not appropriated,\nlike the _arrhes_, a part payment of what was due to the person with\nwhom an agreement had been made.\n\nThe lugubrious associations connected with the name of the melancholy\nbuilding at the back of Notre Dame de Paris encourage the idea that the\nword _morgue_ must relate to corpses, or in any case to death. M. Rozan\ndisabuses us of the mistake.\n\nThere was formerly at the entrance of prisons a room where new arrivals\nwere detained for a few days after committal, in order that the keepers\nmight learn to know their faces and appearance sufficiently well to\npreclude any chance of their escape. Later on the corpses found in the\nSeine or elsewhere were exposed in this same room, the public being\nadmitted to see them through a small aperture made in the door.\n\nUntil 1804 the corpses were exposed in the lower jail dependent on the\nprison of the Grand Ch\u00e2telet, when they were transferred to the quay of\nthe _March\u00e9 Neuf_ in a small building which received the name of\n_morgue_, an old French word for _face_ or _visage_, and used also to\nexpress a fixed or scrutinizing look. It is doubtless in the latter\nsense that we find the true meaning of the term.\n\nNow that we have given a greatly abridged version of portions of M.\nRozan\u2019s work, we refer the reader for the remaining curious fragments of\ninformation scattered throughout its pages to the book itself. At the\nsame time we venture a suggestion that in future editions it might be\nwell if the author were, as far as practicable, to classify its contents\nunder certain heads\u2014such, for instance, as are dramatic, historic,\nlocal, or classic, etc., in their origin or allusion\u2014so as to allow some\ncontinuity of ideas in its perusal, and to gather its at present\nscattered stones into a collection of mosaics.\n\nFootnote 48:\n\n _Petites Ignorances de la Conversation._ Par. Charles Rozan. Paris:\n Hetzler. 1877.\n\nFootnote 49:\n\n We may here mention that the finest elm in France is probably that in\n the court of the Deaf and Dumb Institution in the Rue St. Jacques in\n Paris. It is 50 metres in height and 5 in circumference, the last\n remaining of the 6,000 feet of trees planted under Henri IV. We\n mention this merely for the sake of our European readers, not for\n those accustomed to the sylvan giants of the Western world.\n\nFootnote 50:\n\n Henri III. instituted this order in memory of the three great events\n of his life which had happened on the Feast of Pentecost\u2014namely, his\n birth, his election to the crown of Poland, and his accession to the\n throne of France.\n\n\n\n\n THE HOME-RULE CANDIDATE.\n _A STORY OF \u201cNEW IRELAND.\u201d_\n CHAPTER IV.\n THE ELECTION.\n\n\nBY THE AUTHOR OF \u201cTHE LITTLE CHAPEL AT MONAMULLIN,\u201d \u201cTHE ROMANCE OF A\nPORTMANTEAU,\u201d ETC., ETC.\n\n\nI was received at Clonacooney with an enthusiasm that sent the hot blood\nsurging through my veins in prideful throbs. At the entrance to the\nvillage I was presented with an address by a splendid specimen of the\nIrish race in the person of Myles Moriarty, a man who had been \u201cout\u201d in\nforty-eight, who, on the part of the tenant-farmers of Clonacooney,\ntendered me welcome and assurances of both moral and physical support.\n\n\u201cThe dark hour is passin\u2019 from the ould country, sir, and yours be the\nhand to wipe the tear from the cheek of Erin,\u201d were his concluding\nwords.\n\nI must have spoken to the point, for I was cheered to the echo, and my\nright hand almost wrung from the arm by repeated shakings.\n\nIn Father O\u2019Dowd\u2019s garden a small platform had been raised, composed of\nthe kitchen table, the safety of which Biddy Finnegan watched over with\ntender regard.\n\nAround the little grass-plat some hundred of the \u201cboys\u201d were gathered,\nwho bared their heads in respectful reverence when the good priest\nascended the dais.\n\nIt is chiefly in Ireland that one sees the visible link that binds\npriests and people. The Irish peasant never forgets that he is in the\npresence of the Lord\u2019s anointed, and the respect for the clergyman upon\nthe hillside or wayside is the same as though he were clad in his\nvestments and upon the altar.\n\nFather O\u2019Dowd introduced me in a speech that burned into the minds of\nhis auditory. It was full of fiery eloquence, full of patriotism, full\nof Catholicity. In dealing with the question of Home Rule he said: \u201cOver\na country agitated by dissension and weakened by mistrust we have raised\nthe banner of Home Rule. We raised it hesitatingly, unfurling it\ntremblingly to the breeze; but the hearts of the people have been moved\nby the two small words, and the soul of the nation has felt their power\nand their spell. These words have passed from man to man along the\nvalley and along the hillside. Everywhere our despairing sons have\nturned to that banner with confidence and hope. Thus far we have borne\nit. Upon these young and stalwart shoulders,\u201d placing his arm\naffectionately around me, \u201cwe shall now place it, to be borne unto\nvictory. It is meet that the representative of a stainless race, of a\nrace that upheld their creed when its avowal led to the scaffold and\ngibbet, should go forth from among us young in years, high in hope,\nardent in the cause of creed and country. We shall hand our banner into\nhis youthful hands, and with him this trust shall be considered sacred.\nHe will defend it, if necessary, with his life. The cause of the church\nwill be his; the cause of the country will be his.\u201d\n\nWhen it came to my turn to speak a mist seemed to gather before my eyes\nand my head began to swim.\n\n\u201cCourage!\u201d whispered Father O\u2019Dowd. \u201c_Nos h\u00e6c novimus esse nihil._\u201d\n\nI plunged in _medias res_, floundering on, stumbling, staggering,\nrepeating myself, till I felt all aflame, and as if my head were\nred-hot. Suddenly the idea smote me that I had Wynwood Melton to beat,\nand I became cool as ice. Yes, the transition was simply instantaneous,\nand with it came a flow of words such as have never welled from me\nsince, save, perhaps, upon the day of the election.\n\nI spoke for nearly an hour, and I subsequently recollected that I had\ndiscussed the entire political situation of Ireland, as I had done some\nyears before in a debate at the Catholic University. Memory came\ngallantly to the rescue, and when I concluded Father O\u2019Dowd cried\nenthusiastically:\n\n\u201cA born orator\u2014_nascitur, non fit_. Now, boys,\u201d addressing the\ntumultuous assemblage, \u201chaven\u2019t we got the right man, and won\u2019t we put\nhim in the right place?\u201d\n\nWhen I returned to Kilkenley I found that Mr. Melton had taken his\ndeparture.\n\n\u201cHe is alive to the importance of an active canvass,\u201d said Mr.\nHawthorne, \u201cand has repaired to the tents of his people. I am very sorry\nthat the warning should come from me\u2014a warning that may be of singular\ndisservice to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI _feel_ that I shall win.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear young friend, I felt that I would win, and discredited the\nreturns that threw me overboard when I contested Fromsey. Do not let\nyour feelings mislead you. Work as if expecting defeat, and as if\nendeavoring to reduce the majority against you. I\u2019m an old campaigner\nand know the ropes.\u201d\n\nMy mother was all eagerness to know how I had progressed. When I told\nher that I had made two speeches, one of them of an hour\u2019s duration, her\ndelight was boundless.\n\n\u201cYou were lost, dear child,\u201d she cried. \u201cYour talents are of a high\norder, and you have at last found a field for them.\u201d\n\nHarry Welstone had attended a meeting at Ballynashaughragawn, and had\nheld forth in my behalf, like a regular brick that he was. All my\njealousy disappeared upon the mention of Melton, and Harry was again my\nconfidant in everything.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think she cares much for that fellow, Fred.\u201d\n\n\u201cI tell you that they understand each other.\u201d And I writhed in the agony\nof the thought.\n\n\u201cI think her governor is nibbling for Melton as a son-in-law, but there\nis no ring of the true metal about the girl\u2019s feelings\u2014nothing that _I_\ncan detect; and I\u2019m not utterly unobservant.\u201d\n\nI never felt that the gash in my heart was so deep until Miss Hawthorne\nreferred to their leaving.\n\n\u201cOur time is up. We have overstayed our limit.\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely you will not desert us until after the election,\u201d said my\nmother. \u201cYou must celebrate his success, if success it is to be.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! Miss Hawthorne is not interested in my success, mother,\u201d I\ninterposed.\n\nShe turned her violet eyes full upon me.\n\n\u201cMuch more so than you give me credit for.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy non-success, you mean.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do _not_ mean it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is quite right that you should,\u201d I said bitterly. \u201c_I_ have no claim\nupon your interest.\u201d\n\n\u201cA very strong one, I assure you.\u201d\n\n\u201cMelton\u2019s the man,\u201d assuming a savage gayety. \u201cHow jolly he will feel if\nhe wins! how delighted to bear the news to his lady-love!\u201d\n\n\u201cDoes it not strike you, Mr. Ormonde, that your last observation is upon\nthe borderland of\u2014what shall I call it?\u201d\n\n\u201cTruth,\u201d I suggested.\n\nShe did not deign to reply to me, but, turning to my mother, expressed a\nfear that she should leave Kilkenley upon the following day.\n\n\u201cI will not hear of it,\u201d said my mother stoutly.\n\nThere was one chance left, and that lay in inducing Mr. Hawthorne to\nstump the county with me. This scheme I confided to Harry, who highly\napproved of it. After dinner, when the ladies had returned to the\ndrawing-room, Harry opened fire.\n\n\u201cMr. Hawthorne, the people about here are exceedingly anxious to hear\nyou speak. They have heard a good deal of your eloquence in Parliament,\nand have read some of your speeches.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not reported, sir. Those scoundrels in the press gallery ignore\n_me_ because I defy _them_. Would you believe it, gentlemen, my speech\nupon the removal of a custom-house officer upon a charge of disloyalty\nto the throne and constitution, and which occupied two hours and a half\nin its delivery\u2014I went into the question of customs generally, into\nthose of foreign countries, into the national debt, into our relations\nwith Japan, into the contracts for constructing ironclads\u2014in fact, I\ngrasped a series of subjects of the highest importance to the country;\nand would you believe it, Mr. Speaker\u2014I mean gentlemen\u2014the _Times_,\nalthough I saw that the reporter\u2014yes, gentlemen, I watched him with an\neagle eye\u2014was present and apparently engaged in reporting me\u2014the\n_Times_, I say, had the audacity to publish that the honorable member\nfor Doodleshire uttered some irrelevant observations which were\ninaudible in the reporters\u2019 gallery; and yet this unprincipled scoundrel\npockets his pay, and reports the flimsy orations of other honorable\nmembers not one tithe of so much national importance as mine.\u201d And\ntrembling with anger, Mr. Hawthorne gulped down three glasses of claret\nin rapid succession.\n\n\u201cThe Irish people,\u201d continued Harry, \u201care the most rhetorical and\noratorical in the world, and prefer a good speech to any known amusement\nexcept a wake. News of your presence here has gone far and wide, and I\nmay tell you fairly that it is incumbent upon you to let them hear you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2014ahem!\u2014would be very pleased to do so, did a suitable opportunity\npresent itself,\u201d said the M.P. with a pleased smile.\n\n\u201cThe opportunity luckily does present itself. On Thursday next our host\nhere must attend a meeting of his constituents at Bohernacallan, and, if\nyou were to accompany him and address the people, I assure you it will\nbe regarded as a very considerable favor by the hundreds who will be\nassembled.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn Thursday next I shall be on my way to London.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a bit of it,\u201d I chimed in.\n\n\u201cThere is nothing to be done in London now, Mr. Hawthorne,\u201d said Harry.\n\n\u201cMy arrangements are all made, and nothing, sir, nothing could induce me\nto break them. I am a man of iron, adamant in such matters.\u201d\n\nI looked blankly at Harry, but Master Harry was still hopeful, as\nindicated by a dexterous half-wink while the M.P. was tossing off\nanother glass of claret.\n\n\u201cI may tell you as a matter of fact, Mr. Hawthorne, that you are\nexpected at this meeting.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is very flattering, Mr. Welstone, but the meeting must stand\ndisappointed in so far as I am concerned. No, gentlemen; in the House or\noutside of it, once I lay down a plan of operations, I never diverge\nfrom it by the distance of a single hair.\u201d\n\nAgain I looked blankly at Harry, and again I met with a half-wink.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s very unfortunate, Mr. Hawthorne, but I suppose it cannot be\nhelped.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt cannot indeed, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd reporters coming down from Dublin, too,\u201d said Harry, addressing me.\n\n\u201cWhat is that you say, Mr. Welstone?\u201d demanded the member of Doodleshire\nwith considerable earnestness.\n\n\u201cOh! it\u2019s not worth repeating.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think I heard you mention something about reporters?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! yes; the Dublin newspapers are sending down special reporters, and\nthe London _Times\u2019_ correspondent is a reporter on the _Daily Express_.\u201d\n\n\u201cAhem!\u201d And Mr. Hawthorne gravely produced a memorandum-book, which he\nproceeded to scan with apparent interest.\n\nHarry gave me the full wink now.\n\n\u201cOh dear me\u2014ahem!\u201d exclaimed the M.P. \u201cI find that I need not be in\nLondon quite so soon, and if it obliges you, my dear Ormonde, I shall be\nglad to strike a blow in your aid. Did you say the _Times\u2019_\ncorrespondent will be there? Not that it makes the _slightest_\ndifference to _me_; yet, belonging as I do to the great liberal party,\nand belonging as this election does to the great liberal party, I deem\nit a sacred duty to aid the great liberal party in so far as it lies in\nmy power. Mr. Ormonde, rely upon _me_, sir.\u201d\n\nWhen later on I spoke with Harry on the question of deceiving my guest,\nespecially as no reporters would be within fifty miles of us, \u201cDon\u2019t\nbother your head about it, Fred. Leave it all to me. I\u2019ll get Tom\nRafferty and the two O\u2019Briens to come with big pencils and lots of\npaper, and tell them to write for their lives the whole time old\nHawthorne is speaking. Everything is fair in love, war, and an\nelection.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe excitement in the county was intense as soon as the fact of my being\nin the field became known across its length and breadth. The De Ruthvens\nwere furious, the head of the family, Mr. Beresford de Ruthven, honoring\nme with a personal visit, in order to ascertain whether I was in my\nsenses or out of them.\n\n\u201cAm I to understand, Mr. Ormonde, that you are a candidate for the\nrepresentation of this county?\u201d he asked, after the usual ceremonial\nquestions had been pushed aside.\n\n\u201cYou are, Mr. De Ruthven.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat you have consented to be nominated by a rabble\u2014to be\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI have been nominated by no rabble, Mr. De Ruthven.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are the nominee of the priests.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am, sir; but have a care how you speak of a Catholic clergyman in\nthis house. You are not now at Ruthventown.\u201d I was hot with anger.\n\n\u201cDo you want to break up the harmony that has existed for centuries in\nthe county, Mr. Ormonde?\u201d\n\n\u201cI want to see a liberal represent the county, and I am willing to give\nway to a better man.\u201d\n\n\u201cLiberal! What liberality do you require? Do not the liberals have their\nshare in everything?\u201d\n\nI had him now.\n\n\u201cHow many liberals are there on the grand panel, Mr. De Ruthven?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! I grant you that there has been mismanagement,\u201d he hastily replied,\n\u201cbut we\u2019ll see to that.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat liberality is it that leaves the roads approaching every Catholic\nchurch in a condition that would shame a backwoods clearing, while those\nnear the meanest Protestant place of worship are cared for like the\navenues in your own domain?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat shall be looked to.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere is the liberality at the union boards, in the magistracy, in the\ncounty offices? Is there a single Catholic in any office whatever?\u201d\n\n\u201cO Mr. Ormonde! I see you are primed and loaded, and must go off like a\nfifth-of-November cracker. Now, all I can say to you is this: that if\nyou persist in this audacious attempt in breaking up the harmony of this\ngreat county, on your own head be the penalty; and let me add, sir, that\nwhen next you attend the assizes, do not be surprised if you are openly\ninsulted.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd do not be surprised, Mr. De Ruthven, if the man who dares insult me\nis _openly_ horse-whipped.\u201d\n\nMr. De Ruthven, very much disgusted at my papistical audacity, took his\nleave, warning me, even when in his carriage, that I was certain of\ndefeat, and equally certain of being put in Coventry.\n\nMy attempt to wrest the seat from the conservative party was regarded\nwith the same interest as Mr. A. M. Sullivan\u2019s daring effort to snatch\nLouth from the Right Honorable Chichester Fortescue\u2014an effort that was\ncrowned with such signal success. The cabinet minister and ex-Irish\nsecretary, who was regarded as Mr. Gladstone\u2019s official representative\nin Ireland, was deemed invulnerable in Louth, having sat for it for\ntwenty-seven years. The government laughed to scorn the idea of\ndisturbing him, but Mr. Sullivan polled two to one, and was carried in\nby such a weighty majority as virtually to close the county for ever and\na day, as the children\u2019s story-books say.\n\nIn my county the conservatives laughed my attempt to scorn, pooh-poohing\nmy pretensions and ridiculing my supporters. My opponent made\nRuthventown his headquarters, and from Ruthventown came forth his\naddress. From Ruthventown also was issued a manifesto, or imperial ukase\nrather, commanding the tenants to vote for the De Ruthven candidate,\nwhile from every conservative landlord appeared a notice couched in\nsimilar dictatorial terms. To these counter-proclamations were scattered\nbroadcast by my various committees throughout the country, calling upon\nCatholics to support a Catholic, upon Irishmen to support Home Rule.\n\nFather O\u2019Dowd was indefatigable, leaving Sir Boyle Roche\u2019s bird simply\nnowhere, as he would appear to be in half a dozen different places at\none and the same time. He lived upon his little outside-car, and the\ndead hours of the night saw him dashing through lonely glens, winding up\nsteep mountain-sides, speeding through sleeping villages, all for the\npurpose of bringing the old faith to the front, and of rescuing\nrepresentation from the clutches of the Orange clique, who had held it\nso long, to the prejudice of Catholicity and the shame of Catholics.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019ll shake off the yoke now or never!\u201d was his constant cry. \u201cDown\nwith the De Ruthven ascendency! We\u2019ll take their heels off our necks. We\nhave suffered and endured too long and too patiently. We have allowed a\nlittle clique to govern a nation at their own sweet will. It is time for\nthe people to assert themselves, to come to the front, to share in their\nown government. The hour is at hand, and the men.\u201d\n\nThe county was ablaze. Meetings were held in every village, and my name\nwas handed from townland to townland as a talisman. The most despicable\ncoercive measures were adopted by the conservative landlords toward\ntheir tenants with reference to their votes, threats of eviction, of\nrent-raising, of persecution being openly resorted to.\n\n\u201cMake no promises, boys. Keep yourselves unpledged,\u201d was the constant\ncry of Father O\u2019Dowd. \u201cRecollect that you have consciences and a\ncountry.\u201d\n\nAt one meeting, whilst I was engaged in speaking\u2014even now I feel\nastonished at my eloquence of that time\u2014I was interrupted by some of the\nDe Ruthven faction, who endeavored to hiss and hoot me down.\n\n\u201cBoys,\u201d yelled a voice in the crowd, \u201cthere\u2019s iligant bathing in Missis\nMoriarty\u2019s pond below; they say it\u2019s Boyne wather.\u201d And ere I could\ninterpose or take any step towards cooling the feverish excitement of my\nsupporters, the luckless Ruthvenites were ruthlessly swept towards the\ndam in question, where in all human probability they would have been\nhalf-drowned had not Father O\u2019Dowd rushed to the rescue.\n\n\u201cAre you mad, boys? Don\u2019t touch a hair of their heads.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe want for to larn them manners, yer riverince; shure there\u2019s no great\nharm in that.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf one of these vagabonds is ill-treated by you, they\u2019ll unseat Mr.\nOrmonde on petition. _You_ will not suffer, but Mr. Ormonde will. For\nHeaven\u2019s sake, boys, don\u2019t lay a finger on them.\u201d\n\nThe announcement caused a general gloom.\n\n\u201cNever mind, boys,\u201d shouted one of the crowd. \u201cShure if we can\u2019t bate\nthim afore the election, we can knock sawdust out av thim whin it\u2019s all\nover, an\u2019 that\u2019s a comfort anyhow.\u201d\n\nFrom every side promises of support came pouring in. The priests and\npeople were working as one man, silently, swiftly, surely. The \u201chard\nword\u201d had gone forth, and every parish was preparing its contingent. The\nhints and cajoleries of the other side were received in dignified\nsilence\u2014a silence which the ascendency party construed into assent. It\nwas deemed utterly impossible that the tenantry could vote against the\nnominee of their landlords; and although these \u201cslave-owners\u201d received\nvery significant warnings from their bailiffs, they could not and would\nnot give heed to them.\n\nMy address was drawn up in a solemn committee composed of Father O\u2019Dowd,\nMr. Hawthorne, Mabel, my mother, and myself. I need not reproduce it\nhere. It was Catholic and national, and when it went forth to the county\nit was received with universal enthusiasm. The opposite party\nstigmatized it as an \u201caudacious document,\u201d a \u201cfirebrand.\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d said\nthe parish priest of Derrymaleena, \u201cit is a firebrand, and one that\nlights the funeral pyre of the Orange party.\u201d\n\nI found Miss Hawthorne rewriting a copy of my address.\n\n\u201cI will save you the trouble, Miss Hawthorne,\u201d I said bitterly, and\nHeaven knows my heart was at a dead ache, \u201cand I will send a copy to Mr.\nMelton.\u201d\n\nShe flushed, the hot blood mounting over her little ears. \u201cYou do me a\ncruel injustice, Mr. Ormonde,\u201d she replied. \u201cRead that!\u201d contemptuously\nflinging me an open letter across the table.\n\n\u201cI do not wish to pry into Mr. Melton\u2019s secrets.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat letter is _not_ from Mr. Melton. I never received one from him in\nmy life, nor do I care to receive one; but since you will not read this\nletter, you shall hear its contents.\u201d\n\nShe read as follows in a pained voice:\n\n MY DEAR MRS. ORMONDE:\n\n As the coming man is so busy, and is probably at the other side of\n the county, I write to you to ask you to send me a copy of his\n address as soon as ever you can. We are all alive here, and Victory\n is within our grasp. Always yours,\n\n PETER HEFFERNAN.\n\n\u201cNow, Mr. Ormonde, may I ask you if it was generous of you to\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cForgive me, Miss Hawthorne,\u201d I exclaimed. \u201cI\u2014I do not know what I am\ndoing, what I am saying. I am distracted\u2014wretched.\u201d I was silent. I\ndared go no further. The vision of Wynwood Melton cried check to the\nbounding thoughts that came surging from my heart.\n\n\u201cThe evening of the 20th will find you in better form.\u201d\n\nI shook my head. The future was utterly dreary\u2014one blank, sunless waste.\n\n\u201cYou will win this election, Mr. Ormonde.\u201d\n\nI sighed deeply.\n\n\u201cA barren victory.\u201d\n\n\u201cA barren victory!\u201d she exclaimed with considerable animation. \u201cDo you\nconsider it a barren victory to beat the Carlton Club, the great\nconservative stronghold of England, whose every ukase is law\u2014to beat the\nDe Ruthven faction, who have held your beautiful county in subjection\nsince the Pale?\u201d\n\n\u201cA Dead-Sea apple. In winning this election I win your hatred.\u201d\n\n\u201c_My_ hatred?\u201d opening her lovely violet eyes in delicious wonder.\n\n\u201cYes, Miss Hawthorne; if I am elected I shall have beaten the man you\nlove.\u201d\n\nShe flushed again\u2014a shower of rose-petals.\n\n\u201cThere is not a more miserable being on the face of this earth than I am\nthis moment, Miss Hawthorne. Were I not pledged in honor to this\nelection, I would stand aside and let Mr. Melton win _this_ stake, as he\nhas won the higher stake\u2014your heart.\u201d\n\nShe was about to interrupt me, her lips tremulous, her hands in strong\naction.\n\n\u201cHear me for one moment,\u201d I cried, carried away in a rush of tumultuous\nfeeling, every sense in a mad whirl. \u201cI love you, Mabel\u2014love you with a\nlove that is more than love. I tried to hate you. In that vain attempt I\nresolved to bring sorrow to your heart, to glut my own desire for\nvengeance. It was jealous despair that led me into this conflict. It is\npossible I may not see you until the fight is over, perhaps never again;\nbut, Mabel Hawthorne, my first, my last love, it may be sweet to you to\nknow why this victory will be a barren one, why the hand that grasps the\nlaurel will seize but dead ashes.\u201d And without trusting myself even to\nglance at her, I rushed from the room, from the house, and was many\nmiles on the road to Derrymaclury ere thoroughly aware of the fact.\n\n * * * * *\n\nI did not return to Kilkenley. I dreaded the fearful fascination of\nMabel\u2019s presence, and, now that I had declared my hopeless love, I did\nnot care to meet her. It would be mean and shabby to hang about her,\nknowing she was never to be mine. It would be despicable, under the\npeculiar circumstances of the case, were I again to refer to Melton or\nthe election. There was nothing for it but to remain at a distance. I\nrecall the agonies of those few days with a shiver. The powerful\nexcitement of the approaching contest was over-weighted by the dull\ngnawing at my heart. I was as one walking in a painful dream. In vain I\nplunged into the whirl of speech-making, canvassing, and all the\nabsorbing surroundings of the election\u2014truly in vain, for the one idea\never grimly tortured me, and the one hopeless thought ever perched\nraven-like in my gloom-laden mind.\n\n\u201cTake heart of grace, man,\u201d Father O\u2019Dowd would say. \u201cWe\u2019ll beat them\nthree to one.\u201d\n\nCould he minister to the disease that was eating away my very heart?\n\nHarry Welstone came over.\n\n\u201cWhy, there has been a sort of panic at Kilkenley on account of your\nabrupt departure, Fred. The last person who saw you in the flesh was\nMiss Hawthorne, and she is very reticent in the matter. I tried to pump\nher, and got quietly sat upon for my pains. She has disappeared, too.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe has been playing the invisible princess. Your opponent called\ntwice, and she refused to see him.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it Melton?\u201d I cried, a wild joy surging around my heart.\n\n\u201cYes; the great M.P. in embryo.\u201d\n\n\u201cWouldn\u2019t see him?\u201d\n\n\u201cSaid she had a headache.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou jest, Harry.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a bit of it. Old Blunderbuss was as mad as a hatter, but missy\nstuck fast to her colors.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wish to heaven you hadn\u2019t told me this, Harry.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know.\u201d\n\nAnd I did _not_ know, but so it was. There lay a disturbing element in\nthis news that completely set me astray. Hope, that springs eternal in\nthe human breast; hope, that seemed shut out from mine for ever, was\ntimidly knocking at the portals demanding admittance; but I resolutely\nbarred the portals, raising the drawbridge, and dropping the portcullis.\nAnd yet\u2014\n\nNo. I would _not_ admit the impossible.\n\nThe nomination took place in the court-house at Ballyraken, the county\ntown, which was literally packed with the country people, who had come\nin from the great harvest districts to hear the \u201cspeechifyin\u2019.\u201d The De\nRuthven faction mustered very strongly, all the Protestant gentry\narriving in their equipages, making \u201ca brave and goodly show.\u201d Mr.\nWynwood Melton\u2014who appeared in a faultlessly-fitting black frock-coat,\nwith the last rose of summer in his button-hole, a hat that literally\nshone like jet, and pale lavender gloves\u2014was proposed by Sir Robert\nSlugby de Ruthven, D.L., and seconded by Mr. Beresford de Ruthven, D.L.\n\nSir Robert, an aged, aristocratic-looking man, with a lordly voice and\nroyal mien, after dilating, amidst fearful interruption, upon the\nmisfortune that had fallen on the county in the ill-considered\nenterprise of this rash young man\u2014meaning me\u2014in his hopeless endeavor to\ndisturb the harmony which had so long existed in the county, proceeded\nto say:\n\n\u201cI have a gentleman to propose to your consideration\u2014a gentleman of\nbirth, a gentleman of education, a gentleman of position, a gentleman of\nmeans, a gentleman\u2014\u201d\n\nHere a voice, which I immediately recognized as that of Peter O\u2019Brien,\ncried out in the crowd:\n\n\u201cArrah, blur an\u2019 ages, we\u2019re tired av _gintlemin_; can\u2019t ye stand\n_yerself_?\u201d\n\nThis sally, which was greeted with a roar of laughter, completely upset\nthe little speech which Sir Robert had prepared, and in a few mumbled\nwords he proposed Mr. Wynwood Melton as a fit and proper person to\nrepresent the county in the Imperial Parliament.\n\nMr. Beresford de Ruthven was an able and popular speaker. He knew how,\nwhen, and where to touch the heart of the Irish peasant. His tact was\nadmirable, while he possessed the rare qualification of being enabled to\nkeep his audience in his hands as a juggler his golden balls.\n\nWe feared his speech. It was a rock ahead, and every word that fell from\nhis lips was to be caught up and treasured, in order that our best men\nshould reply to him. We knew it was nearly impossible to catch him\ntripping, and that he was one of those agile performers who spring\nsmilingly to their feet even after an ugly fall.\n\n\u201cI wish this was over,\u201d whispered Father O\u2019Dowd. \u201c_Timeo Danaos et dona\nferentes._ He\u2019ll butter the boys like parsnips, and promise them the\nmoon.\u201d\n\nMr. De Ruthven commenced his speech in a breathless silence. Oratory is\nalways respected in Ireland, even in an opponent, although that opponent\nbe a Protestant and an Orangeman. The speaker labored under the\ndisadvantage of possessing but one hand, the other having been\naccidentally shot off by the bursting of a fowling-piece while Mr. De\nRuthven was grouse-shooting in Scotland.\n\nHis speech was, unhappily for us, most felicitous. He seemed to suit\nhimself to the occasion, and to make the occasion suit him. A faint\nmurmur followed one or two of his well-directed points, which gradually\nswelled into open applause, until, to our dismay, we found he was\ncarrying the audience with him.\n\nOur party gazed significantly one at the other. We all perceived that\nthe danger we had already anticipated was upon us in real earnest. At\nthis moment I perceived Peter O\u2019Brien elbowing himself to the front. A\ndead silence had fallen, one of those unaccountable stillnesses that\noccasionally come upon all assemblages, however large. Mr. De Ruthven\nwas about to recommence, when Peter, putting his hands to his mouth, and\nin a voice that could be heard in the adjacent barony, shouted at the\ntop of his lungs:\n\n\u201c_Where\u2019s the hand that sthruck the priest?_\u201d\n\nTo describe the effect of this query would be impossible. It was simply\nelectrical. In one second the current, which had been flowing smoothly,\nbecame dammed, and instantly turned into another channel. In vain did\nMr. De Ruthven endeavor to gain a hearing; in vain to disclaim the\nodious charge that had been indirectly preferred against him. It was\nuseless. Every effort was met by a thousand cries of \u201cWhere\u2019s the hand\nthat sthruck the priest?\u201d And in these few words the sun of his\neloquence had set for ever. The high-sheriff almost burst a blood-vessel\nin his endeavor to obtain silence, until, finding the task a hopeless\none, he advised Mr. De Ruthven to formally second the nomination and\nretire, which was accordingly done, and in dumb show.\n\nWhen Melton presented himself he was received with laughter and jeers.\nThe people had just warmed into that facetious good-humor that is so\ndangerous to a candidate for their suffrages. Opposition makes a martyr.\nLaughter causes a man to appear ridiculous.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019ll ye take for the posy?\u201d\n\n\u201cOff wud yer gloves.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill ye give us a pup out o\u2019 that hat?\u201d\n\n\u201cIs that coat ped for?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe raison it\u2019s so new is that he wants to be able for to turn it,\nboys.\u201d\n\n\u201cSpake up.\u201d\n\n\u201cGive us a little Irish.\u201d\n\n\u201cSing the \u2018Wearin\u2019 av the Green.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cWe\u2019ll return ye\u2014to England.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo home to yer mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cCud ye say boo to a goose?\u201d\n\n\u201cOch! we\u2019ll vote for ye all together like Brown\u2019s cows, an\u2019 he had only\nwan.\u201d\n\n\u201cYer a fine man to send\u2014out o\u2019 the counthry.\u201d\n\n\u201cArrah, what brought ye here at all?\u201d\n\n\u201cAx for the price o\u2019 the thrain for to take ye home, an\u2019 mebbe ould\nBeresford wud give it to ye.\u201d\n\nSuch were the greetings that interrupted Mr. Wynwood Melton during the\ndelivery of a very brief speech, not one word of which even reached the\nreporters\u2019 table. He seemed, however, perfectly unruffled, and continued\nbowing for a considerable time in response to the derisive cheering that\nfollowed upon his silence.\n\nFather O\u2019Dowd was received with a whirlwind of cheers, yells, and other\nmanifestations of enthusiastic delight.\n\nIn proposing me he was very brief, alluding to the degrading position\nheld by Catholics in a county where the large majority of the people\nwere Catholics, and where everything that could be denied a Catholic was\ndenied him. He was good enough to refer to the intrepidity with which my\npoor father had upheld the ancient faith, to his true-hearted\npatriotism, and wound up by declaring that this was the hour for the\ncounty to assert itself, both for conscience and country.\n\nI read my speech in the _Weekly Courier_ on the following Saturday, and\nI _suppose_ I must have uttered it, but I have not the remotest\nconception of what I said. It read wonderfully well; and as Father\nO\u2019Dowd told me I surpassed myself, I felt more or less elated at my\nsuccess.\n\n\u201cIf _she_ had been there to hear it!\u201d was my sad, sickening thought.\n\n_L\u00e6ta dies aderat._ The eventful day arrived big with my fate and that\nof the county. I felt that I was but the mere instrument, and, if\nvictory were to crown the effort, it would be due to the principle and\nnot the man. We knew that in some districts we would be badly beaten,\nwhile in others the issue was somewhat doubtful; but as to the ultimate\noutcome we entertained not a shadow of a doubt. The people were panting\nfor a chance, and they had got it now.\n\nWhen I showed the voting-papers to Peter, telling him that a cross\nmarked in pencil should go opposite the name of the candidate for whom\nthe voter wished to vote, he anxiously demanded:\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 must the min that votes for the Englishman put in a crass, too?\u201d\n\n\u201cEvery man of them.\u201d\n\n\u201cOch, thin, glory be to God! shure it\u2019s a judgmint on thim Protestants\nfor to have to make the sign av the blessed an\u2019 holy crass at all, at\nall\u2014curse of Crummle on thim!\u201d\n\nFearing a disturbance, as party spirit ran so high and as my supporters\nwere so excited, a strong detachment of the Sixtieth Rifles was marched\ninto Ballyraken on the eve of the polling. The Protestant landlords had\nsecured free quarters in the town for such of their tenantry as chose to\ninhabit them, while they themselves occupied the Club House and De\nRuthven Arms in a most imposing and demonstrative manner.\n\nI was walking down the main street, all alone, thinking not of the\nforthcoming ballot, but of Mabel, when I perceived my opponent lounging\non the steps of the Club House. I should be compelled to pass the Club\nHouse or cross the street, and as I was a member of the club, although I\nnever frequented it, I now resolved upon boldly entering the enemy\u2019s\ncamp.\n\nI was passing Melton with a nod when he stepped forward and in a\nsingularly insolent tone demanded a word with me. He was very white.\n\n\u201cI was at Kilkenley yesterday.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed!\u201d I said. His tone was too uncertain to admit of my making any\ncomment upon his visit.\n\n\u201cI suppose Miss Hawthorne is acting under _your_ orders?\u201d he hissed.\n\n\u201cI am at a loss to understand your meaning, sir,\u201d I hotly replied.\n\n\u201cNot at home save to those whom you may be pleased to admit to your\npalatial residence,\u201d he sneered.\n\n\u201cMy residence is a very humble one, Mr. Melton, and when _you_ honored\nit with your person I hope you found it a hospitable one. Miss Hawthorne\nis mistress of her own movements, but let me tell you, sir, that she is\nmy mother\u2019s guest, and the guest of an Ormonde is sacred.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery dramatic, but scarcely to the point.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll come to any point you please.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen this election business is over I may have something to say to\nyou,\u201d his tone fairly exasperating.\n\nI could stand it no longer.\n\n\u201cYou white-livered cub, whatever you have to say, say it now!\u201d I\nshouted, the blood rushing like molten lava through my veins.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t row in public.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you wish me to tell you what I think of you, in public, Mr. Melton?\u201d\n\nHe smiled.\n\n\u201cPah! you are not worth this stick, or I\u2019d break it across your\nshoulders.\u201d And I marched into the club, my heart bumping against my\nribs from sheer excitement.\n\nWhat could he mean? Miss Hawthorne refuse to see him at _my_ request? It\nwas too absurd. Some lover\u2019s quarrel. Was this cad her lover? Had her\nheart gone forth to such a man as this?\n\nIt was torture to think it.\n\nContrary to all expectations, the conduct of the people was orderly and\npeaceable. The dread of a petition had been seared into their very souls\nby Father O\u2019Dowd and by the admirable organization that had charge of my\ninterests. They came up to the booths silent, almost sullen. The\nlandlords and bailiffs were all at their posts, uttering a last warning\nword as the tenants filed into the booths, addressing them cheerily as\nthey emerged therefrom, in the hope of gleaning the much-coveted\ninformation as to the direction of the vote; but the responsibility of\nthat day\u2019s work appeared upon every face, and they entered the\nvoting-places as though stepping into a church. Telegrams came pouring\nin all day from the outlying districts.\n\n\u201cBallymaclish is all right\u2014a majority of sixty; Derrymaclooney accounts\nfor every man,\u201d cried Father O\u2019Dowd. \u201cBravo, my dear old parish! I knew\nI could trust my good, brave, pious children.\u201d\n\nLater on: \u201cThe De Ruthvens have carried Tubbercurry.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s because Father Nolan is on the broad of his back.\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, and because the Beresfords have stopped at nothing,\u201d observed one\nof my committee. \u201cIf we want a petition we can pick it up in\nTubbercurry. A telegram this morning says that there were money and\nwhiskey going all the week.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow about Dharnadhulagh?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo returns yet.\u201d\n\n\u201cOr Derrycunnihy?\u201d\n\n\u201cDerrycunnihy is doubtful.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a bit of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI say it is.\u201d\n\n\u201cI say it isn\u2019t. Sure, Father James O\u2019Neil has it in hands.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! that will do. Put us down at forty at the very least.\u201d\n\nThis sort of thing went on all day; but as the day wore on and the\nreturns came in, we found at four o\u2019clock that I had a majority, and at\nfive that I had beaten Melton like a hack.\n\nA wild flash of joy quivered through me. Frederic Fitzgerald Ormonde,\nM.P.! Visions of St. Stephen\u2019s, of fierce debates over the crushing\nwrongs of expectant Erin, of glorious oratory, of splendid, supreme\nefforts, of magnificent rewards, honors\u2014_Cui bono_?\n\n_She_ would hate me for having beaten her lover in the race. But was he\nher lover? Had not her tell-tale blushes told me all? And yet I had\ngiven her no chance of reply. Perhaps\u2014\n\nAs this idea smote me a nameless ecstasy vibrated through every fibre of\nmy being, and I longed to get to Kilkenley, I knew not why.\n\nIt was excruciating to be compelled to wait and receive the\ncongratulations of my friends and supporters. It was simply fearful to\nhave to sit out a dinner which had been prepared in my honor, and to\nlisten to the leaden speeches all harping upon the one theme.\n\nSomehow or other the night passed onwards, and at about eleven o\u2019clock I\nfound myself free. I rode over to Kilkenley; it was a mad race, and how\nI contrived to avoid riding down some of my constituents is still a\nmatter of mystery to me. It relieved my feverish spirits to give the\nreins to my horse, and we flew homewards, past villages, past\nhomesteads, past inebriated revellers on low-backed cars, past bonfires\nwhich were lighted for miles along the route, past hedges,\nditches\u2014everything; nor did I draw rein until I drew up at the lodge,\nshouting the word \u201cGate!\u201d\n\n\u201cLord be merciful to us! but it\u2019s the masther,\u201d cried Mrs. O\u2019Rourke, the\nlodge-keeper, as she tremblingly threw open the gate. \u201cMay I make so\nbould as to ax ye if ye bet the Englishman, sir?\u201d\n\n\u201cBeat him to smithereens.\u201d\n\n\u201cGlory be to God! I knew Father O\u2019Dowd would settle it.\u201d\n\nThere were lights all through the house. The great event had kept the\nhousehold out of their beds. My mother fell upon my neck in a paroxysm\nof joy when I told her the news.\n\n\u201cWhere is Mabel\u2014I mean Miss Hawthorne, mother?\u201d I stammered.\n\n\u201cShe was here a moment ago. Is Mr. Hawthorne at Ballyraken?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; I left him making a third speech.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must be worn out, my child. I\u2019ll make you some mulled port.\u201d\n\nSomething told me that I should find Mabel in the adjoining room; and my\ninstincts had not deceived me. She stood in the centre of the apartment,\none hand resting upon a small table. When I found myself standing\nopposite to her I felt utterly, totally dumbfounded. I could only stare\nat her.\n\n\u201cI heard the news,\u201d she said, casting down her violet eyes. Ah! that was\n_all_ she had to say.\n\n\u201cWill you forgive me?\u201d I cried.\n\n\u201cMr. Ormonde,\u201d her hands working nervously, her glorious eyes still bent\nupon the table, her exquisitely-shaped head half averted, \u201cI\u2014I\u2014that\nis\u2014you have been under a most extraordinary misconception with reference\nto Mr. Melton. That gentleman is only a friend. As a matter of fact, I\u2014I\nwas so\u2014so distressed at your ideas about him in connection with\nmyself\u201d\u2014here she blushed red as a rose\u2014\u201cthat I refused to see him when\nhe came to visit here yesterday.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you are not in love with him?\u201d\n\nShe raised her violet eyes, and her glance met mine as she uttered the,\nto me, ecstatic word, \u201cNo.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd not engaged to him?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\nI do not know what I said or what I did; but this I _do_ know: that when\nmy mother entered the room with a tumbler of mulled port, she dropped\nthe tumbler, uttering an exclamation of delight, and fell to kissing\nMabel, exclaiming: \u201cThis is the one thing wanted to make me perfectly\nhappy. My poor boy was breaking his heart about you.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nI was declared duly elected to serve the county in the United Parliament\nof Great Britain and Ireland.\n\nMr. Hawthorne duly presented me to Mr. Speaker upon the occasion of my\ntaking the oaths and my seat. My first nap in the House was during a\nspeech from the member for Doodleshire, which was not treating the\nethereal thunder of his mind with becoming respect, especially as he had\njust been good enough to give me his daughter in marriage. We were\nmarried at the pro-cathedral at Kensington, by Father O\u2019Dowd.\n\nMelton I never met.\n\nHarry Welstone and I are closer friends than ever, as he is in the\nHouse, representing the borough of Bohernabury, and we are always \u201cagin\nthe government.\u201d\n\nWe reside at Kilkenley, and Peter O\u2019Brien is teaching my eldest boy to\nhandle the ribbons.\n\n\u201cMusha, thin, whin I rowled out forninst ye in the dirt beyant at the\nrailway station, it\u2019s little I ever thought I\u2019d see ye misthress av the\nould anshint property, ma\u2019am,\u201d is his constant remark to the lady of the\nmanor, while he is perpetually urging upon me the crying necessity for\n\u201ctakin\u2019 a heat out av Drizzlyeye.\u201d\n\n\u201cBloody wars, Masther Fred, but you an\u2019 ould Butt is too aisy wud him.\nGive him plinty av impudince, an\u2019 as shure\u2019s me name\u2019s Pether O\u2019Brien\nye\u2019ll have Home Rule while ye\u2019d be axin\u2019 the lind av a sack.\u201d\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n\n A SECTARIAN DIPLOMATIC SERVICE.\n\n\nOur federal government, as a government, is absolutely forbidden by the\nConstitution to have anything whatever to do with religion; but the\nState Department has been for years and is now conducted as if it were\nan agency for a religious sectarian propaganda. The gentlemen whom it\nhas sent to represent us at foreign courts have acted, in numberless\ninstances and with few exceptions, as if they were the emissaries of\nProtestant or infidel missionary societies rather than as the\nambassadors, ministers, and _charg\u00e9s d\u2019affaires_ of a government which\nprofesses no religion, but which nevertheless has among its citizens\neight millions of Roman Catholics, more or less, whose rights and\nopinions it is bound at least to respect. Many of these gentlemen have\nseemed to believe that one of their principal duties, especially if\naccredited to a Catholic country, was to form intimate associations with\nconspirators and agitators; to espouse their cause; and to fill their\ndespatches to Mr. Seward, Mr. Fish, and Mr. Evarts with absurd but\npernicious misrepresentations concerning the relations of the church\ntowards education, civil freedom, and material progress. It may be\nadmitted that many of these agents have erred rather through ignorance\nthan malice; not a few of them have received but a limited education; it\nis only lately that a knowledge of the French language has been deemed\nrequisite for even an ambassador. Scores of our ministers and _charg\u00e9s\nd\u2019affaires_ have been sent abroad, remained for a few years, and\nreturned, without acquiring more than a mere smattering of the language\nof the country to which they were accredited. Too frequently these\nmisrepresentatives of ours fall into the hands of the agents of the\nsecret sects which are plotting all over the world for the destruction\nof the church and the overthrow of Christian society, and receive from\nthese sources the erroneous and pernicious views of affairs which they\ntransmit to Washington. One of our diplomatists, returning from a long\nresidence in the capital of a Catholic country, had for a\nfellow-traveller on the steamship an American Catholic.\n\n\u201cI envy you your residence in \u2014\u2014,\u201d said this gentleman; \u201cthe\nintellectual society there is agreeable. Were you not well acquainted\nwith Father \u2014\u2014 and Mgr. \u2014\u2014?\u201d naming two individuals of wide-spread\ncelebrity.\n\n\u201cOh! no,\u201d replied the astute statesman, \u201cnot at all; I never met them.\nThey are Papists, you know, and I never cared to waste my time with men\nwho pray to idols, and pretend to believe that a piece of bread is God.\nBesides,\u201d he added, with ingenuous simplicity, \u201cmy interpreter, a very\nshrewd fellow, told me all the priests in \u2014\u2014 were bitter foes of our\nfree republican institutions, and I thought it my duty to keep aloof\nfrom them.\u201d\n\nA perusal of the Red Books for the last two years inclines one to\nbelieve that many of our ministers to foreign countries derive their\nopinions and their information chiefly from their \u201cinterpreters.\u201d The\nHon. Mr. Scadder, rewarded for his eminent services to his party by\nbeing torn from his sorrowing constituents at Watertoast, and sent to\nrepresent us at the proud court of a papistical sovereign, may be at the\nmercy of any wag who chooses to humbug him with fantastical lies, or of\nany emissary from a Masonic sect who is instructed to fill his mind with\nmisrepresentations; but Mr. Fish and Mr. Evarts are men of culture, and\nare supposed, at least, to be able to distinguish a hawk from a handsaw.\nIt is of them that we chiefly complain. If the exigencies of party have\nmade it impossible for them to select the best men for our diplomatic\nservice, and if they have been obliged to put up with Mr. Scadder and\nhis kind, it has at least been always in their power to cause our\nforeign agents to understand that it is no part of their duty to write\ndespatches calumniating the Catholic Church, or to employ themselves in\npromoting the missionary enterprises of Protestant sects in Catholic\ncountries. Had Mr. Fish and Mr. Evarts possessed a true idea of their\nown official duties, they never could have permitted one of their agents\nto write a second time such despatches as some of those contained in the\nRed Books before us. They would have administered to their Scadders, and\nMarshes, and Beales, and Partridges, and Bassetts a rebuke that would\nhave opened the eyes of these public servants and taught them a useful\nlesson. Mr. Fish, we know, is a prominent and zealous member of the\nProtestant Episcopal Church; Mr. Evarts, we believe, is an adherent of\nthe same sect. In their private capacity they have at least a legal\nright to do what they can to advance the interests of their own\ncommunion, and to expose and check the diabolical designs of the Man of\nSin. But as Secretary of State at Washington Mr. Fish had not, and Mr.\nEvarts has not, any right to instruct, encourage, or even permit our\nagents abroad to calumniate the Catholic Church, to encourage\nconspiracies against her, or to spend their time, which belongs to the\ncountry, and the money with which the country supplies them, in\npromoting Anti-Catholic propagandism. Such a course is as bad a policy\nas it is un-American. We trust that the present Secretary of State will\ngive this matter his immediate and careful attention; and the Senate and\nthe House of Representatives would do well to look into it. Let him, as\nbecomes his duty, inform the diplomatic agents of this republic that\nthey are sent and paid to attend to the material and political interests\nof our country, and are expected to keep to themselves their religious\nopinions, whatever those opinions may be, in their correspondence with\nthe Department of State. A proper sense of dignity on the part of the\nAmerican who holds the office of the Secretary of State, and a decent\nrespect for others, would not suffer that a diplomatic agent under his\ncontrol should use his political position to insult the religious\nconvictions of so large, important, and patriotic a portion of his\nfellow-citizens. Catholic citizens ask no favors as Catholics, and the\ntime has gone by for them to accept silently from the hired agents of\nour common country insults to their religious faith. No one deprecates\nmore than we do to see the tendency of the Catholic vote in this country\ngiven almost exclusively to one of its political parties. The only way\nin which to prevent this is by the opposite party putting an end to the\ndisplay of bigotry and fanaticism against the Catholic Church.\n\nThe Department of the Interior, in its Indian Bureau, has repeatedly\nbeen guilty of gross violations of good faith and fair dealing towards\nthe Catholic Church; but this has been due, probably, to the direct\npressure put upon it by the various sects, whose cupidity was excited by\nthe hope of reaping where Catholic priests had sown. But the foreign\nagents of the State Department often appear to have gone out of their\nway, in mere wantonness, to insult, irritate, and injure Catholic\ninterests and feeling. Imagine the collector of the port of New York\nwriting official despatches to the Secretary of the Treasury, informing\nhim that, in the absence of anything better to do, he had been giving\nhis mind to an investigation of Catholicism in this metropolis, and that\nhe had arrived at the conclusion that much of the pauperism of the city\nwas due to the facts that the entire Catholic population were in the\nhabit of refusing to work on eight days of the year\u2014days known in the\nsuperstitious jargon of the Papists as \u201cdays of obligation\u201d\u2014and that\nvast sums of money were exacted by the priests from their ignorant and\ndegraded dupes, and sent over to Rome to support in idle luxury the\npampered pope! It is probable that Secretary Sherman would administer to\nthe collector a severe reprimand, and that this particular letter would\nnot form part of the annual treasury report. But this is precisely the\nsort of news with which our minister to Hayti\u2014Mr. Ebenezer\nBassett\u2014regales Mr. Evarts, so much to the apparent satisfaction of the\nlatter that Mr. Bassett again and again returns to the subject and\ndwells upon it with unction. Or fancy Postmaster James sending a\ndespatch to Mr. Key to cheer him with the happy intelligence that an\nunfrocked and disgraced Catholic priest had started a brand-new sect of\nhis own in New York, and predicting that in a short time a majority of\nthe Papists would desert their pastors and joyfully embrace the new\ngospel. But this is in substance the intelligence that such a man as Mr.\nBancroft most delighted to send from Berlin. The collector of the port\nand the postmaster would be as much out of the line of their duty in the\ncases we have mentioned as Mr. Bassett and Mr. Bancroft have been. The\nduty of our foreign representatives is to promote the commercial,\nfinancial, and political interests of this republic at the courts to\nwhich they are accredited, and not to make themselves channels for the\nconveyance of idle, false, and scandalous gossip, much less to interfere\nin the domestic affairs of the countries to which they are sent, or\nallow themselves to be used as the tools of secret societies or of\nMethodist or any other missionary boards.\n\nWe have at present thirteen envoys extraordinary and ministers\nplenipotentiary\u2014in Austria, Brazil, Chili, China, France, Germany, Great\nBritain, Italy, Japan, Mexico, Peru, Russia, and Spain; eight ministers\nresident\u2014in the Argentine Republic, Belgium, Central American States,\nHawaiian Islands, Netherlands, Sweden and Norway, Turkey, and Venezuela;\nand two ministers resident and consuls-general, in Hayti and Liberia.\nThere are also five _charg\u00e9s d\u2019affaires_\u2014in Denmark, Greece, Portugal,\nSwitzerland, and Uruguay and Paraguay. We have no representative in\nBolivia, Ecuador, or the United States of Colombia. The great majority\nof the inhabitants of nineteen of the above-named thirty-one countries\nare Roman Catholics; yet not one of our foreign representatives is a\nCatholic. We ask not is this fair, but is it good policy? The population\nof these nineteen Roman Catholic nations is in round numbers, and\naccording to the latest enumerations, about 170,000,000 souls; but we\nnow are, and so far as we know almost always have been, represented at\ntheir capitals by Protestants. Of this, in itself, we do not complain.\nWisdom\u2014nay, even common sense\u2014would indeed seem to dictate that the best\nresults would be attained, other things being equal, by sending\nCatholics as envoys to Catholic countries. An American Catholic in a\nCatholic country finds himself in sympathy with, and not in antagonism\nto, the religious habits and modes of thought of the people; and his\npath towards the accomplishment of any good and worthy object is greatly\nsmoothed by this fact. We believe that intelligent, clever, patriotic,\nCatholic envoys at Vienna, Rio Janeiro, Santiago, Paris, Rome, Mexico,\nLima, Madrid, Buenos Ayres, Brussels, Guatemala, Caracas, Port au\nPrince, Lisbon, Montevideo, Asuncion, Quito, Bogota, and La Paz would\nhave been more successful in accomplishing the best and highest duties\nof diplomatic representatives of this republic than Messrs. Beale,\nPartridge, Logan, Washburne, Marsh, Foster, Gibbs, Cushing, Osborne,\nMerrill, Williamson, Russell, Bassett, Moran, and Caldwell have been. We\nare certain that they would not have committed the sins against good\ntaste and propriety which must be laid at the door of nearly all these\ngentlemen; they surely would not have committed the still graver\noffences of which we shall have to give some instances. We wish to\nexcept from this remark, however, Mr. Moran, long our faithful and\nexemplary secretary of legation at London, and for the last two or three\nyears our chief representative at Lisbon. Although not a Catholic, Mr.\nMoran is a gentleman of excellent culture, of correct opinions\nconcerning his official duties, and a very skilful diplomatist. One may\nlook in vain through his despatches for anything that should not be\nthere. We wish we could say half as much for some of his _confr\u00e8res_.\n\nLet us take, as an instance, our misrepresentative at Rome, Mr. George\nP. Marsh, of Vermont. Mr. Marsh leaves us in no doubt whether or not\nhe is in full sympathy with the worst political elements in Italy, and\ninspired by a lively hatred of the church. He deems it one of his most\npressing duties to assail and calumniate the Pope; he seems never so\nhappy as when he can give a false and malicious interpretation to the\nacts of the Papal See; he appears never so miserable as when he finds\nhimself disappointed in his fond anticipation of seeing the Italian\ngovernment invade the Vatican, drive out the Pope, and finish up what\nis left of the church in Italy. In what Mr. Marsh is pleased to call\nhis mind, the church in Italy is a ravening wolf, wounded, sick, and\nin a trap, but still with life enough in her to make her dangerous,\nand to render it necessary that she should be knocked on the head as\nsoon as possible. Whenever Mr. Marsh observes indications of a\nwillingness on the part of the government to let the wolf live a\nlittle longer, or even to make terms with her, he scolds and laments\nat a fearful rate. He writes as if he were a member of the Extreme\nLeft, and evidently draws his inspiration from the most advanced\nradical sources. \u201cI see no reason to expect,\u201d says he, \u201cany more\nvigorous resistance to the encroachments of the church from this\nadministration\u201d\u2014the administration that was in power in November,\n1876. What is it that Mr. Marsh would wish? What can be \u201cthe\nencroachments of the church\u201d in Italy\u2014the \u201cencroachments\u201d of men\ndisarmed, despoiled, captive, and helpless as far as human agency is\nconcerned? The elections for members of the Chamber of Deputies in\nNovember, 1876, were regarded by Mr. Marsh as evidence that the\nelectors were greatly dissatisfied with the government as it had been\nadministered. Doubtless they were. Mr. Marsh speaks of \u201cthe heavy\nburdens of taxation imposed by it upon the people\u201d; of its \u201cfinancial\ndifficulties that prevent the execution of important works of public\nimprovement\u201d; of its failure even to attempt \u201cthe abolition of the\nmacinto tax, or of any of the financial abuses which weigh so heavily\non the poor.\u201d But his remedy for this is simply \u201ca more vigorous\nresistance to the encroachments of the church\u201d\u2014a little more\nplundering, a little more confiscation; the seizure of the Vatican,\nfor instance, and the sale of its treasures at public auction, would\nno doubt put a few million lire in the public treasury. That would\nsuit the amiable Mr. Marsh exactly. But the Italians hesitate, and Mr.\nMarsh is disgusted with them. At times he informs Mr. Evarts of\nterrible secrets\u2014confidential information which could only have been\ncommunicated to him under the pledge of solemn secrecy by one of those\npractical jokers who lounge about the _caf\u00e9s_ in Rome and exercise\ntheir ingenuity in beguiling simple foreigners with incredible\n_canards_. In a despatch dated April 23, 1877, Mr. Marsh gives an\naccount of a seditious outbreak that had occurred in Central and\nSouthern Italy, instigated by people who were well dressed and who had\nplenty of money, but whose purpose, as explained by themselves, was\n\u201cnot only the overthrow of the existing government, but the\ndestruction of all established civil, social, and religious\ninstitutions, and the triumph of universal anarchy.\u201d These, in fact,\nwere members of Mr. Marsh\u2019s own party; but his secret informant in\nRome made him believe that they were in the pay of the Pope, and\nprobably Jesuits in disguise! \u201cLong live Pius IX.! was shouted by the\nInternationalists at Benevento in the same breath with their cries of\nsedition,\u201d writes Mr. Marsh; and he goes on to warn Mr. Evarts that\n\u201cthe number of persons prepared to lend a ready ear to the promptings\nof International emissaries\u201d\u2014_videlicet_ the Jesuits in disguise\naforesaid\u2014\u201calready large, is increasing; and that Italy may be the\ntheatre of convulsions, to resist which will demand the most strenuous\nefforts of wise rulers and the most self-sacrificing patriotism on the\npart of the governing classes,\u201d but always in the direction of\nresisting \u201cthe further encroachments of the church.\u201d Mr. Marsh\nindulged in glowing hopes when the so-called Clerical Abuses Bill\npassed the Chamber of Deputies. He described the measure as \u201ca bill\nfor repressing the license of the clergy in public attacks upon the\necclesiastical policy of the government,\u201d and looked for the happiest\nresults to follow its enforcement. Mr. Marsh is an American citizen;\nhe is the representative of a government which plumes itself upon the\nalmost unchecked freedom of its citizens; he is paid by a people whose\npolitical shibboleth is \u201cfree speech.\u201d If Mr. Marsh were running for\nCongress in Vermont instead of exercising his powerful intellect as\nminister at Rome, what would he say concerning an attempt by Congress\nto enact that the penalty of fine and imprisonment should be inflicted\nupon every clergyman or minister who should \u201cattack the policy,\u201d for\ninstance, of the government seizing all the Methodist and Baptist\nmeeting-houses throughout the country, and converting them into\nbarracks? The Italian bill was worse than this, for it inflicted these\npenalties upon every priest who, even in the discharge of his duties\nas a director, might \u201cdisturb the peace of families\u201d by advising a\nmother to teach her children that it was a sin to steal. But the\nItalian senate was less brave than Mr. Marsh, and his heart was almost\nbroken by its final rejection of the bill. \u201cThis rejection,\u201d he moans,\nin his despatch of April 23, \u201cwill encourage the clergy to measures of\nmore active hostility against the state.\u201d He feels so cut up about it\nthat he returns to the subject in his despatch of May 10, and is so\nfar carried away by his feelings as to write that\n\n \u201cThe violence of the clergy and of their lay supporters in Italy and\n France is almost beyond description, and any one living among them\n has abundant opportunities of being convinced that they are prepared\n to resort to arms in support of the pretensions of the Papacy and of\n the principles of the Syllabus of 1864!\u201d\n\nA viler calumny, a more wicked falsehood against the French and Italian\nclergy has seldom been written. We are amazed, not that Mr. Marsh should\nhave written it, but that Mr. Evarts should have allowed such balderdash\nto be printed. But Mr. Marsh grows worse as he goes on. In his despatch\nof May 26 he almost excels himself. He takes it as a personal grievance\nthat the Pope has compared Prince Bismarck to Attila; he is impatient\nfor the abrogation of the Law of Guarantees; he is certain that sooner\nor later \u201ca violent conflict between the government and the church is\ninevitable,\u201d and he wishes it to come rather sooner than later.\nApparently he is anxious to assist at the final sacrifice, and he is\ntormented with the fear that the crafty Papists may cheat him out of\nthat gratification.\n\n\u201cThe Roman Curia,\u201d he writes, \u201cis at all times shrouded in such mystery\nthat the purposes of those who administer it (_sic_) are very rarely\nforeshadowed, and no positive predictions can ever be hazarded\nconcerning it beyond the general presumption that its future will be\nlike its past.\u201d In all soberness and earnestness we ask Mr. Evarts\nwhether Mr. Marsh is kept in Rome for the purpose of writing nonsense\nabout the \u201cmystery\u201d of the \u201cRoman Curia\u201d? What has he to do with the\naffairs of the Holy See? He is not accredited to the Vatican; he has no\nmore to do with the Pope than our minister at London has to do with the\nArchbishop of Canterbury. True, the Pope is a far more important\npersonage than is Mr. Tait; but Mr. Marsh, as we understand it, was not\nsent to Rome to occupy himself about the Pope. Instead of attending to\nhis own business he goes out of his way to insult the Holy Father, and\nthrough him the entire Catholic population of the United States. If\neverything were as it should be, we should have as our representative at\nRome, the capital of Christendom and the seat of the head of the\nuniversal church, a Catholic statesman. We do not insist upon this; but\nwe do insist that our representative at Rome should be at least a\nfair-minded, candid, well-educated, and discreet gentleman, and not an\nignorant, rude, prejudiced, and foolish dupe like Mr. Marsh. That we may\nnot be accused of doing him injustice, let us give here the exact text\nof the essential portions of his despatch of May 26 last, to which we\nhave already referred:\n\n \u201cThe excesses of the clericals,\u201d he writes, \u201care producing their\n natural and legitimate effect in a feeling of dissatisfaction with\n the position in which Italy has placed herself toward the Papacy by\n the Law of Guarantees. A recent allocution by the Pope, in which,\n for acts of the German government, Count Bismarck is likened to\n Attila, is much commented upon, and it is seriously asked whether\n Italy can protect herself against all responsibility for tolerating\n the use of such language in public discourses by the Pope, and its\n circulation through the press, under the plea that, by the seventh\n article of the law referred to, she has enacted that the Pope \u2018is\n free to perform all the functions of his spiritual ministry, and to\n affix to the doors of the basilicas and churches of Rome all acts of\n that ministry.\u2019 Such questions are bringing more clearly into view\n the incongruities and inconveniences of the anomalous position in\n which the general sovereignty of the state and the still higher\n virtual sovereignty of the Papacy, admitted by the terms of the Law\n of Guarantees, are placed toward each other. The Syllabus of 1864,\n having been promulgated before the enactment of that law, was notice\n to all the world of the extent of the inalienable rights claimed by\n the Papacy, and it is not a violent stretch of Vatican logic to\n maintain that, in spite of its protests, the law in question is\n legally a recognition of those claims. In fact, there are many\n occasions of collision between the two jurisdictions, such, for\n example, as the right of asylum implied in the extraterritoriality\n of the Vatican, which can never be avoided or reconciled without\n such an abandonment of the claims of one of the parties as will be\n yielded only to superior force; and hence a violent conflict between\n them is at any time probable, and at no distant day certainly\n inevitable. Such occasions were expected by many to arise from the\n pilgrimages to Rome on the fiftieth episcopal anniversary of the\n present Pope. But the number of pilgrims thus far has not reached\n the tithe of that predicted, probably not amounting in all to ten\n thousand, while the garrison and municipal police have been quietly\n strengthened to a force abundantly able to repress any disturbance.\n The death of Pius IX. and the election of his successor, events\n almost hourly expected, are looked to as probably fraught with\n important changes in the attitude of the Papacy toward Italy, and in\n the general policy of the church. For this expectation I see no\n ground, though the Roman Curia is at all times shrouded in such\n mystery that the purposes of those who administer it are very rarely\n foreshadowed, and no positive predictions can ever be hazarded\n concerning it beyond the general presumption that its future will be\n like its past.\u201d\n\nMr. Edward F. Beale, of Pennsylvania, was our representative at Vienna,\nhaving been sent there to succeed that ardent anti-Catholic, Mr. John\nJay, and being now in his turn superseded by Mr. Kasson, of Iowa. Mr.\nBeale\u2019s career at the Austrian capital was brief but not brilliant. In\nAugust, 1876, he undertook to instruct Mr. Fish concerning the drift of\npublic opinion, not only in Austria but in France and England, upon the\nEastern question. He had ascertained that the prevailing sentiment in\nthese countries was \u201creligious fervor\u201d; the people were so much in love\nwith Christianity and so full of hatred of Moslemism in that they\ndesired nothing more than to see Russia enter Constantinople, and to\ndrive the Turks out of Europe \u201cbag and baggage.\u201d \u201cIt is a question of\nfaith which will govern Europe,\u201d writes the astute Mr. Beale, \u201cand a\ncrusade is quite as possible now as when Peter the Hermit preached.\u201d The\nEuropean congress which is about to assemble as we are writing will not\ndisturb itself about any \u201cquestion of faith\u201d; its members will concern\nthemselves only with questions of boundaries, fleets, and money. But not\ncontent with forecasting the future, Mr. Beale reverts to the past, and\nkindly undertakes to furnish the State Department with easy lessons in\nEuropean history. Thus, in a despatch dated September 27, 1876, and\n_apropos des bottes_, he bids Mr. Fish to remember that\n\n \u201cIt is interesting to recall that in Bosnia originated the first\n Protestant movement of Western Europe, and that even before the\n heresies (as the Catholic Church calls them) of John Huss in Bohemia\n she had sent out her missionaries to preach the Gospel as she read\n it, and to disseminate her religious views over the rest of the\n world. When the persecutions of the Church of Rome were at their\n worst she offered a generous asylum to her co-religionists, many of\n whom found here what had been denied them at home\u2014the right to\n worship God after their own forms and belief.\u201d\n\nIn point of fact, the heretics of Bosnia, at the time referred to by our\nerudite minister at Vienna, were advocating principles utterly\nsubversive of order and tending directly to anarchy. They taught that a\nsubject was released from all allegiance to a ruler if that ruler were\nin a state of mortal sin, and each subject was to judge for himself as\nto the spiritual condition of his ruler. The Church of Rome had no\nhesitation in setting the seal of her condemnation upon this vagary of\nProtestantism, and even Mr. Beale would probably admit that she was\nright in so doing. But he evidently was ignorant of the facts, and was\nanxious only to air his newly-acquired learning and to have a fling at\nthe church. Is there among the secret instructions of our State\nDepartment to its agents a rule to this effect: \u201cWhen you have nothing\nelse to write about, pitch into the Pope\u201d?\n\nIt is a far cry from Vienna to Port au Prince; but our misrepresentative\nin Hayti next demands our attention. He, of all his brethren, is perhaps\nthe most vulgar, insolent, and ignorant; but he is one of the most\noutspoken. The United States pay him $7,500 a year, and have done so\nsince 1869. How much the Protestant Episcopal Church pays him, if\nanything, we do not know; but he seems to have given much of his time\nand influence to the advancement of the interests of that body, and to\nthe abuse of the Roman Catholic clergy of the island. Several of Mr.\nBassett\u2019s despatches contain eulogiums upon a \u201cRev. Dr. Holly,\u201d who, he\nsays, was \u201cat Grace Church, New York, in 1874, ordained bishop of\nHayti,\u201d and whom Mr. Bassett appears to have taken under his special\nprotection and care. Now, there is no \u201cbishop of Hayti\u201d; there is an\narchbishop of Port au Prince, the Most Rev. Alexius Guilloux; and he has\nfour suffragans, the bishops of Cap-Haitien, Les Cayes, Gonayves, and\nPort Paix. \u201cThe Rev. Dr. Holly\u201d has no more right to call himself bishop\nof Hayti than he has to call himself the Pope of Rome; but Mr. Bassett\ndeems it very hard indeed that the archbishop, the bishops, and the\nclergy of Hayti have taken the liberty of warning their people that \u201cthe\nRev. Dr. Holly\u201d is not bishop, and that his teachings that marriage is\nnot a sacrament, and that the first duty of a Christian is to revolt\nagainst the church, are not to be accepted. In May Mr. Bassett writes to\nMr. Evarts that \u201cthe Roman Catholic archbishop and his clergy have\nassumed a pretension to supremacy over the civil code, _notably in the\nmatter of marriage_\u201d; and in July he writes again a long letter upon\n\u201cthe introduction and growth of Protestantism in Hayti and its influence\nupon the government.\u201d He admits that in 1804 \u201cRomanism,\u201d which was\n\u201cthen, as now, the faith professed by a great majority of the Haytian\npeople,\u201d \u201cwas declared to be the religion of the state and placed under\nthe state\u2019s special protection and support,\u201d and that \u201cit still\ncontinues to enjoy that protection and support.\u201d But he complains that\n\u201cthe Roman priesthood have made many strongly-directed and persistent\nbut truly uncommendable efforts to cause to be suppressed, or\neffectively placed under ban, every other form of worship and belief\nthan their own.\u201d Mr. Bassett is not the only Protestant who cannot or\nwill not understand the difference between the duty of Catholic prelates\nin a country where heresy does not exist and where it is sought to be\nintroduced from outside, and their duty in countries like our own, where\ntheoretically all religions are placed on the same footing, and the\ngovernment is absolutely forbidden by its organic law to interfere in\nany way for the propagation of religious truth or the suppression of\nreligious error. The first ruler of Hayti who endeavored to introduce\nProtestantism into the island was, according to Mr. Bassett, \u201cHenri\nChristophe, the autocratic king of the north of Hayti,\u201d who in 1815,\nalthough \u201chimself a Roman Catholic,\u201d engaged a clergyman of the Church\nof England to propagate heresy in his dominions. But King Henri, five\nyears afterwards, \u201cdied by his own hand,\u201d and Protestantism made no\nfurther progress \u201cuntil, in 1861, the Protestant Episcopal Church of the\nUnited States was pleased to establish a mission with the Rev. J. T.\nHolly as its pastor.\u201d\n\n He hit upon the idea \u201cof raising up a national clergy in Hayti\u2014a\n policy which seems never to have been thought of by any other\n religious denomination in this country, and which opened a new road\n and gave a new impetus to Protestantism here. The mission continued\n to grow. It was encouraged and visited in 1863 by Bishop Lee, of\n Delaware; in 1866 by Bishop Burgess, of Maine; and in 1872 by Bishop\n Coxe, of Western New York; and finally the Rev. Dr. Holly was, at\n Grace Church, New York City, in 1874, ordained bishop of Hayti. So\n that since 1874 there has been established in Hayti an independent\n Protestant Church, with the distinguishing feature that all its\n clergy are citizens of the country, several of them educated in the\n United States under the vigilance of Bishop Holly.\u201d\n\nThere are ninety-three Catholic priests in Hayti, and of these nearly\nall are educated and cultured French gentlemen, who are undoubtedly far\nbetter able to discharge the duties of the priestly office than the\nnative apostates who have been \u201ceducated in the United States under the\nvigilance of Bishop Holly.\u201d But Mr. Bassett has the ignorant malice to\nvilify them and to display his own foolishness in this happy style:\n\n \u201cThe French Roman Catholic priest, in coming to Hayti, leaves behind\n him all his social ties, in the hope of returning to them within\n eight or ten years, the average period of his labors here. All that\n he receives while in the country, over and above his scanty personal\n wants, goes abroad to enrich France at the expense of the Haytian\n people, and he even bends his energies to accumulate. In addition to\n his salary from the government, which ranges from 20,000 francs to\n the archbishop to 1,200 francs to the country curate, he is allowed\n a tariff of prices for all public religious services performed by\n him. Baptisms, marriages, funerals, dispensations, indulgences,\n Masses for the dead\u2014services for each of these yield him by law a\n revenue ranging from 50 cents up to $50. Not only this, but he can\n collect offerings from the faithful, and it is even affirmed that\n many such offerings are made to him under the dread secrecy inspired\n by the confessional.\n\n \u201cIt is true that France lost open political control over this island\n in 1804, but by means of the Roman Catholic clergy she has\n maintained almost exclusive control over the religious affairs of\n these people. Indeed, the domination which she once held over their\n bodies was hardly more complete than that which she still holds over\n their consciences and spiritual susceptibilities. The priests, in\n their present controversy with the government, which is outlined in\n my No. 501 already referred to, do not fail to rely upon the\n spiritual subjugation of the Haytian to the papal system of Rome, in\n connection with their own supposed power over him as citizens of a\n country which once held him in physical bondage, and to whose\n interests they themselves are devoted.\n\n \u201cIn the light of these facts it is no cause for astonishment that\n the Haytian government, aroused and inspired by the policy and\n success of the Protestant Bishop Holly in raising up and\n establishing a national clergy for the Protestant Episcopal\n denomination, should seek to conserve its own integrity and the\n resources of its people, as well as to avoid continual\n misunderstandings with a class of foreigners resident here and\n shielded by the dignity of sacerdotal robes, by stimulating and\n encouraging the young men of the country to enter the ecclesiastical\n vocation.\n\n \u201cMeanwhile, it ought not to be unknown to those who feel bound by\n the holy injunction to have the Gospel preached to all the world\n that in Hayti the door stands wide open for every kind of Christian\n missionary work.\u201d\n\nAnd it is for writing such stuff as this that we pay Mr. Ebenezer\nBassett $7,500 a year\u2014that is to say, as much as is received by thirty\nof the \u201ccountry curates\u201d whom he reviles.\n\nOur space is limited, and we have but skimmed through our two Red Books.\nWe should have been glad to have followed the erratic flight of Mr.\nPartridge, our late minister to Brazil, who fills quires of paper with\nridiculous nonsense about \u201cthe exactions of Rome,\u201d the wickedness of\n\u201cthe ultramontane party,\u201d and the awful danger that the Brazilian\nministry \u201cwill yield to the demands of the Roman Curia.\u201d Nothing escapes\nthe birds-eye view of this Partridge; he unconsciously explains much\nthat would otherwise be mysterious by stating that the prime minister of\nthe cabinet is \u201ca member of the Masonic fraternity\u201d; but the scope of\nhis intellect is best shown by his remark that \u201cthe throwing of stones\nat the bishop of Rio, as he ascended the pulpit to preach,\u201d was \u201ca trick\nof the Jesuits.\u201d It would have been pleasant to congratulate Mr. Orth,\nwho was our representative at Vienna in 1876, upon his sagacity in\nadvocating, with hysterical warmth, the law for the virtual confiscation\nand destruction of the houses of the religious orders in Austria\u2014a\nmeasure denounced by Cardinal Schwarzenberg and thirty-one archbishops\nand bishops as \u201ca law which equally violates the equality and personal\nfreedom of the citizen, the dignity of religion, the honor of the\nCatholic Church, and the members of religious orders,\u201d but which, in Mr.\nOrth\u2019s opinion, was \u201csound and salutary, and demanded by the progressive\nspirit of the age.\u201d A page or two is deserved by Mr. Williamson, who\ngives us a history of a presidential campaign in Chili, in which all the\nvirtues are attributed to the Masonic candidate, and all that is\ndevilish is ascribed to \u201cthe church party,\u201d \u201cthe ultramontanes,\u201d and\n\u201cthe church.\u201d Delightful would it be to tarry with Mr. Scruggs, our\ntalented and courteous minister at Bogota, who commences one of his\ndespatches thus: \u201cIn April last one Bermudez, a bishop of the Roman\nCatholic Church, proclaimed against the public-school system of this\nrepublic,\u201d and who gives an account of the events which followed,\nclosing his glowing periods with the cheerful assurance that \u201cthe church\nproperty will probably be appropriated to pay the war debt.\u201d The letters\nof our Mr. Rublee, at Berne, apropos of the Old-Catholic schism in\nSwitzerland; of our Mr. Nicholas Fish, who during a brief interregnum\nrepresented us at Berlin; and of several of our other agents, furnish\nequally tempting matter for comment. But we must pass by them with the\nremark that none of them are quite so outrageous as those of Mr.\nBassett, Mr. Beale, and Mr. Marsh.\n\nThe present administration has made changes in six of our most important\nembassies. Mr. Kasson has been appointed to Vienna, Mr. Stoughton to St.\nPetersburg, Mr. Hilliard to Brazil, Mr. Lowell to Madrid, Mr. Welsh to\nLondon, and Mr. Bayard Taylor to Berlin. It goes without saying that\nnone of these gentlemen have received any diplomatic training. Mr.\nKasson is a respectable provincial lawyer, who has sat in Congress, and\nwho rendered important services to his party by going to Florida and\ntaking care that the electoral vote of that State was properly counted.\nWhat he knows about Austria, and how he may deport himself there,\nremains to be seen. Without being extravagant, one may indulge the hope\nthat he may prove to be an improvement upon Mr. Beale. Mr. Welsh is an\nold and worthy merchant of Philadelphia, a prominent member of the\nProtestant Episcopal Church, and an extensive dealer in sugars: but we\nhave yet to learn what are his qualifications for the weighty duties of\nminister to the court of St. James. Mr. Lowell is a poet, a man of\nletters, and a scholar who has done honor to his country; but we should\nbe inclined to doubt his fitness for managing our commercial and\npolitical affairs at the court of King Alfonso. Mr. Taylor is a good\njournalist, in a certain way; he has been a traveller of some\nexperience, and he is an ardent admirer and a close student of Schiller\nand of Goethe; but he has himself been swift to disclaim the idea that\nthese things made him fit for the post to which he has been appointed,\nand he rather ridiculed the notion that he had been appointed minister\nto Berlin in order that he might there finish his great work\u2014a new\nbiography of Goethe. There is much to be said on both sides of the\nquestion, \u201cIs it worth while to keep up our diplomatic service at all?\u201d\nWe should be inclined to take the affirmative; but we are not disposed\nto enter into the discussion at present. One thing, however, is certain,\nand that is the necessity of freeing the service from the weight of men\nlike Marsh, Beale, Partridge, Orth, Williamson, and Scruggs. There are\nothers as bad, but these will serve as types of the worst. In no sense\ncan they be said to rightly represent this great, free, and noble\npeople; in every sense they may be said to misrepresent the Catholic\npopulation of the republic, whose interests, rights, and feelings can no\nlonger be, as they never ought to have been, safely trampled upon by any\nadministration or by any party. Whatever party does this betrays an\nun-American spirit; its policy is a bad one both for the country and\nitself, and unless it changes for the better its reign will be short.\n\n\n\n\n THE ARCHIEPISCOPAL PALACE AT BENEVENTUM.[51]\n\n\nBeneventum is a small town of about fifteen thousand inhabitants,\nsituated geographically in the kingdom of Naples. It formerly depended,\nspiritually and temporally, on the Holy See, which also held\njurisdiction over part of the territory of the ancient duchy; the other\npart being subject to the king of Naples as to temporal affairs, and to\nthe archbishop of Beneventum as to those of a spiritual nature.\n\nThe archiepiscopal palace, or the _episcopio_, to use the old term,\nstands in its proper place, next the cathedral, flanking the apsis. One\nof the wings faces the market square, where public gratitude has erected\na marble statue to Pope Benedict XIII., the immortal benefactor of the\ncity, of which he had been archbishop under the title of Cardinal\nOrsini. The entrance is to the south. At the west, from the garden\nterrace, or the windows of the _conventino_, is a superb view over a\nfertile valley, the verdure of which extends up the very sides of the\nmountains that fade away in bluish tints on the horizon. It is at once\nin the city from the proximity of the inhabitants, and in the country as\nto its pure air, calm solitude, and the enchanting aspect of a landscape\nthat always commands attention and admiration.\n\nThe building is not, strictly speaking, a palace.[52] It is large and\nspacious, but not lofty or elegant. Nothing in its exterior bespeaks its\noccupant. It might be taken for a theological seminary or a convent,\nwrapped as it is in gloomy silence, and surrounded by thick walls. Its\ngeneral appearance is dismal and unattractive. Only an arch\u00e6ologist\nwould take any pleasure in examining the huge stones of which the walls\nare built. These stones were hewn out in the time of the Romans, and\nmore than one have the characteristic _trou de louve_ by which they were\nraised and put in place. They were probably taken from the amphitheatre,\nfor the misfortune that made the Coliseum at Rome an inexhaustible\nquarry for the construction of so many palaces, like the Farnese,\nBarberini, etc., also befell the theatre of Beneventum, of which but a\nbare outline remains, though great blocks from it are to be found at\nevery step in the private dwellings and the walls that surround the\ncity. After the earthquakes of June 5, 1688, and March 4, 1702, the\nexterior of the palace was greatly modified by Cardinal Orsini, but the\nbuilding, as a whole, is ancient, and many features of the walls, like\nthe belfry of the cathedral, carry us back to the middle ages. Let us\nstudy it in detail, for in more than one respect it presents a model\nworthy of imitation.[53]\n\nThe portal of the palace is monumental. It has a semi-circular arch,\nwhich is more graceful than a square entrance, and more conformable to\necclesiastical traditions. And the tympanum which fits into the arch or\nogive offers ample space to the sculptor or painter for decoration.\nAgainst the lintel rest the folding doors. These are open all day,\nhowever, for the house of a bishop is like that of a father who cannot\nshut out his children. Above are the arms of Cardinal Orsini, carven in\nstone. Two other scutcheons once hung beside them: one of Pius IX.,\ndestroyed when his temporal power was suppressed in the duchy of\nBeneventum\u2014that is, in 1860, when the kingdom of Naples was overrun by\nthe Garibaldian hordes; the other that of Cardinal Carafa, the actual\narchbishop, who was driven into exile, and whose palace was devastated.\n\nTwo enormous lions, taken from the front of the Duomo, stand at the\nsides of the entrance. They have come down from Roman times. They are\nnot of remarkable workmanship, but the outlines are good. There is life\nin their partly stretched-out forms, and pride in the pose of their\nheads. The paws are pressed resolutely together. One of them grasps a\nhead covered with a helmet, and the other the remains, probably, of one\nof those nude children to be seen in the mouths of the crouching lions\nwatching at the doors of the churches at Rome, symbolic of helplessness\nand innocence that need aid and protection from the strong. When the\nlion is represented crushing a beast or holding a warrior\u2019s head, it\nsignifies the vice to be overcome, the enemy to be annihilated.\n\nSome look upon the lion as the emblem of justice. This queen of the\ncardinal virtues is generally represented as a woman with various\nattributes, such as the book of the law, the balance wherein actions are\nweighed, the sword to smite the guilty, the eagle to show her imperial\nnature, and the globe indicating the extent of her empire. On the public\nsquare at Bari is to be seen a lion of the twelfth century, with the\nbrief but significant inscription, CVSTOS IVSTICIE, on its collar. The\nlion, then, does not represent justice itself. That virtue is only\nexercised in the temple, either by God or by his representative. But the\nlion stands, like the guardian of Justice, watching at the door of the\nHoly Place in which she has taken up her abode. Nothing, then, could be\nmore suitable for the door of a bishop, the unflinching enemy of vice as\nwell as the sure protector of virtue, than these two lions, type of the\npower conferred by the church on her ministers. And they are specially\nemblematic of the firmness and energy of Cardinal Orsini, who had them\nplaced here.\n\nThe wall through which the gateway is cut is bordered by a line of\nmerlons, the peculiar form of which reminds one of Cordova and the\nAlhambra. They produce a picturesque effect, but are not of the\nslightest utility. They are the relics of feudal authority and power,\nthe last vestige of which is the annual payment of the _cath\u00e9dratique_,\nidentical with the nominal tribute some lords required of their vassals,\nof no importance in itself, but typical of the honor due from the\ninferior to the pre-eminence of his lawful chief\u2014_in signum pr\u00e6eminenti\u00e6\net honoris_, to quote the holy canons revived by Cardinal Orsini, and\nmaintained to our day, particularly in this point, by the collateral\ndescendant of Pope Paul IV., who for more than thirty years has occupied\nthe see of Beneventum.\n\nFrom the top of the wall rises one of those small open belfries called\nbell-gables. It is of the most primitive construction, being a mere\nextension of a part of the wall through which an opening for a bell has\nbeen made. It terminates in a gable like a mitre, on which are an iron\ncross _fleurdelis\u00e9e_ and a small vane to mark the direction of the wind.\nThe cross is always appropriate for a belfry, large or small, if not\nobligatory, as Anastasius the Bibliothecarius insists in his works. The\nvane is no less traditional at Rome, where it is generally in the shape\nof a little banner (the origin of which is quite feudal), wherein the\narmorial ensigns are so cut as to be emblazoned against the azure sky.\nHere the vane is shaped like a flame. It once bore the arms of the\nresident archbishop, but the rain has washed off the color, and the\nsurface is now corroded by rust.\n\nThe small bell is of the kind called _nola_. In ancient times it was\nrung whenever the archbishop left his palace or re-entered it, as the\nbells of St. Peter\u2019s at Rome announce the visit and departure of the\npope. Later it only rang when he set out on a journey and at his coming\nback. Now it is mute, and no longer announces his appearance in public\nor his return to the palace.\n\nPassing through the gateway, we come to the court. On the left are the\ncarriage and store houses, and, beyond, the saddle-room, which was quite\nbrilliant in former times when the cardinals went forth in gala array.\nAt the right is an arched passage leading to the interior of the palace,\nand further on is the porter\u2019s lodge, formerly the guard-house of the\n_curia armata_.\n\nAround the court are many ancient monuments and inscriptions, which\nconstitute a small museum, begun long since by the archbishops. There is\nan Egyptian obelisk of red granite, broken in two, which once stood in\nthe cathedral court. It is covered from top to bottom with hieroglyphics\nrelating to the deeds of some old king. Domitian consecrated it to Isis.\nOn another side are three fragments of fine marble columns: one of\n_cipollino_, so called on account of its greenish veins, which resemble\nthose of an onion, in Italian _cipolla_; the second, of what is called\n_porta santa_, because the casing of the door in the Vatican basilica,\nopened only at the Jubilee, is of this marble, which is of a pale violet\ncolor, or a purple that has lost its freshness; and the third is of\n_breccia corallina_, the white ground of which is relieved by reddish\nveins.\n\nThe ancient inscriptions collected here, whether sepulchral, votive, or\ncommemorative, are not rare. But they are noteworthy for their clearness\nand brevity. How expressive, for instance, are these four lines\nconsecrated to the _manes_ of Vibbius Optatus, who died in the flower of\nyouth:\n\n D. M. A. Vibbio . Opta\n To. Vix. An. XI. M. XI. D. XIX.\n Parent. Infelicissimi\n Fecer.\n\nThe unfortunate parents had no illustrious name to bequeath to\nposterity. The discreet marble only echoes a profound grief.\n\nHere is a landmark, rounded at the top, and hewn to a point at the\nbottom, the better to insert it in the ground, that once stood on the\nAppian Way, which passes triumphantly through the arch raised to the\nglory of Trajan at one end of Beneventum.\n\nBeneventum, which copied Rome, even in the device of its senate: S. P.\nQ. B.\u2014_Senatus populusque Beneventanus_\u2014had a magistrature of ediles at\nits head, who made generous provision for the embellishment of the city.\nHere is a pedestal on which this municipal corps pompously proclaimed\nitself:\n\n Splendidissimus ordo Beneventanorum.\n\nOne cannot help exclaiming, in view of the present order of things:\n\n \u201cComment en un plomb vil l\u2019or pur s\u2019est-il chang\u00e9!\u201d\n\n How into vile dross hath the pure gold changed!\n\nThe Romans loved statuary, and were lavish of it in all their public as\nwell as private dwellings. Above all, their sculptors produced\ndivinities and illustrious men, but sometimes the principal members of a\nhousehold, if not the whole family, to adorn the _atrium_. Who does not\nremember the Balbus family in the Museum at Naples, the father and son\non horseback, and the rest gathered around them? Here we find several\nstatues, both nude and draped. Nudity was chiefly confined to heroes and\nthe gods. It signified apotheosis\u2014the ascension to a higher world. The\nterrestrial garb was laid aside; only a glorified body remained. Pagan\nart showed itself incapable of fully expressing a state indicated in the\nmiddle ages by a radiance surrounding the transfigured body. We have an\nadmirable example of the immediate change to the glorified state in\nPerugino\u2019s immortal production in the Sala del Cambio at Perugia. There\nthe bankers and money-changers have constantly before their eyes a\nsymbol of the change wrought by divine power on a body in the state of\ncelestial beatitude. Paganism divested the body of its garments, but did\nnot render it luminous. It only invented a symbol which the church has\nretained to designate the saints\u2014the nimbus around the head, as the most\nnoble part of man because the seat of the intelligence. But it could go\nno further. From Apollo, who alone had the nimbus in the beginning to\nexpress in a measure the luminous atmosphere of the sun, personified in\nhim, it passed to other divinities, and finally even to those to whom\nthe senate accorded the title of divine, thus becoming the equivalent of\n_divus_. It is really amusing to see, on the Arch of Constantine at\nRome, the Emperor Trajan so divinized that his bare head is surrounded\nby a nimbus, though he is engaged in the chase. The nude among the\nRomans was, therefore, a conventional way of expressing what was right\nin substance, the immutation wrought by glory, and was not intended to\nexcite ignoble passion. In other cases their statues were modestly\ndraped, though sometimes a little too much of the form was revealed by\nthe clinging folds of the garments.\n\nThere are several sarcophagi in the court, with nothing extraordinary\nabout them, but even in the most unpretending affording proof of\nartistic taste. They are adorned with scenic masques, vases of fruit,\nthe genii of the seasons, etc., which have their significance and are\nnot without poetry. Here is one with a medallion of its former occupant\nin the centre\u2014a portrait full of life and animation, as if he still were\nunder illusion as to his nothingness. It is supported by two genii,\nwinged and nude, as if bearing him to the celestial regions\u2014winged,\nbecause they are fulfilling a mission; nude, to indicate their celestial\norigin. This emblem was common in ancient times. The middle ages did\nnothing but Christianize it by substituting angels for genii, and\nplacing in their hands, not the body, but the soul, of the deceased,\nabout to receive the reward of his sanctity and good works. We see them\non the tomb of King Dagobert, in the abbatial church of St. Denis,\nsnatching the soul of the king from the demon who was endeavoring to\nbear it away.\n\nBut we have lingered too long in the precincts. Let us enter the palace,\nand first visit the prisons\u2014for prisons there are, the archbishop of\nBeneventum, as we have said, having formerly a twofold jurisdiction,\ntemporal as well as spiritual. His tribunal of justice imposed the\ncanonical penalties. Fines seem to have been specially employed, for\namong the officials of the Curia there was one to receive and apply them\nto some religious object. At the same time there was a register in which\nthey were faithfully recorded. There were, too, different degrees of\nimprisonment. In the _carcere alla larga_ there was comparative liberty.\nThe _purgatorio_ indicates a temporary expiation. The _inferno_ was\nperhaps the prison from which death alone could be looked forward to as\na release. The two latter correspond to the _carcere duro_ of the\nVenetians. There are similar ones, but not so spacious, in the\ngovernor\u2019s castle overlooking Beneventum, which also bore the terrible\nnames of _purgatorio_ and _inferno_.[54] Cardinal Orsini, who, though\nsevere, was of a humane disposition, visited these prisons in 1704, at\nwhich time there were only three prisoners, it appears, from the report\nof his visit. After assuring himself that the vaults were in a good\ncondition, capable of resisting all efforts at escape, _confornicat\u00e6 et\nproinde tut\u00e6_, he saw the necessity of obviating the dampness of the\nground by a brick pavement, _ut humiditas arceatur_, and ordered the\n_inferno_ to be closed for ever, because, as he said, it was a very damp\nand atrocious place. A thoughtfulness so full of humanity is something\nto dwell on. The very text should be cited: \u201cEminentissimus\narchiepiscopus utpote humidissimam et immanissimam claudi demandavit et\nquod sub p\u0153na excommunicationis nemo ibi detendatur.\u201d The prisoners must\nhave been delighted at a threat so much to their advantage.\n\nThe cardinal, preoccupied also with their spiritual condition, found\nmeans of providing them with a chapel where they could attend Mass and\non festivals hear a sermon. Their cells were sprinkled with holy water\nto drive away the malign spirit, and ornamented with pictures of\ndevotion. They were forbidden to play cards or read bad books, and were\nto go to confession six times a year\u2014at Christmas, Easter, Whitsunday,\nSt. Peter\u2019s day, Assumption, and All Saints. Every month the\nvicar-general visited them to listen to their grievances, remove all\ngrounds of complaint, and assure himself that all orders had been\nexecuted. And the cardinal, who always kept an eye on everything\nhimself, went to see them twice a year.\n\nOne item in the register of accounts is particularly touching. Cardinal\nOrsini increased the ration of bread from time to time at his own\nexpense, and had a fire made in the winter, that the prisoners might not\nsuffer from the cold.\n\nThe three soldiers employed to make the necessary arrests were under the\ncommand of a _baricello_, or corporal, all of whom, with the jailer,\nwere lodged in the _guardiola_ beside the arched passage which connects\nthe two interior courts.\n\nThe second court is bounded on one side by the sacristy of the\ncathedral, and on the other by the stables and the jubilee hospice. The\nstables, built by Mgr. Pacca (of the same family from which the cardinal\nof that name descended), are large enough for about twenty horses\u2014none\ntoo many for the archbishop and his suite, for his visits could not\nalways be made in a carriage. Even in our day a cross-bearer precedes\nhis eminence on horseback, clothed in a violet cassock and _mantellone_,\nand in former times the _cort\u00e9ge_ must have been much more imposing.\n\nThe hospice affords a proof of Cardinal Orsini\u2019s inexhaustible charity.\nHe had before built a special asylum for pilgrims, not far from the\npalace, under the title of St. Bartholomew, patron of the city. There is\nnothing left now to remind one of it, except a narrow street still\ncalled the _Via dei pellegrini_. But on extraordinary occasions, as at\nthe time of a jubilee, this asylum was insufficient, and the cardinal\naccordingly set apart a whole wing of his palace to lodge those who came\nto Beneventum or were on their way to Rome to gain the indulgence of the\nHoly Year. This hospice had two entrances to admit the sexes separately:\none opening into the first court, the other into the second. The latter\nhas on its lintel this inscription, which gives the precise date and\nobject of the foundation:\n\n Xenodochivm Archiepiscopale\n Vrsinvm pro An. Ivbil\u00e6i MDCC.\n\nNor was the cardinal content to give them benches and tables in such\nnumbers as still to be spoken of. He had the bare walls relieved by\npaintings of some religious subject. In the room where public prayers\nwere offered and the rosary sung, as it still is daily in the cathedral\nto a peculiar air handed down by tradition, was painted Our Lady of the\nRosary, with St. Dominic and St. Catharine of Siena at her feet. In the\nrefectory was depicted a scene from the life of the Blessed Ambrogio\nSansedoni, a Dominican friar. He was in the habit of serving five\npilgrims in honor of the five wounds of our Lord. One day, while waiting\non his guests, his eyes being opened by the Holy Spirit, denoted by the\nwhite dove on his shoulder, he saw with astonishment that they were five\nangels sent by God to reward his charity. In the room where the\npilgrims\u2019 feet were washed is to be seen the Blessed Andrea de Franchi,\nalso a Dominican, humbly prostrate before a pilgrim who afterwards\nreveals himself to be the Saviour.\n\nIn the arched passage we find a staircase, leading on the one hand to\nthe hall of state, and on the other to the curia. Taking the latter\ndirection, we pass beneath a statue of St. Philip Neri, larger than\nlife, for which reason it is called St. Filippone. Before it burns a\nvotive lamp, a tribute of gratitude from Cardinal Orsini. Higher up are\ntwo medallions of the fifteenth century: one of the Blessed Virgin\nmodestly veiled, her hands folded, borne to heaven by two angels; the\nother represents St. Mark with his usual attribute, the winged lion. The\nwalls of the court-room are enlivened by a series of landscapes,\nalternating with the Orsini arms, but the most appropriate decoration is\nthe sentence from the writings of St. Jerome:\n\n Privsqvam avdias\n Ne Ivdicaveris\n Qvemqvam\n D. Hieron:\n De Sept: eccl.\n Gradibvs.\n\nTo judge no one without first hearing him is one of those axioms it\nseems useless to repeat, and yet how many precipitate judgments, how\nmany sentences that would not be rendered, were so obvious a duty\nheeded!\n\nThe metropolitan archives are between the chancery and the office of the\nvicar-general, which pour into it every week a mass of official\ndocuments for preservation. On the ceiling are emblazoned the arms of\nCardinal Banditi, who fitted up the room with conveniences for the\nregisters and papers, distributing them, according to their contents,\namong the large pigeon-holes which extend from the floor to the very\nceiling, and are literally crammed with documents. To find one\u2019s way\nthrough such an accumulation requires the sagacity and good memory of an\narchivist like the present one, whose patience is only equalled by his\nwish to oblige. Beneventum is full of such excellent priests, who are\nready to spend their leisure moments in aiding you in your researches.\n\nIt is here Cardinal Orsini may best be studied, and that we can learn to\nwhat an extent he sacrificed himself for his flock, thereby meriting to\nbecome, by the unanimous suffrage of the Sacred College, the successor\nof Pope Innocent XIII. His incessant activity is shown by the _Diario_\nof six volumes in folio in which, till his elevation to the Papacy, his\nsecretary, day by day, noted down the most minute details of his\nofficial life. It begins December 1, 1685, the date of his preconization\nas archbishop of Beneventum by Pope Innocent XI.\n\nThe contents refer chiefly to his pastoral visits, ordinations, both\nregular and extraordinary; assisting at the offices of the cathedral,\npreaching in pontificals with seven deacons around him; confirmation,\nwith examination of the children on the eve; general communions,\nbaptisms, visits to the dying, visits of devotion to churches;\nconsecration of bishops, churches, altars, and chalices; blessings of\nall kinds, including vestments; religious professions; processions\nwearing the red hat; attending lectures on the Holy Scriptures by a\ntheologian; exposition of the Blessed Sacrament, absolution of the\nexcommunicated, synods, provincial councils, consultations in cases of\nconscience, instructions to the people after the Gospel, saying the\nrosary with the faithful, teaching children the catechism, journeys,\netc., etc.\n\nAt the end of the year a summary was made of his principal labors. We\ngive that of the year 1694: Cardinal Orsini baptized 67 children and\nconfirmed 13,851; conferred orders on 841 clerks, 503 porters, 450\nlectors, 449 exorcists, 435 acolytes, 436 subdeacons, 434 deacons, and\n457 priests; consecrated 12 bishops, 100 churches, 100 stationary\naltars, 500 portable altars, 176 patens, and 188 chalices; blessed 5\nabbots and 4 abbesses; received the profession of 88 nuns; performed 6\nmarriages; administered extreme unction 8 times; placed 13\ncorner-stones, and blessed 14 cemeteries and 234 bells.\n\nWhat a proof of his activity, combined with a very complicated\nadministration! But let us cite a few items from this unpretending\ndiary:\n\n \u201cIn the evening I kept vigil before the relics exposed in the church\n to be consecrated on the morrow.\n\n \u201cIn the morning I solemnly consecrated the church of the Most Holy\n Annunciation at Jelsi, preached to the congregation, and then said\n Low Mass. This church is the CXXXV.\n\n \u201cI solemnly administered the sacrament of confirmation in the church\n to 34 boys and 24 girls, in all 58.\n\n \u201cAssisted _in cappa_ at a sermon on the Blessed Sacrament by one of\n the students of my seminary.\n\n \u201cAssisted _in cappa_ at the Mass of the feria, chanted (it was in\n Lent), and at the sermon.\n\n \u201cAt Fragnitello I was received with the usual ceremonies, but, what\n was unusual (and this greatly affected me), all the men, women, and\n children came out to meet me a mile distant, with olive branches in\n their hands, showing by this manifestation the joy in their hearts.\n God be for ever blessed!\u201d\n\nAt the end of the year the cardinal signed the register to guarantee the\nauthenticity of the contents. He adopted this formula:\n\n\u201cAnnus 1695, Deo propitio, hic terminatur.\n\n\u201cIta est. Ego fr. Vin. Mar. card. archiepiscopus m(_anu_) p(_ropria_).\u201d\n\nThe old palaces had a hall of state for exceptional occasions, when the\nbishop had to appear in all his dignity. There is such an apartment\nhere, and it is of grand proportions. It is adorned with the portraits\nand arms of the prelates who have occupied the see, with a concise\nnotice of each. Among them are fourteen saints and two _beati_: viz.,\nSS. Photinus, Januarius, Dorus, Apollonius, Cassian, Januarius II.,\nEmilius, John, Tamarus, Sophus, Marcian, Zeno, Barbato, and Milon. The\nlatter belongs to the eleventh century, St. Photinus to the first, and\nthe remainder range between the fourth and seventh. The Blessed Giacomo\nCapocci and Blessed Monaldi lived in the fourteenth century. Let us\nhope, as the cause has been introduced, we may soon add the Venerable\nOrsini.\n\nFrom St. Photinus to his Eminence Cardinal Carafa di Traeto there are\nfifty-one bishops and seventy-one archbishops. The see was not made\narchiepiscopal till the year 969, during the pontificate of Pope John\nXIII. Of the twenty-three cardinal archbishops two became popes:\nAlexander Farnese, under the name of Paul III.; and Cardinal Orsini,\nunder that of Benedict XIII. Three other popes were likewise from\nBeneventum\u2014St. Felix (526), Victor III. (1086), and Gregory VIII.\n(1187).\n\nAs an example of the concise and elegant manner in which these prelates\u2019\nlives are noticed, we give that of St. Milon, a native of Auvergne:\n\n \u201cLIX. Archiep. VIII. S. Milo ex Arvernia\n in Gallia oriundus, VIII. Beneventanus\n archiepiscopus, ille idem qui\n pietate et literis Stephanum Grandimontensis\n famili\u00e6 fundatorem erudivit. Provincialem\n synodum consummavit A.D.\n MLXXV. Obiit die XXIII. Februarii\n A.D. MLXXVI. cum sedisset paucis\n supra annum mensibus.\u201d\n\nAbove these records of the bishops is a long array of armorial ensigns,\nin which, unfortunately, the arms and seal are often confounded, though\nessentially different. The archbishops of Beneventum have used for ages\na seal of lead on their diplomas and licenses, similar to the bulla of\nthe popes. On one side, separated by a cross, are the heads of the\nBlessed Virgin, titular of the cathedral, and of St. Bartholomew, the\npatron of the city and diocese. On the other side are the name and title\nof the actual archbishop. This seal, in spite of the principles of\narch\u00e6ology and heraldry, is given as a coat of arms to the bishops who\nhad none, beginning with St. Photinus, and continuing to the seventh\ncentury. From the time of St. Barbato, who died in 682, another seal is\nadded in _parti_ to the bulla, representing a bishop on horseback\ncrossing a bridge and precipitating a dragon into the water. This is\ndoubtless St. Barbato himself, and perhaps refers to the golden viper\nwhich he abolished the worship of at Beneventum, transforming it into a\nchalice, on which, says tradition, was graven the Lord\u2019s Supper.[55]\nThis counter-seal is maintained from the seventh to the eleventh\ncentury, when the bulla is resumed under Amelius (1072).\n\nThe first arms really heraldic make their appearance under Cardinal\nRoger, the sixteenth archbishop, who died in 1221. The red hat is found\non the escutcheons of the twelfth century, though not conceded to\ncardinals till about a hundred years later (at the Council of Lyons),\nand not to be seen on their arms before the fourteenth century. But this\nmay be on the same principle that St. Jerome is usually represented with\na cardinal\u2019s hat at his side.\n\nThe bulla, seal, and arms, from the first, bear the tiara and crosier.\nThe latter adds nothing to the significance, and does not imply any\nspecial privilege, being common to bishops and abbots. As to the tiara,\neven with a single crown at the base, it is a manifest usurpation. The\narchbishops of Beneventum, it is true, wore it in the middle ages, as is\nshown by a document of the fourteenth century and the reliefs on the\nbronze doors of the cathedral. But Paul II., and later St. Pius V., by a\n_motu proprio_, the original of which is to be seen in the archives of\nthe chapter, condemned the practice in formal terms. If the tiara is no\nlonger admissible on ceremonial occasions, why retain it on the arms?\nAnd this tiara is boldly surrounded by a nimbus when placed over the\narms of the canonized bishops, though none of them ever wore it, with\nthe exception, perhaps, of St. Milon. The nimbus is suitable for the\nhead, which represents the whole body, whereas the covering of the head,\nhowever sonorous its name or rich its make, should not have an emblem\nwhich denotes elevation on our altars and a claim to public veneration.\nThis would be a grave error, infringing on the liturgy as well as\niconography.\n\nThe archbishops of Beneventum had a mania for imitating the pope. Thus,\nthey wore the tiara, had the Blessed Sacrament borne before them in\ntheir visits, styled themselves _Servus servorum Dei_, issued diplomas\nin solemn form after the style of the Cancellaria, sealed them _sub\nplumbo_, and imposed on the bishops of the province the annual visit _ad\nlimina B. Bartholom\u00e6i apostoli_. Of all these usurpations, only the\ntiara remains on the arms, and the bulla on the licenses; but even these\nare too much, for the tiara and bulla are essentially papal, and\nrightfully belong to the Sovereign Pontiff alone.\n\nOn the walls of the apartment are painted _en cama\u00efeu_ all the sainted\nbishops of Beneventum in simulated niches, clothed pontifically, with\nthe tiara on their heads. One alone has a distinguishing attribute\u2014St.\nBarbato, who has in his hand the viper of gold. St. Photinus, according\nto the Diptychon of Beneventum, was ordained and sent here by St. Peter\nin the year 40. He is believed to be of Greek origin. From him to St.\nJanuarius, who was martyred in 305, is a long interval with no names,\nthough tradition tells us the see had eleven occupants in the time. This\nloss of names is said to be owing to Diocletian, who ordered the\nwritings of Christians to be destroyed. There is a similar vacancy in\nall the sees in France, but this is no argument against their apostolic\norigin. The first founders might receive their mission from St. Peter or\nhis immediate successors, and the difficulties of the times might\nprevent their being at once replaced. The churches had to exist as best\nthey could for a long period, and were perhaps governed by bishops with\nno fixed residence or distinct territory.\n\nTo complete the parallel with Rome, Beneventum is said to have had a\nwoman for one of its bishops, as the papal see, according to its\nenemies, was fraudulently occupied by Pope Joan. Cardinal Orsini\nspiritedly replies to this calumny in the noble words inscribed next the\nname of Bishop Enrico, who died in 1170: \u201c_Ex errore in necrologio\nmonialium S. Petri orta fuit fabula de Sebastiana moniali pro\narchiepiscopo habita ne fabula sua vacaret Beneventana Sedes in hac\nSebastiana ut Romana de sua Johanna_.\u201d This calumny sprang from a false\ninterpretation of the record in the necrology of the abbey of San Pietro\nfor November 29: \u201c_Obiit archiepiscopus et Sebastian. mon._\u201d The\narchbishop and the nun might certainly die on the same day, without\nbeing, on that account, one and the same person.\n\nOn the east wall of the hall is painted the city of Beneventum,\nsurrounded by the principal towns of the diocese and the sees of the\nsuffragans. As their number is considerable, the frescos are continued\nin the passage leading to the sacristy. They are not without interest,\nthough perhaps maps would be preferable, after the manner of those, so\nstriking and complete, which adorn the gallery of Gregory XIII. at the\nVatican.\n\nAs conferences and ecclesiastical assemblies, as well as the _Mandatum_\non Holy Thursday, were held in this hall, there is a permanent throne of\ncarved wood, but it stands between the windows on one side, instead of\nbeing at the end _in capite aul\u00e6_, the proper place, where the entrance\nnow is from the private apartments.\n\nOne of the doors in the hall opens into the Monte di Piet\u00e0, founded by\nCardinal Orsini to relieve the poor of his diocese, where money was lent\non articles pledged and without the least interest, conformably to the\nbulls of Leo X. and Paul V., which definitely regulated such\ninstitutions. He established, moreover, a _Mons Frumentarius_, or wheat\nfund, to furnish grain to the poor in want of bread, or to sow, at the\nmere recommendation of their curate, and inscribed over the door\nappropriate texts from Holy Writ, showing him to be the comforter of the\npoor:\n\n _Mons frumentarius Beneventanus erectus anno Domini 1694._\n\n _Factus es fortitudo pauperi, fortitudo egeno_[56] (Isaias xxv.)\n\n _Eripiet de angustia[57] pauperem_ (Job xxxvi.)\n\nRevolutions have naturally put an end to these charitable institutions,\nwithout substituting anything more to the advantage of the people, but\nthey cannot efface the memory of the incomparable prelate who founded\nthem. Canonico Feuli has reason to say in his _Bulletino Ecclesiastico_\nthat \u201cothers may equal Orsini, but can never surpass him.\u201d\n\nAt the top of the staircase is a kind of _marquise_, supported by\nelegant columns, before the door leading to the private apartments.\nAbove are the Orsini arms of inlaid marbles, the colors conformed to the\nrules of heraldry, and the inscription:\n\n Fr. Vinc. Maria. Ord. Pr\u00e6d. Card. Ursino. Archiep. An. MDCCVIII.\n\nwhich reminds us that Cardinal Orsini belonged to the Dominican Order.\nEven when pope he continued to be a _frate_. From him emanated the\ncelebrated constitution which admonished bishops chosen from the regular\norders to remember, by the color of their costume, the solemn profession\nthey had once made.\n\nThe most striking thing in the antechamber is a double band of\nemblematic medallions on the walls, with explanatory mottoes, such as\nwere popular in the sixteenth century. They all refer to the obligations\nof a bishop, and evidently allude to Cardinal Orsini as the model of\none. They begin with the holy name of God in Greek, with the _Sanctus,\nSanctus, Sanctus_, the angels\u2019 eternal song of praise. We will rapidly\nreview the other emblems here employed to raise the mind from the\nvisible to the invisible, the material to the spiritual.\n\nThe telescope, which enables the human eye to penetrate the profound\nmysteries of the heavens. So the spiritual world is opened by prayer and\nmeditation. _Alta a longe cognoscit_ (Ps. cxxxvii. 6).\n\nA dog, guarding the fold: emblem of pastoral vigilance. _Vt vitam\nhabeant_ (St. John x. 10).\n\nThe mitre, supported by a column: episcopal firmness. _Firmalitvr et non\nflectetvr_ (Ecclus. xv. 3).\n\nThe wine-press overflowing with the juice of the grape: emblem of the\nspiritual harvest. _Vt fructvm plvs afferat_ (St. John xv. 2).\n\nA clock, which tells the hours and minutes: the value of time.\n_Particvla non te pr\u00e6tereat_ (Ecclus. xiv. 14).\n\nThe crane, emblem of vigilance, because it was formerly believed to\nsleep on one foot; the other holding a stone, which, when it fell, awoke\nit. _Excvbat in custodiis_ (Num. xviii. 4).\n\nThe horse, held in check by a vigorous hand: self-government. _Ne\ndeclines in ira_ (Ps. xxvi. 9).\n\nThe elephant, believed every morning to adore the sun at its rising:\nhumility before God. _Hvmiliat semetipsvm_ (Philipp. ii. 8).\n\nThe lamp which burns and gives light: figure of the bishop consuming\nhimself for others. _Vt ardeat et lvceat_ (St. John v. 35).[58]\n\nThe pelican, nourishing its young with the blood from its own breast: a\nlively expression of extreme devotedness. _Reficiam vos_ (St. Matt. xi.\n28).\n\nThe crosier is the shepherd\u2019s crook. It terminates with a graceful hook\nfor the purpose of drawing the lambs more gently. It was once a saying:\n\u201cIt is good to live under the crosier!\u201d _Svm pastor bonvs_ (St. John x.\n2).\n\nThe sun, shedding its rays on a balance: equity under the inflexible eye\nof God. _\u00c6qvitatem vidit vvltvs eivs_ (Ps. x. 8).\n\nThe honeycomb, in which the bee deposits its honey gathered from the\nflowers: activity and sweetness. _Mansvetvm exaltant_ (Ps. cxlix. 4).\n\nThe stag, which, according to an old notion, attracted serpents by its\nbreath in order to exterminate them: the might of the Holy Spirit, of\nwhich a bishop is the organ. _Flavit Spiritvs eivs_ (Ps. cxlvii. 18).\n\nThe trumpet, which, though sonorous, can give forth sweet notes. _In\nspiritv lenitatis_ (Gal. vi. 1).\n\nThe mill, turned by the water, grinds wheat to feed the hungry. A\nbishop, above all, should be the father of the poor and needy. _Frangit\nesvrienti_ (Isai. lviii. 7).\n\nA painting representing the sun: the divine attributes should be\nreproduced in a bishop. _In eandem imaginem_ (2 Cor. iii. 18).\n\nThe fox, emblem of the transgressor, flies before the dog, symbol of\nepiscopal vigilance. _A facie tva fvgiam_ (Ps. cxxxviii. 7).\n\nThe dolphin, by the odor it exhales, draws to it the fish of the sea:\nthe influence of virtue. _In odorem cvrrimvs_ (Cant. i. 3).\n\nAn anvil, struck by two hammers at once, without being moved: strength\nto resist exterior assaults. _Fortitvdinem meam cvstodiam_ (Ps. lviii.\n10).\n\nThe ph\u0153nix, which springs to new life on the pile where it is consumed:\nthe power of multiplying time. _Mvltiplicabo dies_ (Prov. ix. 2).\n\nThe bear, taking its young in its paws, to teach them to stand and walk:\npaternal direction of souls. _Donec formetvr_ (Gal. iv. 19).\n\nThe compass, turning its needle to the polar star. A bishop should not\nbe guided by human influences. _Hanc reqviram_ (Ps. xxvi. 4).\n\nThe rain, watering the garden: going about doing good. _Pertransiit\nbenefaciendo_ (Acts x. 38).\n\nThe pomegranate contains a great number of seeds: a bishop shelters the\nmultitude. _Coperit mvltitvdinem_ (St. James v. 20).\n\nThe mitre, surrounded by an aureola: the splendor sanctity adds to the\nepiscopal dignity. _Contvlit et splendorem_ (Judith x. 4).\n\nThe eagle, trying its eaglets by making them look at the sun: God alone\nshould be looked to in trial. _Cvm probatvs fverit_ (St. James i. 12).\n\nA tree, the vigor of which is only increased by age: experience\nincreases one\u2019s efficiency. _Fortior cvm senverit_ (Prov. xxii. 6).\n\nAt one end of the antechamber is the library, formerly containing a fine\ncollection of books, mostly belonging to Cardinal Orsini, but now\nunfortunately scattered. He also established a printing-press in the\npalace for the purpose of publishing his own edicts, licenses, and\npamphlets for the direction of his clergy. A small oratory opens into\nthe library with its marble altar turned towards the East and its walls\ncovered with paintings. One of these is a votive picture from Cardinal\nOrsini after his miraculous preservation in the earthquake of 1688 by\nthe special intervention of St. Philip Neri, representing him buried\namong the ruins of his palace, his head alone visible, resting on a\npicture of the saint, who, in consequence of this memorable\ncircumstance, has ever since been regarded as one of the patrons of\nBeneventum.\n\nIt is said that when Cardinal Orsini was leaving Beneventum for Rome, he\nturned towards the weeping inhabitants, and, after praying silently for\nan instant, promised them his protection henceforth against earthquakes,\nand, in fact, not only has the city been spared when serious disasters\nhave occurred in the country around, but no citizen of Beneventum has\nreceived any injury, even when exposed elsewhere to terrible danger.\nMany families keep with veneration a bust of the holy cardinal in their\nhouses, or some object once belonging to him, and attribute to this\ndevotion a special protection.\n\nThere is nothing of interest in the private rooms once occupied by\nCardinal Orsini. One would like to see his unpretending furniture, his\npictures of devotion, the kneeling-stool where he so often prayed for\nhis flock, and the books he daily used, but they are all gone. There is\nnot even an authentic likeness of him,[59] though he resided here\nthirty-eight years, and expended in the restoration and embellishment of\nthe palace 64,589 ducats of his personal fortune.\n\nWe have already alluded to the quarter of the palace called _il\nconventino_, because it has the aspect of a monastery. It is divided by\na corridor, with cells on both sides that communicate with each other,\nor can be made private at pleasure. Here, without any luxury or display,\nCardinal Orsini lodged the bishops convoked for the provincial councils,\nand generously provided for every expense these assemblies involved. The\npriests who accompanied them were lodged in the convent of San Modesto,\nwhere nothing was wanting to their comfort. The register of accounts\ngives some curious details as to the supplies. Macaroni necessarily\nplayed an important _r\u00f4le_. Snow was furnished for refreshing drinks.\nAnd as the wine called Lachryma would doubtless have been too heavy, it\nwas previously tempered by a strong addition of the ordinary red wine!\n\nBut the patience of the reader is already exhausted with these details.\nAs we have implied, the archiepiscopal palace of Beneventum is not\nprecisely artistic, and yet it is interesting and curious. If the\naccount has been unreasonably prolonged, the memory of Cardinal Orsini\nis a sufficient justification. We cannot make too prominent the name and\nlabors of those who lived only for the church, and sacrificed themselves\nfor its development and glory. _Quam multa, quam opportuna, quam grandia\naccepta referunt beneficia_, let us say, in conclusion, with the\ninscription on the hospital at Beneventum, graven on marble to the\npraise of Fra Vincenzo Maria, priest of the title of St. Sixtus,\nCardinal Orsini.\n\nFootnote 51:\n\n _Le Palais Archi\u00e9piscopal de B\u00e9n\u00e9vent._ Par Mgr. X. Barbier de\n Montault, pr\u00e9lat de la maison de Sa Saintet\u00e9. Arras: A. Planque et\n Cie. 1875.\n\nFootnote 52:\n\n The word palace is, by us, reserved for exceptional edifices that are\n vaster, loftier, and more highly ornamented than the dwelling of a\n merely private individual. But the Italian, who loves sonorous\n epithets, is more indiscriminate in its application. His word\n _palazzo_ is susceptible of two meanings, one referring to the\n edifice, and the other to the person who inhabits it. In the latter\n sense it is applied to the residence of any high dignitary or person\n of office, however little in accordance it may be with his station. It\n is his rank which gives importance to his dwelling, and a name that\n sets it apart and prevents it from being confounded with the houses of\n people merely in easy circumstances.\n\nFootnote 53:\n\n In order to correspond fully to the wish expressed so _gracieusement_\n by the Rev. Father Hecker, founder of the Paulists, to have the plan\n of a building, with its ornamentation, in conformity with Roman\n traditions, we have taken the principal features of the palace at\n Beneventum as the model of that which the Catholics of America propose\n offering the cardinal of New York. The development of this\n architectonic and iconographic project will be the subject of a\n special essay.\u2014_Note of Mgr. Barbier de Montault._\n\nFootnote 54:\n\n In an official paper at Dijon, dated Sept. 26, 1511, mention is made\n of an obscure dungeon under the name of _cachot d\u2019enfer_.\n\nFootnote 55:\n\n St. Barbato\u2019s triumphal entrance into Beneventum was by a gateway that\n has preserved the name of Porta Gloriosa.\n\nFootnote 56:\n\n _In tribulatione sua_ (Isa. xxv. 4).\n\nFootnote 57:\n\n _De angustia sua_ (Job xxxvi. 15).\n\nFootnote 58:\n\n These quotations are often modified\u2014the idea, rather than the exact\n words, being aimed at.\n\nFootnote 59:\n\n There are three portraits of Cardinal Orsini in the cathedral, taken\n at different periods of his life. The forehead is high and well\n developed. The eye is pleasant and sympathetic, but keen and\n penetrating. The nose has a bold outline, indicative of his energetic\n will. The mouth is contracted at the corners, giving it an expression\n of bitterness and dissatisfaction. The face is full, and tells of life\n and vigor.\n\n\n\n\n \u201cJUXTA CRUCEM.\u201d\n\n\n \u201cDear Lord,\u201d we say, \u201ccould we have stood\n With thy sweet Mother and Saint John\n Beside thy cross; or knelt and clung\u2014\n Heedless what ruffian eyes look\u2019d on\u2014\n With Magdalen\u2019s wild grief, and flung\n Our arms about th\u2019 ensanguined wood!...\u201d\n\n But have we not the Crucified\n Among us, \u201ceven at the door\u201d?\n Whom else behold we, day by day,\n In the sore-laden, patient poor?\n And where disease makes want its prey,\n Can we not stand _that_ cross beside?\n\n O blest vocation, theirs who come,\n At chosen duty\u2019s high behest,\n To soothe the squalid couch of pain\n With pledges of a better rest\n Than all earth\u2019s wealth can give or gain,\n And whispers of eternal home!\n\n Never so near our Lord as then,\n We touch _His_ Wounds\u2014more heal\u2019d than healing:\n Never so close to Mary\u2019s Heart,\n Hear too for _us_ its throbs appealing:\n And when for other scenes we part,\n It is with John and Magdalen.\n\n\n\n\n THE LITERARY EXTRAVAGANCE OF THE DAY.\n\n\nLa Bruy\u00e8re sees in all extravagance of phrase some symptom of weakness.\n\u201cTo say modestly of anything it is good or it is bad, and to give\nreasons why it is so, needs good sense and expression. It is much\nshorter to pronounce in a decisive tone either that it is execrable or\nadmirable.\u201d He himself is a model of clearness and exactness of\nexpression. His English counterpart is Swift, of whom Thackeray said:\n\u201cHe writes as if for the police.\u201d Nothing in literature surpasses the\nvraisemblance of _Gulliver\u2019s Travels_, which reads like a book of\nauthentic adventure. Its artlessness is the perfection of art concealing\nart. La Bruy\u00e8re also says: \u201cWhat art is needed to be natural (_rentrer\ndans la nature_)! What time, what rules, what attention, what labor to\ndance with the ease and grace with which we walk, to sing as easily as\nwe talk, _to speak and express one\u2019s self as one\u2019s self thinks_!\u201d To\nspeak or to write as one thinks seems, in these days of tumid and\nextravagant expression, to be one of the lost arts. We generally say\neither more or less than we think, usually more. For this reason we\nshould turn to the older classical writers, because of the importance\nthey attribute to diction, and the sense of duty they attach to it.\n\nThe new rhetorical doctrine is, \u201cLet the style take care of itself. Give\nus thought.\u201d Robert Browning, whose poetry nobody understands, probably\nnot even himself, declares in favor of \u201cburrs of expression that will\nstick in the attention.\u201d Any one who has scrambled through the\nlabyrinths of some of his poems has had \u201cburrs\u201d enough to suffice him\nfor a lifetime. It is clear that this plea for thought to the neglect of\nstyle is an excuse for slovenly composition. There is no reason why\nthought should not have clear, precise, and beautiful expression. Unless\nstyle be made a subject of deep attention, and be brought to the\nseverest test of rhetorical criticism, there is an end of literature. If\nthe barbaric \u201cyawp\u201d of Walt Whitman is to pass for poetry; if the\npictorial daubs of J. A. Froude are to be considered historical\nportraitures; and if extravagant and exaggerated forms of speech are to\nbe ranked as striking beauties, the literary critics and the lovers of\nliterature in general must gird themselves for a tougher battle for\nletters than they ever did for any attack that threatened them from\nPhilistia. What we call the Extravagant School of Literature numbers\neminent names, and is by no means confined to the more obvious and\npronounced sensationalism of the daily press. Contemporaneous history,\ncriticism, poetry, sectarian theology, and, wonderful to say, philosophy\nand science deal largely in exaggerated expression and extravagant\ntheory.\n\nIt may be some consolation to the newspapers and to the gentler sex,\nboth charged by the critics with the use of exaggeration and hyperbole,\nthat they but follow the example set them by grave modern historians and\nscientists. The reckless writing in the journals, like the fluent gossip\nat Mrs. Grundy\u2019s tea-parties, is ephemeral. But extravagance aspires to\nimmortality in the pages of the historian. The description of Mary\nStuart\u2019s beheading in Froude lacks even the historical accuracy of a New\nYork _Herald_ reporter\u2019s account of an \u201cexecution.\u201d Macaulay\u2019s fantastic\nanalysis of motives exceeds in boldness of conjecture a journalist\u2019s\narticle on the future policy of the Vatican. In both sets of examples\nthere is the same fault\u2014unlimited speculation and unjustifiable comment.\nDarwin observes some particular facts in natural history, and, in\ndefiance of a familiar rule in syllogisms, leaps at once to a universal\nconclusion. Matthew Arnold, fired by his name as a critic, indulges in\nextravagant speculation upon the relations of literature and dogma.\nScience loses its cool head, and philosophy its cautious pace, on the\npresentation of hitherto unexplained phenomena. Protestant theology\nhears aghast that the Greek of the Epistle to the Hebrews is more\nclassic than that in the other Pauline epistles, and telegraphs the\ndiscovery to the Board on the Revision of the Scriptures. The dainty\ntrick of Tennyson\u2019s metre is the despair and admiration of inglorious\nMiltons, whose hands cannot strike the resounding lyre with like\nskilfulness, and thereupon jangle it in woful measures. Bret Harte makes\na \u201chit\u201d in the delineation of wild Western life, and he is hailed as a\nnew-born genius. John Hay and Joaquin Miller assume the bays. A crowd of\nnonentities rush before the public on the lecture platform, and their\nextravagant nonsense brings them fame and fortune. The two classes react\nupon each other for the worse. The extravagant never corrects his\nfaults, and the public never perceive them, so used have they become to\nthis baneful influence of sensationalism. It permeates popular religion.\nA Protestant _Life of Christ_ by a prominent preacher reads like a dime\nnovel.\n\nWe readily pardon the extravagance of fiction; and _catechresis_ in\npoetry does not call forth the severest censure of the critic. Any one\nfamiliar with the hard conditions of modern newspaper writing will not\nbe disposed to judge harshly if both editor and reporter combine to make\ntheir journal \u201cspicy.\u201d It may be that the high-pressure system on which\nnewspapers are conducted has exercised a marked influence upon all\nclasses of readers and writers. The New York dailies have a rather\nquestionable _\u00e9lan_, which provincial journals follow from afar off. The\nstupendous enterprise of sending expeditions to South Africa and to the\nNorth Pole, the insatiable quest for news, the undisguised love of the\nsensational characteristic of foremost journalism, have, in our opinion,\na debilitating and disastrous effect upon the scholarship and the\nintellectual life of America. The showy story, the painfully\nepigrammatic drama, and the pyrotechnical poetry of the land are\nnewspapery to the last degree. Journalists do not even seem to know or\nrealize the influence which they exert. What is a pointed and brilliant\neditorial compared to the honest endeavor of a journalist to inculcate\nsound ethical and social views in the minds of his readers? Who cares\nabout Jones\u2019 slashing attack upon Smith? Why, in the name of common\ndecency, are columns opened to the discussion of Robinson\u2019s domestic\ninfelicities? We do not wish to make up our minds every morning upon the\nstate and prospects of the universe. We are firmly convinced that the\nworld will go on, without being daily buttonholed by talented editors to\nacquaint us with the fact. The sensational newspaper has spoiled some of\nthe best traits in the American, and it has given abnormal development\nto his worst tendency\u2014his curiosity. A newspaper would have scattered\nall the happiness of Rasselas\u2019 valley. It is happy for Americans that\nthey have a weakness for print, and seem rather to enjoy a figure\ntherein. If the _Bungtown Bugle_ did not notice the arrival in town of\nMr. Porkpacker, let the editor tremble.\n\nBut the extravagance of journalism is mainly confined to words. It is\nnot altogether true that the guiding spirit of the newspaper is\nsensation. This charge, which can readily be sustained against the\ncontemporary historian, does not hold of the journalist. He makes the\nmost of news, but he rarely invents. He is sensitive on this point.\nAccuracy is a prime requisite in a reporter. His is the hyperbole of\nwords. This comes generally from a limited education and inexact habits\nof thought. When we reflect that the first and last lesson of rhetoric\nis simplicity, we should not expect too much from men who are trained to\nthink and believe that no idea is acceptable unless arrayed in gorgeous\nimagery and blazing with tawdry rhetoric. A fire with loss of life is a\nterribly startling thing, and the reporter imagines that he is really\ndescribing its horror when, with apt alliteration\u2019s artful aid, he heads\nhis account with \u201cThe Fire-fiend Furious\u2014Flaunting Flames Frantically\nFlashing\u2014Fainting Firemen Fused by the Fierce Fire,\u201d etc. Richard Grant\nWhite has wearied his readers for a decade and more on the theme of\nnewspaper English and cognate subjects. The fact is, no man can be an\netymologist without a fair knowledge of the languages from which the\nEnglish is derived, and it is simply wasted labor to counsel the\nattainment of a classic style from a mere acquaintance with one\nlanguage, and that the vernacular. The wonder is that so much really\ngood writing is done under such limitations.\n\nIt takes some self-denial in a newspaper man to say a thing simply. We\nunderstand that Western newspapers have made a new departure in\nannouncing deaths, and that a rather coarse, if not ribald, humor is\ntolerated. This is an evidence of a lower sensationalism. The West has\nexercised a rough and energetic influence upon the laughable\ndilettanteism of the Eastern press, but we must confess our inability to\nrelish its humor. Its humor is extravaganza, and thus would work out the\nvery reform and improvement which it is the design of this article to\nadvocate. The pompous descriptions ending in anti-climax, the open\nburlesquing of the style of newspaper novelists, the riotous\ncharacterization of oddities, and the hearty dislike of sham and cant\nthat one meets in Western journalism must have a good effect upon the\ngeneral literature of the country. But one tires of Mark Twain, mayhap\nfor the reason that one grows speedily weary of professedly funny\npapers. The poor court-jesters of the middle ages got more frowns than\nsmiles. Mark Twain has little of that heartiness and _bonhomie_ that are\nthe characteristic of true humor. Real wit he has none, nor does he\npretend to it. His humor is extravagance, which, even in this humble but\noh! how genial faculty and expression of the human heart, is seen to be\nout of place and power.\n\nThe more we read and write, the clearer becomes to us the wisdom of the\nHoratian maxim to keep our lucubrations by us for years. Hasty writing\nis not only hard reading but often dangerous utterance. An editor told\nthe writer that when the news of the late Pope\u2019s death reached us he had\nhis biography already in type, but without editorial comment. It was\nnecessary to compose some sort of editorial upon an event which for a\ntime suspended the breath of Christendom, and our editor, with the\n_nonchalance_ and conceit which unfortunately characterize so many of\nthe journalistic guild, sat down to dash off as fast as pen could travel\n_his_ estimate of that great, long-suffering, and heroic man on whose\nbrow, where gathered the glory of Thabor and the gloom of Calvary,\nrested the mystic diadem of the Supreme Pontificate. \u201cOf course,\u201d said\nour editor, \u201cI hadn\u2019t time to get up anything very fine, but my\nProtestant friends were delighted. I gave the good old man some pretty\nsevere raps\u2014that thing, you know, about his being a Mason, and opposed\nto progress\u2014and\u2014and\u2014Antonelli, and that little love-affair, you know.\nHa! ha! ha!\u201d No wonder Dickens impaled the editor of the New York\n_Rowdy_. Now, if this man could have waited, and read and reflected, it\nwould have been morally impossible for him to have composed an obituary\nwhich, if it had been written of any other man than the dead Vicar of\nJesus Christ, would have exposed its author to the pistol-shot of\noutraged relatives or to the chastisement of public justice.\n\nSo long as ignorant and irresponsible men are suffered to guide and\ncontrol the expression of a journal, so long will the American newspaper\nfail of any high mission. It is a good sign of the sturdy independence\nof the American character that it has shaken off the journalistic yoke\nand thinks for itself. Formerly the editorial pages were the first to be\nscrutinized and the mysterious oracle consulted. But\n\n \u201cApollo from his shrine\n Can no more divine.\u201d\n\nThe garish light of day has been poured in upon the sanctum, and the\ndivinity has fled. The newspaper is not likely soon again to attain to\nthat high dignity and power which it held prior to the last Presidential\nelection, for reasons too obvious to the reader to need mention here.\nYear by year the strongly-marked individuality of the chief editor, so\nfamiliar of old, fades out of sight, either because the race of great\neditors is run or the conditions of newspaper life have changed. We\nspeak of the newspaper only as it falls within the scope of this\narticle, which regards its literary and not its moral aspect. We do not\nadvert to it at all as a teaching or ethical power, for we look upon the\naverage journal with feelings akin to contempt at its blind or wilful\nneglect of the highest possibilities of good. No men are better\nacquainted than are newspaper men with the absurdity of Protestantism,\nits failure both as a public institution and a private religious life,\nits petty tyrannies, its squeamishness, its rhodomontade, and its\nhelplessness before any attack of sound and manly logic. They know, too,\nor ought to know, the real good of the Catholic Church. Yet how rarely\none sees in a journal even a feeble recognition of the benefits of\nCatholicity! Why, in many quarters we do not even get the show and\nhearing graciously accorded to the Mormons. Who has not felt the covert\nsneer, the poorly-concealed bigotry, and the ignorant prejudice so\nthinly disguised? When Doyle, England\u2019s best caricaturist, not even\nexcepting Cruikshank, was required by the proprietors of _Punch_ to draw\na caricature of the Pope, he threw his pencil in their faces and told\nthem \u201cbe \u2014\u2014,\u201d a word which the recording angel certainly blotted out.\nWhat are we to think of a journal that seizes the celebration of the\nfeast of a great national saint as a happy occasion for publishing a\nseries of \u201cjocular\u201d and blasphemous articles on the saint\u2019s memory,\ntwice piercing the sensibilities of Irishmen, once through their faith\nand next through their nationality? Is that honest, worthy, or dignified\njournalism?\n\nEnough has been said to place the general newspaper press upon a low\nform in the school of extravagant expression. Not until editors feel a\nprofound moral responsibility, and enlarge their minds with at least a\ncursory study of Catholic theology\u2014two things which are least likely to\ncome to pass\u2014will the American journal attain any lasting prestige or\npower. As it is, its tone becomes less dignified and effective year by\nyear, and we should not be surprised to discover in the newspaper, in\ntime, the most stubborn and powerful opponent of Christianity, and even\nof general morality. Heaven knows what incalculable harm it now does to\nimmortal souls by its constant vomiting forth of social impurities and\ncriminal details. There are certain papers of large circulation and\n\u201crespectability\u201d which cannot be read by all without proximate danger of\nmortal sin. But if a Catholic critic ventures to proclaim these manifest\ntruths, he is answered with a howl about the church\u2019s opposition to\nprogress and enlightenment. The newspapers cannot bear criticism whilst\nsavagely attacking any person or institution to which they take a\ndislike. This sensitiveness is a symptom of weakness.\n\nWe turn to the great masters of extravagant expression. At their head we\nplace Lord Macaulay, who has demonstrated the art of making history\nromantic, and romance historical. Query: whether Sir Walter Scott was\nnot the founder of the contemporaneous historical school? At any rate\nthe cry is, \u201cLet us have no more dryly accurate histories like Lingard\u2019s\nor Arnold\u2019s. Relegate to an appendix state papers and statistics. Give\nus delightful conversations between historical personages, somewhat in\nthe style of Landor\u2019s _Imaginary Conversations_, only not so heavy.\u201d It\nis _so_ delightful to enter into the secret motives of men, to interpret\ntheir hidden spirit, and clearly understand their whole mental and moral\nbeing. This is the new school of historical writing, carried to\nextravagant lengths by Macaulay, Froude, and Carlyle. The old-fashioned\nidea of history was the simple and exact statement of events, the\n_ascertained_ motives of historical personages, and the _actual_ results\nof their deeds and decrees. This idea the trio before mentioned scout\nwith derisive laughter. Macaulay writes down \u201cthe dignity of history\u201d;\nFroude penetrates into the _arcana_ of royal bosoms; and Carlyle shrilly\nhoots at the Dryasdusts for their historical investigations, and makes a\nbonfire of archives and state papers. Of this precious triad Macaulay is\nthe least vehement, but none the less must we dub him an extravagant. He\nnever can say a thing naturally. He cannot rise above an epigram or an\nantithesis. Nor was there ever any intellectual growth in him. In\nTrevelyan\u2019s _Life and Letters of Macaulay_ there is a characteristic\nanecdote of his boyhood. His mother refused him a piece of cake for some\nmisdemeanor\u2014for missing a lesson, we think. \u201cVery well,\u201d antithetically\nanswered the future reviewer (_\u00e6tat_. 9), \u201chereafter industry shall be\nmy bread and application my butter.\u201d This might have been written in the\n_Edinburgh_ forty years after. When the famous essay on Milton appeared,\nsensationalism had not as yet invaded the prosy precincts of the\nreviews. Jeffrey\u2019s classic but dull reviews were models; nor did the\nhumor of the \u201cjoking parson of St. Paul\u2019s\u201d receive much countenance from\nthe Scotch, on whom the parson revenged himself when he said that a\nsurgical operation was necessary to get a joke into a Scotchman\u2019s head.\nMacaulay\u2019s brilliancy took the town by storm. But what is there in the\nreview of Milton? of Johnson? of Bacon? He began the carnival of the\nsensational. George Cornewall Lewis said of Macaulay: \u201cThe idea of a man\nof forty writing such flowery and sentimental stuff! Macaulay will never\nbe anything but a rhetorician.\u201d But the reading people had their\nappetites whetted by Scott and Byron, and there has been little sobriety\nin literature since. The extravagance of the praise with which Macaulay\nbedaubed Milton struck the critics at the time; but when they answered,\nhe was famous. The Americans raved over him. It was perhaps as well that\nhis _History_ was never finished, for it is morally certain that his\ninfatuation for saying brilliant things would have led him to hurl\nWashington and the American patriots of the Revolution from their\npedestals. He could not resist the temptation to bid men abate their\nadmiration of any esteemed character. To wind up with a brilliant period\nwas the height of his poor literary ambition. Of course he received his\nreward; but no man now who values his reputation for scholarship would\nthink of citing him as an historical or, what may seem stranger, a\nliterary authority. That glowing tribute to the Catholic Church in the\nreview on Ranke has always seemed to us one of his rhetorical bursts.\nThere were in the subject light and color, imposing figures, an\natmosphere of art and beauty, and innumerable chances for introducing\nepigrams and startling paradoxes. He wrote an article which flames like\none of Rubens\u2019 pictures. The whole argument is false from beginning to\nend, and its logic would shame the New Zealander himself. The conclusion\nwhich any thoughtful man would draw from the powers and attributes\ntherein ascribed to the Catholic Church is that such an institution must\nbe divine\u2014a conclusion furthest from the reviewer\u2019s thought. He has made\nthe dull pages of English political history as interesting as a\nfairy-tale, under which designation it no doubt will be tabulated by\nfuture scholars; for there is not a _point d\u2019appui_ in the entire\nhistory, from his glorification of King William to his defamation of\nPenn, that has not been shattered by some one. But who should seriously\nattack romance?\n\nJames II. was a poltroon, and William III. was a brave man and a great\nstatesman. Macaulay did not attempt all the possibilities of\nsensationalism. This was left for J. A. Froude, who now reigns in his\nstead. Casting about for a striking character, Froude lights on Henry\nVIII. And it is here that that delightful historico-romantic style soars\nto hitherto unexplored heights of extravagance. The injured monarch is\nintroduced to the sound of mournful music. His tortured mind is apparent\nin his anguish-riven face. Contemplate at leisure that Achillean form,\nthat massive brow, the melancholy grace of those royal legs. A pensive\nsmile irradiates a countenance on which all the graces play. He is\nthinking of Katharine. His conscience is smitten. Enter to him Anne\nBoleyn. What thoughts are hidden beneath that alabaster brow?\u2014and so on\nfor volumes. The _forte_ of the historian of this school is his thorough\nknowledge of the thoughts and designs of his personages. Nothing escapes\nhis eagle eye. This wondrous faculty, which has hitherto been considered\npreternatural, enables him to detect deep meanings in the slightest act.\nThe king smiled significantly. Ah-hah! Sergeant Buzfuz\u2019s interpretation\nof Pickwick\u2019s note about the warming-pan sinks into obscurity alongside\nof the calm and connected analysis of motive that Mr. Froude can weave\nout of King Henry\u2019s stockings. It will amuse our readers to take up a\nfew pages of any of Froude\u2019s historical works, and study out\nillustrations of this criticism. They will soon discover that it is he\nwho does all the thinking, planning, and suffering for his historical\nautomata, that are moved by the chords of his sympathetic heart. No one\nwould call Froude a historian except in burlesque. He is a romancist.\n\nBut what shall we say of the Scotch Diogenes, Carlyle, who hurls books\ninstead of tubs, though the latter missile would do less mischief? He is\nan extravagant. We have hesitated some time about classing him in the\nschool, but we think that we are justified, at least by the wildness,\nunconnectedness, and rhapsodical fury of his speech. Besides, he\nfrantically hates and denounces America, which fact would set him down\nat once as a man of unbalanced intellect and malignant humor. He used to\nknow how to write English, as his _Life of Schiller_ and _Life of John\nSterling_ abundantly prove. But in an evil hour he learned German, and\nthe next view of him we have discovers him tossing in a maelstrom of\nGerman metaphysics. He certainly deserved a better fate. We very much\ndoubt if any sane man can long keep his wits and study German\nphilosophy, especially in the mad outcomes of Fichte\u2019s Absolute Identity\nand Schelling\u2019s theories of the \u03c4\u03bf \u03b5\u03b3\u03bf. The best minds of Germany, both\nCatholic and Protestant, M\u00f6hler and Neander, have pronounced the\njudgment of all sensible men upon these absurdities in one\nword\u2014_rubbish_. Carlyle patiently worked in this rubbish for years, and\nhis result is not half so good as his brave old words, spoken out of his\nhonest heart: \u201cDo what you are able to do in this world and leave the\nrest to God.\u201d In the name of common sense, do rational men care anything\nabout the critic of Pure Reason, or the beer and tobacco speculations of\nconceited egoists? It were well if men, like the parish priest in _Don\nQuixote_, burnt all those foolish books of knight-errantry carried on in\na world as dreamy and fantastic as that fabled by the old writers on\nchivalry. Carlyle\u2019s command of language is marvellous, but his style is\nhybrid, wearisome, and frequently unintelligible. He is sensational, in\na bad sense, too. There is not a hero that he has chosen who was not\nchosen with an eye to effect: Mohammed, a prophet! Luther, the\nhero-priest! Cromwell, the hero-king! The selection of these worthies\nenabled him to say something startling. Then the idea of taking\nFrederick II. of Prussia as a type of the heroic, kingly, religious,\nliterary, and general excellence of the eighteenth century was carrying\nthe extravagant a little too far. The old man now sits like a bear with\na sore head. We pardon him much, for we look upon him as an embittered\nand disappointed man. He seems not to care what he says nor how rudely\nhe says it. His criticism on Swinburne, the erotic poet, whose success\nis an indication of something rotten in English letters, is so harsh\nthat we hesitate to quote it, though it is richly deserved: \u201cHe is a man\nup to his neck in a cess-pool, and adding to the filth.\u201d We need\nDiogenes to snub Alexander and to trample on the pride of Plato. Had\nCarlyle escaped fantastic Germanism and its wretched philosophizing, he\nwould rank with the greatest masters of language in any tongue. The glow\nand beauty of many of his descriptions are beyond praise, and no more\nskilful hand has ever drawn the vast and gloomy _tableaux_ of the French\nRevolution. His historical method has the same vice as Macaulay\u2019s and\nFroude\u2019s. He is pictorial, imaginative, and given to unwarranted\nspeculation. His style has the worst faults of the sensational school,\nthough it may be alleged in his defence that his vast knowledge of\nGerman has unconsciously and radically modified it. Affectation he has\nnone, which cannot be said of his imitators in word-coining.\n\nLiterary criticism, which certainly should have advanced somewhat since\nthe days of Dennis, is at present as \u201cslashing\u201d as that old cynic\nhimself could have desired. The great reviews, spoiled by Macaulay\u2019s\nexample, have adopted a supercilious tone that but ill comports with the\ndignity and functions of true criticism. We recall only one great\nexception, John Wilson (Christopher North), in recent English literary\ncriticism, that is not open to the charge of querulous fault-finding.\nThe narrowness of the English reviews, and their fatal obtuseness to see\nbeyond the limits they have drawn for themselves, have deprived them of\nthe proper power of literary judgment or suggestive writing such as we\nassociate with a review. The latest of their number, the _Nineteenth\nCentury_, is not long enough before us to enable us to form a\nsatisfactory judgment. It lacks unity, but, perchance, this is a merit.\nThe reader knows beforehand the judgment of the _Edinburgh_, the\n_London_ and _British Quarterlies_, and the _Westminster_ on any\nsubject. They are a bench of Lord Jeffreys passing sentence before any\nevidence is presented to them.\n\nThere is no writer on whom sensationalism works such quick and fatal\ndestruction as the critic. We look to him to be above the passions of\nthe hour, the rage of the fashion, and the influence of literary and\npolitical cliques. Even his admiration must be tempered. He must betray\nno weaknesses. When we come across a _critique_ which runs over with\npassion, weak sentiment, petty jealousies, unworthy bickerings, and a\nsubdued but potent sensationalism, we are shocked and disappointed. Most\ncontemporary reviews are pompous exhibitions of the writer\u2019s own\nlearning, which may be in one sense encyclop\u00e6dic, and which generally\nthrows the author under review quite in the shade. The older reviewers\ngave some hearing to an author. They quoted him largely, and enabled the\nreader to judge for himself. They proffered their opinions modestly, and\nsupported their objections with proof drawn from the book itself. But\nnowadays, if a reviewer condescends to advert to the book which he is\nsupposed to be reviewing, it is in a high and mighty tone of censure or\nof autocratic approval. This obtrusion of self and opinions smacks much\nof the sensational. The reviewer wishes to be seen upon the tripod, and\nhe is convinced in his own heart, or at least allows his reader plainly\nto understand, that he could write a much better book than that which he\nhas deigned to review. Slashing criticisms are in great favor. Oh! for\nanother Macaulay to blast another Montgomery. _We_ say, Oh! for another\nPope to place these gentlemen in another _Dunciad_. There is no merit in\ncutting a book to pieces. An eye sharpened by malice and on the lookout\nfor faults will detect blunders in a title. Where merited chastisement\nmust be inflicted it should not be spared; but that is a poor idea of\nliterary criticism that views it as a medium of communicating only\nstinging comment and bitter diatribe. Criticism is essentially calm and\njudicial. It should sift a book as law does evidence. No stormy passions\nshould be suffered to disturb its equanimity. There is no other\ndepartment of letters that invites and exacts such rare scholarship and\ngenial wisdom.\n\nThe man who can quickly recognize and honestly praise a work of genius,\nand, through wise commendation, introduce it to a wide circle of\nreaders, merits a crown more precious than the poet\u2019s. In these days of\nmuch bad writing and wide reading there is deep need of such exact\ncriticism, such careful watchfulness over literature, and such sure\nguidance of the public taste. Keep sensationalism at least out of our\nreviews and our book notices, for if the critic loses the reckoning we\nare indeed at sea.\n\nWe hinted that sectarian theology has its sensational side. If we can\ndignify with the name of theology that _congeries_ of books, sermons,\npamphlets, and tracts that is the literary outcome of Protestantism,\nthen theology, the queen of the sciences, is in the plight of Hecuba as\ndescribed in _Hamlet_:\n\n \u201cBut who, oh! who had seen the mobled queen\n Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames,\u201d etc.\n\nNo attempt is made to conceal the sensationalism of the Protestant\npulpit. A dull preacher had best betake himself to another occupation;\nsay anything that will be listened to, sooner than behold the agonizing\nsight of a sleeping congregation. Modern congregations do not enjoy the\ntraditional nap. They are kept awake by the attitudinizer in the pulpit.\nThey are not sure of what he is going to say next. Sir Roger de Coverley\nmade his chaplain preach one of Barrow\u2019s sermons, and, thus being\nassured of orthodoxy, he slept with a quiet conscience. The quality of\nthe majority of Protestant sermons is as spiced and sensational as the\naverage popular lecture. What motive but that of making a sensation can\ninduce Farrar and Stanley to preach against hell in Westminster Abbey?\nTheir sermons are as high colored as a story in the New York _Ledger_.\nThe new tack which the Protestant hulk is now painfully taking is the\nharmonization of science and religion. We verily believe that Darwin,\nHuxley, and Tyndall take a malicious pleasure in seeing the squirms of\nProtestant theologians. Those men know themselves the inconclusiveness\nof their arguments against revelation, but the fatal spell is on\nscience, too\u2014it must be sensational or nothing. The old scientists\nworked calmly away for years, and set forth the results of their\ninvestigations with the modesty of true merit. But Huxley cannot\nanatomize the leg of a spider without publishing the process in the\nnewspapers, with some reflections upon its bearing and probably fatal\neffect upon the Mosaic records.\n\nIn summing up the conclusions suggested by our reflections upon the\nextravagant, we must not forget that the ways and habits of modern\nsocial life have almost necessitated this species of literature. It is\nremarkable that the Latin writers under the later emperors have neither\nthe purity of thought nor of style of the old masters. Literature is the\nreflex of passing life. Our century is the century of startling\ndiscovery, of kaleidoscopic changes, of rapid social life and intense\nintellectual energy. Its expression must be loud and boisterous. But it\nis the duty of writers to keep the gross sensational elements of life\nout of letters. Literature should soothe and compose the mind; should be\nits refuge from turbulence and care; should be a ministry of peace and\nrefreshment to the wearied spirit. The enduring products of human genius\nare marked by the calmness and serenity of the great souls that\nconceived them, and they produce in us the like frame of mind. The\npublic should look coldly upon the class of productions we have been\nexamining, and bid\n\n \u201cThe _extravagant_ and erring spirit hie\n To its confine.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n THE BLUE-BIRD\u2019S NOTE.\n\n\n I.\n\n\n Not Philomel, \u2019mid dark of night, unseen,\n Pipes sweeter notes unto the listening heart\n Than from the adventurous blue-bird start\n That sings amid the cedars\u2019 dusky green\n When March doth fleck the sky with windy clouds,\n When sodden grass is gray as naked boughs\n Along whose length no touch of summer glows\u2014\n Folded the buds within their spicy shrouds,\n Waiting the coming of their Easter morn,\n When the up-risen sun their bonds shall break,\n Earth\u2019s alleluia in the forests wake,\n Wherein no voice more glad than this is born\n That fills the farewell hours of winter gloom\n With skies of blue and fields knee-deep in bloom.\n\n\n II.\n\n\n Who hears the music of the blue-bird\u2019s song,\n And sees not straightway cloudy skies grow fair\n With softened light pale April kindleth there?\n Who heareth not the swollen, rippling throng\n Of loosened streams that trip the roads beside,\n That wear soft channels in the meadow grass,\n And peaceful grow to uphold the crisp-leaved cress?\n Who sees not o\u2019er the marsh-pools, dark and wide,\n Rise tasselled willow and the later glow\n Of sturdy marigolds\u2019 broad, golden bloom,\n Dim light of violets; while fresh perfume\n From every budding twig doth overflow?\n Such world a song can build of shivering air\u2014\n Earth\u2019s miracles unfolding everywhere.\n\n\n III.\n\n\n Singeth the dreamy nightingale of love,\n Unsevered still the thrush from Paradise,\n The lark\u2019s swift aspiration to the skies\n Is faith that sees in perfect light above;\n And type doth seem spring\u2019s blue-winged herald\u2019s song\n Of that calm faith Eternal Wisdom blessed,\n Believing things unseen with quiet breast,\n Not asking first to see the angels throng.\n Faith meet for earth, filling the storm-rent skies\n With cheerful song of trust and heavenly grace,\n Softening with joys to come earth\u2019s rugged face,\n Tinting life\u2019s gray with heaven\u2019s rainbow dyes\u2014\n Thy note, O fearless blue-bird! stainless scroll\n O\u2019er writ with love and hope for earth and soul.\n\n\n\n\n GERMAN GLOSSARIES, HOMILIES, AND COMMENTARIES ON SCRIPTURAL AND\n LITURGICAL SUBJECTS.[60]\n\n\nA diligent and impartial German bibliographer, Dr. John Geffcken,\nProtestant pastor of St. Michael\u2019s, Hamburg, in his learned work on\ncatechetical treatises of the fifteenth century, has pointed out the\nalmost complete forgetfulness of present scholars of a branch of\nliterature important in the theological and controversial history of\nGermany before the Reformation. He says of his own researches in this\nfield:\n\n \u201cThere was a lost, or at any rate a forgotten, literature to be\n discovered step by step, and its spirit grasped in all the branches\n thus brought together and compared. The following information will\n show how little light the fragmentary notices of Langemack in his\n _Historia Catechetica_ (vol. i.), or of K\u00f6cher, in his _Catechetical\n History of the Papal Church_, threw upon the times to which I have\n devoted my attention. The worst, however, was that even these scanty\n notices were often false or misleading, and that, instead of\n pointing out the right track, they not seldom led into error. They\n consist mostly of lists of titles of books, without a hint of the\n contents of such books, and not seldom an uncertain or fanciful\n title is interpreted as denoting contents utterly different from the\n reality. The spirit of controversial prejudice in which these works\n were written impelled the authors, whenever they had to deal with\n ante-Reformation times, to paint the historical background in the\n darkest possible colors, in order to bring out in corresponding\n relief the brightness of the new dawn of the sixteenth century.\u201d\n\nIf this is true of such works as those to which Geffcken refers, it is\nequally so of the German _Plenarii_, or glossaries, commentaries,\nhomilies, and various devotional manuals in the vulgar tongue published\nin the last half of the fifteenth century and the first quarter of the\nsixteenth. The inquiry into the publication, contents, and diffusion of\nthese books is as interesting from an antiquarian as from a theological\npoint of view. They are little known even to cataloguists of\nacknowledged merit. Brunet, in his _Manuel du Libraire_,[61] etc., under\nthe heading _Plenarium_, vol. iv., mentions only one, as the\n_Plenarium_, or Book of the Gospels, printed at Basle by Peter von\nLangendorff in 1514; while under the heading of _Gospels_ (vol. ii.) he\nmentions in general terms several \u201cEvangelia.\u201d Hain, in his _Repertorium\nBibliographicum_ (Stuttgart and T\u00fcbingen, 1826-1828), in which he claims\nto have collected the names of all the books printed from the time of\nthe discovery of printing to the year 1500, is a little more explicit as\nto the gospels and epistles under the heading of that name, but has\nnothing to say of any Plenarium; although the name stands as a separate\nheading, it is followed by no details or examples. Graesse, in his\n_Tr\u00e9sor de livres rares et pr\u00e9cieux, ou nouveau dictionnaire\nbibliographique_ (Dresden, 1859-1869), mentions only five of these\nworks, giving the dates and presses but no hint of the contents of the\nbooks. Earlier scholars, however, had not so wholly lost the tradition\nof the existence of these manuals; for instance, Nicholas Weislinger, in\nhis _Armamentarium Catholicum Argent._, 1749 _fol. sub anno_ 1488 (pp.\n412-415), and Panzer, in his _Annals of Ancient German Literature; or,\nnotices and descriptions of those books which, since the invention of\nprinting till the year 1520, were printed in the_ GERMAN _tongue_\n(Nuremberg, 1788), mentions a fact which Dr. Alzog says he has not yet\nfound proved by other documents\u2014the existence of similar manuals in\nother countries than Germany. The French have _Les Postilles et\nExpositions des Epistres et Evangiles Dominicales_, etc. (Troyes, 1480\nand 1492, and Paris, 1497), and the Italians the same in 1483, press and\ndate not mentioned, and _Epistole e Evangeli per tutto l\u2019anno, per\nAnnibale da Parma_ (Venice, 1487). No doubt research among the libraries\nof ancient Italian cities, colleges, and monasteries would discover many\ncopies of such manuals, and the same may be said of French glossaries.\nThe fact that they have but recently come to light in Germany argues\nequally in favor of their being at some future time discovered in other\ncountries, certainly not less enlightened at the time whence date the\nGerman manuals.\n\nIt seems that hitherto no satisfactory etymology of the name of this\nclass of books has been found; the explanation of Du Cange[62] being\nrather bald, that the books \u201cwholly contain the four gospels and the\ncanonical epistles.\u201d Whatever the origin of the title, the books\nthemselves multiplied rapidly from 1470 to 1522. They were invariably in\nthe vulgar tongue, often in dialect. They were meant as emphatically\npopular hand-books, guides to the liturgy, and interpreters of the Latin\noffices of the church, while they also supplied the place of sermons,\nhomilies, and meditations by their glossaries and explanations of the\ngospels, lessons, and epistles. Some of these are much in the style of\nthe commentaries of the early Fathers on Scriptural subjects. The\ntranslations from the Vulgate are generally original, and do not follow\nstrictly any of the authorized versions of the day. In some of the later\nPlenarii the Collects and Prefaces are given, in others the Graduals and\nCommunions; in a few the whole liturgy is translated and the ceremonies\nexplained. None of these books was ever published in Latin, and, unlike\nour modern missals, they very seldom, and then sparingly, included the\nLatin text with that in the vulgar tongue. Hymns and sequences were also\noften printed. Dr. Alzog was drawn to the study of this branch of church\nliterature by his researches for a hand-book of universal church\nhistory, and by his opportunities in the University Library of Freiburg\nin Breisgau, which alone contains six editions of Plenarii of 1473,\npress unknown, five respectively of 1480 (Augsburg), of 1481 (Urach), of\n1483 (Strassburg), of 1514 and 1522 (Basle), and several others without\nauthors\u2019 or publishers\u2019 names, as well as the kindred works of a famous\npreacher of that time, Geiler von Keisersperg, printed at Strassburg.\nThe reproach sometimes made to the fifteenth century, of being destitute\nof sufficient religious and moral instruction in printed form, is much\nneutralized by the opposite reproach of a contemporary whose name is\nfamous in literature as that of the author of the _Ship of Fools_,\nSebastian Brant. This powerful satire, the work of a priest, begins with\nthese words in German rhyme:\n\n \u201cAll the land is now full of holy writings\n And of what touches the weal of souls,\n Bibles, and the lore of holy fathers,\n And many more such like,\n In measure such that I much marvel\n No one grows better on such cheer.\u201d\n\nAlzog names thirty-eight manuals, including five by Keisersperg, with\nhis sermons and expositions of doctrine, and seven in Low Saxon dialect,\ninteresting as showing the peculiarities of spelling in certain\ndistricts at that time. The form of the title is almost unvaried in all:\n\u201cIn the name of the Lord. Amen. Here follows a Plenarium according to\nthe order of the holy Christian Church, in which are to be found written\nall epistles and gospels as they are sung and read in the ceremony of\nthe holy Mass, throughout the whole year, in order as they are written\nin the following.\u201d The two earliest mentioned by Alzog are of 1470-1473.\nThey are adorned with title-pages or frontispieces, Scriptural or\nallegorical subjects. In the University Library of Freiburg is a small\nfolio with a wood-cut of our Lord, his right hand uplifted in the act of\nblessing, and his left carrying an imperial globe, the ball surmounted\nby a cross, such as may be seen in pictures of the old German emperors.\nRound the four sides of the print runs the following curious\ninscription, unfortunately clipped short in part by the binder: \u201cThis\nportrait is made from the human Jesus Christ when he walked upon the\nearth. And therefore he had hair and a beard, and a pleasant\ncountenance. Also a ... He was also a head taller than any other man on\nthe earth.\u201d The first edition mentioned by Panzer and Hain as containing\na glossary on the Sunday gospels is of the year 1481, printed at\nAugsburg, but the four editions between 1473 and 1483 all had uniform\nglossaries.\n\nThe mention is worded thus: \u201cA glossary will be found of each Sunday\ngospel\u2014that is, a good and useful teaching, and an exposition of each\ngospel, very useful for every Christian believer (or believer in Christ)\nto read.\u201d In 1488 Weislinger and Panzer point to a book printed at Baden\nby Thomas Ansselm, called _Gospels with Glossaries and Epistles in\nGerman, for the whole year; also the beginning; the Psalm (the \u201cJudica\u201d\nand Introit) and the Collect of each Mass according to the order of the\nChristian Church_. Another book of 1516, printed at Dutenstein, has the\nsame title with this addition: \u201cfor the whole year, with nothing left\nout.\u201d A very elaborate manual, of which a copy (1514) is in the\nUniversity Library of Freiburg and is mentioned in Panzer\u2019s catalogue,\nis called\n\n \u201cThe Plenarium, or gospel book. Summer and Winter parts, through the\n whole year, for every Sunday, Feria, and Saints\u2019 days. The order of\n the Mass, with its beginning or Introit. _Gloria Patri_, _Kyrie\n Eleyson_, _Gloria in Excelsis_, Collect or prayer, Epistle, Gradual\n or penitential song, Alleluia or Tract, Sequence or Prose. Gospel\n with a glossary never yet heard by us, and ended by fruitful and\n beautiful examples.[63] The _Patrem_ or Creed, _Offertorium_,\n _Secreta_, _Sanctus_, _Agnus Dei_, Communion, Compleno and _Ite\n Missa est_ or _Benedicamus Domino_, etc. And for every separate\n Sunday gospel a beautiful glossary or Postill, with its example,\n diligently and orderly preached by a priest of a religious order, to\n be seriously noticed and fruitfully applied for the greater use of\n the believer, who in this quickly-passing life can read nothing more\n useful....\u201d At the end are these words: \u201cTo the praise and worth of\n Almighty God, his highly-praised Mother Mary and all saints, and to\n the use, bettering, and salvation of men.... Printed by the wise\n Adam Peter von Langendorff, burgher of Basle. 1514. In folio.\u201d\n\nThe book contains four large wood-cuts of some artistic merit, Christ\ncrucified, with a landscape in the background, and two groups, one of\nfour women on one side, the other of four men on the other, and the\nfollowing legend beneath, taken from Notker\u2019s famous hymn _Medi\u00e2 Vit\u00e6_,\nwhich \u201cwonderful anthem or sequence,\u201d says an Anglican writer, is \u201cso\noften mistaken for a psalm or text\u201d[64]: \u201cIn the midst of life we are in\ndeath: whom shall we seek to help us, and to show us mercy, but thou\nalone, O Lord, who by our sins art righteously enwrathed? Holy Lord God,\nholy strong God, holy, merciful, and eternal God, suffer us not to taste\nthe bitterness of death.\u201d The other wood-cuts, respectively indicating\nChristmas day, Easter eve, and Whitsunday, represent the Adoration of\nthe Infant Jesus by Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds, with a landscape in\nthe background; the Resurrection; and the Descent of the Holy Ghost in\nthe form of fiery tongues. The book contains many smaller wood-cuts.\n\nAnother Plenarium (Strassburg, 1522) boasts of being \u201ctranslated from\nthe Latin into better German,\u201d and another, of the same year (Basle),\nannounces \u201cseveral other Masses, never hitherto translated into German,\u201d\nas well as a register with blank leaves. Keisersperg\u2019s sermons \u201cin the\nlast four years of his life, taken down word for word from his own\nmouth,\u201d are printed at Strassburg in 1515, and are qualified in the\ntitle-page as \u201cuseful and good, not only for the laity, and never\nhitherto printed.\u201d His _Postill_, or \u201cCommentaries on the Four Gospels,\u201d\nis printed in four parts in Strassburg in 1522, also his Lenten sermons,\nand some additional ones on a few saints\u2019 days, \u201cwritten down from his\nown mouth by Henry Wessmer\u201d; but the most curious work mentioned is a\nfolio volume of his sermons, without title, and containing other\ntreatises with fanciful titles and bearing on mysterious subjects. \u201cThe\nBook of Ants, which also gives information concerning witches, ghostly\nappearances, and devilish possession, very wonderful and useful to know,\nand, further, what it is lawful to hold and believe touching them\u201d;\nalso, \u201cthe little book, \u2018Lord, whom I would gladly serve,\u2019 in fifteen\nparts of fine and useful doctrine; finally, the book of \u2018Pomegranate,\u2019\nin Latin _Malogranatus_, containing much wholesome and sweet doctrine\nand advice.\u201d This dates from 1517 (Strassburg, John Greinninger). For\nthe sake of the language the manuals printed in Low Saxon, chiefly in\nL\u00fcbeck, are among the most interesting specimens. The titles are much\nthe same as the German, but generally more concise. Panzer remarks of\none of them, printed by Stephen Arndes at L\u00fcbeck in 1496, and adorned\nwith several fine wood-cuts, that he has seen three other editions,\nprinted in 1488, 1493, and 1497. A few of the peculiarities of spelling,\nand of the indifferent use of various forms of one word, will be seen in\nthe following examples: book, in the contemporary High-German, spelt\n_buch_ or _buoch_, is here spelt _boek_, _boeck_, _bok_, and _boke_,\nthis last a form often found in Old English writers; holy, _heylig_,\n_heilig_, or _hailig_, is here spelt in five different ways: _hilgen_,\n_hylgen_, _hylligen_, _hilligen_, and _hyllyghen_; and birth, _geburt_,\nis _bort_ and _borth_. _Das_ (the) becomes _dat_; _endigt_ (ends) is\nturned to _ondighet_; and the _o_\u2019s and _n_\u2019s are in general used the\nreverse way to that common in High-German.\n\nThe contents of the Plenarii show the peculiarities of the liturgy as\nused at that time. The same epistle and gospel sung or read on Sunday\nwas repeated on Monday, Tuesday (which the oldest manuals call\nAfter-Monday), and Thursday. Wednesdays and Fridays throughout the year\nhad separate epistles and gospels, and Saturday is not mentioned, unless\nit is indicated by the \u201cthird day,\u201d which the later editions speak of as\n\u201chaving a separate epistle and gospel throughout the year.\u201d Each day of\nLent had a separate one. Some of the books of 1473 contained special\nMasses\u2014that of the Wisdom of God for Mondays, the Holy Ghost for\nTuesdays, the Holy Angels for Wednesdays, the Love of God for Thursdays,\nthe Holy Cross for Fridays, and the Blessed Virgin for Saturdays. There\nfollowed Masses for rain, for health, for sinners, for fair weather, and\nfor \u201call believing souls.\u201d The glosses on the gospels in the earlier\neditions are interesting from their simplicity and directness. Even the\npreface of the Basle Plenarium of 1514, though less simple, is a good\nspecimen. It is noteworthy that the Immaculate Conception is implied in\nthe text. The heading is from Luke xi. 28: \u201cBlessed are they who hear\nthe word of God and keep it.\u201d The preface runs thus:\n\n \u201cJesus Christ is the Word of the Eternal Father; the Word is made\n flesh (understand by that, man) in the womb of the immaculate, holy,\n and pure Virgin Mary, that we too may be saved. From this Word, as\n from Christ the Son of God, flows Holy Scripture, which is the\n life-giving flow of the blessed paradise of the highest heaven,\n penetrating and making fruitful on this earth the paradise of the\n holy church to the use of all believers. And in order that man may\n better know and acknowledge his Lord, he has at hand the help of\n Holy Scripture, which is the source of all knowledge and wisdom, of\n whom all knowledge is the servant and follower, and which teaches\n and admonishes us, through the wonderful works of God, to worship\n the Maker of all; for Christ the Son of God is the wisdom of the\n Eternal Father, and in him and through him are all creatures made,\n and, indeed, so wonderfully made and hidden that no human wisdom can\n fully penetrate into these secret recesses. Such is the teaching of\n Holy Writ.\n\n \u201cTo confess God, to avoid sin, to do good, and to show ourselves\n diligent in the love of God and our neighbor\u2014this is a spiritual\n pharmacy of all sweet-smelling and precious medicine. Although many\n prophets and other saints have written Holy Scripture and divine\n truth, each one according as it was given to him by the Holy Ghost,\n yet are the strength and truth of the holy gospels above every other\n Scripture, as says St. Augustine in his Concordance of the Gospels.\n And Holy Scripture is so fruitful, wise, and unfathomable that we\n can never fathom it till the end of this passing life on earth, and\n till we come to the place whence Scripture itself floweth ... and\n ourselves read in the great Bible\u2014that is, the Book of Life.\n\n \u201cAnd because many men do not understand Latin, and yet can read\n German, therefore this book of the gospels, with its belongings, has\n been translated into German, to the glory of God and the use of such\n as shall feed their souls on it. For man liveth not on material\n bread alone, but on the spiritual bread which is the Word of God, as\n Christ says by the mouth of the evangelist Matthew, in the fourth\n chapter.\u201d\n\nMuch more follows; for instance, an enumeration of the nine graces that\na diligent reader of Scripture receives, in which much good but rather\ntrite advice is given, and of the five kinds of men who read Holy Writ,\nonly two of whom do it to advantage. These conceits belonged to the age,\nand, indeed, survived the age, as we find in the Presbyterian sermons of\ntwo centuries later in Scotland and the Puritan sermons of New England.\nKeisersperg was profuse of them, and some of the quaint and rather\nstrained combinations and coincidences which he imagined are a curious\nillustration of the sort of pulpit eloquence popular in the fifteenth\ncentury. The prominence given among saints to the four evangelists grew\nnaturally out of the reverence paid to the four gospels as the noblest\npart of Scripture. The Plenarii often contained allegorical\nrepresentations of them under the conventional figures known to art, and\nundertook to explain the reason of these figures being applied to them,\nconnecting them with the four living creatures of Ezechiel\u2019s vision and\nthose of the Apocalypse. But, beyond the constantly-received\nexplanations, they sometimes contained details calculated to astonish\nreaders of a later day. Such is the idea of the fitness between St. Mark\nand the symbolic lion, derived from the belief that lion whelps were\nawakened the third day, by the roaring of their mother, from the sleep\nor trance in which they had been born, which was interpreted to refer to\nthe fact that St. Mark chiefly dwells on the resurrection of the Lord on\nthe third day after his death. The Basle manual from which the foregoing\npreface is quoted has special prayers in honor of the evangelists,\nchiefly to the end that they would help the faithful to a better\nunderstanding of, and acting up to, the principles of the Gospel. The\nwood-cuts which distinguish these as well as the Latin missals took the\nplace of the illuminations of the older books in manuscript, and, though\nwanting in the finish and delicacy of the latter, were designed on the\nsame models and in the same spirit. The Latin missals now in the\nUniversity Library of Freiburg, of 1485 and 1520, are rich in this kind\nof ornamentation, the latter having as title-page the Crucifixion, with\na group of many figures, and around the illustration representations of\nthe seven sacraments, whose grace flows from the atonement of Christ.\nThe same idea is conveyed in the often-repeated allegorical\nrepresentation in medi\u00e6val pictures of two angels collecting in golden\ncups the blood that flows from the outstretched hands of the Saviour on\nthe cross.\n\nFreiburg has many treasures in the department of illuminated\nmanuscripts, the chief one being a _Codex_ of the tenth century, with\nthe _Sacramentarium Gregorianum_. It contains two hundred and ten pages\nof parchment, and begins with a calendar of twelve pages on purple\nground with arabesque borders. The Ordinary of the Mass is written on a\nsimilarly colored ground, and has three illuminated pictures\u2014a portrait\nof Pope Gregory the Great, an angel uplifting the Host, and an elaborate\nByzantine crucifix. Five thousand francs were offered for it by a French\narch\u00e6ological society, and refused by the university. Among the\npeculiarities set forth by the German manuals is the order of Sundays\nthroughout the year, which, before the Council of Trent, were reckoned\nfrom Trinity instead of Whitsunday, and, in the case of Easter falling\nearly, were supplemented by a \u201ctwenty-fifth Sunday after Trinity,\u201d as\nthe editions of 1473 to 1483 have it, \u201cif another Sunday is needed.\u201d The\nlater editions and the Latin missals simply call it, without comment,\n\u201cthe twenty-fifth Sunday.\u201d As time went on, the German Plenarii\ncontained more and more, sometimes additional votive Masses, and the\nPassions and Prophecies of Holy Week, sometimes the whole of the\nliturgy, including the minor parts, sometimes even more than the Latin\nbooks themselves\u2014as, for instance, the thirteenth to the fifteenth\nchapters of St. John, inclusive, for the edification of their readers on\nMaundy Thursday. The glossaries or homilies also grew longer and more\nserious after 1514, and among explanations of undoubted moral worth and\npious intent\u2014due, Alzog thinks, greatly to the influence of the Swiss\n\u201cFriends of God,\u201d a brotherhood devoted to popular teaching and the\npropagation of practical piety among the masses\u2014we often come upon those\nna\u00efvely-propounded conceits which were common to earnest and ingenious\nmen of that day. For instance, the word alleluia, whose etymology was\nprobably wholly unknown to the author, is thus dissected and explained\nin one of the Basle editions of the sixteenth century:\n\n \u201cThe word has four syllables\u2014that is, four meanings: the first,\n _al_\u2014that is, _altissimus_, or Most High and Almighty; the second,\n _le_, _levatus in cruce_, or uplifted on the cross; the third, _lu_,\n _lugentibus apostolis_, or the apostles have mourned and all\n creation bemoaned him; the fourth, _ja_, or _jam surrexit_\u2014that is,\n he is now risen from the dead, wherefore we should rejoice with all\n our strength and sing _alleluja_.\u201d\n\nOn the other hand, some of the prayers and meditations of these now\nobscure books of devotion were beautiful, dignified, and worthy of\nimitation. The language often reminds one of the _Following of Christ_:\n\n \u201cConsider, O my soul! with thorough devotion, the gifts and benefits\n of God wherewith he has so abundantly blessed thee. He has created\n thee out of nothing and in his image. He has given thee wisdom and\n understanding, that thou mayest distinguish good from evil. He has\n also given thee reason beyond that of all other creatures, and made\n them subject unto thee. He has put the sun and the moon in heaven to\n give light to the world. He causes all green things to grow and\n ripen on the earth to thy use, that thou mayest be fed and clothed\n therewith. Consider also, O my soul! with great devotion, how\n inestimable are the gifts of the holy sacraments, so sweetly\n prepared for thee. How clean should be thy hands from all evil\n works, how chaste thy lips, how holy thy body, how spotless thy\n heart, to which the Lord Almighty, the God of purity, humbles\n himself so lovingly! How great should be thy thankfulness to God thy\n Creator, who gives himself to thee so freely, not for any good he\n derives therefrom, but only that he may cleanse thee, in thy misery\n and sickness, from sin, and give thee eternal life. Amen.\u201d\n\nThe manuals also made typographical progress corresponding to that of\ntheir contents, and, after 1483, began to have their pages both numbered\nand headed, while the spelling became a little more uniform, but the odd\ncomparisons and arbitrary combinations in the text developed themselves\nas freely as ever. Indeed, they had one merit\u2014that of fixing a thing in\nthe minds of hearers less likely to be impressed by generalities; and,\nunlike the sensational devices of the present day, they were not\nresorted to as mechanical means by men to whom they were themselves\nindifferent, but came from the \u201cabundance of the heart\u201d of authors fully\npenetrated by their meaning and proud of having originated this\nparticular form of it. For instance, a panegyric on St. Martin, Bishop\nof Tours, is r\u00e9sumed in the seven letters of the German word Bischof,\neach standing for the initial of a word describing some quality of the\nsaint; and the same happens with the seven letters of the name of\nMatthew, _Matheus_ (seven was, from obvious causes, a favorite number in\nthe mystical mind of those ages), which are thus interpreted:\n_Magnificentia in relinquendo_ (magnanimity in relinquishing),\n_Auscultatio in obediendo_ (hearing in obeying), _Tractabilitas in non\nresistendo_ (tractability in not resisting), _Humilitas in sequendo_\n(humility in following), _Evangelisatio in pr\u00e6dicando_ (evangelization\nin preaching), _Virtuositas in operando_ (efficiency in working),\n_Strenuitas in patiendo_ (fortitude in enduring).\n\nThe glossaries on the epistles and gospels contain many passages\nremarkable as setting forth the reverence for Holy Writ of which those\ntimes have been too hastily pronounced deficient. The four oldest\neditions (from 1473 to 1483) have the same commentary for the first\nSunday in Advent, on which the gospel of Palm Sunday, pointing to\npreparation for the coming of the Lord, was then read. The whole is\nfilled with texts and allusions to the prophets; the preparation is\nasserted to consist in being \u201cwashed clean of evil thoughts,\u201d in laying\naside the torn garments of sin, that bind us to the darkness where we\nhave hidden ourselves that we may not be seen, ... in hating the\ngarments of impurity and those of pride.... It is not seemly to stand in\nthe hall of the King clothed in mean garments, as we find in the Book of\nEsther, cap. iii., and therefore no one should enter the holy time of\nAdvent while yet burdened with sin and so on through a host of\nScriptural quotations in which moral virtues only are inculcated, and of\nceremonial observances there is no mention. The edition of 1514 (Basle)\non the same occasion says that this gospel is read twice in the year, on\nthe anniversary of the day when our Lord entered Jerusalem, and on the\nfirst Sunday in Advent, which commemorates his spiritual coming and his\nassuming human nature. The various kinds of advents or comings are\nrepresented by the gospels of the four Sundays, the last being the entry\ninto the heart of every sinner when he repents of his sin and is\nconverted. \u201cAs the Jews asked John the Baptist, \u2018Who art thou?\u2019 so\nshould every man ask himself, Who am I? If we examine honestly we must\nneeds acknowledge that we are but poor sinners. Of this advent St. John\nspeaks in the Apocalypse: \u2018Behold I stand at the door of thy heart and\nknock with my gifts; and whoever opens unto me, to him will I go in, and\ngive him bread from heaven, and a new stone in his hand, that is the new\njoy of everlasting life.\u2019\u201c[65] Of this advent St. Augustine speaks:\n\n \u201cLord, who shall give it to me that thou shouldst come into my\n heart, sweet Jesus, and fill it, and that my soul should forget all\n evil and all sin?... \u2018This is everlasting life (John xvii. 3), that\n men know thee, Father in heaven, and confess thee alone the living\n and true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.\u2019 This raises a\n question\u2014namely, Why did the Lord Jesus not come earlier? why delay\n his coming so long? For this reason: that Adam transgressed God\u2019s\n command on the sixth day, and the coming of Christ was therefore\n deferred till the sixth age of the world.... If you turn to the Lord\n in truth, he will answer you through the prophet Ezechiel: \u2018In\n whatsoever hour the sinner repents of his sins and forsakes them,\n and is turned from his unrighteousness, I will remember his sins no\n more, saith the Lord.\u201d\n\nThe commentary on the gospel of the first Mass on Christmas night in the\nBasle edition of 1514 contains glimpses of legends which long kept their\nhold on the popular and even the scholarly mind of that age. The story\nof the Sibyllic prophecies is outlined:\n\n \u201cThe Emperor Augustus, when he had conquered the whole world for the\n Roman Empire, was about to be adored by the Romans as a god. But he\n resisted and asked for a delay of three days, during which he sent\n for the wise woman, the Sibyl of Tibur, and asked her advice. When\n she shut herself up with the emperor and prayed to God to tell her\n how to advise the emperor, she saw close by the sun a shining ring\n of light, and within the ring a beautiful Virgin with a fair Child\n upon her knees. Then the Sibyl showed the Virgin and Child to the\n emperor, and said: \u201cThis Child upon the knees of a Virgin must thou\n adore, for he is God and Lord of the whole world, and the Child that\n is to be born of a Virgin shall be for the consolation and salvation\n of mankind.\u2019 So when the emperor saw this he refused to let himself\n be adored....\n\n \u201cWe read also that once the Romans built a fine temple, large and\n grand, which they meant to call the Temple of Peace. While they were\n building it they asked the Sibyl how long the temple should stand.\n She answered and said: \u2018Until a Virgin shall bear a Child.\u2019 \u2018Then,\u2019\n said the Romans, \u2018as that can never happen, the temple will stand\n for ever, and shall be called the Temple of Eternity.\u2019 Then came the\n night when our Lord Jesus Christ was born, and a great part of the\n temple fell suddenly in ruins, and many who have been in Rome say\n that every Christmas night a portion of this temple still crumbles\n into ruin, as a sign that on this earth nothing is eternal.\u201d\n\nThe three Maries at the sepulchre give the author occasion in the homily\non Easter Sunday to link the virtues we ought to practise with the names\nof the three holy women. From Mary Magdalen, whom, according to the\ntradition of the time, he identified with Mary the Sinner, he bids us\nlearn \u201cthe great diligence and great love with which she sought God the\nLord; ... so should we also anoint the feet of Christ with the ointment\nof contrition and repentance. From Mary Jacobi (Mary the mother of\nJames, or Jacob) we should learn to overcome sin, because Jacob means a\nfighter and striver.... From the third Mary we should learn to have a\ntrue hope of obtaining grace, for Salome means a woman of grace\n(probably he considered wisdom and grace identical), ... especially the\ngrace to battle against despair.\u201d And this suggests a comparison of the\nthree Maries with the three virtues, faith, hope, and charity. Galilee,\nagain, which he interprets to mean in German Passover, is set as a sign\nthat we must part with sin and cross over to God, die to the world and\nbe detached from its allurements. The commentary on the gospel of\nWhitsunday, in the older editions (1473-83), contains these words: \u201cIf\nyou love God, you will willingly hear his word and diligently say to\nyourself, What I hear is a token from the great King.\u201d Then follow\nseveral Scriptural quotations strengthening and illustrating this truth.\nThe epistle of the day gives rise to an explanation of the appearance\n\u201cas it were of fiery tongues\u201d: \u201cThe fire of the Holy Ghost consumed all\nfear in their hearts, and so enkindled them that they feared neither\nking nor emperor. So was fulfilled the saying of the Redeemer, \u2018I am\ncome to bring a fire upon the earth,\u2019 and what do I wish but that it\nshould be enkindled?\u201d Then the tongues signify that the word is spread\nby the tongue; God sent the Holy Ghost in fiery tongues, that they (the\napostles) might burn with love and overflow in words. What is the Holy\nGhost? He is the Third Person of the Holy Trinity, who confirms and\nestablishes all things, and who comes at all times to the heart of every\nman who makes himself ready to receive him, as says St. Augustine: \u201cIt\nis of no use for a teacher to preach to our outer ears, if the Holy\nGhost be not in our hearts and do not give us true understanding.\u201d The\nlikeness of the Holy Spirit to a dove is then ingeniously drawn out in\ncomparisons such as St. Francis of Sales, two centuries later, might\nhave adopted in his _Introduction to a Devout Life_, and the prayer or\naspiration at the end is thus worded: \u201cMay the Father, the Son, and the\nHoly Ghost help us to hear the word of God and keep it, that our hearts\nmay be enlightened and enkindled by the fire of the Holy Ghost, that we\nmay live with simplicity and joy among the doves, and that the true\nDove, the Holy Ghost, may come to us and abide with us for ever.\u201d\n\nThe later editions of the sixteenth century have a longer and more\ncomplicated homily on the same subjects; they dwell, among other things,\non the peace and comfort brought by the Holy Ghost, and distinguish\nthree kinds of peace, that of the heart, that of time, and that of\neternity, the second of which alone was not given to the apostles,\nbecause their Master also had it not, as is inferred from several texts\nquoted at length. The suddenness, the force of the wind, and the\nquickness of the appearance in the upper chamber in Jerusalem are all\nturned to practical account by the commentator, who also reminds his\nreaders that the grace of God comes soonest to those who lead a life of\ninner recollection and prayer. The love of God is shown under a sort of\nparable, that of the scholars of an Athenian philosopher, who begged\ntheir master to write them a treatise upon love, and received from him\nin answer the picture of a lion with a legend round his neck: \u201cLove\nbrings forth nothing which afterwards causes remorse to man.\u201d Thus\nChrist, the Lion of the tribe of Juda, is spiritually this lion of love,\nwhose works were all for the salvation of man. For Trinity Sunday the\nglossaries of both the older and the later editions are very short, the\nmystery being confessedly unfathomable, and the ancient Fathers\nthemselves having but feebly succeeded in throwing any other light than\nthat of faith upon the subject. Both editions contain a warning not to\nsearch curiously into the mystery, but believe with simplicity, and the\nlater ones cite the legend of St. Augustine and the child whom he met by\nthe sea-shore trying to bail the sea into a small trench in the sand. On\nthe thirteenth Sunday after Trinity the vision of God by purity of\nheart, \u201cand by the reading of Holy Scripture and practising its\nprecepts,\u201d is descanted upon in the 1514 Basle edition, and the fate of\nLot\u2019s wife is used as a simile for the turning back from God into sin,\nwhile the love of our neighbor, as flowing from a true love of God, is\nstrenuously inculcated by Scripture texts and warnings.\n\nThe description of the contents of these manuals, however, would not be\ncomplete, nor wholly convey the spirit of the age in which they were\npublished and read, without some mention of the miraculous stories\nprinted in them under the head of \u201cuseful examples.\u201d Of these Frederick\nHurter, in his work on Pope Innocent III., vol. iv. pp. 547-8, says:\n\n \u201cAll writers of this time (the twelfth and thirteenth centuries; and\n what applies to those applies to later centuries almost as far as\n the seventeenth) are full of wonder-stories\u2014a proof of how universal\n and deeply ingrained in man was the belief in wonders. Many of these\n are simply mythical, others had passed by tradition and literary\n embellishments from the region of facts into that of myths, while\n others again must be left uninterpreted by criticism, unless it is\n disposed to dismiss them with a mere denial. Whatever decision one\n may come to on this point, one truth certainly underlies this mass\n of tales: that they cannot have been without influence on the mind\n of thousands. Many may be looked upon as childish and crude, but\n from beneath this coating still shines the true gold of a belief in\n one almighty, ever-present Being, a father and protector of the\n good, a leader and raiser-up of the fallen or the wavering, an\n avenger against the evil and oppressing.\u201d\n\nSuch stories have to later research appeared as interesting landmarks of\nthe progress of a nation\u2019s mind, and links with all its former beliefs\nand traditions. Again, they were striking illustrations, fitter to\nremain in the popular mind as emblems of great truths than the learned\ndoctrinal disquisitions, which were always above the understanding of\nthe masses. They are rather emblems than facts; the condensation of a\ntruth than its actual outcome. We have only room for a single specimen.\nWhether it was intended to be related as a vision in a dream, or partly\nas a waking dream, does not appear clearly from the text:\n\n \u201cThere was,\u201d says the Basle Plenarium of 1514, on the occasion of\n Good Friday, \u201ca prior in a monastery, who sat in his cell after his\n meal and fell asleep. While he slept, one of his brethren died and\n came to the sleeping prior, and spoke to him: \u2018Father prior, with\n your permission, I am going.\u2019 When the other asked him where, he\n answered: \u2018I am going to God in eternal blessedness, for in this\n very moment I have died.\u2019 Then said the prior: \u2018Since many a perfect\n man must after death pass through purgatory, and one seldom comes\n back to earth from it, I ask you how can you go at once to God, and\n how do you know you have deserved it?\u2019 Then answered the monk: \u2018I\n always had the habit of praying thus at the feet of the crucifix:\n \u201cLord Jesus Christ, for the sake of thy bitter sufferings which thou\n hast endured on the holy cross for my salvation, and especially at\n the moment when thy blessed soul left thy body, have mercy on my\n soul when it leaves my body.\u201c And God mercifully heard my prayer.\u2019\n Then the prior asked again: \u2018How was it with you when you died?\u2019 and\n the other answered: \u2018_I thought at that moment that the whole world\n was a stone, and that it lay upon my breast, so terrible did death\n seem to me_.\u2019\u201d\n\nThe Plenarii were not the only manuals scattered among the\nrapidly-increasing number of people who, in Germany, could read in their\nnative tongue. Besides the Scriptures, of which nine translations, some\npartial, some entire, were _printed_ before Luther\u2019s, from 1466 to 1518,\nand three entire ones after his in the sixteenth century alone,[66]\nthere were previous to that period fourteen complete Bibles in\nHigh-German and five in Low-German (the University of Freiburg possesses\ncopies of eight of the former), and many psalters and gospels, as well\nas separate books of Scripture published singly. The psalter was\nundoubtedly the best-known and most commonly used part of Holy Writ.\nPanzer mentions the three oldest editions printed in Latin and German,\nwithout date or press, in folio; another octavo at Leipsic; others in\nGerman, Augsburg, 1492 and 1494; Basle, 1502 and 1503; Spires, 1504;\nStrassburg, 1506 and 1507; Metz, 1513; and the Book of Job, Strassburg,\n1498. Again in the same years, and from the same presses as well as\nMayence and Nuremberg, came the epistles and gospels, and the four\nPassions, divided according to their use on Sundays, while the first\npopular illustrated \u201cBibles of the Poor,\u201d condensations and selections,\nchiefly of the most stirring stories told in the Old and New Testaments,\nfollowed each other rapidly after 1470. The wood-cuts were generally\nvery good, and the Latin and German texts printed side by side. \u201cGerman\nexplanations of the office of the Mass\u201d were also printed, and the\ndevotional writings, meditations, etc., of Tauler, Suso, Thomas \u00e0\nKempis, Geiler von Keisersperg, and Sebastian Brant. Lives of the saints\nand martyrologies were also printed, arranged according to the calendar\nin two parts, winter and summer; but though in the main edifying, these\nwere chiefly reflections of traditions rather than authentic biographies\ntaken from contemporary sources. That style of writing was not known\nthen, and the general example of a holy life was more the object of the\nwriters than the historic details of real life. But even in these\ntraditions some nucleus of undisputed fact might always be found beneath\nthe ivy tracery of legend. Panzer remarks that these editions differed\ngreatly from Jacob of Voragine\u2019s _Legenda Aurea_, and often contradicted\nit. Catechisms and manuals for confession and communion were also\nfamiliar, and some of the litanies now reprinted in modern prayer-books\nare of this date, while even the contents of the Breviary were\ntranslated into German by a Capuchin, James Wyg, and printed in Venice\nin 1518. \u201cLittle prayer-books\u201d are mentioned by Panzer as printed at\nNuremberg, L\u00fcbeck (these in Low German), Basle, and Mayence from 1487 to\n1518. Two were called the _Salus Anim\u00e6_ and the _Hortulus Anim\u00e6_. The\nlatter is as well known now in English as it was then in German; one\nedition of 1508 has a little versified introduction, interesting as\nshowing how Sebastian Brant\u2019s talents were often practically employed:\n\n \u201cThe soul\u2019s little garden am I called.\n Known am I yet from my Latin name.\n At Strassburg, his fatherland,\n Did revise me Sebastian Brant,\n And industriously me corrected,\n And into German much translated,\n That now is to be found in me\n Which will give joy to every reader;\n Now, who uses me aright,\n And plants me well, reward shall have.\u201d\n\nThe prayer _Anima Christi_ is found in some editions. A book called _The\nMirror of the Sinner_ went through five editions from 1480 to 1510,\nwhich Pastor John Geffcken has most impartially and fully criticised in\nhis history of catechetical instruction in the fifteenth century. _The\nTen Commandments_ was the title of two books printed at Venice by an\nAugsburg printer in 1483, and Strassburg in 1516, and a _Manual for\nPreparation for Holy Communion_, several times reprinted at Basle, has\nsuggested this praise from Herzog, the biographer of John \u0152colampadius:\n\u201cIt breathes the purest and noblest devotion (_mystik_); we shall seldom\nfind a communion-book penetrated with such a glow of devotion\u201d; if we\nhad any room left for quotation, this judgment would be found fully\ndeserved. Manuals for the sick and dying were also widely used; three of\n1483, 1498, and 1518, and one without date, are given in Panzer\u2019s\ncatalogue. The _Garden of the Soul_ also contains a long passage on the\nfit preparation for death; and other books have special prayers for the\nsame circumstances. That we are apt to see but one side of any question,\nand that false impressions unluckily in the popular mind chiefly avail\nthemselves of the axiom that \u201cpossession is nine points of the law,\u201d\nJacob Grimm very appositely complains in the preface to his _Antiquities\nof German Jurisprudence_. \u201cWhat is the use,\u201d he says, \u201cof the poetry\nbeing now discovered which presents the joyous vitality of life in that\ntime (the middle ages) in a hundred touching and serious\nrepresentations? The outcry about feudalism and the right of the\nstrongest is still uppermost, as if, forsooth, the present had no\ninjustice and no wretchedness to bear.\u201d\n\nFootnote 60:\n\n _Die deutschen Plenarien (Handpostillen)_ 1470-1522. Dr. J. Alzog.\n Herder. Freiburg in Breisgau. To this most interesting and valuable\n _brochure_ of the distinguished German ecclesiastical historian the\n writer is chiefly indebted for the substance of the present article.\n\nFootnote 61:\n\n _Dans lequel sont d\u00e9crits les livres rares, pr\u00e9cieux, singuliers, et\n aussi les ouvrages les plus, estim\u00e9s._ Ve \u00e9dit. Paris, 1860-1865, en\n vi. tomes.\n\nFootnote 62:\n\n _Glossarium medi\u00e6 et infim\u00e6 latinitatis._\n\nFootnote 63:\n\n These \u201cexamples\u201d constituted a literature apart, to which reference\n will be made later, characteristic of the middle ages, of which\n scholars like Grimm speak with more respect, because more knowledge,\n than many more modern and less discriminating writers.\n\nFootnote 64:\n\n Bampton Lectures, 1876. _Witness of the Psalms to Christ and\n Christianity._ Dr. William Alexander.\n\nFootnote 65:\n\n A paraphrase of Apocalypse ii. 17 and iii. 20.\n\nFootnote 66:\n\n The German translations of the Bible, in part or complete, of which\n the library of the University of Freiburg possesses copies, are as\n follows: 1. 1466, Strassburg, folio, in 2 vols., printed by Eggestein.\n 2. 1472-1474, Strassburg or Nuremberg, large folio, 1 vol., printer\n not named, the chief source from which the following editions were\n compiled. 3. 1474. Augsburg, G\u00fcnther Zainer. 4. 1474, Augsburg, 1\n vol., large folio, Antony Sorg. 5. 1483, Nuremberg, large folio, 2\n vols., Antony Koburger. 6. 1485, Strassburg, small folio, 2 vols. 7.\n 1490, Augsburg, small folio, 2 vols., Hans Sch\u00f6sperger. 8. 1507,\n Augsburg, folio, 1 vol., but very defective. 9. 1518, Augsburg, small\n folio, 2 vols., the first missing, Sylvanus Otmar. 10. 1534, the Old\n and New Testaments, Mayence, folio, 1 vol., Dietenberger (of which six\n other editions were printed at Cologne between 154- and 1572). 11.\n 1534, The Old and New Testaments translated directly from the Hebrew\n and the Greek texts, Frankfort-on-the-Main, Christian Egenolff. 12.\n The Old and New Testaments, according to the text authorized by Holy\n Church, 1558, Ingoldstadt, small folio, 1 vol., Dr. John Ecken.\n\n\n\n\n DANTE\u2019S PURGATORIO.\n TRANSLATED BY T. W. PARSONS.\n CANTO SIXTEENTH.\n\n\n \u2018Drizza (disse) ver me l\u2019acute luci\n Dello _Intelletto_, e fieti manifesto\n L\u2019error de\u2019 ciechi, chi si fanno duci.\u2019\n\n \u2014_Purg._ xviii. 16.\n\n Turn thy sharp lights of intellect towards me\n And many errors will be manifest,\n In many a volume by the world possessed,\n Of men called leaders, and who claim to be.\n\n\n Blackness of hell, and of a night unblest\n By any planet in a barren sky\n Which dunnest clouds to utmost gloom congest,\n Could not with veil so gross have barred mine eye\n Nor so austere to sense as now oppressed\n Us in that fog which we were folded by.\n Its sharpness open eye might not abide,\n Therefore my wise and faithful escort lent\n His shoulder\u2019s aid, close coming to my side,\n And, thus companioned, close with him I went\n (Like a blind man who goes behind his guide,\n Lest he go wrong or strike him against aught\n To kill him haply or his life impair)\n On through that sharp and bitter air, in thought\n My duke observing, who still said: \u2018Beware\n Lest thou be separate from me!\u2019 Anon\n Voices I heard, and each voice seemed in prayer\n For peace and pity to the Holy One\n Of God, the Lamb who taketh sins away;\n Still from them all one word, one measure streamed,\n Still _Agnus Dei_ prelude of their lay,\n So that among them perfect concord seemed.\n \u2018Those, then, are spirits, Master, that I hear?\u2019\n I asked. He answered: \u2018Rightly hast thou deemed\n They go untangling anger\u2019s knot severe.\u2019\n \u2018Now who art thou discoursing at thy will\n Of us? Who cleavest with thy shape our smoke\n As time by calends thou wert measuring still?\u2019\n So said a voice, whereat my Master spoke:\n \u2018Ask him if any mounteth hence, up there.\u2019\n And I: \u2018O being, who dost make thee pure\n Unto thy Maker to return as fair\n As thou wert born! draw near me, and full sure\n Thou shalt hear something to awake thy stare.\u2019\n \u2018Far will I follow as allowed,\u2019 he said;\n \u2018And if the smoke permit us not to see,\n Our sense of hearing may avail instead\n Of sight, and grant me to converse with thee.\u2019\n Then I began: \u2018With that same fleshly frame\n Which death dissolveth, I am bound above:\n Here through the infernal embassy I came,\n And if God so enfold me in his love\n That his grace grants me to behold his court\n In manner diverse from all modern wont,\n Keep not from me the knowledge, but report\n Who thou wast, living, and if up the mount\n My course is right: thy word shall us escort.\u2019\n\n \u2018Lombard I was, and Mark the name I bore;\n I knew the world, and loved that sort of worth\n At which men bend their bows not any more.\n Thy course is right: climb on directly forth.\u2019\n He answered, adding: \u2018Pray for me when thou\n Shalt be up there.\u2019 I answered him: \u2018I bind\n Myself in good faith by a solemn vow\n To grant thy wish; but with one doubt my mind\n Will burst within unless I solve it now.\n The simple doubt which I had formed before\n From others\u2019 words is doubled now by thine,\n Which, joined with those words, make my doubt the more.\n The world in sooth, as I may well divine\n From what thou say\u2019st, is wicked at the core\n And clothed with evil; of all virtue bare:\n Show me, I pray, that I may tell again\n Others, the _cause_ of this; for some declare\n That Heaven is cause of ill, and some say men.\n A deep-drawn sigh which anguish made a groan\n First giving vent, to \u2018Brother\u2019 spake he then:\n \u2018The world is blind; sure thou of them art one.\n Ye who are living every cause refer\n Still to high Heaven, as though necessity\n Moved all things through Heaven\u2019s[67] motion. If this were,\n Freedom of will impossible would be,\n Nor were it just that Goodness should for her\n Sure meed have joy, and Badness misery.\n Heaven to your actions the first movement gives\u2014\n I say not all; but granted I say all,\n For good or evil each his light receives,\n And a free will which, if it do not fall,\n But win Heaven\u2019s first hard battle, then it lives,\n And, if well trained, is never held in thrall.\n\n \u2018To greater power and to a higher soul\n Free, ye are subject; and that power in you\n Creates the mind, which no stars can control:\n Hence if the present world go wrong, \u2019tis due\n To your own selves; and of this theme the whole\n I will expound as an informer true.\n Forth from His hand (before its birth who smiled\n On his new offspring) into being goes\n A little weeping, laughing, wanton child;\n The simple infant soul that nothing knows,\n Save that, by pleasure willingly beguiled,\n She turns to joy as her glad Maker chose.\n Taste of some trifling good it first perceives,\n And, cheated so, runs for the shining flower,\n Unless a rein or guide its love retrieves.\n Hence there was need of Law\u2019s restraining power;\n A king there needed, that at least some one\n Of God\u2019s true city might discern the tower.\n The laws exist, but who maintains them? none;\n Because the Shepherd, Sovereign of the fold,\n Though he may ruminate, no cleft hoof bears:\n The people then, seeing their Guide so fond\n Of what they crave, and with like greed as theirs,\n Pasture with him, and seek no good beyond.\n \u2019Tis plain to see that what hath made mankind\n So bad is evil guidance, not your own\n Corrupted nature. Once of old there shined\n The twofold splendors of a double sun\n In Rome, which city brought the world to good;\n One showed the way of earth to men, and one\n Gave them to see the other way, of God.\n One hath destroyed the other, and the sword\n Is with the crosier joined, that neither fears\n The other\u2019s check; so joined they ill accord.\n If thou dost doubt me, think what fruit appears\n In the full blade, since every plant we know\n For good or evil by the seed it bears.\n Once in that goodly region by the Po\n And Adige watered, valor used to dwell\n And courtesy, ere Frederic\u2019s trouble came:\n Now one might journey through that country well\n Secure from meeting (if it gave him shame\n To speak with good men) any that excel.\n Three old men yet dwell there in whom the old\n Chides the new age, and time seems slow to run\n To them till God replace them in his fold;\n Currado da Palazzo, he is one,\n Gherardo likewise, of the life unblamed,\n And Guido da Castello, who perchance\n Simply the Lombard might be better named,\n After the fashion of their speech in France.\n Say thou this day, then, that the Church of Rome,\n Confounding human rule and sway divine,\n Sinks with her charge beluted in the loam?\u2019[68]\n \u2018Thou reasonest well,\u2019 I said, \u2018O Marco mine,\n And I perceive now why the sacred tome\n The sons of Levi bars from heritage.\n But who is that Gherardo who, thou say\u2019st,\n Remaineth in rebuke of this rough age\n From those who formerly the realm possessed?\u2019\n\n \u2018Either thy tongue misleads me or thou show\u2019st\n A wish to try me,\u2019 he to me replied,\n \u2018That, using Tuscan speech, thou nothing know\u2019st\n Of good Gherardo. No surname beside\n I know, unless unto that name he bore\n One from his daughter Gaia be supplied:\n Go thou with God! I follow thee no more.\n See! raying yonder through the fog a gleamy\n Splendor that whitens it; I must away\n (It is the Angel there!) before he see me.\u2019\n Thus turned he, nor would hear me further say.\n\nFootnote 67:\n\n By _heaven_, throughout this discourse, Dante means, simply,\n _planetary influence_. The lesson taught by Marco Lombardi is the same\n as that which Shakspere puts into the mouth of Cassius:\n\n \u201cThe fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,\n But in ourselves, that we are underlings.\u201d\n\nFootnote 68:\n\n It is well to note in connection with this passage that Dante was, up\n to the time of his banishment by a political faction, a Guelph, the\n Guelphs being then the patriotic party in Italy, and supporters of the\n pope in his resolute opposition to the foreign invasion under Frederic\n Barbarossa. During his exile Dante changed his politics and joined the\n Ghibellines. Had he lived in our own days it is certain that he, whose\n faith was so high and clear, would have shared the openly expressed\n convictions of all responsible men and competent judges in this\n matter, that the temporal authority of the Holy See is necessary, as\n things now are, to the full liberty and full exercise of its spiritual\n authority. Dante\u2019s opinion, as above expressed, is that of a political\n partisan in bygone times. Were he living to-day, instructed by the\n lessons of the centuries which have passed since he wrote, there can\n be no doubt that he would adhere to his earlier, truer, and more\n patriotic political convictions and see no impossibility of the union\n of \u201cThe twofold splendors of a double sun in Rome\u201d in the person of\n Rome\u2019s lawful and historic pontiff and king.\u2014ED. C. W.\n\n\n\n\n RESPECTABLE POVERTY IN FRANCE.\n\n\nUnder the title of \u201cIndigence in a Black Coat\u201d an observant French\nwriter[69] draws a painful picture of the sufferings of a class of his\ncountrymen usually much less compassionated than the so-called\nworking-classes. That term, indeed, is a misnomer when applied to any\none especial class, as, with rare exceptions, every one in France is\nhard at work, manually or intellectually. The class, however, with which\nthese few pages are concerned is one still more deserving of respectful\nsympathy than even those who follow the honest, nay, noble, career of\nskilled or unskilled labor.\n\nBesides the mechanic and artisan, whose payment follows in a certain\nmeasure the progressive price of provisions, there are other categories\nof men, assuredly not less interesting, whose pecuniary level has never\nrisen or fallen even by a five-franc piece, and who at the present time\nare compelled to live on the appointed salary which has been attached to\ntheir place for an unlimited number of years.\n\nEverywhere in the towns rents have doubled, and even trebled. The system\nof railways has disseminated local production, which formerly had a\nlocal and limited sale, over all parts of France, and even abroad,\nwithout any proportionate incomings to compensate for the increase of\nprices attendant on so great an increase of sale. The latter, it need\nhardly be said, involves a like increase of production.\n\nIn a country like France, where the agricultural riches are immense and\nthe landed property infinitesimally parcelled out, the means of\ntransport, which have increased tenfold within the last thirty years,\nhave carried riches, or at least competency, into the villages and other\ncountry parts. To such a degree is this true that there is not now a\npeasant in France who cannot maintain himself by his strip of land.\nFormerly he would have carried into the town, on market days, the\nproduce of his land and live stock. Now he rarely takes the trouble to\ndo this, and almost always strikes a bargain with buyers who purchase\n_en masse_ and pay him a high price. Thus, with hardly any\nexpenditure,[70] he can live on his little property, his aim being to\nsave all he can and to sell as dearly as possible.\n\nBut in the cities and small towns how to live is a more difficult\nproblem. The clerks, secretaries, and small functionaries of every kind,\nwho could formerly support and educate their families in a respectable\nway, have no longer the possibility of doing so on the meagre and\nrigidly-fixed salaries dispensed to them by the state. The sea itself is\nno longer a resource. The railway carries off the produce of the tides\nto Paris and the other large towns, which purchase the whole and throw\naway thousands of kilos of spoilt fish every week.\n\nAgain, these small official situations generally involve the necessity\nof being respectably, or even well, dressed. A professor, for example,\nor a magistrate, an employ\u00e9 of the registration or other government\noffices, belongs, by education or by the functions he discharges, to a\nclass of persons who must make a good appearance, under pain of being\nneglected, unnoticed, or even altogether tabooed.\n\nAt Paris, where there is an abundance of everything, and into which the\nprovinces pour the overflow of their riches, life, for certain persons,\nis materially impossible. The _octroi_ absorbs all, and, under pretext\nof making the capital a rich and beautiful city, peoples it with poor by\nrendering their means wholly inadequate to meet the increasing\nexigencies of expenditure.\n\nThus, while living is difficult to them in the provinces, because the\ncountry sends all its produce to the great towns, in the towns they\ncannot live at all. The imposts there are enormous; while the fact that\nthe necessaries of life are abundant is accompanied by no diminution of\nprice, but the contrary.\n\nStill, nothing is done; and these meritorious persons, obliged to\nconceal a very real poverty beneath an outward show that eats into their\nslender resources, and who, unlike so many around them, are disenchanted\nof the dream that the world is all their own, suffer uncomplainingly.\nPerhaps they are weary of complaining; in any case they do not noisily\ninsist and threaten, but, at the utmost, plead, and certainly wait until\nhope and energy wither in the blight of continued disappointment.\nHundreds of thousands of persons thus exist, and those who may be called\nthe intellectual essence of the nation: professors, magistrates, men\noccupied in the various departments of art, and who prepare the\nintellectual prosperity of a generation to come. These men, especially\nsuch of them as have a family dependent upon them, drag on life year\nafter year so miserably remunerated that how they contrive to live, and\nto strain the two ends to meet by any honorable means, is simply a\nmystery. In vain may each capable member of the family put a shoulder to\nthe wheel and effect prodigies of economy. With every noble effort they\nfind their life growing harder, and the cost of life increasing in\nproportions of which it is impossible to see the limit.\n\nIn the times through which France is passing even the wealthy, and those\nwho are regarded as the favored ones of fortune, reduce their expenses\nunder the influence of a certain feeling of apprehension which is not\neasy to define, unless a reason for it may be found in the frequent\ngovernment changes and general instability of political affairs in this\ncountry. They instinctively restrain their expenditure to what they\nregard as the necessaries of life, and indulge in few of the luxuries of\npatronage involving outlay. And thus the hardness of the times makes\nitself so severely felt in all the liberal professions that in the study\nof the professor or literary author, as in the _atelier_ of the artist,\nthe pressing cares of life not unfrequently absorb the mind so as to\neclipse and benumb the powers of imagination and invention. The father\nand bread-winner anxiously asks himself how, even with marvels of\neconomy and self-denying privation, he is to provide for the present\nneeds and future career of his children.\n\nThe question we are considering is for the moment drowned amid the\ntumult of political strife. It must, however, assert itself with\nincreasing urgency in proportion as misery, in the full acceptation of\nthe word, shows itself as the inevitable consequence of the progressive\nincrease of prices in things of absolute necessity, without such\ncompensation as corresponds with it or even approximates to it.\n\nAnd yet France is far from being poor. Sober, industrious, and\neconomical, her treasury is rich in spite of the enormous war-tribute by\nwhich it was partly diminished of late. That diminution was, by\ncomparison, insignificant. Surely, with all the sources of wealth which\nFrance has at command, there must be amply sufficient to pay, at a rate\ncommensurate with their services and due requirements, men who have\nnever bargained for their trouble, but who now, under the continuance of\nthe actual condition of things, will find it impossible to live.\n\nThis is a question demanding prompt attention, unless the anomaly is to\nbe maintained that France is a country of great actual and possible\nwealth, in which the _\u00e9lite_ of the nation are more and more exposed to\nthe danger of dying of hunger.\n\nThe writer on whose words, verified by our own observations, we have\nbased our remarks says that from all quarters he receives letters of\nwhich the following extract is a sample: \u201cWhat you have stated is far\nshort of the truth. Could you lift the veil that conceals our misery,\nyou would see into what a gulf of distress we have been plunged by years\nof indifference to our needs. From time to time we make earnest\nrepresentations of our case, but these, as well as the proofs we give of\nthe hard reality of our necessities and expenses, are year after year\ntreated with the same passive disregard; and there are very many amongst\nus who, in spite of the most rigid economy, will never be able to\nrecover themselves.\u201d\n\nIn case our remarks should seem to have too general a character, or to\nbe in any way exaggerated, we will give an example\u2014namely, the parochial\nclergy, the men who are unweariedly denounced by the radical-republicans\nas \u201cpillagers of the budget\u201d and \u201crobbers of the state.\u201d\n\nThe ordinary income of one of the more opulent among the rural parish\npriests (by far the larger proportion receive less\u2014some much less) is as\nfollows:\n\n Indemnity of the government for each quarter, paid 900 frs.\n three weeks or more after time = 225 francs,\n equalling per annum the sum of\n\n Indemnity of the commune 100 frs.\n\n Casual receipts 60 frs\n\n (Say, 40) Low Masses 60 frs\n\n \u2014\u2014-\n\n Forming a total of 1,120\n frs\n\nThen, as the sum of obligatory expenses, we have the following:\n\n Wages of servant 240 frs.\n\n Door and window tax 53 frs.\n\n _Prestation_, or taking of oaths 5 frs.\n\n Tax for dog 8 frs.\n\n For the Fund for Infirm Priests, as the only means 10 frs.\n of securing a morsel of bread if disabled\n\n ___\n\n Total 316 frs.\n\nThere remains, therefore, for this parish priest to live upon an average\nincome of 804 francs\u2014_i.e._, about $160. He is not even \u201cpassing rich\u201d\non the traditionary \u201cforty pounds a year.\u201d\n\nWith these eight hundred and four francs he must meet all expenses, keep\nopen the hospitable door of the presbytery\u2014the house so readily found,\nso close by the church, and so accessible; the house which receives the\nfirst visit of the poor, the outcast, and the wanderer, and whose\noccupant, thus poor himself, has neither the wish nor the right to close\nagainst any one the way to his fireside. Two francs and four _sous_ a\nday, however, are the magnificent sum allowed for the inmates of this\npresbytery and for all the needy, who, regarding it as their natural\nhome, go straight to the kitchen, not knowing what it is to be sent away\nempty.\n\nWe are personally acquainted with several country _cur\u00e9s_ whose\ngovernmental stipend is from four to six hundred francs a year, and it\nis only the more important parishes of the _cur\u00e9s doyens_ or _cur\u00e9s de\ncanton_ to which is attached the ampler revenue of nine hundred francs,\nor thirty-six pounds sterling. A large proportion of the _cur\u00e9s de\ncommune_ do not receive more from the state than four hundred francs\n_per annum_. And this stipend is termed, as if in mockery, an\n\u201cindemnity.\u201d It only deserves that title if we read the word by the\nlight of a wholesale spoliation of church property and revenues,\nparochial, monastic, collegiate, and eleemosynary, effected by the\nrevolution, and later on ratified, or at least condoned, by the state.\nIf, indeed, as all history proves, the Catholic Church has been the\nsaviour and preserver of the state, the state has often shown itself the\nJudas of the church, and this \u201cindemnity\u201d is its kiss of peace.\n\nThere are now in France more than twenty thousand priests who are the\nrecipients of this exorbitant civil list. They neither complain nor\nrecriminate, but patiently and bravely act for the best in the interest\nof all. With a calmness derived from faith, they allow to sweep by them,\nas if heeding it not, the flood of stupid and malignant calumnies with\nwhich they and their sacred office are daily assailed. They go on\nreceiving the poor, visiting the sick, consoling the sorrowful,\nsympathizing with all, assisting, even beyond their power, the\ndistressed out of their own pittance, and thus further lessening the\nscanty means doled out to them for the sublime service of every\nhour\u2014services basely misrepresented as to their motive, their spirit,\nand even their result.\n\nIt is not our present intention to dwell on the high social part filled\nby the second order of the clergy in France, and almost invariably with\nthe most praiseworthy self-abnegation. But, at a time when honor,\njustice, and moral sense are by so many in France completely forgotten,\nor treated as an effervescence of obsolete and Quixotic sentimentalism;\nwhen it is the order of the day for each to get as much as possible for\nhimself, and thrust himself into any office at hand, irrespective of\nworth, fitness, or merit; and when legions of \u201cenlightened\u201d and\n\u201cadvanced\u201d \u201crepublicans\u201d (especially those who elect to be married like\nheathens and buried like dogs) are gnashing their teeth at the clergy of\nFrance, so excellent, so devoted, and in the truest sense so liberal, it\nwould be well if these men who insult them without stint and against\nreason were made aware that the more opulent among the men they revile\nare receiving, for all personal and household requirements, and the\nsatisfaction of the hospitable instincts of their sacerdotal hearts, the\nmunificent revenue of forty-four _sous_ a day.\n\nFootnote 69:\n\n Under the _nom de plume_ of \u201cJean de Nivelle.\u201d See _Le Soleil_ for\n Jan. 4, 1878.\n\nFootnote 70:\n\n The diet of a French peasant is frugal in the extreme. His two meals\n usually consist of cabbage-soup\u2014in which on Sundays and other special\n occasions a morsel of bacon is boiled\u2014accompanied with rye bread. We\n have known a very well-to-do couple make half a rabbit last them four\n days in the way of meat. Many kinds of fungi are common articles of\n diet with the French peasantry. They cook them with vinegar \u201cto kill\n the poison.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n THE CORONATION OF POPE LEO XIII.\n (FROM OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.)\n\n\nROME, March 20, 1878.\n\nThere is a passage in the circular of the cardinals addressed to the\ndiplomatic corps accredited to the Holy See on the eve of the conclave\nwhich deserves to be noted in connection with the issue of the conclave\nand the secular policy of the new Pontiff. The circular, after renewing\nall the protests and reservations of the deceased Pontiff, and declaring\nthe intention of the cardinals to hold the conclave in Rome, because the\nfirst duty of the Sacred College is to provide the widowed church with a\npastor as quickly as possible, says: \u201cAnd this resolution was taken with\nthe greater tranquillity, inasmuch as, pledging the future in no wise,\n_it left the future Pontiff at liberty to adopt those measures_ which\nthe good of souls and the general interests of the church will suggest\nto him in the difficult and painful condition of the Holy See at\npresent.\u201d The future for the new Pontiff is a free and open field which\nhe can traverse in the manner he shall judge best for the weal of the\nchurch. The protests and reservations of the deceased Pontiff touching\nthe temporalities of the Holy See constitute a realm of principle.\nSurrounding this is a free border-land for the new Pope.\n\nPeople here in Rome and elsewhere who speculate much on the present\ncondition of the Holy See, and especially on the so-called antagonism\nexisting between itself and the Italian government, hoped that Leo XIII.\nwould assume a less inflexible attitude before the people. Of the\nliberals, the conservatives, who are the acknowledged exponents of the\nsentiments of the crown, hoped for a formal conciliation. The Catholics\nexpected that the new Pope would at least appear occasionally in public\nto bless them; while the curious tourists of all countries had visions\nof the solemn and imposing ceremonies in St. Peter\u2019s which were the\ncharacteristic feature of Rome in other days. The expectations of all\nhave been falsified so far. Since the 3d of March, the day of Leo\nXIII.\u2019s coronation, the most sanguine liberals have desisted from their\nconciliatory speculations, and the rest have settled down into quiet\nresignation, yet hoping that a propitious occasion may again bring the\nPontiff in public before his people.\n\nA more fitting occasion than the day of his coronation could not be\ndesired. Nay, the Pontiff himself had resolved to make his appearance,\nand be crowned before the people, in the upper vestibule of St. Peter\u2019s.\nThe Mass and other functions, prefatory of the coronation, were to have\nbeen performed in the Sistine Chapel. In fact, on the 1st of March the\nmembers of the Sacred College each received an intimation from the\nacting Secretary of State that the ceremonies preceding the coronation\nwould be performed in the Sistine Chapel of the Vatican Palace. In the\nvicinity of the inner balcony of St. Peter\u2019s temporary balconies were\nerected for the diplomatic corps, the Roman nobles, and persons of\ndistinction, native and foreign. The confession of St. Peter and the\npapal altar under the dome were surrounded with a strong railing to\nprevent accidents, while the central balcony itself was enlarged by\nextending it farther out into the basilica and back into the vestibule.\nIt had been the intention of His Holiness to be crowned here, and\nafterwards to bestow the apostolic benediction upon the people below.\nBut on Friday afternoon, March 1, the workmen received orders not only\nto discontinue but to undo the preparations. It is unnecessary to\nspeculate on the cause of this order in the presence of explanatory\nfacts. A demonstration of enthusiastic devotion on the part of the\nmultitude of Catholics who would be assembled there was naturally\nexpected, and in this there was nothing deterrent whatever. But the\ninformation had eked abroad, and was duly reported to His Holiness, that\na party of _Conciliators_ had resolved to seize the occasion of the\nsolemn benediction, and create a demonstration in favor of a\nconciliation with the existing order of things. Flags, Papal and\nItalian, were to have been produced just at the moment of benediction,\nand an interesting tableau of alliance to have succeeded. But this was\nnot all. A counter-demonstration of the radicals was also mooted. This\nis no trivial hearsay, as the events of the same evening sufficiently\nattest. I pass over the allusions to the explosion of Orsini shells in\nthe church. In the face of such expectations ordinary prudence would\nhave suggested to the Sovereign Pontiff the inexpediency of a public\nceremony. Yet if he were disposed to hesitate before giving credence to\nwhat was related to him by reliable authority, the attitude suddenly\nassumed by the government left no doubt in his mind as to what was\nexpedient in the matter. Crispi, the garrulous Minister of the Interior,\nhad given out that the government would not consider itself responsible\nfor the maintenance of order in St. Peter\u2019s on the 3d of March. He had\npreviously addressed a circular to the prefects and syndics of the\nrealm, interdicting any participation of theirs in the public rejoicings\nfor the election of Pope Leo XIII., because, forsooth, he had not been\nofficially informed of the election! He seems to have overlooked the\ninconsistency of this act with the efficient service rendered by the\ntroops in St. Peter\u2019s during the funeral ceremonies of Pius IX., albeit\nthe government had not been officially informed of his demise. The\nchurch, however, has long since learned that it is vain to look for\nconsistency in men who are strangers to truth and fair dealing.\nMoreover, she has, within the past few years, had bitter experiences in\nthe doctrine of provocation, as inculcated by the Italian government.\nLeo XIII. was crowned in his own chapel, in the presence only of the\ncardinals, the prelates, and dignitaries, ecclesiastical, civil, and\nmilitary, of the Vatican, the diplomatic corps, the Roman nobility, and\na few guests.\n\nAt half-past nine o\u2019clock on Sunday morning, the 3d of March, Pope Leo\nXIII., preceded by the papal cross, and surrounded by the attendants of\nhis court, by the Swiss and Noble Guards, descended from his apartments\nto the vestry hall. The two seniors of the cardinal deacons, the\npenitentiaries of St. Peter\u2019s, and the archbishops and bishops awaited\nhim there. When he had been vested in full pontificals, with golden\nmitre, a procession was formed, moving towards the ducal hall. A Greek\ndeacon and subdeacon, in gorgeous robes, attended upon the deacon and\nsubdeacon of honor. The cardinals were assembled in the ducal hall,\nwhere an altar was erected. His Holiness knelt for a moment in prayer,\nand then mounted a throne which stood on the gospel side of the altar.\nThere he received what is termed the first obeisance of the cardinals,\nwho approached, one by one, and kissed his hand. The archbishops and\nbishops kissed his foot. Having imparted the apostolic benediction, the\nPope intoned Tierce of the Little Hours. Another procession was formed,\npreceded by the first cardinal, who bore the sacred ferule in his hand\nand chanted the _Procedamus in pace_. The Pope was carried in the\ngestatorial chair under a white canopy borne by eight clerics. The\nBlessed Sacrament had previously been exposed in the Pauline Chapel.\nThither the procession moved. At the door of the chapel the Pope\ndescended from his chair, entered the chapel bare-headed, and knelt for\na time in silent prayer. It is to be supposed that in those moments he\nprayed for humility of self, as well as peace and benediction upon his\nreign. It is the fitting prelude to the significant ceremony which\nfollowed. Just as the procession was about to move from the chapel-door\ntowards the Sistine Chapel a master of ceremonies, bearing in his hand a\ngilded reed, to the end of which a lock of dry flax was attached,\napproached the throne, and, going down upon one knee, gave fire to the\nflax. As it burned quickly to nothing he said: _Pater Sancte, sic\ntransit gloria mundi_\u2014\u201cHoly Father, thus passeth away the glory of the\nworld.\u201d He repeated the same ceremony at the entrance to the Sistine\nChapel, and again just as the Pope was approaching the altar\u2014a sage\nreminder, for the Sistine Chapel at that moment presented a spectacle of\nglory and magnificence which has no parallel.\n\nSixty-two cardinals, in flowing robes of the richest scarlet, the\nmagnificence of which was enhanced beneath tunics of the finest lace,\nand as many attendant train-bearers in purple cassocks and capes of\nermine; archbishops and bishops vested in white pontificals; clerics of\nthe apostolic palace in robes of violet; Roman princes, gentlemen of the\npontifical throne, in their gorgeous costumes; officers and guards in\nsplendid uniforms; diplomatic personages ablaze with decorations;\nKnights of the Order of Jerusalem in their historic vesture; ladies in\nblack habits and veils, gracefully arranged, and gentlemen in the full\ndress of the present day. Despite all this splendor, the most trivial\nworldling could not but be impressed with the sacred solemnity, the\nawful genius of the occasion. A Pope was to be crowned\u2014\u201cthe Great\nPriest, Supreme Pontiff; Prince of Bishops, heir of the apostles; in\nprimacy, Abel; in government, Noe; in patriarchate, Abraham; in order,\nMelchisedech; in dignity, Aaron; in authority, Moses; in judicature,\nSamuel; in power, Peter; in unction, Christ.\u201d[71]\n\nThe Mass has begun. The choir has sung the _Kyrie Eleison_ in the\ninimitable style of the Sistine Chapel. The Pope has said the\n_Confiteor_. He returns to the gestatorial chair. The three senior\ncardinals of the order of bishops, mitred, come forward, and each in\nturn extends his hands over the Pontiff and recites the prayer of the\nritual, _Super electum Pontificem_. Cardinal Mertel, first of the\nofficiating deacons, places the pallium upon his shoulders, saying at\nthe same time: _Accipe pallium, scilicet plenitudinis Pontificalis\nofficii, ad honorem Omnipotentis Dei, et gloriosissim\u00e6 Virginis Mari\u00e6,\nMatris ejus, et Beatorum Apostolorum Petri et Pauli et Sanct\u00e6 Roman\u00e6\nEcclesi\u00e6._ Leaving the gestatorial chair, and ascending the throne on\nthe gospel side of the altar, the Pope again receives the obeisance of\nthe cardinals, of the archbishops and bishops. The Mass proper for the\noccasion is then celebrated by the Pontiff, and the Litany of the Saints\nrecited.\n\nThe solemn moment has arrived. The Pope again ascends the throne, while\nthe choir sings the antiphon, _Corona aurea super caput ejus_. The\nsubdean of the Sacred College, Cardinal di Pietro, intones the _Pater\nnoster_, and afterwards reads the prayer, _Omnipotens sempiterne Deus,\ndignitas Sacerdotii_, etc. The second deacon removes the mitre from the\nhead of the Pontiff, and Cardinal Mertel approaches, bearing the tiara.\nPlacing it on the head of the Pope, he says: _Accipe thiaram tribus\ncoronis ornatam, et scias te esse Patrem Principum et Regum, Rectorem\nOrbis, in terra Vicarium Salvatoris Nostri Jesu Christi, cui est honor\net gloria in s\u00e6cula s\u00e6culorum._\n\nThe Pope then arose and imparted the trinal benediction. This was\nfollowed by the publication of the indulgences proper to the occasion.\nFrom the Sistine Chapel the Pope, with the tiara still glittering on his\nbrow, was borne in procession back to the vestry hall, whither the\ncardinals had preceded him. When he had been unrobed and seated anew in\nthe middle of the hall, Cardinal di Pietro approached and read the\nfollowing discourse: \u201cAfter our votes, inspired by God, fixed upon the\nperson of your Holiness the choice for the supreme dignity of Sovereign\nPontiff of the Catholic Church, we passed from deep affliction to lively\nhope. To the tears which we shed over the tomb of Pius IX.\u2014a Pontiff so\nvenerated throughout the world, so beloved by us\u2014succeeded the consoling\nthought, like a new aurora, of well-founded hopes for the church of\nJesus Christ.\n\n\u201cYes, Most Holy Father, you gave us sufficient proofs, while ruling the\ndiocese entrusted to you by divine Providence, or taking part in the\nimportant affairs of the Holy See, of your piety, your apostolic zeal,\nyour many virtues, of your great intelligence, of your prudence, and of\nthe lively interest which you also took in the glory and honor of our\ncardinalitial college; so that we could easily persuade ourselves that,\nbeing elected Supreme Pastor, you would act as the apostle wrote of\nhimself to the Thessalonians: \u2018Not in word only, but in power also, and\nin the Holy Ghost, and in much fulness.\u2019 Nor was the divine will slow in\nmanifesting itself, for by our means it repeated to you the words\nalready addressed to David when it designated him King of Israel: \u2018Thou\nshalt feed my people, and thou shalt be prince over Israel.\u2019\n\n\u201cWith which divine disposition we are happy to see the general sentiment\nimmediately corresponding; and as all hasten to venerate your sacred\nperson in the same manner as all the tribes of Israel prostrated\nthemselves in Hebron before the new pastor given them by God, so we too\nhasten, on this solemn day of your coronation, like the seniors of the\nchosen people, to repeat to you as a pledge of affection and obedience\nthe words recorded in the sacred pages: \u2018Behold, we shall be thy bone\nand thy flesh.\u2019\n\n\u201cMay heaven grant that, as the holy Book of Kings adds that David\nreigned forty years, so ecclesiastical history may narrate for posterity\nthe length of the pontificate of Leo XIII. These are the sentiments and\nthe sincere wishes which, in the name of the Sacred College, I now lay\nat your sacred feet. Deign to accept them benignantly, imparting to us\nyour apostolic benediction.\u201d\n\nHis Holiness replied: \u201cThe noble and affectionate words which you, most\nreverend eminence, in the name of the whole Sacred College, have just\naddressed to us touch to the quick our heart, already greatly moved by\nthe unlooked-for event of our exaltation to the supreme pontificate,\nwhich came to pass contrary to any merit of ours.\n\n\u201cThe burden of the sovereign keys, formidable in itself, which has been\nplaced upon our shoulders, becomes still more difficult, considering our\ninsufficiency, which is quite overcome by it. The very rite which has\njust been performed with so much solemnity has made us comprehend still\nmore the majesty and dignity of the see to which we have been raised,\nand has increased in our soul the idea of the grandeur of this sublime\nthrone of the earth. And since you, lord cardinal, have named David,\nspontaneously the words of the same holy king occur to us: \u2018Who am I,\nLord God, that thou hast brought me hither?\u2019\n\n\u201cStill, in the midst of so many just reasons for confusion and\ndiscomfort, it is consoling to us to see the Catholics all, unanimous\nand in harmony, pressing around this Holy See, and giving to it public\nattestations of obedience and of love. The concord and affection of all\nthe members of the Sacred College, most dear to us, console us, and the\nassurance of their efficient co-operation in the discharge of the\ndifficult ministry to which they have called us by their suffrage.\n\n\u201cAbove all, we are comforted by confidence in the most loving God, who\nhas willed to raise us to such an eminence, whose assistance we shall\nnever cease to implore with all the fervor of our heart, desiring that\nit be implored by all, mindful of what the apostle says: \u2018All our\nsufficiency is from God.\u2019 Persuaded, moreover, that it is he who\n\u2018chooses the weak things of the earth to confound the strong,\u2019 we live\nin the certainty that he will sustain our weakness, and will raise up\nour humility to show his own power and cause his strength to shine\nforth.\n\n\u201cWe heartily thank your eminence for the courteous sentiments and the\nsincere wishes which you have now addressed to us in the name of the\nSacred College, and we accept them with all our heart. We conclude,\nimparting with all the effusion of our soul the apostolic benediction.\n_Benedictio Dei_, etc.\u201d\n\nHis Holiness then retired to his apartments, and the solemn assembly\ndispersed.\n\nMeanwhile, the vast basilica of St. Peter had been crowded with people\nsince ten o\u2019clock in the morning, who hoped on, despite the contrary\nappearances, that His Holiness would come out at the last moment to\nbless them. Deeming such an event not unlikely, the Duke of Aosta, now\nmilitary commander in Rome, had ordered several battalions of soldiers\ninto the square, with orders to render sovereign honors to the Pontiff\nif he appeared on the outer balcony. This measure inculpated still more\nthe Minister of the Interior, inasmuch as the unofficial information\nwhich was acted upon by the Minister of War should have been sufficient\nfor the Interior Department. Save and except the salaried organs of the\nministry, the journals of every color in Rome concurred in censuring the\naction of Signor Crispi, adding, at the same time, that it was the duty\nof the government to show every consideration for a Pontiff whose\nelection has given such universal satisfaction. The breach between the\nchurch and state, they concluded, was only widened and the antagonism\nintensified.\n\nThough the ceremonies of the coronation terminated at half-past ten\no\u2019clock, and the equipages of the cardinals and dignitaries had\ndisappeared from the neighborhood of the Vatican, still the expectant\nand anxious people lingered in the basilica until the afternoon was far\nadvanced. Then only did they turn homewards, supremely dissatisfied, not\nwith the Pope but with the civil authorities. The demonstration of the\n_canaille_ in the evening against the Pope and the clerical party only\nconfirmed the report of an intended tumult in St. Peter\u2019s, to be\nprovoked by the radicals. The palaces of the nobles had been illuminated\nabout an hour on the Corso, when the mob assembled at the usual\nrendezvous, Piazza Colonna. With a movement which betokened a previous\narrangement they rushed down the Corso to cries of \u201cDeath to the Pope!\u201d\n\u201cDown with the clericals!\u201d \u201cDown with the Law of the Papal Guarantees!\u201d\netc. They halted before the palace of the Marquis Theodoli, and assailed\nthe windows with a prolonged volley of stones, which they had gathered\nelsewhere, as no missives could be had on the Corso, unless the pavement\nwere torn up. A full hour elapsed before the troops appeared on the\nscene and the bugles sounded the order to disperse. Only a few were\narrested.\n\nThat same afternoon the Mausoleum of Augustus was the witness of a more\nsystematic and dangerous demonstration against the Law of the\nGuarantees. The speakers, several of whom are members of the Parliament,\nindulged in the most villanous tirades against the Papacy, coupled with\nno measured votes of censure upon the government. A strong memorial was\ndrawn up and addressed to Parliament, demanding the abrogation of the\nLaw of Papal Guarantees.\n\nTwo days after his coronation Pope Leo XIII. appointed to the office of\nSecretary of State his Eminence Cardinal Alessandro Franchi, formerly\nprefect of the Propaganda. Whether it be that the moderate liberals\nstill harbor visions of a formal conciliation, or that their esteem for\nLeo XIII. is superior to every party question, or both the one and the\nother motive actuate them, is not yet established; but the fact is,\nevery act of the new Pontiff has been more warmly commended, as an\nadditional instance of his unquestionable capabilities and profound\nsagacity, by the liberal than by the Catholic press. I am far from\nwishing to intimate that the latter displays no enthusiastic admiration\nfor the inaugurative acts of Pope Leo\u2019s pontificate. But the liberal\npress is particularly demonstrative in its admiration. The nomination of\nCardinal Franchi to the Secretaryship of State has been hailed with\njubilation by organs which hitherto have devoted every energy to\nbringing the late incumbents of that office, living and dead, into\ndisrepute. \u201cCardinal Franchi,\u201d say they, \u201cis the man for this epoch.\nAccomplished, polished, bland of manner, skilled in diplomacy, and of\naccommodating disposition, he will be a worthy companion and counsellor\nto Leo XIII. in the new era for the church just inaugurated.\u201d It is to\nbe regretted, however, that their admiration for the Sovereign Pontiff\nand his secretary has not been able to keep their usual powers of\ninvention from running riot in their regard. Cardinal Franchi is already\ncredited with addressing a circular to the nuncios abroad, asking how a\nchange of the Vatican policy _in a less aggressive sense_ would be\nregarded by the powers of Europe. He is also said to have made the first\nstep towards an understanding with Prussia, while the Pope himself is\nasserted as having addressed an autograph letter to the Czar of Russia,\nin which he expresses the hope that the difficulty between the Holy See\nand the imperial government, touching the condition of the church in\nPoland, will soon be removed.\n\nIt is needless to observe that the nomination of Cardinal Franchi as\nSecretary of State is pleasing to the Catholics. His career has been\nthroughout one of eminent service to the Church. He was born of\ndistinguished parents in Rome, on the 25th of June, 1819. At the age of\neight years he entered the Roman Seminary, where he graduated with\ndistinction, and was ordained priest. Soon after he was appointed to the\nchair of history in both his Alma Mater and the University of the\nSapienza. Later on he became professor of sacred and civil diplomacy in\nthe _Accademia Ecclesiastica_. Some of his pupils are now members of the\nSacred College. In 1853 he was sent as _charg\u00e9 d\u2019affaires_ to Spain,\nwhere he remained, with honor to the Holy See and to himself, until\n1856. Recalled from Spain, Pope Pius IX. himself consecrated him\nArchbishop of Thessalonica _in partibus_, and appointed him nuncio to\nthe then existing courts of Florence and Modena. He remained in that\ncapacity until the annexation to Piedmont of both duchies in 1859.\nReturning to Rome, he was nominated in 1860 secretary of the\nCongregation of Ecclesiastical Affairs. In 1868 he was sent back to\nSpain as apostolic nuncio. The Spanish Revolution of 1869 brought his\nuseful labors in that country to a close, and he again sought his native\ncity, but only to be sent to Constantinople in 1871, on the delicate\nmission of arranging the serious difficulty then existing between the\nHoly See and the sultan touching the Armenian Catholics in the Turkish\ncapital. His sound judgment, coupled with his proverbial urbanity,\nenabled him to bring his mission to a successful conclusion in a short\ntime, and he returned to Rome laden with presents from the sultan to the\nHoly Father. He was created cardinal in the consistory of December 22,\n1873, and in the March of the following year was appointed prefect of\nthe Propaganda. His qualifications for the present office need not be\nenlarged upon after a consideration of his antecedents. With the office\nof Secretary of State is joined that of prefect of the Apostolic Palace,\nand administrator of the revenues and possessions of the Holy See. In\nthe latter capacity he will be assisted by their Eminences Cardinals\nBorromeo and Nina, recently nominated at his request by the Sovereign\nPontiff.\n\nPope Leo XIII. has inaugurated an era of reform in the administrative\ndepartment of the Vatican. He is fast retrenching unnecessary expenses.\nHe has brought into the Vatican his old frugal habits which\ndistinguished him as the bishop of Perugia. He still uses the midnight\nlamp of study, and is at the moment of the present writing busily\nengaged in drawing up the allocution which he will pronounce in the\ncoming consistory.\n\nIn that document Leo XIII. will stand revealed in his attitude before\nthe Powers, friendly and hostile, of the world.\n\nFootnote 71:\n\n St. Bernard.\n\n\n\n\n NEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\n A LIFE OF POPE PIUS IX. By John R. G. Hassard. New York: The\n Catholic Publication Society Co. 1878.\n\n\n\u201cIt is ... with the story of the private virtues of Pius IX., the\noutlines of his public life, and the most important works of his\npontificate that the present biography will be chiefly concerned,\u201d says\nthe author of this really excellent life of the late Pope. Mr. Hassard\nhas closely kept to the programme which he thus clearly set down for\nhimself in the beginning, and the result is one of the most\ncomprehensive biographies of Pius IX. that we have yet seen. The book is\nby no means a bulky one, yet the story of the wonderful pontificate is\nall there; the events that mark it grouped with the skill of a\nthoroughly practised and efficient pen: the secret forces that impelled\nthose events brought to light; and the lights and shadows of the\never-shifting scene pictured with a rapid yet bold and true hand. Mr.\nHassard has the happy gift of collecting his facts, setting them\ntogether in the briefest and most intelligible form, and leaving the\nreader to make his own comment on them. The comment is sure to be such\nas the author himself would make, so clear and logical is his\narrangement of the premises. Another happy feature marks this biography:\nthere is an absence of gush. The author writes tenderly and with an open\nadmiration of his subject; but the tenderness never sinks into\nsentimentality, and the admiration is always manly and reasonable. The\nanecdotes are well chosen and happy, and most, if not all, of them will\nbe new to the general reader. The author\u2019s study of the workings of the\nsecret societies, which play so prominent a part in the history of the\nlast pontificate, has been close and searching. His acquaintance with\nEuropean politics generally, so necessary in a biographer of Pius IX.,\nis equally thorough. These necessary qualifications give a special value\nto the present _Life_, while the whole story is told with a genial glow\nof personal regard and admiration for its subject, none the less\ncharming that its tone is rationally subdued. Mr. Hassard is to be\ncongratulated on having produced a biography that will be cherished by\nCatholic readers as we cherish and keep by us, and look at again and\nagain, a faithful miniature of one very dear to our hearts.\n\n\n LETTERS OF JOHN KEATS TO FANNY BRAWNE. From the original\n manuscripts, with introduction and notes by Harry Buxton Forman. New\n York: Scribner, Armstrong & Co. 1878.\n\n\nWere these the letters of John Brown instead of John Keats the world\nwould wonder, with reason, what possible motive could have induced their\npublication. Well might poor Keats, were he alive, say on seeing them in\nprint and exposed to the public gaze, \u201cSave me from my friends!\u201d Their\npublication is, perhaps, the greatest injury that the unfortunate poet,\nor his memory, ever had to sustain. As letters, even as love-letters,\nthey are remarkably dull and insipid. How Miss Fanny Brawne received\nthem of course we do not know. Love is reputed to be blind. It is\ncertainly color-blind. Othello could never have looked black\u2014at least\nnot very black\u2014to Desdemona. Had he worn his native sable that poor lady\nwould undoubtedly have been reserved for a better fate. So it is\npresumably with love-letters. They may contain wells of wit and wisdom\nand eloquence and fire to the party to whom they are addressed, and who\nis bewitched by love\u2019s potion, though to all the rest of the world they\nare the very embodiment of absurdity and nonsense. Titania, over whom\nthe spell has been wrought, sees an Adonis where everybody else only\nsees honest Nick Bottom, the weaver, fittingly capped by an ass\u2019s head.\nIt is an evil day for Bottom when the love potion has lost its virtue\nand the scales drop from the eyes of Titania. Such an event does happen\nat times to all the Bottoms and Titanias, and probably it happened to\nMiss Fanny Brawne, who never became Mrs. Keats, but Mrs. Somebody Else.\nIf ever she had cause for a grudge against Keats she has more than\nrevenged it by allowing some prying busybody access to these very silly\nletters which are now given to the public for the first time.\n\nThey show nothing but weakness, mental and moral, in their author. It\nshould be remembered, however, that they are the letters of a man marked\nfor death. They exhibit not a trace of the wit and humor which Keats\nreally had, and to which he sometimes gave expression. They are utterly\nwithout his classic grace and profound, if pagan, sympathy with nature.\nThey are the expressions of morbid feeling, and of nothing else. They\ncan serve no purpose but to lower Keats in the estimation of all who\nread them. He was never a robust character; but these exhibit him as a\nweakling of weaklings, and it was simply cruel to publish them. The\nwhole thing is a piece of the worst kind of bookmaking we have seen. The\nintroduction, which is worth nothing save to perplex, occupies\nsixty-seven pages; the letters, which are of about equal value, occupy\none hundred and seven pages; an appendix of nine pages sets forth \u201cthe\nlocality of Wentworth Place\u201d; to all of which there are no less than six\npages of an index with such headings as these: \u201cArrears of Versifying to\nbe Cleared\u201d; \u201cBooks lent to Miss Brawne not to be sent home\u201d; \u201cBrawne,\nFanny\u201d; \u201cBrawne, Margaret\u201d; \u201cBrawne, Mrs.\u201d; \u201cBrawne, Samuel, Jr.\u201d;\n\u201cBrawne, Samuel, Sr.\u201d (why not \u201cThe Brawne Family\u201d at once?); \u201cCaf\u00e9,\nKeats will not sing in a\u201d; \u201cFlirting with Brawne\u201d; \u201cFront parlor,\nWatching in\u201d; \u201cGetting Stouter\u201d; \u201cLaughter of Friends\u201d; \u201cSore throat,\nConfinement to the house with\u201d; and so on. We do not know who Mr.\n\u201cHarry\u201d Buxton Forman may be, but if ever it came to pass that we were\nthreatened with fame at the cost of a future Harry Buxton Forman to hunt\nup our love-letters or butchers\u2019 and bakers\u2019 bills, or every scrap that\nwe might write in an incautious moment, we should certainly prefer to\nall time our present happy obscurity.\n\n\n LIFE OF HENRI PLANCHAT, Priest of the Congregation of the Brothers\n of St. Vincent de Paul. By Maurice Maignen. Translated from the\n French, with an introductory preface. By Rev. W. H. Anderdon, S.J.\n London: Burns & Oates. (For sale by The Catholic Publication Society\n Co.)\n\n\nThis Life is a beautiful one. In reading it we are constantly reminded\nof the just and faithful man\u2014the privileged servant of God\u2014who, amidst\nthe turmoil of the world, possesses his soul in peace. Henri Planchat\nwas born of good parents at Bourbon-Vend\u00e9e on November 22, 1823. After a\nholy youth he was called to the sanctuary and studied under the\nvenerable Sulpitians at Paris. Being ordained priest on December 22,\n1850, he offered his first Mass the next day, and the day after that\n\u201cattained,\u201d says his biographer, \u201cthe climax of his wishes by becoming a\nmember of the little community of Brothers of St. Vincent of Paul, in\norder to live and die in the service of the working classes and of the\npoor in general.\u201d Interior recollection, humility, and the perfect\nperformance of the duties of his ministry raised him to a martyr\u2019s\nthrone. A dreadful storm, the fury of the Commune, suddenly burst upon\nthis life of singular simplicity and charity, devoted to the needy and\nthe ignorant for upwards of twenty years, and he was basely massacred,\nout of hatred to religion, in the Rue Haxo, on the 27th of May, 1871,\namong that very class of people for whom he had labored so earnestly and\nso long. \u201cWe are the good odor of Christ,\u201d says the apostle, and in the\nuntimely yet happy death of Henri Planchat we perceive the aptness of\nBacon\u2019s saying about adversity, that \u201cvirtue is like precious odors,\nmost fragrant when they are incensed or crushed.\u201d\n\nThe Rev. Father Anderdon, S.J., has written an introductory preface to\nthis English translation which is short and to the point; but a scholar\nlike Father Anderdon should not have mistaken (preface) Poitou for\n_Picardy_, which was an altogether different province of the territorial\ndivisions of France before the Revolution.\n\n\n ONE OF GOD\u2019S HEROINES: A Biographical Sketch of Mother Mary Teresa\n Kelly, Foundress of the Convent of Mercy, Wexford. By Kathleen\n O\u2019Meara. New York: The Catholic Publication Society Co. 1878.\n\n\nNothing that the very gifted author of the _Life of Frederic Ozanam_\nwrites can fail to attract attention or excite admiration. Miss O\u2019Meara\nseems equally happy in biography as in fiction. Her stories, such as\n_Are You My Wife?_ _Alba\u2019s Dream_, etc., etc., need no recommendation to\nreaders of THE CATHOLIC WORLD. In the touching little biography which\ncalls for the present notice Miss O\u2019Meara has evidently performed a\nlabor of love. The title exactly describes the subject of the sketch.\nMother Kelly was indeed \u201cone of God\u2019s heroines,\u201d called up at a time\nwhen such heroines are peculiarly needed\u2014in our own days. She was born\nin 1813; she died on Christmas day, 1866. Her religious life was a\nsustained series of heroic actions\u2014actions none the less heroic that\nthey were done in a practical, unostentatious, matter-of-fact manner.\nHer good works live after her, and it was a kindly and just thought to\ncommemorate them as they have been commemorated in the bright pages of\nthis tender and graceful little memoir by so skilful a hand and\nappreciative a heart. No one can read _One of God\u2019s Heroines_ without\nfeeling that after all the world is a brighter place than so many\nwriters are wont to picture it. It will always be bright and worth\nliving in while it can boast of such pious and charitable souls as\nMother Mary Kelly. The only fault to be found with the present sketch of\nthat life is its brevity.\n\n\n TO THE SUN? From the French of Jules Verne. By Edward Roth.\n Philadelphia: Claxton, Remsen & Haffelfinger. 1878.\n\n\nThat very clever Frenchman, Jules Verne, has again given us a most\ninteresting and wonderful tale, which has been very successfully\ntranslated by Mr. Roth. It is to be wished that all translations were\nequally well done. Captain Hector Servadac and his servant, Ben Zoof, a\ntypical Frenchman, are hurled into space upon a piece of the earth\u2019s\nsurface, and proceed with alarming velocity toward the sun. Of course\nthey are not the only ones removed from this sphere. There are some\nEnglishmen and Spaniards, and a Dutch Jew. We must not forget a Russian\ncount and his companions, who all play an important part in this\nwondrous story. Verne\u2019s object is to interest boys in the exact\nsciences, as Mayne Reid\u2019s was to awaken a corresponding interest in\nnatural history. At the present day, when stories for boys are becoming\nso intensely vulgar, and contain so much slang which passes for wit and\nplayful badinage, it is a relief to find a story that is told in good\nEnglish, and that contains, moreover, in a marked degree the highest\nsentiments of manly honor. There is in it an undercurrent of the\nstrongest feeling against the Germans, which is vented upon a Holland\nJew. The book would have been better without this. Some English officers\ncome in for a few hits at their national characteristics, but, on the\nother hand, our young captain himself is frequently reproved by his\nMentor, the Russian count, who, of course, is nearly faultless.\n\nThe chief beauty of the book is the large amount of interesting\nscientific knowledge which can be gleaned from it, if carefully perused,\nand although not as amusing as _Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea_\nor _A Journey to the Centre of the Earth_, it can be cheerfully\nrecommended to our boyish friends as full of absorbing interest and\nhealthy in its moral tone. It is to be followed by a sequel.\n\n\n THIRTY-NINE SERMONS PREACHED IN THE ALBANY COUNTY PENITENTIARY, FROM\n MAY, 1874, TO MARCH, 1877. By the Rev. Theodore Noethen, Catholic\n Chaplain. Albany: Van Benthuysen Printing House. 1877.\n\n\nThese discourses are published in aid of a fund for increasing the\nCatholic library of the prison. The author\u2019s preface tells us that the\nlibrary contains about one hundred bound volumes and a number of\npamphlets. \u201cAn incalculable amount of good has already been effected\u201d by\nit; but the number of Catholic prisoners\u2014nearly four hundred\u2014makes many\nmore books necessary. \u201cIf,\u201d he says, \u201cthere could be some concerted\naction among the Catholic publishers of the United States, each\ncontributing a few books, an excellent library would soon be formed; and\nit is but right that this suggestion should be acted on, for the reason\nthat prisoners are sent to the Albany penitentiary from all parts of the\nUnion.\u201d He praises the example of a few of our leading Catholic\npublishing houses, \u201cwhose generous contributions of English and German\nbooks, together with rosaries and medals, have earned for them the\ngratitude\u201d of their unfortunate fellow-Catholics.\n\nThese sermons are short and simple, and will be found very useful to\npastors whose time is crowded with work, and particularly to those in\nthe country who have more than one \u201cmission\u201d to attend. They will also\nprove excellent reading for the Catholic inmates of other penitentiary\ninstitutions.\n\n\n THE FOUR SEASONS. By Rev. J. W. Vahey. New York: The Catholic\n Publication Society Co. 1878.\n\n\nThis is a useful book of instruction, written in a pleasing and popular\nstyle. The \u201cfour seasons\u201d represent the various stages of human life\nfrom early youth to ripe old age. The lesson inculcated is the old one,\nthat as a man sows so shall he reap. The author has happily contrived to\nweave much practical observation and really sound knowledge into his\nallegory\u2014for such the little work may be styled. The chief object aimed\nat is to arouse Catholic parents to the necessity of religiously\nguarding the education of their children, and thus keeping them all\ntheir lives within the church into which they are baptized. Father\nVahey\u2019s volume has the warm approval of his archbishop, the Most Rev.\nJohn M. Henni.\n\n\n THE YOUNG GIRL\u2019S MONTH OF MAY. By the Author of _Golden Sands_. New\n York: The Catholic Publication Society Co. 1878.\n\n\n_Golden Sands_, which was noticed in this magazine, has become, as it\ndeserved to become, a very popular book of devotion. In the present\nsmall volume the same author has given us a work admirably adapted for\nMay devotions. There is a special motive, aspiration, and brief\nmeditation set apart for each day of the month of Mary, breathing a\nhappy piety and tender grace throughout. The devotions need not at all\nbe restricted to \u201cyoung girls.\u201d The same skilful hand that rendered\n_Golden Sands_ into English has with equal happiness set this _Month of\nMay_ before English readers.\n\n\n\n\n THE CATHOLIC WORLD.\n VOL. XXVII., No. 159.\u2014JUNE, 1878.\n\n\n THOREAU AND NEW ENGLAND TRANSCENDENTALISM.[72]\n\n\nThere is a story told of an illiterate cobbler who was wont to attend\nthe theological discussions in an Italian university, and who, despite\nhis ignorance of Latin and the points discussed, always discovered the\ndisputant that was worsted. To a friend who expressed surprise at his\nacuteness he explained that he had noticed that the arguer who first\nlost his temper was the one who also lost the victory.\n\nThe cobbler\u2019s test admits of wide application. The consciousness of\ntruth begets serenity. What chronic ill-temper was there amongst the\nfirst Protestant Reformers! And even to-day a Protestant controversial\nauthor writes as though he were aflame with rage. The doughty Luther,\nwarmed, possibly, as much with the wine whose praises he so lustily sang\nas with polemical zeal, hurls such names as sot, devil, and ass at his\nopponents. He has declined and conjugated the word \u201cdevil\u201d in all cases,\nmoods, tenses, numbers, and persons. We can imagine his broad face\npurple with rage, and his bovine neck throbbing apoplectically, as he\npours out the vials of his wrath upon that \u201cbesatanized, insatanized,\nand supersatanized royal ass,\u201d Henry VIII., whose accredited book won\nfor the monarchs of England that most glorious, though now, alas!\ninappropriate, title, \u201cdefender of the Faith.\u201d The meek Melanchthon had\nthe tongue of a termagant; and Bucer must have suggested to Shakspere\nsome of the characteristics of Sir John Falstaff, so far as a command of\nbillingsgate goes; for the wordy combats of that Reformer (Bucer, we\nmean) recall the conversational victories of the knight of sack.\n\nMorbid irritability and unwholesome sensitiveness were the\ncharacteristics of the movement known, rather vaguely, as \u201cNew England\nTranscendentalism,\u201d which, forty years ago, promised America a new life\nin religion, literature, and art. This ill-temper was a forecast of\ndefeat. It brought the movement under the suspicion of weakness and\nerror. It was a voice crying in the wilderness; it had not, however, the\ntrumpet-tones of strength and conviction, but was rather the puny wail\nof complaint and despair. We were just ceasing to be provincial and were\nopening to world-wide influences. Our national boastfulness was hugely\ndeveloped, and we flattered ourselves that no pent-up Utica contracted\nour powers. De Tocqueville says of us that we are a nation without\nneighbors; and this, of course, means that we are without standards or\ncomparisons of excellence, and so, like the Buddhist devotee, we aim\nafter perfection by self-contemplation. New England was filled with\nschoolmasters who had read Carlyle and translations of the\nEncyclop\u00e6dists, and who in consequence began to have doubts about what\nnot even Pyrrho would have considered a doubt, so far as it had any\nexistence in _their_ minds\u2014religion. The stern-eyed old Calvinism which\nwatched them like a detective became inexpressibly odious to them, and\nthey hated \u201cRomanism,\u201d too, with all that contradictoriness that baffles\nexplanation. It was soon discovered that Scotch Puritanism was unfitted\nfor the latitude of New England, though it must be said that the\nmechanical virtues and the staid habits of the people owed much to that\nstrange fanaticism which, whether happily or unhappily for them, has\npassed away for ever.\n\nHow to throttle Puritanism, and yet preserve its corpse from\nputrefaction as a convenient effigy to appeal to, became a problem for\nwhich no solution presented itself. The American masses even to this day\nvenerate the Pilgrim Fathers, and no amount of historical evidence will\nshake their veneration for those fierce and ignorant fanatics, whose\nmemory should long ago have been buried in charitable oblivion. It is\nonly the Catholic historian and philosopher that can to-day respect the\ninkling of truth which they held, and which St. Augustine says is to be\nfound in every heresy and doctrinal vagary. They attempted to make the\nBible a practical working code of laws\u2014an idea which to-day would be\ngreeted with laughter by their children, who have long since unlearned\nveneration for the Scriptures. There is something quite noble, though\nirresistibly ridiculous, in the old Puritan notions about the Bible. One\nwonders that they did not revive the rite of circumcision. Protestants\nare beginning to acknowledge the wisdom of the church in not making the\nScriptures as common as the almanac or the newspaper. The whole\natmosphere of New England became Judaic. Biblical names of towns\nabounded. Scriptural names were given to children, with a disregard for\nlength and pronunciation that in after-years provoked the ire of the\nbearers. The Mosaic law was ludicrously incorporated with the legal\nenactments of the civil law. The old Levitical ordinances were carried\nout as far as practicable, and the minister of the town just barely\nrefrained from donning the garments of the high-priest and decorating\nhimself with the _Urim_ and _Thummim_. This anomalous society survived\neven the great social changes which were wrought by the Revolution.\n\nPuritanism repressed all individual eccentricities of religious opinion.\nThe boasted independence of Protestantism scarcely ever _did_ exist,\nexcept in name. Let a man to-day dissent from the opinions of the sect\nin which he has been brought up, and he may as well become a Catholic,\nthough that is the crowning evidence of being given over to a reprobate\nsense. What liberty did Luther give the Sacramentarians? What divergence\nof opinion did Calvin allow in Geneva? He punished heresy with death.\nWhat toleration was there in the Church of England for Dissenters? And\nthere is a quiet but effective persecution kept up in the English church\nto-day against all \u201cRomanistic tendencies.\u201d There is not a greater\ndelusion prevalent than the lauded Protestant freedom of investigation\nand liberty of conscience. The Catholic Church, even as judged by her\nenemies, was never so intolerant as that obscurest of Protestant sects,\nthe Puritans of New England. The harshest charges that have been falsely\nmade against a merely local tribunal, the Spanish Inquisition, are\nhistorically proved against the full ecclesiastico-civil tribunals of\nMassachusetts in the punishment, not of turbulent and contumacious\nheretics, but of wretched and harmless old women accused of witchcraft.\nEvery Protestant church is a _complexus_ of social and business\ninfluences, all of which are cruelly and unfairly brought to bear\nagainst any member who uses the Protestant right of private judgment. If\nhe will disjoin himself from church communion, though his interpretation\nof the Scriptures may assure him that the Father is worshipped in\nspirit, he is looked upon as an infidel and blasphemer. The petty\npersecution of the Protestant church is a subject admissive of infinite\nillustration.\n\nCramped and crippled by a fierce Scotch Covenantism, what were the\naspiring minds of New England to do? A natural idea struck them. Some of\nthe fathers of the Revolution were infidels. That great and glorious\nlight of American history, Benjamin Franklin, who was held up as a model\nto every New England boy, was a sort of deist. The influence of that\nman\u2019s example and writings has been one of the most baleful in our\ncountry\u2019s history. The fathomless depths of his pride, the cool\nassurance of his \u201cvirtue,\u201d the intensely worldly spirit of his maxims,\nand his Pharisaical reward of wealth and honors in this world have been\nimitated by thousands of American youth. That nauseating schedule of\n\u201cvirtues\u201d which he drew up; such hideous maxims as \u201cRarely use venery\u201d\nand \u201cImitate Jesus and Socrates,\u201d which seem to us infinitely more\nshocking in their cold calculation than a wild debauch or a hot-headed\noath; his constant prating about integrity as the high-road to health\nand wealth; and, in short, the whole wretched man, body and soul,\nfurnished the worst yet widest-copied example of American virtue and\nsuccess. Add to such influences the schoolboy beliefs in liberty and\nindependence, the solemn Fourth-of-July glorification of individual\nfreedom, the vision of the Presidency open to the humblest youth in the\ndistrict school, and the gradual weakening of faith in the Bible,\nbrought about by the rapid multiplication of the poor, deistical\nhistories and scientific miscellanies of fifty years ago, and the end of\nPuritanism was soon predicted. The heavy hand of the clergy was shaken\noff. The curiosity deeply planted in the Yankee nature looked around for\na new religion. At once all the vagaries of undisciplined thought, so\nlong held in silence by Protestantism, burst out in Babel speech. Chaos\nwas come again. If Puritanism had dared, it would have sent the\n\u201cApostles of the Newness,\u201d as they were called, to the scaffold or the\npillory, or, at the very least, it would have pierced their tongues and\nbranded them with symbolic letters.\n\nAnd what a revelation! We laugh at the wild rhapsodies of George Fox,\nand Mr. Lecky, in his late book, _England in the Eighteenth Century_,\nhas rather cruelly, we think, dragged up Wesley\u2019s and Whitefield\u2019s\neccentricities for the laughter of a world which should rather be in\ntears over the vanishing of such earnestness as both those deluded men\nhad; but the laughter which New England Transcendentalism evokes is\nhearty and sincere, from whatever side we view it.\n\nIn the first place, there is no meaning in the name. The logician knows\nwhat transcendental ideas are\u2014the _ens_, _verum_, _bonum_, etc.; and\nwhat philosophy calls the transcendental is really the most familiar, as\nconnected with universal ideas. But Transcendentalism in New England was\nunderstood to mean a high, dreamy, supersensuous, and altogether\nunintelligible and unexplainable state, condition, life, or religion\nthat escaped in the very attempt to define it. Dr. Brownson complains\nthat he had much difficulty in convincing a philosopher that nothing is\nnothing; and we feel much in the same mental condition as that\nphilosopher, for we cannot see how Transcendentalism (a polysyllable\nwith a capital T) is nothing. It is infinitely suggestive. It is any\nnumber of things, all beginning with capitals. It is Soul, Universe, the\nForce, the Eternities, the Infinities, the \u03b2\u03af\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2. It is Any\nNumber of Greek and Latin Nouns. It is, in fact, a Great Humbug (in the\nlargest kind of _caps_). Mr. Barnum\u2019s \u201cWhat-is-it?\u201d is nothing to the\nProtean forms of Transcendentalism. A fair definition might be,\nPuritanism run mad. There was a certain method in it, and it would be\nfalse to say that the absurdity ever went so far in America as Fichtism\nor even Hegelism in Germany. The old Puritan leaven was too strong for\nthat; and the Yankee common sense, which not even the wildest flights of\nTranscendentalism could wholly carry from earth, instinctively rejected\nthe German theories. Not even Comte\u2019s Positivism, which has quite a\nfollowing in England and an influential organ in the _Westminster\nReview_, ever gained ground amongst us. We do not believe in Cosmic\nEmotion or Aggregate Immortality, ponderous and unmeaning words, to\nwhich, listening, a Yankee asks, _Heow?_\n\nThe surprising fact is how, in the name of all the philosophers and the\nmuse that presides over them, did New England fall a victim to the\n\u201cApostles of the Newness\u201d? It was worse than the Protestant Reformation,\nwhich is said to have developed more crazy and eccentric enthusiasts\nthan any other physical or social convulsion recorded in history. The\nshrewd Yankee genius was supposed to be insured against spiritual\nlightnings. The cold and common-sense temperament of the people seemed\nfarthest removed from the action of \u201ccelestial ardors.\u201d But the fierce\nold Puritanism was taking only a new form. The spirit that sent Charles\nI. to the scaffold was nurtured amid the gloomy woods. Only that the\nsweet providence of God, mysteriously permitting and clearly punishing\nevil, is gradually withdrawing even the physical presence of that\nspiritually and intellectually unbalanced race, what chance would there\nbe for the action of his all-holy will as wrought out by the church? New\nEngland is largely Catholic to-day, yet New Hampshire will have no\npopery in her councils. \u201cThis spirit is not cast out without prayer and\nfasting.\u201d Milton, who lacks spiritual insight, fails to identify the\nspirit of pride with the spirit of impurity. New England, alas! has been\nfilled with the spirit of pride, and of hatred against the City of God,\nand lo! now she is slain by the spirit of impurity, and the stranger\nwithin her gates has taken her place and will wear her crown. And that\nstranger is the despised and hated \u201cRomanist,\u201d who now enjoys the\nblessing foretold in that mystic Psalm whose counsels New England\ndespised\u2014the blessing of progeny. It is a prophecy and a history (Ps.\ncxxvi.): \u201cUnless the Lord buildeth the house, they labor in vain that\nbuild it. Unless the Lord keepeth the city, he watches in vain that\nkeepeth it. It is in vain for you to rise before the Light. Rise after\nye have sat down, and eaten the bread of sorrow. Behold, children are an\ninheritance from the Lord, and the fruit of the womb is his reward. As\narrows in the hand of the mighty, so are the children of them that were\nrejected.\u201d\n\nThis is the divine \u201csurvival of the fittest.\u201d Would to Heaven that the\nsolemn significance of this great Psalm could sink into the heart of New\nEngland and cast out the foul demons that have so long lurked within it;\nthat, having partaken of \u201cthe bread of sorrow,\u201d she might rise to the\ncontemplation of the true Light!\n\nNo sooner was the restraining power of Puritanism cast off than\nTranscendentalism, like the _genie_ in the _Arabian Nights_, rose like\nan exhalation, and afterward defied the command of the invokers to\nreturn to its former limited quarters. The men who assisted at this\nliberation of a powerful and anarchic spirit soon discovered, to their\nfear and disgust, that they could not control it. It was worse than\nFrankenstein, for it appeared to have symmetry, and the land was quickly\nenamored with its beauty. Every theorist felt that the millennium had\ndawned. A truce to common sense was called. The leaders of the movement\nwere put in the painful but logical predicament of inability to object\nto the consequences of their teachings. The over-soul was reduced to\nsuch limitations as the necessity and obligation of using bran-bread in\npreference to all other forms of food. Carlyle\u2019s _Sartor Resartus_\nhappening to appear at a time when the inspiration was fullest,\nSartorial heresies became the rage. Bloomer costumes asserted their\nrights. The old sect of Adamites revived, and nothing but tar and\nfeathers, which hard-headed Calvinists bestowed with unsparing vigor and\nabundance, prevented many from rushing into a state of nudity. There\narose prophets of vegetarianism, and, says Lowell, every form of\ndyspepsia had its apostle. Money, the root of all evil, was condemned by\nimpecunious disciples, who drew largely upon treasures which they\nimagined they had laid up in heaven. Furious assaults were made upon the\nBible, which was stigmatized as a worn-out and effete system. A crew of\nanti-tobacconists, who regretted that they could not find a condemnation\nof the weed in Scripture, were joined by a set of teetotalers, who did\nnot hesitate to condemn our Blessed Lord\u2019s use of wine, and, as they\nwere unable to see the high, mystic significance of the Eucharist, they\nvented their foolish wrath upon such of the Protestant sects as retained\nwine in the Lord\u2019s Supper, and this with such effect that it became\nquite common in New England to administer bread and _milk_ instead of\nwine in the communion, thus destroying even the semblance to the blood\nwhich we are commanded to drink in remembrance of That which was shed\nfor our redemption, and which, in the divine Sacrifice celebrated by\nChrist on Holy Thursday, was _then_ really and truly poured forth, in\nthe chalice, unto the remission of sin.\n\nThe revulsion from the unspeakable harshness of the Puritanic\ninterpretation of the Scriptures was so complete that men cast about for\nan entirely new theological terminology. The transcendental pedants were\nready for the want. What was grander than the old Scandinavian\nmythology? What is Jehovah to Thor? What is the Trinity to the sublimity\nof the Buddhistic teachings? The cardinal doctrine of the New Testament\nis the golden rule, which was familiar to the Greeks, and expressed in\nour own terms by Confucius. Satan\u2019s master-stroke was thus levelled at\nthe Bible, which was the word of life to the New-Englander. Take the\nwritten word away from the Protestant, and the gates of hell have\nprevailed against him. The inscriptions upon the Temple of Delphi\npreserved Greek mythology for centuries. Infantine belief in the poor,\nadulterated word of the Scriptures, which, after all, were never\nsubjected to the full action of the Protestant theory, kept alive some\nremnants of Christian faith and hope. But to cast away the Bible for the\nVedas, the Krishnas, the Mahabarattas, the skalds, and the devil knows\nwhat other vague and windy compilations of Scandinavian and Brahminical\nsuperstitions was to inaugurate a chaotic era, the like of which history\ndoes not record. There is no sympathy between the American mind and the\nBuddhism of the East, much less between the minds of the Yankee\nTranscendentalists and the wild beliefs of Danish sea-kings, who would\nhave knocked their brains out, as puling and scholarly creatures unfit\nto wield a club or harpoon a seal, and consequently objects of the just\nwrath and derision of Odin and Thor. Yet these strange mythologies,\nintermixed with fatalism, Schellingism, and nature-worship, formed the\n_olla-podrida_ to which New England for at least ten years sat down,\nafter the unsavory dish of Puritanism had been thrown out of doors.\n\nThe spiritual squalor and intellectual poverty of most\nTranscendentalists were studiously kept out of sight, and the school\u2014for\nit would be blasphemy to call it a religion\u2014pushed forward into notice\nits exponents, who, under the stricter requirements of writing,\nconsiderably toned down their sentiments, and sought to give\nintelligible and literary form to their extravagances. A magazine,\ncalled the _Dial_, was published in Boston, in 1840 and a few following\nyears, and notwithstanding the petulant genius of Emerson, its editor,\nwho only now and then yielded to the spirit of newness, the strangest\ngibberish began to mumble in its columns. The following, from the\n\u201cOrphic Sayings\u201d of Bronson Alcott, who was considered to be one\n\u201coverflowed with spiritual intimations,\u201d is an illustration of the\njargon. It might be proposed by a weekly paper as a puzzle to the\nreaders:\n\n \u201cThe popular genesis is historical. It is written to sense, not to\n soul. Two principles, diverse and alien, intercharge the Godhead and\n sway the world by turns. God is dual. Spirit is derivative. Identity\n halts in diversity. Unity is actual merely. The poles of things are\n not integrated. Creation is globed and orbed.\u201d\n\nThe leaders of the movement cared nothing about letting their infidelity\nbe known; but the mass following were loath to break completely with\ntheir religious traditions. They did not know what _Kultur_ meant, and\nhad neither knowledge of, nor sympathy with, Wilhelm Meister or Werther.\nThe _Atlantic Monthly_, which may be regarded as having taken the place\nof the _Dial_, became the repository of Transcendental thought, though,\nwith Yankee shrewdness and _savoir faire_, the editors managed to give\nit an unsectarian and, in time, even a national character.\n\nThe _Atlantic_ never committed itself to Christianity, or, if it did so,\nit was to that spurious horror which in rhyme, idea, and general\nrelativeness joins Jesus with Cr\u0153sus. A peculiar school of literature,\nmarked with the patient study of German idealism, grew up around the\n_Atlantic_, which, with characteristic New England assertion, claimed to\nbe the critic and model of American letters. The _orphic_ style was\nsternly kept down in the _Atlantic_, but it _would_ assert itself. Any\none who cares about illustrating this idea has but to turn over the\nolder _Atlantics_ to see the painful efforts made to paraphrase the name\nof God, which, whenever boldly printed, has some title of limitation. We\nhave any quantity of Valhallas and mythologies, and poems about the\nChrist that\u2019s born in lilies, etc.; but it is tacitly understood that\n_Kultur_ is the presiding genius. It must be admitted that New England\nTranscendentalism developed, or at least engaged, considerable literary\nand poetic talent. Not to speak of its High-Priest, Avatar,\nInspirationalist, Seer, or Writer (with a big W), or Whatsoever you call\nhim\u2014Emerson, who has retreated from its altar and seems to be swinging\nhis Thor-hammer wildly in every direction, there appeared a number of\nwriters, all under the mystic spell. They aimed at a certain vague and\nbeautiful language, and were given to pluralizing nouns which are one\nand singular in meaning. A certain kind of poetry, after the manner of\nShelley, but not after his genius, sprang up and monthly bedecked the\n_Atlantic_ with flowers. The literary men of New England were made to\nfeel that inspiration sprang from Transcendentalism alone.\n\nNathaniel Hawthorne became its novelist, and Thoreau, whom we have been\nkeeping at the door so long, suggested to him the idea of Donatello in\n_The Marble Faun_\u2014a finely-organized animal, acted upon by human and\notherwise spiritual influences. Hawthorne\u2019s morbid genius, for which we\nconfess we have little admiration, was unnaturally stimulated by the\nTranscendental seers. He is for ever diving into the depths of inner\nconsciousness, and always appearing with a devil-fish instead of a\npearl. His _Note-Books_ show him to have been a spiritually diseased\nman, for whom the stench and ugliness of moral fungus growths had more\ncharms than had the flowers. He has the besetting weakness of false\nreformers, chronic irritation, quite as vehement against the pettiest\ncrosses and vexations of life as against its awful tragedies and crimes.\nThis is the evolution of Transcendentalism. It began with enthusiasm and\nended in worse than Reformation anger at everything and everybody, not\nexcepting itself; but it was not an anger that sins not.\n\nTheodore Parker was its theologian by excellence, and as the one god he\nbelieved in was himself, we suppose he may be allowed the title.\nMargaret Fuller Ossoli was co-editor with Emerson of the _Dial_, and was\na strong-minded woman, whom her admirers insisted upon calling Anne\nHutchinson come again\u2014so strong, after all, were their New England\ntraditions. Dwight wrote their music, if music can be limited in\nexpression. William Ellery Channing was the poet of Transcendentalism,\nand Henry D. Thoreau was its hermit.\n\nThoreau was born at Concord in 1817, and he died in 1862. He was the\nonly man among the Transcendentalists that allowed their theories the\nfullest play in him, and the incompleteness and failure of his life\ncannot be concealed by all the verbiage and praise of his biographers.\nEmerson\u2019s high-flown monologues ruined him. A trick of naturalizing and\nbotanizing which he had, and which never reached the dignity or\nusefulness of science, was exaggerated by a false praise that acted more\npowerfully than any other influence in sending him into the woods as a\nhermit, and among mountains as a poet-naturalist. He appears to have\ncherished some crude notions about the glory and bountifulness of Nature\nand her soothing and uplifting ministry, but these notions are, in the\nultimate analysis, admissive of much limitation and qualification, if\nthey be not altogether _\u00e6gr\u00e6 somnia mentis_. The Transcendentalists\nworshipped Nature and built airy altars to the Beautiful, but they did\nnot venture into the woods on a rainy day without thick shoes and good\numbrellas. Thoreau gave up his life to this delusory study and adoration\nof Nature, and got for his worship a bronchial affection which struck\nhim down in the full vigor of manhood. We have no patience with an ideal\nthat takes us away from the comforting and companionship of our\nfellow-men. What divine lessons has Nature to teach us comparable with\nher manifestations in human nature? Why should we run off into solitude,\nand busy ourselves with the habits of raccoons and chipmunks that are\nsublimely indifferent to us? How much better is old Dr. Johnson\u2019s\ntheory: \u201cThis is a world in which we have good to do, and not much time\nin which to do it,\u201d and who, on being asked by Boswell to take a walk in\nthe fields, answered: \u201cSir, one green field is like another green field.\nI like to look at men.\u201d\n\nLife in the woods is very good for a mood or a vacation, but man escapes\nfrom them into the city. The old proverb about solitude runs, _Aut deus,\naut lupus_\u2014no one but a divinity or a wolf can stand solitude. One of\nthe weaknesses of Transcendentalism was an affectation of seclusion. It\nwas too good for human nature\u2019s daily food. Man is such a bore! \u201cO for a\nlodge in some vast wilderness!\u201d Now, all this is sinful and\nunreasonable. Why should we shrink from the bad and evil and\nobjectionable in mankind to herd with the wild beasts of the forest? The\nonly thing that sanctifies solitude is the Catholic faith; and, even\nwhen the monastic idea sought to realize complete isolation from the\nworld, the superiors were loath to grant permission. They felt that it\nis not good for man to be alone, and St. Benedict, in his Rule, has a\nreflection that there were monks lost in solitude who would have been\nsaved in community. The true idea is that we can be solitary in spirit\nin the midst of crowds. There is no necessity of betaking ourselves to\nthe woods.\n\nVery likely the high praise of isolation, as nutritive of genius, acting\nupon a naturally retiring disposition, first led Thoreau to his sylvan\nlife. The common idea that he was a hermit or a misanthropist is fully\ndisproved by his biographers. In our opinion he is just the reverse, and\nif we were disposed to bring in evidence we could show that he was wild\nfor notoriety. His private letters are more affected than Pope\u2019s, who\nwrote with an eye to publication. All Thoreau\u2019s books are full of his\nprivate experiences, thoughts, and emotions. He never suffers you to\nescape from his overpowering personality. He never sinks the _ego_. He\nreminds one of the diary of the private gentleman in Addison\u2019s\n_Spectator_: \u201cTo-day the beef was underdone. Took a walk. Dreamt about\nthe Grand Turk.\u201d Thoreau is for ever telling us about his personal\nfeelings, his method of baking bread, and his dreams about tortoises,\netc. There is something funny in his writing six volumes for men on whom\nhe fancied he looked with Transcendental contempt. The fact is, he was a\nfine, naturally talented, and poetic man, who was bewitched by the\ntheories which we have sketched; and the contest within his spirit has\nled his biographers and critics into pardonable misapprehensions of his\nlife and aims. Left to himself and his aspirations, he would have\ndeveloped into a fair poet or a good naturalist\u2014perchance an Agassiz or\nan Audubon. He had no theological or philosophical ability, but a deep\nsense of truthfulness, which made him experimentalize upon the theories\nwhich he heard. He found it much easier than would most men to live in\nthe woods, to take long walks, to navigate rivers, and to collect\nspecimens of natural history. His studies in nature have no value to the\nscientist. He was a good surveyor and liked animals. He wrote some\nindifferent poetry. He described some gorgeous sunsets. He delivered an\noration on John Brown, and he managed to let the world know that he\nbuilt and lived in a hut at Walden. _Voil\u00e0 tout_. He flippantly\ncriticised our Lord Jesus Christ, ridiculed all Christian beliefs,\npreferred the company of a mouse to that of a man, of an Indian to a\nwhite man, and died without a single throb of supernatural faith, hope,\nor charity. This was a man, too, who had Catholic blood in his veins,\nbut who could not bear to hear the chime of church-bells without some\ncontemptuous remarks, and who professed himself a Buddhist without the\nIndic veneration, and a worshipper of Pan without knowing or believing\nthat the great Pan had died for his salvation.\n\nTwo biographies are before us, one by William Ellery Channing, who was\nThoreau\u2019s friend and companion, the other by H. A. Page, who appears to\nbe a biographer-in-general or by profession. Channing\u2019s, as might be\nexpected, is a sort of prose _In Memoriam_; and Page\u2019s is made\nridiculous by an attempted comparison between Thoreau and St. Francis of\nAssisi, based on the saint\u2019s love of, and miraculous power over,\nanimals, and the Concord man\u2019s ability to bring a mouse out of its hole\nor tickle a trout. Strange as it sounds, this comparison is carried on\nthrough one-third of the volume. Page must be a member of a Society for\nthe Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, for Thoreau\u2019s kindness to brutes\nhe evidently regards as his finest trait. Such stuff as \u201cthe animals are\nbrethren of ours and undeveloped men,\u201d and the slops of evolution in\ngeneral, are poured out in vast quantity, and the impression forced upon\nthe reader is that Mr. Page, who speaks of himself as an Englishman, has\nno conception of Thoreau\u2019s character, nor, indeed, of any adventurous or\nsport-loving nature such as freely develops on our wide plains and high\nmountains.\n\nThoreau graduated at Harvard, but without distinction. He and his\nbrother taught school for a while at Concord, where the sage lives who\ngave such cheering voice to Carlyle. There was a wildness in him which\nnothing could subdue, yet it took no cruel or brutal form. He appears to\nhave had that passionate love of external nature which is so sublime as\na reality, so detestable as an affectation. He was made of the stuff of\npioneers and Indian scouts, but with rarer feeling and poetic\ntemperament. A water-lily was more than a water-lily to him. He had no\nsocial theory to advocate\u2014a delusion about him into which Page falls\u2014but\nhe took to the woods as an Indian to a trail. There is nothing\nTranscendental about his life, and yet he is the chief and crown of\nTranscendentalists. He had a brave, high life in him, which is perfectly\nintelligible and realizable, quite as much in the parlor as in the\nswamp. Heroism need not leave New York for the steppes of Russia. A\nnaturally timid priest who anoints a small-poxed patient is as brave in\nhis way as Alexander or Charles XII. of Sweden. A thousand hermits have\nlived before Thoreau, and made no palaver over their social discomforts,\nwhich are, indeed, inseparable from their way of life. There is an\nunpleasant _soup\u00e7on_ of Yankeeism when, in _Walden_, Thoreau lectures us\non economy. The Transcendental aurora vanishes before the prosaic\nhearth-fire.\n\nWe remember having read _A Week on the Concord and Merrimac Rivers_ and\n_The Maine Woods_ during a summer vacation which we spent between Mount\nDesert and Nantucket, and the sweet naturalness of those two beautiful\nbooks sank into our heart, touched, perhaps, by the glorious yet sombre\nscenery in which we moved. The jar and discord of Thoreau\u2019s theological\nopinions melted away in the harmony of the great music which he made us\nhear among the hills and scenes which he loved so well, and of which he\nseemed a part. Hawthorne\u2019s keen eye, sharpened, we will not say\npurified, by high \u00e6sthetic cultivation, detected in Thoreau the latent\nqualities of the _Faun_ whose existence, by an anomaly, he has thrown\ninto modern Italy, and even intimates as wrought on by the church. We\nlove to think of Thoreau, not as idealized by Emerson, Channing, or\nPage, nor shallowly criticised as by Lowell, but as bright and winsome,\nafar from the sensuous creation of Hawthorne, and full of that boyish\nlove of flood and field which has made us all at one time Robinson\nCrusoes. This is a most undignified descent from that ideal type of\ncharacter which Thoreau is supposed to represent; but we submit to any\nreader of his books, if he did not skip his foolish theories about\nreligion, friendship, society, ethics, and other such themes on which\nEmerson expatiates, and about which dear old Thoreau never knew anything\nat all practical, and leap with him into the stream, follow the trails\nhe knew so well, learn the mysteries of angling and hunting, and tramp\nwith him through the forests, read with him his dearly-loved Homer, and,\nin spite of our half-concealed laughter, listen to his wonderful\nexplanations of the _Beghavat-Gheeva_.\n\nIt is encouraging to notice how bravely he shakes off half the nonsense\nof Transcendentalism, though bound by the wiles of Merlin, who lived\nonly two miles from Walden. Transcendentalism gave no religion. It was\neven hollower than Rousseau\u2019s _Contrat Social_ and _\u00c9mile_, in which\nwritings the wicked old Voltaire said that Jean Jacques was so earnest\nin converting us back to nature that he almost persuaded us to go upon\nall fours. Even Emerson confesses to the failure of Thoreau\u2019s life.\n\u201cPounding beans,\u201d says that wise old man, with the air of a Persian\nsage\u2014a character which he frequently adopts, especially when he\nrecommends some thousand-dollar Persian book to us as infinitely\nsuperior to the New Testament,\u2014\u201cPounding beans,\u201d says he, referring to\npoor Thoreau\u2019s attempt to carry out his Transcendentalism, \u201c_may_ lead\nto pounding thrones; but what if a man spends all his life pounding\nbeans?\u201d\n\nAnd so, in the style of the tellers of fairy stories, we say that poor\nThoreau continued all his life pounding beans, but without caring very\nmuch for the bearing of beans upon the eternities, splendors, and\nthrones, and that he lived a cheerful and wholesome, natural life,\nthough rather an uncomfortable one, in his woods and among his beasts\nand flowers; that he was kind and gentle to beasts, but not to God or to\nman, of whom he seemed to be afraid, which was a mistake; and after he\nwas dead he was made out to be a great philosopher, a golden poet, a\ngreat social theorist, and a Transcendental saint, which is another\nmistake.\n\nWith Thoreau died the Transcendental hermit, and, so far as human nature\nand a happy combination of character and circumstance could permit, the\nonly truly ideal man that Transcendentalism has produced. Yet how far he\nfalls below the most commonplace monk in spiritual range and power and\naim! No great spiritual fire burns in his bosom; nor will any\nMontalembert be attracted to his memory. There was not the light of\nChristian faith or love upon his life, which is distinguished from the\nsavage\u2019s only by its superior mental civilization and its relation to\nthat civilization which he so humorously yet contradictorily despised.\nWith Emerson, who has now convinced himself of the absurdity of\nimmortality, its greatest writer will die. The _Kulturkampf_ of Germany,\nwhich New England introduced into America, cannot survive the literary\nchanges which take place every half-century. Emerson will fade into\noblivion, and even now he is no longer listened to. But there is that in\nThoreau\u2019s books which gives vitality to old Walton\u2019s _Angler_, and the\ntraveller on the Concord and through Maine will recall the memory of\nThoreau, no longer, we hope, to be associated with the eclipse of his\nfalse philosophy, but seen bright and vivid in that sunshine and beauty\nhe loved so well.\n\nFootnote 72:\n\n _Thoreau, the Poet-Naturalist._ By W. E. Channing. Boston: Roberts\n Brothers. 1873.\n\n _Thoreau: his Life and Aims._ A Study. By H. A. Page. Boston: J. R.\n Osgood & Co. 1877.\n\n\n\n\n THE FOUNTAIN\u2019S SONG.\n\n\n Into the narrow basin\n Falleth the ceaseless rain,\n Echo of sweet-voiced river\n Singing through mountain glen,\n Breaking amid the footfalls\n Filling the city square,\n Mingling with childhood\u2019s clamor\n Piercing the heavy air:\n Shrill-sounding, childish voices\n Gathered from dust-grimed street,\n Pale little wondering faces,\n Swift little shoeless feet;\n Coral-stained cheeks of olive,\n Lips where all roses melt,\n Eyes like the heavens\u2019 zenith\u2014\n Latin, Teuton, and Celt\n Crowding with eager glances\n Where the wide bowl lies spread,\n Watching the gold-fish glimmer,\n Giving the turtles bread:\n Eyes that of mountain streamlet\n Never the light have known,\n Ears that of mountain music\n Know not a single tone,\n Feet that have never clambered\n Clinging to mossy stone,\n Hands that the palest harebell\n Never have called their own.\n\n Glittering in the sunshine\n Droppeth the fountain\u2019s rain;\n Glistening in the moonlight,\n Singing its mountain strain.\n Twittering round the basins\n Sparrows sit in a line,\n Dip in the ruffled water,\n Scatter its jewels fine.\n Rests in the earth-bound basin\n Depth of the starlit sky,\n Shadows of noon and twilight\n Soft on the waters lie.\n Fresh on the clover circle\n Falleth the wind-driven spray,\n Keeping an April greenness\n All through the August day.\n Meet that St. Mary\u2019s gable,\n Bearing the cross, should crown\n This little glimpse of freshness\n Set in the sun-parched town;\n Meet that St. Mary\u2019s altar\n Rise with its Sacrifice\n Here where the city\u2019s poor ones\n Seek pure breath from the skies.\n\n E\u2019er in the dropping water\n Filling the pool below\n Voices I hear that never\n Pure mountain-stream can know:\n Singeth the city fountain\n Songs that are all its own,\n Though for its needs it borrow\n Music the hills have known:\n Sings it of sin forgiven,\n Sorrow-tossed heart at rest,\n Wearisome load soft lifted,\n Soul of all bliss possessed.\n Chanteth the silver murmur\n Notes of the vesper hymn;\n Gleams in the moonlit showers\n Twinkle of taper dim\n Burning before God\u2019s altar\n Faithful through day and night,\n In its unbroken service\n Token of holier light.\n Bells rung at Benediction\n Mingle their sacred chime\n Clear in the solemn rhythm\n Wherewith the fountain keeps time.\n\n Gifts of our Blessed Mother,\n Lady of God\u2019s dear Grace,\n Fall with the falling waters\u2014\n Heavenly dew of peace.\n Wind-swept spray of the fountain\n Keeping the clover green,\n Telleth the grace of sorrow\n Clothing a soul serene;\n Bubbles breaking in sunshine\u2014\n Heaven-reflecting spheres\u2014\n Shine like joy-freighted eyelids:\n Heart finding speech in tears.\n Quarrelsome little sparrows\n Wear the white wings of dove,\n Brooding o\u2019er mystical waters,\n Fusing the waves with love.\n So doth the fountain whisper\n Thoughts of all sorrow and joy,\n Sparkle like bless\u00e8d water\n Cleansing from sin\u2019s alloy:\n Voices of mountain and altar\n Blend in its ceaseless rain,\n Holding my soul that listens\n Bound in a subtle chain.\n\n\n\n\n HERMITAGES IN THE PYR\u00c9N\u00c9ES ORIENTALES.\n\n\n I.\n\n\n\u201cLet man return to God the same way in which he turned from him; and as\nthe love of created beauty made him lose sight of the Creator, so let\nthe beauty of the creature lead him back to the beauty of the\nCreator.\u201d\u2014_St. Isidore of Seville._\n\nLet others who visit the magnificent range of the Pyrenees tell of the\ngrandeur of the scenery and the beneficence of the mineral waters; let\nthem recount the days of border warfare, when Christian and Saracen\nfought in the narrow passes, and Charlemagne, and Roland, and all the\nmighty peers awoke the echoes of the mountains; we will seek out the\ntraces of those unlaurelled and, for the most part, nameless heroes who\novercame the world and ended their days in the lonely caves and cells\nthat are to be found all along the chain from the Mediterranean Sea to\nthe Bay of Biscay. Many towns and villages of southwestern France owe\ntheir origin to some such cell. The hermit at first only built one large\nenough for himself, in which he set up a cross and rude statue of the\nVirgin. Other souls, longing for solitude, came to knock at his door.\nThe cell was enlarged. An oratory was erected. People came to pray\ntherein and bring their offerings. The oratory grew into a chapel. The\nhermitage became a monastery, around which families gradually took\nshelter, and the hamlet thus formed sometimes grew into a town. Lombez,\nSt. Papoul, St. Sever, and many other places owe their origin to some\npoor hermit. The names of a few of these holy anchorites are still\nglorious in these mountains, like those of St. Orens, St. Savin, and St.\nAventin, but most of them are hidden as their lives were, and as they\ndesired them to be. Many of the chapels connected with their cells have\nacquired a local celebrity and are frequented by the people of the\nneighboring villages. This is a natural tribute to the memory of the\nsaintly men to whom their fathers used to come when in need of prayer or\nspiritual counsel. The influence of such men on the rural population\naround was incalculable, with their lessons of the lowly virtues\nenforced by constant example. Sometimes not only the peasant but the\nneighboring lord would come with his _Dic mihi verbum_, and go away with\nnew views of life and its great aims. King Perceforest, in his lessons\nto his knights, said: \u201cI have graven on my memory what a hermit a long\ntime ago said to me by way of admonition\u2014that should I possess as much\nof the earth as Alexander, as much wisdom as Solomon, and as much valor\nas the brave Hector of Troy, pride alone, if it reigned in my bosom,\nwould outweigh all these advantages.\u201d\n\nMany of these hermitages and oratories are\n\n \u201cUmbrageous grots and caves\n Of cool recess\u201d\n\nthat have been consecrated to religious purposes from the first\nintroduction of Christianity. In the valley of the Neste is one of these\ngrottoes, to which you ascend by steps hewn in the cliff. The opening is\nto the west, and the altar, cut out of the live rock, is turned duly to\nthe east, where the perpetual Oblation was first offered. The sacred\nstone of sacrifice has been carefully preserved. There is a similar cave\nnear Argel\u00e9s also with its altar to the east.\n\nWhether cave or cell, these hermitages are nearly all remarkable not\nonly for their solitude but for the beauty of their situation. Sometimes\nthey are in a fertile valley amid whispering leaves and wild flowers\nthat give out sweet thoughts with their odors; sometimes \u2019mid the deep\numbrage of the green hillside, vocal with birds, perchance the\nnightingale that\n\n \u201cShuns the noise of folly,\n Most musical, most melancholy\u201d;\n\nor on the border of a mountain stream with no noise there\n\n \u201cBut that of falling water, friend to thought\u201d;\n\nor some secluded tarn whose tideless waters, like the soul stilled to\nall human passions, give back an undisturbed image of the sky; but\noftener on some lofty crag, gray and melancholy, with scarce a spray for\nbird to light on, where amid heat of summer and winter frosts the hermit\ngrew \u201ccontent in heavenward musings,\u201d like him, sung by Dante, on that\nstony ridge of Catria\n\n \u201cSacred to the lonely Eremite,\n For worship set apart and holy things.\u201d\n\nEvery one in his hours of deepest feeling, whether of love, or grief, or\ndevotion, has longed for some such retreat where he might nurse it in\nsolitude. To every soul of any sensibility that has lived and\nsuffered\u2014and is it not all one?\u2014it appeals with a force proportioned to\nthe deep solitude he has already passed through, and his sense of that\nsolitude he knows must one day be encountered. There is something\nhealing and sustaining in this contact with nature, but it is only\nexperienced by him who has that \u201cinward eye which,\u201d says Cowley, \u201cis the\nbliss of solitude.\u201d\n\n \u201cThe common air, the earth, the skies,\n To him are opening Paradise.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut solitude, when created by God,\u201d says Lacordaire, \u201chas a companion\nfrom whom it is never separated: it is Poverty. To be solitary and poor\nis the secret of the heroic in soul. To live on a little, and with few\nassociates; to maintain the integrity of the conscience by limiting the\nwants of the body, and giving unlimited satisfaction to the soul, is the\nmeans of developing every manly virtue, and that which in pagan\nantiquity was a rare and noble exception has become under the law of\nChrist an example given by multitudes.\u201d\n\nThe cells of these mountain hermits are therefore invariably of extreme\nsimplicity. \u201cPrayer all their business, all their pleasure praise,\u201d the\nmere necessities of the body only were yielded to.\n\n \u201cThe moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,\n His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well.\u201d\n\nThere were once more than a thousand hermitages on both sides of the\nPyrenees, most of which have been swept away in the different\nrevolutions. Several of them, however, have been restored, and a great\nnumber of the chapels connected with them have become popular places of\ndevotion. This is especially the case in the Pyr\u00e9n\u00e9es Orientales. M.\nJust, who was our guide to so many of them, and on whom we draw freely\nin our narration, gives nearly forty of ancient origin that still exist\nin Roussillon, the chapels of which are open to the public and greatly\nfrequented, at least on certain festivals of the year. The people love\nthe altars where erst their fathers prayed, and have restored most of\nthose which fell into ruin at the Revolution. One feels, in going from\none of these holy places to another, as if in the true garden of the\nLord filled with flowers of aromatic sweetness. The \u201cbalm-breathing\nOrient\u201d has nothing to surpass them. Let us pass several of them in\nreview, and catch, if possible, the secrets of their spicy nests.\n\nThere is the hermitage of Notre Dame de Pe\u00f1a\u2014Our Lady of the Peak\u2014on a\nbarren mountain, bristling with needles, not far from the source of the\nAude. Nothing grows on these rocky cliffs, except here and there, in the\ncrevices and hollows, tufts of fragrant lavender, thyme, and rosemary,\nand the box, the odor of which, as Holmes says, suggests eternity. A\nrough ascent, cut in the rock, leads up to the hermitage, with a little\noratory here and there by the wayside, and a saint in the niche,\nreminding the visitor to prepare his heart to draw near the altar of the\nMother of God. There is a narrow terrace before the chapel, from which\nyou look down on the wild Agly rushing along at the foot of the mountain\nover its rough bed of schist. On the farther shore is the little village\nof Cases-de-Pe\u00f1a, surrounded by hills that in spite of the aridness of\nthe soil are covered with vines, almond-trees, and the olive. In the\ndistance is Cape Leucate, where the low range of the Corbi\u00e8res shoots\nforward into the very sea. The hermitage is in a most picturesque spot,\nand there is a stern severity about the bare gray cliffs not without its\ncharm. An unbroken silence reigns here, except on certain festivals of\nthe Virgin. Directly behind, a sharp needle springs up, called the Salt\nde la Donzella, with ruins on the summit, of which no history\nremains.[73] These cliffs can be seen far out at sea, and the mariner,\nwhen he comes into the basin of St. Laurent, looks up to invoke Our Lady\nof the Peak:\n\n\u201cBeloved is the Virgin of us. Every day we pray to her at the sound of\nthe Angelus bell. Her image is the sail that impels our bark toward the\nflowery shore. O the Virgin! the Virgin! We need her now; we need her\neverywhere, and at all times!\u201d[74]\n\nNotre Dame de Pe\u00f1a is one of those Madonnas, so numerous in the\nPyrenees, that were hidden in the time of the Moors or Huguenots, and,\nbeing forgotten, were brought to light in some marvellous manner. In\nthis pastoral region it was almost always by means of the flocks or\nherds, whereas in Spain such images were generally found surrounded by\nlight, music, and odors. In this case the lowing of cattle around a\ncliff of perilous height led to the discovery of the statue in a cave.\nWhen this took place, or when the chapel was built to receive the holy\nimage, is not known. But the date on the cistern hollowed in the rock\nshows that it was already here at the beginning of the fifteenth\ncentury: \u201cIn the year 1414 this cistern was made by Bn. Angles, a mason\nof Perpignan, by the alms of charitable people.\u201d The chapel formerly had\nno doors; consequently, any one could enter, day or night. The peasants\nused to say of the Madonna: \u201c_No quiere estar cerrada esta imagen_\u201d\u2014This\nimage is not willing to be shut up. But later, in order to keep animals\nout, a wall was built around it, with a gate that any one could\nunfasten. In old times there were many _ex-votos_ in the chapel, and\nsilver reliquaries, one of which contained a fragment of the tomb at\nwhich Christ wept, and another of the pillar to which he was bound. And\nthe Virgin had thirteen veils broidered with silk and garnished with\nsilver, and a still greater number of robes, it being the custom here,\nas in Spain, to clothe the sacred statues out of respect. The chapel and\nhermit\u2019s cell fell to decay at the Revolution, and the Madonna was\ncarried to a neighboring parish church. But the people continued to come\nhere to pray amid the ruins. When better days arrived it was restored\nthrough the zeal of M. Ferrer-Maurell, of the neighboring village of\nEspira-de-l\u2019Agly. The statues of St. Vincent and St. Catharine in the\nchapel are said to be the likenesses of his children of these names, who\nboth entered the order of La Trappe and died in the odor of sanctity.\nThey are generally known, their lives having been published, as P\u00e8re\nMarie Ephrem and his sister.\n\nThe Madonna now in the chapel is commonly called the _Mara de De\u00fc\nEspagnola_. The place was once owned by the Knights Templars, but now\nbelongs to the chapter of Notre Dame de la R\u00e9al at Perpignan, and on\ncertain festivals the youngest canon comes here with other priests to\nhear confessions and say votive Masses. At such times a great crowd\nascends the mountain. The pavement of the chapel\u2014of the solid rock\u2014is\nworn smooth by the pilgrims of so many ages. At the foot of the mountain\nis a road leading to the Valley of the Aude.\n\nThe hermitage of Notre Dame de For\u00e7a R\u00e9al is on a mountain of that name,\nso called from the royal hold that once stood on the summit, fifteen\nhundred feet above the level of the sea. When the clouds gather around\nit the people in the plain below pray to the Madonna veiled in the mist\nto be protected from hail, so often disastrous to the crops in this\nregion. As the chapel is on the culminating point of the mountain, it is\nvisible for miles around, and seems to the sailor afar off on the\ntreacherous waves like a true pharos of hope. M. M\u00e9chain, the noted\nastronomer, established himself here when measuring the arc of the\nmeridian between Dunkirk and Barcelona. All the villages around have\nstated days in the year to come here in procession. The people of\nCorneille come on Trinity Sunday; Millas, on Whitmonday, and so on. It\nis very picturesque to see them winding up the mountain-side with their\ncrosses and gay banners, singing as they go. On the way they stop to\npray at the little oratory of Notre Dame de Naudi, or Snow. Mass is sung\nin the chapel of For\u00e7a R\u00e9al, and they all receive the Holy Eucharist.\nThe chapel is dedicated to Notre Dame de Piti\u00e9, and over the altar is\nthat group, always so affecting, of _Marie \u00e9plor\u00e9e_ at the foot of the\ncross receiving the body of her crucified Son. Two doors behind\nfacilitate the approach of pilgrims to kiss the holy image. To see these\npious mountaineers gathered around the dead Christ and his mourning\nMother, singing the wild _Goigs_, so expressive of grief, in the native\nidiom, is very pathetic. Before the chapel is a large portico that also\nleads to the hermitage, and beyond is a small patch of land for\ncultivation. From the terrace before the chapel is a fine view over the\nsun-bathed plains of Riversal, and in the distance is the blue sea which\nwashes the shores of that Eastern land where the angelic greeting was\nfirst uttered, but is now echoed for ever among these mountains\nconsecrated to Mary. Not far off is an isolated peak, on which are the\nruins of an old military post that had its origin in the time of the\nRomans. Roussillon, it must be remembered, has been successively\noccupied by the Romans, Visigoths, Saracens, Spaniards, and French.\nSeparated from France by the Corbi\u00e8res, and from Spain by the Pyrenees,\nit was a border-land of perpetual warfare for centuries, and this post\nwas noted in the contests, particularly in the war between Don Pedro of\nAragon and King Jaime of Majorca, and was the last place to hold out\nagainst Don Pedro. Louis IX. had resigned all claim on Roussillon to Don\nJaime el Conquistador, who, on his part, withdrew his pretensions to a\nportion of Languedoc. After the death of Don Jaime the province fell\nunder the rule of the kings of Majorca, till the bloody wars of the\nfourteenth century gave Don Pedro possession of it. He made it the\napanage of the crown prince of Aragon. Louis XIII. took Perpignan, and\nthe treaty of the Pyrenees confirmed France in the possession of the\nwhole province.\n\nThe hermitage of Notre Dame de Juegas is pleasantly situated in the\nplain of Salanca beside the river Agly, whence it derives its name\u2014a\ncorruption of _Juxta aquas_, near the water. Here once stood a temple to\nthe false gods. It is a quiet peaceful spot, a little from the highway\nto St. Laurent, the centre of the maritime business on this coast, and\nthe traveller often turns aside to say a prayer in the ever-open chapel.\nThe sailors themselves come here, and there is a constant succession of\nvotive Masses all the year for safe voyages and happy ventures. It is\nespecially frequented in the summer. The neighboring parish of\nTorreilles comes here in procession four times a year, one of which is\non the festival of St. Eloi to perpetuate a thanksgiving service at his\naltar for the cessation of a pestilence that raged ages ago in this\nvicinity. How few of us, who perhaps consider ourselves certain degrees\nhigher in the intellectual scale than these good peasants, ever return\nto give thanks for our own mercies, much less for those of our\nforefathers! On Good Friday a great number come here from the\nsurrounding parishes to make the Way of the Cross and pray at the altar\nof the Christ. There is a large garden walled in around the hermitage,\nand adjoining is a field belonging to it. Before the cell is a wide\nporch and a court shaded by trees, where the birds keep up their sweet\nresponses from one leafy cell to another. Here the pilgrims assemble to\neat the lunch they bring with them. The chapel is known to have existed\nin the thirteenth century by a document of 1245, by which Delmau de\nCastelnou transferred all his possessions in the territory of Sancta\nMaria de Juseguis to Don Jaime, the Infante of Majorca. It contains a\nstatue of Our Lady between St. Ferr\u00e9ol and St. Lucy. Not far from the\nchapel is the mound where tradition says the Madonna was found. Out of\nrespect it has never been cultivated.\n\nAbout a mile from the little village of Corneilla-del-Vercol is the\nhermitage of Notre Dame du Paradis\u2014in Latin, _Regina C\u0153li_. A fifteen\nminutes\u2019 walk across the sunny plain brings you to it. It is in a\nretired spot well calculated to diffuse peace in the soul, and you pass\nout of the air tremulous with heat into the cool, solitary chapel with a\ndelightful feeling of repose. The hermit, varying his duties by\ncultivating the land adjoining, may well find a calm happiness at the\nfeet of Our Lady of Paradise. The very name brings joy to the gloomiest\nsoul. The word Paradise, as the P\u00e8re Bouhours says, \u201cimplies the\ncessation of every ill, and the fruition of all good.\u201d Fra Egidio, one\nof the early Franciscans, used to fall into ecstasy at the very name of\nParadise; for such holy souls kindle into a glow at the least spark,\nabove all at the thought of the eternal bliss that awaits the end of\ntheir penitential life.\n\nThis chapel has recently been restored by the villagers and very\nprettily ornamented. One of the side chapels is dedicated to St.\nAcisclo, whom, with Santa Victoria, we found honored on Montserrat in\nSpain. Prudentius has consecrated a hymn to these two martyrs, who\nsuffered at Cordova in the reign of Diocletian. The chapel is very\nancient. In an old will of 1215 Dame Ermessende Raffarda bequeathed it\nhalf an _aymine_ of barley, and not long after one Pons Martin, of\nPerpignan, wishing to be buried here, left it a whole load. High Mass is\ncelebrated here on the Assumption, and there are frequent votive Masses\nthroughout the year.\n\nOn the way from Caudies to F\u00e9nouillet is the hermitage of Notre Dame de\nla Vall, on a peak surrounded by a great number of old graves that are\nshaded by sad cypresses and olives. Mention is made of it in a privilege\naccorded by Pope Sergius IV. in 1011 to the monastery of St. Pierre de\nF\u00e9nouillet. Near the mount is the Ruisseau des Morts\u2014the Stream of the\nDead\u2014to which the priest in his sable stole used to come down to receive\nthose brought here for burial. About a mile from Caudies you come to the\noratory of St. Ann, recently restored, with an inscription in the\nCatalan tongue stating that it was erected in 1483\u2014that is, when the\ncountry was under the rule of Aragon. It then belonged to the domains of\nthe counts of F\u00e9nouillet. Just beyond this oratory is a large cross at\nthe foot of a long ramp leading up to the hermitage. The Madonna in the\nchapel is held in great veneration, as shown by the number of _ex-votos_\non every side. She stands in a curious retablo of terra-cotta. In one of\nthe compartments the demon is represented beneath the bier of the\nVirgin, seemingly half crushed by the weight, perhaps significant of her\npower over the Prince of Darkness. There is a kind of belvedere, to\nwhich you ascend by a flight of seventy-three steps, where you have a\nfine view over the valley of Caudies and the stern, barren mountains\nthat surround it. On one of these rocky heights are to be seen the ruins\nof Castel Sizel, and on another those of the old ch\u00e2teau of F\u00e9nouillet,\nwhich take quite a poetic tinge up in that sunlit air. A great festival\nis held at Notre Dame de la Vall at the Assumption, when the mountain is\nclothed with joy and its summit crowned with light. At other times it\nwears a solemn aspect. To see it at night, especially, with its chapel\non the top among lone graves and funereal cypresses, with the Stream of\nthe Dead winding along at the foot, is something gloomy to behold. The\nmonotonous flow of the sullen stream, the black shadows, the sighing of\nthe night winds, as of suffering souls, strike a kind of terror into the\nheart.\n\nThe hermitage of St. Catharine nestles in the bottom of a charming\nvalley about a mile and a half from Baixas, among almond-trees and\nluxuriant vines, the more pleasant from the contrast with the barren\ncliffs that enclose it. Here the titular saint has been venerated from\ntime immemorial, as well as SS. Abdon and Sennen, who are in special\nhonor in this country. They all have statues in the sanctuary, and above\nthem stands supreme Notre Dame de la _Salud_, which is the Catalan for\nhealth\u2014_Salus Infirmorum_. On St. Catharine\u2019s day, as well as the feast\nof Our Lady of Snow, the whole valley is swarming with pilgrims and\nresonant with their _Goigs_, as the hymns in the native tongue are\ncalled.\n\nThe valley of the Agly leads to the hermitage of St. Antoine de Galamus\nby a pleasant road along the left bank of the river, shaded by trees and\nshrubs that never lose their verdure. On the other side rise bold cliffs\nwith astonishing abruptness. At length you come to an iron gate that\nopens into the Bois de St. Antoine, where, along the path bordered with\nodorous plants, are the stations of the _Via Crucis_, and beyond is a\ncave dedicated to St. Magdalen, with her statue over a rude altar. Soon\nafter you come to the hermitage at the end of the valley, surrounded by\na wall, with a small belfry rising above it. Here you are welcomed with\ncordial simplicity by a hermit of saintly mien. A grotto, seventy feet\ndeep and twenty wide, serves as a chapel. Eight steps lead to the marble\naltar, on which is a statue of the patron saint with the mysterious\n_Tau_ on his mantle, and beside him the animal symbolic of all\nuncleanness. Every one who has seen the picture of the Temptation of St.\nAnthony by Teniers\u2014and who has not?\u2014remembers under how many aspects the\ngreat adversary was allowed to tempt the saint, and how, according to\nthe significant legend, the victorious St. Anthony forced the malign\nspirit to remain beside him under the most suitable of forms.\n\nThis chapel has always enjoyed great celebrity since the cessation of an\nepidemic in 1782, in consequence of a solemn procession here by the\nneighboring people. Several rooms are built into the side of the cliff\nto accommodate those who wish to spend some days in meditating on the\n_contemptu mundi_. In one room is a shelf in the rock that used to serve\nas a bed for the hermit\u2014certainly one that would not tempt him to remain\ntoo long inert. Near by is a small cave where the statue of St. Anthony\nwas found. Here is a little fountain fed by water that comes trickling\ndown the side of the cave with a pleasant murmur.\n\nThe place reminds one of Sir Lancelot, who, \u201cafter riding all night,\nbecame ware of a hermitage and a chappel that stood between two cliffs,\nand then he herd a lytel bell rynge to Masse, and thyder he rode, and\nalyghted and tyed hys hors to the gate.\u201d But he that said Mass in our\ncase was not \u201cthe byshop of Caunterburye,\u201d but a poor friar of the Order\nof St. Francis. In 1482 this hermitage was taken possession of by the\nObservantine fathers, who occupied it for more than a century. They were\nsucceeded by lay hermits. For several years past members of different\nreligious orders have succeeded each other here, and by their austere\nlives recalled the ancient solitaries of the desert. You seem to see St.\nPachomius in the wilderness among the clefts of the rocks. In 1843 P\u00e8re\nMarie, of saintly memory, was the hermit here, and might have been daily\nseen hollowing out his tomb in the rock. Beside the yawning mouth lay a\ndeath\u2019s head with the scroll: \u201cSoon you will be what I am, all of you\nwho behold me. Pray for the dead, and work out your own salvation.\u201d\nSometimes the hermit would stop in his lugubrious employment to prolong\nthe moral as with the voice of one risen from the dead. He was succeeded\nby others who were desirous of pausing in the midst of their apostolic\ncareer and refreshing their weary souls by spending a season in\nretirement and prayer among the caves of this lonely mountain. One of\nthese caves is in the side of a steep cliff difficult of access. On the\nwall is rudely graven: \u201cThe voice of him who crieth in the wilderness.\u201d\nThe very stones here, indeed, seem to cry out. The cave recalls the Earl\nof Warwick who became a hermit and scooped out his own cell in a cliff,\nas he is made to say:\n\n \u201cWith my hands I hewed a house\n Out of the craggy rock of stone,\n And lived like a palmer poore\n Within that cave myself alone.\u201d\n\nThe hermitage of St. Antoine is certainly a charming solitude. The\ncliffs are bare and stern, but the eye looks down on the verdure of\ntrees and a meadow enamelled with flowers. The songs of the birds come\nup from their leafy nests, as if in response to the hermit\u2019s psalm, and\nthe sunny air is full of insects chirping in the bliss of their peaceful\nexistence, only rivalled by his own.\n\nNear the village of P\u00e9zilla de la Rivi\u00e8re is the ancient hermitage of\nSt. Saturnin in a graveyard full of trees, and flowers, and crosses,\nshowing the piety of the people towards their dead. Before burial their\nremains are taken into the chapel, where the _Miserere_ is sung and\nabsolution pronounced. Here are the statues of St. Saturnin, St. Blaise,\nSt. Roch, and St. Sebastian, all popular saints in this region. On the\nwall is a tablet to the memory of a noble B\u00e9arnaise who became a\ncanoness, and always used to attend High Mass here on St. Saturnin\u2019s\nday. A legend tells how on one occasion, being overtaken by a hard rain,\nshe was not wet in the least, while the servant who reluctantly\naccompanied her was drenched to the skin.\n\nOn the left bank of the Agly, about a mile and a half west of Claira, is\nthe modest hermitage of St. Pierre del Vilar, surrounded by pale,\ntrembling poplars, and tall reeds that rustle drearily in the wind, and\norchards of olives\u2014saddest, if most sacred, of trees. It wears an aspect\nof utter solitude. The chapel is so old that its origin is unknown. But\nthere is a tombstone from a neighboring priory (now gone) to which the\nchapel gave its name, to the memory of Prior Berengarius, who died in\n1193. There is an old statue of St. Peter here, carved out of wood,\ndressed in an alb, stole, and cope. This chapel was in such veneration\nthat after the Revolution the people restored it, added a belfry, and on\nSt. Peter\u2019s day, as well as several other festivals, they come here in\nprocession, and Mass is solemnly sung. At their departure they used to\ngather around the graves of the old hermits to chant the Requiem, but\nthese graves are now covered by the cells built here in 1851 by some\npious cenobites of the Order of St. Francis\u2014refugees from Spain, who\nsought in prayer and solitude consolation for their exile.\n\nThe hermitage of St. Martin stands on one of the highest peaks around\nCamelas. It dates from a remote epoch, as appears by a bequest dated the\ntwelfth of the Kalends of May, 1259. The seigneurie of Camelas belonged\nto the barony of Castelnou, and when Lady Anne de F\u00e9nouillet, the widow\nof one of the barons, took the veil \u201cof her own free will,\u201d as the\naccount says, \u201c_de sa propria y mera voluntad_, and not by force, or\npersuasion, or reward,\u201d she gave all her rights over the domain of\nCamelas, including the hermitage of St. Martin, to the hospital of Ille,\nto which she had retired in order to serve the poor of Christ.\n\nIn the seventeenth century this venerable sanctuary, having fallen to\npartial ruin, was restored by the exertions of M. Curio, a priest of\nCamelas, who has left many details of its history in a manuscript of\ntouching interest. He tells us how, when a mere _escolanet dels\nrectors_\u2014a pupil of the cur\u00e9\u2014he used to walk in the processions of\nRogation week, carrying the cross or the holy water; and when they came\nto St. Martin\u2019s, and he saw its ruined condition, his young heart was\ndeeply moved. The altar was poor. The old statues of St. George and St.\nMartin were defaced. The walls were crumbling to pieces, and there were\nholes in the vaulted roof; and the open doors allowed the goats and\nother animals to take shelter there. \u201c_Estas cosas_,\u201d says he, \u201c_eran\npera mi de gran afflictio_\u201d\u2014These things were to me a great\naffliction\u2014and he longed to be able to repair the chapel. He finally\nbecame a priest and held a small benefice at Thuir, but he never lost\nsight of the chapel of St. Martin\u2014a saint to whom he had special\ndevotion\u2014and he would have become a hermit here had it not been for the\nopposition of his superiors. On the 12th of January, 1637, during a\nvisit at his brother\u2019s in Camelas, while saying the rosary in the\nevening, he felt suddenly inspired to take immediate measures for the\nrestoration of the chapel. But there were many obstacles. He was himself\nvery poor, as he tells us, and the people around were equally so. He\nknew he should incur the reproaches of his brother as well as of the\nneighbors. And it would be expensive to transport brick, sand, and water\nto the mountain for the repairs. By a few sous from one, and a few\nfrancs from another, he was enabled to begin the work, but had to\ncontinue it at his own expense. Six years after the work was not\ncompleted. He now removed to Camelas to devote himself to it, bringing\nwith him a pious old laborer to aid in the task, and a hermit to whom\nthe bishop had given a license to collect alms within the circuit of two\nmiles\u2014a limitation made at the special request of the prudent M. Curio\nhimself, lest, as he said, the hermit might have an excuse for\n\u201cvagabondizing.\u201d The zealous priest gave all his own income. He even\nmade himself the organist of a church to add to his means. At length he\nhad the happiness of seeing it completed, and, going to Perpignan, a\npainting of St. Martin was given him for the altar of his patron, and a\nretablo of sculptured wood for that of Notre Dame des Anges. The chapel\nwas reopened September 25, 1644, and M. Curio figured as chief musician\nat the High Mass. His own inclination for the solitary life made him\nlong to retire here himself, but he was again refused permission. At\nlength, in the time of some pestilence, he made a vow to retire here for\nthe space of a year, should he and his parish escape. He entered upon\nthe fulfilment of his vow April 2, 1653.\n\nThe church consists of two aisles, each with its altar: one of St.\nMartin, with the old painting above it presented to M. Curio; and the\nother of Our Lady of the Angels with its ancient statue of coarse\nworkmanship found in a neighboring cave still known as the _Cova de la\nMare de De\u00fc_.\n\nIn former times, after High Mass on St. Martin\u2019s day, a small loaf, a\ncup of wine, and a morsel of cheese were given to all the people\npresent; and the custom is still kept up, at least as to the bread.\n\nFootnote 73:\n\n Perhaps this peak, encircled by other peaks, is so styled from the\n curious dance of this region, called _Lo Salt_, performed by four men\n and four women. At a certain part the former pass their hands under\n the arms of the women, and raise them in the air in the form of a\n pyramid, of which their white caps form the summit.\n\nFootnote 74:\n\n Jasmin.\n\n\n\n\n CONRAD AND WALBURGA.\n CHAPTER II.\n\n\nOn the way home Walburga stepped into the cathedral, the grand old\nFrauen Kirche, and remained a short while on her knees before the high\naltar. There Conrad and all that he had spoken passed out of her mind;\nshe felt as if she were in another world, so changed was everything\nround about her, so solemn and still. Before her hung the ever-burning\nlamp, symbol of the Eternal Presence; and as Walburga\u2019s eyes rested upon\nthe sacred flame, she wondered at herself for bearing with so little\nresignation the troubles of this life.\n\n\u201cWhat I seek, what I yearn for,\u201d she sighed, \u201cis not to be found here\nbelow. Everything sooner or later passes away; the happiest home we may\nfound on earth must in the end know tears and desolation. O eternity,\neternity!\u201d\n\nYet, strange to relate\u2014and yet, no, not strange, but quite naturally\nenough\u2014the moment Walburga emerged from this peaceful sanctuary and\nfound herself once more in the noisy, airy, life-throbbing street, with\nthe azure sky overhead and gladsome faces flitting to and fro, she felt\nvery human again, ay, very human; and her craving for something human to\nlove and be loved by grew none the less intense when presently she saw\nhappy Ulrich and happy Moida advancing towards her arm-in-arm. It was\nnot necessary for them to speak to tell that their hearts were throbbing\nin sweet harmony together, and that for them at least this world was all\na paradise.\n\nWhen Conrad and Ulrich found themselves back at Loewenstein again they\ntalked of little else than their pleasant trip to Munich.\n\n\u201cThe only harm \u2019twill do me,\u201d said the artist, smiling, \u201cis that I\u2019ll\nlie awake a good while to-night thinking of Moida. The more I see of my\nbetrothed, the more virtues do I discover in her. She is so full of\ncommon sense; she keeps store and keeps house too; nobody can make a\nbetter bargain when she goes to market, and it is a fortunate thing that\nWalburga has such a friend.\u201d\n\n\u201cMiss Hofer is indeed a rare girl,\u201d said Conrad, who was seated beside\nhim watching the moon rise over the mountain; \u201cand you have proved your\nown good sense in choosing her for your future spouse.\u201d Then, assuming a\ngraver tone: \u201cBut now let me tell you something which is of great\nconcern to me. You remember that I spoke to you about a young lady whom\nI met with in the Pinakothek, and that it was in order to see her again\nthat I went to-day to Munich. Well, she turns out to be your sister.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy sister! Walburga! Really!\u201d exclaimed Ulrich, feigning surprise at\nthis piece of news.\n\n\u201cAnd, Ulrich\u201d\u2014here Conrad took his hand in his\u2014\u201cI mean to try my best to\nwin her heart.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd most sincerely do I hope you may succeed,\u201d rejoined the youth.\n\n\u201cWell, is she quite free? Is any gentleman courting her?\u201d\n\n\u201cNobody, sir, is courting her.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt must be because she is poor,\u201d said Conrad inwardly, \u201cand perhaps,\ntoo, a little proud. Well, a Loewenstein has a right to be proud.\u201d\n\nThey remained thus conversing together until a late hour, until all the\nlights in the valley were out, until the moon was sailing high in the\nheavens, and every sound was hushed except the voice of the waterfall in\nthe ravine back of the castle.\n\nAnd when at length they withdrew to rest, Ulrich, instead of lying\nawake, as he had feared he might, soon fell asleep, and till cockcrow\nnext morning did nothing but dream of his beloved Moida. He dreamt\u2014O\nnaughty dreamer!\u2014that he was tearing off his buttons purposely, that he\nmight see her plump, ready hand sew them on again; and when he opened\nhis eyes and heard the monastery bell ringing the _Angelus_, Ulrich fell\nat once on his knees and prayed with fervor, because he knew that at\nthat same hour in Fingergasse Moida was saying the _Angelus_ too.\n\nThe day which now opened was to be a busy one at Loewenstein. Ulrich\nbetimes set himself to work renovating the half-destroyed frescos; and,\nto his great delight, several beautiful and interesting pictures came to\nview as he carefully scraped the whitewash off the walls. They appeared\nin patches: here an eye would peep out upon him; there a hand, a foot, a\ntress of hair; until by and by a lovely damsel or a knight in armor\nwould stand full-length before his admiring gaze. This whitewash had\nbeen daubed over nearly the whole interior of the tower by a\nsimple-minded cobbler, who had intended to make the place his home after\nUlrich and Walburga went away, but who only passed one night in it; then\nwas scared off by ghosts.\n\nAnd when Conrad, who was superintending a band of laborers outside, came\nin and saw the art treasures which had been brought to light, he clapped\nhis hands for joy. But more even than with the fair lady and mailed\nwarrior was he charmed with a wild, shaggy figure, underneath which in\nquaint Gothic letters was written the word \u201cAttila.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now, as I behold anew this fresco,\u201d remarked Ulrich, \u201cmy childhood\ncomes vividly back to me, and I remember once hearing my father tell my\nmother that the great-grandsires of those who laid the foundations of\nLoewenstein might have known the king of the Huns.\u201d\n\nIn short, these unlooked-for discoveries so excited Conrad that he could\nhardly go back to the open air, where the stones and earth which covered\nthe site of three other towers were being cleared away; and ever and\nanon he would run in again to show Ulrich an old coin or other curious\nobject which the workmen had found amid the rubbish. Whereupon the youth\nwould point to still another long-concealed wall-picture gradually\ncoming to view, till finally Conrad exclaimed: \u201cGod bless the stupid\ncobbler! I\u2019ll not rail at him any more. But for his vile whitewash I\nshould not have enjoyed all these surprises.\u201d\n\nYes, it was a busy, happy day for them both. When the sun dipped behind\nthe mountain in the west Conrad called to Ulrich to cease his labors and\ncome out and watch the path leading down into the valley. \u201cFor I am\nexpecting,\u201d said he, \u201call the things I purchased of your betrothed to\narrive this evening, and Miss Hofer is coming with them. I kept it\nsecret, lest you might be too distracted if you knew it.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally! is Moida coming?\u201d cried Ulrich.\n\nScarcely had the words escaped his lips when they heard the bark of a\ndog\u2014not a sharp, quick yelp, but the thick, husky bark of a dog that is\naged\u2014and in another moment who should be seen emerging from a clump of\nhazel bushes through which the pathway led but Caro and his mistress.\n\nDown at a break-neck pace flew Ulrich, and, ere the girl had ascended a\ndozen steps further, she found herself clasped in his arms.\n\n\u201cMy knight always takes me by storm,\u201d said Moida, laughing merrily as\nsoon as she recovered her breath.\n\n\u201cNay, \u2019tis you who were taking us by storm at the pace you were\nmounting,\u201d answered Ulrich; then, catching her hand, he assisted her up\nthe rest of the way.\n\n\u201cEverything is coming, sir, everything,\u201d were Moida\u2019s first words to\nConrad, who greeted her warmly when she reached the spot where he stood.\n\u201cBut the donkeys have a heavy load\u2014a very heavy load\u2014and so I determined\nto run ahead and tell you they were coming.\u201d\n\n\u201cBravo!\u201d cried Conrad. Then, patting Caro\u2019s woolly head: \u201cAnd is this\nthe good old poodle that I have heard so much of?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir. And as my pet would be killed by the horrid police if they\nknew he was alive, I concluded to carry him away from Munich. I hope you\nare not displeased at my bringing him here?\u201d\n\n\u201cDispleased? Why, nobody likes dogs more than I; and this one shall find\na snug home in my castle. But why didn\u2019t you bring the other pet, too?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! the nightingale?\u201d exclaimed Moida, with an air of surprise. \u201cOh!\nWalburga would not part with him for anything.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, the young lady only yesterday spoke of giving him his freedom.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid she? Well, I trust, sir, you persuaded her not to do so,\u201d answered\nMoida, smiling inwardly; for Walburga had related to her the whole\nconversation which had passed betwixt herself and Conrad at the\nPinakothek, and ever since she had been full of hope that great good\nwould result from her friend\u2019s acquaintance with the new owner of\nLoewenstein. \u201cAnd not only will Walburga not let her bird out,\u201d she\nthought to herself, \u201cbut it may end by its joining Caro in this peaceful\nretreat.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut now, Moida, do come and see what I have been about since morning,\u201d\nspoke Ulrich, drawing her gently along. With this all three passed into\nthe tower, where verily a great change had been wrought in a few hours.\n\nNot only were many frescos long invisible brought again to view, but it\nwas now manifest that each figure and group of figures, from the\nbarbarian Attila down to the most modern one of all, which was scarce a\ncentury old, were linked together and presented a tolerably good\npictorial history of the house of Loewenstein; and Conrad observed to\nMoida with a roguish smile: \u201cYour betrothed, miss, has for his remote\nancestor a Hun.\u201d\n\nThey were still examining these wall-paintings when the donkeys made\ntheir appearance, and, although the hour was rather late, Moida clapped\nher hands and said: \u201cLet us put everything to rights at once. Do!\u201d\nAccordingly, inspirited by her blithe voice, Conrad and Ulrich, without\nsummoning others to help them, unpacked the loads, and so zealously did\nthey work that in a very short while everything was in its proper place\nexcept the huge earthenware stove.\n\nThen Conrad donned a suit of armor (rusty and dented, but all the better\nfor being so), and, clutching firmly a heavy two-handed sword, laid\nabout him right and left like mad for above a minute, to Moida\u2019s great\ndelight, and until he was fain to pause for breath.\n\n\u201cI have a friend in Cologne,\u201d said he, \u201ca republican like myself in his\nopinions; but I mean to write and warn him never to buy a castle\u2014never;\notherwise he\u2019ll become a changed man. Oh! there\u2019s nothing like buying a\ncastle to make one an aristocrat.\u201d\n\nAfter joining in the hearty laugh with which he ended this speech, Moida\nsaid to him in a whisper, and as though she felt there was something\ntouching in what she was about to communicate: \u201cMy friend Walburga\nentered the curiosity-shop to-day, sir, for the first time since I have\nhad anything in it belonging to Loewenstein; and ere I packed up the\nvarious objects, she placed her hand on each one and stroked it, and\neven kissed yonder clock, for she said: \u2018It stood in my mother\u2019s\nchamber, it called many a happy hour, and now \u2019tis going back to the old\nhome again.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, now let me tell you a secret,\u201d said Conrad, likewise in an\nundertone, but with a bright gleam in his eye: \u201cI hope one of these days\nto see the young lady here herself.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! wouldn\u2019t that be charming! Wouldn\u2019t that be glorious!\u201d replied\nMoida, who understood what he meant. \u201cWhy, in the whole of Bavaria there\nis not her equal, and I am sure you will make her an excellent husband.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope so, Miss Hofer, even though I am no longer a believer in\nChristianity.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Twill give Walburga the great happiness of making you a Christian\nagain,\u201d she added, with an arch smile. But Conrad\u2019s expression did not\nrespond to hers, and for a minute or two he was silent. When again he\nopened his lips the tone of his voice was changed, and, in order to\nshake off the gloom which he felt creeping upon him, he asked her to\nsing him a song.\n\n\u201cYes, yes, do!\u201d exclaimed Ulrich, turning away from the grated window\nthrough which he had been gazing while the others were whispering to\neach other. \u201cSing that wild ballad called the \u2018Scream of the Eagle.\u2019\u201d\nMoida sang. Never before had Conrad Seinsheim heard anything half so\nthrilling, and the words were accompanied by such graceful motions as\nproved the girl to be no mean actress.\n\n\u201cYes, it is a grand song,\u201d she said when it was finished; \u201cand I like to\nbe in the country, where I may give it with my whole heart. In Munich\nour lodging is too small and the air out-doors too heavy with beer for\nsuch rousing, inspiring words.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour grandfather composed it, did he not?\u201d said Ulrich.\n\n\u201cOh! no. But he and his riflemen used to chant it when they went into\nbattle. \u2019Tis as old as the hills; perhaps it rang in the ears of the\nRoman legions.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, truly, you are a rare bird,\u201d thought Conrad Seinsheim as he\nlooked at Moida\u2019s bright-blue eyes and cheeks glowing with health; \u201cand\nif I had not already found my ideal I\u2019d wish to marry you.\u201d\n\nThen, praying her to sit down in one of the old family chairs: \u201cNow\nplease,\u201d he said, \u201ctell me a little of your history; for\u201d\u2014here Conrad\ndropped his voice\u2014\u201cI hope ere long that you and Ulrich, and Walburga and\nmyself, as well as Caro and the nightingale, will all form one happy\nfamily together. Therefore I am curious to know more about you.\u201d\n\nThis was spoken in such a kindly way that Moida could not refuse.\nAccordingly, she began and told him how she was descended from a race of\nmountaineers who had never been serfs, like the peasants in other parts\nof Europe.\n\n\u201cWe did not dwell in castles,\u201d said Moida, darting a sportive glance at\nUlrich, who was patting her hand. \u201cStill, for all that we were nobles.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, you were indeed,\u201d cried the youth.\n\n\u201cBut after grandfather was put to death our family quitted their native\nplace in South Tyrol\u2014\u2019twas too full of painful memories\u2014and came north\nto Innspruck; and finally we drifted to Munich, where I now live. My\nparents are dead, but Walburga is like a sister to me; and as for this\nboy\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is a poor, dreamy fellow, but, thanks to you, is turning over a new\nleaf at last,\u201d interrupted Ulrich. \u201cAnd I mean soon to have a studio in\nMunich, where I\u2019ll paint fine pictures, and my darling sha\u2019n\u2019t keep shop\nany longer.\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, you must be weary of that sort of life,\u201d observed Conrad.\n\n\u201cWell, if people would only buy something when they pause to look at my\ncuriosities, \u2019twould not be so trying to my feelings, sir. But you can\u2019t\nimagine how it excites me when I see a gentleman eyeing the things in\nthe window, even pressing his nose against the glass to obtain a better\nview. Sometimes he actually enters and scrutinizes every article in the\nstore; asks the price of this and that; smiles approvingly; in fact,\nlooks as if he were about to draw forth his purse; then he coolly turns\nand walks out. O sir! I have more than once cried for disappointment.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, except that I might never have met you,\u201d said Ulrich, \u201cI\u2019d rather\nyou had stayed hidden among your native hills than lead such a life.\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, nothing is so mean and slavish as trade,\u201d remarked Conrad, \u201cand I\nam very glad that I have given it up.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa! but if you or your father, sir, had not turned over a good many\nbanknotes and thalers, you might never have become owner of\nLoewenstein,\u201d said the wise Moida. \u201cAnd then dear Caro wouldn\u2019t have had\na home here, and all these pikes and helmets and other venerable relics\nwould have been for ever scattered to the winds. Whereas now, thanks to\nyour wealth, there will soon be no castle in all Tyrol like this one.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, tell me, Miss Hofer, what would you have me do now that I am out\nof business?\u201d asked Conrad. \u201cA man ought not to be idle.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo? Why, I\u2019d hunt chamois, and fish in the Inn, and climb the glaciers,\nand I\u2019d find happiness in making others happy, for there are many poor\npeople in the Innthal.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut would that suffice? Oh! you do not know what a restless mortal I\nam. I have always been sighing for something, but no sooner do I attain\nmy heart\u2019s desire\u2014and thus far I have been very fortunate\u2014than\nstraightway I begin to yearn for something else. Suppose now I devote\nmyself to science, say to astronomy, and build a telescope, a gigantic\none, bigger than the biggest, and sweep the heavens millions of miles\nbeyond the farthest star now seen?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019d rather busy myself with the things near me,\u201d returned Moida.\n\u201cHowever, if you like to look through a telescope, why I\u2019d build one.\nBut, telescope or no telescope, I\u2019d do nothing but laugh from sunrise\ntill sundown if this castle belonged to me.\u201d\n\nAnd this was true enough. Hers was a happy nature; nothing ever\ndisturbed her serenity. Although poor, she did not envy the rich.\nAlthough a very good girl, she was never troubled by religious scruples;\nthe most fiery sermon on eternal punishment could not keep Moida\u2019s head\nfrom nodding after the preacher had been preaching more than twenty\nminutes, and Walburga used to envy her from the bottom of her heart. And\nnow Ulrich\u2019s betrothed felt inclined to smile at Conrad, who was so rich\nand free from care, but whose visage had assumed a grave look, and she\nthought to herself: \u201c\u2019Tis a pity he has moody spells, for dear Walburga\nis prone to them, too; she should have a laughing, jovial husband.\u201d\n\nThen, to cheer her host, Moida sang another song, which presently drove\naway the cloud from his face. But the girl paused not with one; the\nmusic continued to flow in an unbroken stream from her lips, until the\noil in the lamp burned low and warned them that it was time to seek\nrepose.\n\n\u201cAnd now good-night,\u201d said Conrad, after showing his fair guest to a\nlittle room near the top of the tower. \u201cI hope the moonbeams shining in\nthrough the chinks in the wall will not keep you awake. Good-night.\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing ever keeps me awake; I\u2019ll soon shut out the moon. Good-night,\nsir,\u201d she answered. And in a very short while Moida was fast asleep,\nwith her rosary in her hand\u2014for she always closed her eyes before she\nhad half finished, and let her guardian angel say the rest of the\nprayer.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u201cWhy, what an early bird you are!\u201d exclaimed Walburga the following\nmorning, as she was preparing to set off for the Pinakothek. \u201cBack\nalready?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d answered Moida. \u201cI took the first train. Not that I didn\u2019t wish\nto stay longer, but\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! true, you have to look after the dinner\u2014my breakfast was miserable\nwithout you\u2014and keep store, and one night was quite as long as you could\nbe spared,\u201d added the other, smiling; and good-natured Moida smiled too;\nthen with an arch glance said: \u201cBy the way, he came with me.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe! Whom do you mean?\u201d asked Walburga, pretending not to understand.\n\n\u201cWhy, Conrad Seinsheim. And really, I advise you to accept him if he\nproposes. The short time I passed in his company has convinced me that\nhe is a good man, and I doubt not but you will bring him back to the\nfaith. Yes, love and prayer will make a Christian of him again sooner\nthan anything else.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what makes you think he has any notion of courting me?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! I can tell by the way he talks, and by what you yourself told me\nabout him the other day. So you\u2019ll surely see him this forenoon; he may\nbe already at the gallery awaiting you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, true, Mr. Seinsheim did ask my leave to come and renew our\nconversation. Therefore I presume he will be there.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet a moment since you feigned not to know that he cared for you,\u201d\ncontinued Moida, twitching her sleeve.\n\n\u201cOh! he merely wishes to converse on art. Besides, some men enjoy being\nnear a woman, without having any thought of matrimony. There are full as\nmany flirts in one sex as in the other; however, if Mr. Seinsheim\nimagines he can throw dust in my eyes, he\u2019ll be mistaken. It shall be\nall art between us\u2014nothing but art; not a single silly syllable.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, he doesn\u2019t look like one to pay foolish compliments; you have\nowned as much yourself,\u201d said Moida. \u201cNow, remember his words when you\nspoke of uncaging your nightingale; and if I can read character, Mr.\nSeinsheim is just the man to ask a girl to be his wife at the second or\nthird interview. So, dear friend, you may return at noon engaged.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow can you dream of such a thing!\u201d said Walburga, half reproachfully.\n\n\u201cOh! now don\u2019t be vexed. But let me calmly inquire why I should not\ndream of it; for where could he find a better helpmate?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause all men are alike. Even the holy patriarchs were guided by\noutward appearances in choosing their wives. Scripture tells us that\nLaban had two daughters, Leah and Rachel: \u2018Leah was tender-eyed; but\nRachel was beautiful, and Jacob loved Rachel.\u2019\u201d\n\nThis was more than Moida could gainsay; therefore she let the subject\ndrop and asked about the bird.\n\n\u201cI have given him his liberty,\u201d said Walburga.\n\n\u201cHave you truly? Well, I declare!\u201d\n\nThis was all that Moida could utter. Then, putting on her hat and shawl,\nWalburga quitted the room, leaving her friend repeating to herself:\n\n\u201cWhat a sentimental girl she is! What a sentimental girl she is!\u201d\n\nWe may be sure that while on her way to the picture gallery Walburga\nthought only of the one whom she expected to meet there, and she quite\nagreed with Moida that Conrad did not seem like a man to play at\ncourtship. Yet, admitting that he was in earnest, would he not prove to\nbe in the end like the great majority of his sex\u2014a blind follower only\nof what his eyes revealed to him? Would he dive below the surface and\njudge her by her inner self?\n\n\u201cI will try not to indulge any hope,\u201d thought Walburga. Yet, at this\nvery moment, down in her heart\u2019s depths the flower of hope was already\nbeginning to bud, and no doubt that was why her step this morning was\nlighter than usual. As for Conrad having lost his faith, however much\nshe regretted it, and pious girl though she was, this did not lead her\nto believe that he was a bad man. Walburga had sense enough to discern\nthe difficulties which lie in the way of belief in the revelation to\nthose who have wandered from, or never known, the truth; she knew, too,\nthat the universities were full of learned professors who spoke of God\nas a myth. \u201cAnd even some saints,\u201d she said, \u201chave been racked by doubt,\nand overcame this, the greatest of all the temptations of the\narch-fiend, only by severe self-tortures. Therefore I will continue to\npray for Conrad Seinsheim.\u201d (Walburga had remembered him in her prayers\never since she had heard that he was an unbeliever). \u201cAnd I will pray\nalso for dear Ulrich, who is young and confiding, and is much in\nConrad\u2019s power.\u201d\n\nA quarter of an hour later and the girl was busy at her easel, and\nworking swiftly too. \u201cFor I must accomplish all I can before he\narrives,\u201d she murmured to herself.\n\nBut Conrad did not allow her time to do much. Presently his voice was\nheard bidding her good-morning. Whereupon she returned his greeting in a\ncheery tone, but without looking round.\n\n\u201cGracious lady,\u201d he began, \u201cdoubtless Miss Hofer has already told you of\nher pleasant visit to Loewenstein. The weather was delightful, the old\nplace looked charming, and I should not have let her return so soon, nor\ncome myself either, only that I longed to see you again.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear Moida enjoyed it very much, but she knows that \u2019tis impossible for\nme to get along without her,\u201d answered Walburga, revealing only by a\nfaint flush the emotion excited by Conrad\u2019s words. Her hand, however,\nwas steadier than it had been the first time he paid her a compliment.\nThen the other, after observing her a moment in silence, went on:\n\n\u201cHow rapidly you paint, Miss Von Loewenstein! And what life you throw\ninto your picture!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, yes, sir, I am a quick worker. I hope my brother is not\ndisappointing you and dawdling over his task.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, indeed! And I consider myself very fortunate in having found such\nan artist. There he was, seated amid the ruins of the old castle, when I\narrived, apparently waiting for me to appear; and if you saw the tower\nnow you would hardly recognize it. Why, some of the frescos, since\nUlrich has restored them, are as fine as anything in this gallery.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally!\u201d exclaimed Walburga.\n\n\u201cYes, really. And he declares his skill and energy are all due to Moida.\nUlrich says she spurs him on, and I believe it. Oh! nothing like a woman\nto put fire into a man.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, some gentlemen, sir, manage to live and prosper without any such\nspurring,\u201d rejoined Walburga, with a smile lurking on her lips.\n\n\u201cI am exceedingly hard to please; that is why _I_ am still a bachelor,\u201d\nsaid her admirer, wincing a little at this remark.\n\n\u201cWell, believe me, sir, \u2019tis foolish to be so fastidious. Why, in any\ntown of ten, nay, of even five thousand inhabitants a good man may find\na good woman to be his wife.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you think so?\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis my conviction. This hunting up and down the world for an ideal\nwoman is nonsense.\u201d Then, with a slight gesture of impatience: \u201cO these\nlips!\u201d exclaimed Walburga\u2014\u201cthese lips! when shall I get them right?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, you see, Miss Von Loewenstein, what a severe critic you are of\nyour exquisite copy of Carlo Dolce; whereas to me it seems already\nperfect.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! but this is a picture, not a living being. Here the eye is our only\nguide. In the other case\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cThen a blind man might do as well as one who had sight in choosing a\nwife?\u201d interrupted Conrad, laughing.\n\nWalburga laughed, too, then answered:\n\n\u201cVerily, sir, there is more truth in that than you imagine. He knows\nlittle of a woman who knows only what his eyes tell him of her.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, you may be right,\u201d he added musingly; \u201cyou may be right. Yet I\ntrust a good deal to mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf women did the same, might there not be fewer weddings?\u201d said\nWalburga. \u201cBesides, I know I am right. Why, the happiest lady in\nMunich\u2014I know her intimately\u2014is wedded to a little squab of a man, who\nsquints so badly that his two eyes seem blended into one.\u201d\n\nHere a pause ensued, during which Conrad made up his mind that Ulrich\u2019s\nsister was no ordinary character. She had ideas of her own, and was not\nafraid to express them. Then, unable to resist the temptation to speak\nsomething else that was flattering, he said:\n\n\u201cI wonder how a person so gifted as yourself should be content to remain\na mere copyist.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis all one can be in our age,\u201d replied Walburga. \u201cThe days of\noriginality are gone by. We need another deluge to blot out whatever\nmankind has wrought in literature and art; then, after the flood should\nhave subsided, artists and writers might begin anew.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! but surely there are original things painted and written nowadays?\u201d\nsaid Conrad.\n\n\u201cIt may appear so, sir. But \u2019tis only because the ignorant public does\nnot know where lies hidden the musty parchment or worm-eaten canvas\nwhence the so-called genius has stolen his prize. No, no; originality,\nin this age of the world, is the art of knowing how to pilfer. True\noriginality is stark dead.\u201d And the girl ended these words with a sigh,\nwhich proved that she, at least, believed what she said to be true.\n\n\u201cWell, if all copyists did their duty as faithfully as yourself,\u201d\npursued Conrad, \u201cwe might readily forego any more originals.\u201d Then,\nwhile the bright color which this speech brought to her cheek was still\nglowing upon it, he added: \u201cAnd now, gracious lady, let me remind you\nthat I once asked if your picture was for sale, and you told me \u2018yes.\u2019\nBut we came to no bargain.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, what will you give me for it?\u201d said Walburga, little dreaming\nwhat a weighty response her question would draw forth.\n\n\u201cA castle and my own poor self with it,\u201d answered Conrad.\n\nFor full a minute the girl stayed silent; her brush fell to her lap,\nand, without giving him a glance, she bowed her head. Then presently,\nresuming her work: \u201cCome back, sir,\u201d she said, \u201cin three days and you\nshall have my decision.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! but why not to-day? now? at this moment? Nobody is near to hear\nwhat you say,\u201d pleaded Conrad, and so fervent was his tone that\nWalburga\u2019s resolution was half shaken. Then, while her right hand hung\nquivering upon the canvas, he seized it and pressed it to his lips.\n\nThe effect of this kiss was magical; it thrilled like lightning through\nevery vein in her body, and from that instant Walburga\u2019s heart was won.\n\nBut presently, to Conrad\u2019s amazement, the glow faded from her cheek and\nshe heaved a sigh; then came a tear.\n\n\u201cWhat can it mean?\u201d he asked himself, strongly tempted to sweep the\nbright jewel away with another kiss. \u201cWhat can it mean?\u201d And again he\nimplored her to end his suspense, to let him know his fate at once.\n\n\u201cPlease do not urge me; I would rather not,\u201d said Walburga, in a voice\nlittle above a whisper. \u201cI believe, sir, you love me; therefore wait and\nbe patient.\u201d\n\nThese last words lent fire to Conrad\u2019s hopes, and scarcely doubting that\nher response, when it came, would be favorable, he allowed her hand to\ngo free.\n\nBut any more work was out of the question for the fair artist; while the\nother, albeit longing to linger in her company, judged it would be best\nto withdraw. And so Conrad went away, full of gladness, leaving Walburga\ncherishing, too, the fond belief that here was a man who was not like\nother men\u2014a man who would take her for her inner worth, who would give\nher that home, that celestial harmony of loving hearts, which had been\nfor years the craving of her soul.\n\nTO BE CONCLUDED NEXT MONTH.\n\n\n\n\n HELL AND SCIENCE.\n\n\nThe editor of _Popular Science Monthly_ gave us in one of his late\nissues an article concerning the belief in hell. The article begins by\nreferring to the lively discussion which has recently been carried on in\nthe pulpit and the press as to whether there is a state of eternal\ntorments. According to Prof. Youmans, this discussion shows that \u201cthere\nhas been, thanks to the influence of science, a pretty rapid\nliberalizing of theological opinion during the past generation, and is\nan instructive indication of the advance that has been made.\u201d After this\nexpression of satisfaction he very naturally remarks that the question\nof the existence of a veritable hell is a theological one, which he\ncheerfully leaves \u201cto those interested,\u201d as if men of science,\nespecially those of a certain school, were not interested in the\nquestion of knowing what is kept in store for those who sin against\ntruth and against God. But \u201cthe topic,\u201d he adds, \u201chas also a scientific\nside. The rise and course of the _idea_, or what may be called the\nnatural history of the belief in hell, is a subject quite within the\nsphere of scientific inquiry. It is legitimate to ask as to how the\nnotion originated, as to its antiquity, the extent to which it has been\nentertained, the forms it has assumed, and the changes it has undergone;\nand from this point of view it of course involves the principle of\nevolution.\u201d Whence he concludes that a few suggestions concerning this\nview of the subject may not be inappropriate.\n\nThis preamble, though the least objectionable portion of Prof. Youmans\u2019\narticle, is full of questionable assertions. First, the discussion about\nthe existence of eternal punishment does not show any \u201crapid\nliberalizing\u201d of theological opinion. For, on the one hand, the doctrine\nof hell is not a theological opinion but a revealed dogma; and, on the\nother, the foolish attempt of discrediting it among the ignorant did not\nproceed from theologians, but from such men as have been, and are, the\nworst enemies of theology. Theology is essentially based on authority;\nhence theology has no existence in the Protestant sects, whose very\nreason of being is a contemptuous disregard of authority and the assumed\nright of private interpretation. Now, all those who ventured to argue\nagainst the existence of eternal punishment belonged to Protestant\nsects. And, therefore, their \u201cliberal\u201d view of the subject does not\nconstitute \u201ctheological opinion.\u201d Protestants may, indeed, assume the\ntitle of \u201cdivines\u201d; but the title is not the thing. There is no real\ntheology outside of the Catholic Church. When Catholic divines shall\ndiscuss the existence of hell as a free theological opinion\u2014which, of\ncourse, will never happen\u2014then only Prof. Youmans will be welcome to say\nthat there has been \u201ca liberalizing of theological opinion.\u201d\n\nBut, secondly, the very idea of \u201cliberalizing\u201d Protestant thought is\nsupremely ludicrous. For who has been the forerunner, the inventor, the\nfather, and the fosterer of liberalism but Protestant thought? Whence\ndid religious scepticism spring but from Protestant inconsistency?\nLiberalism is nothing but Protestantism applied to philosophical,\npolitical, and social questions. It is Protestant thought, therefore,\nthat has liberalized a portion of modern society, not modern thought\nthat has liberalized Protestant opinion. To liberalize Protestant\nthought is like carrying coal to Newcastle.\n\nThirdly, it is not true that the recent discussion of the doctrine of\nhell shows \u201cthe influence of science.\u201d It simply shows the ignorance of\nsome Protestant divines and the wickedness of perverted human hearts.\nScience, as now understood, is exclusively concerned with things that\nfall under observation and experiment, or that can be logically inferred\nor mathematically deduced from experiment and observation. Now, surely,\nthe torments of hell are not a matter of observation and experiment\nduring the present life, as even Prof. Youmans will concede. And\ntherefore it is evident that the doctrine of hell cannot be made the\nsubject of scientific reasoning. On the other hand, how can science\ninfluence the opinion of men as to believing or not believing in a\nfuture state of eternal punishment? Our advanced thinkers assume that\nscience knows everything, and that what is unknown to science has no\nexistence. It is on this ground that they ignore revelation, creation,\nimmortality, and a number of other important truths. But the absurdity\nof such an assumption is so evident that there can be no mistake about\nit. Science knows, or pretends to know, matter and force; but it knows\nnothing about right and wrong, nothing about virtue and vice, nothing\nabout religion and moral law, nothing about the origin and the finality\nof things, and it is so ignorant (we speak of _advanced_ science) that\nit even fails to see the absolute necessity of a Creator. Is it not\nridiculous, then, to assume that there may be no hell because modern\nscience professes to know nothing about its existence?\n\nBut \u201cthe topic,\u201d continues Prof. Youmans, \u201chas also a scientific side.\nThe rise and course of the _idea_, or what may be called the natural\nhistory of the belief in hell, is a subject quite within the sphere of\nscientific inquiry. It is legitimate to ask as to how the notion\noriginated, as to its antiquity, the extent to which it has been\nentertained, the forms it has assumed, and the changes it has undergone,\nand from this point of view it of course involves the principle of\nevolution.\u201d This reasoning, on which the professor endeavors to ground a\nscientific claim to meddle with a revealed doctrine, is altogether\npreposterous. For, although it be legitimate to ask how the notion of\nhell originated, and how ancient it is, and how ignorance and vulgar\nprejudices may have distorted it, nevertheless it is not from natural\nscience that an answer to such questions can be expected. The\ntheologian, the historian, and the moral philosopher are the only\ncompetent authorities on the subject. The scientist, as such, is not\nqualified to speak of the origin of revealed doctrines; for science,\nespecially advanced science, has no knowledge of revelation. Hence, when\nour scientists venture to pass a judgment upon matters connected with\nrevelation, they deserve to be reminded of the good old precept: Let the\ncobbler stick to his last.\n\nThe reader will have remarked that Prof. Youmans proposes to deal with\nthe \u201cforms\u201d which the doctrine of eternal punishment has assumed, and\nwith the \u201cchanges\u201d it has undergone. This, of course, has no bearing on\nthe question of the existence of hell; for the existence of things does\nnot depend on the changeable views entertained as to their mode of\nexisting. But the professor, who is wise in his generation, perceived\nthat by insisting on the changes undergone by the doctrine two\nadvantages could be gained. On the one hand, a precious opportunity\nwould be offered of confounding our revealed doctrine with the fabulous\nconceptions of the pagan world; on the other hand, the professor would\nbe enabled to treat our revealed doctrine as a mere development of old\nfables, according to certain principles of evolution which modern\nscience has invented though never established. But we would remark that,\nsince the professor meant to show, as we see from the conclusion of his\narticle, that our Christian doctrine of hell \u201cshould be eliminated from\nthe popular creed,\u201d the argument drawn from the discordant views of\nheathen and barbarous nations should have been considered preposterous.\nFor what does it matter if the pagan fables took different forms and\nunderwent any number of changes? It is quite enough for us that our own\ndoctrine has been invariably the same. It is a blunder, therefore, to\ncondemn the latter for the variations of the former.\n\nProf. Youmans begins to develop his subject in the following manner: \u201cIn\nthe first place, it is necessary to rise above that narrowness of view\nwhich regards the doctrine of hell as especially a Christian doctrine or\nas the monopoly of any particular religion. On the contrary, it is as\nancient and universal as the systems of religious faith that have\noverspread the world.\u201d In our opinion, this pretended necessity of\nrising \u201cabove the narrowness of view\u201d which regards the doctrine of hell\nas especially Christian doctrine is only a futile pretext for putting on\nthe same level the Christian dogma and the pagan inventions. In the\nrecent discussion of the doctrine by the Protestant sects there had been\nno question about the existence of the imaginary hell of the pagans; the\nwhole question regarded the Scriptural hell. Hence a reference to pagan\nideas could not be necessary. Nor is it true that the view which regards\nthe doctrine of hell as a specially Christian doctrine is \u201cnarrow.\u201d We\nsee that different sects have kept or borrowed some points of doctrine\nfrom the Catholic Church, and that they have perverted them more or\nless, as was the case with the doctrine of baptismal regeneration, of\nthe Eucharist, of justification, and of other supernatural truths; and\nyet no one will say that it is a \u201cnarrow view\u201d to regard these doctrines\nas essentially and exclusively Catholic. For to whom were they\noriginally revealed but to the Catholic Church? and where are they to be\nfound in their primitive entirety but in the Catholic Church? The\nvagaries of sectarian thought are surely not to be considered as a\ndevelopment of doctrine; they are only a travesty and an adulteration of\ntruth, just in the same manner as the evolution of species is no part of\nnatural science, being only a mass of absurdities, as we have abundantly\nshown in some of our past numbers. To mix together doctrinal truth and\ndoctrinal error is not to avoid narrowness but to produce confusion.\nWere we to collect all the errors of modern scientists about force or\nabout the constitution of matter, we could easily prove, by Prof.\nYoumans\u2019 method, that science is a mere imposition and a disgrace to the\nage. But our logic differs from that of the professor; hence we do not\nconsider it \u201cnarrowness\u201d to distinguish science from the errors of\nscientists, that truth and error may not be involved indiscriminately in\nthe same condemnation. But let us proceed:\n\n \u201cThe oldest religions of which we have any knowledge\u2014Hindoo,\n Egyptian, and the various Oriental systems of worship\u2014all affirm the\n doctrine of a future life with accompanying hells for the torture of\n condemned souls. We certainly cannot assume that all these systems\n are true and of divine origin; but, if not, then the question forces\n itself upon us how they came to this belief. The old historic\n religious systems involved advanced and complicated creeds and\n rituals, and if they were not real divine revelations in this\n elaborate shape, we are compelled to regard them as having had a\n natural development out of lower and cruder forms of superstition.\n To explain these religions we must go behind them. There is a\n prehistoric, rudimentary theology of the primitive man, the quality\n of which has to be deduced from his low, infantine condition of\n mind, interpreted by what we observe among the inferior types of\n mankind in the present time.\u201d\n\nThis passage contains the main argument of Prof. Youmans\u2019 article, by\nwhich he intends to show that the doctrine of hell has no ground in\ndivine revelation, but simply originated in human ignorance.\nUnfortunately, Professor Youmans\u2019 interpretation of history cannot be\ndepended upon. The fact that Hindoos, Egyptians, and all other nations\nadmitted in some shape the doctrine of hell is a very good evidence that\nthe doctrine of the existence of hell was co-extensive with humanity,\nand therefore had its origin in a primitive tradition of the race, and\nnot in the imagination of isolated individuals or families. This\nprimitive tradition, as well as the primitive religion, must be traced\nto Noe and his family. It is Noe\u2019s religion, not the Hindoo or the\nEgyptian or any other Oriental religion, that has been \u201cthe oldest\nreligion of which we have any knowledge\u201d; and this oldest religion had\nits secure foundation in the knowledge of the true God and of his\nsupreme, omnipotent, provident will. Hence, when Prof. Youmans,\nforsaking all mention of this primitive religion derived from direct\ndivine revelation, resorts to other systems of worship more or less\ncorrupt, and declares that \u201cwe cannot assume that all these systems are\ntrue and of divine origin,\u201d he shows either a perverse desire of\ndeceiving his readers, or at least a strange ignorance of ancient\nhistory.\n\nThe consequence he draws from the preceding assertions is even more\nunreasonable. If the religious systems of the ancient heathens were not\ndivine revelations, \u201cwe are compelled,\u201d he says, \u201cto regard them as\nhaving a natural development out of lower and cruder forms of\nsuperstition.\u201d This conclusion is so contrary to all we know of mankind\nthat it required the inventive genius of an advanced scientist to\nformulate it. The known truth is that the objectionable systems of\nworship invented among different nations were not a progress of humanity\nfrom a lower form of superstition, but a departure from the form of\nworship originally practised according to God\u2019s prescription, a fall\nfrom the region of light into the darkness of error. Noe\u2019s religion was\nno superstition; and it is from Noe\u2019s religion that the pagan nations\napostatized by a gradual corruption of revealed truth.\n\nOur advanced scientist invents also \u201ca prehistoric rudimentary theology\nof the primitive man.\u201d The invention is quite new and deserves to be\npatented. And the primitive man was still \u201cin a low, infantine condition\nof mind\u201d; which is another great discovery. The pity is that it has no\nground. The Darwinian theory of evolution cannot be appealed to; for it\nis philosophically, historically, and even scientifically exploded, so\nthat only \u201cthe inferior types of mankind\u201d\u2014that is, \u201cthe low and\ninfantine minds\u201d\u2014can hear of it without shaking their heads. The\nprimitive man knew his noble origin, conversed with his Creator,\nreceived his orders, and learned from him his own destiny. Adam was a\ngreat deal sharper, wittier, and more instructed in all important things\nthan his modern scientific descendants; and Noe, the second father of\nour race, the second propagator and witness of divine revelation, was as\neminent a man at least as any of our contemporaries; for he it was who\ntransmitted to his descendants that knowledge of astronomy,\narchitecture, philosophy, history, agriculture, and other arts and\nsciences by which the post-diluvian world, as soon as sufficiently\nrepeopled, displayed in the wonderful magnificence of Babylonian and\nEgyptian civilization the intellectual treasures inherited from the\nantediluvian culture. Such was the man who handed down to us the\nfundamental truths of primitive religion. If such a man is said to have\nbeen \u201cin a low and infantine condition of mind,\u201d could we not say as\nmuch of the average scientist of the time?\n\nThe professor remarks that the early men, _in profound ignorance_ of the\nsurrounding world and of their own nature, must have grossly\nmisinterpreted outward appearances and their internal experiences, and\nthis, he says, \u201cis certain.\u201d Indeed? How did the professor ascertain\nthis? Men whose lives were measured by centuries could not have\nsufficient experience of things to save them from gross mistakes! They\nmade no sufficient observations to enable them to interpret exterior and\ninterior phenomena! They did not even know their own natures! Their\nignorance was profound! Adam had the advantage of nine hundred and\nthirty years of experience, and yet \u201cit is certain\u201d that he remained in\nprofound ignorance of the surrounding world! His descendants soon\ninvented different useful arts, as metallurgy, architecture, and music\nboth vocal and instrumental; they built cities, and reached that high\ndegree of civilization and refinement without which the subsequent\nuniversal corruption would have been impossible; and yet, if we believe\nour professor, they did not know their natures nor what they were doing!\n\nThen we are told that the analysis of the conditions of early men \u201chas\nabundantly shown how these primitive misunderstandings led inevitably to\nmanifold superstitions.\u201d It is plain, however, that the conditions of\nearly men have never been analyzed by those who reject the Mosaic\nhistory, for the first requisite for proceeding to such an analysis is a\nknowledge of the conditions themselves which are to be analyzed; and\nthese conditions are found nowhere but in the book of Genesis. And as to\n\u201cprimitive misunderstandings\u201d and the \u201cinevitable superstitions\u201d to\nwhich they have led, can Prof. Youmans give us more detailed\ninformation? Did Adam, in his \u201cprofound ignorance of the surrounding\nworld,\u201d imagine that the sun was a god? or the moon a goddess? Or was it\npossible for him to fall into \u201cinevitable superstition,\u201d seeing that he\nhad been in frequent direct communication with his true Creator and God?\n\nIt is altogether ridiculous to pretend that Herbert Spencer \u201chas\ncarefully traced out this working of the primitive mind, and explained\nhow the early men, by their crude misconceptions of natural things, were\ngradually led to the belief in a ghost-realm of beings appended to the\nexisting order.\u201d Herbert Spencer did nothing of the kind. He analyzed\nfictions, not facts, and his conclusions are worthless.\n\nBut, says Mr. Youmans, \u201cthe idea of a life after death, so universally\nentertained among races of the lowest grades of intelligence, is\naccounted for, and is only to be accounted for, in this way. Through\nexperiences of sleep, dreams, and loss and return of consciousness at\nirregular times, ... there grew up the idea of a double nature\u2014of a part\nthat goes away leaving the body lifeless, and returns again to revivify\nit; and thus originated the theory of immaterial ghosts or spirits.\u201d\nThis is just what we could expect from an admirer of Herbert Spencer\u2019s\nphilosophical method. Prof. Youmans does not know, apparently, that the\nidea of a life after death is a simple corollary of a manifest\ntruth\u2014viz., that the reasoning principle which is in man is neither\nmatter, nor an affection or modification of matter, but a distinct\nsubstance, and one which possesses powers and properties of a much\nhigher order than the powers and properties of matter. This truth,\nagainst which materialists can allege nothing which has not been refuted\na hundred times, combined with another obvious truth which even advanced\nscience admits\u2014viz., that no substance is or can be naturally\nannihilated\u2014leads directly to the consequence that our reasoning\nprinciple, our soul, will naturally survive the death of our body. This\nmere hint concerning the substantiality, spirituality, and natural\nimmortality of the human soul may here suffice. It shows that men had no\nneed of resorting to the experiences of dreams, swoons, catalepsy,\ntrance, and other forms of insensibility to be enabled to infer that the\nhuman soul is a spiritual substance. Every act of our intellectual\nfaculties proclaims that our soul is a self-moving and self-possessing\nbeing. Dreams and swoons and catalepsy, being common to the lower\nanimals, have never been considered a proof of the spirituality and\nimmortality of the human soul. It is childish, therefore, to derive the\nidea of spirituality and immortality from the experience of such\nphenomena.\n\nMr. Youmans tells us also that when the conception of a separate and\nfuture life arose in men\u2019s minds, such a life could not have been\nsupposed to differ much from that of the present order of things. This\nhe takes for granted, owing to the profound ignorance which, according\nto advanced science, characterized the primitive men; and he illustrates\nthis view by some examples of savages, who bury food, weapons,\nimplements, etc., with the bodies of their dead friends. But, \u201cas\nknowledge accumulated, the conception grew incongruous, and underwent\nimportant modifications, so that similarity gradually passed into\ncontrast. The intimacy of the intercourse supposed to be carried on\nbetween the two worlds decreased; the future world was conceived of as\nmore remote, and as having other occupations and gratifications more\nconsonant with developing ideas of the present life.\u201d Such is the\nprofessor\u2019s theory. We need hardly say that, as a scientific theory, it\nhas no value. Science is based on facts; but here we have nothing but\ndreams exploded by history as well as by philosophy. The origin of the\nbelief in hell is not to be traced to the profound ignorance of the\nprimitive man. This profound ignorance is not a fact but a fiction. The\nassumption that man\u2019s intellect was originally in an undeveloped\ncondition, and that it has gone on improving all along till it became\nable to discover the incongruousness of its previous notions and to give\nthem up, is another fiction. That the \u201caccumulation of knowledge,\u201d such\nas obtained among infidel nations, could enlighten them on a question as\nto which nothing can be definitely known on merely natural grounds, is a\nthird fiction; whilst the truth is that the pretended knowledge of the\nheathens, like the pretended science of our modern sceptics, has been\nrather a source of innumerable absurdities, by which the primitive holy\nand healthy traditions of the race have been obscured, corrupted, and\ndisfigured.\n\nBut the professor has more to say in support of his \u201cscientific\u201d view.\n\u201cRude conceptions regarding good and evil could not fail to be early\ninvolved with considerations of man\u2019s futurity. Good and evil are\ninextricably mixed up in this world, which seems always to have been\nregarded as a faulty arrangement, and, as there was little hope of\nrectifying it here, the future life came to be regarded as compensatory\nto the present.... This idea of using the next world to redress the\nimperfections and wrongs of this grew up early and survives still, and\nit has exerted a prodigious influence in human affairs.\u201d It is evident\nthat the consideration of man\u2019s futurity, to be rational, must involve\nthe consideration of man\u2019s moral nature; for the futurity of a moral\nbeing is necessarily connected with the moral order. It would be folly\nto deny that virtue deserves reward, or that vice deserves punishment;\nand even the most stupid understand that the future of a scoundrel must\ndiffer from the future of a saint. This universal belief \u201csurvives\nstill,\u201d as Mr. Youmans himself testifies, and is not \u201cgrowing obsolete,\u201d\nas he pretends, but is still universal in our civilized society. Of\ncourse a dozen or two of advanced thinkers may be found who reject this\nuniversal belief; for, as they suppress God and worship _Nature_, they\nwould be embarrassed to explain how the good can be rewarded and the\nwicked punished by their blind goddess that has no knowledge of the\nmoral law. But this shows only the \u201cprofound ignorance\u201d of such advanced\nthinkers regarding things supersensible, and proves to demonstration\nthat, in spite of all their pretensions, they do not belong to the\ncivilized world. The early men, whose conceptions our professor\ndenounces as \u201crude,\u201d were better and deeper philosophers than he is.\nThey recognized a personal God, the eternal source of morality, the\njudge of his creatures, the rewarder of justice, and the punisher of\ncrime. They knew, therefore, that the problem of good and evil was to be\nsolved \u201cnot by the absorption and disappearance of evil,\u201d but by\nseparating the good from the bad, \u201cthe good being all collected in a\ngood place, and the bad ones all turned into a bad place.\u201d Mr. Youmans\ndoes not like this solution. He seems to insinuate that the true\nsolution implies the absorption and disappearance of evil. He seems to\nsay: Let virtue be rewarded, but let not wickedness be punished. He may\nhave his reasons for preferring this solution, but we have none for\naccepting it. Reason as well as revelation declare it to be\nunacceptable.\n\nWhat follows is a vulgar tirade against priesthood. All priests\nindiscriminately are denounced by our liberal professor for having\ntaught the existence of heaven and hell. He says:\n\n \u201cAs the grosser superstitions were gradually developed into\n systematic religions, a priestly class arose, and religious beliefs\n were embodied in definite creeds. Fundamental among these was the\n belief in heaven as a place of happiness, and of hell as a place of\n torment for the wicked. To one or other of these places, it was\n held, all men are bound to go after death; but to which depended\u2014and\n here the office of the priesthood assumed a terrible importance, for\n they knew all about it and had the keys. It is impossible to\n conceive any other idea of such tremendous power for dominating\n mankind as this! It raised the priesthood and the ecclesiastical\n institutions into despotic ascendency, brought it into unholy\n alliance with civil despotism, and became the mighty means of\n plundering the people, crushing out their liberties, darkening their\n hopes, and cursing their lives.\u201d\n\nThis bit of declamation might safely be left without answer. But to\nclear up the confusion made by the scientific writer, we will ask him to\nexplain what he understands by the word \u201cpriesthood.\u201d Does he mean the\nministers of all religions without exception, or the ministers of false\nreligions only? Does he involve in the same sentence the priest of God\nand of Christ with the priest of Baal and of Moloch? or does he admit\nthat a distinction should be made? Perhaps he will smile at our\nsimplicity in asking a question about which his habitual readers can\nentertain no doubt, it being evident that a man who worships nothing but\nmatter and force is a natural enemy of Christ and of his ministers.\nNevertheless, as no one must be allowed to snarl and bite without\nmotive, we insist on an explanation. If the Christian priesthood is not\ninvolved in his denunciations, then Mr. Youmans\u2019 eloquence is all thrown\naway; for it is by the Christian priesthood that the doctrine of hell\nhas been most efficiently taught and inculcated all the world over. If,\non the contrary, as it is logical to assume, the Christian priesthood is\ninvolved in his denunciations, then Mr. Youmans\u2019 brain is surely not in\na sound condition. A man in full possession of his reasoning power would\nnever have thought of connecting the Christian priesthood with\ndespotism, or of charging them with plundering the people, crushing\ntheir liberties, darkening their hopes, or cursing their lives. No; the\nprofessor is not in full possession of his faculties in this matter.\nWere it otherwise, he would be guilty of the most odious slander. In\nsome of his articles, which we have analyzed not long ago, we had\nalready found what might be taken as unmistakable signs of scientific\naberration. The reader may still remember how the professor countenanced\nthe conception of the unthinkable, how he advocated continuous evolution\nwithout any actual link of continuity, and how he made life spring from\ndead, inert matter. But now it is the Christian priesthood that makes an\nunholy alliance with civil despotism and crushes the liberties of the\npeople! This assertion cannot be excused by the plea of bad logic; for\nit regards a matter of fact, not of speculation, and logic, whether good\nor bad, has nothing to do with it. Only a natural or preternatural\nderangement in a man\u2019s brain can account for the oddity of such a\ncharge. We say _natural_ or _preternatural_, because it sometimes\nhappens, even in this age of advanced civilization, that a man who makes\nprofession of militant infidelity is taken possession of, either\nconsciously or unconsciously, by \u201cthe father of lies,\u201d who makes a fool\nof him in this world the better to secure his everlasting ruin in the\nother. We repeat that a man of sound mind, and free from satanic\ninfluence, would never make such a silly and unhistorical denunciation\nof the priesthood as Prof. Youmans has ventured to make. He would rather\nsay that the Christian priesthood has been the most earnest champion of\npopular liberties in all times and in all countries, as all\necclesiastical and secular history testifies. He would say that their\nascendency, far from being despotic, was kind and paternal, and\ncalculated to win, as it did, the love of the people without ceasing to\ncommand their respect. He would say that this ascendency was not derived\nfrom their threats of the torments of hell, but was the reward of their\nvirtuous life, ardent charity, singular prudence, and superior\neducation; and was used, not to plunder the people, but to protect them\nagainst baronial, royal, and imperial plunderers.\n\nPlundering is a masonic virtue; witness the great French Revolution in\nthe last century, and the policy of Italy, Germany, and Switzerland in\nthe present. And who are the men that plunder the American people but\nthe infidel politicians who do not believe in hell? Mr. Youmans may\ndepend upon it, no judicial, legislative, or executive power will ever\nput a stop to such a wholesale plundering until they humbly kneel before\nthe priest, and conjure him to take in hand the education of our\ncitizens and to revive in them a salutary fear of hell. It is not the\nfear of hell that \u201ccurses the lives\u201d or \u201cdarkens the hopes\u201d of men. All\nthe world knows, on the contrary, that there has never been on the face\nof the earth a thriftier and happier people than the Christian has been.\nOf course criminals are troubled by the remembrance of hell, their lives\nare galled, and their hopes are darkened; but we presume that Mr.\nYoumans does not mean to patronize them. After all it is not the priests\nthat have created hell; they merely warn the sinner of its existence,\nthat he may mend his ways and be saved. Indeed, it is sin, not hell,\nthat darkens the hopes and curses the life of man.\n\nFrom the bitter tone of the passage we have been refuting it would\nappear that Mr. Youmans is extremely jealous of the authority and\nascendency of the priesthood. The jealousy is very natural. The priest,\nwho teaches the Gospel backed by the authority of the universal church,\nis a very serious obstacle to the propagation of false scientific or\nunscientific belief. Therefore it is that Mr. Youmans cannot bear to see\nthe Christian priesthood revered and esteemed by the people, and does\nhis best to destroy their reputation and authority. At this we are not\nastonished; for modern unbelief is so destitute of intrinsic grounds and\nso incapable of defending itself that it is constrained to go out of its\nlines and try a diversion. Accordingly, it takes the offensive. But when\nthe offensive is carried on with no other weapons than those recommended\nby Voltaire, \u201c_Mentez, mentez toujours; il faut mentir comme des\ndiables_,\u201d then _tranquillus judicat orbis terrarum_, the world, though\nwicked, will be heard to pronounce its sentence against the offender.\n\nThe professor adds:\n\n \u201cSo productive an agency of unscrupulous ambition could not fail to\n be assiduously cultivated, and the conception of hell, the most\n potent element in the case by its appeal to fear, was elaborated\n with the utmost ingenuity. Language was exhausted in depicting the\n terrors of the infernal regions and the agonies of the damned. We by\n no means say that these ideas were mere priestly inventions, but\n only that they grew up under the powerful guidance of a class\n consecrated to their exposition and incited by the most powerful\n worldly motives to strengthen their influence. In order to enforce\n belief, to compel obedience to ecclesiastical requirements, to\n coerce civil submission, and to extort money, people were threatened\n with the horrors of hell, which were pictured with all the vividness\n of rhetorical and poetic fanaticism. As the hierarchical spirit grew\n in strength and became a tyrannical rule, obedience to its minutest\n rites was enforced by the most appalling intimidations.\u201d\n\nWe did not know, before we read this passage, that preaching the\nChristian doctrine of hell was productive of \u201cunscrupulous ambition\u201d; we\nrather thought that it was productive of deep and sincere humility. The\npreacher of the Gospel believes in the Gospel, and knows that hell is\nawaiting the bad and \u201cunscrupulous\u201d priest no less than the bad and\nunscrupulous layman. Hence, if the priest assiduously cultivated the\nthought and elaborated the doctrine of hell, it would appear that the\npriest could not be \u201cunscrupulous\u201d\u2014at least, not so unscrupulous as\nthose professors who get rid of hell by the final \u201cabsorption of evil.\u201d\nNor do we understand why a wise man should complain that the priests\nassiduously cultivated and elaborated the doctrine of hell, and that\n\u201clanguage was exhausted in depicting the terrors of the infernal\nregions.\u201d This fact should be a matter of congratulation, not of blame;\nfor the terrors of hell \u201cexert a prodigious influence,\u201d as the professor\nacknowledges, in human affairs; they discourage crime, fortify virtue,\nand contribute to the maintenance of those conditions without which\nhuman society would be transformed into a lair of ferocious beasts. A\nprofessor who pretends to a high place among the friends of civilization\nshould have seen this.\n\nAs to the motives which induced the priesthood to dilate so assiduously\non the torments of hell, we admit that they were \u201cpowerful\u201d; but that\nthey were \u201cworldly\u201d we do not admit, for had they been worldly they\nwould have lost all their power. In like manner we admit that the\nhierarchical spirit may have grown in strength; but that it became a\n\u201ctyrannical rule,\u201d enforcing the minutest rites \u201cby appalling\nintimidations,\u201d we most confidently deny. These malicious assertions\ncannot be substantiated. And again, we understand how the fear of the\neternal torments may have helped to secure obedience to the lawful\nauthorities, whether civil or ecclesiastical; but we do not see how this\nfear could be used \u201cto extort money\u201d from the people. The thing is\nabsurd, as it involves the assumption that the most virtuous, venerable,\nand self-sacrificing friends of the people, the Christian priesthood,\nwere a set of knaves.\n\nThe professor\u2019s remark that \u201cthe terrors of hell were not mere priestly\ninventions, but grew up under their powerful guidance,\u201d will receive\nmore light from the passage which follows:\n\n \u201cWe must not forget that the future life, being beyond experience\n and inaccessible to reason, offers an attractive playground for the\n unbridled imagination. It opens an infinite realm for sensuous\n imagery and creative invention, stirs the deepest feelings, and\n concerns itself with the mystery of human destiny. It accordingly\n offers a favorite topic for poetic treatment, and this is more\n especially true of the darker aspect of the future world, poets\n having taken with avidity to delineations of hell.... Homer, Virgil,\n Dante, and Milton, working through poems of immortal genius that\n have fascinated mankind, some of them through thousands of years and\n others through centuries, have thus combined to familiarize\n countless millions of people with the conception, and to stamp it\n deep in the literature of all countries.\u201d\n\nThere is some truth in this; for it is true that all our pictures of\nhell are drawn more or less from our imagination. However, we do not\nmistake our pictures for the reality. No effort to depict what we have\nnever seen can be a success. But what of that? The belief in the\nexistence of hell is not derived from, or subordinated to, our mode of\nrepresenting its torments, just as the belief in the existence of heaven\nis not derived from our wild theories of celestial spaces or from our\npoor notions of happiness. The future life is indeed \u201cbeyond\nexperience,\u201d as Mr. Youmans says, but its existence is not \u201cinaccessible\nto reason,\u201d as he sophistically assumes; for it is by reasoning that\nboth the ancient and the modern philosophers established the truth of\nthe conception. On the other hand, our pictures of hell are not drawn\nexclusively from our imagination. The lake of fire and brimstone, the\nundying worm, the weeping and gnashing of teeth, the sempiternal horror,\nthe company of devils, etc., are mentioned in the Bible. Hence, when we\nuse such words as these for describing the state of eternal damnation,\nwe use images authorized by Him who knows what he has prepared for the\nunrepentant transgressor of his commandments.\n\nFrom these remarks it clearly follows that if the poet can find in the\nnotion of hell \u201can attractive playground for the unbridled imagination,\u201d\nsuch is not the case with the priest. The imagination of the priest is\nnot \u201cunbridled\u201d; it is ruled by the Scriptural language. The preacher\nwho would countenance Dante\u2019s _Inferno_ from the pulpit would be\naccounted a traitor or a fool. The hell of the poets may be highly\namusing in spite of its terrors, but it makes no conversions, whilst the\nhell of the Bible has converted millions upon millions of sinful souls.\nProf. Youmans strives to confound the hell of the Christians with the\nhell of the poets. It is lost labor. Fecundity and sterility demand\ndifferent subjects. It is truth that fructifies. Fiction is barren.\n\nAnd again, to say that the poetic inventions of Homer, Virgil, Dante,\nand Milton \u201ccombined to familiarize countless millions of people\u201d with\nthe conception of hell, is to utter a paradox which has no foundation.\nProf. Youmans mistakes the effect for the cause. There has been no need\nof poesy to familiarize the countless millions with the conception. The\nmillions were familiar with it before they ever read the poets; nay,\nmore, it is from the popular conception that the poets collected the\nfirst materials for their descriptions of hell. The multitude, the\nmillions, do not read poets. On the other hand, before the invention of\ntypography\u2014that is, for long centuries\u2014books were extremely rare, and\nthe \u201ccountless millions\u201d did not even know how to read. Hence Mr.\nYoumans\u2019 attempt to trace the general belief in hell to poetical\ninventions is a manifest fallacy.\n\nThe professor now comes to our time, and with an air of great\nsatisfaction makes the following assertions:\n\n \u201cYet the doctrine of hell is now growing obsolete. Originating in\n ages of savagery and low barbarism, and developed in periods of\n fierce intolerance, sanguinary persecutions, cruel civil codes, and\n vindictive punishments, it harmonized with the severities and\n violence of society, and undoubtedly had use as a means of the harsh\n discipline of men, when they were moved only by the lowest motives.\n But with the advance of knowledge, and the cultivation of humaner\n sentiments, the doctrine has become anomalous and out of harmony\n with the advance of human nature. Hence, though still a cardinal\n tenet of orthodoxy, it is now generally entertained in a vague and\n loose way, and with reservations and protests that virtually destroy\n it. Only revival preachers of the Moody stamp still affirm the\n literal lake of fire and brimstone, and it is certain that the\n doctrine in any shape recurs much less prominently in current\n preaching than it did a generation or two ago. Sober-minded\n clergymen have got in the way of neglecting it, except now and then\n when rehearsing the creed, or, as at present, under the spur of\n controversy, or when rallied about the decay of the old theology.\u201d\n\nHere Mr. Youmans surpasses himself; for, though he has given us already\nother proofs of his recklessness, yet here he displays his power of\nmisrepresentation with an effrontery that beggars description. \u201cThe\ndoctrine of hell is now growing obsolete\u201d! Is this a fact? No. It is\nonly a desire and a delusion of the anti-Christian sects. Were it a\nfact, the church, too, would be growing obsolete; for the doctrine of\nhell is one of the \u201ccardinal\u201d tenets of the church, as Mr. Youmans\nhimself testifies. But we see, on the contrary, that the church is\neverywhere gaining new ground and extending her conquests. We are not\nignorant that a spirit of apostasy has pervaded a portion of the ruling\nclasses, and that Freemasonry makes daily some converts to Satan; but,\nwhile we are sorry to see this ruin of souls, we are far from regarding\nit as a loss to the militant church. The church cannot but thrive better\nwhen cowardice and hypocrisy cease to conceal themselves under her\nglorious banner. Can the apostasy of her unworthy sons cause her faith\nto grow obsolete? No. The third part of the angels, according to a\nreceived view, refused obedience to God and became his enemies; yet\nobedience to God did not grow obsolete. At the time of the Lutheran\nReformation the authority of the popes was fiercely denounced, vilified,\nand rejected throughout all Germany, Switzerland, and other countries;\nyet the pope\u2019s authority did not grow obsolete. What does it matter,\nthen, if a set of fools who have no God but the \u201cunthinkable\u201d agree to\nreject the doctrine of hell? So long as two hundred millions of\nCatholics believe the doctrine as a \u201ccardinal tenet\u201d of the church, and\nso long as the rest of the world, Protestants, Jews, and pagans, believe\neither the same or an analogous doctrine, it is absurd to call it\nobsolete. Opinions may grow obsolete, dogmatic truths never; for the\nchurch and her doctrine, whether respected or disregarded by our modern\nwiseacres, will last to the end of time.\n\nThe doctrine of hell \u201coriginated in ages of savagery and barbarism\u201d! The\nsapient writer who makes this assertion should be asked to point out a\ndefinite age in which the doctrine originated, and to give some proof of\nthe savagery and barbarism of such an age. Will Mr. Youmans give us any\nevidence on these two points? No; he cannot. He will merely appeal to\nprehistoric time\u2014that is, to the unknown and unknowable. This is now the\nstyle of many scientific jugglers; they draw their conclusions from\nunknown premises! We have already shown, by reference to the Bible, how\nthe doctrine of hell originated. Let Mr. Youmans examine our statement\nof facts, and we do not doubt but that, in a lucid interval, he will see\nthe absurdity of his assertion, and the futility of his struggle against\nhistorical truth.\n\nThe doctrine of hell \u201cwas developed in periods of fierce intolerance,\nsanguinary persecutions, cruel codes, and vindictive punishments\u201d! Much\nmight be said about this bold untruth. Perhaps we might reverse the\nwhole phrase, and say that it is the hostility to the doctrine of hell\nthat was developed in a period of fierce intolerance, sanguinary\npersecution, cruel codes, and vindictive punishments. Unbelief had a\nperiod of triumph in the great French Revolution. Its intolerance was so\nfierce that it brought about \u201cthe Reign of Terror\u201d; its persecution was\ndecidedly sanguinary; its code the will of a drunken mob or the caprice\nof a profligate dictator. That period is past, but another, and not a\nbetter one, is approaching. Freemasonry is maturing new diabolic plans,\nand, if allowed to conquer, when the time comes will not stop midway in\ntheir execution. Meanwhile these enemies of \u201cfierce intolerance\u201d are\nsatisfied with a Bismarckian humanity, and these denouncers of\n\u201csanguinary persecutions\u201d wash their innocent hands in the blood of\nColombian and Ecuadorian citizens, priests, and bishops who have had\nmanhood enough to oppose the tyranny of the sect. We might add much\nmore, of course, to unmask these virtuous Pharisees, who are so\nscandalized at the intolerance of Christianity; but we must return to\nour subject.\n\nThe assertion that the doctrine of hell \u201cwas developed in periods of\nfierce intolerance,\u201d etc., is really nonsensical. For the truth is that\nthis doctrine was never _developed_. The doctrine, as now held in the\nuniversal church, does not contain anything besides what it contained at\nthe time of the apostles. Hence the development of the doctrine of hell\nis a \u201cscientific\u201d invention of Mr. Youmans\u2019 brain. Nor can he exculpate\nhimself by pretending that his phrase refers to the barbarous\ninhabitants of the primitive world. For civil codes had then no\nexistence, and nothing allows the assumption that the early men passed\nthrough periods of fierce intolerance and sanguinary persecution. These\nwords are meant to stigmatize Christianity and the middle ages as\ncontrasted with the scepticism of the present age. If our professor had\na correct idea of what the middle ages really were, we fancy that,\nthough a man of progress, he would admire their culture, wisdom, and\nhumanity.\n\nThe doctrine of hell was used as \u201ca means of harsh discipline when men\nwere moved only by the lowest motives\u201d! Be humble, Mr. Youmans; you are\nnot a competent judge in matters of this sort. First, you know not the\nfacts. Secondly, you know not the nature and value of supernatural\nmotives. Thirdly, you know not that a \u201charsh discipline\u201d is as much\nneeded to-day to curb the unruly passions as it was a thousand years\nago. Fourthly, you do not know that the lowest motives do not exclude\nthe highest. Fifthly, you do not know that no motive is low which is\nsuggested and inculcated by God. Sixthly, you do not know that your\nwords are a crushing condemnation of modern liberalism, whose god is the\nalmighty Dollar, and whose best motives are infinitely lower than those\nwhich animated the chivalric and high-spirited Christians of the\nmedi\u00e6val time.\n\n\u201cWith the advance of knowledge and the cultivation of humaner sentiments\nthe doctrine of hell has become anomalous\u201d! What does this mean? Did the\nadvance of geography, physics, mechanics, cosmogony, chemistry, or other\nbranches of science alter the conception or diminish the certainty of\nthe doctrine of hell? Common sense says no. And yet these are the only\nbranches of knowledge that claim to have advanced. But we must notice\nthat \u201cknowledge,\u201d according to Prof. Youmans\u2019 phraseology, comprises all\nthe wild hypotheses of our modern speculators, and that among these\nthere is a theory which has charmed our professor, and to which he\ncertainly alludes when he reminds us of the advance of knowledge. This\nis Darwin\u2019s theory of the descent of man. If man is a modified ape, it\nis quite plain that the doctrine of hell becomes \u201canomalous\u201d; for apes\ndo not go to hell. But, if such be the case, then \u201cthe advance of human\nnature\u201d is retrogressive, and we cannot boast of \u201chumaner sentiments\u201d\nwithout inconsistency. The truth is that we have advanced a little in\nthe knowledge of matter; but our moral advance has been, and still is,\nbadly cramped by false ideas of civilization. The very effort of\nadvanced thinkers to suppress hell reveals the hollowness of their\nhumane sentiments, and proves that their philanthropy is a sham.\n\nThe doctrine of hell \u201cis now generally entertained with reservations and\nprotests that virtually destroy it.\u201d By whom?\u2014perhaps by the professor\u2019s\nfriends. And the doctrine is entertained \u201cin a vague and loose manner.\u201d\nAgain by whom?\u2014by sceptics, we suppose. But scepticism is ignorance; it\ndeserves pity, not approval. Yet \u201conly revival preachers of the Moody\nstamp still affirm the literal lake of fire and brimstone\u201d! Perhaps\nProf. Youmans will be glad to be informed that the literal lake of fire\nand brimstone is preached even now all over the earth, and in the very\ncentres of civilization, by men of a far higher stamp of intellect than\nMoody and Sankey. The \u201csober-mindedness\u201d of the Protestant clergymen who\n\u201chave got in the way of neglecting\u201d the Scriptural hell is nothing but\nscepticism, or, worse still, cowardice. But the silence of these men\nproves nothing. They have no mission to teach. They are not \u201cthe salt of\nthe earth\u201d; and their defection does no harm to the dogmas of\nChristianity.\n\nMr. Youmans concludes thus:\n\n \u201cIn the recent pulpit utterance there is a perfect chaos of\n discordant speculation, open repudiation, tacit disavowal, and\n ingenious refining away, but no stern and sturdy defence of it, in\n the old form and spirit, from any source that commands respect. The\n doctrine of hell is still conserved in popular creeds, but, if not\n eliminated, it will be pretty certain to carry the creeds with it\n into the limbo of abandoned superstitions.\u201d\n\nThis conclusion would be unanswerable, if the Protestant pulpit were the\nstandard of religious doctrine. But why did not Mr. Youmans reflect that\nhis clergymen are only leaders of sects whose Christianity is nearly\nextinct, and whose words have no authority? Is it not plain that, if the\nblind lead the blind, both will fall into a ditch?\n\nBut we must conclude without entering into further developments. The\nChristian doctrine of hell is incontrovertible. It is universal, it is\nreasonable, and it is revealed in unequivocal terms. Advanced scientists\nmay not like it; yet, instead of sowing malicious doubts about it, they\nshould bear in mind that they themselves are of all men the most likely\nto fall into the lake of fire in which they disbelieve. To Prof. Youmans\nwe offer a text from St. John\u2019s Apocalypse, chapter fourteen:\n\n \u201cAnd the third angel followed them, saying with a loud voice: If any\n man shall adore the beast and his image, and receive his mark in his\n forehead or in his hand, he also shall drink of the wine of the\n wrath of God, which is mingled with pure wine in the cup of his\n wrath, and _he shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the\n sight of the holy angels, and in the sight of the Lamb; and the\n smoke of their torments shall ascend up for ever and ever_.\u201d\n\nProfessor Youmans need not be informed that this great beast with its\nadorers and followers is a symbolic representation of anti-Christianism.\nIts soul is the spirit of apostasy; its heads and horns are governments\nand kings; its body is an organic confederation of all secret societies,\ncomprising diplomatists, statesmen, politicians, godless newspaper\neditors, authors of infamous books, writers of \u201cscientific\u201d articles\nagainst revelation, and the whole army of the enemies of Christ. The\nbeast will have great power, God so permitting; but its reign will be\nshort. Jesus Christ will defeat it, and its followers will find no\nmercy. Their portion shall be \u201cin the lake of fire and brimstone,\u201d and\ntheir punishment shall last \u201cfor ever and ever.\u201d We think that no\nsensible man can deceive himself so as to undervalue this solemn\nprophecy. The great beast, which is now walking upon the earth, has been\nminutely described by the evangelist and by Daniel; and it would be odd\nto pretend that they could, without a revelation from God, foresee,\nthousands of years ago, what was to happen in this time of ours. But if\ntheir words have come from God, then the lake of fire and brimstone and\nthe eternity of the torments deserve the most serious consideration,\nespecially on the part of our professors of anti-Christianity.\nMaterialism will not help them in the day of wrath. Friends will not\nsave them. Faith, repentance, and a timely satisfaction for past\ndelinquencies are the sole chance of salvation.\n\nWe earnestly entreat Prof. Youmans to ponder over this momentous truth.\nIt may be unattractive, but it has the merit of being absolutely\ncertain.\n\n\n\n\n SORROW.\n\n\n Sorrow and I so long have lived together\n How would it seem now if we had to part?\n So many storms we two have had to weather,\n Such thunders heard! following the lightning\u2019s dart!\n Come, Sorrow, now what say you to a truce?\n Wilt lift the cloudy curtain so long hung\n Around our fates, those heavy rings unloose,\n Let fly the fetters that have made us one?\n\n And yet it might be\u2014_I should miss thee, Sorrow!_\n Thy constancy to me has been so great,\n Thy shadow banished from my life to-morrow,\n What earthly lover on me thus would wait?\n For thou art sent from heaven, a sacred guest.\n And though, sweet Sorrow, I\u2019ll not bid thee stay,\n Yet to those sins I bear one more confest\n Were this: that I turned Heaven\u2019s guest away.\n\n A. T. L.\n\n\n\n\n KITTY DARCY.\n\n\n\u201cYou have overdone it, Bertram.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a bit of it, father.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must get away.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan\u2019t afford expensive luxuries.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you consider health a luxury?\u201d\n\n\u201cA necessity.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd yet, for the sake of piling up a few hundred dollars, you fling,\nyes, actually _fling_, it from you as though you were tired of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI love my profession too much not to make some little concession to\n_it_.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, now, Bertram, this won\u2019t do. You have overworked yourself, and\noff you must go. This is the right time to start.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhither?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo Paris.\u201d\n\n\u201cParis! Why not say Timbuctoo?\u201d\n\n\u201cI say Paris.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are surely jesting.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not jest on so serious a subject as your health, my boy.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt can\u2019t be done, father.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt _must_ be done, Bertram. Your Uncle Kirwan starts on Wednesday, and\nwith him you shall go. He hopes to be in time for the opening of the\nExhibition.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy Uncle Kirwan goes on business.\u201d\n\n\u201cHis nephew shall go on pleasure. Why, what\u2019s the matter with you? Half\nthe young fellows in New York would be half-mad with delight to be in\nyour place.\u201d Doctor Bertram Martin laughs. The idea is ridiculous,\nabsurd. He cannot, he _dare_ not leave his patients. That delightful\ncase of tetanus, that splendid fracture of the hip, that exquisite tumor\nyielding to a new treatment, that interesting consumption, that curious\ncardiac dropsy, that superb typhus!\n\nBertram Martin, although but twenty-four years of age, is regarded by\nthe profession as the coming man. His work on aneurism is considered the\nablest essay yet written upon the subject, and his reputation with the\n\u201cknife\u201d is second to none. He is highly cultured, earnest, a calm\nintelligence, with the fires of enthusiasm well banked up; but he is\nfull of latent purpose, an energy that is ever on the spring, and of\nlava that eventually cools into solid success. He has a great future\nbefore him, and he _feels_ it.\n\nHis father, in whose Turkey-rugged, book-lined office he reclines in a\nlow chair\u2014one of those delightful chairs that fondle and caress the\nweary occupant\u2014is also a physician, and who, having amassed a\nconsiderable fortune, now that he has safely launched the good ship that\nbears his name, is about to enjoy a well-earned _otium cum dignitate_.\n\nBertram\u2019s mother has noted the increasing pallor in the young\nphysician\u2019s face, the drag under the eye, the hard, dark lines, and the\nweariness of tone, that denote an active brain heated to a white heat,\nand has determined, _co\u00fbte que co\u00fbte_, that her eldest-born shall \u201cdrop\nboth spade and plough for a revel amongst the daisies.\u201d\n\n\u201cExhibitions are played out, father,\u201d exclaims Bertram. \u201cThe last and\nbest was at Philadelphia, and no show on the earth could beat that.\u201d\n\nHe is intensely American, regarding Europe as effete, old-world, used\nup.\n\n\u201cParis is not played out.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should much prefer seeing Paris at any other time.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s what everybody will say who can\u2019t go. I may as well tell you,\nBertram, that there\u2019s a little conspiracy got up against you, and at the\nhead of it is your mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, Bertie,\u201d exclaims Mrs. Martin, who enters, \u201cwe have undermined\nyou. Your Uncle Kirwan starts on Wednesday by the _Scythia_, and here\u2019s\nthe ticket for your state-rooms,\u201d handing him the article in question.\n\n\u201cWhy, mother\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cMy darling child, you look dreadfully ill, and it is fretting my heart\nout. I spoke to Doctor Lynch, and he _orders_ change of air and total\ncessation from work. You never opposed me in your young life; you are\nnot going to commence _now_.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cBut me no buts, Bertie.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis trip would take two months.\u201d\n\n\u201cThree.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should be out of the race in three months.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ll return fresh and vigorous, and to win.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is sheer folly. I never felt better in my life.\u201d\n\n\u201cNext Wednesday, Bertie.\u201d\n\n\u201cI could not, even if I listened to this absurd proposal, be ready\nbefore two weeks.\u201d\n\n\u201cNext Wednesday, Bertie.\u201d\n\nIn vain does the young doctor expostulate, contesting the ground inch by\ninch. In vain does he plead for time. His pickets are driven in, the\nenemy is upon him in force, and, ere he can well realize the exact\nposture of affairs, his mother has obtained his solemn promise that he\nwill leave for Europe by the _Scythia_ upon the following Wednesday in\ncompany with his uncle, Walter Kirwan.\n\nA bright and joyous group was assembled at the Cunard wharf to see him\noff, and to bid him Godspeed across the waste of waters. Mr. Kirwan, a\nfine, handsome man of five-and-thirty, over six feet high, with a\nwinning eye and a wooing voice, stood \u201cone bumper at parting\u201d in his\nstate-room, which was decorated with a profusion of glorious flowers,\nthe offerings of very near and very dear friends. One bouquet, composed\nexclusively of forget-me-nots and mignonette, caused any number of \u201cOh!\nmy\u2019s,\u201d \u201cHow beautiful!\u201d \u201cIsn\u2019t it lovely!\u201d from pouting female lips.\n\n\u201cWho sent it to you, Bertram?\u201d asked Mrs. Martin.\n\n\u201cIt may not be for me, mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! yes, it is; here is the card with your name upon it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no idea.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo idea?\u201d\n\n\u201cNone in the world.\u201d\n\nA tall, lithe, graceful girl stands a little aside, trifling with the\nfringe of her parasol, as these questions are being put, her embarrassed\nlooks and blushing cheeks denoting fierce and scarce controlled\nagitation.\n\n\u201cDid you send me this bouquet, Miss Reed?\u201d asks Bertram in a low tone.\n\n\u201cI\u2014I\u2014that is\u2014I hope you will\u2014that they will\u2014look pretty,\u201d is the\nmurmured response.\n\n\u201cDid Carrie Reed send those flowers to Bertram?\u201d asks Mrs. Martin of her\nsister, Mrs. Kirwan, in freezing tones.\n\n\u201cYes; I heard her admit it just now.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a forward minx! I\u2019ve a great mind to tell her so.\u201d\n\nHow severe these mothers are when \u201cmy son\u201d is approached by youth and\nbeauty! The idea of marriage is a horror.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u201cAnd this is Liverpool!\u201d exclaims Bertie, as the good ship steams up the\nMersey. \u201cI\u2019m awfully sorry to have been asleep when we were at\nQueenstown; why didn\u2019t you shake me up, uncle?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause you want all the sleep you can get. You were nearly in for a\ndose of _insomnia_, and that would have pretty soon squared _your_\naccount, my boy.\u201d\n\n\u201cPshaw! you all made me out worse than I really was.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a bit of it. You allowed a nice lot of sand to run out of your\nglass. But isn\u2019t _that_ a sight, Bertie? There are masts\u2014a forest. There\nare docks\u2014_the_ docks of the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat docks we\u2019ll have in twenty years at New York!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t believe in anything outside of the stars and stripes.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot much,\u201d with a laugh; adding, \u201cShall we make any stay in Liverpool?\u201d\n\nMr. Kirwan consults his watch.\n\n\u201cWe shall only just catch that train due in London at 6.40. The Dover\nexpress starts at 7.35. This will decant us in Paris to-morrow morning\nat six. We shall have nice time for a big wash, a big breakfast, and\nthen for the opening of the Exhibition.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is close shaving.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s my principle. Narrow margins. They pay best all round.\u201d\n\nMr. Kirwan\u2019s calculations, based Upon professional experience, proved\ncorrect. A vague soup and an ill-dressed cutlet at Charing Cross, a\nthick omelette and a thin wine at Amiens, did duty for refreshment. In\nthe sheen of dazzling early sunlight Bertram Martin first saw Paris, the\nbright, the joyous, the glittering, the beautiful. A dream of his life\nwas about to be realized.\n\nMr. Kirwan having telegraphed for apartments, he with our hero was\n\u201cskied\u201d at the H\u00f4tel du Louvre, and after a breakfast which would have\ndone honor to a navvy had been disposed of by Bertie, who in New York\nwould flirt with a slice of toast and coquette with a fresh egg, cigars\nwere lighted and the two gentlemen set forth in the direction of the\nChamp de Mars.\n\n\u201cThis is the best sight I have ever seen,\u201d cried the young physician, as\nthey strolled along the Rue de Rivoli. \u201cWhy, it\u2019s nearly as bright as\nBroadway.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a thorough Yank you are, Bertie! Come here, now; just take a look\naround you, and confess that you are fairly dumbfounded.\u201d\n\nThey stood at the Place de la Concorde. The fountains were throwing\nfeathery sprays high in air; the flowers were blooming in a myriad hues.\nThousands of vehicles were flashing past, tens of thousands of\npedestrians. The great tide of human life had set in towards the\nTrocadero. Regiments in gorgeous uniforms, headed by bands playing\nsuperbly, marched onwards, quaint costumes of every nationality under\nthe sun flitted by\u2014bizarre groups chatting and laughing and\ngesticulating!\n\nBehind them the blackened walls of the Tuileries, in front the Champs\nElys\u00e9es and the Arc de Triomphe, on the left the Chamber of Deputies, on\nthe right the glorious Madeleine.\n\n\u201cIt _is_ magnificent,\u201d exclaimed Bertie at length, in a subdued tone of\nemotion.\n\n\u201cNearly as bright as Broadway,\u201d laughed Kirwan.\n\n\u201cWait! Twenty years, and our up-town will be as gorgeous as this. We\nhave the taste, we have the money, all we want is the time; _that_ we\nhave not.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd never will have. We rush too much. But come along; we must be at\nthe Exhibition building early or our chances of getting in will be a\nlittle thin. We shall have, as we say in New York, to take a back seat,\ndoctor.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should prefer to stop here. What a sight this is! What contrasts; how\nvivid! Look at that grim sergent-de-ville, and beside him that\n_piquante_ girl in the Normandy cap as high as his cocked hat, and\nearrings as long as his sword. See that _ouvrier_ in the blouse; how\ncheerfully he smokes his cigar, carrying his two children! I do believe\nhe would carry his wife into the bargain. How coquettishly she is\nattired, and how cheaply! See the artistic manner that two-dollar shawl\nis draped over her shoulder, and how that five-cent ribbon hangs. I\u2019ll\nwager that these fellows coming along as if walking on air are of the\nQuartier Latin, the students\u2019 quarter. They, poor fellows! have come to\nsee the crowd. I suppose their united wealth at this moment will\nscarcely do more than omelette and beer them. What flashing equipages!\nHow beautifully finished! We _do_ want these liveries in Central Park.\nImagine those yellows, and purples, and blues, and saffrons, and whites\nglancing amongst our green trees or up Fifth Avenue. What cavalry! How\nsuperbly those dragoons sit their horses\u2014Centaurs every man of them. It\nmust have been by sheer force of numbers that they bit the dust in the\nlate war. What fountains! what flowers! what trees\u2014four rows of them up\nto that magnificent arch\u2014and what residences!\u201d gushed Bertram Martin.\n\n\u201cThese gilded pagodas, and Swiss chalets, and marble palaces, and fairy\nbowers are for open-air concerts. Wait till you see them lighted up, and\nI tell you what it is, Bertie, you\u2019ll go into raptures. Why, no tale in\nthe _Arabian Nights_ equals them for glitter. And the music, my boy,\nsparkles like champagne,\u201d cried Kirwan enthusiastically.\n\nArrived at the Champ de Mars, the crowd gradually filtered into the\nExhibition building. At the turnstile Bertie was separated from his\nuncle, who made a rush for another entrance. Immediately in front of him\nwas a young girl, lissome and lithe of figure, attired in a raiment of\nsoft, filmy, cloudy, floating white. He could detect a delicate little\near, and a white neck from which the hair was scrupulously lifted and\narranged\u2014she had removed her hat\u2014dark and lustrous, tight and trim, in a\nfashion exceedingly becoming to the beautiful, but trying to the more\nordinary of womankind.\n\nHave we not all at some time or another felt that something strange was\ngoing to happen to us? that steps were coming nearer and nearer? that a\nvoice was calling to us at a great way off that would presently become\nmore distinct?\n\nA something urged Bertram Martin to see this girl\u2019s face. Was it mere\ncuriosity? No. The impulse was indefinable as a subtle perfume,\nindefinable as a sweet sound in music. A shapely head, and lustrous\nhair, and a lissome form\u2014this was a very ordinary scaffolding whereon to\nbuild a romance, and, although the young doctor would have laughed\nanybody to scorn who would have taxed him with being romantic, there was\nno boy of half his age and quarter his experience more likely to make a\nfool of himself about a woman than Bertie Martin.\n\nHe had led his life amongst his books, his profession his mistress. Too\nmuch absorbed in the engrossing duties attendant upon the alleviation of\nthe ills the flesh is heir to, he was in the world and yet not of it,\nbeholding it as through a polished sheet of plate-glass. His mother, a\nwoman of the highest culture, refinement, taste, and ability, had vainly\nurged upon him the necessity of taking part in the gayeties of a very\nextended and highly fashionable circle\u2014vainly, indeed; for having on a\nfew occasions attended \u201cswell\u201d receptions and upper-crust\nentertainments, he squarely pilloried himself in a _cui bono_? and from\nthat hour the butterfly world knew him no more.\n\nHe is tall, lightly built, graceful. His eyes are dark gray, full of\nearnestness, and blazing with intelligence. His mouth is absolutely\nfaultless, having at command a smile, a veritable ray of sunshine. His\nlight-brown moustache and beard have never known the razor. He dresses\nwell, and is a dandy in gloves and boots.\n\nHe must see that girl\u2019s face, and he plunged forward despite the\n_sacr-r-r\u00e9_ of an infuriated Frenchman and the full-flavored exclamation\nof a London cockney, into whose ribs he had plunged his right elbow. At\nthis moment she turned her head a little to address a portly gentleman\nbehind, who, with a flushed face and a general appearance of acute\nphysical and mental suffering, through heat, crush, and excitement, had\nbeen urging her to push onwards.\n\nHer profile was simply lovely: one inch of forehead; a nose a trifle out\nof the regular line of beauty; eyelashes that swept her cheeks; a short\nupper lip with a tremulous curl in it, a rich red under one, and a chin\nworthy the chisel of Phidias. And yet, despite its classical _contour_,\nher face was Irish\u2014yea, that delicious _ensemble_ which Erin bestows\nupon her daughters, placing them above all in beauty, in archness, and\nin purity of expression.\n\n\u201cShe is lovely,\u201d murmured Bertie, gazing at her with all his eyes.\n\nA rush came, a great pressure from behind, and the wave flung him beyond\nthe turnstile.\n\n\u201cWell done, old fellow!\u201d cried Kirwan, clapping him on the back.\n\n\u201cWhere is she?\u201d demanded the young physician, gazing round him on every\nside, as though his head were rotary.\n\n\u201cJust gone up this way with her son.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho? What son?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, the Duchess of Lachaunay. That\u2019s what caused the rush; her toilet\nis by Worth, and cost twenty thousand francs.\u201d\n\n\u201cHang the duchess!\u201d groaned Bertie. \u201cI have lost sight of the loveliest\ngirl I ever laid eyes on.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere was she?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere, right in front of me.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind. Take heart of grace. We\u2019ll pick her up by and by. Let\u2019s get\nour seats or we\u2019ll forfeit them.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou go, uncle. I\u2019ll do as I am, I think I\u2019ll walk about.\u201d\n\nKirwan looked at his nephew with a merry glance.\n\n\u201cSo badly hit as that, Bertie?\u201d\n\n\u201cPshaw!\u201d cried the doctor, turning on his heel.\n\nAnd they did not find her. Not a bit of it. Bertram walked, and stalked,\nand darted hither and thither, until Kirwan fairly let him have his own\nway, giving him a rendezvous at the hotel for seven o\u2019clock.\n\nWhat cared Bertram Martin for the gorgeous array of foreign princes,\nambassadors, commissioners, presidents, ministers, deputations,\nsenators, or deputies? What cared he for the address to Marshal\nMacMahon, or the one-hundred-and-one gun salute, or the military music,\nor the hoisting of flags, or the playing of fountains? What cared he for\nthe procession, with all its glittering magnificence, or for all the\ntreasures of the earth dug up by man and nurtured by art? He sought the\nfour-leaved shamrock in the bright young girl whose beauty had flashed\nupon him as a revelation, and although he posted himself at the chief\nexit until he came to be regarded with suspicion by a grim\nsergent-de-ville, in the hope of obtaining another glimpse of her, he\nwas doomed to disappointment, and he returned to the hotel, and to a\n_petit d\u00eener_ ordered for the occasion by his uncle, in the worst\npossible spirits.\n\n\u201cDid you find her, Bertie?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf she\u2019s French she won\u2019t go to the Exhibition again for some time. She\nhas done the opening, and will take it now, as the Crushed Tragedian\nsays, \u2018in sections.\u2019 But come, Bertie, love or no love, try this _Soupe\n\u00e0 la Bonne Femme_; it will ring up the curtain to a _menu_ that even\nDelmonico never dreamt of in his wildest imaginings.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nFor the two weeks that Bertie remained in Paris he sought the fair\nunknown\u2014sought her in the Exposition, in the galleries of the Louvre, at\nVersailles, amongst the ruins of the palace of St. Cloud, in churches,\non the boulevards, in _caf\u00e9s_\u2014everywhere. Once he thought he caught a\nglimpse of her passing along the Rue de Rome, and, plunging from the top\nof the omnibus at the imminent risk of breaking his neck, came up with a\nvery pretty young girl who turned into the residence of the ex-Queen of\nSpain.\n\n\u201cIt is a perfect infatuation,\u201d wrote home Kirwan. \u201cBertie is crazed\nabout some girl he saw on the opening day of the Exhibition. I can get\nno good of him. I scarcely ever see him, and when he is with me he is\ncontinually darting from me in pursuit of this will-o\u2019-the-wisp, or\ncraning his neck in search of her. And only to think of grave Doctor\nBertram Martin being in this horrid state!\u201d\n\nIt had been announced that the tour was to include London, the English\nlakes, Scotland, and Ireland. Bertie voted London a bore, the lakes a\nnuisance, the land of cakes nowhere, and declared in favor of a few days\nin Ireland. With a sigh, as though tearing up his heart by the roots, he\ntook his departure from Paris.\n\n\u201cI shall never, _never_ see her again,\u201d he groaned, and was silent the\nwhole way to Calais.\n\nKirwan fondly imagined that London would shake off this glamour, and did\nhis uttermost to bring all the attractions of the modern Babylon into\nbold relief; but four days seemed so thoroughly to weary his nephew that\nit was resolved to start for Ireland without any further delay.\n\nA glorious evening found them pacing the deck of the mail steamer\n_Connaught_, _en route_ from Holyhead to Kingstown. Before them lay the\nDublin mountains, bathed in glorious greens, yellows, and purples. Away\nto the left stretched the Wicklow hills, guarded by the twin\nsugar-loaves and backed by lordly Djouce. To the right the Hill of\nHowth, the famous battlefield of Clontarf, and in the smoky distance the\ncity of Dublin. Kingstown, its white terraces sloping to the sea;\nDalkey, its villas peeping timidly forth from the fairest verdure-clad\ngroves; Killiney, lying in the lap of a heather-caressed mountain; Bray,\nlike a string of pearls on the ocean\u2019s edge; the dark-blue waters of the\nbay, dotted here and there with snowy yachts, or with the russet brown\nof the Skerries fishing-smacks\u2014what a _coup-d\u2019\u0153il_!\n\n\u201cIt is glorious,\u201d murmured Bertie, as, leaning on the railing of the\nbridge, he drained this cup of loveliness to the very dregs.\n\nArrived at Dublin, they put up at the Shelborne Hotel, in Stephen\u2019s\nGreen, whither they were borne from the dingy station at Westland Row on\nan outside car that jingled, rattled, creaked, and groaned at every\nrevolution of its rickety wheels.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s this fur?\u201d demanded the tatterdemalion driver, got up in a\ncast-off suit of Con the Shaughraun, as he glanced from half a crown\nlying upon the palm of his horny hand to Kirwan and Bertie.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s this fur at all, at all?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s your fare, my man,\u201d said Kirwan.\n\n\u201cMe fare? An yez come from Amerikey?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe cunthry that me sisther, and me aunt, an\u2019 me cousin Tim, an\u2019 me\ncousin Phil is always braggin about? Wisha, wisha, but it\u2019s lies they\u2019re\ntellin\u2019 me, sorra a haporth else. The people over there must be regular\nnaygurs afther all,\u201d reluctantly preparing to pocket the coin.\n\n\u201cIt will never do to let the American flag go by the board,\u201d whispered\nBertie. \u201cHere, my man, here is half a crown for the stars, and here\u2019s\nhalf a crown for the stripes.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 won\u2019t yer honor stand somethin\u2019 for the flagstaff?\u201d with a grin of\nsuch unspeakable drollery that both the Americans burst into a fit of\nlaughter.\n\nMr. Kirwan had been provided with a letter of introduction to a family\nresiding in Merrion Square.\n\n\u201cShall we look up the Darcys, Bertie?\u201d he asked one morning shortly\nafter their arrival.\n\n\u201c_Cui bono?_\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Joyces were so anxious about it. It would never do to go back to\nNew York without calling, at all events.\u201d\n\n\u201cAt it, then. Let\u2019s get it over, and on to Killarney.\u201d\n\nThe Darcy mansion in Merrion Square was muffled in its summer wraps. The\nshutters were closed, the windows barricaded with newspapers, the\nknocker removed, while a profound air of dust and melancholy hung over\nit like a pall\u2014this though the scarlet and white hawthorn, the lilac and\nlaburnum, were shedding their delicious odors from the enclosure of the\nsquare opposite.\n\n\u201cThe famly is out av town,\u201d responded a very dilapidated-looking old\nwoman to Kirwan\u2019s query.\n\n\u201cIndeed! I shall leave a card.\u201d\n\n\u201cAv ye plaze; but shure where\u2019s the use? They\u2019ll not get it this three\nmonths.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere are they travelling?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn furrin parts.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall write a line.\u201d\n\n\u201cStep in, sir, and welkim.\u201d\n\nThis elderly damsel ushered them into an apartment from which the carpet\nhad been removed, the curtains taken down, the gasalier and pictures\nmuffled, and the furniture piled up and partly concealed by matting.\nKirwan took out his letter of introduction, and, opening it, proceeded\nto write a line of regret upon missing Mr. Darcy. The young doctor moved\nabout the room, amusing himself by listlessly gazing out through the\nhalf-opened shutter. Presently he approached a massive book-case, and\nendeavored to peer through the interstices afforded by the gaping of the\nbrown paper that concealed the books.\n\nLittle did he imagine what an influence this simple action was destined\nto bear upon his near future! His wandering gaze suddenly merged into\nearnestness, then it became fascinated, then fixed.\n\n\u201cCome here!\u201d he said to the attendant, his voice hoarse from suppressed\nemotion.\n\nThe woman came to his side.\n\n\u201cDo you see that _carte de visite_?\u201d\n\n\u201cCart o\u2019 what?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat photograph there, lying on its side,\u201d the words coming in hot\ngasps.\n\n\u201cYes, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhose is it?\u201d\n\n\u201cMisther Darcy\u2019s, I suppose.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhose likeness is it?\u201d clutching her by the wrist.\n\n\u201cI dunno, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou _don\u2019t know_! Is it one of the family?\u201d\n\n\u201cI dunno, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs\u2014is there a Miss Darcy? Has Mr. Darcy a daughter?\u201d his impatience\nwrestling with a desire to throttle the caretaker.\n\n\u201cI heerd that he has wan.\u201d\n\n\u201cHeard! Don\u2019t you know it?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not, sir. I\u2019m a sthranger. I come from Stoneybatther, beyant the\nwather, but I heerd that Misther Darcy has a daughter, and that she is\nmarried\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cMarried!\u201d reeling as if he had been struck a heavy blow.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s all this, Bertie?\u201d asked Kirwan uneasily.\n\n\u201cThat photo there.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I see it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s the photo of the girl I saw at the opening of the Paris\nExhibition.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd a pretty girl she is!\u201d exclaimed Kirwan, indulging in a prolonged\nwhistle as he gazed at it sideways like a bird.\n\n\u201cI must have it,\u201d said Bertram, a dogged resolution in his tone.\n\n\u201cHow is that to be done? You can\u2019t steal it, Bertie.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt shall be done fairly and squarely if possible; if not, I shall smash\nthe glass.\u201d\n\n\u201cTut! tut! man, you\u2019re not thinking.\u201d\n\nThe wound had been nearly healed, the memory of that girlish face was\nfast becoming a sweet treasure of a by-gone time, to be lingered over at\nfitful intervals, and always with rapture, when this unlooked-for freak\nof destiny caused the wound to bleed afresh, and memory to burst into\nrich and fragrant blossom.\n\nDuring each of the three days that he remained in Dublin Bertram Martin\nvisited the deserted mansion in Merrion Square, to gaze at that\nphotograph, all so near and yet so far. Could he have but obtained a\nsolitary clue to the whereabouts of the Darcys no earthly power would\nhave prevented his following them; but clue there was none.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe train clanked into the station at Killarney in a mist as thick as a\nladies\u2019 _tulle-illusion_ veil.\n\n\u201cIf this sort of thing is going to last we sha\u2019n\u2019t see much of Kate\nKearney,\u201d laughed Kirwan.\n\n\u201cI wish I had never left New York,\u201d said Bertie. \u201cI did my very\nuttermost not to come, but you set your trap, all of you, and I go\nback\u2014what?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou can run over again.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever! Once back, my profession shall have all my energy, all my\nhope\u2014my life.\u201d\n\nThey put up at the Railway Hotel, and after dinner strolled out as far\nas Ross Castle. The mist had cleared away, and the view of Innisfallen\nsleeping in the moonlight, of the cluster of dreamy islands, the soft\noutlines of the Mangerton, the purple mountain and the Toomies bathed in\nliquid pearl, the twinkling lights along the shore, the mirrored waters\nof the lake shimmering in silver glory, sent a wave of delicious reverie\nover the hearts of the two men, as, seated in silence on a ruined wall\nof the ivy-covered keep, they gazed in solemn rapture upon a scene\nexquisite, soothing, sublime.\n\n\u201cI wish to heaven your aunt was here to see this,\u201d said Kirwan, lighting\na fresh cigar.\n\n\u201cI wish\u2014\u201d but Bertie did not utter another word.\n\nThe following morning was one in ten thousand\u2014fresh, sunny, breezy,\ninspiriting, laden with the languor of summer, rippling with the\ncoquetry of spring; a primrose light, a violet shade. Our two friends\njoined a party bound for the Gap of Dunloe. The ponies were sent on, and\na boat ordered to meet them at the upper lake with luncheon. Bertie was\nunusually depressed, and, despite the vigorous efforts of his uncle to\npull him together, he clung, as it were, to himself, avoiding all\nintercourse with his fellow-man, and especially his fellow-woman, a\nbuxom, blithe, hearty English lady, who laughed with anybody and at\neverything, and whose whole trouble lay in a morbid terror lest any\naccident should happen to the bitter beer. After a two hours\u2019 drive\nthrough lovely and matchless scenery the carriage arrived at the\nentrance to the Gap, and here the party dismounted.\n\n\u201cWhere do we meet the ponies?\u201d asked Kirwan.\n\n\u201cA little bit up the Gap, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cAny bitter beer up there?\u201d laughed the English lady.\n\n\u201cTroth, thin, there\u2019s not, but Kate Kearney\u2019ll give ye a dhrop o\u2019 the\nmountain dew, me lady,\u201d replied the driver.\n\nBertie strode on before. There was a something exhilarating in speeding\nup the craggy pass, in bounding from rock to rock like a mountain deer,\nin plunging through the purple heather, and in leaping saucy brooklets\nflashing their glittering waters in the glorious sunlight. In vain did\nKate Kearney assail him with blarney, blandishments, and bog oak, with\n\u201ca dhrop o\u2019 the craythur\u201d under the thin disguise of goat\u2019s milk. In\nvain did arbutus-wood venders, and mendicants, and wild-flower girls\ntrudge by his side and cling to his heels. He distanced them all,\nleaving them standing at different places in the middle of the road,\nbaffled and worsted in the encounter. Up against the sky line stood the\nponies. Up against a sheer wall of dull gray rock covered with ferns,\nand mosses, and lichens leant a wooden shanty, and for this shanty\nBertram Martin made.\n\nA party had ascended before him; they were from the Victoria Hotel\u2014two\ngentlemen and two ladies. One gentleman was seated on a granite boulder\nas Bertie reached this coigne of vantage.\n\n\u201cGlorious day, sir,\u201d exclaimed the tweed-covered excursionist.\n\n\u201cSuperb,\u201d replied Bertie, flinging himself on the purple heather to\nawait the arrival of Kirwan.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re from the other side of the pond. Have a cigar,\u201d flinging over\nhis case in a right royal manner.\n\nBertie selected a weed.\n\n\u201cHave a light,\u201d shying a silver fusee-box which the doctor dexterously\ncaught.\n\n\u201cFrom New York?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you know any people of the name of Joyce?\u201d\n\n\u201cDaniel Blake Joyce, of Gramercy Park?\u201d asked Bertie.\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know him and his family intimately.\u201d\n\nThe tweed-arrayed stranger jumped to his feet.\n\n\u201cI call this jolly. My name is O\u2019Hara.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot Tim O\u2019Hara?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, Tim.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, my dear sir,\u201d cried Bertie, \u201cI\u2019ve heard the Joyces speak of you\nfifty times.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is first-class. Have a card. You\u2019ll come and stop with me a week,\na month\u2014six. I live in the County Wicklow.\u201d\n\n\u201cI most seriously wish I could,\u201d said the physician, exchanging cards,\n\u201cbut I leave by the _Asia_ on Friday.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a bit of it. Hi, Dick! Dick! I say,\u201d calling to a fat,\njovial-faced, red-nosed elderly gentleman who had just emerged from the\nshanty. \u201cHere\u2019s a friend of Dan Joyce\u2019s, of New York, who says he\u2019s\ngoing to leave by the _Asia_ on Friday. Will that fit?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should say not,\u201d said the other, approaching.\n\nWhere had Bertram Martin seen that face?\n\n\u201cAny friend of Dan Joyce\u2019s is our friend, and shame be upon us if we let\nyou leave Ireland without at least giving us the opportunity of having a\ngossip and a bottle over Dan.\u201d\n\nWhere had Bertram Martin seen that face?\n\nIn a few words, even while this perplexing thought was whirling through\nhis brain, Bertie informed the new-comer\u2014for O\u2019Hara had disappeared into\nthe shanty in search of the ladies with his news\u2014of his doings since he\nlanded at Liverpool.\n\n\u201cAt what time were you in Paris?\u201d asked the stranger.\n\n\u201cOn the opening day of the Exhibition,\u201d replied the doctor with a deep\nsigh, as his thoughts flew back to the lovely girl he was destined\nnever, oh! never, to behold again.\n\n\u201cI was in Paris on that day,\u201d said the stranger.\n\nBertie seized him by the wrist.\n\n\u201cYou were? I have it all now. _Now_ I know where I saw you,\u201d speaking\nwith fearful rapidity. \u201cIt was at the entrance C\u2014\u2014. There was a fearful\ncrush. You were not alone. You were with a young lady. Who is that girl?\nWhere is she?\u201d And he stopped, a world of excited earnestness in his\neyes.\n\n\u201cThat young lady is my daughter.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere is she?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is here.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Here_?\u201d a mad throb at his heart.\n\nAt this moment O\u2019Hara emerged from the shanty, accompanied by two\nladies, one of them, young and fresh and lovely, hanging fondly on his\narm.\n\nBertie saw it all now. One wild glance told him that she was as far from\nhim as the fleecy cloud sailing above his head\u2014that she was the wife of\nTim O\u2019Hara.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think, Dick, that I introduced you to my young friend, Dr.\nMartin. Doctor, this is Dick Darcy, one of the gayest fellows in all\nIreland. Get your legs under his mahogany in Merrion Square and\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI have been in your house in Merrion Square. I have a letter of\nintroduction to you from Mr. Joyce,\u201d burst in Bertie.\n\n\u201cAnd you shall be again, my young friend,\u201d wringing his hand warmly.\n\u201cMary,\u201d to the elder lady, \u201cthis is Dr. Martin, a friend of Dan Joyce\u2019s.\nDoctor, this is my wife. And this,\u201d turning to the girl, \u201cis my\ndaughter.\u201d\n\nBertie took her courteously-proffered hand, and held it for one instant\nin his. He looked down, down into those Irish gray eyes, where truth and\ninnocence and purity lay like gems beneath crystal waters; he gazed with\na wild rapture upon the beauteous face that had haunted him day and\nnight in its rosy radiance, and then with a muttered exclamation was\nabout to turn away when O\u2019Hara exclaimed:\n\n\u201cMiss Darcy looks as if she had seen you before.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Miss_ Darcy?\u201d cried Bertie.\n\n\u201cYes; you wouldn\u2019t have her Mrs. Darcy, would you?\u201d\n\nOh! the weight lifted off his heart. Oh! how gloriously shone out the\nsun, how blue was the sky, how radiant the flowers, how sweet the song\nof the mountain thrush, how delightful everything. The great black\nshadow which had hung over him like a pall had passed away before the\ndayshine of her presence, and, borne on that sunlight, came the message\nto his heart that Kitty Darcy was to be wooed, and\u2014possibly to be won.\n\nKirwan\u2019s pleasure knew no bounds as he clasped the hand of Dick Darcy.\n\n\u201cWhat a sorry opinion you would have had of the old country if you had\nonly known its hospitality through the medium of a hotel, Mr. Kirwan!\u201d\nlaughed Darcy as the party mounted their shaggy mountain ponies.\n\nOf course Bertie rode beside Miss Darcy, and descanted not as eloquently\nas he could have wished upon the glorious bits of scenery that revealed\nthemselves at every turn in the Gap. He spoke glowingly of home, of the\nlordly Hudson, the dreamy Catskills, the White Mountains, and the\nYosemite.\n\n\u201cOh! isn\u2019t that gloriously gloomy,\u201d cried Miss Darcy, as they emerged\nfrom the granite-walled Gap to the ridge overlooking the Black Valley to\nthe right, stretching away in gray sadness, locked in the embraces of\nmountains standing in ebon relief against the blue yet lustreless sky.\n\n\u201cNot unlike my own reflections for the last six weeks,\u201d laughed the\ndoctor; \u201cthey were gloriously gloomy.\u201d\n\n\u201cSee the sunshine over the upper lake.\u201d\n\n\u201cI accept the omen.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the Eagle\u2019s Nest, how superbly it towers over the water! What\ngreens!\u2014from white to russet. How charmingly the foliage of the arbutus\nseems to suit this lovely scenery!\u201d\n\nAnd what a scene in its brilliance, its repose, its poetry! Verdure-clad\nmountains dreaming in the haze of summer, lifting themselves to the blue\nvault of heaven, the tender green mixing with the cerulean, as a spring\nleaf with the forget-me-not; mirror-like lakes reflecting every crag,\nevery tree, every bud with that fidelity only known to nature\u2019s mirrors;\nthe path winding tortuously down to the lake, now disappearing in a\npatch of wood, now meandering through a waving meadow as yet uninvaded\nby the ruthless scythe. Away stretched the lakes, away the old Weir\nBridge\u2014away in shimmering loveliness all too lovely to describe, all too\nlovely save to gaze and gaze upon, until heart and soul absorbed it in a\nthirsty greed.\n\nThree days spent in Kitty Darcy\u2019s society\u2014three days in wandering\nthrough the ruins of Muckross Abbey, that home of silent prayer, that\n\u201ccongealed _Pater Noster_,\u201d by the low, dulcet murmur of O\u2019Sullivan\u2019s\nCascade, amid the leafy dells of \u201cSweet Innisfallen,\u201d up the steep\nascent of Mangerton, on the fern-caressed road to the police barracks,\nstopping at the exquisite little chapel perched like an eerie up in its\nwooded nest and uttering an _Ave_, always by Kitty\u2019s side, always\ninhaling the subtle perfume of her presence\u2014three centuries compressed\ninto three days.\n\nThe Darcys were _en route_ to a fishing-lodge at Valentia, out where the\ncable flashes into the wide Atlantic, and the day arrived when\nfarewell\u2014a word that must be, and hath been, a sound that makes us\nlinger\u2014must be said.\n\n\u201cAre you going by the _Asia_ on Friday, uncle?\u201d asked Bertie.\n\n\u201cWhy, of course.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d\n\n\u201cI go on to Carrick-na-cushla with the Darcys.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thought as much, Bertie. What shall I tell them in New York?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I shall bring home a young, lovely, pure, and charming wife, if I\ncan. I have two letters for you, one for my mother and one for my\nfather. If things turn out\u2014all right, I\u2019ll return; if\u2014\u201d here he paused\nwith a writhe\u2014\u201call wrong, you won\u2019t hear of me for some time.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nDr. Bertram Martin\u2019s three months\u2019 vacation is not yet over. It\nthreatens to lengthen into six, possibly into nine months; and when he\nreturns he will not return alone. His uncle Kirwan has had a sad time of\nit ever since; and Dr. Martin\u2019s fair patients are inconsolable.\n\n\n\n\n ROSARY STANZAS.\n\n\n PROLOGUE.\n\n\nMulier amicta sole, et luna sub pedibus ejus, et in capite ejus corona\nstellarum duodecim.\u2014APOC. xii. 1.\n\n Cloudless her early dawn, more pure, more bright\n Than the blue sapphire of the eastern sky\n Above her head. To the prophetic eye\n All the long future lay in folds of light.\n Her noontide sun thick darkness veiled from sight,\n Prelude of rushing storms that moan and sigh\n Among the forest-leaves, then fiercely fly\n In wrath and ruin, burying all in night\u2014\n To die in silence. See! the light returns,\n A gathering splendor in its peaceful ray,\n And all the western heaven at sunset burns\n And kindles to a golden after-glow,\n Bidding the tender hearts that love her know\n The fuller glory of her perfect day.\n\n\n JOYFUL MYSTERIES.\n\n\nI.\n\nLUKE i. 38.\n\n And does the crown\u00e8d one ever look back\n On her long sojourn in the vale of tears?\n Whate\u2019er of earth her simple home might lack,\n Her blissful _Fiat_ filled those far-off years,\n Doubling their joys and calming all their fears.\n Her faithfulness to grace divine how great!\n In the early time as when the goal she nears,\n As the Lord\u2019s handmaid, or in queenly state,\n Content on his command expectantly to wait.\n\n\nII.\n\nLUKE i. 43.\n\n Bride of the Holy One! of all his grace,\n At the beginning, full! God\u2019s Mother blest!\n Hope of the world, the glory of her race!\n When _Be it done_ was said, awhile to rest\n Within her quiet home were it not best?\n She her aged kinswoman a kindness owes;\n Nor daunted by the desolate mountain-crest,\n To sanctify the unborn infant goes:\n Better to love and serve than holiest repose.\n\n\nIII.\n\nLUKE ii. 16.\n\n Long ago full of grace, what is she now?\n Her time has come, her God upon her knee\u2014\n Reward how rich for her all-perfect vow!\n Fountain of grace unlimited to be;\n Every heart-pulse an act of worship free\n To Him who visited his world forlorn.\n Mother of his divinest infancy,\n Bid our dull souls be as the Newly-Born,\n Living henceforth his life who came that Christmas morn.\n\n\nIV.\n\nHEBR. x. 7.\n\n With lowly willingness and simple awe\n The sinless Mother and her sinless Child\n Offered themselves at bidding of the law:\n She to be purified, the Undefiled!\n While he on his redemption-offering smiled.\n Obedience! never did thy secret power\n Brood calmer o\u2019er a world of passions wild\n Than to God\u2019s temple, in that silent hour,\n When Son and Mother came, wearing thy lowly flower.\n\n\nV.\n\nLUKE ii. 48.\n\n Three days and nights the Mother for her Son\n In sorrow sought and self-upbraidings meek;\n The joy of finding him her patience won:\n She sought, and he was found. But for the weak,\n The wandering, his patient love must seek\n \u2019Mong thorny by-ways of the world to find.\n Deign to the King for them a word to speak,\n Pray something for them of thy constant mind,\n For ever to his Heart all wayward souls to bind.\n\n\n\n\n RELATIONS OF JUDAISM TO CHRISTIANITY.\n I.\n\n\nThe Catholic Church, founded by Christ to be the depositary, the\nguardian, and the interpreter of his word, was from all eternity in the\nmind of God, not in the same manner as the other things that were made\nby him, and which constitute the visible universe, but as a creation\napart, far superior to the world that we see, the completion of the\ndesigns of love which he entertained for men, and the reason of the\nexistence of everything else inferior to it. It is the sublime theology\nof St. Paul: \u201cAll things are yours,\u201d he writes to the Corinthians\u2014\u201cthe\nworld, life, death, things present and things to come. And you are\nChrist\u2019s, and Christ is God\u2019s.\u201d From this it is easy to see the rank\nwhich the church holds in the divine plan. Christ stands first in the\nscale; he is the link, the Supreme Pontiff by whom all creatures are\nunited with God; the church, his spouse, is for him and forms one with\nhim, and has been ordained for the good of the elect and the\nsanctification of souls; she is the mother of the living. As Christ is\nfirst in the intention of God, the church, which is so intimately\nconnected with him, is conceived along with him in the Divine mind, and\nhas in it the precedence over all other things. Thus she can apply to\nherself the words of the inspired writer: \u201cThe Lord possessed me at the\nbeginning of his ways. I was set up from eternity, and of old before the\nearth was made. When he established the sky above, and poised the\nfountains of waters; when he compassed the sea with its bounds, and set\na law to the waters that they should not pass their limits, I was with\nhim forming all things.\u201d\n\nSuch being the case, it is not astonishing to see the whole drama of\nhuman history turned towards a central figure, Christ and his church,\nwhich are the grand objects contemplated by God in the universe. Nations\nrise and fall, empires are founded which are succeeded by other empires,\neach having a special mission, that of preparing the way for the kingdom\nof God; and when that mission is accomplished they disappear from the\nscene. The barriers set up to divide nationalities are forcibly broken\ndown; conquest, commerce, the sciences and arts form a link between\nthem; languages are modified, ideas are interchanged, intellectual\nsystems are brought in contact; efforts are made sometimes in the right,\nsometimes in the wrong, direction; men grope in the dark, but some ray\nof light, however faint it may have been, is still there to urge them in\ntheir researches after truth; views are conflicting, but their very\nconflict paves the way to a broader spirit and more universal\nconceptions. When we glance at the state of the human mind before the\ncoming of Christ, it seems that all is confusion and a perfect chaos\nfrom which there is no possible issue; but an attentive observer will\neasily discern, even when obscurity is most intense, the Spirit of God,\nas of old, brooding over the vast abyss and ordering all things so as to\nmake light finally shine out of darkness.\n\nThe providential action of God manifested in the gradual preparation of\nthe world for the acceptance of Christianity has always been considered\none of the most striking proofs of its supernatural character, and\nmodern rationalism has completely failed in its attempt to destroy it.\nTo confine ourselves to the theories invented for that purpose, and\nbearing on the subject which we have undertaken to treat in the present\narticle, the relation of Judaism to Christianity, they may be briefly\nsummed up as follows: they peremptorily deny all supernatural agency in\nthe march of events recorded in the sacred writings; they equally deny\nthe divine mission of Jesus Christ; the apostles were, it is affirmed,\nmen of their age, and did not escape the influence of popular opinions,\nwhich they knew how to use for their own ends; as to Christian dogmas,\nthey followed in their formation the law of progressive development and\ngrowth; Christianity is nothing else but an evolution of Judaism or its\nvarious sects by a natural process and under the pressure of\ncircumstances and prevailing ideas. Now, every page of the Jewish\nhistory contains a refutation of these doctrines. There we see a people\nespecially chosen by God, among all others, to be the authentic and\naccredited witness of the truth among the nations; to keep alive in the\nworld the belief in one true God and the hope of a future Redeemer\nalready promised to our first parents after the fall; to be the\ndepositary of that promise and the organ of its promulgation. Judaism,\ntherefore, is related to Christianity, not as the seed to the plant, but\nas the well-prepared soil to the harvest; as the figure to the reality,\nas the prophecy to its accomplishment; as the harbinger to the King\nwhose coming he announces to the populations that are to receive him. It\nis, as Isaias expresses it, \u201cthe voice of one crying in the desert:\nPrepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the wilderness the\npaths of our God\u201d (Isaias xl. 3).\n\nFrom the early dawn of their history the destiny of the Hebrews is\nclearly defined. They are a nation set apart to be a living protest\nagainst the prevailing idolatry of the times. From the vocation of\nAbraham to the promulgation of the law on Mount Sinai, and throughout\nthe succeeding periods of their existence, the fundamental dogma of\ntheir religion is monotheism: \u201cI am the Lord thy God; thou shalt not\nhave strange gods in my sight. Thou shalt not make to thyself a graven\nthing, nor the likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or in the\nearth beneath, nor of those things that are in the waters under the\nearth. Thou shalt not adore them, nor serve them.\u201d Another article of\ntheir creed equally pre-eminent as their belief in one God is their\nexpectation of One who was to be sent for the restoration of mankind. To\nAbraham, the progenitor of that race, it was revealed that \u201chis\nposterity should be as the stars for multitude, and that from them a\nblessing should go forth to all other nations.\u201d Later God had said to\nIsaac: \u201cI will multiply thy seed as the stars of heaven, and I will give\nto thy posterity all these countries (that is, the land of Chanaan), and\nin thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed.\u201d Jacob had\nheard a voice from heaven, saying: \u201cI am the most mighty God of thy\nfather: fear not, go down into Egypt, for I will make a great nation of\nthee there. I will go down with thee thither, and will bring thee back\nagain from thence\u201d; and when the aged patriarch is on the point of\ndeath, God bids him fix his eyes upon the lion of Juda, and shows him\nall the nations blessed in a prince who is to come out from his lineage.\nMoses, raised by the Almighty to deliver the numerous posterity of Jacob\nfrom the bondage of Egypt, had led to the threshold of the promised land\nthat nation which God had chosen to give birth to the Redeemer, and to\nmaintain upon earth faithful worshippers of his name. He also was\ndivinely apprised that a prophet would rise from his nation and from\namong his brethren whose voice all should hear. Hence it is that the Old\nTestament religion was prophetic in its whole nature. \u201cThe guides of the\nHebrew people,\u201d says Dr. Fisher,[75] \u201cwere ever pointing to the future.\nThere, and not in the past, lay the golden age. The Jew might revert\nwith pride to the victories of David and the splendor of Solomon, but\nthese vanished glories only served to remind him of the lofty destiny in\nstore for his nation, and to inspire his imagination to picture the day\nwhen the ideal of the kingdom should be realized and the whole earth be\nsubmissive to the monarch of Sion. The hopes of all patriotic Jews\ncentred upon a personage who was to appear upon the earth and take in\nhis hands universal dominion.\u201d It is a most interesting study to follow\nthe Hebrew prophets in delineating so many centuries in advance the\nhistory of the Messias, and the principal features of that kingdom which\nis to embrace the earth under its sway. The time and place of his birth,\nthe circumstances by which it is accompanied, his character, life,\nsufferings, and humiliations, his death and final triumph\u2014all is\ndescribed with astonishing precision. They openly speak of the object of\nthe kingdom he is to establish, which is the regeneration of man, of his\nmind as well as of his heart, the destruction of idol worship, the\nadoration of the true God, and the reign of holiness; and this at a time\nwhen all was God except God himself, when Greece deified nature and\nEgypt changed gods into beasts, whilst Babylon, more corrupt, fabricated\nimpure monsters which they adored, and Gaul, more ignorant, saw the\nDeity on the summits of mountains and in the depths of forests. It was\nin this age of darkness that Isaias sang the glory of the new Jerusalem,\nthe church like to a mountain on which will be broken the chain of\niniquity that bound all nations and the web that had been woven around\nthem. The universal diffusion of the Messianic kingdom is also foretold\nby the prophets. There is nothing more clearly expressed in the\nprophecies and so much insisted upon as this: that the new alliance is\nnot to be local and limited to one nation, but that it will be extended\nto all nations. We have already alluded to the prophecy of Abraham and\nto that of Jacob. Later David proclaims all nations of the earth to be\nthe inheritance of Christ. Isaias contemplates from afar a new sign, the\nstandard of the cross raised before the eyes of all nations; he sees\nthem bringing their children in their arms\u2014that is, those barbarian\ntribes that come to prostrate themselves at the foot of the cross and\npresent their sons to the baptism of the church; he announces the\nconversion of the kings of the earth and their submission to the spouse\nof Christ; he follows the apostles carrying the good tidings to the\nfarthest ends of the world. \u201cWho are those,\u201d he exclaims, \u201cwho fly like\nclouds? The far distant islands are in expectation, and ships are\nwaiting to carry them. I shall choose from among my people men whom I\nshall send to the Gentiles that are beyond the seas, in Africa, in\nLydia, in Italy, in Greece, to the islands afar off, to them that have\nnot heard of me and have not seen my glory.\u201d Again, the reign of the\nMessias is everywhere represented as having no end; it is to endure for\never. We shall only mention the prediction of the Messianic kingdom\ncontained in the book of Daniel, which was familiar to the Jews, and one\nin which they trusted. After a description of the four kingdoms, the\nlast of which the Roman, as iron, breaketh in pieces and subdueth all\nthings, the writer says that in the days of these kings shall the God of\nheaven set up a kingdom which shall never be destroyed.\n\nThese doctrines were not to remain the exclusive appanage of the\nHebrews. Divine Providence willed that they should be diffused among the\nnations, and moulded the destinies of the chosen people for the\nfurtherance of this design. It is a remark of Ritter that the Supreme\nWisdom has allotted to nations their place on the globe in view of their\ndestination. It was by such a providential disposition that Palestine\nwas singled out as the habitation of God\u2019s chosen people. Assyria,\nBabylonia, and Persia on the east and north; Egypt and Ethiopia on the\nsouth; Greece and Rome on the west\u2014all the great empires of antiquity\nwill successively come in contact with it. It is there, at the\nconfluence of human affairs, in the centre of ancient civilization, that\nthe sacerdotal race is placed, called to spread everywhere the true\nreligion, the knowledge of God and of Christ the Redeemer. From that\ncentral point it will be easy to send messengers of the eternal truth to\nthe most flourishing cities, establish prosperous colonies in the\nimportant states by which it is surrounded, and thus accomplish its\nmission to be \u201ca light for the Gentiles.\u201d\n\nThe prodigies which, under Josue, Heaven had wrought in favor of the\nchildren of Jacob, had already fixed the attention of the other nations\nupon Israel, and had predisposed them to adore the God whom that people\nworshipped. Bossuet, speaking of those miracles, which were occasionally\nrenewed, and of the effect they produced among the heathens, says that\nthey undoubtedly brought about numerous conversions; so that the number\nof individuals who worshipped the true God among the Gentiles is perhaps\nmuch greater than is generally supposed. In the times of the Judges the\nfrequent incursions of the neighboring tribes, their partial occupation\nof Judea, their repeated strifes with the Hebrews on the one hand, and\non the other intervals of peace, commercial relations, the advantages\noffered to those who were willing to embrace the Jewish religion,\ncontributed to propagate with that religion the expectation of a\nMessias. Under the Kings, the wars of Saul, the conquests of David\nreaching as far as the Euphrates, his domination over the country of the\nMoabites, of the Ammonites, the Philistines, spread among those nations\nthe knowledge and fear of the true God. From the prosperous reign of\nSolomon to the glorious days of the Machabees, the alliances contracted\nwith Egypt, Ph\u0153nicia, and the neighboring kingdoms, the great number of\nworkmen whom those states placed at the disposal of Israel for the\ncultivation of the soil, the construction of its cities and\nfortresses\u2014all contributes to the propagation of the sacred truth. The\nIsraelites who repair to other countries for the sake of commerce speak\nof their traditions and leave after them the notion of their worship.\nWhilst the ships of Israel go and deposit on far distant shores its\nconsoling hopes, travellers, attracted by the beauty of the country, the\nrichness of its vegetation, the mildness of its climate come to visit\nthe hospitable people by whom it is inhabited, and return initiated in\nthe true faith. They recount to other nations the magnificence of the\nmonarchs of Juda, the justice of their laws, the splendor of the\nsolemnities of Jerusalem. Kings, legislators, philosophers come to the\nholy city from all parts; and Solomon, in the census he took of foreign\nproselytes, found that their number amounted to more than a hundred and\nfifty thousand.\n\nBut it is not enough that the name of the Lord should be known by the\nnations in the vicinity of Judea; the most distant tribes must be\nbrought to adore him. To this effect Assyria, whose domination extends\nto the remotest regions of Asia, successively subjugates the kingdoms of\nIsrael and of Juda, and disperses their inhabitants over the whole of\nits vast provinces. It is expressly forbidden to the captives of Israel\nto concentrate themselves on one point; for Providence intends that they\nshould spread all over the East the light of truth and the earnest of\nsalvation. Hala, Habor, Rages in Media, Ara on the river Gozan, are made\nthe residence of the Jews of the ten tribes. They advance beyond the\nTigris and the Euphrates, through Armenia as far as Colchis and Georgia,\nwhere they continue to dwell after the captivity, unwilling to abandon\ntheir new home. Numerous families fix their abode in Khaboul, in the\nmost important cities of Chorasan and in Herat. Others established at\nfirst at the sources of the Indus, descending that river, reach India,\nand give rise to the tribe of the Afghans. Some even will cross the\nmountains of Central Asia, and will found establishments in Tartary, and\nchiefly in China, where later their descendants, raised to the first\ndignities of the empire, will teach the Chinese the Jewish religion.\nSome fragments of the books of Genesis and of Kings, passages of the\nprophets, written in the characters of that remote epoch, sufficiently\nindicate that those exiles transmitted to their children and propagated\nthe revealed truth in that country. Confucius, the legislator of China,\nin his travels towards the west, derived from one of those colonies his\nideas on the Supreme Being, whom he designates by the Hebrew name of\nJehovah, scarcely altered, as Abel R\u00e9musat tells us. At a later period\nthe Persian reformer Zoroaster derived from the same source those\nflashes of truth which shine in the Zend-Avesta by the side of glimpses\nof primitive revelation. The Jews of the kingdom of Juda, grouped, on\nthe contrary, in the centre of Chaldea, establish colonies at Sova, at\nNahar, and in other places as far as the confines of the desert; and\nlikewise at Teredon, at the confluence of the Tigris and the Euphrates;\nat Machusa, Annebar, Nisibis, and on the spot where later Bagdad shall\nrise. All these colonies, and many others, which after the restoration\nwill still remain in those countries, will open schools to become\ncentres of light to the heathens. That permanent contact with the\nChaldeans shall allow the latter to recover a portion of the treasure of\nprimitive truths which they had lost. Also do all agree in considering\nthe Chaldeans as the men of antiquity the most conversant with\ntheological science. Whilst the Jews of Israel are carrying their faith\nto the extremities of the vast empire, those of Juda, assisted by the\ntranslation of their sacred books into Chaldaic, diffuse it abundantly\nin the thickly-populated provinces of the centre. Assyria had fallen\nbefore the superior valor and military skill of the Persians. It was the\ntime of the deliverance of the Jews. The most zealous among them availed\nthemselves of the edict of Cyrus to return to Palestine and to rebuild\nthe sacred places. But their destiny was not altered; they still went on\nfulfilling their sacred mission among the Gentiles. Under the Persian\ndomination Hebrew princes tell the monarchs of Persia of the future\ndivine Liberator, and these have sacrifices and prayers offered in the\nTemple at Jerusalem for the prosperity of their reign. Providence makes\nuse of the high functions they exercise at the imperial court to lead\nthose princes of Juda to Ecbatana, to Persepolis and Suza, that they\nmight initiate the nobility of those important cities in the knowledge\nof the true God, to speak to them of the Messias whom the Magi shall\nfrom that time expect. Distinguished Jews are entrusted with the\narchives of Ecbatana. A great number of priests continue after the\nrestoration to live among the Persians, and are disseminated all over\nthe empire. They spread their traditions and their dogmas among the\nheathen populations. That sojourn of Jewish priests in the land of\nexile, after liberty had been restored to them, and when honors awaited\nthem in their own country, evidently shows that it is the effect of a\nmerciful design on the part of God, who devises means for those\npopulations to receive the light of truth. Ochus, one of the last\nPersian monarchs, irritated against the children of Israel, sends a\ncertain number of them in exile into Hyrcania and on to the shores of\nthe Caspian Sea, and by this he unwittingly helps in spreading among\nthose abandoned tribes the consoling promises of salvation; for those\nviolent measures, as Hecat\u00e6us remarks in Josephus _Against Apion_, far\nfrom discouraging the Jews, serve to revive their patriotism, their\nattachment to the faith of their fathers, and their religious zeal.\n\nIf Asia, the land of great empires, was favored in a special manner,\nAfrica was not forgotten. The Hebrews had long before initiated Egypt in\nthe knowledge of the one true God and of a Redeemer whose birth in\nfuture ages had been revealed to it by Jacob in his last moments. This\nfirst initiation had produced its fruits; we know by the testimony of\nHoly Writ that when the Hebrews went out of Egypt a considerable number\nof Egyptians followed them in the desert. In the reign of Solomon a\nsmall Jewish colony followed the Queen of Saba to Abyssinia. According\nto Bruce, in his travels, not only do the kings of that country claim to\ndescend from Solomon, but, furthermore, the annals of Abyssinia are full\nof details about the voyage which the Queen of Saba made to Judea.\nEthiopia thus received the sacred books and the religion of the\nIsraelites\u2014a religion which they kept afterwards, as the Jewish\nEthiopian treasurer of the Queen of Candace, whom St. Philip found\nreading Isaias and whom he converted to Christianity, seems to prove. At\nthe time of the Assyrian wars and of the great captivity a number of\nJews took refuge in Egypt. Some went to Abyssinia and other parts of\nEthiopia, where they established powerful colonies by the side of those\nwhich already existed. At a later period Ptolem\u00e6us I. brought two\nhundred thousand Jews into Egypt, where they established in all\ndirections colonies which soon became prosperous under the protection of\nhis successors. Numerous schools for the propagation of sound doctrine;\nhouses of prayer in cities; a Sanhedrim at Alexandria, the residence of\nlearned Greeks; a temple near Bubaste, in which the ordinary sacrifices\nprescribed by the Mosaic law were offered\u2014all contributed to make of\nEgypt a second native land for the Jews. The name of the Lord was\npublicly revered and the worship of the true God practised everywhere.\nThe infidels had consequently full opportunity afforded them of knowing\nhim and serving him; and Isaias affirms that, in fact, a great number\nembraced the true religion.\n\nAs the times approach for the coming of the Messias, the nation chosen\nto announce him to the world and to prepare his way multiplies its\ncolonies and its schools. During the whole period of the Greek\ndomination the Hebrews avail themselves of the protection accorded them\nby Alexander and his successors to extend in the east and west their\nbeneficial influence, and spread their salutary doctrines, which shall\npredispose the Grecian mind to receive the light of the Gospel. We find\nthem in Seleucia, at Ctesiphon, and at Chalcis, where St. Jerome\nsubsequently repaired to take lessons in the Hebrew language; at Berea,\nwhere he met with Jews converted to Christianity. We find them at\nAntioch, where they shall soon suffer martyrdom for their faith; at\nDamascus, a city in which they are in continual intercourse with the\nGreeks who flock around the celebrated teachers of its schools; at\nEmesus, Nisibis, and Edessa. In the principal cities of Asia Minor:\nEphesus, Smyrna, Pergamus, Sardis, Philadelphia, Laodicea possess Jewish\ncolonies. Delos, Miletus, Halicarnassus, Iconium have their synagogues.\nAt Philippi, in Macedonia, there are houses of prayer for the\nIsraelites. Athens, Corinth, Salamis, Paphos count such a considerable\nnumber of Jews mixed with their populations that, as it is stated in the\nActs of the Apostles, synagogues are to be found in those places. Now,\nsynagogues were not only used for prayer but also for the interpretation\nof the sacred books, and consequently as public chairs from which the\nrevelation and hope of a divine Redeemer were announced to the\ninhabitants. The prophet Abdias tells us that after the destruction of\nJerusalem by the Chaldeans Jews had sought refuge in Sparta; and Arius,\nKing of the Spartans, writes to the pontiff Onias that \u201cit was found in\nwriting concerning the Spartans and the Jews that they are brethren, and\nthat they are of the stock of Abraham.\u201d\n\nDuring the period of the Roman domination Judea had colonies in all\ncountries\u2014in Parthia, among the Medes and Elamites, in Mesopotamia,\nCappadocia, Pontus, Phrygia, Pamphylia, Egypt, Libya, Arabia, in the\nisland of Crete, and at Rome. It is an opinion which found credit with\nseveral learned men that some Hebrews, at the time of the Assyrian\ninvasions, came to Rome in the reign of Numa and suggested to him what\nis best in his laws; and, in fact, several of them seem to be modelled\nupon the Hebrew legislation. But it is certain that one hundred and\nforty years before Christ the Jews had erected public altars in Rome,\nand that a decree banished them from Italy; which is an indication that\nthey must have been there in great numbers for a long time previous. In\nthe days of the Machabees, when the Jewish nation, to use the expression\nof the Scriptures and of Cicero, was the friend of the Romans, the\nsenate, at the solicitation of Jewish ambassadors, wrote letters in\nfavor of the Jews of Lampsacus, Sparta, Delos, Myndos, Sicyonia; of\nthose who inhabited Gortyna, Cnidis, Caria, Pamphylia, Lycia, Samos,\nCos, Sidon, Rhodes, Avadon, the island of Cyprus, and Cyrene. No nation\nescaped the action of their zeal; and the Acts of the Apostles,\nenumerating the Hebrews assembled at Jerusalem on the occasion of the\nsolemnity of Pentecost, tell us that \u201cthere were Jews, devout men, out\nof every nation under heaven.\u201d\n\nSuch, then, was the mission of the Jews; they constitute the true church\nbefore Christ for the preaching of God\u2019s future kingdom that shall have\nno end. We see them dispersed throughout the world; we meet them on all\nthe highroads of humanity, confessing the only Lord of heaven and earth,\nand holding in their hands their sacred writings, showing to all that a\npeaceful Ruler would rise from the land of Juda and would restore all\nthings. And when the times were accomplished, and the earth was to\nbehold its Saviour, all nations were held in expectation of the mighty\nevent.\n\nWe have here endeavored to give a brief sketch of the Jewish history. No\none can deny that the very _raison d\u2019\u00eatre_ of the Hebrew nation was the\nhope of a Messias who was to restore all things and establish upon earth\nthe kingdom of God. The prophets speak of him and of his glorious reign;\nthey predict his universal dominion; it will have no end in time, and\nits boundaries will be those of the universe. The destiny of the Jews is\nunique. After a comparatively short period of splendor which the\nconquests of David and Solomon shed upon Palestine, they lose their\npolitical independence, and henceforth they shall be forced to mingle\nwith the Gentiles, whose social habits they will adopt, but at the same\ntime unflinchingly adhering to their own religious tenets. The result is\nalso an historical fact: a Liberator of the human race is expected by\nall nations, _et erit expectatio gentium_. Is it possible for an\nunprejudiced mind, for one who does not read history in the light of\npreconceived systems, not to see in that well-connected whole a design\nof Providence which ordains means to the obtaining of a clearly-defined\nend? Historical atheism refuses to recognize any such design, as\natheism, in the conception of nature, refuses to recognize an\nintelligent Creator. It gives us, instead of life, dry bones and ashes,\nbarren and unmeaning facts in history, and in nature phenomena with no\nintelligible cause for their production, and tending to no assignable\nend. In every sphere of knowledge atheism does nothing else but spread\ndarkness and desolation all around. But as one who is not wilfully\nblinded will always discern by a kind of rational instinct the action of\nan infinitely wise and omnipotent Being in the order displayed in the\nworld, so will he admit the action of God in the direction of human\nevents in which a divine intelligence is no less clearly manifested. The\never popular argument of St. Paul with its consequence, against those\nmen that detain the truth of God in injustice, holds good in both cases:\n\u201cThat which is known of God is manifest in them; for God hath manifested\nit unto them. For the invisible things of him, from the creation of the\nworld, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made:\nhis eternal power also and divinity: so that they are inexcusable\u201d (Rom.\ni. 18-20).\n\nFootnote 75:\n\n _Beginnings of Christianity._\n\n\n\n\n THE LESSONS OF THE CAXTON CELEBRATION OF 1877.[76]\n\n\nEngland\u2019s first printer was a Catholic. He lived and died in communion\nwith the Holy See. He established his press in England beneath the\nshadow and on the grounds of the Abbey of Westminster, protected and\nencouraged by its monks. He translated and printed books of Catholic\npiety, and seems especially given to devotions for a happy death. He\nmade bequests to the church, and the Requiem was said at his death.\n\nAmong all incunabula Caxton\u2019s issues rank among the scarcest. Why? The\nReformation made war upon them, so that many have perished utterly; six\nare known only by some scanty fragment preserved by being used to form\npart of a book-cover; of thirty-two more only a single copy has been\npreserved to our day. How many have perished and left no trace whatever,\nno man can tell.\n\n \u201cBe it therefore enacted by the king, our sovereign lord, the lords\n spiritual and temporal, and the commons in this present parliament\n assembled, that all books called antiphoners, missals, grailes\n (graduals), processionals, manuals, legends, pi\u00e8s, portuasses\n (breviaries), primers in Latin and English,[77] couchers, journals\n (diurnals), ordinals, or other books or writings whatsoever,\n heretofore used for service of the church, written or printed, in\n the English or Latin tongue, other than such as shall be set forth\n by the king\u2019s majesty, shall be by authority of his present act\n clearly and utterly abolished, extinguished and forbidden for ever\n to be used or kept in this realm, or elsewhere within any of the\n king\u2019s dominions.\n\n \u201cAnd be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid that if any\n person or persons, of what estate, degree, or condition soever he,\n she, or they be, bodies politic or corporate, that now have, or\n hereafter shall have, in his, her, or their custody any the books or\n writings of the sorts aforesaid, or any images of stone, timber,\n alabaster, or earth, graven, carved, or painted, which heretofore\n have been taken out of any church or chapel, or yet stand in any\n church or chapel, and do not, before the last day of June next\n ensuing, deface and destroy or cause to be defaced and destroyed,\n the same images and every of them, and deliver or cause to be\n delivered all and every the same books to the mayor, bailiff,\n constable, or church wardens of the town where such books then shall\n be, to be by them delivered over openly, within three months next\n following after the said delivery, to the archbishop, bishop,\n chancellor, or commissary of the same diocese (to the intent the\n said archbishop, bishop, chancellor, or commissary, and every of\n them, cause them, immediately after, either to be openly burnt or\n otherwise defaced and destroyed), shall for every such book or books\n willingly retained ... forfeit for the first offence ten shillings,\n and for the second offence shall forfeit and lose four pounds, and\n for the third offence shall suffer imprisonment at the king\u2019s will\u201d\n (Statute 3 and 4 Edward VI. c. x.)\n\nNeglect on the part of the archbishops and the others named to burn the\nbooks involved a penalty of forty pounds.\n\nThus Protestantism destroyed Caxtons. \u201cA glance at the titles of the\nuniques will show that the books most liable to destruction, probably\nowing in part to their being much used, and in part to the\ndestructiveness of religious sectarianism,\u201d[78] says Blades, \u201care those\ndirectly or indirectly of an ecclesiastical character\u2014such as \u2018Hor\u00e6,\u2019\n\u2018Psalters,\u2019 \u2018Meditacions,\u2019 etc.\u201d\n\nLast year, 1877, being, it was believed, the fourth centenary of the\nfirst book printed by Caxton at Westminster, a Caxton celebration,\nproposed by Mr. Hodson, was carried out in London with no little pomp\nand display. Caxton imprints were brought together from many choice\ncollections, with incunabula of all countries, and especially editions\nof the Bible, from Gutenberg\u2019s to one printed for the occasion at\nOxford.\n\nThe celebration was curious in the utter exclusion of any Catholic\nelement, and in the machinery brought to bear to make the whole affair a\nglorification of the Reformation and of the stale prejudices against\nCatholicity. In the face of the books brought together and the lessons\nthey told, this use of the first English printer, a Catholic, whose\nCatholic books the gentlemen of the Reformation had under severe\npenalties consigned to the flames, required in the managers no little\nassurance, or perhaps a well-founded knowledge of the voluntary\nblindness of the masses. They seem to have felt some sense of\ndifficulty, or English exclusiveness never would have called in the\nYankee adroitness of one of our countrymen rather inclined to play the\nbuffoon in bibliography.\n\nThe English Catholic body seems to have felt some compassion for their\nProtestant fellow-countrymen in the strange attempt on which the latter\nwere engaged. They did not seek to force themselves into the affair, nor\ngreet them with merited ridicule. We do not know whether they acted\nunder a sense of pity or were merely apathetic. Yet we wish they had\ncelebrated the anniversary of Caxton\u2019s death or deposition, or some day\nselected, by a solemn Mass of Requiem in the ancient church of St.\nEtheldreda, now happily restored to Catholic worship. The Holy See would\nperhaps have sanctioned _pro hac vice_ the use on that occasion of the\nMass for the Dead in the ancient Sarum Missal, such as was used at the\nobsequies of the good printer, whose translation of the _Lives of the\nFathers of the Desert_ was completed on the day of his death.[79] We do\nnot know but that we should have applied to Parliament for permission to\ncelebrate a Mass of Requiem for Caxton in Westminster Abbey church, such\nas was said at his death. The proposition would probably have struck\nsome dumb from sheer amazement; but Parliament would either have granted\nit, and permitted the funeral service of 1491 to be repeated just as it\nwas said after his death, or they would have refused the request of the\nCatholic body, and made their bigotry one of the memorabilia of the\nCaxton celebration.\n\nNo such step was taken; and the managers of the Caxton anniversary were\nleft at full liberty to give all the false color they could, to combine,\nsuppress, distort as they chose, in order to give the public an\nimpression that printing was one of the boons conferred on mankind by\nthe Reformation. This was actually done directly and indirectly; and as\nKaulbach, the painter, in his great canvas of the heroes of the\nReformation, introduces Gutenberg and Christopher Columbus, so these\ngentlemen in England used the good, pious Catholic Caxton as the central\nfigure in their tableau of the apotheosis of Protestantism.\n\nCaxton left no dubious evidence of his practical faith as a Catholic.\nHis _Four Last Things_, in French, ends with an exhortation to good\nworks, \u201cby which we attain to eternal life.\u201d[80] _The English Cordyale_,\nor _The Four Last Things_, ends: \u201cWhich Werke present I began the morn\nafter the saide Purificacion of our blissid Lady, Whiche was the daye of\nSeint Blase, Bisshop and Martir. And fiinisshed on the even of\nthannunciacion of our said bilissid Lady fallyng on the wednesday the\nxxiiij daye of Marche. In the xix yeer of Kyng Edwarde the fourthe.\u201d\n_The Festial_ opens: \u201cThe helpe and grace of almyghty god thrugh the\nbeseechynge of his blessed moder saynt mary.\u201d It ends thus: \u201cBy the\nhelpe of his blessid moder mary and his holy spowsesse saynt brygytte\nand all sayntes. Amen. Caxton me fieri fecit.\u201d Then there is \u201cthe lyf of\nthe holy and blessed vyrgyn saynt Wenefryde ... reduced in to Englysshe\nby me, William Caxton.\u201d \u201cA short treatyce of the hyhest and most worthy\nsacramente of crystes blessid body and the merueylles therof\u201d certainly\nsounds orthodox. And the picture of the Crucifixion, inscribed: \u201cTo them\nthat before this ymage of pyte deuoutly saye v Pr nr v Aues & a Credo\npyteuously beholdyng these ar of Xps passio ar granted xxxij M. vii. C.\n& lv yeres of pardon,\u201d shows a belief in the power of the church to\ngrant indulgences.\n\nWe know that the attempt has been made to persuade those eager to be\ndeceived that Caxton must have had Lollard sympathies. Thus, the editor\nof the reprint of the _Fifteen Os_ says: \u201cThis collection is noticed by\nDr. Thomas Fuller as being the first book of prayers tending to promote\nthe Reformation.\u201d And again: \u201cIt is more than probable that this is the\nfirst book of prayers in English issued by the followers of Wickliffe,\nand cannot but be interesting as having prepared the way for the great\nmoral and spiritual changes that ended in the Reformation.\u201d Now, the\nvolume closes thus: \u201cThiese prayers tofore wreton ben enprited bi the\ncoma\u016bdementes of the moste hye & vertuous pryncesse our liege ladi\nElizabeth, by the grace of god Quene of Englonde and of Fra\u016bce & also of\nthe right hye & most noble pryncesse Margarete, moder unto our soverayn\nlorde the kyng, &c. By their most humble subget and serua\u016bt, William\nCaxton.\u201d\n\nThere is certainly no suspicion of Lollardism attaching to these ladies.\nNow let us examine the prayers. The title _Fifteen Os_ will not suggest\nto Catholics now any familiar devotion; but when we state that they are\nnothing more nor less than St. Bridget\u2019s Prayers or Meditations on the\nPassion of our Lord, which have retained their place in our Catholic\nprayer-books to this day, they will utter at least fifteen \u201cohs\u201d and be\ncertainly hyely amused at the idea of their savoring of Wickliffe.\n\nCAXTON.\n\n \u201cO Jhesu, endless swetnes of louyng soules. O Jhesu, gostly ioye\n passing & excedyng all gladnes and desires. O Jhesu, helth and\n tendre louer of al repenta\u016bt sinners that likest to dwelle, as thou\n saydest thy selfe, with the children of men. For that was the cause\n why thou were incarnate and made man in the ende of the worlde. Haue\n mynde, blessed Jhesu, of all the sorrowes that thou sufferedest in\n thy m\u0101hode, drawing nyhe to thy blessed passion.\u201d\n\nGARDEN OF THE SOUL.\n\n \u201cO most sweet Lord Jesus Christ, eternal sweetness of those who love\n thee, joy above all desire, firm hope of the hopeless, solace of the\n sorrowful, and most merciful lover of all penitent sinners, who hast\n said thy delight is to be with the children of men, for the love of\n whom thou didst assume human nature in the fulness of time.\n Remember, most sweet Jesus, all those sharp sorrows which then\n pierced thy sacred soul from the first instant of thy incarnation\n until the time of thy solitary passion,\u201d etc.\n\nAmong the prayers following those of St. Bridget is this:\n\n \u201cO blessid lady, moder of Jhesu and virgyne immaculate, that art wel\n of comforte and moder of mercy, singuler helpe to all that trust to\n the, be now, gracyous lady, medyatryce and meane unto thy blessid\n sone our sauyour Jhesu for me, that by thy intercessions I may\n opteyne my desires, ever to be your seruaunt in all humylite. And by\n the helpe and socour of al holy sayntes herafter in perpetuell ioye\n euer to liue with the. Amen.\u201d\n\nEvidently Caxton would have had no difficulty in submitting to Pope Pius\nIX.\u2019s definition of the Immaculate Conception.\n\nThe next prayer is one \u201cTo the propre angell\u201d\u2014guardian angel, as we now\nsay. Further on we find a prayer to which indulgences for the souls in\npurgatory are attached. These prayers certainly show no trace of\nWickliffe\u2019s doctrines. The little book is one that any Catholic would\nuse now, and which no Protestant would or could use.\n\nProtestantism can lay no claim to the worthy, upright, laborious, and\nlearned Catholic merchant who introduced printing into England, and\nchose the precincts of her finest abbey for his labors. His surviving\nfriends shared his faith, as witness this note in a very old hand on a\ncopy of the _Fructus Temporum_:\n\n \u201cOf your charitee pray for the soul of Mayster Wyllyam Caxton, that\n in hys time was a man of moche ornate and moche renommed wysdome and\n connyng, and decessed ful crystenly the yere of our Lord\n MCCCCLXXXXJ.\n\n \u201cModer of Merci, shyld him fro thorribul fynd,\n And bryng hym to lyff eternall that neuyr hath ynd.\u201d[81]\n\nOn the 17th of February, 1877, a meeting was held in the Jerusalem\nChamber of the old Catholic abbey, not far from the presumed\nprinting-office occupied by Caxton in the Almonry. Dean Stanley\npresided, and preparations were made for the exhibition. The Stationers\u2019\nCompany offered their hall, but it was deemed too small, and a request\nwas made for the Western Galleries at South Kensington. These were\ngranted, and every facility given to arrange and display properly the\nworks collected. One great object was to bring together and exhibit to\nthe public as many copies as possible of works from Caxton\u2019s press as\ncould be obtained for the brief period from the public and private\nlibraries, with such other books, especially of early date, as would\ntend to show the progress of printing from its discovery. The appeal was\ngenerously answered. No less than one hundred and ninety copies of books\nprinted by the good Catholic William Caxton were contributed to the\nexhibition\u2014a greater number, probably, than have ever been seen together\nsince the Reformers made war on them, and greater than are at all likely\nto be again collected. They represented one hundred and four distinct\nworks.\n\nLord Spencer sent fifty-seven Caxtons, early Block Books, a Gutenberg\nBible, a Mentz Psalter; the Duke of Devonshire eighteen Caxtons; the\nEarl of Jersey and the Bodleian Library each seven; Sion College six,\nand the University of G\u00f6ttingen six; Queen Victoria sent four and a\nMentz Psalter.\n\nThe books were arranged in classes: (_a_) William Caxton and the\nDevelopment of the Art of Printing in England and Scotland. (_b_) The\nDevelopment of the Art of Printing in other Countries. (_c_) The\nComparative Development of the Art in England and Foreign Countries,\nillustrated by specimens of the Holy Scripture and Liturgies. (_d_)\nSpecimens noticeable for Rarity or for Beauty and Excellence of\nTypography. (_e_) Specimens of Printing. (_f_) Printed Music. (_g_) Book\nIllustrations. (_h_) Portraits and Autographs of Distinguished Authors,\netc. (_i_) Books relating to Printing. (_k_) Curiosities and\nMiscellanies. (_l_) Type and Printing Materials. (_m_) Stereotyping and\nElectrotyping. (_n_) Copper-plate Printing, Lithography, etc. (_o_)\nPaper and Paper-making.\n\nThe great effort of the exhibition seems to have been directed to Class\nC. Noble collectors and commoners, universities and libraries, the\nBritish and Foreign Bible Society, archbishops and bishops, all\ncontributed, and it was this department above the others that was to\ninvest Protestantism with a peculiar halo. Yet the case presented\ndifficulties of no ordinary character. Men like Stevens rant about\n\u201cpriestly dross and gloss\u201d and similar claptrap expressions to keep\nalive old myths, but it required enormous assurance to advance these\nmyths in the face of the collection gathered at London in 1877. They may\ntalk of monkish legends and fables, but Protestantism rests on legends\nand fables which men who know better still continue to circulate in\ndefiance of bibliography and common sense.\n\nIn the present case they desired to present to the public a glowing\npicture. There is a foreground in every picture, and there is a\nbackground also; there are clear lights which bring out the chief\nfigures into bold relief, and there are shadows where figures lie almost\nunnoticed. The artists here knew well what to throw into the background\nand the shade.\n\nFable the first was that the Catholic Church had ever been the enemy of\nthe Bible, opposed to its circulation. How is it, then, that when\nprinting was invented the first book printed was the Bible? The church\nmust have made the Bible known, or the early printers, who were not\npriests or monks, would have known nothing of such a book, would not\nhave known where to get copies to print from, would not have known that\nanybody would know enough about the work to buy it if they printed it.\nBut the fact is that people knew about the Bible, manuscripts were\neasily obtained, and many wanted them who could not afford to buy them.\nThe fact that the Bible was selected to print shows that there was no\nimpediment to its circulation, that there existed a well-known demand\nfor it, and a call for cheaper copies.\n\nStevens reluctantly gives us aid to demolish this fable of Catholic\ndarkness as to the Bible: \u201cThe Bible was the first book printed.\u201d\n\u201cBiblical bibliography proves that during the first forty years, at\nleast, the Bible exceeded in amount of printing all other books put\ntogether; nor were its quality, style, and variety a whit behind its\nquantity.\u201d And be it remembered that these forty years do not cover the\nwhole period from the invention of printing to the commencement of the\nReformation.\n\nBibles preceded all the Latin and Greek classic authors and all\nvernacular works, not in one place but in almost every place where a\nprinting-press was set up.\n\n \u201cIn a word,\u201d says Stevens, \u201cup to the discovery of America in 1492\n Columbus might have counted upon his fingers all the old classic\n authors (including Ptolemy and Strabo in their unbecoming Latin\n dress) who could throw any geographical light on the questions which\n the great discoverer was discussing with the theologians of Spain;\n while, covering the same period, the editions of the Bible alone,\n and the parts thereof, in many languages and countries, will sum up\n not far less than one thousand, and the most of these of the largest\n and costliest kind.\u201d\n\nThis, it must be remembered, is no rash assertion, but the truth wrung\nfrom this writer by the fact that the collection exhibited before his\neyes at least three hundred out of the thousand to which he refers; and\nthis thousand\u2014not thousand copies of the Bible, but thousand editions of\nthe Bible, or parts such as New Testament, Psalms, etc.\u2014includes only to\n1492, thirty years before Luther issued his Bible. Yet the monstrous\nfigment is kept up to this day that in those dark and benighted ages the\npeople were kept in ignorance of the Bible, that the Catholic Church\nsuppressed it and kept it hid away, and that it was only the \u201cglorious\nReformation\u201d which brought it from its obscurity. Stevens, with all his\nassurance, must have blushed as he wrote the words: \u201cThe church managed\nto have small call for the Scriptures in the vulgar tongues which the\npeople could read and comprehend.\u201d He does not cite, and knew that he\ncould not cite, any authority to show that the church did anything that\ncould be construed into any such management. The Bible had come down in\nher keeping; she preserved it, diffused it, and handed it down from\ngeneration to generation, jealous of its purity and its traditional\ninterpretation.\n\nNext to the fable of the hostility of the church to the Bible, and\nconnected with it, is the myth of Luther\u2019s discovering an old copy of\nthe Bible when he was a priest and a monk, that he thereupon set to work\nto translate it, and that he first gave the Scriptures to the people in\nthe vernacular. It was a very pretty story, told down to our day by\nauthors like D\u2019Aubign\u00e9. The Caxton celebration, though it did not\ncontain specimens of all the editions of the Scriptures printed before\nthe Reformation, had enough to show how shamefully the Protestant public\nhad been deceived and imposed upon by this fable.\n\nMr. Stevens\u2019 list begins with the Gutenberg Bible, printed at Mentz\nbetween 1450 and 1455\u2014for a copy of that magnificent work was there,\nlent by Earl Spencer, perfect, entire, with its six hundred and\nforty-one leaves, double column, \u201cthe earliest book known printed with\nmovable metal type.\u201d Then follows the Psalms, printed by Fust and\nSch\u00f6ffer at Mentz in 1457, Queen Victoria lending a copy. Next comes the\n1459 Psalter, the second, third, and fourth Latin Bibles, another\nPsalter, and then a complete Bible in German, printed, Mr. Stevens\nassumes, at Strassburg, by Mendelin, in 1466. Queen Victoria\u2019s\nmagnificent copy, richly illuminated in gold and colors, was there for\nall to admire, and beside it Earl Spencer\u2019s, nearly as beautiful. Either\nby accident or design Caxton\u2019s Psalter was not obtained, and this first\nknown separate book of Holy Scripture issued in England between 1480 and\n1483 was represented only by a fac-simile of a page of the copy in the\nBritish Museum. The various Books of Hours printed by Caxton were\nsimilarly unrepresented.[82] Then with other Latin editions came the\nsecond German Bible, also in 1466; the third, Augsburg, 1470; and so on\nthrough the list, fourth, fifth, sixth, to the twelfth German,[83]\nprinted at Augspurg in 1490 by Henry Schonsperger; and two editions in\nLow German, Cologne, 1480, Lubec, 1491. There was also a German Psalter\nprinted in 1492, described by Stevens as \u201ca fine specimen of an early\npocket edition of the Psalms in the language of the people.\u201d\n\nThus the Caxton collection presented no less than sixteen Catholic\nBibles and Psalters in German printed before Luther\u2019s time; and as\ntranslations were not made on the spur of the moment, there must have\nbeen in existence many translations in manuscript, some of which never\nfound their way into print at all. These sixteen volumes, publicly\nexhibited at once and together in London, are as many refutations of the\nProtestant fables and legends.\n\n \u201cPrior to the discovery of America,\u201d says Stevens, \u201cno less than\n twelve grand patriarchal editions of the entire Bible, being of\n several different translations, appeared from time to time in the\n German language; to which add the two editions by the Otmars of\n Augsburg, of 1507 and 1518, and we have the total number of no less\n than fourteen distinct large folio pre-Reformation or ante-Lutheran\n Bibles. No other language except the Latin can boast of anything\n like this number.\u201d\n\nThe collection shows, too, that Bibles in the vernacular were not\nconfined to Germany. It could show some in other languages:\n\n 628, Bible, Italian, 316, 331 folios. Venice, N. Jenson. 1471.\n 649, Bible, Italian. Venice, Bolognese, 1477.\n 652, New Testament, French. Lyons, Buyer, 1477.\n 653-4, Old Testament, Dutch. Delf, Zoen, 1477.\n 669, Psalms, Dutch, Delf. 1480.\n 688, Bible, Italian. Venice, 1487.\n 690, Bible, Bohemian. 1488.\n 706, Psalms, French (Polyglot). Paris, 1509.\n 725, Bible, French. Paris, Petit, 1520.\n\nThe language of Sir Thomas More leads us to believe that some one of the\nCatholic versions of the New Testament at least was printed; but if so,\nthe copies were suppressed so completely that none has reached our\ntimes. The mere fact that no copy is now known does not prove that none\never existed, when we consider the wholesale destruction by law of all\nCatholic books of devotion.\n\nThese are not all the vernacular Bibles issued in that period, but, as\nthey stood there in the South Kensington Loan Collection, they furnished\nan irrefragable proof that printing originated in Catholic times; that\nthe church was the first to use and encourage it; that she multiplied\neditions of the Bible in Latin, the habitual language of the church,\nthen the language of learning and science, as well as in German,\nItalian, Dutch, French, and Bohemian; she printed, too, as a copy here\nshowed, the Bible, Pentateuch, and Psalms in Hebrew, the Bible and\nPsalter in Greek and Chaldee, and an Arabic Psalter. (See 682, 691, 706,\n711, 718, 720, 721.) Catholic writers have frequently referred to these\nearly-printed Bibles and portions of Scripture in the vernacular; but to\ncite Panzer or some other bibliographer is far different from referring\nto a copy of the book. Here in the Caxton collection the very volumes\nstood to speak for themselves, and the catalogue attests the fact that\nthey were there, tells us who owns each copy, its condition and state.\nWhat as a Catholic argument seemed vague and hazy thus took solid form,\nand became too substantial to doubt.\n\nNow, how does Mr. Stevens endeavor to elude the force of this array of\nsolid proofs? It is absolutely comical to see to what straits he is put.\nThe following platitude, false statement, and false deduction is about\nas curious as the Caxton celebration itself:\n\n \u201cAs the discovery of America was the greatest of all discoveries, so\n the invention of the art of printing may be called the greatest of\n all inventions. But no sooner had Columbus reported his grand\n discovery through the press than the pope assumed the whole property\n in the unknown parts of the earth, and divided it (_sic_) all at\n once between the two little powers in the Peninsula, wholly\n disregarding the rights and titles of the other nations of Europe.\n The same little game of assumption has been tried, from time to\n time, with regard to this great invention, but the press has a\n protective power within itself which the church can smother only\n with ignorance and mental darkness.\u201d\n\nThe figures are somewhat confused, and we cannot exactly picture to our\nminds the church, with the two pillows of ignorance and mental darkness\nwhich Mr. Stevens can doubtless supply from his well-furnished store,\ntrying to smother a protective power. The smothering of the children in\nthe Tower was nothing compared to it. As for the \u201clittle game of\nassumption,\u201d we think the gentlemen of the Reformation have played it\nlong and successfully. But we admit that we do not see what right and\ntitle the nations of Europe had in the unknown parts of the earth, or\nwhence they derived any right and title. So far as we have read, no\nright or title was claimed except when based on discovery, and then it\nwas in the known and not in the unknown. Spain and Portugal carried\ntheir rival claims to the Holy See as a recognized tribunal, and the\nline of demarkation in their attempts at exploration was a wise and\npeace-establishing provision. It did not operate, and was not intended,\nto exclude the subjects of the pope, France, Germany, Denmark, or\nEngland from exploring.\n\nThe whole question is foreign to the subject of printing\u2014so foreign that\nnone of the Columbus letters, or the bull of Alexander VI., was thought\nworth obtaining for the Caxton exhibition. We have looked carefully\nthrough the catalogue, and, if they are there, they have certainly\nescaped us.\n\nThe array of books presented here shows that Luther could not have\nreceived the education he really did in his monastery, making him\nconversant with Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, without being aware of the\nexistence in print of many of the more than a thousand editions in all\nlanguages that had already issued from the press. It is not pretended\nthat Luther obtained his knowledge of languages by a miraculous gift; he\nacquired them in the monastic schools, and his attainments are a proof\nof the extent of their curriculum.\n\nOne of the great objects of the exhibition was to show the earliest\nEnglish Protestant editions. Tyndale\u2019s New Testament, supposed to have\nbeen printed at Worms by Peter Sch\u00f6ffer in 1526, was represented by the\nvery imperfect copy owned by the dean and chapter of St. Paul\u2019s\nCathedral, and by the Antwerp edition of 1534; by the London edition of\n1536, which had also at the end the \u201cEpystles taken out of the Olde\nTestament what are red in the church after the use of Salsburye upon\ncerten dayes of the year.\u201d\n\nBut the great pride of the exhibition was a series of Coverdale\u2019s Bibles\nand Testaments, over which Mr. Stevens indulges in most rhapsodical\neulogy. \u201cLet no Englishman or American,\u201d he exclaims, \u201cview this (765)\nand the six following Bibles without first lifting his hat, for they are\nseven extraordinary copies of the Coverdale Bible, containing, with one\nimportant exception (the Marquis of Northampton\u2019s copy), all the\nvariations known of the most precious volume in our language.\u201d We cannot\naltogether share his raptures over this Bible, \u201cfaithfully and truly\ntranslated out of Douche and Latyn into English.\u201d Stevens sneers at the\nRhemish Testament as \u201ca secondary translation from the Vulgate,\u201d but\nCoverdale\u2019s, translated out of \u201cDouche and Latyn\u201d into English, elicits\nno such sneer. According to his theory, set forth at great length, this\nedition is due to \u201cJacob van Meteren, of Antwerp, printer and\nproprietor, and probably the translator, by whom Coverdale was employed\nto edit and see the work through the press,\u201d and he gives Antwerp as the\nplace of publication. The edition was bought by James Nicolson, of\nSouthwark. Though Mr. Stevens elsewhere represents the English people at\nthis time as hungering and famished for an English Bible, he admits\n\u201cthat the English printer and publisher seems to have had as much\ntrouble in working off his books as Simmons had in selling Milton\u2019s\n_Paradise Lost_, if we may judge by the number of new titles and\npreliminary leaves found in different copies.\u201d It contains a long and\nfulsome dedication to Henry VIII. and his dearest just-wife, in some\ncopies \u201cAnne\u201d (Boleyn), in others \u201cJane\u201d (Seymour). The Bible bearing\nthe name of Thomas Mathew as translator (London: Grafton & Whitchurch,\n1537) he ascribes to the famous John Rogers, and maintains that it too\nwas printed by Van Meteren at Antwerp.\n\nThe Latin-English Testament bearing Coverdale\u2019s name (London 1538),\nwhich he repudiated on account of its errors, or perhaps the correction\nof some of his errors, and that really issued by him at Paris in the\nsame year, were both in the exhibition, as well as that issued also in\n1538 at London bearing the name of Johan Hollybushe as translator. These\nare very curious as being, we think, the only Latin-English Testaments\never issued, giving the Vulgate and a translation based upon it. No\nother has, to our knowledge, ever appeared in the lapse of more than\nthree centuries since that year, 1538. As Caxton\u2019s Psalter was perhaps\nthe first book of the Vulgate printed in England, these Testaments of\nNicolson were the last portion of the Vulgate printed there for more\nthan two hundred and fifty years, when the edition printed for the\nexiled clergy of France made its appearance. Unfortunately we do not\nfind a copy of that edition in the list of those included in the\nexhibition.[84]\n\nThe first Testament professing to be translated directly from the Greek\nis that numbered in the catalogue 864, issued by Gaultier, 1550; and the\nfirst Bible from the Hebrew and Greek is that printed at Geneva by\nRowland Hall in 1560. This shows how the people in England clung to the\nVulgate. On the Continent Luther had abandoned it for such Hebrew and\nGreek texts as he could find, and so led the way to the host of errors\nthat prevail to this day; but in England the versions were all based on\nthe Vulgate, occasionally represented as compared with the Greek. It was\nnot, indeed, till 1611 that the Church of England, by the translation\nthen issued, formally abandoned the Vulgate, as the Calvinists had\npreviously done. Mr. Stevens\u2019 sneer at the Rhemish Testament of 1583, as\nbeing a secondary translation, applies with equal force to nearly all\nthe English Protestant editions then in the hands of the people. Now\nthat the Greek and Hebrew texts have by the aid of the best manuscripts\nbeen restored to some degree of purity and accuracy, Protestant scholars\nare revising the translation of 1611, and the one remarkable fact\nappears constantly that every change made to bring them to correspond to\ncorrect texts brings them back to the early translations from the\nVulgate.[85]\n\nThis fact of English adherence to the Vulgate shown in the collection of\nBibles at the Caxton celebration goes far towards exploding another\nProtestant myth and legend; and that is that England welcomed the\nReformation with open arms, that the whole nation went over to the new\nideas, and that Catholicity was generally abandoned. This is inculcated\nin a thousand ways in all the histories and popular literature of the\nday, if not squarely asserted. The Caxton collection shows that for\nnearly a century the people of England clung to the old Latin Vulgate as\na standard, and that translations from it alone were read officially in\nthe churches. And to this day the Book of Common Prayer is based on the\nVulgate. Although Henry VIII. broke off from Rome, he knew the temper of\nthe people. The English nation was in a manner bereft of its wonted\nleaders. The civil wars of the Roses had swept away most of the old\nnobility, and had brought to the surface the worst, most unscrupulous\nand grasping adventurers. What this class was who clustered around the\nspendthrift Henry VIII. we can easily see by a study of our times, after\nour experience of civil war. They were men to whom nothing was sacred;\nmen determined to grasp and hold rank and wealth at any cost to the\nstate or conscience. The people, bereft of their old leaders, of the\ntime-honored noble families, could not effectively resist the set of new\nmen. To these the church offered a splendid field for plunder. The\nill-concerted insurrections against them were put down with merciless\nseverity. Yet the attachment of the people to the old faith remained.\nEvery step of Henry VIII. was gradual. In his reign the Mass and other\noffices of the church were maintained. Even in the reign of his boy son\nthe unscrupulous men who coined a new faith and worship did not venture\nto go too far from the old forms. Like the Chinese emperor, they sought\nto destroy all trace of Catholic worship by committing to the flame\nevery book in England that could keep it alive. What havoc they made we\ncan learn and imagine from a view of the Caxton collection. Mary\u2019s reign\nwas too short to undo the mischief, and Elizabeth threw her whole\ninfluence into the scale against the church, and, against her own\nconvictions, upheld the Anglican establishment as organized in her\nbrother\u2019s name, and finally gave it form and power; but even she did not\ndare to bring it to the standard of the French, Swiss, Dutch, and Scotch\nProtestants. The Church of England, in obedience to the old Catholic\ninstincts of even those who submitted to force, retained much of the old\nform, and non-jurors, Puseyites, Tractarians, Ritualists are simply\nnatural products of this old element.\n\nYet, with all the power of Henry, Somerset, Elizabeth, the mass of the\nEnglish people had not become Protestant or ceased to be Catholic. One\nof Harper\u2019s Half-Hour Series is not likely to over-state the Catholic\nside; yet Dr. Guernsey, in his _Spanish Armada_, says:\n\n \u201cAt the middle of the reign of Elizabeth the population of England\n numbered something less than five millions. Of these, according to\n the estimate of Rushton, one-third were Protestants and two-thirds\n Catholics. Lingard, with less probability, thinks that about\n one-half were Catholic. The Italian Cardinal Bentivoglio reckoned\n the zealous Catholics at only one-thirtieth part of the nation,\n while those who would without the least scruple have become\n Catholics, if the Catholic religion should be established by law,\n were at least four-fifths of the whole; and Macaulay thinks this\n statement very near the truth. We think a more accurate\n apportionment would be that one-fourth of the population were\n decided Protestants, another fourth decided Catholics, while the\n remaining half\u2014the majority of them with a leaning to the old\n faith\u2014were quite content with whatever form of religion should be\n ordained by the civil authorities for the time being.\u201d\n\nIf this was the state of England in the middle of Elizabeth\u2019s reign,\nafter all connection with Rome had been broken off for two generations,\nall Catholic books committed to the flames, the Mass and the priesthood\noutlawed, how impossible to believe that the English people went as a\nbody into the Reformation! If only one-fourth were then decided\nProtestants, how many were Protestants when Coverdale\u2019s Bible was\nissued?\n\nIf England became Protestant, it was simply because the English people\nwere dragooned into it by penal laws steadily and persistently applied.\nThe decided Protestants from choice were few and their descendants are\ncomparatively few. The mass of English Protestants are the descendants\nof cowards who yielded up their faith and their convictions to save\nproperty, liberty, or life. The poorest Irish Catholic has a noble\nancestry of men who suffered confiscation, imprisonment, hunting like\nwild beasts, death itself, rather than abandon the faith they sincerely\nbelieved, and it is certainly not for the sons of poltroons to despise\nthem.\n\nThe Caxton collection thus, by showing the adherence to the Vulgate till\na Presbyterian king came to the throne, shows how reluctantly England\naccepted Protestantism, and dispels many of the fine theories with which\nMr. Stevens mystifies the subject.\n\nThe collection had some editions of special interest to us Catholics,\nyet it lacked many which we would expect to find in so pretentious a\nseries of books. The Gutenberg Bible, that glory of the church, we have\nalready noted. Few of our readers were or could well be present at the\nLondon exhibition, but when the Lenox Library opens in New York they\nwill be able to see a fine copy of this first of printed books\u2014proof\nthat in Catholic times, when the church was undisputed mistress of\nEurope, the first work deemed entitled to the honor of being reproduced\nby the new invention was the Bible. A Catholic can point to it, and say:\n\u201cThat is the first book ever printed; it is our Catholic Bible, printed\nby the Catholic men who invented the art of printing.\u201d\n\nThe Caxton collection contained also the first edition issued in the\ncity of Rome in 1471, as well as the wonderful Polyglot of the great\nCardinal Ximenes, and the Polyglot Psalter of Bishop Giustiniani with\nthe first sketch of the life of Columbus. The Bible issued as a standard\nby Pope Sixtus V. in 1590 is represented by Mr. Stevens, most strangely,\nas \u201cthe first complete Latin edition published by papal authority.\u201d He\ndoes not tell us in what respect the previous Latin Bibles were\nincomplete, or explain how none of them had any papal authority. This\nSistine edition was contributed by Earl Spencer, as well as a copy of\nthe edition issued under Pope Clement VIII., 1592, and the edition of\nthe Septuagint from the Codex Vaticanus, issued at Rome in 1586. The\nRhemish New Testament, 1582, and the Old Testament printed at Douay in\n1609-10, were also there, but Mr. Stevens is clearly in error in saying:\n\u201cIt is a remarkable circumstance that, though these volumes bear the\ndates of 1609 and 1610 they had not reached the hands of the translators\nof the 1611 version when their long preface was written. There is\ndistinct allusion to this work, as if to disclaim any knowledge of it.\u201d\nYet there is intrinsic evidence that they availed themselves of it\nbefore they put their own to press. Readings both in the Old and New\nTestament which had been preserved through the series of Protestant\ntranslations were abandoned in the King James Bible, and Douay\nrenderings substantially, if not literally, adopted.\n\nThe King James Bible, of course, figures in the collection. But the\nquestion as to which is the _editio princeps_, the standard for those\nwho bow down to that version, is a knotty one. There is a \u201cGreat He\nBible\u201d and a \u201cGreat She Bible\u201d\u2014two issues of the same year 1611 distinct\nthrough every leaf. Catholics will wonder at this distinction of sex in\nBibles, and it may be well to state that in the endeavor to determine\nwhich of the two was the one originally issued by the translators,\nscholars found a discrepancy in Ruth iii. 15, one reading: \u201cHe measured\nsix measures of barley, and laid it on her, and He went into the city,\u201d\nwhile the other reads, \u201cShe went into the city\u201d; and as each of these,\nalthough varying from each other in many places, was taken as a standard\nfor subsequent editions, these Protestant Bibles are all He and She\nBibles to those who wish to know from which of the two 1611 editions\nthey sprang. Mr. Stevens decides that the He Bible, evidently incorrect\nin its rendering, was the original one.\n\nHe sets at rest another point in regard to this King James Bible, and\nthat is the myth or fable of calling it \u201cThe Authorized Version.\u201d He\nsays: \u201cWe do not find any authority for calling it the _Authorized\nVersion_, the words \u2018appointed to be read in churches\u2019 meaning not\nauthorized, but, as explained in the preliminary matter, simply how the\nScriptures were pointed out or \u2018appointed\u2019 for public reading.\u201d In other\nwords, to make the Bible go down with the people of England, who still\nclung to many old Catholic ideas, the epistles and gospels for the\nSundays and many of the holidays of the year, as read from time\nimmemorial in the Mass, were indicated or appointed in this Bible. This\nmakes the King James Bible, whether a \u201cGreat He Bible\u201d or a \u201cGreat She\nBible,\u201d a document to prove how slow the English people were to go over\nto the Reformers, and how they clung to what little they could grasp of\ntheir old Catholic faith and devotion. Mr. Stevens does not like it for\nthis very reason, and wants the title _purified_ by leaving out\n\u201cappointed to be read in churches\u201d; but leaving it out now will not\ndestroy the force of the phrase as it stands on both the He and She\nBible of 1611. He claims the King James as the Bible of all English\nProtestant churches. It has become so; but it was not so originally. He\nis historically wrong when he says: \u201cIt never was any more the Bible of\nthe Church (_i.e._, of England) than of the Puritans.\u201d It certainly was.\nUnfortunately there was no copy in this Caxton celebration of \u201cThe\nSouldier\u2019s Pocket Bible: Printed at London by G. B. and R. W. for G. C.,\n1643,\u201d or we could refer him to that constant companion of Cromwell\u2019s\nsoldiers to show that the Puritans stuck to the Geneva Bible as late as\nthe time of the Commonwealth, and left the King James and the Bishop\u2019s\nBibles to the malignants. He knows the early writings of his own New\nEngland divines too well not to be aware that their sermons and tracts\nquote the Geneva and not the King James. The incorrect editions of the\nGeneva, and the appointment of king\u2019s printers in the reign of Charles\nII. with the exclusive right of printing Bibles, stopped the issue of\nany but the King James, and it thus superseded the Geneva, and people\ntook it as a matter of necessity, not of choice or preference. It is\nsimply absurd to make it appear that the King James version was at once\naccepted and adopted generally.\n\nThe collection did very little in showing the various modifications of\nthe Douay Bible. After the edition of 1635 there was scarcely anything\nin the Caxton exhibition\u2014no copy of Nary\u2019s New Testament, which is\ncertainly remarkable enough. The first edition of the Protestant Bible\nprinted in Ireland dates only from 1714, and certainly a Catholic\nTestament printed, in spite of penal laws and persecution, in 1719, only\nfive years later, ought to have found a place there. There was no copy\nof Witham\u2019s New Testament or of Challoner\u2019s first Testament, or of the\nfirst edition of his Bible. Nor does Geddes appear. America is not at\nall represented. Not a copy of Eliot\u2019s Indian Bible, or of Sauer\u2019s\nGerman Bible, or the Congress Bible, or the first Catholic Bible of\n1790; the Bay Psalm Book stands almost alone.\n\nThe Bibles sought for on account of curious renderings or strange\nblunders were pretty well represented, such as Matthews\u2019 Bug Bible:\n\u201cThou shalt not nede to be afraid for any bugges by nyghte,\u201d Ps. xci. 5.\nThe second Genevan, 1562: \u201cBlessed are the place-makers,\u201d Matt. v. 9.\nBishop\u2019s Bible, 1568: \u201cIs there no tryacle in Gilead?\u201d Jerem. viii. 22.\nThe Wicked Bible, London, 1631: \u201cThou shalt commit adultery.\u201d Cambridge\nBible, 1638: \u201cWhom _ye_ may appoint,\u201d Acts vi. 3, for _we_. The Vinegar\nBible, 1717: \u201cThe Parable of the Vinegar.\u201d Oxford Bible, 1807: \u201cPurge\nyour conscience from _good_ works,\u201d instead of \u201c_dead_,\u201d Heb. ix. 14.\nOxford Bible, 1810: \u201cHate not ... his own _wife_,\u201d for life, Luke xiv.\n26. Still these are of no value except as cautions against typographical\nblunders. But among the curious Bibles and Testaments we were surprised\nto see no copy of the now rare negro English Testament, published in\nLondon in 1829, _Da Njoe Testament va wi Masra en Helpiman Jesus\nChristus_. The Rev. Sydney Smith immortalized it, and _Notes and\nQueries_ in 1864 devoted some space to it. Renderings like these from a\ncopy before us: St. Matthew, vi. 7, \u201cEn effi oeni beggi, oene no meki\nsoso takkitakki, leki dem Heiden, bikasi dem membre, effi dem meki\nfoeloe takkitakki, Gado so harki dem,\u201d or vi. 11, \u201cGi wi tideh da jamjam\nva wi,\u201d[86] are certainly as curious as anything exhibited.\n\nAn ingenious gentleman like Mr. Stevens might perhaps have deduced from\nit a proof that Caxton was a follower of Wickliffe, or that the Catholic\nChurch showed no respect for the Word of God.\n\nA catalogue of books such as we have taken up seems to afford little\nscope for any but dry bibliographical notes, but the Caxton celebration\nhas its lessons that can be gleaned even from a catalogue, and if our\nreaders have followed us we think that they will admit that the attempt\nto make Caxton other than a pious Catholic was a delusion; and the\nexclusion of the Catholic element, and the attempt to make Caxton a\nfulcrum for the exaltation of Protestantism, a failure.[87] As Catholics\nwe may be grateful for the unintentional evidence the collection\nafforded of the fact that the Catholic Church protected and preserved\nthe Bible, made men esteem and desire it, gave it to the newly-invented\nart of printing as the first work to issue, fostered the publication of\nthe original texts, the authentic Vulgate, and of translations in the\nvernacular; as well as incidentally of proof that the Luther romance was\na figment, and proof that the Reformation was forced on the English\npeople, that they clung to the Bible, liturgy, and dogmas of the\nCatholic Church with the utmost tenacity, and that they lacked only the\ncourage of Ireland and Poland to have maintained their country Catholic.\n\nFootnote 76:\n\n _Caxton Celebration_, 1877. Catalogue of the Loan Collection of\n Antiquities, Curiosities, and Appliances connected with the art of\n Printing, South Kensington. Edited by George Bullen, Esq., F.S.A.,\n Keeper of the Printed Books, British Museum. London, Tr\u00fcbner; xix.-472\n pp.\n\n _The Bibles in the Caxton Exhibition. MDCCCLXXVII._; or, A\n Bibliographical Description of nearly one thousand representative\n Bibles in various languages chronologically from the first Bible\n printed by Gutenberg in 1450-1456 to the last Bible printed at the\n Oxford University Press the 30th June, 1877.... By Henry Stevens\n G.M.B., F.S.A., M.A., etc. London: H. Stevens. 1877. 8vo, pp. 151.\n\nFootnote 77:\n\n Office of the Blessed Virgin, with other prayers.\n\nFootnote 78:\n\n The clown appears early in \u201cWhat you Will.\u201d It has become the fashion\n to call our Catholic institutions, schools, etc., _sectarian_, because\n apparently the _sects_ are bitterly opposed to them; and institutions\n in which the Protestant sects have complete control and enforce their\n views are called _non-sectarian_. No one would imagine that \u201creligious\n sectarianism\u201d here is a euphemism for \u201cProtestant intolerance.\u201d\n\nFootnote 79:\n\n We have always indulged the hope that the use of the Sarum Missal on\n some patronal feast will be permitted in the primatial church of\n England, as the Ambrosian and Mozarabic are in Italy and Spain, to\n show conclusively that we are the identical body who used that liturgy\n before the Reformation.\n\nFootnote 80:\n\n While writing we read the following from Blades\u2019 _Life of Caxton_ to a\n Catholic girl in her teens: \u201cNo. 57. Death-Bed Prayers. A Folio\n Broadside:\n\n \u201cFrom the language of these prayers it is evident that they were\n intended for use by the death-bed. They were probably printed in this\n portable form for priests and others to carry about with them.\n Although short, their interest is great, and the reader may not be\n displeased to read them in the following more modern dress than that\n of the original:\n\n \u201c\u2018O glorious Jesu! O meekest Jesu! O most sweetest Jesu! I pray thee\n that I may have true confession, contrition, and satisfaction ere I\n die; and that I may see and receive thy holy body, God and man,\n Saviour of all mankind. Christ Jesu without sin; and that thou wilt,\n my Lord God, forgive me all my sins, for thy glorious wounds and\n Passion; and that I may end my life in the true faith of all holy\n church.\u2019\u201d\n\n \u201cWhat a stupid man!\u201d exclaimed my young hearer. \u201cThat is not any\n prayer for a priest to say by a dying person; it\u2019s a prayer for a\n happy death, and is it not a beautiful one?\u2019\u201d She was certainly right,\n and a Catholic child could teach many of these people.\n\nFootnote 81:\n\n To the same purport is this colophon on Bartholom\u00e6us\u2019 _De\n Proprietatibus Rerum_, issued by Wynken de Worde about 1495:\n\n \u201cAnd also of your charyte call to remembraunce\n The soule of William Caxton, first prynter of this boke,\n In laten tongue at Coleyn, hymself to auance\n That every wel disposyd man may theron loke.\u201d\n\nFootnote 82:\n\n Stevens admits that there was no necessity for actually doing the\n printing of Bibles in England. \u201cThe educated of England, however, were\n not ignorant of the Scriptures, for Coburger, of Nuremberg, and\n probably other Continental printers, had established warehouses in\n London for the sale of Latin Bibles as early as 1480, and perhaps\n earlier.\u201d\n\nFootnote 83:\n\n The Paulist Library in New York might have sent a fine copy of the\n ninth edition, printed in 1482, the very year Luther was born.\n\nFootnote 84:\n\n We have never seen the Latin Bible printed by Norton at London, in\n 1680, but think that the text of the Vulgate was not followed.\n\nFootnote 85:\n\n The natural history and topography of the 1611 Bible are ludicrously\n incorrect, because they abandoned the Vulgate and translated at\n random. Yet the Vulgate was translated from the Septuagint, and\n revised in the Holy Land by St. Jerome with the aid of Jewish scholars\n who knew the geography and natural history of the country. The\n Septuagint was made in Egypt, while Hebrew was still the language of\n the nation, by men thoroughly acquainted with their native country.\n Was it not sheer madness for gentlemen in England in the seventeenth\n century, with a mere smattering of Hebrew, to think that they could\n render geographical and zo\u00f6logical terms more accurately? Is not their\n presumption the real matter to be sneered at?\n\nFootnote 86:\n\n Written according to Dutch rather than English. This is very odd.\n _Beggi_ is _pray_; _takkitakki_ is much _talkee_ (say); _jamjam_ is\n _yam_ (bread). \u201cGive we to-day the yams for we!\u201d\n\nFootnote 87:\n\n Like Caxton, a Catholic, the writer has, like Caxton, written,\n translated, edited, printed, and published, and has had for years\n behind his chair in his dining-room an engraving of Caxton examining\n his first proof-sheet. His interest in Caxton is, therefore, almost\n personal.\n\n\n\n\n MALCOLM, KING OF SCOTLAND, TO HIS WIFE, ST. MARGARET.\n\n\nI.\n\n God speed thee, sweet, in all thy tasks of love,\n The daily round of thy heart\u2019s majesty\u2014\n Thy dear lips opened unto clemency\u2014\n My Margaret, my pearl all price above;\n My little kingdom, where as king I reign\n O\u2019er lands so fair I might with gladness give\n All earthly state in these alone to live\n Where nothing base doth holy ground profane.\n My queen, my Atheling, true noble one,\n That wearest on thy Saxon brow a grace\n Wherein all loyal hearts can true love trace\n To this north land the misty hills do crown.\n My rose-lipped daisy, lighting Scotland\u2019s sod\n With happy faces lifted up to God.\n\n\nII.\n\n God speed thee, sweet; my heart so singeth e\u2019er,\n As grows more dear among our poor thy fame\n With every day. O Lady, true of name,\n Giver of bread to all beneath thy care,\n My royal-hearted queen and flawless pearl,\n How shall my sin-stained prayers for thee avail,\n That dost least fault with innocent tears bewail?\n Meek daisy, whose white petals do unfurl\n From soul wherein all golden visions shine!\n So near to God thou seem\u2019st, and pray\u2019st so well,\n The book I kiss whereon thy pure eyes dwell,\n So grows my prayer the words that have been thine,\n So surely grows it sweeter in His ear,\n Tuned to the music of thy singing clear.\n\n\nIII.\n\n May that brave saint, sweet wife, whose name is thine,\n Whose virgin feet unharmed on dragons fell,\n Keep thee in grace with Him thou lov\u2019st so well\n Till that far day when shall thy beauty shine\n With that light glorified her features wear.\n Blessed light! fair even now encircling thee\n When, bowed thy soul in fond humility,\n Thou kneelest, of thy God possessed, at prayer.\n Ah! love, with Christ, our Lord, forget not me\n Who tread this tangled pathway here below\n With eyes more dim than thine and feet more slow;\n So, when in life eternal we are met,\n I still may wear my pearl, my Margaret!\n\n\n\n\n HAVE WE A NOVELIST?\n\n\nScarcely fifty years have elapsed since Sydney Smith contemptuously\nasked: \u201cWho reads an American book?\u201d John Bull was delighted at this\nsneering query of the witty Dean of St. Paul\u2019s. It was so agreeable an\n_expos\u00e9_ of the literary poverty of a formidable rival. It was so very\nconsoling to find a weak point in the young giant who had twice beaten\nhim in war. Could Sydney Smith rise to-day from his grave in Kensal\nGreen he would witness a marvellous change. The time has passed when he\nmight triumphantly ask: \u201cWho reads an American book?\u201d The time has\npassed when John Bull might gloat over the poverty of American\nliterature. We have a literature\u2014a noble literature\u2014of which any nation\nmight be proud. We may confidently reverse the celebrated query of the\nwittiest of English divines, and ask: \u201cWho does _not_ read an American\nbook?\u201d Who does not read the histories of Prescott? Who does not read\nthe charming writings of Irving? Who does not read the wonderful tales\nof Hawthorne, the poems of Longfellow, of Bryant, of Poe?\n\nOur literary temple, like Aladdin\u2019s palace, is glorious; but, like\nAladdin\u2019s palace, it is also incomplete. While our literature is full\nand splendid in poetry, in history, and in science, it has been\nstrangely wanting in what Prescott calls \u201cornamental literature\u201d: the\nromance. The deficiency is more particularly remarkable when we consider\nthe magnificent field which this country offers to the novelist. Our\ngovernment, our institutions, our society, our national manners, the\nvice and extravagance of our great cities, our political corruption, the\nenterprising spirit of our people, the rapid change of fortune in our\ncommercial cities, where the born beggar often dies a millionaire, life\nat our watering-places\u2014all present interesting and inexhaustible\nsubjects for the romance-writer. No country in the world affords such\nstrong and striking contrasts of character as the United States. Here we\nhave the gay and mercurial Frenchman, the practical and plodding German,\nthe generous and improvident Irishman, the reserved Englishman, the\nproud Spaniard, and last, but by no means least, the eager, calculating\nAmerican, with his brain of fire and his heart of ice.\n\nCertainly there is no lack of materials; the workers alone are wanting;\nthe harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few. We want a Thackeray\nto expose the heartless extravagance of our best society; a Dickens to\nturn our hearts in generous sympathy towards the poor and suffering; a\nBulwer to polish the manners of our people, and illustrate the noble\ntruth that knowledge is power, money only its handmaiden. Within a dozen\nyears this trio of novelists has passed away, and they have left no\nsuccessors. Except a few chapters in Thackeray\u2019s _Virginians_, and some\nabsurdly nonsensical scenes in Dickens\u2019 _Martin Chuzzlewit_, the works\nof the great English novelists are entirely foreign: the characters,\nmanners, scenes\u2014all foreign to us. But they are read here with as much\npleasure as in England. The Americans are a nation of readers\u2014men,\nwomen, and children, all read. The majority of our men read newspapers\nalmost exclusively. Seven-eighths of the novel-reading of this country\nis done by women. The statistics of any popular library will show that\nthree novels a week form the average of these fair readers.\n\nWith so great and constant a demand for novels, why have we no novelist\namong us?\u2014a great novelist, a national novelist, an essentially American\nnovelist, as Bulwer and Thackeray are essentially English. As there can\nbe no effect without a cause, there must be a cause for this deficiency\nin our literature. There are two: _American publishers_ and _American\nreaders_. While an English magazine scarcely ever publishes an article\nby an American writer, there is not a great English novelist of the last\nquarter of a century who has not written for one or other of the\nAmerican magazines. Dickens, Bulwer, Thackeray, Wilkie Collins, Charles\nReade, George Eliot, Trollope, Miss Muloch, etc., etc., have written\nmore or less for our periodicals. Literature, like love, must be\nencouraged or it languishes and dies. In addition to the want of\nencouragement given to American novelists by our publishers is the fact\nthat American novel-readers affect to despise American novelists. The\nnovel-reading ladies who frequent circulating libraries, demanding with\none voice \u201csomething new,\u201d who prefer Miss Braddon to George Eliot, and\nMrs. Henry Wood to Thackeray, say they \u201ccannot read American novels.\u201d\nAnd yet three of the most popular novels of the last three years have\nbeen American, viz.: _Infelice_, _One Summer_, and _A Question of\nHonor_. We have seen an American lady take up _The American_, by Mr.\nHenry James, Jr., and throw it down, saying, \u201cThe name is enough.\u201d We\nhave seen ladies decline one of the charming stories of Mr. Aldrich or\nMr. Howells, and carry off in triumph the last production of Mary Cecil\nHay or the voluptuous \u201cOuida\u201d! If Americans refuse to read American\nnovels, who will read them?\n\nThe indiscriminate and almost universal novel-reading now practised is a\nstriking and alarming feature of American life, when we consider the\ntone and character of so many of the modern novels. Judged by them,\ndivorces, elopements, intrigues, and other crimes against society are\nthe normal attendants of modern civilization. They play a conspicuous\npart in most of the \u201cpopular novels\u201d of the day. Yet such books are\neagerly devoured by young girls, whose minds are keenly susceptible to\ntheir dangerous influence. An insidious poison is thus infused which\noften fatally corrupts the youthful imagination. Bad books are the\ndevil\u2019s own instruments for the ruin of souls. As it is impossible to\ndeny the fact that novels form the staple reading of a majority of the\nworld, it is important that they should be not only pure but above\nsuspicion.\n\nThe Catholic press cannot too strongly condemn the scope and influence\nof the novel of to-day. While Scott and Miss Edgeworth are neglected,\nthe vile trash of Rhoda Broughton and Mrs. Forrester is eagerly sought.\nThe good old habit of reading history, travels, biography, essays, etc.,\nis almost entirely abandoned. \u201cWe want something new and exciting,\u201d is\nthe general cry; \u201chistory and biography are too deep.\u201d And so they go on\nfrom week to week, from month to month, and from year to year, reading\nnothing but novels, and filling their minds with nonsense, if nothing\nworse. While we condemn indiscriminate novel-reading, we do not condemn\nnovels indiscriminately. There are a few that can be read without\ndetriment either to morals or religion, and these, we are sorry to say,\nare the novels that modern readers pronounce \u201cflat.\u201d\n\nDuring the century of our national existence we have had three genuine\nAmerican novelists: Charles Brockden Brown, James Fenimore Cooper, and\nWilliam Gilmore Simms. The first of this trio possessed great natural\ngifts and enjoyed a liberal education. The singular advantages which\nnature so lavishly bestowed upon Brockden Brown prevented him from being\na popular novelist. He was a pure idealist. He lived in a world of his\nown. His beautiful and fertile imagination created beings which never\ncould exist in this world, and these he made the heroes and heroines of\nhis strange stories. They may please the intellectual few, but they\npossess no interest for the uncultivated many. If Brown\u2019s talents had\nbeen properly directed, if he could have kept his soaring imagination\nfixed on the earth, and been satisfied with describing men and things as\nthey really exist, his would have been a lasting fame. But, as it is, he\nis not now read by one in ten thousand, nay, in ten times ten thousand.\nCooper is second to Brown in point of time and superior to him in point\nof popularity. He threw a charm, a grace, and an interest around the\nlife and character of the American Indians which appear inconsistent in\nthe light of recent experience. In his sea-stories he succeeds where the\ngreatest novelist signally failed. Cooper enjoyed a high reputation\nduring life, but his novels now rank with the writings of Mayne Reid,\nand are almost exclusively read by boys. Simms\u2019 stories of the\nRevolution and the border life in the South that succeeded the struggle\nfor independence are excellent in their way. His Revolutionary romances\nafford glimpses of generous devotion to patriotism and an ardent zeal in\nthe cause of liberty which Americans might read with profit at the\npresent day.\n\nBut those novelists belong to the past\u2014the dead and buried past. We want\nthe present time described\u2014the living, breathing, busy present. There\nnever was an age, there never was a country, that afforded such scope\nfor the novelist as this age and country. Our cities are swarming with\nan eager, reckless, enterprising population, presenting an infinite\nvariety of characters, each occupied with his own particular pursuits of\nambition, pleasure, or wealth. Take New York as the representative city\nof America. There are to be found the best and the worst features of our\ncivilization; the most unbounded wealth and the most squalid poverty;\nthe most exquisite culture and refinement and the most degraded and\nabandoned of the human race. Is not our society as vain, frivolous,\nfalse as that English society which Thackeray satirized so unmercifully?\nHave we no Vanity Fair, no heartless Becky Sharps, no selfish George\nOsbornes, no wicked old Steynes, no disreputable Rawdon Crawleys?\n\nOur country is the last of nations in point of time, but the first in\nall material prosperity. Like Minerva, it sprang into existence fully\nequipped for a career unparalleled in the annals of the world. Other\nnations have taken a thousand years to reach the position which the\nUnited States took at one bound. We have more than realized the dream of\nPlato. But let us not imitate the philosopher of Greece, and banish\npoetry and pure fiction from _our_ republic. Let us not hang the sword\nof Damocles over the imagination, but let it be purified. Let us not\nemploy the scissors of Atropos to cut the threads of fictitious\nnarrative, but let it be purged of its present loose and dangerous\ntendency. Sir Walter Scott declared novels to be \u201ca luxury contrived for\nthe amusement of polished life, and the gratification of that half-love\nof literature which pervades all ranks in an advanced stage of society,\nand are read much more for amusement than with the least hope of\nderiving instruction from them\u201d; yet _Ivanhoe_ throws more light upon\nthe personal character of Richard C\u0153ur de Lion, _Kenilworth_ informs us\nmore particularly about the court of Elizabeth, the _Fortunes of Nigel_\ngives us a better insight into the private life of King James, than we\nderive from Hume. By his poems and novels Scott threw a perpetual charm\nover the bleak hills of Scotland; he made its ruined abbeys as\ninteresting as the ruined castles of Germany; he made its lakes the\nfavorite resort of thousands of summer tourists. Author of the most\ncelebrated novels that were ever written, Scott was unjust to the\nchildren of his mind when he spoke slightingly of novels. It should be\nremembered that he also spoke unfavorably of the literary profession\u2014a\nprofession by which he made a million dollars and an immortal name.\n\nWhen the author of _Waverley_ spoke disparagingly of novels that kind of\nliterary composition was almost in its infancy, certainly in its\nchildhood. Richardson, Fielding, Smollett, and Goldsmith were the only\ngreat names in that department of English literature. It was almost an\nuncultivated field, but the reaper was at hand, whose harvest should be\nabundant, whose reward great. The lordly halls of Abbotsford still\nstand, the magnificent result of novel-writing. For every novel written\nduring the time of Scott there are at least one hundred written now. The\nnovels published during the last fifty years are far more numerous than\nall the novels that had previously existed in the world. A hundred years\nsince pamphlets were written to promote the success of a political\nmeasure, to show that \u201ctaxation\u201d was \u201cno tyranny,\u201d to overthrow a\nminister, etc. Now, when Disraeli wants to convince the country of his\npolitical sagacity, he writes a novel; when Dickens wanted to show up a\ncrying injustice to the poor he wrote a novel; when Thackeray wanted to\nexpose the shams of English society he wrote a novel. The age of\npamphlets is gone, the age of novels has succeeded. Statesmen write\nnovels, soldiers write novels, clergymen, lawyers, doctors\u2014all\nprofessions, all classes and both sexes, write novels, and still the\nnovel-reading Olivers \u201cask for more.\u201d Any person who visits a\nfashionable circulating library upon a Saturday afternoon will see how\ngreat is the demand for _new_ novels.\n\nBooks which were, in the last century, read in mixed assemblages of\nyoung ladies and gentlemen could not now be read by old ladies in the\nprivacy of their closets. Apropos of which is a story out of Lockhart\u2019s\n_Scott_: \u201cA grand-aunt of mine,\u201d said Sir Walter, \u201cwas very fond of\nreading, and enjoyed it to the last of her long life. One day she asked\nme, when we happened to be alone together, whether I had ever seen Mrs.\nBehn\u2019s novels. I confessed the charge. Whether I could get her a sight\nof them? I said, with some hesitation, I believed I could; but that I\ndid not think she would like either the manners or the language, which\napproached too near that of Charles II.\u2019s time to be quite proper\nreading. \u2018Nevertheless,\u2019 said the good old lady, \u2018I remember them being\nso much admired, and being so much interested in them myself, that I\nwish to look at them again.\u2019 To hear was to obey. So I sent Mrs. Aphra\nBehn, curiously sealed up, with \u2018private and confidential\u2019 on the\npacket, to my gay old grand-aunt. The next time I saw her afterwards she\ngave me back Aphra, properly wrapped up, with nearly these words: \u2018Take\nback your bonny Mrs. Behn; and, if you will take my advice, put her in\nthe fire, for I found it impossible to get through the very first novel.\nBut is it not,\u2019 said she, \u2018a very odd thing that I, an old woman of\neighty and upwards, sitting alone, feel myself ashamed to read a book\nwhich, sixty years ago, I have heard read aloud for the amusement of\nlarge circles, consisting of the first and most creditable society of\nLondon?\u2019\u201d\n\nAlthough a vast improvement has taken place in the tone of novels\ngenerally, yet there are many still written which should not be read,\nand many are read which should not be written. It is a striking and\nlamentable fact that the worst novels of the day are written and read by\nwomen. The miss scarcely in her teens reads books which her grandmother\nwould be ashamed to read. As the pampered palate of the epicure can only\nenjoy food highly seasoned, so the vitiated minds of modern readers can\nonly enjoy highly seasoned novels; mysterious murders, mad marriages,\nrunaway matches, terrible secrets, awful mysteries, hidden perils, etc.,\nare required to stimulate their jaded taste. As a person who feeds only\non dainties will soon have the dyspepsia, so a person who reads only\nhighly-seasoned novels will have a sort of mental dyspepsia. Scenes are\ndescribed, circumstances are mentioned, conversations retailed, vices\nintroduced into modern novels which would cause any man to be banished\nfrom decent society who should so far forget himself as to allude to\nthem. Yet such things are read without blushing by young ladies, such\nbooks are discussed by ladies and gentlemen without shame. If our young\nladies are to read nothing but novels, in the name of modesty let not\ntheir literary food be corrupt and corrupting; let not their virgin\nminds be filled with foul images; let not their Christian souls be\nsoiled with even a thought of vice.\n\nQueen Anne could not enjoy her breakfast unless the _Spectator_ was by\nher plate. Were Addison alive now and writing the _Spectator_, we doubt\nwhether Queen Victoria would have it with her morning meal. Times\nchange, and kings as well as commons must keep pace with their age.\nGibbon\u2019s vanity was gratified that his history was in every lady\u2019s\nboudoir and discussed in every fashionable drawing-room in London. Were\nGibbon writing in this present year of grace, we do not think the\n_Decline and Fall_ would deprive the last novel of its \u201cpride of place\u201d\nin my lady\u2019s boudoir. About twenty-two years ago Macaulay received that\nfamous \u00a320,000 check from the Messrs. Longman for a volume of his\n_History of England_, of which more than twenty-six thousand five\nhundred copies were sold in ten weeks. Macaulay\u2019s History was even more\npopular than Gibbon\u2019s. He said: \u201cI shall not be satisfied unless I\nproduce something which shall for a few days supersede the last\nfashionable novel on the tables of young ladies.\u201d \u201cFor a few days\u201d\nMacaulay\u2019s history did \u201csupersede the last fashionable novel,\u201d but we\nthink we are safe in saying that it will have fewer readers this year\nthan a new novel by \u201cChristian Reid\u201d or Mrs. Alexander. Take the average\ngirl of the period, question her about her reading, and what is the\nresult? She averages six novels a week\u2014three hundred a year. Certainly\nmuch in point of quantity, but how about the quality? Has she read the\n_Spectator_, the _Vicar of Wakefield_, Macaulay\u2019s _Essays_? No. They\nwould be as tiresome to her as the compliments of an old beau\u2014as\nold-fashioned as last year\u2019s bonnet.\n\nMme. Roland when a girl slept with a volume of Plutarch\u2019s _Lives_ under\nher pillow. Our girls, who are more interested in contemporary society\nthan in the lives of illustrious Greeks and Romans, put the last novel\nunder their pillow, that they may continue the first thing in the\nmorning the entrancing story of _Theo_, which \u201ctired nature\u201d compelled\nthem to relinquish at midnight. We trust they may never be called upon\nto display the lofty heroism of Mme. Roland\u2014that their only tears may be\nthose shed over the woes of imaginary heroines, their only sorrows as\nfictitious as those in the novels they love so well.\n\nBeing an unquestionable fact that the reading millions of this last\nquarter of the nineteenth century devote themselves to novels more than\nto any other class of literature, novels may be made the means of great\nand universal good. We all know how rapturously the third tier applauds\nlofty moral sentiments; how enthusiastically the \u201cgods\u201d of the gallery\nsympathize with virtue in distress; how the protector of innocence is\ncheered and the villain hooted. Let this natural feeling of the human\nheart be turned to account in novels. We have all laughed over that\ninimitable scene in _The Rivals_ between Lydia Languish and Lucy, her\nmaid, who has been sent to the circulating library for some _late\nnovels_. Do not some of Lydia\u2019s favorites suggest the names of popular\nnovels that are in daily request at _our_ fashionable circulating\nlibraries?\u2014the _Reward of Constancy_, the _Fatal Connection_, the\n_Mysteries of a Heart_, the _Delicate Distress_, the _Tears of\nSensibility_. Have we not the _Fatal Marriage_, the _Empty Heart_, a\n_Woman\u2019s Heart_, the _Curse of Gold_, the _Mysterious Engagement_, a\n_Clandestine Marriage_, etc.? Judging from the books they read, our\ngirls must believe with Mrs. Malaprop that \u201cthought does not become a\nyoung woman.\u201d\n\nA popular modern novel, one which nine out of every ten readers\npronounce \u201cso nice,\u201d \u201cso interesting,\u201d \u201cperfectly lovely,\u201d is \u201cmade up\u201d\nsomething after this manner: A young girl, one half of whose character\nentirely contradicts the other half, engages herself to some worthy but\ncommonplace young man, who is more familiar with figures in his ledger\nthan with figures of rhetoric, who is more apt at writing business\nletters than love letters, who is better acquainted with market\nquotations than poetical quotations, who knows more about the Corn\nExchange than about _Lucille_\u2014in short, a man who takes a practical,\ncommon-sense view of life. The love of this romantic girl and this\npractical young man is not very ardent. In the meantime there appears\nupon the scene a dark, mysterious, gloomy, _blas\u00e9_ man of the world,\nbelieving in nothing, hoping for nothing, and who looks upon existence\nas a curse. He is as handsome as an angel, cynical as a fiend, sceptical\nas a modern philosopher. His \u201cnoble\u201d brow is often disfigured by a\nscowl, his \u201cchiselled\u201d mouth is often marred by a sneer. In a word, he\nis a sort of fashionable Lara. This scowling, sneering, cynical\ngentleman has had an interesting history: he was the hero of an\nunfortunate love-affair. His heart is a burnt-out volcano. In his early\nyouth he had loved\u2014madly, wildly loved\u2014a woman who was married to a\nbrute. He tells this woman his love. She listens to his story, laments\nthat she is not free, and bursts into tears. He takes her in his arms,\nswearing that she is the one idolized love of his heart. At length she\nsays they must part, but bids him await her summons. He leaves her, goes\nabroad, and tries to forget his sorrows in the sparkling Lethe of\ndissipation. In vain. The sad form of his loved one is the skeleton at\nevery feast, and changes every ball into a funeral. At last his\nlong-expected summons comes: the being he loves more than ten thousand\nlives writes him to come to her at once; that her husband has struck\nher, she is sick, perhaps dying. He flies to revenge her wrongs. He\nfinds her _dead_. Thus was his love lost, his hopes crushed, his life\nwrecked. Lara tells his story to our romantic girl one lovely June\nevening. They are seated on a moonlit piazza. The perfume of many\nflowers fills the air. The sound of a distant river is heard. It is a\nnight and a scene meet for love. In tones, tender, sad, but sweet, he\ntells her his heart has long been ashes; that he never thought the fires\nof love could again be kindled there, but she has taught him that there\nis peace, happiness, love for even him. Will she raise this dead heart\nto life? She murmurs, softly but passionately, \u201cI love you, Arthur.\u201d\nThis is a rather mild and innocent specimen of the food that modern\nnovel-readers feed on. The object of fiction should be to represent life\nas it is\u2014to \u201chold the mirror up to nature.\u201d\n\nJust one hundred years since all London went wild over a new novel by a\nnameless writer. The new novel was _Evelina_, the nameless writer was\nMiss Burney. The characters in the book were commonplace, the scenes\nuninteresting, the story unexciting, but it showed, what no other novel\nof the time showed, that a book could be lively without being\nlicentious, readable without being immoral. Nothing more clearly proves\nthe poverty of the fictitious literature of the last quarter of the\neighteenth century than that such a statesman as Burke should sit up all\nnight to read such a book as _Evelina_. Nothing better proves how\nprejudice can sway a strong mind than that Dr. Johnson should pronounce\nMiss Burney superior to Fielding. But it was extraordinary for a young\nlady to write a book one hundred years ago. It was still more\nextraordinary for a young lady to write a novel that could be read with\npleasure. Hence the _furore_ that it created and the interest that its\nauthor excited. Miss Burney did not (as too many of our lady writers\ndo), upon the strength of one successful book, rush a half-dozen\ninferior novels upon the world. She waited more than four years before\nshe published her next work, _Cecilia_. For _Evelina_ she received \u00a320,\nfor _Cecilia_ \u00a32,000. We have mentioned Miss Burney, because we consider\nher as an excellent example for the imitation of modern novelists. She\nwas willing to wait four years after publishing an unprecedentedly\nsuccessful book before giving another to the world. But, when that other\nwork did appear, it was placed by general consent among the few\nclassical novels in the English language. Nowadays it is the fashion for\na popular writer to deluge circulating libraries with rubbish which, in\na few weeks, finds its way to the junk-shop. Those who write for\nposterity write slowly, correct carefully, and publish seldom.\n\nWhen we remember that this is peculiarly the age of the novel, that more\nnovels are now published in New York in one year than existed in the\nwhole world one hundred years ago, that the demand is still greater than\nthe supply, that we have long since broken the apron-strings that bound\nus to our literary mother, England, in every other department of\nletters, we feel convinced that, at no distant day, our novelist will\ncome. But he must be true to his mission, and give a faithful\nrepresentation of American life and manners, not a \u201ccounterfeit\npresentment.\u201d He must not sacrifice virtue and honor to present\npopularity, he must not pander to the vicious tastes of a demoralized\nsociety, but, like Addison, he must purify the public taste by elevating\nit to his own high ideal. Such a writer would not violate the sanctities\nof domestic love or forget the obligations of social duty. He might be\nwitty, but he would never be wanton; he might be lively, but he would\nnever be licentious. Such a writer would be a benefactor to his country\nand to the world.\n\n\n\n\n ANGLICAN DEVELOPMENT.\n\n\nDevelopment implies a germ. It is the growth of such qualities or\ncharacteristics as were inherent in the original principle. If the\nprinciple was bad the development will be bad\u2014if, indeed, there be\ndevelopment at all. Perhaps it will be truer to say that bad principles\ndo not develop; they rather generate fresh stages of decay. Corruption\nis the law of bad principles, as development is the law of good\nprinciples. The \u201csurvival of the fittest\u201d is certainly true in the moral\nlaw, even if it be not certainly true in the material. Six thousand\nyears of human history have proved that divine principles \u201csurvive\u201d; and\ntheir survival has been their development, in respect to the sphere of\ntheir empire. The principles themselves do not grow, but the world\ngrows, and with it divine government. Dr. Newman, in his work on\ndevelopments, has drawn this distinction very luminously. The church\ngrows, and its influence extends, and its machinery is in constant\noperation; yet its developments are not developments of its principles\nso much as of its qualities and capacities. They are also developments\nof its power. What the church was on the day of Pentecost she is to-day;\nit is her body which is grown, not her spirit. Divine principles are\nimmutable; but because the world always changes the church must change\ntoo\u2014not in her principles but in her action.\n\nThe converse of the development of Catholicism is seen in the\ndevelopment of Anglicanism. Whereas the church is more powerful in the\nproportion of antagonism, Anglicanism grows weaker and weaker. Whereas\nthe church opposes dogma to heresy, Anglicanism suggests wider religious\nliberty. Whereas the church cuts off every withered branch, Anglicanism\ngrafts the sticks on to its trunk. Thus the development of Anglicanism\nis in the direction of corruption; of the gravitation of new errors\ntowards the parent one; of the union in one society of every element of\ndissolution, with a view to spasmodic vitality. The older Anglicanism\ngrows the more decay it engrafts, trying hard to look vigorous with life\nby the process of galvanizing death. This is its general principle. But,\nparticularly, the modes of its experiment are as instructive and as\nlamentable as is its principle. Let us take a late example. Nearly five\nthousand Anglicans have just petitioned their queen against the\npermitting confession in the Church of England. Their motives may be\nleft to their own consciences, though they do allege, by way of seeming\nto be in earnest, that \u201cconfession is subversive of the principles of\nmorality, social order, and of civil and religious liberty.\u201d Among the\npetitioners are more than three thousand clergymen; but there are also a\nvast number of signatories who are set down as \u201cAnglicans not\nclassified.\u201d Now, in what way are we to regard this grave petition as a\ndevelopment of the principles of Anglicanism? Be it remembered that\nconfession, as practised by the Ritualists, was in itself a development\nof Tractarianism; that Tractarianism was a development of the reaction\nwhich followed on the decay of Evangelicalism; that Evangelicalism was a\ndevelopment of the reaction which followed on the decay of\nDry-Churchism; and that Dry-Churchism was the development of that\nErastianism which the house of Hanover firmly rooted in the state\nchurch. So that the huge gulf between confession and Georgeism has to be\nbridged over by successive revolutions, each perfectly natural in its\nreaction, yet each naturally leading to fresh change. Here we see the\ndistinction between the development of church vitality and the\ndevelopment of heretical restlessness. As we have said, church\nprinciples cannot change; it is the action only of the church which\nbecomes enlarged, Catholic principles not admitting of development save\nin the sense of extension of empire. But Anglican principles can be\nturned upside down, or can be turned inside out, a score of times. There\nis no more affinity between ritualism and Dry-Churchism than there was\nbetween Evangelicalism and Erastianism. There is no more concord between\nDr. Pusey and Canon Ryle than there was between Bishop Butler and John\nWesley. Not more opposite was Mr. Simeon to Canon Liddon than was\nArchbishop Whately to Lady Huntingdon. These Anglicans represent\ndifferent churches. And yet they all belong to the same church. What,\nthen, is the development of Anglican principles?\n\nObviously there is not development at all. The word cannot be used in a\nChristian sense. There is reaction, revolution, novel apostolate; there\nis not true Christian development. We may say of the great French\nRevolution that it was a development of (some of) the principles of\nVoltaire; or that D\u2019Alembert and Diderot, with the Encyclop\u00e6dists\ngenerally, planted seeds which sprang up into the guillotine. Yet the\nvery point of such development was that it sprang not from principle but\nfrom the assertion that principle was not divine. And so in Anglicanism:\nthough the assertion was quite distinct, there was no little affinity in\nthe results. The theory of Anglicanism was that the Catholic Church was\nnot divine, but that Church-of-Englandism had pretensions to be so; or\nrather, that the divine principles of the Catholic Church were purified\nto perfection in Church-of-Englandism. But a corollary of this theory\nwas that the (divine) Catholic Church had no more authority than had\n\u201cReformers\u201d\u2014an assumption which was fatal, in argument and in fact, to\nthe immutability of principles. Accordingly we find that mutability has\nbeen the law of the whole system of Anglican developments; in other\nwords, that those developments have been as utterly contradictory as\nthey have been numerous beyond computation. Is this a Christian or a\nCatholic development, or a development of even a philosophic kind? It\nis, on the contrary, proof positive that Anglican principles are not\ndivine, for if they were divine they could not change. It is not\ndiscipline which has changed, nor external observance, nor the relations\nof the church to the state; such changes would be comparatively\nunimportant; it is Christian doctrine, Christian sacraments, priestly\npowers, and all that constitutes the idea of a church. It is not that\nnew doctrines have been added to old doctrines; it is that old doctrines\nhave been excised. A perfectly brand-new theology has supplanted a\ndefunct system; and this not only once but fifty times. So that we have\nto deny most positively that there has been \u201cCatholic\u201d development in\nthat institution which Queen Elizabeth founded; and we have to affirm\nthat reaction and revolution have proved that institution to be human.\nIt has been argued\u2014and it is still argued in ritualistic organs\u2014that\nritualism must be a Catholic development; for its spirit is in the\ndirection of Catholic truth, and its labor is to restore Catholic\npractice. The answer is that such reaction is not Catholic; it is the\naspiration of heresy towards the church. We do not touch the delicate\nquestion\u2014which belongs rather to spiritual science\u2014the operation of\ndivine grace outside the church; this question does not enter into our\nargument; we are speaking only of the distinctions between the\ndevelopment of true theories, and reaction and revolution from false.\nDevelopment in the Catholic Church has meant expansion of empire, of\ninherent capacities of adaptation, of definition in proportion of need,\nand of anathema in proportion of desert; it has never meant the least\nchange of principle. Development in Anglicanism\u2014if we must still use the\nword\u2014has meant new religions shooting up out of old, with a chaos of old\nand new together, and with no means of arguing from precedent to\nsequence what Anglicanism may become this day twenty years. This is\ncertainly not Christian development. It may imply human energy, with\nrestlessness of will and a constant eagerness to keep moving for life\u2019s\nsake; but as to calling it supernatural development, the very suggestion\nappears profane. Those three thousand clergymen, with \u201cAnglicans not\nclassified,\u201d who have just petitioned their queen against confession,\nhave asserted three things, each of which is absolutely fatal to the\nassumption of Christian development. They have said that their sole head\nis the state; and this is pure paganism and impiety. They have said that\nthey abhor a divine sacrament; and this is anti-Catholic,\nanti-Christian. But they have said, too, that, in the Church of England,\nthere is to be both liberty of opinion and the forbidding of a Christian\npractice to the laity; and in saying this they have both cut short\ndevelopment and cut short its root and its principle. Development can\nonly mean one of two things: either the extension of the empire of one\nprinciple, or the extension of the rights of religious liberty. That it\ndoes not mean the first in the Church of England we think that we have\nsufficiently shown; and that it does not mean the second these\nmemorialists against liberty have taken their best pains to demonstrate.\nWhat development, then, is left to the Church of England? Obviously\nthere can be none, save the increase of wrangling and the natural effort\nto crush one another\u2019s liberty.\n\nYet there is one new development\u2014to use the word conventionally, and not\nin its scientific meaning\u2014which has proved perhaps more shocking and\nmore thoroughly unchristian than any which has ever gone before. That\ndevelopment is modern Broad-Churchism. It is distinct from its\nantecedent in the Georgian era, being necessitated by totally different\nissues. It is a compound of three things, all kindred in kind and all\nmutually assisting one another: repugnance to sacerdotal pretension;\nindifference about dogmatic truth; and a fondness for scientific\ninfidelity. This last is the worst of the three, but it is in most men\nthe parent of the other two. It is an element of Broad-Churchism which\nhad positively no existence until after the full development of\nTractarianism. Curiously enough, the return to the supernatural, and the\nrejection of whatever is not natural, have been almost twin movements in\nthe Church of England. Ritualism having failed to hold the intellects of\nshrewd men, there were only two courses left open: the one was to,\nlogically, become Catholics, the other to deny the supernatural. The\nbirth of a new school of so-called scientists, which school has sought\nto question revelation, took place at the very crisis when Anglicans\nwere hesitating whether they ought to become Catholics or not. It\nfurnished the exact pretext desired. If there was doubt about the\nevidence for revelation, it was useless to adopt all its consequences.\nYet it was felt that it would not do to throw overboard Christianity, as\nat least the most admirable of ethic systems; so the moral part of\nChristianity was retained, while the dogmatic part was put on one side.\nHence a Broad-Churchism which, while being really quite sceptical,\ncovered itself with the mantle of Christian morals. \u201cI deeply regret,\u201d\nsaid an ecclesiastic of this school, when he came to the last hours of\nhis life, \u201cthat I ever preached anything but morals.\u201d This was paganism,\nvirtuous paganism, but it passed current for respectable\nBroad-Churchism. What it meant, and what Broad-Churchism now means in\nalmost every one of its adherents, was scepticism in regard to the\nIncarnation, but a natural admiration for natural virtues. Dean Stanley\nis one of the doctors of this school, and preaches rationalism in\nWestminster Abbey. \u201cChristian rationalism\u201d is that last new abortion\nwhich has been born of the failure of previous systems. It had no\nexistence in England until twenty years ago; that is, it was not\nformulated into a system. In these days it is openly taught. In the\nmagazines there constantly appear brilliant articles which are directed\nagainst the Christian revelation, while yet advocating the beauty of\nChristian sentiments, of Christian ethics and philosophy. It is pure\nrationalism, under the cloak of respectability. \u201cWe would not shock your\npious prejudices,\u201d these novel theorists seem to say, \u201cby telling you\nthat Christianity is false; on the contrary, we believe that there was a\nChrist, but he was not the Son of God, he did not rise from the dead, he\nwas only a most admirable doctor. Therefore hold fast to his philosophy,\nwhich was amiable in the extreme, and exquisitely adapted to social\nwants; and, if you like, remain an Anglican or a Dissenter, or even\nplease your fancies with ritualism. You cannot do better than remain a\nChristian. The Christian system is full of beauty. It is not divine; it\nwas not revealed; it has not one shred of the supernatural; but so\nuseful a system has never before been developed; indeed, it includes the\nbest philosophies. Therefore we advise you to stick to your\nChristianity, as you would stick to your domestic canons of harmony.\u201d\nThis kind of counsel has been given in the _Fortnightly_ and in answer\nto recent Catholic publications. Its authors are obviously proud of\ntheir discovery. \u201cChristian rationalism\u201d will just suit a leisure age,\nwhich is too intellectual yet too indifferent to be Christian.\n\nA recent writer has called modern Broad-Churchism \u201ca fortuitous\nconcourse of indifferentisms.\u201d So it is in its acceptance by the\nmajority. But there is a very large section which goes far beyond\nindifference, and which aggressively attacks Christianity. Whately has\nthe credit of having started the principle that intellectual inquiry is\nabove faith. The first duty of man is to be intellectual; and he must\nnever stand still in his inquiries. When convinced that he has found out\nthe truth, he must proceed to inquire still more earnestly; always\ndespising the very issues of those inquiries which he places below\ninquiries themselves. Euclid, when it says Q. E. D., ought to have made\nQ. E. D. an hypothesis. Reasoning is not intended to conduct to truth,\nbut should be pursued as in itself the chief good. Argument is above\ndemonstration, and search is far superior to discovery. This is the\ntheory of many modernists. But it has only lately raised its votaries\ninto a school. Mr. Kingsley, when he said, \u201cI am nothing if not a\npriest,\u201d had no notion of eliminating Christianity. Even the Oxford\nessayists and reviewers shrank from this. Dr. Arnold, who wished to\nremove the Athanasian Creed, did not wish to remove Christianity. Bishop\nButler, whom some call the founder of Broad-Churchism, certainly never\ndreamed of rank scepticism. The theory of Frederic Dennison Maurice,\nthat revelation may be given differently to different centuries, did not\nexclude revelation. There was always, until quite lately, a clinging\nfast to the fond truth that Christianity was a divine dispensation. The\nlast generation were quite sure of this. But their grandchildren, if\nthey happen to live in England, may be brought up to adopt the new\nreligion. They may proclaim frankly that Christianity is a myth, or that\npagan virtue is the best Christianity. To such a depth has Anglican\n\u201cdevelopment\u201d now sunk. Fathers fear not to talk cold-blooded scepticism\nbefore their little ones gathered round their knees, and to poison their\nyoung natures with that most dreadful of inclinations\u2014the doubting the\npure instincts of their own souls. Sons of clergymen teach their sons\nthat Christianity may be true, just as a particular political theory may\nbe so; but that to ally Christian faith with the honor of God is a sign\nof feeble intellect or enthusiasm. Many thousands of English children,\nsons of educated \u201cAnglicans,\u201d now prattle their scepticism over their\ntoys.\n\nOne hideous consequence of this growth of English rationalism\u2014and\nBroad-Churchism is practically rationalism\u2014is that it has lowered the\nstandard of personal aspiration by removing the certainties of objects.\nProtestantism had much of the sentiment of Catholicity, though it had\nlittle of its dogma or discipline; but Broad-Churchism is absolutely\nwithout sentiment, save such as is common to pagans. What the children\nof Cicero may have been the children of Broad-Churchmen may be. The\ndivine instinct of faith is reasoned down. Indeed, Cicero or Terence,\nPlato or Sophocles, had a much higher object than the Broad-Churchman;\nfor they professed that to know would be the chief good, whereas\nBroad-Churchmen pronounce knowing the chief evil. It matters not by what\nname we call these men, whether free-thinkers, rationalists, sceptics,\ntheir aspiration is to be content with not knowing, instead of regarding\nknowing as the chief good. \u201cI think,\u201d said an English gentleman a few\nweeks ago, who had graduated at Oxford, and who has six children, and\nwhose father was a distinguished ecclesiastic, \u201cthat the best way is to\ntry to live honorably, and not occupy one\u2019s mind with inquiry.\u201d Thus he\nand his six children have gone back two thousand years in\nintellectual\u2014that is, eternal\u2014aspiration, _minus_ this advantage which\nthe ancients had over them: that the ancients wished to know what was\ntrue. Now, it is manifest that the death of aspiration is the death of\nthe finest qualities of the human mind; and this is specially seen in\nthe rising generation of English young men and young women. Where doubt\ntakes the place of conviction, and cold content of an animating faith;\nwhere natural longings are the sole governing principles, and all that\nis beyond the grave is dark cloud; where the illumination of the\nintellect by the full knowledge of God\u2014which is alone possible within\nthe Catholic Church\u2014is deferred to the petty quibblings of speculation,\nit must follow that a lower type of men and women must succeed to our\nprofound Catholic ancestors. There is no need to refer here to Christian\nmorals; they are the exercise of obedience to particular laws. Nor is\nthere any need to speak of mere worldliness, which is often incidental,\ncircumstantial. Nor, again, need we allude to the immense varieties of\nnatural temperament which bias people\u2019s lives, people\u2019s loves. Let all\nquestions of perfection or imperfection be set aside; they are not the\nimmediate points we are considering. Human nature is human nature in\nevery one, be he a Catholic or a free-thinker; and the extent to which\nhuman nature may be brought under control is a distinct question from\n\u201cAnglican development.\u201d The sole point which we are now arguing is the\nintellectual consequences of the theory and practice of pure\nAnglicanism, and the conclusion we arrive at is that, intellectually\nspeaking, Anglicanism degrades the human mind. The development of\nAnglicanism is deterioration. This is its intellectual development. But\nwhen we speak of the intellect we are not speaking of talent, of any\nnatural gift, or of industry. We are speaking of intellectual\naspiration; for the true dignity of intellect is its object. To separate\nthe intellect from its object, the dignity of the end from the means, is\nimpossible for any really earnest mind, as, indeed, it is rationally\nimpossible. If, then, the object of an intellect be to _not_ believe, to\neliminate the supernatural out of the world, or to narrow the compass of\naspirations, it follows that the greater is the ignorance, the greater\nis the dignity, of the human mind. This theory has been advocated by Mr.\nSpencer. \u201cOur highest wisdom and our highest duty,\u201d says this scientist,\n\u201cis to regard that through which all things exist as the unknowable.\u201d So\nthat not only to know nothing, but to wish to know nothing, of the will\nof our Creator in regard to us is the highest aspiration of the trained\nintellect, whether professedly Christian or pagan. Now, (popular)\nBroad-Churchism does not go so far as this, for it would not be\n\u201cChristian\u201d to do so. Broad-Churchism affects to be Christian, though it\nincludes within its pale many sceptics. Yet practically the assertion\nthat opposite truths are the same truths, or that no truth is a truth\nsave to its votary, is the assertion that there has not been a\nrevelation, or that if there has been it cannot be understood. Regard it\nas we will, there is no escaping from the conclusion that\nBroad-Churchism is inimical to Christianity. It is inimical to divine\nfaith, to divine love; to the interior exercise of Christian virtues; to\nthe perfecting those graces of character which are formed on the pattern\nof a divine Lord. In short, it is fatal to sanctity. Instability of\nChristian faith and stability of Christian life are mutually opposed to\none another. The Broad-Churchman may be an excellent man, but he cannot\nbe supernaturally a Christian. Christianity is the divine life of man,\nand it presupposes many postulates and axioms. And since divine faith in\nthe whole range of divine truth is the first requisite of the\nintellectual Christian, it follows that a Christian who is\nintellectually not Christian cannot spiritually advance to perfection.\nThus intellectually and spiritually the Broad-Churchman is at fault in\nregard to the Christian life. And this deterioration is the prevalent\n\u201cdevelopment\u201d of the later stages of Anglican change. Broad-Churchism is\nthe profession of most Anglicans. And in one degree or another it is the\nruin of aspiration, and therefore of the intellectual Anglican. But\nyoung people, whose intellects are undeveloped, are of necessity chiefly\nnourished by their affections; and unhappily the enfeebling of their\nfaith is the enfeebling the objects of those affections. Thus parents\nruin children by enfeebling the objects, and with them the affections\nwhich need objects. Intellectually and spiritually, sensitively and\ninstinctively, Broad-Churchism is the ruin of children. And that huge\nwaste of object, of affection, of sentiment, which the disease of\nBroad-Churchism necessitates, stints the growth, both religious and\nnatural, of the majority of the rising generation. This is the last\nAnglican development. And it threatens to breed a race of pagans. There\nis the profession, of course, of some sort of Christian life\u2014for\nethically every Englishman must be Christian\u2014but the Christianity is a\nnatural sentiment, it is not a supernatural life. And must we not call\nthis the intellectual degradation of the heirs of two thousand years of\ntruth? The spasmodic attempts of the Ritualist sect to revive certain\nfragments of Catholic truth, or the earnest aspirations of warm-hearted\npuritans to love all that they know how to believe, are both admirable\nefforts, though not true successes; and they are the efforts of a\ncomparatively small number. Nationally England is Broad-Church, and the\nmajority of Broad-Churchmen are sceptical. What stage of development can\ncome next? If in Westminster Abbey \u201cChristian rationalism\u201d is\ntriumphant, what will become triumphant in country parishes? And if the\nfeeble reasonings of Dean Stanley, his serene platitudes or pretty\nsentiments, are pabulum sufficient for the well educated, what descent\ninto weakness, into indifference or impiety, may we not look for among\nthe poorer classes? Scepticism among the poor means simple grossness,\nunrelieved by the scholarliness of the rich, and uncomforted by even the\nease of this life. Yet there is an immense spread of scepticism among\nthe poor. There is even blatant hostility to all religion.\nBroad-Churchism is the parent of this evil. The final harvest has not\nyet been reaped. Yet it seems certain that in the next quarter of a\ncentury we must either see the English multitude become Catholics, or we\nshall see them go down into a state of irreligion which will be simply\npaganism _minus_ its gods.\n\n\n\n\n SAINT FRANCIS OF ASSISI.\n A SKETCH FROM THE PARADISO OF DANTE.\n\n\n Between Tupino\u2019s wave and that which sends\n Its flood from blest Ubaldo\u2019s chosen seat,\n A fertile mount an airy coast extends,\n Wherefrom Perugia feels both cold and heat\n Through Porta Sole, and behind it weep\n Gualdo and N\u00f2cera their grievous yoke.\n There, on that side of it where most the steep\n In its declivity is sharply broke,\n Unto the world another Sun was born,\n Like this, our daily planet, whose glad face\n Beams forth from Ganges, bringing Europe\u2019s morn.\n Therefore let no man speaking of that place\n Asc\u00e8si say\u2014too briefly by that name\n Describing it; but let him say the East!\n If he would properly enforce its claim.[88]\n Not much his light had from its dawn increased,\n When he began throughout his land to inspire\n Some comfort from a purity so great;\n Since yet a youth he fought with his own sire\n For sake of her against whom Pleasure\u2019s gate\n Men bar, of _her_ face as of death afraid:\n And so before his Father, and the Court\n Spiritual, with her a marriage made,\n And grew in love the more they did consort.\n She, slighted widow! reft of her first spouse,\n More than eleven hundred years remained\n Despised, obscure\u2014no lover paid his vows\n To her till this one her affection gained;\n It naught availed (to move men in their choice)\n To read how C\u00e6sar found her undismayed\n With poor Amyclas, hearing his dread voice;\n Nor aught availed the courage she displayed,\n And the fierce constancy which so sufficed,\n That while below heart-broken Mary prayed\n Her lofty spirit climbed the cross with Christ.\n But, lest my sense I too obscurely screen,\n Take for these lovers of my large discourse\n Francis and Poverty, for them I mean.\n Their concord and glad looks, the gentle force\n Of love and wonder, their demeanor sweet,\n Were cause that holy thoughts did much increase;\n Bernard first bared his venerable feet\n To run behind him, after so great peace,\n And in his running felt himself too slow:\n O unknown riches! O thou good most true!\n After the spouse whose bride enchanteth so\n Egidius bares his feet, Silvester too.\n\nFootnote 88:\n\n Dante does not overestimate the importance of this little town of\n middle Italy to a religious mind. Every Christian must be piously\n impressed by the subjoined inscription over the gate of Assisi which\n greets a traveller coming from Rome.\n\n These words are believed to have been the dying benediction of St.\n Francis as he looked out from his pallet over the roofs of the\n mountain city which has become through him a place of pilgrimage:\n\n Benedicta tu civitas a Domino:\n Quia in te multi servi Altissimi habitabunt:\n Et a te multi animi salvabuntur:\n Et de te multi eligentur in regna \u00e6terna.\n\n Blessed be thou, O city! by the Lord!\n For in thee many servants there shall dwell\n Of the Most High; and many souls, restored\n Through thee to grace, shall be redeemed from hell;\n And many shall be called to their reward,\n In everlasting kingdoms, ... from a cell.\n\n\n\n\n THE SOCIALIST IDEA.[89]\n\n\nA moderate degree of attention bestowed on the signs of the times\napparent in society, and a consideration of the social convulsions which\namong ourselves seem only to end that they may begin again, will make it\nimpossible not to perceive, within the bosom of this society, some\npermanent, chronic evil, seated at its very core, and ready to bring to\nthe surface the seething elements from below by a series of eruptions\nrecurring at shorter and shorter intervals. This social evil, which for\nnearly a century has subjected us to periodical revolutions, as certain\ndiseases subject a patient to periodical fits or crises; this evil,\nwhose many roots reach back to causes more or less remote and more or\nless appreciable; this evil, which marches through the world of to-day\nlike the hurricane that sweeps over cities and plains, and which we see\nuprooting principles in its passage, corrupting morals, and undermining\nsociety\u2014for society is directly and particularly threatened by its\nstormy progress; this social evil\u2014I give it the name it gives itself\u2014is\nsocialism: socialism\u2014that is, a body of doctrines, passions, and plots\nthat attack and would fain uproot the actual social system, or, if you\nprefer this definition, armed, passionate, and doctrinal aggression\nagainst society; socialism, which forty years ago the mass of earnest\nthinkers scarcely thought it worth while to take into account, so hidden\nwas it then in the depths of mere theorizing, and so dimly perceived by\na few thoughtful men, who saw it half covered by the veil of utopianism;\nsocialism, which practical men of that time, in their Olympic repose,\ndeemed too self-condemned by its obvious extravagance to be capable of\ndoing harm; socialism, which even now still finds a few self-styled\nconservatives so blinded as to join hands and conspire politically with\nit for the furtherance of their own plans; socialism, which, emancipated\nfrom the region of dreams and speculations, and realized for a moment on\nthe burning stage of contemporary history, has shown us its hideous form\nby the light of incendiary fires, and still points out to us, by the\nlight of a threatening present, the possibility of a frightful future.\n\nLet us begin at the beginning, and ask ourselves the question, What is\nSocialism? I hasten, at the outset of a subject which touches on such\ndelicate ground, to state that I intend taking my stand above politics\nor party spirit. I fight only under two flags, that of society and that\nof Christianity. Even in the harshest strictures I may make I shall\nattack things, not men\u2014things which we are bound to oppose, not men,\nwhom we are bound to love.\n\nTo come to a full understanding of contemporary socialism it is\nnecessary to look at it under a triple aspect\u2014as an idea, as a passion,\nand as an action; as an idea which gains ground, a passion which kindles\nitself, an action which organizes itself more and more under our eyes;\nas an idea which gains ground by every channel controlled by the\ncontemporary press; as a passion which is enkindled by every phase of\ncontemporary realities; as an action which organizes itself and\nconspires by every lever known to contemporary revolutionism\u2014that is, in\nthree words, the socialist _idea_, the socialist _passion_, the\nsocialist _action_. It is these that we must fathom and examine, if we\nwould understand what socialism is and means. I shall be satisfied if I\nsucceed in developing this time what is socialism as an idea, and what\nis the scope of this idea; in what does the socialist idea consist, and\nwhat are its immediate consequences.\n\nIt is necessary to grasp the nature of the parent idea which nursed\nsocialism in its bosom, and has brought it forth as it appears to-day.\nSuch a movement in the world of reality would be inexplicable without a\ncorresponding, anterior movement in the world of thought. Ideas, in the\nsocial system, are as germs in the animal and vegetable systems, and\ngerms in a very practical sense, for they are the seed of things that\ncome to light later on, and grow according to the kind of soil and the\ndegree of heat with which they come in contact. Socialism, as a whole,\nthough intelligible as the result of causes not belonging to the world\nof ideas, is, however, the product of an idea which has grown and\nthriven long before it came to the surface. I do not mean by this the\nbody of ideas which has helped to create it, but its own parent idea,\nthat which, if I may say so, constitutes the socialist _credo_. It is\ntrue that, if we consider socialism in what appears its only living and\nreal aspect, we are brought face to face with something quite alien to\nthe world of ideas. What we see is not unlike a lion or a tiger obeying\nits instincts and roaring in the desert for its prey. We have no longer\nto face a doctrinal socialism with pretensions to a plausible theory,\nbut a brutal socialism claiming no right save that of might; not a\ndreamy socialism such as forty years ago still carried away generous\nenthusiasts, but an aggressive socialism hurrying by force to the\nfulfilment of its programme; not a contemplative socialism parading\nthrough the world of ideas a Platonic love for humankind, but a\ndestructive socialism eager to carry through the ruins of the world of\nrealities the bloody banner of its brotherhood. What we see before us\nmight be more fitly called the socialism of torch and dagger than the\nsocialism of ideas and doctrines.\n\nStill, it cannot be denied that socialism heralded itself above all as\nan idea which was to make the mightiest revolution in the midst of\nhumanity that the world had ever seen. What was this idea, and what, in\nthis era of social revolution, were its starting-point, its path, and\nits goal? I have long attentively followed the course of this new\nplanet, and marked in the changing sky of our social world its chief\nappearances. I saw it rise as in the dawn of a bright morning, then grow\namid the clouds of a thousand systems more or less important or obscure,\nthen at last reach its zenith, and throw over our modern society the\nbaneful light in which we see it arrayed at present.\n\nAt first the socialist idea gave itself out as the idea of social\n_reform_; later on in its progressive movement it became the idea of\nsocial _transformation_; and now that it has fully developed itself, it\nstands forth as the idea of social _destruction_. If we follow up the\nstream of theories which distinguished the beginning of this century and\nthe end of the last, we shall find that the parent idea of socialism\nfirst embodied the longing for _social reform_, and tended to restore\n_universal harmony_ to the new world. To listen to our pretended\nprophets and Messiahs, one would be led to believe that the great law of\nuniversal harmony in the social world had been lost amid conflicting\nhuman interests, and needed to be restored or re-enacted; while the\nsystems of philosophy of that period insisted that within the near\nfuture a regeneration of human nature and a social reform would take\nplace such as the world had never seen or history chronicled\u2014a greater\nreform, indeed, than that accomplished by the divine Reformer in behalf\nof poor humanity. These philosophical systems, full of a dreamy poetry,\nwere nothing but humanitarian idyls, delightful pastorals, pointing in\nthe future, through a tinted medium, to a rose-colored humanity smiling\nunder blue skies and an unclouded sun\u2014a humanity free from all the\ncontradictions and antagonisms of the past, and, like the planets, or\nbetter even than they, revolving round its centre in the undisturbed and\nbeatific equilibrium of _universal harmony_. Harmony was everywhere in\nthese fair dreams and easy utopias: there was the harmony of all minds\nin truth, the harmony of all hearts in love, the harmony of will in\nliberty, the harmony of passions in pleasure, the harmony of interests\nin community, the harmony of labor in organization, the harmony of men\nin brotherhood, the harmony of families in the state, and, finally, the\nharmony of all peoples and nations in the unity of a government that\nshould rule all alike. The _omniarch_, or universal monarch, of this\nuniversal society appeared in the distance, in the centre of the human\nworld, as the moderator and ruler of this gigantic harmony of brotherly\nnations. In a word, there was nothing but harmony, everywhere and in all\nthings, harmony easy and spontaneous, springing up from, and flourishing\nnaturally in, the regular play of all human forces, replaced as they\nwould be, so said this new language, in their normal motion around their\nharmonious centre. This alluring theory, sung by all the bards of the\nsocial philosophy, or rather poetry, of that time, marched triumphantly\nalong its flower-strewn path, escorted by all the errors and negations\nof which it was the result and the essence, and proclaiming to the\ngaping world: \u201cI am the revelation of the new world. I am Social\nReform.\u201d\n\nIt is worth noticing that while the working of so many unhealthy\ndoctrines gave birth, as to its natural product, to this growing\nsocialist idea, so the new world of men seemed to grow towards it by\nevery breath it emitted, to call for it and drink it in by the diseased\norgans of its own unhealthy body. The idea of reform is always and will\nalways be captivating to humanity, because there is in humanity always\nsomething to be reformed; but at that time the state of the popular\nmind, by enhancing its _prestige_, was preparing for this notion a\ngreater influence over the rising and future generations than it had\never won in foregoing ages.\n\nHumanity was then bleeding from the pitiless wounds made by the\ndoctrines of the eighteenth century. Men\u2019s souls, especially in the\nlower strata of society, cruelly felt the void created by the Voltairian\ncreed of individualism. These generations, cut adrift from Christianity,\nfelt themselves smothered by the monster of human selfishness. Humanity,\nliterally disinherited of the love of God, was dying of the selfishness\nof Voltaire. From the heart of this diseased society came a despairing\ncry for love, brotherhood, association. Then started up innovators on\nall sides to turn this great need of the human soul to their own\naccount. They proclaimed _universal association through universal love_;\nand as Newton had reconciled by the discovery of gravitation the forces\nof earth and air, so they pretended to build on the attraction of love a\npermanent harmony between human nature and society. Such was the first\nappearance on our stage of this comparatively new element,\nsocialism\u2014_i.e._, the general and yet undetermined formula of social\n_reform_. Its claims, thus put forward in public, with a popularity they\nhad never reached before, startled many men, even those thinkers who had\nscarcely suspected the existence of such ideas. It was, however, no new\nnotion, and had lain undeveloped in society certainly as far back as the\nbeginning of this century. It glimmered forth among the fogs of\nsocialist metaphysics wherein Fourier and Saint-Simon groped after their\nideal of universal reform; it grew under the pens of writers in reviews\nand newspapers celebrated in their day\u2014rash innovators who carelessly\nquestioned every basis of human society, and propounded theories whose\nfulfilment involved nothing less than a radical change of the organic\nconditions of society, in the magical name and under the shield of\nsocial reform.\n\nThe world of ideas had never witnessed such a confusion of mind, such an\nupsetting of fixed landmarks, such a perversion of language. An\nintellectual orgy gravely took its seat in the social world under the\nname and disguise of science; absurdities dubbed themselves\nphilosophies, folly called itself _reform_; indeed, the passage of these\neccentric theories and these grotesque utopias was one of the great\nsurprises that attended my curious and truth-seeking youth. They were a\nsource of pure stupefaction to me. The socialist idea hitherto had been\nalmost confined to the exclusive domain of philosophical abstractions\nand social ideology. After long wandering through the twilight of\nvarious conflicting systems, it emerged from these doubtful regions,\nwhere only a few innovators perceived its presence, and came down to the\nlevel of the people, stirred as the latter were by new aspirations and\nhopes. From henceforward the socialist idea, the idea of social\n_reform_, was not only a theory broached by philanthropists, discussed\nby scientists and philosophers, and taught by intellectual apostles from\ntribune and printing-office, but it became a living, acting reality, a\nwatchword of the laboring classes, a personal question among workmen.\nOnce there, ripening as ideas do quickly in the fervid soul of the\npeople, and pushing on towards its development, it strode forward apace,\nits evolution only waiting an opportunity to perfect itself abundantly.\nThe people, little used to the hair-splitting of socialist\nmetaphysicians, soon saw either that all this talk meant nothing or that\nit meant a fundamental transformation of actual social life, and\nconsequently the road to, or, as it was grandiloquently called, the new\nbirth of, a state of comfort and power hitherto unknown. Each one made\nthe dazzling formula, \u201cSociety must be reformed,\u201d cover his own special\ngrievances or aspirations, his pet theories, his individual hopes and\ndreams. It soon became patent to all that even the apostles of the new\nidea meant not only that the new world should be a _reformed_ one, in\nthe common acceptation of the word, but a radically reformed\u2014that is, a\n_transformed_\u2014world. The fathers of the socialist idea had already\nbecome aware that the present organization of society presented\ninsurmountable obstacles to the realization of their favorite law of\nharmony as applied to their theory of a future society; they felt that\nthe organic conditions of society as it is were invincibly opposed to\ntheir idea, which, in order to triumph in the end, must become not only\na _reform_, nay, not only a _transformation_, but such a transformation\nas should change from the very roots all existing vital conditions of\nsociety. To _reform_ was not enough; they determined to _transform_. One\nidea had thus quickly displaced or succeeded the other. Stripped of the\nwordy disguises in which it still affected to wrap itself, it was simply\na theoretical denial of society, such as society has been since men have\nlived together; a radical change of the social mechanism adopted in\nprinciple and in practice by all nations and acknowledged in all ages; a\ntriumphal progress of revolution\u2014indeed, social revolution itself.\n\nUp to that period men who worked on the passions of the masses to\ncompass their own ambitious ends had contented themselves with handling\npolitical problems, stirring up political revolutions. The game played\nby leaders of riots or leaders of parties consisted in changing a\nmonarchy for a republic, a republic for an empire, an empire for a\nmonarchy, and one species of monarchy for another; but this was child\u2019s\nplay to the growing power and genius of socialism. Social revolution, as\nset forth by the socialist idea, had far other ends in view; it did not\ncare to stir the surface only of things, but to undermine, or, as we say\nnow, _revolutionize_, their foundations. This is the difference between\nsocialism, or social revolution, and political revolutionism, properly\nso-called; the former seeks to disembowel society itself. Common\u2014that\nis, purely political\u2014revolutionism only affects the surface of society;\nit strides over the ruins of governments shattered by the popular arm;\nit overturns a throne, then another; drives out one dynasty, then a\nsecond; creates a republic, then another; improvises a constitution;\nplays, if I may use the expression, among the dust of institutions,\nwhether demolished thrones, torn constitutions, broken governments or\nlegislatures; it grows excited and drunk with enthusiasm and ambition in\nthe midst of these shifting scenes of the political world, on whose\nstage actors, now hissed, now applauded, by no rule but the arbitrary\npassion of the multitude, play ever-varying parts\u2014parts barren and\nephemeral, and the common result of which is to wear out those who play\nthem, to sicken them of men and things, to make them drop from the stage\nstripped of their _prestige_, and too often covered with popular\nderision, as despairing actors are wont to fly from the theatre where\nthey have hopelessly \u201cbroken down.\u201d It was thus that between the tides\nof opinion and action political revolution pursued its course, leaving\nruin and bloodshed in its track.\n\nBut after the flood of these monarchies and republics, these\nconstitutions and governments, these kings and emperors, these\npresidents and dictators, these ministers and lawgivers; after all these\nsledgehammer blows of force, these _coups d\u2019\u00e9tat_, or these sensational\nchanges on a stage where revolution had long since decreed that no\ngovernment, no constitution, no statesman should ever remain\npermanently; behind what we may call _the political phenomenon_, one\nthing remained firm\u2014namely, _society_. It was always fundamentally the\nsame, and stood on a substantial, unalterable basis, above which, but\nnot reaching it nor attempting to injure it, flowed the tide of\npolitical revolution; it had mechanisms more or less different in\nappearance in each century, but the same vital permanent conditions; it\nkept its necessary balance between authority and liberty, between\nprogress and stability; it guarded its three treasures, which to destroy\nis to kill society\u2014_i.e._, the family, religion, and property.\n\nThis is the secret that explains why, after so many ruins heaped up and\nso many battles won, the genius of revolution could not rest content. It\nsoon perceived that in spite of its gigantic efforts, and even after the\nimmensity of its triumphs, it had only achieved a surface work. Its\ndreams of governments more or less constitutional and representative,\nmore or less monarchical or republican, had collapsed with the ruins of\nthese governments, thrown down by its own hand; it felt the emptiness\nand disappointment of these political revolutions, whose commonest\nresult was an increase of wretchedness and a decrease of peace. Then it\nsaid to itself: I will go further; I will dig below the very foundations\nof this society, which I find everlastingly the same, with its old\nvices, its incurable abuses, and its obstinately recurring tyrannies. I\nwill reach its heart, the very source of its life, the very core of its\nbeing. There I shall discover the true vital principle of human society,\nand, whether it will or no, I will force it to take part in outer\nactions, and take its place among the realities of history. I will not\nonly _reform_ but _transform_ this rotten and disorganized society.\n\nThus the idea of transformation quickly superseded that of _reform_; but\neven a _transformation_ of the conditions of social life, in the\nordinary acceptation of the term, would not have contented the\nthoroughgoingness of the socialist idea. No doubt it was better than\nreform, for it was a fuller development of the socialist principle, but\nit did not constitute a perfect development, it was not the ultimatum of\nthe idea. Transformation was not enough in the eyes of radical\nsocialism, or, if you like the term better, socialist radicalism;\n_destruction_ was better, and, to speak plainly, its conception of the\nformer was equivalent to the latter. Socialism had dissected the body of\nsociety, examined and analyzed it in all directions, and then pronounced\nits verdict in these words, brimful of supreme contempt: \u201c_Rottenness_!\nLet the corpse perish, and the true social body, moulded by our hands,\nspring from its remains.\u201d Socialism had examined and probed the still\nstanding building of our past and present social polity, and had said:\n\u201cIt is evident to all that the building is bad; better rebuild it, from\ncellar to attic. The human abode is not stable; to buttress it is\nuseless; let us destroy it. This is no longer the time to reform, or\neven transform; nothing short of destruction is of any avail. Let the\nold social Babylon crumble and decay, and from her fruitful ruins, if\nneedful even watered with blood, let the new Jerusalem of society come\nforth. Social reform was the dream of our fathers; social transformation\nis but another dream, a generous fallacy, but still a fallacy,\nattempting impossibilities and ending in nothingness. A ruin cannot be\nreformed nor a crumbling shed transformed; we see only a building to\npull down and a building to put up. What I will do is this: I will use\nthe popular arm to _destroy_, and on the ruins of the past I will erect\nthe edifice of the future.\u201d\n\nThe socialist idea, in its logical march irresistible as fate, had\nreached its inevitable goal. It began by deciding to _reform_, then it\nsaid, \u201cI will _transform_,\u201d and finally it announced boldly, \u201cI will\ndestroy, shatter, and demolish.\u201d The beginning was reform with its\nalluring utopias of social unity and harmony; the middle stage was\n_transformation_, with specious promises of improvement and hopes of a\nrenewed social youth; the ending is destruction, with open threats of\nanarchy and social annihilation. It is impossible to cherish illusions\nany longer on this subject: the reformers glided into transformers and\nthe transformers coolly turned destroyers, not in haste and passion, but\nin cold blood, theoretically, we might almost say dogmatically; for\nradical destruction, or the uprooting of the existing social order, is\nthe foremost doctrine of the _syllabus_ of the socialist idea, which is\nitself the most perfect outcome of the revolutionary idea.\n\nLiving socialism\u2014that is, socialism personified in its real\nrepresentatives\u2014no longer makes any mystery as to this, and cannot\npretend to feel itself injured or calumniated if we reproduce and lay\nbare its own formulas. It is its own voice that cries aloud over the\nworld: \u201cSociety as it is must perish, and from its ruins a new social\nsystem shall and must spring forth.\u201d The first prophets and teachers of\nthe socialist idea had hoped that the idea in itself, and for its own\nsake, would be accepted at once, and that humanity would spontaneously\nopen its heart to it, as it does its eyes to the rays of the sun. The\ndisciples have far outrun the programme of their masters; they no longer\nmention the ideal revolution, and if the ideal alone, preached by word\nof mouth, should not be strong enough to fulfil the programme at any\ngiven time, they mean to back it with the strong hand, and force it by\nviolence to become a fact and hasten towards its definitive triumph.\nSocial destruction is at present the latest phase of the socialist idea,\nwhich boldly comes forward, programme in hand, and bids us accept it and\nhelp to build up its rule as an inevitable necessity. It summons living\nsociety publicly and contemptuously to its bar, and bids it be ready to\nbe demolished and afterwards re-established according to the fancy of\nthis evil spirit, powerful indeed to destroy, but helpless to create.\n\nThus it is that this doctrine\u2014if it can be called a doctrine\u2014so\nphilanthropic at the outset, so peaceful, so brotherly; this doctrine,\nwhich announced itself as a new gospel of peace, freedom, and\nbrotherhood, has come to speak sternly of war, of massacre, of\ndestruction; has sworn that no matter what opposition it raises and what\nblood it costs, the socialist idea _shall_ triumph, and has decided that\nif it be necessary to reach the throne at which it aims over ruins and\nover corpses, it will stride over ruins and over corpses! Let the human\nsacrifices seal, if need be, the bloody covenant of the new social\norder.\n\nIt will scarcely be believed that this work of social destruction has\nbeen compared to the work of Christ, the reformer and transformer of\nsociety. It is so, however; and this new era which is before us has\nactually been likened to the social transformation, or rather\nrestoration, achieved by Christianity\u2014as if anything could be more\nflagrantly antagonistic to the great transformation worked by the\nChristian idea than this pretended transformation dreamed of and sung by\nthe prophets of the socialist idea; as if a revolution brought about by\nforce and violence could ever be compared to a restoration accomplished\nthrough love and self-sacrifice!\n\nYou reformers and innovators, do you forget that Jesus Christ attacked\nnothing by force and destroyed nothing by violence; that in his divine\nwisdom he was content to sow truth in men\u2019s souls and love in their\nhearts as the husbandman casts seed into the furrow; and that truth and\nlove have done their work among humankind as germs in the earth, as the\nblood in our veins, as electricity throughout nature\u2014that is, in\nmysterious silence, with a strength full of gentleness and patience, yet\nwith unerring certainty? You forget that if Christ cursed the unjust\nrich man\u2014that is, wealth abusing its privileges, wealth without love,\ncompassion, or sympathy for others\u2014yet he never dreamt of leading the\npoor against the rich, but simply placed between the two the powerful\nbut sweet link of charity. You forget that if he delivered captives from\ntheir bonds and slaves from their chains, he never incited master or\nslave to wage fratricidal war on each other, and that it was only as his\nteaching sank into the heart of the master that the fetters of the slave\nset free through love dropped of themselves, as ripe fruit drops from\nthe tree in its good time and season. You forget that if the divine\nReformer came to found a new society, it was by a new creation, and not\nthrough destruction; that he came to rehabilitate even bodily society\nwhile he created the true kingdom of souls; and that, far from breathing\ninto it the spirit of social hatred and jealousy, he came to restore, or\nrather found within it, the rule of love and social self-denial. The\nvery goal which the socialist idea has reached by identifying itself\nwith the idea of social destruction is itself the best proof of the\nirreconcilable antagonism between socialism and Christianity.\n\nI do not say that each individual in the ranks of contemporary socialism\ndefines and adopts this programme of destruction so clearly and so\nresolutely as I have stated. Under all standards there are many men who\nneither see nor understand where the chiefs whose orders they obey are\nleading them\u2014honest, upright men, duped by villains; passionate lovers\nof good, while strayed and lost in the great army of evil. I fully admit\nthese exceptions, possible, nay, probable, everywhere; and, indeed, why\ndeny their existence? Nevertheless, the mainspring of socialist action\nin our day lies in the idea of destruction, and the problem which\ncontemporary socialism no longer seeks to veil is simply this: \u201c_What\nare the speediest means for completely demolishing the old structure of\nsociety, which is already bursting asunder in all its parts; and when\ndown, what is to be done to rebuild from its ruins the edifice of the\nnew social order?_\u201d Yes, such is the problem whose solution socialism\nboasts of finding, even though it be through rivers of blood and\nmountains of corpses; and yet this social body, rotten as it is said to\nbe, still rests on strong foundations as old as humanity itself.\n\nProperty is its material foundation, the family its human foundation,\nand religion its divine foundation; and therefore the logical march of\nthe socialist idea drives it, like fate, to clamor not only for the\nreform and transformation but for the ruin and destruction of these\nthree things on which rests the whole of society, religion, family, and\nproperty. I do not hesitate to declare it, in spite of the vehement\ndenials of men still unaccountably blinded to facts: the real scope of\nthe socialist idea when pursued to its logical conclusion is the radical\ntransformation or the utter uprooting of these stable and ancient\ninstitutions, as old as human society itself\u2014_property_, _family_, and\n_religion_\u2014and thereby the fall of our whole social system, as of a\nbuilding on its shattered foundations and its broken supports. There are\nmany theoretical socialists who do not dare to exhibit their theory in\nterms whose brutality seems to exceed even the grotesqueness of the idea\nthey embody, and many who still cling to a few illusions and have a\nregard for decency. Such as these protest against what they call our\ncalumnies and exaggerations. Destroy? they exclaim; we do not wish to\ndestroy, we only long to transform. There was a time when, with mistaken\nfaith in the honesty of purpose I loved to find or imagine everywhere,\nI, and you perchance, were deceived by this specious excuse, these\nalluring formulas; but to-day it is impossible to mistake the sense of\nthis former mystery; it has too disastrously been revealed to us.\n\nThe socialist idea directly attacks the principle of _property_\u2014that is,\nindividual possession of one\u2019s fields, house, capital, or patrimony, so\nhappily called the _domain_; property\u2014that is, in the common order of\nthings, the fruit of individual labor or of the labor and self-denial of\none\u2019s forefathers; property\u2014that is, the pledge of man\u2019s independence,\nand the sign of his kingship in his own home, small as it may be;\nproperty, which in all nations and ages has been sheltered under the\ntriple shield of nature, justice, and religion; property, the material\nbasis of society\u2014indeed, its necessary condition and the link by which\nthe family is bound to its native soil as the tree by its roots;\nproperty, always and everywhere looked upon as sacred and inviolable\namong nations who have claimed the honors of civilization; property,\nwhich all societies have acknowledged even while appearing to deny its\nrights, violating them by force; property, in a word, which is a thing\nso familiar to us that the least infraction of its laws would cause us a\nremorse only to be allayed by reparation. Such is the nature of\nproperty; and shall we believe the teaching of this new jurisprudence,\nthe propagators of these new laws, who maintain that there is no\nquestion of destroying but only of reforming, or at most transforming,\nthe nature of property?\n\nIn what does this miraculous, proposed transformation consist? The\nexpedient is very simple\u2014namely, to strip the mass of owners in order to\nconstitute one sole and supreme owner; for it is obvious, after all,\nthat some one must still possess the earth. This legal spoliation, no\ndoubt, will be a work of time, but it will be sure. And who is the new\nowner to be, in whom the right of universal property shall be vested,\nand on whose shoulders will be flung the burden of universal wealth? The\nstate, forsooth; the god-state, the \u201cstate\u201d which may be an honest man\nto-day, but to-morrow may be a rogue; the god-state, whom infatuated\nphilosophers are constantly working to aggrandize, to make all-powerful,\nand for which they strive night and day to win more worshippers. This is\nto be the one owner and possessor of all; the state shall have all,\norganize and work all, distribute and apportion all, be the centre, the\nfountain head, and the goal of all; while in this universal domain where\nthe state controls all, this huge arsenal where the state produces,\nexecutes, or orders all, society shall become a human hive, vast as the\nearth itself, but in which every individual shall be reduced, as a terse\nwriter has put it, to the size and functions of a bee. This is the\nmasterpiece elaborated by the socialist idea\u2014the dream of universal\nproperty, which is likewise a dream of universal levelling, universal\nstuntedness. Individual responsibility or initiative is swept away;\nhuman kingship and free-will disappear; domestic society is left without\na material basis, and even public society without a foundation; the\nright of all is practically the right of none, and the result is\nuniversal slavery to universal despotism. Such is the miracle of this\ntransformation of property, so glibly promised by the socialist theory\nto future generations; and though all who fight under the banner of\nlegal spoliation do not carry thus far their social ideal, and do not\nlook forward to such absolute communism, all are on the road to it by\nthe very fact of vesting in their god-state the right of increasing and\ndecreasing, making or unmaking, individual property under the name of\ntaxes on the rich and rates for the poor. What astonishes me above all\nin this respect is to see in certain men, the most interested personally\nin the upholding of the conservative principle of property, a certain\npandering to, or half-support of, this eminently anti-social idea.\n\nThe same socialism which attacks the immemorial constitution of property\nattacks likewise the immemorial constitution of the family. The\nsocialist idea attacks specially in the family, together with the\nprinciple of property, the three things which are its pride, its\nstrength, and its stability\u2014namely, _unity_, _indissolubility_, and\n_inheritance_, which, it is needless to say, uphold its permanence and\nperpetuity. First of all, it attacks unity, and unity in trinity: one\nman, one woman, and one whole family springing from both; one life\nproduced by two sources fused into one\u2014a unity which, in the family as\neverywhere else, is the essential condition of harmony, order, beauty,\nand happiness. This unity does not please the socialist. An advocate of\nfree morals and free love, he prefers polygamy, as allowed by the Koran\nand practised by Moslems, to the conjugal unity enjoined by the Gospel\nand sanctioned by the teaching and practice of Christendom. Socialism\nattacks the indissolubility\u2014that is, the permanence\u2014of the marriage tie.\nSuch an indissolubility before God and before the state is in its eyes\nonly the civil and religious endorsement of slavery, the legal and\ntheological confiscation of liberty. The apostles of free love are\nunable to understand the principle which binds two human beings to each\nother for ever and under no matter what circumstances. What revolution\nallows to society socialism would fain make accessible to the\nfamily\u2014that is, perpetual change and unlimited option concerning divorce\nand separation. Socialism claims unblushingly, in the name of nature and\nprogress, the revolutionary right of a husband to send away his wife,\nand a wife to leave her husband, as easily as a nation disposes of its\nsovereigns and its governments\u2014a right equivalent to a permanent\nrevolution in the family and the state, and bearing as its fruit the\nabolition of inheritance. Inheritance means the tradition of a\n_patrimony_; it is the pledge of the stability and perpetuity of\ndomestic or home society; bereft of it, the family, without moorings in\nthe past or hopes in the future, becomes, like the individual, an\nephemeral phenomenon, gone in a breath and holding to nothing but the\npresent hour. This right of inheritance has its place in God\u2019s plan and\nman\u2019s laws; it represents to coming generations the labors, the\nbenefits, the sacrifices of their forefathers; it extends the influence\nof the latter over their descendants. But socialism does not shrink from\nquestioning it in theory and attacking it in practice. How, it asks,\nshould the will of a dying man be able to transmit beyond his grave a\ndomain to his posterity? Down with a privilege which gives man, when he\nis a corpse, a posthumous omnipotence in contradiction with the very\ncondition of the dead, and injurious to the freedom of action of the\nliving! Socialism thus saps every conservative family principle, and the\nspirit it instils into the human mind is destructive to the foundations\nof home society, in order that it may prepare a clearer path to the\neventual destruction of public society.\n\nIt is scarcely necessary to follow the socialist idea throughout its\ndestructive march in order to realize the havoc it makes of domestic\nsociety; a glance at its practice is enough. Look at the homes and\nhearths where this idea has seated itself and taken practical\npossession. What homes, great God! and what morals; they might astonish\neven a heathen. The acknowledged reign of license and disorder,\nsanctioned by a so-called doctrine, and careless of any outward badge of\nrespectability, whether civil or religious; a boasting display of a\nfoulness for which the very faculty of blushing is lost, for the\nsocialist idea, breathing its poison over these hearths, has\nextinguished the lamp of domestic virtue, and tossed into the mire not\nonly the ideal of Christian perfection but that of moral blamelessness.\nNo wonder that men preaching such doctrine and practising such morals\nshould be eager to transform the family; they do it, indeed, in a\nstrange and appalling manner by turning the sanctuary of honor and\nvirtue into a sink of corruption and vice.\n\nFurthermore, I maintain that they would turn the home, the school of\nfaith and religion, into a school of unbelief and impiety; for\nsocialism, which detests the family and property, hates religion still\nworse, because it is the chief bulwark of property and the family. It\nhates religion as such\u2014not only this or that religion, but the very\nprinciple of communication between God and man, and the main object of\nthe socialist idea is to transform\u2014that is, _destroy_\u2014this element in\nmankind. The _fiat_ has gone forth, the watchword is given, \u201cNo more\nreligion in humanity\u201d; and the ideal of progress, as pointed out to the\nworld by the socialist, is simply the suppression of all religion, which\nhe dubs with the unpopular names of fanaticism, superstition,\nclericalism. The cry is not only no more property, no more family, no\nmore homestead, no more hearth; but the frantic cry takes up other\nmatters and echoes to the ends of the world a more sweeping\ndenunciation: No more religion, no more altars, no more priests, no more\nchurches, no more ritual, no more oblation, no more ceremonies, no more\nreligious festivals. The like has never before been seen in history; it\ncould not have been even conceived. This public attempt to drive out all\nreligion from humanity in the name of progress is an absolutely\nunparalleled phenomenon, not only within but beyond Christianity. It is\na monster in human history, the deformity of the nineteenth century. Our\nage will appear before history with this shameful inscription on its\nforehead, which will sufficiently brand it in the opinion of after ages:\n\u201cI, the nineteenth century, have proclaimed by the voice of a million of\natheists, as the law and condition of all progress, the abolition of all\nreligion.\u201d\n\nAnd yet you will find religion attending the birth of every new society;\nyou will meet it at the source of every growing society, and will\nperceive it shining and triumphing when that society has reached its\nutmost greatness and perfection, for a great heathen writer has truly\ncalled it the motive force of all things: _Omnia religione moventur_.\nReligion is to the world of men what sap is to the plant, blood to the\nanimal, electricity to the system of nature\u2014an indispensable condition\nof life, of motion, of fruitfulness. Who would dare undertake to drive\nfrom the earth and uproot from the soul of man this divine link between\nGod and human nature, this boundary of human life, this vivifying force\nwhich permeates all, fertilizes all, directs and controls all?\n\nWhy, I ask these frantic demolishers, why not pluck electricity from\nnature, sap from the plant, and blood from our veins? For it is true\nthat it were easier for the tree to live without sap, the plant without\nroot, the body without blood, than it is for the human soul to exist\nwithout religion\u2014religion, that need of something divine, that longing\nafter something durable, that step towards the infinite; religion, that\nnatural breath of the soul, as the air is of the body, that attraction\nheavenwards which corresponds to the physical attraction earthwards of\nour body! A mysterious but very sensible force draws us towards our\nphysical centre of gravity, but a force still more mysterious, more\nsensible, and, above all, more powerful draws us towards our heavenly,\nour spiritual centre; and while we are physically bound by a chain as\nstrong as life to the stage of our earthly existence, yet spiritually we\nsoar by as irresistible an impulse towards the place of spirits, the\neternal and the infinite.\n\nThe flagrant antagonism between the socialist idea and the religious\nidea is easily explained. Socialism knows by instinct that in religion,\nand especially in Christianity, _the_ religion above all others, exists\nthe divine foundation of the world; that as long as this foundation is\nnot shaken the social polity can never be thoroughly destroyed; that\nreligion, even stripped of direct and, as it were, official influence in\nthe political and social order, is still the last bulwark that\ninterposes between socialism and its avowed object; in a word, that\n_there_ rests the supreme force, the insurmountable obstacle to the new\nideas, there the truth that repudiates the new errors, there the\nholiness that repudiates the new corruption, there the authority that\nrepudiates the new anarchy, there the divine Might which says to the\nidea of devastation what God the Creator says to the ocean: \u201cSo far\nshalt thou go, and no further\u201d\u2014\u201c_huc usque venies_.\u201d\n\nTo sum up, there is a disastrous idea prowling through the modern\nworld\u2014the _socialist idea_. This idea, which at first was only that of\nsocial _reform_, and later became that of social _transformation_, has\ndeveloped at present into that of social destruction.\n\nAnd whereas every social structure rests on three foundations, property,\nthe family, and religion, so the socialist idea more or less directly\nattacks these three foundations. The socialist idea, or socialism looked\nupon as a theory, pushes its anti-social aggression up to this climax;\nit stands there in radical and fearful opposition, threatening all that\nis most vital and most fundamental in society.\n\nTherefore we are bound to resist it face to face, everywhere and always,\nand do battle against the socialist idea\u2014that is, the idea of\ndestruction, disaster, and ruin. I impress upon you the necessity of,\nand claim your help in, a doctrinal resistance to this idea, a defence\nof all it attacks, an assertion of all it denies; a sturdy repetition of\nthe _credo_ of universal affirmation, and not only a repetition, but a\npublication, a triumphant challenge, to the socialist idea which\nembodies in itself a universal negation.\n\nFootnote 89:\n\n From the French of P\u00e8re F\u00e9lix, published as an article in the _Revue\n Catholique des Institutions et du Droit_ (April number, 1878). The\n article is a reproduction of one lecture out of a series, on the\n subject of socialism, given at Grenoble, and shortly to be published\n entire by Jouby-Roger, Rue des Grands Augustins, Paris.\n\n\n\n\n A ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.\n\n\n A fairer light than ever since has shone\n Fell on that garden where Queen Eve\u2019s sweet bower\n Was hid in roses and the jasmine flower,\n Curtained with eglantine, and overrun\n With morning-glories glowing in the sun\n Late into noon, unheeding of the hour\n When now they close: these were our mother\u2019s dower;\n She lived and loved amid all flowers, save one.\n There was no red rose in the garden wide\n Of all her world, until its mistress went\n From out its gates with roses in her hand,\n Spoil of past joys; then, like a new-made bride,\n She blushed in shame, and that first blush has lent\n The rose its color over all our land.\n\n\n\n\n HELEN LEE.\n A ROMANCE OF OLD MARYLAND.\n\n\n\u201cI maintain it is a glory for the Catholics of Maryland that, in this\nage of religious strife, our colony has been made a home for the\npersecuted, and that we are the first to proclaim the equal rights of\nall who profess to be Christians.\u201d\n\nThese words were spoken by a young man named William Berkeley, who\nformed one of a group of five persons seated under the shade of an\noak-tree one summer afternoon in the year 1636. His companions were Sir\nCharles Evelyn, who was of about his own age; an old gentleman, Sir\nHenry Lee; his daughter, a maiden of three-and-twenty; and, lastly, a\nway-worn traveller, whose sad, wan face and unkempt locks told that he\nhad suffered much and been long in reaching a place of safety and\nrepose.\n\n\u201cYea, Mr. Berkeley, this colony hath set a glorious example,\u201d answered\nthe last-mentioned individual. \u201cAnd I wish my worthy friend Roger\nWilliams had accompanied me hither, instead of halting where he did on\nNarraganset Bay; for he hath a rigorous climate to contend with. Oh! how\ncold it was last winter, how bitter cold, as we journeyed through the\nwilderness. And, moreover, the Puritans of Massachusetts, not content\nwith having exiled him once for his religious opinions, may claim\njurisdiction over the haven where he is now resting, and drive him still\nfurther away.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, ours is indeed a charming country,\u201d spoke Helen Lee. \u201cIt is now\ntwo years since we landed from the _Ark_ and the _Dove_, and we have all\nenjoyed uninterrupted good health, while our numbers, which at first\nwere only two hundred, are now much increased. Oh! St. Mary\u2019s is a\nblessed spot.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd we shall very soon have our church finished,\u201d observed the young\nbaronet, who sat between Helen and her father. \u201cThe big wigwam which the\nIndians kindly gave us wherein to celebrate holy Mass is become a great\ndeal too small and many are obliged to kneel outside.\u201d\n\nAfter a little further conversation, and after again praising the\nclimate and people of Maryland, Roger Williams\u2019 friend arose; then,\nhaving thanked Sir Henry for his hospitality\u2014the latter had entertained\nhim at dinner\u2014he silently waved his hand to the others and bent his\nsteps towards the town.\n\n\u201cI am glad that stranger has found his way here,\u201d said Berkeley almost\nas soon as his back was turned; \u201cand to-morrow I will try to get him\nemployment.\u201d\n\n\u201cI entertained the fellow at my table; I could not have done less,\u201d\ngrowled Sir Henry, knitting his brow. \u201cBut I hope I have seen the last\nof him.\u201d\n\nAt this remark Helen turned towards Berkeley, making him a sign with her\nfinger, which unfortunately he did not perceive. She knew her parent\u2019s\nhasty temper, his bitter feelings against Dissenters, and feared lest\nthey might engage in a dispute over the question of religious\ntoleration.\n\n\u201cThe true glory of our charter,\u201d went on Berkeley, \u201cconsists in\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis precisely its weak point,\u201d interrupted Sir Henry, who knew well\nwhat he was about to say. \u201cAy, this religious freedom which you so much\nadmire will one day prove our ruin. Only let enough Puritans and fellows\nlike him who has just quitted us settle here, and then you and I and\nLord Baltimore, in fact every Catholic and Anglican, will be hurried out\nof the colony.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not believe it,\u201d said Berkeley.\n\n\u201cBut I do; and it shows what little sense you have,\u201d continued Sir\nHenry, now quite red in the face.\n\nWe need not give the rest of the discussion between them, which waxed\nlouder and hotter, until finally, at something the old gentleman said,\nBerkeley got up, made a silent bow to Helen, and walked away. In a\nmoment Evelyn followed him.\n\n\u201cWhat! go back and make peace with Sir Henry?\u201d exclaimed Berkeley, as\nthe other took his arm\u2014\u201cafter calling me low-born, and saying that was\nthe reason I sympathized with common folk and Puritans? No, no, I\ncannot.\u201d\n\nTo any one of a less generous nature than Evelyn this might have been a\nwelcome announcement, for both he and Berkeley were suitors for Helen\u2019s\nhand. But Evelyn did not let this fact for a moment lessen his desire to\nrestore harmony between his rival and Helen\u2019s father. \u201cLook,\u201d he said,\n\u201chow pained his daughter is! She is weeping. Do return and be friends\nfor her sake.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are a noble fellow to speak thus,\u201d answered Berkeley. \u201cBut I\ncannot; for, besides calling me what he did, he bade me henceforth hold\naloof from him, and I will obey. As for Helen, she is too good, too\nmeek, too patient; she is a martyr.\u201d\n\nAfter they had walked together a short distance, Evelyn, finding that\nhis efforts to persuade Berkeley to retrace his steps were vain, let him\ngo his way, and during the rest of the afternoon he had Helen all to\nhimself.\n\nThese two had been friends from childhood, and their natures were much\nalike. Both were dreamers. Well-nigh as far back as their memories went\nthey had built castles in the air; and after they had been strolling\nhand-in-hand, as they oftentimes used to do, amid the pleasant groves of\nEvelinton Park, Yorkshire, the boy would always bid his gentle comrade\ngood-by with a kiss; then little Helen would betake herself to her\nfather\u2019s mansion, which was next to that of Sir Charles Evelyn\u2019s, and\npass the time until she was put to bed thinking about the pretty boy,\nwho had made so many vows to be with her all through her life; and she\nclosed her eyes with his words ringing in her ears: \u201cIf a giant comes to\nattack you, Helen, or a dragon, I will defend you; I will kill the\nhorrid beast or wicked man.\u201d And often in sleep she witnessed a\ndesperate fight, wherein her knight, after many wounds received in her\ndefence, always came off victorious.\n\nHappy indeed were those days of childhood. And when in the course of\ntime Helen grew to be a woman and Charles a man, it was wonderful how\nlittle they had changed, how like children still they were. Indeed, the\nonly new thing which Helen observed in him was that he did not kiss her\nany more as he used; while the youth occasionally saw a flush steal over\nher cheek as she listened to some innocent speech of his\u2014innocent yet\nfull of rapture\u2014wherein he said there might be maidens in heaven who\nwere like herself, but only in heaven. And so they continued to be much\nin each other\u2019s company; and when at length Helen\u2019s father fell into\ndebt\u2014for old blood is spendthrift blood\u2014and determined to cross the sea\nwith the hope of retrieving his credit and decayed fortune in the New\nWorld, Evelyn would not stay behind.\n\nSir Henry Lee, let us here remark, was a cavalier of the truest stamp;\nchivalrous, devoted heart and soul to his king, utterly careless of\nmoney. \u201cAnd never was there a queen like Queen Henrietta Maria,\u201d[90] he\nwould say. Her being a Catholic mattered not a jot; for, although he\nhimself belonged to the Church of England, he had married a Catholic\nwife and allowed his daughter to be brought up a Catholic. The only\npeople he hated were Presbyterians, and his beau ideal of the devil was\nJohn Knox.\n\nAs soon as Sir Henry had resolved to join the company of Lord Baltimore\nhe sent for a surveyor to make a map of his encumbered estate, which he\ncould no longer afford to hold; and the surveyor\u2019s name was William\nBerkeley. While the latter was engaged on this work Lady Lee would often\ngo and talk with him; and among the last words which this excellent\nwoman spoke to her daughter before she died were these: \u201cHelen, you are\nnow of an age to marry. Yonder is a man who would be of great help in\nmending our shattered fortune. William Berkeley is a Catholic, and he\ntells me that he too intends to go with Lord Baltimore. As for his\nhaving no title, think none the less of him for that; he hath a\npedigree\u2014\u2019tis even said he comes down from Robin Hood. Child, you might\ndo worse than wed that honest, able yeoman.\u201d And the girl treasured up\nthese words; and now this summer evening, while Evelyn is alone with her\nin Sir Henry Lee\u2019s new home in Maryland, trying to console her for the\nharsh language which the old gentleman had used towards Berkeley, her\nmother\u2019s advice came back upon Helen\u2019s memory with very great force, and\nshe asked herself: \u201cWhat should we do if Mr. Berkeley were henceforth to\nhold aloof from us?\u201d For he was a worker, not a dreamer. He gave Sir\nHenry good counsel which might in time be listened to; and if a day of\nurgent need ever came, he would be a useful friend. Whereas since they\nhad been at St. Mary\u2019s what had the gentle Evelyn done to better his\ncondition? And his father, like her own, was overwhelmed with debt: old\nblood is spendthrift blood. True, his morals were correct; he was the\nvery soul of honor, well educated, and of distinguished mien and\nmanners. But as time wore on Helen felt more and more convinced that\nthere was something wanting in Evelyn\u2019s character, and, were she to give\nhim her hand, was it not only too probable that they would grow poorer\nand poorer? \u201cFor, alas!\u201d she would sigh, \u201cI am too much of a dreamer\nmyself, and we cannot live on dreams.\u201d\n\nMoreover, Helen believed that Evelyn\u2019s love for her partook too much of\na religious devotion; what he had told her years before he kept telling\nher still\u2014she was his angel; and Helen shrank from taking a step which\nmight undeceive him: \u201cFor I fear if I became his wife I should cease to\nbe his angel.\u201d\n\nThe room, where they now sat conversing together was the one known as\nthe queen\u2019s room; for, besides the portraits of the family, it contained\na picture of Queen Henrietta Maria by Van Dyck. Nothing in the world did\nSir Henry treasure more than this work of art by the great master,\nunless, perhaps, his own daughter. Yet even this priceless gem he might\nere long be obliged to part with, as he had already parted with his old\nwine, in order to pay off fresh debts.\n\n\u201cIn a day or two,\u201d spoke Evelyn, \u201cI will make another effort to\nreconcile your father to Berkeley. I do hope I shall succeed.\u201d\n\n\u201cI pray that you may,\u201d answered Helen.\n\nThen, as he toyed with one of her rich chestnut curls, \u201cHelen,\u201d he\nadded, \u201cI am going to paint a grand picture\u2014St. George delivering St.\nMargaret from the Dragon\u2014and I want you to sit for my model of St.\nMargaret. Will you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI fear I am not worthy of such an honor,\u201d replied Helen. \u201cPoor me! What\nam I?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are the inspiration of my life,\u201d pursued Evelyn. \u201cYes, the little I\nhave accomplished is all owing to you. But for you I should never have\ntouched a brush.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, well, I\u2019ll be St. Margaret; but who is to be St. George?\u201d\n\n\u201cMyself. And now, when may I begin?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-morrow, if you like.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-morrow? Good!\u201d\n\nWith this Evelyn withdrew, leaving Helen meditating on his words: \u201cYou\nare the inspiration of my life\u201d; and she said to herself: \u201cAlas! would\nthat I had known how to inspire you better, good, kind Evelyn, my\nearliest friend. But all I have taught you to do is to play artist; and\nyou would starve on the proceeds of your brush.\u201d\n\nThen presently her thoughts turned to her other lover, the strong,\nactive, practical Berkeley, who never fell into rhapsodies over her\neyes\u2014her eyes, deep as the sea, blue as the sky, bright as the stars\u2014as\nEvelyn did, nor said that his prayers were little worth unless she were\nkneeling near him.\n\nBerkeley showed his feelings in a plain, healthy way by a hearty squeeze\nof the hand, and by now and again begging her to mend his buckskin\ngloves. \u201cBecause no girl in St. Mary\u2019s can sew like you, Helen.\u201d And, as\nmight be expected, the young surveyor was bettering his condition every\nyear, and had always something to give away to those who were not so\nwell off as himself. Helen knew, too, how he had bestirred himself to\nfind a purchaser for her father\u2019s wine, and it was through him she had\ndisposed of several jewels\u2014precious heirlooms from her mother. In fact,\nBerkeley seemed able to do everything; and few people in St. Mary\u2019s\nbegan anything important without first consulting him. Then Helen\nrecalled one of the old fairy tales which Evelyn had told her when they\nwere children, and wished that she were a fairy. \u201cFor then,\u201d she said,\n\u201cI would quickly wave my magic wand over Evelyn\u2019s head and change him\ninto Berkeley, and so make everything smooth, and my poor heart would be\nat peace.\u201d\n\nShe was beginning, moreover, to agree with Berkeley that it was not wise\nto undertake to build a castle; a simple log-house would be much better.\nAlready her father was involved in fresh trouble on account of this\nfolly. Yet, even after selling his wine, and she her jewels, there was\nstill money owing; and only one tower was finished.\n\nEvelyn, on the contrary, had praised the undertaking, and told Sir Henry\nthat as soon as the edifice was completed he would make a fine painting\nof it. Thus from musing over days gone by\u2014the happy days in England,\nwhen her dear, prudent mother was living, who always had urged\neconomy\u2014and the sad present, tears came to Helen\u2019s eyes, while the\nchamber grew darker and darker, until she could no longer distinguish\nQueen Henrietta Maria\u2019s face looking down upon her from the wall. By and\nby she groped her way to her harpsichord, and began to play a mournful\ntune which was in harmony with the shadows and her own thoughts.\n\n\u201cWell, really, child!\u201d exclaimed Sir Henry, entering presently with a\nlight, \u201cas if this abode were not cheerless enough with only you and me\nto inhabit it, you must needs give me melancholy music.\u201d\n\nQuick Helen changed the air and struck up something full of life and\ngladness, \u201cA Carol to the Sun\u201d \u2019twas called; and when he asked where she\nhad got this delightful music\u2014for it was new to him\u2014and she answered,\n\u201cFrom Evelyn,\u201d her father seemed much pleased. \u201cBut, child,\u201d he said,\n\u201cwhy do you hesitate so long about accepting Sir Charles? Is it because\nBerkeley is courting you too? Why, one has a title and is of gentle\nblood; the other is a plebeian, and I hope will make his visits less\nfrequent in future. I spoke sharply to Berkeley to-day\u2014did I not?\u2014and if\nhe comes again I\u2019ll speak more sharply still.\u201d\n\nSeeing that Helen made no response, Sir Henry continued: \u201cWhy, the\nfellow actually had the impudence to advise me not to go on with this\ncastle, which I intend to make the finest structure in the colony. But\nEvelyn has better taste; blood tells in everything, and he agrees with\nme that Lord Baltimore will be highly gratified when it is finished, and\nwill write to the king about it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, there is indeed a magnificent view from the top of the tower,\u201d\nobserved Helen timidly. Then, plucking up a little courage, \u201cBut,\nfather,\u201d she added, \u201cthink of the money it will cost; think of the\nfuture.\u201d\n\n\u201cA view! A magnificent view!\u201d cried Sir Henry. \u201cGod-a-Mercy! is that all\nyou have to say in praise of this tower? A magnificent view! Would you\nhave the portrait of our gracious queen hanging in a log-cabin? And that\nsuit of armor which your ancestor wore at Agincourt, which bears upon it\nthe dents of a battle-axe\u2014would you wish to see it in a log-cabin?\nChild, you are not worthy of your name.\u201d Then, after a pause, during\nwhich he strode excitedly back and forth, Sir Henry continued: \u201cAs for\nmoney, I never trouble my head about money. But when you bid me think of\nthe future\u2014well, I have indeed bitter thoughts when I allow my mind to\ndwell on the future.\u201d\n\nThis was true enough. Helen\u2019s father was no longer young. Helen had not\nyet chosen a husband; would he live to see a male descendant of his\nhouse? \u201cOh! it wrings my heart,\u201d he murmured half aloud\u2014and his daughter\nheard the lament\u2014\u201cit wrings my heart to think of the old stock dying\nout.\u201d After giving vent to his sorrow even by tears, the old gentleman\nbade Helen commence the usual evening reading. And let us here observe\nthat the only book he cared for was _Don Quixote_, which Helen read to\nhim in the original; for he had been in Spain and had taught her\nSpanish. Accordingly, she opened the volume\u2014\u2019twas the third time she had\ngone through it\u2014and began to read in a loud, clear voice, while Sir\nHenry sat with his back towards her and his eyes resting on the ancient\nsuit of armor, whence they never strayed, except for a moment to glance\nat the portrait of the queen.\n\nHelen had found _Don Quixote_ quite entertaining the first time she had\nperused it; but now the interest was all gone, and only the dread of\noffending her father kept her from often pausing and nodding her head.\nBut this she durst not do; and so on and on she read through five\nchapters, without so much as lifting her eyes off the page, after which\nSir Henry told her to put the volume aside, then withdrew in what for\nhim was a very genial humor.\n\nThe night which closed this summer day was a restless one for Helen Lee.\nShe lay awake several hours listening to a whip-poor-will perched on a\ntree by her window. She got thinking about her father, whom, despite his\nacerbity of temper, she dearly loved; she thought of the rash way he was\nsquandering his means, and said to herself: \u201cDear mother was right: in\norder to save ourselves from utter ruin we should live as economically\nas possible. But, alas! he will not do it, and we may be forced ere long\nto sell our new home here, as we did our old home in England.\u201d And when\nat length she fell asleep, these mournful thoughts followed her in a\ndream.\n\nThe next morning Helen repaired to Evelyn\u2019s abode, which stood on the\noutskirts of the town, and found him all ready to begin the painting of\nwhich he had spoken the day before.\n\n\u201cYou look a little pale, Helen,\u201d he said as she entered his studio. \u201cYou\nare always as blooming as a rose. Are you not well?\u201d\n\nThe girl did not answer, and presently her countenance brightened, for\nby nature she was of a cheery disposition, ever hoping for the best,\neven when the sky looked darkest; and, besides, it was never difficult\nfor the companion of her earliest years to interest her.\n\n\u201cLook,\u201d continued Evelyn, \u201clook at that oriole singing on the elm-tree\nyonder; his mate is hidden in the deep pear-shaped nest, with a tiny\ndoor on the side, which you see dangling from the end of the limb. Well,\nI have given that beautiful bird a new name; I have christened it the\nBaltimore bird, because we find in its golden plumage, mixed with deep\nblack, the colors of Lord Baltimore\u2019s arms. And his lordship was highly\npleased yesterday when he heard the new name.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a fanciful boy you are!\u201d answered Helen, smiling.\n\n\u201cAnd, Helen,\u201d he went on, \u201cI am composing a new song for your\nharpsichord. You see you have inspired me to become a poet as well as an\nartist.\u201d\n\n\u201cI sometimes fear that I have caused you to dwell too much in\nCloud-land,\u201d said Helen. Then, a little abruptly, \u201cEvelyn,\u201d she added,\n\u201cdid you ever cut down a tree?\u201d\n\nEre the young baronet could make reply Berkeley, with an axe strapped\nacross his shoulders, galloped up to the open window of the studio.\n\n\u201cGood morning! good-morning!\u201d cried the surveyor. \u201cWhy, Helen, I am\nlucky to catch you here; I was going as nigh the tower as I durst\nventure, in order to bid you good-by.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood-by! What mean you?\u201d exclaimed Helen, betraying in her voice and\nlooks the anxiety she felt.\n\n\u201cI am going forty miles up the Potomac, in order to lay out a new\nsettlement,\u201d answered Berkeley; \u201cfor our colony is growing, you know,\nand I am kept pretty busy.\u201d Then, bending down from the saddle and\ntaking her hand, \u201cHelen,\u201d he added, \u201cplease tell Sir Henry how sorry I\nam that I showed so much temper yesterday. I ought to have held my\ntongue, or not spoken out so openly, for I might have known that we\nshould not agree. Tell him I ask his pardon.\u201d\n\nHelen gazed up in Berkeley\u2019s face a moment, then her eyes dropped and\nshe murmured: \u201cYes, I will tell him.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut of course,\u201d pursued her lover, \u201cI do not change my opinion. I still\nfirmly believe that the example of religious toleration which Maryland\nhas set will in time be followed by the other colonies; and who knows\nwhat a century may bring forth? Why, I believe the day is coming when\nall North America will be occupied by English-speaking commonwealths,\nwhere there will be no religious wars as in Europe; Catholics and\nProtestants will dwell in harmony together, and then it will be said:\n\u2018Maryland began it. God bless Maryland!\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have quite won me over to your way of thinking,\u201d interposed Evelyn.\n\u201cA man may be tolerant of the views of others without being himself\nindifferent.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, Roger Williams\u2019 friend, whom we saw yesterday,\u201d spoke Helen, \u201cwas\ndrawn hither by our very toleration. Yes, we have outstripped the\nPuritans in common sense, and who knows but this poor exile may end by\nembracing the true faith?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut now, to change the subject,\u201d went on Berkeley, who saw a fresh\ncanvas spread out and a crayon in his friendly rival\u2019s hand, \u201care you\nabout to begin a new picture?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Evelyn; \u201ca picture of St. George rescuing St. Margaret from\nthe Dragon, and Helen is to sit for St. Margaret.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed!\u201d Here Berkeley meditated a moment in silence. The fact is, he\nfeared lest he might be absent from St. Mary\u2019s three or four\nmonths\u2014perhaps longer: would it not, therefore, be wise, if he wished to\nsecure Helen for his bride, to ask her forthwith to plight him her\ntroth? Had he not already deferred it long enough? He could now afford\nto marry; and if he still put off the weighty question, might not Evelyn\nduring his absence become the chosen one? \u201cWhy wait,\u201d he asked himself,\n\u201cuntil I have made friends with Sir Henry? He never would look with a\nfavoring eye on our union, for I have no title; I am plain William\nBerkeley. Yet Helen is of age, she is not a slave, I love her dearly;\nand if she loves me enough to accept me, why, in God\u2019s name, let us be\nmarried.\u201d\n\nThen aloud he said: \u201cEvelyn, before I go I must pass a few minutes in\nyour studio, just to see you commence the picture.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, do; and let me call a servant to take your horse to the stable,\u201d\nsaid Evelyn.\n\n\u201cThanks. I\u2019ll take him there myself,\u201d answered Berkeley, who was now\ndetermined not to set out for the wilderness without knowing his fate.\n\n\u201cHow well he rides!\u201d observed the artist. \u201cWhat a soldierly bearing he\nhas!\u201d\n\nThen, gazing earnestly in Helen\u2019s face, he added:\n\n\u201cBerkeley would make a capital St. George. Would he not? Shall I put him\nin the painting instead of myself?\u201d\n\nAt this question Helen\u2019s cheek crimsoned, and without making any\nresponse she awaited Berkeley\u2019s return; while Evelyn murmured to\nhimself: \u201cAlas! alas! I see I should do well enough for a picture; but\nhe would be her real St. George.\u201d\n\nIn a few minutes Berkeley reappeared, and as he entered the room he\nseemed to read Helen\u2019s thoughts at a glance; for the first words he\nuttered were:\n\n\u201cEvelyn, may I enquire who is to sit for St. George?\u201d\n\nHere Evelyn turned to Helen, upon whom Berkeley\u2019s eyes were fastened,\nsaying: \u201cDear Helen, please answer for me.\u201d\n\nThis was a cruel moment for the girl\u2014most cruel! What a throng of\nmemories rushed upon her!\u2014memories of far-off, sunny days, when she and\nthe pretty boy used to saunter and dream hand-in-hand together along the\nshady paths that lay between her native home and his. And now all these\nmemories became so many voices pleading powerfully in Evelyn\u2019s behalf;\nhe had loved her from the beginning, and she had only met Berkeley when\nshe was grown up to womanhood.\n\nBut when she thought of the latter, she remembered her dead mother and\nwhat she had said of him\u2014of his inner worth, his talents, his energy.\nThen, too, since Helen had been in Maryland, Berkeley had shown in many\nways that he was attached to her; and, moreover, he was a man in the\ntruest sense of the word\u2014a man on whom she and her heedless father might\nlean and find support. His every waking hour was devoted to some useful\nemployment. Far and wide he was known as an able, active, daring man;\nand at this very moment he stood before her all equipped to plunge into\nthe trackless forest to pioneer the way for another settlement. His\nviews, too, of the future had won Helen\u2019s heart; she believed, as he\ndid, that in America the church was destined to spread and to glean a\nmore golden harvest than in old, worn-out Europe. And so, after a\npainful inward struggle, which revealed itself not faintly in her\ncountenance, Helen\u2019s response came, and, turning with tearful eyes to\nBerkeley, she said:\n\n\u201cWilliam, do you be my St. George.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor life, Helen?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, for life.\u201d\n\nAt these words of doom poor Evelyn, who had felt what was coming,\naverted his face and stared on the vacant wall. Then, presently, bidding\nthem remain a short while in his studio, that he would not be gone long,\nthe heart-broken man hurriedly quitted the house.\n\nThe church whither he went was close by; and there at the foot of the\naltar he flung himself, bowed down his head, and tried hard to breathe a\nprayer. But he had never suffered before as he was suffering now, and it\nwas not easy for him to be resigned, to have a Christian spirit, to say,\n\u201cGod\u2019s will be done.\u201d For a moment even a rebellious, devil-sent word\nquivered on his lips; and thus did he kneel dumbstricken before the\naltar, until by and by\u2014brought to him, perhaps, by his guardian\nangel\u2014came a sweet, holy calm; the storm passed away, and, spreading\nforth his arms, he gazed upon the ever-burning lamp which told of the\nBlessed Presence of his Saviour truly near him. And as he gazed upon it\nEvelyn took a high resolve; the words of the Psalmist came to him: \u201cWhen\nmy heart was in anguish, thou hast exalted me on a rock. Thou hast\nconducted me; for thou hast been my hope.... In thy tabernacle I shall\ndwell for ever.\u201d[91]\n\nThen straightway followed a flood of joy; like a bright, sunshiny wave\nit flowed over his soul. In his rapture he sang aloud the _Gloria_, the\n_Magnificat_, the _Te Deum Laudamus_. After which, rising up off his\nknees, he went back to his friends, who were wonder-stricken at the\nchange that had come over him in the brief space since he had left them.\nEvelyn\u2019s whole countenance beamed with a fire that was in striking\ncontrast with his former listless self; and in a voice wherein was no\ntone of sadness he addressed Berkeley, saying: \u201cNow to work! Let me\nquick begin St. George; I will draw rapidly, and in a couple of hours\nyou shall be free to depart.\u201d\n\nAccordingly the picture was commenced, nor had the artist\u2019s crayon ever\ntouched the canvas so deftly before; indeed, so swiftly did he work that\nby the time the Angelus bell told them it was noon the rough sketch was\nfinished.\n\nNor did the parting betwixt Berkeley and Evelyn bear the least trace of\ncoldness; they seemed like two brothers, and Helen like an affectionate\nsister between them.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d spoke Evelyn, when the other was gone, and as he and Helen\nturned towards the tower\u2014\u201cnow I\u2019ll go see your father, and try my best\nto appease his anger against your betrothed.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! how kind, how good you are,\u201d answered Helen, who would fain have\nsaid more; but how could she? What language could express her gratitude\nto Evelyn for being so forgiving? And she inwardly owned that, whatever\nhis weak points were, he was a rare, high-minded man\u2014a man the like of\nwhom this world had few indeed.\n\n\u201cSister,\u201d pursued Evelyn, in the tender accents she knew so well, \u201cI am\nonly too happy to serve you; and you know it is now more important than\never to soften Sir Henry\u2019s heart towards Berkeley.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Helen, \u201cotherwise I foresee great trouble in store for me.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut if I do not succeed, why, then you must speak to him yourself,\u201d\nadded Evelyn.\n\nA half-hour later the young baronet and Helen\u2019s father were closeted in\nthe queen\u2019s room, engaged in earnest talk.\n\n\u201cWell, I have known many good Papists in the course of my life,\u201d spoke\nthe old gentleman, \u201cbut upon my word you are the best one of all. Why,\nyou ought rather to rejoice to have Berkeley hold aloof; yet here you\nare pleading his cause.\u201d\n\n\u201cBerkeley is a most honorable, excellent fellow,\u201d rejoined Evelyn,\n\u201cand\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! there you go again,\u201d interrupted Sir Henry. \u201cYour charity gets the\nbetter of your common sense. Why, what is he if you strip him of all\ndisguises\u2014what is he but the son of a forester, who, having turned\nsurveyor, is no doubt earning money? But does that make him a\ngentleman\u2014a fit one to be your rival for my daughter\u2019s hand?\u201d Then,\nafter pausing and wiping his brow, Helen\u2019s father continued: \u201cNo,\nindeed! And I would be really thankful, Sir Charles, if you would\nprevent him from ever coming again within a mile of my castle.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow might I accomplish that?\u201d inquired Evelyn, inwardly smiling.\n\n\u201cHow? Why, by asking Helen\u2019s hand. From her cradle she has known you,\nand you her; she cannot help but love you if she has any heart at\nall\u2014and she has a heart; oh! yes, a warm, loving heart.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir Henry,\u201d replied Evelyn, with a faint tremor in his voice, \u201cHelen\ncan never be more than a dear friend, a sister, to me; I intend to\nbecome a priest.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! a priest?\u201d cried Sir Henry, utterly amazed. \u201cA priest! O Evelyn!\nEvelyn!\u201d Then, dropping his forehead in his hands, he began to sigh and\nwail. \u201cI counted upon you,\u201d he said in accents of unfeigned grief. \u201cI\ncounted upon you. But now, alas! all my bright hopes are vanished\u2014all!\nall!\u201d Then presently, clenching the hilt of his rapier\u2014the old cavalier\nalways carried a rapier\u2014\u201cBut Berkeley shall not have her,\u201d he thundered,\nworking himself up to a violent passion. \u201cNo! by heaven, he sha\u2019n\u2019t!\nNever! never! I swear by\u2014\u201d\n\nLeaving Sir Henry storming and invoking anything but blessings on poor\nBerkeley\u2019s head, Evelyn withdrew to seek Helen, whom he found waiting\noutside the door. The girl trembled when she learnt the result of his\ninterview with her father, and scarcely had courage to enter the\nlatter\u2019s presence. Urged, however, by Evelyn, she overcame her timidity\nand passed into the room; then, in as firm a voice as she could command,\nshe told Sir Henry that Berkeley had requested her to beg his pardon for\nhaving angered him. Helen told him, too, that the surveyor was gone off\nforty or fifty miles from St. Mary\u2019s; and concluded by reminding her\nfather of the high opinion which her mother had entertained of the young\nman, of his industry, honor, manly courage.\n\n\u201cAnd dear mother was not given to praising people unless they were\nreally good and worthy of praise. So, father, I implore you, do not\nharbor any ill-feeling against William Berkeley. Indeed, I am quite sure\nmy mother would have agreed with him.\u201d\n\nHere Helen paused to hear her father\u2019s answer; if he relented\u2014and she\nhoped that he might, for, despite the rage he was in, he had listened\nwithout interrupting\u2014if he relented, she intended immediately to reveal\nher engagement. But if he did not relent\u2014what then? With heart violently\nbeating she watched him; his hand was still upon his sword, and after\nwaiting a good minute, as if to see whether she had aught else to say,\nSir Henry replied:\n\n\u201cYou tell me Berkeley has quitted St. Mary\u2019s for a while; well, I hope\nhe will remain away. As for what Lady Lee may have thought of him\u2014alas!\nyour mother held certain very unseemly opinions, which more befitted Wat\nTyler\u2019s wench than a nobleman\u2019s spouse. Why, she once even denied to my\nface the divine right of kings; and she was obstinate\u2014most obstinate.\nBut, nevertheless, I little doubt that the Almighty hath already granted\nher forgiveness. O child! although I am not a Papist, I own there is\nmuch consolation in your doctrine of purgatory; it is a most consoling\ndoctrine.\u201d\n\nKnowing that to stay and argue with her father in his present mood would\nonly make the matter worse, Helen was about to withdraw when she was\nstartled by a loud groan which escaped him:\n\n\u201cEvelyn a priest! a priest! a priest!\u201d ejaculated the old knight.\n\n\u201cWhat! is he going to become a priest?\u201d exclaimed Helen, turning back\nfrom the door. \u201cOh! then he has chosen wisely. Father, do not deplore\nit. Let us say rather, \u2018God be praised!\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you did not know this? It is news to you?\u201d inquired Sir Henry,\neyeing her closely.\n\n\u201cUpon my honor I knew it not,\u201d replied Helen, trembling, for she feared\nlest he might follow up his question by another, which she would dread\nto answer.\n\n\u201cWell, now leave me,\u201d continued her father, waving her off. \u201cLeave me\nalone a space. Go! I am heart-sick.\u201d\n\nFor well-nigh a week Sir Henry remained inconsolable; even Don Quixote\u2019s\nadventures failed to entertain him, nor his daughter\u2019s cheeriest music\nand blithest songs move him to mirth. The workmen, too, whom he was fond\nof superintending and thus whiling away some hours each day, did not\ncome any more to labor at the castle walls; for Sir Henry\u2019s funds were\nrunning low and he had not wherewithal to pay their wages.\n\nHis favorite haunt was a small island christened the Island of Tranquil\nDelight. It was named after a pretty isle in a lovely stream which\nflowed hard by Sir Henry\u2019s old home in England. But in several respects\nthe two islands differed greatly: one was shaded by the wide-spreading\nbranches of an oak\u2014an oak planted in the days of William the\nConqueror\u2014and at the foot of this venerable tree lay the ruins of what\nonce had been a hermit\u2019s cell. The other island had a persimmon-tree\ngrowing in the middle of it, and every time Sir Henry approached this\nretired corner of his domain he espied an opossum waddling off; and the\nname of both tree and animal sounded exceedingly vulgar to his ears.\nBut, as we have remarked, this was his favorite spot. Here he loved to\ncome and listen to the murmuring brook, to see the trout jump up, and\nwatch some beautiful lilies, the bulbs of which he had brought over from\nhis native land.\n\nOne day Helen determined to go down to the Island of Tranquil Delight\nand make another attempt to soften her father\u2019s heart towards her future\nhusband. \u201cAnd then,\u201d she said to herself, \u201cI\u2019ll tell him that I am\nWilliam\u2019s betrothed; and oh! what a weight will be lifted off my heart.\u201d\n\nAccordingly, she repaired thither. But Sir Henry quickly checked her,\nsaying: \u201cWhy, child, one might think from the interest you take in\nBerkeley that you were fast in love with him. Good God! child, I hope\nnot. I\u2014\u201d\n\nWhat else he might have spoken we cannot tell, for just at this critical\nmoment who should be seen advancing towards them but one of Sir Henry\u2019s\noldest and best friends, a boon companion of his youth, who had just\narrived from England; and in the hearty greeting and long talk that\nfollowed all thought of Berkeley was happily driven out of the old\ngentleman\u2019s mind.\n\nWe may imagine what a Godsend this proved to be for Helen. And,\nmoreover, her father\u2019s friend was invited to make the castle his home as\nlong as he remained at St. Mary\u2019s, so that his visit afforded the girl\nnot a little spare time; for Sir Henry did not oblige her to read to him\na couple of hours daily nor sing and play for him on the harpsichord.\nIndeed, he took his watchful eye off her movements entirely; neither\nasked whither she was going when she went out, nor where she had been\nwhen she returned home; and language can but faintly express the\nblessings which Helen breathed on her father\u2019s guest for thus\nunwittingly procuring her so much liberty.\n\nEvery day she spent some time in Evelyn\u2019s company, whose newborn energy\ngave her as much wonder as delight. Nothing he had ever painted before\nwas so instinct with life, showed such marks of genius, as the painting\nhe was now engaged upon. And seeing her there so often, and hearing them\nconverse together so familiarly, caused more than one gossip to say:\n\u201cThere will be a wedding ere long at the Tower.\u201d\n\nBut Sir Charles did something else besides ply his crayon and brush: he\nwas up every morning as early as the oriole whose nest hung close by his\nwindow, studying and otherwise preparing himself for his new life; and\nthe stars were long twinkling in the heavens when he retired to rest at\nnight. And if sometimes in the still hours a vision of what might have\nbeen passed before him\u2014a vision of home, of a hearthstone of his own, of\nwife and children gathered around him\u2014the sweet vision vanished, nor\nleft a pang behind, as soon as he opened his eyes and murmured a prayer.\n\nThus passed away August, September, October, and Sir Henry began to hope\nthat Evelyn had got over his folly\u2014for such he called the notion of\nbecoming a priest; and this hope, together with the companionship of his\nfriend (who Helen prayed might never go away, and who had brought over\nfrom London a pipe of Canary, which he insisted on sharing with his\nhost), caused Sir Henry\u2019s spirits to revive greatly; and one morning he\nkissed Helen, and said in what for him was a very mild voice: \u201cChild,\nwhen will you bring me the glad tidings I am yearning to hear?\u201d\n\nWhereupon she smiled, rubbed her cheek against his grizzly beard, and\nwithout answering thought to herself: \u201cThe fantastic plan which came\nlast night in a dream will succeed; I feel sure it will. And though I\nshall have to brave your wrath once more, in the end, father, you will\nforgive me.\u201d\n\nAnd now was ushered in the loveliest season of the year\u2014Indian Summer.\nOf an early morning on one of these lovely days Helen mounted a pillion\nbehind Evelyn, and, accompanied by her waiting-woman, set out for St.\nJoseph\u2019s, which was the name Berkeley had given to the new settlement,\nand where report said he was become the chief man. Her father made no\nobjection to her taking this trip, for he knew there was a widow lady,\nwith whom Helen had been once exceedingly intimate, who was now living\nat St. Joseph\u2019s, and it was quite natural that the girl should wish to\nvisit her.\n\nMoreover, good Father McElroy\u2014formerly Helen\u2019s confessor\u2014was living\nthere too; so that the old gentleman, as guileless as he was proud, did\nnot suspect the real object of this journey, for he had not heard Helen\nbreathe Berkeley\u2019s name in several months.\n\nAs for Helen daring to wed him, nay, even to plight Berkeley her\ntroth\u2014this Sir Henry could have sworn that his meek, obedient child\nnever would do.\n\nAccordingly, as we have said, Helen departed for St. Joseph\u2019s, her\nfather wishing her \u201cGod speed! and come back soon,\u201d and she waving her\nhand to him until the forest hid him from view. Then Sir Henry turned to\nhis old comrade, saying: \u201c\u2019Tis well I have you with me, Dick, otherwise\nthis castle would be horribly dull now\u201d; on which the other answered:\n\u201cDepend upon it, Harry, there\u2019s a match brewing \u2019tween Miss Helen and\nSir Charles. Ay, I can tell by the sparkle of a lassie\u2019s eye when she\u2019s\nin love; nor is there any thought of priesthood in Evelyn. And at the\nwedding feast we\u2019ll drain dry my cask of Canary and set the whole town\nin a roar.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay the Lord hasten that day!\u201d returned Sir Henry. \u201cOh! I long with a\nlonging words cannot express to see a grandchild ere I die.\u201d\n\nTO BE CONCLUDED NEXT MONTH.\n\nFootnote 90:\n\n Queen of Charles I., and in whose honor the colony was called\n Maryland.\n\nFootnote 91:\n\n Ps. lx. 3-5.\n\n\n\n\n THE FUTURE OF FAITH.\n\n\n \u201cLooking, then, at the Church of Rome from a strictly logical\n stand-point, it is hard to see how, if we believe in free will and\n morality in the face of these modern discoveries, which, as far as\n they go, show us all life as nothing but a vast machine\u2014it is hard\n to see how we can consider the Church of Rome as logically in any\n way wounded, or crippled, or in a condition, should occasion offer,\n to be less active than she was in the days of her most undisputed\n ascendency. I conceive of her as a ship that seems now unable to go\n upon any voyage, or to carry men anywhere, but that this is not\n because, as was said not long since, that her \u2018hull was riddled by\n logic,\u2019 or that she is dismasted or has lost her sails, but merely\n because she has no wind to fill them. In other words, with regard to\n supernatural religion, and Catholicism as its one form that still\n survives unshattered, I conceive that the imagination of the world\n has been to a great measure paralyzed; but that it may be seen\n eventually that it never was in any way convinced; and that nothing\n is wanting to revive the Roman Church into stronger life than ever\n but a craving amongst men for the certainty, the guidance, and the\n consolation that she alone offers them.\n\n \u201cThe only question is whether such an outburst of feeling is in any\n way probable. It is possible that the world may be outgrowing such a\n craving as that I speak of; or that it may find some new way of\n appeasing it.\u201d\n\nSuch is the conclusion of an article on \u201cThe Future of Faith,\u201d by W. H.\nMallock, in the London _Contemporary Review_, March, 1878. It goes\nwithout saying that the writer is not a Catholic; his very phraseology\nsufficiently shows this. His testimony, therefore, to the truth, the\nstrength, and the stability of the Catholic Church is the more important\nas being that of an outsider. He is a man, judging by such of his\nwritings as we have seen, who in a time of intellectual doubt and\nquestioning, almost of despair, is searching honestly and earnestly for\nsome truth on which to rest, if truth there be. He examines all things,\nshirks nothing, shrinks from nothing. He is not terrified by phrases; he\nis not to be put off with jargon, scientific or otherwise. If a man\ndescants to him on \u201cthe great Unknown and Unknowable,\u201d he listens with\ncalm politeness, and then asks quietly, What _is_ the great Unknown or\nthe great Unknowable? And so with any other term and real or alleged\nfact. He sifts and sifts until he gets at the bottom. If the bottom is\nemptiness he says so; if he finds something there he says so. He\nacknowledges established facts, whether or not those facts go against\nhis natural inclinations, or his preconceived theories, or the\nprejudices that in the course of a lifetime grow up around even the\nbroadest and most honest minds; for pure intelligence is a rare quality\nindeed in man. The testimony, then, of a man like Mr. Mallock, a man who\nin every line he writes shows a keen intelligence, a mind formed by\ncareful study and stored with knowledge, a rare culture, and a thorough\nhonesty of purpose\u2014the testimony, we say, of such a man is of real value\non any subject of which he treats, and worthy of all respect.\n\nThe article which we purpose examining, and presenting in great part to\nour readers, seems to us to be almost the closing link in a long chain\nof reasoning. It is closely connected with other writings by the same\nauthor, and, though complete and independent in itself, thanks to the\nwriter\u2019s skill and logical strength, it ought really to be read with\nthem in order to grasp its full force and significance as intended by\nthe author himself. It should be read in connection with _The New\nRepublic; or, Culture, Faith, and Philosophy in an English Country\nHouse_ (Scribner, Armstrong & Co., 1878); \u201cIs Life Worth Living?\u201d (the\n_Nineteenth Century_, September, 1877, and January, 1878); to which may\nbe added \u201cPositivism on an Island\u201d (the _Contemporary Review_, April,\n1878). All of these bear one upon another. In them the most brilliant\nand refined satire alternates with, may be said rather to lighten,\nillustrate, and render fascinating, the most eager and earnest and\nsearching inquiry into the very foundations of all that constitutes\nhuman society, especially in its modern and unchristian form. Mr.\nMallock does not laugh simply for the laugh\u2019s sake. Indeed, there is a\ndeep mournfulness in his satire, notwithstanding its brilliancy\u2014an\nundertone of sadness that causes one to doubt sometimes whether it is a\nlaugh or a wail that we hear. It seems to us that the highest satire\nshould always leave this doubt on the mind\u2014the satire that is only\nbitter with the healthy bitterness of truth cleverly presented. However,\nwe will not discuss that matter now; and with the mere mention of Mr.\nMallock\u2019s other writings, and the recommendation of them as affording\nreading that is at once very pleasant while it is healthy and strong, we\nturn to the more immediate subject of our article.\n\nThe future of faith is of course a question that deeply concerns all the\nworld, more especially in these days, perhaps, when faith in its honest\nold meaning is dying according to some, dead according to others, an\neffete and pitiable superstition according to very many more. Delightful\nand quaint and chivalrous old Kenelm Digby would seem half inclined to\nrestrict the _Ages of Faith_ to days when Christian knights went forth\nto battle for the Holy Sepulchre, when there was in all Christendom but\none Christian faith held by all, and when Europe was forming and\nemerging out of paganism and barbarism under the beneficent hand of the\nCatholic Church. Those old days have passed away, and with them,\naccording to many modern and enlightened thinkers, has passed the old\nfaith. Christendom itself has passed away, too. Those were the days of\nthe infancy of Christian nations, and an infantine belief akin to, where\nit was not wholly, superstition befitted them, according to what claims\nto be modern enlightenment. One religion was very natural then, and did\nmuch good, perhaps, in softening and checking barbarism and saving the\nvery life of Europe. But as the infants grew into youth, and the youth\ndeveloped into manhood, it was only natural that they should cut aloose\nfrom their leading-strings, tire of the mother who had watched so\ntenderly over their birth and growth and development, and discover that\nshe was a shrewish old termagant, who wanted to keep them in\nleading-strings all their lives. So they cut their leading-strings and\nemancipated themselves, and believed as they liked and did as they\nliked, and left their mother to live or die as she might. Mother-like\nshe refused to die; she lived for them. Though grown to man\u2019s estate,\nthey were still her children. Though they would disown her, she was\nstill their mother. And her eyes went out wistfully after them; her\nheart yearned always for their return; her prayers went up unceasingly\nto heaven for them. Will the \u201cAges of Faith\u201d ever come back, the old\nunity, the old simplicity? Is such a thing as the old faith ever dreamed\nof in this faithless age? Is there a desire anywhere among men for\nChristian unity, or is the tendency not rather the other way, towards\nstill greater disintegration, until the very name of faith be banished\nfrom the world, and all mankind shall have attained to the supreme\nscientific beatitude of placid disbelief in a God whom they cannot see\nwith their earthly eyes, touch with their earthly hands, set under their\nmicroscopes, examine and analyze and measure and weigh? This is really\nthe question to which Mr. Mallock applies himself.\n\nTo those who note the signs of the times there is observable a strong\ncentripetal as well as an equally strong, and perhaps more pronounced,\ncentrifugal moral force working among men to-day. The centre from which\nthe one party seeks to fly, and to which the other party seeks to turn,\nis Rome, the centre of Catholic unity. Take the Anglican Church as an\ninstance. More than once in its history of three centuries has there\nbeen an attempt among some of its members to turn backwards to Rome.\nNever was that attempt more open and avowed than it is to-day, and, on\nthe other hand, never was that attempt more bitterly resented by an\nopposing and more numerous party in the same church than it is to-day.\nThere were at one time, under Alexander I., strong hopes of Russia\nbecoming reconciled to the mother church. The sudden death of the\nemperor effectually quenched those hopes for the time being. The very\nlarge and ever-increasing number of conversions to the Catholic faith\nwithin the last half-century, of men of every form of belief or of no\nbelief, very many of whom have been conspicuous for their learning and\nability, some of them for their genius, is another indication of the\nreal existence and strength of what we have termed this centripetal\nmoral force. We only note these facts now, without stopping to inquire\ninto their cause. But whether we be right or wrong in our belief that\nthere is a strong and growing tendency towards reunion in Christendom,\nthere is no denying that outside of the Catholic Church there never did\nexist so open and pronounced a feeling of religious unrest and\ndisquietude as exists to-day among all bodies of professed Christians.\nWhat they have of religion, and what their fathers professed, no longer\nsatisfies them. What were once held to be indisputable articles of faith\nare so no longer. Deep mistrust of the old ways, disbelief in the old\ntenets, have set in, and men who wish to be Christians find themselves\nwithout any fixed ground of faith. Thus infidelity is reaping a rich\nharvest, for the reason that Christianity in the minds of non-Catholics\nwas identified with Protestantism in its various forms. But\nProtestantism now is found insufficient and wanting. It has fallen to\npieces under the attacks of its own children, who to-day find themselves\nwithout a faith, and without any positive moral guide save such\nfragments of the truth as are still left to them, and to which the best\nof them adhere as a matter of necessity without exactly knowing why.\nThey feel that Christianity is right, is the best; but they have not\nquite made up their minds as to what Christianity is or where it is. In\nfact, they shrink from the painful inquiry, and naturally enough; for\nthe very fact of such an inquiry is an admission that there is something\n_very_ wrong in their system, and that the wrong is an old growth.\n\nThis general feeling of unrest and disquietude shows itself in a\nthousand ways, and in no way more conspicuously than in the literature\nof the day, even in its lighter forms. What newspaper is without its\n\u201ctheologian\u201d? We keep a theologian, say the newspapers, as the lady of\nthe _nouveaux riches_ said: \u201cWe keep a poet.\u201d In days when religion is\nby many advanced minds supposed to be altogether out of date we find no\nsubject of more general and entrancing interest than religion. The first\nquestion asked when a respectable rascal is exposed is, To what church\ndid he belong? And so seemingly advantageous is religion, at least in a\nsocial point of view, that it generally turns out, especially, we are\nsorry to confess, in our own country, that the rascal was \u201ca leading\nmember of the church\u201d and \u201cin good standing.\u201d We know to our cost what\nthe school of \u201cChristian statesmen\u201d means. Even these degrading and\ndisgraceful spectacles show that Christianity cannot be so very dead\nwhen its profession is found to be so very profitable a moral investment\nand so strong a guarantee of good character and sound morals. The\nevidence is that, whatever may be said, people still cling to it as\nsomething sacred and above suspicion, and their sense is undoubtedly\nright, however often and however sadly they may find themselves\nmistaken. It is not yet a reproach to a man that he is a professed\nChristian. On the contrary, it is the greatest stigma, as it ought to\nbe, on his character when he falls. If he avowedly believed in nothing,\nin no moral law, men could easily understand why he should refuse to be\nbound by any moral law. But when he professes to be a follower of Christ\nand betrays his trust, even the infidel is shocked and turns with\nspecial loathing from the hypocrite.\n\nEmerson, who is avowedly no Christian, in these his late days\u2014and, let\nus hope, his best\u2014can find no subjects so interesting as morals,\nreligion, ethics; and his tendency, allowing for his early training, his\nacquired habit of mind and expression, is unquestionably in the right\ndirection. Some of Carlyle\u2019s latest and noblest utterances are Christian\nin spite of himself. At least he can find nothing in the world, which he\nlong ago consigned, to the devil, of such real worth as Christian faith.\nBulwer Lytton\u2019s last and, to our thinking, his best story presents a\nnoble Catholic youth as the very _beau ideal_ of excellence, and\nexcellent because of his Catholicity. Thackeray sighed long ago for what\nto him seemed a hopeless reunion with Rome. George Eliot\u2019s stories are a\nperpetual wail of despair for lack of fixed belief and a moral right\nwhich she cannot see. Others, the scientific minds more especially, are\nfiercer and bitterly attack anything that recognizes the supernatural.\nJames Anthony Froude, while confessing that Protestantism as a whole has\ngone to the devil and allowed Protestants to go wholesale the same way,\nis startled at a \u201crevival of Romanism.\u201d We are only taking these few and\nvaried instances as characteristic of the multitude of non-Catholics\nto-day who would fain believe in something and take refuge from the\nawful blank of infidelity. The magazines are full of them and of many\nlike them. Mr. Disraeli moves England with a religious novel; and his\npolitical rival, Mr. Gladstone, has only lately deserted Rome to take up\nthe Turk. Indeed, he seems to take even a more passionate interest in\nhis theological than in his political discussions; and, _facilis\ndescensus_, our own Secretary of the Navy shows his supreme fitness for\nhis position by writing a remarkably bad and stupid book\u2014remarkably bad\nand stupid even for him\u2014against Rome.\n\nWe have not lost sight of our subject nor parted company with Mr.\nMallock. All that has been said has only been intended to show how\ngeneral is the interest to-day among all classes of minds in religious\ndiscussion. This of itself is an assurance that there is something to\ndiscuss; that there are disputed questions abroad which interest all men\nalike; and that these questions are not settled. And that is the point\nto which we wish to call special attention. Outside of the Catholic\nChurch there is no body to-day claiming to be Christian which is fixed\nand steadfast in its belief; and this is only another way of saying that\nthere is no belief which wholly commends itself to its professed\nfollowers, save the Catholic. Mr. Mallock does not write for Catholics.\nThey are, as he acknowledges, and as all acknowledge, at least firm and\nsteadfast. There is no shaking them. They may be wrong, utterly wrong,\nbut at least men can see exactly what they believe and why they believe.\nAre they right in their belief, or are others right? Is there any such\nthing as faith in this world to-day, and is there any reasonable hope of\nits holding its ground and approving itself to the intelligence of\nmankind? These are the questions which Mr. Mallock puts in the calmest\nof tempers and with the thorough honesty of purpose we have already\nnoticed.\n\nIn discussing \u201cthe future of faith\u201d Mr. Mallock naturally turns his\nattention to those who profess to have and to hold Christian faith. The\nprospects of faith in the present order of the world he does not find\nvery encouraging. What is called modern thought is against it; modern\ntone is against it\u2014\u201ca tone of confident and supercilious animosity that\nis gradually dying into triumph.\u201d \u201cIt is true,\u201d says Mr. Mallock, \u201cthat\nthis leaven in its full bitterness is to be found only in a narrow\ncircle; but flavors of it, more or less diluted, meet us far and wide.\nIndeed, it is difficult to find any place where they are not traceable.\u201d\nThis is undoubtedly true; it is equally true that \u201cthere is doubtless\nmuch definite religion left around us, and many firm believers. But the\nmodern tone has its influence even on these. Religion must be changed in\nsome ways by the neighborhood of irreligion.\u201d This he explains by\nshowing the amicable social relations that exist between religious and\nirreligious people in these days.\n\n \u201cThey are united by habits, by blood, and by friendship; and they\n are each accustomed to ignore or to excuse what they hold to be the\n errors of the other. In a state of things like this it is plain that\n the convictions of believers can neither have the fierce intensity\n found in a minority under persecution, nor the placid confidence\n that belongs to an overwhelming majority. They can neither hate the\n unbelievers, for they daily live in amity with them; nor despise\n altogether their judgment, for the most eminent thinkers of the day\n belong to them. The believers are forced into a sort of compromise,\n which is a new feature in their history. They see that the age is\n against them; and they are obliged to make excuses for their enemy.\u201d\n\nMr. Mallock, it will be seen, does not here characterize his\n\u201cbelievers.\u201d We are not prepared to agree altogether with what he says\nin this. At the very least the influence resulting from a social truce\nbetween believers and unbelievers need not tell entirely on the side of\nunbelief. There is no reason why believers should not be as steadfast in\na drawing-room as in a church or on a battle-field, and politeness to an\nopponent does not of necessity imply a concession of weakness. Religious\nfervor is by no means incompatible with civility; but doubtless Mr.\nMallock has in view more particularly Protestant believers, though he\nwould not seem to restrict himself to them, judging from the following\npassage:\n\n \u201cIf the modern tone has thus affected even those who ye most opposed\n to it, what must not its effect be upon those who have, in part of\n their own free will, adopted it? And these form to-day a great mass\n of our educated public. A large number of these still call\n themselves Protestants; and were the matter to be treated lightly,\n they might afford countless studies for the humorist. The state to\n which they have reduced their religion is indeed a curious one. With\n a facile eclecticism that is based on no principle, and that changes\n from year to year, or more probably from mood to mood, they pick and\n choose their doctrines, saying: \u2018I keep this and I reject this,\u2019 in\n some such manner as the following: \u2018Of course the Apostles\u2019 Creed is\n true, and of course the Athanasian Creed is false. And then, after\n all, suppose neither is true, the meaning of the thing is the real\n heart of the matter.\u2019 Such is the Protestant language of to-day. Nor\n is it the language of foolish or of ignorant people; it is the\n language of countless clever men who have much to do, and of\n countless clever women who have nothing to do.\u201d\n\nThe author proceeds to test the actual value on a person\u2019s life of such\na faith as this\u2014a faith that has nothing really fixed in it, and that\nvaries with the mood of the holder. There come the great trials of life,\nwhen those who sorrow or those who suffer or are sorely tempted require\nall their fortitude, must trample on themselves and on their own\nfeelings and natural instincts, or yield to despair and give way to\nwrong.\n\n \u201cA great sorrow comes, or a great temptation comes. At once the tone\n of to-day grows more pronounced, and a new set of arguments suggest\n themselves with singular readiness: \u2018God is not good, or he would\n never have robbed me of so good a husband\u2019; or, \u2018God is not good, or\n he would never have let me marry such a bad one\u2019; and then follows,\n as a corollary to these propositions, \u2018God is nothing if not good,\n and therefore there is no God at all.\u2019 Or the syllogism, especially\n in the feminine mind, takes not uncommonly some such form as this:\n \u2018If there was a God he would put me into hell for being in love with\n so-and-so; but I am certain in my own mind that I do not deserve\n hell; therefore I am certain in my own mind that there can be no God\n to put me there.\u2019\u201d\n\nThe aptness and force with which Mr. Mallock brings the application of\nthese vague speculations about religion and these loose principles of\nbelief home to daily life is characteristic of the man. He is not\ncontent with wandering in the clouds. He brings everything down to solid\nearth, and tests and weighs it there. He does not ask, How will this\nappear to the philosopher? but How will this affect the lives of men and\nwomen? Religion is not for the philosophers only, but for every man born\ninto this world. A recent trial in Brooklyn gives peculiar point to his\nremarks on this head. \u201cIn former times,\u201d says Mr. Mallock, \u201cwhen such\nthoughts occurred to men, the whole weight of the world\u2019s opinion always\nwas ready to condemn them as vain and wicked. But now the case is just\nreversed. However foolish may be the actual conduct of such reasoning,\nthe opinion of the enlightened world is ready to corroborate the\nconclusion.\u201d\n\nHe goes on to take another circle, \u201ca probably far larger one.\u201d This is\nmade up of men who are in suspense altogether. \u201cThey see much to revere\nand to regret in Christianity, but they make no pretence of believing in\nits details. They do not even think them worth arguing against.\u201d And,\nlastly, \u201cthere are the extreme destroyers, who would break altogether\nwith the past; and who, though probably wishing to retain some of the\nemotions that were once directed to God and to heaven, would give them\nan entirely different object in the shape of humanity, and would never\nsuffer them to wander from the earth\u2019s surface.\u201d\n\n\u201cSuch are the various parties that the world of thought now shows to\nus,\u201d says Mr. Mallock\u2014a small body who cling heart and soul to the past;\na small body that would utterly break with the past; and between them \u201ca\nvast and varied crowd, tinged in various proportions with the colors of\neach extreme. And amongst them all there is a continual arguing, and\nanxiety, and perplexity.\u201d\n\nThere is no denying the truth of this picture. Such is Christendom\nto-day, and what is to be the outcome of it all? The keen and truthful\nobserver whom we are quoting thinks \u201cit cannot be doubted that the\nmodern tone is spreading,\u201d and the tendency is therefore against faith.\n\u201cTo all except a small minority faith, in the old sense of the word, is\ngrowing a cold and shadowy thing.\u201d\n\n \u201cThe dogmas, the services, the ministers of the church are coming\n all of them to have a belated look for us. They seem out of place in\n the busy world around us. Ever and again we hear of a new Catholic\n miracle and the fame of some new pilgrimage. And the strange effect\n that these things have on us shows us how far our minds have\n travelled.\n\n Do such things still exist? we ask in surprise and irritation, and\n we set them down as \u2018the grimacings of a dead superstition\u2019\n galvanized into a ghastly imitation of life. And then from the\n modern miracles the mind goes back to the older ones, once held so\n sacred and so certain. And they, too, have undergone a change for\n us. Not only are Lourdes and Paray-le-Monial contemptible, but\n Calvary is disenchanted. There may have been a death there, but\n there was never a Sacrifice. Scales have fallen from our eyes. We\n see it all clearly. The creed we were brought up in is an earthly\n myth, not a heavenly revelation. We know exactly whence it came, and\n we see pretty certainly whither it is going. The signs of it still\n survive; but they signify nothing. They will soon be swept away, and\n will make place, we hope earnestly, for something better.\u201d\n\nSuch is the modern tone, wonderfully well presented. Is it so universal\nas Mr. Mallock seems to think, or so deeply rooted in the minds and\nhearts of men? He himself is in doubt on this point, and proceeds to\ninquire with characteristic honesty and persistence. He takes up and\nclassifies the various objections against Christianity that are popular\nto-day: the objections _\u00e0 priori_, which are opposed to all religion,\nnatural as well as revealed; and the objections _\u00e0 posteriori_, which\nare opposed to revealed religion only. We must refer the reader to Mr.\nMallock\u2019s article for these objections, as space does not allow us to\npresent them, nor is their presentation necessary to our immediate\npurpose. The conclusion at which he arrives is briefly this: \u201cIf\nChristianity relies for support on the external evidence of its truth,\nit can never again hope to convince men. These supports are seen to be\nutterly inadequate to the weight that is put upon them. They might\npossibly serve as props, but they crash and crumble instantly if they\nare used as pillars.\u201d\n\nWe are not so much arguing with Mr. Mallock as allowing him free\nutterance, therefore we make no formal exception to what he here says.\nBut, he goes on, \u201cit is as pillars that the whole Protestant community\nuses them,\u201d the \u201cprops\u201d above mentioned, and he takes up Protestantism\nas the religion of the Bible.\n\n \u201cThere,\u201d it says, \u201cis the word of God; there is my infallible guide.\n I listen to none but that. It is my first axiom that the Bible is\n infallible; and granting that, history teaches me that all other\n churches are fallible. On the Bible, and the Bible only, I rest\n myself. Out of its mouth shall you judge me. And for a long time\n this language had much force in it, for the Protestant axiom was\n received by all parties. It is true that it might be hard to decide\n what God\u2019s word meant; but still every one admitted that God\u2019s word\n was there, and it at any rate meant something. But now all this is\n changed. The great axiom is received no longer. Many, indeed,\n consider it not an axiom but an absurdity; at best it appears but as\n a very doubtful fact; and if external proof is to be what guides us,\n we shall need more proofs to convince us that the Bible is the word\n of God than that Protestantism is the religion of the Bible.\u201d\n\nWe agree with Mr. Mallock that if this be Christianity, Christianity has\nlost its use and its place in this world. Reasonable men cannot be\nbrought to understand how so stupendous and vast an edifice as\nChristianity can by any possibility rest on so very narrow and shaky a\nfoundation as that presented by Protestantism. The whole thing is either\na gigantic sham, which has enslaved and overshadowed men\u2019s minds too\nlong already and wrought infinite mischief in the world, or else we must\nseek some deeper and broader foundation for it than this. \u201cIn this\ncountry\u201d (England), says Mr. Mallock, \u201cnearly all the ablest attacks\nupon supernatural religion have been directed against it as embodied in\nthe Protestant form; and they have widely, and not unnaturally, been\nregarded as quite victorious.\u201d There is left then only one of two\nalternatives: either Christianity is false, or Protestantism is not\nChristianity.\n\nProtestantism has fallen, as we said, under the hands of its own\nchildren. They have demolished it, and left only scattered fragments of\nwhat was a body with something like life in it. In destroying it have\nthey destroyed what they identified with it\u2014supernatural religion, or\nChristianity?\n\n \u201cIt seems to escape the assailants,\u201d observes Mr. Mallock, \u201cthat\n though they may have burnt the outworks, there is still a citadel\n inside, which, though it seems to them almost too contemptible to\n take account of, may yet not prove combustible, and, when the\n conflagration outside has subsided, may still remain to annoy them.\n They forget altogether, I mean, the Church of Rome; nor do they seem\n to consider that, though for other causes she may perhaps be dying,\n yet many of their logical darts can do nothing to hasten her end.\u201d\n\nHaving found Protestantism so complete a failure, Mr. Mallock turns to\nthe Catholic Church and examines it. He finds that \u201cCatholics have one\ncharacteristic which fundamentally separates them from the Protestants\u201d\nwith respect to the chief points at which modern thought and science\nhave assailed revealed religion. Protestantism, he says, offers itself\nto the world as a strange servant might\u2014bringing with its number of\nwritten testimonials to character. It expressly begs us not to trust to\nits own word. The world examines the testimonials carefully; \u201cit at last\nsees that they look suspicious, that they may very possibly be\nforgeries; it asks the Protestant Church to prove them genuine, and the\nProtestant Church cannot.\u201d\n\nCatholicism comes in an exactly opposite way. It brings the very same\ntestimonials, but sets itself above them. It speaks with its own\nauthority. It speaks as Christ spoke, Who said openly and boldly:\n\u201cBelieve in _me_; _I_ am the way, the truth, and the life; the Father\nand _I_ are _one_.\u201d He used the Scriptures also, but only as adjuncts to\nhis own teaching. His credentials were exclusively his own. The\nScriptures were his; he was not the Scriptures\u2019. And so the church which\nhe founded surely ought to speak\u2014the church which is his living body,\nhigher and greater than any Scriptures. \u201cIt\u201d (the Catholic Church), says\nMr. Mallock, \u201casks us to make some acquaintance with _it_; to look into\nits living eyes, to hear the words of its mouth, to watch its ways and\nworks, and to feel its inner spirit; and then it says to the world, \u2018Can\nyou trust me? If so, you must trust me all in all, for the first thing I\ndeclare to you is that I have never lied. Can you trust me thus far?\nThen listen, and I will tell you my story. You have heard it told one\nway, I know; and that way often goes against me. I admit myself that it\nhas many suspicious circumstances. But none of them positively condemn\nme. All are capable of a guiltless interpretation; and now you know me\nas I am, you will give me the benefit of every doubt.\u2019 It is in this\nspirit that Catholicism offers us the Bible. \u2018Believe the Bible for my\nsake,\u2019 it says, \u2018not me for the Bible\u2019s.\u2019 And the book, as thus offered\nus, changes its whole character.\u201d\n\nWe have no fault to find with this presentation of the Catholic claims\nso far. Mr. Mallock has here fully grasped an essential difference\nbetween Catholics and Protestants which few non-Catholics are able to\ngrasp. How clearly and well he elucidates this important point will be\nseen by those who care to read his article, of which we can only present\nthe substance. His conclusion with regard to Catholicity and the Bible\nis: \u201cAs Catholicism stands at the present moment, it seems hard to say\nthat, were we for any other reasons inclined to trust it, it makes any\nclaim for the Bible that would absolutely prevent our doing so.\u201d That\nbeing the case, it follows as a matter of course that all the \u201clogical\ndarts\u201d aimed at the Bible fall harmless from the invincible armor of the\nCatholic Church.\n\nHe then goes on to consider the various doctrines of the Catholic\nChurch, and herein he shows the same capability of appreciating the\nCatholic stand-point, an appreciation of which stand-point is, of\ncourse, necessary to any one who would honestly inquire into what\nCatholicity really is, and what Catholics actually do believe. These\ndoctrines, he says, \u201cthough it is claimed that they are all implied in\nthe Bible, are confessedly not expressed in it, and were confessedly not\nconsciously assented to by the church till long after the sacred canon\nwas closed.\u201d We would here remark that this is true only of some\nCatholic doctrines. Well, says Mr. Mallock, \u201clet us here grant the\nextreme position of the church\u2019s most hostile critics. Let us grant that\nall the doctrines in question can be traced to external and often to\nnon-Christian sources. And what is the result on Romanism? Does this go\nany way whatever towards logically discrediting its claims?\u201d We will let\nhim answer his own question in his own way:\n\n \u201cIf we do but consider the matter fairly, we shall see that it does\n not even tend to do so. Here, as in the case of the Bible, the Roman\n doctrine of infallibility meets all objections. For the real\n question here is not in what store-house of opinions the church\n found its doctrines; but why it selected those it did, and why it\n rejected and condemned the rest. History cannot answer this. History\n can show us only who made the separate bricks; it cannot show us who\n made and designed the building.... And the doctrines of the church\n are but as the stones in a building, the letters of an alphabet, or\n the words of a language. Many are offered and few chosen. _The\n supernatural action is to be detected in the choice._ The whole\n history of the church, in fact, as she herself tells it, is a\n history of supernatural selection. It is quite possible that she may\n claim it to be more than that; but could she vindicate for herself\n but this one faculty of an infallible choice, she would vindicate to\n the full her claim to be under a superhuman guidance. The church may\n be conceived of as a living organism, for ever and on all sides\n putting forth feelers and tentacles, that seize, try, and seem to\n dally with all kinds of nutriment. A part of this she at length\n takes into herself. A large part she at length puts down again. Much\n that is thus rejected she seems for a long time on the point of\n choosing. But however slow may be the final decision in coming,\n however reluctant or hesitating it may seem to be, when it is once\n made it is claimed for it that it is infallible. And this claim,\n when we once understand its nature, will be seen, I think, to be one\n that neither our knowledge of ecclesiastical history nor of\n comparative mythology can invalidate now or even promise ever to do\n so.\u201d\n\nIt will be seen that we are a long way from Protestantism already, and\nthat we have here a very different kind of church, which, be it right or\nwrong, rests on a very deep and firm foundation. At least this must be\nsaid of it by all: Granting its truth, there is no stronger foundation\nconceivable. Granting it to be false even, it is hard to conceive a\nstronger foundation, or one that could commend itself with more force\nand assurance of safety to reasonable men. If there be a God living and\nmoving in this world, this looks very like God\u2019s handiwork.\n\nMr. Mallock concedes that \u201cthe Catholic Church can still claim, in the\nface of all the new lights thrown on her history, to be sprung from a\nsupernatural root.\u201d But it may be that she \u201cwill be found to be betrayed\nby her fruits\u201d when these are inspected in detail. Her primary dogmas\nand her general sacred character may be conceded; but \u201cnumberless\ndeductions from them and indirect consequences\u201d may \u201crevolt our common\nsense and our moral sense, though we have no exact means of disproving\nthem.\u201d Such difficulties, he finds, do exist; \u201cbut if we examine them\ncarefully, many, at least, will be found to rest upon misconceptions.\u201d\n\nThe difficulties in question are that Catholicity \u201cmakes salvation\ndepend on our assenting to a number of obscure propositions\u201d; that to\nmany Catholic ritual seems to be an integral part of the church\u2019s\nmystical body, and that thus salvation is made to hang \u201cnot only on an\nassent to occult propositions of philosophy, but upon altar-candles and\nthe colored clothes of priests\u201d; again, \u201cthe temper and intellectual\ntone which she seems to develop in her members\u201d makes the church \u201ca rock\nof offence to many\u201d; there are \u201ca number of miraculous legends and\nquaint beliefs which are or have been prevalent amongst Catholics.\u201d Of\nall these difficulties Mr. Mallock himself very lucidly and effectively\ndisposes, and shows that they \u201cwill be seen to be not really\nformidable.\u201d There are other difficulties, however, which he finds\n\u201cworse than these.\u201d They consist of \u201ccertain moral objections to the\nCatholic Church\u2019s scheme altogether, and objections of science and\ncommon sense to other necessary parts of it.\u201d\n\n \u201cThe moral objections consist principally of these: the\n exclusiveness of the church, which leaves the rest of mankind\n uncared for; the church\u2019s doctrine of rewards and punishments, which\n are barbarous or ridiculous in their details, and which, besides\n that, make all virtue venal; and the doctrine of a vicarious\n satisfaction for sin, which to many minds carries its own\n condemnation on the face of it. Lastly, besides these, there is the\n entire question of miracles.\u201d\n\nInto all these matters Mr. Mallock goes with the same patient purpose\nand honest mind that distinguish him everywhere. His conclusion, as a\nwhole, is given at the head of this article. Space forbids us to follow\nhim any farther, but we cannot resist the temptation to quote for the\nbenefit of our non-Catholic readers what he says on infallibility and on\nthe \u201cexclusiveness\u201d of the Catholic Church:\n\n \u201cThe doctrine of the church\u2019s infallibility,\u201d he says, \u201chas a side\n that is just the opposite of that which is commonly thought to be\n its only one. It is supposed to have simply gendered bondage, not to\n have gendered liberty. But as a matter of fact it has done both; and\n if we view the matter fairly we shall see that it has done the\n latter at least as completely as the former. The doctrine of\n infallibility is undoubtedly a rope that tethers those that hold it\n to certain real or supposed facts of the past; but it is a rope that\n is capable of indefinite lengthening. It is not a fetter only; it is\n a support also, and those who cling to it can venture fearlessly, as\n explorers, into currents of speculation that would sweep away\n altogether men who did but trust to their own powers of swimming.\n Nor does, as is often supposed, the centralizing of this\n infallibility in the person of one man present any difficulty from\n the Catholic point of view. It is said that the pope might any day\n make a dogma of any absurdity that might happen to occur to him; and\n that the Catholic would be bound to accept these, however strongly\n his reason might repudiate them. And it is quite true that the pope\n _might_ do this any day, in the sense that there is no external\n power to prevent him. But he who has assented to the central\n doctrine of Catholicism knows that he never _will_. And it is\n precisely the obvious absence of any restraint from without that\n brings home to the Catholic his faith in the guiding power from\n within.\u201d\n\nOf the \u201cexclusiveness\u201d of the Catholic Church, or, as it is more\ncommonly put, of the doctrine that \u201cout of the Catholic Church there is\nno salvation,\u201d Mr. Mallock thus writes:\n\n \u201cAs to the exclusiveness of the Catholic Church, it must be of\n course confessed that much perplexity is caused by any view of the\n world which obliges us to think of the most saving truths, and the\n most precious helps to a right life, being confined to a minority of\n the human race. But, supposing we attach to a knowledge of the truth\n any real importance, let us hold the supreme truths of life to be\n what we may, until the whole human race are unanimous about them we\n shall have to regard a part, probably through no fault of their own,\n as condemned to disastrous error. But of all creeds Catholicism is\n the one that does most to alleviate this perplexity. Of all\n religious bodies the Roman Church has the largest hope and charity\n for those outside her own pale. She condemns men, not for not\n accepting her teaching, but only for rejecting it; and they cannot\n reject it until they know it, what it is\u2014know its inner spirit as\n well as its outward forms and formulas. Such a knowledge, in the\n opinion of many Catholics, it may be a very hard thing to convey to\n some men. Prejudices for which they themselves are not responsible\n may have blinded their eyes; and if they have been blind they will\n not have had sin. They will be able to plead invincible ignorance;\n and the judgments the church pronounces are not against those who\n have not known, but against those only who have known and hated. Nor\n is it too much to say that a zealous Catholic can afford to harbor\n more hope for an infidel than a zealous Protestant can afford to\n harbor for a Catholic.\u201d\n\nAnd now comes the final question, What is to be the future of faith? As\nwe regard the matter, the answer to that, humanly speaking, rests mainly\nwith those who have the faith. Faith is a sacred deposit, to be used,\nspread, and propagated over the world; to lead men to a right manner of\nliving, to the true knowledge of God, and up to God. Thus the future of\nfaith is in the hands of the faithful. Faith has two antagonists: the\ndevil and, in a sense, man\u2019s free-will. Of course modern thought\nscornfully dismisses the first antagonist as a myth. We cannot follow\nmodern thought in this; we have a very profound belief in the existence\nof an ever-active and intelligent spirit of evil, who can and does tempt\nman into revolt against God, and who finds his readiest instrument,\nwhere he ought to find his chief resistance, in that highest prerogative\nof freedom which God confers on man. We take, then, first the devil,\nand, in a secondary sense, man\u2019s free-will as the two great antagonists\nto faith. That is to say, if man _will_ rebel, if he _will_ not accept\nthe faith, there is no power to hinder his rebellion.\n\nAnd here we leave the devil aside and turn only to man. The future of\nfaith is for him to say. What will he do with it? Why does he not accept\nit? Why should his free-will reject it, if it is good and approves\nitself so strongly to human intelligence, and if, moreover, God and all\nheaven are for ever standing on its side? There was at one time a united\nfaith in Christendom; why was it ever broken?\n\nOf course we can lay a great deal on the back of the devil and on the\nperversity of the human will. But it may be as well to remember also\nthat those who have the faith may prove false to their trust. St. James\ntells us that even the devils believe and tremble. And so a man may\npossess the letter of the faith in full with very little of its spirit.\nA man may know St. Thomas from cover to cover, and assent to all his\npropositions, yet lead a bad life. Faith without works is dead.\nChristians must show forth in their lives whose disciples they are. If\ntheir lives are good; if the lives of a large body of believers are\ngood; if they are chaste, charitable, honest in word and deed, and if\nsuch be the normal condition of their lives, men will not have far to go\nto look for faith. Virtue is the great preacher and converter. Even\nnatural virtue\u2014courage, sobriety, manliness, self-restraint\u2014wins\nuniversal admiration. Supernatural virtue proclaims its godhead.\n\nIf the world is to be converted to faith, it will only be converted by\nthe good lives and works of the faithful. The human intellect may carp\nat intellectual difficulties, but the human heart is overcome by\ngoodness, by charity, by chastity. Faith is now what it always was; men\nare as they always were. But from a faithless and corrupt generation the\ninheritance is taken away. Thus the Jews lost it, thus Christian nations\nlose it. Had there been no corruption among the faithful there would\nhave been no Protestant Reformation. Had there been no corruption in\nFrance, had the leaders of the people been true to the faith that was in\nthem, infidelity would never have made such fearful havoc in a land of\nsaints. And so with Germany, England, Scotland, Austria, Italy, and the\nother nations; when we examine closely we shall find that the revolt had\nits origin less in pride of intellect than in the concupiscence of the\nflesh and the pride of life. Intellectual assent to God\u2019s teaching is\nnot enough to lead a man to heaven. There must be a corresponding moral\nassent in his life. Why did Ireland, the weakest of the nations, not\nlose the faith? She was decimated, starved, made ignorant, brutalized as\nfar as inhuman legislation can go to brutalize man, but she never lost\nthe faith. Why? Because her sons and her daughters, whatever they may\nhave known or not known of theology, of science, of philosophy, of\nliterature, _lived the faith_, kept it stored up in their hearts, died\nfor it, bequeathed it as a sacred legacy\u2014their only legacy\u2014to their\nchildren. Ah! it is on this that the future of faith hangs more than on\nintellectual discussion, articles in magazines, or theological writings.\nShall we to-day doubt or hesitate about the future of faith\u2014we the\nmembers of a church that numbers its millions by the hundred thousand?\nAre not we the children of Peter, of Paul, of Christ himself? Have not\nwe the deposit that he confided to the twelve? Did they hesitate to face\na world from which faith was almost blotted out, a world steeped in\niniquity? They went out\u2014twelve men; they preached Jesus, and him\ncrucified; they lived what they preached, they suffered for what they\npreached, and, when nothing more was left for them to do, they died for\nit. We are not called upon to die for it to-day. The church is\nestablished. Its temples cover the world. Its children are in every\nland. From the rising of the sun to the going down thereof the living\nSacrifice of Christ\u2019s redeeming body and blood is daily offered up to\nGod from the world and for the world. Can we tremble for the future of\nfaith?\n\nOf course sin and schism and infidelity will exist in the world till the\nend; but great multitudes may be saved and brought back if only the\nfaithful are true. One great opposing element to the advance of faith is\ndissolving before our eyes\u2014Protestantism. Shall all the children of\nProtestants perish and be given over to infidelity? Are there no earnest\nand well-inclined minds among them, no good people? There are multitudes\nof such, who are wavering and in doubt and sore perplexity because such\nsupport even as they had is slipping from under them, and beneath they\nsee nothing but a blank and awful abyss. We do not anticipate that they\nwill come back to us in multitudes. We scarcely look for that general\n\u201ccraving amongst men for the certainty, the guidance, and the\nconsolation that the Catholic Church alone offers them,\u201d as Mr. Mallock\nputs it. We do not rely upon \u201csuch an outburst of feeling\u201d; and yet even\nthat might come. _Sensim sine sensu_ will the wanderers come back. What\nwe Catholics have to consider is our duty in the matter. We can indeed\nhasten that coming. If we would do so effectually we must be brothers to\nthem in charity, examples to them in our lives, above them in\nintelligence as in that faith which is the highest intelligence.\n\n\n\n\n NEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\n ELEMENTS OF ECCLESIASTICAL LAW. By Rev. S. B. Smith, D.D. Second\n edition, revised and enlarged. Benziger Bros., New York.\n\n\nWe are glad to see that the Rev. Dr. Smith has been obliged to issue a\nsecond edition of his _Elements of Ecclesiastical Law_ so soon after his\nfirst edition. This is an evidence that his book was a desideratum in\nour country. Though considered as a missionary country and under the\ndirection of the Propaganda, yet, owing to the progress which the church\nhas made here during the last twenty-five years, we have almost all the\nqualifications for being put on the same regular footing as the oldest\nchurches of Europe. At all events it cannot be denied that we are\nsteadily and swiftly approaching that stage. Very soon the church in\nthis country will assume the regular canonical status of the churches on\nthe Continent of Europe. The necessity, therefore, is apparent of\nstudying the common legislation of the church universal, in order to\nassimilate ourselves to the spirit and, as far as possible, to the\nletter of that legislation, and to apply its general principles to the\nparticular conditions, wants, and requirements of our country. This has\nbeen Dr. Smith\u2019s aim in the _Elements_ he has published. He gives, in\nthe first place, an idea of law and _jus_ in general, and in particular\nof canon law with its divisions. Next he inquires into the sources of\ncanon law\u2014which are the Scriptures, tradition, apostolic enactments,\ndecrees of the Roman pontiffs and of the councils, \u0153cumenical, national,\nprovincial, and diocesan, the Roman congregations and customs\u2014along with\na history of canon law in the Latin church, and especially a history of\ncanon law in our country. This occupies the whole of the first part. In\nthe second part our author treats of jurisdiction in general as vested\nin ecclesiastical persons, of the different kinds of jurisdiction, of\nthe manner of acquiring it in general and in particular, of the manner\nof resigning and losing jurisdiction, and of the right and duties of\nsuch as are vested with ecclesiastical jurisdiction; hence in the third\npart he speaks in particular of the Sovereign Pontiff, his election,\nprimacy, and other prerogatives, of cardinals and of the Roman\ncongregations, of legates, nuncios, of patriarchs, primates,\nmetropolitan bishops, auxiliary bishops, coadjutor-bishops,\nvicars-general, deans and pastors, etc., of the rights, privileges, and\nduties of all these respective dignitaries.\n\nIt might be said against this book that all these things are treated in\nevery elementary treatise on canon law. Of course the author of the book\nbefore us does not claim to discuss any matter which has not found its\nplace already in the canonical legislation of the church. But that does\nnot make Dr. Smith\u2019s book less valuable nor its author less worthy of\npraise for having rendered a great service to the church in this\ncountry. In the first place, he has put together in a comparatively\nsmall volume and at great labor what would only be found scattered in\nmany books. In the second place, he has given us his _Elements_ in the\nEnglish language, so that every one, even those who are not familiar\nwith the Latin tongue, can acquire a fair knowledge of the church\u2019s\nlegislation.\n\nThirdly, and above all, he has taken great pains to give us the\nparticular legislation of our country as derived from the first and\nsecond Plenary Councils of Baltimore, of both of which he has fairly\ninterpreted the spirit and the aim. At the first glance, and upon a\nsuperficial perusal of their enactments, it would seem that the whole\ntendency of these two councils was a centralization of power as vested\nin the hierarchy\u2014as, for instance, the power of governing without\nconsulting the chapter or the advisers of the bishop; the power of\nhaving seminaries regulated altogether by the bishop without the three\ncanonical committees of the clergy, one to look after the spiritual\nwelfare, the other two after the temporal interests, of seminaries; the\npower of appointing priests to parishes without the _concursus_, or\ncompetitive examination; the power of moving priests from parishes, and\nmany other instances, would seem to indicate a tendency of centralizing\nall power in the hierarchy. Yet the spirit of the two Plenary Councils\nof Baltimore was far from intending any such thing, as is evident by\nother enactments, and by the desire which the fathers of the council\nfrequently express of conforming themselves as far as possible to the\ngeneral legislation of the church, and by the regret which they manifest\nthat, owing to the particular circumstances of our country, they are\nunable to adopt the general canon law of the church in many things. Dr.\nSmith\u2019s book clearly puts forward this spirit of our two plenary\ncouncils, and the enactments which the fathers made in order to put a\njust and fair limit to their power, as in the question of removing\npastors; in which case the last Plenary Council of Baltimore enacted\nthat no bishop should remove a pastor without a proper cause.\n\nIn questions which these two councils left undecided our author, with\nall proper respect, gives a decision more consonant with the general\ncanon law of the church and with the dictates of natural _jus_, thus\nconforming himself to the spirit of the two councils.\n\nHow far it would be desirable to adopt the common canonical law in this\ncountry, or whether the time has fully arrived for doing so, the author\nvery properly leaves for the decision of the hierarchy and the Holy See.\nWe do not deem it inconsistent with the respect we owe to our American\nprelates in coinciding with the desire expressed by the Council of\nBaltimore that some few things pertaining to the common canonical law of\nthe church might be carried out; for instance, the exacting of a\n_concursus_ for parishes. Our bishops could require a _concursus_ at\nleast for the larger parishes, and abstain from appointing any one to\nsuch parishes except one of those who have received a sufficient number\nof points required for approbation. This would secure always for the\nlarger parishes at least an occupant sufficiently instructed in moral as\nwell as parenetic theology. It would also be a great inducement for the\nyounger clergy to cultivate these sciences, and not to abandon them as\nsoon as they are out of the seminary. Our bishops would attain these\ngreat beneficial results without losing their perfect right and freedom\nof appointment, as they would not be bound to give the parish to the\nbest in learning, but to the best all things considered, learning as\nwell as probity, prudence, and ability in looking after the temporal\nwelfare of the church; as, indeed, they would not be bound to give it to\nthe best at all, but only to one of the approved.\n\nWith reference to other things our opinion would be to let things remain\nas they are; because the common canonical law as it stands only obtains\nin a very few parts of Europe, and we may say that the church\nlegislation, owing to the circumstances of the times, is in a transition\nstate. When the Vatican Council opens again\u2014and we hope our Holy Father\nPope Leo XIII. may soon see fit to reopen it\u2014many changes may take place\nin the legislation of the church. It will be time enough then for the\nAmerican Church to adopt such legislation as will be conformable with\nthe common law of the church.\n\nDr. Smith deserves high praise for his work, and our seminarians and\nclergy would do well to study his book as eminently useful and\nimportant, giving us quite an accurate idea of the common canonical law\nand of the particular legislation of the American Church.\n\n\n THE BOOK OF PSALMS. Translated from the Latin Vulgate, etc. London:\n Burns & Oates. 1878. (For sale by The Catholic Publication Society\n Co.)\n\n\nThis small and neat edition of the Psalms is most welcome. With all\nrespect we apply to it the words of an old English Catholic poet,\nCrashaw:\n\n \u201cLo! here a little volume, but large book,\n Much larger in itself than in its look.\u201d\n\nCardinal Manning has written the preface, and the Psalms are enriched\nthroughout with explanatory notes as the church requires for the\nScriptures in the vulgar tongue.\n\nThe Psalter of David was among all classes of Christians, from the\nbeginning, the favorite expression both of private and public devotions.\nThe apostles themselves (Ephes. v. 19, Coloss. iii. 16) instructed the\nfaithful in the use of these inspired canticles, and we learn from\nvarious passages in the writings of Tertullian, Augustine, Jerome, and\nVen. Bede particularly, how familiar the early Christians must have been\nwith them until the eighth century, when public or liturgical psalmody\nwas left to the clergy exclusively. We hope that a taste for the reading\nof the Sacred Scriptures, and the devotional use of the Psalms\nespecially, will increase\u2014we had almost said will _revive_\u2014among the\nlaity.\n\n\nBOOKS FOR SUMMER READING.\n\n\nThe Catholic Publication Society Company has just published quite a\nbatch of very seasonable and interesting books. For those looking for\nsummer reading nothing better could possibly be recommended than the\ngraphic sketches of Italian life and manners, of scenery and monuments\nof faith and history, embodied in the charming _Six Sunny Months_, which\nran as a serial in this magazine. Its gifted author, the writer of the\n_House of Yorke_, _Grapes and Thorns_, etc., needs no introduction to\nour readers. A companion volume to this is the _Letters of a Young\nIrishwoman to her Sister_, which excited so much interest and no little\ncontroversy while appearing in these pages. The pictures of French\nhome-life and scenery, of French and Irish character, of thrilling\ncontemporary events, given in these letters are to our thinking\nunsurpassed in unaffected grace and na\u00efve simplicity, while the growing\nsadness of the end lifts what was intended to be the unpublished\nnarrative of unassuming everyday existence to the heights of tragic\npathos. _Sir Thomas More_ carries us back into other days and weaves\nhistory into a powerful romance. _The Trowel and the Cross_, from the\nstrong pen of Conrad von Bolanden, gives us the German social and\npolitical life of the day with a force and a truth and a deep\nphilosophical insight that very few pens can command. Bolanden has\nDisraeli\u2019s art of throwing the living problems of the day in social and\npolitical matters into interesting stories, with the saving gift, that\nDisraeli has not, of truth and right. Of lighter calibre, yet thoroughly\ncharming and well adapted to while away the lazy summer hours, are\n_Assunta Howard and Other Stories_, _Alba\u2019s Dream_ (by the author of\n_Are You My Wife?_) _and Other Stories_, _Stray Leaves from a Passing\nLife and Other Stories_. Nothing better, in the way of light literature,\nthan any or all of these books issues from the press, and nothing better\ncan be done by Catholics who read at all than to read their own\nliterature and support the efforts of those who devote their gifts\nexclusively to the Catholic cause.\n\nPious books especially adapted for this season are the _Hand-book of\nInstructions and Devotions for the Children of Mary_ (translated from\nthe French by Rev. J. P. O\u2019Connell, D.D.), _The Love of Jesus to\nPenitents_ (by Cardinal Manning), and _The Young Girl\u2019s Month of June_\n(a companion to the _Month of May_, noticed last month, and translated\nby Miss MacMahon).\n\n\n\n\n THE CATHOLIC WORLD.\n VOL. XXVII., No. 160.\u2014JULY, 1878.\n\n\n GERMAN SOCIALISM.\n\n\nDuring the last two months our daily journals have contained reports of\nthe doings and the threatenings of numerous mysterious associations in\nour Western cities. From these reports it is clear that attempts were\nbeing made to organize and arm the disaffected against the present\nconstitution of society, and that the purpose of these proposed assaults\nwas utterly destructive, and not at all constructive; everything as it\nexists was to be swept away, but there was no agreement as to what\nshould take the place of the destroyed system. To the tail of the\nserpent there seemed to be no head. Each of the leaders in the\nagitation, when personally questioned by the agents of the daily press,\nspoke for himself, with more or less obscurity of meaning, but with no\nrecognition or mention of a general organization or a directing head. In\nSt. Louis, Cincinnati, Chicago, Milwaukee, San Francisco, and a score of\nother cities companies of men are meeting secretly night after night,\nand are drilling to accustom themselves to the use of arms; when they\nare not drilling they are listening to speeches in which most\ninflammatory language is used: in this place a certain list of \u201cdemands\u201d\nis formulated; in another these so-called reforms are scouted as merely\npalliative in their nature and as unworthy of consideration. But amid\nthis confusion it was seen clearly that the inspiration of the agitation\ncame from German sources, and that the men engaged in fanning the flame\nof the inchoate conflagration were chiefly of German birth. Here we\nresist a temptation to diverge into an examination of the causes of the\norigin and growth of this revolutionary agitation in the United States\u2014a\nmost fecund and interesting theme. But just at this time the life of the\nEmperor of Germany is attempted by one of his own subjects; and it is\nmade to appear that the would-be assassin made the criminal attempt in\nthe interest of the socialistic agitation in Germany. Each branch of the\nGerman socialists, of course, condemns and disowns him; he appears to\nhave been initiated into the secrets of the councils of many of these\nassociations; he certainly was thoroughly impregnated with the theories\nof the German socialistic philosophers of the most advanced schools.\nThese theories are destructive and not constructive; the man Hoedel had\nprobably convinced himself that it was time to begin this work of\ndestruction, and that it would be well to commence at the root of the\ntree. So he struck at the emperor\u2014happily with a bad aim.\n\nHere, then, we have a striking illustration of the fruition of German\nsocialism at the very time when we see its initial workings in our own\ncountry. This flower of the tree\u2014the man Hoedel\u2014may, however, be said to\nbe a premature and unnatural product of the plant. The educated classes\nin Germany, we believe, will not think so. If they are blind to the\nnatural tendency of the socialistic theories of their own philosophers,\nit is not for lack of plain warnings and demonstrations from authorities\nwhom they are accustomed to respect. The anxiety of the government\nregarding the spread of revolutionary and subversive opinions has long\nbeen well known. It is only a short time ago that a thorough review of\nGerman socialism was published in the _Deutsche Rundschau_\u2014the \u201cGerman\nContemporary Review\u201d\u2014a monthly magazine of high standing, printed at\nBerlin. This review extended through two numbers of the magazine, and at\nonce attracted attention by the thoroughness and acumen with which the\nsubject was treated. Its author is Dr. Ludwig Bamberger, a gentleman\nwhose own history is curious. Born in Mayence, in 1822, he studied for\nthe law at Giesen, Heidelberg, and G\u00f6ttingen, and in 1848-49 he edited\nthe _Mainzer Zeitung_. Carried away by the revolutionary excitement of\nthat period, he took part in the insurrection in the Rheinphalz, and was\nelected to the Frankfort Parliament. Instead of taking his seat, he\nwisely went into Switzerland and thence to London, where he devoted\nhimself to the study and practice of banking. In 1851 he founded a\nbanking-house in Rotterdam, and two years afterwards found himself at\nthe head of a large financial institution in Paris, which he conducted\nwith great success for thirteen years. He has written several works of\nimportance; his last production, a volume published in German and in\nFrench at Paris, in 1869, on _Count Bismarck_, was not the least notable\nof his books. This is the author whose dissertation upon German\nsocialism has appeared so opportunely. It is worthy of the most serious\nattention, and we give the substance of it in the following pages. Dr.\nBamberger is not a Catholic. He is decidedly anti-Catholic, as will be\nseen, and as we allow him to appear; he discusses his subject without\nthe slightest aid from the light which true reason, aided by religion,\nwould throw upon it. But we shall take him on his own ground, and,\nwithout attempting to translate him fully, follow with fidelity his line\nof thought.\n\n\n I.\n\n\nThe people of Germany, he says, are to-day waging as wordy a war as did\nthe nobility of France a century ago. The men who best know this are\nthose who for a generation have devoted themselves to fomenting the war\nof those who have nothing against those who possess everything, and who\nare to-day the leaders of the proletariat. The contrast between the\ntheories and the practice of these men is ludicrous. A small number of\ngifted, learned, diligent men, they dwell in peace and luxury; they\nenjoy life like connoisseurs; from these secure and pleasant ports they\nsail forth to attack the economy by which the machinery of society is\nkept in motion. In this amusement there seems to be a species of\ndemoniacal pleasure. If they were sincere, the contrast between their\nhabits and their professed aims would be ludicrous. The equalization\nthey call for can only be realized by placing an equal proportion of the\nmeans necessary for gaining a livelihood within the reach of all. Every\nownership exceeding this minimum would be divided to increase the\nnecessary quota.\n\nIs it objected that this is looking at the question from the darkest\nside? It is true that great movements should not be measured by those\nnearest to them. But events can never be separated from those who bring\nthem about. Moreover, we are not now concerned with history but with\nto-day. In the demonstration of philosophical principles it may be asked\nwhether the teacher is a philosopher in his own life; this curiosity is\nstill less indiscreet when the issue is one of life and death.\n\nThe originators of German socialism\u2014Lassalle and his eulogist,\nHerwegh\u2014were luxurious men of the world, for whose desires the\nvoluptuous apparatus of modern cities alone sufficed. Their successors\nare like unto them. To meet them is to scoff at the idea that these men\nshould have described, as participants, the grim battle for existence\nfought by the common people. An ingenious psychological explanation is\noffered for them. The conjunction of bodily comfort with intellectual\ndistinction which they enjoy causes them to shudder at the thought of a\nlife hard, painful, and colorless. Their sympathy to this extent may be\ngenuine; but so much the greater is the hypocrisy of their battle-cry\nfor a universal economy whose cardinal principle shall be the equal\nabnegation of all.\n\nThese men are not Catilinical but Herostratic. We can have some sympathy\nwith the man who, thrown out of his path, angry with the whole world on\naccount of his evil fortune, seeks for a new order of things. But these\nleaders, from Marx to Bakumin, from the caustic diatribe of the poisoned\npen to the torch steeped in petroleum, exclaim: \u201cFor the world as it is\nwe care not! If we can proclaim our contempt for it by destroying it,\nlet it perish!\u201d This is the cry that has been growing louder for thirty\nyears\u2014from the date of the appearance of the first socialistic articles\nin the _Cologne Zeitung_ to the present moment.\n\nThe public of to-day know the high-priests of socialism only from the\nthick books in which their solemn declarations are spread out, and from\nthe interpretations of these given at working-men\u2019s congresses. The\npersonal motives from which the whole movement sprang are forgotten.\nCarl Marx, when he gazes over from his London cottage upon the new\nGerman Empire, can exclaim with pride that after thirty years his seed\nhas brought forth abundantly. Whoever wishes to see this sower more\nclosely and in his true character need only read Carl Vogt\u2019s pamphlet,\n_Life of Fugitives in London_. Here are the revelations not of an\nopponent but an adherent of the cause and an admirer of Marx, but a\ndisillusionized admirer. He sees that the meanest of tricks were\npractised by Marx and his _entourage_ in the meanest manner; and that\nthe desire for power is as strong among these levellers as it is in the\ncourt of a king. Here, for instance, are extracts from Carl Vogt\u2019s\npamphlet:\n\n \u201cIn the end it is all the same whether this contemptible Europe\n falls\u2014an event that must presently occur without the revolution.\n They (Carl Marx and his Janissaries) care nothing for the German\n common people. They desire only to remain eternally in the\n opposition, without which the revolution would go to sleep.... We\n drank first porter, then claret, then red Bordeaux, then champagne.\n After the red wine Marx was quite drunk. This was very desirable,\n for he became more open-hearted. I heard much that otherwise would\n have been concealed. But he kept up the conversation to the end; he\n impressed me as a man of singular mental superiority and of\n remarkable personality. Had he as much heart as mind, as much love\n as hatred, I would go through the fire for him. I am sorry for our\n cause that he does not possess a noble heart. His ambition has eaten\n up all the good qualities in him. He laughs over the fools who\n repeat his proletariat catechism, as well as over communists \u00e0 la\n Willich or the _bourgeoisie_. He cares only for the aristocrats,\n purely and consciously so. To drive them from power he employs a\n force that he finds only in the proletariat, and for that reason has\n adapted his system to it.\u201d\n\nSo much for Marx. The true portraiture of Lassalle would be as amusing.\nBut the contrast between the living and the preaching, between the\nprivate mode of thought and the public utterances of the German upper\nand middle classes generally, is equally observable. And in this respect\nthey remind one of the marquises and viscounts of the eighteenth\ncentury. They do not dance on the volcano, but gather the fuel for the\npile on which they themselves are to be consumed; and the cry _Sancta\nsimplicitas!_ resounds, not sympathetically from the mouth of the\nvictim, but mockingly from the throat of the executioner. The fact that\nthe internationalists, far away from German shores, send mandates from\nbeneath the shelter of their English homes for the destruction of our\ncivil comity, would give us little cause for alarm, if men unwillingly\nunited, and doubly important by their positions and their number, were\nnot seeking to accomplish this work within our own walls. The fruits of\ntheir activity are observable everywhere.\n\nMany will answer: In these symptoms appears the development of a healthy\nprocess, similar to the unconscious self-dissolution of the French\naristocracy which brought about the revolution and thus conferred the\ngreatest benefit upon posterity. So it is now the duty of the\npeople\u2014\u201cthe third class\u201d\u2014to make room for its legitimate successor, \u201cthe\nfourth class.\u201d Whether it was fortunate for the world that the French\nRevolution was accomplished we shall not say. There is, however, not a\nsingle analogous characteristic between the epoch of that revolution and\nthe present time.\n\nOne of the most absurd weaknesses of our time is that it hurries on with\nformulas of a dialectic development, and transforms them into the\nbusiness of life before they are properly digested. What is more\nludicrous than the introduction of parliamentary systems into countries\nsemi-barbarous? The attempt to cure Russia, Turkey, Roumania, and Egypt\nwith parliamentary constitutions reminds us of the peasant who, when the\ndoctor has prescribed a medicine for him, employs the same for his wife\nand child in every disease. He falls into the same error who fancies\nthat the German people have arrived at that stage of their development\nwhen, like the French nobility of the eighteenth century, they should\nbetake themselves with a good grace out of the world. The very contrary\nis the case. Never have extremes met more closely than in the common\nattack of reaction and socialism against the German people. While the\ntemperate socialistic ideal has for its end the revival of the state of\nsociety during the middle ages, the internationalists aim at the\ndissolution of all that has been gained since our ancestors were\nbarbarians. There is a lower depth yet, for a school exists which, going\nonly a step farther, calls itself \u201canarchist.\u201d[92]\n\nThe support given the socialists by the agrarians and the ultramontanes\nis more than an ordinary political coalition. Their sympathy reposes on\ninward concurrence; and for Germany it is especially dangerous, because\ntheir attacks are directed against a people neither matured nor secured.\n_Germany is almost wholly wanting in everything needful for the\nformation of a united, intelligent, and independent body politic._ The\nstrong material groundwork is yet wanting. The complaints made against\nour industrial products are not groundless. Nor can they be ascribed to\nthe passing influence of commercial folly which characterized the period\nimmediately following the war. We have to do with evils as old as the\ncentury. Improvement of workmanship, increase of general prosperity, and\nelevation of political prestige bear the closest relationship to each\nother. The intoxication of victory led to a foolish application of the\nbooty extorted from France. Those who undertook the solution of this\nstupendous financial problem approached it with too small a measure of\nits importance. But everywhere we meet with the same technical\ninadequacy in Germany. Earnest work alone in domestic as well as public\neconomy can lead us to the firm establishment of a healthy, civilized\nstate. Only fools can propose to dispense with the forms requisite for\nthe collection of strength which has made possible the stage of culture\nwe now are in, and only sophists can attempt to establish this power\nwithout capital, and capital without property. But instead of allowing\nthe German people to attain its development, the inimical elements are\nnow all pouncing upon it, and telling it that it has outlived itself and\nis ready for dissolution.\n\nIn England, France, and Italy there is an aristocracy with strong\nself-respect and conservative principles\u2014an erudite community, filled\nwith the quiet consciousness of its intellectual superiority. But these\nclasses do not separate the task of their self-preservation from that of\nthe preservation of the people. There he who seeks to bring forward\nparticular ideas endeavors to carry them into the great community of the\npeople.\n\nThere are eccentric persons everywhere; but only in Germany exist entire\ngroups of aristocratic, learned, and religious men who make war upon the\npeople their business. Aristocrats who take the field against capital,\nprofessors who teach that the road to wealth leads to prison, bishops\nwho conspire with demagogues, are to be found only in Germany. First one\nand then another of these groups wish to make _experimentum in anima\nvili_ with the people. Its pains give them no care\u2014nay, in some cases\nsecret joy; all are deluded by the idea that they can abuse it without\nimperilling their own safety.... The nation, as a whole, does not feel\nresponsible for its own support. It still believes that the supreme\npower, reposing upon itself, would take care to preserve order. For this\nreason it does not permit any interference with attacks against\nitself,[93] and sometimes takes pleasure in joining in the sport.\n\nThe ruling class is scarcely wiser. Its nerves are somewhat more\nsusceptible; but as for a true insight into the state of affairs it is\nas much in the dark as the governed. It suspects, in small degree, the\nextreme danger that threatens, but it is at sea concerning the origin\nand nature of the danger. If alarmed by a fresh incident, it thinks that\nmore stringent laws are all that is needed,[94] or the revival of a\nburied belief.\n\nIt is an error to measure Germany by English or French ideas. Here\nimmature conditions have penetrated over-ripe ideals. The lesson of the\nwar of classes has, with us, fallen on a soil which for pernicious\ngrowth is better adapted than that of any country in the world, Russia\nexcepted. The conjunction of our strongly-developed intellectual life\nwith our crude and immature political and social systems has generated\nan atmosphere in which the poisoned germs of these seeds yielded fruit\nwith unparalleled rapidity and plenty.\n\nGermany has become the special field of this war of classes, because she\nis a country divided into many classes. Here every individual holds to\nhis own claims or promulgates new ones; and no one feels himself united\nwith the whole. No group hesitates to assail the foundations of society,\nif anything dissatisfies them. Our class strifes are kindled and\nfomented from all sides\u2014from above as well as from below. No class knows\nfor whom it is really working. Only the professional agitators know it;\nthese are careful not to divulge the secret, and strive to make it\nappear that they do not suspect the connection between their conscious\nconspiracy and the unconscious conspiracies of all the other parties.\nThey know that their principal strength lies in this quiet coalition.\n\nIn this unconscious raving against ourselves lies our chief danger. This\nassertion applies not only to the _bourgeoisie_ but to all classes up to\nthe highest. All seem to be living in blessed ignorance of the real\ndrift of affairs. Their efforts are always futile; they always take hold\nof their subject at the wrong end. Let us relate a parliamentary\nincident. The question of the best method of opposing the socialistic\nmovement was recently debated in the Reichstag.[95] A decree forbidding\nattacks in the press upon the family, property, and religion was\nintroduced. The government attached the greatest importance to the\npassage of this decree. It was to be the bulwark of existing\ninstitutions. The Prussian Minister of the Interior, Count von\nEulenburg, made his first appearance in the Reichstag to advocate this\nmeasure. The minister betrayed his fear that the Parliament would not\nconsent to increase the restrictions upon the press by reason of the\nignorance of members concerning the intrigues and dogmas of the social\ndemocrats. His lively and exhaustive delineation of these dangers bore\nthe stamp of a work ordered for the purpose by the department to which\nhe belonged, which had supplied him with the necessary data for the\ninstruction of the blind or unsuspecting parliamentarians. So far all\nwas well. But when members arose, and, without contesting the reality of\nthe danger, reminded the minister that the enemy in his own camp was the\nmost dangerous; that the pet decree would find no favor with these\narch-conspirators; that it would merely divert the danger from its least\nperilous direction; in short, that socialism had penetrated and found a\nhome in conservative and governmental circles\u2014then it became evident\nthat \u201cthe world was nailed up before the eyes of the government.\u201d They\nhad no suspicion of what was really going on around them; the minister\nhad no real knowledge of what he wished to explain. He felt harshly\nassailed, and disappeared; on the Right of the chamber there was\nconfusion; as a closing scene Monfang and Bebel swore with touching\nunanimity that they did not know each other. Is anyone surprised to find\nthe most select audience in Germany so unprepared, so ignorant of the\nreal state of affairs? It is always a mistake to presuppose too much\nwisdom. A little keener scent of the secret forces that serve the\nsocialistic propaganda has been gained by Prince Bismarck; but this is\ndue to the fact that the intrigues directed against his person did not\nhesitate to employ socialistic partisans and catch-words. In this way\nthe existence of this unnatural combination was forced upon his notice.\nUnder other circumstances it was not to be expected of him that he\nshould trouble himself about socialism. His method is to employ every\nelement of power to his advantage according to circumstances, and to\nspare every one that does not thrust itself with hostile intent across\nhis path.\n\n\u201cIt is fortunate for us that a few social democrats have taken service\nin the camp of the ultramontanes and junkers, and thereby called\nattention to the consanguinity of their beautiful souls.\u201d[96]\n\n\n II.\n\n\nGermany is the only great country in which exists a social-democratic\nparty\u2014using the word party in the sense of a compact political union\nwhich promulgates as its official platform the determination to secure\nby whatever means domination over the state and society. Even in the\nmuch-agitated kingdom of Denmark socialism has not yet attained\nparliamentary recognition. In England the mass of laborers organized for\ncommon purposes is disproportionately larger than in Germany, and all\npoliticians there discuss the problems proposed by the workmen. The\nprogramme of a state reposing on a communistic groundwork, built upon\nthe ruins of the present system, there is advocated but by few. With us\nthis is the only solution sought by the entire social democracy; of late\nit has become the official profession of faith of the whole body.\n\nIn England the dissension is confined to the employer and the employed.\nThe one tries to secure the best terms from the other. Political objects\nconfine themselves within limits which, compared with the professed aims\nof the German social democrats, are very narrow. Extension of the\nsuffrage, limitation of the labor of women and children, free\neducation\u2014these are demands which do not imperil the foundations of\nsociety.\n\nIn France the reaction from the _Commune_ has swept away all tangible\nremains of the social-democratic party. France has fought against\ncommunism in the streets. No peaceful overtures have been made to\nsocialism, as in Germany. With us it is recognized as a political\norganization representing a particular line of thought. This constitutes\nits great strength, and all that strengthens it weakens us. In Germany\nalmost all the reactionary parties strive to obtain the support of the\nsocial democrats. The Protestant hypocrite, the Catholic clergy, the\ncombination of protectionists and agrarians, offer their hands to the\nsocial democrats in solemn pledges of brotherhood.[97] Thiers, in his\npolitical will, bequeathed the _Commune_ to us. France, he said, has\novercome this misery; in her place Germany must carry the cross. The old\nman knew what he was talking about. When with Bismarck at Versailles he\nsaid his greatest fear was of the _coquins_ of Paris. After him came\nJules Favre, who opposed the disarming of the national guard, and\nsublimely exclaimed: \u201cThere is no mob in Paris!\u201d We have our Favres, who\npretend to be in love with all the world. _Woe unto us if we should be\nplaced on trial!_ The elevation of the social democracy to a recognized\npower dates from the creation of the German Empire. The causes were\nmany; the decisive one was universal suffrage. This is made the\nscape-goat of many sins\u2014most unjustly. The harm it carries in its train\ndoes not lie in the fact that it permits the expression of the opinions\nof all classes. On the contrary, this is a gain. It has only worked\nbadly because it appeared as a new, powerful incentive to greater\nactivity to those into whose heads confused notions are sought to be\ninstilled. While the new elective law brought to its support a part of\nthe population which had until then not possessed the right of suffrage,\nit compelled those desirous of gain to devote themselves mainly to this\nfresh ground.\n\nTo beget dissatisfaction, vague desires, and unlimited hopes was very\neasy here. Those who expected to gain the advantage of leadership from\nit determined quickly to take possession of this inviting land.\n\nThe regular organization of the socialistic party dates only from 1867.\nA careful dissemination of ideas had first been accomplished. The new\nconstituencies had been imbued with the notions of the propaganda, and\nthe way to obtain their votes was to advocate these notions. \u201cIf you\nwish to be elected to the Reichstag, apply yourself with all energy to\nthe new voters,\u201d was the _mot d\u2019ordre_. The sentiment of hatred against\nproperty-owners, and hunger for the distribution of estates, now became\nmerchantable commodities. Thus the election of a new German Reichstag\noffered a premium for the propagation of socialistic ideas. The leaders\nof the combination took immediate advantage of this. The necessary\nfreedom accompanying the election cleared the road of a mass of police\nand legal obstacles. The rostrum of the Reichstag is of immense use.\nThose elected attain greater respect both in and outside their party. We\nshould never have heard of the most renowned socialists\u2014of Bebel or\nLiebknecht, of Most or Hasselmann\u2014if a nomination to the Reichstag had\nnot put them in a position of importance. Besides, the leaders learn\nmuch in Parliament, and take advantage of the opportunities given them.\nThere is, for instance, no doubt that the introduction of free passage\nby railroads for the benefit of members of the Reichstag will be\nsuccessfully employed for the dissemination of socialistic teachings,\nand perhaps gain new members of like tendencies. _Per diems_\n(Tagegelder) would of course prove even more valuable. The socialistic\norganization at present pays each of its representatives nine marks per\nday during his stay in Berlin. If they were paid by the state the saving\nto the socialistic treasury would be thirty thousand marks; and this\nincrease of the sinews of war would result, at the next election, in new\naccessions of strength.\n\nThere are only a dozen socialists in the Reichstag, but they rely upon\nthe support given by the divisions of the other parties; and this is a\npeculiarity which runs through our whole national character. Every\nperson pursues his own private and local ends, and there is no united\nfeeling. It is for this reason that the socialists and ultramontanes\nmake such rapid headway. Through the narrow-minded system of electing\nmen to the Reichstag as a reward for local services, men of great talent\nare often neglected. The Reichstag has three hundred and ninety-seven\nmembers, among them twelve socialists. Deducting the latter, there are\naltogether only seven districts which are represented by deputies who\nare not natives of the places from which they were returned.\n\nBut how is this picture changed as soon as we look upon the social\ndemocrats! Here national unity is the rule. Of the twelve elected, eight\nare without any local relation to their districts. Even with the other\nfour birth, representation, and residence do not go hand-in-hand. Bebel,\nthough residing in Saxony, is a native of Rhenish Prussia; Fritzsche is\na native of Saxony, but lives in Berlin; Motteler lives in Saxony, but\nis a native of the Palatinate. (These three were elected in Saxony.) The\nonly one who falls within the general rule is Rittinghausen, who\nrepresents Solingen.\n\nThe kingdom of Saxony, the hot-bed of particularism, is the rendezvous\nof the whole German social democracy. Auer, Kapell, Bracke, Liebknecht,\nMost, and Demmler were returned from that kingdom. The same is true of\nSchleswig-Holstein; and if it were an independent duchy instead of a\nPrussian province, it would probably have sent three social democrats\ninto the Reichstag.\n\nThe German people have not attained a degree of development sufficient\nto permit of their coping successfully with the political and social\nproblems spread before them. Meanwhile socialism is widening its sway.\nWhither it tends we shall proceed to show.\n\n\n III.\n\n\nIn ten years the German social-democratic party has sprung into\nimportance. In the American Congress no representative of the social\ndemocracy is yet seated. In the French Assembly no member would\nsubscribe to the confession of faith of the German socialists. In the\nEnglish House of Commons there are two working-class members\u2014Burt and\nMacdonald\u2014but neither have ever thought of the abolition of private\nindustry, the organization of the proletariat with state capital, or the\ndestruction of private property. In Denmark no socialist has yet gained\nan entrance into Parliament. The German nation alone is represented by\nmen who have declared war against our whole political and social\neconomy. There are twelve of them. Ever since a German Reichstag has\nexisted they have increased. In 1867 two of them entered the constituent\nReichstag; in 1868 five entered the North German Reichstag; in 1871 two\nentered the first German Reichstag; in 1874 nine entered the second\nGerman Reichstag; in 1877 twelve entered the present Parliament. To\nunderstand these figures it must be noticed that South Germany was\nwithout influence in this regular increase, for the districts beyond the\nline of the Main have not as yet returned one social democrat; the\nincrease occurred wholly on the old ground. The figures speak still more\nconvincingly when we go from the elected to the electors. In the year\n1874 only 350,000 votes were cast in favor of the social democracy; in\nthe year 1877 they received 485,000\u2014an increase of well-nigh forty per\ncent. The whole number of electors who cast valid votes in 1877 was\n5,535,000. Of this total 3,600,000 votes were cast for the successful\ncandidates. The last number divided by 397 (the number of members) gives\nus the average of the number of voters which go to a representative,\n9,000. The same process applied to the twelve social-democratic\nrepresentatives, and the 111,000 votes which are united upon them, makes\nthe proportion remain the same: each one elected represents 9,200 votes.\n\nA different picture is presented if we regard the votes lost by\nscattering. The 3,600,000 successful voters are in the ratio of 67 per\ncent. of the total number of voters. This repeats itself if we apply the\ninvestigation to the several parties. The total of votes for the\nnational-liberal party was 1,594,000. The number of votes represented in\nthe Reichstag of this persuasion is 1,082,000\u2014that is, a little more\nthan 67 per cent. of those 1,594,000. By comparing with this the\ncorresponding proportion between the number of social-democratic votes\nand the number which obtained representation, we find that this party\nhas not attained to an equal degree of concentration in its elective\nelements. Against 485,000 votes cast we find here only 111,000 at the\nback of successful deputies\u2014_i.e._, only 23 per cent. of the voters have\neffected representation. If the general proportion had gained expression\nhere, the number of social-democratic deputies would be thirty-two, or\nalmost as many as the members of the German liberal party. Only for this\nreason, that 77 per cent. of these votes were scattered, whereas by the\ngeneral rule only 33 per cent. are scattered, have we escaped the fate\nof giving the world, in tangible figures, an idea of the intensity of\nthe disease which is threatening our nation. But if for the present we\nremain safe from such a humiliation, it is none the less true that our\npolitical thinking and feeling are already as strongly affected as these\nfigures attest. There may not as yet be any immediate danger from the\naction of the Reichstag. But in the very fact which is as yet paralyzing\nthe effectiveness of the socialistic elective power lies the greatest\ndanger. For this scattering of votes is an omen of a distribution of\nadvance posts throughout the whole empire, which, if particular\ncircumstances favor it, will suddenly gain in strength, and, joining\nhands, can obtain control of the country. Had we introduced a method of\nminority representation into the elective law, the socialistic faction\nwould already be on an equal footing with the other parties. If we had\nthe French method, by which several deputies in large districts are\nelected on one list, we would, perhaps, already number two dozen\nsocial-democratic members in the Reichstag.\n\nThe socialistic party may justly boast that it is stronger than it\nappears to be by its representation in the Reichstag, and that it may\nreasonably hope for a speedy development of its parliamentary power. But\neven to-day it is strong. The twelve socialistic members may possibly\nhold the balance of power. A closer inspection of the election returns\nshows that nearly one-half of the voters in 1877 were hostile to the\ndevelopment of the German Empire on its present basis. Poles, Welfs,\nSwabian democrats, protesters from Alsace, social democrats, added to\nthe ultramontanes who serve them as a firm nucleus, bring the sum of the\ncombination up to 2,395,000 voters out of 5,535,000. An increase of but\nthree or four hundred thousand votes would deliver the empire into the\nhands of its foes. Besides, circumstances favor the socialists. In large\ncities like Berlin, Hamburg, Breslau, Eberfeld, Bremen, and L\u00fcbeck a\nstrong working-class element is easily concentrated. Seven of the twelve\nsocialist members of the Reichstag were elected in Saxony. But wherever\nthe local mind has had a definite and fixed idea socialism has made no\nprogress. It is thus in the Catholic portions of Bavaria and in\nAlsace-Lorraine. In other quarters, where opinions are more divided, the\nCatholics form coalitions with the socialists. In France a large class\nof property-owners incline to Catholicism, because they believe that\nthrough it they can save the state and society. In Germany Catholicism\nthrows itself into the arms of inimical elements, in order to strengthen\nitself.\n\nThe official reports of the annual congress of the socialists are highly\ninstructive. The _Protocols of the Socialistic Congresses_ are issued at\nHamburg, \u201cprinted and published by the brotherhood\u2019s book-printing\nestablishment.\u201d For twenty-five cents as much instruction may be gleaned\nfrom them as in the whole mass of socialistic literature. Until recently\nthe socialists were divided into two factions, each represented by a\njournal which attacked the other violently. But in 1875 they settled\ntheir differences, and united in issuing a paper called _Forwaerts_, or\n\u201cProgress.\u201d This is the official organ; but besides it there are\nforty-one socialistic journals in Germany, one of them an illustrated\npaper, _The New World_; and fourteen industrial journals, more or less\nimbued with the spirit of socialism. Of these forty-one organs of the\nsocial democracy thirteen appear daily, thirteen tri-weekly, three\nbi-weekly, and eleven weekly. Twenty-five of them are printed in offices\nbelonging to the brotherhood. Eighteen of these journals have had their\nbirth within the last year. \u201cThe rapid augmentation of our press,\u201d says\nthe report of the last congress, \u201cis enormous, not only in the number of\njournals but in the number of subscribers.\u201d\n\nGermany is the breeding-house for the representation and distribution of\nsocialistic teachings in the rest of the world; it is the apostolic seat\nof the new faith, whence missionaries are sent to all lands, preaching\nin all tongues. _Wherever in Europe or America a communistic congress or\ninsurrection is to be noted, Germans are at its head, or exercise\ncontrol._ At the congresses of the International, held since 1866 in\nGeneva, the Hague, and Brussels, Germans have always taken the front\nseats. The English communists were represented in Geneva in 1873 by the\ntailor Eccarius, a German Swiss, with whom, in truth, the congress of\nEnglish workmen which met at Sheffield in 1874 wished to have nothing to\ndo.[98] Next to Eccarius, the Germans Johann, Philip, Becker, and\nAmandus were especially prominent at Geneva. At the Congress of the\nInternational at the Hague in 1872 Carl Marx presided in person. This\nGerman ascendency is seen also in America.\n\nHere Dr. Bamberger enters into a long description of our railway strike\nlast summer, tracing its origin to German influences. The beginning of\nall socialistic combinations in America, he says, can be traced to\nGerman origin. The \u201cInternational Working Confederation\u201d of 1867 was\nfounded by German emissaries from Marx\u2019s mother-lodge, and Chicago was\nits headquarters. The point is made that at the meeting in New York on\nthe 25th of July last Germans were prominent; at a similar meeting in\nSt. Louis, suppressed by the police, among the arrested leaders were\nGermans, one of whom on the 26th of July, when the mob for a moment\nseemed victorious, had sent this despatch to Leipzig: \u201cSt. Louis, a city\nof three hundred thousand souls, is in our power.\u201d\n\nIn Switzerland, Dr. Bamberger goes on to say, the international element\nis strongest where the German influence is greatest\u2014in Zurich. The\nintellectual head of the whole international propaganda is the German\nCarl Marx, whose first lieutenant is the German Friedrich Engels. Marx\nframed the foundation of the International. The congress of the sect at\nthe Hague in 1872 was his work. Among the sixty-five members of that\nbody twenty-five were Germans; New York and Zurich were there\nrepresented by Germans.\n\nThe French socialism which ruled the field from 1830 to 1850 has been\nlaid aside and forgotten. But the German socialism of to-day has the\nFrench system for its foundation. To St. Simon and Fourier, to Cabet and\nConsid\u00e9rant, however, reference is no longer made.\n\nLouis Blanc\u2019s \u201corganization of labor\u201d has been scientifically, and even\npiously, absorbed into \u201csystematic production.\u201d Proudhon has long been\nbranded as a \u201cmiserable _bourgeois_\u201d while the most devout of German\nProtestants, Pastor Todt, does not hesitate to exclaim in his latest\norgan: \u201cThe war of competition (Concurrenzkampf) today is nothing but a\nsystem of expropriations, shrouded in illusions with regard to property\u201d\n(Eigenthumsillusionen). _\u201cLa propri\u00e9t\u00e9 c\u2019est le vol._\u201d The pastor says\nthe same thing, only in other words.\n\nThe sum total of the theories in all their gradations, from the\nformulating of the brutal war of classes to the most honey-toned appeal\nto the duties of men and Christians, to-day bears the predominating\nstamp of German invention. No country in the world can point to so\nextensive an existence of learned and unlearned literature in this\nprovince. Especially in the province of learned socialistic theories\nFrance and England stand far behind us. Socialism in Italy is confined\nto a small number of younger _savants_, who understand German, and\nacknowledge themselves pupils of our masters. The most prominent trait\nof the national character of German socialism is the trace of scientific\ncoloring which is retained in the rudest revolutionary circles.\nScientific epicures like Marx and Lassalle have written the gospels of\nthe new brotherhood of working-men; professors and philosophically\nlearned men like Schaeffle and Adolph Wagner, Rodbertus, Duehring, and\nLange, have assorted them canonically; and even with the smell of powder\nand petroleum emitted by the congresses of socialists, composed mainly\nof working-men, is mingled something of the delicate perfume of\nquintessent abstraction. Herr Liebknecht, a man of learning, is the real\n_spiritus rector_ of the whole brotherhood, and it was his energy which\nfinally triumphed over the different sects of the party and consummated\nthe difficult work of consolidation.\n\nPerhaps there is no man in or out of Germany better versed in the\nliterature and history of socialism than this vaunter of the praises of\nthe Commune. Has not this something attractive besides so much that is\nrepulsive? Is it not touching to hear that the same Herr Liebknecht who\nin the tribune of the Reichstag agitates the nerves of his colleagues to\nexcess by his strongly-spiced speeches, honors their library continually\nby collections of interesting works from the province of his \u201cscience\u201d?\nand that, according to competent evidence, the social-democratic\ndeputies are not only the most industrious readers of this library, but\ndistinguish themselves by a prompt return and respectful treatment of\nthe books? We could even find a touching symptom in the comical\nappearance of the deputy and former book-binder, Most, who is vieing\nwith Prof. Mommsen for the palm in the investigation of Roman history.\nAs if there was nothing more important to do than to allow one\u2019s self to\nbe touched! In fact, this hobnobbing with science is resorted to for the\npurpose of misleading the noblest tendencies of the German character.\nSomething further is to be noted here: nothing less than the organic\nconnection between the best and the worst which is in us. Not for\nnothing has Marx furnished with a highly-learned scaffolding his\ninternational platform which appeals to \u201cthe proletarians of all lands.\u201d\nLassalle is prouder of nothing than that, after the appearance of his\nbooks on _Herakleitos_ and _The System of Acquired Rights_, Humboldt and\nBoeckh should have counted him as their equal.\n\nThe militant social democracy well understand how to keep up this\ndelusion. At their last congress it was proposed to issue in Berlin,\nbi-monthly, \u201ca scientific review in an appropriate form.\u201d The scientific\ncontributors to the _Forwaerts_, the central organ of the sect, had\noverburdened it; if these had a journal to themselves the _Forwaerts_\ncould devote more space to its work of agitation. One of the delegates,\nHerr Geib, said that by this step an alienation between science and the\nworkmen would not be caused, as some feared; and to anticipate the\nreview he recommended a half-monthly scientific supplement to the\n_Forwaerts_ gratis. Another delegate said that \u201cthe more political life\nstepped into the foreground, the farther did the scientific side of life\nrecede, unless official efforts were made to promote it. It was\nnecessary that this should be cared for, in order to prevent the\nlevelling of the party.\u201d The proposition was adopted, and the scientific\nreview, _The Future_, has appeared regularly since October last in the\n\u201cappropriate form\u201d of a red-covered magazine.\n\nThe commanders of the socialistic army are wise in thus enlisting\nscientific officers on their general staff. They gain by this, in\nliterary circles, the position of \u201cthe best-favored nation.\u201d In the vast\nnumber of publications lately issued on \u201cthe social question\u201d we seldom\nmeet one which, even if inspired with the utmost disfavor for the new\ndogma, does not approach it with respectful and ludicrous timidity. The\nsocial democracy has for its first article of faith open hostility to\nall other parties; their extinction is its aim. But almost all\nconfutations, on the other hand, strike the key-note of a defender who\nis only pleading for milder conditions. By aid of the \u201cscientific\u201d\ncoloring the social democracy has moved into a position to which every\nassailant makes an obeisance before firing. Through the anti-socialistic\nliterature runs a tone of humble apology that seems to say: \u201cExcuse us\nthat we belong to the contemptible class of the _bourgeoisie_, and\nbelieve our promise of future reform.\u201d As with the cause, so do we\napproach the individuals with uncovered head. All presentations of the\nlife and teaching of Lassalle accept the Titan\u2019s diploma which he has\ngiven himself. If unbelievers and half-believers do this, how natural\nthat the social democracy has decreed him Godlike honors after his\ndemise! If we, however, look with impartial eye into the biographic\nmaterial which is available to us, we are struck by the characteristic\ntrait of grotesque mockery overshadowing all. Were it not sinful to\nrecount the names of Germany\u2019s great men\u2014those who still live as well as\nthose who have left us\u2014in one breath with the name of this talented\nagitator, we might be tempted to draw a parallel between the letters\nwhich we possess of the former and those which the Lassalle literature\nhas brought to light. An instructive antithesis, forsooth: the simple,\nhuman self-sacrifice, thought, and feeling of truly great souls, and the\nhollow pretensions of a proletariat rescuer, who lifts his martyrdoms\ninto the skies, in order to step down from them into perfumed boudoirs!\nThis man writes to young women that he was born to wage a contest with\nthe world, and in the same text explains to them that never had a woman\nresisted him, but he had never yet done homage; for him it was only to\naccept, not to give. How modest, in comparison with this, does the\naddress sound with which Saint-Simon had himself awakened every morning:\n\u201c_Levez-vous, Monsieur le Comte, vous avez de grandes choses \u00e0 faire._\u201d\n\n\n IV.\n\n\nFallacious as it might be to judge of the effective socialistic strength\nin time of war from the number of votes it controls in time of peace, it\nremains true that the growth of these numbers points to a change in the\nsentiments of the voters. There is something more at the disposal of the\nleaders than a mass accidentally thrown into their hands. We must guard\nagainst too trivial an appraisement of human appearances, especially in\nGermany, where thought enlarges its sway more than in any other land.\nIdeals, real or false, cannot become powerful with us without going\nthrough the earnest-thinking process of the nation. The socialistic\nleaders have fully recognized and acted on the principle that he who\nwishes to have an interest in. the future must first do his share for\nscience. The German mind being thus constituted, we must, to explain the\nspread of socialism, find the fountains of its source. This is easy. The\nprofessors of political economy in our high-schools at the beginning of\nthis century turned their attention to the socialistic problem. The\nuniversity professors, even, have lately declared that they accept the\nsocialistic stand-point _sans phrase_. The word expressing the nature of\nthe whole movement would not have gained an introduction into the\nlanguage had not the characteristic symptoms demanded an expression. The\nphrase \u201cplatform socialism\u201d is not permitted to be left out of any\nGerman dictionary. The German _Socialistes de la chaire_ are as familiar\nto French writers as the _Socialisti della Cattedra_ are to the\nItalians. All manner of shades of opinion have been developed from this\nacademic socialism. But a series of stereotyped formulas have come into\nexistence with which every one, in the press and on the platform, plays;\nas, for instance, that the inequality of property is greater now than\nformerly; that the masses are more unhappy; that wealth remains confined\nto the few and flows only to them; that capital rules supreme over labor\nand prescribes its laws. From these premises, which are all false, the\nconclusion is drawn that the present social system must be rejected and\nreplaced by another; that it was the government\u2019s business to do this;\nand that \u201cscience\u201d should furnish a plan for a righteous economy, and a\nguardian to regulate the same for all time to come. \u201cScience\u201d did not\nwait for a second invitation. Young souls devoted themselves to the\nprojection of plans for the salvation of society; systems were invented\nfor the organization of working-men into historical and organic groups,\nin order to enable them to withstand capital; others discovered methods\nof taxation by which the inequalities of ownership could be neutralized.\nHe who had too much, in the opinion of \u201cscience,\u201d was to be deprived of\nit, and it was to be given to him who had too little; persons were to be\nprevented from getting rich by ingenious plans for equalizing prices.\n\u201cPermissible luxury\u201d was divided from prohibited enjoyments; \u201cscience\u201d\nundertook to prescribe the limits of individual action.\n\nFormer times offered stronger contrasts, perhaps, of luxury and misery.\nBut the complaint now is that some persons have by certain manipulations\nbecome rapidly rich, and have made a \u201cloud\u201d use of their wealth. But are\nthe hereditary ownerships of nobles or of extensive mercantile houses\nmore sacred than the newly-won riches of stock speculators? Does the\nancient castle with its solemn walls fit better into the new system than\nthe luxurious villa of the parvenu? Is one\u2019s desire for equality less\noffended by the velvet train which a page bears behind a duchess than by\nthe satin skirt which the wife of a contractor draws behind her in the\ndust of the promenade? The _bourgeoise_ spirit has nothing in common\nwith the principles of socialism, nor with the sentiments of the\nproletariat. But the fountain of civil dissatisfaction has fed the\ntorrent of socialistic agitation. Many a man, ruined by gambling,\nbecomes a convert to the idea of a more just division of property; many,\nfrom grief over unlucky stock speculations, have written essays on the\nimmorality of the acquisition of capital.\n\nWhy has German science, justly renowned for its exactness, and often\naccused because of its heaviness, hurled itself into this whirlpool, in\norder to rise again, dripping with foul water, and with its hands full\nof prospectuses for the eternal freeing of the world from evil? Well,\none can have too much of a good thing. The scientific spirit can be\ndriven to excess. Science has done so much for us that it was easy to\nbelieve that it could accomplish everything. Science and its disciples\nsuddenly proposed to solve all the problems of life; and every one with\na project was compelled to give out his method for science to decide\nupon. Your German, as, a rule, has more adaptability for theoretical\nlearning than for practical action. Into his head everything penetrates,\nand in his head he accomplishes everything. Other people do much with\ntheir five senses and ten fingers without their minds giving much\nattention to it. We have more learning than action; more criticism than\ntaste; we do better when we work with circumspection than when we\nattempt to improvise. When, therefore, in the space of a few years, we\nhad conquered two powerful states in war and in diplomacy, and the world\nasked whence we had taken the means, we reflected upon the secret of our\nsuccess, and believed that we had found the correct answer in this: \u201cThe\nschool-teacher has won the battle of Sadowa!\u201d In all probability it was\na school teacher who invented this saying, for _fecit cui prodest_.\nAlready has Lasker warned us of the folly of this dictum. Nothing can be\nless acquired in school than genius, and the decisive turn toward\ngreatness which Germany has accomplished was given by the genius of the\ngreat men who in the right moment took its destiny into their hands.\nStatesmanship and war are two arts, not two sciences. To trace the\nsecret of the power of the commander is not vouchsafed us; but as\nregards the political side of the question, it is certain that no German\nwas ever less of a pedagogue than the imperial chancellor.\n\nWe might almost ask how a man who is so exactly the opposite of a\nschool-teacher could be born in Germany. Germany has at length broken\nthrough the chain which so long held it prostrate, just because it found\na statesman who was so entirely differently constituted from all the\nrest. For those who desire to make nature and destiny democratic by\nteaching that no one is irreplaceable this fact is unwelcome; but\nnothing is more aristocratic than nature and destiny.\n\nBut as the schoolmaster carried off and appropriated the laurels of\n1866, these of 1870 were awarded to him without question; and when, in\nthe German Empire which he was supposed to have founded, a breach showed\nitself here and there, who should be called upon to fill it but he? The\nquestion was seriously proposed whether society should not be\nreconstructed from the core. And the schoolmaster undertook to reply.\n\nThe turn which public life has thereby taken is of a very dangerous\ncharacter. If we do not soon turn away from this overrating of the\nschool we shall destroy the whole of German life. By imposing upon\nscience tasks that do not belong to her we would destroy life through\nscience, and science through life, and that which was Germany\u2019s pride\nand safeguard, her learning and knowledge, would become a burden and a\ncurse.\n\nScience and life have constantly to learn from each other. In an\nexchange of their riches is to be found their salvation, not in the\ndomination of the one over the other. The much-praised student-life\nitself does its part in imbuing the student with the inclination for an\nisolated existence. Many remain students all their lives, and a love for\nthe practical tasks of life is not thereby fostered. The consciousness\nof high scientific attainments gives a degree of self-confidence which\nis easily carried too far when applied to worldly affairs. To this\ntemptation more than one succumbed when he was told that it was his task\nto reconstruct the social structure. The cry was that the whole existing\norder of things had become \u201cbankrupt.\u201d By what rules, then, was the new\norder to be established? These were sought and ranged, as the expression\nwent, in a scientific way. The first of these rules is: \u201cThe weak person\nmust be protected against the strong.\u201d How much can be brought under\nthis formula! We can pledge ourselves with its aid to work out every\ncommunistic programme to the smallest details. If we only once lose the\nsense of discrimination between theoretical knowledge and practice, no\nlimit can be placed upon self-confidence. Science applied to dogs and\nfrogs is one thing, but it would not do to apply the same rules to men.\nFor the communists to assume for their method of regulating society by\nscientific means the title of a historical school is indeed a piece of\ncommunism!\n\nHow was it possible that a number of scholars, to whom no one can deny\nability and purity of intentions, could permit themselves to be led on\nto such extravagances? The overrated conception of the avocation of the\nteacher is not sufficient to explain this. Another exaggeration had to\ncombine with this: the exaggerated conception of the avocation of the\nstate. Teaching was to prescribe all, the state to execute all.\n\nIn regard to the state we have fallen from one extreme to the other.\nAfter it had sunk to the level of a caricature during our political\ndegeneracy, the recognition of its high vocation overcame us, and we\nmade an omniscient and omnipotent deity of it. When we say \u201cstate\u201d\nphilosophy takes a hand in the matter, and immediately the conception of\nabsoluteness and divinity is apparent\u2014the \u201cstate\u201d becomes a god in whom\nwe can place unlimited confidence and from whom we can expect\neverything. The truth that after all the \u201cstate\u201d is only a term for a\nbody of individual ministers or legislators has been forgotten. We make\na secret idol of the state. To look behind the curtain is forbidden. But\nthe less the state benefits one, just so much the more does he expect\nand demand from it. He beats his idol in order to compel it to work\nmiracles. As Herbert Spencer says, it is the fashion to scold the\ngovernment in one breath for its awkwardness in the most trifling\nmatters, and in the next to demand from it the solution of the most\ndifficult problems. Statecraft, at its best, is only the work of\nindividuals; it must lose in fineness in proportion to the number of\nthose who participate in it. There is a thousand times more wisdom in\nhero-worship than in the adoration of the intangible collective being to\nwhich, under the name of the state, we do divine honors only because we\ncannot see it. A parliament can be observed at its work; even ministers\nappear in flesh and blood as parliaments do. But of a sudden parliaments\nand ministers end their work; the curtain falls; second act: the state!\nIt is divine!\n\nCuriously enough this adhesion to the collective system coincides with\nthe time of the disappointment over this system. For the financial grief\nof the last few years is nothing but sorrow for the losses to which\nstock-companies have led. If the anonymous corporation could puzzle so\nmany heads, it is due to the fatal charm which the apparatus of the\ncollective system exercises. Whenever a man withdraws from the eyes of\nmen; where in place of the individual a corporation acts, under whose\nname the individual is lost to view, there a curtain is drawn which\nexcites the fancy of those without. Even those who partake of the labor\ninside the curtain are enshrouded by the clouds of anonymousness, and\nbelieve more in themselves as a part of the abstract whole than they\nwould believe in themselves as individuals.\n\nNothing is more calculated to make intelligible the mixture of deceiving\nelements which lie latent in abstract authorities than the famous sixth\ngreat power, the press. How much better were it for that other\nabstraction, \u201cpublic opinion,\u201d if it kept in mind that it is only a man\n(and often what a man!) that stands behind the thought! It has been\nattempted to remove this cloud, and to force men to see, by compelling\nevery one to sign his articles with his own name. But this was of no\navail. The law never was enforced in its true sense. Public opinion as\nan abstraction feels the need of intercourse with something of a kindred\nnature far too deeply to be willing to miss an abstraction representing\nthat opinion in the form of an anonymous press. It is the same with\nanonymous business corporations as with the press. All efforts have\nfailed to effect a reform in the laws relative to stock-gambling by\nmeans of which the personal responsibility of the board of control of an\nanonymous corporation could be brought home to individuals. A piece of\nfiction will and must always remain here. If the lawmaker were to take\nupon himself the task of changing this fiction into reality the result\nwould be the same as with the press. Those associations are the best\nwhich are most tyrannically administered, and in which the director has\nthe least respect for his executive committee. _Tant vaut l\u2019homme tant\nvaut la chose!_ There will be no relief until the stockholder knows that\nin entering a company he sacrifices a part of his motive for\nself-sustentation.[99]\n\n\n V.\n\n\nScience is not all in all. To the department of the \u201chighest powers\u201d\nreason also belongs. Reason must decide where the domain of science\nbegins and ends. When science, because it has studied history, feels\ncalled upon to make history; when, because it observes developments, it\nbelieves itself bound to work out plans of development for the future;\nwhen it sends out its champions into political assemblies\u2014why, then it\nis out of its own sphere.\n\nIn a country which, more than all others, lives on \u201cthe milk of the\nmind,\u201d the pest of socialistic nonsense could not have spread so widely\nif the unwholesome ingredients of this lacteal fluid had not impregnated\nthe country. For him who studies men and things in proximity it is\ncurious to observe that when ministers come into Parliament to thunder\nagainst socialism, the offices under their control are filled with\nyounger officials who have imbibed socialism with the mother\u2019s milk of\nthe high-schools, and who esteem it their duty, as far as their position\nadmits, to aid in the inauguration of small socialistic experiments. At\ntimes the jargon of social democracy even finds its way into their\nofficial reports. Still more noticeable is this in journalism. The\nofficial organs which the congress at Gotha mentioned as being in its\nservice are really only a weak auxiliary corps to the great power which\nworks in the civilian press for the social democracy. The same reader\nwho would grow pale were he to discover on the last page of his\nnewspaper the news of a sudden fall in stocks, is delighted to peruse,\non its first page, a leading article presaging the speedy coming of the\nday of vengeance for the proletariat. Such readers count upon the\nprotection of the army in the event of this theoretical revolution\nbecoming practical. But this does not hinder them from assailing\n\u201cmilitaryism.\u201d That the strong and strictly-disciplined armed power\nwould still remain indispensable for internal war, even were the danger\nof outward war removed, is a natural thought. But this consolation, if\nit be one, is not of so trustworthy a character as is commonly supposed.\nSo long as the quiet course of history follows its accustomed path\nGermany need not fear the dissolution of her army organization by\nsocialistic agitation. But who can say what a systematically-conducted\ndissemination of ideas may not in the end accomplish?\n\nIn W\u00fcrtemberg, Saxony, Hesse, and Holstein the social democrats have\nentered the municipal governments. The number of socialistic students is\nlarge; in Schleswig-Holstein and Saxony the rural population has allowed\nitself to be drawn into the net of the propaganda. Of course all this\ncan go much farther without changing the outward aspect of life, and the\nsuggestion that life is threatened with a radical alteration will only\narouse incredulous laughter, as being an outgrowth of terror or the \u201cred\nghost.\u201d But we should take into consideration the possibility of a great\ncatastrophe, and remember how, in the breaking-out of a storm, all the\nelements of evil augment themselves, unite, and fall upon everything\nwith destructive force. Thus would Christian socialists,\nsocial-political-socialists, tax-reformers, and local-economic-reformers\nunite; and among the leaders themselves one would be dragged on by\nambition, the other by a sense of his responsibility. The motto of Carl\nMarx, \u201cThe liberation of labor must be the work of the working-class, to\nwhich all other classes are only a reactionary mass,\u201d has now become the\n_mot d\u2019ordre_ of all the socialistic organizations in Germany. The\n\u201cBrotherhood of Locomotive Engineers,\u201d which last year formed the\nnucleus of the terrible railway insurrection in America, began in 1863\nin an association for mutual aid in cases of sickness, and for\ntemperance in the taking of spirituous liquors. This insurrection is in\nits way better adapted than the Paris Commune for the study of those who\nare anxious to ascertain how much longer the fire can smoulder, and how\nsuddenly and with what irresistible force it may break forth. Faithful\nto their tender predilections in favor of socialism, many German papers\nhave found in the destruction and incendiarism at Chicago, Cincinnati,\nReading, Pittsburgh, Columbus, Baltimore, and Martinsburg only material\nfor throwing light upon the American speculative mania; and the terrible\ndevastations which shadowed with gloom a third of the Union were mostly\npresented as though they were only to be ascribed to transgressions in\nthe financial economy. The truth that for years the propaganda had won\nthe mass of the working-class, and had reared a conspiracy extending\nover the whole country, remained in the background. The season in which\nthe West sends its many products to Eastern ports, and receives in\nreturn the means for carrying on its business, was selected as the\nmoment for interrupting traffic. At a certain hour all trains were to\nstop, and not again move until all the workmen had achieved their\nobject, whose principle was that industry was bound, even in times when\nit does not produce much, to pay just as high wages to working-men as in\nseasons of the utmost prosperity\u2014a principle which is announced in the\nwritings of the Christian socialists of both confessions. After the\npopulation had recovered it asked how it had been possible for it to be\nbeset by such a monster, whose existence it had not before dreamt of?\nAnd yet three years before, on Christmas day of 1874, a similar attempt,\nthough on a smaller scale, had been made. On that day at the stroke of\ntwelve the engineers of all locomotives which transported trains between\nthe States of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Kentucky, and Missouri stepped\ndown, left the cars and passengers where they were, and refused to serve\nany farther until their demands had been complied with. But in that\nwidely-agitated country this note of warning was soon forgotten.\n\nMust nations experience everything for themselves? Does man learn\nnothing from the misfortunes of others? Forsooth, he seems to learn\nnothing from his own. Not insensibility to the wants of the weak\ndictates the principle that no legislation on the part of the state can\nprevent poverty, inequality, and suffering. Insight into the nature of\nman shows us this truth. This insight teaches us that growths in\nfreedom, in acquirement, in diligence, and in possessions bear\ninseparable relations to each other and lead to the good of all. It is\nnot true that the proportion of the poor and unhappy is larger than\nformerly; not true that the contrast between rich and poor is harsher;\nnot true that the weak is more at the mercy of the strong. It is only\ntrue that the greater approximation between all classes compels us to\nbecome more sensitive to diversities of conditions and to regard them as\nintolerable. The idea of a mechanical levelling of the fortunes of all\nis the _non plus ultra_ of folly, which in the course of realization\nwill result in nothing but the destruction of all liberty, for which\nreason all reactionary instincts feel themselves attracted to socialism.\nSocialism, it is true, has not been productive wholly of evil, because\nthere are no absolute truths (_sic_), and every anomaly, in its way,\nperforms a service. It has led, and will in the future lead, the\ncommunity and individuals to understand the connection between true\ninterest and true humanity. More important than to set in motion the\nmotive of self-interest is it to direct attention to real abuses. For,\nsay what we may, never has a time possessed more sensitiveness for every\nill and more craving after justice than ours.\n\nFootnote 92:\n\n The man Hoedel, who sought to kill the emperor, stated that he\n belonged to this school; he had swung around the circle, and had ended\n as an \u201canarchist.\u201d\n\nFootnote 93:\n\n But this interference is now to be insisted upon, for Prince Bismarck\n has instructed the Parliament to pass laws for the suppression of the\n publication and spread of socialistic and revolutionary doctrines.\n\nFootnote 94:\n\n Just as the emperor and the chancellor are now urging upon Parliament\n the passage of laws to restrict the right of public meeting and of\n free speech on the platform and in the press.\n\nFootnote 95:\n\n It is now being debated there under the direct orders of the emperor\n and the chancellor.\n\nFootnote 96:\n\n We give this passage literally, in order to furnish an indisputable\n evidence of the animus of Dr. Bamberger when he writes of the church\n or of Catholics. We shall see, as we go along, how this spirit colors\n his reasoning.\n\nFootnote 97:\n\n Dr. Bamberger utterly misrepresents the attitude of the Roman\n Catholics in Germany towards the socialists. In the debate of May\n 23-24 in the Reichstag, on the proposed restrictive measures against\n the socialists, the Catholic members aided in defeating the\n government\u2019s bill: on the very rational ground that the laws already\n in existence were sufficiently strong to accomplish all that the\n government required, if only they were properly applied. In any case\n it is to be hoped that a man may defend freedom of speech and public\n assembly without necessarily being ranked among the socialists. Men\n may defend right principles without at all defending a wrong\n application of them. The Protestants and National Liberals who, in\n this instance, joined with the Catholics in condemning what was\n essentially a tyrannous measure, were not \u201chypocrites.\u201d All condemned\n alike the wicked attempt on the life of the German emperor. But even\n that attempt did not justify what practically amounted to a wholesale\n gagging of the German people.\u2014ED. C. W.\n\nFootnote 98:\n\n As a matter of fact, Mr. Eccarius could not have gone to this congress\n at all had not the London correspondent of one of our New York\n journals furnished him with the necessary funds for his journey,\n taking his letters as payment. Mr. Eccarius, who is an able writer and\n personally an estimable man, made excellent use of his visit, as the\n London _Times_ took his letters from the congress and paid him at the\n rate of \u00a32 a column for them.\n\nFootnote 99:\n\n Here Dr. Bamberger portrays at great length and in a bantering manner\n the demands of those who believe that the state can remedy all evils,\n and describes with humor the various programmes for state\n administration of domestic life, public amusements, education, and\n what not. He quotes the Italian proverb that \u201ca fool in his own house\n is smarter than a wise man in another\u2019s mansion,\u201d and says that the\n state falls into folly when it penetrates the houses of its subjects\n and regulates for them their domestic economy.\n\n\n\n\n HELEN LEE.\n A ROMANCE OF OLD MARYLAND.\n CONCLUSION.\n\n\nIt were difficult to describe how intensely Helen enjoyed her ride\nthrough the wilderness. A good part of the way they followed an Indian\ntrail which skirted the bank of the Potomac; but occasionally they were\nguided in the right direction by blazed trees. \u201cThe work of my dear\nWilliam\u2019s axe,\u201d thought Helen. In the most beautiful parks in England\nshe had never beheld any scenery like this; an ancient Greek might have\ntold her that the wood-nymphs and fauns had come forth from their sylvan\nretreats to deck her progress through their dominion. It looked, indeed,\nlike a festive march; the gentian flowers were a-bloom in every open\nspot; the American ivy flung out her gorgeous banners of orange and\nyellow; the cedars were draped in scarlet woodbine; the maple, the gum,\nthe pepperidge-tree, and the sassafras, each one wearing a color of its\nown, added glory to the landscape; while from amid clusters of berries\nand chestnuts the yellow-hammer and blue-jay called out to Helen in\nshrill, gladsome notes.\n\n\u201cI agree with you at last,\u201d said Evelyn\u2014\u201cI agree with you: the Old World\nhas no season which can compare in loveliness with the American Indian\nSummer.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd whatever father may say,\u201d observed Helen, reaching out her hand as\nthey jogged past a persimmon-tree, \u201cI do love ripe persimmons. Nor have\nI any objection to a fat \u2019possum. Look! look! there goes one.\u201d And sure\nenough Evelyn caught a glimpse of one of those \u201clow, plebeian brutes,\u201d\nas Sir Henry Lee called them, making off through the bushes.\n\nIt was late in the evening when they reached St. Joseph\u2019s. The Angelus\nbell had long rung; but there was a full moon shining, the air was\nbalmy, and Helen, tired though she was, was not willing to forego the\npleasure of a stroll with the surprised and enraptured Berkeley at this\nwitching hour. And as they sauntered along she gave him an account of\nher life since they had parted; after which he gave her an account of\nhis, then ended by making a fervent appeal to her not to return to St.\nMary\u2019s except as his wife.\n\n\u201cDoes this startle you?\u201d he asked, as Helen stopped short and half\nwithdrew her arm from his, murmuring:\n\n\u201cMy father! my father!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! I entreat you, do not let Sir Henry stand in the way of your\nplighted troth. Think\u2014think of me! Loving you with my whole heart, yet\ncondemned to live separated from you\u2014Helen, it is cruel. No, no! Let the\nholy sacrament of matrimony make us one; then, if circumstances still\nforce us asunder, it will be most consoling to know that the separation\nis only for a brief space. I am sure God will soften your father\u2019s heart\ntowards me, and that ere long he will call me son. O Helen! answer. Do\nnot refuse my petition.\u201d\n\nWhile her lover was speaking Helen remembered the dream she had had, and\nthe ingenious method which had occurred to her in that dream for\novercoming her parent\u2019s aversion to the young man. At the same time her\nheart whispered a thousand tender things, such as only a heart deeply in\nlove can ever whisper; and now when Berkeley ended his supplication all\nfear of her father had vanished from her mind, and, looking up at him,\nshe said:\n\n\u201cDear William, I consent; let it be as you wish.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy own dear girl!\u201d cried Berkeley. \u201cAnd now, my darling, you have only\nto name the happy day. When shall it be?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, let us be wedded to-morrow. I will tell Father McElroy our whole\nstory; when he hears it I am certain he will marry us.\u201d\n\nAnd Helen was right. The wise, kind-hearted priest, after lending an\nattentive ear to what she narrated to him early the next day, agreed to\nperform the ceremony forthwith. Indeed, there was nothing Father McElroy\nliked better than to see young folks united in wedlock, and whenever a\nyoung couple announced to him that they were betrothed he always clapped\nhis hands and cried: \u201cGood! good! My children, you could not bring me\nbetter news.\u201d\n\nThe wedding was as private as possible. Then Helen abode a fortnight at\nSt. Joseph\u2019s\u2014a blissful fortnight\u2014after which she went back to her\nfather, who, when he saw her coming towards him, exclaimed:\n\n\u201cThe jaunt has done the child a world of good! She needed a change of\nair.\u201d\n\nWhereupon Sir Henry\u2019s friend answered:\n\n\u201cAy, Harry, her cheeks are rosier, and she is every way prettier, than\nwhen she left us.\u201d\n\nThe winter that followed this glorious Indian Summer was a very happy\nwinter indeed. Almost every evening Evelyn visited the tower and passed\nan hour in the queen\u2019s room, where Helen played merry airs and sang\njoyous songs; and so pleased was Sir Henry at the way she behaved\ntowards the baronet that he laid aside his gruff manner entirely, and\naddressed her always in the kindest voice; for which, we may be sure,\nHelen felt extremely grateful to generous Evelyn, who was playing his\npart to perfection. And once when the old gentleman kissed her and asked\nwhen the happy day was to be\u2014\u201cFor, child, I am growing old; don\u2019t put it\noff much longer\u201d\u2014Helen answered: \u201cI promise, father, that I will yet\nmake you the happiest man in the colony.\u201d\n\nAt which he gave her another kiss, then, walking up to the ancient suit\nof armor, he began talking to it in an undertone, to the no small\namusement of his friend Dick, who had heard him say that this armor was\nhaunted by the ghost of one of his forefathers.\n\nBut nothing contributed so much to Helen\u2019s peace of mind as a certain\nresolution which her father came to towards Christmastide. Sir Henry had\nresolved to make a visit to his native land in the company of his friend\nDick, who would be obliged to return in spring. _The Ark_, the same\nvessel that had brought him to Maryland, would sail for England early in\nMarch, and the temptation to see his birth-place once more ere he died\nwas too strong to be resisted. Sir Henry announced his intention to\nHelen with a tear in his eye. \u201cBut I\u2019ll not be long gone, child. I\u2019ll be\nback again before autumn.\u201d Which when Helen heard, instead of looking\npensive, as her father thought she would, she sat down to her\nharpsichord and played the most gleeful air he had ever heard in his\nlife\u2014an air which Helen herself had composed during her honeymoon at St.\nJoseph\u2019s. Many times that winter did she repeat this happy air, and more\nthan once, too, when she finished playing it, she burst into a merry\nlaugh; and whenever Sir Henry begged to be told what pleasant thought\nwas amusing her, she only laughed on, then ended by twining her arms\nabout his neck and saying:\n\n\u201cDear, dear father! don\u2019t be longer away than the last day of summer.\u201d\n\nAs for Evelyn, during those months he was happy too. Yes, he truly was,\nand often said to himself: \u201cThank God! I am awakened from the listless\nand supine life I was leading.\u201d And he inwardly confessed that Helen\u2019s\nrefusal of him had kindled him into a man. Father McElroy, to whom he\nmade known his resolve to enter the priesthood, was delighted, and lent\nhim several books which it was needful that he should read; and having\nalready taken his degree at Oxford, Sir Charles was not ill prepared for\nhis glorious vocation.\n\nYes, those days were days of peace and sunshine for the young wife, and\nwhen by and by March arrived and her father bade her adieu, she did not\nfeel lonesome for being left all alone in the tower. _The Ark_, she\nknew, was a stanch craft, and would carry Sir Henry safe across the\nocean, helped by her prayers; then back in a few months he would come,\nto meet a joyful surprise.\n\nOf Helen\u2019s life during this spring and summer naught need be said. Time\nflew swiftly by; every opportunity brought a letter from her dear\nWilliam; and now we find ourselves verging towards September, and Helen\nis gazing anxiously from the highest window of her home to catch sight\nof _The Ark_, which may any hour be expected. At length, on the very\nlast day of August, _The Ark_ appeared; and was ever ship so beautiful\nin Helen\u2019s eyes?\n\nHappy indeed was the meeting between father and daughter.\n\n\u201cBut you look a little pale, child\u2014a little pale,\u201d spoke Sir Henry, as\nhe clasped her in his arms. \u201cWorrying, no doubt, about me. Well, we had\na tempestuous voyage last spring, and coming back the sea was not much\nsmoother; I once thought we might never reach land. But, nevertheless,\nhere I am safe and sound, and now your cheeks must bloom again.\u201d\n\nThen, after the fond greeting was over, Sir Henry set out, accompanied\nby Evelyn, to inspect his domain.\n\n\u201cLet us first go see how your lilies are thriving,\u201d suggested the\nlatter\u2014\u201cthe lilies which you planted by the Island of Tranquil Delight.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, we will visit them first of all,\u201d answered Sir Henry.\n\nAccordingly, off they went, briskly too, for the old gentleman was\ndelighted to find himself on solid earth again, and from a distance he\ncaught sight of the lilies, and of something else besides which was not\na lily, but lovely, wonderful, bewitching, half hidden in a small birch\ncanoe that floated in the midst of the beautiful flowers.\n\n\u201cWell, I do declare, here is a baby\u2014a winsome blue-eyed baby!\u201d cried Sir\nHenry, beside himself with astonishment, as he bent his rheumatic back\nover the little mortal, who seemed to know him, for the prettiest of\nblue peepers began straightway to wink and make love to him; and as soon\nas he lifted it out of the canoe, deep into his grizzly beard its tiny\nfingers dove and wove themselves.\n\n\u201cWell! well! This is truly amazing!\u201d he continued. \u201cSome villanous\nIndian must have stolen it from its mother. But I will rescue it.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo it would seem,\u201d remarked Evelyn, with difficulty repressing a smile,\n\u201cfor here are a bow and arrows and deerskin blanket.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe wretch! the vile kidnapper!\u201d went on Sir Henry. Then, wrapping the\ninfant in his coat, \u201cCome, come,\u201d he added; \u201calthough \u2019tis a warm day,\nyet this poor wee creature might take its death of cold. Come, I must\nhurry home; and do you make all speed to the town and fetch a nurse.\u201d\n\n\u201cHelen! Helen! Where are you?\u201d cried Sir Henry the moment he reached the\ntower. \u201cQuick, Helen! and look what I have found. Helen! Helen!\u201d\n\nBut his daughter did not appear for half an hour, by which time a nurse\nhad been procured and was already bestowing all needful attention on the\nlittle stranger.\n\n\u201cWhy, father!\u201d exclaimed Helen, with radiant countenance, as the old\ngentleman led her into the baby\u2019s presence, \u201cwhy, what a treasure this\nis! It will no doubt bring you good luck.\u201d\n\n\u201cI verily believe it will; perhaps money enough to finish my castle,\u201d\nsaid Sir Henry. \u201cAlthough\u201d\u2014here he looked yearningly at his\ndaughter\u2014\u201calthough this is not the babe I am longing to greet.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, well, we will do our best to make the pretty waif at home among\nus,\u201d pursued Helen. \u201cI am sure we shall get to like it. Why, see! see!\n\u2019tis reaching out its hands towards you, father.\u201d\n\n\u201cJust what it did when I first discovered it among the lilies,\u201d said Sir\nHenry. \u201cBut now let us retire and leave it awhile with the nurse; for\nthe little darling must need sleep.\u201d\n\nAccordingly they withdrew; and through all the rest of that memorable\nday Sir Henry could do nothing except talk about his wonderful discovery\nby the Island of Tranquil Delight.\n\nDuring the week which followed Sir Henry paid frequent visits to the\nnursery, and his fondness for the infant grew with the hours. Like many\na stern, imperious nature, he completely unbent; he became woman-like in\nhis devotion to it. Closely and with fluttering heart did Helen watch\nhim as he fondled the babe, who never whimpered when he approached, but,\non the contrary, always smiled and made funny signs with its fingers,\nwhich Sir Henry declared that he understood. Then her father would take\nit in his arms and speak to it; and once he carried it into the queen\u2019s\nroom, where he showed it the rusty armor and portrait of the queen.\n\nIt was during one of these pleasant promenades that he turned to Helen\nand said, \u201cMy daughter, ought we not to have the little one baptized?\u201d\n\nHelen breathed a short prayer ere she answered, then spoke: \u201cFather, the\nbaby is already baptized; his name is Harry Lee.\u201d\n\n\u201cHarry Lee! What mean you?\u201d exclaimed Sir Henry, giving a start; and he\nmight have let his precious charge drop, had not its mother sprung\nforward and caught it. Then, while she pressed it to her bosom, the\ntruth like lightning flashed upon him.\n\n\u201cAnd I am now Helen Berkeley,\u201d went on Helen. \u201cBut we have christened\nour darling Harry Lee.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood heavens!\u201d cried Sir Henry, utterly aghast. \u201cGood heavens! How you\nhave deceived me!\u201d As he spoke his brow grew dark as a thunder-cloud and\nthe mother trembled.\n\nPresently, clasping her infant still closer to her bosom, \u201cO father!\nfather!\u201d she sobbed, \u201cforgive me! forgive me!\u201d And while Helen sobbed\nand implored, and while the old knight was trying to calm himself\nsufficiently to go on and vent his indignation in measured terms, the\nbaby, for the first time since he had found it among the lilies, turned\naway from him and began to cry. This was more than Sir Henry could\nstand. Its wailing accents pierced deep into his heart. There was a\nmoment\u2019s struggle within him; then, going up to it, he let fall a tear\non its bare head, saying: \u201cHarry, Harry, don\u2019t cry. For love of you I\nwill forgive all.\u201d\n\nBerkeley, who had been for the past three days at St. Mary\u2019s, was not\nlong in answering his wife\u2019s summons to speed to the tower, and with him\ncame Father McElroy, who offered to take the whole blame on himself. But\nall was blue sky now; the baby had triumphed, and as Sir Henry grasped\nthe hand of his son-in-law he said:\n\n\u201cI thank you, ay, from the bottom of my heart I thank you, for\nchristening the child Harry Lee. I hope it is his whole name, no\naddition?\u201d\n\n\u201cHarry Lee and nothing else,\u201d replied the happy Berkeley; whereupon Sir\nHenry, in the fulness of his joy, took the child away from Helen, and,\nkneeling down at Father McElroy\u2019s feet, said, Anglican though he was:\n\u201cReverend father, may I ask your blessing on me and my grandson?\u201d Then,\nwhen the blessing had been pronounced, he rose up off his knees, and\nexclaimed with a voice and mien which those who were present never\nforgot: \u201cO God be thanked! I shall not be the last of the Lees.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nOne autumn day in the year 1660 a young pale-face might have been seen\nentering an Indian village which stood on the western slope of one of\nthe Alleghany mountains and not far from the source of the Monongahela.\n\nHe was a tall, handsome youth, with long, chestnut hair resting on his\nshoulders; yet withal he had a somewhat girlish countenance which sorted\nill with the deep scar across his left cheek, that looked very like a\nsabre-cut. Presently he reined in his steed in front of a big cabin\nforming the centre of the village, and on top of which was a cross, and\nsaid to himself, \u201cThis must be the church\u201d; then inquired for Father\nEvelyn.\n\nA few minutes later the young man entered a wigwam close by, and found\nhimself face to face with his god-father; but neither recognized the\nother. \u201cAre you truly Harry Lee?\u201d exclaimed the priest, with visible\nemotion. \u201cWhy, Harry, I have not laid eyes on you since you were a\nchild. Is this indeed you?\u201d\n\nWe may be sure that Harry was warmly welcomed to the missionary\u2019s humble\nabode, where for a score of years he had dwelt with his savage flock\naround him; but no, not savages any longer. Virtue reigned in the midst\nof this happy tribe, and no prisoner had been put to the torture by them\nfor well-nigh a hundred moons.\n\n\u201cYou tell me Sir Henry is dead,\u201d said Father Evelyn, after the first\nwords of greeting were over. \u201cWell, well, God rest his soul!\u201d\n\n\u201cDear grandfather!\u201d said Harry. \u201cNot many like him left in this world.\nHe was so loyal; he was steel itself. Why, he took to his bed the very\nday the news reached him of the battle of Naseby, and never left it\nagain\u2014no, never\u2014and died within twenty-four hours after hearing of the\nking\u2019s execution. \u2018Damn the Roundheads!\u2019 he cried, as he rose up on his\npillow\u2014\u2018damn the Roundheads! No, no; God\u2014God forgive them\u2014God save the\nking!\u2019 Oh! I shall never forget his expression as he uttered these his\nvery last words.\u201d Here Harry brushed away a tear and was silent a\nmoment.\n\n\u201cBefore dying,\u201d went on the youth presently, \u201che gave me this book\u201d\u2014as\nhe spoke he drew from his pocket a well-fingered copy of _Don\nQuixote_\u2014\u201cand mother has taught me Spanish, and I carry this book about\nwith me wherever I go.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour mother,\u201d said Father Evelyn, \u201cyour mother\u2014tell me how she is.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank God! mother is in excellent health,\u201d answered Harry. \u201cBut it was\nlong before she recovered from the shock of my father\u2019s death. We have a\ncomfortable home at Jamestown, Virginia; we want for nothing.\u201d (Berkeley\nwould have died a much richer man, except for his father-in-law\u2019s debts,\nwhich he paid.) \u201cBut mother cannot get over her love for Maryland, and\nlast year we made a visit to St. Mary\u2019s. But we did not stay long; \u2019twas\ntoo sad. There the tower stands, half hidden by wild vines and creepers,\nand surrounded by persimmon-trees. Once a rude churl dared to call it\n\u2018Lee\u2019s folly\u2019; but I made him rue the day\u2014rue the day.\u201d\n\nAs Harry spoke he sprang to his feet; his face, a moment before as mild\nand tranquil as a woman\u2019s\u2014his very mother\u2019s face, which Father Evelyn\nremembered so well\u2014changed in an instant; and while the lightning darted\nout of his eyes, the priest beheld the face of old Sir Henry. Ay, and\nfarther back, too, it went through the generations\u2014back, back: it was\nthe self-same look which Harry\u2019s ancestor wore who fell at Agincourt.\n\n\u201cWell, is the old home deserted?\u201d asked Father Evelyn, after calming him\nand persuading him to resume his seat.\n\n\u201cNo; it is used for a look-out tower, and from its summit you can see\nships a long distance down the river.\u201d\n\nPresently Harry noticed a painting hanging on the wall above a rude\nbook-case, and, after eyeing it a moment, said the two faces in the\npicture reminded him of his father and mother. To this the priest made\nno response, except to observe that he intended to bequeath him this\npainting when he died. \u201cMy good Indians will keep it safe for you,\nHarry. Do not forget to come for it.\u201d\n\nThen after a pause, during which he ruthlessly crushed many a golden\nmemory, Father Evelyn added: \u201cThe scene represented is not strictly\nhistorical, for St. George lived some time later than St. Margaret. But\nin one of the old miracle plays of the middle ages the knight is made to\nrescue St. Margaret from the dragon.\u201d\n\nHarry Lee tarried a week under his god-father\u2019s roof, and a pleasant\nweek it was; after which he returned to his far-off home in Virginia.\nBut before departing Father Evelyn took his hand in his, and, pressing\nit, said: \u201cHarry, who knows when we may meet again? So listen well to\nwhat I am about to say. Your dear father I knew most intimately. In the\ncolony of Maryland there was no better man than William Berkeley; none\nmore active; none to whom, after Lord Baltimore himself, the people have\nbeen more indebted for their prosperity and happiness. Therefore tread\nin his footsteps. You tell me that you are a surveyor. Well, labor hard\nand honestly at your profession. Learn betimes to measure life; stay\ntrue to the faith; and above all things don\u2019t dream\u2014don\u2019t dream.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n HERMITAGES IN THE PYR\u00c9N\u00c9ES ORIENTALES.\n\n\n \u201cLet man return to God the same way in which he turned from him; and\n as the love of created beauty made him lose sight of the Creator, so\n let the beauty of the creature lead him back to the beauty of the\n Creator.\u201d\u2014_St. Isidore of Seville._\n\n\n II.\n\n\nThree miles from the village of Passa is the hermitage of St. Luc on an\nelevated plateau, surrounded by thorny furze and the cistus, and a few\nold mulberry-trees. It overlooks a vast plain dotted with villages, and\nin the distance is the Mediterranean\u2014no melancholy main, but a golden\nsea of light beneath a burning sun. This is a place of strategical\nimportance, and in time of war has been alternately occupied by French\nand Spanish troops. The chapel has been restored, and a hermit lives in\nthe adjoining cell. Near by is a fountain shaded by plane-trees to slake\nhis thirst. On great festivals the peasants come to sing the _Goigs_\nrelating to the chapel, and votive Masses are frequently offered up for\nthe cure of various maladies.\n\nAbout two miles from the little walled town of Ille in the valley of the\nTet, on the side of the mountains that separate it from the valley of\nthe Tet, is the hermitage of St. Maurice shaded by walnut-trees (what we\ncall the English walnut). It is a lonely spot, but there is an agreeable\nview over the broad valley. The chapel is dear to the people, and they\ncome here with holy songs on the feast of St. Maurice, who is invoked\nfor fevers, common in this region. Over the altar is his statue as a\nRoman soldier, and near him are two sainted virgins who overcame the\nfiery dragon\u2014St. Martha and St. Marguerite. In the pavement is\ninserted\u2014a rare thing to find in these chapels\u2014the tombstone of an old\nhermit who died here in 1758, with its\n\n _Pregau per ell_.\n\nFurther up, on the right bank of the Tet, you came to Prades, a village\nnorth of the Canigou, in a valley teeming with wheat, vines, delicious\npeaches noted in the market of Toulouse, and fruit of all kinds. The\nvery hills are terraced for cultivation. A few miles distant is the\nhermitage of St. Etienne on a spur of the Canigou inaccessible to\ncarriages\u2014a wild, desolate place where rocks are piled on rocks, out of\nwhich gush clear, sparkling rills that keep alive the few plants and\nshrubs that grow wherever soil can collect. It once belonged to the\ncounts of the Cerdagne. The chapel often serves as a refuge to the\nshepherds of the mountain in storms. Here is a picture of St. Stephen\nwith a stone on his head, as he is painted by Carpaccio. Just beyond the\nchapel rises the _Roc del Moro_, a high peak crowned by the ruins of an\nold watch-tower\u2014perhaps a Moorish Atalaya.\n\nNear Prades, on an elevation overlooking the fertile valley, is the\nancient hermitage of St. Jean Baptiste, now private property, though the\nchapel is open to the public. The Canigou presents an imposing aspect\nfrom the terrace, and not far off are the interesting ruins of an old\nmonastery.\n\n \u201cThe long ribbed aisles are burst and shrunk,\n The holy shrines to ruin sunk,\n Departed is the pious monk,\n God\u2019s blessing on his soul!\u201d\n\nThe hermitage of St. Christophe is on a mountain shelf shaded by a\nvenerable hermit oak, looking off over a beautiful valley sprinkled with\nvillages such as Ria, Sirach, etc. Beyond tower the calm, grand heights\nof the Canigou, that, like the contemplative soul, stands above the\nworld, its gray sides relieved by no soft green pasture-land, and\nyielding no corn or oil to man, but holding in its stern recesses the\ncold glacier springs whose waters pour down through summer heat from its\nstorehouses of ice and snow to refresh the thirsty plain, fit emblem of\nthe holy influences that rain down from the sanctuaries it overshadows.\nThe huge St. Christopher may well be set up among these giant peaks,\n\u2019mid flood and fell. His beautiful legend is told in a series of\nbas-reliefs around the walls of the old chapel of rubble-work. On the\n10th of July, when he is specially honored here, as in Catalonia, the\nsurrounding villages come here in procession, stopping on the way to\npray at the oratory of St. Sebastian. After their devotions at St.\nChristopher\u2019s they eat their lunch among the rocks and drink from the\nstone basins in the caves. Not far off is Ria with its castle\u2014the cradle\nof an historic race from which descended the old counts of Barcelona, as\nwell as many a king and queen of Aragon, Navarre, France, etc. Several\nof the present sovereigns of Europe, in fact, might trace their descent\nfrom the old lords of the obscure hamlet of Ria.\n\nThe valley of the Tet contracts to a mere gorge at Villefranche, where\nthere is barely room for the river and the two streets that constitute\nthe town. This is one of the first places fortified by Vauban. Further\non there is only a mule-path along the ravine shut in by wild, rocky\nmountains whose sides are lashed by fierce torrents. On one of these is\nthe hermitage of St. Pierre de la Roca, reached by climbing a steep path\ncut in the sides of the cliff. The chapel fell to ruin at the\nRevolution, and the Madonna, which had been found ages before in a cave,\nwas carried to the parish church. It is now owned by private\nindividuals, who have had it restored. Adjoining is the hermitage, that\nlooks down on the beautiful villages of Fulla and Sahorre. Directly\nbehind rise tall cliffs, and beyond is a vast amphitheatre of mountains,\nabove which towers the majestic Canigou. A convent once stood close by,\nthe monks of which served the church of the _Tour Carr\u00e9e_ at the foot of\nthe mountain, now in ruins. The convent, too, is gone. You see only the\nremains of the old kitchen with its marble pavement and fine cistern;\nand, climbing up the side of the cliff by means of a ladder, you come to\na terrace where the monks had their parterre of flowers for the garden.\nClose by is the Virgin\u2019s Cave, where the Madonna was found. The chapel,\nwhich is only twenty-five feet long and ten wide, has few ornaments\nexcept the statues of St. Peter and St. Teresa. Before the entrance are\nseveral tombstones, on one of which is this inscription:\n\n \u201cThou who regardest this tomb, why dost thou not despise that which\n is mortal? A similar dwelling is reserved for all mankind. What thou\n art, I was. What I am, thou wilt be. I was honored in the world, and\n now I am laid away and forgotten in the tomb. I shone in the world\n with my rich garments; now I am naked in the grave. I only inspire\n horror. I lived in delights....\u201d\n\nUnfortunately the inscription is incomplete. There is no name, no\ndevice, to indicate who it was that had thus tested the pleasures of\nlife. The stone only echoes the eternal refrain: _Vanitas vanitatis_.\n\nThe hermitage of Notre Dame de Doma Nova is on a peak in the ancient\nseigneurie of Domanove. At the foot is a rivulet that feeds the stream\nof Riu-Fag\u00e9s. The terrace is shaded by evergreens. You enter by a pretty\nporch and find yourself before a medi\u00e6val-looking altar with a Madonna\ndressed in the Spanish style. This statue was found under a juniper by\nmeans of a lamb that had strayed thither. Among the _ex-votos_ on the\nwalls is a painting of a hermit tied to a pillar by a band of Huguenots\nwho are setting fire to the chapel he is in. This commemorates a\npleasing instance of Protestant toleration in 1580.\n\nThe Huguenots of B\u00e9arn made several raids into Roussillon in the\nsixteenth century, and a company was organized to resist them, for which\nseveral communes were rewarded by the king of Spain with special\nprivileges. Ille, for instance, was allowed to hold a fair.\n\nThe hermitage of Notre Dame de la Roca stands on a naked cliff not far\nfrom Nyer. In the depths of the ravine below flows the Mantet \u2019mid rocks\nand frightful precipices. Near by are the ruins of an old battlemented\ntower, and on the other side of the stream, in a still wilder, more\ninaccessible spot, is the cave where the Madonna was found by a girl in\nsearch of fagots. The chapel is vaulted and adorned in Spanish fashion,\nwith a retablo over the altar, on the panels of which are painted the\nmysteries of religion. The Virgin and Child are in silken garments; and\nan iron _reja_ protects the sanctuary. People come here to pray in time\nof calamity, and often hang their votive offerings on the wall.\n\nThe hermitage of St. Jacques de Calahors is but little frequented. It\nhas a poor desolate chapel with rude images of the Virgin and St. James,\nand an altar to St. Antich, probably some Spanish saint. If any one\nwishes to live in poverty and undisturbed solitude, he could find no\nmore suitable place than the wild, desolate region of which St. Jacques\nis the culminating point.\n\n \u201cNever was spot more sadly meet\n For lonely prayer and hermit feet.\u201d\n\nThe hermitage of La Trinit\u00e9 is known to have existed in the ninth\ncentury. Think of that! A thousand years of prayer in this sacred\ndesert! What fruits of immortal life from this obscure region! The\npresent chapel is of the twelfth century. Here is a curious crucifix\nknown as the _Santa Majestad_, said to have come down from the age of\nCharlemagne. It is in great veneration, and sung in quaint Catalan\n_Goigs_ perhaps as ancient as the image itself. The Christ is clothed in\na long tunic that allows only the hands and feet and head to be seen. He\nis fastened to the cross by four nails, and around the head project long\nrays. There are several of these singular crucifixes in the Pyr\u00e9n\u00e9es\nOrientales, and we remember seeing a similar one at Naples, clad in its\nlong crimson tunic.\n\nThe chapel is surmounted by three crosses, of which the central one is\nthe highest. Behind rises a peak, on which stands the old donjon of\nBelpuig that dates at least from the thirteenth century. La Trinit\u00e9 is\nvery popular in this pastoral region, and on St. Peter\u2019s day and Trinity\nSunday the mountains ring with the _Goigs_ of the shepherds and\nherdsmen.\n\nOne of the most picturesque hermitages in the valley of the Tet, and\ncertainly the most popular, is Notre Dame de Font Romieu, a mountain\nsolitude surrounded by pines, delightful in summer, but so snowy in\nwinter that the chapel is closed to the public about the middle of\nNovember, and scarcely opened again till spring. But in the summer it is\nopen night and day, that the shepherds may come here at any hour they\nare at leisure. The actual chapel is of the seventeenth century, but it\nis on the site of one much older, built to receive the Virgin found here\nin 1113. This venerated statue is kept at Odello the greater part of the\nyear. On Trinity Sunday it is brought here in solemn procession and left\nfor a few months, when it is carried back with equal pomp. On these days\nthere are five or six thousand pilgrims. The Virgin and Child are\ncrowned and clothed in rich garments, so their faces alone are visible,\nbut they are evidently very ancient. The fountain that, according to the\n_Goigs_, sprang up where the statue was discovered is beneath the high\naltar, and the water is conveyed by pipes beneath the pavement of the\nchapel to the court, where the pilgrims go to drink. It is remarkably\npure and cool. One pipe extends to a private room, where there is a\nlarge reservoir, twelve feet square, made of a single block of granite,\nfor the purpose of bathing. This tank is inscribed: _Fons salutis\nMaria_. Those who come here to bathe first say the rosary before a\nstatue of the Virgin at one end of the room, after which they walk\nseveral times around the reservoir, praying Our Lady de la Salud as they\ngo. A short distance from the hermitage is another fountain, called St.\nJean.\n\nOne peculiarity about the chapel is that one-half of it is higher than\nthe rest. You traverse part of the nave, and then ascend seven steps to\nthe remainder, into which open the side chapels and the sanctuary. The\nretablo of the high altar is covered with bas-reliefs of the life of the\nBlessed Virgin, which, as well as the other sculptures, were done by\nSu\u00f1er, an artist of the seventeenth century from Manresa, Spain. The\nwalls are covered with an infinite number of _ex-votos_, such as\ncrutches, long tresses of hair, rude pictures of the Virgin invoked in\ntime of danger, etc. The whole edifice is rich with gilding and\nsculpture, and, when filled with lights and flowers on great festivals,\nis quite dazzling. Over one of the altars in a niche is an old painting\nof San Ildefonso of Toledo receiving the Santa Casulla from the hands of\nthe Virgin. We love to find this great servant of Mary in her\nchurches\u2014him who seemed clothed with her virtues as with the garment she\ngave him, and who is never weary of dwelling on her exalted mission.\n\u201cLo, by means of this Virgin the whole earth is filled with the glory of\nGod!\u201d exclaims he. The Mass here on his festival is obligatory for the\nparish of Odello.\n\nNear the church is a still higher eminence, to which you ascend by a\npath winding around the mount with the Stations of the Cross up the sad,\nfunereal way, terminating in a Calvary with the uplifted image of Him\nwho alone can heal the serpent\u2019s wounds that filled our souls with\ndeath.\n\nThe buildings at Font Romieu are quite extensive. There is a hostelry\nwith a gallery of eleven arcades in front, where meals are prepared and\nrooms furnished those who wish to make a retreat. During the summer not\na day passes without visitors. But the great day of the year is the\npatronal festival on the 8th of September, when the people of all the\nneighboring valleys come here, displaying a variety of physiognomy and\ncostume hardly to be found elsewhere. Sometimes they amount to ten or\ntwelve thousand. From the earliest dawn you can see them flocking in\nfrom every quarter, in the costume of their own valley, praying aloud or\nsinging sacred hymns. As soon as they come in sight of the Calvary they\nfall on their knees to salute the uplifted Image so powerful to save,\nand again at the sight of the holy chapel. They hear Mass, go to Holy\nCommunion, and, after completing their devotions, they scatter over the\ngreen to eat their lunch, when the whole scene assumes the aspect of a\nrural festival full of innocent gayety. Venders of fruit, cakes, and all\nkinds of wares, secular and holy, fasten themselves upon you with\namusing pertinacity, while wandering musicians, in hopes of a few sous,\nbegin to play on various rustic instruments\u2014the flageolet, oboes, and\nperchance, at a proper distance from the holy chapel, the tambourine and\nbag-pipe.\n\nMeanwhile, _Goigs_ succeed each other all day long in the chapel, sung\nby peasants to rude mountain airs quite in harmony with the words and\nplace. Every valley awaits its turn to sing its hymn before the Holy\nMother of God.\n\n \u201cLove of Mary is to them\n As the very outer hem\n Of the Saviour\u2019s garments blessed!\u201d\n\nOne would think the age here still Golden, so na\u00efve is the piety, so\nsimple the manners, of these mountaineers.\n\nWe come now to the valley of the Tech, abounding in harvests and rich\nmeadows kept verdant by the mountain streams. The air is pure and\nexhilarating. The pastures are full of sheep and goats. On one hand are\nthe ridges of the Canigou with watch-towers and ruins of old castles on\nthe tops, and mines of iron ore in their bosom. The sides of the gorges\nare bristling with gloomy pines, and the rocky cliffs aflame with the\nrhododendrons that grow in their crevices. On the other hand is the long\nline of the Alb\u00e8res with pleasant villages in their folds, and torrents\nof crystal coursing down their sides. Beyond is Spain, true land of\nMary. Prats-de-Mollo is the last town on the frontier. It is an old\nplace, at the very source of the Tech, surrounded by the fortifications\nof a bygone age, and commanded by a fort on one of the heights above. A\nfew miles from the town is the hermitage of Notre Dame de Coral,\ndelightfully situated on a mountain among trees that afford an agreeable\nshade to the weary pilgrim, while cool springs are at hand to quench his\nthirst, and rooms provided should he wish to tarry. The Madonna is in\ngreat repute, not only in the province but across the border. The word\n_coral_ is supposed to refer to the heart of the oak in which the Virgin\nwas found. But that was ages ago. It is known to have existed in 1261.\nThis ancient image is now enclosed in another, likewise very old, as if\nto enshrine it. It is over the high altar, behind which is a stairway\nthat enables the votary to approach it. At one of the side altars is\nanother of those ancient crucifixes similar to the Santa Majestad at La\nTrinit\u00e9, supposed to be of Spanish origin. It came from an old hospice\nat the entrance of a Coll, or mountain pass, not far from\nPrats-de-Mollo, where lodged pilgrims to Compostella in the middle ages.\nThere is still a round building remaining that formed part of this\nhospice, with four openings towards the different points of the compass,\nin which lights used to be placed to guide the traveller by night. The\nchapel, too, called Notre Dame du Coll d\u2019Ares, is still standing, but is\nsequestrated.\n\nBut to return to our hermitage. Among the numerous _ex-votos_ on the\nchapel walls is a curious painting of a young man, seized by two demons,\ninvoking the aid of the Virgin, who appears and carries him off by the\nhair of his head. Beneath is the inscription: \u201cThis miracle was wrought\nby Maria Santissima del Coral in favor of Joan Sol\u00e1na in the year 1599.\nThomas Sol\u00e1na, his descendant, had this painting done in 1704 for the\nhonor and glory of the _Verge Purissima_.\u201d\n\nMgr. Gerbet, Bishop of Perpignan, visited this hermitage in 1857, and\ncommemorated his visit by a graceful poem which runs thus in more sober\nEnglish prose:\n\n \u201cSe\u00f1ora del Coral, for ages the protectress of the pious people of\n Prats, Tech, and St. Sauveur, as soon as a turn in the mountains\n brought thy chapel in view, the song of the pilgrim burst from my\n heart. The rock of Aras, once consecrated to false gods, exorcised\n at thy coming, has ever since proclaimed the true Lord. Let thine\n ancient power be again renewed. Destroy in us all devotion to\n worldly idols with their lowering influences. And accept this\n ephemeral homage in union with the _Goigs_ that for so many ages\n have resounded in these mountains. Let my verse mingle with these\n ancient hymns, as among thy venerable elms the flower of a day\n springs up and then dies.\u201d\n\nBetween Prats-de-Mollo and Tech, not far from the source of the\nComalada, a branch of the Tech, is the hermitage of St. Guillem de\nCombret in the midst of the ridges that shoot off from the Canigou like\nhuge buttresses. In ancient times there was a _Pausa_ here where\npilgrims to Spain found shelter\u2014a kind of station or hostelry, where\npious people exercised their charity in allaying the fatigue of such\nholy wanderers. The Pausa Guillelmi is spoken of in the donation of a\npart of Mt. Canigou to the abbey of St. Martin by Count Wifredo of\nBarcelona. In the eleventh century it seems, however, to have belonged\nto the Benedictines of the neighboring village of Arles, whose church,\nstill standing, contains the shrine of SS. Abdon and Sennen, noted for\nthe perpetual flow of miraculous water. These saints are very popular\nall through these valleys, and are called by the peasants _Los Cossos\nSantos_, or the Sewed-Together Saints, perhaps because they are never\nmentioned apart. There is only a part of their remains here, brought\nfrom Rome at some remote period, as the guide-book sneeringly says, to\nfree the neighborhood from the dragons and other wild animals that\ninfested it. We know that when these saints were exposed to the fury of\ntwo lions and four bears in the Coliseum, the animals became tame and\nharmless before them. No wonder that, crowned in heaven, they should be\nequally powerful against error, or the wild beasts, whichever it might\nbe, that infested these mountains.\n\nThe lives of the saints do not mention St. William of Combret, but the\nancient _Goigs_ and sculptures of the chapel set forth a few details of\nhis life. According to these, he was a Frank who came to seek solitude\nand oblivion among these Pyrenees. The wild goats used to come and offer\nhim their milk for nourishment. And to confound the impiety of the\nsmiths (who are still numerous at Arles) he wrought, as by miracle, a\nbell in their presence that still rings the hour of prayer\u2014an iron bell,\nvery broad in shape and sharp of clang. The rough altar of solid stone\nhe is said to have brought here unaided. He died at Alp in the Spanish\nCerdagne, and two blind women are known to have recovered their sight at\nhis tomb. His statue in the chapel represents him with book and crosier,\nas if an abbot. Beside the hermitage is a small garden and a fountain of\ndelicious water. On St. Guillem\u2019s day the parish of Tech comes here in\nprocession; High Mass is offered; four gospels are sung in the open air,\nas if to proclaim it to the four quarters of the globe; benediction is\ngiven with a relic of the True Cross; and _pains b\u00e9nits_ are distributed\nin remembrance of the hospitality of the old Pausa. Prats-de-Mollo comes\nhere on St. Magdalen\u2019s day, for to her the place was dedicated before\nthe time of St. Guillem. Religious traditions never seem to grow dim in\nthe memory of these tenacious mountaineers.\n\nThree miles from the watering-place of Am\u00e9lie-les-Bains is the hermitage\nof St. Engracia in a green valley that once belonged to the Benedictines\nof Arles. The cell is in ruins, and the little chapel very poor. The\nwalls are about four feet thick, and the dim light makes it seem like a\ncave. There is only one altar, with the virgin martyr of Zaragoza on it,\na palm in her hand and a nail piercing her brow. Her legend is told in\nsome old paintings on the wall. There are statues, too, of the _Cossos\nSantos_.\n\nComing down to Ceret, where the Alb\u00e8res sink into the plain, the Tech is\nspanned by an immense arch, by no means so pretentious in the spring,\nwhen the snow melts in the mountains and the waters come pouring down\nthrough the wild gorges, sweeping everything before them. A little way\nfrom the village is the hermitage of St. Ferr\u00e9ol on the plateau of a\nmountain. The road to it passes through vineyards, and is bordered by\ncherry, walnut, and other trees. The chapel is in such veneration that\nthe peasants often used to ascend the mountain on their knees with a\ncandle in their hands, in fulfilment of their vows, and perhaps do so\nstill. Before it is a terrace shaded by elms, beneath which are two\nsprings. Here is a fine view over the valley of the Tech extending to\nthe very sea, while in the background are the everlasting mountains. In\nthe chapel is a statue of St. Ferr\u00e9ol in the garb of a Roman soldier,\nwith a sword in his left hand. He is said to have been an officer of\nsome high grade, martyred for the faith at Vienne, in Dauphin\u00e9, in 303.\n\nThere is an altar here to Notre Dame dels _Desemparats_\u2014the Catalan for\nabandoned or forsaken. There are times in every one\u2019s life when one\nfeels the need of invoking such a Madonna, and she may well be set up\nhere in a solitude that harmonizes with the feelings of those who have\nneed to appeal to her. To be friendless is solitude, says Epictetus. The\nwomen of Valencia wear combs on which is graven the image of Nuestra\nSe\u00f1ora de los Desemparados, but whether this is by way of bewailing\ntheir forsaken condition, or to announce their readiness to be consoled,\nor merely by way of averting the possible contingencies of life, we\ncannot say.\n\nA Catalan inscription on the holy-water vase states that it was given by\na hermit of St. Ferr\u00e9ol who had been a slave at Constantinople\ntwenty-four years. The chapel is specially frequented in time of\nepidemics, and on the festivals of SS. Lawrence and Ferr\u00e9ol, when\nworship is conducted with great pomp, the _Goigs_ never cease around the\naltars.\n\nThe hermitage of Notre Dame del Castel is on a mount belonging to the\nchain of the Alb\u00e8res, a few miles from the pretty village of Sorr\u00e8de.\nThe pathway up the height is bordered with violets, wild thyme, furze,\nand various shrubs. You pass three crosses, and a small oratory where\nthe processions of Rogation week stop on their way to the mount to sing\na hymn to the Virgin. The hermitage is in a fine position, shaded by\ntrees, the terrace overlooking a vast extent of country with the\nimmensity of the sea in the distance. In sight are several places of\ninterest\u2014the rock of Montblanc, where once stood a royal ch\u00e2teau; the\n_Cova de las Encantadas_, or the fairies\u2019 cave; and, on the top of an\nisolated peak, the ruins of the old castle of Ultrera, which history\nsays was taken by Wamba, King of the Visigoths, in the seventh century.\nDon Pedro of Aragon received its keys from Don Jaime of Majorca in 1344.\nFinally, it became the property of the lords of Sorr\u00e8de. Marshal\nSchomberg took it from the Spanish in 1675, and the place his troops\noccupied is still pointed out as the Camp des Fran\u00e7ais. The castle being\ndismantled by order of Louis XIV., Jeanne de B\u00e9arn, who had seigneurial\nrights over it, took possession, among other things, of the ancient\nMadonna in the chapel, and built another to receive it. This statue had\nlong before been miraculously discovered in a cave of the mountains.\nThere is a singular expression of sweetness in the face, and both Mother\nand Child are considered _muy hermosos_. She is dressed in Spanish\nstyle, the veil that falls around her partly covering the Child. Great\ncrowds come here on the festivals of the Virgin, where Mass is sometimes\nsung at an altar under the trees, and the people, spread around on the\nneighboring heights, give it the aspect of an amphitheatre.\n\nNot a mile from the hamlet of La Roca, where Philip le Hardi in his\ncampaign against Aragon lodged with all his court, is a pleasant valley\nwatered by a limpid stream and shaded by trees. Out of it rises a low\nhill from which you can see the Alb\u00e8res and their forests of cork-trees,\nand among them the ruins of the castle of La Roca, where the king of\nMajorca took refuge from Don Pedro of Aragon. Here is the hermitage of\nNotre Dame de Tanya, with a well before it shaded by fine old\nplane-trees. On the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary the people of La\nRoca come here in procession. There are daily services during the\noctave, among which is the rosary at sunset. On the eighth day there is\na Mass of thanksgiving, after which the people return processionally to\nLa Roca.\n\nNear the Coll de Prunet, through which passed Hannibal and the hosts of\nthe C\u00e6sars, is Notre Dame del Coll, shut in by the mountains and their\nforests of evergreen oaks and cork-trees\u2014a popular chapel, where people\ncome to pray to be delivered from the _go\u00eetre_ and all throat diseases\ncommon in the mountains. The _Goigs_ contain the only accounts of its\nhistory, from which it appears that the chapel was built in the ninth\ncentury to receive a Virgin discovered by means of an ox. There is a\npainting over the altar of a herdsman and dog kneeling before the\nVirgin. The statue has been gilded, and the dress only allows the head\nto be seen. Here are manacles worn by captives in Moorish times, brought\nin gratitude for their deliverance and suspended before the image of Him\n\u201cwhose pierced hands have broken so many chains\u201d other than those of\nmaterial bondage. There is an altar, too, to St. Quitterie of Aire, to\nwhom there are also special _Goigs_. She is invoked for hydrophobia.\n\nAbout two miles from Argel\u00e9s is the hermitage of St. Ferr\u00e9ol in a wild,\nsolitary place among the cliffs of the Alb\u00e8res, the savage aspect of\nwhich is softened by the almond, fig, cherry, and oak trees. Before the\nchapel ran the ancient \u201cCarrera de Espagna,\u201d by which Philip le Hardi\nwent with his army when he undertook the disastrous war against Pedro\nIII. of Aragon, in 1285, continuing along beneath the castle of Ultrera\nto the Coll de la Massane. The chapel used to have two holes in the wall\nto receive the alms of the passer-by when the doors were closed. It has\nbeen restored from the ruin into which it had fallen, but is seldom\nvisited.\n\nOn a bare rock not far from Argel\u00e9s is the hermitage of Notre Dame de\nVic, apparently very ancient, from the thick walls and low heavy arches\nof the chapel. Just below is a dark ravine lined with trees, and a\ncistern that catches the water trickling down the rocks. A family now\nlives in the hermitage. From it you can see over a vast plain, and\nbeyond is the Mediterranean Sea, a perpetual beauty in itself.\n\nThe hermitage of Notre Dame des Abeilles is near the sea-coast, not far\nfrom the Spanish frontier, in a region once noted for its honey. In some\nseasons it is approached by the dry bed of a mountain torrent that comes\ndown in the spring through the undulating hills covered with vines and\nolives. As far back as 1657 the chapel was known as the Capilla Antigua,\nand was famous for the perpetual miracle of its ever-open door which no\nhuman hand could keep closed. It contained one of those images which was\n\u201cnot willing to be shut up.\u201d This was an old Madonna, black as that\nwhich Giotto loved to pray before, with a honeycomb in her hand, sweet\nto the taste as the knowledge of wisdom to the soul, reminding one of\nthe spouse of the Canticles, whose lips drop as the honeycomb. People\nused to come from Spain to revere this Virgin, but it was removed for\nsafety in 1793, and is now in the parish church of Banyuls-sur-Mer,\nwhere, as in ancient times, a lamb is offered at her altar on Whit\nTuesday, the feast of Notre Dame des Abeilles, which is afterwards sold\nto the highest bidder to defray the expenses of the festival. On the top\nof a neighboring mountain, about two thousand feet above the level of\nthe sea, may be seen the old historic tower of Madeloc.\n\nThree miles from the town of Collioure is the hermitage of Notre Dame de\nConsolation, to which you ascend out of vines and plantations of olives,\nalmonds, and figs by a path cut in the rocks. By the wayside is an\noratory here and there with some saint in the niche, as St. James, St.\nAnn, and Our Lady of Many Griefs. You seldom find a more charming spot\nin summer. The terrace before the chapel is shaded by alleys of lindens,\nchestnuts, and elms, some of which are of enormous size, and beneath\nthem are fountains that diffuse their cooling waters. Below is a\nvineyard noted for its products, and through an opening between two\nhills can be seen the fortress of Miradon, the belfry of Collioure, and\nthe sea in the distance. The ancient image of Our Lady has disappeared,\nbut there is a modern one in the sculptured retablo. Here on certain\ndays, as St. Ferr\u00e9ol\u2019s, is a great gathering. The popular _Goigs_ are\nsung to airs of simple melody, and every one goes down the eighteen\nsteps to drink at the miraculous fountain. He who has prayed in this\nmountain chapel among the pious peasantry, and wandered in the shady\nalleys of the delightful terrace, and drunk of the waters, finds it\ndifficult to tear himself away.\n\nSuch are a few of the ancient hermitages of the Pyr\u00e9n\u00e9es Orientales. Not\none is without some beauty of its own that would commend it to the heart\nof the poet; not one without the balmy fragrance of some holy legend so\nattractive to the imagination; not one without its altar where God has\nfor ages revealed himself, and the solitude where he loves to speak to\nthe heart. Well may we exclaim with one[100] who was himself a hermit\nfor a time on the shores of this very sea: \u201cHow delightful this\nboundless solitude where nature silently keeps watch! This silence has a\nthousand tongues that prompt the soul to soar away to God and wrap it in\nineffable delights. Here no noise is heard but the human voice rising\nheavenward. These sounds full of sweetness alone trouble the secret\nsolitude. Its repose is only interrupted by murmurs sweeter than the\nrepose itself\u2014the holy murmur of the lowly psalm. From the depths of the\nfervent soul rise melodious harmonies, and the voice of man accompanies\nhis prayer to heaven.\u201d\n\nFootnote 100:\n\n St. Eucher.\n\n\n\n\n ROSARY STANZAS.\n GLORIOUS MYSTERIES.\n\n\nI.\n\nPSALM cxxv. 5.\n\n Once lost and found, again the Lost is found!\n Drinking his voice, and feeding on his face,\n Again her care and grief of heart are crowned;\n Her lifelong grief outmeasured by the grace\n That rained upon her in each moment\u2019s space\n As she beheld Him living who was dead.\n Away the clouds of Time such meetings chase.\n Wells of delight like those by tears are fed;\n The soul to joy like hers by sorrow must be led.\n\n\nII.\n\nPSALM lxxxiii. 6-8.\n\n The mountain-roots lie in the lowly vale.\n Mother bereaved! from height to vaster height\n Ever ascending, his last triumph hail!\n On wings of fire her love has taken flight,\n To follow where he is gone beyond her sight;\n Heaven is not far off, Love\u2019s wing is strong.\n She sees the royal portals clothed in light;\n To Son and Mother there high thrones belong:\n Whom dying will unite, life cannot sever long.\n\n\nIII.\n\nACTS i. 14.\n\n In the pale light of subterranean glooms,\n Rude art of early centuries portrays\n Upon the wall of Roman Catacombs\n Jesus\u2019 great Mother, Mary, as she prays,\n With arms uplifted, while apostles gaze.[101]\n Even so she prayed before the Spirit came\n To consecrate the Pentecostal days,\n With rushing power and tongues of lambent flame.\n Can aught be then denied, if prayed in her great name?[102]\n\n\nIV.\n\nCANTIC. ii. 17.\n\n Shades yield to light. The Twelve from every land\n Are gathered round the dying Mother\u2019s bed;\n Tranquil she lies, awaiting the command\n To arise and come. She hears, and bows her head:\n One _Fiat_ more, and Mary is with the dead;\n But, sought the third day in her empty tomb,\n On wings of angels borne, had upward fled,\n Where flowers of Paradise undying bloom,\n And glories passing thought her future home illume.\n\n\nV.\n\nJOHN xvii. 22.\n\n From tiny rills the mightiest rivers grow;\n Insensibly from small to great they glide,\n City and plain rejoicing as they go.\n But never less than great the treasures wide\n Of Mary\u2019s peerless grace. Full they abide\n For evermore; and deep and strong and free\n The current of that overflowing tide;\n Beyond all ear can sound, all eye can see,\n Mingling her glorious wealth with the Everlasting Sea.\n\nFootnote 101:\n\n _Le Oranti_ of the arch\u00e6ologists.\n\nFootnote 102:\n\n John xvi. 26.\n\n\n\n\n PANTHEISM _VERSUS_ ATHEISM.\n\n\nProtestantism is very unfortunate in its warfare against modern\nunbelief. It is daily losing battles, losing men, and losing ground; and\nit feels so little reluctance to give up one dogma after another as to\ncreate the impression that the time is not far off when it will deliver\nup its last citadel and accept the yoke of the enemy. The fact is so\nwell known that it needs no proof; nevertheless, as we have a striking\nillustration of it in a phase of the struggle which is now going on\nbetween Protestant and infidel thought on the all-important dogma of the\nexistence of God, we will make it the subject of a short discussion,\nthat our readers may form a clearer conception of the suicidal strategy\nof some Protestant controversialists.\n\nA work has recently appeared which purports to be a natural history of\natheism.[103] Its author is an accomplished Protestant scholar, a\nlearned professor, an elegant writer, and an earnest advocate of\nreligious ideas in accordance with the Bible as interpreted by his\nprivate judgment. His object is to refute atheism. Of course history,\nreason, and revelation are all on his side, so he is well armed; whilst\nhis antagonist, though boisterous and aggressive, is by no means\nformidable, having had his strength thoroughly broken by former defeats.\nIn such a condition of things the victory should evidently belong to the\nchampion of Divinity. And yet no. Our champion strikes, indeed, some\nheavy blows, but while thus struggling with the enemy he falls into a\nquagmire. In other words, he grapples with a senseless atheism only to\nplunge into an equally senseless pantheism.\n\nWith regard to the first chapters of the work we have little to say. The\nauthor proves pretty conclusively that atheism is against reason. He\nshows that the belief in the existence of God has been universal not\nonly among civilized nations but also among barbarous tribes. \u201cAtheism,\u201d\nsays he, \u201cis a disease of the speculative faculty.\u201d \u201cIt indicates a\nchaotic state of mind.\u201d \u201cIt is a doctrine so averse from the general\ncurrent of human sentiment that the unsophisticated mass of mankind\ninstinctively turn away from it, as the other foxes did from that\nvulpine brother who, having lost his tail in a trap, tried to convince\nthe whole world of foxes that the bushy appendage in the posterior\nregion was a deformity of which all high-minded members of the vulpine\naristocracy should get rid as soon as possible.\u201d This argument against\natheism was well known to the ancients, who laid great stress upon it,\nas they saw that a universal agreement of mankind on the existence of\nGod could not but proceed from our rational nature; but our author\nconsiders it as a simple \u201cpresumption,\u201d rather than a proof in favor of\nthe theistic doctrine.\n\nHe then argues from the principle of causality and from the wonderful\nwisdom displayed in the architecture of the universe. This, too, is very\ngood. Next, he meets the objection drawn from the existence of evil in\nthe world.\n\n \u201cIf there were no poverty,\u201d says he, \u201cwhere were charity? If every\n person were equally independent and self-reliant, where would be the\n gracious pleasure on both sides which arises from the support given\n by the strong to the weak? Where again would be the topping virtue\n of moral courage, unless the majority, at some particular critical\n moment, were cowards?... In fact, always and everywhere the\n development of energy implies the existence of that which energy\n must subdue\u2014namely, evil in some shape or other. Therefore the\n existence of evil is not a proof that there is no God; but it is by\n the overcoming of evil constantly that God proves himself to be God,\n and man proves himself to be God-like, when in his subordinate\n sphere he does the same.\u201d\n\nThis answer is tolerably good; but we doubt if the atheist will be\nsilenced by it. The author should have distinguished physical from moral\nevil. The existence of physical evil he could have shown to be perfectly\nreconcilable with God\u2019s infinite goodness and providence; whereas the\nexistence of moral evil should have been shown to be in no manner\nderogatory to his infinite sanctity. This has been done very fully by a\nmultitude of philosophers and theologians; but it could not be done\nconsistently by our pantheistic writer, because, as we shall see, all\nmoral evil, according to his pantheistic theory, would either emanate\nfrom God or be immanent in him, with a total ruin of his infinite\nsanctity. Hence the atheist, after all the reasonings of the learned\nprofessor, may still urge that the existence of a God is incompatible\nwith the existence of sin; and we think that the professor will be at a\nloss how to answer the difficulty so long as he holds to his pantheistic\nviews.\n\nAs to the genesis of atheism the author makes many good and thoughtful\nremarks. There is a sort of atheism which arises from an absolute\nfeebleness or babyhood of intellect. This he calls \u201catheism of\nimbecility\u201d; but, says he, \u201cwe need not detain ourselves with this type\nof intellectual incapability. It is not atheists of this class that we\nare likely to meet with in the present age; and if we did meet them we\nshould be much more likely to remit them summarily to some hospital of\nincurables than to a thinking school.\u201d\n\nThe next type of the atheistic disease has its origin in moral\ndepravity. There are men whose career is \u201clike a piece of music made up\nof a constant succession of jars, which shakes the strings so much by\nunkindly vibrations that the instrument, from the force of an unnatural\nstrain, cracks itself into silence prematurely. Now, unharmonized\ncharacters of this description are naturally indisposed, and practically\nincapacitated from recognizing order, design, and system in the\nconstitution of the universe, and of course cannot see God.\u201d This root\nof atheism is very well illustrated by Mr. Blackie. Here is a beautiful\npassage:\n\n \u201cIt occurs to me to set down here the features of one of the most\n notable of those disorderly characters who lived in ancient Rome at\n the same epoch when the hollow atheism of Epicurus was dressed up\n for a day in the garb of poetical beauty by a poet of no mean genius\n called Lucretius. The man I mean is Catiline. Hear how Sallust in a\n well-known passage describes him: \u2018Lucius Catiline, born of a noble\n family, a man of great strength, both of mind and body, but of a\n wicked and perverse disposition. To this man, from his youth\n upwards, intestine broils, slaughters, rapines, and civil wars were\n a delight; and in these he put forth all the energy of his youth. He\n could boast of a bodily frame capable of enduring heat and cold,\n hunger and watching, beyond all belief; he had a spirit daring,\n cunning, and full of shifts, ready alike to simulate what he was not\n and to dissimulate what he was, as occasion might call. Greedy of\n others\u2019 property, he was lavish of his own; in passion fiery, in\n words copious, in wisdom scant. His unchastened ambition was\n constantly desiring things immoderate, incredible, and beyond human\n reach.\u2019 This is exactly the sort of character, to whose completeness\n if anything like a philosophy is to be attributed, atheism will be\n that thing.\u201d\n\nIn our age, however, according to the author, all the varieties of\nspeculative and practical atheism which we meet with in common life are\n\u201cweeds sprung from the rank soil of irreverence.\u201d Man being naturally a\nreligious animal, atheism can then only spring up when, in the\nindividual or in society, any influence arises which nips the natural\nbud of reverence in the soul. Thus power may foster a strong feeling of\nindependence, which may end in a monstrous self-worship. But liberty\nalso, as the author well remarks, when unlimited, leads to godlessness.\nThere is an atheism of democracy no less than of despotism. From extreme\ndemocracy, as from a hot-bed, atheism in its rankest stage naturally\nshoots up. There is nothing in the idea of mere liberty to create the\nfeeling of reverence. The desire of unlimited liberty is an essentially\nselfish feeling, and has no regard for any Power from above. The\nfundamental maxim of all pure democracy is simply this: \u201cI am as good as\nyou, and perhaps a little better; I acknowledge nobody as my master,\nwhether in heaven above or on earth beneath; I will not be fettered.\u201d\n\nBut, continues the author, unlimited power and unlimited liberty are not\nthe only social forces that are apt to run riot in the exaggerated\nassertion of the individual and the negation of all superhuman\nauthority. There is the irreverence begotten of pride of intellect.\nKnowledge, of course, does not directly produce irreligion or extinguish\npiety, on the contrary, the more a wise man knows of the universe, the\nmore he is lost in admiration of its excellence. But the knowing faculty\nis not the whole of a living man, and to bring forth its healthy fruits\nit must go hand-in-hand with a rich moral nature; divorced from this,\nknowledge begets intellectual pride and opens the way to godlessness.\n\nHere the author points out the fact that there is something in the\nresearches of modern science, at least in certain conditions of the\nintellectual atmosphere, not apparently favorable to the growth of piety\nand the cultivation of religious reverence. In not a few modern books of\nphysical science we find nothing but \u201ca curious fingering of wretched\ndumb details utterly destitute of soul. Whatever is in the book, depend\nupon it, God is not there. You will hear no end of talk about laws and\nforces, developments and evolutions, metamorphic forms, transmuted\nenergies, and what not; but it is all dead\u2014at least all blind. For\nseeing intellect and shaping reason there is no place in such systems.\u201d\nThe author strongly condemns this godless science, and shows at length\nits fickleness and unwisdom; and we might almost mistake him for a\nCatholic apologist, were it not that he ventures to speak of \u201cnon-sense\u201d\nin connection with the Council of Trent, at which he irreverently\nsneers.\n\nIn the next chapter he treats of polytheism, whose origin he traces to\nmisdirected reverence towards the powers of nature. He shows that\npolytheism was not atheism, and that polytheistic society could reach a\ncertain degree of morality not to be found among atheists. To our mind,\nthis chapter, though learned, is nearly superfluous; for it has scarcely\nany bearing on the history of atheism. In like manner we think that the\nchapter on Buddhism, which comes immediately after, and which fills\nseventy pages, was uncalled for. The author says that the British\natheism of Bradlaugh, John Stuart Mill, Miss Martineau, Tyndall, and\nothers called his attention to the assertion that in the far East\natheism had been publicly professed for more than two thousand years,\nand was at present the corner-stone of the faith of more than four\nhundred millions of the human race. Could such an assertion be true? He\ncould not believe it. To talk of a religion without God was, to his\nmind, \u201cas to talk of the propositions in Euclid without the postulates\non which they depend.\u201d He therefore determined to get at the root of the\nmatter, and thus he discovered that Buddhism was not atheism. It is to\nshow this that he gives an elaborate explanation of the Buddhistic\nsystem. We need not discuss it, though we believe that some Buddhistic\nerrors which he points out are somewhat exaggerated. We only repeat that\nthe natural history of atheism would have lost nothing, and perhaps\ngained something, if this long digression on Buddhism had been omitted.\n\nAnd now we have reached the last chapter of the work, where the author\nendeavors to make theologians responsible for a kind of modern atheism\nwhich he calls \u201catheism of reaction,\u201d and where he makes his strange and\nfoolish profession of pantheism. It is with this chapter alone that we\nshall be concerned in the following pages; for it is the evil doctrine\ncontained in this objectionable chapter that spoils the whole work and\ngives it a totally anti-Christian character. Is the author a Freemason?\nIs he the mouth-piece of the Scotch and English lodges, whose members\nare anxious not to be ranked among atheists, though they have no\ndefinite creed? We do not care to know. But we may well affirm that his\nbook is full of the Masonic spirit, and answers so well the present\nneeds of British Freemasonry that we cannot be much mistaken if we call\nit a Masonic work. It is well known that the English Freemasonry, either\nbecause less advanced or because more prudent than the Masonry of\nFrance, thought it necessary to protest against a suicidal resolution\nlately passed by the latter, which permits the admission of candidates\nto membership irrespective of their belief or disbelief in the Great\nArchitect of the universe. This resolution was strongly condemned by the\nEnglish lodges, which lost no time in sending out a public official\ndeclaration that, so far as the English fraternity was concerned, no\nmember would be recognized who did not profess to believe in the Great\nArchitect, according to the old Masonic constitution. The wisdom of this\nmeasure cannot be doubted; for the English Masonry enjoys still a\ncertain degree of respectability, which must not be compromised by a low\nsympathy with the desperate atheism of the French communists.\nNevertheless, so long as they talk of a \u201cGreat Architect of the\nuniverse\u201d without explaining more particularly what they mean by these\nwords, there is reason to fear that their protest against the French\ninfidels is a deceit. The pantheist, the Buddhist, and the agnostic, and\neven the materialist and the fatalist, can admit an Architect of the\nuniverse, provided they are allowed to put upon these words a free\nconstruction. One will identify him with Law, another with Nature, a\nthird with Force, a fourth with Matter, and perhaps a fifth with Satan\nhimself; for, as the old Manich\u00e6ans held that this material world was\nthe work of a bad principle, so there are now men (not unknown to\nFreemasonry) who consider Satan as their friend, their master, and their\ngod. There are lodges where the \u201cGreat Leonard,\u201d a satanic apparition,\nis an object of worship. No doubt these lodges recognize him as the\n\u201cGreat Architect of the universe.\u201d And Proudhon was so bold as to\npublish that he was in love with Satan: \u201c_Viens, Satan; viens, que je\nt\u2019embrasse!_\u201d\n\nAt any rate, if the book we are criticising has been written in the\ninterest of the British Freemasons, it fails to show that they are more\northodox than their French brothers whom they have excommunicated. The\npantheism professed in the book is just as worthless as the French\natheism; for pantheism, just as much as atheism, makes all religion\nimpossible. Hence a book which refutes atheism in order to establish\npantheism, however filled with Scriptural quotations to make it look\nreligious, is an anti-Christian book.\n\nThe atheism of reaction, of which the author speaks in the first part of\nthis chapter, is, according to him, \u201ca recoil\u201d from the exaggerations\nand dictatorial imperiousness of theological orthodoxy. \u201cEven theism,\u201d\nhe remarks, \u201cthe only reasonable theory of the universe, in the\nblundering fashion in which you state it, may possibly produce atheism,\nthe most unreasonable of all theories.\u201d The Reformation \u201cwas\nunquestionably a reaction from the excess of sacerdotal assertiveness,\nand the abuse of ecclesiastical power in the latter centuries of the\nmiddle ages.\u201d This excess \u201cgave sharp offence to the delicate conscience\nof Martin Luther, and roused his sleeping wrath into a thunder-storm of\nholy indignation.\u201d How? \u201cBy parading the public places, and marching\nthrough the highways of Christendom with a sacerdotal gospel of\nsalvation by works\u2014by conventional and arbitrary works, penances, and\npayments of various kinds imposed by authority of the all-powerful\nclergy, and having little or nothing in common with the morality of a\npure life and a noble character.\u201d \u201cAgainst this abuse Luther protested\nexactly in the same way, and with similar effect, as St. Paul protested\nagainst the ritualism of the Jews.\u201d \u201c_The just liveth by faith._ This\ngreat doctrine has saved the world twice, once from the cumbrous and\nnarrow-minded ceremonialism of the Jews, and again from the despotic and\nsoul-stupefying sacerdotalism of the Romanists.\u201d\n\nAll this trash is beneath discussion; it only shows that the author is\nlittle acquainted with the men and the doctrines to which he refers. He\nseems never to have reflected that such \u201cdelicate consciences\u201d as that\nof Martin Luther had as little scruple about falsifying history as they\nhad about marrying nuns, rebelling against authority, or shedding blood.\nEven Protestants would now smile at the \u201cthunder-storm of holy\nindignation\u201d roused in the good soul of Luther at the thought of a\ngospel of salvation by works of penance. Well might even Lucifer\u2019s\n\u201cdelicate conscience\u201d have burst into a storm of \u201choly indignation,\u201d as\nhe could not work out his salvation without controlling his pride; and\nhe might have protested against God\u2019s orders, just as Luther did, by\nalleging that \u201cthe just liveth by faith.\u201d How the reformers succeeded in\n\u201csaving the world\u201d by this doctrine of salvation without works, can be\nargued from the fact, attested by our author himself, that \u201canarchy and\nconfusion, with the braying of a theological ass here, the cackling of a\nclerical goose there, and the raving of a sectarian madman in a third\nquarter, began to show face to such a degree that sensible and\nquietly-disposed men, like Erasmus, became seriously alarmed before the\nspirits they had conjured up, and retreated, with a devout timidity,\ninto the sacred ark of the old Catholic Church.\u201d This confession speaks\nvolumes.\n\nThe author describes a sort of rampant orthodoxy which delights in\ndoctrinal exaggeration of mysteries, and which is never so happy as when\nit can plant itself behind the broad shield of unintelligible formulas\nand traditionary shibboleths, to pluck Reason by the beard, and bid open\ndefiance to the grand principle of the Scottish philosophy called common\nsense. And this, he says, excites an atheistical reaction. We really do\nnot know of any orthodoxy which delights in \u201cplucking Reason by the\nbeard.\u201d The Scotch Presbyterians may have done something of the kind,\nbut they have no claim to orthodoxy. True orthodoxy is nowhere but in\nthe church whose centre is Rome. But the Roman Church never used\nunintelligible formulas, never had shibboleths, and never plucked Reason\nby the beard, but on the contrary made use of the plainest language and\nthe best cultivated reason to teach the revealed truth, and to defend it\nagainst heretics and unbelievers. Had the Protestant sects as much\nregard for Reason, and for the great principle of the Scottish\nphilosophy called common sense, they would soon perceive that their\nclaim to orthodoxy is nonsensical and their Christianity a delusion. And\nif they were logical, they would not, when their ministers pluck Reason\nby the beard, feel inclined to an \u201catheistical reaction,\u201d but would only\nconclude that their ministers do not belong to God\u2019s church, and have\nneither grace nor mission to teach Christianity.\n\nThe author admits the necessity of faith; but he scouts the doctrine\nthat whoso believes not every dogma about the divine nature shall be\neternally damned.\n\n \u201cThe spirit,\u201d he says, \u201cfrom which damnatory declarations of this\n kind proceed is a mingled spirit of ignorance, conceit, presumption,\n insolence, and pedantry, and has more to answer for in the way of\n creating atheism than any other fault of Christian preachers that\n has come under my observation. Against declarations of this kind,\n however solemnly made, and however traditionally hallowed, the moral\n and intellectual nature of the most soundly-constituted minds rises\n up in instinctive rebellion: the intellectual nature, because the\n propounding of dogmas in a scholastic form about the nature of the\n Supreme Being shows an utter ignorance of the proper functions and\n limits of the human intellect; and the moral nature even more\n emphatically, because to make fellowship in any religion conditional\n on the merely intellectual acceptance of an abstract proposition\n addressed to the understanding, is to remove religion altogether out\n of its own region, where it can bear fruit, and to transplant it\n into a soil where it can show only prickles that fret the skin, and\n thorns that go deeply into the flesh.\u201d\n\nThis is wisdom! Therefore, according to this writer, to believe in three\ndivine Persons, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, is unnecessary for\nsalvation, and to say the contrary is conceit, insolence, and pedantry.\nIt is difficult to conceive how a Christian could fall into such\nabsurdity. The mystery of the Holy Trinity is the very base of\nChristianity. It is in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy\nGhost that we are baptized; it is by the Son of God that we are\nredeemed; it is by the Holy Spirit that we are sanctified. Without this\nfaith there is no Christianity, and without Christianity there is no\nsalvation. We need not be afraid that \u201cthe moral and intellectual nature\nof the most soundly-constituted minds should rise up in instinctive\nrebellion\u201d against this doctrine; for the history of eighteen centuries\nproves very conclusively that soundly-constituted minds have never\nrebelled against dogma. Nor do we see why the intellectual nature should\ndenounce the use of the scholastic form in the propounding of dogmas.\nSuch a form is clear, precise, and full of meaning; it is therefore the\nbest intellectual form. And as to the moral nature, we can only say that\nnowhere is it more cultivated than in the Catholic Church\u2014a truth which\nno one disputes\u2014whilst the assumption that \u201cthe _merely_ intellectual\nacceptance of an abstract proposition\u201d suffices to qualify a man for\nreligious fellowship, is a clear proof that the author has never read\nour Christian catechism.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d says he, \u201cit is not only in their way of presenting faith\ngenerally, but in their rash and unreasoned statement of special points\nof Christian belief, that our theologians have greatly erred.\u201d And he\nmentions the doctrine of predestination and reprobation, the doctrine of\noriginal sin, the doctrine of eternal punishment, the doctrine of\ncreation out of nothing, and the doctrine of God\u2019s providential\nintervention in human affairs. We do not deny that the doctrine of\npredestination and reprobation has been discussed rashly and in an\nirreverent manner so as to create scandal and discord; but it is on the\nProtestant, and especially on the Calvinistic, preachers and writers\nthat lies the responsibility of such deplorable quarrels. It was their\nprivate judgment pushed to excess and their pride that roused the storm.\nOf course our Catholic theologians could not look silently on such a\nwanton perversion of truth; to defend human liberty on the one side and\nGod\u2019s justice on the other they had to take part in the difficult\ncontroversy. They often differed in matters of detail, but their\nconclusions as to the main point\u2014that is, as to the dogma\u2014were uniform\nand irreproachable. Mysteries, however, do not cease to be true because\nmen cannot unravel them. Theologians do not claim the privilege of\ntearing asunder the veil through which mysteries are seen; but they\nclaim the honor of defending the objective truth of mysteries against\nthe attacks of heresy and unbelief. This is why theologians investigate\nand expound mysteries; and to contend that the result of their labors is\nto encourage atheism is to abandon \u201cthe great principle of the Scottish\nphilosophy called common sense,\u201d or, to use another phrase of the\nauthor\u2019s, \u201cto pluck Reason by the beard.\u201d\n\nThe author says that he has brought forward this matter (of\npredestination and reprobation) specially because the Calvinistic view\nof it, as laid down in the catechism used in the elementary schools of\nScotland, occasions \u201cno small amount of misery and self-torture to young\npersons beginning seriously to look into the great truths of religion\nand morals.\u201d We agree with him. The Calvinistic doctrine of reprobation\nmakes man the helpless victim of a tyrannical and cruel God, destroys\nall the seeds of piety, and fosters despair. But if its adoption may\nlead to atheism, it is not the fault of theology; it is the fault of\nCalvin\u2019s rebellion against the church.\n\nThe next good service done by theologians to the anti-Christian\ntendencies of some \u201crespectable\u201d (?) classes of the community has been,\naccording to our author, their inculcation of the doctrine of original\nsin. \u201cOriginal sin,\u201d says he with Coleridge, \u201cis not a doctrine but a\n_fact_\u201d; by which he means, we suppose, that the first man sinned, but\nthat from this fact we cannot conclude that his children are born in\nsin.\n\n \u201cMoral merit and demerit are in the very nature of things personal;\n to imagine their transference is to destroy their definition. If\n every baby when born, in virtue of an act of transgression committed\n some six or eight thousand years ago by the father of the race, must\n be confessed a \u2018hell-deserving sinner,\u2019 and lying on the brink of\n eternal damnation as soon as it lies on its nurse\u2019s lap, then every\n man of sound moral feeling is entitled to protest against a doctrine\n of which such a cruel absurdity is a necessary postulate.\u201d\n\nHere again the author is at fault. The dogma of the inheritance of guilt\nfrom our first parent is not an invention of theologians, but an\nexplicit doctrine of the New and even of the Old Testament. To omit\nother quotations, St. Paul the apostle, whose authority is so frequently\nappealed to by our author, declares that Adam sinned, and that _in him\nall men have sinned_. Now, if St. Paul cannot be charged with doing a\ngood service to anti-Christianity by preaching this doctrine, why should\ntheologians be denounced for preaching it?\n\nThe author argues that \u201cmerit and demerit are personal,\u201d and that \u201cto\nimagine their transference is to destroy their definition.\u201d Yes; but the\ndogma of original sin does not imply any such transference. The original\nsin is _personal_ and _inherited_, not _transferred_. \u201cOut of good\nseed,\u201d as the author tells us, \u201ca good plant will grow, and out of bad\nseed a bad plant.\u201d Is the badness of the plant _transferred_? No; it is\ninherited. And so it is with the stain of original sin. We are born of a\ndegraded father, and we are a degraded race\u2014degraded not only physically\nbut morally; that is, deprived of the supernatural grace which\naccompanied the original justice in which man had been created. This is\nwhat St. Paul expresses by saying that we are born \u201cchildren of wrath.\u201d\nIt is not in virtue of an act committed six thousand years ago that\nevery baby is _formally_ a sinner; he is a sinner owing to his own\npersonal destitution of supernatural grace, just as the child of a\nredskin is _formally_ a redskin, not by the skin of his father but by\nhis own. This doctrine has been taught and held from the origin of\nChristianity by the most learned, the most acute, and the most holy men,\nwithout their sound moral sense being hurt by it; it was reserved to our\nvicious and ignorant generation to take scandal at the pretended cruelty\ninvolved in such divine dispensation. What a pity that God, in shaping\nhis decrees, forgot to consult our learned professor of Greek![104]\n\nThe doctrine of eternal punishment is, according to Mr. Blackie, another\n\u201cstone of stumbling\u201d set up by the Christian doctors. The ancient\nGreeks, he remarks, had also taught this doctrine; but they taught it in\na very modified form. Only a few flaming offenders were condemned to a\nstate of helpless reprobation and inexhaustible torture. But the\nChristian churches \u201ccommitted themselves to a theology drawn up by\nscholastic persons in a series of formal propositions which challenge\ncontradiction and refuse compromise. Therefore the doctrine of infinite\ntorture for finite sins is still stoutly maintained as a point of\nChristian faith, and as stoutly disowned by a large class of benevolent\nand thoughtful persons, who look upon such a doctrine as utterly\ninconsistent with the conception of a wise and benevolent Being.\u201d He\nthen adds that if there were not a great deal of dogmatic obstinacy, a\nfair amount of hermeneutical ignorance, and a considerable vein of\ncowardice also in the ecclesiastical minds, this stumbling-block might\neasily be removed. For \u201cit does not require any very profound\nscholarship to know that the word \u03b1\u1f30\u03ce\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, which we translate\n_everlasting_, does not signify eternity absolutely and metaphysically,\nbut only popularly, as when we say that a man is an eternal fool,\nmeaning only that he is a very great fool.\u201d\n\nThis last argument is easily answered. In fact, it does not require any\nvery profound scholarship to know that the word \u03b1\u1f30\u03ce\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 here means\n_everlasting_ in the sense of perpetual duration. This is evident from\ncollateral passages of Scripture, from which we know that the fire of\nhell \u201cshall not be extinguished,\u201d that, the smoke of the torments of the\nwicked \u201cshall ascend for ever and ever,\u201d that their worm \u201cshall never\ndie,\u201d etc., all which expressions, according to our \u201chermeneutical\nignorance,\u201d more than suffice to annihilate the professor\u2019s pretension.\nBesides, the ancient translators of the Bible were as good professors of\nGreek, to say the least, as Mr. Stuart Blackie; but they never suspected\nthat there would come a time when such slang as \u201can eternal fool\u201d would\nmean \u201ca very great fool.\u201d It is too late now for any professor to\npretend that the ancient Greek had no correct interpretation till\nEnglish slang made its appearance.\n\nThe other argument consists in saying that a finite sin cannot deserve\nan infinite punishment. This, too, is easily answered. The act of sin is\nfinite, but it violates the infinite majesty and sanctity of God, and on\nthis account it partakes of infinity. However, let us drop this\nconsideration, which is too scholastic to be understood by certain\nmodern professors of Protestant institutions. We have another answer. A\nman can dig out his eyes in less than a minute; the act is finite, but\nits result is perpetual blindness. In like manner a man loses, by\nsinning, his fitness to see God in his glory; the act is finite, but the\nconsequent unfitness is, of its nature, everlasting. God alone can\nrestore the sinner to his previous condition; but this he is not obliged\nto do. The rehabilitation of a sinner is a real miracle, just as the\nresuscitation of Lazarus, and miracles are not the rule but the\nexception. God warns us that \u201cthe hope of the sinner shall perish,\u201d that\n\u201cnow is the acceptable time,\u201d and that after death \u201cthere is no\nredemption.\u201d And yet we are accused of \u201cdogmatic obstinacy\u201d because we\ndo not renounce this doctrine of faith!\n\nWe are told that there is a large class of \u201cbenevolent and thoughtful\npersons\u201d who look upon such a doctrine \u201cas utterly inconsistent with the\nconception of a wise and benevolent Being.\u201d But our \u201cdogmatic obstinacy\u201d\ncompels us to remark that this wise and benevolent Being knows much\nbetter than those \u201cbenevolent and thoughtful persons\u201d what his wisdom\nand benevolence require; and therefore it is from his word, not from\nthose \u201cthoughtful persons,\u201d that we must accept the solution of the\nproblem. It may be that in doing so, we exhibit \u201ca considerable vein of\ncowardice\u201d; but it is wise to fear God. We are weak and he is almighty.\n\n \u201cAnother stumbling-block which theologians have laid in the way of\n the devotee of physical sciences is _the creation out of nothing_.\n This dogma, which, as every scholar knows, is not necessarily\n contained in any place, whether of the Old or New Testament, arose\n in the Jewish Church, and has been stamped with orthodox authority\n in Christendom, partly from a pious desire to magnify the divine\n Omnipotence; partly from the timid stupidity of clinging to the\n letter instead of breaching the spirit of Scripture; and partly also\n from the evil trick which we have just mentioned of importing\n metaphysics and scholastic definitions into the Bible, from which\n all the Scriptures are the furthest possible removed. Now, the\n objection to this doctrine on the part of modern thinkers I conceive\n to be this: that, though not perhaps absolutely impossible, it is\n contrary to all known experience, and highly improbable if we are to\n judge of the constitution of things from what we see, not from what\n we choose to imagine. It is the vulgar imagination which delights to\n represent the Supreme Being as a sort of omnipotent harlequin,\n launching the _fiat_ of his volition, as the nimble gentleman in the\n pantomime strikes the table with his wand, and out comes a man, or a\n monkey, or something else, out of nothing. This is man\u2019s crude\n conception; but God\u2019s ways are not as man\u2019s ways, and his way is\n _evolution_. Nothing is created out of nothing; and mere volition,\n even of an omnipotent Being, cannot be conceived as bringing into\n existence a thing of an absolutely opposite nature, called matter.\u201d\n\nTo answer these reckless assertions in detail would take a volume.\nFortunately, however, we may be dispensed from such a task, as there are\nhundreds of excellent books, both philosophical and theological, where\nthe dogma of creation is fully established and victoriously vindicated.\nOn the other hand, our professor does not give any proof of his infidel\nview; he merely asserts what has no possibility of proof. \u201cNothing is\ncreated out of nothing,\u201d says he; but philosophy demonstrates that\nnothing is, or can be, created but out of nothing. \u201cGod\u2019s way is\nevolution.\u201d No; God\u2019s way is creation. Evolution is man\u2019s way, as Mr.\nDarwin and all his admirers know; and, since (as the author reminds us)\nGod\u2019s ways are not as man\u2019s ways, it follows on his own showing that\nGod\u2019s way is not evolution. Evolution is impossible without antecedent\ncreation. The subject of evolution is matter, and matter is a created\nbeing. To deny the creation of matter is to assume that matter is\neternal and self-existent, or, in other terms, to make it an independent\nbeing or an appurtenance of Divinity; and this colossal absurdity even\nthe author must reject, as he confesses that the nature of matter is\n\u201cabsolutely opposite\u201d to the nature of Divinity.\n\nThe author imagines that the absolute opposition between God and matter\nmakes it impossible for God to create matter, because \u201cmere volition,\neven of an omnipotent Being, cannot be conceived as bringing into\nexistence a thing of an absolutely opposite nature.\u201d These words show\nthe author\u2019s philosophical ignorance of the law of causation. The law is\nthat efficient causes must always be of a nature entirely different from\nthat of their effects. The efficient cause of gravitation at the earth\u2019s\nsurface is the substance or matter of the earth itself; but gravitation\nis neither matter nor substance, but something entirely different. The\nsoul is the efficient cause of the voluntary movements produced in our\norganism; and yet those movements have nothing common with the substance\nof the soul. And the same is to be said of all other effects as compared\nwith their efficient causes.[105] Hence it is idle to argue that an\nomnipotent Being, owing to his spirituality, cannot create matter. The\nauthor will say that every effect must be contained in its cause, and\nthat matter is not contained in God. To which it must be answered that\neffects are _eminently_ and _virtually_, not _formally_, contained in\ntheir efficient causes. If the effect existed formally in its cause its\nproduction by the cause would become a contradiction; for the effect\nwould exist before its effection. Effects are said to be pre-contained\nin their causes only in this sense: that causes possess a power\ncompetent to produce their effects. Causation is action, and action is\nthe production of an act. Every act produced is the formal principle of\na new existence, or of a new mode of existence. To say that God cannot\ncreate matter is to say that God cannot produce an act giving formal\nexistence to matter; which amounts to the denial of omnipotence. Still,\nthe existence of matter must be accounted for. Matter undergoes\nmodifications and is subject to natural agents; it is therefore\nessentially potential and contingent. How, then, did it come into\nexistence? And how is it potential, if it is not created out of nothing,\nsince nothingness is the only source of potentiality?\n\nBut we are told that creation out of nothing \u201cis contrary to all known\nexperience.\u201d This shows what new kind of philosophers nowadays we have\nto deal with. They want to see God making a few acts of creation before\nthey consent to believe, just as they want a lecturer to prove his\ntheories by a series of visible experiments. God, of course, will not\nsatisfy their curiosity; he has given them the light of reason and the\nlight of revelation, which are quite enough. But were God to condescend\nto their yearning, would they believe even then? Would not these men,\nwho have the impudence to speak of an \u201comnipotent Harlequin,\u201d declare\nwith equal profanity any visible fact of creation to be jugglery?\n\nThe author tells us also that \u201cif we are to judge of the constitution of\nthings from what we see, not from what we choose to imagine,\u201d we shall\nfind out that creation is improbable. At this we need not wonder; for\nthe author is a great enemy of scholastic definitions and of\nmetaphysics\u2014that is, of intellectual light. He sees with the eyes of his\nbody, but he shuts the eyes of his reason. Had he less horror of\nmetaphysics, he might learn that \u201cthe constitution of things\u201d proclaims\nin the loudest and most unmistakable language the fact of creation; and\nthat every change or movement in the universe furnishes a peremptory\ndemonstration of it. But what can a man see who discards definitions and\ndisregards the principles of real philosophy?\n\nAnd now let us see to what conclusions the author is led by his style of\nreasoning. He says:\n\n \u201cTo us dependent ephemeral creatures all existence is a divine\n miracle; and the continuity of that divine miracle in the shape of\n what we call growth is, so far as we can see, the eternal form of\n divine creativeness. The absolute dualism of mind and matter which\n is implied in the received orthodoxy of the church is not warranted\n by any fact that exact science can recognize; nowhere do we find\n mind acting without a material instrument, nowhere matter absolutely\n divorced from the action of inherent forces, inasmuch as even the\n most motionless statical condition of things most solid is always\n produced by a balance of forces in some way or other\u2014forces which,\n if they are not blind, but acting according to a calculated law, as\n they manifestly do, are only another name for Mind. This view of the\n constitution of the universe ... is generally disowned with a\n certain pious horror as pantheism, a word to which a great chorus of\n thoughtless and ill-informed people are straightway ready to echo\n back atheism, with the feeling that the two terms, though\n etymologically as opposed as white and black, are practically the\n same.... Pantheism, scientifically understood, has nothing to do\n either with materialism or with atheism. It ... simply denies the\n existence of two opposite entities in the world of divine reality,\n while it asserts the existence of only one. The world is essentially\n one; and the All, though externally many, is, when traced to its\n deepest roots, not different from the One; as the human body, for\n instance, is both one and many.... The term pantheism, therefore, is\n not opposed to unity, or to the principle of unity in the world,\n which is God; and a pantheist, as Hegel well said of Spinoza, may\n more properly be said to deny the world than to deny God.\u201d\n\nThis is the quagmire into which the professor, as we said at the\nbeginning of this article, has fallen. The view he takes of \u201cthe\nconstitution of the universe,\u201d the assertions he makes, and the\narguments he employs are a mass of confusion to which no more\nappropriate name can be given than _nonsense_. We are \u201cdependent\nephemeral creatures.\u201d Yes. But how could he call us \u201ccreatures,\u201d he who\ndenies creation? or \u201cdependent,\u201d he who makes us one with God? or\n\u201cephemeral,\u201d he who includes us in the eternal All? Is not this a\nflagrant contradiction?\n\nTo us \u201call existence is a divine miracle.\u201d If so, the author cannot\nconsistently be a pantheist. Miracles are facts transcending the power\nand exigencies of nature. Pantheism divinizes nature, and admits of\nnothing transcending the power and exigencies of nature; and therefore\npantheism can admit of no miracle.\n\n\u201cGrowth is, so far as we can see, the eternal form of divine\ncreativeness.\u201d Growth implies change, whereas the eternal form of divine\ncreativeness is altogether unchangeable. Hence, so far as we can see\n(and we see it most evidently), growth is _not_ what the professor\nimagines.\n\n\u201cThe absolute dualism of mind and matter is not warranted by any fact\nthat exact science can recognize.\u201d If so, then exact science should find\na way of reconciling the well-known inertia of matter with the equally\nwell-known immanent and reflex self-activity of mind. For, as the latter\nexcludes the former, their existence is the most incontrovertible\nevidence of the absolute dualism of matter and mind; and this evidence\nis quite scientific, too, for it is the result of universal and\nunexceptionable experience. But our men of science, who profess to deal\nwith nothing but matter, are not the best judges about the attributes of\nmind. They are gross and material; they must see, and touch, and smell,\nand subject everything to chemical analysis; and spiritual substances\nrefuse to be thus manipulated. Hence no wonder if these latter\nsubstances are not recognized in any fact of exact science so long as\n\u201cexact science\u201d is confined to the study of matter.\n\n\u201cNowhere do we find mind acting without a material instrument.\u201d Be it\nso; it does not follow that matter and mind are one and the same thing.\nThe organ is not the organist, and the instrument is not the artist.\n\n\u201cNowhere do we find matter divorced from the action of inherent forces.\u201d\nQuite true; but these forces of matter are absolutely blind. The author\npretends that they are not blind, because \u201cthey act according to a\ncalculated law\u201d; but this is a new blunder. It is not the forces of\nmatter that have calculated the law, it is God that subjected them to\nthe law; and their acting according to the law is a mechanical\nnecessity. The very fact of their inviolable subjection to the law\nproves their utter blindness; for were they intelligent, they would have\ngiven before now some instances of proud rebellion at least in the hands\nof the torturing chemist.\n\n\u201cThis view ... is generally disowned as pantheism.\u201d Certainly. Let the\nauthor remember \u201cthe principle of the Scottish philosophy called _common\nsense_,\u201d and let him ask himself if a view generally disowned deserves\nthe honor of being adopted by a professor of a Scotch university.\n\n\u201cPantheism, scientifically understood, has nothing to do with atheism.\u201d\nMay we ask how pantheism can be \u201cscientifically understood\u201d? Science is\nconcerned only with material phenomena. God, mind, and spiritual things\nin general are beyond its reach. How, then, can what is above science be\nunderstood \u201cscientifically\u201d? And, again, how can pantheism be\n\u201cunderstood\u201d at all, since it is as contradictory as a changeable\nimmutability, a compounded simplicity, or a sinful holiness? That the\nterms \u201cpantheism\u201d and \u201catheism\u201d are etymologically opposed is quite\nclear; but our question is one of things, not of mere terms. The atheist\nsays to God: \u201cThou hast no existence\u201d; the pantheist says: \u201cThou art a\ncompound of matter.\u201d Which of them is better? Which is less\nirrational\u2014the one who degrades his Creator, or the one who merely shuts\nhis eyes that he may not see him? After all, neither the one nor the\nother has an object of worship\u2014the atheist because he denies its\nexistence, the pantheist because he denies its superiority; and thus the\natheist and the pantheist are twin-brothers, with this only difference:\nthat the latter wears a mask of hypocrisy, that he may the easier seduce\nthose who would be disgusted with the impudence of the former.\n\n\u201cThe world is essentially one.\u201d No greater blunder could be uttered.\n\n\u201cThe All, though externally many, is not different from the One.\u201d The\ntruth is that things cannot be \u201cexternally many\u201d unless they be also\nintrinsically and substantially many. Thus in the human body, which the\nauthor brings forward as a fit illustration of his view, the limbs are\nmany because each one substantially differs from each other. It is the\nnegation of identity that makes things be many; and no such negation can\nbe conceived without entities intrinsically distinct. Hence, if the All\nis \u201cmany,\u201d it must intrinsically differ from the One.\n\n\u201cPantheism is not opposed to the principle of unity in the world, which\nis God.\u201d To this we say, first, that pantheism is opposed to the fact of\nplurality in the world. This fact is so manifest that no professor can\nplead ignorance of it. We say, secondly, that the world has unity of\ndesign, of composition, and of government, but no unity of substance.\nThis, too, is as evident as noonday.\n\n\u201cSpinoza may more properly be said to deny the world than to deny God.\u201d\nWere this granted, it would still be supremely foolish to trust and\nfollow a leader who denies the world. But Spinoza denies God as well, if\nnot explicitly, at least by implication. To set up a mass of\ncontradictions, and to call it \u201cGod,\u201d is to declare that there can be no\nGod; and this is just what Spinoza did, through ignorance, we suppose,\nrather than malice, though not without a sovereign arrogance and\npresumption.\n\nBefore we end we must take notice of an attempt, on the part of Prof.\nBlackie, at answering the objection that pantheism destroys religion,\n\u201cbecause it destroys human personality, and denies individual\nresponsibility, on the foundation of which all human society, as well as\nall religious obligation, is constituted.\u201d He answers thus: \u201cFreedom,\npersonality, and responsibility are facts which no theological or\nmetaphysical theories can meddle with, any more than they can with\ngeneration, or appetite, or digestion.... The answer to all such\nspeculative objections from transcendental theories, when brought into\nthe world of practice, is a fact and a flogging.\u201d\n\nBravo! Freedom, personality, and responsibility are facts. The\npantheistic theory contradicts them, but cannot interfere with them any\nmore than with generation, appetite, and digestion. Hence when any one\nargues from the pantheistic theory against freedom, personality, and\nresponsibility, he must be answered with \u201ca fact and a flogging.\u201d And,\n_vice versa_, if any one from freedom, personality, and responsibility\nargues against the pantheistic theory which makes these things\ninexplicable and impossible, he, too, must be answered with \u201ca fact and\na flogging.\u201d Does the reader understand the excellence of this\nliberalistic logic? Yes, with a fact and a flogging; for the eloquence\nof the scourge sometimes replaces with advantage the doubtful efforts of\na hesitating tongue: _Si non prosunt verba, prederunt verbera_. What a\ncandid confession of pantheistic impotence! But then, if flogging is to\nbe resorted to, who shall be found more worthy of it than the pantheist\nhimself, who wantonly contradicts by his theory what his common sense\nrecognizes to be a fact?\n\nThe book we have thus far examined contains many other errors on\nimportant points of religion; but our readers need not be detained any\nlonger in their refutation. The author admits a general providence, but\na providence which imparts particular favors in reward of prayer he does\nnot admit. Answers to prayers he considers to be \u201cas ridiculous as\ninterpretations of judgments are presumptuous.\u201d For him \u201cthe idea of a\nGod, constantly interfering in answer to prayer, or otherwise, is one of\nthe most anthropomorphic of theological conceptions.\u201d \u201cAsceticism and\nmonkery form a very sad and lamentable chapter in the history of the\nchurch.\u201d Abstinence and mortification are \u201ca pedantic and ridiculous\nsort of virtue,\u201d and they are \u201cabnormal, monstrous, inhuman, and\nabsurd.\u201d Then \u201cthere is, and can be, no such thing as a priesthood in\nChristianity.\u201d It would take too long to enumerate all his theological,\nphilosophical, and historical blunders, for his book is full of them; so\nwe must give up the task.\n\nIn the last pages of the work we find a fairly good refutation of\natheism, as maintained by Miss Martineau, Mr. Atkinson, and Prof.\nTyndall. But what is the use of such a refutation, if it is intended\nmerely as a first step towards pantheism? A pantheist has no right to\nrefute atheism. Whatever he may say against it can always, in one manner\nor another, be retorted against himself; and when the retorsion is\npushed on to its last consequences, his defeat takes the aspect of an\natheistic victory. Thus nothing is gained, and discussions become\ninterminable, to the great satisfaction of the sceptics. It is for this\nreason that most of the Protestant controversies on religious topics\ncannot be settled. Truth, if mixed with error, has little, if any,\nchance of victory; and books in which truth is compelled to minister to\nerror are all the more pernicious because their poison is less\nrecognizable. If this _Natural History of Atheism_ is what we assume it\nto be\u2014a Masonic work\u2014then we must confess that the Scottish Masons could\nnot be served better than by such a baneful mixture of Calvinistic\ndogmatism and pantheistic dreams.\n\nFootnote 103:\n\n _The Natural History of Atheism._ By John Stuart Blackie, Professor of\n Greek at the University of Edinburgh. New York: Scribner, Armstrong &\n Co. 1878.\n\nFootnote 104:\n\n Children dying in original sin, though children of wrath, are not\n necessarily \u201chell-deserving sinners,\u201d as the author objects. Most\n Catholic theologians maintain with good reasons that they will be in a\n state of _natural_ happiness, though debarred from the vision of God.\n\nFootnote 105:\n\n See THE CATHOLIC WORLD for February, 1874, where we have proved that\n _all efficient cause is infinitely more perfect and of an infinitely\n better nature than any of its effects_ (\u201cThe Principles of Real\n Being,\u201d p. 584).\n\n\n\n\n THE CREATED WISDOM.[106]\n BY AUBREY DE VERE.\n I.\n\n\n Created Wisdom at the gate\n Of Heaven, ere Time began, I played;\n The Eternal Wisdom Uncreate\n Beheld me ere the worlds were made.\n\n I danced the void abyss above:\n Of lore unwrit the characters\n I traced with wing\u00e8d feet, and wove\n The orbits of the unshaped stars.\n\n When first the sun and moon had birth,\n When seas rushed back, and hills up sprang,\n Before God\u2019s eyes in sacred mirth\n Once more I circled, and I sang.\n\n I flashed\u2014a Thought in light arrayed\u2014\n Beneath the Eternal Wisdom\u2019s ken:\n When came mine hour I lived, and played\n Among the peopled fields of men.\n\n Blessed is he that keeps my ways,\n That stands in reverence on my floor,\n That seeks my praise, my word obeys,\n That waits and watches by my door.\n\nFootnote 106:\n\n Proverbs, cap. viii.\n\n\n\n\n CONRAD AND WALBURGA.\n CHAPTER III.\n\n\n\u201cMoida! Moida! you were right; you knew him better than I did: Conrad\nSeinsheim has already proposed,\u201d were Walburga\u2019s first words as she\nentered her home in Fingergasse, where her friend was awaiting her to go\nout for a walk.\n\n\u201cOh! good, good. How delighted I am! You\u2019ll soon be back in your old\ncastle,\u201d cried the joyous Moida, springing up from her seat by the\nwindow and dancing round the room.\n\n\u201cAlas! I scarcely dare yet to give full rein to hope,\u201d added Walburga,\nshaking her head.\n\n\u201cWhat is that? I didn\u2019t understand you!\u201d said the other, abruptly\npausing in her merry skips. \u201cOf course you said yes to him? Of course\nyou did?\u201d\n\n\u201cI said neither yes nor no; he is to return in three days for an\nanswer.\u201d\n\n\u201cO you naughty, puzzling creature! Why didn\u2019t you tell the poor fellow\nyes on the spot, as I did to my darling Ulrich?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy?\u201d said Walburga, looking pensively at her; then, after hesitating a\nmoment: \u201cWell, Moida, it was because I have thus far adroitly, but\nperhaps foolishly, concealed something from him; you know what I mean.\nAnd, like a coward, when the crisis arrived, when he asked for my hand,\nI still put off the revelation for a brief space.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, Mr. Seinsheim will be a fool, a big fool, if he doesn\u2019t marry\nyou; that\u2019s all I can say,\u201d replied Moida, tenderly twining her arms\nabout her friend\u2019s neck. \u201cAnd, what\u2019s more, if I didn\u2019t think we were\nall of us going to live near one another at Loewenstein, I\u2019d hate him\nfor trying to take you away from me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, you and I have certainly been very happy together, have we not,\nMoida?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! very, very, very; and you should have kept your pretty nightingale,\nso as to have brought him with us to Tyrol.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps I ought,\u201d answered Walburga, her countenance now clearing up;\nfor hope, sweet hope, was just at this moment flashing its rays into her\nbosom and inspiring her to believe that Conrad would surely accept her,\naccept her exactly as she was, and, like a brave, good husband, bear\nupon his own shoulders as much of her cross as he was able.\n\nA few minutes later the two friends were passing through the park on\ntheir way to Foering. This place is simply a beer-garden\u2014one of the many\nwithin an hour\u2019s walk of Munich. Here on the warmest summer day the air\nis cool, for the spot is high and commanding, and, moreover, well shaded\nby elm-trees. But better than breeze or shade is the beer\u2014beer such as\none can taste only in Southern Bavaria. In the middle of the garden is a\nplatform elevated a few inches above the ground, where those who are\nfond of dancing may trip it merrily to the music of a fiddle, harp, and\nflute, dropping now and again a copper into the tin plate which one of\nthe minstrels passes through the crowd.\n\nWhen Moida and Walburga arrived Foering was well-nigh deserted, and they\nhad no difficulty in being helped at once to whatever they wanted, for\nthe good-natured waiter-girl had only them to wait on. But ere long\nother people began to come. First appeared a husband and wife, the\nformer carrying the baby\u2014the best of all babies, of course\u2014and so bound\nup in swaddling-clothes that the little thing could do naught except\nwink. Then followed a soldier hand-in-hand with a buxom lass, with\nnature\u2019s own rouge glowing on her cheeks; and hand-in-hand these two sat\ndown, and hand-in-hand they quenched their thirst out of the same mug,\nthe beverage tasting all the more like nectar for this sweet communion\nof lips.\n\nPresently a pursy gentleman waddled into the garden, his respiration so\nlaborious that you could hear him from afar, and dropped heavily down\nupon the same bench where Moida and Walburga were seated. To judge by\nhis appearance you would have declared there was not a spark of\nsentiment in his whole composition; he looked to be a sheer mass of\nbeer-drenched humanity. Yet this was wide, wide of the truth. Herr Wurst\nwas organist of the cathedral, was passionately fond of poetry, and knew\nby heart every song of the Minnesingers. In short, he was a Bavarian\nevery inch of him, and never was so much soul hidden in a sausage.\n\nAnd thus on, on the people came, all jovial, all orderly, and to look at\nthem you might have fancied they had not a care or trouble in the world.\nThen by and by the music commenced. \u2019Twas a waltz from Strauss, and the\ncorpulent organist, who knew our young friends\u2014for they both sang in his\nchoir\u2014danced thrice round the platform with each; and the baby in\nswaddling-clothes lay upon the bench like a little Stoic while its daddy\nand mammy whirled round too; and the buxom lass and the soldier likewise\ndanced\u2014danced so hard, threw such life into their motions, that when at\nlength they paused to give their hearts a rest you might have thought\nthey had been out in a shower of rain.\n\n\u201cHow often dear Ulrich and I have enjoyed ourselves here!\u201d spoke Moida,\nwhen she and Walburga were once more seated over their beer-mugs. \u201cI do\nbelieve we once danced a whole hour without stopping. And oh! how sweet\nit was to coo and whisper our love to each other while we flew round.\nWhy, I don\u2019t think I knew what life was till I became his betrothed.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I hope you each had a glass of your own to sip the beer from,\u201d\nremarked Walburga, smiling.\n\n\u201cNo indeed; we went halves in everything. And now\u2014just think\u2014we are soon\ngoing to be married! And you too. O Walburga! Walburga!\u201d\n\nThe latter, who was still under the radiant influence of hope, and who\nseemed to feel anew the warm touch of Conrad\u2019s lips, cried: \u201cYes, yes,\nmy future is bright, and I will prove by my devotion to him how grateful\nI am; and there\u2019ll be no happier husband than Conrad Seinsheim!\u201d\n\nPresently, however, her countenance fell, and in a low, grave tone she\nadded: \u201cBut suppose all this were not to happen? Everything must remain\nin doubt and uncertainty till I meet him again, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! but he is so full of good sense, so unlike the rest of the world,\nthat you may dispel all doubt. Conrad is sure to take you\u2014sure,\u201d\nanswered Moida.\n\nCheered by these words, Walburga, who was not blest with the same even\ntemperament as her friend, and who too easily flew from one extreme to\nthe other, became once more blithe and cheerful, and she proceeded to\nspeak of Conrad in a strain which their brief acquaintance hardly\njustified. But love engenders love; and excited by the thought that she\nwas loved by him (Walburga had never had a lover before), a tender,\nresponsive passion now inspired her tongue, and during the rest of the\nafternoon even Moida\u2019s high spirits did not soar higher than her own.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d said Walburga, when the sun was verging near the horizon\u2014\u201cnow\nlet us seek the grove into which my dear nightingale flew; I long to\nhear him singing his song in liberty.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd making love to some other pretty bird,\u201d returned Moida, as she rose\nfrom the table.\n\nAccordingly, they wended their way back to the park; and in about half\nan hour Walburga came to a halt and said: \u201cHere is the spot; just among\nthese bushes he disappeared.\u201d Then, after listening a moment, she added:\n\u201cAnd that is his voice. Hark!\u201d\n\n\u201cMay it not be another nightingale?\u201d observed Moida.\n\n\u201cWell, let us approach softly and try to get a peep at the one that is\nnow singing; if \u2019tis mine I\u2019ll know him by a bit of blue ribbon I tied\nabout his neck.\u201d\n\nPresently they caught a glimpse of the little songster amid the green\nleaves, and, by the ribbon he wore, \u2019twas undoubtedly Walburga\u2019s pet.\n\n\u201cOh! how glad I am I set him free,\u201d spoke the latter in an undertone, as\nif she feared to disturb his roundelay. Then, pointing towards a\nneighboring bush: \u201cAnd look! look! Yonder is his mate.\u201d\n\nWalburga had scarcely breathed these words when the other bird took wing\nand perched itself close beside hers. And now the song waxed softer and\nmore melodious, and a tear glistened in her eye as she gazed upon this\nhappy scene of love-making.\n\nPresently a rushing, swooping sound was heard; \u2019twas like a blast of\nwild wind, and the girl gave a start. Moida was startled, too, and\nwondered what it was. But before either of them could utter a cry or\nhasten one step to the rescue, a hawk had pounced upon Walburga\u2019s sweet\nwarbler and carried him away.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe next three days were anxious ones for Conrad and Walburga. The\nformer endeavored to beguile his thoughts by watching the work which was\ngoing on at the castle, and spent as much time as possible beside\nUlrich, under whose skilful hand the pristine beauty of the interior of\nthe tower was fast returning.\n\nWhenever the youth spoke of Moida, Conrad\u2019s face would light up, and he\nwould exclaim: \u201cYes, yes, a happy day is coming for her and you and all\nof us.\u201d Yet down deep in his heart he felt a strange misgiving. He\nremembered the pensive look which more than once had shadowed Walburga\u2019s\ncountenance whilst they were conversing together; nor did Conrad forget\nthe tear\u2014the tear he had been so tempted to kiss away. \u201cAnd there was a\nshyness, too, about her which I cannot understand,\u201d he said to himself.\n\u201cShe seemed afraid to look at me. And when finally I proposed, instead\nof answering yes or no she put me off for three long days.\u201d\n\nConrad\u2019s own temperament, as Moida Hofer had discerned, was not unlike\nWalburga\u2019s; and now the thought of waiting this space of time was very\ntrying to him. At one moment he was full of hope; at another he was\ncertain that he would be rejected, and then he was plunged in despair.\n\nYet, singular to relate, when at length the dawn of the third day did\narrive, Conrad was seized with a mysterious impulse not to leave\nLoewenstein; and Ulrich, to whom he had opened his heart and confided\nall his thoughts, was unable to comfort him and give him courage to\nshake off the gloom which had come over his spirits.\n\n\u201cI had a dream last night,\u201d spoke Conrad\u2014\u201ca dream that has wrought on me\na most vivid, painful impression. I believe I shall never get over\nit\u2014never!\u201d\n\n\u201cPray, what was the dream?\u201d inquired Ulrich.\n\n\u201cI thought I was standing on the brink of a river, whose dark waters as\nthey rolled by me gave forth a moaning, melancholy sound; and ever and\nanon along the surface of the flood there passed a human head; and every\nface of the many, of the thousands, I saw float by wore traces of pain\nand woe, while some were stamped with a sorrow perfectly indescribable.\nAnd, oh! one of these faces\u201d\u2014here Conrad shuddered\u2014\u201cwas the face of\nWalburga. And she watched me and watched me until she disappeared in the\ndistance with a mournfulness no human tongue can express. Then when she\nwas gone I heard a voice cry out: \u2018This stream hath its fountain in the\nheart of poor humanity; and these waters are all the tears which have\nbeen shed since Paradise was lost.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a curious dream!\u201d said Ulrich. \u201cBut I beg you to forget it. \u2019Tis\nonly a dream.\u201d\n\nWalburga, too, was impatient and anxious for the time to fly by. And now\nwhile she sat at her easel waiting for Conrad to appear\u2014\u2019twas the\nmorning of the day she had named\u2014her heart fluttered at every footstep\nthat approached. Her countenance was paler than usual, and on it were\nmarks of grief. Nor ought we to smile at the girl for feeling so acutely\nthe death of her nightingale; it was such a cruel death, and she had\nloved the bird so much. Indeed, it was her very love for it that had\nprompted her to set it free. Only for this her pet would still have been\nwarbling in its cage; now nothing remained of it save a few scattered\nfeathers.\n\n\u201cAlas! will my heart, perhaps, be torn like his?\u201d she sighed, as she\nwaited and listened.\n\nBut hour after hour went by, and still Conrad did not come; nor did he\nshow himself at all this day, nor the following day either.\n\nAnd then Walburga murmured to herself: \u201cAh! I might have known it would\nbe so. He has been told by somebody else what I should have let his own\neyes discover. Now I shall see him no more.\u201d\n\nThe evening of the sixth day, after having waited for him at the\nPinakothek, but, as before, in vain, the poor girl went her way home,\nwhere she might bow her head on Moida\u2019s breast and silently lament. But\nlo! on reaching her humble abode her friend was not to be found\u2014Moida\nwas gone! On the pin-cushion was found a slip of paper, whereon was\nwritten: \u201cStay calm, dear Walburga, and trust in me; I\u2019ll be back\nto-morrow.\u201d Moida did not reveal that she was gone to Loewenstein to\nlearn what had become of Conrad Seinsheim.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs changeable in spirits as the one whom he so passionately loved,\nConrad arrived in Munich, his heart ravished with joy at the prospect\nbefore him; for Moida had assured him beyond the shadow of a doubt that\nere the clock struck noon Walburga would be his affianced bride.\n\n\u201cShe has been expecting you day after day,\u201d said Moida; \u201cand I can\nhardly forgive you for putting her patience to such a trial.\u201d\n\nThe day was anything but pleasant; the rain poured down like a deluge,\nand the streets were gloomy and deserted. But when there is blue sky in\nour heart all the clouds in the heavens cannot shut it out; and so\nConrad did not heed the tempest in the least. At length he reached the\nPinakothek; and when Walburga found him once more by her side, she had\nto call forth all her resolution, in order to preserve a mien of calm\nand dignity.\n\nOnly by a great effort she succeeded; at least her eyes did not stray\nfrom the canvas, and, except for a flush of color which came over the\npaleness of her cheek, one might have fancied she was not even aware of\nhis presence.\n\n\u201cGracious lady,\u201d began Conrad in faltering accents, \u201cI am come late\u2014very\nlate, I know. But I hope not too late?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! no, sir. I forgive you,\u201d answered Walburga, with a smile which at\nonce doubly assured him that the happy moment was indeed close at hand.\n\u201cBut pray be patient yet a little while,\u201d she added, \u201cand watch well\nwhat I am about to do; \u2019tis the finishing touch to my picture.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour beautiful picture!\u201d ejaculated Conrad. \u201cHow I long to see it\nhanging in Loewenstein Castle.\u201d\n\nAnd now, while Walburga went on with her brush, he fell into attentive\nsilence. But he said within himself: \u201cOnly for what Miss Hofer has told\nme of you, of your kind heart, I should set you down as the cruelest of\nmortals for keeping me in a fever of suspense during such an age as a\nsingle minute.\u201d\n\nPresently Conrad\u2019s expression became one of amazement, and, quite unable\nto contain himself, he exclaimed, \u201cWhy, what are you doing?\u201d\n\nBut without making any response the girl continued her work; and her\nhand was wonderfully steady, considering that Conrad\u2019s trial, great as\nit was, was not greater than her own. Nay, the agony of waiting was\ntenfold more poignant for her than for him.\n\nIn a few minutes she had finished, and then again he cried out, this\ntime loud enough to be heard in the main gallery: \u201cWhy, why do you\ndisfigure your _chef d\u2019\u0153uvre_ by a hideous birthmark?\u201d\n\nWith a tremor and cheek white as death Walburga here let her brush fall,\nthen abruptly cut short Conrad\u2019s exclamations of regret at what she had\ndone by saying:\n\n\u201cPray listen, sir; I am about to answer the solemn question you put to\nme a week ago.\u201d But before going further she paused a moment, perhaps to\nsmother a wail of anguish that was ready to burst from her lips; and\nwhile she paused Conrad leaned towards her to catch the coming words,\nand you might have heard the beating of his heart. Then Walburga spoke:\n\u201cMy response, sir, is\u2014No!\u201d\n\nThere are times in life when we scarce can put faith in what our ears\nplainly tell us; to Conrad Seinsheim this was such a time. His\nexpression when these words reached him, it were impossible to describe;\nhe stood like one petrified.\n\nIn another moment, with astonishment, and wrath, and grief struggling\nmadly in his breast, he turned and hastened out of the Pinakothek; and\nas he went, oh! bitterly did he curse the hour, the fatal hour, when he\nfirst laid eyes on this beautiful but utterly heartless and deceiving\nwoman.\n\nO Conrad, Conrad, Conrad! why didst thou not stay thy rash flight an\ninstant\u2014only an instant\u2014and give Walburga one other glance? Hadst thou\ndone this, we verily believe, nay, we are certain, thy flashing eyes\nwould have softened to tenderness and pity.\n\nFor at the sound of thy departing steps she turned round towards thee,\nand her face was as the face thou sawest in thy dream. But destiny\nshaped it otherwise: thou didst not pause, and Walburga floated down the\ndark stream, away from thee for ever and for ever.\n\n * * * * *\n\nUlrich retired to rest, the night which closed the stormy day when\nConrad went to Munich, in a very happy mood. Not only did he believe\nhimself on the high-road to success, for Conrad had promised to find him\nsteady employment, but the absence of his benefactor made the youth\nconfident that Walburga had put an end to his suspense by giving him a\nfavorable answer. \u201cYes, Conrad told me that if she accepted him I need\nnot expect him back till to-morrow, or the day after at the very\nsoonest.\u201d\n\nNor even when five days elapsed, and the owner of the castle still\nremained absent, did Ulrich think it strange. \u201cI am sure,\u201d he said to\nhimself, \u201cI didn\u2019t leave my Moida\u2019s side for five days after we were\nbetrothed\u2014no indeed.\u201d\n\nBut why none of them dropped him a line to impart the glad tidings did\nsurprise him a little; Moida, at least, might have written two words.\nFinally, a letter did come from Moida, but it brought anything save good\nnews; and when the poor fellow had read it through he sank down on the\ngrass near the ancient tombstone and wept bitterly.\n\nWhen this day closed Loewenstein was quite deserted, except by Caro, the\naged poodle, who wandered all about the dusky ruin, whining and\nwondering what had become of his master. Yet, cheerless as Loewenstein\nwas this evening and many an evening afterwards, \u2019twas less cheerless\nthan the erewhile happy home in Fingergasse.\n\nBut Conrad Seinsheim knew naught of this; he believed all the grief, all\nthe lamentations, to be his own. And, indeed, he suffered much. From\nhateful Munich he sped away he did not care whither: to Nuremberg, to\nDresden, to Prague\u2014on, on he travelled, half distracted; until by and\nby, after three weeks of aimless, feverish wandering\u2014his heart spoke to\nhim and said: \u201cThou hast been hasty; return to the Pinakothek and ask\nWalburga once more to be thy spouse.\u201d And Conrad listened to the voice\nof his heart and went back.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThree weeks have passed away since Walburga pronounced that doomful\nNo\u2014only three weeks. Yet what changes may be wrought in this brief space\nof time! Is yonder haggard visage moving through the Pinakothek the\nvisage of Conrad Seinsheim?\n\nYes, it is he; and how his deep-sunken eyes glow as he draws nigh to the\nspot where hangs Carlo Dolce\u2019s picture of Innocence! Like sparks out of\na tomb they seem.\n\nBut she whom Conrad is looking for is gone. \u201cPray tell me,\u201d he said,\naddressing one of the _custodes_\u2014\u201ctell me where is the young lady who\nwas copying this painting a few weeks since. Is she anywhere in the\ngallery?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is dead, sir,\u201d answered the other, quietly tapping a little black\nbox with his knuckles and taking out a pinch of snuff; \u201cand she is to be\nburied to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cDead!\u201d repeated Conrad, starting back. \u201cDead!\u201d\n\nIn another moment he was hastening with winged feet to the God\u2019s-acre.\nAnd as he sped along the streets, every merry laugh that reached his\nears sounded like a dismal croak; and the sky overhead, albeit never so\ncloudless and bright, seemed to shadow every object like a vast funeral\npall.\n\nHow bitterly did Conrad now reproach himself for the rash words he had\nuttered when he saw Walburga tracing the birthmark on her picture!\n\n\u201cFool, fool, fool that I was! I should have divined in an instant what\nshe thus meant to convey to me, and I should have answered: \u2018Even so,\ndear girl, I will take thee and cherish thee!\u2019\u201d\n\nWhen Conrad reached the Leichen-Haus[107] the funeral bell was already\ntolling\u2014the Leichen-Haus, whose ghastliness cannot be dissipated by all\nthe bright-burning tapers and garlands of sweet-scented flowers which\nsurround the dead. Breathless he turned to the sheet of paper posted by\nthe doorway, whereon are written the names and station in life of those\nwho are to be buried; and breathless he read the names.\n\nWalburga\u2019s stood third on the list, and, as coffin number two was just\npassing out of the building, Conrad saw that he was not more than in\ntime. He pushed his way through the crowd, and in another moment found\nhimself beside Walburga. She was the only one of the departed who\nretained any look of life about her; you might almost have fancied she\nwas blushing at the curious eyes which were staring upon her, as she lay\nstill and motionless in the narrow box, and that she heard them\nwhispering, \u201cHow handsome she would have been, except for that ugly\nbirthmark!\u201d\n\nWe need not tell what Conrad felt at this moment; those who noticed him\nnudged one another, and said in undertones:\n\n\u201cHer lover, perhaps. Poor fellow!\u201d\n\nNot many followed Walburga to her last resting-place; for she had been\nof a retiring nature, and had kept much to herself and her one devoted\nfriend. There might have been five or six persons in all who saw her\nlowered into the grave; and among the few who sprinkled holy water upon\nher there was Conrad Seinsheim. As he did so an inner voice whispered to\nhim and said: \u201cWalburga is near thee; she sees thee; she is immortal and\nhappy for ever.\u201d\n\nThen, when the last clod of earth had been well packed down by the\ngrave-digger\u2019s spade, Conrad turned away to seek Moida Hofer. Ulrich\naccompanied him, and when they gained the high-up chamber where Walburga\nhad lived so many peaceful years, they found Moida standing beside a\ntable on which lay _Master Eckart_ and Blessed Henry Suso\u2019s _Little Book\nof Eternal Wisdom_, an empty bird-cage, and a tress of golden hair.\n\n\u201cShe loved you truly,\u201d spoke the girl, looking at Conrad through her\ntears. \u201cShe told me so; they were almost her last words to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! I know it now, but, alas! too late. She is gone!\u201d replied Conrad;\nand the word gone sounded through the room with long-drawn pathos. \u2019Twas\nas if his voice had passed the word on to other voices, who kept\nrepeating: \u201cGone! gone! gone!\u201d\n\nHere Moida and Ulrich fell to weeping; and when by and by they uncovered\ntheir faces, they were surprised to find that Conrad had disappeared. He\nmust indeed have glided away like a spirit, for neither of them had\nheard his footstep; and, to their further wonder, the sunshiny curl had\nvanished too.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u201cHow strangely things turn out!\u201d spoke Moida to her betrothed one\nevening, as they were seated side by side at the foot of Loewenstein\ntower, watching the sun go down.\n\n\u201cStrangely, strangely!\u201d answered Ulrich.\n\n\u201cPoor Conrad!\u201d went on Moida. \u201cHad he come back only a few days\nsooner\u2014and he came with the full intention of proposing again\u2014if he had\narrived even one day before the saddest of all the days I have known,\nWalburga might have lived.\u201d\n\nTo this the youth made no response; he could not speak, and his tears\nset Moida weeping again; while old Caro, who perceived that his mistress\nwas in sorrow, let droop his head, and his tail ceased to wag. Presently\nthe sun disappeared. But still in the twilight the lovers remained\nthinking of the past.\n\nBy and by a voice was heard singing within the tower, and after\nlistening a moment and sighing, \u201cPoor, poor Conrad!\u201d Moida rose up and\npeeped through the lowest of the grated windows. Ulrich did the same,\nand what did they behold? Wrapped in a long, flowing gown, and pacing\nround and round the room, was Conrad Seinsheim. Yet not everybody would\nhave recognized him; for his hair, which now reached down to his\nshoulders, was turned quite gray, and so was his beard, and you might\nhave taken him for an aged man.\n\nThe song he was singing was one full of tenderness and love; and ever\nand anon Conrad would pause and listen, and press to his lips a lock of\nsunny hair.\n\nThen suddenly, like a person who hears an answering voice, his ghostlike\nvisage would glow with rapture, and you might have fancied he had caught\na vision of heaven.\n\n\u201cReally, I sometimes think Conrad is not mad at all,\u201d observed Moida\nsolemnly. \u201cAt this moment I do believe he sees dear Walburga. Look!\nlook! He is beckoning!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may be so,\u201d returned Ulrich. \u201cAt any rate, he is infinitely happier,\njudging by his expression and his songs, than many a man who is not\nmad.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ll not say \u2018Poor Conrad!\u2019 any more,\u201d added Moida. \u201cFor I verily\nbelieve he knows Walburga is ever hovering near him; nay, that at times\nhe actually sees her. There, look again! look! How he smiles! And his\noutstretched hands may indeed be clasping hers now, albeit they are\ninvisible to you and me.\u201d\n\nHere there was a brief silence, after which Ulrich remarked, \u201cI am very\npleased, my love, that you keep the little lamp so nicely trimmed before\nthe image of our Blessed Mother: for the image belonged to Walburga.\nSee, now Conrad is praying before it.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! \u2019tis not I who trims the light,\u201d replied Moida. \u201cConrad takes\nentire charge of the shrine; I merely bring him oil and tapers.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, darling,\u201d continued Ulrich somewhat abruptly, and with a look of\nseriousness, \u201cif Conrad\u2019s mysterious condition last much longer \u2019twill\nplunge us into still greater difficulties; will it not? Why, already all\nyour slender means have been swallowed up, as well as the few florins I\nhad, in paying off the swarm of laborers who were employed upon this\nruin. Now all work is stopped, and \u2019twill be a bitter cold place to\nspend the coming winter in. Yet what can we do? We must surely stay by\nConrad, for he was extremely generous to you and me; and if we abandoned\nhim in this dark hour \u2019twould be very cruel.\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, let us prove his stanch friends, now that he is unable to help\nhimself,\u201d answered the girl, brushing away a tear.\n\n\u201cWell, if he could only sleep he might grow better,\u201d pursued Ulrich.\n\n\u201cOur kind friend hasn\u2019t closed his eyes in ever so many nights,\u201d said\nMoida. \u201cNor does he take enough nourishment to keep another person from\nstarvation. In fact, his condition is exceedingly mysterious. An inward\nfire seems to be consuming him; you can see it shooting out of his eyes;\nbut still on he lives\u2014on and on; apparently happy, too, withered to a\nskeleton though he is.\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, what can keep good Conrad alive?\u201d said Ulrich.\n\n\u201cMight it be that Walburga\u2019s spirit feeds him?\u201d spake Moida, in an\nawe-stricken whisper.\n\nHere the subject of their remarks rose up from his knees and began again\nto sing:\n\n \u201cUnd weil es nicht ist auszusagen,\n Weil\u2019s Lieben ganz unendlich ist,\n So magst du meine Augen fragen,\n Wie lieb du mir in Herzen bist!\u201d[108]\n\nWhen the song, of which we have given but a stanza, was ended, Caro\nuttered a melancholy howl that awakened the echoes far up the mountain\nand set the owls in the ruin hooting; then following his mistress, who\npassed into the tower to make sure that Conrad\u2019s door was properly\nfastened for the night, the old dog curled himself up on a rug and was\nsoon asleep.\n\nMoida, however, went out again to spend a half-hour more with her\nbetrothed, watching the stars and wondering what fate was in store for\nherself and him.\n\n\u201cIf these stones could only speak, what tales they\u2019d tell!\u201d observed\nUlrich, after she had nestled down beside him and flung half her shawl\nabout his shoulders, for the air was rather chilly.\n\n\u201cYes, very interesting stories no doubt,\u201d returned Moida. \u201cThey\u2019d tell\nus of many a brave knight and fair lady, of many a pageant and\ntournament. But remember, dear boy, what I have often said to you:\nbeware of dwelling on those dead and buried days. And I, too, must\nbeware; for, do you know, since I am here I occasionally feel myself\ndrifting into a dreamy state, and I might almost fancy this ruin is\nenchanted and that it has thrown a spell over me. But believe me,\nUlrich, believe me, the past is past and can never, never come back.\nWhatever your forefathers were, however wealthy and noble and\npowerful\u2014some of them even placed kings on the throne\u2014you, at least,\nmust toil to win your daily bread; and I mean to help you. Therefore be\nof stout heart and look only to the future. And even if we have to live\nlike these owls we will marry some time or other; and happy days are in\nstore for us yet.\u201d\n\nMoida had scarcely spoken these words when she and her betrothed were\nstartled by a loud, wailful cry which seemed to proceed from Conrad\u2019s\nchamber. Nor can we wonder that it made them both spring to their feet;\nfor not once since poor Seinsheim had been confined had he wept a tear\nor uttered a single lamentation. Yet \u2019twas undoubtedly his voice they\nhad just heard. But what could have wrought this sudden change in him?\n\nIn another moment they were within the tower. Then Moida with trembling\nhand turned the key of his door and entered, followed closely by Ulrich.\n\n\u201cO Moida! Moida!\u201d cried Conrad, as she advanced toward him, \u201cwhy did you\nwake me? Why did you not let me sleep on? \u2019Twas a celestial vision I\nhad\u2014oh! celestial. But, alas! now I am awake\u2014stark awake; and now it all\ncomes back to me\u2014all, all. She is dead! dead! dead!\u201d\n\nHere he burst into a paroxysm of grief, and uttered anew the shriek of\nwoe which had been heard a minute before.\n\n\u201cI do believe his reason is restored,\u201d whispered the girl, turning to\nher betrothed.\n\n\u201cOh! let us thank God,\u201d answered Ulrich.\n\n\u201cConrad, dear, good Conrad,\u201d spoke Moida, now gently taking his hand in\nhers, \u201cyou have been living indeed in a vision for many days past; but\nnow you appear to be yourself again. So do not mourn; rather kneel and\npray, and I will pray with you, and so will Ulrich. Let us offer thanks\nto God for your happy recovery.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, yes, I will pray\u2014pray to be taken where Walburga is,\u201d answered\nConrad, in a somewhat calmer tone, yet still weeping bitterly. \u201cO Moida!\nif you only knew how happy I have been. Why, blessed Walburga was near\nme all the while; and every time I sang she responded in a strain such\nas only angel lips can breathe. But now\u2014now her face has disappeared,\nher voice is silent\u2014she is gone! O Moida! if my blissful vision was\nmadness, then would to God I had stayed mad!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, dear friend, Walburga is no doubt in heaven, and I believe she\ndoes often hover round you; for she loves you, and knows that you love\nher; and I am confident nothing would so rejoice her soul as to have you\npray\u2014to see you back once more in the faith of your youth. On her dying\nbed this was her ardent hope. Oh! do, do.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am what I used to be in my early years,\u201d replied Conrad, a glad smile\nlighting up his wan face. \u201cI am, indeed. Blessed Walburga led me\nback\u2014and\u2014 But hark! She is calling me! Hark! Hark!\u201d\n\nHere Conrad sank slowly to his knees, while an expression came over him\nwhich filled the other two with alarm. Then Ulrich, without losing a\nmoment, hastened with all speed to the monastery for a priest. The path\ndown the mountain was a difficult one, especially at this hour. On the\nway back the good father and Ulrich might have gone astray and arrived\ntoo late, but for their meeting a man with a lantern, who offered to\nlight them up the rugged ascent.\n\nNigh unto death as he was, Conrad\u2019s soul lingered yet an hour in its\nmortal tenement\u2014a long enough time for him to be shriven and to receive\nthe last sacrament of the church; after which the man with the\nlantern\u2014and who, by a happy providence, turned out to be the village\nnotary\u2014drew up in brief words Conrad\u2019s will and testament, whereby\nLoewenstein Castle, and all his other property besides, was bequeathed\nto Ulrich.\n\n\u201cAnd now, ere I depart hence,\u201d spoke Conrad in a voice barely loud\nenough to be heard, and placing Moida\u2019s hand in the hand of her\nbetrothed, \u201clet me see you joined in matrimony. Ay, let the holy bond be\nmade right here by my couch, and do thou, reverend father, pronounce\nthem man and wife.\u201d\n\nSuch a ceremony at such a time and place the latter had never yet\nperformed. But so urgent was Conrad\u2019s appeal to have it done on the\nspot, without an instant\u2019s delay, that he overcame a little scruple.\n\nThen, just as Conrad\u2019s immortal part was winging its flight, Moida, the\npatient, faithful Moida, who had waited so long for this golden moment\nto arrive, found herself the bride of her own dear Ulrich; and like a\nbright rainbow illumining a rain-beaten landscape, a gleam of joy, great\njoy, shone through her tears, and never before was happiness so\nstrangely blended with sorrow as here in this chamber of death.\n\nThen, kneeling down side by side, Moida and Ulrich breathed a prayer for\nthe repose of the soul of him who had been so very good to them. And may\nwe not hope that near them at that solemn moment was the soul of\nWalburga, greeting the spirit of the one whom she loved, and ready to be\nhis guide in the dark, dismal region which Conrad had still to pass\nthrough ere he came to the home of the blest?\n\nEND.\n\nFootnote 107:\n\n A building in the Munich cemetery to which all are taken immediately\n after death\u2014no exception, save for the royal family.\n\nFootnote 108:\n\n Words by Jean Paul.\n\n \u201cAnd as \u2019tis not for tongue to tell,\n For love knows naught of time or space,\n So diving down my eyes\u2019 deep well,\n Find graven on my heart thy face.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n DANTE\u2019S PURGATORIO.\n TRANSLATED BY T. W. PARSONS.\n CANTO SEVENTEENTH.\n\n\n Now, that thy mind with more expanded powers\n May conceive this, give _me_ thy mind, nor shun\n To reap some harvest from this halt of ours.\n\n\n Bethink thee, reader, if thou e\u2019er hast been\n Among the Alps o\u2019ertaken by a cloud,\n Through which all objects were as blindly seen\n As moles behold things through their visual shroud;\n How, as the vapors dank and thick begin\n To thin themselves, the solar sphere\u2019s faint ray\n Scarce pierces them,\u2014and readily may\u2019st thou\n Conceive (when first I saw it) in what way\n To me the sun looked that was setting now.\n From such a cloud, and following as I went\n My master\u2019s faithful steps with even pace,\n I came to where the day\u2019s last rays were spent\n On the low border of the mountain\u2019s base.\n\n O gift imaginative! that dost so\n Of ourselves rob us, that oft-times a man\n Heeds not though round him thousand trumpets blow!\n If thee sense move not, whence the power that can?\n A light moves thee, Heaven-kindled, that doth flow\n By will divine directed, or its own.\n My fancy with her fury was engrossed\n Who took the shape of that sweet bird[109] well known\n To be of his own song enamored most;\n And here my mind was in itself so chained\n That it received no object from outside.\n Then into my high fantasy there rained\n The image of a person crucified,[110]\n Fierce in his aspect, with a face of hate,\u2014\n And in this look despitefully he died.\n Round him there stood Ahasuerus great,\n Esther, his spouse, and Mordecai the true,\n Of whose just word just action still was mate.\n And, as this image from my mind withdrew,\n Of itself breaking, as a bubble does,\n Failing the water under which it grew,\n A damsel[111] weeping on my vision rose,\n Moaning aloud and crying: \u201cWhy, O queen!\n Hast thou through anger wished thyself undone?\n Not to lose thy Lavinia, thou hast ta\u2019en\n Thy life and lost me! Mother, I am one\n Doomed to mourn thee before a husband slain!\u201d\n\n Even as our slumber, when a flash of light\n A sleeper\u2019s eyes doth suddenly confront,\n Is broken, quivering ere it dieth quite;\n So fell my vision, as a beam past wont\n In its excess of splendor smote my sight.\n I turned to see where \u2019twas I had been brought,\n When a voice called to me: \u201cClimb here the hill!\u201d\n This put all other purpose from my thought,\n And gave such eagerness unto my will\n Of him who counselled thus to mark the mien,\n As rests not wholly satisfied until\n Face unto face the speaker may be seen.\n And, as one sees not the sun\u2019s figure clear,\n Through light\u2019s great superflux that blinds our gaze,\n So was my visual virtue wanting here.\n \u201cThis is a heavenly spirit\u201d (Virgil says),\n \u201cThat with his splendor veils him from thine eye,\n And guides us our way up, nor waits for prayer.\n He does by us as men _would_ be done by;\n For who sees need, and doth, till asked, forbear,\n Already seems ill-purposed to deny.\n Such invitation let our feet obey!\n Haste we to mount before the darkness grow,\n For then we could not till return of day.\u201d\n So spake my leader: I beside him slow\n Pacing, we bended toward a stair our way;\n And, as my foot the first ascension pressed,\n I felt a movement near me as of wings\n Fanning my face, and then a voice said: \u201cBlest\n Are the peacemakers! them no _bad_ wrath stings.\u201d\n Already overhead the sun\u2019s last rays\n Were so uplifted, followed by the night,\n That round us many a star began to blaze.\n And, as I felt my body\u2019s waning might,\n \u201cWhy dost thou fail me, O my strength?\u201d I said:\n But having come now where we climbed no more,\n On the stair\u2019s brink we ceased our toilsome tread,\n Fixed as a vessel that arrives at shore.\n I stopped awhile, and waited as to hear\n In this new circle aught perchance of sound;\n Then thus addressed my lord: \u201cMy Father dear!\n Say, what offence is punished in this round?\n Stay not thy speech although thy feet are stayed.\u201d\n \u201cThe love of good,\u201d thus Virgil me bespoke,\n \u201cWherein deficient here is perfect made;\n Here the slow oar receives amending stroke.\n But that thy mind with more expanded powers\n May conceive this, give _me_ thy mind, nor shun\n To reap some harvest from this halt of ours.\n\n \u201cNever creator\u201d[112] (he began), \u201cmy son,\n Was without love; nor anything create;\n Either love natural, or that nobler one\n Born of the mind; thou know\u2019st the truth I state.\n Natural love ne\u2019er takes erroneous course;\n Through ill-directed aim the other may,\n Or from excess, or from a want of force.\n While o\u2019er its bent the Primal Good hath sway,\n While with due check it seeks the inferior good,\n It cannot be the source of wrong delight.\n But when it swerves to ill, or if it should\n Seek good with more or less zeal than is right,\n Against the maker doth his work rebel.\n Whence may\u2019st thou[113] comprehend how love in you\n Must of all virtue be the seed, as well\n As of each action to which pain is due.\n Now since love must look ever towards its own\n Subjects\u2019 well-being, things are from self-hate\n Saved; and since naught can be supposed alone\n To exist, from the First Being separate,\n Hatred of Him is also spared to men.[114]\n Remains (if rightly I divide, I say)\n The ill that\u2019s loved must be a neighbor\u2019s then,\n And in three modes this love springs in your clay.\n One, through the crushing of his fellow, fain\n Would come to eminence, with sole desire\n His greatness o\u2019er that other\u2019s to maintain.\n One at another\u2019s rising feareth loss\n Of power, fame, favor, and his own good name;\n So sickens, joying in his neighbor\u2019s cross.\n And there is one whom wrong so weighs with shame,\n That greed of vengeance doth his heart engross;\n And such must needs work evil for his brother.\n This threefold _bad_ love those mourn here below:\n Now I would have thee learn about another,\n Which runs to good but doth no measure know.\n All vaguely apprehend a good wherein\n The soul may rest itself; and all men woo\n This imaged good, and seek its peace to win.\n To look thereon if _languid_ love[115] draw you,\n Or ye be slow to seek it, such a sin,\n After meet penitence, on this round ye rue.\n There is another good,[116] but far from bliss!\n Nor makes man happy: it is not the true\n Essence, of all good fruit the root: To this\n The love which too much doth itself resign\n Is mourned for in three cornices above;\n But _how_ tripartite[117] I will not define;\n Thou shalt, by seeing, learn about _that_ love\u201d.\n\nFootnote 109:\n\n \u201cWho took the shape of that sweet bird.\u201d Reference is here made to the\n story of Procne, wife of Tereus, King of Thrace, and sister of\n Philomela. To revenge herself on her husband, Procne murdered their\n child, Itys, cut him into pieces, and served up the flesh to the\n father. Tereus, discovering the truth, pursued and was on the point of\n overtaking her when, at her prayer, she was changed by the gods into a\n nightingale, and her sister Philomela into a swallow, according to\n Probus, Libanius, and Strabo.\u2014_Purg._ ix. 15.\n\nFootnote 110:\n\n This is Haman, who was _hanged_ upon the gallows that he had prepared\n for Mordecai, as we read in the Book of Esther; but Dante\u2019s word is\n _crocifisse_.\n\nFootnote 111:\n\n \u201cA damsel,\u201d etc. This was Lavinia, daughter of King Latinus and Amata.\n Lavinia had been secretly promised in marriage by her mother to\n Turnus, King of the Rutuli. The marriage was displeasing to the gods,\n and the oracles declared that Lavinia should marry a foreign prince.\n The foreign prince was \u00c6neas, who, on his arrival in Italy, became the\n friend and ally of Latinus, and won his favor as suitor to Lavinia.\n Turnus thereupon declared war against both, and was killed in battle\n by \u00c6neas. Amata, having been informed prematurely of the death of\n Turnus, and enraged at being unable to prevent the marriage of Lavinia\n with \u00c6neas, hanged herself in despair.\n\nFootnote 112:\n\n \u201cNever Creator ...\u201d In this passage Virgil explains to Dante the\n nature of love according to the medi\u00e6val philosophy, viz., God is\n love. \u201c_Deus caritas est_,\u201d and so are all created things, as derived\n from him. Love in man is natural or rational\u2014that is, of the mind.\n Natural love, or the love towards all things necessary to one\u2019s\n preservation, cannot err. Rational love can err in three ways: first,\n when directed to a bad aim\u2014that is, to evil; secondly, when directed\n excessively to earthly pleasures; thirdly, when directed feebly to\n those things truly worthy of love, the celestial. As long as love\n turns to the Primal Good, the celestial, or seeks with due check the\n inferior, or terrestrial, it cannot be the source of wrong, or sin.\n \u201cBut when it swerves to ill,\u201d ... etc.\n\nFootnote 113:\n\n \u201cWhence may\u2019st thou ...\u201d Love is the source of good works, as of bad\n ones; thus, according to St. Augustine, \u201c_Boni aut mali mores sunt\n boni aut mali amores_.\u201d\n\nFootnote 114:\n\n \u201cHatred of Him ...\u201d Love cannot turn against its subjects (viz., men\n cannot hate themselves); and as these subjects cannot exist separate\n from their First Being, they cannot therefore hate God. (Men may deny\n or blaspheme, but not hate, God.) It follows, therefore, that, as no\n _bad_ love can be directed against one\u2019s self or against God, that it\n can only be against one\u2019s neighbor, and this can be in three forms:\n viz., by Pride, or the love of good to ourselves and of evil to\n others; by Envy, or the love of evil to others, without cause of good\n or evil to us; by Anger, or the love of evil to others on account of\n real or imaginary evil to us.\n\nFootnote 115:\n\n \u201c... Languid love ...\u201d Sloth; indolence to seek the true good, which\n is God.\n\nFootnote 116:\n\n \u201cThere is another good ...\u201d\u2014the love of this world and earthly\n pleasures.\n\nFootnote 117:\n\n \u201cTripartite ...\u201d\u2014three other _bad_ loves: Avarice, Gluttony, Lust.\n\n\n\n\n THE TRACTARIAN MOVEMENT IN ITS RELATION TO THE CHURCH.\n\n\nA generation has passed away since the beginning of that which is\ncommonly known as the Tractarian movement in the Church of England; the\nearly leaders of the little band whose influence has been and still is\nfelt throughout the length and breadth of the land have, with two\nexceptions, gone from among us; the names of Father Newman and Doctor\nPusey are known to all our readers, the one as that of a devoted son of\nHoly Church, the other as that of an Anglican still firmly attached to\nthe cause which he espoused in early life.\n\nWhich of these eminent men is to be taken as a fair example of the\nresults of the movement? What is the tendency of the High-Church party?\nDo its doctrines and practices lead people to the Catholic Church or\nkeep them out of it? Questions like these can hardly fail to occur to\nthe mind of any intelligent observer of the state of religion in England\nin the present day, and on them must chiefly centre the interest of\nCatholics in the subject.\n\nThe different parties contained in the Church of England give contrary\nanswers to the questions we have proposed. Low-Church or Evangelical\nAnglicans are unanimous in their denunciations of \u201cPuseyism\u201d and\n\u201cRitualism\u201d as the high-road to Rome; some of them even go so far as to\nsay that the Jesuits are the hidden but real promoters of what they look\nupon as a return to the errors and evils swept away by the Reformation.\nThe High-Church portion of the Church of England is equally earnest and\npositive in the assertion that what it calls the revival of Catholic\nteaching and Catholic practice does not lead men to Rome, but keeps\nthem, to use its own language, true to the faith of their baptism.\n\nIn face of these conflicting statements we turn to the testimony of\nCatholic priests engaged in the work of conversion, and to the personal\nexperience of converts. We believe that every priest who has experience\nin conversions will unhesitatingly endorse the statement that most of\nthe converts received into the Catholic Church come from the ranks of\nthe High-Church or Tractarian section of the Anglican communion. Many of\nthese converts, especially of those who were formerly Anglican\nclergymen, have felt it right to lay before the public the motives which\ndetermined them to take a step so serious in its nature and\nconsequences. We have therefore a considerable number of published\ndocuments to refer to, and the testimony that they bear is in perfect\naccordance with that of our priests. The question, however, is not so\neasily settled. If you lay these facts before a Ritualist he will at\nonce assure you that those who have left the Church of England were\nweak, or unstable, or impatient, or that they were driven from their\nposition by the imprudence or fault of others, most probably by the\nerrors of their bishops. They will, in fact, deny that conversions are\nthe natural and legitimate result of High-Church teaching, and will\ntreat them as exceptional cases, to be blamed, indeed, and deplored, but\nnot to be viewed as indicating a general tendency.\n\nIt will therefore be interesting to examine a little into the work of\nthe High-Church movement, and to judge for ourselves how it bears on the\ninterests of the church.\n\nWe begin at once by admitting that the High-Church party is opposed to\nthe Catholic Church\u2014deliberately and actively opposed. The language in\nwhich it condemns converts is at least as strong as that in use among\nEvangelicals. The principle of private judgment, which furnishes the\nconvert with an argument unanswerable in the case of his Low-Church\nopponent, is not recognized by the High-Churchman, although we do him no\ninjustice in saying that it underlies his whole course of action. The\nHigh-Churchman\u2019s belief in Anglican orders, coupled with his ignorance\nas to the meaning of jurisdiction, enables him to suppose that the\nCatholic Church in England is schismatical, and to denounce those who\nsubmit to her authority as guilty of grave, if not of unpardonable, sin.\n\nIf, then, the High-Church or Tractarian party does in any sense or to\nany degree promote the cause of conversion, or prepare the way for souls\nto return to God\u2019s church, we must say that such work is done\nunconsciously and involuntarily.\n\nThe original principle of the High-Church movement was reverence for\nantiquity; it was, in the intention of its leaders, a return to the old\npaths. The past has ever had a charm for minds of a certain order; to\nthose who have not realized the supernatural character of the church,\nwho have not grasped the great fact that, in virtue of the promise of\nher divine Lord and of the power of his Spirit, she is ever the same,\never preserved from error, ever guided unto all truth, antiquity is a\nmatter of primary importance. Ignorant of the existing Divine authority,\nthe Protestant who believes that our Lord founded a church upon earth\ngoes back to the earliest days of its history; he traces the stream to\nits source; he thinks that there it must needs be purest. It may be that\nthe labor is great, that the study required is beyond the reach of many,\nand that, after all, the materials at his command are too often\ninsufficient, and that he is ultimately compelled to fall back on the\nexercise of his private judgment; but in the absence of a living\nauthority there is nothing that he deems more likely to guide him\naright. The view, we must admit, is from his position perfectly\nreasonable, and we may bless God that the reverent and conscientious\nstudy of the past has brought many of the best and most gifted of the\nAnglican body to bow their heads in allegiance to the Vicar of Christ;\nthey have found that the truth they sought is, to use the words of\nMoses, not above them nor far off from them, but very nigh unto them.\n\nBut the influence of this awakening of reverence for the past has told\nupon many who have not joined the Catholic Church; it has even left its\nmark on material things. The old churches which our Catholic forefathers\nbuilt, wherein they worshipped and beneath whose shadow they rest, have\nbeen restored; through the length and breadth of the country they stand\nin their venerable beauty, and seem at once to bear testimony to the\npiety of former ages and to await England\u2019s return to the faith.\n\nWe believe the High-Church section of the Anglican communion to be\npromoting the cause of conversion in several ways.\n\nFirst, by the valid administration of baptism. High-Church clergymen\nknow what is essential to the validity of baptism; they believe baptism\nto be a sacrament and necessary to salvation, and consequently they are\nvery careful in instructing their people as to its importance and in\ngiving it properly. In former days, and in the case of ministers who did\nnot believe that baptism really affected the eternal salvation of an\ninfant, there is reason to fear that there was an immense amount of\nneglect. By baptism, as we know, the habit of faith is implanted in the\nsoul, and accordingly in converts from Anglicanism we often find a\nwonderful power of grasping the truths of the Catholic religion; as soon\nas a doctrine is presented to them the mind seems at once to respond to\nit; faith is there, as it is in the soul of the baptized child.\n\nMost of the doctrines of the Catholic Church are preached and taught by\nthe High-Church clergy with more or less distinctness; and here we must\nobserve that in speaking of the High-Church or ritualistic body we are\ncompelled to use terms whose signification is somewhat vague. The Church\nof England may be said to contain three different schools of opinion,\nHigh Church, Low Church, and Broad Church; but no one of these has any\ndefinite standard. Among those who are called, and who would call\nthemselves, High-Churchmen there are many varieties and shades of\nopinion; the writings or sermons of one High-Church clergyman may, of\ncourse, be disavowed by another. Up to the present time Dr. Pusey, who\nmore than any other man might seem to have been a leader, does not feel\nit necessary to adopt the ritual for which some of his disciples are so\nearnestly contending. All that we can, therefore, hope to do is to give\na general idea of High-Church and ritualistic teaching, premising that\non most points there is more or less divergence amongst the teachers.\n\nIt is not surprising that many of those who look back to the past for\nguidance and instruction should have come to view the so-called\nReformation with regret. The ordinary Protestant boldly declares it to\nhave been a necessity, but many High-Churchmen openly deplore it; they\nrepudiate the name of Protestant, and, in defiance at once of history\nand of etymology, call themselves Catholics. There is something,\nhowever, in a name, and we may fairly believe that the disavowal of the\nepithet Protestant tends to educate people out of the idea of\nprotesting; it is certainly true that if the Church of England ceases to\nbe Protestant, she cuts the very ground from under her feet, and\nabolishes her only plausible _raison d\u2019\u00eatre_; but the English mind, with\nall its good qualities, is not, generally speaking, logical, and words\nare too often used without a very accurate idea of their derivation or\nimport.\n\nThose Catholic doctrines which have been most fiercely opposed and most\ngrossly misrepresented in England are now openly and earnestly\ninculcated. We may almost say that the conflict is gradually being\nnarrowed to the one subject of the authority of the Holy See and the\nquestions immediately depending on it. For the High-Church Anglican\nbelieves that our Lord founded a church; he professes to take that\nchurch as his guide, though he strangely persuades himself that its\nauthority is at present in abeyance. He would obey the voice of a\ngeneral council, but in order to have a general council it is absolutely\nnecessary that his bishops should take part in the deliberations; in the\nexpectation of an impossible conjuncture of circumstances he practically\ndisobeys every one who in the meantime claims his allegiance.\n\nBut a vast amount of Catholic teaching is, as we have said, finding its\nway into the minds and hearts of Englishmen; Catholic practices and\ndevotions are being revived, the way is being prepared for the church.\nThere is a wonderful connection between the different doctrines of our\nholy faith; the soul that earnestly and devoutly believes one truth is,\nif we may so speak, predisposed to believe the next that may be\npresented to it, and this not only from a reasonable perception of the\nbeauty, the fitness, and the mutual relations of the different truths,\nbut from the habit of mind which is produced and cultivated by acts of\nfaith. Each act of faith contains or implies an act of homage to the\ntruth of God; the soul that worships is on the way to receive fuller\nlight.\n\nWe have in a former paper[118] dwelt at some length on the subject of\nconfession in the Church of England; we have shown that it is habitually\npractised by a considerable number of earnest Anglicans, and that it is\npublicly urged upon people by some of the clergy as the ordinary remedy\nfor post-baptismal sin. It is quite certain that confession is believed\nin very much more widely than it is practised. The most extreme of\nAnglicans cannot possibly maintain that the Church of England requires\nit of every one; to the majority of people, especially if early habit\nhas not facilitated the practice, there can be no doubt that it is\npainful and difficult. We therefore often find persons who thoroughly\nbelieve that the English clergy possess the power of the keys, and yet\nnever themselves seek for the benefit of absolution. The matter is left\nquite optional, or rather the penitent is to be judge in his own case,\nand to decide whether he does or does not require this special means of\ngrace. The scanty utterances of the _Book of Common Prayer_ seem to\nimply that peace of mind is the principal object to be attained by\nconfession. If, therefore, an Anglican can \u201cquiet his own conscience,\u201d\nhe is quite justified in doing so without any extraneous aid; and,\nindeed, in so doing he would seem to be carrying out the intention of\nthe framers of the Prayer-Book.\n\nThe doctrine of the Real Presence is perhaps the one which has taken the\ndeepest root in the mind of advanced Anglicans. We might multiply\nextracts from their books of devotion and instruction conveying the\nCatholic faith on this point in its completeness. Our prayer-books,\nespecially the _Golden Manual_ and the _Garden of the Soul_, are largely\nused. Many Catholic books of devotion have been translated for\nAnglicans, and, although most of the translations are more or less\nspoiled by a process of adaptation, in many of them the doctrine of the\nHoly Eucharist is unimpaired. The _Lauda Sion_, the _Pange Lingua_, and\nthe _Rythma_ of St. Thomas are preserved and faithfully translated. Nor\nis the teaching confined to words; the meaning of the ritual, of which\nwe hear so much in the present day, is to be found in the belief in the\nPresence of our Lord which it expresses and inculcates. The so-called\naltars of many Anglican churches are decked with flowers; the crucifix\nstands upon them; lights are burned; the clergy wear vestments like\nthose used in the church; celebrations of the communion are\nmultiplied\u2014it is made the central act of worship; fasting communion is\ninsisted on; confession is recommended as the fitting preparation for\ncommunion. A confraternity has been founded with the name of the\nConfraternity of the Blessed Sacrament, and with the object of promoting\nthe devotion which naturally flows from a belief in the Real Presence of\nour Lord. Attendance of non-communicants at the communion service is in\nmany churches recommended and encouraged, and devotions for such\nworshippers have been published. Incense and music are employed in the\nservice; chancels are richly adorned. In some chapels communion is\nreserved, and a rite, evidently imitated from the Catholic Benediction\nof the Blessed Sacrament, is practised.\n\nRitualists have also learned to invoke Our Lady and the saints. Fifty\nyears ago Keble wrote:\n\n \u201cAve Maria! Thou whose name\n All but adoring love may claim!\u201d\n\nand now the _Angelus_ and the _Memorare_, the Little Office of the\nBlessed Virgin and the Rosary, are in use in the English Church. The\nsaints are honored and their intercession is sought. Extreme Unction is\nconsidered to be a lesser sacrament, and sick persons are anointed. The\ndead are prayed for in the touching and beautiful words which holy\nchurch puts into the mouths of her children.\n\nIt is needless to say that the doctrine of apostolic succession is most\nfirmly maintained by High-Churchmen. Not only are the Catholic doctrines\nwhich have furnished the chief mark for Protestant hostility and the\nprincipal subjects of misrepresentation now maintained and inculcated,\nbut others which, without being formally contradicted, have been\nobscured and neglected are now brought forward with a clearness which\nleaves little to be desired. The Catholic devotions to the Sacred Heart,\nto the Holy Child, to the Incarnation, Passion, and Resurrection of our\nLord, cannot fail to make those who use them enter more and more into\nthe great mystery which lies at the very foundation of the Christian\nfaith.\n\nMoreover, the idea of duty, of conscience, of a work to be done in the\nsanctification of one\u2019s own soul, is constantly kept before the mind.\nDaily self-examination is part of the rule of life. The fasts of the\nchurch are observed often, indeed, with a severity greater than that\nrequired by the church, but natural among those who have no guide save\ntheir own conscience for the details of their practice. Her sacred\nfeasts are also kept, and thus our separated brethren have some share in\nthe holy teaching which each season of the ecclesiastical year impresses\non the heart. During the Holy Week which has just passed the _Tenebr\u00e6_\nwere sung in many ritualistic churches. On Good Friday the Three Hours\u2019\nAgony was preached in several places, the Reproaches were sung, and a\ndevotion somewhat resembling that of the Stations of the Cross was\npractised. On Easter day the communion was celebrated as early as five\no\u2019clock and repeated several times. The histories of the saints are\nbeing made familiar to people\u2019s minds. The literature of Ritualism might\nof itself furnish the subject of an interesting study. The _Imitation of\nChrist_ is one of the most familiar books of piety, and among the books\nadapted from Catholic sources are the _Spiritual Combat_, many of the\nworks of F\u00e9nelon and Bossuet, Rodriguez, Courbon, Pinart, Avrillon, and\nother spiritual and ascetic writers. Faber\u2019s hymns are constantly sung\nin churches. _The Catechism of Christian Doctrine_, with some\nvariations, is in the hands of the children of Ritualists. The Catholic\nBreviary has furnished the material for the day and night Hours used in\nmany of the religious houses, and the very prayers of the Mass have been\ninterwoven in the Anglican Office for Communion. An ample supply of\njuvenile literature places the doctrines of which we have spoken in an\nattractive form before the minds of children. Catholic pictures are to\nbe seen everywhere. Several newspapers and magazines are devoted to the\npublication and discussion of matters relating to the interests of the\nHigh-Church party.\n\nA very important feature in the revival of the last thirty years is the\nfoundation of religious houses in the Church of England. There are now\nupwards of thirty Anglican convents, in which women lead a life of\nseclusion and devote themselves to the practice of works of charity and\npiety; they are in many cases bound by vows and live in obedience to\nauthority. A few communities of men also exist. These Anglican religious\ncall themselves monks and nuns, and wear a dress unlike that of secular\npersons. They keep the canonical hours of prayer, they give up all\nearthly ties, and their rule is in some cases taken from one of those\noriginally framed by a saint and sanctioned by the church.\n\nRetreats and missions more or less resembling our own are given by some\nof the Anglican clergy. We have recently heard that in a place where the\nconversion of some of the clergy seemed likely to be followed by that of\na considerable body of their congregation, a retreat has been given with\nthe special object of settling the minds of the waverers in their\nallegiance to the Church of England.\n\nAfter all that we have said it will not surprise our readers to hear\nthat people are often received into the church who thoroughly believe\nevery Catholic doctrine, and, on making their submission, have no\ndifficulty to surmount and nothing new to learn.\n\nPrejudices are being dispelled; an interest in that body which has ever\nheld the doctrines now recovered by Anglicans has been awakened. On\ntheir own principles High-Church people who go abroad feel bound to\nattend Catholic churches; the Catholic religion is better understood\nthan it used to be, our ceremonies are imitated, our works of charity\nand devotion appreciated.\n\nA work, then, is being done by that party in the Church of England\ncommonly known as the Tractarian or High-Church party. Its influence has\nreached many whom we could not have hoped to reach. It has put many in a\nposition where they are accessible to conversion. It has taught many\nsouls the need and the value of sacraments. It has awakened a hunger and\nthirst whose ultimate satisfaction is only to be found in the church. It\nhas trained souls to habits of self-examination, of self-denial, of\nearnestness, of meditation, and of generosity. It has, we may trust,\nkept many from ever falling into grievous sin; and while we are of\ncourse unable to admit the validity of Anglican orders, and consequently\nof sacraments dependent on such orders, we rejoice to think that what\nthe devout soul believes to be a sacramental communion may prove a\nspiritual communion and be a means of grace and blessing.\n\nCan we, then, as Catholics hold out the right hand of fellowship to\nthose Anglicans who believe so much of Catholic doctrine, and who would\nfain persuade us that they have a right to the name we bear? Can we bid\nthem God-speed and wish them success? Alas! we cannot. Whilst we\nappreciate their self-denying labors, whilst we admire their devotion\nand believe that the grace of God is leading them on to better things,\nwe are constantly and sadly reminded that as yet they are in schism,\nthat they are defying or ignoring the authority which in the name of\nChrist claims their obedience.\n\nThe opposition to the church is a feature of the very advanced party\nwhich we cannot overlook; it is impossible to say how many souls its\ninfluence has kept out of God\u2019s church. The means used to hinder the\nwork of conversion are various and too often successful. We began by the\nstatement that most of our converts come from the ranks of Ritualism,\nbut we must in some degree qualify it by saying that to many it has only\nbeen the final stage; that they have passed through it on their way from\ndissent or Low-Church Protestantism into the church. Whether they would\nhave come to their true home more speedily if they had not on the way\nbeen attracted by that which has so great a semblance of truth we cannot\nsay. Conversion is of course a work of God\u2019s grace; but we cannot help\nfeeling that while High-Churchmen have got rid of many of the prejudices\nand misconceptions which keep other Protestants out of the church, they\nare themselves surrounded by influences hard to overcome. There is more\nto satisfy both taste and devotional feeling in Ritualism than in\nordinary Protestantism; there is more to keep the mind back from honest\ninquiry. The ordinary Protestant is bound to \u201cprove all things and hold\nfast that which is good.\u201d If he has a doubt, on his own principles he\nought to follow it up, to question, to examine, and reason till he\narrives at conviction. The Ritualist is too often taught to put away a\ndoubt or question as a sin. He is hedged in on every side. He is\nforbidden to inquire. If he be in perplexity he is recommended to devote\nhimself to good works; he is told to avoid controversy.\n\nThe branch theory and the dream of corporate reunion are constantly\nbrought forward to combat the convictions of those who are drawing near\nto the church, and to defend a position which is felt to be exceptional.\nThe branch theory maintains that the church of Christ is divided into\nthree distinct branches, the Roman, the Greek, and the Anglican; each\none of these, according to its adherents, has preserved all the\nessentials of a church, and each one claims with equal authority the\nobedience of the faithful over whom it reigns. The Catholic Church,\naccordingly, is the teacher appointed by God for Christians who live in\nItaly or Spain; the Greek Church is in the same manner the guide of the\ninhabitants of Russia, and the Anglican Church of those in England and\nher dependencies. The divergence or contradiction that may be observed\nin the teaching of these three bodies is ignored, or it is asserted that\nthey are one on all essential points. The church, according to this\nview, is more or less a national institution. St. Paul, indeed, declared\nthat there was neither barbarian nor Scythian; but this theory boldly\nasserts the distinction between Englishmen and Romans, and again between\nEnglishmen and Russians. Perhaps national vanity may find some\nsatisfaction in the idea of a branch church specially for British\nsubjects. Some curious consequences follow from the view we have\nexplained. In the first place, a man is bound to change his religion as\noften as he crosses the Channel. The Anglican would, he is told, be\nguilty of an act of schism by worshipping in a Catholic church in\nEngland; as soon as he arrives at Calais, however, it becomes his\nbounden duty to attend Mass on all Sundays and days of obligation, and\nif he were to be present at any Protestant worship, even though\nconducted by one of his own ministers, he would commit an act of schism.\nChurch and schism, in fact, change places.\n\nNo Protestant is stronger in his condemnation of those who become\nCatholics than are many of the clergy who hold the branch theory. It\nmight, indeed, appear that if each of the three branches has an equal\nclaim to be called a church there could be little objection to the\nchange; and yet these teachers declare it to be in England a sin even to\nenter a church belonging to the \u201cRoman branch,\u201d and to become a Catholic\nis said to be risking one\u2019s salvation.\n\nClosely connected with this theory is what we must call the _dream_ of\ncorporate reunion. It is of course evident to all who have read our\nLord\u2019s words in his Gospel that all Christians ought to be _one_, and\nthough people may persuade themselves of an invisible unity in\nessentials, few can feel that the present state of things is altogether\nas it should be.\n\nThe wish for union, coupled with an absolute confidence in the reality\nof Anglicanism, has led to the hope that terms may at some time be made\nwith the Catholic Church. The duty of submission is thus evaded; people\nare told that they are bound to wait till common action can be taken. It\nis hoped that in some mysterious manner \u201cRome\u201d will yet be induced to\nsee her errors in regard to England. People who have a strong leading\nidea look at everything through a medium of their own. They grasp at\nstraws; the kindly courtesy of some good priest, or the ignorant\ncredulity of some poor peasant, is taken as a token of the coming\namalgamation. The fact that the Catholic Church has in the strongest\nmanner condemned the scheme of reunion is ignored, the insuperable\nobstacles which at once present themselves are unheeded, and for the\nsake of an unreal and unfounded dream those who would fain submit to\nGod\u2019s church are held back.\n\nBesides the expression of these general principles there is a vast\namount of special and personal action hostile to the church. It is not\nenough to assure the poor famishing soul that the Church of England\nsupplies its every want, that it has never turned the graces already\nbestowed to sufficient account; it is also warned that it is a sin even\nto think of leaving its present position. The obedience claimed by and\nrendered to Anglican directors is such as would astonish Catholics. The\nAnglican director, generally speaking, has not learned to obey, and this\nmay be the reason why his manner of ruling is so absolute. It is no\nuncommon thing to find people forbidden to enter a Catholic church,\nalthough the director himself believes our Lord to be present on its\naltar; conversation or correspondence with Catholic friends about the\nchurch is in some cases prohibited, as well as the reading of Catholic\nbooks. The director will sometimes promise to answer for the soul that\nblindly obeys him. Means such as these are used to bind the conscience,\nand it is probable that they keep back many who would bravely face\npersecution.\n\nIt is to be feared that the temper of mind prevalent among the\nritualistic clergy is one little likely to lead to submission to the\nchurch; for we must receive the kingdom of God as little children, and\nnothing can seem less indicative of the childlike spirit than the tone\nof insubordination constantly to be met with. The authority of the crown\nis set at naught; that of their own bishops is defied; obedience is\nlittle known amongst them; nevertheless by God\u2019s grace many a soul from\namong the clergy as well as from among the laity bursts the trammels\nthat have bound it, and finds its true home and rest. It is said that\nthe present year is bringing into the church a harvest greater than that\nof any year since the time of Father Newman\u2019s conversion; and if it be\nso, we may well appeal to all Catholic hearts for the aid of their\nprayers.\n\nWe look towards these separated brethren with a longing sympathy. We\nfeel that the grace of God is appealing to their hearts in a very\nspecial manner. We acknowledge that the difficulties which keep them\nback are of no common order. We admire their earnestness, their devotion\nand charity; we appreciate the courage and constancy with which they\nsuffer for what they believe to be the truth; and if we are compelled at\ntimes to use language which has a tone of harshness or sternness, it is\nbecause we are solemnly bound to be faithful to God\u2019s church, and\nbecause we know that we can do them no greater kindness than to convince\nthem that they are spending their labor for that which cannot satisfy\nthem, and to lead them on to the enjoyment of all the blessings which\nthe Precious Blood has purchased for them.\n\nWe believe that the influence of the Tractarian movement has been felt\neven in America, and we hope that the sketch here given of its bearing\non the great work of conversion may not be devoid of interest to those\nwho would deem it a joy and a privilege to help a soul into God\u2019s\nchurch\u2014a work for which the power of sympathy and the intelligent\ncomprehension of its position and difficulties are most important\nqualifications.\n\nFootnote 118:\n\n See THE CATHOLIC WORLD for February, 1878, \u201cConfession in the Church\n of England,\u201d by the Right Rev. Mgr. Capel, D.D.\n\n\n\n\n THE NEWSPAPER PRESS OF NEW YORK.\n\n\nOne of the most remarkable features of this most remarkable century is\nthe unparalleled growth of that branch of ephemeral literature known\n_par excellence_ as the press. This increase has not been confined to\nany particular nation or locality, but is as observable in conservative\nEurope as in expansive America. Still, in this country, and particularly\nin New York, newspapers have multiplied during the last fifty years with\na rapidity that has astonished not only the public but even their\nprojectors and proprietors. It is within the memory of many now living\nwhen our city knew not the luxury of a daily journal, and its most\ninquisitive and anxious inhabitants were obliged to wait a whole week\nfor current news and editorial comments thereon. Now we are so imbued\nwith a craving for early information that few persons in active life are\nsatisfied with a morning paper, but must have likewise two or three\nevening editions. The last generation were content to wait for an\nindefinite period for intelligence of what was going on in the Old\nWorld; to-day we are sadly disappointed if we cannot read over our toast\nand coffee of what has happened a few hours previously at the principal\npoints of interest throughout Christendom. Business enterprise,\ncompetition, steam power, and the telegraph have been mainly\ninstrumental in changing the character of journalism and creating wants\nhitherto unfelt; increase of population and a love of superficial\nreading, which, like jealousy, makes the food it feeds on, have done the\nrest.\n\nBefore proceeding to point out some of what seem to us to be the grave\ndefects of the secular press, we freely and thankfully admit that its\ntone as regards the Catholic Church has greatly improved within the last\nfew years. Those who remember the scoffs and sneers, the outrageous\ncalumnies and downright falsehoods, which were usually associated with\neverything Catholic in so many New York journals a quarter of a century\nago, now look with more than complacency on the comparative fairness\nwhich at present characterizes their reports, correspondence, and\neditorials. The manner in which the life and death of the late Pope, the\nvenerable Pius IX., was treated and commented upon is a notable example\nof this growing spirit of liberality and good sense alike gratifying to\ntheir Catholic readers and honorable to themselves. Now and then, of\ncourse, we found expressions and sentiments opposed to our sense of\nhistorical truth and moral rectitude; but as a whole the non-Catholic\npress have expressed very just and impartial views of the multifarious\nlabors and shining virtues which distinguished the career of the\nwonderful man who was lately called to his reward. The same may be said\nof their allusions to his successor, Leo XIII. Abandoning the senseless\nand mischievous course of their European contemporaries previous to the\nmeeting of the conclave, they gave us a truthful and succinct account of\nthe meeting of that august body, the result of its solemn deliberations,\nand excellent sketches of the life and services of the illustrious\nprelate selected to bear the burden laid down by Pius IX. For all this,\nconsidering how Catholic questions were formerly treated, we ought to\nbe, and are, thankful. Again, looking nearer home, the services and\nceremonies of the church are described with much more regard to their\nsanctity and less to the gratification of idle curiosity and insensate\npopular prejudice than formerly. Some of the press accounts of the\nnature and reason of fasts and feasts, abstinence, prayer, and good\nworks, which are especially enjoined at particular periods, have been so\nprecise and discriminating that the conviction is forced upon us of\ntheir having been written, or at least dictated, by persons fully in\naccord with Catholic teachings.\n\nYet while we cannot but admit this salutary change and admire the\nvariety, system, and attention to details exhibited in the mechanical\narrangement of news, and the extraordinary industry displayed in the\ngeneral manufacture of our modern newspapers, it must be confessed with\nregret that in elevation of tone and honesty of purpose there has been\nlittle or no improvement on the slower and less attractive productions\nof our ancestors. We may take as an example the metropolitan press of\nNew York, which in point of ability, influence, and circulation far\nsurpasses that of any other city on the continent. Let any impartial\nperson, after the careful perusal of any one of our five or six\nprominent daily newspapers which are supposed to control and lead public\nopinion, ask himself what there is in its pages to command the attention\nof the moralist, or to move the sceptical or thoughtless to a sense of\nhis duty to God and his neighbor: what stern rebuke has been\nadministered to the growing spirit of peculation and heathenism which is\nconstantly gnawing at the vitals of society. How seldom do we find in\nthe labored essays, the disjointed platitudes, the pretentious\ndiatribes, the ornate editorials, or the epigrams which distinguish our\nprominent journals a sentiment or an argument based on sound views of\nmorality and religion! With a constituency at least professedly\nChristian, they bandy with words and phrases, opinions and speculations,\nessentially anti-Christian. One sneers at the Catholic Church and\neverything we hold sacred; another patronizes us in a manner more\ninsulting than complimentary; while the others, when not openly\nmisrepresenting and maligning us, allude to our faith in a manner even\nmore objectionable. All without exception, possibly without knowing it,\nare the advocates of the secret societies abroad, which are endeavoring\nto undermine the fabric of social order and Christian civilization, and\nthe apologists for those home fanatics who seek to excite public\nprejudice against us, and oppose class to class and creed to creed for\ntheir own selfish and diabolical ends.\n\nOf course we do not expect secular newspapers to become active exponents\nof the great truths of religion, nor should it even be required of them\nto give undue prominence to the publication of matters of a religious\ncharacter. That is not their province. But appearing as they do in a\nChristian community, and being supposed to reflect in a great measure\nthe feelings, views, and moral status of the people who support them, we\nhave a right to demand that they adhere to the teachings of that moral\nlaw which ought to govern us all, and that when they treat of sacred\nthings, and deal with questions affecting faith and religion, it shall\nbe done with that serious reverence which persons are bound to observe\nin social life. Neither do we ask that they advocate the superior claims\nof Catholics, nor even enter upon our defence against the many\nunscrupulous enemies who are constantly rising up against us; but we do\ninsist that we shall not be insulted, that our opinions be respected,\nand that the code of morals which all who profess to be Christians\nacknowledge be not constantly and persistently outraged.\n\nThe secret of this apparently unanimous anti-Catholic feeling which we\nlament in the New York daily press is to be found in the mental, not to\nsay moral, inferiority of the editorial fraternity as a class. Since the\ndeath of Greeley and Raymond and the practical retirement of Bryant we\nhave had no really able journalist among us; while, unlike Paris,\nBerlin, London, and other European cities, where the foremost statesmen\nand most profound thinkers scorn not to take up the editorial pen\noccasionally, we have no voluntary contributors above the level of\nmediocrity. A New York editor is usually a man paid to write something\nor anything on certain subjects, whether he be familiar with them or\nnot. He writes not to express his own well-considered convictions, or to\ngive the public the benefit of his study and experience of a particular\ntopic, but simply to meet a special emergency, and to embody, more or\nless lamely, the half-formed notions of his employer, who is as likely\nas not an uncultured man himself. Hence the greater number of what are\ncalled leading articles which appear in our daily papers, instead of\npresenting clear views, sound reasoning, and reliable information\nartistically epitomized, are seldom other than a mass of hasty, crude,\nand shallow speculations on topics of the greatest importance. With the\nmass of casual readers, who are too busy to look beneath the surface,\nsuch productions pass for gospel truths, and therefore are likely to do\nmore harm than more elaborate articles; but to the intelligent reader it\nsoon becomes obvious either that the heads of the writers are astray or\nthat their hearts are not in their work. The latter surmise, we are\ninclined to believe, is more generally correct. How can a Hebrew, for\ninstance, write a eulogium on the glories of the Catholic Church; a\nCatholic, no matter how lukewarm, praise the Communists and applaud the\nCarbonari; or a follower of the stern precepts of Calvin glorify free\nlove and exalt the doctrines of universalism? Yet such anomalies are\nfrequently found in New York journalism, where every man seems to be in\nthe wrong place. The well-known fact that the editorial staff of all our\nlarge dailies is principally made up of persons of diverse\nnationalities, creeds, and opinions accounts for the discordance\nnoticeable in every one of their pages. They have no fixed principles.\nNo matter what political party journals may support, and how emphatic\nthey may be in their advocacy of this or that public measure, when they\ncome to treat a great social question, or one of vital importance to the\nhonor and reputation of the republic, one column of the same paper is\nusually found to contradict the other, and the principles advanced\nto-day are in imminent danger of being condemned to-morrow.\n\nTo this rule, however, there is an exception. It seems to be a canon of\nthe press of this city, and we might add of the entire country, that\nCatholics can be abused, scoffed at, and misrepresented with impunity.\nTheir religion is unfashionable; their social, commercial, and political\ninfluence small in comparison with their numbers; the world is not their\nfriend, nor the world\u2019s law, and therefore the generous and large-minded\neditors of our newspapers, when at a loss for something else to say,\nhave always an arrow in their quiver for the \u201ctyranny of Rome,\u201d and the\ndangers to which their beloved country is exposed from the \u201cmachinations\nand encroachments of Romanism.\u201d Vulgar nicknames and insulting epithets\napplied to the church and the religious orders, which have long since\nbeen banished from the vocabularies of other countries, are freely used\nwith a coolness and a facility which show that the writers are either\ntoo ignorant to know when they are vulgar, or so barren of ideas and\nexpressions that they are compelled to borrow those which have done\nservice in the days of a bigoted and fanatical generation.\n\nBut turning from the editorial page to what constitutes the bulk of our\njournals, we find their dangerous character revealed. What mainly fills\ntheir capacious pages and constitutes their principal attraction for the\ngenerality of purchasers? Extended reports of divorce cases, criminal\ntrials, matrimonial escapades, and the minuti\u00e6 of executions; \u201cspicy\u201d\nparagraphs and indecent anecdotes to which the ordinary and instructive\nnews of the day is only an adjunct. The sensational style of reporting,\nthe dressing-up of disgusting topics in romantic phraseology, though\nunknown a few years ago, or confined to a few disreputable weekly\npapers, is fast becoming a distinctive feature in New York journalism.\nIt is a growing evil, as well as a most insidious one, and the keen\ncompetition which exists between proprietors of daily journals for\npopular patronage has a direct tendency to develop it still further. So\nmuch, indeed, do our papers, big and little, vie with each other in\ncatering to the depraved taste of a certain portion of the people that\nit has become a matter of serious consideration with many persons\nwhether they can safely introduce into their families the papers they\nare obliged to take for business purposes.\n\nIt is very safe to assert that too many of those who collect the city\nand suburban news for the daily press are as devoid of conscience in\ntheir method of communicating as they are often shameless in their\nmanner of procuring their information. They seem to think that a\nreporter, in his official capacity, has no moral responsibility, and act\nconsistently with the supposition. They fairly revel in scandal;\nconsider vice only something to be elaborately depicted in their\nrespective newspapers, and crime, no matter how heinous, a fitting theme\nfor their nimble and facile pens. Their excuse for all this prostitution\nof ability which might be turned to some good account is that the public\ndemand this highly-seasoned style of reporting, forgetting that they\nthemselves have excited this prurient taste, and that if, repenting of\ntheir past misdeeds, they were to return to the old-fashioned method\ntheir present admirers would soon follow them.\n\nIt is certain that the degeneracy of the newspaper press in this respect\nis fast sapping the morals of the community, particularly the younger\nportion of it. Once familiarized with crime of every sort and degree\nthrough the florid descriptions of the reporters, our young men and\nwomen must necessarily become mentally debased. Their thoughts,\nunbidden, will stray to matters of which they have lately read, a\ndangerous curiosity will be excited, and from constant reflection they\nwill begin to lose that horror of sin which is one of the safeguards of\nvirtue, which every pure-minded youth should keep constantly before his\neyes. The mind once disturbed, the imagination led astray, every\ndefaulter and swindler, if he be a criminal on a large scale, is apt to\nappear to them as \u201ca smart fellow\u201d; the betrayer of female innocence,\nthe faithless husband or disloyal wife, as one more sinned against than\nsinning; and even the murderer, whose sayings and doings are faithfully\nchronicled, and whose solemn exit from the world is made the occasion of\na grand dramatic scene, becomes in some degree a hero and a victim of\nrevengeful law.\n\nOf course it is easier to point out the evils which disgrace the\neditorial profession, and so materially impair the usefulness of the\npress, than to suggest an adequate remedy for them. It is useless to\nappeal to the conductors of newspapers; for as long as Catholics can be\nabused with impunity, and the moral sense of the community be shocked by\nvile and obscene descriptions of crime and criminals with profit to\nthemselves, they will heed neither advice nor remonstrance. The cure\nrests with the public who purchase and support such journals. As far as\nCatholics are concerned, the true course would be to establish a daily\npaper of their own, which would reflect their sentiments and opinions,\nand furnish them with reliable foreign and domestic news collated in\nunobjectionable style; but this, it seems, is impossible at present. The\nembarrassed financial condition of the country is opposed to the\ninitiation of such an enterprise. Our only present resource, as long as\nso many of us must read daily papers, is to concentrate our patronage on\nthat journal which presents the least objectionable features, and, by\nencouraging it to do better things, prove to its contemporaries by the\nstrongest of all arguments to them\u2014their decreased circulation\u2014that the\nCatholics of this city and vicinity will no longer pay to be abused and\ncalumniated. But there are many among us who from habit take daily\npapers with which we can well dispense. We advise them to discontinue\ntheir misdirected patronage and bestow it on our struggling weekly\nCatholic journals. They will thus administer a wholesome lesson to\nbigotry and immorality, and at the same time give encouragement and life\nto Catholic serial literature.\n\nThere are, however, other and more cogent reasons why the reading of\ndaily papers, now so prevalent, should be discouraged, or at least\nconfined within reasonable limits. There can be little doubt that their\nconstant and persistent perusal is apt to create a distaste for more\nprofound and healthful reading. Drawing our opinions mainly from the\nhastily composed contributions of overworked correspondents and editors,\nwe are pretty sure to fall into the habit of reaching conclusions and\nentertaining views of life neither logical nor well considered. Like\nthose who feast overmuch on sweets, we conceive a dislike for solids and\nas the body suffers in the one case, the mind naturally is impaired by\nindulgence in the light and meretricious literature of which newspapers\nare, if not the worst, certainly the most widespread and exemplary,\ntypes.\n\nAmericans, to paraphrase a well-known expression, are a newspaper-ridden\npeople. We must have some sort of paper at breakfast, dinner, and\nsupper. We are not even satisfied with one each day, but require two or\nthree more every twenty-four hours. The time that should be devoted to\nthe study of good books, wherein can be found solid instruction and food\nfor reflection, is thus too often wasted on the lucubrations and\nspeculations of half-informed men who are as incapable of emitting sound\nideas as they are of appreciating the immoral drift of much that daily\nfalls from their own pens. Hence inordinate readers of newspapers\nnecessarily become shallow-minded, superficial thinkers; their\nintellectual tastes are vitiated, and their judgment is weakened and\nperverted. Like a shattered mirror, their minds are incapable of\nreflecting one entire well-defined image, but present only fragments of\nthought in forms indefinite and distorted. The higher aspirations of our\nnature, those sublime conceptions which lift us above the grosser things\nof earth, and, even in this life, bring us nearer and nearer to our\nCreator, can never be generated by ephemeral newspaper literature. While\nwe may feel compelled by business considerations or a natural political\ncuriosity to glance over the columns of our daily journals, we should\nnot forget that the intellect receives neither health nor strength from\nprolonged indulgence in such enervating pursuits. Newspapers undoubtedly\nhave their use and mission; they have become an important factor in our\npresent system of civilization, and are capable of accomplishing much\ngood in their own sphere; but their effect and scope are limited, and\nshould be circumscribed so that they be not permitted to interfere with\nthe reading of solid history, the works of our best writers, and the\nessential duties of life, among which must be considered the pursuit of\nChristian knowledge and the elevation and purification of the immortal\npart of our being.\n\n\n\n\n MY FRIEND MR. PRICE.\n A STORY OF NEWPORT.\n\n\nThe summer was upon me, and with it the yearning for the dulcet plash of\nthe salt sea wave.\n\n\u201cWhither?\u201d became the vexed question of the hour, and Newport made reply\nto it.\n\nTo Newport I accordingly transported myself. I shall not say whether it\nwas last season, or the season before, or even the season before that\nagain. The readers of this narrative must determine the exact date. I\nrefuse point-blank to do so.\n\nNewport was in the height of the season when I entered my humble name,\nJohn V. Crosse, Lexington Avenue, New York, on the leaf of the register\nat the Ocean House.\n\nIt was a lovely evening in August, and the piazza of the hotel was\ncrowded with high, mighty, and fashionable humanity. Dinner was a thing\nof the past, and the drive was looming in the near future. Ladies were\nchatting in parti-colored groups, men smoking in acrobatic postures. A\ndelicious stillness prevailed\u2014a warm, life-caressing glow. A wooing\nmessage from the sea, laden, as it sped upon its errand inland, with the\nperfume of a myriad glowing flowers, fanned the cheek. The sun shot bars\nof molten gold between the trellised branches of the slumbering trees,\nand the indolence of waking repose descended upon everything like a rosy\ncloud.\n\nI went on the piazza, and, selecting an able-bodied wooden chair, flung\nmyself into it, placing my feet on the iron railing in front of me, ere\nproceeding to light a cigar. When I had succeeded in emitting half a\ndozen puffs of my most excellent weed I looked right and left of me.\n\nOn my right sat a man of about thirty, or perhaps more, apparently tall,\nand slender to leanness. He was dark as a gipsy, with coal-black hair\nwaving naturally but sparse upon the temples\u2014he had removed his\nhat\u2014which had a craggy look. His large eyes were deep-set, while his\nmouth wore an expression of superb self-complacency. He was\nclean-shaved, except for a fringe of long, silky black whisker far back\nupon the cheek, but both moustache and beard were clearly marked by the\nblue-black shade on his lip and jaw. The man was not ugly\u2014just escaping\nugliness by a very narrow margin. He was well dressed in a suit of light\nScotch tweed that fitted him like \u201cthe paper on the wall,\u201d whilst a\ncertain _je ne sais quoi_ bespoke the Englishman.\n\nOn my left lounged a handsome young fellow with clear blue eyes, a fair\nmoustache, and one of the brightest smiles I have ever seen upon a human\ncountenance. He twirled an unlighted cigar between his red lips, and as\nvehicle after vehicle dashed up to the \u201cladies\u2019 entrance\u201d fair dames and\ndamosels gave him cheery and gracious salutation, cheerily and\ngraciously responded to, accompanied by the flourish of a rakish little\nstraw hat perched on the side of his superbly-set head.\n\nWith these two personages the narrative has much to do.\n\nI sat smoking the one post-prandial cigar allowed me by my doctor,\ncontemplating with indolent satisfaction the fragrant greenery in front\nof me, when my meditations _apropos_ of nothing were brought up with a\nsudden jerk by the young fellow on my left asking to be permitted to\nlight his cigar from mine.\n\nNow, as a matter of fact, I have a very decided and deep-rooted\nobjection to surrendering my cigar to anybody, rich or poor, gentle or\nsimple; I like no one to handle it but myself; and therefore, instead of\ntransferring the glowing weed to his expectant fingers, I dived into the\nbreast-pocket of my coat, and producing a tin box containing wax\nmatches, placed it, together with its contents, at his disposal.\n\n\u201cYou are an Englishman,\u201d he gaily exclaimed, extracting a vesta as he\nspoke.\n\n\u201cNo, but very English on the subject of the handling of my baccy,\u201d I\nlaughed.\n\n\u201cYou are not far astray. You should have seen the tramp that deprived me\nof a genuine Lopez this morning. I couldn\u2019t refuse him, so I left him\nthe weed.\u201d\n\n\u201cI consider that the\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201c_Per Bacco!_ there she goes,\u201d he suddenly interposed, and, flinging my\nmatch-box into my lap, he vaulted over the railing into the\ncarriage-drive beneath.\n\nTwo ladies seated in a pony-phaeton flashed past.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m English,\u201d exclaimed my right-hand man, tapping the ash from his\ncigar with a finger white and delicate as wax, \u201cand I\u2019m glad to find\nthat _one_ American sees the abomination of handing every cad his cigar\nwho chooses to ask for it.\u201d\n\nBeing very Starry and Stripey, I was about to defend the practice in\nvogue amongst my countrymen, although thoroughly against my convictions,\nwhen he asked:\n\n\u201cDo you know who that fellow is?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat fellow?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat long-eared, long-legged jackass who took that railing as if he was\nat school.\u201d\n\n\u201cI never saw him before.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ll see him again. I lay seven to two. And I\u2019ll take the odds that\nhe tells you that he\u2019s Grey Seymour, whatever that may be; that he\u2019s\nover his long ears in love with a Miss Hattie Finche, whom he followed\nhere from Martha\u2019s Vineyard; and that she has five hundred thousand\ndollars.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose that one of the ladies in the pony-carriage was Miss Hattie\nFinche?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe whip\u2014yaas.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wonder can she be a daughter of Wilson Finche, of New York?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe tallow-man, Beaver Street and Fifth Avenue?\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, and Chicago and \u2019Frisco,\u201d I added.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s the identical geranium.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd is Wilson Finche in Newport?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has taken a cottage on the Ocean Drive for the season.\u201d\n\n\u201cI must look him up.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you acquainted with him?\u201d the languor of manner disappearing, and a\nvivid interest rushing to the front.\n\n\u201cVery well indeed.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd with his daughter?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, certainly.\u201d\n\n\u201cStop a minute!\u201d fumbling in his breast coat-pocket. \u201cYou\u2019ll introduce\nme.\u201d\n\nThe coolness of this proposition actually staggered me. Introduce a man\nof whose name even I was in total ignorance!\n\n\u201cI could not venture to do such a thing,\u201d I responded somewhat gruffly.\nI did not relish the idea of being treated in this off-hand way\u2014of being\nopenly and deliberately made a cat\u2019s-paw.\n\n\u201cOh! yes, you will. Here\u2019s my card. Let\u2019s have one of yours,\u201d thrusting\nhis pasteboard almost into my reluctant hand.\n\nWith very considerable deliberation I searched for my double eye-glass\nhidden away somewhere in the depths of my capacious waistcoat\u2014I was fat,\nand fair, and fifty-five at that date\u2014and, carefully wiping it with a\nscarlet silk handkerchief, adjusted it to my eyes and read:\n\n _Mr. Herbert Price,\n Temple, London, E. C._\n\n\u201cLet\u2019s have your card,\u201d said Mr. Price, as though I were a tradesman\nwith whom it pleased his high mightiness to have dealings.\n\n\u201cI am not in the habit of\u201d\u2014\n\n\u201cThere, now, you\u2019re going to put me aside. Where\u2019s the use? Why wouldn\u2019t\nyou help a poor hungry, briefless English barrister to this piece of\ngilded gingerbread? You\u2019re not going for her yourself?\u201d\n\nOho! I inwardly chuckled.\n\n\u201cNot much. I have seen too many of my peers wrecked upon the rock-bound\ncoast of matrimony to permit my argosy within those shallow and\ntreacherous waters.\u201d\n\n\u201cI guessed you were a bachelor,\u201d observed Price facetiously.\n\n\u201cAnd might I ask, sir, how you were led to imagine this?\u201d I felt curious\nto hear what the fellow would say.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell you, Mr. Smith.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not Mr. Smith.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, Mr. Jones.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not Jones.\u201d\n\n\u201cRobinson.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour pertinacity, sir, ought to make your fortune at the Old Bailey.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell said, Thompson. Now, you wish me to tell you how I guessed you\nwere a bachelor. Firstly,\u201d putting up his finger and tapping it with his\ncigar, \u201cyour general complacency; secondly, your linen\u2014no married man\never commands the linen of a bachelor; thirdly, your gaiters\u2014such fit,\nsuch polish!\u2014fourthly, your isolation; and, fifthly, the methodical way\nin which you do everything, from lighting a cigar to playing a fantasia\non your handkerchief with your nasal organ.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not aware that I am more methodical than other men of my age and\nhabits.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre\u2019n\u2019t you? Then just watch yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are a very peculiar specimen of your country, Mr. Price.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can return you the compliment; and as one good turn deserves another,\nyou\u2019ll introduce me to Miss Finche.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must excuse me, Mr. Price.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I won\u2019t.\u201d\n\n\u201cI beg to differ from you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe shall see.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe shall.\u201d\n\nMr. Price rose and quitted the piazza, returning after a brief absence.\n\n\u201cNow, Mr. John V. Crosse, of Lexington Avenue, New York, as you say in\nthis queer country, I have posted myself. You are confoundedly rich,\nliving on your dollars, and are not a half-bad sort of elderly\ngentleman.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay I ask to whom I am indebted for this portrait, sir?\u201d\n\nSomehow or other I couldn\u2019t get up a feeling of anger. I tried, but it\nwouldn\u2019t come.\n\n\u201cThe clerk inside. I know you now, and you know me. I am the son of Sir\nHarvey Price, of Holten Moat, Sevenoaks, in Kent. The Moat is about one\nof the last of the Tudor residences in England. We have been in that one\ncorner since the battle of Hastings, and the Moat has never run dry\nsince Queen Bess visited us, when the waters were turned off and red\nwine turned on. I am the sixth son, and poor as a sixth son ought to be.\nI was sent to the bar because I had an uncle on the bench. My uncle died\nwhile I was keeping my terms. I am an honor-man of Oxford, and last year\nmy brief-book showed one hundred and fifty pounds. About ten weeks ago\nmy godmother died; she left me five hundred pounds. I paid my tailor\njust enough to maintain a doubtful confidence in me, my boot-maker\nditto. Like an able general, who always prepares beforehand for a\nretreat\u2014although Wellington, our best man, failed to do this at\nWaterloo, having the forest of Soignies at his back\u2014I have paid for the\nrent of my chambers in advance. I have come here just to ascertain for\nmyself if red Indians are to be met with on Broadway, and buffalos to be\npotted on Fifth Avenue. This is the story, and here is the man. Will you\nintroduce me to Miss Finche _now_?\u201d\n\nI must confess that the story, brief though it was, and told in a short,\nsharp, jerky way, somewhat interested me. I had no reason to doubt it,\nand yet I was too old in the devious paths of the world to accept either\nthe narrative or the man at sight. Surely, if he were so well connected,\nhe should be able to obtain letters of introduction to some persons in\nsociety, and then it would be plain sailing enough for him.\n\n\u201cYou won\u2019t take me on trust?\u201d he exclaimed after I had said as much to\nhim.\n\n\u201cI have arrived at that time of life, Mr. Price, when I take nothing on\ntrust. I must know my butcher, my baker, my wine merchant, my\nboot-maker, _et hoc genus omne_.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind,\u201d he gaily cried. \u201cYou\u2019ll be sorry by and by, when you see\nme engaged to Miss Finche.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou seem to have a tolerably strong belief in your powers of\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cAudacity. You are right. _Toujours de l\u2019audace._ I am a man of a single\nidea; the idea at present on my groove of thought is the gold Finche.\nThe lion in my path is Grey Seymour. If he were poor I wouldn\u2019t have a\nchance; but he has millions, and money doesn\u2019t fall in love with money.\nYour heiress always spoons on a pauper, while your _aurati juvenes_ go\nin for penniless governesses. _Ne c\u2019est pas, mon vieux?_ Give us a\nmatch. I\u2019ll go and take a swim; and you go and call on Wilson Finche.\nHis direction is\u2014stay; I\u2019ll write it down for you. There!\u201d he exclaimed,\nhanding me a card: \u201c\u2018Wilson Finche, Esquire, Sea View Cottage, The\nCliff.\u2019 You\u2019ll find him at home now, Crosse, and in that beatific\ncondition which is the outcome of a Ch\u00e2teau Lafitte of the \u201954 vintage.\n_Adios!_\u201d\n\nObeying the mandate of this very peculiar young man, I strolled down to\nThe Cliff.\n\nThe wide sea heaved and plashed beneath me with a dull, dulcet murmur.\nAway out on its unruffled bosom lay great patches of purple, denoting\nthe passage of some fleecy cloud onwards, ever onwards. White sails\ndotted the deep green sea like daisies on a dappled field. The shingle\ncaressed by the wooing wavelets was red and brown, while the wave-kissed\npebbles flashed in the sunlight. Boats like specks were drawn up on the\nbeach, and sailors were busy with sails and cordage and the impedimenta\nof their craft.\n\nFinche\u2019s marine residence stood boldly prominent, all corners and gables\nlike an old cocked hat. It was new and pert-looking, and wore the air of\na coquette in a brand-new toilette from Worth\u2019s. A ribbon border of\nglowing scarlet geraniums led from the lich-gate to the Queen Anne\nporch, whereon sat, or lay, or reclined\u2014it was all three\u2014my old friend,\nhis body in one of those chairs which invalid passengers on ocean\nsteamers much affect, to the envy of all who do not possess the luxury,\nhis feet on a camp-stool, beside him a small marble-topped table,\nwhereon stood a bottle of claret, a crystal glass of wafer-like\nthinness, and a box of cigars. Price had spoken wisely.\n\nAfter the usual exclamations of greeting had dried up I complimented\nFinche on the beauty of the location.\n\n\u201cYes, sir; it costs money, but what\u2019s money if you don\u2019t get value for\nit? Thompson\u2014you know Thompson, of Brand & Thompson\u2014that man, sir, has\nfour millions, sir, and what value does _he_ take out of it, sir? A\nback-room in Thirteenth Street; a breakfast at a foul-smelling\nrestaurant, sir; a five-minute dinner at Cable\u2019s; an unhealthy supper at\nanother restaurant, and half a dozen of newspapers. _That\u2019s_ what _he_\nhas for his four millions.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are wiser in your generation, Finche.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am wise in this way, sir\u201d\u2014Finche is very sententious, and his\nshirt-collar is always troubling him\u2014\u201cI must have value for my money.\nOne hundred cents for my dollar is good enough for me. If, sir, I can\nget one hundred and fifty, so much the better; but, sir, I never take\nninety, or ninety-five, sir, or ninety-and-nine, sir. Help yourself to\nthat claret\u2014it\u2019s a Nat Johnson, sir; I paid twenty-five dollars a case\nfor it in the year \u201970. It\u2019s value for the money, sir, _I_ tell _you_.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are here with your _Lares_ and _Penates_,\u201d I observed, after some\nfurther remarks upon the value of the surroundings.\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean, sir?\u201d Finche is as ignorant as a chimpanzee.\n\n\u201cYour household gods.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir. I am here with my daughter and my wife. My daughter gets\nvalue, sir, in the hops at the Ocean House, and the nice society she\nmeets with\u2014real bang-up swells, sir. My wife gets value out of the salt\nwater, sir\u2014health, sir, which improves her body and her temper, sir. She\nis a quick-tempered woman is Mrs. Finche, and when she\u2019s ill, sir, she\u2019s\nugly.\u201d\n\nAt this moment the pony phaeton which I had observed from the piazza of\nthe hotel dashed up to the lich-gate.\n\n\u201cMy daughter and her friend, Miss Neville, an English girl, sir, of a\nvery high family, poor as cheap claret, sir, but proud as a coupon, sir.\nShe\u2019s on a visit to us, but we get value out of her. She sings lovely,\nsir; you shall hear her. It entertains our swell friends, and thus we\nstrike a balance. The tall one is my daughter, sir.\u201d\n\nI saw a slim but well-proportioned figure, clad in a rich black silk\ndress, the cut of which, even to my masculine eyes, betrayed the hand of\nan artist; a face, though not beautiful by any means, earnest and\ninteresting, surmounted by a profusion of little fair curls, arranged,\nas was the fashion, so as to conceal the forehead; a picturesque hat, a\npair of diamond solitaire earrings, and upon the whole a person\ndecidedly \u201cfetching.\u201d Her companion was _petite_, and constructed, as\nthey say of saucy steamers, upon the most perfect lines. She was a clear\nbrunette, and as she swept somewhat haughtily past the glowing ribbon\nborders I bethought me of Cleopatra, and the passage down the Cydnus of\nthat boat which wrecked the fortunes of the luckless Antony.\n\nOf course I gazed at the possessor of five hundred thousand dollars, as\nthe \u201cpenniless lass wi\u2019 a lang pedigree\u201d counted for nothing.\n\n\u201cHattie, this is my old friend, Mr. Crosse, of Noo York, who has come to\nNewport to take some value out of the summer-time.\u201d\n\nMiss Finche was very gracious, presenting me with a hand encased in a\nglove of many buttons, and flashing a row of magnificent teeth between\neach smile.\n\n\u201cAre you a \u2018cottager,\u2019 Mr. Crosse?\u201d\n\n\u201cUnfortunately, no.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you at the Ocean or the Acquednuk?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Ocean.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe other is quieter.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is better value at the Ocean, Hattie,\u201d observed her father.\n\n\u201cOne sees everybody worth seeing there. Isn\u2019t the piazza charming, Mr.\nCrosse?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf its kind, yes; but I would prefer a little of this,\u201d sweeping the\nhorizon with my hand.\n\n\u201cIt is very beautiful,\u201d said a sweet, low voice by my side, a voice that\n\u201cchimed\u201d into my ear\u2014I can use no other word. It was Miss Neville who\nspoke.\n\n\u201cThere is great value to be got out of that view at sunset, sir\u2014yellows\nand reds, sir, that would set up a painter, if he could only fetch up to\nthe right color and give good value to the buyer.\u201d\n\nMiss Neville imperceptibly shrugged her shoulders, while I winced at\nthis commercial view of marine painting. I wondered what Mr. Hook, R.A.,\nor my rising young friend Mr. Quartly would have said to the man of\ntallow.\n\n\u201cHattie, another bottle of this wine, although it\u2019s a pity to drink it\non a hot day; one doesn\u2019t get the value out of it. Get into the house,\ngirls; I want to have a talk with my friend Crosse here. What is\nBullandust going to do in Lake Shores?\u201d addressing me.\n\nI protested.\n\n\u201cFinche,\u201d I said, \u201cI\u2019ve come down here for sea, and sky, and trees, and\n_dolce far niente_.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that, sir?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, loafing,\u201d I laughed.\n\n\u201cThere an\u2019t no value to be got out of that.\u201d\n\n\u201cIsn\u2019t there, though? And I mean to drop Wall Street, and scrip, and\nshares, and every sort of business. I won\u2019t even look at a newspaper\ntill I choose to go back.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou an\u2019t in earnest?\u201d said my host, gazing at me in solemn\nastonishment.\n\n\u201cA fact, upon my honor.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, that\u2014say, there\u2019s some one saluting. It\u2019s not me\u2014I don\u2019t know the\nman. It must be a friend of yours, sir.\u201d\n\nI adjusted my double glass and gazed towards the lich-gate.\n\nA slight sense of shock vibrated through my system. Leaning upon the\ngate, and nodding at me like a Chinese mandarin, was Mr. Herbert Price,\nTemple, London, E. C.\n\n\u201cYou seem to be having a good time there, my friend,\u201d he gaily cried.\n\nWhat could I say? What could I do?\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s awfully hot for walking.\u201d\n\n\u201cWon\u2019t you step in, sir?\u201d said Finche.\n\nI could not say, Don\u2019t ask this man. Of course a gossip and a glass of\nwine, and a mere formal introduction to Finche, meant nothing.\n\n\u201cHis name\u2019s Price,\u201d I hurriedly whispered\u2014\u201cstopping at Ocean\nHouse\u2014London barrister\u2014don\u2019t know him.\u201d Whether these last three words\nwere lost upon Finche or not it is impossible to determine, inasmuch as\nhe took no notice of them whatever.\n\n\u201cGlad to see you, Mr. Price. Any friend of my friend Mr. Crosse is\nwelcome here, sir. Get a chair. Take that other one, sir, with the back\nto it; you\u2019ll get more value out of it. That\u2019s my principle\u2014take value\nout of everything. A glass of wine, sir? It\u2019s a Ch\u00e2teau Lafitte that\ncost me twenty-five dollars a case in \u201970, sir. Touch that gong, sir!\u201d\n\nA servant appeared in obedience to the tocsin.\n\n\u201cAsk Miss Finche to send me another bottle of this wine, then take the\nempty bottle. Put it carefully by, Mary, as all the bottles have to go\nback after I have taken the value out of them, which I guess I do,\u201d with\na chuckle.\n\n\u201cDid you walk down, Mr. Crosse?\u201d asked Price.\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d I was on the borderland of indignation. I felt\nfoolish\u2014checkmated.\n\n\u201cYou had no difficulty in finding the place.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can always find _my_ friend\u2019s house, Mr. Price.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou were dull enough about it on the piazza when we were speaking about\nMr. Finche. What a glorious spot you have here! It reminds me of\nDevonshire. Ah! you American millionaires know how to live.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe try to get value out of the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you succeed. Your good health, Mr. Finche. Ah!\u201d smacking his lips,\n\u201cthat _is_ wine. What a superb thing to sit beneath one\u2019s vine or\nfig-tree, drink such nectar as this, and to be able to\u2014pay for it!\u201d with\na light laugh.\n\n\u201cYou are from London, sir, my friend Crosse tells me.\u201d\n\nI could have flung the contents of my glass into Finche\u2019s face. Price\nwould perhaps think I had been singing his praises.\n\n\u201cYes, I hail from that little village on the Thames.\u201d\n\n\u201cA lawyer?\u201d\n\n\u201cOne of the briefless. I did not choose the profession, I assure you.\nLike my first frock, it was chosen for me, and I was thrust into it _bon\ngr\u00e9 mal gr\u00e9_. I\u2019ll tell you who I am and what I am. I have told my\nfriend Crosse already.\u201d And he summed up the case, much in the same\nwords as he had addressed to me.\n\nFinche was impressed by the mention of the title, and deeply interested\nin a detailed description of the Moat.\n\n\u201cI am happy to meet you, sir, and should be glad to visit Sir Harvey\nPrice at Holten Moat when I go to England next year, sir. Do you purpose\ntaking much value out of this country, sir?\u201d\n\nPrice actually winked at me, and that wink spoke the following words:\n\n\u201cI mean to take five hundred thousand dollars if I can.\u201d\n\nA bell sounded.\n\n\u201cSupper, gentlemen!\u201d said Finche. \u201cLet us get in. No ceremony here, Mr.\nPrice. We have no Moats for three hundred years in our family, although\nwe see them every day in our neighbor\u2019s eye\u2014ha! ha!\u201d\n\nIt would never do to have this pickpocket, for aught I knew to the\ncontrary, enter beneath my friend\u2019s roof under the very peculiar\ncircumstances of the case. Had he been an ordinary travelling\nacquaintance it would not have much mattered, but a penniless adventurer\nbent upon matrimonial designs\u2014never!\n\n\u201cMr. Price and I are going back to the Ocean House,\u201d I said in my\nsternest tone, and in a manner so marked as to bear but the one\ninterpretation.\n\n\u201cWhat do I hear, Mr. Crosse?\u201d exclaimed Miss Finche, emerging from the\ninterior, arrayed in a bewitching toilette of fleecy white and delicate\nlilac.\n\n\u201cMy dear, this is\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon, Finche, but could I\u2014\u201d I burst in.\n\n\u201cThis is Mr. Price, of London, a friend of\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cFinche, I may as well\u201d\u2014 But the pompous old ass would have his bray,\nand Price was conversing with Hattie Finche ere I could utter the words\nof explanation that were ready to spring from my lips.\n\n\u201cGentlemen, you would like to wash your hands. Just step up to my\n_sanctum_. Tompkins\u201d (to a servant), \u201cshow these gentlemen to my\n_sanctum_.\u201d\n\nWhen the door had closed upon us, \u201cMr. Price,\u201d I said, \u201cdo you call this\nfair?\u201d\n\n\u201cEverything is fair in love.\u201d\n\n\u201cBosh, sir! You find in me a man unwilling to wound the feelings of\nanother. I have gained nothing by acting the part of a gentleman.\u201d\n\n\u201cI deny that!\u201d his coat off, his head deep in the marble basin. \u201cYou\u2019ve\nmade _me_ your friend for life.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd who might _you_ be?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve told you. See, now,\u201d his hands dripping, \u201chere,\u201d plunging one of\nthem into the breast-pocket of his coat, which was lying on a\nbed\u2014\u201chere\u2019s a ten-pound note; spend every shilling of it in cablegrams.\nYou have my own, you have my father\u2019s address. Wire him, wire anybody\nyou like, you\u2019ll have your reply to-morrow. My story will be\ncorroborated in every particular. _That_ ought to satisfy you.\u201d\n\nI shook my head.\n\n\u201cTime with _me_ is money. This fellow, Grey Seymour, is to meet her\nto-morrow at a garden-party at Mrs. Dyke Howell\u2019s. His millions will\ncome into play, and such heavy artillery will sweep my rusty flint-locks\ninto ash-barrels. A duel with artillery is all very well, but when the\nbatteries are all on one side one side wins. My chances depend on what\nrunning I can make to-night. I can talk to women as few men can. It is\nmy faculty. I know where to reach them, and how. It is _nascitur non\nfit_ with me. I don\u2019t go on Doctor Johnson\u2019s idea of making an idiot of\na girl\u2019s understanding by flattery. That is false in theory, false in\npractice. Now, you are not half bad. Stand by me,\u201d placing his hand on\nmy shoulder, \u201cand, by George! I\u2019ll do something for you yet.\u201d\n\nHe was thoroughly in earnest, and hang me if I could refuse him. I\nsuppose it was my bounden duty to have done so. Common sense and common\nprudence nudged me ere I took his proffered hand, but, heedless of the\nwhisperings of still, small voices, I permitted myself to go with the\ntide. It was treating my friend Finche badly; it was placing myself in a\nfalse, if not a worse, position; and yet\u2014I could not utter that absurdly\nsmall word \u201cno.\u201d\n\nThe morrow would tell its own tale, for I had resolved upon telegraphing\nwithout the assistance of Mr. Price\u2019s ten-pound note, and a few hours\ncould do no possible harm. If Miss Finche were to lose her heart in the\nspace of an evening, she would prove a very noteworthy exception to the\ngreat sisterhood to which she belonged.\n\nThe addition to her dinner table did not seem to please Mrs. Finche, an\nemaciated, waspish, red-nosed lady, whose thin lips had an unpleasant\ntwitch in them, and whose bright, beady black eyes darted angrily hither\nand thither like a pair of beetles in search of prey.\n\nI sat next to her; opposite to me Miss Neville; Finche was at the foot\nof the table; on his right _my_ friend Price, on his left the heiress.\n\n\u201cWhat brings _you_ to this fashionable place, Mr. Crosse?\u201d asked mine\nhostess, the inference being \u201cplain to the naked eye.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I thought I\u2019d like to take a peep at the gay goings-on.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d an icy chill in the monosyllable.\n\nMrs. Finche being very silent, and, if not silent, snappish, I directed\nmy conversation to Miss Neville, whom I found to be absolutely charming.\nI had travelled a good deal, and, from the loneliness of my life, read\nabout as much as ordinary men, and I discovered, to my most intense\npleasure, that there was at least _one_ young girl in the nineteenth\ncentury the possessor of ideas above the level of sweet things in\nsheathe-like costumes, or the latest methods for beautifying the human\nface divine.\n\nMiss Neville was thoroughbred, and all unconsciously showed her lustrous\nlineage in every movement, every gesture, every word. Blood will tell,\nand it spoke its own emblazoned story in the winsome elegance of this\n\u201crare bit o\u2019 womankind.\u201d\n\nMr. Price laughed and talked, and narrated piquant anecdotes, and kept\nMiss Finche well in hand, causing the host \u201call the time\u201d to indulge in\na vast, expansive smile. Finche was getting the value of his mutton and\nhis claret out of his friend\u2019s friend. He was satisfied. After dinner\nthe young ladies returned to the Queen Anne porch, while the waspish\nhostess proceeded to take forty wide-awake winks. We mankind talked\ngenerally, and, although pressed to remain at our wine, Price and I were\nglad to get from beyond the range of our host\u2019s perpetual \u201cvalues.\u201d\n\nAs we were seated upon the wooden steps at the feet of the fair ones,\ngazing out across the wide, wide ocean, gilded with the expiring rays of\nthe setting sun, and canopied by a sky of pale blue merging into\ndelicate green, and again into white, the lich-gate swung back and Grey\nSeymour swung in.\n\n\u201cWhat a glorious evening! Are you for a walk on the cliff?\u201d asked the\nnew-comer, eyeing Price and myself as he spoke. \u201cHow do?\u201d he added,\naddressing me.\n\n\u201cMr. Seymour, Mr. Price,\u201d said Miss Finche, while the two men nodded\nstiffly.\n\n\u201cA walk on the cliff, by all means; don\u2019t you think so, Maude?\u201d asked\nMiss Finche, addressing Miss Neville.\n\n\u201c_Comme vous voulez._\u201d\n\n\u201cLet\u2019s go as we are.\u201d\n\nWe sallied forth.\n\n\u201cWhat a nuisance, this fellow\u2019s turning up!\u201d whispered Price angrily. \u201cI\nshall have to fall back.\u201d\n\nSeymour and Miss Finche led the way. I did the elderly and protecting\nparty.\n\n\u201cI place them in your charge,\u201d were the parting words of mine host. \u201cThe\nyoungsters will take value out of one another; _you_ take value out of\nthe whole lot.\u201d\n\nI dropped behind, and proceeded to enjoy the glories of the night in my\nown way. Soon came that entrancing blue light which steals in between\nday and dark, and the stars began to throb in the great canopy, and that\n\u201chush\u201d which Night sends as her envoy to earth was passing over hill and\nhollow, and land and sea.\n\nI sat down in a little nook on the cliff\u2014a corner that seemed almost\nclean out of the world, and as if the earth had suddenly ended there. I\nthought over many things, and in the _bizarre_ reflections consequent\nupon the adventures of the day came a dreamy sensation of admiration for\nthe fair young girl whom destiny had thrown beneath the roof-tree of my\nfriend Wilson Finche. I felt strangely interested in her already. Why, I\ndid not ask myself. She was a blaze of intelligence, a mine of\nintellectual wealth. I do not mean for one second to say that she was a\ngenius, but there was a tone of high culture about her that shed itself\nlike a fragrant perfume.\n\nMiss Finche appeared to me to be a very nice, ladylike, ordinary class\nof girl\u2014one of those patent-mannered, warranted-to-go-well sort of young\nladies who rove at their sweet wild will in the garden of society; but\nbeside Miss Neville she was absolutely colorless.\n\nI sat thinking over the strange freaks of fortune, that give thousands\nof dollars to some girls, leaving others without a dime, when the sound\nof approaching voices scattered my reverie to the night breeze that\ngently fanned my pepper and salt\u2014too much salt\u2014whiskers. I was in a\nhollow beneath the cliff. The speakers were Grey Seymour and Hattie\nFinche.\n\nMiss Finche\u2019s tone was cold and resolute.\n\n\u201cI do not love you, Mr. Seymour. I never could. I will not hold out a\nparticle of hope.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t say that, Hattie\u2014anything but that. Hope is all I have to live\nfor,\u201d he cried in a quivering, agonized way that made me sad to hear.\n\n\u201cI tell you fairly I can give you no hope.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Try_ and love me. I can make life a dream to you. Your every wish\nshall be gratified. My whole time shall be spent in anticipating your\nlightest fancy. O Hattie! do not drive me to despair, desperation.\u201d\n\nShe was silent. They had stopped right opposite to where I sat\nconcealed. I frankly confess I was too much interested to think of\nmaking my proximity known. It was a mean thing to remain where I was. I\nreproach myself while I write.\n\n\u201cI do not care for your money,\u201d he raved on. \u201cI have millions, ay,\nmillions at my command, and those millions shall be spent to make your\nlife an idyl.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid I not tell you that I could not care for you last season? Did I not\nrepeat it at Martha\u2019s Vineyard two weeks ago? Now I repeat it again and\nfor the last time. Let us be friends.\u201d\n\n\u201cFriends!\u201d he bitterly cried.\n\n\u201cYes, friends, and good friends. Why not? In a short time you will\nwonder you ever were in love with me, and\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cNever!\u201d he burst in.\n\n\u201cOh! yes, you will. And, what is more, you will fall in love with\nsomebody else.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you wish to drive me mad?\u201d\n\n\u201cOn the contrary, I wish to bring you to your senses. Listen to me\ncalmly.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you must. This passion of yours is a boyish love.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is my life.\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing of the kind. I don\u2019t want your love. I could not return it.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you won\u2019t try.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not indeed. I am selfish enough to care for my own happiness,\nand my happiness\u2014that is, the matrimonial part of it\u2014does _not_ lie with\nyou. You are very fond of me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, don\u2019t rhapsodize. You would do a good deal to make me happy?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnything.\u201d\n\n\u201cWould you be willing to make a sacrifice for me, if I earnestly asked\nyou?\u201d\n\n\u201cTry me, Hattie!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, I\u2019ll put you to the test.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo,\u201d firmly, resolutely.\n\n\u201cYou know Maude Neville. She is young, beautiful, penniless. She hasn\u2019t\na friend in the world. Be her friend.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat am I to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cMarry her.\u201d\n\nThere was a sound as though he had sprung backwards.\n\n\u201cThis is insolence, Hattie,\u201d he exclaimed hotly.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t be silly,\u201d coolly observed Miss Finche, and I heard no more, for\nthey had moved onwards.\n\nThis was a strange experience\u2014a woman refusing a man, and then asking\nhim to make love to another. I had read much of the doings of the sex,\nbut this situation beat anything I had ever seen on the stage. Miss\nFinche\u2019s evident self-possession, not a ripple in her voice, told how\ntruly she spoke when she told the luckless love-sick youth she did not\ncare for him, while the coolness, not to say the audacity, of the\nproposition almost staggered me. And Miss Neville\u2014was not she to be\nconsulted in the business? I was very much mistaken in my estimate of\nthat young lady if _she_ would haul down her colors at the bidding of\nany captain afloat, if she had not a mind so to do herself.\n\nWhen I arrived, all alone, at the cottage, it was to find Miss Finche\nflirting heavily with Mr. Herbert Price, Miss Neville playing a\nbrilliant fantasia of Chopin\u2019s upon the piano, and, _mirabile dictu_,\nMr. Grey Seymour, his face, his neck, his ears in a rosy glow, leaning\nover her and turning the leaves of the music. Could he have\u2014pshaw!\nimpossible.\n\n\u201cYou know Mrs. Dyke Howell?\u201d was Mr. Price\u2019s observation, as we turned\nout of Sea View Cottage on our way to the Ocean House.\n\n\u201cVery slightly.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you _do_ know her?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell\u2014yes.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ll get me a card for her garden party to-morrow?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, considering that I haven\u2019t got one for myself, I\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s nothing to the point. A man can ask a favor for a friend he\nwouldn\u2019t ask for himself, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you are _not_ my friend.\u201d\n\n\u201cI mean to be, though. Friendship must begin somewhere, and ours\nflourishes like Jack\u2019s bean-stalk.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Pon my word, I\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cThere, now, you\u2019ll write for the card to-night: \u2018Mr. John V. Crosse\npresents his compliments to Mrs. Dyke Howell, and would feel much\nobliged for an invitation for an English friend\u2019\u2014it looks well to have\nan _English_ friend\u2014\u2018for her garden party to-morrow,\u2019 or words to that\neffect. We\u2019ll send it off to-night, and you see, old man, it will get\nyou an invitation as well.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are the coolest hand I ever even read of.\u201d\n\n\u201cMust be. My godmother\u2019s legacy, like Bob Acre\u2019s courage, is oozing out\nat my fingers\u2019 ends, and I\u2019ve nothing but my return ticket and my\naudacity to look to. Come, now, Crosse, don\u2019t do things by halves.\nYou\u2019ve introduced me to a very nice family. Can\u2019t say I admire my\nmother-in-law. What son-in-law does, though? The old boy is no end of a\nbore, but Hattie is all there.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did not introduce you, Mr. Price; you introduced yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever could have done it but for you; _ergo_, logically, you introduced\nme.\u201d\n\nTo my shame be it said, I wrote a note from the Ocean House to Mrs. Dyke\nHowell, a haughty lady of cadaverous aspect, and a nose resembling that\nof the late Duke of Wellington, who believed in that small monarchy\ncalled Knickerbockerdom, and in everything high, and mighty, and\nfashionable.\n\nThe cards came without note or comment, and _my friend Price_ and I\nstarted for Hawthorndale. He wore a frock-coat that, even irritated as I\nwas, evoked admiring comment, and a tall hat so shiny that I felt I\ncould have shaved by it.\n\nBefore starting I telegraphed to Sir Harvey Price, Bart., Holten Moat,\nSevenoaks, Kent, England, in the following words:\n\n \u201cIs your son Herbert in America? Is he a barrister? Describe him. Of\n the utmost importance. Telegraph instantly to\n\n \u201cJ. V. CROSSE, Ocean House,\n Newport, R. I., U. S. A.\u201d\n\nI chuckled as I handed over my greenbacks.\n\n\u201cHe doesn\u2019t think I\u2019ve taken him at his word. A few hours will unriddle\nhim,\u201d were my thoughts as we emerged from the hotel. I had seen Grey\nSeymour that morning _en route_ to bathe. There were black shadows\nbeneath his eyes, and the great brightness which I had so much admired\nthe day before had faded out of his face. What was the issue of that\nmost remarkable conversation?\n\nHe was the first person I encountered after passing through the icy\nfingers of Mrs. Dyke Howell, and much of the old look had returned.\n\n\u201cHave you seen the Finches?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy the way, who is your friend Mr. Price?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s no particular _friend_ of mine\u2014merely a travelling acquaintance.\nHe\u2019s a member of the English bar, and very clever.\u201d This latter\nassertion I believed in my heart.\n\n\u201cIs he rich?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! dear, no.\u201d\n\n\u201cUnmarried?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes. That is, I believe so.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see him here to-day. I suppose Mrs. Howell knows him.\u201d\n\nI was considerably relieved when young Roadwell, of the Coaching Club,\ncut in with a query as to a pair of roans which Seymour was about to put\nunder the hammer, and left the pair diving \u201cfull fathom five\u201d into the\nmysteries of horse-flesh.\n\nThe Finches arrived later on in full force\u2014Mrs. Finche in yellow and\ngreen and red like a mayonnaise of lobster; Hattie in floating white;\nMaude Neville in black and orange. My friend Price clung to Miss\nFinche\u2019s side like her breloquet, while Grey Seymour seemed to devote\nhimself to the brunette.\n\n\u201c_Ma foi_,\u201d thought I, \u201ccan the convocation of last night have so soon\nborne fruit? It would not be difficult to fall in love with Miss\nNeville, but the falling out of it first is the trouble.\u201d\n\nI did not see Price until eleven o\u2019clock that night. He had gone home\nwith the Finches\u2014I was left out in the cold\u2014and returned to the hotel in\nsplendid spirits.\n\n\u201cAnybody there?\u201d I asked with assumed carelessness.\n\n\u201cNobody but Seymour.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! Spooning over Miss Finche?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a bit of it; it\u2019s over the other one. He was with her all day\nto-day, and by Jove! sir, to-night they were on the balcony doing\nmoonlight like anything.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere is he? Did you leave him behind you?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; we left together, but he didn\u2019t seem to want me, and\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd did _you_ see that?\u201d I sneered.\n\n\u201cWhy, of course I did. _I_ wasn\u2019t going to do The Cliffs at this hour. I\nprefer my cigar on the piazza here.\u201d\n\nI did not see either of my gentlemen the following day, save in a casual\nway. Seymour appeared to be picking up his good looks, and as the table\nto which I was relegated was within range of his _quartier_, I could\nperceive, from the flotilla of plates and dishes around him at\nbreakfast, that his rejection by Hattie Finche had in nowise impaired\nhis appetite.\n\nI was in love once, twenty-five years ago, and I lived on it. A sweet\ncake and a glass of champagne twice a day kept me in the flesh. I\nwouldn\u2019t undertake to try that \u201clittle game\u201d again. Judging from my own\nsymptoms at that critical period of my existence, I fairly argued that\nGrey Seymour had either over-lived his passion for the heiress, that he\nwas off with the old love and on to the new, or that his mistress and he\nhad come to an understanding after they had passed beyond my coigne of\nvantage. I must own I was \u201csairly and fairly\u201d puzzled. The reply to my\ncablegram was anxiously awaited. Properly speaking, it was due upon the\nevening of the day on which I set the wires in motion. Allowing for the\ndifference in time between Newport and London, say six hours and a half,\nand having despatched it at 9 A.M., I might fairly have reckoned on a\nreply that night. The Moat, however, was some little distance from\nSevenoaks, so I shouldn\u2019t be utterly disappointed were forty-eight hours\nto elapse ere tidings would reach me. As it was, however, the appearance\nof every despatch boy sent a thrill of expectation through me, and a\npang of corresponding disappointment when I sought the message on the\nrack under the letter C.\n\nIt was upon the second morning that Price came down to breakfast arrayed\nin nautical costume, deep, dark, desperate blue flannel, with a superb\nMar\u00e9chal Niel rosebud in his button-hole, and a genuine air of festivity\nin his whole appearance.\n\n\u201cWhat mischief are you up to to-day?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cA sail with my friends the Finches.\u201d\n\n\u201c_My_ friends, if _you_ please, Mr. Price.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo be sure; I quite forgot. Doosid nice people. I say, I _am_ making\nthe running, and I mean to win, as we say in the race-course, \u2018hands\ndown.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cAhem! It doesn\u2019t follow that if you win the daughter you\u2019ll get over\nthe father,\u201d I observed with a knowing air.\n\n\u201cOh! I\u2019m not going to trouble myself about _him_. _You\u2019ll_ square him\nfor me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean, Mr. Price?\u201d almost aghast at this cool impudence.\n\n\u201cI mean that old fogies understand one another. You\u2019ll rub it into him\nthat I am a man of considerable genius; of keen perception, calm\ndeliberation; in the habit of hand-balancing conflicting propositions, a\nbrilliant orator, and that I have tact, which is better than talent, and\naudacity, which is better than either or both.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I were to speak about you at all to _my_ friend Mr. Finche, I should\ncertainly pay a glowing tribute to this last quality,\u201d sneeringly.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a good fellow. You\u2019re a brick of the most adhesive quality. You\ngo for Finche when I give you the word. I mean to pop for Hattie the\nfirst good chance.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, really, I\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI know what you\u2019re going to say: \u2018Man is man and master of his fate.\u2019\nShakspere says \u2018sometimes.\u2019 I mean to play the waiting race. The man who\ncan afford it gets three to one in his favor. I can only be beaten by a\ndash-horse now. Here comes the man whom I imagined was the favorite, and\nhe is not entered for the race at all.\u201d\n\nGrey Seymour joined us, also arrayed in dark blue, a red rose in _his_\nbutton-hole.\n\n\u201cThese are our favors,\u201d laughed Price: \u201cMiss Finche yellow, Miss Neville\nred.\n\n \u201c\u2018Oh! my love is like a red, red rose that sweetly blows in June!\u2019\u201d\n\nAnd gaily humming that song which Sims Reeves has made all his own, he\nlounged out of the immense _salle \u00e0 manger_, casting criticising glances\n_en passant_.\n\nI am fond of the sea. I never was sick in my life, and once upon a time\nthought of running a saucy schooner. Would I, like Paul Pry, drop into\nthis party with an \u201cI hope I don\u2019t intrude\u201d?\n\nThe hour was rapidly approaching when I must take action with reference\nto my friend Mr. Price. He had entered Finche\u2019s house under my _\u00e6gis_,\nand I was bound in honor to protect Finche and Finche\u2019s child. Yes, I\nwould join the yachting excursion _bon gr\u00e9 mal gr\u00e9_, and in a few\nstraight words tell Wilson Finche exactly how the land lay.\n\nI donned a blue flannel suit\u2014no man goes to Newport without one\u2014and\ntaking an old-fashioned telescope under my arm, went upon the piazza to\nawait the appearance of Grey Seymour, who was still occupied in going\nthrough the entire _menu_ for his matitudinal meal.\n\n\u201cA telegram for you, sir,\u201d said the clerk, as I passed the desk.\n\n\u201cAt last,\u201d I muttered, as I tore it open.\n\nIt was from Lady Price, and dated Holten Moat:\n\n \u201cMy son is in America. Barrister. Tall, thin, dark. Black mole under\n left ear. Scar on right wrist. Telegraph if in trouble.\u201d\n\nAt that particular moment Mr. Price appeared on the corridor, engaged in\nchewing a tooth-pick.\n\nI went to him, and, without a single word, seized his right hand, baring\nhis wrist. The scar was there. I then wheeled him round, and took a\nrapid and searching look behind his left ear.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d he laughed, \u201clooking for the _macula materna_? So you\u2019ve been\ntelegraphing home, you incredulous old codger,\u201d scanning the open\ntelegram.\n\n\u201cRead it,\u201d I said. I should mention that the black mole was in its\nplace.\n\n\u201cWhy, you\u2019ll frighten the old lady into fits. Write her at once, Crosse,\nand tell her I\u2019m as safe as the milk in a cocoanut. Don\u2019t spare your\ndollars, old man!\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nWhen I left Newport the Finches were still at Sea View Cottage, and my\nfriend Mr. Price on a visit in the house. About six months later I\nreceived cards to attend at the nuptials of Miss Hattie Julia Maria Anne\nFinche to Herbert Price. An attack of the gout prevented my putting in\nan appearance, but I sent both bride and groom a little present. To the\ndaughter of my old friend I gave a pearl necklace; to his son-in-law a\ndiamond ring, with the words inscribed in raised letters, \u201c_De l\u2019audace.\nToujours de l\u2019audace._\u201d\n\nI may mention that Grey Seymour and his charming bride honored me with a\nvisit some time, later on, _en route_ to Europe.\n\n\n\n\n THE PRINCIPLE OF BEATITUDE IN HUMAN NATURE.\n\n\nSt. Thomas defines beatitude, in respect to man, to be \u201cthe perfect good\nin which the natural tendency of the human will to universal good\nattains complete rest.\u201d[119] This is beatitude objectively considered.\nSubjectively, it is the actual fruition consequent upon attainment, and\nrest in the quiet possession, of the perfect good which is the object of\nvolition. This fruition is an immanent act within the nature of the\nhuman subject, and must therefore proceed from a principle within the\nhuman nature. Nature denotes the same thing with essence, expressing\nonly as a distinctive term its being a principle of activity. By reason\nof his essence, the human being has within him a principle by virtue of\nwhich he desires, seeks, and is impelled by the movement given him by\nhis First and Final Cause toward the attainment of beatitude. As\nintelligent, universal truth is his object, to which his intellect is\nconnatural; as volitive, universal good is his object, to which his will\nnaturally corresponds.\n\nThe idea of universal good is obviously the one which lies at the\nfoundation of this conception of beatitude. It is well known that the\nnotion of good as a universal is one of the transcendental predicates;\nthat is, of those which are outside of everything which does or can mark\nout any generic ratio, or diversity of kind between any existing or\npossible beings. Good is not a genus or kind, in opposition to some\ndiverse genera or kinds which are not good; and, _\u00e0 fortiori_, it is not\na species, under which individuals are to be classed as specifically\ndifferent, by the note of goodness, from other individuals who by their\nspecific difference are something else than good. It is the species\nwhich completely determines the essence of every existing thing, and the\nspecific difference which marks its essential unlikeness to other things\nwhose essence is other than its own. Therefore no being can be\nessentially unlike any other by reason of one being good and the other\nsomehow dissimilar to good. The predicate of good belongs to all genera,\nand, of course, to all species and individuals, as a universal notion\ntranscending all their respective determining notes, and identifying\nitself, in the analogical sense proper to each of them, with all and\nsingular of these notes.\n\nGood is whatever is consonant to nature, whatever is a perfection, or\nsubserves to the conservation and increase of a perfection. It is\ncoextensive with being, and identical with it, as are all the\ntranscendental notions, which merely present the same object of thought\nunder various phases. Whatever is thinkable, as an object is an entity;\nas having its own entity undivided in itself and divided from every\nentity other than itself, is a unity; as an intelligible entity is a\nverity; as containing in itself reason for the volition that it should\nbe what it is, it is a good. All these notions are contained in the\nnotion of being, and are as universal as being, which has in opposition\nto it only nothing, that is, no-being, no-one-thing, no-true-thing,\nno-good, mere negation and nullity.\n\nWe are at present concerned only with actually existing rational\nnature, in its relation to universal being as the object of its\nvolition, or movement towards the universal good in which it seeks for\nbeatitude. Whatever is consonant to rational nature, gives it\nperfection or subserves to its perfection, is its good. Good is being\nregarded in its aspect as something desirable, in which the will can\nrest with complacency. Every actual, concrete essence is good, as\nsuch, because it has being, and in so far as it has being; and it\npresents, therefore, an object to the will which is desirable and in\nwhich it can have complacency. The rational nature is in itself a good\nas an actual being, and it is a good to itself, or, in other words, it\nis a good for it that it exists. The universe in which it exists is\nall good in essence and nature. Universal nature is in consonance with\nitself, and its laws tend to the perfection, conservation, and\naugmentation of being, throughout its whole extent. The movement of\nwill in rational nature toward the universal good is only a higher\nkind and mode of an operation which is common to all nature. Things\ndestitute of sense are put into operation toward the general end of\nthe universe by blind and fatal laws, which receive their impulse and\ndirection solely from the will and motive power of their creator.\nThose which have sense but not reason are incited to movement by a\nvital impulse and the excitement of their sensitive faculties by\nexternal objects. Rational nature moves itself by intelligence and\nwill toward the good which is its object. Intellect has for its\nconnatural object universal being as verity, and tends toward an\nadequation between itself and its object. So, likewise, the will in\nrespect to the good of being. This adequation constitutes the\nbeatitude of rational nature, and an approximation to it is an\napproach toward beatitude which constitutes a greater or lesser degree\nof imperfect felicity. The principle of beatitude has therefore been\npointed out and proved to exist in human nature. The intense longing\nfor it is matter of self-consciousness to every human being. The\nnatural tendency and longing for beatitude cannot have been implanted\nby the Creator in order to be frustrated. There is no place in the\nnature of things for any other intention and end of creation, except\nto produce the good of being in all its grades and orders, according\nto the determinate measure prescribed by the divine intellect and the\ndivine will. The good of inanimate nature necessarily falls short of\nany final and complete term in itself, because it does not contain any\nfaculty of apprehension and complacency. Mere sensitive apprehension\nand complacency in living, irrational beings do not adequately supply\nthis deficiency, because they attain only to the lowest and most\nimperfect good, in a partial and deficient mode. All nature below the\nrational, therefore, furnishes only an element, an inchoate and\nincomplete material substratum for the formal and complete good of\ncreated being, which can only possess a final actuality and become an\nend in itself in rational nature. Material beings have only their own\nessence and existence, which are exclusive and isolated, determined by\nnecessary laws to merely extrinsic states and movements, in which they\nare totally inert. They have no return upon themselves and no capacity\nof receiving any other being into their own. Therefore they can have\nno self-consciousness or self-activity, no cognition or sentiment.\nSensitive beings have a partial return upon themselves by sensation\nand sensitive cognition, and a limited self-activity. A spirit returns\nupon itself with a complete retroaction, and can receive other beings\ninto itself according to the mode of the recipient, that is, ideally.\nIt has therefore complete self-consciousness and self-activity,\nintelligence and volition, and in the human essence, by virtue of the\nunion of the rational part with the animal, it has also a more perfect\nkind of sensitive life. It apprehends and possesses its own being, and\nuniversal being outside of itself, as a verity by intelligence, as a\ngood by volition. When it is perfect and permanent in its natural\ngood, the possession of this good is in itself beatitude. There is no\nother term or effect which can possibly have the ratio of an end to\nthe intention of the Creator in the creative act, for it is the only\ncomplete and final good of being. Created being is nothing but a\nparticipation of the uncreated and necessary being, and an imitation\nof it in the finite order. Finite beatitude is, therefore, a\nparticipation of the infinite beatitude of the divine nature, and an\nimitation of it. God alone is THE BEING, who exists by his essence,\nand possesses being absolutely and in plenitude. In the same sense in\nwhich He alone is, whose Name is EGO SUM QUI SUM, He alone is _good_\nand He alone is _blessed_. That is, He alone is good by his essence\nactually and in plenitude, and is alone by his essence possessed of\nthe plenitude of blessedness.\n\nBoethius defines the eternity of God as \u201cthe perfect possession, all at\nonce, of boundless life.\u201d This may answer as a definition of the\nbeatitude of God. His being is living being, in all respects boundless,\nand so absolutely in act that it is incapable of any increase or\ndiminution. The being of God is essentially good, and an object of\ncomplacency. The life of God consists in the act of intelligence and\nvolition in which he knows and wills his own being, as infinitely\nintelligible and infinitely desirable. For God, to be and to live is to\nbe blessed. The vision of his own essence presents to him an object of\ninfinite complacency in which his will rests with a perfect and eternal\nquietude. What his essence is, and what that good is which constitutes\nthe infinite beatitude of God, we cannot know except in an analogical\nmanner. The universe of created being is an image and imitation of the\ndivine essence. Whatever being and good we can perceive in the works of\nGod we know must have its archetype in the essence of God, existing in a\nsupereminent mode and an infinite plenitude. Created beauty is something\nwhich being seen pleases, in which the will reposes with complacency\nwhen it is apprehended by the intellect. Infinite, absolute, uncreated\nbeauty must please infinitely the infinite intelligence which beholds it\nby a comprehensive vision. This is the nearest approach we can make to a\nconception of the beatitude of God.\n\nThe being of God is the archetype and source of all created being, and\nhis infinite beatitude the archetype and source of all finite beatitude\nin created, intelligent beings. Creation proceeds not from want but from\nfulness of good in the infinite Being; not from necessity but from free\nvolition. It is an overflow of power, intelligence, and love, diffusive\nof the good of being from the boundless sea of the divine essence into\nthe streams which it fills. Its ideal possibility is in the divine\nessence as imitable, presenting to the divine intelligence innumerable\nterms of the divine omnipotence, and to the divine will innumerable\nobjects of volition and complacency. The act which brings it out of\nnonexistence into existence proceeds from the three Persons of the\nBlessed Trinity equally and indivisibly. The origin of the creative act\nis in the Father, the medium in the Son, the consummation in the Holy\nSpirit. The almighty word of intelligence and volition calling the\nnonexistent universe into existence, proceeding from the Father as the\norigin of infinite and finite essence, in the Word is the creative ideal\nand measure of all the intelligible and intelligent creation, in the\nSpirit is the cause and principle of all created good. The formal\nprincipiation of the divine essence, proceeding from the Father and the\nSon as its active principle, whose term is the person of the Holy\nSpirit, is pure Love. Love is the consummation of the infinite being of\nGod, and its eternal efflorescence is beatitude, the perfect possession\nof boundless life which is a boundless good, totally, existing in a\npresent whose duration is without any before or after, without beginning\nor end or successive parts, and unchangeable by any increase or\ndiminution. It is a maxim of philosophy that operation is in accordance\nwith the nature of the operator. An artist produces a work corresponding\nto the nature of his art. The work of the Holy Spirit is like himself.\nThe divine essence in his person being love, the consummation of the\ndivine work in creation effected by him must be good; and that good in\nits last result is beatitude. He is \u201cThe Lord and Giver of life.\u201d The\nlife of the intelligent creature is like the life of God. He is finite,\nand therefore his duration is not eternity. It has a beginning, and a\nbefore and after, and its totality is not possessed all at once in one\npresent, but its parts succeed each other without end. Although he\ncannot possess his past and future at one time, he possesses always his\npresent, which glides with him through all time, and is an imitation of\nthe eternal, ever-enduring present of eternity. The perfect possession\nof all that constitutes his life, without any fear of losing it,\nconstitutes his beatitude. Divine love, diffusive of the good of being\nout of its own plenitude, can have no other end in creation, in so far\nas this end is contained within the creation itself, except the\nbeatitude of intellectual creatures.\n\nThe idea from which creation receives its form is in the Word, and\nintellectual creatures are specially made in his image. In the\nIncarnation, the Word united to his divine nature a rational nature,\nconsubstantial with that which is common to the whole human race, and\nallied generically to the highest as well as to the lowest orders of\ncreated beings, that is, both to the spiritual and the corporeal\nextremes of nature. The created nature thus assumed into personal unity\nwith the divine nature in Immanuel, who is the only-begotten Son of God\nthe Father from eternity, has become the nature of God, and as such\nentitled to receive from the divine nature the communication of its\nplenitude of being and of good, in so far as this is communicable in a\nfinite mode and measure. The Holy Spirit, who proceeds from the Son,\nboth in the eternal order of the Trinity and in the temporal order of\ncreation, is communicated to the human nature of Immanuel as the\nprinciple of life and beatitude. The hypostatic union of created and\nuncreated nature in the person of Jesus Christ is the masterpiece of the\nLord and Giver of life, the ultimate term of his creative act. The\nbeatitude which he imparts to the human nature of Jesus Christ is the\nsupreme participation of its rational intelligence and will in the\ndivine act of comprehensive vision of the divine essence and infinite\ncomplacency in its absolute beauty, which constitutes divine beatitude.\nThe angels were destined to the same beatitude, and, those excepted who\nforfeited their right by sinning, they have attained it. The human race\nwas created for the same destination, and the elect will receive their\nperfect consummation in the same sempiternal glory and blessedness which\nbelongs of right to the humanity of the Eternal Son, on the day of the\nuniversal resurrection.\n\nIt is evident that this supernatural beatitude in God completely fulfils\nthe definition of beatitude given by St. Thomas as _bonum perfectum quod\ntotaliter quietat appetitum_. The object of the rational human appetite,\nthat is, of the will, is universal good, which is in God in the most\nabsolute and perfect plenitude. But universal good is also in creatures\nby participation, and presents a proper object of complacency to the\nwill in perfect harmony with its primary object of beatific love. Our\nLord Jesus Christ in his human mind and human heart not only has the\nimmediate intuition of God and of all things in God, together with the\nlove which accompanies this highest mode of knowledge, but also the mode\nof knowledge and love which is strictly natural. He delights in the\ncontemplation of the beauty of his own human nature, in the works which\nhe performed through it, in its dignity and exaltation, in the splendor\nof the Blessed Virgin Mary, of the angels and the saints, in his entire\nand universal kingdom both of mind and matter. He delights in loving his\ncompanions in celestial glory, and in receiving their love, in radiating\nlight and beauty and happiness all around himself through countless\nrealms of space and numberless multitudes of beings. His human nature\nwas not essentially changed at the resurrection, but only glorified. He\nhas therefore that sublimated corporeal and sensitive life which is\nproper to the nature which he assumed, with the sensitive cognition and\nenjoyment resulting naturally from its attributes and faculties.\n\nThe kingdom of heaven has therefore its visible and natural as well as\nits divine aspect. Natural beatitude in the possession of universal\ncreated good, in the enjoyment of the works of God, in science, in the\nsentiment of the beautiful in created objects, in activity, in society\nand friendship, co-exists with the uninterrupted contemplation of the\ndivine essence, and the perfect quietude of everlasting repose on the\nbosom of God. The quiet and repose of the spirit in beatitude by no\nmeans signifies inaction and the slumber of the faculties. God, who is\nimmutable, is most perfect act, and the first mover of all things. The\nrest of beatitude is in opposition to the restless inquietude of a\nspirit which has not found its equilibrium, and is impelled by\nunsatisfied longings to seek for its perfect good. Its rest consists in\nits having found its equilibrium in the stable possession of the perfect\ngood. But the presence of the due object to the intellect and the will\ncalls forth their most perfect and intense activity, and the very\nqualities of the glorified bodies of the blessed saints in heaven prove\nthat they also will be active, and not for ever standing still in one\nposture or reclining indolently on grassy meads, as some seem to imagine\nis the Christian belief. It is indeed most difficult to form any\nimaginary pictures of the future life which are in any way satisfactory\nto reason. But whatever we can represent to ourselves by such efforts\nwhich can give some idea of a glory and a beatitude worthy of rational\nbeings in a perfect state, assuredly will be realized in a way far\nbeyond our conceptions.\n\nThe aim of the foregoing exposition has been to prepare the way for\npresenting, in the natural element which exists in supernatural\nbeatitude, that which is the purely natural good due to the intellectual\nnature left to itself in its own native sphere, the underworld below\nheaven. We call this sphere of pure nature native to the intellectual\nnature in general, because it belongs there by virtue of its essential\nbeing, prescinding from any higher destination given to it gratuitously,\nwhether simultaneously with its original creation or subsequently to it.\nIt is an underworld relatively to the supernatural order whose last\ncomplement is in the hypostatic union realized in the Incarnation. The\nstate of pure nature in respect to the only species of simply\nintellectual or rational creatures known to us, is treated by Catholic\ntheologians in a merely hypothetical manner; as a possible state, in\nwhich angels and men might have been constituted by the Creator, or in\nwhich he could, if he pleased, place other beings generically similar to\nangels or men, in other spheres of the universe which are distinct from\nour earth and the celestial abode of the angels. Whether there are now\nor ever will be such beings, inhabiting the numerous worlds with which\nthe vast extent of real space is filled, can only be matter of\nconjecture. But the human species, and the hierarchy of pure spirits\nwith which it is in present relation, were destined for the supernatural\norder immediately depending from the royal seat of Immanuel, the\nsovereign head of the host of deified intelligences, as its centre. In\nrespect to the human race, therefore, the state of pure nature is\npresented under another aspect as a state of lapsed nature, and the\nsphere of the underworld is its native sphere actually and by virtue of\nnatural generation, by reason of a fall and a sentence of deprivation.\nOn this account, the permanent future state of all human beings who are\nfinally excluded from heaven, in Christian eschatology is primarily\nconsidered as a state of loss. Whatever felicity is possible in this\nstate appears as something remaining from the original destination of\nmankind, and not as the complete good of human beatitude. For this\nreason, we have presented first the total ratio of beatitude in respect\nto human destiny, before considering what remains after the sum of\nsupernatural good has been deducted.\n\nSubstantially, the state of lapsed nature as denuded is the same with\npure or nude nature. The question of the object and nature of pure\nnatural beatitude is the one to be decided, in order to determine what\namount of good in the endless life of human beings who lack the beatific\nvision of God is conceivable and possible. There is only one serious\ndifficulty in this question. It arises from the consideration of the\nvery essence of intelligence as related to the universal truth, and will\nas related to the universal good. The intellect, as such, by its very\nnature, seeks for the deepest cause, and for an adequation with the\nintelligible being of its universal object, and the appetite of the will\nfollows it. How, then, can the intellect rest in any object except the\nabsolute, necessary, infinite essence of God, apprehended by a clear and\nimmediate intuition, or any other object but this perfectly quiet the\nappetite of the will? It is evident that if the intellectual nature, as\nsuch, has in it an exigency and a longing which cannot be satisfied with\nany good to which its faculties are commensurate, beatitude is something\nessentially supernatural. In this case, the natural order must be merely\ninchoate, potential, needing to be completed by the supernatural.\nIntellectual beings could not, then, be created for a purely natural end\nand destiny; the only end suitable and fit for them would be that which\nreaches its consummation in the beatific vision. Defrauded of this in\nany way, even without any voluntary fault of their own, they must be\nmiserable during eternity through the suffering of the pain of loss, or\nat least continue for ever in a state of arrested and imperfect\ndevelopment, in which absence of suffering would be due only to\ninsensibility, with an imperfect kind of felicity similar to that which\nmen possess in this earthly condition, from the common enjoyments of\nhuman life.\n\nWe deny, however, that there is any exigency in created nature for the\nsupernatural good. The difficulty above stated, that God is necessarily\nthe supreme object of the created intellect and the created will, we\nanswer as follows. Intellect, by nature, seeks God, according to its own\nmode and measure. The operation of the will is determined by the\nintellect. _Nil volitum nisi prius cognitum._ The divine intellect,\nwhich is the divine essence considered as intelligent subject, is in\nadequation with the divine essence considered as intelligible object.\nGod has immediate, comprehensive cognition of himself by his essence.\nEvery created essence is infinitely different from the divine, and\ntherefore has an operation intrinsically unequal to the act in which the\ndivine life consists. _Operatio sequitur esse._ The being of an\nintelligent creature is within the order of the finite, of the imitated,\nparticipated existence, activity, enjoyment, which is a diminished image\nof the archetypal reality in the Creator. All this is within the circle\nof nature, and when this circle is perfect, including whatever belongs\nto it, there is no exigency of anything beyond. The knowledge of God,\nnot as he is in his essence, within his circle of immanent being, but as\nhe is in the terms of his creative act, in the universe, in the\nintellectual light and intelligible essence of the created spirit\nitself, is within the circle of nature. As the Author of nature he is\nknowable and lovable, by perfect and well-ordered faculties of pure\nnature without grace and without defect. Natural beatitude does not\nrequire the immediate and intuitive, but only the mediate and\nabstractive cognition and contemplation of God, and does not exact any\nkind of union of the will to God as the sovereign good, except that\nwhich terminates by natural sequence its own rightly directed and\ncompleted spontaneous movement. Even now we can find God by reason, and\ntake complacency in his perfections. Much more can beings of a higher\nperfection attain to the knowledge of God in a manner proportionate to\ntheir kind or degree of perfection, and with a complacency corresponding\nto their knowledge, if their intelligence and will are rightly\nco-ordinated, and directed toward their proper object. As respects the\nuniversal verity and good of being in the created universe, there is no\ndifficulty whatever in supposing that it can be attained within any\nfinite limits, in a state of pure nature.\n\nThis inferior sphere of natural beatitude being thus theoretically\npossible, it is most reasonable to suppose that all human beings who at\nthe general resurrection are dispossessed of any right to the kingdom of\nheaven, and at the same time free from all actual sin, receive their\nultimate destination in such a sphere. There is no reason in the order\nof justice why they should be deprived of any perfection or good of\nwhich they are naturally capable. In the \u201crestitution of all things,\u201d\nthe \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2, there will be no deordination left in the universe,\nand no imperfection of order belonging to an inchoate condition of\nnature. _Venit dies, dies tua, in qu\u00e2 reflorent omnia._ Inanimate\ncreation will become resplendent with the beauty which the last touches\nof the divine Artist have given to his consummate work. The influence of\nthe life-giving Spirit will be poured in a full torrent through all\nparts of the universal realm of living being. In this general\nrestitution we may be certain that the thousands of millions of human\ninfants who have never attained to the use of reason in this world, and\nhave never received the grace of regeneration, will be raised up, by the\nbounty of their Creator, in the full perfection of their human nature,\nboth corporeal and intellectual, to live for ever in the enjoyment of\nall the good which is due to pure nature, participating in their own\ninferior degree in that excellence and felicity which in its highest\nperfection belongs to the blessed in heaven as an adjunct of their\nsupernatural glory and beatitude. Moreover, it is altogether congruous\nto the order of redemption in Jesus Christ, and probable, that they will\nreceive, in common with the whole creation, their own special benefit\nand increase of natural good, through the Incarnation. There is no\nobstacle in their nature to the reception of any good except that of the\nbeatific vision. They may, therefore, enjoy the vision of the glorified\nhumanity of the Lord, worship him and love him as their creator and\nbenefactor, see and converse with the angels and saints, and in every\nrespect enjoy a better and more desirable immortality than that which\nwould be possible in another system of divine providence which did not\ncontain a supernatural order.\n\nBesides those who die in infancy, there are many adults who may be\nconsidered as on the same level with infants in respect to moral\nresponsibility. Balmes proposes the opinion that a large proportion of\nthe most ignorant and spiritually undeveloped part of mankind,\nespecially those who are born and brought up in a low state of\nbarbarism, never attain the rational level of a well-instructed\nChristian child of five or six years old, who, nevertheless, is regarded\nin Catholic theology as incapable of mortal sin.[120] Among the whole\nmultitude of those who are destitute of the ordinary means of salvation,\neach and every individual either has the use of reason sufficiently for\nfull moral responsibility, or he has not. If he has not, he is, in the\nmoral relation, an infant, at most capable of venial sin; but if he has,\neither he has divine faith sufficient for obtaining salvation, or the\nsufficient grace and means for attaining the faith, or neither of these\nrequisites for working out his salvation by his own voluntary efforts.\nIn this last case his lack of faith is no sin, and he is only\naccountable for the observance of the natural law according to his own\nconscience. If he keeps this natural law, he is subject to no eternal\npenalty besides the privation of supernatural beatitude. All men,\ntherefore, who really incur the responsibilities and the risks of a\nmoral probation, have an opportunity of meriting heaven, or at least of\nattaining that natural felicity hereafter which is the lot of infants\nwho die without baptism.\n\nFrom all these premises we deduce one general conclusion, that the\nnotion of a doom to everlasting infelicity and misery, which is a dire\nand inevitable calamity involving the great mass of mankind, by reason\nof the state in which they are born into this life, is a chimera of the\nimagination, and not any part of the Catholic faith or a just inference\nfrom any revealed doctrine. The sufferings of those who have not\ndeserved punishment by their own voluntary transgressions of the divine\nlaw are temporary, disciplinary, intended for a final good, and in the\nend abundantly compensated. Many of the sufferings which have the nature\nof punishment are condoned altogether, and many others are temporary and\nin their last result beneficial to those who are subjected to their\ninfliction. No rational and immortal being is permanently deprived of\nthe proper perfection and good of his nature by fate or destiny, or by\nthe arbitrary will of the Creator and sovereign Lord of the universe.\nThe order of reason and justice of itself produces only universal good,\nand this universal good embraces the private and personal good of each\nindividual being, except in so far as he has freely and wilfully made\nhimself unfit and unworthy to participate in it. Eternal retribution is\nawarded solely to personal merit or demerit in proportion to its\nquantity. Outside of the order of just retribution, there is no action\nof God upon his creatures except that of pure goodness and love,\nbestowing gratuitously, unmitigated good without any mixture of evil.\nThe desire for permanent beatitude in endless life, and the natural\nprinciple of beatitude implanted in every rational nature, are not\nfrustrated and thwarted through any deficiency in nature, or failure of\ndivine Providence to carry out his original design and intention to its\ncomplete and ultimate term. The only failure is in the free and\nconcreative cause to which God has given dominion over itself and its\nacts and the effects of those acts, with power to produce in prescribed\nlimits as much or as little good as it chooses. This free cause is\nfree-will, which is the only cause, in every rational creature finally\ndeprived of his original right to beatitude, of the state of irreparable\nprivation in which he is placed by the \u201crestitution of all things.\u201d The\nrestitution brings all nature into order and to perfection, in so far as\neach thing in nature is receptive of its proportionate good. Rational\nnature is receptive according to its rational appetite or the attitude\nof the will. Those rational beings who have determined themselves to a\nstate of volition contrary to the order of reason and justice are, in so\nfar as they are affected by this state, receptive only of a violent\nreaction of order against their will, repressing and confining their\ninclination to a perverse activity. The privation of beatitude is\nco-extensive with the contrariety between the will and the permanent,\nirreversible order of reason; and this contrariety is proportional to\nthe misuse of freewill by sinning during the term of probation. Their\nevil is nothing but spoiled good, and they are themselves the spoilers.\nIt is through no defect of goodness in God, or deficiency of good in the\norder of nature, that they are what they are. Every thing and every\nperson in this order is in the right place and the due relation,\naccording to the highest reason and the most perfect justice. God has\nmade all things well, they are what they ought to be, and there is no\nflaw or defect in the _bonum honestum_ of the universe. God must take\ncomplacency in the fulfilment of his own wise and just will, and every\nrational being must concur with intellect and will in that which God\nwills. This is precisely what St. Thomas affirms when he says that the\nbeatitude of the just will be increased by their knowledge of the\neternal punishment of sinners, and there is no sense or reason in the\ndiatribes of rationalists against him or any other theologian who does\nnot overpass the limits of Catholic and rational doctrine on this head.\n\nAnother conclusion which may be reasonably deduced from sound\ntheological principles and probable opinions is, that the majority of\nmankind, and of rational beings in general, are in a state of perpetual\nfelicity in the world to come. There is no reason whatever for supposing\nthat more than a third part of the angels fell with Lucifer. It is\nprobable that the greater number of adults who live and die in the faith\nand communion of the church are finally admitted into heaven. We cannot\ndeny that numbers of those who have lived under the natural law, without\nany explicit faith in Jesus Christ, have been also saved by\nextraordinary grace. Nor is it possible for us to determine what\nproportion of the great mass remaining may eventually attain some degree\nof inferior natural felicity similar to that which is the lot of infants\ndying in original sin. The number of infants who have received baptism\nand have died before the use of reason at least equals the number of the\nbaptized who have attained adult age, and to these must be added all\nthose who died in infancy before the sacrament of baptism was\ninstituted, and had received remission of original sin under the ancient\ncovenant of grace. The entire multitude of infants who have died since\nthe beginning of the world at least equals the number of adults, and it\nis therefore certain that the majority of all human beings will possess\nin the future life either supernatural or natural beatitude. There is no\nreason, therefore, for the supposition that the Christian and Catholic\ndoctrine represents the vast majority of human beings as destined to a\nstate of everlasting misery. If any one is disposed to entertain the\nhypothesis that the universe is filled with a multitude of rational\nbeings who are neither angels nor men, whose number bears a quantitative\nproportion to the physical magnitude of the vast cosmical system of the\nstarry heavens, there is as much reason for supposing that they are all\neternally good and happy as for supposing that they have existence. In\nrespect to mere extensive and numerical quantity, the amount of good\nresulting from the creative act of God far surpasses the sum of that\npossible additional good which has been frustrated by the failure of\nfree, concreative causes to co-operate with the first cause toward the\ngreat, final end of creation. In reality, the absolute, eternal decrees\nof God are not in any way frustrated by the failure of a certain number\nof creatures to attain the good for which they were destined. They leave\nno gap in the universal order which the foresight of God has not filled\nup. Their loss is exclusively their own, and their sins have only\nfurnished an occasion for bringing out of the evil which they have\nattempted a far greater good than they could have effected by a faithful\nco-operation with the will of God, greater glory to the Creator and to\nthe universe, more splendid merits in the just, a more magnificent\nexhibition of wisdom and love in the cross, through which the divine\nRedeemer of men triumphed over sin and death. \u201cHe humbled himself,\nbecoming obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God\nhath also exalted him, and hath given him a name which is above every\nname: that in the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those that are\nin heaven, on earth, and in hell; and that every tongue should confess\nthat the Lord Jesus Christ is in the glory of God the Father.\u201d[121] The\nperfection of the whole creation, in subordination to the sphere of\nsupernatural glory inhabited by the sons of God, is also clearly\ndeclared by St. Paul to be a consequence of the exaltation of Jesus\nChrist through the cross. \u201cFor the expectation of the creature waiteth\nfor the revelation of the sons of God. For the creature was made subject\nto vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him that made it subject, in\nhope: because the creature also itself shall be delivered from the\nservitude of corruption into the liberty of the glory of the children of\nGod. For we know that every creature groaneth, and is in labor even\nuntil now. And not only it, but ourselves also, who have the first\nfruits of the spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting\nfor the adoption of the sons of God, the redemption of our body.\u201d[122]\n\nSatan himself, with all those whom he has seduced into sin in the mad\nhope of thwarting the divine work of the Incarnation, has only\ncontributed by his efforts to destroy the universal order, under the\novermastering intelligence of God, to increase its splendor. In the end\nhe will be found to have wound himself up by going around in his\ncircuit. A few years ago there was a bear in the Central Park, who was\npermitted to live on a grass-plat, fastened by a long chain to a stake\nin the middle. By going continually round and round his post, he used to\nwind himself up so tightly that he could not stir. Satan is like this\nbear. His great achievement, and masterstroke of policy, was the\ncrucifixion of the Son of God, by which he was exalted and obtained a\nname above every name, before which every knee _in hell_ shall bow and\nevery tongue confess that the Lord Jesus Christ is in the glory of God\nthe Father. This is the one great example of the universal action of\ndivine Providence in bringing out of all evil a greater good than that\nwhich the evil destroys or prevents.\n\nSt. Paul anticipates an objection, which is likely to occur to some\nminds, in respect to the justice of God in the unequal distribution of\ngrace, and the withholding of mercy from those whom he permits to work\nout their own final perdition. \u201cThou wilt therefore say to me: Why doth\nhe then find fault? For who resisteth his will?\u201d The answer is a rebuke\nof the presumption of those who pretend to dispute the sovereign right\nand dominion of God over his creatures, and thus in reality make the\ndivine Majesty subservient and responsible to his own subjects. \u201cO man,\n_who art thou that repliest against God_? Shall the thing formed say to\nhim that formed it: Why hast thou made me thus? Or hath not the potter\npower over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honor and\nanother to dishonor?\u201d[123] The whole mass of mankind being destitute of\nany right to supernatural grace and beatitude, there can be no complaint\nagainst the sovereign will of God for conferring the grace of\nregeneration upon some and withholding it from others. None of those who\nhave made themselves positively unworthy of everlasting glory by their\nsins are entitled to mercy. That God withheld all hope of pardon from\nthe fallen angels and gave that hope to men, that to some sinful men he\ngives more grace than to others, and that he compels those who rebel\nagainst him to glorify him against their will in their own defeat and\nthe overthrow of all their plans, is no ground of complaint against the\ndivine justice. \u201cJacob I have loved, but Esau I have hated\u201d; that is,\nloved less, and excluded from certain special, gratuitous blessings\nbestowed on Jacob. \u201cWhat shall we say then? Is there injustice with God?\n_God forbid!_\u201d No creature is made to suffer without sufficient reason\nor deprived of any natural or acquired right. But in respect to\ngratuitous gifts, and especially graces conferred upon the unworthy, God\nis absolute master. \u201cFor he saith to Moses: I will have mercy on whom I\nwill have mercy.\u201d It enters into the very notion of grace and mercy that\nthey should be purely gratuitous. The whole order of grace in respect\nboth to angels and men is purely gratuitous. It is therefore absurd to\nargue from the justice and goodness of God, and from the superabundant\nmercy which he shows toward sinners in this world, especially when they\nare within his special circle of grace, the Catholic Church, that he\nwill give grace or show mercy after the day of judgment, in derogation\nof the order of justice. It was a purely gratuitous act of goodness in\nGod to elevate human nature by the hypostatic union, and to give angels\nand men a share in the privileges of the sacred humanity. The rewards\nconferred on merit in this order are indeed rewards of justice, but the\nwhole basis of the justice by which glory is proportioned to merit is\nlaid in a gratuitous grant of the very conditions of merit, the grace\nwhich made it possible, and the promise of reward on which the title to\nthe kingdom of heaven rests. Absolute, indefeasible, personal right to\nthe glory of heaven does not exist except in Jesus Christ the Lord, who\nis a divine person, and whose merits are infinite and equal to all the\nbenefits conferred by the Father upon creation. The rights of all those\nwho share with him, the Blessed Virgin Mary included, have been\nconferred by him upon them. The beatific vision is a pure boon of\ngoodness to every creature who attains its possession. All might have\nbeen left in their natural state without any possibility of attaining\nit, without any derogation of the order of eternal law in respect to\nintellectual nature. There is no reason, therefore, why the number of\nthe elect, once completed, should ever be increased, or the gates of\nheaven reopened to admit new citizens and princes of the celestial\nJerusalem. Those who have never forfeited a right to admission through\ntheir own fault have no reason to bewail their exclusion.\n\nThose who have lost their right cannot possibly hope to recover it,\nbecause they are left in their despoiled nature, utterly impotent to\nturn back toward the supernatural good, deprived of all grace and beyond\nthe reach of the economy of mercy, which has passed away for ever. In\nrespect to supernatural life they are dead, and as incapable of\nresuscitation by any effort of their own as a corpse is incapable of\nrepossessing itself of the soul which has departed from it. The\n\u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 is not a resurrection to spiritual life in grace, for this\nbelongs to the preceding, initial order of regeneration which has\nterminated with the end of the present world. The bodily resurrection\nand restitution of nature gives only to human beings the complement of\nthe life which they already possess, whether supernatural or merely\nnatural, and to the physical universe its complement of perfection in\nthe eternal order. The angels remain intrinsically unchanged in their\nspiritual, incorruptible nature, as God made them in the beginning. The\nholy angels continue in the possession of the supernatural mode of being\nwhich they acquired by their free and active co-operation with grace,\nbefore the probation of man commenced, without any increase of essential\nglory and beatitude. The fallen angels remain in the state into which\nthey voluntarily precipitated themselves at the same time. The change\nwhich takes place at the end of human probation is, for the angels, only\nextrinsic. The holy angels cease to combat with the demons, and to\nminister in the economy of redemption. The demons are compelled to\ndesist from their war against Immanuel and his kingdom, and are\nrelegated to their destined abode. All human beings are placed in the\nstate and condition in which they are to remain for ever, those who have\nfollowed the demons in their rebellion in a state similar to theirs, as\nthose who have obeyed God are in a state similar to that of the holy\nangels. It is this part of the Christian doctrine which Origen wholly\nmisunderstood. He may be excused from wilful and contumacious heresy, on\naccount of the paucity of means at his command for learning the complete\ndoctrine of the apostles, and the modest, hypothetical manner in which\nhe proposed his erratic theories. We may also give him the benefit of\nthe doubt respecting the entire purport of what he really and\npersistently did teach out of all that mass of wholly uncatholic and in\na great measure absurd opinions, so justly condemned by the patriarchal\nsynod at Constantinople in its fifteen anathematisms, and in a general\nway by several subsequent \u0153cumenical councils. It is impossible to\ndoubt, however, that one fundamentally erroneous conception was fixed in\nhis mind, and gave occasion to the fanciful hypotheses of aeons and\nages, and transitions of spirits up and down through the scale of being.\nThis conception was an exaggeration of the freedom of will inherent in\nrational nature. Because no creature is either holy or wicked by his\nessence, but every one is capable of good or evil, he argued the\nperpetual flexibility and vertibility of free-will between good and\nevil. Permanence in good must therefore be attributed only to a habit of\nright determination, and permanence in sin to an opposite habit or\nobstinacy of purpose to do wrong. Perhaps his various and apparently\nconflicting statements can be reconciled, if we suppose that he admitted\nthe actual perseverance of some in holiness through a kind of moral\nimpeccability acquired by long and persistent efforts, with a consequent\neternity of unchangeable beatitude; and an opposite state of\nirreclaimable perverseness in others with everlasting misery as its\nnecessary penalty. Those who are in the middle between these two\nextremes are then variable, vacillating between the opposite poles of\nmoral good and evil, happiness and infelicity, at least during\nindefinite periods of duration. Our modern rationalistic Christians to a\ncertain extent are involved in the same imperfect philosophical notions\nwhich Origen, in the lack, of a Christian philosophy, borrowed from\nNeo-Platonism. They do not understand the nature of grace, which gives\nimmutable holiness and impeccability as a perfection to a created\nessence which in itself is capable of defect. Hence, they cannot get a\nclear idea of a permanent state of indefectibility in good except as a\nmoral habit resulting from a series of acts. Nor can they understand the\nopposite state of deficiency and privation as something permanent in\nitself, apart from the habit of sinning which has been contracted by\nacts of sin and may be removed by contrary acts under the influence of\nmoral discipline. They choose to consider the state of those who become\nperfectly good, here or hereafter, and attain the felicity of heaven, as\nsomething fixed, because it is agreeable to the feelings to think so.\nThey also strive to make the prospects of those who are not very good,\nand even of those who are very bad, as hopeful as possible, in view of a\ncertain, or probable, or at least possible, future conversion at a more\nor less remote \u00e6onian period, because it is likewise agreeable to the\nfeelings to anticipate this happy change. Moreover, they are very\nwilling to accept the teaching of the Bible and the Christian tradition\nconcerning the eternity of heaven, without seeking too anxiously for\nmetaphysical or moral demonstration of its intrinsic credibility,\nbecause it satisfies the natural desire of the heart for perfect good.\nWe do not deny that there is some truth in their reasonings concerning\nacquired habits of virtue and vice, but they are defective as an\nargument for the determination of the future destiny of souls. The\ncertainty of a fixed and immutable state of sanctity and beatitude for\nthe just in heaven does not depend either on these reasonings, or on an\nexegetical and critical interpretation of certain words in Holy\nScripture. It has a deeper foundation. The human soul of Jesus Christ is\nimpeccable because of its indissoluble union with the divine nature in\nhis person. The angels and saints are impeccable because they also are\nunited to God by an indissoluble union. The Holy Spirit is in them as\nthe principle of their spiritual life. They love God above all things by\na happy necessity, and their intuitive vision of his essence, the\ninfinite good, with the perfect quietude of the will in the enjoyment of\nthis good, raises them above all possibility of attraction toward any\nobject which could allure them from their willing worship and allegiance\nto their sovereign Lord. Moreover, they actually possess the inferior\ngood in the most perfect manner, with an unbounded liberty to follow all\ntheir inclinations, which are all innocent, in conformity to reason, and\nidentical with the will of God. The indestructibility and immortality\nwhich belong to their essence as spirits, by nature, pervades their\nentire actual being with all its accidents, so that they are incapable\nof suffering any deterioration or injury.\n\nIn the natural order of beatitude, the perfect intellectual cognition of\nGod accompanied by perfect natural love to him as the most perfect\nbeing, together with the complete possession of all connatural good,\nremoves all tendency to evil. Nature seeks good by a necessary law,\nrational nature by its spontaneous, voluntary movement. No rational\nbeing seeks evil gratuitously or for the sake of evil, but only under\nthe aspect of good, not _sub ratione mali_ but _sub ratione boni_. Where\nno illusion is possible, no sin is possible. Liberty of choice between\nthe contraries of good and evil is not intrinsic to liberty of will, or\na perfection of liberty, but a defect. It belongs to a defective order\nand to a defective subject, an order of probation and a subject placed\nunder a trial of his obedience. The order and the subject are arranged\nto suit each other. The subject is required to move toward his end by\nusing his reason and will rightly, and concurring with the Creator in\nbringing the inchoate order of creation to its due perfection. The order\nis such that it is not yet perfect, but capable of being made so by the\noperation of free, intelligent beings upon it. When the time of the end\nis reached, in the \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2, this moral order is superseded; there\nis nothing which can be injured or abused or misdirected. Intelligent\ncreatures which are made perfect have no more scope for election between\ncontraries; their spontaneous and voluntary action is necessarily toward\nthe true, universal good, and their liberty of choice has no possible\nterms which are not within the circle of order. They cannot think or\nwill otherwise than right, because they are perfect and all things which\ncome in contact with them are perfect. In this way they are brought into\na similitude with God. He is what he is by necessity of nature, though\nhe is most pure and simple act, wholly free from any extrinsic\nlimitation or intrinsic contradiction to his will. He does what he will\nbeyond his own being, but only that which is good. It is a perfection of\nhis will that he cannot sin, as it is of his intellect that he cannot\nerr or be ignorant. Falsehood and evil are nothing, and cannot terminate\na divine act. _Bonum ex integr\u00e2 caus\u00e2, malum a quovis defectu_\u2014Good is\nfrom complete cause, evil from any defect. God is absolute, infinite,\nfirst cause, and no defect in his causality is possible. Second causes,\nwhen they possess and exert their integral causality, are deficient in\nnothing which belongs to them. All those beings which are constituted in\ntheir ultimate perfection are in this integral state, and therefore are\nabove all liability to evil throughout eternity.\n\nThis flexibility and vertibility in respect to good and evil, imagined\nby Origen as perpetually inherent in rational creatures, is a mere\nfigment of his imperfect philosophy. He had scarcely any books to read\nwhich could help him to satisfy his unbounded curiosity to penetrate\ninto the rational sense of the doctrines of revelation. Besides the\nScriptures themselves, there was only pagan philosophy for him to study.\nOur modern philosophers have cast away the Catholic theology and\nphilosophy, and strive to reconstruct the higher science for themselves,\nthough with very poor success. The old Protestant theology was a\ndoctrine of cruel, inexorable fate, which suppressed all freedom and\njustice in the moral order. The new theology which has subverted it\nrestores the freedom of the will, and protests against the gloomy\nexaggerations and perversions of Christian dogmas which make them\nincredible and insupportable. But, in the effort to substitute more\nrational ideas, it overthrows or weakens the stability of the whole\norder of creation in its relation of dependence on the sovereign power\nand will of God. The wisest and most sober of those who are seeking for\nsome stable and certain doctrine regarding the destiny of man and the\nfinal cause of creation, confess that they are in doubt and cannot solve\nthe most momentous of the problems which force themselves on their\nattention. They never will find the light of truth until they return to\nthe true church of Jesus Christ, and by her lamp recover the lost clew\nwhich guides the steps of the wayfarer through the labyrinth. The one\ndark mystery which like a cloud overshadows the bright disc of light\n\u201cwhich enlighteneth every man coming into this world,\u201d the mystery of\nmoral evil and its punishment, cannot be ignored or reasoned away.\nCatholic theology does not create this mystery but finds it existing. It\ncannot remove it, but it, so to speak, absorbs it in another, the\nmystery of moral probation. And this mystery, awful as are the\nresponsibilities and risks which it presents to view as environing those\nbeings who are called to run and to contend for the supernal prize upon\nthe arena, has in it more of light than of darkness. It throws new\nsplendor upon the \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 in which the order of reason and justice\nfinally and universally triumphs. Its dark spot is reduced by the\nexposition of the Catholic doctrine as authoritatively taught by the\nchurch, in connection with certain or probable and permissible reasoning\nfrom revealed or rational premises, to its smallest limits. The gloom of\ndoom and fate in the destiny of rational beings is scattered like an\nunwholesome mist from the swamps of error, in the light of this\ndoctrine. The universality and perpetuity of the struggle and danger of\nprobation are reduced to the limits of a relatively small number and\nbrief period of duration. The numerical proportion of the losers to the\nwinners in the strife is reduced to the lowest terms which are\nconsistent with a fair and judicious estimate of the probabilities of\nthe question. Moreover, the multitude of beings, whether greater or\nlesser, who suffer eternal loss as the penalty of their irreparable\nfailure, are not losers through mischance or inferiority to competitors,\nas in a strife where one person wins at the expense of a less capable or\nless fortunate rival. Neglect or contempt of their own supreme good,\ndeliberate and wilful wasting of their day of grace, are the sole causes\nof their failure. Their loss of beatitude is the penalty of their\ndemerit. It is equally proportioned to their ill-desert, and this is\nlimited to the sins committed during the time of probation which have\nnever been remitted. The demerit of the angel which determines his\neternal destiny is the demerit of one act only, the sin by which he fell\nfrom grace. The demerit of the man is confined to the sins of his mortal\nlife unforgiven at the moment when this life ceases. The notion of an\neternal increase of demerit, and a corresponding augmentation of torment\nwithout end, is a mere human invention without any foundation in\nCatholic doctrine. God has set bounds to the dangerous liberty of choice\nbetween good and evil, and to the evil as well as the good resulting\nfrom its exercise. Hell can become no worse than it is when the last\nsentence of the Judge has been pronounced, and the active hostility of\nthe powers of hell against the kingdom of God is suppressed for ever\nwhen they are made to bend the knee before the name of Jesus, and to\nconfess his glory. \u201cQui crucem sanctam subiit, _infernum confregit_.\u201d\nThe unending warfare between good and evil, the perpetual strife, the\ninfinite series of changes, the eternal fluctuations and revolutions of\nNeo-Platonic philosophy, are a wild dream. The inventions and\nexaggerations and distortions produced by the working of the human\nintellect and imagination upon a mystery of God, have no value and are\nnot to be confounded with the revealed truth made known through the\nteaching of the church. Clear and adequate knowledge of the future life\nis reserved for the future life. In the obscurity of this present state\nwe not only have the veracity of God as the motive and ground of faith,\nbut also the perfect, unerring intelligence of the human soul of Jesus\nChrist as the medium of transmitting to us the revelation of those\nthings which are not seen but believed, and its pure love for humanity\nas the warrant of confidence in the divine goodness. Human reason and\njustice, impersonated in their ideal and integral perfection in union\nwith the divine wisdom in Immanuel, will be the standard and measure of\nthe final judgment by which the destiny of all men and all creatures\nwill be determined for eternity. We need not have any misgivings, lest\nthe ways of God should not be vindicated before the whole rational\nuniverse.\n\nFootnote 119:\n\n These are not the exact words, but they express the exact sense of St.\n Thomas in the following passage: Beatitudo est bonum perfectum quod\n totaliter quietat appetitum.... Objectum autem voluntatis, qu\u00e6 est\n appetitus humanus, est universale bonum. _Summa Th._, 4, ii. q. 2. a.\n 5.\n\nFootnote 120:\n\n _M\u00e9langes_, French translation, vol. i. Essay on the Maxim, No\n Salvation out of the Catholic Church.\n\nFootnote 121:\n\n Philipp, ii. 8-11.\n\nFootnote 122:\n\n Rom. viii. 19-23.\n\nFootnote 123:\n\n Rom. ix. 19-21.\n\n\n\n\n ENGLISH STATESMEN IN UNDRESS.\n EARL DERBY, JOHN BRIGHT, AND MR. GLADSTONE.\n\n\nThe recent resignation of Earl Derby was an act entirely characteristic\nof the man. He is not at all like Mr. Gradgrind, but he reminds one very\nforcibly of that unamiable stickler for, and worshipper of, facts. Let\none come to Earl Derby with a new fact, or, better still, with a new\napplication of old facts, and he is sure of a patient, candid, and\nintelligent hearing; but if he approaches him with a theory, or a\nsentiment, or a hypothetical conclusion based upon \u201cifs,\u201d Earl Derby\nwill be as unresponsive and immovable as a statue. His ruling passion is\nto be, or at least to appear, positively practical; the phrase most\noften on his lips is \u201ccommon sense.\u201d His illustrious father was a writer\nof established fame; a gay man of the world; fond of society and proud\nof his popularity with \u201cthe sex\u201d; a captivating orator and an extremely\nskilful Parliamentary debater; moreover, he did not disdain to stoop to\ntricky devices when sober argument and sound reason would not ensure\nsuccess. The present Earl Derby is prosaic to an almost painful degree;\nhe cares little for society, and has not even \u201ca redeeming vice\u201d; his\npolitical and personal honesty is unimpeachable; he is as incapable of\nwilfully deceiving or misleading a foreign diplomatist as he would be of\ncheating his butcher; his speeches, in and out of Parliament, are models\nof wise dulness and calm force; they may in vain be searched through and\nthrough for a flight of fancy or an extravagant expression; and as for a\njoke\u2014his lordship, as seen and heard in public, is apparently incapable\nof either making or understanding one. Sometimes those listening to him\nare tempted to laugh at him; but he never invites them to laugh with\nhim. To hear him discourse for forty minutes at a time upon the\ncomparative advantages of closed and open sewers, or demonstrating, with\nmathematical exactness, the superiority of natural manure over\nartificial compounds, is instructive, but it is not exhilarating. Lord\nDerby, however, is not without ideas. It was he who furnished Mr.\nDisraeli with a popular cry in 1874, when, hard pressed for a policy,\nand finding that appeals concerning the Straits of Malacca failed to\nfire the popular heart, that versatile and humorous statesman startled\nthe country by declaring that the most pressing, inspiriting, and noble\nduty of the government at that moment was to improve the drainage of the\nkingdom. This was Earl Derby\u2019s happy thought, and Mr. Disraeli was\nenraptured when, on asking his lordship to put it in shape, the latter\nproposed the formula, \u201cSanitas sanitatum; omnia sanitas.\u201d There is a\nbelief entertained by some of Earl Derby\u2019s more intimate friends that at\nheart he is a sentimental, romantic, susceptible person, and that he is\nso morbidly timid of being suspected of such amiable weaknesses that he\nhas fabricated for himself an artificial disguise for public wear, in\nwhich he may appear as the hard, dry, prosy, unsentimental,\nmatter-of-fact business man. It does not stand to reason, it is claimed,\nthat any man, and above all an English nobleman with practically\nboundless wealth, in the enjoyment of vigorous health, and in the prime\nof his life (he is now only fifty-two years old), could possibly be so\npreternaturally dry and skilfully prosaic as is Lord Derby. \u201cIt must be\nput on,\u201d they say, \u201cto hide the natural romance and tenderness of his\ndisposition\u201d; and as one of the proofs of the correctness of this theory\nthey relate the story of his first and only love; of its frustration by\naccidents not wholly beyond his control; of his long and patient, but\nnot hopeless, waiting for the death of the rival who had carried off the\nprize; and of his calm confidence, fully justified by the result, that\nhe in his turn would win the lady. The story is true; but it may bear a\ndifferent moral than the one assigned to it by those who fancy that Earl\nDerby, reversing the plan adopted by Hamlet, has chosen to put a solemn\ndisposition on to hide the antic joyousness of his real nature. A\nsufficient acquaintance with Earl Derby will establish the fact that, if\nhe wears a disguise, it fits him so well that no one can detect the\nimposition. He always seems to be exactly the same; never hot, never\ncold, never excited, never listless, attentive to everything that is\nsaid to him, replying without hesitation but without haste, most often\nin words that might have been cut and dried six months before.\n\nHis resignation, as previously remarked, was entirely characteristic of\nthe man. He will not be led along a tortuous path; and the policy of\nLord Beaconsfield on the Eastern question has been very crooked. Its\nvery success depended on its crookedness. The two earls are great\nfriends; in fact, Lord Beaconsfield would be guilty of ingratitude if he\nshould ever cease to regard Lord Derby with affection. Nor is it to be\nsupposed that Lord Beaconsfield is a whit more patriotic than Derby, or\nthat he has a keener sense of what is necessary for the safety of the\nempire. The difference between them is the difference between the daring\nyet keen speculator and the staid and methodical merchant. Lord\nBeaconsfield is sometimes willing to try the hazard of the die.\nSomething may always turn up; there is the possibility of an alliance\nwith Austria; there is the chance that Italy may be willing to repeat\nthe part that Sardinia played in 1854; it is on the cards that the death\nof Bismarck or of the Emperor William may effect a radical change in\nGermany\u2019s foreign policy; it is possible that France may be magnanimous\nenough to forget how England left her naked to her enemy in 1870, and\nthat the allied French and English armies may again fight together in\nthe Crimea. Lord Beaconsfield is popularly supposed to argue thus; but\nLord Derby is subject to no such illusions. At least, he will take no\nchances. He has no sentimental horror of war, as John Bright has. He\nwould fight soon enough if he saw his way clearly to a successful issue\nof the conflict; but he does not see his way. For England to enter\nsingle-handed into an armed struggle with Russia would in his opinion be\nmadness; and he is convinced that she cannot count upon a single ally.\nIt is true that some of the German people are not much in love with\nRussia; but the German government, Lord Derby affirms\u2014and he ought to\nknow\u2014is altogether on the side of Russia, and an unkind neutrality is\nall that England can expect from that source. As for France, not a\nsingle French politician would advocate an English alliance for war; the\nCrimean War was never popular in France, and the 100,000 French lives\nlost in that struggle are still lamented. Sardinia joined England and\nFrance in the war of 1854 because she was in a position in which an\nadventurous policy was desirable; but now Sardinia is swallowed up in\nItaly, and Italy has all she can do to make both ends meet at home. The\ngreat hope lies in Austria; but Earl Derby knows that Francis Joseph,\nAlexander, and William are three sworn friends, and he sees, moreover,\nthat one of these would not be likely to break with another of the\ntriumvirate unless he were assured that the third would either aid him\nor remain neutral. Still more plain is it to Earl Derby\u2019s cool\nperception that the internal divisions of Austria are so grave that she\nwould be mad to engage in a war which, if unsuccessful, would split the\nempire in twain. The Magyars sympathize with Turkey, the Slavs with\nRussia, the Austro-Germans with neither; the army could not be trusted;\nand the finances of the empire are in such a condition that it was with\nthe greatest difficulty that the government the other day raised a loan\nof twenty-five millions of dollars. It is clear enough to Lord Derby\nthat England, without an ally, would be worsted; and it is equally clear\nthat she cannot safely count upon an ally. Of course all things are\npossible. She may secure an ally; but it is only a chance, and Lord\nDerby will take no chances.\n\nThere is another fact that weighs upon him: the consideration that the\nwar, if entered upon, has no definite, practical object. The cant is\nthat it is necessary in order to regain for England influence in Europe;\nbut this is a consideration that has no weight in Lord Derby\u2019s mind. He\nsneers at it in his dry, prosaic manner as something that is ridiculous.\nIn a certain sense he is a democrat. He recognizes fully the fact that\nEngland is practically a democracy, and on a memorable occasion he\nshocked the Lords by telling them that the people were their\n\u201cemployers.\u201d But he is keenly alive to the fact that a government which\nshapes its course in accordance with the ever-shifting breeze of popular\ncaprice cannot have an intelligible or consistent record; and the other\nday he took occasion to point out that the \u201cemployers\u201d of the\ngovernment, in regard to the Eastern question, had not been of the same\nmind for six months together. Two years ago it was as much as one\u2019s life\nwas worth to say a word in favor of the Turks or against the Russians;\nnow it is all the other way. Turkey might have been saved, and not a\nvoice was raised; now she is irretrievably lost, and every one is crying\nout that she must be saved. So Earl Derby refuses to help his\n\u201cemployers\u201d to embark in a war without an object well defined, without\nreasonable hope of success, and without an ally. He does it without the\npassion that Mr. Gladstone displays; without the rhetoric John Bright\nuses, without a flourish, or a poetical quotation, or a sarcasm\u2014simply\nas a dry, shrewd, cold-blooded, and clear-headed merchant would do when\nasked to imperil his fortune by wild investments on the Stock Exchange.\n\nOne of the writer\u2019s most memorable conversations with Lord Derby was on\na summer morning in 1872, when he was resting in the cool shade of the\nOpposition, and had plenty of time on his hands to devote to those\nsubjects of social science and political economy in which one might\nimagine he takes more real personal interest than in adjusting the\nbalance of power in Europe or in maintaining the prestige of England on\nthe continent. The Stanleys for four centuries, and I know not how long\nbefore, have been large landholders. The first Earl Derby was created by\nKing Henry VII. in 1485\u2014seven years before Christopher Columbus\ndiscovered America\u2014but the family had been a rich and powerful one long\nere that. The Lord Stanley whose designed failure to bring up his\ncontingent to the support of Richard III. at the battle of Bosworth\nField had so much to do with the defeat of that resolute monarch was the\nfather-in-law of his conqueror and successor, Henry VII.; and the young\nGeorge Stanley whose head was so opportunely saved by the suggestion of\nthe Duke of Norfolk, that there would be time enough to decapitate him\n\u201cafter the battle,\u201d was the fifteenth predecessor of the present earl. I\nwas accompanied in this visit by an English commoner, who was greatly\ninterested at that time in certain projects for the systematic\nimprovement of the dwellings of the working-classes\u2014projects which Earl\nDerby also regarded as worthy of his attention. The large estates of the\nfamily in England and Ireland have always, or at least for a very long\ntime, been well administered. Neither the former nor the present earl\nhas been accused of being a bad landlord; they were not given to\nrack-renting, and their tenants did not fear to ask them for favors. The\nformer earl was perhaps more quick to grant a request from a tenant than\nthe present one; but if the plea be a good one the applicant will not go\naway denied. But it must be a good one; of all men in England Lord Derby\nis perhaps the least easily deceived. There is nothing imposing in his\ntown-house. It is not a palace, like the magnificent mansion of the\nMarquis of Westminster; nor does it stand apart in dull and ugly\ngrandeur, as does Devonshire House; nor bewilder and delight the visitor\nby the splendor of its saloons and the beauty of its grounds, as does\nStafford House, the glories of which so dazzled the Shah of Persia that\nhe asked the Prince of Wales, who had just entertained him in shabby\nMarlborough House, why he permitted the Duke of Sutherland, a subject,\nto dwell in a state so superior to that which royalty itself maintained.\nEarl Derby\u2019s town residence is a plain building in Piccadilly, not far\nfrom the almost equally unostentatious house where the richest lady in\nEngland resides. There are houses on Park Avenue, New York, which are\nfiner than the London residences of either Lord Derby or the Baroness\nBurdett-Coutts; and there is little in his lordship\u2019s dwelling that is\neither rare or strange. The great historical and romantic heirlooms of\nthe family are elsewhere\u2014at Knowlsey Park, for instance. We held our\nconversation on the occasion referred to in a room looking out upon St.\nJames\u2019 Park and the Green Park. The windows were open; the sweet, fresh\nair of the morning came freely in. From the leather-cushioned chair in\nwhich I sat I could see a portion of the fa\u00e7ade of Buckingham Palace,\nthe west front of Westminster Abbey, and the towers of the Parliament\nHouse. The earl questioned me for some time concerning the actual\ncondition of affairs as they then were in America; and his questions\nwere sometimes hard to answer. One thing impressed me as rather\nremarkable: he made no mistakes in his questions; that is, he did not\nask how far Chicago was from Illinois, or whether New York and\nWashington were under the same municipal government\u2014interrogatories\nwhich another very studious and painstaking English nobleman once put to\nme. Had we yet made any satisfactory progress in solving the problem of\nthe true relations between capital and labor? We had certain facilities\nat our command for working out that solution; would we work it out, and\nif so, how? Was there any common interest and common feeling between\nAmerican workmen and American masters? The abolition of slavery was\ndoubtless a fine thing; but had it not been accompanied with, or\nfollowed by, a long series of financial, industrial, and political\nmistakes? It was with a feeling of relief that I found my examination\nended, and became a listener instead of a talker.\n\nOn the subject of improved dwellings for the working-classes he held\nvery firm convictions. Unquestionably these were needed, but he did not\nwish to be a party to any scheme which proposed to build little palaces\nfor working-men, and to rent them at one-tenth of their value, making up\nthe deficiency by contributions from the rich. That was all nonsense.\nNor was he very much enraptured with the Peabody buildings; they were\nwell enough in their way, but they were not available for those who most\nneeded them. The thing to be done was to make the workmen help\nthemselves. How? Well, possibly by co-operation. The earl thought that\nmuch might be accomplished by an aggregation of sixpences. As for\nco-operation in distribution, that had already demonstrated its own\nusefulness; would it not be well to attempt the experiment of\nco-operation, strictly confined to the workmen themselves, in buying\nlands, erecting houses, and selling them, on long time, to themselves?\nHe had in a drawer of his table an elaborate calculation of what might\nbe accomplished in this way; but after producing it he suggested so many\nobjections to its practicability that I soon regarded it with contempt.\nThe agitation concerning the demands of the agricultural laborers was at\nthis time just beginning to make itself felt; and the conversation\ndrifted into a rather desultory discussion of that subject. The earl\nmade two points very clear: in his opinion the extension of the suffrage\nto the agricultural laborers would greatly increase the strength of his\nown party, and if he cared only for that he would advocate it; but it\nwould not advance the interests of the peasants nor promote the general\nwelfare of the country. He made some very hard and dry statements on\nthis point. I was rather taken aback by them, but did not attempt to\ncontrovert them. Subsequent events in the United States have shown that\nthe earl had a prophetic ken. He disclaimed, with something like\nanimation, the idea of comparing the liberated and enfranchised slaves\nof our Southern States with the English peasants; but he said that the\nparty that had enfranchised the slaves would not retain their political\nallegiance, and would probably owe its ultimate overthrow to them. Men\nare not grateful beings, he said; it is a great mistake to count on\ntheir gratitude. Besides, the negroes will believe that they were\nenfranchised not so much for their own sakes as for the reason that they\nmight aid in keeping their liberators in power. Unless negro human\nnature was unlike Anglo-Saxon human nature, the enfranchised negroes\nwould say to themselves: \u201cWhat has been given to us belonged to us; the\nmen who gave it wished to buy us to serve them; but they have only given\nus what was rightfully our own, and they have nothing more to give us. A\nvote is nothing to us, save for the use we can make of it. We do not\ncare whether this man or that man is President; but we do care whether\nour rent is lowered or raised, or whether we are on good or bad terms\nwith our landlords.\u201d\n\nIt was in this way that Earl Derby demonstrated to me that the negro\nvote in the South, so long as the rights of property were held sacred\nand order was preserved, would always be at the disposal of the\nland-owners of that region; and he drew the same conclusion as to the\nresults of the enfranchisement of the English peasants. Affairs were bad\nenough as they were; despite all the new devices for securing the purity\nof elections, they were not pure, and he did not see how they were ever\nto be made pure. It was in 1849, if I remember correctly, that Earl\nDerby visited the United States and the West Indies. He was then a very\nyoung man. Mr. Fillmore was President. A very different political\natmosphere prevailed at Washington and elsewhere from the present one.\nThe young Lord Stanley observed affairs for himself and drew his own\nconclusions. At heart I think he was more pleased with the South than\nwith the North or West; and, without saying so in words, he left upon me\nthe impression that he did not entertain a very high opinion of our\nRepublican statesmen.\n\nIt is more pleasant to hear him talk in private than to listen to him in\npublic. But he is not a bad speaker, as English speakers go. He was\nbetter in the Commons when Lord Stanley than in the Lords as Earl Derby.\nBut whenever he speaks he impresses you as being an earnest and sincere\nman\u2014not earnest in the sense of enthusiastic, but sober, steady, and\nfully believing in the truth of what he is saying and of the necessity\nof his saying it. He is not what is called a popular man, but he is\nesteemed and respected by every one. His father died in the autumn of\n1869; the nine years that have since passed have been eventful ones for\nthe present earl, and his responsibilities have been heavy. But they\nhave not dismayed or disheartened him, and when I last met him he was\nlooking younger and rather less grave\u2014more happy, I thought\u2014than\nusually.\n\nIn certain respects Mr. John Bright resembles Earl Derby; in others he\nis the very contradiction of the earl. Physically the two men are not\nvery unlike. Either of them would do very well for a model of the\ntraditional John Bull; indeed, _Punch_ has often used both of them for\nthis purpose. Mr. Bright is fifteen years the senior of Earl Derby, and\ntwo years younger than Mr. Gladstone. Earl Derby has been in active\npolitical life for twenty-six years; Mr. Bright for thirty-five years;\nand Mr. Gladstone for forty-six years, for he was returned as the Tory\nmember for Newark in 1832, when Earl Derby was a child of six years; and\nhe had sat in Parliament eleven years before Mr. Bright entered the\nHouse in 1843 as member for Durham. It is a curious fact, to which I\nhave heard Mr. Bright refer with some mirthfulness, that he sat in the\nHouse for four years without opening his mouth. It was not until 1847\nthat he made his maiden speech in the House; it was a plea for extending\nthe principles of free trade, and it gave him a national reputation. As\nbetween Derby, Bright, and Gladstone, the latter must be admitted to be\nthe greatest man\u2014greatest in his acquired knowledge, greatest in his\nnatural genius, greatest even in his oratorical power. But there is at\ntimes a charm in the speeches of John Bright that the finest utterances\nof Mr. Gladstone never carry with them. Mr. Gladstone captivates the\nfancy, pleases the taste, convinces the judgment, for the time being at\nleast; Mr. Bright touches the heart and subdues it. I am not certain but\nthat his skill in this depends upon a trick. Mr. Bright in his life has\nbeen the doer of some heartless and cruel things; he has wrought more\nmischief than most men of his age; his idea of progress has been that of\nthe _bourgeoisie_, not that of the workman; his beau ideal of a country\nis a republic where there is no titled aristocracy, but where the\nworking-classes, having fair wages, are quite content with their station\nand have no inconvenient aspirations beyond it. The manufacturers and\nthe traders are Mr. Bright\u2019s \u201cpeople\u201d; he would like to see nothing\nabove them; he thinks those below them should be content with the\nstation wherein God has placed them. Mr. Bright has often fanned popular\ndiscontent, but it has been too often for the purpose simply of using\nthe power thus evoked to pull down something that stood above him. The\nmercantile spirit is strong in him. Anything that was for the good of\ntrade was good in his eyes; the trader was always his idol. But he had\n\u201ca way with him\u201d that enabled him to carry along the hearts of the\nworkmen. His personal appearance and deportment had something to do with\nthis: his round, florid, solid, \u201cEnglish\u201d face, his almost magical\nvoice, the ease and power of his delivery, his wonderful mastery of\nplain and forcible but really elegant English, the aptness with which he\ncould introduce a quotation from Holy Writ or from some familiar English\npoet or rhymster. I find myself unconsciously writing of Mr. Bright in\nthe past tense. It is only while revising these lines for publication\nthat the sudden death of his wife occurs. That bereavement will be very\nhard for him to sustain; it is probable that his public career has\nended. When the utter breaking down of his health compelled him to\nretire from Mr. Gladstone\u2019s cabinet in December, 1870, he was in a\ndeplorable condition. After many months of entire abstinence from mental\nexcitement of any kind his mind began to resume its strength. But from\nthat time there has always been danger of another collapse. An intimate\nfriend of his family told me that Mr. Bright was in the condition of one\nwhose arm had been broken and who had the bones reset. \u201cSo long as he\ndoes not use the arm, and allows it to rest in its sling, all will go\nwell; but if he strikes a blow with it, it will fall shattered at his\nside.\u201d It was during this period of convalescence and rest that I saw\nMr. Bright most frequently. The attachment between his wife and himself\nwas very evident. He petted her as if she had been a bride in her\nhoneymoon. On one occasion, when breakfasting with them, the\nconversation turned chiefly on the then recent declarations of President\nGrant in his Des Moines speech concerning secular education and the\nrights of the Catholic Church in the United States. This must have been\nsome time in December, 1875. I was grieved, although not surprised, to\nhear Mr. Bright express sentiments of very bitter hostility to the\nchurch, and a desire to see education wholly taken from her control. He\nconfessed that he did not know anything about the merits of the question\nas it stood in the United States, but he applauded the President for his\nboldness in bringing the subject forward. Mrs. Bright, seeing that the\ntopic was an agitating one to both of us, adroitly turned the\nconversation into another channel, and Mr. Bright was presently telling\nme stories of Mr. Cobden and of the early struggles for free trade. He\nsaid that one of the things he most prized was a copy of a resolution\npassed in 1862 by the New York Chamber of Commerce, expressing its sense\nof the devotion which he had manifested to the principles of\ninternational justice and peace.\n\nMr. Bright is a fascinating conversationalist, and it is a great\npleasure to listen to him. Like most men who have not been born to high\npositions, but who have attained them by the force of their own genius,\nthere is sometimes observable a little stiffness, or _mauvaise honte_,\nin his manner. There is some difficulty here in expressing one\u2019s self\nclearly without seeming to be offensive. Mr. Bright has often expressed\ngreat contempt for the English hereditary nobility; and he is, or was,\nin the habit of regarding them as a pack of fools. The aristocracy of\nEngland have not failed to afford abundant instances of what Mr. Bright\nwas fond of calling their \u201cunwisdom.\u201d More than this, the personal\nlittleness, meanness, duplicity, and cruelty of some of these hereditary\nnoblemen cannot be denied. But it would be impossible for one of them,\nif you were lunching with him, to tell you that the sherry you were\ndrinking cost ninety shillings a dozen, and therefore must be good.\n\nMr. Bright has very frequently expressed an ardent admiration for\nAmerican institutions, and he has often been accused of wishing to\nAmericanize the British Constitution. Had Mr. Bright been born to an\nearldom, he would have been the greatest stickler for the rights of his\nclass who has lived since the days of Louis XIV. A dozen English\nnoblemen could be named who are more ardent republicans than is John\nBright. He does not like to see men above him; but he is quite content\nto see any number below him, so long as they help him to lower those\nabove him to his own level. Men speak of him as a radical; but he is\nnothing of the kind. Mr. Gladstone is tenfold more of a radical. If John\nBright lived in the United States he would belong to the conservative\nparty, whatever its name might be. Between him and such men as Auberon\nHerbert, Charles Bradlaugh, and the other republicans in England there\nis a great gulf fixed; and this not at all by reason of the irreligious\nopinions of these men. He would like a republic well enough, if he were\nalways to be President, and if the rights of property were secure from\nall infringement. It is an utter misconception of Mr. Bright\u2019s character\nto rank him among enthusiastic, unselfish, and theoretical reformers and\nphilanthropists. His passions are strong, but his hate is far fiercer\nthan his love is powerful; and he cares infinitely more for the \u201cfreedom\nof trade\u201d than for the freedom of man. His opposition to the bill for\npreventing and punishing the adulteration of articles of food\nillustrates this curious trait in his character. He said, almost in so\nmany words, that it were better that the people were half poisoned and\nwholly cheated than that the government should interfere between buyer\nand seller, to protect the former and lessen the gains of the latter.\nThis is the true Manchester spirit\u2014the spirit that has led the\ncotton-makers of Lancashire to load their fabrics for the Eastern\nmarkets with so much glue and chalk that a fabric which appeared of the\nbest quality became a worthless rag as soon as it was wet\u2014a deception,\nby the way, that has now cost England the loss of a very large share of\nher Chinese and Indian trade.\n\nMr. Bright is also violently inconsistent at times. We conversed once\nfor a long time on the question of the extension of the suffrage to the\nagricultural laborers and to women. Some of his remarks reminded me of\nthat shrewd American politician who was in favor of the Maine Liquor\nLaw, but was opposed to its enforcement. Mr. Bright and his party had\nrecently suffered some mortifying disillusions. The new voters,\nenfranchised by the Reform Bill, which Mr. Disraeli had taken up and\npassed after the Liberals had dallied with the question for years, began\nto manifest evidences of insubordination\u2014not at all, however, in the\nright direction, from Mr. Bright\u2019s point of view. It must be understood\nthat a superstition had sprung up to the effect that all the new voters\nmust necessarily be on the side of the Liberals; just as it was supposed\nthat the enfranchised negroes in the United States must all vote the\nRepublican ticket for ever and a day. There was this difference between\nthe two cases: the Republicans had actually freed the negroes; the\nEnglish Liberals, led by Bright and Gladstone, had talked about\nenfranchising the lower classes in England, but, while talking about it\nand disputing where the line should be drawn, the Tories, led by\nDisraeli, stepped in and accomplished the work by establishing what is\nvirtually household suffrage. The former Earl Derby, led an unwilling\ncaptive by Disraeli, had reluctantly given his assent to this measure,\nwhich he called \u201ca leap in the dark\u201d; but at the time of which I speak\nit was becoming plain that this leap had landed the Conservative party\nupon very good ground. The new voters, instead of swelling the ranks of\nthe Liberals, were to a great extent found in the train of the Tories,\nand Mr. Bright was disgusted with them. I have good reason to know that\nhe disliked the idea of universal suffrage, and that he had quite as\nsincere a horror of the _residuum_ as that which Mr. Lowe expressed. The\n\u201cconservative working-man\u201d was beginning to show that he really existed\nand was not a myth. The voters of the kingdom had been vastly increased\nin numbers; but the new voters, when they came to the polls, were found\nto be quite as conservative, and in many cases more so than the old\nconstituencies. This was a source of keen mortification and\ndisappointment to Mr. Bright, and the first results of the Ballot Bill\ncaused him no less chagrin. He had indulged in two illusions: let us\nhave a general suffrage (not universal but general) and secret voting,\nand we shall carry every election district and be masters of the\nsituation for ever more. Household suffrage and the ballot were\nprovided, and from that day to this the Liberal party has grown weaker.\nMr. Bright took no care to conceal from me the annoyance that these\nresults gave him; and it was plain that his faith in the good sense and\nintegrity of the masses was weakened. The impression he left on my mind\nin this conversation was that he would have preferred a much more\nlimited suffrage; no one should vote, for instance, who did not pay a\nrental of perhaps six pounds a year. As for the future, there were two\nclasses yet to be enfranchised\u2014the agricultural laborers and the women.\nWith regard to the latter Mr. Bright referred me to his brother Jacob.\n\u201cHe is the great man for the women,\u201d said he. \u201cHe has that matter in\ncharge; he can tell you more about the merits of their demands than I\ncan. I am a little afraid of women as voters. Women are naturally easily\nled away by romance and glitter; and I suspect a showy ministry would\nalways be more apt to secure their support than a sober and dull\nadministration.\u201d With regard to the claims of the agricultural laborers\nfor the suffrage he was cold and guarded in his expressions.\nTheoretically they should have what they asked; but as a practical\nmeasure, and one of immediate action, it was plain that he preferred to\nallow affairs to rest as they were. He feared that the peasants with\nvotes in their hands would be seduced by the Tories, as the new voters\nin the boroughs had been. \u201cA little more education would be desirable\nbefore thus increasing the constituencies,\u201d said he. \u201cWhat kind of\neducation, Mr. Bright?\u201d \u201cWell, certainly not that of the parish school,\nwith the parson as the real teacher; and that, as affairs now are, is\nalmost all they can have.\u201d\n\nThe study of Mr. Bright\u2019s course upon the great question of the present\nday in England\u2014war with Russia or surrender to her\u2014is full of interest\nto those who wish to closely analyze his character. Eighteen months ago\nMr. Bright\u2014Quaker as he is, apostle of peace as he is, trader and\nmanufacturer as he is\u2014was altogether in favor of war; that is, of a\ncertain war\u2014the war of the Russians against the Turks. In the\nChristmas-tide of 1876 Mr. Bright could say nothing too harsh in\ncondemnation of those who were attempting to prevent Russia from\nentering into the war with Turkey. He spoke, he said, in the name of\nChristianity, but only to remind his hearers that the Russians were\nChristians and that the Turks were Mohammedans. Very curious language at\nthat time came from the lips of this great peace advocate. In substance\nit was an appeal to Englishmen to encourage Russia in her attempt to\ndrive the Turks from Europe, \u201cbag and baggage,\u201d as Mr. Gladstone has it.\nEnglish Christians were bade remember by this Quaker peace-apostle that\nseven hundred years ago their ancestors fought to regain possession of\nBethlehem and Calvary and the Mount of Olives; and that those sacred\nplaces now, as then, were in the possession of the infidels whom Russia,\nif not interfered with by England\u2014would soon drive forth. England should\nstand by. If she interfered she would prevent the war; she must not lift\na finger nor say a word save in approval of the Russians; and they must\nbe left to wage war as they wished or as they could. Eighteen months\nhave passed; the Russians have waged their war; it has been marked at\nevery step with revolting horrors; half a million of Mohammedans and\nhundreds of thousands of Christians have perished in it; and Mr. Bright\nought to feel satisfied. But now that England proposes to interfere and\nto fight a little on her own account, Mr. Bright boils over with rage,\nand calls all England to observe the unparalleled wickedness of the\ngovernment in proposing to employ its Indian troops to sustain the\nempire. It is infamous to employ them, especially against \u201cChristian\nRussia.\u201d War conducted by Russia is not at all shocking; war waged\nagainst her is the unpardonable national sin. Russia might shed oceans\nof Christian blood in her wars, and Mr. Bright be content; but when\nEngland proposes to use Mohammedan soldiers in efforts to save English\ninterests in the East from utter ruin, Mr. Bright raises his hands in\nhorror and declaims against the wickedness of war. Radical\ninconsistencies like these are natural to Mr. Bright. They are\nobservable in many of his acts; they crop out in his conversation. He\nhas spoken eloquently against persecution for opinion\u2019s sake; but, to\njudge him by his tone, he would burn Earl Beaconsfield at the stake\nto-morrow.\n\nIn all my conversations with Mr. Bright there were two things that\nimpressed me: his indifference to, and want of sympathy with, the\nquestion of university education in any of its aspects, and his\nperfectly ignorant hostility to the Catholic religion. This hostility\nwas not active, or it was rarely so; but it was implanted deep in his\nmind, and it colored to a great extent some of his most important\nactions. Without knowing anything at all about the church, and without,\nas I believe, having even so much as read a Catholic book, he had put it\ndown among his self-evident truths that the church was the foe of what\nhe most held dear, and he hated her accordingly. Mr. Bright\u2019s instincts\nare clear, and they did not deceive him here. The church is the foe of\nwhat he most holds dear; for in the ideal society which John Bright\nwould create, if he had his way, the temple would be a cotton-mill, the\npriests would be the manufacturers, and the people would have \u201cfree\ntrade\u201d for their god.[124]\n\nMr. Gladstone has within him the power of being as plodding and patient\nin his search for dry facts as Lord Derby is; he is as passionate in his\nhatreds and as inconsistent in his affections as is Mr. Bright; but he\nhas what neither Derby nor Bright possesses\u2014genius. He is a far more\nattractive man than either. It was my dear friend, the late John Francis\nMaguire, who first brought me into personal contact with Mr. Gladstone.\nWe were talking together in the lobby of the House of Commons one summer\nevening in 1870, the year after the passage of the Irish Church\nDisestablishment Bill, when Mr. Gladstone came by and stopped to speak\nto Maguire, to whom he was very much attached\u2014as who was not that knew\nhim? After a few moments Mr. Gladstone complained of the heat in the\nlobby. \u201cLet us go out on the terrace,\u201d said he. \u201cBut I must not leave my\nAmerican friend; come along, \u2014\u2014. Mr. Gladstone, permit me to present my\nfriend.\u201d We moved along the long corridor to the terrace that overhangs\nthe Thames; and here, while they continued their conversation, which was\nof no interest save to themselves, I had ample opportunity to regard at\nclose range the then ruler of England. He was sixty-one years old; he is\nnow sixty-nine. The disappointments, defeats, and ardent but\nunsuccessful conflicts he has fought during the last four years have\naged him; but he is still hale and vigorous, and, for all that one can\nsee, may count upon many years of active life, which indeed no man will\nbegrudge him. He is not by any means an Adonis, and never has been; but\nas we sat together that evening on the stone bench of the terrace he\nseemed to me a fascinating man. His voice in conversation is melodious\nand pleasant, with an occasional touch of a strange, melancholy minor\nkey. If he be interested in his subject and on good terms with the\nperson to whom he is speaking, he is a most charming conversationalist.\nHe was educated at Christ Church, Oxford; he entered Parliament as the\nmember for Newark in the Tory interest in 1832. He has had forty-six\nyears of almost uninterrupted public life. He was under-secretary for\nthe colonies in 1835 under Sir Robert Peel, and vice-president of the\nBoard of Trade in 1841; he revised the tariff in 1842, and was president\nof the Board of Trade in 1843; he was returned for Oxford in 1847, and\nbecame a Liberal in 1851 on the questions of university reform and\nJewish disabilities; he was Chancellor of the Exchequer in the Coalition\nMinistry of 1852, and was sent on a mission to the Ionian Islands by the\nthen Lord Derby in 1858; he was Chancellor of the Exchequer again under\nPalmerston in 1859, and repealed the paper duty, making possible the\nestablishment of the penny newspaper; he aided Cobden to accomplish his\ncommercial treaty with France, and amused himself by interfering\nofficiously with the domestic government of the kingdom of Naples; he\nwas defeated for Oxford in 1865, but immediately returned for\nLancashire, and after the death of Palmerston became leader of the House\nas Chancellor of the Exchequer under Russell. He brought in his Reform\nBill in 1866, was defeated on it, and went into opposition; he brought\nin and succeeded in effecting the passage of his Irish Church\nresolutions in 1868; he was defeated for Lancashire at the general\nelection of 1868, but returned for Greenwich, and took charge of the\ngovernment as Prime Minister in that year. He disestablished the Irish\nChurch in 1869; passed the Irish Land Bill in 1870; abolished purchase\nin the army in 1871 by the arbitrary exercise of the prerogative of the\ncrown, and negotiated the Treaty of Washington. In 1874, anxious to\nfinish his Irish work, he evolved from out of the depths of his own\ninner consciousness an Irish University Education Bill, and had the\nextreme mortification of seeing it not only rejected by the Catholics\nbut violently opposed by the English and Scotch Liberals. He appealed to\nthe country, not on that question but on a new project invented by\nhimself for the abolition of the income tax; his majority of sixty\nmembers was turned into a minority of as many, and his old foe,\nDisraeli, came marching into power with drums beating and colors flying.\n\nSince then Mr. Gladstone has conducted a species of independent\nopposition of his own; he has sought to punish the Catholics for their\nrefusal to accept his University Bill by writing several venomous\npamphlets to show that Catholics could not be loyal subjects; he has\nendeavored to upset the Disraeli administration on various occasions; he\nconducted the Bulgarian outrage excitement with great skill; and for the\nlast few months he has been almost incessantly engaged in the most\nstrenuous and violent efforts to prevent England from interfering in any\nway with Russia in the execution of her designs against Turkey. This was\nthe extraordinary man with whom I was sitting on that summer evening.\nAfter a while he turned to me to ask me about some of his American\nfriends, and thus I was drawn into the conversation. Mr. Maguire, for my\nbenefit, I think, diverted it into the channel of the then remaining\ncauses of Irish discontent; and the conversation became animated and ran\non until the unlucky ringing of a division bell compelled both the\npremier and the Irish member to run off and leave me alone\u2014not, however,\nbefore Mr. Gladstone had given me an invitation which I was not slow, in\nfuture days, to accept.\n\nThus it came about that many conversations were held between us, and the\nmemory of them is for the most part extremely pleasant. We spoke\ngenerally on the immediate questions of the day, occasionally diverging\ninto wider and more fragrant fields. He had at this time a very wide\ncircle of Roman Catholic friends; and he was so fond of their society\nthat Mr. Newdegate and Mr. Johnson, of Edinburgh (the secretary of the\nAnti-Papal League), got up the story that he was about to be received\ninto the church. This rumor grew into the fact that he had been actually\nreceived; but to this there was the variation that he had become a\ncommunicant of the Greek Church! There never was any foundation for\nthese stories; but it is probable that there was a period in Mr.\nGladstone\u2019s life when, had he not been Prime Minister of England, he\nwould have become a Catholic. This reminds me of a story that Cardinal\nManning once told me. He and Mr. Gladstone were very old and very dear\nfriends; and this friendship continued unbroken until Mr. Gladstone\u2019s\nassault upon the church in his \u201cVatican\u201d pamphlets. I do not think the\nfriendship thus sundered has ever been restored. But the story was this:\nOne day the premier was talking with the archbishop, and after a little\npause he said: \u201cWhat a pity you ever left us, Manning! Had you remained\nwith us you would have been Archbishop of Canterbury to-day, with\n\u00a315,000 a year!\u201d \u201cI clasped my hands,\u201d said his grace, \u201clooked up to\nheaven, and exclaimed with all my heart, \u2018Thank God for having saved my\npoor soul!\u2019\u201d\n\nMr. Gladstone\u2019s town residence in Carlton House Terrace was pleasant to\nvisit. He had enjoyed being a victim to the old-china and Wedgwood\nmania, and some of the rooms were crammed with his successes in the\ncollection of \u201cuniques\u201d in this line. He\u2014or some one in his\nconfidence\u2014had had good taste in pictures, and some excellent works of\nold and new masters hung upon his walls. It was wonderful to hear him\ntalk about blue china, but I think his strong point in this line is\nWedgwood. It was pleasanter, however, to draw him away from his china\nand lead him on to talk about men or books. He discussed both, on\noccasion, with a freedom and incisiveness that were somewhat startling.\nIt was amusing to see the care with which he sometimes avoided speaking\nabout Mr. Disraeli, and the latitude which he allowed himself on other\noccasions in denouncing and ridiculing him. He once complained bitterly\nthat Disraeli was not an Englishman and had no English blood in him; and\nwhen I ventured to suggest that the wretched malefactor could scarcely\nbe blamed for circumstances so wholly beyond his control, he looked very\nglum for some moments, and then turned the conversation aside, as if\ndisinclined to accept even that apology for his foe.\n\nIt is that curious trait in Mr. Gladstone\u2019s character which makes it so\ndifficult for him in his public speeches to make a statement without\nqualifying it, or amplifying it, or stating several hypothetical cases\nwith reference to it, that renders his conversation so charming.\nBeginning to tell you something about Pius IX., for instance, he will\nbranch off into a story about Father Newman, an anecdote of Mazzini, a\nreminiscence of Orsini, Palmerston, or Louis Napoleon, an adventure that\nhappened to himself in Naples, his feelings when he recognized an old\ncollege chum of his as a bare-footed friar in a monastery on the Alps,\nand so on. It is like the _Arabian Nights_, for one story grows out of\nthe other, and all the time he does not forget the original subject, the\nPope, but comes back to him, and winds up with the story about him, told\nwith all due emphasis and action. There was a time when for Pius IX. Mr.\nGladstone entertained what seemed to be a truly sincere admiration and\nrespect; occasionally the feeling appeared to be even that of affection.\nAs for the insensate hatred and dread of the church which fills the\nbreasts of Messrs. Newdegate and Whalley, Mr. Gladstone never shared it.\nThis, however, did not prevent him from making his outrageous attacks\nupon the church, in order to revenge himself upon the Irish and English\nbishops for refusing to support him in his University Bill. His passions\nare very strong. The difference between him and Mr. Disraeli is that the\nlatter seems never wholly in earnest, while the former always is. Some\nof the language in which he has allowed himself to indulge in his recent\nspeeches on the war question have been marked with a degree of\npassionate violence that would seem to indicate a mind overwrought.\nThere used to be a cruel saying in the London clubs that \u201cMr. Gladstone\nwould die either in a mad-house or a monastery.\u201d I believe the credit of\nthe _mal mot_ was given to Mr. Disraeli. There seems small hope left of\nthe monastery, and there was probably never any danger of the mad-house.\nBut Mr. Gladstone has now been out of power for four years; he reflects\nthat his own imprudence thrust him out; he can see no prospect of a\nreturn to power; and he feels that under the guidance of Earl\nBeaconsfield England is being led into grave dangers. He chafes and\nfrets, and the apparently unreasonable violence of his language is only\nthe candid expression of his sincere wrath and fear.\n\nOf these three statesmen, Earl Derby, Mr. Gladstone, and Mr. Bright, Mr.\nBright is the dandy. The earl is negligent in his dress, and thrifty\ntherein; but his valet, or some one else, manages to turn him out neatly\nevery morning. Mr. Gladstone is positively careless as regards his\nattire, and one imagines that nobody but himself has anything to do with\nit. It has been whispered about that Mr. Gladstone\u2019s tailor pays a large\nsum every year to have his identity concealed, for Mr. Gladstone\u2019s\nclothes fit him so badly, or seem to do so, that the tailor\u2019s business\nwould be ruined if his name were known. The shocking bad hat of Mr.\nGladstone, and his baggy \u201cSairey Gamp\u201d of an umbrella, so often pictured\nin _Punch_, are no exaggerations; the last time I saw him he was sailing\ndown Pall Mall under full steam for the Reform Club, with this identical\nhat and umbrella. There is a deep mystery connected with his legs, or\nwith his trowsers, for they bag to an incredible extent at the knees,\nand are always too long at the lower extremities. I have said that he\nwas not an Adonis, but when he is pleased and happy there is something\nwinning in the expression of his mouth, and his eyes are wonderfully\neloquent. Mr. Bright\u2019s rich but plain costume is always faultlessly neat\nand clean; his linen spotless; his shoes have an almost unearthly\nlustre; his hat shines in rivalry with them. When, on the occasion of\nhis taking office as chancellor of the Duchy of Lancashire, he went to\nWindsor \u201cto kiss hands,\u201d the queen, it is said, was enchanted with him,\nand the Princess Beatrice, who is much given to speaking out her mind,\nis reported to have exclaimed: \u201cEver since Louise married young Mr.\nArgyll, I have supposed that nothing was left for me but one of Marshal\nand Snelgrove\u2019s young men. But if any one of those tradesmen were as\nhandsome and good as this old tradesman, I\u2019d take him in a moment.\u201d\n\nMr. Bright\u2019s handwriting is small, elegant, and beautifully distinct.\nMr. Gladstone writes a rapid, bold, and running hand, at times rather\nillegible. He is somewhat too fond of his pen; of late he has written\ntoo much on unimportant subjects. Earl Derby has a happy dread of\ncommitting himself on paper, and writes but few letters. \u201cDo not write\nto me,\u201d he said one day; \u201ccome and talk with me; it will be better for\neach of us.\u201d Mr. Gladstone once made a very happy retort to a question\nput to him in the House of Commons concerning one of his letters. Mr.\nBouverie, with all due solemnity, and after having given a day\u2019s notice\nof his question, asked the premier if his attention had been called to a\nletter published in the _Times_, purporting to have been addressed by\nhim to the correspondent of a New York journal, and whether he had\nreally written the letter. \u201cIt is quite true,\u201d Mr. Gladstone replied.\n\u201cMr. \u2014\u2014 addressed me a very proper and courteous letter, upon certain\nmatters connected with the Treaty of Washington and the negotiations at\nGeneva, and I replied to it. He subsequently obtained my permission to\nmake the letter public. And I have to add that I often have to write\nletters to much less important persons than the representative of an\ninfluential American journal.\u201d As he had recently written a letter to\nMr. Bouverie, the hit was thought to be a good one, and the House\nlaughed.\n\nFootnote 124:\n\n The writer, for whose opinion we have all respect, has the advantage\n over us of a personal knowledge of Mr. Bright, and an acquaintance\n with his public career to which we cannot pretend. So far, however, as\n our knowledge goes, our estimate of Mr. Bright is far from agreeing\n altogether with that of the writer. We always believed Mr. Bright to\n be a man of large heart, of generous impulse, and of large mind,\n circumscribed by certain defects of education and inherited prejudice;\n but always a man wishing to see right done and to do right.\u2014ED. C. W.\n\n\n\n\n RELATIONS OF JUDAISM TO CHRISTIANITY.\n II.\n THE INFLUENCE OF JEWISH IDEAS ON HEATHEN PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\nStrabo, after having mentioned the great number of Jews residing in\nCyrene, a city celebrated for its schools of Greek literature, adds that\n\u201cit would be difficult to show a spot upon earth where they were not\nfound and where their influence was not felt.\u201d The influence of which he\nspeaks must not be restricted to that which they acquired everywhere by\ntheir remarkable industry, commercial capacity, and wealth; it was felt\nin the higher field of thought, and was brought to bear on heathen\nphilosophy, in which it produced considerable modifications. We are\nchiefly concerned with the Greeks, whom all admit to be the\nrepresentatives of philosophical speculations in the ages we are\nreviewing.\n\nIt is the opinion of Aristobulus, of Aristeas, and of Philo that the\nGreek philosophers were acquainted with the sacred books of the Hebrews,\nand that they derived from them those great truths relating to God, the\nsoul, a future life which we find in their writings. We can easily\nunderstand this to have been the case when we reflect that the Hebrews\nwere already in Egypt in great numbers, when the learned men of Greece\nrepaired thither in search of knowledge; and in order to account for the\nopinion just mentioned it is by no means necessary to have recourse to\nthe national pride with which its supporters are supposed by our\nrationalists to have been animated. Because Aristobulus, Aristeas, and\nPhilo were Jews it does not follow that they should have been so blinded\nby the desire of glorifying their nation as to make them lose their\nwell-known critical acuteness. Besides, they were not the only ones who\nperceived that the Greeks had borrowed from the Hebrews. Antiquity is at\none in recognizing the fact. The Fathers of the primitive church who had\noccasion to touch upon the subject do not hesitate to affirm it from\nobservations of their own. \u201cOur sacred books,\u201d says Tertullian, \u201care the\ntreasure from which philosophers have drawn all their riches. Who is the\npoet, who is the sophist, that has not borrowed from the prophets? It is\nat those sacred sources that the philosophers have striven to quench\ntheir thirst. These men, impelled by their passion for glory, endeavored\nto reach the sublimity of our Holy Scriptures, and when they found in\nthem anything that suited their views they made it their own. But as\nthey did not consider them as divine, they made no scruple to alter\nthem. And, moreover, they could not understand many a passage the sense\nof which was obscure even for the Hebrews, to whom the books belonged.\u201d\nSt. Justin equally affirms that \u201cPlato took from Moses his doctrine of\ncreation, as well as his notions on the Word, or _Logos_, and the Energy\nor Spirit of God, though all these truths appear strangely disfigured in\nthe Athenian philosopher.\u201d Again, Clement of Alexandria tells the\nNeo-Platonics that their master, Plato, had borrowed from the books of\nMoses his most sublime doctrines and purest moral precepts, and adds:\n\u201cWe state the fact that the Greeks, not satisfied with transferring to\ntheir writings the wonderful events related in our sacred books, have\nstolen from us our principal dogmas in altering them. They are caught in\nthe very act of theft as to what regards faith, wisdom, knowledge and\nscience, hope and charity, penance, chastity, and the fear of God, which\nvirtues are the offspring of truth alone.\u201d Eusebius tells us that\nPythagoras had held communications with the prophets at the time when\nthe Jews were exiles in Egypt and Babylonia. Hennippus, according to the\ntestimony of Josephus, confirms that fact by saying that Pythagoras had\nembraced and professed a part of the doctrines of the Jews, and had\ntransmitted their philosophy to the Gentiles. Clearchus affirms that\nAristotle had spoken to him of his conversations with a Jew \u201cfrom whom\nmuch was to be learnt.\u201d Theodoret is not less positive. \u201cAnaxagoras and\nPythagoras,\u201d he says, \u201cin their travels in Egypt, had made the\nacquaintance of learned men of that country and of Judea. It is to the\nsame source that Plato came later in search of knowledge, as we are\ninformed by Plutarch and by Xenophon.\u201d \u201cWhat is Plato?\u201d said the\nPythagorean Numerius. \u201cHe is a certain Moses who speaks Attic.\u201d The\nnegations without proofs which men of rationalistic tendencies oppose to\nthis view cannot stand before the overwhelming testimony of the Fathers,\ndoctors, and historians of the primitive church, corroborated as it is\nby more than one pagan author. Our modern Catholic writers, without any\nexception that we know of, have recognized that influence of revelation\non the heathen mind. \u201cThe laws which Solon gave to the Athenians,\u201d\nremarks Fleury, \u201chad a great analogy with those of Moses. The principles\nof Socrates are founded on those of the Hebrew legislator; his notions\nof the unity of God, the immortality of the soul, the distinction\nbetween good and evil, the merits and rewards of virtue, the\nchastisements of vice, are all derived from the sacred books. The\npolitical system exposed by Plato in his _Republic_, in which he enjoins\nthat every one should live by his own labor, without luxury or ambition,\nwithout innovation or change, under the sway of justice the greatest of\nall goods, and the government of a wise ruler devoted to the happiness\nof his subjects, is nothing else but the theory of the constitution\nwhich governed Judea.\u201d \u201cAristotle,\u201d says M. de Maistre, alluding to a\npassage already quoted, \u201cconversed with a Jew in comparison with whom\nthe most distinguished philosophers of Greece seemed to him but\nbarbarians. The translation of the sacred books into a language which\nhad become that of the universe, the dispersion of the Jews over the\nwhole world, and man\u2019s natural curiosity for everything new and\nextraordinary had caused the Mosaic law to be known everywhere, which\nthus became an introduction to Christianity.\u201d \u201cThe doctrine of the\nHebrews,\u201d writes M. de Bonald, \u201cwas spread with their writings in those\nparts of Asia and of Europe bordering on Palestine. It was not unknown\nto the Greeks, and undoubtedly gave to the philosophy of Plato that\nstamp of elevation and of truth by which it is characterized.\u201d\n\nBut it is to Alexandria that we must turn in order to follow the\ndevelopments and modifications of Greek thought in the three centuries\nwhich immediately preceded, and in the four centuries which followed,\nthe coming of Christ. Ptolemy I., during his glorious reign, that lasted\nfrom 306-285 B.C., among other monuments with which he adorned the city\nof Alexander, established the famous Museum or University of Alexandria,\nwith its vast library, which is said to have contained seven hundred\nthousand volumes. It soon became the centre of intellectual life. There\nthe most renowned teachers in philosophy, poetry, mathematics,\nastronomy, and the arts lived and taught. Thither would resort the\nlearned of many countries and religions. From the time of its foundation\nto that of Proclus, the most important of the Neo-Platonics, who died\nfour hundred and eighty-five years after Christ, that school continued\nto flourish, but then began to decline until every trace of it\ndisappeared before the invasions of the barbarian Mussulman. For a long\ntime the philosophy of the Museum consisted in commentaries on Plato and\nAristotle. But the Jews of the Greco-Egyptian city, which had become\nafter Jerusalem the most important seat of their religion, were destined\nto give a new direction to these speculations; and from it arose that\npeculiar school of thought denominated Neo-Platonism. It was an effort\nmade to reconcile together popular belief with philosophic thought, and\nwas common both to the Jewish and to the Grecian schools. The first\nendeavored to blend Judaism with Hellenism, as the latter did to give a\nlogical and doctrinal foundation to heathenism.\n\nIt is not easy to fix the date when the movement began. Some trace it\nback to Aristobulus. He lived under Ptolemy Euergetes, whose reign\nextended from 247-221 B.C., and had been the teacher of that illustrious\nprince, who, disdaining the coarse divinities of Egypt, addressed his\nhomage to Jehovah, the God of the Hebrews, and sacrificed in the Temple\nof Jerusalem, where he left marks of his munificence and of his piety.\nIt is true that Aristobulus appealed to Orphic poems in which Jewish\ndoctrines are found in support of the assertion that the Greek poets and\nphilosophers had borrowed their wisdom from the Jews. But this opinion,\nwhich is shared by Aristeas and others in those ages, is not peculiar to\nNeo-Platonism, and is by no means one of its characteristics. Others\npretend that the earliest traces of Jewish-Alexandrian philosophy are to\nbe found in the Septuagint. According to them, the authors of this\nversion of the Biblical writings into Greek, made by order of Ptolemy\nPhiladelphus (285-247 B.C.), knew and approved the principal doctrines\nof this philosophy, and contrived to suggest them by apparently\ninsignificant deviations from the original text. But the passages on\nwhich they rest their argument do not necessarily force us to admit this\nconclusion. We find that they avoid representing God under sensible\nforms; such ideas as God\u2019s repenting, being angry, etc., are toned down\nin their expression; in the same way euphemisms are used when there is\nquestion of sensible manifestations of the Divinity; there are omissions\nand explanations in the translation which are not authorized by the\noriginal text. It is evident that the translators were influenced in\ntheir work by the dread they had lest Jehovah should be assimilated to\nthe false divinities of pagan mythologies. All this competent critics\nconcede, but fail to see in the Septuagint a union of Greek\nphilosophemes with Jewish ideas. Be this as it may, it was at the dawn\nof Christianity, when the Ptolemies had gone and the Romans came in,\nthat the Neo-Platonic movement was really inaugurated; and if it did not\noriginate with Philo, it was in him, at any rate, that it first attained\nto importance. Philo belonged to a rich family of Alexandria, and was\nborn about twenty-five years before our era. He lived long enough to be\nplaced at the head of the legation to Caligula in favor of his people,\nand to write an account of it in the reign of Claudius. What gives a\nspecial interest to his writings is that they were composed at the very\nlast period of the Jewish nation, before the appearance of Christianity.\nIn religion a zealous Jew penetrated with the truth and goodness of the\nHebrew revelation, and a Greek by education\u2014a man, besides, of high\nintellectual gifts\u2014it is no wonder that he should wish to blend in a\nharmonious whole the two elements of his own being, and to fuse the form\nof Greek thought with the substance of Jewish belief. In his endeavors\nto realize this object Philo falls into grievous errors, and on several\npoints deflects from the Jewish faith into Greek views. \u201cHis love of\nGreek philosophy,\u201d says Allies, \u201chad led him, as it seems unconsciously,\nto desert the divine tradition of Moses and the orthodox Jewish belief.\u201d\nHere, then, we are concerned with two questions: first, What did Philo\ncontribute to Greek thought? and, secondly, How far his orthodoxy\nsuffered by its contact with it.\n\nPhilo introduced into philosophy two principles the result of which can\nbe traced throughout the whole subsequent periods of Neo-Platonism: the\nprinciple of faith, or the need of a revelation in order to acquire the\nknowledge of God and of the great problems relating to human life; and\nthe principle of grace, or of a special assistance from heaven in order\nto make this knowledge practically available. Now, these principles had\nbeen either entirely ignored by the Greek philosophers or had remained\nwithout any significance to them down to Philo\u2019s time. Reason was the\nonly light by which they were guided, and scientific thought their only\nsource of knowledge. We find in them no assumption of supernatural\nrevelation, no requirement of contact with the divine other than what\nmight be produced by the effect of thought itself. Greek philosophy in\nits whole tenor was rationalistic. \u201cOn the contrary,\u201d observes Allies in\nhis _Formation of Christendom_, \u201cthe religious and philosophical system\nof Philo is based upon the idea of a revelation made to man by God, and\nof holiness, the result of divine assistance. His conception of God is\nderived to him from the theology of the Old Testament; it comes to him\nas a gift from above, not as an elaboration of his own mind.\u201d Hence it\nis that his notion of the Supreme Being is so much above that given us\nby Plato and Aristotle. The God of Plato is an ideal and metaphysical\nGod, not absolutely personal, not free; the God of Aristotle, or his\n_Primum movens_, the first Motor, is mechanical, and holds in the\nuniverse the office of the spring in a watch, by which all its parts are\nmoved; but the God of Philo is life, and, as he constantly calls him,\n\u201cthe living God.\u201d \u201cHe is one, simple, eternal, unoriginated, and\nabsolutely distinct from the world which is his work. His own being is\nincomprehensible. We can only predicate of him that he is \u2018He who is.\u2019\nHe is most pure and absolute mind, better than virtue and better than\nknowledge, better than the idea of goodness and the idea of beauty. He\nis his own place, and full of himself, and sufficient for himself,\nfilling up and embracing all that is deficient or empty, but himself\nembraced by nothing, as being one person and yet everything\u201d (_Legis\nAllegor._, l. xiv., quoted in Allies). His providence is fully\nrecognized. \u201cThose who would make the world to be unoriginated, cut\naway, without being aware of it, the most useful and necessary\nconstituents of piety\u2014that is, the belief in Providence. For reason\nproves that what has an origin is cared for by its father and maker. For\na father is anxious for the life of his children, and a workman aims at\nthe duration of his works, and employs every device imaginable to ward\noff everything that is pernicious or injurious, and is desirous by every\nmeans in his power to provide everything which is useful and profitable\nfor them. But with regard to what has had no origin there is no feeling\nof interest, as if it were his own, in the breast of him who has not\nmade it. It is a worthless and pernicious doctrine to establish in the\nworld what would be anarchy in a city, to have no superintendent,\nregulator, or judge by whom everything must be distributed and governed\u201d\n(_De Mundi Opificio_, apud Allies). In his work entitled _Quod Deus est\nImmutabilis_ Philo ascribed to God absolute knowledge. \u201cTo God,\u201d he\nsays, \u201cas dwelling in pure light, all things are visible, for he,\npenetrating into the very recesses of the soul, is able to see\ntransparently what is invisible to others, and by means of prescience\nand providence, his own peculiar excellences, allows nothing to abuse\nits liberty or exceed the range of his comprehension. For, indeed, there\nis with him no uncertainty even in the future; for there is nothing\nuncertain and nothing future to God. It is plain, then, that the\nproducer must have knowledge of all that he has produced, the artificer\nof all that he had constructed, the governor of all that he governs.\nNow, Father, Artificer, and Governor he is in truth of all things in\nheaven and the world. And whereas future things are overshadowed by the\nsuccession of time, longer or shorter, God is the Maker of time also....\nFor the world by its motion has made time, but he made the world, and so\nwith God there is nothing future, who has the very foundations of time\nsubject to him. For their life is not time, but the archetype and model\nof time, eternity; and in eternity nothing is past and nothing is\nfuture, but there is the present only.\u201d In his conceptions of the\nGodhead and of his attributes it is evident that Philo, as long as he\nfollows the light of revelation and keeps clear of the false notions\nwhich he had drawn from Greek sources, rises far above the speculations\nof the Greek philosophers on the same subjects. Plato himself in his\nhappiest moments never reached such heights. For Philo, God is goodness\nand sanctity itself. By this he does not mean only that he is the\nboundless ocean of all perfections, the archetype of all holiness and of\neverything that is good, but that he is the origin of all human virtue,\nwhich flows from him into his rational creatures as from its only\nsource. \u201cIt is God,\u201d he writes in his _Allegories of the Law_, \u201cwho sows\nand plants all virtue upon earth in the mortal race, being an imitation\nand image of the heavenly.\u201d According to him, man, in order to reproduce\nin himself the divine resemblance in which holiness consists, must be\nfreed from the influence of his sensuous nature, the source of his\nweakness and sinfulness. But in that nature no power is to be found to\ntransform itself, as no nature has the power of changing itself into\nanything other than what it is. The consequence is that \u201che must betake\nhimself to a higher power, and receive from it as a loan that strength\nwhich fails in himself.\u201d The difference between this doctrine and that\nof the older philosophers is palpable. When Plato and Pythagoras\nrecommend to their disciples the subduing of the senses as a condition\nto reaching truth, they suppose that man can do it by his own efforts\nand without any help from above; and this is precisely what Philo\ndenies. Furthermore, the knowledge of God, in which man finds his\nperfection and supreme happiness, is not a mere ray of cold light, but\nit leads to an intimate union with him, which is the ultimate point of\nPhilo\u2019s system; and this union, as everything perfect in human nature,\nis an immediate gift of God. Thus Philo would reach knowledge and virtue\nby the gift of God, bestowed through his grace, whilst down to his time\nGreek philosophy, adhering to its own principle, scientific thought,\nwould reach them by the exercise of reason alone.\n\nIt is impossible to overrate the influence which Philo, with his\npowerful genius and vast erudition, must have exercised not only among\nhis co-religionists but among the Greek-speaking populations of\nAlexandria and other countries. The most authorized writers have at all\ntimes rendered justice to his great merits. Josephus says that he was \u201ca\nman illustrious in all things\u201d; Eusebius extols \u201cthe abundance, the\nrichness, the sublimity of his style and the depth of his thoughts\u201d; St.\nJerome, speaking of his works, says that \u201cthey are most remarkable and\ninnumerable\u201d; St. Augustine praises him as \u201ca philosopher of universal\nerudition, whose language the Greeks do not hesitate to compare to that\nof Plato.\u201d Photius also testifies that \u201chis writings gave him an immense\nreputation among the Greeks.\u201d This truly admirable man went, as did all\nthe great philosophers of antiquity, over the whole range of human\nknowledge: history, ethics, jurisprudence, politics, metaphysics,\ncosmogony, physics, mathematics\u2014no department of learning did he leave\nunexplored. In morals he rises far above Stoicism, and approaches to the\nsublimity of the Gospel\u2014a fact which probably was the origin of the\nopinion entertained by some that Philo had embraced Christianity. But\nthe glaring errors which are found in his works on several important\npoints show that he was rather the disciple of Plato than a follower of\nChrist.\n\nNo Christian would have held, as he did, the independent existence of\nmatter, which is the subversion of the dogma of creation _ex nihilo_\ntaught us by revelation. For Philo God is not, strictly speaking, the\nCreator, but the _Demiurgos_, the Artificer and Arranger of the world.\nHe admitted the Stoic doctrine of the human soul being a fragment or\nderivation of the divine Mind. He places the origin of evil in the\nconflict of matter and spirit. Accordingly, the body is an absolute\ncontradiction to the mind, and, as such, the source of all evils. He\nthinks that the earthly shell is a prison out of which the soul longs to\nbe set free. Thus it is not the abuse of free-will, but rather the\nconflict between the flesh and the spirit, which is made the source of\nevil. On these four points Philo\u2019s ideas are identical with those of\nPlato and the Greek school. Philo is further notorious for his\nextravagant use of allegory in the interpretation of Scripture on the\none side, and in giving a moral sense to the Greek myths on the other;\nbesides, it is asserted that his doctrine on the _Logos_, or divine\nWord, is erroneous, and has thrown considerable obscurity over his\notherwise elevated and exact conceptions of God.\n\nAccording to the Alexandrian philosopher, the _Logos_, or the Word,\nwould be \u201can intermediary being between God and the world,\u201d \u201cthe\nfirst-born of God,\u201d \u201cthe highest of all the divine forces or potencies,\u201d\n\u201ca creature whose instrumentality he used to give existence to all other\ncreatures,\u201d \u201ca second God.\u201d The _Logos_ is also the directing power of\nthe world, the divine Providence that governs all things. \u201cThe divine\nWord,\u201d he says, \u201cflows down as from a fountain, like unto a stream of\nwisdom, to inundate souls enamored with heavenly things. It is by his\nWord that God gives to the children of the earth the knowledge of that\nwhich is.\u201d Finally, the Word holds the office of mediator between man\nand God; in this regard it is \u201cthe Supreme Pontiff,\u201d and may be called\n\u201cthe Paraclete, or Consoler.\u201d If we take some of these expressions in\ntheir literal meaning\u2014if the Logos is, properly speaking, a creature,\nand yet a second God endowed, as it appears from the passages which we\nhave just quoted, with the attributes of the Divinity\u2014there is no doubt\nthat Philo is at variance with the orthodox teaching of the Jews, who\nwere always averse to anything that would in the least go against their\nbelief in the unity of God. Creation in the first book of Genesis is\nsimply attributed to God: \u201cAt the beginning God created heaven and\nearth,\u201d and in the Book of Wisdom and other passages of Biblical\nwritings there is nothing to indicate that the Word, the Energy or the\nVirtue of God, by which he created all things, is not identical with\nGod. In Ecclesiasticus xxiv. 14, Wisdom is said to have been created\nbefore the world. But there is no question here of any creative act,\nproperly so-called. The meaning is that the Word, who is the Wisdom of\nthe Father, was produced from eternity by an ineffable generation; for\nWisdom is spoken of as existing before all time, and therefore is\neternal and God himself. The notion of the _Logos_ which is attributed\nto Philo would likewise be at variance with that of his master, Plato.\nThe doctrine of Plato on the subject is contained in his theory of\nideas, the types, exemplars, or immutable reasons of things, present to\nthe mind of the Creator, which determine in him the essence of each\nclass of beings, and direct him in the production of his works. Did\nPlato make of those types or ideas separate existences and substantial\nbeings distinct from God? Aristotle interpreted in this sense certain\nexpressions of his teacher. But in antiquity as well as in our own days\nPlato found strenuous defenders who refused to admit that he ever\nintended such an absurdity. For our own part, we believe that the whole\nof his doctrine is faithfully exposed in the following passage of\nAtticus, apud Eusebius, one of his most illustrious disciples: \u201cPlato,\u201d\nhe says, \u201chad recognized God as the Father and Author, the Master and\nAdministrator, of all things. Understanding, by the very nature of a\nwork, that he who produces it must first of all conceive its plan in his\nmind to give it existence afterwards according to that type, he saw that\nthe ideas of God were anterior to his works; that they were the\nimmaterial, purely intelligible, eternal, immutable exemplars of\neverything that exists; that in them was the first being, the being _par\nexcellence_ from which all things derive their being, since they are\nonly in the measure in which they reproduce their types. Being fully\naware that those truths are not easily understood, and that language is\ninadequate to formulate them in a clear manner, Plato discoursed of them\nas best he could, opening the way to those who would come after him; and\nabsorbed in that consideration, making his whole philosophy converge\ntowards that object, he declared that wisdom consisted in the knowledge\nof the divine exemplars, and that such was the science which would lead\nman to his end or beatitude.\u201d Again, if it be true that Philo conceived\nthe _Logos_ as a being distinct from God, his doctrine has nothing in\ncommon with the Christian dogma of the Word as exposed in the Gospel of\nSt. John. The Word that was at the beginning, and by whom all things\nhave been made, was with God, and the Word was God. But it would not be\nfair to condemn a man before having made honest endeavors to give to his\nwords the most favorable interpretation of which they are susceptible.\nWhen Philo calls the Word \u201cthe first-born of God,\u201d \u201cthe first creature,\u201d\nnothing forces us to attach to these expressions any other meaning than\nthat we give to similar locutions which we find in Scripture, and in\nsome of the early Fathers; as, for instance, St. Paul, Coloss. i. 15,\nwho, speaking of the Word, says that \u201che is the image of the invisible\nGod, the first-born of every creature\u201d; and Clement of Alexandria, who\ndeclares that the Word is \u201cthe first created wisdom.\u201d Besides, it is\nprobable that Philo had some idea of the personality of the Word. We\nmust not forget that he based all his philosophical speculations upon\nrevelation as found in the Old Testament, and that he could not have\nbeen wholly ignorant of the teachings of Christianity. When, therefore,\nhe uses the expression \u201csecond God,\u201d or \u201cthe other God\u201d\u2014_alter Deus_\u2014it\nis possible that he intends to designate by it the Second Person of the\nBlessed Trinity.\n\nBe this as it may, certain it is that Philo\u2019s ideas are found permeating\nNeo-Platonism in that phase of it into which it entered in his time, and\nwhich is also denominated Neo-Pythagoreanism, because in that school an\nattempt was made to revive the doctrines and method of Pythagoras, as\nwell as his mode of life. It will be sufficient here to direct our\nattention to Apollonius of Tyana, the chief representative of the\nNeo-Pythagoreans of that period. He was a contemporary of Christ. His\nlife, written by Philostratus in the third century, is a\nphilosophico-religious romance in which the Neo-Pythagorean ideal is\nportrayed in the person of Apollonius. He had visited many countries and\nsojourned with the sages of India, whom he admired, and whose\npantheistic notions he adopted. His doctrine is no more that of the old\nGreek philosophers, who considered reason as the only means of\nknowledge. He pretends to be in direct communication with the Deity,\nfrom which he derives light and strength; and in this immediate contact\nwith Heaven his whole being is purified and elevated to a degree of\npower which gives him, as he pretends, the dominion over the forces of\nnature. And as the soul is, according to him, a portion of the divine\nintelligence, and the source of all good to man, so the body, which is\nregarded as the prison of his higher nature, must be the source of the\ndisordered affections which gain mastery over his soul. All the ascetic\nlife of Apollonius is therefore directed to subdue this tyranny of the\nbody. This he must do first in himself and then in those around him.\n\nThere is no doubt that this tone of mind, which began to prevail at the\nvery time Christianity made its appearance in the world, was favorable\nto it. Henceforth the several schools of philosophy shall be brought in\ncontact with Christian dogma and the contest carried on in the same\nfield. On the one hand, the Greek philosophers were in search of a light\nwhich they did not possess; they were forced to acknowledge in spite of\nthemselves that the speculations and systems had failed to give a\nsolution to the most important problems with which humanity is\nconcerned; they had been made aware of the insufficiency of reason to\neffect this purpose; they felt the need of a special assistance from\nabove as a check to the corruption of nature. And, on the other hand,\nthe champions of a new religion saw the necessity of becoming thoroughly\nacquainted with the ideas of their opponents, in order to meet them on\ntheir own ground and gain admittance into the very heart of pagan\nlearning. \u201cIn the truest sense of the word,\u201d says a writer in the\n_Dublin Review_, \u201cChristianity is a philosophy, and, what is more to the\npurpose, in the sense of the philosophers of Alexandria it was a\nphilosophy. The narrowed meaning that in our days is assigned to\nphilosophy, as distinguished from religion, had no existence in those\ntimes. Wisdom was the wisdom by excellence, the highest, the ultimate\nwisdom. It meant the fruit of the highest speculation, and at the same\ntime the necessary ground of all important practice. A system of\nphilosophy was, therefore, at that period, tantamount to a religion.\nWhen the Christian teachers then told the philosophers of Alexandria\nthat they could teach them true philosophy, they were saying not only\nwhat was perfectly true but what was perfectly understood by their\nhearers. The catechetical school was, and appeared to them, as truly a\nphilosophical lecture-room as the halls of the museum.\u201d It was in this\nlight that the Neo-Platonics must have looked upon such men as Clement,\nOrigen, and other writers of the Christian school. They listened with\ndeep interest to the words of those teachers, who, with a clearness and\nauthority which they had not known before, propounded doctrines that had\nalready found an echo in their hearts. \u201cYour masters in philosophy,\u201d\nthey were told, \u201care great and noble; but they did not go far enough, as\nyou all acknowledge. Come to us, then, and we will show you what is\nwanting in them. Listen to these old Hebrews whose writings you have in\nyour hands. They treated of all your problems, and had solved the\ndeepest of them whilst your forefathers were groping in darkness. All\ntheir light, and much more, is our inheritance. The truth which you seek\nwe possess. \u2018What you worship without knowing it, that we preach to\nyou.\u2019 God\u2019s Word has been made flesh, has lived on earth, the Perfect\nMan, the Absolute Man. Come to us, and we will show you how you may know\nGod through him, and how through him God communicates himself to you.\nAsceticism and the subduing of the flesh by mortification are good and\ncommendable, but the end of it all is God and the love of God, and this\nend can only be attained by a Christian.\u201d Thus those very matters of\nintellect and high ethics in which they especially prided themselves\nwere brought back to them with an intensity of light that made visible\nthe darkness which surrounded the teachings of their old masters.\n\nIt does not matter that Christianity found its most bitter enemies in\nthe ranks of Neo-Platonism. It was a great advantage for it to be\nbrought hand-to-hand with all forms of error. The battle raged for three\nhundred years; but from the very first Christianity proved itself\nsuperior to its antagonist by the influence which it exerted even then\non heathen philosophy, whose tone and temper were completely changed as\nearly as the time of Plutarch\u2014that is, about fifty years after Philo.\nThat influence is unmistakable, as Champagny clearly shows in his\n_Antonines_. Philosophy has become more pious, more worshipful. The idea\nof one supreme God is more definite; God is spiritual, not material; he\nis the pattern of every virtue, and his providence extends over the\nworld and man. The principles of morality are purer and in many cases\nrecall the spirit of the Gospel. \u201cIn the time of Severus,\u201d says Allies,\n\u201call the thinking minds have become ashamed of Olympus and its gods. The\ncross has wounded them to death.\u201d It is in vain that the later\nNeo-Platonics and court philosophers strive to shelter retreating\nheathenism in a last fortress. They only prepare the way for the\nChristian faith, which they strenuously combat. When the Emperor\nSeverus, regarding with the eye of a statesman and a soldier that faith,\ncontemplates its grasp upon society, and decrees from the height of the\nthrone a general assault upon it; when his wife encourages Philostratus\nto draw an ideal heathen portrait, that of Apollonius of Tyana, as a\ncounterpart to the character of Christ, tacitly subtracting from the\nGospels an imitation which is to supply the place of the reality, they\nconfess by the very fact the weakness of heathenism and the ascendency\nwhich the religion of Christ had already obtained. Soon after Origen\ncould discern and prophesy the complete triumph of that religion. To\nCelsus, who had objected that, were all to do as the Christians did, the\nemperor would be deserted and his power fall into the hands of the most\nsavage and lawless barbarians, he replied: \u201cIf all did as I do, men\nwould honor the emperor as a divine command, and the barbarians, drawing\nto the Word of God, would become most law-loving and most civilized;\ntheir worship would be dissolved, and that of the Christians alone\nprevail, as one day it will alone prevail, by means of that Word\ngathering to itself more and more souls\u201d (Orig. contra Celsus, apud\nAllies).\n\nPhilo, therefore, in inaugurating the Neo-Platonic movement in\nphilosophy, was only fulfilling the mandate delivered to his people,\nthat of preparing the way of the Lord and disposing the nations for the\nacceptance of the Gospel. The church succeeds the synagogue as the\ndivinely-accredited teacher of mankind; the long-cherished hope of the\nHebrews is realized, and the true kingdom of David, is established upon\nearth to hold universal sway. The Gentile world, through the\ninstrumentality of the chosen people, had been made to share in the\ngreat hope of a Redeemer, and within it aspirations had been developed\nand longings were felt which philosophy was unable to satisfy; and at\nthe very time when its inanity appeared more manifest Christ reveals\nhimself to that world as \u201cthe Way, the Truth, and the Life,\u201d and\npresented to it in his own person that form of virtue which Plato\nthirsted to see embodied. Under his influence the face of the earth is\nrenewed; what human genius, with all its efforts, had failed to\naccomplish, what such men as Plato, Pythagoras, and others could not\naccomplish, even among a small number of adepts\u2014this and infinitely more\nwas realized, not merely within the narrow circle of a few privileged\ndisciples, but among the masses, among the learned and the ignorant, the\nrich and the poor, the rulers and the ruled, the powerful and the weak;\nnot in one corner of the globe, but all over the world, from north to\nsouth and from east to west; not only in countries favored by great\nintellectual aptitudes, where the arts and sciences flourished, where\ncivilization with all its refinements had reached the highest degree of\nperfection, but in countries most abandoned, among savage tribes and\nbarbarous nations plunged in utter darkness. Surely a new principle of\nlife has taken possession of the earth\u2014a divine principle which gives\nrise to those heroic virtues which we see displayed in every rank of\nsociety and in all climes, and by which the human race is transfigured.\nThis result was foretold centuries before; it is the new creation spoken\nof by the Psalmist: \u201cThou shalt send forth thy spirit, and they shall be\ncreated; and thou shalt renew the face of the earth\u201d (Ps. ciii. 30). It\nwas preceded by a series of events so combined that it is impossible not\nto see in them the supernatural action of divine Providence and the\nprofound wisdom of God, who makes use of apt means for the furtherance\nof his end. Besides, there is a wonderful unity of truth discernible\nfrom the very beginning, and which appears in an unbroken chain\nthroughout the course of ages. It is the same Word, the same light,\nwhich was communicated to our first parents that we see increasing in\nintensity until it reaches in Christ the splendor of the full day. The\nfirst revelation of the Word to man is to be found in his natural\nreason, which is pervaded with primary truths that are axioms in the\nintelligence of mankind. \u201cBut on these,\u201d says Cardinal Manning\n(_Temporal Mission of the Holy Ghost_), \u201cdescended other truths from the\nFather of light, as he saw fit to reveal them in measure and in season,\naccording to the successions of time ordained in the divine purpose. The\nrevelations of the patriarchs elevated and enlarged the sphere of light\nin the intelligence of men by their deeper, purer, and clearer insight\ninto the divine mind, character, and conduct in the world. The\nrevelations to Moses and to the prophets raised still higher the fabric\nof light, which was always ascending towards the fuller revelation of\nGod yet to come. But in all these accessions and unfoldings of the light\nof God truth remained still one, harmonious, indivisible; a structure in\nperfect symmetry, the finite but true reflex of truth as it reposes in\nthe divine intelligence.\u201d None of the much-boasted theories of our\nmodern rationalists gives us that unity which is the test of truth. The\nrestoration of our fallen race by the manifestation of the Word is the\nleading principle of Schlegel\u2019s _Philosophy of History_; and the\ngreatest minds, as St. Augustine and Bossuet, admitted no other in their\nimmortal works. How puerile, in comparison with their grand and luminous\nconceptions, are all those systems which would fain explain the\ndestinies of man without God! To the dreamers who have invented them can\nbe applied the words of St. Paul: \u201cThey detain the truth of God in\ninjustice. They have become vain in their thoughts, and their foolish\nheart has been darkened\u201d (Rom. i. 18-21).\n\n\n\n\n NEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\n THE DIVINE SANCTUARY. A series of Meditations upon the Litany of the\n Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. By the Very Rev. Thomas S. Preston,\n V.G., Pastor of St. Ann\u2019s Church, N. Y. New York: Robert Coddington.\n 1878.\n\n\nWe welcome most gratefully this new book for the month of June. We hope\nit will go a long way towards placing the observance of this month on a\nlevel with that of the month of May; for the more the devotion to the\nSacred Heart increases among us the more abundant will be the graces it\nalways brings.\n\nThe book, however, is not intended for the month of June alone, but can\nbe used at any time, and particularly on the first Friday or Sunday of\nevery month. The author\u2019s idea, in choosing the Litany of the Sacred\nHeart and forming a meditation on each of the invocations to this\n\u201cdivine sanctuary,\u201d is a very happy one. He has divided the whole into\nthree parts, viz.: \u201cThe Glories of the Sacred Heart,\u201d as shown in the\nfirst thirteen invocations; \u201cThe Sorrows of the Sacred Heart,\u201d as\ncontemplated in the next eight; and \u201cThe Offices of the Sacred Heart,\u201d\nas appealed to in the remaining nine. At the head of each meditation is\nan appropriate passage of Holy Scripture.\n\nAs to the excellence of the meditations themselves, there is no need of\nour dwelling on it. It is enough to know, from his past efforts, what\nFather Preston is capable of in dealing with devotional subjects. This\nkind of book is his peculiar _forte_. We are sure the little volume will\nbe highly prized by all lovers of the Sacred Heart, who will also find\nthe Litany itself, together with a beautiful Act of Consecration,\nimmediately following the list of contents.\n\n\n GOOD THINGS FOR CATHOLIC READERS: A Miscellany of Catholic\n Biography, History, Travels, etc. Containing Pictures and Sketches\n of Eminent Persons, representing the Church and Cloister, State and\n Home, etc., etc. With over two hundred Illustrations. Second\n edition, with Additions. New York: The Catholic Publication Society\n Company. 1878.\n\n\nThis large and very handsome volume is in every way a gem. It contains\nmore varied and interesting information\u2014much of it of positive and\nimmediate value\u2014than any work we know. It is called \u201csecond edition,\u201d\nbut really it is a new volume, containing twice as much matter as the\noriginal. Its sketches of Catholic biography, with excellent portraits,\nare brought down to the present year. The last face that looks at us\nfrom the pages is the beautiful one of the Rt. Rev. M. M. de St. Palais,\nthe lamented Bishop of Vincennes, who died in June, 1877. Near him is\nthe noble countenance of Bishop Von Ketteler. Dear old Father McElroy\nlooks out at us with his bright eyes, his head leaning against his hand.\nArchbishops Bayley and Connolly and Bishop Verot are there. There is\nalso the leonine head of Dr. Brownson, and an excellent sketch of his\nlife. But it is dangerous to begin the list of these Catholic heroes and\nholy men whose portraits and biographies are here given us. One lingers\nby each one, for each one is full of attraction. A good sketch and an\nexcellent portrait of our late Holy Father, Pope Pius IX., catch the eye\nas we open the volume of 638 pages. Interspersed with these biographical\nsketches and portraits is every kind of interesting matter with pleasing\nillustrations. No book could make a more acceptable present; for it is\nindeed an exhaustless mine of \u201cgood things\u201d\u2014things, too, which young and\nold will find equally good.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe are in receipt of a number of volumes and pamphlets, many of which\nhave been noticed and the notices are already in type, but owing to a\nvariety of necessities have been regretfully held over from month to\nmonth. We trust to satisfy everybody in our next number. A word to\npublishers: They are very apt to send in what are called \u201cseasonable\u201d\nbooks on the eve of THE CATHOLIC WORLD\u2019s going to press, and appear to\nbe surprised at not seeing a notice duly appear \u201cin season.\u201d For\ninstance, devotional works intended for the month of May come to us by\nthe dozen when the May number of THE CATHOLIC WORLD is already passing\nthrough the press. If all publishers bore in mind, as some do, that the\nmagazine is to all intents and purposes prepared a month ahead of date,\nthere would be no surprise at the long delay which \u201cseasonable\u201d books\nthat arrive out of season have to endure.\n\n\n\n\n THE CATHOLIC WORLD.\n VOL. XXVII., No. 161.\u2014AUGUST, 1878.\n\n\n DR. EWER ON THE QUESTION, WHAT IS TRUTH?[125]\n\n\nTen years ago Dr. Ewer produced an argument proving the failure of\nProtestantism by some solid reasons, which he avers have been met \u201cnot\nby argument, but by a gale of holy malediction and impotent scorn,\u201d on\nthe part of those who were included in his indictment. Dr. Ewer being an\naccredited minister of a society whose official designation in its own\necclesiastical law and before the civil law of the land is \u201cthe\nProtestant Episcopal Church in the United States,\u201d it was a very natural\ninquiry whether he had not indicted his own church and himself as\nparticipants in this general failure or religious bankruptcy, and was\nnot morally bound to abandon an institution denounced by himself as not\nonly insolvent but fraudulent. The late illustrious Dr. Brownson did the\nreverend gentleman the great honor of reviewing the argument which he\nhad put forth, in the pages of this magazine. Not with malediction and\nscorn, but with sober logic, he pointed out his inconsistent and\nself-contradictory position, as a Protestant minister denouncing\nProtestantism, and proved that the only possible logical alternative of\nProtestantism, for one who admits the divine origin of the Christian\nreligion, is the genuine and pure Catholicism of the holy, Catholic,\napostolic Roman Church. To the many failures of Protestantism, not only\nto construct any real form of Christian religion, but also to destroy\nthe actual and historical Christianity which it has renounced, Dr. Ewer\nadded another in his own person by failing to answer the arguments of\nDr. Brownson. Although strongly urged to undertake the task, he\nabsolutely declined to do so; and in presenting himself anew, after a\nlapse of ten years, with the proffer of something which he is pleased to\ncall \u201cCatholic Truth\u201d as a substitute for Protestant error, he does so\nunder the great disadvantage of having failed to vindicate himself from\nthe charge of teaching what is only one of the Protean forms of the very\nerror which he so solemnly denounces as subversive of all faith or even\nnatural religion.\n\nThe present lecture, besides containing a renewal of the indictment of\nProtestantism, and a restatement of the assertion that the truth\nopposite to its errors is embodied in the infallible teaching of a\nCatholic Church existing in his own imagination, has also what purports\nto be a palmary refutation of the dogma of Catholic faith defined by the\nCouncil of the Vatican respecting the infallibility of the Roman\nPontiff. Perhaps the lecturer considers that this is a sufficient though\nlate rejoinder to the arguments of Dr. Brownson in THE CATHOLIC WORLD.\nNot so. Dr. Ewer\u2019s Catholic Church has been proved to be an _ens\nrationis_, an abstraction, and its imaginary infallibility to be mere\nmoonshine of the fancy. The logical idea of organic unity, of corporate,\nCatholic, unerring teaching and legislating and grace-giving\nhierarchical authority, representing Christ on earth from his ascension\nto his second coming, has been demonstrated to have no counterpart and\nexpression in the order of real and actual existence, except in the one\nchurch over which Peter presides in his successors. If it is proved that\nthe successor of Peter, with the concurrence of the bishops, clergy, and\nfaithful who obey his supreme authority, has committed an act of\nself-stultification, this lamentable catastrophe affords no more ground\nto Dr. Ewer and his little party to claim a gain of cause for their\n_petite \u00e9glise_ than it does to the Rev. John Jasper to maintain the\ntriumph of his ancient and primitive doctrine that \u201cthe sun do move.\u201d\nLet us suppose that the utter failure of Protestantism is demonstrated.\nLet us suppose, also, that the Church of Rome has erred. Does it follow\nby any logical reduction that the party of Dr. Ewer, however respectable\nin regard to learning and intellectual ability, morality and religious\nzeal, is not also in error? By no means. The only conclusion which does\nlogically follow is that two-thirds of those who are called Christians\nare very seriously in error regarding the true and real nature of the\nChristian religion which they profess. It is possible that the remainder\nmay also have erred. The Greek Church may have erred, the Church of\nEngland may have erred, the Oriental sects may have erred. Some of them\nmust have erred, for they disagree among themselves in regard to two\nimportant matters, one as to what pertains to the essence and integrity\nof Catholic faith, the other as to what pertains to the essence and\nintegrity of Catholic order. There is a general disagreement and\ndisunion, without any external criterion or legitimate tribunal of\njudgment by which their differences can be adjudicated and terminated.\nThe appeal which some of our Anglican friends are wont to make to an\n\u0153cumenical council of Christendom is about as practical a method of\nconstituting such a tribunal as an appeal would be to Moses, to the\ntwelve apostles, to the Council of Nice, or to a special commission of\narchangels. Failing all possible recourse to an actually existing and\ninfallible tribunal, we are thrown back upon the necessity of judging\nfor ourselves between the various systems and forms of doctrine\nprofessedly Christian, on their intrinsic merits, and the rational\nevidence which each of them can adduce in its own behalf. Whoever thinks\nthat we are really in this predicament will, if he holds firmly to\nChristianity and at the same time follows the dictates of reason,\nconclude that the various forms of Christianity are only\ndifferentiations of the same generic ratio, and will seek for some\nrationalistic or broad-church basis of reconciliation and union among\nChristians. If he does not hold by some kind of strong, and dominant\nconviction to the Christian religion, he will adopt the opinion of Mr.\nFroude and many other men of the nineteenth century, that it is a\nreligion destined to become obsolete and be replaced by a new religion\nor by nihilism. So far from liberating those who are \u201cbreast-deep in\ntorrents of scepticism,\u201d Dr. Ewer plunges them with a stone to their\nfeet to the bottom of the sea of scepticism. He loudly proclaims that\nthere is no remedy for doubt, misery, and spiritual ruin except in the\ncoming and the remaining upon earth, in visible, audible form and\npresence, of God made man, by his natural and mystical body, through\nwhose organs of human speech the truths of salvation are infallibly\ndeclared to those men who are willing to hear. Yet he denies all the\nevidence there is that any such mystical body of Christ, possessing and\nexercising the requisite power of infallible speech, has continuously\nexisted, and does now exist, on the earth, giving to men an unerring\nexternal criterion of judgment whereby they may discern Catholic truth\nfrom Protestant errors. Having first swept away rational theology and\nall certitude concerning revealed truth which can be gained from the\nprivate study of the Scriptures, he annihilates the living, teaching\nauthority of the perennial church, and leaves nothing whatever which can\nfurnish a refuge from the universal sea of doubt, not even a Noe\u2019s ark.\nThe land which he points out is a mirage, the ark of safety is a\nphantom-ship. Man is justified, according to the gospel of Dr. Ewer, not\nby faith alone, but by theory alone; not by the works of the law, but by\nthe plays of the imagination. With very great pomp of language he\nexclaims: \u201cIn this God embodied in the one church, in this God\ncontinuously visible and audible, therefore, behold, gentlemen, the\nfountain of infallibility which you seek; for God himself cannot err nor\nfalsify.\u201d This is an encouraging and promising invitation. Surely, if we\ncan find this divine oracle, this sacred tabernacle over which a pillar\nof fire reposes all through the hours of this present darkness as a\ntoken of the abiding of the Spirit of Truth within its sacred enclosure,\nwe may be satisfied, and if this bright cloud precedes we may march with\nconfidence through the desert toward the promised land.\n\nLet us be sure that the Son of God has come into the world, that he has\nfounded a church with sovereign and unerring authority to teach his\ntruth and his law, that we know with certainty which is this church, and\nit is obvious that all reasonable cause for doubting in regard to things\nnecessary to our interior peace of mind and our eternal salvation is\nremoved. Dr. Ewer\u2019s theory is right and consistent so far. But he fails\nto verify his own conditions, and does not designate any real and\nconcrete body which fulfils the exigencies of his theory. He asserts\nthat whoever holds his theory is a Catholic, and that there are three,\nand only three, churches which are parts of the one body that, according\nto the theory which he calls Catholic, must necessarily be identified\nand recognized as the mystical body of Christ. He exhorts his hearers to\nlisten, \u201cas the one Holy Catholic Church in all its parts, His own body,\nraises its voice,\u201d which he says is \u201cthe voice of God on earth, chanting\naloud that all the people in all time may hear, and be without excuse,\nthe unaltering, irreformable truth.\u201d What is the sum and substance of\nthis truth? It is, he informs us, \u201cthe solemn, Catholic Creed of Nice,\nConstantinople, and Athanasius.\u201d This creed, moreover, he asserts, has\nbeen chanted \u201cin unison round and round the world in unbroken strain,\nfollowing the tireless sun, through the centuries and the millenniums,\u201d\nby his imaginary catholic church, a body existing in separate parts,\nwithout any head or unity of organization. Dr. Brownson has demonstrated\nthat such a body cannot exist either in the realm of nature or in that\nof grace, and we need not repeat his arguments. We simply affirm, at\npresent, that this unison of voices without discord or interruption,\nchanting continuously from the apostolic age the three creeds above\nmentioned, is a myth, and no historical fact. Dr. Ewer appears to rely\non it as the external criterion of Catholic truth, and if it vanishes,\nas it must under the historical test, he is left to the mercy of the\ntorrents of scepticism, along with the other Protestants. The creeds, in\ntheir external form, are a growth and a development from the germ which\nfirst existed under a simpler form. The slightest acquaintance with\nearly church history suffices to show how long and violent a warfare was\nnecessary in order to establish the Nicene Creed with its test-word of\northodoxy, \u201cconsubstantial with the Father,\u201d as the permanent,\nuniversal, and unchangeable formula of faith, even among those who truly\nheld and confessed the Catholic faith itself in regard to the true and\nproper divinity of the Son. The additions made by the First Council of\nConstantinople were not universally adopted, or the council itself\ncompletely ratified and recognized as \u0153cumenical, until at least seventy\nyears after its celebration.\n\nIf the doctrine contained in the creeds is regarded in itself,\nprescinding from its verbal expression, the case is much worse for Dr.\nEwer\u2019s theory. The Arian heretics were numerous and powerful, and they\nwere able to persecute the Catholics and lay waste the church in a\nfearful manner. They were nevertheless Catholics, according to Dr.\nEwer\u2019s definition. They professed to have the genuine, apostolical, and\nprimitive faith, and accused the Catholics of having altered and\ncorrupted it. They recognized the visible church, the apostolic\nsuccession, the hierarchical order, the sacrifice and sacraments\ninstituted by Christ, and continued the outward show and appearance of\nconformity to established Catholic usage, and even to the language of\nthe Fathers respecting the mysteries of faith. They were intruded into\nthe possession of the titles, churches, and other temporalities of many\nof the most important episcopal sees, and sustained in their usurpation\nby the civil power.\n\nAfter the extermination of the Arian heresy came the Nestorians. They\nalso professed to be orthodox and Catholic, anathematized the Arians and\nall the previous heretics, confessed the Nicene Creed, and, when they\nwere condemned and cut off from the church, so far from ceasing to\nexist, they increased and flourished in a remarkable way for centuries,\nand still remain as a separate organization with their bishops, who have\nsucceeded in an unbroken line from those of the fifth century.\n\nThe Eutychians or Monophysites received the decrees of the councils of\nNice and Ephesus, anathematized the Nestorians, and denounced the\nCatholics as Nestorian heretics. After the Council of Chalcedon, which\ncondemned them, they persisted in maintaining their position as being\nthe genuine Catholics, and formed a new sect, which still subsists in\nEgypt and the East. A century after the Council of Chalcedon, out of six\nmillions of Christians in the patriarchate of Alexandria, there were\nonly three hundred thousand Catholics, and in Asia Minor the divisions\nand dissensions caused by the Monophysite and Nestorian heresies were so\ngreat that the peace and stability of the Eastern empire were seriously\ncompromised. This was the occasion of an effort at reconciliation made\nby the Emperor Heraclius, in concert with Sergius of Constantinople and\nCyrus of Alexandria, which brought in a new heresy, the Monothelite,\nwith new disorders, new persecutions, and another violent struggle for\nlife on the part of the Catholic faith, that resulted after fifty years\nin a sixth \u0153cumenical council, where the Monothelite heresy was\ncondemned. What reason has Dr. Ewer for excluding these heretical\nEastern sects from his comprehensive Catholic Church? They have always\nreceived the creeds of Nice and Constantinople. They hold fewer heresies\nthan those which are admitted by the Church of England, and, apart from\ntheir special heretical tenets, are in close conformity of doctrine and\norder with the Greek Church. They always protested that they held the\nprimitive, Catholic faith, and that they were unjustly condemned because\nthey resisted the effort to impose new dogmas and additions to the creed\nas terms of Catholic communion. The history of the whole period of the\nfirst six councils completely falsifies and nullifies Dr. Ewer\u2019s theory,\nand shows his fanciful chant in unison to be as mythical a song as was\never sung in the brain of a woman with a bee in her bonnet. It has a\nvery nice sound to appeal to the first six councils. Even the\nPresbyterian General Assembly could vindicate their orthodoxy before\nPius IX. by loudly proclaiming their assent to all the dogmatic\ndefinitions of the first six councils. But what do the majority of men\nknow about these councils? The same objections which Anglicans make\nagainst the seventh, and Greeks and Anglicans alike make against the\ncouncils of Lyons, Florence, Trent, and the Vatican, are of equal force\nagainst those of Nice, Constantinople, Ephesus, and Chalcedon. The\nnumber of bishops present in each of them varied from one hundred and\nfifty to six hundred and thirty, out of a whole number of prelates\ncertainly much larger even in the beginning of the fourth century, and\nestimated by the emperors themselves, who must have had better means of\ninformation than any others at the time, as having increased in the\nfifth century to a total of five or six thousand. The church went on\nvery well for three centuries without any \u0153cumenical councils. When the\nnecessity arose, each council was sufficient for the present emergency,\nbut not sufficient for the new ones which arose and demanded new\ncouncils and new decisions, of equal authority with the preceding. Each\none has met the violent opposition of the rebellious, the schismatical,\nand the heretical appellants from the present, actual authority of the\nchurch to some ideal tribunal of their own imagination, in the past or\nin the future, which they can call what they choose, the Catholic Church\nor the Word of God. Their word of God is their own private\ninterpretation of Scripture, or of Scripture and tradition together;\ntheir Catholic Church is themselves and their particular party,\npretending to speak in the name of the church and to be her\ninterpreters. The whole is worth as much as the \u0153cumenical council\nforged by Photius, acts, decrees, signatures, and all, and promulgated\nat large among the Eastern bishops, in support of his usurpation of the\nsee of Constantinople. The council of Photius was Photius himself, and\nthe Catholic Church of Dr. Ewer is Dr. Ewer and the other members of his\nparty. There is no really existing and speaking society which says: \u201cI\nam the church, composed of three parts, Roman, Greek, and Anglican.\u201d\nThis is the language of certain individuals put into the mouth of an\nimaginary society. The principle of individualism, which is the first\nprinciple of schism and heresy, is just as really at the bottom of Dr.\nEwer\u2019s theory as it is at the bottom of Chillingworth\u2019s. It breeds the\nsame discord and disunion, and leaves men exposed to the same inroad of\nscepticism. Controversies concerning what the church is, what her\nauthority and infallibility are, which are the true councils, which is\nthe true Catholic communion, who are the lawful pastors to whom\nobedience is due, confuse and disturb the mind and conscience as much as\ncontroversies concerning the true sense of Scripture, the true doctrine\nof the Person of Christ, or the conditions of salvation in general.\nThere must have been an external criterion, a rule of determination, by\nwhich the orthodox faith and Catholic communion could be discerned from\nArian, Nestorian, Monophysite, and Donatist counterfeits. That same rule\nmust exist now; it must be an infallible test of every kind of spurious\nChristianity and spurious Catholicity. It is necessary that this rule,\nif it be really sufficient, should determine not only between Caiphas or\nMohammed and Christ, between apocryphal and genuine Scriptures, between\nArius and Athanasius, Macedonius and Basil, Nestorius and Cyril,\nDioscorus and Leo, Pyrrhus and Maximus, but also between Calvin and\nBellarmine, Elizabeth and Pius V., Nicholas and Pius IX., D\u00f6llinger and\nCardinal Manning, Dr. Ewer and Dr. Brownson. It must determine not only\nbetween church and no-church, Bible alone and Bible with apostolic\ntradition, priest and preacher, but between bishop and bishop, the\nusurpation and the just right of ecclesiastical jurisdiction, the\npretence and the reality of infallible authority, the minimum and the\nmaximum of doctrine which must be accepted as pertaining to Catholic\nfaith. These are not non-essential matters or questions of debate\nbetween theological schools. They relate to obligations of conscience in\nwhich the salvation of the soul is involved, and are eminently\npractical. The Spanish prince Hermenegild had such a practical rule, and\nobeyed it by sacrificing his life rather than to receive communion from\nan Arian bishop. Marie Antoinette had the same, and died without the\nViaticum rather than to receive it from a constitutional priest. An\nAnglican living in St. Petersburg, and in doubt whether he was bound to\nremain in his own sect, to join the Russian national church, or to\nbecome a Catholic, or was at liberty to choose between the three, would\nneed the same rule. Who could decide the doubt for him? His own clergy?\nThe Russian clergy? Catholic priests? The judgment of any of these, as\nprivate individuals, is not infallible. They can only help him to find\nsome rule under which they are personally acting, and which proceeds\nfrom an authority superior to themselves. According to Dr. Ewer, neither\nof these authorities is supreme or infallible in itself; it is only in\nso far as they agree in transmitting the judgments of an authority in\nabeyance, that they can furnish an infallible rule. This is no rule\nwhich meets his case. They agree only in telling him that he must obey\nthe rule recognized by the first six councils. Where is that voice of\nGod which is audible to all men who will hear? Where is the embodied\nChrist who will take him by the hand? What has become of the chant in\nunison of the one, Catholic Church, musically uttering unalterable\ntruth? Suppose that the Christians of the first seven centuries had been\nleft without any better rule than this, what perplexity and unutterable\nconfusion would have been the result\u2014quite as bad if not worse than that\nwhich exists among our modern Protestant sects.\n\nAn extrinsic and infallible rule of faith must be one that in a\nself-evident manner manifests itself as really extrinsic to those who\npresent it, and superior to their individual judgment, and it must be\nuniversal. The teacher and the judge must speak in the name of a really\nexisting society which is actually one and universal, and in a manifest\nidentity with itself in the past, by unbroken continuity of life and\nself-consciousness from the time of its origin in the divine institution\nof Christ. The instructor of the one who seeks the truth must teach him\nwhat the church thinks and commands, and give him a criterion of\ncertainty that she does think and command what he ascribes to her, so\nthat if he falsifies her teaching he will disclose and betray his own\ndeception in the very act of deceiving, like one who hands over a\npackage of money which had been entrusted to him with a letter\ncontaining a description of its contents. Such a rule of faith, with its\ncriterion of certainty and of self-verification, without any doubt the\nCatholics of the first seven centuries possessed. Their living and\nimmediate rule was a church really one and obviously one with itself in\nits present and in its past. It declared itself to have always held and\nmeant just what it was now saying. The faithful believed and obeyed it,\nbecause its continuity and identity from St. Peter and the apostles were\nobvious by manifest signs and tokens which could not deceive them.\nHeretics and schismatics could not successfully mimic the voice of the\ntrue church. Their lack of continuity, _i.e._, apostolicity, of unity,\nof Catholicity, and of sanctity as well, was obvious. Their counterfeits\nwere always put forth as the genuine coin of ancient stamp, but as coin\nwhich had been hidden or defaced until they had discovered it, or\nburnished it anew. The lawful issues of new coin from the old mint they\ndenounced as counterfeit or adulterated. Their very pretence of\nreturning to a kind of old Catholic doctrine more ancient and more\nCatholic than that of the present church, was a sure, detective test of\ntheir spuriousness. Continuity could not be in them, or universality, or\nunity; because their only claim to a hearing, and their only\njustification of their rebellion, implied that the church had not\npreserved these notes unimpaired. They were self-contradictory, and\naffirmed and denied the Catholic Church in the same breath. So likewise\ntheir successors. The so-called Greek Church is a contradiction to\nitself, in respect to its schismatical position, and a concrete\nabsurdity. The Anglican sect is not on a par with the schismatical and\nheretical churches of the East in any way, and deserves no consideration\nin the treatment of the question of the actual extension of the Catholic\nChurch. The theoretical church called Anglo-Catholic is an _ens\nrationis_. We give it only a hypothetical position in our discussion, as\na possible society which might be organized in accordance with Dr.\nEwer\u2019s theory, if there were one real bishop to undertake the\nexperiment. This hypothetical church is an hypothetical absurdity, as\nthe Greek Church is a real one. The absurdity consists in the\ncontradiction between the concrete and practical actuality of separate\nexistence as a partial and incomplete church, and the confession of\nfaith in one, holy, Catholic, and apostolic church, having infallible\nauthority in faith and morals. If the one church continues to exist as a\ncomplete, integral whole, there is no place for another partial and\nincomplete church, and any society which exists under that name is\ncondemned by itself as an anomaly and a crime. If it does not exist, the\nchurch has failed. There being no whole, there can be no parts. There is\nno church at all of divine institution, no mystical body of Christ on\nearth. There are only human organizations, each of which is changeable\nand fallible. The profession of belief in the one, holy, Catholic, and\napostolic church is, therefore, a profession of belief in a falsehood.\n_Mentita est iniquitas sibi._\n\nIn that part of his theory which is Catholic Dr. Ewer affirms as a\nnecessary consequence from the nature of God as a God of love, together\nwith the method which he has chosen for manifesting his love through the\nIncarnation, that the Catholic Church must be really existing: \u201cthat God\nhas still remained, and will to the end of time remain, in a one,\nundying, ever-fresh, amazing, organic, visible, audible, tangible, and\nrecognizable body of human matter, known as the mystical body of God on\nearth.\u201d Once more he says: \u201cAs Jesus Christ was the only being who dared\nto call himself God, so Catholicity is the only Christian body that\ndares to call itself infallible; that dares to begin its discourses, to\ngive its truth, to pronounce its judgments, and to pardon sin, \u2018In the\nname of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.\u2019\u201d This is\ngiven as a token of the true church, the real possessor of infallible\nauthority.\n\nFrom this it follows that the church whose supreme ruler is the Roman\nPontiff is the one, Catholic Church, complete and integral in itself,\nand in no sense a compart with the Greek and Anglican churches as other\nparts making up with it, as a composite totality, the Catholic Church.\nThe members of this church are on the same footing with the Catholics of\nthe earlier ages, and have the same rule. They recognize one church,\ndistinct and separate from all others, as perfect and infallible, with\nits continuous series of \u0153cumenical councils. This church, and this\nchurch alone, dares to assume the exclusive name and prerogatives of\nCatholicity, to proclaim itself infallible, and to command obedience to\nits decrees as the necessary condition of salvation. The Sovereign\nPontiff of Rome, and he alone, dares to call himself the Vicar of Christ\nand the Head of his entire mystical body, the church. But that most\nillogical and inconsistent of men, Dr. Ewer, confronted by Pius IX. and\nthe \u0152cumenical Council of the Vatican, and feeling himself and his\npseudo-Catholicism smitten by their anathemas, suddenly drops his\nCatholic disguise, and, showing himself in his true character as a\nProtestant and a sceptic, cries out: \u201cLET US EXAMINE.\u201d We have no\nobjection to an examination. For a Catholic, to examine the dogmatic\ndecrees of an \u0153cumenical council or of the pope in respect to matters of\nfaith, with an examination of doubt and hesitancy, is _ipso facto_ a\nrenunciation of his rule of faith and an act of apostasy. For one who is\nin inculpable ignorance or doubt concerning the criterion of truth and\nthe proximate rule of faith, to examine with sincerity and honesty of\npurpose is a duty as well as a right. Dr. Ewer puts himself and his\nauditors into this position, as seekers, inquirers, who are invited to\n\u201cgo back and start all over again\u2014without a Bible, without a church,\nwithout sacraments, without any religious notions\u2014_and see where we\nshall come out_.\u201d An interesting exploration, assuredly! Dr. Ewer, and\nthose who follow his guidance, come out, by a tolerably short path, to a\nlogical position, which is the next one to a final term of the process.\nNothing remains to be determined, except the subject of the attribute of\ninfallibility, in its specific and individual being as really existing,\nand representing the sovereign authority of Christ on earth. Even this\nis determined in respect to the past existence of the body which is\nrecognized as the one, true church, and was assembled in the first six\ncouncils. The one point to be examined is whether the body assembled in\nthe Council of the Vatican is identical with the one, true church\nassembled at Nice, Chalcedon, and Constantinople, in \u0153cumenical council.\nIf it is, the examination is terminated; the infallible church is found\nreally existing in the present, with the same specific and individuating\nnotes by which it is identified as existing in the past. If not, the\nexamination is equally terminated, for there is no other body even\nostensibly similar to this one which remains to be examined.\nConsequently, Dr. Ewer and his followers have come out into a _cul de\nsac_, or no thoroughfare.\n\nDr. Ewer, having examined the claim of the Vatican Council to be the\n_Ecclesia Docens_, defining the Catholic faith with infallible authority\nequal to that of the Council of Nice, does not merely dispute or deny\nit, but scouts and ridicules it with most contemptuous language,\nunsurpassed by any ever used by Arians or Eutychians against previous\ncouncils and definitions. Its great dogmatic decree defining the\ninfallibility of the Roman Pontiff he vituperates as \u201cthis flagrant\ninstance of the fallacy known as \u2018begging the very question at issue\u2019;\nan instance which is perhaps the sublimest in its presumption, and the\nmost absurd in its simplicity, that the world ever stood amazed at.\u201d\nThis is a strong assertion and powerful rhetoric! But what we want is\nevidence and logic. Has Dr. Ewer furnished any? There is some pretence\nof an argument, and, such as it is, we will endeavor to sift its value.\nThe argument is briefly this. The dogmatic decree is the product of two\nfactors, the collective judgment of the bishops apart from that of the\npope, and the judgment of the pope himself. The judgment of the bishops\nbeing confessedly not final and infallible in itself, it is the judgment\nof the pope which must make the decree defining his infallibility final\nand infallible. Therefore, he defines his own infallibility by the same\ninfallibility. He declares himself to be infallible because he is; the\nreason why we are bound to believe is identical with the very object of\nbelief, _idem per idem_.\n\nWe will first point out the consequences to Dr. Ewer\u2019s own theory from\nthe argument he has used against the infallibility of the pope, and show\nits thoroughly sceptical tendency, and afterwards refute it in a more\ndirect manner. The infallibility of the church or of \u0153cumenical councils\nhas never been defined by any of the councils acknowledged by Dr. Ewer.\nIt has always been taken for granted. Suppose that the Council of Nice\nhad explicitly declared this doctrine as a dogma of Catholic faith. It\nwould have affirmed the infallibility of a council as its own infallible\njudgment, and the infallibility of this judgment itself would rest on\nthe infallibility of the church in council, the very thing defined, as\nmuch as the infallibility of the judgment of Pius IX. rested on his own\ndeclaration that he was infallible. It would be the same in the case of\nthe imaginary future council gathered from the three parts of Dr. Ewer\u2019s\ncatholic church. The taking of infallibility for granted was just as\nmuch a begging of the question, on the part of the _Ecclesia Docens_, in\nher ordinary universal teaching and her solemn definitions, as if she\nhad expressly defined it. According to the same logic, the affirmation\nof their infallibility and inspiration by the twelve apostles would have\nbeen a begging of the question. It would have been a demand for belief\nin their inspiration, because they declared that they were inspired.\nEven so with our Blessed Lord. He declared that he was the Son of God,\nand required absolute faith in his words because he was the Son of God,\nand the very reason for believing his declaration rested on his actually\nbeing the Son of God. It is exactly the same with the intellect and\nreason of man. The demonstrations of reason rest on first principles\nwhich are taken for granted. Why do you take them for granted, we may\nask of the intellect. Because they are evident to me. What is the proof\nthat what is evident to you is truth? I am intellect, and am made to see\ntruth? By what authority do you affirm that? By my own, because I am\nintellect and reason. But I want an authority, extrinsic to you, as a\nwarrant that you do not err when you say you are intellect and reason,\nand that what you call self-evident is really so, and not a mere\nhallucination. There is none.\n\nLet us go back to God himself. We believe God on his veracity, _i.e._,\nbecause he is truth in his essence, his knowledge, and his manifestation\nof the same to us. This veracity of God, which is the reason for\nbelieving whatever he makes known to us by revelation, is made known to\nus by God himself, and we depend on his truth for the certainty that it\nis truth, that he exists, and that he has manifested to us the truth.\nIf, therefore, the declaration of the infallibility of the pope by the\npope himself is a logical fallacy because the infallibility of the\nperson and the act declaring it is implied and presupposed, there is a\nlogical fallacy at the bottom of all faith and all science, of the first\nacts of reason and intellect, of the very idea of being and reality.\nThis is Kantian and transcendental scepticism and nihilism pure and\nsimple. Being and nothing are identical. We are swallowed by the abyss\nof the unknowable, and the only fate possible or desirable for us,\nphantoms of a nightmare, is to be swallowed by the lower abyss of\ndreamless unconsciousness.\n\nThere is a real affinity between the pseudo-Catholicism of Oxford and\nscepticism. The former breeds the latter, and has actually been\nsucceeded by it in the English universities and in many individual\nminds. Its sophistical methods pervert the reasoning faculties and\nundermine the basis of certitude. There is, moreover, a reaction caused\nby the refusal to draw from premises which can only find their just\nconclusions, their logical consequences, in genuine and complete\nCatholicity, which drives men back upon a rejection of all Christianity\nand all rational theology. As for the great mass of the present doubting\ngeneration, they are disgusted and repelled, if they are not rather\nmoved to laughter and contempt, by the exhibition of such an illusory\nand fantastic claim of authority, before which they are exhorted to bow\ndown. If Protestantism is a failure, and the authority of the Roman\nPontiff and the great councils which have been celebrated under his\npresidency is futile, and the doctrine of the Greek Church is only\nCatholic in so far as the Church of England agrees with it, and this\nfinal measure of truth is only ascertained by taking the opinion of one\nsmall party of individuals, most men will conclude that Catholic\nauthority is the most baseless of pretensions, and that Christianity\nitself is a failure. It is very unwise for any man to attempt to play\nthe prophet, and assume to speak to men with a solemn air in the name of\nGod, in these days, unless he has very authentic credentials. The pope\ncan speak to the world as the Vicar of Christ, and receive some\nrespectful attention. Any Catholic priest preaching Catholic doctrine\nhas the pope, and the whole hierarchy, and many past centuries behind\nhim, to overshadow him with their majesty. But the world cares nothing\nfor what is said officially by the Patriarch of Constantinople or the\nArchbishop of Canterbury, much less for Dr. Ewer, and others like him\nwho attempt to play the priest and imitate the Doctors of the church. In\nthe great controversies of the age they count as a cipher. Whatever else\nthe men of the coming age may do, they will not become Greco-Russian or\nRitualistic. The issue is between Rome and anti-Christianity. Our only\nreason for noticing such a theory as that of Dr. Ewer is that numbers of\nindividual members of his communion who are personally worthy of all\nrespect are hindered by its speciousness from perceiving clearly the\ntruth over which it casts a haze, and that others are likely to be\nprejudiced against the truth which it misrepresents and denies. It is a\npseudo-Catholicism. Those who imbibe its Catholic ingredient are\nhindered from embracing the genuine Catholicity, toward which they have\na tendency. Those who assimilate its uncatholic and sceptical element\nare hardened in their unbelief. We have said enough to show that it is\nno substitute for pure Catholicity and no antidote against scepticism.\nWe drop this theory now out of sight, and during the remainder of this\narticle we shall present to the candid inquirer for truth whose mind may\nhave become confused by following the exposition of sophistry, a brief\ncounter exposition of the integral Catholic truth in respect to that\nextrinsic, infallible criterion and rule by which it is ascertained with\ncertitude, and all Protestant errors, or errors in faith or morals of\nany kind, are rejected.\n\nIn the first place, we repudiate utterly that extravagant _fideism_, if\nwe may call it so, which makes an extrinsic rule, an authority exterior\nto the individual intellect and reason, and a faith or belief on\ntestimony or authority, whether human or divine, the ultimate and only\nsource and basis and rule of certitude in knowledge of the higher\ntruths. We can never begin with any such source and criterion, and of\ncourse never progress and finish. Discursion of the reason, and faith as\nwell, must have an intrinsic starting-point, which for man is in both\nthe senses and the reason. We want no other light, and can have none, by\nwhich to see light itself, or rather to see illuminated objects in and\nby light. The intellect is a spiritual light. All men who have the use\nof their senses in a normal and healthy condition, and likewise their\nreason, see and feel and hear and understand and reason and know,\nwithout doubting; and when they reflect, they are certain that they do\nperceive sensible and intelligible objects. Each one knows this for\nhimself, independently of the rest of mankind, as well as by the\nagreement and common sense of all. The intellect and reason of each one,\nand the intellect of mankind in general, is that to which we appeal, as\ncontaining the first principles and the intrinsic criterion of truth.\nWhoever pretends to doubt these first principles, or asks for somewhat\nabove them and exterior to them, throws himself out of the rational\nsphere, and with him it is useless to argue. By intuition and\ndiscursion, by self-evident principles and demonstration, a great amount\nof certain science, even in natural theology, is attainable. Belief on\ntestimony is rationally based on the evidence of the veracity of the\nwitnesses, and furnishes another great amount of knowledge. Besides what\nis thus made metaphysically, or physically, or morally certain, there is\na much larger quantity of that which is probable, in philosophy,\nphysics, history, and all kinds of higher science. In respect to those\nthings which are made known by divine testimony, that is, by divine\nrevelation, the fact of the testimony is accredited, and made rationally\ncredible, by the motives of credibility attesting and authenticating the\nrevelation. The veracity of God is known by the light of reason. That\nwhich is really contained in the revelation, however it is transmitted,\nwhether by books or by tradition, can be known in a great variety of\nways, like other facts and ideas of the purely natural and human order.\nIt is by no means absolutely necessary to prove the infallible authority\nof the church before we can refute scepticism, false philosophy,\ninfidelity, or heresy. Christianity and Catholic theology rest on a\nsound rational basis and can be proved to the reason of one who is\ncompetent to understand the arguments. Revelation itself is absolutely\nnecessary only for the disclosure of truths which are above reason. And\nthese very truths can be demonstrated, not indeed by their intrinsic\nconnection with truths of natural theology, but by their extrinsic\nconnection with the veracity of God, through a logical syllogism.\nWhatever God testifies is true; but God has testified the mysteries\ncontained in the Holy Scripture; therefore these mysteries are true. It\nis only necessary to prove the minor, and the demonstration is complete.\nThe greatest part of the distinctively Catholic doctrines can be proved\nhistorically, critically, and logically, without resorting to the divine\nauthority of the church. In great measure its human authority suffices,\ntogether with extrinsic sources of proof. In this way many Protestants\nhave conclusively proved a great quantity of the truth contained in the\nChristian revelation. Even infidels are able to perceive and to prove\nthat the religion established by Christ is the Catholic religion, and\nthat whoever believes in the divine mission of Christ, or even in the\nexistence of God, is logically bound to believe in the supremacy of the\npope and in all the doctrines defined by the Roman Church.\n\nWhat, then, is the necessity of revelation? It is absolutely necessary\nfor the disclosure of truths above reason, and morally necessary for the\ninstruction of the great mass of men in all religious and moral truth,\nin a perfect, certain, and easy way, adapted to their spiritual needs.\nWhat is the necessity of an infallible authority in the church? It is\nnecessary as the ordinary means of applying this instruction\nefficaciously and unerringly, in respect to all the dogmatic and moral\ntruths and precepts, with absolute and universal certainty, to the minds\nof all men, in a simple, easy, and unmistakable manner, and of\ndetermining finally controversies and condemning heresies.\n\nA specious and fallacious objection is made on the very threshold of the\nargument on infallibility to show that there is necessarily a begging of\nthe question from the start, and that some prior infallibility must be\nassumed as a reason for affirming any infallible extrinsic authority\nwhatsoever. This is the very sophism we have previously brought to view,\nand which is the very essence of universal scepticism. It is objected\nthat we cannot really identify and appropriate an infallible rule\nwithout a previous infallible criterion, and that we cannot apply it\nwithout the same criterion. The mind of man is fallible in determining\nthat there is an infallible authority, what is that authority, what it\nteaches. But if I am fallible in the very judgment upon which rests the\ninfallibility of the criterion which I assume as a safeguard against my\nown liability to error, I can never get beyond a fallible conclusion.\nThis is the very argument of sceptics and probabilists against physical\nand metaphysical certitude. The senses are fallible, reason is fallible.\nMen are sometimes deceived by trusting to their senses, to their reason,\nto the testimony of others. Therefore we ought to doubt everything, or\nat least to rest satisfied with probability and a kind of blind,\ninstinctive assent. We must substitute practical reason for pure reason.\nThis is all sophistry and false philosophy. Fallibility is not essential\nbut accidental in sensitive and intellectual cognition. It is a\ndeficiency of nature, not a natural incapacity for certitude. Some would\nsay that the intellect and reason are infallible within a certain\nsphere, so that by reason the mind infallibly joins itself to the higher\ninfallibility of the church, and infallibly receives the truth from its\nteaching. We think it more accurate to restrict infallibility to that\ncriterion which is absolutely and universally exempt from all liability\nto the accidental defect of error. In respect to the senses and to\nreason, we say they are fallible _per accidens_ and by a deficiency in\ntheir operation. Nevertheless, we can be certain, in many cases, that\nthey do not and cannot fail to give us certitude through any such\naccidental failure and deficiency. We can test their accuracy, as in\nobserving sensible phenomena, and in mathematical calculations. This is\nenough to overthrow scepticism and probabilism. There is such a thing as\nrational certitude, and this suffices for our purpose. By rational\ncertitude human reason can obtain, without any fear of error, its\ninfallible criterion. By the same it can receive and apply its\ninfallible judgments without fear of error. We are not analyzing\nsupernatural and divine faith, but the rational process which underlies,\naccompanies, and follows faith with more or less explicitness and\ncompleteness, and which is the preamble of faith for those who are not\nyet in possession of Catholic faith, but are sincere inquirers. No one\nis asked to grant any begging of the question of infallibility, or to\naccept any proof of _idem per idem_, or to give unqualified assent to a\nmere probability. The truth of Christianity, and the identity of\nCatholicity with it, are proved with conclusive certainty by the motives\nof credibility. The same proof which establishes the divinity of Jesus\nChrist establishes the divine authority of the Catholic Church. This\nauthority is infallible because divine and supreme, and having the right\nto command the firm, undoubting assent of the intellect to its teaching,\nand the unconditional submission of the will to its precepts. The\nauthority of the church once established, its testimony to its own\ncharacter and prerogatives must be received as true. The divine mission\nof Jesus Christ was proved by his miracles, and his own affirmation of\nhis divinity was thus made credible. The mission and authority of the\napostles are authenticated by his commission, and the church founded by\nthem is identified by the manifest notes of unity, sanctity,\napostolicity, and catholicity. The hierarchical organization of the\nchurch, its principles of unity and government, the constitution of its\ntribunals, and the respective attributions of the ruling, teaching, and\njudging magistrates who preside over the whole or particular parts, must\nbe determined by its own traditions, laws, usages, and declarations. In\nany matter of controversy respecting any of these things, the supreme\nauthority must decide without appeal. Find the sovereign authority to\nwhich the whole church is subject by its organic law, and there can be\nno further question. In every perfect and unequal society there is a\nsovereignty which is considered as practically infallible, that is, as a\ntribunal of last resort, from which no appeal can be taken. In a society\nhaving divine authority to teach and judge in matters of faith and\nmorals in the name of God, this practical infallibility must be a real\ninfallibility in the strict sense of the term. From this principle\nsprings the reason and obligation of the recognition of infallibility in\n\u0153cumenical councils. They are supreme, because they contain all the\nauthority which exists in the church. Although the entire episcopate\nnumerically is not present in such a council, the authority which it\npossesses is equivalent to that of the whole episcopate. The accession\nof the suffrages of the bishops who are absent from the council supplies\nwhat is wanting in respect to numerical quantity in the representation\nof the whole body at the deliberations and decisions of the council.\nTheir tacit assent, which in due time becomes the explicit and formal\nprofession of complete concurrence, adds moral weight and invincible\nforce to the authority of the conciliar decisions. This is augmented by\nthe assent of the whole body of the clergy and laity. It is no matter\nhow numerous dissidents and recusants may be among bishops, clergy, and\npeople, or how long their protest and rebellion may continue. They\nseparate themselves from the true body, and are legitimately excluded\nfrom it, and therefore their suffrages do not count. That unanimity\nwhich is a criterion of truth is not a unanimity of Catholics, heretics,\nand schismatics together, but of Catholics alone. There is requisite,\ntherefore, some certain mark by which Catholics can be discerned. The\nCatholic episcopate, the Catholic priesthood, the Catholic people,\nCatholic councils, Catholic creeds and confessions, the Catholic\ncommunion, must be discriminated in some plain and obvious manner from\nall their counterfeits, however great the semblance of reality which\nthese counterfeits bear on their surface. The test of separation from\nthe true faith and the true church, and the authority which judges of\nthe fact of separation, must be clear and indubitable. The \u0153cumenical\ncouncil must have its complete and legitimate authority, in which the\nauthority of the whole church and the whole episcopate is concentrated\nand applied, independently of the assent or dissent of any number of\nindividuals, even bishops or patriarchs, who are not actually concurring\nin its judgment. It must have power to command assent and to punish\ndissent, or its authority is nugatory. It is a plain, historical fact\nthat the supremacy of the Apostolic See of St. Peter gave to the\nepiscopate its unity, and to the episcopate assembled in general council\nits final authority, from the first age of the church, and from the\nbeginning of its action through \u0153cumenical councils. The councils were\nnot complete without the pope, and it was his ratification which\nconfirmed and made irreformable their judgments.\n\nThe Council of Nice and the Council of the Vatican are precisely alike\nin this respect. The bishops possess now, as they have always possessed,\nconjudicial authority in deciding matters of faith with the pope,\nwhether in or out of council, as they are, in all other respects, _jure\ndivino_ co-regents with him of the universal church. But they do not\nshare in his supremacy and sovereignty, even though they may be bishops\nof apostolic sees and have patriarchal jurisdiction. He is the supreme\njudge, as he is the supreme ruler. As such, his right to judge in\nmatters of faith, without the aid of a general council, as well as to\nmake laws and exercise all the plenitude of jurisdiction, has been\nacknowledged by all the \u0153cumenical councils and by the whole church in\nevery age. It is false to say that the dogmatic decree of the Council of\nthe Vatican made any change in doctrine or law respecting the authority\nof the pope over the episcopate, whether assembled or dispersed, and\nover the universal church. The Council of Florence, to go no higher,\ndefined the plenitude of his power. The Creed of Pius IV., to which\nevery bishop, and every particular council since Trent, has been obliged\nto swear assent, proclaims the Roman Church \u201cThe Mother and Mistress of\nChurches,\u201d denoting by the words \u201cMagistra Ecclesiarum\u201d not supremacy in\ngovernment but in defining and teaching doctrine. The undoubted\nauthority of the pope to teach and define doctrine by his apostolic\nauthority, to condemn heresies and errors, and to command not only\nexterior but interior obedience and assent even from bishops, was\nuniversally recognized before the Council of the Vatican assembled.\nAppeals from his judgments to an \u0153cumenical council have been forbidden\nfor centuries past, under pain of excommunication. The infallibility of\nthe pope in his decisions _ex cathedra_ is a necessary logical deduction\nfrom his supreme authority in teaching and judging. It is false to say\nthat it was doubtful before the Council of the Vatican defined it. It\nhas been implied and acted on, as a fundamental principle of the\nCatholic Church, from the beginning. Some Catholics doubted or denied\nit, and the church wisely tolerated their error for a time, as she\ntolerated the Semi-Arians, awaiting the opportune occasion of destroying\nthe error without damaging the cause of truth and the salvation of her\nchildren. That some few bishops at the Council of the Vatican still held\nto the Gallican error, that it was taught by a few professors and\nlearned writers, that it was held by a small minority of the clergy and\neducated laity, and that a still greater number were not clearly aware\nof the true and Catholic doctrine, does not prejudice the case in the\nslightest degree. All these were bound as Catholics to recognize the\ninfallibility of the definition solemnly promulgated by the pope with\nthe assent of a majority of the bishops. Those who refused were\nexcommunicated as heretics. The pope, together with all the bishops,\nclergy, and faithful of the Catholic Church, are united in the\nprofession of the faith as defined in the Vatican Council, precisely as\nthey were united in the profession of the dogmas defined at Nice,\nEphesus, Chalcedon, and Constantinople, at Florence and at Trent. It is\nabsurd to deny to a tribunal competent to define with metaphysical\naccuracy the most abstruse truths concerning the trinity of persons in\nthe Godhead, and the divinity and humanity of the Incarnate Word, an\nequal ability to determine the attributions of the distinct parts of the\nCatholic hierarchy, and to define clearly how the infallible church is\nconstituted in respect to the relations between her head and members. It\nis absurd to recognize the Council of Nice as infallible, and to deny\nthe infallibility of the Council of the Vatican. They rest upon the same\nbasis, the divine constitution of the Catholic Church in the episcopate\nas the _Eccelesia Docens_, with authority to teach and to command\nassent, under the supremacy of the successor of St. Peter in the Roman\nSee. This is not an arbitrary authority to impose any opinion which may\nhappen to command a majority of suffrages and receive the sanction of\nthe pope. Neither is it an original authority, founded on inspiration,\nto propose truth immediately revealed. It is authority, in the first\nplace, to deliver authentic testimony of the faith handed down by\ntradition from the beginning and continually preserved in the church,\nbut especially in the Roman Church. It is authority, in the second\nplace, to interpret and declare the true sense of all past decrees and\ndecisions, of the general teaching of the church in past ages, of the\ndoctrine of the Fathers and Doctors of the church, and of all records in\nwhich evidence is found of the traditional doctrine derived originally\nfrom the apostles. In the third place, to interpret and judge of the\ntrue sense of the Holy Scriptures, the principal source from which\nknowledge of revealed truth is derived. Finally, to declare the revealed\ndogmas contained in the Written and Unwritten Word, in Scripture and\nApostolic Tradition, in clear and precise terms which are fit and proper\nto express them intelligibly, that is, to define dogmas of faith, and to\nrequire universal assent to these definitions under pain of anathema.\nThe inerrancy, or infallibility, is a security from the accident of\nerror in these dogmatic definitions, which results from a supernatural\nand divine assistance, overruling the conclusions of the human judgment\nwhich have been reached by a human and rational process, so far as\nneedful, in order that they may not be faulty either by excess or defect\nas an exact expression of the revealed truth. This divine assistance is\nnot given exclusively to the pope as an individual, to regulate the acts\nof his own mind, in thought or investigation regarding the revealed\ntruths. It extends itself over the church universally, and over all the\nprocesses and methods by which the doctrines of revelation are preserved\nand developed in her living consciousness, and proclaimed through her\norgans to the world in their integrity. In the councils of the church it\nis by the assistance of the Holy Spirit to the deliberations of the\nbishops and theologians, as well as by his overruling direction of the\nexercise of his office of supreme judge by the pope, that the result is\nreached in the solemn and final decisions. This result is not a blind\ndetermination, a passive reception of an impulse superseding reason. It\nis a rational certitude, an enlightened judgment based on motives which\nare convincing and conclusive. It has the highest human authority, apart\nfrom the divine sanction which confirms it. When the prelates of the\nVatican Council presented the dogmatic decree defining the infallibility\nof the pope, to Pius IX. for his sanction, history, theology, the\nconsent of Fathers, Doctors, councils, and Catholic Christendom, and the\nHoly Scriptures as interpreted by a series of the most learned and holy\nmen who have adorned the annals of the church, demanded through them the\nsolemn confirmation of this decree. Pius IX. was called upon to declare\nthe tradition of the Roman Church, the doctrine of his predecessors, the\nprinciple upon which the Holy See had always acted in defining faith and\ncondemning heresy. He was asked to complete and confirm by his supreme\nauthority the explicit or implicit judgment of nine-tenths of the\nCatholic episcopate. The absolute finality and divine authority of his\njudgment was not dependent upon his personal assertion of his own belief\nin his infallibility, as its support. His right and power to determine\nthat the decree of the council should be final and irrevocable were\nbeyond question or controversy. The fact that, by virtue of his right as\nVicar of Christ, he defined something respecting the nature and extent\nof that right is irrelevant as an objection, and to make use of it as\none is a sophistical artifice. If Almighty God is credible when he\ndeclares his own veracity, if Jesus Christ is credible when he declares\nhis own divinity, the Vicar of Christ is credible when he declares his\nown infallibility. If God is God, he must be veracious; if Christ is\nChrist, he must be God; if the Vicar of Christ is his Vicar, he must be\ninfallible. God does not command our belief without giving us evidence\nthat he is God; Jesus Christ does not require our submission to his\ndivine authority without giving us evidence that he is the Son of God;\nthe pope does not exact our obedience to his infallible judgments\nwithout giving us evidence that he is the Vicar of Christ and the\nVicegerent of God on earth. The Catholic religion makes no demand for\nirrational assent to anything. It is not mere logic and philosophy, but\nit contains both in their ultimate perfection, and will bear the most\nrigorous rational examination. It is logically consistent and consequent\nthroughout, from its first principles to its last conclusions. There is\nno other religion or philosophy which is so, and the most illogical of\nall is pseudo-Catholicism.\n\nFootnote 125:\n\n A lecture by the Rev. Dr. F. C. Ewer, \u201cCatholic Truth and Protestant\n Error,\u201d reported in the New York _Tribune_ of May 11, 1878.\n\n\n\n\n CHILD-WISDOM.\n\n\n A little maiden, dear through kindred blood\n And loving from her very birth begun,\n Stood at my side one summer afternoon\n And hearkened quiet stories: bits of verse\n That told of shipwreck and of strong sea-birds\n That rode on sunny waves or beat their wings,\n Storm-driven, \u2019gainst the sea-washed beacon-light.\n Delighting in sad tales, wide-eyed she gazed,\n Yet fearing, half, their ends might be too sad;\n Still, bidding e\u2019er, with doubtful joy in grief,\n The repetition of each dolorous strain.\n Then, choosing \u2019mong my books some pictured page,\n She took my Roman missal on her knee,\n Turned o\u2019er its many pages one by one,\n Seeking the prints that there lay interleaved,\n Still patient turning as with conjurer\u2019s touch\n To win a richer harvest than she found.\n From these oft-questioning, full-budded lips\n No _ave_ e\u2019er had dropt in that sweet faith\n That holdeth brotherhood with Bethlehem\u2019s Babe\n Blessing from Mary\u2019s knees\u2014true, guileless faith\n That, suing so God\u2019s Mother, dares to share\n With Him dear claim unto her mother-love.\n The thoughtful maiden\u2019s little, childish life\n Had grown \u2019mid alien faith where men half feared\n To honor her whom God hath honored most,\n Even while cherished they as solace sweet\n Through sorrow\u2019s hours, and sickness\u2019 length of days,\n Some picture of the Maid Immaculate\n With heaven-bent eyes and meekly-folded hands,\n \u2019Mid luminous clouds, the cherubs at her feet\u2014\n The sinless Maiden dowered with quenchless grace,\n Filling earth-weary hearts with rest and trust\n By the mute strength of her soul\u2019s purity.\n And knew the little child of Jesus\u2019 name\u2014\n By reverent mother and much-loving aunt\n Told the sad story of Jerusalem\u2019s loss.\n So, still with constant question turning o\u2019er\n My pictured hoard, she begged that of its wealth\n Some might to her be given, choosing first\n What brightest shone with color deep and rich,\n And, though, because to each least line there clung\n Some precious thought, her question oft denied,\n Persisting ever; till at length were found\n Some little prints, less treasured, at her will.\n One, holy Joseph, with enraptured gaze,\n The blossoming palm of justice at his side,\n The Sun of Justice shining on his arm;\n Another, our dear Mother Undefiled\n Clasping in loving arms her Child Divine;\n This favor found, but gave not perfect joy,\n Since all uncolored, and so lacking worth\n In ever-longing gaze of wide gray eyes\n That pleaded softly, while the small child-lips\n Begged that at least the little plain black print\n Might have some color sweetness on it set,\n Winning so heightened beauty as complete\n As the bright pictures that she might not have.\n The missal\u2019s store no longer coveted,\n It was laid by; the fairy colors brought\n That should with simple touch the magic work\n That might for all that wealth denied atone.\n Expectant stood the little maid demure,\n The round cheeks bent intently o\u2019er the work,\n The eyes drawn very near to closely watch\n Each line of added joy the swift brush gave.\n Clothed was the Mother in her cloak of blue,\n And crowned the Child Divine with halo wide\n That in its golden light still sadly bore\n The shadow of his cross. With lesser glow\n Was drawn the shining ring that loving wreathed\n The Queen of Grace, crowned fairest in her Son.\n Not so the little maid would have it done:\n Just such bright halo cruciform must shine\n Round Mary\u2019s head, and spreading, too, more wide\n Than his, her Child\u2019s\u2014his Mother, was she not?\n More near the round cheeks drew: protesting lips\n Would have the Mother with His glory crowned.\n Telling the little one how God alone\n The nimbus wears wherein is lined the cross,\n I traced along the Mother\u2019s simpler ring,\n With gilded brush, a circle of fair stars\n That in the asking eyes by far outshone\n The shadowy cross\u2019s sorrow-dimmed halo.\n And so the maiden was well comforted,\n And bore in triumph her much-prized spoils\n Of that still, sunny afternoon\u2019s calm talk\n And pictured pages of my holy books.\n And I a fine-wrought, warm-hued picture kept\n That looked from innocent eyes of truthful soul\n With child-wise lips and pure, unconscious heart,\n Sweet witness bearing to our Mother\u2019s state\u2014\n God\u2019s stainless Mother with his glory crowned,\n And in his sorrow sharing for our sake.\n\n\n\n\n PARISIAN CONTRASTS.\n THE PARIS OF 1871 AND THE PARIS OF 1878.\n\n\nPARIS, May 22, 1878.\n\nScenes and sensations there are in life which seem to cut themselves\ninto the soul as diamond cuts into glass, and on May 22, 1871, occurred\none of this kind. On the afternoon of that day I was sitting on the\nbalcony of a house in London with a large and merry party watching the\n\u201creturn from the Derby\u201d up Grosvenor Place, every house and balcony in\nwhich was similarly draped in red and filled with bright faces and\nbrighter dresses, with youth, beauty, and fashion, when a friend\nappeared amongst us, sad and solemn, come from his club in breathless\nhaste, evidently burdened with some important news. In a few seconds a\nthrill of horror ran through the lively circle, for he had announced\nthat the \u201cTuileries was burning! Paris was in flames!\u201d Never shall I\nforget the sensation. All at once the countless carriages below, full of\nladies and children, ranged in a line along the street; the\nfour-in-hands coming back from Epsom, driven by, and filled with, the\nreigning \u201chopefuls\u201d of the \u201cUpper Ten,\u201d whose faces as they passed\nbetrayed the varied effect of the race on purse and betting-book; the\ndust-stained inmates and blue-veiled coachmen of the open landaus and\nhansoms, with their emptied picnic-baskets slung behind; the serious\ncountenances of some, the smiling features of others; the\nthousand-and-one comic-tragic incidents of the motley multitude which\nmake the return from this annual British Olympic game so celebrated\u2014all\nsuddenly faded from our view, for the eyes of the soul became transfixed\non the appalling scenes then occurring in Paris, and their possible\nconsequences caused all hearts to feel sick with anxiety and dismay.\n_L\u2019imagination travaille_, it is true, at such moments, and is prone to\nexaggerate; but had not the Versailles troops succeeded in entering the\ncity, our fancy would in no way have outstepped the reality. Until that\nday all had believed themselves prepared for the worst. The murder of\nthe archbishop and his martyred companions had sorely grieved mankind,\nand a repetition of the guillotine scenes of the Reign of Terror we felt\nmight any day occur; the idea was not unfamiliar, but so wholesale an\ninstrument of destruction as petroleum, such demons has _les\nP\u00e9troleuses_, had never entered into our wildest calculations. \u201cThe\nterrible year,\u201d as the French have since so aptly named it, 1871 most\ntruly was, not only for them but for the thinking world at large, who,\nfrom the universal confusion, the ungoverned passions, the\nfast-increasing atheism, had need of a confidence in Providence,\nsupernatural in the highest degree, not to lie down and die of sheer\ndespair.\n\nEighteen months later I passed through Paris on my way home from\nSwitzerland, but so dolorous was the impression that I had fain leave it\nin a couple of days. Ruin, desolation stared one in the face at every\nstep, and the smell of petroleum seemed to haunt one at every turn. The\nblackened shells of the historic Tuileries, of the beautiful H\u00f4tel de\nVille, the Conseil d\u2019Etat, the Ministry of Finance, the Gobelin tapestry\nmanufactory with its art treasures accumulated there during the last\nthree hundred years, the blank in the Place Vend\u00f4me caused by the\ndestruction of its splendid column, the felled trees in the Bois de\nBoulogne, and the complete annihilation of St. Cloud, town and palace,\nwere sights which deprived us of all happiness during the day and of\npeaceful rest at night. Not less melancholy was the effect of the sad\ncountenances of the inhabitants. The elasticity and cheerfulness which\nhad formerly seemed to be a component part of Paris air was gone, and in\nits place one only heard tales of their sufferings in those days of\nanarchy, of the P\u00e9troleuses seen gliding stealthily through the streets,\nof the petroleum strewn round St. Roch and the chairs piled up in the\nnave of Notre Dame, so that both churches might be set on fire, when the\ntroops providentially entered just in time to prevent this and many\nother wicked designs being carried out. Instead of the brightness one\nremembered of yore, people seemed to have a suspicious dread of their\nneighbors, and veiled communism undoubtedly still lurked even in the\nbest _quartiers_. One notable instance of the kind will never be effaced\nfrom my memory, and even now, though mayhap unjustly, makes me view\nParisian cabmen with anything but affection.\n\nMy friend and I, feeling dejected and oppressed by sad thoughts, one\nmorning determined to indulge our feelings by a kind of pilgrimage to\nthe scene of the massacres, especially as we had known and revered the\nsainted archbishop at the time of the Vatican Council in Rome. Calling a\ncab, therefore, on the Boulevard des Capucines, we quietly desired the\ngrinning coachman to drive us to the Rue Haxo. In an instant his\nexpression changed to one of sturdy anger. He knew no such street; had\nnever heard of it before; could not possibly take us there. Perceiving\nat once the spirit we had to deal with, and that he had divined our\nobject, no other cab, moreover, being within view, we insisted no\nfurther on the point, but tranquilly told him to drive instead to La\nRoquette\u2014the prison where the unfortunate victims had been confined.\nKnowledge of so large a place we knew he could not deny, and, trusting\nto our own general idea of its position, we felt satisfied when he\napparently started in that direction. However, on and on we went, in and\nout of lane and street, without seeming to approach the object of our\nsearch, but as we proceeded soon found ourselves amongst a most\nforbidding population, men and women looking stern and sulky as we\npassed, and exchanging glances with our driver, who appeared known to\nmany, while on more than one window were the ominous words, \u201cIci on vend\nle p\u00e9trole!\u201d An involuntary shudder seized us, not diminished on\nreaching an open height whence we beheld La Roquette in a distant part\nof the town, and our horse\u2019s head turned exactly the opposite way. The\ntruth suddenly flashed upon us. Our Communist driver, possibly one of\nthe undetected incendiaries or murderers himself, calculating on our\nignorance, while unable to plead such on his own part, had cunningly\noutwitted us by driving in and out toward a different point, whither\ndoubtless he would have gone on indefinitely but for our unexpected\ndiscovery. It was too dangerous a neighborhood in which to quarrel with\nhim, even though but mid-day; therefore, merely telling him that we had\naltered our intentions, we tranquilly desired him to return to our\noriginal starting-point on the Boulevard des Capucines. Most curious was\nit then to note the same instantaneous change of countenance as before,\nbut this time to an exultant expression as undisguised as the sulky mood\nof the previous hour. And how could we wonder at it? For had he not\nsucceeded in defeating the object we had in view, and, moreover,\ninspired us with so much fear that we sighed to get away from such a\npopulation and never breathed freely again until safely back in the more\ncivilized quarters? Our courage, however, then revived, and, determined\nnot to be altogether conquered, we bade him turn aside and stop at the\n_ci-devant_ H\u00f4tel de Ville. Incredible as it now sounds, again he\nfeigned ignorance, then pretended to have lost his way, and at length,\nwhen we forced him to \u201cland\u201d us there, the scowl and growl he honored us\nwith made us realize, more than any description ever could, what such a\nbeing might be if uncontrolled, above all if multiplied indefinitely.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTo-day, the 22d of May, 1878, as I stand in the new building on the\nTrocad\u00e9ro and behold the scene before me, thinking of this recent past,\nI am tempted to doubt my own identity. Paris\u2014the same Paris that was in\nflames on this day seven short years since\u2014now lies, like a vision of\nbeauty, outstretched around; the pretty Seine winds beneath its\nbeautiful bridges, the countless boulevards are thick in shade and\nperfumed blossoms, the then unfinished streets finished, the scars and\nwounds well-nigh (though not completely) removed, all faces bright and\npeople civil, and the whole city still hung with the thousand flags\nspontaneously hoisted on the opening day of the Exhibition, when England\nand America were everywhere given the posts of honor beside the\ntricolor. Opposite, the huge main building of this same Exhibition,\nstanding on the Champ de Mars, is crowded with its fifty and sixty\nthousand daily visitors;[126] the gardens between it and this Trocad\u00e9ro,\nconnected by the bridge of J\u00e9na, are covered with a moving mass of all\nnationalities, while the Spanish restaurant, Turkish kiosk, Chinese\n\u201csummer palace,\u201d English buffet, Hungarian cafe, dotted with others\naround the grounds, tell of peace, and of a national revival\nunparalleled for its rapidity in the history of the world.\n\nAnd what subjects for deep thought, what food for philosophic\nmeditation, as one gazes at this glorious landscape, and from the hidden\nrecesses of one\u2019s memory spring forth recollections of the past few\nyears!\n\nMy own acquaintance with this Champ de Mars dates from 1865, when in the\nAugust of that year I here witnessed a review of fifty thousand men in\nhonor of Don Fran\u00e7ois d\u2019Assise, King Consort of Spain. On this last 1st\nof May, 1878, the same royal personage, long since classed amongst the\n_ex\u2019s_ residing in this capital, walked beside the Marshal-President,\nMacMahon, and the Prince of Wales in the procession which opened the\nExhibition, and it were but natural to presume that thoughts of his\nprevious visit must now and then have flitted across his royal brain. On\nthat former occasion military of all arms lined the sides of the then\narid square, while the imperial party advanced from the Porte de J\u00e9na up\nits centre to a tribune in the Ecole Militaire. First came the empress,\nbeautiful and popular, loudly cheered as, in her open carriage, she\npassed along the lines; next appeared the little Prince Imperial, not\nmore than nine years old, riding far in front quite alone on his tiny\npony, followed by his father, the emperor, and his royal guest, Don\nFran\u00e7ois d\u2019Assise, escorted by an apparently brilliant gathering of\ndistinguished military men. No prophetic eye was there to point out\nthose who in brief time were to court the national defeat, or whose\nnames would soon become bywords for corruption and incapacity.\n\nNor in the large mass of soldiery who required two hours and a half to\nmarch past, albeit in quick time, could any one discern the possibility\nof coming gigantic disasters. Alas! alas! what reputations have since\nthen been blown into thin air, what calculations dashed to the ground,\nwhat history \u201cacted out,\u201d fearful suffering endured, theories exploded!\nSuch thoughts are overpowering\u2014sufficient to make the giddiest spirits\nponder. And such, in truth, has been their effect of recent years in\nFrance; for, side by side with the marvellous material resurrection of\nthis energetic nation, its religious revival has grown to astounding\nproportions. Not that we ever can admit with many passing observers that\nthe French people were so completely devoid of religion as it has been\nsomewhat the fashion to affirm\u2014and on this point we thoroughly agree\nwith the article by an eloquent Protestant writer in the _Blackwood_ of\nlast December\u2014but the terrible events of 1871 have made the most\nfrivolous more sober-minded, forced many an indolent mind to reflect,\nand from thoughts have made them now proceed to acts, to good works and\nalms-deeds. Above all they seem to have learnt the necessity of\nexpiation and of prayer, and the whole Catholic portion of the French\ncommunity since then have fallen upon their knees and endeavored to\npray. Their pride, it is true, has been humbled, but they have taken the\nlesson properly to heart, and appear to have realized the truth that in\nall things, human as well as divine, \u201cin order to live we first must\ndie,\u201d and that without supernatural aid even humility itself cannot be\nacquired.\n\nAnd here it must be noted that mortifying as the defeat by the Prussians\nhas been to French pride, it never could have produced the permanent\neffect on their characters which has been achieved by the frantic\noutbreak of the Commune. This it is which has so thoroughly sobered the\nentire nation and made them feel that every one must combine as against\na common enemy. The republic, too, whether destined to last or not, has\nbeen productive of one incalculable service in depriving all its\ncitizens of the possibility of shirking individual responsibility by\nthrowing the blame, as heretofore, of every failure on some supposed or\nreal despot; so that, while they have arisen from this death-struggle\nwiser and better men, Frenchmen now see the necessity, almost for the\nfirst time in their history, of taking an active part in public affairs\nand putting their own shoulders to the wheel.\n\nBut leaving these reflections, let us turn to the Champs Elys\u00e9es and\ntake a seat beneath its trees. What a contrast between the May of \u201971\nand this one of \u201978! That all terror and woe, this one all joy and\ncontentment. French mothers with their _bonnes_ and babies are in groups\naround far and near, mingled with foreigners of all sorts and\nnationalities. Faultless carriages pass by, drawn by magnificent,\nhigh-stepping horses, of a size and breed formerly unknown in France,\nand which make many an Englishman exclaim with wrath: \u201cThis is the way\nin which all our horses are taken out of our country!\u201d Doubtless he is\nright, though only to a certain degree; for the perfection to which\nhorses now attain in France is said to be mainly due to the climate,\nwhich has been found to suit equine nature in a way undreamt of some few\nyears since. Thus the breed, when once imported, is improved on French\nsoil, and easily accounts for the multitude of fine horses at present\nmet with all over Paris. This fact, however\u2014together with the taste for\nhorses, driving, and every other thing connected with the existing\nAnglomania, so foreign to the Parisian natures of forty years ago\u2014owes\nits discovery to the late emperor, little as any Frenchman now likes to\nadmit its possibility. Before his day no one ever thought of holding the\nreins, and almost as little of riding, not only in France but on the\nContinent, leaving such matters to grooms, as Easterns leave dancing to\nhired performers. But if these tastes were fostered by him before the\nwar, the extraordinary development they have since acquired is one of\nthe remarkable changes in modern Paris, and denotes both greater\nwealth\u2014despite the Prussian indemnity\u2014and more manly habits than in the\n\u201cgood old days long, long ago.\u201d Louis Napoleon no doubt laid the\nfoundation, but during the republic the edifice has been raised. He it\nwas who inspired the tastes, prepared the ways and means, laid out the\nroads and drives\u2014the marshal-president and his \u201csubjects\u201d who now profit\nby them. Perhaps one of the prettiest and most interesting sights\nnowadays in this beautiful city is the daily Parisian overflow of riders\nto the Bois de Boulogne between the hours of eight and ten, not only of\nmen but of ladies, whose wildest dreams in former times never aspired to\nsuch an expensive pleasure. On a fine May morning \u201cRotten Row\u201d has here\na formidable rival both in numbers and in the steeds, with the\ndifference, too, that instead of riding up and down a monotonous,\nstraight road, the happy-looking parties of equestrians in Paris, almost\ninvariably numbering many ladies, turn off into the fifteen small and\nlarge roads that surround the lake in the Bois, and there for a couple\nof hours enjoy a genuine country canter or a walk beneath pleasant\nshade. And mingled with these are pony-phaetons well driven by ladies,\nreturning later laden with ferns, wild flowers, and greenery of various\nkinds. There is true enjoyment in sitting on a bench in the Avenue de\nBoulogne (once de _l\u2019Imp\u00e9ratrice_) and watching the well-shaped horses,\ntheir healthy looks and glossy coats, which would awake the envy of many\na London groom, and are not more striking than the good seats of the\nfair riders and the vast improvement in those of the younger men. Of the\nnumber in the early morn the soldier-like President may here be seen,\naccompanied more than once during this month of May by the Prince of\nWales or some other royal visitor.\n\nBut this is the afternoon, and, though our thoughts have flown back to\nthe morning, we are sitting in the Champs Elys\u00e9es and the hour for\ndriving has arrived. Here comes a four-in-hand, driven, though somewhat\nbadly, by the young Marquis de Ch\u00e2teau Grand\u2014strictly _\u00e0 l\u2019Anglaise_, as\nhe fondly hopes\u2014closely pursued by the Duc de Grignon in his pretty\ndog-cart, attended by his English groom. \u201cVictorias\u201d with duchesses and\ncountesses\u2014the bluest blood of the blue faubourgs\u2014follow in countless\nnumbers. But whose is this open landau with its four black horses and\ngay postilions, containing two ladies in close converse as they pass\nalong? The stout one is Isabella, ex-Queen of Spain\u2014what memories her\nname evokes!\u2014the younger \u201cLa Reine Marguerite,\u201d as her intimates love to\ncall her; in other words, the wife of Don Carlos, now the inseparable\ncompanion of Isabella, with that remarkable disregard to\nconventionality, considering the remonstrances of her son\u2019s government,\nwhich has always been as strong an element in her character as the\n_bonhomie_ that has led her into this intimacy, and also makes her love\nher present Parisian life almost as much as she ever did her throne. A\nfew seconds later a handsome man rides slowly by, attended only by his\ngroom, his sad, pensive countenance amidst this gay throng telling a\ntale of care and inward sorrow. It is Amadeus, son of Victor Emmanuel,\nbut unlike him in most respects, now Duke of Aosta, once too \u201cKing of\nSpain,\u201d and still grieving for his lost wife. Then, turning round to\nlook again at the mass of children, _vou\u00e9_ to the Blessed Virgin,\ndriving up and down in their blue and white perambulators, and which\nthus silently bear witness to wide-spread French devotion amid all the\nseeming worldliness, the eye falls on General de Charette as he walks by\nwith some old friend, and whom we last saw commanding the Papal Zouaves\nin Rome during that eventful winter of 1870. Since then he has seen fire\nand fought valiantly for his own native land, he and his corps, as in\nthe ages of faith, first making a public act of consecration to the\nSacred Heart, the scapular being emblazoned on their regimental colors.\nTrial and suffering, however, have rather improved than injured him, for\nhe has grown in size and freshness, mayhap owing somewhat to present\nhappiness and the fair American who has lately brought him both wealth\nand beauty. Looking towards the road again, the Crown Prince and\nPrincess of Denmark are seen driving past, but only to make us miss the\nsweet, smiling face of the Princess of Wales and the pleasant manners of\nthe Prince, seen here on their road to the Exhibition every afternoon\nuntil last week, but now returned to England, not, however, until they\nhad become such universal favorites and so completely won French hearts\nthat if this were 1880 and not 1878, universal suffrage, it is said, if\nParis were a criterion, would be very likely to offer Queen Victoria\u2019s\nheir the doubtful honor of MacMahon\u2019s place.\n\nNor does this in any way complete the list of royal representatives\nduring this month of May in Paris. Archdukes of Austria, princes of\nBelgium and Holland, with Orleans princes and princesses, old and young,\nand, neither last nor least, the blind King of Hanover, Bismarck\u2019s\nvictim, and now permanently settled in the gay capital, may be here\ndiscerned by those who care to penetrate their _incognito_.\n\nAnd not only during the day but at night is the city gay and full of\nlife, for balls and _f\u00eates_ are going forward, where twelve and fourteen\nroyalties may often be seen at a time; nay more, unlike as in imperial\ndays, _the_ faubourg has come forth from its retreat, and legitimacy has\nopened its doors with hospitality, oftentimes with regal splendor.\n\nWhere, then, are the signs of poverty and depression which the enormous\nindemnity paid to Prussia and the sad events of recent years might lead\na foreigner to expect? Naught but wealth and comfort is apparent; money\nand money\u2019s worth; the rich showing every outward mark of luxury, the\npeople well clad and housed; that squalor which makes itself so\npainfully visible by the side of London riches here entirely absent,\nlife bright and cheerful as far as casual observers can perceive.\n\nBut beneath all this enjoyment, the flutter of flags on the \u201copening\nday,\u201d the gathering of foreign princes as in the palmiest period of\nimperialism, and the evident revival of trade, in no other country is\nthere so great a dread of impending evil, such a vague, undefined fear,\nbaseless it may possibly be, but which it were folly to ignore. 1880 and\nthe termination of the Septennate are ever before French minds, and the\ndreaded lack of durability, of a firm basis to their edifice, and the\npossible renewal of the Commune horrors seem nowadays always uppermost\nin their thoughts. Despite the outward symptoms of brightness, perhaps\neven frivolity, no change is more impressive to any one formerly\nacquainted with France than the grave and sobered character of the\nnation; the reflection which misfortune seems to have evoked, and the\nsubdued tone their crushing defeat has stamped upon the entire people.\nThe old crowing of the Gallic cock, so Napoleonic and offensive to\nstrangers of yore, has, at least for the present, entirely disappeared\nand been exchanged for a tranquil manner, a greater civility in\nanswering questions, and a total absence of the \u201cswagger\u201d so universal\nin the ante-war period. Hence, too, springs a sudden awakening to the\npossibility of other nations having special merits unnoticed formerly,\nwith a studying of their minds and habits as compared with their own\nboth in the press and private circles, which unconsciously betrays how\nterrible an ordeal the French have been passing through and how little\nthey count upon its being as yet fully past.\n\nNothing, therefore, is so interesting and at the same time touching to\nany one who has not been in Paris since 1867 as to note the signs of\nchange in these respects which meet us at every turn. One time it is the\neloquent tribute of the _Figaro_ to the reign and subjects of Queen\nVictoria on the birthday of that constitutional monarch; at another, the\nstrict neutrality, so foreign to their natures, which this excitable\npeople are maintaining in the present turmoil of the Eastern question;\nyesterday I noticed it at a dinner, when a heedless remark about the\nruined Conseil d\u2019Etat caused all the party to shudder and to exclaim,\none after the other, that hard as it had been to eat horses\u2014nay, dogs,\nand even _cats_, as many of them had had to do during the siege\u2014the\nsuffering was as naught compared to the terror of those fearful Commune\ndays. One who had lived near the Palais Royal had seen the Tuileries\nburning from the end of her own street, another had been roused from her\nwork by a shell throwing the opposite chimney down into her\ncourt-yard\u2014and now that it is rebuilt an inscription records the\nfact\u2014while a third had slept for the two worst nights, if sleep it could\nbe called, in the cellar of her house, amongst the odds and ends of a\nband-box maker\u2019s stock, who occupied the place. But the most singular\nexperience of all, perhaps, was that of a family who then lived at their\nvilla twelve miles outside of Paris, and became aware of the Conseil\nd\u2019Etat being in flames from a shower of burnt paper falling on their\nlawn on that May evening of the 22d, 1871, of which some scraps showed\nthe government stamp and belonged to documents of the state. And,\nperhaps, of all the Commune misdeeds the burning of this building and\nthe H\u00f4tel de Ville was the most malicious, for in both places marriage\ncontracts and family deeds were kept or registered, and the loss and\nconfusion which have hence ensued in families can never properly be\nestimated.\n\nBut it is especially in the churches, just where passing travellers have\nneither the time nor opportunity for observation, that the strides in\nreligious fervor become most apparent. Above all in the Faubourg St.\nGermain is one at once conscious of breathing a different atmosphere.\nThere the bells, as in old Catholic Swiss and German towns, wake one at\nfive or half-past five o\u2019clock of a summer morning, and keep up a\nconstant call to Mass thenceforward until a late hour. There, too,\nshould one turn in to a church on coming home from the Exhibition, he is\ncertain to find devout women, and men also, lost in meditation before\nthe Blessed Sacrament. \u201cKneeling-work\u201d (as a late writer names this\n_\u0153uvre_) and \u201creparation\u201d are the practice of the day in the orthodox\nquarter. But especially before the Grotto of Lourdes in the Jesuits\u2019\nChurch, Rue de S\u00e8vres, is the crowd of ardent petitioners never ceasing\nand intensely fervent. I have watched them with admiration the many\ntimes I have been there myself, and the thousand ex-votos, many from\nmilitary men, prove that their prayers have not been made in vain. The\nfaubourg is also like a network of \u201cMother Honors,\u201d second only to Rome\nitself in their number and variety. Sisters of Charity especially flit\nabout it in every direction, and are even to be met with in the\nomnibuses or shopping with the utmost simplicity amidst the vast crowds\nof the Bon March\u00e9. The devotions of the \u201cMois de Marie,\u201d moreover, lend\nthe district at this moment an additional source of ardor.\n\nMay, too, has ever been the month of First Communions, and those who\nknow French life understand what this implies. The whole winter, nay,\nfor many previous years, the catechism has been leading up to this\npoint, and now since Easter Sunday the examinations have been constant\nand severe. Each parish has a day set apart in May for this great event,\npreceded by a short retreat, attended many times a day by all the\nchildren. Then on the happy morning the whole church is given up to the\nceremony. All is arranged most systematically: the nave set apart for\nthe two hundred or three hundred young communicants\u2014rich and poor mixed\ntogether\u2014the boys in front with white rosettes in their new jackets, the\ngirls in rows behind enveloped in long white veils. Beautiful hymns are\nsung by the whole congregation, led by one of the priests; a touching\nsermon is preached by the cur\u00e9; the parents are in the aisles, and many\nfollow their children to the holy table. In the afternoon the little\nones again meet to renew their baptismal vows in presence of the Blessed\nSacrament, and the day closes by Vespers and Benediction. On that day\nweek, before they lose their first fervor, in the same church the same\nchildren receive confirmation. These have been _f\u00eate_ days for the whole\nfamily, nay, parish; and as parishes and churches are numberless in\nParis, tiny brides and white-rosetted boys are met in all quarters\nduring the whole of this beautiful month. If any of these children have\nthe misfortune in after-years to lose their faith, their parents and the\nclergy at least have faithfully and zealously fulfilled their share of\nduty, while, on the other hand, it is a certain fact that in most cases\nthis care lays the foundation of the solid virtues and tender piety, of\nthat religious element in French life so well described by Mme. Craven\nand others, and which, side by side with the frivolity, is now making\nsuch sure and steady progress in every part of France.\n\nThe month of May, too, is here, as in England, the period of charitable\nbazaars, annual meetings, and rendering of accounts. Amongst others, two\nsocieties, the immediate offspring of the Commune, are now attracting\nmuch attention. One is that of St. Michael, to whom devotion as ancient\npatron of France has revived with marvellous ardor, and under whose\nprotection has been placed the society for the distribution of good\nbooks; the other, \u201cLes Cercles Catholiques,\u201d[127] or Working-men\u2019s\nclubs, more deeply interesting than any other of the present day.\n\nAt this present moment Paris counts its eighty different \u201cCercles,\u201d\nwhile the provinces possess not less than two thousand. The third Sunday\nafter Easter, the Patronage of St. Joseph, is their annual feast, and on\nthat day, while gay Paris was attending the races in the Bois de\nBoulogne, we were present at the afternoon service in the Cathedral of\nNotre Dame. A more imposing sight, with greater promise for the future,\nit were impossible to conceive; for six thousand members, but only that\nportion which consists of the schools and apprentices\u2014many from the\nBelleville quarters\u2014had marched thither, each headed by their own\nchaplain and carrying handsome banners, unfolded as they entered the\nchurch. For them the nave was set apart, all others being in the aisles,\nwhile the meek, venerable Cardinal-Archbishop of Paris sat opposite the\npulpit during the sermon, the blind Monseigneur de S\u00e9gur at his side,\nthe Comte de Mun and other gentlemen of the society directing the\ngeneral arrangements.\n\nThe now celebrated hymn of the Sacred Heart composed by the blind old\nbishop was first sung; and if the sensation of the Derby Day in May,\n1871, had cut deeply into my soul, it was now all but effaced by the\nsublime, thrilling emotion caused by this vast multitude answering each\nverse chanted by the choir by the famous, heart-stirring chorus of\n\n Dieu de Clemence,\n Dieu Vainqueur,\n Sauvez, sauvez la France\n Par votre sacr\u00e9 C\u0153ur.\n\nThe effect at any time would have been marvellous, but with the\nknowledge that these six thousand youths had almost all been to Holy\nCommunion that very morning, with such a past in one\u2019s memory, and a\ncongregation composed of such elements before one, it became simply\noverpowering. Moreover, we all knew that at the same hour, nay, at the\nsame moment, the same prayer was being offered up in two thousand other\nchurches in France; for, the provincial branches had made arrangements\nthat their ceremonies should thus coincide with those of Paris. A\nprocession, rendered picturesque as well as impressive by the six\nthousand lighted tapers winding in and out of the nave and aisles of\nthis grand, historic cathedral and headed by the cardinal-archbishop,\nfollowed the short sermon, when a public act of consecration, with\nBenediction of the Blessed Sacrament, brought this most heart-stirring\nand encouraging celebration to a close.\n\nAnd now, on the 30th May, since writing the above lines, another\nimpressive ceremony has taken place in the same cathedral, but\nstrikingly illustrative, too, of the increasing influence the religious\nelement is obtaining in France\u2014namely, a public act of reparation for\nthe intended celebration of Voltaire\u2019s centenary and in memory of Joan\nof Arc. Good principles have certainly made more progress than was\nsupposed, for public opinion and the protests of the religious portion\nof the nation have forced the government to forbid the demonstration in\nhonor of the enemy of Christianity. But, to show even-handed justice,\nthey equally forbade all homage to Joan of Arc, even that of depositing\nwreaths around her statue in the Rue de Rivoli\u2014erected, by the way, on\nthe spot where she was wounded when attacking Paris for the king.[128]\nNo authorities, however, could or would interfere inside a church. Hence\nat three o\u2019clock precisely the act of reparation commenced, every spot\nin the vast cathedral being occupied by a crowd, composed in greater\npart, too, of men, though the ladies, especially the \u201cEnfants de Marie,\u201d\ndistinguished by their lighted tapers, mustered strong under their\npresident, the Duchesse de Chevreuse. Amongst the number, in her Spanish\nmantilla, I recognized \u201cLa Reine Marguerite,\u201d with many another\nhigh-born dame of far-sounding title. It was purely a work of\ndevotion\u2014vespers and benediction, the _Miserere_ chanted by this\nenormous congregation, constituting the \u201creparation,\u201d followed by a\n\u201cRegina C\u0153li\u201d which in beauty nothing could surpass. But the\ncountenances of all present were a perfect study in themselves, showing\nthe depth of their emotion and how different such ceremonies are in a\ncountry like this, where every one attends them for a solemn and public\npurpose, far more than for private, individual motives. It lends a\nsublimity to such acts that raises the spirit high above ordinary\nmoments. Who, for instance, could behold the vast multitude beneath the\nroof of this lofty nave, which goes back to the ancient days of France,\nwithout remembering that Providence had saved it seven short years since\nfrom destruction by its own sons, and that the chairs whereon they were\nkneeling had been piled up in that same spot, in the hope of putting an\nend to all ceremonies or worship of this kind? As one listened to the\n\u201cRegina C\u0153li,\u201d and gazed on the beautiful statue of the Virgin Mother\npresenting to us the Divine Infant, and which stands amidst the lights\nand flowers over the altar outside the choir, courage and hope revived,\nand all left the sacred edifice with renewed grace to encounter their\nstruggles in the cause of right. Most surely prayer and expiation are\nthe strength and the duty of modern France, and with such reward as has\nbeen already vouchsafed to them her sons and daughters need no longer\ndespair.\n\nFootnote 126:\n\n The largest number at the Exhibition was on a Sunday, when upwards of\n 111,000 entered the building.\n\nFootnote 127:\n\n For a full description of these excellent associations see THE\n CATHOLIC WORLD, January, 1878, \u201cCatholic Circles for Working-men in\n France.\u201d\n\nFootnote 128:\n\n The Place des Pyramides in the Rue de Rivoli is on the site of the\n ancient ditch of the fortification in the Faubourg St. Honor\u00e9, and is\n known to be the spot where Joan of Arc was wounded.\n\n\n\n\n THE CREATED WISDOM.[129]\n BY AUBREY DE VERE.\n II.\n\n\n Behold! I sought in all things rest:\n My Maker called me: I obeyed:\n On me he laid His great behest,\n In me His tabernacle made.\n\n The world\u2019s Creator thus bespake:\n \u201cMy Salem be thy heritage:\n Thy rest within mine Israel make:\n In Sion root thee, age on age.\u201d\n\n Within the City well-beloved\n Thenceforth I rose from flower to fruit:\n And in an ancient race approved\n Behold thenceforth I struck my root.\n\n Like Carmel\u2019s cedar, or the palm\n That gladdens \u2019mid Engaddi\u2019s dew,\n Or plane-tree set by waters calm,\n I stood; my fragrance round I threw.\n\n Behold! I live where dwells not sin:\n I breathe in climes no foulness taints:\n I reign in God\u2019s fair court, and in\n The full assembly of His saints.\n\nFootnote 129:\n\n Ecclesiasticus xxiv.\n\n\n\n\n THE VENERABLE MOTHER MARY OF THE INCARNATION.\n\n\nA decree of the late Holy Pontiff permitted the introduction of the\ncause of the canonization of Mary Guyard Martin, known in religion as\nMother Mary of the Incarnation, foundress of the Ursuline Convent at\nQuebec. There is in this much to console and encourage us. Up to this\nstep no servant of God who lived or labored even transiently in any part\nof our continent lying north of the Rio Grande had ever been proposed\nfor that exceptional public honor which the church permits by a decree\nof canonization.\n\nTo any servant of God whose life, stamped with the impress of sanctity,\nseems to justify a belief on our part that he is now reigning with\nChrist in glory, we may address our prayers to obtain those more\nabundant temporal and spiritual graces which we crave as a means to our\nultimate end, salvation; but this devotion is for our own closet. The\nchurch permits no public honors till she has examined with the closest\nscrutiny the life, writings, virtues, and miraculous gifts of the one\nwhom thousands are honoring in private.\n\nExalted sanctity was developed in the mission life in our northern\nwilds, in the first rude cloisters, in laborious ministry, in patient\nsuffering; but there were no monarchs or wealthy communities to\nundertake the long and often expensive investigations and evidence\ndemanded at Rome, where, as the saying is, it almost requires a miracle\nto prove a miracle.\n\nSpanish America under the Catholic kings was differently situated, and\nthat part of the western world numbers not a few canonized or beatified,\nas well as many whose process of canonization, begun long since, has\nbeen laid aside amid the changes in the political world, which in this\ncentury show us the government in almost all Spanish-speaking countries\nthe enemy of religion.\n\nMexico and Peru were the two great centres of Spanish power, originally\nrich, prosperous, semi-civilized states. In and between these two states\nflourished nearly all those whose canonization was undertaken or\ncompleted. It would be an error, however, to suppose that the Spanish\ncolonies were all that the church desired, or that they were models for\na Christian state. The popular picture of them is dark enough, and the\nuntempered zeal and vivid imagination of Las Casas gave to the enemies\nof Catholicity and Spain an authority for the most fearful charges. Calm\nSpanish accounts, however, reveal facts which show that, in the mad rush\nfor wealth aroused by the opening of these golden realms, an immigration\npoured into our shores which made light of the salutary teachings of\nCatholicity, and even of humanity or the natural law. The sudden wealth\ndid not tend to chasten or spiritualize these natures in which pride,\navarice, and lust held such sway. Yet it was with adventurers of this\nkind that the church began her mission to bring the Indian to the\nGospel, the Spaniard back to the spirit of the Gospel. There was\nopposition alike from Indian and Spaniard. If missionaries fell, slain\nby the Indians whom they sought to enrich with blessings beyond all\nprice, a bishop died like St. Thomas of Canterbury, slain by his own\nChristian countrymen. Shining sanctity, however, exerted its influence\nand ultimately prevailed.\n\nIn Mexico the humble Franciscan brother Sebastian de la Aparicion filled\nPuebla with the odor of his virtues, and the process of his canonization\nattested his sanctity so clearly that he was beatified by Pope Pius VI.\nThe causes of the Venerable Gregory Lopez and of the Venerable John\nPalafox, Bishop of Puebla and Viceroy of New Spain, were also\nintroduced, while missionaries either born in Mexico, like St. Philip of\nJesus, or laborers for a time in that field, won in Japan the crown of\nmartyrdom, recognized by the beatification of the church.\n\nSt. Louis Bertrand for several years illumined by his holy life and\ngospel eloquence the coast of South America from Panama to Santa Marta\nand Carthagena, laboring among the Spaniards and the conquered Indians,\nand endeavoring, as did all his order, to save the latter from misery\nhere and hereafter, as well as to bring his own countrymen to the\npractice of the religion which they professed. As though one saint\nprepared the way for another, Blessed Peter Claver came in the next\ncentury to devote his life on that same coast to a still more degraded\nrace, the enslaved African. New Granada thus has her saints, but Peru is\nthe favored spot in our whole continent\u2014Peru, where religion seems at so\nlow an ebb, where governments of a day, put up for sale by pr\u00e6torian\nguards, agree only in one point: hostility to the church of God and to\nthe well-being of the people. Peru was above all other parts blessed by\nthe example of exalted sanctity. St. Toribius Mogrobejo, called from\namong the laity to the archiepiscopal see of Lima, illustrated his\nstewardship by untiring zeal\u2014reviving religion in the clergy and people,\nextending the missions, erecting institutions of learning and\ncharity\u2014and by the wise decrees of synods and councils confirming his\nholy work. Among those who labored in his diocese was the holy\nFranciscan St. Francis Solano, whose zeal has made his memory hallowed\nfrom Tucuman, in the Argentine Republic, to Panama, but who is honored\nespecially at Lima, long the scene of his apostolic ministry. His heroic\nvirtues, the miraculous gifts with which God endowed him, gave a force\nto his words that no human eloquence could equal and the most hardened\nsinners could not resist.\n\nWhile Lima, the City of the Kings, had these two brilliant examples\nbefore her, a child of benediction was born of a father Spanish in\norigin and an Indian mother. Little Isabel Flores y Oliva was, however,\nknown from her cradle as Rose, and the church, in canonizing her,\nadopted this name, which St. Toribius, too, gave her when he conferred\nthe sacrament of confirmation. Her wonderful life of austerity and zeal,\nof intense love of God and her neighbor, has made the name of the Lima\nvirgin known throughout the world; and even before her canonization she\nwas declared protectress and principal patron of all the churches of the\nNew World.\n\nShe is one of the glories of the Order of St. Dominic, and in her day\ntwo humble lay brothers, in convents of the same order in Lima, were\nconspicuous for sanctity. Blessed Martin Porras, a mulatto, holy,\nzealous, full of love for the sick, the poor, and the afflicted, was\nlooked upon by all as a saint and an angel of mercy. His labors and his\nfame were shared by the Spanish lay brother Blessed John Massias. What a\nprivilege it must have been to have lived at that time in Lima!\n\nCoeval with the last of these flourished in Quito the secular virgin\nMariana de Paredes y Flores, whose life so resembles that of St. Rose\nthat she has been called the Lily of Quito. Her beatification by the\nlate Pope Pius IX. gave us another patroness for the western world.\n\nThe canonized and beatified in Spanish America thus represent all states\nand ages: the episcopate, the priesthood, the religious state, and\nsecular life.\n\nSpanish America, in the wild rush of the restless and adventurous to its\nrich and luxuriant soil, resembled California and Australia as we have\nseen them in our days, could we imagine the tide of emigration Catholic,\nwith some of the knightly graces of chivalry still powerful, and devoted\nclergy and religious striving manfully to recall the wild horde from\ntheir temporary forgetfulness of religion, morality, and civilization.\n\nWhen we turn from this picture to that of Canada, we find a contrast as\nstriking as the difference of the climes. In Canada labor, hardship, the\ndeepest religious feeling prevailed from the outset and left their\nimpress on the colony. The world has rarely witnessed a community so\ncompletely guided by religion and morality as the first Canadian\nsettlers, and so deeply imbued with them as to elevate to its own\nstandard the repeated emigrations of more than half a century. The\naustere virtue of Canada was gay and cheerful; it had none of the\nferocious Puritanism of New England, which enforced religious tyranny,\nand pursued with unrelenting hate alike dissenting whites and\nunbelieving natives. While New England, narrow and restrictive in\ncharacter and territory, hugged the bleak coast of the Atlantic, Canada,\nunder the broader, higher impulse of Catholicity, won the friendship of\ncountless native tribes and pushed her conquest thousands of miles into\nthe heart of the continent. \u201cPeaceful, benign, beneficent were the\nweapons of this conquest. France aimed to subdue not by the sword but by\nthe cross; not to overwhelm and crush the nations she invaded, but to\nconvert, to civilize, and to embrace them among her children,\u201d is the\ntestimony of one to whom Catholic piety seems only a wild dream.\n\nTime has shown on what a solid foundation they built who laid the\ncorner-stones of the Canadian colony. At a critical moment, when the\ncourt of France, yielding to the spirit of licentiousness and infidelity\nwhich had leperized the higher classes, was forging a rod of iron\nwherewith in the hands of the neglected and demoralized masses to\nchastise the monarchy and the aristocracy, God in his providence saved\nCanada by what seemed a death-blow, by allowing it to pass under the\nsway of England, the bitter enemy of Catholicity and France. But though\nthe French spirit in the colony died out, her teeming population is\nintensely Catholic, well trained, well guided, holding their own against\nProtestant and infidel influence.\n\nWith such results we may look to the founders of the Canadian\ncommonwealth for examples of high and exemplary virtue. The history of\nthe Canadian Church has not been written even in French, and does not\nexist in English; it has seemed scarcely necessary to write separately\nthe history of a church when the history of the colony is so imbued with\nthe religious element that, deprived of it, her annals would be almost a\nblank.\n\nIn every history of Canada we trace the life of the church; we see\ngovernors whose lives were models of Christian piety, of strict\nadministration, of skill and courage; priests and missionaries whose\nausterity, zeal, and piety shrank from no hardship, no peril, no\ntorture; religious devoting their lives to education and works of mercy;\ncolonists, the whole tenor of whose career recalls us to the days of the\nprimitive church, influenced by the highest motives of faith.\n\nAmong all the founders of Canada the eye rests especially on her\nmartyred missionaries; on Mother Mary of the Incarnation, foundress of\nthe Ursuline Convent, Quebec; on Margaret Bourgeoys; on Bishop Laval; on\nCatharine Tehgahkwita, the Mohawk maiden, who rose to such sanctity. To\nthem devotion has been constant though private, fervent, and not\nunrewarded.\n\nThe time has come when the Head of the church has been solicited to\nsanction and confirm the devotion so long entertained for one of these\nheroic souls\u2014Mary Guyard Martin, known in religion as Mother Mary of the\nIncarnation.\n\nShe was born at Tours, in one of the loveliest provinces of France\u2014one\nthat gave that kingdom some of its master-minds and American\ncolonization some of its most energetic and manly pioneers. Her father,\nFlorence Guyard, was a wealthy silk manufacturer, and her mother\nbelonged to the noble house of Babou de la Bourdaisiere, one of her\nancestors having been deputed by Louis XI. to escort St. Francis of\nPaula to his states. The hereditary piety of the family was marked by a\nspecial devotion to this servant of God.\n\nMary was born on the 18th day of October, in the year 1599, and showed\nfrom her cradle marks of God\u2019s predilection. Her childish soul had no\ngreater passion than a lively charity and most tender compassion for the\npoor and the sick, viewing in them the beloved of Jesus and Mary, whose\nnames were the first she learned from a pious mother\u2019s lips. On one of\nher little errands of mercy she was caught by the shaft of a cart and\nthrown so violently to the ground that bystanders rushed to raise the\nchild, whom they supposed terribly injured, only to find that she had\nescaped unharmed, protected, as she always believed, by the influence of\nthe prayers of the poor and afflicted.\n\nWhen only seven she had a vision, in which our Saviour called her in an\nespecial manner to be his alone. Her docile heart responded to the\ndivine vocation, and from the age of nine or ten she sought the most\nretired places and least-frequented churches, in order to spend a\nconsiderable part of the day in communion with our Lord. She watched the\ndevout persons at prayer, and imitated their humble and pious attitude,\nand, ignorant of meditation or mental prayer, made her spontaneous acts\nof virtue, repeated the prayers she knew or ejaculations prompted by her\nown innocent heart.\n\nAs she grew and began to study, the influence of her girlish companions\ncould not wean her from her love of spiritual things. In pious books she\nfound her greatest and most unwearied delight, and her piety only grew\nmore solid as her mind was enabled to understand the mysteries of faith\nand the immensity of God\u2019s love and mercy. Her whole soul tended to the\nconsecration of herself to our Lord in some religious retreat, and she\nexpressed to her mother her desire to enter the Benedictine convent at\nTours, then the only one in the city; but as her pious mother, after\nadvising her that she was yet too young to take such a step, heard no\nfurther allusion, she supposed it a mere passing thought and not a solid\nvocation. The child had not the advantage of a wise and prudent director\nat this moment, and her future was apparently to lie in secular life;\nyet Providence was but guiding her surely to her real vocation.\n\nAt the age of seventeen her parents proposed that she should accept the\nhand of a young man of good character who solicited her as his wife. She\nevinced the greatest repugnance to enter a state so incompatible with\nthe recollection and prayer which were her great desire. But as her\nparents had accepted the offer she durst not resist. \u201cMother,\u201d she\nexclaimed, \u201cas the whole thing is determined and my father insists on\nit, I feel obliged to obey his will and yours; but if God does me the\ngrace to give me a son, I here promise to consecrate my son to his\nservice; and if he restores me the liberty I am now about to lose, I\npromise to consecrate myself to him.\u201d\n\nThe young wife accepted her new life courageously. Her husband, Mr.\nMartin, was a silk manufacturer, employing many operatives, and she had\na certain supervision over a number of them who lived on the place. But\nthese new duties did not cause any relaxation in her pious practices;\nshe heard Mass every day, and gave a considerable time to meditation and\npious reading. Affection founded on the purest motives united her and\nher husband, who soon learned to revere the holy wife whom God had\ngranted him. Yet her life was not free from bitter trials. Even greater\nwere in store. She had passed but two years in the marriage state, and\nhad been but six months a mother, when her husband was almost suddenly\ntaken from her. The widow of nineteen, with her helpless child, saw her\nproperty swept away, law-suits encircle her in their deadly meshes, and\na lot of almost absolute destitution await her. She soon returned to her\nfather\u2019s house, and in a garret room led the life of a recluse.\n\nGod now began to favor her by interior lights, and placed her under the\nguidance of experienced directors. She consecrated herself to his divine\nservice, but the future was not made clear to her, and a further period\nof trial was to purify her virtue. A sister, also married, urged her to\ncome and aid her in the business that devolved upon her. Mme. Martin\nreluctantly yielded, but was ungratefully made the drudge of the house,\nand then burdened with the superintendence of her brother-in-law\u2019s\nextensive forwarding business. Amid all this distracting toil,\napparently so incompatible with high spirituality, the servant of God\nmaintained an almost uninterrupted union with God. Amid all the din and\nbustle of business life she was raised to the highest contemplation. In\nall this she subsequently beheld God\u2019s providence. Writing at a later\ndate from Quebec, she said: \u201cI see now that all the states, all the\ntrials and labors through which I passed, were a preparation to form me\nfor the work of Canada. This was my novitiate, from which I issued far\nfrom being perfect, but yet, by the grace of God, in a state to bear the\ndifficulties and hardships of New France.\u201d\n\nHeaven was fitting her alike for the external work in founding a\nreligious community in a scarcely-organized colony, and for conducting\nits members with the experience of the highest mystical knowledge.\n\nAs the ties which bound her to the world fell away her longing for the\nreligious life increased. Her director, however, deemed it her duty to\nremain in the world in order to superintend the education of her son;\nbut he ultimately allowed her to make vows of poverty, chastity, and\nobedience, the last referring to her director, and in temporal affairs\nto her sister and brother-in-law.\n\nHer austerities at this time were constant and severe. She slept on a\nbare board, wore hair-cloth, mingled wormwood in her scanty food, and by\nfrequent disciplines\u2014even with nettles\u2014and fastings mortified a body\nalready over-burdened with daily toil. For this privileged soul, raised\nto the highest contemplation, and prepared by the heavenly Bridegroom\nfor the most sublime union, mortifying the body with austerities that\nrivalled the anchorets of Thebais, was not even in a religious cloister,\nbut immersed from morning to night in those business cares and details\nwhich seem so incompatible with a spirit of prayer and of\nrecollectedness. She not only gave so much of her time to God and made\nall her labor one prayer, but in her great heart was always solicitous\nfor her neighbor. Over the working-people under her direction she\nexercised the greatest influence, giving them from time to time clear\nand persuasive instructions suited to their understanding, and by\ncounsel and mild reproof guarding them from offending God or recalling\nthem from danger. But it was especially in the hour of sickness that\nthey found her a true mother, rendering them all the service and care\nthat the best of mothers could lavish on them.\n\nIt was not to be wondered at that she came to be regarded as a saint;\nbut God, to purify her and preserve her from any self-esteem, permitted\nher suddenly to fall into the greatest aridity. Her fidelity when all\nsensible consolation was withdrawn was rewarded by extraordinary\nfavors\u2014visions in which the most profound mysteries of faith seemed laid\nopen to her gaze.\n\nThe period at last arrived when she could place her son in a suitable\ninstitution and follow the inclination which had so long been to her as\na vocation. Yet she was far from beholding to what order she was called.\nHer first inclination had been towards the Ursulines, while the\ncontemplative order of Mount Carmel seemed most in unison with her whole\nspiritual life. Her director was a father of the order of Feuillants,\nand the general, desirous of securing for a convent of nuns of his rule\na soul so privileged and so highly advanced in the ways of perfection,\noffered to assume the education of her son. While she remained thus\nundecided the Ursulines founded their first house at Tours. She felt at\nonce that Providence wished her among them. A knowledge of their rule\nand of their profession of serving their neighbor confirmed this\nimpression, and she felt convinced that she was not called to a purely\ncontemplative life. A pious bishop, about to found a Visitation\nmonastery at his see, heard on his way through Tours of the pious widow,\nand called upon her. He pressed her earnestly to join the community he\nprojected, but all confirmed her in believing that the Ursuline was the\norder into which she must enter.\n\nShe did not, however, propose the step either to her director or to the\nsuperior of the convent, with whom she soon formed a holy friendship;\nbut one day, visiting the convent to felicitate Mother Mary of St.\nBernard on her re-election as superior, it came into her mind that her\nfriend would offer her admission into the community, and she had no\nsooner congratulated her than the superior exclaimed: \u201cI know well of\nwhat you are thinking: you believe that I am going to offer you a place\nin our community. I do indeed, and it depends on yourself to become one\nof our number.\u201d Her director, however, showed no favor to the project\nuntil the divine call became so distinct and irresistible that he could\nnot oppose it.\n\nThe Archbishop of Tours authorized the convent to receive her without a\ndowry; her sister assumed the education and future care of her son, and,\ngiving him her last instructions, she parted with him and her aged\nfather. Then, with the blessing of the archbishop, she entered the\nconvent, expecting to commence her novitiate as a lay sister, but to her\nconfusion was placed among the choir nuns.\n\nShe had reached the haven for which she had so long prepared herself by\nprayer and mortification; but a storm soon arose. Her son, excited by\nsome who disapproved of her course, made his way into the convent, and\nby cries and complaints and boyish threats so interfered with the order\nof the community that it seemed impossible to retain the novice. A\nJesuit Father, however, becoming acquainted with her great virtues and\nthe difficulty of her position, took charge of young Martin\u2019s education\nand placed him in a college of his order.\n\nThus freed from the last care, Mme. Martin took the white veil of a\nnovice, and assumed in religion the name of Mother Mary of the\nIncarnation. In the sacred abode of piety new lights seemed to be given\nher. A knowledge of Latin was imparted to her without study, and an\ninfused understanding of the Scriptures. Her fellow-novices listened to\nher eloquent and solid expositions with breathless wonder. But in a\nmoment darkness overspread her soul, and she was assailed by the most\nhorrible temptations. All her spiritual life seemed an error and an\nillusion; a self-deceit and a deceit in her director. Unfortunately her\nwise and experienced spiritual guide was removed about this critical\ntime, and was replaced by one who regarded her as an ill-directed\nvisionary. Her devotions in behalf of the obsessed sisters of Laudun\nmade her the object of terrible visitations. Her son, after a brilliant\nopening at college, was led astray, and tidings came that he was\nthreatened with expulsion. Everything seemed to thwart the vocation of\nthe servant of God; but for two years amid all these trials she\npersevered in her novitiate, and when her superior directed her to\nprepare for her profession she obeyed, and pronounced her vows on the\n25th of January, 1633, rewarded for a brief period with the highest\nspiritual consolation, only to be followed by a fresh season of trial.\n\nAt last a new and experienced director enlightened and relieved her\nsoul; and this strong woman, taught in the bitter school of experience,\nbecame mistress of novices. Soon after in a prophetic vision she saw the\nBlessed Virgin and our Lord overlooking some vast land sunk in the\ndepths of heathen darkness. Without knowing yet to what part of the\nworld this vision seemed to call her, she became filled with a desire to\naid by her prayers and other good works the missionaries laboring in\npagan lands. But this did not divert her from her duties as mistress of\nnovices. Her instructions to the young candidates were full of unction,\nand based especially on the words of Holy Writ. She explained fully and\nclearly to them the Psalms of David, which form so large a part of their\noffice, and the Canticle of Canticles, in which the great masters of\nspiritual life have seen such mysteries of the union between the elect\nsouls of predilection and our Lord. She also composed for their use a\ncatechism, which the judicious Father Charlevoix, the historian of New\nFrance, regarded as perhaps the best then extant in French. \u201cWe may at\nleast aver,\u201d he adds, \u201cthat there is none in which the truths are\nexplained with greater order, precision, and conciseness. The selection\nand application of the passages of Scripture show that Mother Mary of\nthe Incarnation was one of those who in her age knew the Holy Scriptures\nmost thoroughly. All breathes a wonderful simplicity which avoids that\ndangerous curiosity, the ordinary cause of pride, levity of mind, and\ninsensibility of heart.\u201d[130] The novices formed by her showed how\nsolidly she had grounded them in spiritual life, and how fully her great\nexperiences and trials had enabled her to guide them through all the\ndangers of that period where unwise and rash directors make shipwreck of\nso many vocations or hurry the unstable and doubtful into professions\nfor which they have no grace of state. The novices of Mother Mary of the\nIncarnation can be traced among the superiors and important officers of\nmany of the greatest Ursuline convents of France.\n\nThe interior sense of a vocation to the foreign missions grew steadily\nwithin her till her very body wasted under the longing and yearning to\nknow the will of God. Her prayer was incessant. At last a divine light\nsuffused her soul, and at the same time these words were spoken to her:\n\u201cAsk me through the Heart of Jesus, my most amiable Son; it is through\nit that I shall grant thy desire.\u201d From that moment, she declares, she\nfelt so intimately united to the Heart of Jesus that she spoke and\nbreathed only through it.\n\nAmong the points she often inculcated on the novices was a constant\ndevotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, of which she was one of the early\npropagators, although God did not make her the instrument of its general\ndiffusion. She would say to her novices: \u201cThe Eternal Father has made\nknown to a person that he is ever disposed to grant what is asked of him\nthrough the Heart of his Son.\u201d\n\nOne day she explained to her director, the Jesuit Father Dinet, her\ninterest in the foreign missions and her mysterious dream. He remarked\nthat it seemed very possible, and that Canada was probably the country\ndesignated in the vision. She had never heard of the colony begun there\nby France some twenty-five years before, and knew absolutely nothing\nabout it; but some days afterwards, while in choir, she had an ecstasy\nand the vision was repeated, but she heard distinctly: \u201cIt is Canada\nthat I show thee; and thou must go thither to found a house in honor of\nJesus and Mary.\u201d God\u2019s designs were becoming clearer; and when a few\ndays later she received from the Jesuit Father Poncet\u2014now known for his\nlabors and sufferings in Canada and New York, but then a perfect\nstranger to her\u2014one of those Jesuit _Relations_ which our bibliophiles\nso eagerly seek, and a pilgrim\u2019s staff from Loretto, she felt that the\nland for her future labors and prayers was beyond the Atlantic. Father\nPoncet sent with the pilgrim\u2019s staff these words: \u201cI send you this staff\nto invite you to go and serve God in New France.\u201d\n\nIn her heart she responded fully; but how was she, a cloistered nun, to\nbegin a convent in a distant colony of a few log huts, a colony with no\nfemale population, where everything was poor, scanty, struggling, and\nlaborious? How was she to become the pioneer nun among the backwoodsmen\nwho had begun to clear the Canadian forest? Nothing could seem to most\nminds more preposterous in a nun in a quiet convent in a quiet\nprovincial town in France. Yet Providence was guiding her surely to her\nwork. A holy young widow, Mme. de la Peltrie, who had reluctantly\nentered the marriage state when her heart was in the cloister, had\nresponded to a call in a Jesuit _Relation_ of Canada, where Father Le\nJeune exclaimed: \u201cAlas! cannot some good and virtuous lady be found\nwilling to come to this land to gather up the blood of Jesus Christ by\ninstructing the little Indian girls?\u201d She resolved to devote herself,\nand, when stricken down by illness and given up by physicians, she made\na vow to St. Joseph, promising to consecrate under his patronage her\nfortune and her life to the service of the Indian girls. A recovery from\nthe very brink of the grave, that seemed a miracle, confirmed her.\nBaffling all the objections of her family, she sought some community of\nreligious to begin the work in which she desired to take an active part.\nThe Jesuit missionaries from the shores of Lake Huron were writing to\nMother Mary of the Incarnation; the Jesuits in France had resolved to\nattempt an Ursuline convent in New France. Mme. de la Peltrie and Father\nPoncet wrote to Mother Mary of the Incarnation to undertake the great\nwork. The divine call so mysteriously given was at last accomplished.\nHer letter to the holy widow shows the fulness of her heart.\n\n \u201cAh! my dear lady,\u201d she writes, \u201cbeloved spouse of my divine Master,\n in finding you I have found her whom I love in truth, since there is\n no greater or truer love than to give one\u2019s self and all one has for\n the person beloved. And since it has pleased His mercy to give me\n the same sentiments, it seems that my heart is in yours, and that\n both together are but one in that of Jesus, amid those vast and\n infinite spaces where we embrace the little Indian girls, teaching\n them how to love Him who is infinitely amiable. Do you really mean,\n madame, to do me and those of my companions whom God well chose this\n favor, to take us with you and connect us with your noble design?\n For five years now have I been awaiting the opportunity to obey the\n urgent summons which the Holy Ghost has made me; and, not to speak\n untruly, I believe that you are the one whom his divine Majesty\n wishes to employ to enable me to enjoy this blessing.\u201d\n\nThis was in November, 1638. So rapidly did all progress that early in\nspring two pious companies gathered at Dieppe to found amid the unbroken\nwilderness of Canada the first convents of religious women\u2014the first,\nindeed, between the Mexican frontier towns and the icy ocean.\n\nOn a vessel devoted to St. Joseph, already designated to Mother Mary as\nthe patron of Northern America, embarked May 4, 1639, Mme. de la Peltrie\nand her attendant, Mother Mary of the Incarnation, and Mother St.\nJoseph, the only Ursuline of Tours who was permitted to join her, though\nall desired to do so; with Mother Cecilia of the Holy Cross from the\nUrsuline convent at Dieppe, three Hospital Nuns of the order of St.\nAugustine, Father Vimont, Superior-General of the Jesuit Missions in\nCanada, with two missionaries for that field, Father Chaumonot and\nFather Poncet.\n\nThe voyage was menaced at first by pirates and cruisers; was long and\nstormy, and the vessel escaped as by a miracle being crushed by a\nmountain-like iceberg. Yet, amid storm and blast, the vessel was a\nmonastery and chapel; Mass was said, and the nuns, in two choirs,\nchanted the office of the day. On the 15th of July they reached\nTadoussac, at the mouth of the Saguenay, and the passengers in a smaller\nvessel then ran up the river to Quebec.\n\nAt daybreak on the 1st of August the whole population of the little\nsettlement was gathered on the height, their eyes fixed on Ile Orleans.\nAt last boats were seen putting out. The Chevalier de Montmagny, Knight\nof Malta, Governor of Canada, marched to the water-side with his\ngarrison, followed by all the settlers, and the cannons of the fort\nsaluted the sisters as their barks touched the strand.\n\nMother Mary of the Incarnation had reached the field of her labors,\ndesignated so long by heaven. It was a land endeared to her by the will\nof God. When she stepped ashore she and her companions prostrated\nthemselves and kissed with respect the land so long desired. They were\nthen escorted to the Church of Our Lady of Recouvrance, where a _Te\nDeum_ was chanted and Mass offered up. All communicated, and Mother Mary\nremained long before the altar in a holy ecstasy.\n\nThe work of building up her convent began. After visiting the Indian\nmission at Sillery the Ursulines took up their temporary residence in a\nlittle house in the lower town. One of the two rooms was choir,\ndormitory, and refectory; the other a school, where their first pupils\nwere six Indian and some French girls born in the colony. A little\nchapel was erected beside this rude convent, and here this little\ncommunity spent three years amid trials, hardships, and suffering,\nawaiting the completion of the new structure. Quebec was but a hamlet of\ntwo hundred and fifty souls, and, though Mme. de la Peltrie generously\ndevoted her fortune, the work made but slow progress. In the selection\nof the site Mother Mary showed not only a superior judgment and prudence\nbut a holy submission of her will. When the question of the site was\nraised their director, Mme. de la Peltrie, and the sisters fixed upon a\nspot. Mother Mary alone recommended a different one, and gave her\nreasons. Her opinion was rejected almost without examination, and the\nbuilding was begun at the proposed place; but the difficulties and\ndisadvantages were soon seen. The work was stopped, and the site\nsuggested by the servant of God was adopted as really the only\npracticable one.\n\nWhen the Ursulines were installed in this temporary convent Mother Mary\nof the Incarnation was at once elected their superior. The instruction\nof the Indian girls being one of the principal objects of the\nfoundation, Mother Mary commenced the study of the Algonquin language,\nspoken by all the tribes on the St. Lawrence. It was no easy task, but\nshe acquired it with an ease that astonished all.\n\nThe discomforts of these pioneer nuns were not yet completed. Their\nlittle convent was crowded to its fullest extent with Indian girls, whom\nthey washed and clothed, and were endeavoring to form to European life,\nwhen the good nuns were dismayed to find the smallpox make its\nappearance in the Indian villages. Their school became an hospital, and\nthe Ursulines stripped themselves of all their linen for the use of the\nsick.\n\nThe arrival of two sisters from the Ursuline convent at Paris gave the\nholy superior great joy, but the members of the little community were\nnow from three different houses, each with special rules of its own, and\ngreat diversity of opinion prevailed as to the rule to be adopted. The\npatience, piety, and caution displayed by Mother Mary were those of a\nsaint; and her really great mind and thorough knowledge of nature and\ngrace enabled her to blend all into one happy community actuated by the\nsame spiritual instinct.\n\nBut the very existence of the house was menaced. The expenses,\nespecially in the great multitude of articles that it was necessary to\nimport constantly from France, and the aid given to the Indians in\nhealth and sickness, exceeded all their income, and Mme. de la Peltrie\nwithdrew for a time to Montreal, depriving them of her usual and\nstipulated contribution. Their agent in France assured them that the\nestablishment must be abandoned, that there was no way left except to\nreturn to France. But Mother Mary was undisturbed. Her holy soul never\nlost its calm, its union with God. She wrote incessantly, and her\nappeals to hundreds of charitable souls in France brought alms that\nsaved the convent.\n\nMme. de la Peltrie returned to the community she had helped to found,\nand on the 21st of November, 1642, the Ursulines took possession of\ntheir new monastery. It was not the only consolation of the venerable\nsuperior. Letters from France announced that her son, after securing a\nfavorable position at court, had abandoned the world and entered the\nnovitiate of the learned order of St. Benedict, where in time he became\nan illustrious member.\n\nThe new building was spacious, but in their poverty they still had much\nto suffer, especially in the long Canadian winters. Then came the\noverthrow of the Hurons in Upper Canada, the massacre of many holy\nmissionaries personally known to Mother Mary, who beheld at her doors a\ncrowd of fugitive Hurons. Their language she learned, to be able to\nlabor for their good, if God spared the colony; for the Iroquois,\nintoxicated with success, now ravaged the valley of the St. Lawrence,\nand no one was safe even at Quebec.\n\nWhile all were paralyzed by fear, and the colony in its sorest distress,\nfire broke out in the convent one December night toward the close of the\nyear 1650, and before dawn naught remained but the walls. Mother Mary\nwas the last to leave the burning structure. The whole community and\ntheir pupils were left in the snow, in their night-dresses, nothing\nhaving been saved of their clothing or stores. The Hospital Nuns\nreceived them with open arms and the whole town endeavored to meet their\nwants.\n\nAll was gone. There seemed no course but to return to France. Such was\nnot, however, the decision of Mother Mary and her heroic companions.\n\u201cThe resolution was that, without further delay, we should rebuild on\nthe same foundation, inasmuch as our courage had not been crushed by the\nweight of this disaster, and as our vocations were as strong or stronger\nthan before, and the girls of French and of Indian origin needed our\nservices.\u201d\n\nThe work was begun at once, Mother Mary and the other sisters helping to\nclear away the ruins. A little house which Mme. de la Peltrie had\nerected became their temporary convent, while by loans they paid the\nworkmen to continue the work on the new building. The work cost thirty\nthousand livres, and the furnishing and supplies required still more.\nYet all came so wonderfully that Mother Mary of the Incarnation declared\nit to be a miracle and ascribed it to the special protection of the\nBlessed Virgin.\n\nSoon after an Iroquois army spread terror through Canada, till a heroic\nband sacrificed themselves in an attack on the ferocious enemy, and by a\nglorious death so crippled them that the savages retired. During the\npanic caused by these cruel invaders the Ursulines were forced to leave\ntheir convent, which became a fortified house. Then came an earthquake\nwhich convulsed the whole country, attended by meteors that filled all\nwith terror and alarm. Amid all these dangers Mother Mary of the\nIncarnation preserved unruffled her calm and serenity of soul.\n\nOne of the founders of the colony, she lived to see it develop and\nstrengthen; children born on the soil had grown up under her guidance\nand become mothers of families, handing down to coming generations the\nsolid Christian instruction imparted to them by Mother Mary of the\nIncarnation and her sisters in religion. Canada had grown, too, from a\nmere mission to an organized church with a holy bishop at its head, a\nseminary for the training of candidates for the priesthood, a Jesuit\ncollege, and inferior schools. Her work was well-nigh accomplished. In\n1664 she felt the first symptoms of the disease which was to terminate\nthe long death of her earthly existence and unite her for ever to her\nheavenly Spouse. Extenuated by austerities, labor, and vigils, she was\nattacked by a continued fever, accompanied by effusion of bile and\nviolent pains which gave her no rest by night or day. Her constitution,\nnaturally so strong and enduring, could no longer resist the inroads of\nthe malady. She was soon at the point of death, and received the last\nsacraments amid the sighs and tears of her spiritual children. All\nQuebec was in tears, for there was scarcely a family in which she was\nnot looked up to as a guide and mother. The continual prayers seemed to\nmove Heaven to spare her to them for a time. But she survived only to\nremain on the cross in a state of continual suffering. Masses, novenas,\nprayers were offered for her complete recovery; but she herself offered\nnone. Several persons, among others Bishop Laval, who visited her\nregularly, implored her to solicit her cure from God; but she replied\nthat she felt utterly unable to frame such a prayer. \u201cOf what use can an\ninfirm old woman of sixty be? Oh! do not prolong my exile; let me go to\nmy God.\u201d\n\nShe did not even beg for a cessation of her pain or her state of\nsuffering. The office of superior had been for the third time conferred\nupon her; from this she now asked to be relieved, as she was unable to\ndischarge the duties incumbent on it. But when her director declined to\npermit this she submitted without a murmur and continued to bear the\nburden.\n\n \u201cMy present condition,\u201d she wrote to her son, \u201cis most dear to me,\n because the cross is the pleasure and the delight of Jesus. I can\n never recover from my long malady, which has very painful and\n torturing consequences. But nature grows tame to suffering and\n becomes familiar with pain. I even feel attached to it; and I fear\n that my tepidity will oblige the divine goodness to deprive me of\n it, or at least to moderate it. Everything I take is like wormwood,\n and constantly brings to my mind the gall in the Passion of our\n Lord. This makes me love this state.\u201d\n\nYet in a state which would have kept most persons prostrate on a bed she\nlabored as unremittingly as ever. She rose the first and retired the\nlast, attended all the duties of the community, conducted an extensive\ncorrespondence, and, when too weak to do other work, employed her time\nin painting or embroidery. Her existence during the eight years she\nspent in this state was as great a mystery as her whole mystical life\nhad been.\n\nHer missionary zeal never flagged, and the great consolation of these\nyears was to instruct in the Algonquin and Huron languages the younger\nmembers of the community, to enable them to continue after her death the\ninstructions which she had been in the habit of giving. It would seem as\nif her wish had been gratified, for two centuries after her death Huron\ngirls were among the pupils in the convent she founded, playing beneath\nthe very tree where she and Mme. de la Peltrie had washed, dressed, and\ninstructed the Indian children.\n\nHer works compiled for the use of the sisters, had they escaped the\nconflagrations of the monastery, would give her a high rank among the\nauthors in Indian languages, for they comprised two extended Algonquin\ndictionaries, an Iroquois catechism, and a huge volume of Bible stories\nin Algonquin.\n\nShe could now walk only when supported. Mother Mary of St. Joseph went\nto receive her reward. Mme. de la Peltrie was also taken from her.\n\nOn the night of the 15th of January, 1672, an oppression of the chest\nseized Mother Mary of the Incarnation, attended with incessant vomiting\nand fever. The end had come, but amid the most exquisite suffering not a\nsigh, not a complaint, scarcely the quivering of a muscle, betrayed what\nshe was undergoing. She seemed absorbed in an ecstasy. She received the\nlast sacraments with unspeakable joy, and asked pardon of her director,\nher superior, and the community for all the trouble she had given them.\nShe spoke to the younger sisters in the most touching and eloquent terms\nto excite them to esteem their vocation and to encourage them to care\nfor the Indian children.\n\nBut the community could not part with its founder. They offered up\nearnest prayers in her behalf, and her director, Father Lalemant,\ncommanded her to join her prayers with them. Though anxious to be united\nto God, she obeyed. An immediate improvement ensued. She rallied so as\nto join the community in the devotions of Holy Week.\n\nOn the evening of Good Friday the pain of two tumors that had formed\nbecame intense. An operation was performed, but she sank gradually, and\non the 30th of April entered into her agony. It was long; but the\nstrength of purpose evinced in life enabled her even then to raise the\ncrucifix repeatedly to her lips when speech and hearing were gone. At\nsix o\u2019clock in the afternoon, after looking around on her sisters, as if\nto take a last farewell, she gave two sighs and expired.\n\nThe news of her death spread rapidly. She had been regarded as a saint,\nand all flocked to the convent. Every pious person in Quebec desired\nsome relic; so that everything belonging to her was carried away, and\nthe Ursulines had great difficulty in retaining her large rosary, which\nhas been preserved to this day as their chief relic. Her funeral service\nwas attended by all the dignitaries in church and state, and a sermon by\nFather Jerome Lalemant, her chief director during her long mission in\nCanada, depicted her labors and her sublime virtues.\n\nHer body was interred in the chapel vault, and amid all the vicissitudes\nof war, conflagration, and change of nationality the Ursulines have\ncontinued guardians of the precious remains of their foundress.\n\nShe had in life impressed all as one elevated above the common order,\none who received extraordinary graces from God, and who corresponded\nwith them. The missionaries, men versed in the direction of souls and\nthe paths by which divine grace leads them, all entertained the highest\nesteem for her virtues. Her fellow-Ursulines living with her, watching\nher minutely from day to day and from year to year, could aver that they\nhad never seen her commit a fault against meekness, patience, humility,\ncharity, modesty, poverty, or obedience, and that she never let an\noccasion pass unheeded of practising those virtues.\n\nWhen, therefore, all could piously believe that she was reigning with\nChrist, the confidence of the afflicted led them to seek her\nintercession, and the consolation derived has kept alive devotion to her\nto this time; while her letters, published by her son, revealed to the\nmasters of spiritual life the wonderful interior and mystic life led by\nthis nun in a rude convent amid the handful of log-houses which\nconstituted the capital of New France.\n\nFather Charlevoix alludes to the opinion of \u201ctwo learned prelates who\nhave not always been of the same opinion [evidently Bossuet and\nF\u00e9nelon], but who, nevertheless, agree in regarding her as one of the\nbrightest lights of her age.\u201d Bossuet in one of his arguments says:\n\n \u201cMother Mary of the Incarnation, Ursuline, who is called the Teresa\n of our days and of the New World, in a lively impression of the\n inexorable justice of God, condemned herself to an eternity of pain\n and offered herself for it, in order that God\u2019s justice might be\n satisfied, provided only, she said, \u2018that I be not deprived of the\n love of God and of God himself.\u2019\u201d\n\nMr. Emery, superior of St. Sulpice at Paris, wrote:\n\n \u201cThe Venerable Mother Mary of the Incarnation is a saint whom I\n revere most sincerely, and whom I place in my esteem beside St.\n Teresa. In my last retreat her life, her letters, and her\n meditations alone constituted my reading and the subject of my\n mental prayer.\u201d\n\nFather Charlevoix wrote her life in gratitude for favors obtained by her\nintercession.\n\n \u201cIndebted,\u201d says he, \u201cas I have reason to believe, to the merits of\n the foundress of the Ursulines in Canada that I did not end my days\n in a foreign land in the flower of my life, it seemed to me that I\n could not do less than extend her knowledge among men. Not that she\n was hitherto unknown. The eulogium pronounced upon her by the\n greatest men, and her own works, in which we admire an exquisite\n taste, sound reason, a sublime genius, and that divine unction which\n so well distinguishes the writings of the saints, have already\n placed her in the rank of the most illustrious women.\u201d\n\nFather Galifet, in one of his spiritual works, says:\n\n \u201cHer life was full of marvels by the heroic virtues she practised,\n by the supernatural gifts with which she was endowed, by the\n choicest favors of her divine Spouse, by unspeakable communications\n of the Divinity, by the wisdom she derived from the Scriptures and\n from the mysteries of faith, and finally by the experience she had\n of all conditions of interior life, which rendered her a thorough\n mistress in this Divine knowledge.... This wonderful servant of God\n had an extraordinary devotion for the Sacred Heart of Jesus at a\n time when this devotion was yet unknown. She could have learned\n nothing about it from men. It was from God himself that she learned\n this in a heavenly revelation.\u201d\n\nEven Protestant writers, to whom all Catholic spiritual life is\nsomething unreal and deserving only of scorn and contempt,\n_blasphemantes qu\u00e6 ignorant_, recognize in Mother Mary of the\nIncarnation a woman of a rare and singular combination of qualities, and\nnever ascribe to her a fault. \u201cShe had uncommon talents and strong\nreligious sensibilities,\u201d says Parkman. \u201cStrange as it may seem, this\nwoman, whose habitual state was one of mystical abstraction, was gifted\nto a rare degree with the faculties most useful in the practical affairs\nof life.\u201d \u201cHer talent for business was not the less displayed.\u201d \u201cNow and\nhenceforward one figure stands nobly conspicuous in this devoted\nsisterhood. Marie de l\u2019Incarnation, ... engaged in the duties of\nChristian charity and the responsibilities of an arduous post, displays\nan ability, a fortitude, and an earnestness which command respect and\nadmiration.\u201d \u201cMarie de l\u2019Incarnation in her saddest moments neither\nfailed in judgment nor slackened in effort. She carried on a vast\ncorrespondence, embracing every one in France who could aid her infant\ncommunity with money or influence; she harmonized and regulated it with\nexcellent skill; and in the midst of relentless austerities, she was\nloved as a mother by her pupils and dependants. Catholic writers extol\nher as a saint. Protestants may see in her a Christian heroine,\nadmirable with all her follies and faults.\u201d\n\nThe follies and faults consisted in her being a Catholic, a nun, and in\nrising to the higher states of mystical life.\n\nAnd how are we to regard this inner life of this remarkable woman? Was\nthis clear and gifted mind, this pure soul, this person devoting a long\nlife to incessant occupation and free from all selfish taint, one to be\nreadily self-deceived? Was anything that passed in her soul, as\ndescribed by her, without its parallel in the history of the church? By\nno means. It is, indeed, the state to which few comparatively are called\nby God, and to which all who are called do not rise. But it is one\nrecognized by the church, which is the pillar and ground of truth, and\nfrom the case of St. Paul there have been ever in the church remarkable\nexamples of great souls combining the exterior activity with the highest\ncontemplation. Wise and spiritual directors are seldom wanting as\nguides, and the highest authority in the church is frequently called\nupon to decide questions that arise.\n\n \u201cMoreover,\u201d says Father Charlevoix, in reference to this very case,\n \u201cwe have general rules which, being founded on good sense, are\n within the reach of all; and they are given to us by the Doctors of\n the church and by all the masters of interior life, as sure means to\n guarantee us against seduction. I will not mention all, as the\n detail would lead me too far, and the rules can readily be found. I\n shall speak of only one of the most important, which includes the\n principles of all the others. According to this rule, we may believe\n that what passes in the soul is a favor of heaven, if in the conduct\n of the person who receives it, in the matter in question, in the\n manner in which it occurs, and in the effects which it produces,\n there is nothing that does not lead to God, nothing savoring ever so\n little of one\u2019s own mind, or which can come from a suggestion of the\n devil. For if in a vision, revelation, or any similar impression\n nothing can be discovered that is not conformable to pure doctrine\n and sanctity of life, if there is no ground for prudently fearing\n surprise or deceit, on what basis can we pronounce the whole to be\n frivolous? It may be that after all it is only an effect of the\n imagination, but, at least, nothing is risked if the soul in which\n it occurs remains in distrust of self and in humility.\n\n \u201cBut if it is only an operation of the enemy of salvation to seduce\n and lead into sin, a little application and experience will soon\n reveal the venom hidden under the appearance of piety....\n\n \u201cWhen, then, we are told of a person to whom it is said that God\n communicates himself in an extraordinary manner, if this person is\n recognized by all acquainted with him to have a sound and upright\n reason, a firm mind, imagination under control, solid virtue based\n on Christian simplicity, humility, and distrust of self; if his\n conduct never belies itself; if he perseveres to the end in the\n exact discharge of his duties; if on all occasions he does works\n worthy of that sublime state in which he is represented to be\u2014there\n is, I admit, no indispensable obligation of giving credit to what is\n said in regard to him; but there is, it seems to me, a reasonable\n prejudice in favor of this person, and we can scarcely avoid a want\n of the respect due to God\u2019s gifts in a soul which has all the\n appearances of being so singularly adorned. I may even go further,\n and if Lactantius has proved the truth of the Christian religion by\n showing that it is in all points conformable to reason and nothing\n contradicts it, would I not have some right to maintain that we can\n recognize God\u2019s operation in a soul when what passes there is in\n perfect accord with good sense, faith, reason, and itself?\u201d\n\nWhen two centuries had elapsed after the holy death of Mother Mary of\nthe Incarnation, and her memory was still fresh in the minds of the\nCanadian people and of the few remaining bands of Indians, and temporal\nand spiritual graces were constantly ascribed to her intercession, a\nprocess in due form was drawn up by the authority of the Archbishop of\nQuebec in regard to the miracles attributed to the servant of God. This\nwas duly authenticated, and sealed and despatched to Rome in 1868 by a\nclergyman selected for this duty. These documents were presented to the\nsecretary of the Sacred Congregation of Rites, and, according to a wise\nregulation, must lie there untouched for ten years, during which time\nnothing is to be done in regard to the desired beatification.\n\nThe Ursulines solicited the beatification of the illustrious member of\ntheir order; the remnant of the once powerful Huron nation attested the\ntraditional reverence for her who had welcomed them when wretched\nfugitives from Iroquois cruelty, and had lavished her kindness on the\nhapless women and children, teaching them to suffer as Christians and\ntraining them to die worthy of the name.\n\nThe hierarchy of Canada, assembled in Provincial Council in that year,\ngave to the Holy See their testimony in regard to the fame of the\nservant of God.\n\n \u201cNearly two centuries have elapsed,\u201d say these venerable prelates,\n \u201csince the death in the Lord of Mary Guyart, called in religion\n \u2018Mary of the Incarnation,\u2019 first superior and foundress of the\n Ursuline convent erected in this city of Quebec. How illustrious she\n was both in the theological virtues and in the observance of the\n religious life is attested by history and by constant tradition. The\n tree is still shown under which she sat and taught the Indian girls\n the rudiments of the faith; the wandering tribes still retain a\n tradition of the benign mother who first introduced into this land,\n then seated in darkness and in the shadow of death, such an\n illustrious example of monastic life in her sex.\n\n \u201cAs years have gone by, the fame of her sanctity and her miracles\n has not decreased, but is rather increased from day to day,\n especially as many aver openly every day that they have obtained\n great temporal and spiritual benefits through her invocation....\n\n \u201cAssembled in provincial council, turning to your paternity with the\n utmost confidence, we cannot refrain from expressing our most ardent\n desire, as well as that of our diocesans, and of all the Ursulines\n scattered throughout the whole Catholic world, of soon publicly and\n solemnly invoking her whose assistance we now often implore\n privately but efficaciously.\u201d\n\nSuch was the testimony of the Archbishop of Quebec and the bishops of\nMontreal, Ottawa, Hamilton, St. Boniface, Kingston, Toronto, St.\nHyacinth, Three Rivers, St. Germain, and Sandwich, given in the most\nsolemn form.\n\nThe ten years of patient waiting had almost ended in 1877, and further\nsteps could be taken. The documents were by a special permission opened,\nthe life of the servant of God and her writings were proposed. It was\nthen for the Holy See to decide whether they presented such a case that\nthe cause of her beatification could be introduced, and the long\nlaw-suit, so to say, be commenced in which her life, writings, and\nmiracles should be subjected to the severest scrutiny. The Sacred\nCongregation of Rites reported favorably, and one of the latest acts of\nthe great Sovereign Pontiff, Pius IX., was:\n\n \u201cOur most Holy Father, Pope Pius IX., having deigned to permit on\n the 9th of September of last year that the question of the signature\n of the commission charged with introducing the cause of the servant\n of God, Sister Mary of the Incarnation, be brought up in the Sacred\n Congregation of Rites, in ordinary session, and without the\n participation and the vote of the consultors, although it is not ten\n years since the day of the presentation of the process of the\n ordinary in the Acts of the Congregation of Rites, and that the\n writings of the said servant of God have not been inquired into or\n examined;\n\n \u201cThe Most Eminent and Most Reverend Cardinal Aloysius Bilio, Prefect\n of the said congregation, in the name and in the absence of the Most\n Eminent Cardinal Bartolini, reporter of the cause, at the instance\n of the Rev. Benjamin Paquet, Private Camerlengo to his Holiness, and\n Dean of the Faculty of Theology at the Catholic University of\n Quebec, designated as postulator in this cause, in view of the\n postulatory letters of a great number of cardinals of the holy Roman\n Church, of venerable prelates and persons illustrious by their\n ecclesiastical and civil dignity, to-day proposed at the session of\n the Sacred Rites, held at the Vatican, the discussion of the\n following question: \u2018Should the commission of introduction of the\n cause, in the case and for the object in question, be signed?\u2019\n\n \u201cThe same Sacred Congregation, having maturely examined all things,\n having heard the address and report of Father Lorenzo Salvati,\n promoter of the faith, has decided to answer affirmatively, that is,\n that the commission should be signed, if such was the will of the\n Holy Father.\u2014September 15, 1877.\n\n \u201cThe undersigned secretary having then made a true report of all\n the foregoing to our Holy Father, Pope Pius IX., His Holiness\n ratified and confirmed the decision of the Sacred Congregation,\n and signed with his own hand the commission of introduction of the\n cause of the venerable servant of God, the said Mary of the\n Incarnation.\u2014September 20, 1877.\n\n \u201cA., Bishop of Sabina,\n CARDINAL BILIO, _Prefect_.\n \u201dPLACIDUS RALLI, _Secretary_.\u201d\n\nYears will be spent in the investigation; and meanwhile the hearts of\nthe devout, not only in Canada but throughout this country, will turn\nwith confidence to this wonderful and holy woman, this early propagator\nin the western world of devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, soaring\nto the highest mystical contemplation, yet immersed in constant, active\nlabor\u2014a fitting patroness indeed for so many of us who find the best and\nholiest impulses of our lives choked and stifled by the thorns and\nbrambles of earthly cares and duties. Her intercession will be as\npowerful as it has been, and it may be in God\u2019s providence that\nconfidence will be rewarded by some striking mark of favor to attest the\nsanctity of his servant.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe body of the Venerable Mother Mary of the Incarnation, at the time of\nthe removal of the remains of the deceased members of the community to\nthe new choir in 1724, was placed in a leaden coffin with those of Mme.\nde la Peltrie and Mother St. Joseph. They were again taken up in 1799\nand placed under the communion screen. On the 30th of April, 1833, the\never-constant devotion to Mother Mary of the Incarnation led to another\nverification of her relics. The leaden coffin was found full of clear,\nlimpid water, which was devoutly preserved as a relic of the holy\nfoundress, and has been, under God, the instrument of many cures which\nare regarded as miraculous.\n\nThe first of these occurred, we may say, on the spot. One of the\nscholars, Miss Margaret Mary Gowan, had for a year been deprived of the\nuse of an arm. Full of confidence in the Venerable Mother Mary, she\nbegan a novena, applying the water that had touched her venerated\nrelics. A total cure followed. This remarkable restoration was soon made\nknown, and far and wide the afflicted turned as of old to this holy\nservant of God for temporal and spiritual aid.\n\nCures like that of Father Charlevoix had taken place from time to time,\nbut the authentications had been neglected or perished in the repeated\ndestructions of the convent by fire. The miracles of recent date are\nwell attested. Miss Gowan became a Sister of Charity, and is, we\nbelieve, still alive to give her testimony of the cure wrought in 1833.\n\nThe devotion of the Venerable Mother Mary is generally a novena, using\nespecially her prayer to the Sacred Heart of Jesus[131] and the\napplication of the water.\n\nAmong the prodigies ascribed to this servant of God are the cure of Mary\nCot\u00e9, a girl of twelve living at Black River. She had been blind for\nfive years after an attack of small-pox. No pupil, iris, or cornea could\nbe distinguished in either eye, and the pain, especially in winter, was\nintense. Dr. Morin examined her and declared it an incurable case of\n_leucoma_. By the advice of Miss Bilodeau, the teacher at the place, to\nwhom the child was brought to prepare for her First Communion, she began\na novena to Mother Mary of the Incarnation, applying a drop of the\nwater. On the fourth day, during Mass, the child felt all pain leave her\neyes, and, raising them for the first time, saw the altar and a large\nstatue of the Blessed Virgin upon it. On examining the eyes they were\nfound clear and limpid. A few reddish stains remained for some days in\nthe left eye, but gradually disappeared. The cure was complete and\ndurable, and was attested by the physician, the teacher, and others who\nwere eye-witnesses. This remarkable cure occurred June 8, 1867.\n\nThe cure of James McCormac, a boy five years old, in 1868, is also\nattested in a most satisfactory manner. He suffered from terrible\ninternal pain, especially in the bowels, and from a contraction of the\nleg, and hip disease. No sooner had a novena been begun and the water\napplied than the pain ceased and the child was able to get upon his feet\nand walk, though uncertainly, like a young infant not yet accustomed to\nstep. At the end of the novena he walked perfectly, and from that time\nenjoyed complete health. Damian Gavard was similarly cured at St. Alban\nin 1876.\n\nThe devotion to the Venerable member of their order extended to the\nUrsuline convents in Europe, and cases are reported from Aubresles,\nQuimperl\u00e9, Carhaix, Blois, Mons, in France and Belgium, as though\nProvidence was preparing near the Eternal City testimony of the sanctity\nof the Canadian nun.\n\nFootnote 130:\n\n It was published in France in 1684 under the title of _L\u2019Ecole\n Chr\u00e9tienne_.\n\nFootnote 131:\n\n Prayer of the Venerable Mother Mary of the Incarnation:\n\n \u201cIt is through the Heart of Jesus, my way, my truth, and my life, that\n I approach thee, O Eternal Father. Through this divine Heart I worship\n thee for all who worship thee not; I love thee for all who love thee\n not; I acknowledge thee for all the wilfully blind who through\n contempt acknowledge thee not. I wish by this divine Heart to fulfil\n the duty of all men. In spirit I traverse the whole world to seek all\n the souls ransomed by the most precious Blood of my divine Spouse, in\n order to satisfy thee for them all by this divine Heart. I embrace\n them in order to present them to thee through it, and by it I ask of\n thee their conversion. Wilt thou, O Eternal Father, suffer them to be\n ignorant of my Jesus, or live not for him who died for all? Thou\n beholdest, O divine Father, that they live not yet. Oh! make them live\n through the divine Heart.\n\n\n\n\n MABEL WILLEY\u2019S LOVERS.\n\n\nEarly one June morning, not many years ago, a young couple might have\nbeen seen strolling along by the side of a babbling brook a short\ndistance from the village of North Conway, New Hampshire.\n\nHarry Fletcher, although a late riser when at home, had determined to be\nup betimes this morning and catch a mess of trout for breakfast. Not for\nhis own breakfast, however, but for that of Miss Kitty Gibbon, who, like\nhimself, had come to pass a few weeks at the Kearsarge House.\n\n\u201c\u2019Twill please her,\u201d thought Harry, \u201cto hear how I left my comfortable\ncouch for her sake, at an hour when only farmers are stirring.\u201d\n\nBut Miss Gibbon, who had seen him the evening before making ready his\nfishing-tackle, had said to herself: \u201cI\u2019ll be up early, too, and go with\nhim.\u201d And she kept her word; nay, she was down before her admirer. And\nwhen the latter discovered Kitty seated on the piazza reading\n_Middlemarch_, he of course invited her to accompany him; which\ninvitation Kitty accepted, but not until he had asked her a second time;\nand then she closed the book slowly, lingering a moment over the last\nline and exclaiming: \u201cWhat an interesting tale this is!\u201d So that Harry\nwas half tempted to apologize for thus interrupting her reading.\n\n\u201cThe truth is, Miss Gibbon,\u201d he said, as they wended their way toward\nthe stream\u2014\u201cthe truth is, I know that you like fresh trout. For no other\nhuman being would I have risen at such an unearthly hour.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed!\u201d returned Kitty with an air of perfect indifference. Yet,\naccustomed as she was to receiving attention and to hear flattering\nwords, she could not prevent a tiny rose from blooming on her pallid\ncheek when Harry went on to assure her upon his honor that this was the\ntruth.\n\nIn our opinion Miss Gibbon is an attractive young lady. But most people\nmight not agree with us; and not a few of her rivals declare it is only\nher money that makes her so pleasing to the gentlemen. There is, indeed,\na slight cast in one of her eyes, and her forehead is somewhat too broad\nfor a woman\u2019s. But then she is gifted with a melodious voice (a rare\ngift among American women) and has exquisite teeth, which she knows how\nto display to the best advantage by a merry laugh practised before the\nmirror. Her hair, too, wonderful to relate, is all her own, and, despite\nthe care which she bestows on her toilet, one glossy ringlet always\nmanages to escape from its thraldom and fly hither and thither. But the\nbest feature Kitty possesses\u2014at least so think we\u2014is her nose. It is a\nbold Roman nose, which proclaims her to be a girl of character; and we\nare convinced that, however spoilt she may be by fortune, there is a\nsolid groundwork of worth in Kitty which would reveal itself if the\noccasion demanded it.\n\nHer mother, who is a rich widow, has been living five or six years\nabroad, most of the time in Paris, and Mrs. Gibbon only came home this\nsummer because she thought that a trip across the ocean would be good\nfor her daughter\u2019s health.\n\nHarry Fletcher, Kitty\u2019s companion this June morning, is the son of a\nprominent New York banker; and as it seems to be one of the laws of\nnature that wealth should attract wealth, we cannot wonder if he and\nMiss Gibbon have very soon become known to each other.\n\n\u201cHe will be as good a catch for you, child, as you will be for him,\u201d\nspoke the watchful mother. \u201cAnd if you play your cards right we may be\nback in Paris before October, bringing Mr. Fletcher along with us; and,\nconsidering his prospects, he will do almost as well as a count.\u201d\n\nIt would be untrue, however, to say that there was no real love between\nthis youthful pair. Money may, indeed, have first drawn them together;\nbut now, after only a fortnight\u2019s acquaintance, we doubt, if one of them\nwere suddenly to be stricken with poverty, whether poverty would\nseparate them.\n\n\u201cHow charming this walk is!\u201d exclaimed Harry, as he took Kitty\u2019s hand to\nhelp her over a fallen tree.\n\n\u201cIn Paris such a delightful walk would not be possible,\u201d answered Kitty.\n\n\u201cDo you really enjoy it?\u201d said Harry. \u201cIt must seem so different from\nthe Champs Elys\u00e9es and the Bois de Boulogne.\u201d\n\nHis companion was silent a moment, and \u2019twas not until he repeated that\nthe pine woods and stony fields of New Hampshire must appear very rugged\nand unpleasant to her that she said:\n\n\u201cWell, but here, sir, I do for once in my life feel that I am free. Why,\nat the fashionable _pensionnat_ where mother put me I was not allowed to\nwalk out alone even with my cousin Arthur.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! you can\u2019t imagine how I long to see Paris,\u201d continued Harry.\n\n\u201cWell, despite what I have just said,\u201d answered Kitty, \u201cit is a most\nfascinating city\u2014the queen of cities; and there is a large colony of\nAmericans there, who have made up their minds to die in Paris, and who\nlook upon their countrymen here as semi-barbarians.\u201d\n\nIn a few minutes they reached the brook and Harry cast in his fly. But\nno fish rose; and presently he gave another throw. This time it was not\nskilfully done, or rather it was most skilfully done, for the fly, as it\nwent circling round his head, got caught in Kitty\u2019s truant curl, who\nlaughed and said: \u201cYou have hooked a big trout now, Mr. Fletcher.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I came purposely to catch a mess for you,\u201d returned Harry. \u201cBut\nmay I crave leave to keep this one dear fish all for myself?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d laughed Kitty, as he tried to disentangle the fly.\n\n\u201cI mean\u2014\u201d here his fingers stopped working and his voice trembled. \u201cI\nmean\u2014\u201d Kitty, who understood him well enough, in another moment gave the\nhappy response, and Harry was so overjoyed that he wound up his line and\ndid not fish any more.\n\nBut they did not return immediately to the village; they felt drawn\nnearer to each other in the lonely woods, with only the trees and the\nbrook to watch them; and so on and on they wandered, until by and by\nthey emerged from the forest and saw before them an old farmhouse with\nmoss-covered roof, on which the morning sun was shining, and round about\nthe homestead the stream made well-nigh a circle\u2014a bright, silvery\ncircle, murmuring sweet music to those who dwelt there. The lovers\npaused a moment and gazed upon the scene without speaking. Then\npresently Kitty said: \u201cI could live in such a spot all my life.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo could I,\u201d said Harry, turning his sparkling eyes upon her. \u201cWith you\nI could live anywhere.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us draw nearer,\u201d continued Kitty, \u201cand speak to the young woman who\nis feeding the turkeys by the door; and quite a pretty girl she is,\u201d\nKitty added in an undertone, as Mabel Willey turned towards them.\n\n\u201cYes, if one admires a dark complexion,\u201d said Harry.\n\n\u201cAnd buried among these hills!\u201d continued Kitty compassionately. \u201cBut I\nforgot what I said a moment ago; if I could be happy here with you, dear\nHarry, why, she may have a lover too, and not pine one bit for city\nlife.\u201d\n\nThe genial way in which Mabel returned their greeting quite won Kitty\u2019s\nheart, while Harry inwardly confessed that, although he did not like\nbrunettes, she was the handsomest one he had ever seen. And when\npresently he glanced down at her bare feet she did not blush, but\nquietly remarked:\n\n\u201cI have been gathering lilies, sir, at the pond, and I had to wade in\nafter them.\u201d\n\nBut Harry thought no excuse was needed; for Mabel\u2019s foot was as\nperfectly shaped as her hand\u2014a sculptor might have chosen it for a\nmodel.\n\n\u201cWhat a sweet home you have!\u201d observed Kitty. \u201cAnd the swallows love it,\ntoo; how many there are skimming over the grass!\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis not my home,\u201d returned Mabel. \u201cI am here only on a visit to my\ngrandfather.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed! Well, may I ask where your home is?\u201d continued Kitty.\n\n\u201cIn Illinois. My parents settled there twenty-three years ago, when they\nwere first married, and I was born there, and I like it much better than\nNew Hampshire.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you? And what part of Illinois are you from?\u201d\n\n\u201cLee County; and we live on the bank of a beautiful river called Rock\nRiver, which is full of black bass and pickerel, and in autumn \u2019tis\ncovered with mallard and teal. Oh! I love Rock River.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, if your home is a more delightful spot than this it must be\nexquisite indeed.\u201d\n\n\u201cI never saw a finer beech-tree than that one yonder,\u201d put in Harry.\nThen turning to his betrothed and dropping his voice, \u201cLet us go cut our\nnames upon it, Kitty, to preserve the memory of this happy day.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! do,\u201d answered Kitty aloud. Then, taking Mabel\u2019s hand, she added:\n\u201cYou must know, my dear, that he and I are just engaged. I spoke the\nsweet yes to him as we were strolling up the brook\u2014this\nnever-to-be-forgotten brook.\u201d\n\n\u201cEngaged\u2014going to be married,\u201d said Mabel in a musing tone and fixing\nher dark eyes upon Harry, who wondered what she was thinking of while\nshe watched him so wistfully. Then presently Mabel went on:\n\n\u201cYes, do cut your names on the tree, for you must never forget this\nday\u2014never; and your names will be visible upon it many years to come.\u201d\n\nAll three now bent their steps to the beech, where Harry deftly carved\nhis name and the name of his betrothed upon the bark.\n\n\u201cWhy, how strange!\u201d cried Mabel when he had finished. Then, taking Kitty\nby the sleeve, she drew her to the other side of the tree, where, lo! in\nletters almost obliterated by Time, was written _Harry Fletcher\u2014Mabel\nWilley!_\n\n\u201cThen you have a lover, too, of the same name as mine,\u201d observed Kitty.\n\n\u201cI a lover! I have none,\u201d returned Mabel. \u201cBesides, do you not perceive\nthat these names have been here a long time, for the bark has nearly\ngrown over them?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, who were these lovers, then?\u2014for such no doubt they were,\u201d said\nKitty.\n\n\u201cI do not know; I only discovered the names yesterday. I\u2019ll ask grandpa\nas soon as he comes back from the mill.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo,\u201d said Harry, \u201cfor I am curious to know.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd before you return to Illinois,\u201d continued Kitty, \u201cplease come to\nthe Kearsarge House, in order that I may see you again; for where your\nhome is, is far, far from where ours is going to be.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe intend to live in Paris,\u201d said Harry.\n\n\u201cIn Paris?\u201d observed Mabel. \u201cYou mean, of course, the Paris that is in\nFrance?\u201d\n\n\u201cIs there any other?\u201d said Kitty, inwardly smiling at her simplicity.\n\n\u201cOh! yes. There is a Paris in Oregon and another in Texas.\u201d\n\nHere the talk ended by Mabel promising to visit Kitty ere many days were\nover.\n\n\u201cI should not have expected to meet such a fine-looking, well-mannered\ngirl in a place like this,\u201d spoke Miss Gibbon, when she and Harry were\nout of Mabel\u2019s hearing.\n\n\u201cIn America pretty girls are as plenty as blackberries,\u201d answered Harry.\n\n\u201cWell, we certainly carry off the palm in Europe,\u201d added Kitty. \u201cBut\nthis young woman is a peasant.\u201d\n\n\u201cA farmer\u2019s daughter,\u201d said Harry.\n\n\u201cOh! we should call her a peasant in France, Harry dear. And I have some\nmisgivings as to what mother will say when she hears that I have invited\nMabel to visit me at the hotel.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, she is dark-complexioned, and I\u2019ll swear she is an Italian\nbaroness,\u201d returned Harry, laughing.\n\n\u201cOh! yes, do. A capital joke! Why, we know ever so many baronesses\nabroad. Ma has a large circle of noble acquaintances.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes. And I know three American girls married to counts. But there was\nno love between them during the courtship\u2014not a spark\u2014\u2019twas all pure\nbusiness from beginning to end, and I am told the young ladies are now\nvery unhappy.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, our way of courting is the best,\u201d said Harry.\n\n\u201cJudging from my own experience it undoubtedly is,\u201d continued Kitty,\nlooking tenderly at him. \u201cThe walks we have enjoyed together have taught\nme what you are, and taught you what I am; and, oh! how fortunate it is\nthat I came back to America this year.\u201d\n\n\u201cMost fortunate for me,\u201d said Harry.\n\n\u201cAnd for me, too, dear boy. But now, to speak seriously about Mabel; I\nam in a quandary. What shall I do? Ma will see at a glance that she is a\npeasant.\u201d\n\nMrs. Gibbon was highly pleased when her daughter told her of her\nengagement to Henry Fletcher, Jr.\n\n\u201c_Console toi, ma fille_,\u201d she said. \u201c_S\u2019il n\u2019a pas de titre, l\u2019argent\nau moins ne lui manque pas._\u201d\n\nBut, as Kitty had feared, she was not at all pleased when she heard\nabout Mabel Willey.\n\n\u201c_Mais, mon Dieu! C\u2019est une paysanne!_\u201d groaned the widow, who was wont\nto speak French to Kitty, and spoke it well, too\u2014\u201c_une paysanne!_\u201d Then,\nsinking down in a rocking-chair, \u201c_Mon Dieu!_\u201d she sighed, \u201c_mon Dieu!\nquel scandale._\u201d\n\nHere the matter was let drop, for Mrs. Gibbon was too delighted with\nKitty\u2019s engagement to remain long out of humor.\n\nThree days later, while the widow was seated on the piazza, fanning away\nthe mosquitoes and wishing with all her heart that she was at Biarritz\nor Trouville, up rattled a farm-wagon. An old man was driving, his back\npretty well bent with years, and beside him sat Mabel.\n\n\u201cGrandpa, I\u2019ll not be long,\u201d said the girl, alighting from the vehicle,\nand speaking loud enough to be overheard by a number of guests.\n\n\u201c_Mon Dieu!_\u201d groaned Mrs. Gibbon, who guessed who it was.\n\nNow, Mabel did not know Kitty\u2019s mother, but it so happened that it was\nshe whom the girl first addressed.\n\n\u201cI am come to call on Miss Gibbon. Can you tell me, madam, whether she\nis in?\u201d inquired Mabel.\n\n\u201cGo ask one of the servants,\u201d replied the widow, her eyes darting\nflashes of anger as she spoke. Then suddenly a bright thought struck\nher; quick a change came over her features, and, dropping her voice, she\nadded just as Mabel was turning away, \u201cStop! I remember now Miss Gibbon\nhas gone on a picnic and won\u2019t be back till quite late.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! too bad,\u201d ejaculated Mabel. \u201cI may never see her again.\u201d\n\nIn another moment the wagon drove off and the girl was on her way to the\nWest.\n\nWhen Harry returned the following week to New York and told his father\nof his betrothal to Miss Gibbon, the heiress, Mr. Fletcher senior was as\npleased as Kitty\u2019s mother had been.\n\n\u201cBut now, my son,\u201d he said, \u201cyou must not be idle any longer; you must\ncome down town and learn business.\u201d\n\n\u201cBusiness!\u201d exclaimed Harry with an air of surprise.\n\n\u201cWhy, yes. Have I not been steadily at work in Wall Street more than\ntwenty years? During all that time no holiday have I taken\u2014not one,\nexcept a fortnight after your mother\u2019s death. Then I own I did pass a\nshort while in the country, for grief rendered brain labor out of the\nquestion. And now I am worth a million at the very least; and with such\nan example as I have set you would you lead a drone\u2019s life?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, but, father, I am quite satisfied with our fortune; \u2019tis large\nenough, and I\u2014I have promised Miss Gibbon that we should make our home\nabroad.\u201d\n\nMr. Fletcher was so taken aback by these words that he could only knit\nhis brow; he could not speak.\n\nThen Harry proceeded: \u201cAnd, father, I think you ought to take a holiday\nthis season. What is the use of racking your brains for more money,\nsince you have a million? Oh! I wish you had been with me at North\nConway. I had such pleasant rambles among the hills, such fine\ntrout-fishing! And in one of my walks\u2014\u2019twas the morning I proposed to\nKitty\u2014I found our name carved on a tree.\u201d The youth now described the\nbig beech and the brook and the old farm-house; for it was a\nnever-to-be-forgotten morning, and he loved to tell all he remembered of\nthose happy hours.\n\nWhile he was speaking the look of displeasure which had clouded his\nfather\u2019s face when he began gradually passed away; the stern,\nmatter-of-fact business man grew pensive; and when at length Harry came\nto describe Mabel\u2014dark-eyed, barefooted, graceful Mabel Willey\u2014the\nattentive listener shaded his eyes with his hand, and Harry could not\nimagine why his parent sighed. But the young man adroitly took advantage\nof his emotion to again ask if he might not go live in Paris. \u201cI\npromised Miss Gibbon, father, that we would make our home there. You\nsurely would not have me break my word?\u201d\n\nMr. Fletcher merely answered: \u201cHush! speak no more about it. Go! go!\u201d\n\nWhereupon Harry, now in the blithest of moods, hurried off to get his\ntrotting-wagon; for he had invited Kitty to take a drive in the Central\nPark.\n\nAt this same hour, while Harry and his betrothed were enjoying\nthemselves together, conversing chiefly about Europe\u2014their own country\nseemed to hold very little place in their thoughts\u2014Mabel Willey was\nengaged in household duties with her mother.\n\nMabel was right when she praised her Western home: a log-house standing\non a knoll which overlooked a swift-flowing river; beyond the river a\nbroad expanse of rolling prairie, where the grouse were wont to gather\nin springtime, and for hours long their voices, saying, \u201cCoo-ooo,\ncoo-ooo, coo-ooo,\u201d would reach Mabel\u2019s ear; while ever and anon a black\nbass would spring up out of the flood, marking the spot where he fell\nback into the water by a ring of widening, quivering ripples. And, oh!\nhow the girl loved these sights and sounds. But most of all did she love\nthe deer, who would steal out of the forest of a moonlight night in\nautumn and make incursions into the corn-field hard by. Nothing had ever\ndisturbed the harmony of this sweet spot. Husband and wife loved each\nother with true love, and God had blessed them with six children, of\nwhom Mabel was the eldest; and when you saw Robert Willey felling a tree\nor following the plough you knew where his offspring had derived their\nhealth and strength from, while in the mother\u2019s face still lingered\ntraces of the beauty which young Mabel had inherited. But Robert did not\nperceive that _his_ Mabel was changed: no, as fair in his eyes was she\nnow as when he wooed her in the far-off days of his youth.\n\nAbove the broad fireplace in the room where the family assembled of an\nevening, to chat and make merry after the labors of the day were over,\nwere these words, painted in large letters and taken from the Book of\nProverbs:\n\n\u201cGive me neither beggary nor riches: lest perhaps being filled, I should\nbe tempted to deny, and say: Who is the Lord? or being compelled by\npoverty, I should steal, and forswear the name of my God.\u201d\n\nWhat a happy hour this evening hour was! Sometimes Mr. Willey would tell\nthe young ones a story; and when he began, what a scramble there was for\nhis knees! Sometimes he would look over the columns of the _Prairie\nFarmer_, gleaning therefrom useful hints for his vocation. While he was\nthus occupied his wife would read aloud to the children. But she did not\nselect anything from a silly dime novel or illustrated paper, but\ngenerally something in Washington Irving\u2019s _Sketch-Book_, or one of\nCooper\u2019s tales; and let us say that the tale they all liked best was\n_The Pioneers_.\n\n\u201cI am glad you enjoyed your visit to grandpa,\u201d spoke Mrs. Willey one\nmorning, as she rested awhile at the churn.\n\n\u201cOh! ever so much,\u201d answered Mabel, who, with sleeves rolled up, was\nbusy skimming cream. \u201cBut I forgot to tell you, mother, that a few days\nbefore I left him there came to the house, at a rather early hour, a\nyoung gentleman and lady from one of the hotels in North Conway. They\nhad strolled up Wild-cat Run, which, you know, winds almost round\ngrandpa\u2019s home, and had become engaged to each other on the way. I told\nthem it was quite romantic. The girl was stylish-looking, but didn\u2019t\nappear to be strong; her face was like wax-work, and her dress was made\nin such a fashion that I think she must have found it hard work to\nbreathe. But she was exceedingly polite, and I was quite taken with her\nbefore we parted. The young gentleman likewise was a very pleasant\nfellow, and much better-looking, too, than she was. I judged by his\nhands that he has never done any work in his life, and his moustache was\ntwisted and curled in the most coquettish way imaginable\u2014just like\nthis.\u201d Here Mabel put her fingers to her upper lip, then twirled them\nround and round to Mrs. Willey\u2019s great amusement.\n\n\u201cBut what I want most to speak of,\u201d she continued, \u201cis the big\nbeech-tree.\u201d Mabel now proceeded to tell how Harry had carved his name\nand Kitty\u2019s upon it, and how she had discovered the names of Harry\nFletcher and Mabel Willey upon the same tree in letters barely legible.\n\n\u201cO child!\u201d exclaimed her mother, when she was done speaking, \u201cyou cannot\nimagine how vividly my girlish days come back upon my memory when you\nspeak of that old beech. Yes, I can see Harry Fletcher cutting his name\nand mine upon it just as plainly as if it were yesterday. A handsome\nfellow was Harry. He wanted me to be his wife. I did not dislike him\u2014no,\nindeed. We were good friends; we sat side by side at school; we picked\nhuckleberries together. Many folks thought I should marry him. But there\nwas another young man courting me, one who bore the same name as myself,\nthough no relation; and one day we all three met, and my lovers agreed\nthat I should then and there decide which of them I\u2019d choose. And \u2019twas\nyour father, Mabel, who won me; nor have I ever for a single moment\nregretted my choice. Yet Harry Fletcher was a brave, generous fellow,\nvery smart, too, and I have often wondered what became of him. All I\nknow is that soon after I refused him he quitted our part of the country\nto seek his fortune elsewhere.\u201d\n\n\u201cRight, wife, right! A splendid fellow!\u201d cried Mr. Willey, entering the\ndairy to get a cup of milk. \u201cWhy, I was thinking about him myself only a\nfew minutes ago while I was looking at our corn\u2014and a fine crop it\u2019s\ngoing to be, a mighty fine crop. And I wondered whether Harry, if he is\nstill in the land of the living, has a farm like ours and a snug\nlog-house to shelter him. Many things may happen in the length of time\nsince he and I parted; this world has many ups and downs\u2014it\u2019s a regular\nseesaw.\u201d\n\nAfter talking awhile about Harry Fletcher Farmer Willey said: \u201cCome,\nwife, let\u2019s take a row; and I\u2019ll bring my rod along and catch a mess of\nblack bass for supper.\u201d Mrs. Willey, who liked to see her husband play\nas well as work, gladly assented. They did not fish much, however, for\nthe skiff was long and broad and leaked never a drop; and the six happy\nchildren went a-rowing too. It did your eyes good to look at them, and\nyour ears good, too, to hear them\u2014so healthy and strong and rollicksome\nthey were; dipping their hands in the water, sprinkling each other\u2019s\nfaces, singing, laughing; and finally barefooted Dick, who was ten years\nold, wittingly tumbled overboard and played fish around the boat\u2014the boy\ncould swim like a fish\u2014to the great amusement of his brothers and\nsisters.\n\nThree months after this pleasant excursion on the river Mabel found\nherself again in New Hampshire. The truth is her grandfather, whose\nfeelings had been much wrought upon by the visit she had paid him in\nsummer, could not bear to be separated any longer from those whom he\nloved, and, moreover, he was of an age when farm-labor was getting\nrather irksome. Accordingly, he had written to Mrs. Willey, telling her\nthat he wished to spend the rest of his days in Illinois, and begged\nthat he might have the company of young Mabel in the long, tiresome\njourney to the West. \u201cFor she is a bright girl,\u201d he said, \u201cand can take\ncharge of me and my trunk, and of herself too.\u201d\n\nSo Mabel, who, fond as she was of home, was not averse to seeing a\nlittle of the world, went to fetch her grandfather; and now in October\nwe find her passing with him through the city of New York.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s just like a beehive, this town,\u201d spoke Mabel, as she paused a\nmoment in Broadway near the Astor House to try and discover the\nticket-office of the Michigan Southern Railway.\n\n\u201cSuch a crowd makes my head swim,\u201d said the old man, who was leaning on\nher arm.\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ll ask somebody where the ticket-office is,\u201d added Mabel.\n\nAnd she did ask somebody, and that somebody happened to be no other than\nHarry Fletcher, Jr., who was on his way down town with his father. Right\ncordial was the meeting between them.\n\n\u201cI have often thought of you,\u201d said Harry.\n\n\u201cIndeed! Well, the morning we first met was a blissful morning for\nyou\u2014was it not?\u201d returned Mabel, with a laughing gleam in her eye.\n\u201cPray, sir, how is Miss Gibbon?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! extremely well. She is now in Philadelphia, bidding good-by to some\nfriends, for we sail shortly for Europe.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you will not really settle abroad, as you once told me?\u201d said\nMabel. Then, with a little hesitation, she added: \u201cMen like you, sir,\nought to live in their own country.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are more eloquent than you imagine,\u201d answered the youth. \u201cBut I\nhave promised Miss Gibbon that we should make our home in Paris.\u201d\n\nHere Mr. Fletcher senior shook his head, while Mabel\u2019s grandparent\nobserved: \u201cWhy, young man, isn\u2019t this country big enough for you?\u201d\n\nHarry made no response, but, taking a pretty rosebud from his\nbuttonhole, he presented it to Mabel, saying: \u201cWe may never meet again,\nbut Miss Gibbon and I will often speak of you when we are far away.\u201d\n\nClosely during this brief conversation had Harry\u2019s father watched Mabel,\nand now he took her hand and pressed it, and the girl wondered why he\ngazed upon her with moistened eyes. Then, after showing her the\nticket-office, Mr. Fletcher went to a flower-stand near by and bought\nher a beautiful bouquet which quite threw into the shade Harry\u2019s\nrosebud. \u201cOh! thanks, sir,\u201d said Mabel, as she accepted the flowers.\n\u201cHow delicious they are!\u201d\n\nWhen presently they parted Harry said to his father: \u201cMiss Willey is a\nvery fine girl, isn\u2019t she? And I\u2019ll not let Kitty call her a peasant any\nmore.\u201d\n\nMr. Fletcher did not seem to hear this remark; he appeared like one\nabsorbed in a reverie. But of a sudden he burst out: \u201cA peasant! a\npeasant! By heaven! there is not a princess in Europe better than Mabel\nWilley.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, Kitty would not call her a peasant except for her mother,\u201d\ncontinued Harry. \u201cBut Mrs. Gibbon has filled her head with foolish\nnotions.\u201d\n\n\u201cSuch as living in Europe,\u201d answered Mr. Fletcher. Then, with a sigh, he\nadded, \u201cO Harry! how you have disappointed me. Why, I would rather see\nyou wed a girl like Mabel, even if she were poor, than have you pass\nyour days in a foreign land.\u201d\n\n\u201cWould you really?\u201d exclaimed Harry.\n\n\u201cBut, alas!\u201d went on Mr. Fletcher, now speaking to himself\u2014\u201calas! \u2019twas\nI who urged him to make a rich match. Yet I have been rolling up money\nfor years and years; and now, when I am worth a million, my only child\nis going to spend my fortune among foreigners.\u201d\n\nAs they pursued their way to Wall Street, Harry noticed the unhappy look\non his father\u2019s face and again advised him to take a holiday. But Mr.\nFletcher answered: \u201cI wish I could. But I have been so long in the\ntreadmill of business that now I should not know how to play if I went\naway.\u201d\n\nAnd so the millionaire went down to his office, while the heir to all\nhis wealth, with a fresh rosebud sticking in his buttonhole, repaired to\nDelmonico\u2019s to kill time, as he expressed it\u2014to kill time sipping sherry\nand thinking about Paris and Kitty Gibbon.\n\nBut the banker\u2019s thoughts were of Mabel Willey. \u201cShe brings me right\nback to the dear old days,\u201d he sighed\u2014\u201cthe dear old days. She is the\nliving image of her mother.\u201d\n\nFor once in his life Mr. Fletcher was absent-minded, and the president\nof a trust company, who came to talk with him upon important business,\nfancied that he did not evince his usual shrewdness and penetration.\nThey were still engaged in earnest conversation when a piece of news\nreached them, a startling piece of news, that made them both stare and\nwonder if their ears told the truth: the Confidence Trust Company had\nclosed its doors!\n\nBut Harry, who heard of it at Delmonico\u2019s, was not startled in the\nleast; nay, he rather enjoyed the excitement which quickly followed. He\nwas rich; how could this failure harm him? Ere long other failures were\nannounced, and Wall Street became filled with an excited crowd\u2014so filled\nthat it was well-nigh impossible to move about; crash followed crash,\nand, judging by men\u2019s faces, you might have thought the end of the world\nwas at hand.\n\nYet Harry calmly edged his way through the throng, always careful of the\npretty rosebud, over which he frequently placed his hand for protection.\n\nBut ere this memorable day came to an end Harry grew serious.\n\n\u201cThis is going to prove the greatest financial crash our country has\nknown since the Revolution,\u201d said Mr. Fletcher to him in the evening;\n\u201cand, my son, I may be utterly ruined.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I\u2019ll not be able to go to Paris,\u201d said Harry inwardly. \u201cOh! what\nwill Kitty say?\u201d\n\nBut it was not so much Miss Gibbon as Miss Gibbon\u2019s mother, who took to\nheart the sudden, unexpected, astonishing change in Mr. Fletcher\u2019s\nfortune; for the banker, who had been entangled in many speculations,\ndid indeed lose nearly all he possessed\u2014so little had he left that the\nwidow made up her mind that her daughter should not marry his son if she\ncould prevent it.\n\nA few days after the panic Harry called on his betrothed, who was now\nback from Philadelphia. He meant to tell her the whole sad truth, and\nafford her an opportunity to break off the engagement, if she wished to\ndo so. In the parlor he found Mrs. Gibbon, who seemed to be expecting\nhim (he had written Kitty a note to say he was coming), and the widow\u2019s\ncountenance chilled his heart as he entered. Harry began by making a\ncommonplace remark about the weather\u2014the equinoctial was raging\u2014then\nwent on to speak of the unhappy change in his father\u2019s fortune,\nwondering all the while why Kitty did not appear.\n\n\u201cWe have heard of it,\u201d answered the other, \u201cand needless to tell what a\nshock the news gave us. However, such misfortunes will happen\u2014_c\u2019est la\nvie_. And now that you have been so frank with me, Mr. Fletcher, let me\nbe equally frank with you, and say that my daughter and I have had a\nlong, serious talk on the subject. Miss Gibbon, you know, has set her\nheart upon living abroad\u2014indeed, we wish to be back again by the end of\nthe month, and\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now that I am penniless,\u201d interrupted Harry, \u201cperhaps you deem it\nbest that the engagement be broken off.\u201d\n\n\u201cI regret to say it is the conclusion we have come to.\u201d\n\nHarry, who had feared this would be the step which Mrs. Gibbon would\nurge Kitty to take, nevertheless wished to see the young lady in person,\nand so he said: \u201cBut may I not speak with Miss Gibbon a moment? I\u2014I\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cShe has a bad headache and is confined to her room,\u201d interrupted the\nwidow. \u201cBesides, sir, I am fully authorized to speak for my daughter,\nwho, you are aware, is not yet of age.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! but do tell her I am here; let me speak only a word to her,\u201d said\nHarry in a pleading tone.\n\n\u201cI am sorry that I cannot grant your request,\u201d answered Mrs. Gibbon\nfirmly.\n\nWith this the interview closed, and Harry departed in a sorrowful mood\nindeed.\n\nFor a while the blow quite stunned him. The tears did not flow; he could\nonly sigh and groan. He wished he had been born poor, and that Kitty had\nnot been an heiress. \u201cFor then poverty would not have separated us; we\nshould have toiled for our daily bread, and been as happy as if we had\nlived on Fifth Avenue.\u201d\n\nThe following week he read in a newspaper the names of Mrs. Gibbon and\nher daughter among the passengers by the steamship _Russia_ for\nLiverpool.\n\n\u201cWell, Harry, let us not despair,\u201d said Mr. Fletcher a month after the\npanic. \u201cHappy days may yet be in store for us.\u201d\n\nAnd as he spoke his thoughts turned westward to Rock River\u2014to Mabel\nWilley.\n\n\u201cAnd why not?\u201d he asked himself, after musing a moment. \u201cWhy not? Many a\nman as old as I am has married a girl as young as Mabel.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, yes, father, I do believe happy days are in store for us,\u201d\nreturned the youth, his countenance brightening; for he was beginning to\nrecover from the blow which his heart had received (young people easily\nrecover from such blows). Besides, he had come to the conclusion that\nall had happened for the best. Miss Gibbon was not worthy of him,\notherwise, despite her mother, she would certainly have managed to\ncommunicate with him ere she sailed. It was only his money she cared\nabout. \u201cAnd, father,\u201d he added, \u201cI could be perfectly content on a farm;\nyes, I know I could, and you have enough left from the wreck of your\nfortune to buy a farm, and we might live together on it very happily.\nSuppose, therefore, we go West\u2014say to Illinois, where Mabel Willey\u2019s\nfather lives.\u201d\n\n\u201cJust what I was thinking of,\u201d said Mr. Fletcher, with a tender\nthrobbing of the heart, which might have changed to a bitter pang had he\nknown what was passing through Harry\u2019s mind; for Harry, too, had asked\nhimself:\n\n\u201cWhy not? I abominate rich girls now. Mabel is quite good enough for\nme.\u201d\n\nAccordingly, to Illinois they went, and arrived in the most glorious\ntime of the year\u2014Indian summer.\n\n\u201cWhy, I do declare! Can it be possible? Is this really my old friend\nHarry Fletcher?\u201d cried Mr. Willey, as he grasped the other\u2019s hand, while\nMrs. Willey and Mabel and all the little ones stood in a gaping circle\nround them.\n\n\u201cYes, I am he and nobody else,\u201d was the response, given in a voice\nquivering with emotion.\n\n\u201cWell, you are welcome\u2014a thousand times welcome!\u201d put in the wife, a\ntear glistening in her eye. \u201cAy, Harry, it makes us young again to look\nat you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd here is the image of yourself in the dear old days,\u201d spoke Mr.\nFletcher, turning towards Mabel, who blushed and looked very pretty,\nwhile Harry Fletcher, Jr.\u2014who did not dream of his parent falling in\nlove\u2014whispered to Mabel:\n\n\u201cHow romantic this is!\u201d\n\n\u201cVery,\u201d answered Mabel. \u201cBut pray, sir, why didn\u2019t you bring Miss\nGibbon? Or perhaps you are married, and I should say Mrs. Fletcher?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell all about it by and by,\u201d said Harry in a low tone. \u201cIt is an\nexceedingly painful subject. I am trying to forget it.\u201d\n\nThen, after a pause, and drawing the girl aside, he added:\n\n\u201cI may as well tell you now: our engagement is at an end\u2014Miss Gibbon is\nin Europe.\u201d\n\nWhen Mabel heard this her kind heart was deeply moved for Harry as well\nas for Kitty. Mabel had no lover, but she had often thought that if she\nhad one how dearly she would love him. \u201cAnd if our engagement were to be\nbroken off, I hardly think I should ever smile again.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, Harry,\u201d continued Mr. Willey, addressing his old friend, and at\nthe same time sweeping his hand over the landscape, \u201cis not this a\ncharming country? Look, yonder is the prairie; and there is Rock\nRiver\u2014isn\u2019t it a fine stream? And there you see my timber\u2014I have fifty\nacres of it; and that is my corn-field\u2014a good fifty acres of corn; and\nthere are my cattle; and I have no end of chickens and turkeys; and I\nhave a good orchard. In fact, I want for nothing, absolutely nothing.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, you ought to be happy,\u201d answered Mr. Fletcher.\n\n\u201cHappy isn\u2019t the word,\u201d put in Mrs. Willey.\n\n\u201cRight, wife,\u201d said the farmer. \u201cI\u2019d not change places with the richest\nman in New York. People talk about the panic. Why, it hasn\u2019t harmed me a\nbit. My corn is ripening just as well now as before the crash; my land\nis all paid for; I owe not a dollar to anybody; and I really don\u2019t know\nwhat worry means.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo worry!\u201d murmured Mr. Fletcher, pressing his hand to his brow. \u201cAlas!\nwhen have I been free from it?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, it is worry and not work that kills people,\u201d went on Mr. Willey.\n\u201cSo stay out here and buy a quarter section; \u2019twill make you ten years\nyounger. No life so happy as a farmer\u2019s life.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe very thing I intend to do,\u201d said Mr. Fletcher. Here Mabel clapped\nher hands, and all the little ones laughed and clapped their hands too;\nwhile Mrs. Willey said to herself: \u201cHow very pleasant it would be if the\nson of my old lover were to marry Mabel!\u201d\n\nIt was long since Mr. Fletcher had passed a happier day than this first\nday in Illinois; the balmy air, the entire change of scene, the gladsome\nfaces around him, but above all the company of sweet Mabel, who insisted\non showing him all over the homestead, obliterated from his mind the\ntroubles and worries he had gone through and really made him feel many\nyears younger.\n\nThe following week Mrs. Willey was delighted when she heard Harry ask\nher daughter to take a row on the river. \u201cI have only a short letter to\nwrite,\u201d said the youth, \u201cthen I\u2019ll be ready. Will you come?\u201d\n\n\u201cSuppose we take a row,\u201d said Harry\u2019s father to Mabel a few minutes\nlater\u2014he had not heard Harry\u2019s invitation.\n\n\u201cTo be sure,\u201d replied Mabel. \u201cBut shall we go immediately, sir, or wait\nfor your son? He asked me to go with him as soon as he had done a little\nwriting.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! indeed,\u201d said Mr. Fletcher; and now for the first time it occurred\nto him that perhaps Harry might fall under the influence of this simple\nyet bewitching maiden. \u201cWell, if he does,\u201d he added inwardly, \u201cdearly as\nI feel that I could love her\u2014for her mother\u2019s sake, dearly, dearly\u2014I\u2019ll\nnot stand in my boy\u2019s way.\u201d\n\nHowever, Mr. Fletcher and Mabel did go down to the river without waiting\nfor Harry, who made his appearance on the bank in less than twenty\nminutes, waving his hand and shouting lustily.\n\nBut Mr. Fletcher seemed not to hear his voice; at least he did not hear\nit for a long time\u2014so long that Mabel fancied the old gentleman, as she\ninwardly called him, must be a little deaf. At length she made bold to\ninform him that his son was calling; whereupon Mr. Fletcher looked round\nand exclaimed: \u201cOh! ay, to be sure, so he is.\u201d And now the bow of the\nskiff was turned slowly shoreward. But the oars did not move very\nbriskly; nay, so sluggishly were they plied that the boat drifted a good\nhalf-mile below the landing-place\u2014poor Harry following it along the\nshore, while Mabel was tempted more than once to ask her companion to\nlet her have the oars.\n\n\u201cWell, well, I have had my day,\u201d sighed Mr. Fletcher, about a quarter of\nan hour later, as he sat on a stump watching with tearful eyes his son,\nwhose vigorous young arms were now sending the boat upstream as rapidly\nas he himself had sent it down with the current. \u201cNo, I must not lament;\nMabel is worth a dozen city flirts, and I hope that Harry will fall in\nlove with her.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it not a beautiful view from this knoll?\u201d spoke a voice, presently,\nclose behind him; and, turning, Mr. Fletcher beheld Mabel\u2019s mother, who\nhad approached him unheard over a bed of moss.\n\n\u201cIt is indeed!\u201d he replied. \u201cAnd the most beautiful object in the whole\nlandscape is your daughter.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, Mabel is a jewel, and no mistake,\u201d continued Mrs. Willey. \u201cAnd\nright glad am I that she and your son are enjoying themselves together\non the river.\u201d But even as she spoke a strange thought flashed upon the\nmother, for she perceived that the eyes of her old suitor were moistened\nwith tears.\n\n\u201cCan it be possible,\u201d she said to herself, \u201cthat he, too, is falling in\nlove with Mabel? Well, I hope not; for there will be a poor chance for\nhim while young Harry is about.\u201d\n\nWe need scarcely say that for Harry Fletcher, Jr., this was only the\nfirst of many pleasant excursions on the river with Mabel; and day by\nday the recollections of his former life\u2014the dinner-parties, the operas,\nthe balls he had gone to, the pretty girls he had danced with\u2014grew\ndimmer and dimmer in his mind\u2019s eye. More than once, too, did Mrs.\nWilley discover Harry\u2019s father watching the happy couple from the stump\non the knoll.\n\n\u201cHow strangely things turn out!\u201d spoke Mr. Fletcher, a fortnight later,\nwhen Mabel\u2019s mother once more approached him over the bed of moss.\n\n\u201cPerhaps you are thinking of just what I am thinking,\u201d returned Mrs.\nWilley. \u201cIf so, it is indeed strange, and, I may add, a most romantic\nway of taking revenge on me; eh, Harry?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! little did I dream of this the day when I proposed to you and you\nrefused me,\u201d continued Mr. Fletcher, shaking his head. \u201cIt seems only\nyesterday. Yet here is a son of mine, with beard on his chin, as much in\nlove with your daughter as ever I was with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I guess there\u2019ll not be any nay spoken this time,\u201d answered Mrs.\nWilley.\n\nAt these words Mr. Fletcher buried his face in his hands and sighed,\nwhile the other, who remembered the tears which had once moistened his\neyes as he sat looking at Harry and Mabel from this same spot, felt more\nthan ever convinced that her child had two lovers, and wished that she\nhad two Mabels, in order to be able to give one to each.\n\nYes, Harry and Mabel were already deeply in love, and Mabel, for whom it\nwas quite a new experience, trembled every time the youth met her\u2014and he\nmet her very often between sunrise and sunset: at the churn, feeding the\npoultry, gathering chestnuts\u2014\u201cFor now I am sure he is going to propose,\u201d\nshe would say to herself.\n\nAt length a morning came when Harry resolved to put the all-important\nquestion. Why dally any longer? He had made up his mind to become a\nfarmer; Mabel would be just the wife for him; she was not only handsome\nbut healthy\u2014no headaches, no dyspepsia. If her hands were not so soft as\nMiss Gibbon\u2019s, what of it? They were industrious, willing hands, and\nable to do almost everything except thrum on a piano.\n\nAccordingly, Harry went in quest of Mabel, who, one of the children told\nhim, had gone to pay a visit to their neighbor. Whereupon he took the\nlane which led to the adjoining farm, and had proceeded about half way\nwhen he saw the girl coming towards him. She did not walk with her usual\nelastic step; her eyes were cast upon the ground, nor did she raise them\nuntil he was quite close, and then Harry perceived that she was very\npale, and seemed to be startled, as if she had not heard him\napproaching.\n\n\u201cDear Mabel, what is the matter?\u201d said Harry, taking her hand as he\nspoke. \u201cI never saw you look troubled before. Are you ill?\u201d\n\nIn a voice wonderfully firm, considering the poignant anguish she was\nsuffering, and forcing to her lips the ghost of a smile, Mabel answered:\n\n\u201cIll? No, indeed, sir! And I should not have been moving at such a\nsnail\u2019s pace; I should have been running, flying, for I bring you great\nnews\u2014news that will ravish your heart with delight.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally! Well, pray, what is it?\u201d said Harry, who felt the hand which he\nclasped growing colder.\n\n\u201cMiss Gibbon has arrived,\u201d continued Mabel. \u201cShe is at our neighbor\u2019s;\nshe mistook the road, and went there instead of coming to our house; and\nI told her to wait where she was until I found you and broke the glad\ntidings So, Mr. Fletcher, make haste, do, for Miss Gibbon is longing to\nmeet you.\u201d\n\nHere Mabel, who could not trust herself to utter another syllable, tore\naway from him, leaving Harry perfectly dazed and bewildered.\n\nBut Mabel did not go home. No, into the woods she plunged, where no eye\nmight witness the tears which now rolled down her cheeks. And it\nhappened that somebody else was strolling among the trees at the same\ntime, pensive and musing over days gone by. Suddenly the girl found\nherself face to face with Mr. Fletcher. In vain she strove to hide her\ngrief\u2014too late; not ten paces separated them.\n\n\u201cWhy, Mabel, dear, darling Mabel,\u201d cried the other, who fancied that a\nlover\u2019s quarrel had broken out between herself and Harry, \u201cwhat has\nhappened? \u2019Tis the first time I have seen anything but gladness on your\nsweet face.\u201d\n\nAs Mr. Fletcher spoke he drew her affectionately towards him. But it was\nseveral minutes ere she could check her sobs sufficiently to answer.\n\nFinally, yielding to his solicitations, Mabel opened out her heart; she\ntold him the whole truth, and we may faintly imagine what Mr. Fletcher\u2019s\nfeelings were as she went on to confess her love for his son, and the\ncruel shock which her heart had received a half-hour since when she met\nMiss Gibbon.\n\n\u201cAnd Miss Gibbon told me, sir, that she loved Harry as much as ever;\nthat she had sold all her diamonds, run away from her mother, come alone\nthe whole way from Paris to find him, and that her mother should never\npart them again.\u201d\n\nA spell of silence followed Mabel\u2019s confession, and during the silence\nMr. Fletcher\u2019s heart throbbed violently.\n\n\u201cWell, Mabel,\u201d he began presently, and looking her full in the face,\n\u201cyou have unbosomed yourself to me, let me now reveal my inmost feelings\nto you. I, too, have a cause for sorrow\u2014one which I find it impossible\nto overcome. Nobody can remove it except you; but you can remove it\u2014you\nmay make me the happiest man in Illinois, if you choose.\u201d\n\n\u201cI!\u201d exclaimed Mabel in surprise. \u201cO sir! I will do anything, anything\nto make you happy.\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, child, the happiest man in Illinois,\u201d exclaimed Mrs. Willey, who\nhad caught these last words as she pushed her way through the trees, and\nwas determined to back him up in his suit with all the authority she\ncould command.\n\n\u201cO mother, mother!\u201d cried Mabel, leaving Mr. Fletcher and flinging\nherself in her parent\u2019s arms.\n\n\u201cCome, come, child! Don\u2019t take on so about it,\u201d continued Mrs. Willey.\n\u201cI know what the trouble is. But it can\u2019t be helped. Harry loved Miss\nGibbon before he ever laid eyes on you, and she loved him, and they were\nonce engaged to be married; and now they are engaged anew\u2014not the least\ndoubt about it, for I have just left them walking arm-in-arm, cooing\ntogether like a pair of doves. So, Mabel, dry your tears, and let me\ndeclare you would make me the happiest woman in the State, if you would\naccept the hand of my dear, good friend Henry Fletcher.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! marry the old gentleman?\u201d whispered Mabel, looking up in her\nmother\u2019s face; then turning she gazed furtively on Mr. Fletcher, who had\nretired a few steps, while a smile, a very faint smile, played on her\nlips.\n\n\u201cHush, child!\u201d returned Mr. Willey in an undertone. \u201cHe is not old; his\nheart is just like a boy\u2019s.\u201d Here Mabel again hid her face in her\nmother\u2019s bosom, and the latter began to feel a little vexed, for she\nfancied that she heard Mabel laughing.\n\n\u201cBe my wife, Mabel!\u201d exclaimed Mr. Fletcher, drawing near, \u201cand then\nI\u2019ll settle here, and Harry will too, and we will all be happy\nneighbors. Oh! speak, dear Mabel, speak.\u201d\n\n\u201cGive me until to-morrow,\u201d answered Mabel, with her face still\nconcealed.\n\n\u201cSurely I will,\u201d said Mr. Fletcher.\n\n\u201cO child! be business-like and arrange the matter at once,\u201d urged Mrs.\nWilley.\n\n\u201cNot now; to-morrow,\u201d said Mabel\u2014\u201cto-morrow.\u201d And she ended her words\nwith a sigh.\n\nWith this Mr. Fletcher withdrew, and mother and daughter went their way\nhome\u2014the mother eloquently pleading the cause of her old lover, Mabel\npatiently, reverently listening; and when they reached the log-house,\nwhom should they meet standing by the porch but Harry. He was alone, and\nappeared much confused as Mabel fastened her eyes on him\u2014poor Mabel!\nThen in broken accents he said: \u201cMabel, Mabel, can you forgive me? I\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cForgive you! Pray, for what?\u201d she exclaimed, interrupting him. \u201cDid I\nnot tell you I brought glad news? And I hope that you and Miss Gibbon\nwill live long and happily together.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! how good, how generous, how noble you are,\u201d said Harry, who knew\nfull well that Mabel loved him; in more ways than one she had let the\ndear secret escape her. \u201cAnd fortunate will be the man who wins you!\u201d\n\nHere the girl stood silent a moment; a violent struggle was going on\nwithin her. Then, a sunny look beaming over her face, \u201cWho _has_ won\nme,\u201d she replied.\n\n\u201cWell spoken, child!\u201d exclaimed Mrs. Willey, clapping her on the\nshoulder\u2014\u201cwell spoken!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, Harry,\u201d added Mabel, \u201cI am going to be your step-mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally, truly!\u201d cried a voice from an upper window. \u201cMy Harry\u2019s\nstep-mother!\u201d In another moment Kitty Gibbon came rushing down the\nstaircase at a break-neck pace, and half choked Mabel with her embraces.\nHer arms were still clasping Mabel\u2019s neck when the elder Harry appeared\non the scene; and we may imagine, if we can, what his feelings were as\nMabel stretched out one of her hands towards him.\n\nPresently Mr. Willey arrived; then the grandfather and all the little\nones; and while they were rejoicing together a man on horseback galloped\nup.\n\n\u201cIs there a lady here named Miss Gibbon?\u201d inquired the stranger.\n\n\u201cYes, I am she,\u201d answered Kitty, looking somewhat agitated, for she\ncould not imagine what the fellow wanted; all sorts of things passed\nthrough her head.\n\n\u201cWell, I have a telegram for you,\u201d continued the man, handing her an\nenvelope.\n\n\u201cA telegram! Why, so it is, and from Europe, too!\u201d cried Kitty. Then,\ntearing it open, she read as follows:\n\n \u201cKitty, I forgive you. Will allow you $5,000 per year. Count de\n Montjoli heart-broken. Write at once. God bless you!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! it is from mamma,\u201d she said, after reading it to herself. \u201cAnd now\nI\u2019ll read it aloud. And, Harry, listen well, for it\u2019s jolly. But let me\nsay before I begin\u2014and I wish mother could hear me\u2014you are worth, dear\nboy, all the counts in the world.\u201d\n\nHere Kitty read over the telegram, after which followed a general round\nof embraces. All were indeed happy beyond measure, Mabel as well as the\nrest; and the girl said to her mother, \u201cYou have chosen a husband for\nme, and no doubt chosen for the best.\u201d Then, with a smile, she added:\n\u201cAnd I promise to grow older every day and catch up to him by and by.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you will teach me how to be a farmer\u2019s wife,\u201d said Kitty to Mabel.\n\n\u201cAnd I\u2019ll play boss over you all,\u201d spoke Farmer Willey, spreading forth\nhis brawny arms so as to covey the whole group.\n\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d said young Harry, \u201cand I will write to New York and tell\nothers who are crying over hard times to follow our example and come\nWest.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo, do!\u201d exclaimed Harry\u2019s father. \u201cHere is health and no worry, sound\nsleep by night, and\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cWives to be had without much wooing,\u201d interrupted Mabel, glancing\narchly at her future husband.\n\n\u201cDarling girl!\u201d replied Mr. Fletcher, with tender pathos in his voice.\n\u201cThis is the blessed end of an old, old courtship. Ay, Mabel, the shadow\nof my days, like Hezekiah\u2019s, runs backward when I gaze upon you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell spoken!\u201d exclaimed Mrs. Willey, with tears of joy glistening in\nher eyes\u2014\u201cwell spoken! And, oh! most sincerely do I thank God that my\nold lover has won his Mabel at last.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n ON THE SUMMIT OF MOUNT LAFAYETTE, N. H.\n\n\nI.\n\n Thou rear\u2019st thy graceful head, thy serrate crest,\n O noble mountain, o\u2019er the busy vale,\n Franconia\u2019s seething, motley-crowded dale:\n Below, we inly chafe; on thee, we rest.\n The scars that seam thy fir-crowned, rocky breast,\n The rifts that rend thy floating, cloud-spun veil,\n Tell but of nature\u2019s laws the ordered tale\u2014\n Each change with seal of sovereign might impressed.\n If void of man\u2019s proud gift, a living soul,\n At least thou knowest naught of rebel will,\n Of petty passions, pettier aims, that toll\n The knell of love and praise his days should fill.\n Here rest we, while thine anthems heavenward roll,\n And list the voice of God, so sweet, so still.\n\n\nII.\n\n Ay, rest, poor human soul, but not for long:\n That searching voice hath bid thee look below,\n Where freshening streams by dusty roadsides flow,\n Where sunlit dwellings vales and uplands throng.\n It bids thy fretted, fainting heart be strong,\n It whispers of a glory passing show,\n Of loftier intercommune thou mayst know\n Than mountain top, skies\u2019 sweep, or forest song.\n Above yon hamlet gleams a glittering cross,\n A beacon light to show where dwells the Lord.\n He calls! our brethren call! Can that be loss\n Which brings us nearer Him whose life outpoured\n Hath power to right all wrongs, lift this poor dross\n To heights where thought of man hath ne\u2019er yet soared?\n\n\n\n\n THE PRUSSIAN PERSECUTION EXHIBITED IN ITS RESULTS.\n\n\nSeven years ago the government of the new German Empire, pursuing the\nProtestant traditions of Prussia, and spurred on to action by the occult\npower of Freemasonry, began its gigantic attack on the Catholic Church.\nIt opened hostilities without the customary declaration of war, and, in\norder to hide the real motives and aims of the campaign, its crafty\nrulers professed well-meant intentions and a sincere solicitude for the\nwelfare of the church, declaring over and over again that the religious\npolicy they were inaugurating was exclusively directed against the\nJesuit or ultramontane influence in the church. Soon, however, and as\nthe government gradually unfurled the banner of persecution, the dark\ndesigns of Freemasonry appeared in their real light and character.\nWhilst the ministers moved heaven and earth to produce some plausible\npretexts in justification of the announced legislation, such as the\npope\u2019s infallibility, the pretended encroachments of the Roman Church on\nthe domains of the state, the creation of the Centre party, etc., the\nnational liberals in the Landtag dogmatized on the religion of the\nfuture, the first mission of which was to bring Christianity into\nharmony with the spirit of the age, or, as one of their leading organs\nput it, \u201cto reconcile the faith of our forefathers with the reason of\ntheir children.\u201d At last, when the legislators had gained the conviction\nthat the reasons alleged for the May Laws found neither credence with\nCatholics nor favor with honest Protestants, they threw off the mask,\nand Infidelity, fully armed and with colors flying, boldly entered the\nlists of the _Kulturkampf_. The final aim of the struggle, so long and\npersistently denied, now openly acknowledged, was nothing less than the\nannihilation of the Roman Catholic Church, and thereby of Christianity\nitself. Whatever exception Prince Bismarck may have taken to this\nsweeping programme in favor of his own idea of a German state church,\nwith the emperor for its head, appears irrelevant before the\nextraordinary fact that he placed himself at the head of the enemies of\nChrist, and with their help worked for the destruction of his religion.\nFor this end, and for this end only, did the German infidels devise and\npass the May Laws. Have they succeeded? Will they ever achieve their\nobject? To these questions we unhesitatingly oppose a decided never. As\nCatholics we have the promise of Christ that his church here on earth\nwill last to the end of the world; as witnesses of the persecution and\nits results we proclaim with unspeakable satisfaction that the attempt\nto destroy the church in Germany has completely failed. Although the\nbody of the church has been roughly handled, although it bleeds from a\nthousand wounds, and stands mutilated, disfigured, a most piteous sight,\nstill the church itself, the Catholic faith, has remained untouched and\nshineth forth with increased splendor, strength, and beauty. Men have\nsuffered, not their religion.\n\nTaking a bird\u2019s-eye view of the present condition of the Catholic Church\nin Prussia, we discover an immense field of desolation on which a seven\nyears\u2019 relentless war has spread intense misery and suffering, heaped\nruins upon ruins, and well-nigh destroyed every monument of Christian\nfaith and piety. The guides and pastors of the church are dispersed, the\nwhole hierarchy is broken up, hundreds of priests eat the bitter bread\nof exile, many more waste their lives in prison, and greater still is\nthe number of those for whom the exercise of priestly functions is\naccounted a treasonable crime. More than one million of loyal Prussian\nsubjects are doomed to live and die without the blessings of the church.\nIn more than seven hundred parishes no sacraments can be received, no\nMass be heard, no Christian burial obtained. New-born children must be\nbaptized by lay hands or carried with personal danger to distant\nparishes. The sick and dying are denied the last sacraments, unless\nthey, too, can be conveyed to neighboring churches. All Catholic\nseminaries, schools, and educational establishments are either closed\naltogether or taken possession of by the Protestant government. Convents\nand monasteries are empty or inhabited by criminals, their former\nsaintly inmates driven out of their homes and country. Catholic\norphanages, hospitals, reformatories, all charitable institutions are\nsuppressed, and the church property of dioceses deprived of their\nbishops is sequestrated by the civil power. Catholic religious\ninstruction in popular and higher schools, no longer under the control\nof the church, is now exclusively taught in the name and by authority of\nthe Prussian government.\n\nThis sad work of destruction and persecution appears sadder still when\nviewed in the ghastliness of its details. By clause 1 of the law of May\n11, 1873, all papal jurisdiction in matters of church discipline was\ntransferred from the pope to the German ecclesiastical authorities, or,\nin other words, German Catholics were, declared cut off from the visible\nhead of their church. This law, on the very face of it, could have no\npractical meaning in the nineteenth century, and therefore remained a\ndead letter. Beyond a certain number of penalties inflicted on priests\nand editors for publishing papal documents addressed to German bishops\nand priests, or forwarding letters of excommunication to apostates, no\nharm was done to any one by this law, and diocesan communications are\nuninterruptedly carried on by the pope, not publicly, it is true, but\nalmost as completely and safely as if the Holy Father enjoyed the\nPrussian government\u2019s sanction for it.\n\nFar more mischievous, downright disastrous to the German hierarchy,\nbecame the various laws concerning the education and appointment of\npriests to the ecclesiastical office. With regard to the clause\nprescribing a state examination in science for ecclesiastics over and\nabove the usual examination in philosophy and theology, its severity\ncould not hitherto be tested; for, although the official list of\nthirty-four examiners is every year published in the leading newspapers,\nnot one Catholic candidate has presented himself for examination. This\nclause, too, may therefore be termed a failure. On the other hand, the\nappointing and not appointing of priests to vacant parishes became fatal\nto all Prussian bishops. Whenever they proceeded to such appointments\nwithout giving the required notice to their respective ober-presidents,\nor if they failed to comply with the latter\u2019s orders to fill up vacant\nparishes, the bishops were in all cases prosecuted, fined, or\nimprisoned. For a time fines were paid by some good diocesans, or the\nbishops\u2019 sold furniture was bought back and restored to their owners;\nbut when, from the continued and increased severity of such\nprosecutions, it became evident that the well-meant aid of good\nCatholics contributed only to enrich the persecuting government without\nremoving their chief pastors\u2019 difficulties, perhaps also on the express\nwish of the exalted victims themselves, the generous practice was\ndiscontinued, and the bishops, some reduced to utter poverty and unable\nto pay the ever-increasing penalties, were ignominiously dragged into\nprison. The Archbishop of Cologne alone was condemned to pay at very\nshort intervals 120, 150, 3000, 21,000, 88,500, in all 112,770 marks.\nHis brother bishops, even those not deposed, had to suffer similarly\nhigh and numerous penalties. What made a great many of these\ncondemnations appear excessively hard and unjust was the bishops\u2019\ninability to fill up the vacancies; for they had no longer priests at\ntheir disposal, since the closing of the seminaries made new ordinations\nimpossible. Thus the government asked an impossibility and punished the\nbishops for not achieving it. With the exception of the Prince Bishop of\nBreslau and the Bishop of Limburg, who escaped imprisonment by going\nabroad, all the Prussian bishops had to go to jail, some for months,\nothers for years. As soon as their imprisonment was over proceedings for\ntheir \u201cdeposition\u201d were instituted at the royal Tribunal of\nEcclesiastical Affairs in Berlin. To the official summons to lay down\ntheir offices the bishops answered in substance that, the state not\nbeing a spiritual power capable of investing them with or depriving them\nof their ecclesiastical offices, they did not consider themselves\nempowered to accede to the government\u2019s request; and that as the church\nalone\u2014_i.e._, her head, the pope\u2014had endowed them with the said offices,\nshe alone possessed the spiritual power to dismiss them. The answers\nwhich priests gave to the government, when summoned to lay down their\noffices as parish priests, were couched in equally decided language.\nThus Dean Leineweber, of Heiligenstadt, wrote to the ober-president\nthat, according to the principle and teaching of the Catholic Church,\nBishop Martin, although \u201cdeposed\u201d by the state, was still their bishop,\nand that consequently no priest was released by this \u201cdeposition\u201d from\nthe vow of obedience by which he is bound to his bishop; moreover, that\na faithful priest is a better and more loyal state officer than an\nunfaithful priest, and therefore could not in any way admit that his\nremoval from office was required by the interest of the state. The\ngovernment, however, paying no heed to the bishops\u2019 refusals to resign,\nsummoned them one after the other before the Supreme Tribunal of\nEcclesiastical Affairs. After a short trial, at which the accused\nbishops neither appeared in person nor were represented by counsel, the\ncourt pronounced sentence of dismissal from their offices as Prussian\nbishops on the ground that \u201cthe accused had so grossly violated their\nduties as _servants of the church_ that their remaining in office\ninvolved a serious danger incompatible with public order.\u201d In this way\nthe Prussian government managed to get rid of seven bishops\u2014viz.,\nArchbishop Melchers, of Cologne, who is supposed to reside in Holland;\nCardinal Ledochowski, Archbishop of Gnesen-Posen, now in Rome; the\nPrince Bishop of Breslau, living in the Austrian part of his diocese;\nBishop Martin, of Paderborn, now in Belgium; Bishop Brinckmann, of\nM\u00fcnster, present residence unknown; Bishop Blum, of Limburg, somewhere\nwith the Benedictines; Dr. Janiszewski, suffragan Bishop of Posen, in\nCracow. The three episcopal sees of Treves, Fulda, and Mayence being\nvacant through the death of their former occupants, there are now nine\ndioceses without visible spiritual administration in Prussia. The only\nremaining bishops are those of Hildesheim, Osnabr\u00fcck, Ermeland, and\nKulm. For what reason these church dignitaries are allowed to remain in\noffice, although they committed the same transgressions of the May Laws\nand are in every respect in the same position as their brethren, is\nindeed difficult to say; the only reasonable explanation we can venture\nto offer for this forbearance is either the government\u2019s determination\nto discontinue the useless persecution, or the emperor\u2019s unwillingness\nto consent to the expulsion of _all_ the Catholic bishops from the\ncountry over which he rules. Even an emperor may dread the verdict of\nhistory.\n\nAs was to be expected, the \u201cdeposed\u201d bishops, although far away from\ntheir flocks, found the necessary means and ways to carry on the\nspiritual administration of their dioceses, either by appointing secret\ndelegates or with the help of certain priests with whom they keep up\nregular communications. Of course their conduct involved, in the eyes of\nthe government, fresh and very grave offences, which were resented by\nendless prosecutions not only against the bishops themselves but all\npersons, laymen as well as priests, whom the public prosecutor suspected\nof helping the bishops in the exercise of their \u201cillegal\u201d episcopal\nfunctions. Summonses to appear again before the royal tribunal in Berlin\nwere nailed on the doors of the bishops\u2019 former residences, and in the\ntrials which ensued the accused were sentenced _in contumaciam_ to fines\nand years of imprisonment. And as the government could neither exact the\ninflicted penalties nor lay hold of the convicted dignitaries, it issued\ndisgraceful writs of arrest in which the Prussian gendarmes were ordered\nto watch for the said criminals, and, when apprehended, to deliver them\nto the next police station for the execution of the sentences passed\nupon them. The bishops, in their safe retirement, could afford to smile\nat these futile attempts on their liberty, but those persons who\nremained within the grasp of the government had to suffer many hardships\nfor the support they had lent to their bishops. Hundreds of priests are\nconstantly harassed with summonses to make depositions concerning the\nsecret delegate, but, to their glory be it said, all proved faithful,\nall persistently refused to give the demanded evidence, declaring their\ninability to recognize the authority of civil courts of justice in\npurely ecclesiastical affairs. The only case in which the prosecution\nwas successful is that of Dean Kurowski, of Posen, who, on secondary\nevidence, was pronounced to be the secret delegate of Cardinal\nLedochowski, and sentenced to two years and four months\u2019 imprisonment.\nReleased in October, 1877, he received his dismissal from office in the\nbeginning of the present year. Connected with the illegal exercise of\nepiscopal functions was the persecution of the Rev. Dr. Kantecki, editor\nof a Polish newspaper, who sat six months in prison without trial simply\nbecause he refused to turn king\u2019s evidence; and that of Fathers Herold\nand Pudenz, of Heiligenstadt, who were kept in jail for more than one\nyear for not revealing the name of the secret delegate.\n\nAnother deplorable consequence of the law concerning the education and\nappointment to ecclesiastical offices is the closing of all priests\u2019\nseminaries, which took place almost immediately after the promulgation\nof that law in 1873, in consequence of the refusal of the authorities to\nadmit the delegates of the government as inspectors of these purely\necclesiastical institutions. Since then not one priest has received\nordination in Prussia. That is not, however, a great hardship, as no new\npriests can, under the present circumstances, be appointed in Prussia,\nand a great many Prussian young men are constantly ordained abroad who\nwill one day return to their country. On the other hand, the number of\nvacant parishes increases rapidly every day. At the present moment there\nare in Prussia about 700 parishes deprived of priests\u2014viz., in the\narchdiocese of Cologne, 121; in the diocese of Treves, 153; Paderborn,\n68; M\u00fcnster, 70; Limburg, 33; Fulda, 30; Hildesheim, 22; Osnabr\u00fcck, 23;\nKulm, 14; Ermeland, 13; Breslau, about 100; Posen, about 100; in the\nprincipality of Hohenzollern, 19, to which must be added more than 100\ncuracies.\n\nOf the exiled secular priests of Prussia about three hundred found a\nfield for their labors in Bavaria; the others went chiefly to Belgium,\nAustria, Italy, England, and America. As the religious orders were\nexpelled from the whole German Empire, their members had to settle\noutside of Germany; they emigrated either to America, or went as\nmissionaries among the heathens, or transferred their establishments to\nBelgium, England, etc.\n\nThe number of Prussian Catholics deprived of church ministrations now\namounts to one million and a half. If these wish to hear Mass on Sundays\nor receive the sacraments, they must attend the services in churches of\ntheir neighborhood, and sometimes walk as far as ten and fifteen miles.\nIn a great many places, and now in nearly every widowed parish,\nso-called lay services have been arranged by the parishioners, at which\none of them reads the prayers of Mass, and, if not forbidden by the\nlocal police, a sermon as well. In the afternoon they sing Vespers and\nhymns in the same manner. At first it was feared that even this poor\ncomfort would be taken away from the desolate parishes, for in many\nplaces the conductors of lay worship were prosecuted and heavily fined\nfor exercising illegal functions in church; but later on both the\nofficials and the judges took a more lenient view of these cases and\nabstained from interfering with them. Now and then, however, the\nforsaken parishes have the unexpected joy of hearing Mass in their own\nchurches. In every diocese, especially in that of Posen, banished or\nnewly-ordained priests travel in disguise through the country,\nbaptizing, hearing confessions, giving the last sacraments to the dying,\nand saying Mass in every deserted church they can reach. Notwithstanding\nthe greatest vigilance by day and by night, the police seldom succeed in\narresting one of these faithful shepherds, for the parishioners exercise\na strict watch over the police and give their pastors timely warning of\nthe enemy\u2019s approach. When found out the itinerant priests invariably\nundergo a severe punishment of two or three years\u2019 imprisonment,\nfollowed by banishment from their country. How loyal to these priests\nnot only the Catholic but even the Protestant and Jewish population is\nmay be seen from the following case, taken out of many. From\nSchwerin-on-the-Wartha, diocese of Posen, Father Logan, whom the\ngovernment had exiled several years ago, managed for a whole year to\nadminister a parish in the neighborhood, and to carry the consolations\nof his ministry wherever they were required. During that time he kept a\nwell-attended shop in the little town, and travelled about in the\nneighborhood apparently as a cattle-driver, in reality as a good\nshepherd of souls. At last discovered and tried, he was committed to\nprison for thirteen months. Forty-six such priests, mostly newly\nordained, are said to administer the vacant parishes of this\nmuch-troubled diocese, in which meritorious work they are successfully\nassisted by the great landowners, who provide them with food and\nshelter, and, when wanted, with safe hiding-places. Several of them have\nlately been discovered and thrown into prison. Greatly and unnecessarily\nincreased was the number of vacant parishes by the arbitrary decision of\nsome ober-presidents, that junior priests, after the death of their\nelders, should abstain, under pain of expulsion, from all parochial\nwork, even from saying Mass. In vacant parishes the dead themselves fell\nunder the application of the law, for Dr. Falk decreed that founded\nMasses cannot be said in such parishes, but must stand over until the\nvacancies are filled up with legally-appointed priests.\n\nAccording to one of the May Laws, a parish which has stood vacant for\none year possesses the right of electing a new priest. This law was\nevidently passed with a view of destroying the authority of priests as\nwell as bishops; in fact, it was a bait thrown out to Catholics to join\nthe state church. But Catholics at once understood the malign intention,\nand spurned it, to the amazement and discomfiture of the persecuting\nparty, which had built its brightest hopes on the working of that law.\nNot one vacant parish in the whole kingdom of Prussia has as yet been\nfound willing to elect a new pastor. Whenever the Landrath convened an\nelection meeting for that purpose, the invitation was either not\nresponded to at all, or, if for prudence\u2019s sake the electors appeared at\nthe meeting, it was decidedly refused with the declaration that the\nparishioners had no power to elect their own priests, and that they\nwould never acknowledge a pastor who was not sent to them by their\nbishop. Such being the firm attitude of all Prussian parishes towards\nthat particular law, how could the government flatter itself with the\nhope that its own nominees would be received and acknowledged by the\nfaithful? And yet Dr. Falk, disregarding all previous experience, went\non imposing state priests on protesting parishes wherever he found an\nopportunity for it, to the great injury of the faithless priests\nthemselves, who were excommunicated, to the parishes that rejected them,\nand to government, which made itself only the more odious. By this time,\nhowever, the ministry must see their mistake, for, in spite of the many\nenticements and premiums offered to priests of doubtful character and\ndoctrine, the government during the interval of three years has not been\nable to gather more than twenty-one apostates round its state-church\nbanner. Twenty-one out of ten thousand! With the exception of one, all\nthese misguided men belong to the provinces of Silesia and Posen. Here\nis a complete list of them: Mr. M\u00fccke in Gross Strelitz; Kolany in\nMurzyno; Nowacki in Obornik; Lizack in Schrotz; Kubezak in Xionz; Brenk\nin Kosten; Kick in K\u00e4hme; Gutzmer in Gr\u00e4tz; W\u00fcrtz in Grabia; Moercke in\nPodwitz Golembiowsky in Plusnitz; Sterba in Leschnitz; Pischel in\nGirlachsdorf; Kenty in Boronow; Gr\u00fcnastle in C\u00f6sel; Sabotta in Kettch;\nCzerwinski in Zirke; B\u00fcchs in Gross Rudno; Rymarowicz (Posen); and\nGlattfelder in Balg (Baden).\n\nBesides these state priests who profess to remain faithful to Rome, the\nPrussian government introduced two apostates in vacant parishes, one of\nwhom is the Old Catholic pastor, Struckberg, presented by the Protestant\nBaron von Dyherrn to the fat living of Oberherzogswaldau in Silesia, and\nthe other the notorious Suszynski, the married state-priest of Mogilno,\nwho enjoys the emoluments of his sinecure comfortably at K\u00f6nigsberg. In\nall these state parishes the faithful refuse to entertain any\ncommunication, social or religious, with the intruders, and fulfil their\nreligious duties in other churches. As to the congregations of these\nstate priests, they principally consist of a few bad Catholics or\ngovernment officials, such as burgomasters, policemen, etc.; in some\neven Protestants and Jews attend, and several count no other members\nthan the clergyman\u2019s housekeepers.\n\nAs the sect of Old Catholics must be looked upon as forming part of\nPrince Bismarck\u2019s intended state church, it may fittingly be mentioned\nin connection with the state parishes. None of the 26 _Kulturkampf_ laws\nissued in Prussia and the German Empire since 1871 has been more abused,\nmore arbitrarily and unjustly applied by the government, than the\nso-called Old Catholic law, which grants to Old Catholic communities the\njoint use of Catholic parish churches and cemeteries, and the joint\npossession of the Catholic Church property, wherever a considerable\nnumber of these sectarians exist. How ober-presidents apply that law and\ndetermine the meaning of the word \u201cconsiderable\u201d may be seen by the two\ncases of Braunsberg and K\u00f6nigsberg, where in the one case about 20 and\nin the other about 40 Old Catholics formed, in the governor\u2019s\nestimation, a sufficient number to allow the application of the law, and\nto rob as many as 10,000 Catholics in one instance of their churches and\nproperty. The ober-president\u2019s partiality and self-contradicting conduct\nreceived a further illustration by the treatment of the Catholics of\nHohenstein, who, although numbering 1,500, were refused permission to\nbuild a church in the town because the number 1,500 was not considered\n\u201cconsiderable\u201d in the meaning of the law. The thousand Catholics of\nWillenberg who petitioned the government for the same purpose received a\nsimilar answer. Thanks to this unjust application of the law, the Old\nCatholics obtained hitherto possession of 13 beautiful Catholic\nchurches\u2014viz., in Witten (10,000 Catholics to 76 Old Catholics); in\nBreslau the Corpus Christi Church (20,000 Catholics to a few hundred Old\nCatholics); in Neisse the Church of the Cross; in Hirschberg St. Ann\u2019s\nChurch (3,000 Catholics to 250 Old Catholics); in K\u00f6nigsberg; in\nWiesbaden (15,000 Catholics to 250 Old Catholics); in Bochum (10,000\nCatholics to about 200 Old Catholics); in Cologne St. Gereon\u2019s Church\n(10,000 Catholics to 87 Old Catholics); in Crefeld St. Stephen\u2019s; in\nBoppard the Carmelite Church (5,000 Catholics to 45 Old Catholics); in\nCoblentz the Jesuit Church; in Bonn the Gymnasium Church; and quite\nrecently the parish church of Gottesberg in Silesia. In nearly all these\nchurches the Old Catholics made their first entrance with the help of\nthe police, the doors being forced open with hammer and crow-bar. Since\nthey fell into Old Catholic hands most of them stand empty. On Easter\nSunday about 20 to 30 worshippers attended in the robbed church in\nWiesbaden; in several places grass is growing on the pavement\nsurrounding the churches, and in others mushrooms are springing up\nfreely at the very foot of the altars. There can be no doubt that the\nsect is already declining. Were it not for the aid in money and other\nadvantages which its members receive from the Prussian government, it\nwould probably by this time have shared the fate of _Rongeanism_.\nAccording to the report read at the fourth Old Catholic synod at Bonn,\nin May, 1877, there were at that time 35 Old Catholic communities in\nPrussia, counting in all 6,510 people with civil independence; in Baden\nthere were 44 communities, in Bavaria 31, in Hesse 5, in Oldenburg 2, in\nW\u00fcrtemberg 1. The total number of adherents, women and children\nincluded, amounted in Prussia to 20,524, in Baden to 17,203, in Bavaria\nto 10,100, in Hesse to 1,042, in Oldenburg to 240, in W\u00fcrtemberg to\n223\u2014in all 49,342 out of a population of 14 millions. The number of Old\nCatholic priests in the whole German Empire is now 56. In the course of\nlast year four of them and a good many laymen from Wiesbaden and\nDortmund retracted their error and returned to the mother church; others\nbecame Protestants.\n\nAlthough passed in May, 1875, the law ordering the dissolution of\nCatholic religious congregations has not yet been fully carried into\nexecution, not out of regard for the establishments themselves, but\nbecause the state interest required a departure from the rule. The last\nterm granted to Catholic sisters engaged in education expires on the 1st\nof October next. Their expulsion is causing the deepest grief among all\nclasses of German Catholics, for the good sisters have, by their noble\nand self-sacrificing exertions, so endeared themselves to the hearts of\nthe people that they are looked upon as\u2014what they really are\u2014the\ngreatest benefactors of the people, without whose help the moral and\nreligious training of the young will remain defective. More than all do\nthe poor and unhappy feel their departure, for it was chiefly on\norphanages and other charitable institutions that the expelled nuns\nexercised their salutary influence. Now that these establishments no\nlonger stand under the direction of those ministering angels, who work\nonly for the love of God and man, the respective parishes have to grant\nsalaries to their successors, for which the poor as well as the rich are\ncompelled to contribute. In a great many towns, however, they cannot be\nreplaced at all, not only for want of means but also for want of the\ncompetent persons, and about 10,000 orphans of the poor are left\ndestitute by the expulsion of the nuns. No wonder, then, if under such\ncircumstances the parting scenes were everywhere heart-rending; not only\nsobbing children thronged round their foster-mothers in uncontrollable\ngrief, but the inhabitants, burgomasters, and magistrates came to\nexpress their thanks for the eminent services they had rendered to their\nparishes, and their deep regret at seeing them driven out of home and\ncountry\u2014their own beloved benefactresses. No exact statistics regarding\nthe number of expelled nuns have as yet been published, nor is it\npossible to say what has become of them all. It is, however, computed\nthat about 500 houses have been broken up, which must have included at\nleast between two and three thousand inmates. The Ursulines of Dorsten\ntransferred their establishment to Holland, where forty pupils followed\nthem on the very day of their expulsion. The house of Posen went to\nCracow; those of Cologne, Aix-la-Chapelle, Duderstadt, Kitzlar, etc.,\nemigrated partly to North America, partly to neighboring countries. The\nSisters of Our Lady, whose convents had been established more than 200\nyears in Essen and Coesfeld, went 250 strong across the Atlantic, and\nthe School Sisters either returned to their families or left off their\nreligious habits and continued their calling as lay teachers. The names\nof the other congregations that had to leave this year are chiefly the\nfollowing: The English Ladies (Fulda and Mayence), the Franciscans\n(Frankfort, Erfurt, Treves, Fulda, Aix-la-Chapelle, Bonn, Oberwesel,\nEmmerich), the Sisters of Mercy conducting orphanages (Posen, Breslau,\nLauban, Myslowitz, Steinfeld, Bromberg, Peplin, D\u00fcsseldorf, Crefeld,\nBonn, Dortmund, Berncastle, Malmedy, Lannerz, Berge-Borbeck, Mayen,\nRheinberg, Paderborn, Schroda, D\u00fcren, Bitburg, Neuss, Neustadt,\nOsnabr\u00fcck, Salzkotten), the Sisters of St. Charles (Boppard, Oberglogau,\netc.), St. Vincent de Paul (Deutz, Nippes, Ehrenfeld), the Daughters of\nthe Holy Cross, and the Poor Sisters of Christ. Those Sisters of Mercy\nwho exclusively devote themselves to hospital work have been allowed to\nremain; their exact number was a short time ago 5,763.\n\nOf all the laws enacted since 1871 against the Catholic Church in\nPrussia, none will be attended with more injurious effects than the law\nregulating school supervision and religious instruction in popular\nschools. Not content with having removed nearly all ecclesiastical\ndistrict and local school inspectors, and appointed Protestants and\n\u201cliberal\u201d Catholics in their place, the government has also forbidden\nthe priests to teach the Catholic religion anywhere except in church out\nof school hours. In a decree issued by Dr. Falk in March, 1876, the\nright of parents to bring up their children in accordance with their\nreligious principles is virtually denied, at all events practically\ndestroyed, for it places the whole teaching and supervision of Catholic\nreligious instruction under the supreme control of the Protestant\ngovernment, and thus arbitrarily cancels clause 24 of the Prussian\nconstitution, which guarantees to recognized religious societies the\nright of conducting religious instruction either through their priests\nor laymen invested with the _missio canonica_. By virtue of this\nministerial ordinance the government, feeling its hands strengthened and\nunshackled, proceeds to all kinds of arbitrary and unjustifiable changes\nin matters of religious teaching. It sets aside Catholic catechisms and\nreading-books hitherto used in schools with ecclesiastical approbation,\nand replaces them by works more in harmony with the spirit of the age;\nit commissions schoolmasters (now already about 1,000) to teach the\nCatholic religion only in the name and by order of the civil power,\nthreatening them with prosecution if they ask for or accept the _missio\ncanonica_ from church authorities; it either dissolves Catholic schools\nor amalgamates them with Protestant institutions under the name of\nsimultan-schools, all of which stand under exclusively Protestant\ndirection; it appoints Protestant and Jewish teachers to purely Catholic\nschools; it compels, as was recently done in Crefeld, Catholic children\nto attend Protestant school prayers; it limits the hearing of Mass to\ntwo days in the week, and strictly forbids Catholic teachers to exhort\ntheir pupils to a greater frequency of the Sacraments of Penance and\nHoly Communion; in one word, it uses all possible means to Protestantize\nCatholic children in popular schools. Priests and parents, school boards\nand parishes, have sought redress of this bitter grievance in\ninnumerable petitions and protests addressed from all parts of the\ncountry to the emperor, the ministers, to both houses of Parliament,\ndemanding in the name of liberty, of justice, of the constitution, of\nnatural and human rights, that the teaching of their religion should\nagain be declared free and placed under the only rightful authority,\nthat of the church; but neither the prayers of distressed parents nor\nthe powerful agitation got up by the leading Catholic representatives\nproved of any avail, Dr. Falk invariably rejecting all petitions on the\nground that the grievances complained of did not exist\u2014an assertion\nwhich the minister, if he had ventured to do so, could not have\nreconciled with the truth of facts. As ministers and national liberals\nalike expect the realization of their plans from the destructive school\npolicy rather than from any of the other May laws, the Prussian\ngovernment feels the less disposed to make concessions on this question,\nas it enables them to administer the poison of infidelity to the rising\ngeneration in a quiet and imperceptible but systematic and effective\nmanner. Catholics have therefore nothing to hope from the present rulers\nof Prussia towards an equitable settlement of the religious question, as\nparty interest, and not justice, is the moving principle of the May\nlegislators. If the faith of the next generation is to be saved, it must\nbe done by the parents themselves; if they take the religious\ninstruction in their own hands, if by vigilance and self-devotion they\ndetect, counteract, and destroy the evil influence of heterodox\nschool-teaching, no power on earth will be able to interfere with their\nchildren\u2019s faith; but if they neglect this solemn duty, which now\ndevolves upon them with a fearful responsibility, they will have to bear\nthe guilt of their children\u2019s apostasy. Happily there is little or no\nground for such apprehensions, now that bishops, priests, and laity have\nall so manfully withstood the storm and so far passed unscathed through\nthe crucible of the persecution. Persevering in their course of loyal\nattachment to the church, Catholic parents of all classes of society\nlook after their children\u2019s faith and teach them catechism at home, in\nwhich excellent work they are effectually assisted by the advice and\npractical help of numerous societies instituted for that purpose all\nover Prussia.\n\nWhilst Catholics heartily rejoice at the failure of their enemies\u2019\nendeavors to destroy their church in Germany, they deeply feel the\nenormous losses and sufferings which the application of the May Laws has\nso wantonly inflicted on so many thousands of their innocent\nco-religionists. Apart from the innumerable convictions of bishops,\npriests, and laymen for so-called May-law transgressions, Prince\nBismarck alone instituted more than 7,000 prosecutions for alleged\noffences against his person. In his eagerness to silence opposition he\nspared neither sex nor age, neither office nor rank, proceeding with\nequal animosity against statesmen and artisans, distinguished writers\nand poor peasants, washerwomen and children. The sums paid in fines and\nthe time spent in prison for _Kulturkampf_ offences are said to be\nenormous; our readers may form an idea of the magnitude of the penal\nresults of the persecution by the perusal of the following statistics:\nWithin the first four months of 1877 Prussian courts of justice\npronounced sentences of imprisonment amounting to 55 years, 11 months,\nand 6 days, and fines to the amount of 27,843 marks. The victims were\n241 priests, 210 laymen, and 136 editors of newspapers. Imprisonment of\n12 years, 8 months, and 14 days was decreed for offences against the\nemperor, and 8 years, 4 months, 7 days for 68 Bismarck offences. Besides\nthese penalties, the police made 55 arrests, 74 domiciliary visits, and\n56 dissolutions of unions and assemblies. A compositor of a Mayence\npaper, father of eight children, was sentenced to three months\u2019\nimprisonment for having used a disrespectful expression towards his\nmajesty whilst in a state of intoxication; a doctor had to spend a whole\nyear in a fortress for a similar offence; a rag and bone gatherer got\nfive and a half months, and a poor servant-girl of nineteen years of age\none month\u2019s imprisonment.\n\nA few more instances, taken at random from the masses of _Kulturkampf_\nconvictions, will further exemplify the nature of the offences and the\npenalties with which they were visited. Bishop Brinckmann received one\nyear\u2019s imprisonment, Vicar-General Giese two years, Father Fievez three\nmonths, Father Haversath four weeks, for alleged embezzlement of\ndiocesan money; in reality for preventing certain church funds from\nfalling into the hands of the government, which had no claim whatever to\nthem. In M\u00fcnster 2,500 heads of families were fined for not sending\ntheir children to school on Corpus Christi day. The successive editors\nof the _Kuryer Poznanski_, the _Germania_, and the Frankfort _Zeitung_\nhave for several years past gone to prison, some for publishing papal\nand episcopal documents, others for offending the emperor, Prince\nBismarck, and other members of the administration. Father Isbert, of\nNamborn, Treves, spent 903 days in the prison of Saarbr\u00fccken for\n\u201cillegally\u201d saying Mass, hearing confessions, etc. In April, 1876, the\npriests of the diocese of Posen had to pay 163,463 marks for similar\noffences. Father Simon was sentenced to seven months\u2019 imprisonment\nbecause he removed the sacred Host from the church of the Girlachsdorf\nthe day before state priest Pischel\u2019s installation. Fathers Bruns of\nGeldern and Kroll of Adekerke were prosecuted and punished for refusing\nabsolution to two penitents. A French priest accidentally staying in\nHanover was condemned to a fine of 4,800 marks for saying Mass in a\nprivate chapel. Dean Leineweber, of Heiligenstadt, went to prison for 18\nmonths for granting dispensations; Father Nawrocki two years for\nsecretly administrating the parish of Goszieszy. Besides endless\nprosecutions, hundreds of the inhabitants of Marpingen had to pay fines\nfor granting hospitality to pilgrims.\n\nBut the Catholic clergy had to suffer for not acknowledging the May Laws\nas well as for transgressing them. By the so-called Bread-basket Law,\nintended to starve the priests into submission, many thousands lost\ntheir income and had to bear great misery, especially in poor parishes,\nwhere church offerings usually consist of farthings. In the diocese of\nFulda, for instance, the average income of a great number of parish\npriests fluctuated between twelve and twenty pounds a year. In other\ndistricts they fared in so far better as their parishioners indemnified\nthem for the loss of their state emoluments and homes by voluntary\ncontributions or gifts in kind, such as meat, bread, firewood, etc. This\nhelp, if lastingly established, might have considerably alleviated the\nexisting distress; but unfortunately the Prussian government forbade\npublic offerings and collections for the relief of priests in distress,\non the ground that such illegal remunerations encouraged resistance to\nthe state laws. This harsh, not to say inhuman, proceeding, however,\nonly harmed its victims for a time; for very soon the inventive spirit\nof the faithful found out other means of relief, over which the most\nwatchful officials could obtain no control. In addition to secret parish\nsubventions the priests now receive regular assistance from the\n_Paulinus_ Verein, which charitable association collects contributions\nnot only in Germany but also from foreign countries, among which England\nespecially has distinguished itself.\n\nDestructive as the _Kulturkampf_ has been to the outward organization of\nthe church and the happiness and worldly interest of the people, its\nconsequences have in many other respects proved an immense blessing to\nthe Catholic Church in Germany. Instead of having been destroyed or\nweakened, as her enemies hoped, she has, on the contrary, become\nstronger and more powerful in her influence over the masses, more\nrespected by her adversaries, better understood by Protestant\nChristians, better loved and obeyed by her own children. Lukewarm\nCatholics, formerly almost ashamed of professing their religion in\npublic, now no longer shrink from manifesting their loyal attachment to\nthe church; nay, more, they stand up in her defence, and edify others by\nthe regular fulfilment of their religious duties. The devout crowds that\nfill the churches on Sundays and all festive occasions; the enormous\nincrease of regular communicants; the frequent processions from widowed\ndioceses to cathedrals of other dioceses for the reception of the\nSacrament of Confirmation; the deep and universal grief shown by the\npeople at the death of Pope Pius IX. and their cordial rejoicing at the\nelection of his successor; the numerous addresses of loyalty sent on\nevery possible occasion to the banished bishops by millions of the\nfaithful; the touching attachment of the masses to their pastors\u2014all\nthese and a great many more significant manifestations afford ample\nproof that the Catholic Church has gained, and not lost, by the\n_Kulturkampf_. And it may not be exaggeration to say that never at any\ntime did the religious sentiment among German Catholics shine forth so\nbrightly, their piety so fervently, their spirit of self-sacrifice so\nstrongly, their love for their church so unboundedly, as now after seven\nyears of relentless persecution. Giving to the state what belongs to the\nstate, but fearlessly obeying the church in all matters that regard\ntheir eternal salvation, the German Catholics, bishops, priests, and\npeople, stand firm and unshaken in their resolution to remain true to\nGod and his church, and to lose wealth, freedom, life itself, rather\nthan give up one particle of their faith.\n\nNor are the beneficial consequences of the persecution limited to a\nrevival in religion; they are also felt, with almost equal power, in the\npolitical and literary life of the Catholic portion of the German\nnation. Purified, ennobled, raised from a state of political servility\nto a sense of self-dignity, the persecuted German Catholics feel their\nlove of freedom rekindled, their sunken courage revived, and a hitherto\nunknown power\u2014the power of outraged honesty and truth\u2014growing and\nspreading among them, and defending their inalienable rights with energy\nand success, in society, in parliament, in the press, and in general\nliterature, wherever religious and political liberty and independence\nare wont to assert themselves. The Catholics of Prussia now constitute a\npolitical body second only in importance to the national liberals, whose\ninfluence in the country is rapidly declining. If the wishes for a\nreturn to a religious policy, as expressed by the emperor shortly after\nthe late attempt on his life, should be carried out by his ministers, we\nmay live to see Prince Bismarck courting the help of the Catholic Church\nto save that same state which resolved upon and worked for her\ndestruction. How valuable the support of the Catholic party would be to\nthe perplexed German government in these critical times is sufficiently\nshown by the number of its representatives in the various parliaments:\nin the Reichstag the Catholic Centre party counts 98 members; in the\nBavarian Chamber of Deputies it commands the majority; in Baden, where\nonly one Catholic sat in parliament before the year 1870, there are now\n13 Catholic deputies. The best illustration of the growth of the\nCatholic party in Germany was furnished at the last elections, when, in\nspite of the arbitrary dissection of Catholic voting districts, Catholic\nmembers were returned with overwhelming majorities wherever a sufficient\nnumber of constituents made such elections possible. The same success\nattended the elections of municipal officers, but unfortunately to no\npurpose, as the Prussian government, contrary to right and justice,\nannulled all elections of Catholic burgomasters and appointed its own\ncreatures to the vacant posts.\n\nAnother creation of the _Kulturkampf_ for which we cannot be too\nthankful is the German Catholic press, which for its tone, skill,\ninfluence, and general success stands unrivalled by any press in the\nworld. Beyond a few more or less obscure provincial papers, Germany\npossessed no Catholic press organization before the year 1870; now\nnearly 200 of these spirited children of the persecution flourish in the\nGerman Empire. Foremost among all appears the _Germania_, of world-wide\nreputation, which expounds and defends the political programme of the\nCatholic party with such statesmanlike ability that Prince Bismarck\nhimself, in one of his parliamentary speeches, was fain to acknowledge\nthe superior character and excellence of the paper. Worthy associates of\nthe Berlin central organ of Catholic publicity are the great provincial\ndaily papers, such as the _Deutsche Reichszeitung_ in Bonn, the\n_K\u00f6lnische Volkszeitung_ in Cologne, the _Westphalian Merkur_, and last,\nnot least, the smaller provincial and local papers, all of which, in the\ninvoluntary absence of the chief pastors of the church, teach and guide\nthe people in the paths of religion as well as in those of public life.\nThe influence of the Catholic press over the people was felt in two\nways: in the first place, it succeeded in preserving and consolidating\namong them that spirit of union, order, and loyalty of which the bishops\nand priests had given such admirable examples; and in the second place\nit prevented, by its wise admonitions, the exasperated people from\nabandoning the policy of passive resistance as recommended by the\nbishops, so that, in the midst of incessant, almost unbearable\nprovocations, the Catholic population of Prussia has not been found\nguilty of one single act of rebellion or open resistance to the state\npower.\n\nThe difference of the effects which the May-law legislation has had on\nthe Catholic and the Protestant inhabitants of Prussia must strike every\none. Whilst to the former the _Kulturkampf_ has been a school of\nimprovement, of moral and religious regeneration, the latter have\nderived none but deplorable results from it; witness the general\nlawlessness, the frightful increase of crime, the sunken state of\nmorality, and the all but complete extinction of Christianity which now\nprevails among the Protestant people. According to the _Nord Allgemeine\nZeitung_, Prince Bismarck\u2019s non-official organ, not a day passes in\nPrussia without murder and manslaughter, and the demoralization of the\nlower classes has reached such a depth that there is no longer any\nsecurity for life and property, that the son murders his father, that\nthe intoxicated father stabs his son, and that the servant kills his\nmaster on the slightest provocation. School-boys have become regular\nfrequenters of public-houses; they fight duels in love affairs, commit\nsuicide for the most trifling causes, and help to fill the overcrowded\nprisons. Since 1874 the number of prisoners has increased by nearly two\nhundred per cent. To mention a few instances only, in 1872 the town of\nFrankfort-on-the-Main had 1,072 convicts; in the present year it has\n5,323. In the province of East Prussia more crimes were committed in\n1875 than in the 20 preceding years together. Sacrileges, theft, murder,\nsuicide, immoralities are the crimes of most frequent occurrence in\nProtestant Prussia. In the one small province of Schleswig-Holstein not\nless than 212 suicides were recorded in the year 1874; and in the city\nof Berlin in 1875 there were 284 (213 men and 71 women) cases, besides\n38 corpses found in the Spree. In one month of the year 1876 the army\ncounted 26 suicides\u2014_i.e._, one-fifth of the whole mortality. Another\noffence, formerly little known in Prussia, but now spreading in an\nextraordinary manner, is the wholesale evasion of the obligatory\nmilitary service. According to official returns the number of young men\nwho evaded that duty by going abroad increased within the period of 1862\nto 1872 from 1,648 to 10,069. Last year it was about twice the latter\nnumber. We may here add that Catholic priests are now also obliged to\nserve in the army as private soldiers. It is a remarkable fact, perhaps\nonly a coincidence, but at all events one of the fruits of Bismarck\u2019s\nanti-church policy, that socialism has grown in Prussia in proportion as\ncrimes have multiplied. In the year 1871 the socialists had only two\nmembers in Parliament; now they have 13, representing two millions of\nadherents, who support 45 socialist newspapers. The party has not\nreached its maturity yet; but if the Prussian government, disregarding\nthe disapproving vote of the Reichstag, should proceed against it with\nviolent repressive police measures, it is sure to grow rapidly into a\ndangerous power that may one day shake the new German Empire to its very\nfoundation.\n\nPrince Bismarck did not intend to injure the Protestant Church by his\nMay legislation, but, whether intended or not, it is now an undeniable\nfact that the two great results of that legislation are the growth of\nsocialism and the accelerated extinction of Christianity in the German\nProtestant Church. When preachers of the Gospel are allowed to declare\nfrom the pulpit that to them the Bible is nothing but Jewish literature,\nthat our Lord Jesus Christ was a mere man, that the idea of a Trinity,\nsacraments, miracles, etc., are human inventions, can it surprise any\none if socialists go further still, and in numerously-attended meetings\nopenly deny the existence of God and eternal life? Enabled by the May\nLaws to utter any blasphemies they like, the German infidels carry on\ntheir anti-Christian propaganda on a very extensive scale, and succeed\nin drawing hundreds of thousands of Protestants out of the established\nchurch. They alone make use of the so-called Alt-Catholic law, which\ngives freedom to leave a church without joining another, and which was\npassed for the purpose of inducing Catholics to follow the lead of the\nAlt-Catholic Bishop Reinkens. This ostentatious secession from the\nProtestant Church, however, is not its greatest loss; far more\ndisastrous to its existence is that wholesale defection which takes\nplace quietly, without people thinking it worth while to go out of the\nchurch. They simply abstain from frequenting places of worship, and\nrefuse all ministrations from their clergymen for themselves and their\nchildren. During the last three months of 1874\u2014that is to say, in the\nyear following the promulgation of the May Laws\u201416,631 Protestant\nchildren remained unbaptized, and 8,346 Protestant couples refused to be\nmarried in church. In the year 1875 Berlin alone had 9,964 civil\nmarriages without church blessing, and 15,000 children who received no\nbaptism. In K\u00f6nigsberg the number of civil marriages not accompanied by\nany church ceremony was 36 per cent., in Dantzic 47 per cent., in\nBreslau 53 per cent., in Stettin 68 per cent. In Berlin 70,000\nProtestants reject their church altogether. There only 18 per cent. of\nthe whole Protestant population go to church; in Worms 6 per cent., in\nMayence 5 per cent., in Giessen 5 per cent., in Darmstadt 3 per cent.,\nin Chemnitz 3 per cent., and in some other places of Saxony only 1 per\ncent. In short, the Protestant Church in Germany is irretrievably lost.\nThus it has come to pass, under God\u2019s providence, that the blow which\nPrince Bismarck aimed at the Catholic Church glided off from the Rock of\nPeter, and fell with deadly effect on the Protestant Church, of which he\ncounts himself a stanch adherent.\n\n\n\n\n SONNET.\n THE MORAL LAW, AND THE UTILITARIAN PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\n That law which cynic-sophists desecrate,\n Creation deft, they boast of mortal hand;\n Custom\u2019s weak nurseling; or, by sea and land,\n A tyrant\u2019s edict fencing doubtful state,\n Is older than the brazen books of Fate;\n A bondage unto liberty; a grand\n And circumscribing harmony, unplanned,\n But from the breasts of all things good and great\n Where\u2019er the flame of thought and feeling played,\n Issuing divine, a universal birth,\n Before the first-born zephyr sang its ode,\n Before pines grew on mountains of the north,\n Before the greater light, or less, had flowed\n O\u2019er the glad bosom of the new-shaped earth\n\n\n\n\n \u201cTHE RELIGION OF HUMANITY.\u201d[132]\n\n\nThe strangest and saddest commentary upon that dreary religious\nsentimentality known as positivism, or the Religion of Humanity, was the\ninfatuation of Auguste Comte and John Stuart Mill with regard to two\nvery commonplace women whom these men, one the founder and the other the\nablest exponent of the religion, foolishly loved and worshipped in life,\nand actually deified after death. Guizot says that Comte was crazy, but\nMill was confessedly a man of rare logical acumen, thoroughly-trained\nintellectual powers, and with no trace of mental alienation. One does\nnot know whether to laugh at or to pity the maudlin sentimentalism of\nhis love for his wife, the idolatrous honors he paid to her portrait and\nbust, and the painful conflict of his soul, halting between a frantic\nwish to believe in the presence and intimations of her disembodied\nspirit, and the necessity of rejecting, according to his theory, all\nhope or belief in the hereafter. There is something at once ludicrous\nand shocking in this, the only religious sentiment that such a mind as\nMill\u2019s would admit\u2014the worship of a woman\u2019s memory as the full\nsatisfaction and highest reach of religion. The worship of woman\nirresistibly suggests the crowning of the Goddess of Reason by the\nFrench Revolutionists; and we trust our reflection will not be\nmisconstrued when we say that woman holds her true and rightful position\nonly in the Catholic Church. The tolerance of divorce in Protestantism\nis an injury to the sex, and when we glance at woman\u2019s relations to most\nof the philosophico-moral systems that have been the outgrowth of the\nreligious rebellion of the sixteenth century, we see how wise and tender\nthe church has ever been in her treatment of the weaker vessel. St. Paul\nhas laid down for all time the true idea of woman in her religious\nrelations, and every attempt to change those conditions has resulted in\nfailure and shame.\n\nThe Religion of Humanity is one of those vague terms which logic rejects\nwith scorn. The phrase has a certain hazy beauty for hazy minds; but its\ngross spirit means the deification of man, the boundless extent of his\nnatural powers, a worse than Pelagian confidence in his own moral\nstrength, and the natural, social, and civil equality of woman. In our\nown country the system has not revealed all its deformity, nor are its\nprinciples apparently very familiar even to its advocates; but all its\nhideousness is laid bare in the writings of the German Feuerbach, and it\nis sad to think that Mrs. Lewes (George Eliot) devotes her uncommon\npowers to the exposition of its distinctive doctrinal phase\u2014namely, that\nall religion is a diseased state of our consciousness, and its exercise\nthrough any form or in any sphere gives us neither present comfort nor\nfuture hope.\n\nA primal instinct and yearning of the human heart tends toward an object\nof infinite blessedness and beauty. Descartes inferred from our\nknowledge and love of Infinite and Absolute Being, in which all glory,\nperfection, mercy, and power co-exist, that such a Being really _does_\nexist; and this famous proof of the existence of God has never been\nshown to be false or unwarranted, though some philosophers have held\nthat it is not strictly a demonstration. Our readers know how cogently\nand eloquently Dr. Brownson expatiates upon that beautiful formula, _Ens\ncreat existentias_. GOD IS. Every affirmation and reality announces that\nglorious and all-sufficient Being. Nothing less than himself can satisfy\nour immortal longings and aspirations. The very difficulties that\nenshroud our ideas of the Supreme Being seem to be only \u201cdark with\nexcess of light.\u201d Nor has this truth, on which man\u2019s feet have been\nstayed since the creation, ever been shaken. Dr. Newman, using\nLamennais\u2019 argument from universal authority, but without falling into\nLamennais\u2019 mistake of its being the only argument, challenges the world\nto explain away the universal consent of mankind to the divine\nexistence. Cicero only echoes Plato when he says that there never was a\nnation, no matter how barbarous, that had not some idea of the existence\nof God. Talleyrand used to say: \u201cThere is somebody that has more\nintellect than Napoleon and more wit than Voltaire, and that somebody\nis\u2014mankind.\u201d The great heart of the world leaps to its Creator, and the\ntestimony of individual experience in all ages but repeats the saying of\nSt. Augustine: \u201cThou hast made us for thyself, O Lord! and our hearts\nare restless until they rest in thee.\u201d\n\nIf we compare this noble and sublime creed, \u201cI believe in God the Father\nAlmighty,\u201d with the hollow metaphysical and humanitarian beliefs of our\nunhappy age, we at once recognize the profound truth and beauty of many\nof the utterances of the ancient Fathers upon the subject of religion.\nTheir simple and antique majesty of thought and phrase is like a statue\nof Michael Angelo\u2019s alongside of a _bizarre_ specimen of fashionable\nceramics. St. Clement of Alexandria holds that there is only one\nreligion, and the great argument of St. Augustine\u2019s _City of God_ is the\nessential unity of the divine _cultus_, coming from Adam, through the\npatriarchs, the prophets, fully revealed in Christ the Son of God, and\ndestined to endure for ever. All theology germinates from the invocation\nof the three divine Persons. When we bless ourselves we worship God,\nwith the worship of unending ages, from everlasting to everlasting. The\nchurch condemned the proposition that all the virtues of the pagan\nphilosophers were vices. Christ, the God-Man, is the object of religion,\nand, as thus presented, he fulfils all the yearnings and hopes spoken of\nby the humanitarians, who, in making the human race at once the subject\nand object of worship, fail to see that Catholicity gratifies man beyond\nhis wildest dreams of exalted manhood and infinite progress; for\nhumanity cannot be raised higher than it has been raised by the Eternal\nSon of God, who, clothed with our glorified humanity, which he will\nnever lay aside, \u201csitteth at the right hand of the Majesty on high.\u201d\n\nIt seems an unworthy concession to a very weak school of scepticism for\nMax M\u00fcller, in the May number of the _Contemporary Review_, to propound\nthe queries, What is religion? Have we any religion? and, after giving a\nlong and flattering notice of every fool that says in his heart there is\nno God, to inform us graciously that there is a term for God in every\nlanguage with which he is acquainted. The logical vice of nearly all\nnon-Catholic scientific men here and in Europe at the present day is an\nignorant and unwarranted obtrusion of their crude theories upon the\nsubjects of religion. They have no perception of the exquisite sense and\nappositeness of the old saying, _Ne sutor ultra crepidam_. A satirical\nfriend, after listening to Proudhon\u2019s theories about the creation,\nremarked to him: \u201cWhat a pity God had not the benefit of your\nsuggestions when he made the world!\u201d and such was the hebetude of the\ninfidel that he rejoined: \u201cIn that event creation would have been\ninfinitely better.\u201d Huxley, who is pronounced a scientific charlatan\neven in those studies upon the _invertebrata_ to which he has devoted\ntwenty-five years, has the blasphemous audacity to call his Creator \u201ca\npedantic drill-sergeant\u201d; and Tyndall refers to his God as an\n\u201catom-manufacturer.\u201d Max M\u00fcller has far greater reverence, but his\nlatest utterances convict him hopelessly of pantheism, which is about\nthe absurdest form of \u201creligion\u201d that any unfortunate man can adopt.\n\nIt is a curious exemplification of the state of religious thought in\nEngland when such a man as M\u00fcller is selected to deliver a course of\nlectures upon theology. His only qualification is his philological\nlearning, of which Scaliger, the greatest of modern philologists, said\nits value in theology has been very much over-rated. To such an extent\ndoes M\u00fcller carry his linguistic fanaticism that he derives all reason\nand all truth from language. He settles a controversy by appealing to\nthe root of a word. The most cursory study of etymology suffices to show\nthat it is in the main a vague guess-work; and the words we employ to\nexpress the subtlest operations of the intellect are so many metaphors\nor images drawn from sensible objects. The word religion may be derived\nfrom three distinct roots, _relegere_, to read back, to retrace; or\n_religere_, to collect; or _religare_, to bind together; and an\nenthusiastic etymologist, warming with the subject, would run us back to\nBabel. Who would suppose that the word _goose_, for example, which, on\nthe \u201cbow-wow\u201d theory of language, must have originated with an old\nfarmer driving his poultry to market, is traceable directly to the\nSanscrit, through the Teutonic, Gothic, Latin, and Greek, and enjoys a\nproud pedigree of Aryan etymology? Like all modern specialists, M\u00fcller\ndrives his philological hobby through all theological science. He has\ndone a very great injury to religious thought by his constant prating\nabout the essential oneness of all creeds, and his studied purpose to\nrepresent Christianity as only a modification of the great\n\u201cworld-creeds,\u201d with a very decidedly expressed preference for the Vedas\nover the Gospels and for Zoroaster over St. John the Evangelist.\n\nIf Protestantism continues to disintegrate as rapidly in the next decade\nas it has in the last two, our theological professors may skip all the\ntracts at present devoted to the refutation of the principles and\nconsequences of the Reformation. The older controversial works are\nalready antiquated, and the theological lore of thirty years ago is no\nlonger available. Yet it is very doubtful if any solid advantage can be\ngained by the study of modern philosophy. The Holy Ghost, ever ruling\nthe mind of the church, brought about the definition of Papal\nInfallibility at the most opportune period of the world\u2019s history. The\nonly salvation for the human intellect is the dogmatic authority of the\nchurch, and the clearer this is shown and enforced the better for the\nworld. The day of tedious Christian controversy is gone for ever.\nAmicable discussions upon controverted points of doctrine are no longer\npossible. The field has been narrowed down. The contest now is conducted\nupon the primal bases of the primitive truths\u2014God or Satan, heaven or\nhell. \u201cUnder which king, Bezonian? Speak or die!\u201d When the admired and\nacknowledged \u201cleaders of modern thought\u201d are come to such a pass as to\nask if life is worth living? is there a hell? is not man the beginning\nand end of himself? was not Christ sublimely self-deceived? does not\nmatter contain the promise and potency of all life, and is not\nimmortality a splendid dream? it is manifestly useless labor for a\nCatholic theologian to pore for years over the question of Anglican\nOrders or the Donation of Constantine.\n\nOur objection to the prolonged study of philosophy must be understood\nnot of Catholic philosophy, which is the handmaid of revealed truth, but\nof those degrading systems that the materialistic mind of the age is\nconstantly spawning. The facilities of the printing-press, and the habit\nof writing philosophical articles and systems in the common languages,\nhave familiarized the world with a vast amount of error. One advantage\nof the learned tongues lay in their preventing many people from\nobtaining the little learning which is proverbially a dangerous thing.\nIn our day we not only have technical treatises on science, philosophy,\nand theology, but popular hand-books which aim at the greatest\nsimplicity and directness. Materialists give illustrated lectures to\nunscientific people, and labor strenuously to accommodate their ideas\neven to the unformed mind of childhood. The newspapers teem with all\nsorts of crude theories, and no effort is spared to disseminate the most\noutrageous fallacies. When Diderot and D\u2019Alembert started the\n_Encyclop\u00e9die_ there were protests and remonstrances from the church and\nfrom scientific bodies; but few persons could afford to purchase the\nhuge tomes, as compared with the multitudes that now can buy for a few\ncents a dangerous publication at any news-stand. The New York _Daily\nGraphic_, not content with printing a likeness of M\u00fcller, gave also long\nextracts from the article to which we have adverted; and nothing is\ncommoner than a so-called philosophical essay even in our lightest\nmagazines. With the help of a learned and often unintelligible\nphraseology the impression is left that a mighty mind, after many mental\nthroes, has given birth to a wonderful truth or profound reflection\ndestined to influence modern thought and lead eventually to the\nwidest-reaching social results. The only remedy for such a delusion is\nto impress readers with a modest consciousness of their own ability to\npenetrate the sibyllic meaning, which, if they fail to do, is very\nlikely without any meaning at all. By this manly and rational process it\nis surprising how quickly one sees through absurdities, and catches a\nglimpse of the ass\u2019 ears under the lion\u2019s skin. Our present study of the\nReligion of Humanity will illustrate this idea (not in our own case, of\ncourse). Let us take up a few of the most famous _dicta_ of\nhumanitarianism. Note the obscurity of the language, which in many cases\nis intentional. In Eckermann\u2019s _Conversations with Goethe_, who may be\nregarded as the first arch-priest of positivism, the sage of Weimar\nexpressly remarks that philosophical writers contemporary with him had\ntold him that when they were most perplexed and confused, that was the\nvery time when they courageously wrote on! This is enough to make a man\ngive up metaphysics for the rest of his days.\n\n\u201cMy theory,\u201d says Feuerbach, \u201cmay be condensed into two words\u2014nature and\nman. The cause of existence is not God\u2014a vague, mysterious, and\nindefinite term\u2014but nature. The being in which nature becomes conscious\nof itself is man. It follows that there is no God\u2014that is to say, no\nabstract being, distinct from nature and man, which disposes of the\ndestinies of the universe and mankind at its discretion; but this\nnegation is but the consequence of the cognition of God\u2019s identity with\nthe essence of nature and man.\u201d\n\nWhat does Feuerbach mean by nature? Something distinct from man,\nevidently, for he continually separates them. Ah! man is the being in\nwhich nature becomes conscious\u2014of what? Then nature, God, and man are\nsaid to be identical in essence. But if God is only an abstract term,\nhow can an abstraction enter into a conscious essence, and how does it\nfollow that after all there is no God? Oh! you mistake. This negation\n(of what?) is a consequence of a cognition, etc. Now, all this stuff\namounts to nothing but low, base materialism. There is not a particle of\nreasoning, fancy, or poetic beauty in the entire book from which this\nextract, which is clear by contrast with others, is taken. Yet George\nEliot, who is trumpeted through the world as a glorious prophetess of\nhumanity, deemed it worth her patient toil to translate this bathos into\nEnglish. In the foregoing extract are used at random words of deep and\npregnant import, the meaning of which has been fixed by the sharp and\nsubtle but eminently truthful and honest minds of Catholic philosophy\nand theology. These words are vilely misused by reputed philosophers,\nuntil there is no clearness or exactitude of statement in half the\nphilosophical treatises that one takes up to read. The church herself,\nin her dogmatic infallibility, has defined for all time the meanings of\ncertain expressions which she has made touchstones of the faith\u2014_tesser\u00e6\nfidei_. The devil was the first to equivocate, and his children have\nalways followed his example. The term \u201cnature\u201d has an exact\nphilosophical meaning which Feuerbach knew, and his school know.\nEssence, existence, cognition, and cause are words that have to be\nweighed with the nicest care when used in a philosophical disquisition.\nIf these writers are sincere they should speak their meaning plainly,\nand not darken counsel with vain words. The plain English of the extract\nis this: \u201cThere is no God in the sense of creator or judge of man. Man\nis his own God. We cannot know that anything exists outside of our own\nconsciousness.\u201d Even this is obscure, because there is darkness upon the\nface of these abysmal depths of unbelief, over which the Spirit of God\nnever moved.\n\nThe Religion of Humanity, in contradiction to the very consciousness and\nirresistible instincts and traditions of the human race, thus assumes\nthat there is no God but man, out-Mohammeding Mohammed, who admitted\nthat there is one God, and contented himself with the humbler title of\nprophet. It stands alone in its horrible deformity. It is a leper from\nwhich all other creeds shrink. It has attempted to prove its identity\nwith many of the old pagan beliefs, but, notwithstanding a cumbrous and\nlearned exposition of mythology, no such identification could be proved.\nThere are some gibing comments upon the gods in Lucian, and Juvenal at\ntimes hints slyly at the amours of Olympic Jove; but there is no student\nof mythology but knows the depth of the religious sentiment in the vast\nmasses of the Greek and Roman states. The worship of the earth, sea, and\nskies was idealized. It may be boldly asserted that ancient history does\nnot present any traces of the gross materialism of modern times.\n\u00c6schylus repeatedly declares that there was a power superior to Jove\nhimself, and the researches of Niebuhr have established the virtual\nmonotheism of Greece and Rome. Despite the multitude of gods, there was\nthe _Deus Optimus Maximus_, clearly spoken of by Tully, and not\nobscurely intimated in nearly every relic of ancient literature and art.\nThe attempt to trace the Religion of Humanity back to the beginnings of\nthe human race proved a complete failure. Man never worshipped himself\nas the Supreme God. There was a broad distinction made between the\nheroes or the emperors to whom divine honors were decreed and the gods\nthemselves. These are but the commonplaces of the history of religion;\nbut the attempt showed a consciousness of weakness on the part of this\nwretched school of unbelief. Euripides himself would have upbraided\nthem:\n\n \u0391\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u1fbd \u1f04\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u1f70 \u03c7\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u1f70 \u03b4\u03ad\u03c1\u03ba\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9.\n \u1f1c\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1 \u03b4\u1fbd \u03b5\u03c6 \u1f11\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd\n \u039a\u03b1\u03ba\u1f70 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd \u03ba\u03c5\u03c1\u03b5\u1fd6.[133]\n\nEvery effort that has been made to find a purely natural and human cause\nfor religion has failed. The wide study of religion which modern\nscepticism has unweariedly pursued always results in perplexing it the\nmore. Volney went to Palestine to disprove the ancient prophecies, and\nhis book shows their literal and startling fulfilment. Fichte used to\nopen his lectures upon God with the blasphemous remark, \u201cGentlemen,\nto-day let us construct the Supreme Being,\u201d but all attempts at such\nconstruction have only brought out more clearly the immemorial belief of\nhis creatures in his existence. The permanency of the original\ntraditions of the human family is so remarkable a phenomenon, in view of\nthe perishableness of merely human records, that the most sceptical\nminds have been struck with fear and amazement. It is like the living\nproof of the Psalmist\u2019s words: \u201cIf I go up into heaven, thou art there.\nIf I take the wings of the morning, and flee to the outermost ends of\nthe earth, thou art there!\u201d Even the pantheism of Brahminism is\nsomething entirely distinct from the confusion and chaos of the Religion\nof Humanity.\n\nStrauss, in his last book, _The Old and the New Faith_, asks if the\nmodern world is as religious as the ancient world was, and he appears to\nderive satisfaction from his conclusion that there is a vast falling off\nin religion. But as he does not deign to define what he means by\nreligion, we are left in the dark. One loses patience with the perverse\nstupidity of the British and American public, that have always their\nears erect for what Strauss will say, and sceptics will complacently\nassure you that there are arguments in Strauss that have left\nChristianity in a deplorable plight; whereas the fact is, Strauss\u2019 _Life\nof Christ_ is familiarly cited in the schools of Germany as an\nillustration of the futility of an argument against well-authenticated\nhuman testimony. Whately wrote a book to prove that such a person as\nNapoleon Bonaparte never existed, and Strauss wrote a book to prove that\nChrist never existed, both with equal success.\n\nThe true _animus_ of Comte, Strauss, Renan, and the other heads of this\nschool is demoniac hatred of Christ. Why are they for ever attacking\nhim, if, as they claim, all religions are preparative of the advent of\nthis Religion of Humanity? Why can they go into hysterics of admiration\nover Socrates, Voltaire, and Shakspere, yet foam with fury at the name\nof Jesus? They will not even credit our Saviour with effecting the\nslightest moral good in the world, but refer to his blessed religion as\na darkness and blight on the human intellect. Surely no true measure for\nthe elevation of humanity would throw aside Christianity. But it is\nclear that these men have no true love for man. It is only their\ninsufferable pride that will not bend the knee before Christ, or bend it\nin mockery like Renan and the author of _Ecce Homo_. They cry out, \u201cSon\nof David, what have we to do with you?\u201d and their cry is that of lost\nsouls. All the infidel literature about Christ that has appeared so\nabundantly in the past score of years bears traces of this humanitarian\nspirit. They fain would make out Christ to be a mere man, but they are\nin this quandary: that he had no \u201chumanitarian\u201d notions. He came to do\nthe will of his Father. He said nothing about the Sublime Humanity, the\ngreatness and glory of this world, the god-like intellect of man, the\nprogress of vast ideas, the universal diffusion of knowledge, the\ninfinite progressiveness of the species, the force of cosmic influences,\nand the gorgeous future that will dawn for woman. Therefore, worse than\npaganism, the Religion of Humanity will not erect a statue to him.\n\nComte, desirous of giving hierarchical form to positivism, invented a\nworship and a calendar in which were commemorated three hundred and\nsixty-five \u201ceminent servitors of humanity\u201d in place of the saints of the\nCatholic Church. He began with Moses and ended with himself. Among the\nsaints were Bichat, Condillac, Gutenberg, and Frederick II. of Prussia.\nHe also invented a public service, a hymnal, and a certain form of\nworshipping the Sublime Humanity, by which he probably meant himself. He\nhimself adored the Sublime Humanity as embodied and idealized in a very\ncommonplace lady. Guizot says of him that he made repeated attempts to\ncommit suicide, and in his review of positivism seems to think the\ninsanity of its founder a sufficient refutation of his strange opinions.\nHe admits, however, that long before Comte\u2019s death his religion had made\nconsiderable progress in France and in England, where it was\nenthusiastically embraced by two men who, one would suppose, would be\nthe last to adopt a fantastic creed\u2014J. S. Mill and Wm. Hartpole Lecky,\nthe historian of rationalism.\n\nToning down the sublimities of the irrepressible Comte, and not deigning\nto admit his hierarchy or his saints\u2014which, to say the truth, smacked\ntoo much of Catholicity\u2014the positivists of England and America contented\nthemselves with a denial of all supernatural religion, and announced\nwith a flourish of trumpets the infinite perfectibility of the human\nrace, the glory of humanity, the cosmic emotion which is the deepest\nreligious feeling of humanity, and the superiority of aggregate\nimmortality to a private or personal existence after death. Man, very\nmuch in the abstract, was exalted to the throne of the Deity. All this\nblatant puffing of modern progress, development, and evolution is kept\nup by these man-worshippers. The spirit is the spirit of pride. But it\nmust in justice be said of Mr. Frothingham that he is not so\nenthusiastic in the cause of humanity as he might be. His book on the\nsubject is quite tame when contrasted, say, with Comte\u2019s _Woman and\nPriest_. He does not gush enough, and he has not the irreverent boldness\nof his master, Theodore Parker. Mr. Frothingham is not by any means an\nemotional man, and this is fatal to his humanitarian progress. Nor is he\na deeply-read man even in his own theology, though, to be sure, no sane\nman would blame him for that defect.\n\nThe doctrine of the infinite progressiveness of man is another of those\nhigh-sounding phrases that no logic will tolerate. There can be no\ninternal progress in religion. All the scientific discoveries that may\nbe made to the end of time will not have the slightest influence upon\none jot or one tittle of revealed truth. Nor will they have any\nessential or related power over the truths of natural theology, or what\nis generally known as such. The relations of man to God, the coming of\nChrist, the establishment and conservation of his church, are truths and\nfacts that can never be changed. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but\nthe word of God shall not pass. This is why the church is so calm when\nall Protestantism is in a ferment about science. The two spheres of\ntruth, divine and human, supernatural and natural, can never collide.\nMan may progress in many things, but religion, the Everlasting Yea, as\nCarlyle calls it, cannot from its very nature change, transform,\nadvance, increase, or diminish. The humanitarians long for the day when\nthere will be no sects and no religious differences. Then the best plan\nis for all the sects to enter the Catholic Church. They want a religion\nfor man, and surely that religion is the best which God himself made for\nman.\n\nThere is a great deal of speciousness in this cry of progress, culture,\nand modern enlightenment, and even Catholics are deceived by the spirit\nof pride, for man from the beginning loved to consider himself a god\nknowing good from evil. Humanitarianism gains adherents in Catholic\ncountries who would roar with laughter at the idea of turning\nProtestants. France never forgets those delusive words, liberty,\nfraternity, and equality, and this religion of humanity has blazoned\nthem over the world. The restlessness under church government, the\nrational submission which the faith exacts, the lessons of\nmortification, and the stern portrayal of man which Christianity\npresents are all influences that tend to the progress of\nhumanitarianism. No man likes to hear the dread truth regarding his\nslavery to the devil, the necessity of grace, the duty of confessing,\nand his unutterable weakness. It is these that are the unpalatable\ntruths which spoil the teaching of the Ideal Man, as they call our\nSaviour. Comte would not suffer him to be enrolled among his saints,\nperhaps for the reason that St. Frederick the Great of Prussia used to\nrefer to our Lord as _L\u2019Infame_. If there is one truth most saliently\nbrought out in the Gospel, it is that without Christ we can do nothing,\nand this would never suit the apostles of the infinite progressiveness\nof the human race.\n\nThis latter absurdity, most ridiculous when applied to religion, is not\na whit more reasonable as applied to science. There must be a limit. The\nhuman mind is not infinite. No doubt we shall continue our improvements\nin machinery. There can be no vast progress made in literature or art.\nIt seems from the history of the race that our powers are limited, and,\nthough we boast of our great mechanical improvements, Washington Irving\nsaid that he would not be surprised if they yet unearthed a locomotive\nengine from the ruins of Persepolis. Infinite progress would seem to be\nonly a figment of the brain of a poetic humanitarian. It is well known\nthat Don Quixote, who certainly gave himself up to redressing the wrongs\nof humanity, was peculiarly eloquent upon the charms and perfections of\nDulcinea; though the honest old knight, crackbrained though he was,\nwould have crossed himself devoutly at the idea of Dulcinea being a\ndivinity in any other sense than that familiar to true lovers.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe motives for moral action presented by the humanitarian theory are\nvery noble but, alas! very impracticable. While we entirely dissent from\nthe opinion of Bentham and Paley, that selfishness is the guiding\nprinciple of our actions\u2014an opinion which is at once an insult and a\nfalsehood\u2014still the vast majority of mankind cannot be influenced by the\nvery airy and sublime notions of our philosophers. Even natural goodness\nappears to be prompted by heavenly intimations and aids. _Gratia\nsupponit naturam._ Of course a good work, to merit salvation, must be\nattended with grace from its origin to its consummation. But our\nhumanitarians will not even promise us happiness hereafter, and we know\nhow slim are the chances for happiness in this world. This great\nhumanity for which we must labor is only an abstraction. No doubt a man\nmay have a real and pure love for his fellow-man on merely speculative\ngrounds or through natural kindness of heart; for have we not a Bergh\nfor the brutes? All of us, however, feel how vague and impotent such a\nfeeling must be or is likely to become. Christ unites love of our\nneighbor with love of God, its reason and cause, and there is a world of\nsweet philosophy in this precept on which depend the law and the\nprophets. It is the only motive that has been found fruitful in any age.\nCharity is a Christian growth. There was not one hospital in pagan\nAthens or Rome, though there were numerous coteries of eminent\nphilosophers.\n\nFrom whatever side we view this strange \u201creligion,\u201d its hollowness and\nabsurdity become apparent. Its genesis in a morbid mind clouded at times\nwith insanity, and its elaboration in other morally unbalanced\nintellects, awaken at the outset doubts of its coherency. The vagueness\nof its formulas wearies and confounds the critic. It has no\nphilosophical structure, and, we are afraid, no theological results. Its\nliterature is marked with weak sentiment and an effusive love and praise\nof mere naturalism\u2014we were going to say mere animalism\u2014which cannot hold\nany mind that has a perception of the true dignity and exaltation of\nhuman nature as created by God and redeemed by his only Son. So far as\nwe are aware, it has exerted no appreciable influence upon the morality\nof the world, and its failure to commend itself generally to the\nhumanity it so loudly praises would indicate that men perceive its\nintrinsic weakness and ineptitudes.\n\nWe know that many Protestants condemn and detest this creed as heartily\nas does the church, which in simple and noble language condemned it in\nthe very first session of the Vatican Council. But we cannot help\nthinking that Protestantism has had much to do in bringing the monster\nto birth. It is the logical evolution of Protestant right of private\njudgment, of personal independence of the doctrinal authority of the\nchurch, and of unwise tolerance of all sorts of mischievous religious\nvagaries. Stripped, of all disguises and forced to speak in true tones,\nthis deified man of the Religion of Humanity is the Antichrist, setting\nhimself up as God and claiming to be God. It is the apotheosis of man,\nwho renews the folly of building a tower of pride in which he may secure\nhimself against the wrath of the Eternal. But before the face of His\nwrath who can abide? It will not do to speak of the Omniscient as the\nUnknowable or the Unknowing.\n\nThe worst feature of this _placitum_ is that it is militant and\naggressive. Comte, as we have said, established a regular system of\nworship, and what passes under the more respectable name of Unitarianism\nis really formulated positivism. We should care little for it, did it\nopenly profess its origin and purpose, but it works under a false name\nand has no scruples about deceiving the confiding and unwary. The Boston\n_Index_ would be highly indignant if asked to defend Comte\u2019s calendar of\nsaints and to explain the _culte_ of the Sublime Humanity; and George\nEliot places in the mouth of Daniel Deronda the most exquisite praise\nand appreciation of the Hebrew creed. Comte says that the day advances\nwhen we shall worship no being inferior to man; and as no man is very\nmuch disposed to think another greater than himself, especially under\nthe religious teachings which we have analyzed, each of us will act\npractically upon Satan\u2019s declaration to Eve, \u201cYou shall be as God.\u201d\n\nThere is no doubt that as the doctrinal authority of Protestantism fades\naway year by year, this pronounced individualism will more boldly assert\nitself. The gospel of vulgar and intense selfishness will triumph, and\nthe worst phases of paganism will return. St. Paul complains of the\nheathens that they were without affection, and this was because of their\ncreed. The spirit of modern infidelity hates and despises the poor, the\nignorant, and, like the Spartans of old, would soon dispose of the sick,\nthe lame, and the blind. Herbert Spencer luckily is no philosopher,\nthough he labors hard to synthetize humanitarianism. Should this\nmonstrous parody on religion ever take clear and scientific form, all\ntraces of faith and charity in Protestantism will disappear. Fetichism\nitself would be better than this horrible worship and deification of\nselfishness. If a man believes in anything outside of himself as\nsomething diviner and better than he, there is hope for him; but woe to\nhim and to his neighbor when he enthrones himself upon an altar and\nworships his humanity. It is to be hoped that much of the excessive\nlaudation of ourselves in these days springs from no deeper source than\nan overweening opinion of our abilities. It may be only vanity. It may\nnot be spiritual and intellectual pride. This question we leave to the\nreflection of our readers, with a concluding remark that all exaltation\nof the merely natural powers of the human intellect is attended with\nextreme danger to moral sanity. The man who has cast off the yoke of the\nchurch, the traditions of his race, and the honest suggestions of his\nconscience has already joined the ranks of the arch-deceiver who first\nflattered us with hopes of divinity, and now tempts us with unbounded\nvisions of the enlightenment of the world, social progress, the\npolitical amelioration of the human race, the downfall of all tyranny in\nchurch and state, and the splendid advent of the coming man; but he only\nlures us to that awful destruction which hurled him from heaven because\nof the usurping thought, \u201cI will become like unto the Most High.\u201d\n\nFootnote 132:\n\n 1. _Gottheit, Freiheit und Unsterblichkeit._ Von L. A. Feuerbach.\n Leipzig.\n\n 2. _The Essence of Christianity._ Idem. Translated by George Eliot.\n London.\n\n 3. _The Religion of Humanity._ By O. B. Frothingham. New York.\n\nFootnote 133:\n\n _Hecuba._\n\n\n\n\n SONNET.\n UNCONSCIOUS FACULTIES.\n\n\n Say, do the mighty winds in silence sweep\n The crystal breadth of ocean\u2019s quivering plane?\n The unmeasured forests, quickening in their sleep,\n Breathe they no sound, or breathe that sound in vain?\n Say, can our compass small of ear and brain\n With Nature\u2019s boundless concords measure keep?\n Not so! _Her_ lyre, we know, hath tones too deep,\n Too high, for man to hear, or to sustain.\n Nor doubt that likewise in this soul of ours\n Functions and faculties there work alway\n Below the level of our conscious powers;\n And chords whose music\u2014were there aught to wake\n Its echoes \u2019mid that inner world\u2014would shake\n To dust our tenement of mortal clay.\n\n\n\n\n PEARL\n\n\nBY KATHLEEN O\u2019MEARA, AUTHOR OF \u201cIZA\u2019S STORY,\u201d \u201cA SALON IN THE LAST DAYS\nOF THE EMPIRE,\u201d \u201cARE YOU MY WIFE?\u201d ETC.\n\n\n CHAPTER I.\n THE REDACRES.\n\n\nThe Redacres were at home on Saturday evening\u2014at home in the pleasant,\nsimple way that used to be the fashion in Paris some twenty, or even\nten, years ago. They lived in an entresol in the Faubourg St. Honor\u00e9 and\ntheir friends flocked to them in troops regularly every Saturday,\ncrowding the spacious, old-fashioned salon, where there was always a\ncordial welcome to be had, cheerful conversation, excellent tea, and a\nblazing hearth when the weather was cold. It was bitterly cold on this\nJanuary evening when I beg to introduce you to the Redacre family. The\nhead of the house, Colonel Redacre, was a retired cavalry officer, who\nhad lost his left leg at Balaklava; Mrs. Redacre had been a beautiful,\nand was still a lovely, woman; there were two sons who were at Eton, and\ntwo daughters, both at home, Pearl and Polly.\n\nThe colonel had spent ten years in India, and his wife had become so\nacclimatized to those burning skies that she could not bear the climate\nof England on leaving them. She was, indeed, a chronic invalid, and this\nwas why they lived abroad. At least, Colonel Redacre always gave his\nwife\u2019s health as a reason for not living in England, and took no small\nshare of credit to himself for making this sacrifice of personal choice\nto his duty as a husband. When old friends, who knew how strong were his\nEnglish predilections, pitied him for having to reside in France, he\nwould heave a sigh, and, looking towards his wife reclining on her\ncushions, say: \u201cYes, yes; but she\u2019s worth it, bless her!\u201d And nothing\nwas prettier than the smile with which Mrs. Redacre would thank him for\nthis remark when it was made in her hearing, as it generally was.\n\nIt was past nine, and there were a good many people in the salon. Some\nof the ladies were in full evening dress, having turned in for an hour\nbefore going to some larger assembly; but the greater number were in\nplain morning dresses. There was a whist-table in a far corner of the\nlarge, square room, and the players were deep in their game, the\npartners being Mrs. Monteagle and the Comte de Kerbec, the Comtesse de\nKerbec and Mr. Kingspring.\n\nPolly Redacre was singing, accompanied by her sister Pearl. Polly was a\nbeauty. The most fastidious critic could not have found a fault in her\nface; the lines and the coloring were alike perfect. And yet, when you\nhad paid this inevitable tribute of admiration to the chiselled features\nand brilliant complexion, to the harmonious grace of her movements, your\neyes turned to Pearl\u2019s face and lingered there, riveted by some more\npotent spell than mere beauty. You never dreamed of analyzing Pearl\u2019s\nface; you enjoyed it, and you said involuntarily, \u201cWhat a sweet girl! I\nshould like to talk to her. What a spirit there is in her eyes! what fun\nin those dimples!\u201d And your own face broke into sympathetic smiles.\nThere was a close family likeness between the sisters; both were rather\nabove the medium height, and both were very fair. Polly\u2019s eyes were deep\nblue, almond-shaped, and black-fringed. Pearl\u2019s were brown, bright and\nlimpid as a Scotch pebble; as to their shape, you never gave that a\nthought; you only saw that, whether the light in them was soft,\nmischievous, or merry, they were good to look at.\n\nThe song was over.\n\n\u201cMme. la Baronne L\u00e9opold, Mme. Blanche, et M. le Capitaine L\u00e9opold!\u201d\ncalled out the servant. Pearl and Polly flew to greet Blanche, who was\nPolly\u2019s bosom-friend, and the three girls betook themselves to a private\ncorner of their own, and were soon deep in confidential talk. Mme.\nL\u00e9opold got out her tapestry, and began stitching away by the shaded\nlamp near Mrs. Redacre\u2019s sofa; and L\u00e9on, after doubling himself in two\nbefore the ladies of the house three separate times, fell in with a\ngroup of gentlemen on the hearth-rug. Presently Mme. L\u00e9opold looked up\nfrom her floss silks and called out to the young girls:\n\n\u201cHave we interrupted the music, mesdemoiselles? I implore of you to go\non with it! My son will be in despair if you don\u2019t; he perfectly adores\nmusic. I hope you will induce him to sing a duet with you\u2014that one from\n_Fra Diavolo_ that goes so well with your voice, Pearl. Do make him sing\nit, dear child, I pray you!\u201d\n\nThus adjured, Pearl drifted away to capture the reluctant and, so far,\nunconscious songster, who again doubled himself in two, and vowed that\nhe was a miserable singer, but at the orders of _ces demoiselles_.\n\n\u201cAre we not to see L\u00e9opold this evening?\u201d inquired Col. Redacre in his\nloud military tones.\n\n\u201cCan I say? He is so busy. He keeps me hard at work, too; I write twenty\nletters a day for him, and still he can\u2019t get through all his\ncorrespondence. One must have real patriotism to serve one\u2019s country in\nFrance, my dear colonel.\u201d\n\n\u201cHumph! It is easy enough to serve it when one can stay at home and keep\none\u2019s legs,\u201d grunted the colonel. \u201cI should not mind writing five\nhundred letters a day if I could get my leg back.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! but you are a hero,\u201d smiled Mme. L\u00e9opold.\n\nPresently, throwing aside her tapestry, she sallied over to the\ncard-table, and, laying her hand on Mrs. Monteagle\u2019s shoulder, \u201cWill\nyour game soon be done, ch\u00e8re madame?\u201d she said. \u201cI want to have a\nlittle chat with you, and it is so difficult for me to get to you in the\nday! M. L\u00e9opold, since he is in the Chamber, works me to death. Not that\nI complain of it. I am proud to be of use to him; but it is a life of\nsacrifice.\u201d And the patriot\u2019s wife sighed.\n\n\u201cMy dear baronne, if there be a thing I resent it is having my game of\nwhist interfered with,\u201d burst out Mme. de Kerbec before Mrs. Monteagle\ncould answer. \u201cHow is Mrs. Monteagle to give her full attention to the\ngame, if you stand there watching the minutes till it is over?\u201d And the\nirate whist-player turned down her hand and looked indignantly at the\nintruder.\n\nMme. L\u00e9opold fled with a pretty pretence of terror; and Mrs. Monteagle,\nwhose attention had been disturbed by the interruption, after nervously\nsurveying a wretched set of cards, threw a low trump\u2014on her partner\u2019s\nace.\n\nM. de Kerbec uttered a meek \u201cOh!\u201d of expostulation.\n\n\u201cI feel for you, Jack\u2014I do indeed,\u201d said Mme. de Kerbec. \u201cThe idea of\nhaving a partner that trumps one\u2019s ace the second round!\u201d\n\n\u201cDear me! I thought it was the third round,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle; \u201cthat\nwas why I risked my little trump.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you deserved to lose your little trump!\u201d said Mme. de Kerbec. \u201cYou\nshould have trumped high if you trumped at all; third in hand _always_\nplays high!\u201d\n\n\u201cMa ch\u00e8re amie,\u201d put in meekly M. de Kerbec, \u201cone plays as one can; my\npartner may not have any high trumps.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood heavens! count,\u201d screamed his wife, \u201cthe idea of your exposing\nyour partner\u2019s hand in this way!\u201d\n\n\u201cMa ch\u00e8re amie, I am not exposing it; I merely suggest that\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cHold your tongue, count! What business have you to suggest? What sort\nof whist is this? I thought whist meant _hush_; and you have done\nnothing but chatter ever since we sat down.\u201d\n\nWhen Mme. de Kerbec addressed her husband as \u201ccount,\u201d those who knew M.\nde Kerbec felt for him; when she called him \u201cJack\u201d they congratulated\nhim. His real name was Jacques; but though she had been married to him\nfor thirty years, and lived nearly all that time in France, his wife had\nnever modified her hard English ring of the soft French name, hammering\nit out with three _k_\u2019s at the end.\n\n\u201cIt sounds so uncommonly like _whack_\u201d Col. Redacre used to say, \u201cthat I\nfeel for poor Kerbec, as if I saw the stick coming down on him.\u201d\n\nHe jocosely called Mme. de Kerbec \u201cCaptain Jack\u201d one day, and the name\nstuck to her, as appropriate nicknames sometimes will. And yet Captain\nJack was very kind to her husband, letting no one bully him but herself.\n\nHer partner this evening, Mr. Kingspring, was an excellent player, but\nhe had his temper so well in hand that no one suffered from this\nsuperiority. If his partner had trumped his ace on the first round, he\nwould have received the stab with a lovely smile; but when he succeeded\nin trumping his adversary\u2019s ace, or some such indelicate feat, he had a\nway of quietly chuckling that was very offensive to Capt. Jack.\nTo-night, however, they being partners, she beamed on him.\n\n\u201cHa! ha! This time we looked out,\u201d said M. de Kerbec. \u201cWhen monsieur\nleads trumps we know that means mischief.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do _you_ mean by making such remarks?\u201d demanded Mme, de Kerbec.\n\u201cWill you hold your tongue and attend to the game? Go on, partner; very\nwell played. Oh! it is my turn.\u201d\n\nThe game went on in silence for a couple of rounds.\n\n\u201cHumph!\u201d muttered Mme. de Kerbec, putting the ten of clubs on Mrs.\nMonteagle\u2019s deuce; M. de Kerbec threw the knave, and Mr. Kingspring took\nit with his queen. Mrs. Monteagle looked aghast.\n\n\u201cWhy, count,\u201d she said, \u201cI made sure you had either ace or king. I led\nfrom nothing.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally, Mrs. Monteagle, you are past praying for!\u201d exclaimed Mme. de\nKerbec indignantly.\n\n\u201cI was certain my partner had the ace,\u201d pleaded the culprit.\n\n\u201cHow could he have it when I took the very first trick with it?\u201d\n\n\u201cSo you did, ma ch\u00e8re amie,\u201d said the count, \u201cand I quite forgot it, or\nI should have played my king; but I thought monsieur had the ace, and\nwould have come down on me with it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou thought, forsooth! What business had you to think at all? You know\nthe rule\u2014third in hand; you should have stuck to the rule and taken the\nconsequences.\u201d\n\n\u201cMa ch\u00e8re amie, you sometimes remind me that it is part of genius to\nknow when to break rules.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t throw my words in my face, count. And don\u2019t argue with me about\nwhist. I have been playing whist with you these thirty years, and\n_everybody_ knows I am a better player than you!\u201d\n\n\u201cShall I bring you some tea now?\u201d said Pearl, advancing to the\nwhist-table and cutting short the little discussion between the count\nand Capt. Jack.\n\n\u201cI shall be _most_ thankful for a cup, my dear,\u201d said that lady in an\naggrieved tone; \u201cbut not strong. I can\u2019t have my night\u2019s rest spoiled\nfor anybody. Jack, you know how I like my tea; just go and get me a cup,\nif it\u2019s not too much trouble.\u201d\n\nThe obedient Jack flew to obey.\n\nThe large room was now very full; there were a few groups of splendid\nladies in diamonds and shining silks and a great many gentlemen in\nuniform that gave quite a brilliant air to the unceremonious gathering.\nPolly Redacre was a picture to look at as she moved about in her white\nmuslin, her bright gold hair shining more effectively than any coronet\nof jewels, and her cheeks flushed with pleasurable excitement to the\nbrightest rose tint. She knew she was by far the loveliest object in the\nroom, and she took great pleasure in the thought. And who shall blame\nher? Pearl certainly did not. Indeed, Pearl had a great deal to answer\nfor in the way she ministered to her sister\u2019s vanity; for she was ten\ntimes as vain of Polly\u2019s beauty as Polly herself was. Col. Redacre was\ntalking very loudly, while his right hand expostulated with Balaklava,\nhis wooden leg, so called in memory of the field where he lost the\noriginal. Every change in the weather affected Balaklava painfully; for\nthe colonel declared that his wooden limb had more sensibility in it\nthan all the rest of his body combined. To-night the sudden frost that\nhad set in was shooting fifty razors a minute in and out of it. He was\nconfiding this detail to M. de Kerbec\u2019s sympathizing ear in his very\nloudest tones when a voice called out:\n\n\u201cJack, is this tea sweetened?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly, ma ch\u00e8re amie; that is\u2014I really don\u2019t know, now I remember.\nMlle. Pearl prepared it, and I have no doubt it is well sweetened.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have no doubt! I dare say not. You care very little about what\ninterests _me_, count. Pray don\u2019t trouble yourself about it now.\u201d And\nJack retreated, meek and snubbed.\n\n\u201cThe selfishness of men!\u201d said Mme. de Kerbec, as she helped herself\nfrom the bowl Pearl held out\u2014\u201cthe selfishness of men! He knows if there\nis a thing I _detest_ it is tasting my tea without the sugar.\u201d\n\nWhile the tea-serving was going on L\u00e9on L\u00e9opold stood with his back to\nthe wall and watched the pretty tea-table with its glistening silver and\nporcelain, and graceful cup-bearers hurrying to and fro; he never\ndreamed of lending more than a moral assistance to the latter, as an\nEnglishman in his place would have done. Blanche was intimate as a\nsister with Pearl and Polly Redacre; but L\u00e9on seldom showed himself on a\nSaturday evening. He was on the most distant terms of acquaintanceship\nwith the ladies of the family, with whom he was always as silent as a\nsphinx. No wonder Polly voted him a muff. But Pearl declared her belief\nthat L\u00e9on had plenty of fun in him, if one only could get at it. He was\nvery good-looking, rather striking, indeed, in appearance; not tall but\nfinely proportioned, with a blue shaven chin and a short black\nmoustache, and solemn, coal-black eyes that had a way of looking at you,\nPearl said, as if to see whether you or he should look longest without\nlaughing. Colonel Redacre thought highly of him, and said he had the\nmaking of a first-rate soldier in him; but Pearl declared this was\nbecause L\u00e9on listened so attentively to the description of the Balaklava\ncharge every time her father related it, which was pretty nearly every\ntime he met L\u00e9on.\n\n\u201cAnd that song we were to have had from your son?\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle,\ntaking her tea-cup to a seat near Mme. L\u00e9opold. \u201cI have a poor opinion\nof a young man who can sing and won\u2019t sing; either he is shy, which\nmeans that he is a goose, or he wants to make a fuss over it, which\nmeans that he is a coxcomb.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear boy, you must execute yourself after that!\u201d exclaimed his\nmother, laughing.\n\n\u201cI but await the orders of ces demoiselles,\u201d protested L\u00e9on, starting\nfrom his position against the wall and doubling himself in two before\nPearl. He went straight to the piano, and soon the room was echoing to\nthe lament of the disconsolate lover to his El\u00e9onore. L\u00e9on had a fine\nvoice, fairly cultivated, and, if he had not sung exactly as if he had\nbeen a wooden man, it would have been very pleasant to listen to him;\nbut Pearl said it was just like accompanying an automaton.\n\n\u201cHow well they suit!\u201d observed Mme. L\u00e9opold in a _sotto voce_, as she\nglanced towards the piano, where L\u00e9on\u2019s black head showed above Pearl\u2019s\nfair face and dancing brown eyes. Mrs. Monteagle knew at once why she\nhad been convened to a little chat by L\u00e9on\u2019s mother.\n\n\u201cYes; they make a good effect as contrasts.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd both are so musical! My son has a passion for music.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf he has all his passions under as good control as he seems to have\nthis one, he is a model young man\u2014indeed, a model man for any age,\u201d said\nMrs. Monteagle with a little grunt that was peculiar to her. To judge of\nMrs. Monteagle\u2019s character from seeing her at whist would have been a\ngrievous mistake; you would have supposed she had not the spirit of a\nmouse, whereas she had, on the contrary, a very high spirit, and held\nher own everywhere and against all comers except at cards, and above all\nwhen Mme. de Kerbec was playing. She laughed at Mme. de Kerbec\neverywhere except at the whist-table, and there she was completely cowed\nby her.\n\n\u201cI suppose I am not a witness to be trusted,\u201d remarked Mme. L\u00e9opold;\n\u201cbut I can testify that he _is_ a model man. He is certainly a model\nson, and a good son is generally good in every other relation.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat depends. He loves you, so it costs him nothing to be good to you.\nWe are all of us good to those we love.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd why should he not love his wife? Is there any reason why he should\nnot love her?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot that I know of; but I did not know he had a wife.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! but I have got one for him. Ch\u00e8re madame, that is why I wanted to\nhave a little chat with you. I have found a perfect wife for my son, and\nI want you to arrange it. Do you not guess?\u201d\n\nYes, Mrs. Monteagle did; and involuntarily her eyes wandered to the\npiano, where Pearl was striving earnestly, but in vain, to draw out by\nher passionate accompaniment some responsive spark from the dark face\nthat was solemnly appealing to his El\u00e9onore, her own face meanwhile\nflushed with the effort and the music; perhaps also by her endeavors to\nkeep those dimples under control, for they seemed actually bursting with\nsuppressed laughter.\n\n\u201cHow lovely she is!\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle, instead of answering the eager\nmother.\n\n\u201cShe is a most sweet girl, and would, I feel sure, make a perfect wife\nfor my L\u00e9on.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you are equally sure that he would make her a perfect husband?\u201d\n\n\u201cCh\u00e8re madame! can you look at him and doubt it?\u201d\n\n\u201cIs he so very much in love with her?\u201d\n\nMme. L\u00e9opold gave an imperceptible start, and put her handkerchief to\nher mouth with a little cough; but the pantomime was lost on her\ncompanion, who was watching Pearl and observing mentally, \u201cShe is not in\nlove with him, at any rate.\u201d The brown eyes were sending forth sparks of\nmerriment, and looked as if they were on the point of exploding outright\nwith fun.\n\n\u201cMy son is the very soul of honor,\u201d Mme. L\u00e9opold went on to explain.\n\u201cBefore doing anything that could in the faintest degree compromise\nMlle. Pearl, it was necessary for me to arrange all the essentials; and,\nas an old and valued friend of the family, I thought you would be, of\nall others, the person to help me in this. Let us, therefore, come to\nthe point at once in all simplicity. What is her _dot_?\u201d\n\n\u201cHer _dot_! Good gracious! how should I know?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot, perhaps, the exact sum, but you surely must know _\u00e0-peu-pr\u00e8s_,\nintimate as you are.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have not the remotest idea on the subject. I never heard that she had\na _dot_ at all. Now you mention it, I should think it highly probable\nshe had not. But if your son be really attached to her, that\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201c_Bont\u00e9 divine!_ No _dot_! A man of Col. Redacre\u2019s position not give his\ndaughter a _dot_! You are surely not serious?\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed I am. He has two sons to provide for, and in England the sons\ncome first; the daughters are provided for by their husbands. Your son\nbeing an only son and so well off, it does not\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cBut his sons will have a _carri\u00e8re_; and besides there is an estate\nthat is to come to the eldest, I understand. Then there is the mother\u2019s\nfortune to be divided amongst the younger children. Surely the girls\u2019\n_dot_ will come out of that?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou seem to be much better informed about the family affairs than I\nam,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle. \u201cI know nothing about Mrs. Redacre\u2019s fortune;\nbut, now you mention it, I dare say it will be divided amongst the\nyounger ones. In any case I should think your son ran no risk in\ntrusting all that in Col. Redacre\u2019s hands.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere can be no question of risk. I know my duty to my son better than\nto let him run any risk on such a point as that. It must be all clearly\nand distinctly understood before he is committed in any way.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt seems to me he is committed very extensively, if he has fallen in\nlove,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle. \u201cYou should not have thrown him in Pearl\u2019s\nway, if you were not prepared for his running risks.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Qu\u2019elle est donc romanesque!_\u201d exclaimed Mme. L\u00e9opold, putting her\nhandkerchief to her mouth, as if she were exploding with laughter; but\nMrs. Monteagle could see that she was not laughing at all.\n\n\u201cWhat is it that you wish me to do in the affair?\u201d she inquired. \u201cDo you\nwant me to sound Pearl and find out whether she returns your son\u2019s\naffection?\u201d\n\n\u201c_Grand Dieu!_ that would be madness. I would not breathe a word that\ncould disturb the dear child\u2019s peace of mind until we find out what the\nexact figure of her _dot_ is. Surely you can help me to do this.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat odd people you French are! Ha! ha! ha!\u201d And Mrs. Monteagle fell\nback in her chair and had her laugh out, in spite of Mme. L\u00e9opold\u2019s\nagonizing pressure of the hand and imploring eyes at her to be quiet.\n\n\u201cCol. Redacre would think I had taken leave of my senses if I were to go\nand catechise him about his money affairs,\u201d said the incorrigible\nconfidante when she had sufficiently recovered herself.\n\n\u201cBut through the family lawyer you might do it. Ch\u00e8re amie,\u201d pleaded the\nmother, \u201ccould you not ask him?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe would tell me to mind my own business. Besides, I don\u2019t know the\nman\u2019s name, or where he lives, or anything about him.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you could easily find out. How do families do in England in such\ncases? How do the parents find out about the young people\u2019s fortune\nbefore they ask for them in marriage?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey don\u2019t find out, and they don\u2019t ask; the young people manage their\nown affairs first, and leave the parents to fight over settlements\nafterwards.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if it turns out there is nothing to settle on either side? Suppose\nthe young folk have become engaged without any money between them?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is their affair; they must get out of it as well as they can.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the young lady\u2019s name is compromised, and if she loves the man she\nbreaks her heart and dies! Very sensible and very pretty indeed!\u201d\n\n\u201cTut! tut! They don\u2019t die off so easily as all that, pretty dears! Every\ngirl I know has had her little romance before she marries; and all the\nbetter for it. It takes the nonsense out of a girl to be crossed in\nlove.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow shocking!\u201d cried Mme. L\u00e9opold, lifting up her hands. \u201cWith us a\nyoung girl goes to the altar with the virgin bloom of her heart\nuntouched.\u201d\n\n\u201cPish! Don\u2019t talk such stuff to me, my dear lady,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle\nwith a contemptuous grunt. \u201cVirgin bloom, forsooth! You marry your\ndaughters before they are out of the nursery, while they are ignorant\nbabies that have had no time to develop either mind or heart or\ncharacter. And what comes of it half the time? When one sees the way you\nFrench people arrange your marriages, the wonder is that you are not ten\ntimes worse than you are\u2014ten times worse!\u201d\n\nThere was plenty of noise in the room, and, what between Polly\u2019s\nperformance on the piano and the general buzz of voices all round, there\nwas little danger of the private conference being overheard; still, Mme.\nL\u00e9opold cast nervous glances on either side while Mrs. Monteagle thus\ndenounced the evil courses of the French people.\n\n\u201cThen you decline to be my intermediary in this matter?\u201d said the\ndisappointed mother, lowering her voice to the most confidential tone.\n\n\u201cI decline to commit an impertinence that would lead to my being shown\nto the door\u2014and very properly; but I shall be most happy to convey the\noffer of your son\u2019s hand to my young friend Pearl, if you and he honor\nme with the mission.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you, dear madame; you are very kind. I must consult first\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cM. le Baron L\u00e9opold!\u201d called out the servant. Mme. L\u00e9opold started, and\nwith a discreet pressure of the hand moved away and joined the group\ngathered round Mrs. Redacre\u2019s sofa.\n\n\u201cWho expected to see you appear this evening, legislator? I thought you\nwere at headquarters governing the country,\u201d said Col. Redacre,\npropelling reluctant Balaklava to meet the deputy.\n\n\u201cI have just come from the Int\u00e9rieur, where we have been holding a\nlittle private council,\u201d said M. L\u00e9opold, a fine, solid sort of man,\nwhom you might fire jokes at for an hour with impunity, so well encased\nwas he in good-natured self-approval.\n\nEverybody was glad when he appeared, for the deputy was delighted to see\neverybody, was always in good temper, and always had some bit of\npleasant news\u2014news, that is, that he considered pleasant. In person he\nwas the very opposite of his son L\u00e9on; very stout, and tall in\nproportion, florid in complexion, a shining bald head, and bland, fussy\nmanners. This evening he looked big with some mighty intelligence.\n\n\u201cWhat news? Are we to have war or not?\u201d asked Mr. Kingspring, who with\nseveral others crowded round the deputy.\n\n\u201cI myself think we are,\u201d he replied; \u201cbut I have been talking with\nCanrobert, and he thinks it will blow off.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Quel malheur!_\u201d said a voice from behind him. It was L\u00e9on\u2019s.\n\n\u201cAh! you soldiers call it a misfortune when you miss the chance of\nhaving your heads blown off.\u201d\n\n\u201cOr our legs, which is much worse,\u201d growled Col. Redacre; \u201cwhen a man is\nshot at all he ought to be shot outright.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear Hugh!\u201d protested Mrs. Redacre from her sofa.\n\n\u201cAnd so Canrobert thinks it will blow over?\u201d said L\u00e9on, who was another\nman now that he felt himself safe amongst his fellow-men. \u201cThat is hard\non us, after calling us back from Marseilles just as we were going to\nembark. We made certain there was war in the wind when the order came to\nreturn. The colonel will be horribly disappointed; he was sure to get\nhis command if war had been declared.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, my opinion is that it will be declared,\u201d said the baron; \u201cso\ncheer up and hope for the best.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you go to war I don\u2019t see how _we_ are to keep out of it,\u201d said Col.\nRedacre.\n\n\u201cThat would be most unfortunate,\u201d said M. de Kerbec. \u201cI should have to\nleave France.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy so? You are not a naturalized Englishman, are you?\u201d said M.\nL\u00e9opold.\n\n\u201cNot exactly; but our property is in England; and besides, my wife hates\nliving there. But of course I could not consider that; a man must\noverrule his wife and take her interests in hand, even against her will,\nwhen his judgment dictates. I invariably do so.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou poor creature!\u201d thought Col. Redacre. \u201cBut I don\u2019t contemplate our\ngoing to war with France,\u201d he added aloud; \u201cwe should take sides with\nher against Austria\u2014that is to say, if Prussia joined her\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cWhich she won\u2019t,\u201d said M. L\u00e9opold emphatically. \u201cI have just been\nsaying so to one of the ministers\u2014I won\u2019t name him, because what he said\nto me was confidential\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what did he say?\u201d inquired M. de Kerbec.\n\n\u201cHe said\u2014I don\u2019t mind repeating it, as I have not mentioned names\u2014he\nsaid that it was impossible at this stage of affairs to say what England\nor Prussia would or would not do.\u201d\n\n\u201cI could have said as much myself,\u201d said Col. Redacre; \u201cone need not be\na minister of state to say that.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe said a great deal more than that, though,\u201d said the deputy. \u201cHe told\nme several facts connected with the state of the army and the condition\nof the troops that threw a great light on future probabilities. He seems\nto think our arsenal, and artillery, and all that are in a much more\nflourishing condition than either Austria\u2019s or Prussia\u2019s, and he has not\nthe smallest doubt as to the issue if we go to war. His facts and\nfigures were, indeed, perfectly conclusive to my mind.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was the Minister of War, then,\u201d said Col. Redacre. \u201cCome, now,\nbaron, don\u2019t be playing the diplomat with us already. You are not at the\nForeign Office yet.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear friend, I beg of you don\u2019t let this go beyond ourselves!\u201d said\nM. L\u00e9opold, his bland features assuming an expression of fussy concern.\n\u201cYou know I speak out here as amongst friends whose discretion I can\ntrust.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho the deuce, now, should we go and denounce you to?\u201d said his host.\n\u201cWhat else did _la guerre_ say?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must not ask me; I really must not say any more,\u201d said M. L\u00e9opold.\n\u201cThe emperor is very anxious, it appears; he has not slept for three\nnights.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo more have I,\u201d said the colonel; \u201cbut that was Balaklava\u2019s fault,\u201d\nand he tapped angrily on the offending limb. \u201cIf these arm-chair\nsoldiers had a touch of the frost in a wooden leg, they would not be in\nsuch a hurry to go to war.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be much worse if you were in England; the damp would kill\nyou,\u201d said M. de Kerbec, meaning to be consolatory.\n\n\u201cYou are greatly mistaken; it would do nothing of the sort,\u201d snarled the\ncolonel. \u201cThe climate of England agreed with me perfectly; I never\nenjoyed a day\u2019s perfect health since I left it. You don\u2019t suppose it is\nfor my pleasure that I live out of my own country? It is on account of\nmy wife\u2019s health; she could not bear the damp.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo more could Balaklava, papa,\u201d said Pearl, slipping her hand into his\narm and looking archly into her father\u2019s face.\n\n\u201cYou minx! How dare you contradict me?\u201d said the colonel, scowling down\non the saucy brown eyes. \u201cYou know very well if it was not for your\nmother\u2019s sake I would not stay an hour in this country.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Mon cher colonel!_\u201d protested three Frenchmen in chorus.\n\n\u201cOh! you are very good fellows, you French, and your climate is not so\nbad, and Paris is a pleasant enough place; but there is no place like\none\u2019s own country.\u201d And the exile heaved a sigh that would have melted a\nstone.\n\n\u201cEngland is the most delightful place in the world to live in when one\nhas an estate and a good rent-roll,\u201d said Mr. Kingspring; \u201cbut under\nother circumstances it is not so pleasant.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen one is hard up, you mean. I don\u2019t know the place that is pleasant\nunder those circumstances.\u201d And the colonel almost groaned this time.\n\n\u201cYour property is in Devonshire, is it not?\u201d inquired M. de Kerbec, who\nliked to show off his knowledge of English country geography.\n\n\u201cIt is in the moon, sir,\u201d replied Colonel Redacre. \u201cI have a worthy\ncousin who has a property in Devonshire which it is generally supposed\nhe means to leave to me, which in fact he must leave to me; but unless\nhe leaves something more than the estate as it stands it will be of\nprecious little use, I suspect. A fancy place, sir, a fine, picturesque\nold place, but brings in nothing and takes a deal of keeping up.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is a very old man, the dean, is he not?\u201d said M. de Kerbec.\n\n\u201cHe is nothing of the sort. Am I an old man? He is five years older than\nI am\u2014a most worthy, excellent man. I wish him a long life; I have no\nmurderous thoughts concerning him. His fortune would be a boon to a\nfamily man like myself; but one gets used to dragging the devil by the\ntail.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope the devil gets used to it, too,\u201d said M. L\u00e9opold. \u201cIf he\ndoesn\u2019t, the poor wretch must find it very uncomfortable.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe wonder is that he has any tail left, considering how half the world\nis engaged in pulling at it.\u201d\n\nThe colonel laughed, and so did everybody else. The deputy\u2019s little joke\nproved rather a relief. Colonel Redacre had a way of airing his\npecuniary grievances in public that was sometimes embarrassing to\npeople; it was difficult to know what to say. French people especially\nwere at a non-plus on these occasions; but they mostly set down the\ncolonel\u2019s grumbling to the evil behavior of Balaklava. If Balaklava was\nmaking him miserable, then there was no pleasure to be got out of life.\nWhen a man had only one leg he should at least have had ten thousand a\nyear as a set-off to the accident; this would enable him to travel about\nin the wake of the sun with his household gods around him. He could not\ndo this with three thousand a year\u2014not as an English gentleman\nunderstands travelling.\n\nYou have already discovered that Pearl\u2019s father was the last man to\nmislead any one intentionally as to her fortune. If Mme. L\u00e9opold or\nanybody else assumed that she was to have a large fortune because the\ncolonel lived like a gentleman, that was no fault of his; it was absurd\nand unreasonable to imagine that he could do otherwise. Nobody expected\na man to pinch and screw for the sake of saving _dots_ for his daughters\nout of an income that was barely sufficient for his wants. Least of all\ndid the daughters expect it. They preferred infinitely that their father\nshould give them a carriage and a couple of riding horses than economize\nfor the sake of leaving or giving them a fortune on their marriage.\nBesides, there was Broom Hollow and the dean\u2019s money, which they were\nsafe to inherit some day.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER II.\n MRS. MONTEAGLE.\n\n\n\u201cHeaven knows I wish Darrell a long life and a happy one,\u201d said Colonel\nRedacre, heaving a sigh from the bottom of his heart; \u201cbut when one sees\nhow he suffers from this terrible rheumatism, one can\u2019t help feeling\nthat death would be a blessed release to him, poor fellow!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is dreadful! I wonder if he has ever tried hom\u0153opathy?\u201d said Mrs.\nRedacre.\n\n\u201cNot he! He is too out-and-out a conservative to go in for any of those\nnew-fangled systems,\u201d replied the colonel.\n\n\u201cThat is so foolish! I really think I will write and urge him to call in\na hom\u0153opathist.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would not be of the slightest use,\u201d said her husband.\n\n\u201cMy dear Hugh! How can you say that when you know that my father\u2019s life\nwas prolonged ten years by hom\u0153opathy? You know Dr. New rescued him, one\nmay say, out of his coffin that time.\u201d\n\n\u201cI mean there would be no use in your writing to Darrell about it. He\nwould laugh at you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t mind his laughing, if I could persuade him to try it. He has\nalways been civil to me, and I have not written to him for an age. I\nwill write to him this very day.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will do nothing of the sort,\u201d snapped the colonel; \u201che is quite old\nenough to manage his own affairs and look after his own health.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear Hugh, a man never knows how to manage himself,\u201d protested Mrs.\nRedacre gently. \u201cYou all want a woman to do that for you; and it seems\nto me the dean is a particularly helpless creature. He does absolutely\nnothing for his rheumatism, and if it goes on as he describes it it may\ngo to his heart one of these days and carry him off in an instant.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo as you like; you always get your own way,\u201d said the colonel. \u201cMy\nopinion is you had better not meddle with Darrell\u2019s concerns; if he\ngives in to you, and if the rheumatism goes to the heart, people will\nsay it was hom\u0153opathy that killed him.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet them say what they like. The rheumatism is much more likely to kill\nhim if it is left to itself. If he goes on in this agony without\nsomething being done to relieve him, he can\u2019t hold out many months, I\nfeel certain.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo as you like, do as you like,\u201d said the colonel.\n\n\u201cNow, don\u2019t say that, my dear Hugh. You know how I hate you to give in\nto me in that way. I won\u2019t write, if it annoys you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy the deuce should it annoy me? You don\u2019t suppose I wish him dead?\nHeaven knows I want the money. It is becoming impossible to make ends\nmeet on our present income, and things grow worse and worse in this\ninfernal country, where the rent is perpetually being raised, and where\na tradesman can\u2019t send in a bill without announcing that _tout est\naugment\u00e9, monsieur_, as an excuse for swelling his items. I don\u2019t know\nwhere it is to end\u2014I don\u2019t, indeed.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have no debts, at any rate, thank Heaven!\u201d said Mrs. Redacre.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d assented her husband; \u201cI would rather live on beefsteaks and beer\nthan swindle a tradesman. All the same it is hard work, this screwing\none\u2019s wants within one\u2019s income; and poor Darrell, if the Almighty\ncalled him away, could not leave his money to anybody harder up for it\nthan myself.\u201d\n\nMrs. Redacre made no comment, but went on sorting her wools, while her\nhusband turned over the pages of the newspaper with an ill-humored jerk\nand an occasional grunt. She was puzzled and pained. Could it be\npossible that his reluctance to let her write to the dean sprang from\nany unworthy motive?\u2014he who was so emphatic in declaring in season and\nout of season that he devoutly wished his cousin to outlive him, that it\nwas only on account of his children he cared for the inheritance, his\npresent income sufficing for his own wants; and as to ambitions, he had\nnone.\n\nEvery now and then within the last few years Col. Redacre had thrown out\nhints of some remote but possible catastrophe overtaking them all; he\nnever said anything definite, but in a vague, moody way would remark\nthat there was no saying what straits they might not be one day reduced\nto, and that it was well to look the danger in the face, so as not to be\ntaken altogether by surprise if a catastrophe occurred. When he first\ntook to saying this sort of thing Mrs. Redacre was very miserable, and\nconjured up all kinds of dreadful spectres to explain the mysterious\nwords. She first thought he gambled; but after watching him for a time\nas a cat watches a bird, she gave that up and took to suspecting him of\nbetting on the turf; but this, too, proved itself a chimera. Then she\nbegan to suspect him of having made some bad investments and being in\nterror of a sudden collapse; but this was in its turn dispelled by a\nconversation with their man of business, who assured her that Col.\nRedacre\u2019s money\u2014or rather his wife\u2019s, for he had, so to speak, none of\nhis own\u2014was safe beyond the reach of speculating schemers. When\neverything was tried and found non-proven Pearl set down the gloomy\nforebodings to Balaklava.\n\n\u201cYou may be sure, mamma, it is all the east wind or some turn in the\nweather\u2014nothing else. I have noticed that we never hear of the\n\u2018catastrophe\u2019 except when Balaklava is worrying papa.\u201d And Mrs. Redacre\nwas thankful to believe that this was really the word of the riddle.\n\nMrs. Monteagle lived on the floor above the Redacres. She received on no\nparticular evening, but she was at home every evening in general, seldom\ngoing out anywhere except to her old friends\u2019 on the entresol. Pearl and\nPolly were up and down all day long with her, and she declared they\nhardly ever came near her.\n\n\u201cWhy should you, my dears? A tiresome old woman\u2014what should you young\nthings have to say to her? But I am very glad whenever you have time to\npop in for five minutes. Not that I care much about seeing anybody. One\ngets selfish as one grows old; one cares for nobody. And really, living\namongst these French people, it is no wonder. What a set they are, to be\nsure! And what a government! Good gracious! when I remember how it used\nto be when I came to Paris first. We had a court then, and real nobles\nattended it. They were not much to look at, I must say; you never saw\nsuch toilettes in your life as they used to wear coming to make their\ncourt to Mme. d\u2019Angoul\u00eame, and the Duchesse de Berri, and all of them.\nBut it was much pleasanter. People got themselves up like guys, but\nnobody minded that, and they had not to ruin themselves in fine clothes.\nI remember one evening the Duchesse de R\u2014\u2014 presented herself in a dyed\npea-green gown with dirty feathers and lace that was the color of strong\ntea. I felt ashamed for her, poor thing!\u2014I did indeed; but, goodness me!\nnobody saw it, I believe, but myself; the Duchesse d\u2019Angoul\u00eame received\nher as if she had been dressed like the Queen of Saba. They knew how to\nreceive, those princesses\u2014not like this little woman you have at the\nTuileries now. But it won\u2019t last, my dear. Things are going from bad to\nworse, I hear. People fancy that because I don\u2019t go _dans le monde_, as\nthey call it, I know nothing about what is going on. Ha! ha!\u201d And the\nold lady shook her finger at some invisible contradictor. \u201cI can tell\nyou I know a great deal more than any of you. I hear many things that I\nkeep to myself; but I can tell you things are looking very badly indeed.\nI suppose you are going to the ball at the Tuileries to-morrow night,\nall of you?\u201d\n\n\u201cPolly and I have our dresses ready,\u201d said Pearl; \u201cbut I am afraid papa\nwon\u2019t be well enough to come with us.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s amiss with him? Balaklava troublesome?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, dreadfully. I wonder if Mme. L\u00e9opold is going? I dare say she\nwould take us, if papa asked her.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe mustn\u2019t, though; he mustn\u2019t do that, my dear,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle\nvery emphatically; and then, seeing Pearl\u2019s brown eyes widening in\nwonder, she added. \u201cIt would never do to have you sallying in after\nBlanche, my dear; three young girls in a group are sure to interfere\nwith each other. It wouldn\u2019t do at all.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a funny idea!\u201d And Pearl laughed merrily.\n\n\u201cAnd besides, the L\u00e9opolds are such out-and-out Bonapartists your father\nwould not care to have you appear under their flag,\u201d continued the old\nlady; \u201cnot that he thinks as much of that as he ought to do, I\u2019m sorry\nto say. We English get into very loose ways when we live abroad; going\nto the theatre on Sunday, and going to these pinchbeck people at the\nTuileries, and doing all sorts of improper things. It is very naughty of\nus\u2014it is indeed; for we ought to know better. As to those French people,\none never expects anything from them; there is no truth in them; they\nall tell lies, every one of them\u2014they do indeed, my dear.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf we can\u2019t go with Mme. L\u00e9opold I don\u2019t see whom we can go with,\u201d said\nPearl musingly. \u201cPolly will be awfully disappointed. There was to be a\ncotillon; it is in honor of the little archduchess. She can\u2019t wait for\nthe _petit Lundi_, and the empress said she should have the cotillon\nto-night. Polly would have looked so lovely in her new dress!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere do you expect to go in the next world, you vain minx!\u201d said Mrs.\nMonteagle. \u201cYou are a great deal too conceited about Polly.\u201d\n\nPearl laughed.\n\n\u201cIs there to be anybody at this ball to-morrow that she is particularly\nanxious not to disappoint?\u201d inquired the old lady, looking hard at\nPearl.\n\n\u201cNo; she doesn\u2019t care a straw for one of them. I wonder if she ever\nwill? I can\u2019t imagine Polly in love.\u201d And Pearl laughed gently to\nherself.\n\n\u201cMore\u2019s the pity. I don\u2019t like a girl who goes flirting on her way,\nmaking every man she meets fall in love with her, and not caring a straw\nfor one of them. I suppose she means to marry for money, or rank, or\nsomething of that sort.\u201d\n\n\u201cO dear Mrs. Monteagle! how could you say such a thing of Polly?\u201d said\nPearl. \u201cShe is incapable of marrying for anything but love!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, you silly puss, what did you mean by saying that she could not\nfall in love?\u201d\n\n\u201cI meant\u2014well, I don\u2019t know exactly. Only there is nobody going\nto-morrow that she is the least in love with.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you? Is there to be any one you are not cruel to? Come, tell me all\nabout them like a good child.\u201d\n\nPearl tossed back her sunny head and laughed.\n\n\u201cAs if anybody would look at me when Polly is there!\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense! that is a matter of taste. If I were a young man I know what\nwould be my taste,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle; \u201cand I shrewdly suspect there\nis a certain young gentleman who is of the same opinion.\u201d She looked\nsteadily at Pearl as she said this, and, raising a finger, shook it at\nthe laughing, astonished face. Pearl looked as unconscious as a baby at\nfirst, but as the finger continued its slow, significant shake she grew\na little confused, then she blushed, first slightly, but the pink tint\nrapidly deepened to scarlet and spread all over her face and neck.\n\n\u201cHa! you naughty puss. I knew I should find you out,\u201d said Mrs.\nMonteagle with a mischievous laugh. \u201cI know all about it, and, since you\ncare for him, it is all right. I think he is a good fellow, although I\nconfess I should have preferred your marrying an Englishman; however,\nsince you are in love with one another, one must make the best of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear Mrs. Monteagle, what _do_ you mean?\u201d said Pearl, who had now\nrecovered her self-possession, and was looking mystified and curious,\nbut not the least guilty.\n\n\u201cI know all about it, my dear. I tell you I know more about most things\nthan people imagine. I have been watching this little game quietly in my\ncorner while you and M. L\u00e9on were singing and playing at your piano.\u201d\n\n\u201cM. L\u00e9on? Capt. L\u00e9opold?\u201d\n\n\u201cCapt. L\u00e9opold, of the Third Hussars, officier de la L\u00e9gion d\u2019Honneur,\nand heir to the title of baron. I don\u2019t begrudge him any of his glories,\nmy dear; I only wish there were ten times more. I suppose he will be\nvery well off; not that you care about that.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, indeed, I don\u2019t!\u201d cried Pearl. \u201cWhy should I?\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense, child, nonsense! All the same I like to hear you say it.\nNowadays you young girls are so worldly-minded you only think of what a\nhusband can give you. It is dreadful\u2014it is indeed; as to these French,\nit is positively frightful to think of the way they go about it\u2014just as\nif they were buying a horse or hiring a house. But your Frenchman will,\nI am sure, prove an exception. Of course he is supposed not to have said\na word to you himself; but you don\u2019t expect me to believe that\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, dear Mrs. Monteagle, I give you my solemn word of honor\u2014\u201d broke\nin Pearl.\n\n\u201cAh! yes, my dear. Words of honor in a case like this are made to be\nbroken; but has his mother spoken to you\u2014that is to say, to your father\nyet?\u201d\n\n\u201cDear Mrs. Monteagle, I don\u2019t know what you are talking about\u2014I don\u2019t\nindeed! M. L\u00e9on has never opened his lips to me on such a subject, and I\nfeel sure he hasn\u2019t to papa either.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, perhaps not; you young people have a way of understanding each\nother without much talking. I know all about it; I was young once\nmyself, though you may not believe it. I know that in my time a young\nman could tell a girl he adored her without putting it in so many\nwords.\u201d\n\n\u201cI dare say they can do so nowadays, too,\u201d said Pearl; \u201cbut I know that\nM. L\u00e9on never told me, in words or in any other way, that he adored me.\u201d\n\n\u201cTut! tut! Then he made his sister say it for him; these French people\nhave peculiar ways I know. I dare say the little French girl did it.\u201d\n\n\u201cBlanche? She declares that L\u00e9on adores only two things, fighting and\njam. \u2018Set him before the enemy or before a _pot de confiture_ and he is\nthe happiest of men!\u2019 That is what Blanche says of him.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood gracious! what a character for any girl to give her brother. She\nhad a motive in it, my dear\u2014depend upon it she had a motive. She wanted\nto stand in your way, to prevent the marriage. I always thought she was\na sly minx; they all are, those French girls, though they look as if\nbutter would not melt in their mouths.\u201d\n\nPearl was going to enter an indignant protest against this attack on her\nfriend, but she was prevented by the arrival of visitors. Mme. de Kerbec\nand Mme. L\u00e9opold entered together.\n\nPearl started up from her seat of honor on the sofa beside Mrs.\nMonteagle, and as Mme. L\u00e9opold came forward, profusely affectionate, to\nembrace her, she blushed scarlet.\n\n\u201cCh\u00e8re petite!\u201d said the fond mother, playfully stroking the warm red\ncheek, of which Pearl for very rage with herself could have scratched\nthe skin off. It was tantamount to confessing herself in love with L\u00e9on\nto blush up and look so confused the moment his mother appeared. Mme.\nL\u00e9opold and Mrs. Monteagle evidently thought so, too, for they laughed\nsignificantly at one another as they shook hands and glanced at Pearl.\n\nMme. de Kerbec wondered what the little joke was about. She was not in\nthe intimacy of Mme. L\u00e9opold, because, as she put it, the deputy and his\nwife were not _de notre monde_. They were of the court set, and Mme. de\nKerbec was of the faubourg; so, at least, she said, and as nobody of the\nother set had the _entr\u00e9e_ of the faubourg, nobody contradicted her.\n\n\u201cHow is every one _chez vous, mon enfant_\u2014your dear mother and your\nexcellent father? I suppose we shall meet him with you both to-morrow\nevening?\u201d said Mme. L\u00e9opold.\n\n\u201cI hope so, madame; but papa is not very well....\u201d Pearl began to\nexplain.\n\n\u201cNo; and very likely he will ask you to\u2014\u201d interrupted Mrs. Monteagle;\nbut Pearl made such imploring eyes at her and gave her hand such a\nterrible squeeze that the old lady did not finish the sentence, but\nturned off the subject by exclaiming on the splendor of Mme. de Kerbec\u2019s\ndress.\n\n\u201cYou talk of the extravagance of the Tuileries set; but if we are to\njudge your old faubourg by you, countess, you are a great deal worse.\nGood gracious! what a superb costume, to be sure. In my young days one\nnever saw such things, except it might be at court; and even there, poor\nold Queen Charlotte and Queen Adelaide never were much to speak of in\nthe way of elegance; and as to the people here at the Tuileries in those\ndays\u2014\u201d\n\nWhen Mrs. Monteagle was thus fairly embarked Pearl seized the\nopportunity to slip away.\n\n\u201cWhat a sweet girl she is!\u201d said Mme. L\u00e9opold as the door closed on the\nslight young figure.\n\n\u201cShe is charming,\u201d assented Mme. de Kerbec; \u201cbut Polly\u2019s beauty throws\nher quite into the shade.\u201d\n\nBoth the French lady and Mrs. Monteagle exclaimed at this. \u201cI think her\nface more sympathetic and her manner infinitely more so!\u201d said Mme.\nL\u00e9opold.\n\n\u201cNo comparison!\u201d chimed in Mrs. Monteagle; \u201cand she has three times the\nbrains of Polly.\u201d\n\n\u201cOne does not want much brains with such an amount of beauty,\u201d said Mme.\nde Kerbec. \u201cPolly is sure to marry much better. Men don\u2019t care for\nclever wives; they are jealous of them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat may be the case with Englishmen, but I protest in the name of my\nown countrymen,\u201d said Mme. L\u00e9opold. \u201cI never knew a Frenchman yet who\nobjected to his wife having brains.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery likely not,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle; \u201cprovided she has money, I don\u2019t\nsuppose a Frenchman would object to anything, even to her being a\nlunatic.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are severe, ch\u00e8re madame,\u201d said Mme. L\u00e9opold, looking hurt.\n\n\u201cMrs. Monteagle suspects every Frenchman of marrying for money,\u201d said\nMme. de Kerbec. This was a tender point with her, for everybody, of\ncourse, knew that M. de Kerbec had married her for her money, and that\nshe had married him for his title.\n\n\u201cI can only judge by what I see,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle; \u201cand I see that\nthe first and last and only thing that they ask, or rather that their\nfamily asks, about a young lady is, \u2018How much money has she?\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do us an injustice there; that may be the first question, because\nit is after all the essential one, but it is not the last,\u201d said Mme.\nL\u00e9opold. \u201cAnd I can assure you our young men of the present day follow\nvery much the English fashion in marrying; they like to marry\nthemselves, and they often feel a great, a very decided sympathy for\ntheir _fianc\u00e9e_ before the family interferes at all. My son always said\nhe would marry himself _\u00e0 l\u2019anglaise_.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad to hear it, madame, and I hope you will let him have his\nway,\u201d said Mme. de Kerbec.\n\n\u201cCertainly; my dearest wish is to see him happy,\u201d replied Mme. L\u00e9opold,\nand she looked at Mrs. Monteagle. It was immediately borne in on Mme. de\nKerbec that there was a marriage in the air between L\u00e9on and Pearl, and\nthat Mme. L\u00e9opold was here to discuss the matter with Mrs. Monteagle,\nand, being a kind woman, she naturally felt at once a deep interest in\nthe match.\n\n\u201cI suppose Col. Redacre will give very handsome fortunes to both his\ndaughters,\u201d she remarked; \u201cbut I think that arrangement very unjust.\nPearl should have it all; Polly has beauty enough to make a queen\u2019s\ndower.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor my part, I would rather have Pearl without a penny than Polly with\nthe two _dots_ together,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle with a little angry grunt.\n\n\u201cTheir mother was an heiress, so there will be plenty for all the\nchildren,\u201d Mme. de Kerbec went on; \u201cand then Dean Darrell is enormously\nwealthy, and his money all comes to the Redacres. To be sure he may live\ntwenty years yet.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did not know they had such great expectations,\u201d said Mme. L\u00e9opold,\nher interest kindling as she listened to these details. \u201cWho is this M.\nDarrell?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is a cousin of Col. Redacre\u2019s, and holds the property which comes to\nthe Redacres at his death. It is not much to speak of, I believe; but\nthe Dean is very rich, and will leave them all his money. He is Pearl\u2019s\ngodfather, too, and they say he will leave a very large sum to her.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe deserves it; she is a most angelic girl. I never saw any girl I\nadmired so much,\u201d said Mme. L\u00e9opold, waxing enthusiastic as Pearl\u2019s\nmerits were thus unfolded to her. \u201c_You_ know what I feel about her,\nch\u00e8re madame,\u201d she added, addressing Mrs. Monteagle.\n\nOther visitors came in, but Mme. L\u00e9opold contrived when saying _au\nrevoir_ to whisper to Mrs. Monteagle a request that she would, at her\nearliest convenience, speak to Col. Redacre upon the subject \u201cnear our\nhearts.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd M. L\u00e9on\u2019s heart?\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle once more before committing\nherself.\n\n\u201cCh\u00e8re madame! why will you doubt my dear boy?\u201d said the mother with a\nsmile.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\n VOLTAIRE AND HIS PANEGYRISTS.\n\n\nVoltaire has to this day, among a certain class of people, the\nunenviable privilege of sharing with his great friend and patron the\ndevil a popularity which he richly deserves. He belongs to that race of\nscoffers and liars that has never been wanting in the world since the\narch-deceiver was allowed entrance into it, and will never be wanting as\nlong as he sees in it anything bearing the image of God which he may\nhope to destroy, any truth which he may contradict, any beauty which he\nmay defile, any goodness which he may turn into evil. Celsus, Porphyry,\nJamblichus, Julian the Apostate, Luther, were of that race; and if\nVoltaire be inferior to most of these in genius, he has nevertheless\ndone the work of their common master as zealously, and certainly as\nsuccessfully, as any of his predecessors. Give, then, the devil his due,\nand let the philosopher of Ferney have the admiration of his votaries.\nLet him inhale in long draughts the incense which they offer him. It is\nnot the rich perfumes of Arabia that they burn upon his altars. The god\nof the Revolution would have very little relish for anything sweet and\npure. He delights in filth, and filth they serve him in abundance. From\nevery cess-pool and garbage-plot, from every loathsome swamp and\npoisonous marsh, from every infected spot, a thick cloud laden with\nnauseous odors and death rises up to his nostrils. Surely the god must\nbe satisfied. What else has he sought during his long career from his\nboyhood to his old age? To what did he devote his wonderful activity but\nto create those very sinks of moral degradation which send back to him\nfrom their unclean depths the impure homage which they are fit to give?\nVoltaire deserves a statue; let him have it. Why should the French\ngovernment hesitate to comply with the desires of the Commune in this\nregard? What more worthy hands can they find for the purpose than those\nstained by the blood of so many innocent victims? Why should not one who\nthirsted during his whole life for the destruction of what is most\nsacred suffer the well-merited punishment of having a monument raised in\nhis behalf by cut-throats to perpetuate his ignominy? A statue to\nVoltaire? Yes; and in Paris, too. Only choose the right place, and let\nit be emblematical of the lewdness with which the works of that infamous\nman reek. The fitting spot is that where all the sewers of the great\ncity empty themselves into the Seine.\n\nThe idol of the French Commune is not without his admirers on this side\nof the Atlantic. One of our leading journals, speaking of the\ndemonstration that took place on the 30th of May in the French capital\nin honor of Voltaire, gave us the following eulogistic and edifying\neditorial, which we quote as a fair specimen of the cant that is now and\nthen reproduced in this country from the French radical papers of the\nmost advanced school:\n\n \u201cFrance, it is said, celebrated in a characteristic way the memory\n of one of her great men, one of the makers of the great Revolution.\n Voltaire did France more service than any twenty generals, but did\n it by strictly intellectual methods; by operation on the national\n mind; by exposure of the shams, pretences, villanies, and\n oppressions of the system of organized wrong that those exposures\n did so much to undermine and destroy. He created in great part that\n public opinion, that common judgment of the nation, in the presence\n of which it was impossible that the ancient _r\u00e9gime_ should continue\n to exist beyond the day when the power to end it fell into the hands\n of the representatives of the people. As his influence was felt by\n its intellectual results, it is characteristic and just that his\n memory should be celebrated, not by monuments or other preservations\n of a great man\u2019s name, but by the dissemination of a printed volume\n of his own best thoughts, so distributed that a copy may be given to\n every Frenchman. By this method honor is done to Voltaire and good\n is done to the people; for the world is very much as yet in the\n condition in which he criticised it, and his keen, sound judgments\n on liberty, on the rights of the people and persons, on the church,\n on law, on government, on freedom of the press, may yet continue his\n influence with great advantage to society\u201d (New York _Herald_, May\n 31).\n\nIt would be difficult to condense into a short page a greater number of\nfalse assertions, of wrong appreciations and misleading suggestions.\n\u201c_Mentons; il en restera toujours quelque chose_,\u201d the favorite motto of\nVoltaire, continues to inspire his disciples all over the world. It is\nthe idiosyncrasy by which the members of the family are recognized. The\nresult of these often-repeated falsehoods is, in France, to keep the\npeople in a chronic state of dissatisfaction periodically finding vent\nin those violent up-heavings of society which have more than once during\nthe last hundred years brought that beautiful country to the verge of\nruin; and though, in other places where they are rehearsed, they may not\nproduce the same fatal effects, they serve, nevertheless, to make dupes\nof the ignorant who are unable to judge for themselves of the truth or\nfalsity of assertions stated with such unhesitating boldness and\nassurance that the most glaring errors are accepted by them as articles\nof faith; they are an insult to the conscience not only of Catholics but\nof all those who still profess to retain the least vestige of\nChristianity; they are a gross calumny thrown in the face of France\nherself, who, by the voice of her most illustrious children and by a\nvast majority, protests against the idea that Voltaire is one of her\ngreat or representative men. \u201cLately,\u201d says a French writer (the\n_Correspondant_, May 25), \u201cthe radicals conceived the purpose of showing\nto Europe the genius of France, personified in the image of Voltaire. A\nlying symbol, assuredly. For if it be the glory of France that they\nintended to represent, there are in our history twenty reputations\nnobler, wider, purer which would contend with our rivals for the\nadmiration of the world. Voltaire possessed only one feeble spark of the\nFrench genius; but, thank God, the flame has been more powerful and\nshone with a deeper and brighter lustre, it ascended to greater heights,\nwith St. Bernard, Pascal, Bossuet, Corneille, Racine, Moli\u00e8re, Mirabeau,\nCh\u00e2teaubriand, Lamartine; and as to the other qualities that are\ncharacteristic of the French people, France would disavow them had they\ntheir type and model in Voltaire; and, in fact, how could she recognize\nin him that generosity which is foremost amongst the gifts of her race,\nher warm heart, her heroic soul, her chivalrous valor, her Christian\nbeneficence, her love for the weak and the oppressed, her loyalty, her\npassion for great ideas and great actions? How could she sacrifice to\nthe genius of Voltaire all that she had of French genius in those times\nof Charlemagne, of Godfrey de Bouillon, of St. Louis, of Joan of Arc, of\nRichelieu, of Louis XIV., when those who were her chief ornaments by\ntheir brilliant virtues so little resembled Voltaire? To pretend that a\nnation which has deserved to be called by Shakspere \u2018the soldier of\nGod\u2019; a nation that has given to religion so many saints and heroes, so\nmany doctors and martyrs; a nation that has raised by its thought and\nart so many monuments to Catholicity; a nation that can cite so many\nnames dear to the church from St. Jerome, Pope Sylvester, Peter the\nHermit and Suger, to St. Francis of Sales, De B\u00e9rulle, F\u00e9nelon,\nMassillon, and Lacordaire\u2014to pretend that such a nation ought and\ndesires to have its personification in Voltaire is a mockery.\u201d\n\nBold indeed is the man who dares associate the idea of greatness with\nthe name of Voltaire in presence of the evidence we have to the\ncontrary, and which cannot be ignored by any one who has the slightest\nacquaintance with the literature of the last century. He uses words at\nrandom and cares very little about their true signification, or he\nunduly presumes on the ignorance of others. We find in Voltaire no\nelement that constitutes the great man. He lacks those qualities of the\nheart which ennoble their possessor and surround him with a halo of\nserene splendor even in the lowliest station; his private life from\nbeginning to end is there to show us all the meanness of his character.\nHe had no civic virtue; he denied his country and despised the people.\nAs a philosopher he has discovered no truth, elucidated none,\ncontributed nothing to the advancement of knowledge. What he did was to\ndirect all his efforts to obscure by sophistry and revile by sarcasms\nthose truths of which mankind was in time-honored possession. He has no\nclaim to the reputation of a great poet; all critics worthy of the name,\neven those of the age in which he lived, are at one in assigning to him\nan inferior rank in this regard. Voltaire tried his hand in every\ndepartment, in literature, in the natural sciences, in philosophy, in\npolitics, in history, in theology, and has only succeeded in giving\nproofs of his ignorance of the subjects he attempted to treat or of his\nmediocrity. \u201cVoltaire,\u201d says W. Schlegel (_Dramatic Literature_, lect.\nxix.), \u201cwished to shine in every department; a restless vanity permitted\nhim not to be satisfied with the pursuit of perfection in any single\nwalk of literature; and, from the variety of subjects in which his mind\nwas employed, it was impossible for him to avoid shallowness and\nimmaturity of ideas.... He made use of poetry as a means to accomplish\nends foreign and extrinsical to it; and this has often polluted the\nartistic purity of his compositions.\u201d\n\nWe often read in the lives of holy personages that, in their very\ninfancy, they gave signs of their future greatness and sanctity. As to\nVoltaire, he manifested in his early youth a degree of perverseness\nwhich foreshadowed but too well what he subsequently proved to be. The\nprecocity of his mind showed itself by his precocious unbelief. Every\none knows the prediction which his impious sneers at religion elicited\nfrom Father Le Jay when at the college of Louis-le-Grand\u2014a prediction\nwhich was so truly realized afterwards: \u201cWretch,\u201d said the father to\nhim, \u201cyou will one day be the standard-bearer of infidelity in France.\u201d\nExpelled several times from his father\u2019s house for improper conduct, he\npursues his career in the world, which he fills with the scandals of his\nlife. His disgraceful intrigues in politics and in love, his dishonesty\nin business matters, his greed of money, his writings breathing lust and\nrevolt, fixed upon him the attention of the police, and more than once\nbrought him to the Bastille and sent him into exile. He had no heart; he\nproved it by the contempt he entertained for his nearest relations. He\nfelt no shame in destroying the reputation of his mother; from allusions\nhe makes in a letter addressed to Richelieu, and in other passages of\nhis works, he throws suspicions upon the legitimacy of his birth.\nVoltaire at first signed his name \u201cArouet\u201d; but soon this family name\ndisgusted him, as he himself avows, and he rejected it for that of\nVoltaire. To discard the name of one\u2019s own family is certainly no sign\nof a good son. He was no better citizen. The French having been beaten\nat Rossbach by the King of Prussia, Frederick II., Voltaire, who kept a\ncorrespondence with that prince, ridiculed his countrymen, and heaped\nupon them the most injurious epithets. He wishes a Prussian officer to\ncome and take a certain city of France. He writes to the King of\nPrussia: \u201cLook upon me as the most devoted subject that you have, for I\nhave no other, and wish to have no other, master but yourself. It is to\nmy own sovereign that I write.\u201d The vile and crouching sycophant goes so\nfar as to call Frederick \u201ca god\u201d and \u201cthe son of God.\u201d Is it not\nincredible and the height of impudence that men who call themselves\nFrenchmen should urge their country to decree national honors to be paid\nto this idolatrous worshipper of Prussia, and that after the disasters\nof 1871? These men deserve the scorn of the whole world. Not satisfied\nwith having turned Prussian, the ambition of Voltaire was to become\nRussian, and for this purpose he disowned France. In a letter of the\n18th of October, 1771, to the Empress of Russia, Catherine II., after\nhaving called the French who had gone to the assistance of Poland fools\nand boors, he adds: \u201cIt is the Tartars who are civilized, and the French\nhave become Scythians. Please to observe, madame, that I am not Welsh\n(that is, French); I am a Swiss, and, if I were younger, I would become\nRussian.\u201d And Russian he soon became in spite of his old age, and\nCatherine could send him her felicitations on his being already \u201cso good\na Russian.\u201d We shall not transcribe the words of sacrilegious adulation\nwhich he addressed to his idol, to a woman stained with the blood of her\nhusband and living in adultery. \u201cTo make of the flatterer of Frederick\nII., the adulator of Catherine II., the adorer of Mme. de Pompadour, a\nrepublican citizen, would be a difficult task. But to make a patriot of\nthe man who applauded the victory of Rossbach, who saw without pity the\nblood of France flow, who defiled the reputation of Joan of Arc with the\nloathsome profanation that we know, and who aspired to the happiness \u2018to\ndie a Prussian,\u2019 would be a want of respect for France and of pride for\nthe republic. In presence of the victors of Metz and of Sedan, in\npresence of Alsace-Lorraine, France would betray herself and the\nrepublic would disown France, were the one with the help of the other to\nerect the image of Voltaire as that of our wounded country, which stands\nwaiting and hoping\u201d (_Correspondant_).\n\nWe must never be astonished at anything from such a courtier of Fortune\nas Voltaire was. The most irascible of poets is the most flexible\nservant of the reigning powers. If, to use an expression of Diderot, he\nbore a grudge to every pedestal placed in the path of his literary\nglory, no one more grovellingly than he kissed the dust before every\nstatue of success raised to command men or to impose upon them. He\ndeserts to the King of Prussia after the defeat of De Rohan, he kisses\nthe blood-stained hand of that other Lady Macbeth seated on the throne\nof Russia; he will do more: he will lower the purple of Richelieu before\nthat of the ignoble Dubois, to whom the Revolution alone could give\nnotoriety. Young, he had not the dignity which talent imparts; old, he\nhad not that of his gray hairs. His pretty prose and his small, prurient\nmadrigals will be scattered freely in the antechamber of every courtesan\nwho has usurped for the time being the rightful place of the queens of\nFrance. It is to a Marquise de Prie, mistress of the heart and of the\npolitics of the Duke of Bourbon, or to a Mme. de Pompadour, that he\noffers his mean and impure adulations. Mme. de Pompadour, metamorphosed\ninto an Agnes Sorel, is still but a mortal; Mme. du Barry will be a\ndivinity in this distich of the octogenarian of Ferney:\n\n \u201cC\u2019est assez aux mortels d\u2019adorer votre image,\n L\u2019original \u00e9tait fait pour les Dieux.\u201d\n\nSo much for the irreproachable citizen who reviled his country, rejoiced\nat her misfortunes, and sold himself to her enemies; so much for the\nmodel republican who fawned on despots and courted the good graces of\nthe most abandoned characters, provided they stood around a throne. But\nwhat of Voltaire, the great democrat, the devoted friend of the people?\nThose who wish to enlighten the working classes by the dissemination\namong them of a printed volume of Voltaire\u2019s _own best thoughts_ have\ntaken care, of course, to exclude from the precious popular volume,\n_destined to perpetuate the great man\u2019s influence in France_, such\npassages as these, which clearly show his sentiments on the subject. He\nwrites to a friend:\n\n \u201cI believe that we do not understand each other on the question of\n the people, who, according to you, deserve to be instructed. I\n understand by _people_ the populace, or those who are forced to gain\n their livelihood by the labor of their hands. I doubt whether that\n class of citizens will ever have the leisure or the capacity\n required for instruction. It appears to me essential that there\n should be \u2018ignorant boors.\u2019 When the vulgar begin to reason, all is\n lost. The absurd insolence of those who tell you that you must think\n like your tailor and your washerwoman should not be tolerated. As to\n the _canaille_, it will never be anything else but the _canaille_. I\n have nothing to do with it.\u201d\n\nAnd again: \u201cThe _canaille_ whom every yoke fits is not worth\nenlightening.\u201d That hatred for the poor, the laboring classes, the\npeople, is a satanic trait characteristic of Voltaire. Were the\nprinciples which he sought to establish to obtain in the world, we would\nsoon see the worst times of paganism return, when the vast majority of\nmen were slaves under unfeeling masters. From this abject condition\nChristianity rescued the human race. It is Christianity that can still\nmake the people free; it is Christianity that saves it now, in spite of\nthe efforts made to exclude Christ\u2019s influence from the face of the\nearth and substitute for it that of Freemasonry, socialism, and\nradicalism, which would willingly replace the worship of the Redeemer by\nthat of a Voltaire or a Mazzini. Were it possible to abolish the\nChristian religion in the world, the earth would at once become a den of\nwild beasts tearing one another to pieces. Witness the French\nRevolution. It is Christ who said: \u201cCome to me, all you that labor and\nare burdened, and I will refresh you\u201d; it is Christ who ennobled labor\nby embracing a life of toil; it is Christ who taught the poor that\npoverty is no disgrace, but rather an honor, ever since the King of\nKings sanctified it and glorified it in his own person; it is Christ who\ngave us the true signification of sufferings, and revealed to us their\nchastening and purifying influence when they are borne with resignation.\nBut it is Christ also who taught the rich to be charitable to those not\npossessed of the goods of this world, and to consider themselves but as\nGod\u2019s stewards in favor of the needy. In the acceptance of those\nprinciples is to be found the solution of the social problems which\nbecome more and more entangled in proportion as society withdraws itself\nfrom the light of the Gospel. \u201cJesus has wept and Voltaire has smiled,\u201d\nsaid Victor Hugo at the celebration of the 20th of May, \u201cand from those\ndivine tears and that human smile the sweetness of our civilization was\nthe result,\u201d and the crowd applauded. Foolish and blasphemous words! To\nassociate Christ and his reviler in the same mission for the\nregeneration of the human race! Voltaire never smiled\u2014he grinned, and in\nhis infernal sneer he embraced those for whom Jesus especially came and\nwept, suffered and died. But the tactics of the evil one are always the\nsame and are followed by his disciples, to draw men into his snares by\ncreating illusions around them.\n\nThe age of Voltaire had no philosophy. Its great voice was silent, and\nwas heard no more until it resounded again in the first part of this\ncentury in De Maistre and De Bonald. The generation of Malebranche,\nDescartes, and Bossuet had passed away, and was succeeded by a sect of\nsophists headed by Voltaire, whom they nicknamed the \u201cPhilosopher of\nFerney.\u201d The eighteenth century was the reign, not of philosophy, but of\nphilosophism, which consisted in an abuse of reason directed to the\ndemolition, by means of sarcasm and ridicule, by the corruption of\nmorals and by falsehood, of the religion of Christ and of all the\nprinciples upon which human society is based. The pretended Reformation\nhad given the signal; in weakening the foundations of faith and the\nrespect for spiritual authority it opened the door to every error, to\nrevolt, and to all corruptions. Germany began, England followed, and\nfrom England came out that spirit of incredulity and atheism which would\nhave plunged Europe into all the agonies of dissolution, and made it a\nprey to renewed barbarism, had not the terrific thunder-peals of the\nFrench Revolution awakened it on the brink of the abyss and warned men\nto turn their eyes towards God and his church. Rousseau gives us in his\n_Emile_ a faithful picture of those mad dreamers, possessed by the\ngenius of evil, who in his time proudly called themselves philosophers:\n\n \u201cTurn away from those who, under pretext of explaining nature, sow\n in the hearts of men subversive doctrines, and whose apparent\n scepticism is a hundred times more affirmative and dogmatic than the\n decided tone of their adversaries. Under the haughty pretence that\n they alone are enlightened, true, and sincere, they impose upon us\n their peremptory decisions, and pretend to give us for the true\n principles of things the unintelligible systems which their\n imagination has built. Besides overthrowing, destroying, and\n trampling upon everything that men revere, they take away from the\n afflicted the last consolation in their miseries, from the powerful\n and the rich the only check of their passions; they snatch from the\n depth of the human heart remorse for crime, the hope which supports\n virtue, and still boast of being the benefactors of mankind. Never,\n do they say, is truth injurious to men. I believe as they do, and it\n is, in my opinion, a strong proof that what they teach is not the\n truth.\u201d\n\nOf all those who, at that period, took part in the infernal struggle\nagainst Christianity, Voltaire was the recognized chief and leader. He\nand Rousseau are the two men who did most to undermine the foundations\nof religion, to extend the reign of unbelief, and destroy the bulwarks\nthat protect order and the family; the former by his inexhaustible fund\nof impious raillery that scoffed at everything, and the latter by an\naffectation of sickly sentimentality that paved the way but too well for\nthe atrocities by which the last years of that disgraceful century were\npolluted. The eighteenth century is appropriately called the _Si\u00e8cle de\nVoltaire_; it will be its eternal shame. For Voltaire, notwithstanding\nhis sparkling wit and a few happy productions in literature, will remain\neternally the type of a mean character, of a corrupt intellect and\nperverted reason. It is the conclusion to which men will necessarily\narrive who wish to draw their knowledge of Voltaire from another source\nthan that of an ignorant fanaticism, and who, not satisfied with vague\nsounds floating in the air, will take the trouble to study his life and\nhis works. Not long ago the illustrious Bishop of Orleans, from his\nsenator\u2019s seat, instructed the radicals of his country on this subject,\nand his method is sure. It would be more in the interest of truth to\nre-echo his voice on our shores than to spread amongst us those\ngroundless and erroneous appreciations issuing from disordered brains\nmaddened by passion. He cited to them the judgments of men whom their\nparty chiefly consults, to whom they defer, whom they admire and revere\nmost, as Rousseau, Marat, B\u00e9ranger, Victor Hugo, Louis Blanc,\nSainte-Beuve, and Renan. He placed before their eyes the very writings\nof Voltaire; and thus, by testimony that commanded their confidence, he\ntaught them what Voltaire was worth as a democrat, a citizen, a patriot,\nand even as a philosopher. We have no space to give quotations from\nthose writers; but we cannot resist the temptation to place before our\nreaders a few lines written by Victor Hugo himself, when he had not as\nyet lent his unquestionable genius to the vagaries of modern radicalism.\nThey tell us what the distinguished poet then thought of the man whom he\nnow extols to the skies and dares to put on a level with Christ. He\nspeaks of that filthy production of Voltaire\u2019s pen, _The Maid of\nOrleans_, and warns purity and innocence to beware of the poison\ncontained in that infamous book: \u201cAn old book is there, a romance of the\nlast century! A work of ignominy! Voltaire then reigned, that monkey of\ngenius, sent on a mission to man by the devil himself. O eighteenth\ncentury, impious and chastised, society without God, struck by God\u2019s\nhand! world-blind for Christ, which Satan illumines! Shame on thy\nwriters in the face of nations! The reflection of thy crimes is in their\nrenown! Beware, O child! in whose tender heart no tainted breath has as\nyet been felt. O daughter of Eve! Poor young mind! Voltaire the\n_serpent_, _Doubt_, and _Irony_ is in a corner of thy blessed sanctuary;\nwith his eye of fire he spies thee and laughs. Tremble! This false sage\nhas caused the ruin of many an angel. That demon, that black kite,\npounces upon pious hearts and crushes them. Oftentimes have I seen under\nhis cruel claws the feathers fall one by one from white wings made to\nrise and take flight towards heaven\u201d (_Rayons et Ombres_).\n\nVoltaire was not a great thinker, not a great poet, not a great\nhistorian, not a great novelist, and not a great manager or man of\naction. Of his twenty-eight or thirty dramatic pieces scarcely one rises\nto the highest line of dramatic art; his comedies, like his epics, are\nno longer read; his histories are sprightly and entertaining, but not\nauthentic; and his essays, both in prose and verse, with perhaps the\nsingle exception of his historical disquisitions, have ceased to\ninstruct. This is the judgment about the man which we find recorded in\nthe _American Cyclop\u00e6dia_, and we have no doubt of its correctness. If\nwe seek, then, for the secret of his success, we must turn not to his\nlighter compositions, as has been advised, but to the corruption of the\nage in which he lived. Voltaire found around him a society in a state of\ndisorganization produced by the orgies of the Regency, and the spirit of\nincredulity which had invaded the whole of Europe. He seized upon those\nmaterials which he used against Christianity. He wished to destroy it.\nHis intention was not doubtful; it had been clearly revealed by his\n_Mahomet_, a tragedy given to the public in 1741. The piece had no\nsuccess at first, or rather people were frightened by it. Christianity\nwas too openly attacked in it not to revolt public opinion, which was as\nyet profoundly Christian. It was withdrawn after three representations;\nbut, resumed ten years later, it was received with enthusiasm. It is at\nthat date and with that the eighteenth century properly begins. In 1751\nall was changed. Religion, morals, taste, national honor, military glory\nwere soon to disappear from the soil of France. Fleury had ceased to\nlive, and voluptuousness had seated a Pompadour upon the throne;\nflattery erected altars in her honor, whilst a philosophy, the enemy of\nGod and of the laws, placed itself under the protection of that worthy\npatroness. It was not difficult to see already looming on the horizon\nthe horrors of 1793. Voltaire, undoubtedly, was one of the makers of the\ngreat Revolution\u2014\u201cthat grand conflict which,\u201d as Schlegel says, \u201cmust be\nlooked upon in no other light than as a religious war; for a formal\nseparation, not only from the church, but from all Christianity, a total\nabolition of the Christian religion, was an object of this Revolution.\u201d\nIt is no wonder, then, that all revolutionists have made an idol of\nVoltaire, who played so prominent a part in bringing it about. It is\nstill Voltaire the enemy of Christianity whom they celebrate. This they\nopenly avow. One of the organs of the party, the _Bien Public_, declared\nthat it was not the centenary of Voltaire the man of letters that they\nintended to celebrate, but that of him who had said \u201c_\u00c9crasons\nl\u2019inf\u00e2me_\u201d (Let us crush the wretch). The _Droits de l\u2019Homme_ also\nwrote: \u201cVoltaire had no respect for things established; he dared look\nChrist in the face; he insulted him. This is the reason why we have\nchosen Voltaire to pay him our respects.\u201d It is his hatred for the\nreligion of Christ which they wish to propagate. The volume containing\nVoltaire\u2019s _best thoughts_, ordered to be printed and distributed among\nthe people, tells us that \u201ceverything which is related of Jesus is\nworthy of a pack of fools\u201d; that \u201cmiracles are ridiculous and the work\nof charlatans\u201d; that \u201cChrist himself was a vile mechanic from the scum\nof the people, a seducer who had lost all scruple\u201d; that \u201cour sacred\nbooks are the work of insanity, and that Christians are dupes, fools,\nand cowards.\u201d And they desire such a book to replace among the masses\nthe catechism and the Gospel! Do so, and you have wolves instead of men.\n\n\n\n\n BRETON LEGENDS OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN.\n\n\nThe steadfastness of Breton Catholicity is proverbial. From the far-away\ntime when the disciples of the good St. Patrick, among whom, says the\nBreton legend, \u201che was like a nightingale among wrens, or a beech-tree\namong ferns,\u201d first planted the cross in Armorica, up to that last\ncrusade in defence of it wherein only yesterday, as it were, Lamorici\u00e8re\nand Pimodan and their gallant comrades sacrificed themselves as\nchivalrously as any knight of old on the fatal field of Castelfidardo,\nthe Breton has never wavered in his faith. Evil example has not availed\nto weaken it; persecution has only made it stronger; the poisoned arrow\nof the scoffer, deadlier than the Moor\u2019s, has fallen blunted on the\narmor of its tranquil simplicity. When all France beside, with few\nexceptions, had sunk into indifferentism or infidelity, Breton peasant\nand Breton gentleman still held fast to their fathers\u2019 creed, still\ndoffed their hats as reverently as of yore to wayside cross or Madonna,\nstill knelt as devoutly side by side in the little rustic chapels which\nso cover the land \u201cthat,\u201d says a sympathetic writer, \u201cit seems\nfertilized by so many holy shrines.\u201d Some idea may be had of the number\nof the religious monuments of Brittany from the fact that when, at the\nRestoration, the proposition was mooted to replace the wayside crosses\nwhich the iconoclastic frenzy of the Revolution had overturned, it was\nfound that 1,500,000 francs would be needed to restore those in the\ndepartment of Finisterre alone.\n\nIndeed, it may be said that the Revolution in Brittany took the form not\nso much of a political struggle as of a religious proscription. It was\nnot the royalist so much as the Catholic who was there the object of\npartisan fury. To the butchers of the Temple, the mad idolaters of\nReason, religion was a crime even greater than loyalty. \u201cIt was,\u201d says\nthe author already quoted,[134] \u201ca conflict between the guillotine and a\npeople\u2019s faith\u2014a merciless conflict, in which the guillotine blunted its\nknife and was baffled.\u201d Catholic Brittany offered but a passive\nresistance to her persecutors, but it was a resistance none the less\nstubborn, unflinching, unconquerable. On her knees with clasped hands\nshe defied the _noyades_ of Carrier and the bayonets of Hoche.\n\u201cNothing,\u201d says M. Souvestre, \u201ccould alter the freshness of her faith.\nShe gave way neither to anger nor to fear. The red cap might be put upon\nher head, but not upon her thoughts.\n\n\u201c\u2018I will throw down your belfries,\u2019 said Jean Bon-Saint-Andr\u00e9 to the\nmayor of a village, \u2018so that you will have no longer any reminder of\nyour effete superstitions.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018You will still have to leave us the stars,\u2019 returned the peasant, \u2018and\nwe can see them farther than our belfries.\u2019\u201d\n\nNevertheless, the threat was carried out, at least so far that the\nchurches were closed, the celebration of Mass was made a crime, the\npriests were hunted like wild beasts, and the faithful were reduced to\nmuch the same straits as their English co-religionists under Elizabeth,\nor as Irish Catholics under the Penal Laws. Among the many shifts they\nwere put to to evade their savage pursuers, the coast population were\noften driven to take to their boats and put to sea, where, under favor\nof the midnight, the faithful pastor offered Mass upon a raft. Surely\nthe people who could resort to such measures rather than forego the\nexercise of their faith must have been devoted to it.\n\nIt may seem strange that so brave and hardy, nay, so fiery, a race as\nthe Bretons should submit so tamely to provocation so bitter. Unlike La\nVend\u00e9e, Brittany never, as a province, made any effectual head against\nthe Revolution, which made so ruthless an onslaught upon all that Breton\nand Vendean held most sacred. The uprising in Upper or Western Brittany\nwhich broke out just as the Vendean insurrection was about being\ncrushed, and which is known to history as the _Chouannerie_, or war of\nthe Chouans, was but a desultory guerilla warfare, confined for the most\npart to that division of Brittany which has preserved fewest of the\nBreton characteristics. The only important engagement which took place\nin Lower Brittany during the Revolution was the surprise of Fort\nPenthi\u00e8vre by Hoche, when \u201cthe sickle sweep of Quiberon Bay\u201d reaped its\nharvest of slaughter; and there the royalists were in the main composed\nof _emigr\u00e9s_, nobles, and Chouans from Western Brittany. Even the\nbrothers Cottereau, nicknamed _Chouan_,[135] who gave its name to this\ninsurrection, were not Bretons, but from Maine. Doubtless had not De la\nRouarie\u2019s plot miscarried through treachery and the premature death of\nthat far-seeing and audacious schemer, the result might have been\notherwise. As it was, the counter revolution took in Brittany and La\nVend\u00e9e very different directions. In the former it was the hostility of\nthe \u201cpatriots\u201d to the church that was most deeply felt and most bitterly\nresented; while the Vendeans fought for their faith, indeed, and their\narmy bore the name of \u201cCatholic and loyal,\u201d but they fought at least as\ndirectly for their king. We have not space to philosophize upon this\ncurious distinction, further than to point out that Brittany, so far as\nthe bulk of its population is concerned, has always been rather Catholic\nthan royalist. It is not so very long ago that a Frenchman was nearly as\nmuch of an alien as the hated _Saozon_ or Saxon[136] himself to the man\nof Tr\u00e9guier or the L\u00e9onnais; even two centuries of submission to an\nenforced and distasteful union scarcely sufficed to make the Breton look\nupon the French king as other than a usurper. In this, as in devotion to\nthe faith, which the same apostle brought to both, and in readiness to\ngive up all for it, the parallel between Brittany and that other great\nCeltic colony, Ireland, is of the closest kind. True, the union of\nBrittany and France, like that of England and Scotland, was effected\nthrough marriage,[137] and not, as in the Irish union, by force and\nfraud. But it was none the more popular for that; and though all overt\nopposition was effectually crushed with the overthrow of the League,\nheaded by the ambitious and self-seeking though gallant Duc de Merc\u0153ur,\nin the early part of the seventeenth century, there still remained a\nsmouldering fire of resentment and dislike which only lately, if ever at\nall, has been extinguished. And from that time, too, to quote M.\nSouvestre again, of the two sovereign powers on which the feudal edifice\nwas based, the nobility and the church, the latter alone preserved its\nauthority in Brittany. Deceived and disappointed in his worldly leaders,\nit seemed as though the Breton peasant turned more implicitly to his\nspiritual guides. Certain it is that in no Catholic land, not even in\nIreland, has the priesthood retained more ascendency, nor, if we may\ntrust writers who cannot be accused of partiality, deserved it more.\n\nThe spirit of devotion breathes all through the Breton\u2019s daily life. No\nimportant act is begun without its appropriate religious ceremonies. Is\nit a house or a barn that he has built?\u2014he will use neither till they\nhave been blest, as in Aubrey de Vere\u2019s \u201cBuilding of the Cottage\u201d:\n\n \u201cMix the mortar o\u2019er and o\u2019er,\n Holy music singing;\n Holy water o\u2019er it pour,\n Flowers and tresses flinging.\n Bless we now the earthen floor;\n May good angels love it!\n Bless we now the new-raised door,\n And that cell above it!\u201d\n\nHe thinks, with the poet,\n\n \u201cBetter to roam for ay than rest\n Under the impious shadow of a roof unblest.\u201d\n\nIn little acts as in great ones it is the same. The knife does not cut\nthe loaf until it has made over it the sign of the cross; the children\ntell their ages by the number of Easters they have made; the sowing of\nthe grain is preceded by a solemn procession. \u201cThe barren field,\u201d says\nthe Breton proverb, \u201cgrows fertile under the stole of the priest.\u201d In\nall his thoughts the religious idea is uppermost. \u201cI was walking in the\nfields,\u201d says M. de la Villemarqu\u00e9e, \u201creading a book, when a peasant\naccosted me. \u2018Is it,\u2019 said he, \u2018the _Lives of the Saints_ you are\nreading?\u2019\u201d And the strongest idea a Breton can give you of the truth of\nany book is that it was written and printed by a priest.\n\nIt is not surprising, therefore, that among a people of such simple and\nfervid faith devotion to the Blessed Virgin should especially have\nflourished. The popular impulse towards the expression of piety which\ndisplayed itself in France in the sixteenth century, and which soon\ncovered the land with Calvaries and Chapels of Notre Dame, was nowhere\nmore outspoken or lasting than in Brittany. _Mme. Marie de Bon Secours,\nm\u00e8re des p\u00eacheurs_\u2014Mme. Mary of Good Help, mother of fishermen\u2014is\ninvoked as heartily on the coast of Tr\u00e9guier as _Notre Dame de tous les\nrem\u00e8des_\u2014Our Lady of All-Healing\u2014on the mountains of Cornouailles. And,\nas might be looked for in an impressionable and imaginative race, this\ndevotion has entwined itself with many quaint and curious legends. It is\na general belief in Brittany\u2014as, indeed, it is among the peasantry\nelsewhere in France, and we believe in some parts of Spain\u2014that our Lord\nand his Blessed Mother visited their country _in propria persona_ after\nthe Resurrection. Ask a peasant of Vannes, for example, the origin of\nthe _galgals_, or heaps of pebbles which diversify the monotony of his\nvast _Landes_, and he will tell you that the Blessed Virgin carried them\nthere in her apron. The folk-lore of the country turns largely upon her\nintervention for the protection of those who call upon her. Two of the\nmost curious of these legends we propose to give our readers from M.\nSouvestre\u2019s very interesting collection entitled _Le Foyer Breton_. So\nfar as we know they have not been rendered into English except in a\nmutilated and imperfect version styled _Popular Legends and Tales of\nBrittany_, which is simply the translation of a German adaptation of\nSouvestre\u2019s book, and in which the essentially Catholic features of the\noriginal are for the most part studiously eliminated. This process of\n\u201cevangelizing\u201d Catholic literature is familiar enough from _Dies Ir\u00e6_\ndown; it is to be regretted that Catholic publishers are sometimes found\nwilling to father and to circulate such counterfeits.\n\nThe first of our legends is one current in the country of Tr\u00e9guier\u2014the\nLower Breton still divides his beloved province, not into the\ndepartments fixed by the Revolution, but as of old into the four\nbishoprics of L\u00e9on, Tr\u00e9guier, Vannes, and Cornouailles\u2014and is known as\n_Les Trois Rencontres_, or, as we shall call it,\n\n\n THE THREE BEGGARS.\n\n\nOnce upon a time, in the days when Jesus Christ and his Mother came\noften to visit Lower Brittany, when along the roads there were as many\ncells of holy hermits as there are now new houses with a manger and a\nbranch of mistletoe by the door, there lived in the bishopric of L\u00e9on\ntwo young lords as rich as heart could wish, and so handsome that even\ntheir mother could not have wished them better-looking. They were called\nTonyk and Mylio.\n\nMylio, who was the elder, was going on sixteen, while Tonyk was but\nfourteen. Both had taken lessons from masters so able that there was\nnothing to hinder them from becoming priests at once, if they had been\nold enough and had had a vocation.\n\nNow, Tonyk was pious, ever ready to help the poor and forgive injuries.\nMoney stayed no longer in his hand than anger in his heart; while Mylio\nwould give to no one more than his due, and even haggled over that, and\nif anybody offended him he never rested until he had avenged himself to\nthe utmost of his power.\n\nAs God had taken their father from them while they were still in long\nclothes, the widow, who was a woman of great virtue, had brought them up\nherself; but now that they were well grown, she deemed it time to send\nthem to an uncle of theirs at a distance, from whom they might look for\ngood counsel as well as a great inheritance. So one day, making each of\nthem a present of a new hat, shoes with silver buckles, a purple cloak,\na well-lined purse, and a horse, she bade them be off to the house of\ntheir father\u2019s brother.\n\nThe two lads set out, glad enough of the chance to see strange lands.\nTheir horses went so fast that at the end of some days they found\nthemselves in another kingdom, where the trees and grain were unlike any\nthey had seen at home. But one morning, as they were passing a\ncross-roads, they spied a poor woman sitting by the cross, her face\nburied in her apron. Tonyk pulled up his horse to ask her what was the\nmatter. The beggar-woman told him with sobs that she had just lost her\nonly son, who was her all, and that she was thrown upon the charity of\nChristians.\n\nThe lad was greatly touched; but Mylio, who had stopped some paces off,\ncried out with a jeering air:\n\n\u201cYou are not going to swallow everything the first whimpering old woman\ntells you? That creature is there only to trick travellers out of their\nmoney.\u201d\n\n\u201cHush, my brother,\u201d replied Tonyk, \u201chush, in God\u2019s name! Your words make\nher cry still harder. Do you not see that she has the years and mien of\nour own mother, God bless her!\u201d\n\nThen, bending forward and handing his purse to the beggar-woman, \u201cTake\nit, poor woman,\u201d he said; \u201cI can only help you, but I will pray to God\nto console you.\u201d\n\nThe beggar-woman took the purse, and, kissing it, said to Tonyk:\n\n\u201cSince your lordship has wished to enrich a poor woman, you will not\nrefuse to take from her this nut, which holds a wasp with a diamond\nsting.\u201d\n\nTonyk took the nut, thanked the beggar-woman, and went his way with\nMylio.\n\nThe two soon came to the edge of a wood, where they saw a little child,\nnearly naked, who was prying about in the hollows of the trees, and\nsinging the while an air sadder than the chants of the Mass for the\nDead. Often he stopped to slap his little frozen hands together, saying\nin a kind of sing-song, \u201cI\u2019m so cold! I\u2019m so cold!\u201d And then they could\nhear his teeth chatter.\n\nAt this sight Tonyk felt like crying, and he said to his brother:\n\n\u201cFor pity\u2019s sake, Mylio, do you see how this poor little innocent\nsuffers from the cold?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is a great baby, then,\u201d said Mylio. \u201cI, for my part, do not find the\nwind so cold.\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause you have on a velvet vest, and over that a cloth coat, and over\nthat again your purple cloak, while he is clad only in the air of\nheaven.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, what of it?\u201d said Mylio. \u201cHe is only a little peasant.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d replied Tonyk, \u201cwhen I think that you might have been born in\nhis place, my brother, my heart bleeds and I cannot see him suffer so.\u201d\n\nWith these words he drew rein, called the little boy, and asked him what\nhe was doing there.\n\n\u201cI am looking for the _winged needles_[138] that sleep in the crannies\nof the trees,\u201d answered the child.\n\n\u201cAnd what wouldst thou do with these winged needles?\u201d said Mylio.\n\n\u201cWhen I have enough of them I will sell them in the city and buy a coat\nwhich will keep me warm as if it was always sunshine.\u201d\n\n\u201cHast thou found any yet?\u201d went on the young noble.\n\n\u201cBut one,\u201d replied the child, showing a little cage of rushes within\nwhich he had shut the blue fly.\n\n\u201cVery good, I will take it,\u201d broke in Tonyk, throwing him his cloak.\n\u201cWrap thyself up in that precious cloth, little one, and add every\nevening in thy prayers a Hail Mary for Mylio and another for her who\nbore us both.\u201d\n\nThe two brothers went on their way, and Tonyk at first suffered much\nfrom the wind for want of the cloak he had given away; but when they had\ngot through the wood the wind fell, the air grew milder, the fog lifted,\nand a _vein of the sun_[139] shone along the clouds.\n\nJust then they came to a meadow where there was a spring, and by the\nside of it an old man in rags carrying upon his shoulder the sack of the\n_seekers for bread_.[140] When he saw the two cavaliers he called to\nthem in a supplicating voice. Tonyk went up to him.\n\n\u201cWhat would you, father?\u201d he asked, lifting his hand to his hat out of\nrespect for the beggar\u2019s age.\n\n\u201cAlas! dear sir,\u201d replied he, \u201cyou see how white my hair is and how\nwrinkled my cheeks. I am grown so weak from age that my legs can no\nlonger carry me; so I must needs die in this spot, unless one of you\nwill sell me his horse.\u201d\n\n\u201cSell thee one of our horses, bread-seeker!\u201d cried Mylio with a scornful\nair. \u201cAnd wherewith wilt thou pay us?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou see this hollow acorn?\u201d said the beggar. \u201cIt holds a spider which\ncan spin webs stronger than steel. Let me have one of your horses, and I\nwill give you the spider and the acorn for it.\u201d\n\nThe elder of the two lads burst out laughing.\n\n\u201cDo you hear, Tonyk?\u201d he cried, turning to his brother. \u201cBy my baptism!\nthere must be two calves\u2019 feet in this man\u2019s _sabots_.\u201d[141]\n\nBut the younger replied gently: \u201cThe poor man can offer only what he\nhas.\u201d Then, getting off his horse and going up to the old man, \u201cI give\nyou my horse, my good man,\u201d said he, \u201cnot because of the price you put\non it, but in remembrance of Him who has said that the _seekers for\nbread_ were his elect. Take it as your own, and thank God, who has made\nuse of me to offer it you.\u201d\n\nThe old man murmured a thousand blessings, got upon the horse with the\nlad\u2019s help, and was soon out of sight across the meadow.\n\nBut Mylio could not forgive his brother this last almsgiving, and it led\nto an outbreak.\n\n\u201c_Big mouth!_\u201d[142] he cried to Tonyk, \u201cyou ought to be ashamed of the\nplight your folly has brought you to. You thought, no doubt, that, once\nstripped of everything, you would be let share my money, my horse, and\nmy cloak; but do not hope it! I want the lesson to do you good, that by\nfeeling the hardships of prodigality you may be more thrifty hereafter.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is indeed a good lesson, my brother,\u201d Tonyk answered mildly, \u201cand I\nam perfectly willing to take it. I never thought to have any part in\nyour money, your horse, or your cloak; so go your way without troubling\nyourself about me, and may the Queen of the angels guide you!\u201d\n\nMylio deigned no answer and set off on a trot, while his young brother\nkept on afoot, watching him from afar and bearing him no grudge in his\nheart.\n\nThey came thus to the opening of a narrow pass between two mountains\nwhich lost themselves in the clouds. It was called the Cursed Pass,\nbecause a _Rounfl_, or ogre, dwelt upon the cliffs, and there lay in\nwait for travellers as a hunter lies in wait for the game. He was a\ngiant, blind and without feet, but of so quick an ear that he could hear\nthe worm working underneath the ground. His servants were two eagles he\nhad tamed, one white and the other red (for he was a great magician),\nand he sent them out to seize his prey when he heard it coming. So the\npeople of that country, whenever they had to go through the pass,\ncarried their shoes in their hands, like the girls of Roscoff when they\ngo to the market of Morlaix, scarce daring to breathe for fear the ogre\nshould hear them. Mylio, who had no warning of this, rode in on his\nhorse, and the giant was aroused by the noise of the hoof-strokes on the\nflint.\n\n\u201cHo, there! my eagles,\u201d cried he, \u201cwhere are you?\u201d\n\nThe white eagle and the red eagle ran to him.\n\n\u201cGo get me for my supper what is going by,\u201d cried the ogre.\n\nLike two balls from a gun they plunged to the bottom of the pass, seized\nMylio by his purple cloak, and bore him away to the ogre\u2019s dwelling.\n\nAt this moment Tonyk reached the mouth of the pass. He saw his brother\ncarried off by the two birds, and with a cry ran towards him; but the\neagles and Mylio were out of sight in the clouds which covered the\nhighest mountain.\n\nThe lad stood for a moment rooted to the spot and beside himself with\ngrief, staring at the sky and the cliff as steep as a wall; then he sank\nupon his knees with clasped hands and cried:\n\n\u201cAlmighty Lord, Creator of the world, save my brother Mylio!\u201d\n\n\u201cTrouble not God the Father for such a trifle,\u201d replied three small\nvoices which he heard all at once near by.\n\nTonyk turned round wonder-stricken.\n\n\u201cWho spoke then, and where are you?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cIn your waistcoat pocket,\u201d replied the three voices.\n\nThe lad felt in his pocket, and pulled out the nut, the acorn, and the\nlittle cage of rushes, wherein were the three insects.\n\n\u201cIs it you, then, who wish to save Mylio?\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cYes, yes, yes!\u201d replied they in their three different voices.\n\n\u201cAnd how will you go about it, my poor nobodies?\u201d said Tonyk.\n\n\u201cOpen our cages and you will see.\u201d\n\nThe lad did as they asked; then the spider made up to a tree, against\nwhich she began a web shining and strong as steel; then she got upon the\n_winged needle_, who wafted her gently into the air, while she went on\nwith her web, whose threads were far enough apart to make a kind of\nladder, reaching higher and higher as they went up. Tonyk followed them\nup this wonderful ladder until he had reached the top of the mountain.\nThe wasp flew in front of him, and together they came to the giant\u2019s\nhouse.\n\nIt was a cave hollowed in the rock and as high as a church. In the\nmiddle of it sat the ogre, without eyes or legs. He kept rocking himself\nto and fro like a poplar, while he sang these words to an air of his\nown:\n\n \u201cThe L\u00e9onard\u2019s flesh I love to eat,\n Fed is he on the fattest of meat;\n The man of Tr\u00e9guier tastes beside\n Of sweet new milk and pancakes fried;\n But Vannes and Cornouailles who could eat,\n Bitter and tough as their coarse buckwheat?\u201d\n\nAll the while he sang this song he got ready slices of pork to roast\nMylio, who lay at his feet, his legs and arms tied upon his back like a\nchicken trussed for the spit. The two eagles held a little aloof, near\nthe chimney, and one set the turn-spit while the other stirred up the\nfire.\n\nThe noise the giant made in singing, and also the care he gave to\ngetting ready his slices of pork, had kept him from hearing the approach\nof Tonyk and his three little servants. But the red eagle spied the lad;\nhe darted upon him, and was about to make off with him in his claws when\nthe wasp pierced his eyes with her diamond dart. The white eagle ran to\nhelp his brother, and his eyes were put out too. Then the wasp flew to\nthe ogre, who had sprung up on hearing the cries of his two domestics,\nand fell to piercing him with her sting without let or truce. The giant\nroared like a bull in August. But it was in vain for him to dash his\narms about like the sails of a windmill; he could not catch the wasp for\nwant of eyes, and no more, for want of feet, could he get away.\n\nAt last he dropped face down upon the ground to escape the sting of\nfire; but the spider at once came up and wove about him a net which held\nhim fast. In vain he called his two eagles to his aid. Mad with pain,\nknowing the ogre was helpless, they wished to avenge their long slavery;\nwith flapping wings they rushed upon their former master and sought to\ntear him to pieces under his net of steel. At each stroke of their beaks\nthey tore away a shred of flesh, and never stopped till they had picked\nhis four bones clean. Then they lay down upon the carcass of the ogre,\nand, as the magician\u2019s flesh was indigestible, they never got up again,\nbut burst there on the spot.\n\nAs to Tonyk, he had untied his brother\u2019s bonds, and, after embracing him\nwith tears of joy, led him out of the ogre\u2019s house to the edge of the\ncliff. The _winged needle_ and the wasp were soon at hand, harnessed to\nthe little cage of rushes, now changed to a coach. Praying the two\nbrothers to take seats, while the spider posted herself behind like the\nlackey of some great house, the equipage went off with the speed of the\nwind.\n\nTonyk and Mylio in this way crossed with the utmost ease meadows,\nmountains, and villages (for in the air the roads are always in good\norder) until they were come to their uncle\u2019s castle.\n\nThere the carriage alighted and rolled towards the drawbridge, where the\nbrothers saw their two horses waiting for them; but at Tonyk\u2019s saddlebow\nhung his purse and cloak; only the purse was bigger and much better\nlined, and the cloak was all embroidered with diamonds.\n\nThe wondering lad would have turned to the carriage to ask the meaning\nof this; but the carriage was gone, and in place of the wasp, the\n_winged needle_, and the spider there stood only three angels dazzling\nwith light.\n\nThe two brothers, confounded, fell upon their knees. Then one of the\nangels drew near Tonyk and said to him:\n\n\u201cBe not afraid, dear youth; for the woman, the child, and the old man\nthou didst succor were no other than the Virgin Mary, Jesus her Son, and\nSt. Joseph. They have given us to thee that thou mightest make the\njourney without danger, and, now that it is ended, we go back to\nParadise. Bethink thee only of what has happened to thyself, and let\nthis be a warning.\u201d\n\nWith these words the three angels spread their wings and flew off like\nthree swallows, chanting the hosannah which is sung in the churches.\n\nThe motive of this tale, it will be observed, is the beauty of charity,\nand it is perhaps another form of the ancient legend of St. Julian which\nis found, in one shape or another, in the traditions of many peoples.\nBut charity and hospitality are pre-eminently Breton as they are Irish\nvirtues. With a \u201cGod save all here!\u201d the beggar walks unbidden and\nunrepulsed into the first cabin he comes to, and takes his seat, as one\nexpected, by the fireside or at the table. No one dreams of turning him\naway, for he is the guest of God. The following legend also turns on the\nsame virtues; but it is peculiar in introducing a personage almost\nunique in Breton tradition\u2014viz., a wicked priest. \u201cIn our pious\nArmorica,\u201d says M. Souvestre, \u201cthe respect accorded to the priesthood\npartakes of worship. The tonsure is a crown which gives a right to royal\nhomage.\u201d But in proportion to the veneration paid to the good priest is\nthe contempt and detestation visited upon the derelict, as the few\n\u201cconstitutional\u201d _cur\u00e9s_ whom the Revolution found among the Breton and\nVendean clergy were made fully aware. The reader of Carleton\u2019s _Tales\nand Legends of the Irish Peasantry_ may discover here another element of\nlikeness in the kindred race.\n\n\n MAO, THE LUCKY.\n\n\nChristians who wish a powerful protectress in heaven cannot do better\nthan address themselves to _Notre Dame de tous rem\u00e8des_ (Our Lady of\nAll-Healing), near the City of the Beech.[143] She has in that place the\nrichest chapel that the hand of man ever built. All inside it is filled\nwith golden statues; the belfry, which is brother to that of Kreisker,\nhas more windows in it than there are holes in a Quimper waffle, and\nthere is near the church a fountain of masonry whose waters wash away\nall evil of soul and body.[144] Our Lady of All-Healing is one of the\nfour great Pardons of the Virgin Mary in Lower Brittany. The others are\nat Auray, at _Bois du fou_ (Fol-goat, or Madman\u2019s Wood), and Callot.\n\nIt was to Our Lady of All-Healing that Mao stopped to pray. Mao was on\nhis way from Loperek, a pretty parish between Kimerc\u2019h and Logoma. He\nhad neither kith nor kin, and his guardian had put in his hand a\n_frappe-t\u00eate_[145] with three silver crowns, telling him to seek his\nfortune where he would.\n\nAfter saying at the foot of the great altar all the prayers his nurse\nand the rector had taught him, Mao left the church to go his way. But as\nhe was about passing through the hedge he saw a crowd of folks gathered\nabout a dead body lying on the grass at the door of the priest\u2019s house;\nand he was told it was a poor _bread-seeker_ who had given up his soul\nthe night before, and whom the priest refused to bury.\n\n\u201cWas he, then, a pagan or a wretch who had denied his baptism?\u201d asked\nMao.\n\n\u201cHe was a true sheep of God\u2019s fold,\u201d made answer all who were there;\n\u201cand even when hunger pressed him sore he would have taken neither the\nthree ears of corn nor the three apples which custom permits the\nwayfarer to pluck.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, then, does the rector deny him the holy water and the consecrated\nearth?\u201d asked the youth.\n\n\u201cBecause poor Stevan left nothing to pay for the prayers of the church,\u201d\nreplied the spectators.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d cried Mao, \u201cis there a priest in this country, so hard-hearted\nthat he shuts the door on the poor while living and will not open to\nthem when dead? If it is money is wanted, here are three crowns. \u2019Tis\nall I have in the world; but I give it with all my heart to open to a\nChristian the consecrated earth.\u201d\n\nThe unworthy priest was called; he took the three crowns, rattled off\nthe prayers for the dead in as little time as it takes a carrier\u2019s horse\nto eat his truss of hay, dumped poor Stevan into a hole in the ground,\nand went off to see that the sucking pig which was a-cooking for his\ndinner was properly done on both sides.\n\nAs for Mao, he made a cross with two branches of yew, planted it on the\ngrave of the poor _seeker of bread_, and after saying a _De Profundis_\nwent on his way to Camfront.\n\nBut after a time Mao grew hungry and thirsty, and bethought him that he\nhad nothing left of what his guardian had given him to buy food and\ndrink. So he set about finding some mulberries or wild sorrel or wild\nplums, and all the while he hunted for them he kept looking at the birds\nwho were picking away in the thickets, and saying to himself:\n\n\u201cThose birds there are better off than baptized creatures; they want\nneither for inns nor butchers, nor bakers nor gardeners; God\u2019s heaven is\nall their own, and the earth spreads itself before them like a table\nalways served; the little insects are their game, the seeds are their\nfields of standing corn, hips and haws their dessert; they have the\nright to take everywhere without paying or as much as saying by your\nleave. So the little birds are gay, and they sing all day long.\u201d\n\nTurning these thoughts in his mind, Mao slackened his pace, and at last\nsat down under a great oak and fell fast asleep.\n\nBut, lo and behold, all of a sudden while he slept there came to him a\nsaint, all dressed in shining stuffs and crowned with a halo, and the\nsaint said to him:\n\n\u201cI am the poor _seeker of bread_, Stevan, to whom thou hast opened the\ngates of Paradise by buying for his body a consecrated grave. The Virgin\nMary, whose faithful servant I was on earth, has just had me made a\nsaint, and she has let me come back to thee as the bearer of good\ntidings. Believe no longer that the birds of the air are happier than\nbaptized souls, since for these the blood of the Son of God has been\nshed and they are the favorites of the Trinity. Hear, then, what the\nThree Persons have done to reward thy piety:\n\n\u201cNear by, beyond the meadows, is a manor which thou wilt know by its red\nand green weathercock. There lives a lord named Tr\u00e9houar, who is the\nfather of a daughter as lovely as the day and as gentle as a babe in the\ncradle. Go and knock this evening at his door, and say that thou comest\nfor what he well knows; he will receive thee, and the rest thou wilt\nlearn thyself. Remember only, if thou hast need of help, thou must say,\n\n \u201cCome, dead beggar, come quick to aid\n Here am I all helpless stayed.\u201d\n\nWith these words the saint vanished and Mao awoke.\n\nHis first care was to thank God for the safeguard he had sent him; then\nhe took his way towards the meadows in order to seek the manor-house. As\nnight was falling, he had at first some trouble to find it; but he saw\nat length a flight of pigeons and followed them, sure they could lead\nhim only to a noble house.\n\nSure enough, he spied at last the red and green weathercock peeping\nabove some trees loaded with black cherries\u2014for that is the country\nwhere they grow. It is the mountain parishes which send all the wild\ncherries you see laid out on straw at the Pardons of the L\u00e9onnais, and\nwhich lovers bring to the _penn\u00e9r\u00e8z_[146] in their great felt hats. Mao\ncrossed the lawn set out with walnuts, knocked at the smallest door he\ncould find in the manor-house, and said, as the saint bade him, that he\ncame for what they knew.\n\nThe gentleman was told at once. He came shaking his head, for he was old\nand feeble, but leaning upon his granddaughter, who was young and fresh;\nso that to look at them you would have said it was a ruined wall held up\nby a blooming honeysuckle.\n\nBoth, with the utmost politeness, bade the young man come in; he was\ngiven a carpet-covered stool by the old man\u2019s arm-chair, and served with\nsweet cider while supper was getting ready.\n\nMao wondered greatly at this greeting, and could not keep his eyes off\nthe young girl as she ran about getting everything ready and singing\nlike a lark. The more he looked the prettier he found her, and his heart\nbeat like a clock.\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d he thought, \u201che alone may call himself happy who will be able to\ntalk with the _penn\u00e9r\u00e8z_ of the manor behind the gable.\u201d[147]\n\nAt last, when supper was over, the grandfather had Li\u00e7zenn (that was the\nyoung girl\u2019s name) clear away the things, and said to Mao:\n\n\u201cWe have given you of our best and according to our means, young man,\nbut not according to our wish, for the house of Tr\u00e9houar has long\nsuffered from a grievous wound. Once upon a time we reckoned here as\nmany as twenty horses and forty cows; but the fiend has made himself\nmaster of cattle-sheds and stables; cows and horses have vanished one\nafter another and as often as they have been replaced, until I have sunk\nall my savings. All our prayers to conjure away the destroying spirit\nhave been in vain; we have had to resign ourselves, and for lack of\nlive-stock my lands are now lying fallow. I had some hopes of my nephew\nMatelinn, who has gone to the French wars; but as he never came back I\nhave caused it to be given out through the country, at sermons and\nelsewhere, that the man who freed the manor should have Li\u00e7zenn to wife,\nand my whole estate after me. But all who have come here to this end and\nwatched in the stable have disappeared like the cows and horses. I pray\nGod you may have better hap.\u201d\n\nMao, whom the remembrance of his vision emboldened to take the risk,\nanswered that, with the grace of the Virgin Mary, he hoped to overthrow\nthe hidden demon. With that he asked for some fire to keep his limbs\nfrom getting stiff, took his _frappe-t\u00eate_, and besought Li\u00e7zenn to\nthink of him in her prayers.\n\nThe place to which they brought him was a great shed divided into two\nparts for the cows and the horses; but it was wholly empty, and spiders\nhad spun their webs upon the feed-racks. Mao lit a fire of furze upon\nthe great stones which served for pavement, and betook himself to his\nprayers.\n\nFor the first quarter of an hour he heard only the crackling of the\nflame; for the second quarter of an hour he heard only the wind\nwhistling sadly through the cracks of the door; for the third quarter of\nan hour he heard only the little death\u2019s hammer[148] which sounded in\nthe wood-work; but at the fourth quarter a muffled sound was heard under\nthe pavement, and at the end of the building in the darkest corner he\nsaw the largest stone rise slowly and a dragon\u2019s head come out of the\nground; it was as big as a cheese-trough, flat like a viper\u2019s, and all\nabout its forehead flashed a row of parti-colored eyes.\n\nThe animal set two paws with red claws upon the edge of the pavement,\nlooked at Mao, and left his hole with a hiss.\n\nAs he drew near Mao could see his scaly body unroll itself, coming out\nfrom under the stone like a great cable from the hold of a ship.\n\nAlthough the lad was bold enough, yet his blood ran cold, and as he felt\nthe fumes of the dragon\u2019s breath he cried:\n\n \u201cCome, dead beggar, come quick to aid!\n Here am I all helpless stayed.\u201d\n\nThat very instant the shining shape he had summoned stood by his side.\n\n\u201cFear nothing,\u201d said he; \u201cthe wards of the Mother of God will always\nprevail against the monsters of the earth.\u201d\n\nSo saying, Stevan stretched forth his hand, spoke some words of the\nlanguage they talk in heaven, and instantly the dragon rolled over on\nhis side, struck dead.\n\nAt sun-up next morning Mao went and woke all the people of the manor and\ntook them to the stables; but at sight of the dead beast the boldest\nfell back ten paces.\n\n\u201cHave no fear,\u201d the young man said to them; \u201cthe Virgin Mary has helped\nme. The monster that devoured the cattle and their keepers is now but\nlifeless clay. Go fetch cords and drag him hence to some deserted\nquarry.\u201d\n\nThey did as he bade them, and when the dragon had been dragged from his\nlair the entire body went twice round the buckwheat-thrashing yard.\n\nOverjoyed to be freed from so dangerous a foe, the grandfather kept his\npromise to Mao and gave him Li\u00e7zenn to wife. The young _penn\u00e9r\u00e8z_ was\nled to the church at Camfront, her right arm encircled, as usual, with a\nband of silver lace for each thousand francs in her dowry, and the story\ngoes that she had eighteen.\n\nOnce married, Mao bought live-stock, hired servants, and the lands of\nthe manor were soon worth more than ever. Then it was that the\ngrandfather went to receive his reward from God, leaving all he owned to\nthe young couple.\n\nThese last were happier than any other baptized creatures\u2014so happy that\nevery evening they could find nothing to ask of God, and could only\nthank him. But one day, just as they were sitting down to supper with\ntheir servants, who should come in with one of the maids but a soldier,\nso tall that his head touched the beams of the ceiling, and whom Li\u00e7zenn\nknew at once for her cousin Matelinn. He had come back from the French\nwars to marry the _penn\u00e9r\u00e8z_, and, learning what had passed while he was\naway, great indeed was his wrath; but he took good care not to show it\nto the young couple, for he was a dissembler by nature.\n\nMao, nothing doubting, welcomed him with open arms; he gave him of the\nbest in the manor, had the best room made ready for him, and rode with\nhim everywhere about his fields, now covered with harvests.\n\nBut the taller Matelinn found the flax, and the heavier the wheat, the\nangrier he grew that all these things were not his, without speaking of\nhis cousin Li\u00e7zenn, who seemed to him prettier than ever. So one day he\ngot Mao to hunt with him on the downs of Logoma, and brought him to a\nfar thicket where there was an abandoned windmill, against which bundles\nof furze had been piled for the baker of Daonlas; arrived there, he\nturned his eyes towards Camfront and said all of a sudden to the young\nman:\n\n\u201cLook! I can see from here the manor with its great court.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhich way?\u201d asked Mao.\n\n\u201cBehind that little beechwood: don\u2019t you see the windows of the great\nhall?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am too short,\u201d said Mao.\n\n\u201cYou are right,\u201d cried Matelinn, \u201cand it is a great pity, for I see my\ncousin Li\u00e7zenn in the little paddock by the garden.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs she alone?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; she is talking to some gentlemen, who are whispering in her ear.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what is Li\u00e7zenn doing?\u201d\n\n\u201cLi\u00e7zenn is listening to them and twisting the strings of her apron.\u201d\n\nMao stood on tip-toe.\n\n\u201cOh! how I wish I could see,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cNothing is easier,\u201d replied Matelinn; \u201cyou have but to go up to the top\nof the mill, and you will be taller than I.\u201d\n\nMao thought well of the advice and climbed the old ladder. When he was\ncome to the top his cousin asked him what he saw.\n\n\u201cI see only trees which seem as near the earth as two-months corn,\u201d\nanswered he, \u201cand houses which seem as little as shells left dry\nstranded on the shore.\u201d\n\n\u201cLook nearer,\u201d said Matelinn.\n\n\u201cNearer I see only the sea with barks that skim the water like gulls.\u201d\n\n\u201cNearer yet,\u201d continued the soldier.\n\n\u201cNearer yet is the heather in bloom and the golden gorse.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut below you?\u201d\n\n\u201cBelow me!\u201d cried Mao in a fright, \u201cinstead of the ladder to get down I\nsee flames coming to devour me.\u201d\n\nAnd he saw truly, for Matelinn had taken away the ladder and set fire to\nthe heaped-up piles of furze, so that the old mill was in the midst of a\nfurnace.\n\nIn vain Mao begged the giant not to leave him to perish, in so cruel a\nmanner; he turned his back and went off along the downs, whistling.\n\nThen the young man, feeling himself near to stifle, repeated the\ninvocation:\n\n \u201cCome, dead beggar, come quick to aid!\n Here am I all helpless stayed.\u201d\n\nInstantly the saint appeared, holding in his right hand a rainbow one\nend of which sank in the sea while the other shed a heavy dew, and in\nthe left hand Jacob\u2019s ladder which joined heaven and earth. The rainbow\nput out the fire, while Mao climbed down on the ladder and made his way\nback to the manor without the slightest hurt.\n\nAt sight of him Matelinn was thunderstruck; sure that his cousin would\ndenounce him to justice, he ran to get his arms and his war-horse, but\nas he was going out of the great court Mao went up to him and said:\n\n\u201cHave no fear, cousin; for no man on earth will know what has passed on\nthe heath of Daonlas. Your heart was sickened that God had given me more\nprosperity than you; I wish to cure your heart. From to-day on, while I\nlive, you will have the right to half of all that is mine, save my\ndearest Li\u00e7zenn. Go, then, cousin, and have no more bad thoughts against\nme.\u201d\n\nThis agreement was drawn up by the notary in due form, and Matelinn had\nevery month half of all the produce of the fields, the poultry-yard, and\nthe cattle.\n\nBut this generosity of Mao only embittered the venom of his heart. For\nundeserved benefits are like wine drunk without thirst; they give\nneither joy nor profit. He no longer sought Mao\u2019s death, for, Mao dead,\nhe would lose the allotted share of his wealth; but he hated him as a\ncaged wolf hates the master who feeds him.\n\nWhat heightened his wrath was that all turned to gold for his cousin. Up\nto that time only a child was wanting to his happiness, and Li\u00e7zenn now\nbrought him a handsome, hearty boy who was born without a tear. Mao sent\nword to all the gentlefolks for more than five leagues round, praying\nthem to the christening feast; they came from Braspars, from Kimerc\u2019h,\nfrom Loperek, from Logoma, from Faou, from Irvilhac, and from Saint\nEloi\u2014all mounted on well-caparisoned horses, with their wives or\ndaughters on pillions behind them. The baptism of a prince of\nCornouailles would not have drawn together more people of rank.\n\nAll were gathered in front of the manor, and Mao was come to get the\nnew-born infant in Li\u00e7zenn\u2019s chamber with those who were to hold it at\nthe font and his nearest friends, when in comes Matelinn, wearing on his\nface a treacherous smile. At his entrance the sick mother gave a cry,\nbut he drew near, twisting his shoulders, and with many compliments\nthanked her for the present she had made him.\n\n\u201cWhat present?\u201d asked the poor woman in bewilderment.\n\n\u201cHave you not just added an heir to my cousin\u2019s wealth?\u201d said the\nsoldier.\n\n\u201cAnd if I have?\u201d said Li\u00e7zenn.\n\n\u201cA deed on parchment entitles me to half of all that shall belong to\nMao, save your dearly-beloved self,\u201d added Matelinn, \u201cand I come,\ntherefore, to claim my half of the new-born heir.\u201d\n\nAll present cried out, but Matelinn repeated coldly that he must have\nhis share of the infant, adding that if denied he would take it himself;\nand he showed a great knife for cutting up pork which he had brought\nwith him for the purpose.\n\nVainly did Mao and Li\u00e7zenn beseech him with clasped hands and on bended\nknees to give up his right; the giant\u2019s only answer was to whet his\nknife on the steel which hung from his girdle. At last he was in the act\nof tearing the child from the young woman\u2019s arms when Mao bethought him\nall at once of the appeal to the dead beggar, and repeated it aloud. He\nhad no sooner ended than the room was flooded with a heavenly light, and\nthe saint was descried upon a cloud with the Virgin Mary by his side.\n\n\u201cI am here, good people,\u201d said the Mother of God; \u201cmy faithful servant\nhas had me come from the starry realms to judge between you.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you are the Mother of God, save the child,\u201d cried Li\u00e7zenn.\n\n\u201cIf you are the Queen of Heaven, make them give me my due,\u201d said\nMatelinn with effrontery.\n\n\u201cListen to me,\u201d said Mary. \u201cYou first, Mao, and you, Li\u00e7zenn, draw near\nwith the babe. Until now I had given you only the joys of life; I wish\nto do more, and so I give you the joys of death. You will follow me into\nthe Paradise of my Son, where neither sorrow nor treason nor sickness\ncomes. As for you, Goliath, it is your right to share the new good which\nis given them, and you will die like them, but to descend twelve hundred\nand fifty leagues[149] into the kingdom of the evil one.\u201d\n\nWith these words she held out her hand, and the giant was swallowed up\nin a gulf of fire, while the young husband and wife with their child\nbent towards each other like a family asleep, and disappeared, borne\nupon a cloud.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn the incomplete version referred to the beggar-man is changed into a\nspirit of the air like the genii of the _Arabian Nights_, the Blessed\nVirgin, it is needless to say, makes no appearance at all, and the\nbeautiful touch at the end, possible only in a Catholic legend, by which\nMao and Li\u00e7zenn receive the crowning reward of their virtue on being\ntranslated to Paradise, is altogether omitted; so that all that is truly\nsignificant and characteristic in the story is lost.\n\nFootnote 134:\n\n M. Emile Souvestre has done more than almost any of his countrymen,\n except M. de la Villemarqu\u00e9e, to illustrate and set forth the Breton\n character.\n\nFootnote 135:\n\n A corruption of _chat-huant_ (screech-owl), the cry of which bird the\n brothers, who were salt-smugglers, used as a signal to inform one\n another of their whereabouts at night.\n\nFootnote 136:\n\n The Breton has preserved a thoroughly Celtic hatred of his ancient\n conqueror. \u201cYes,\u201d said a little peasant girl, describing a shipwreck;\n \u201cI saw them buried here in the sand; they were Saxons, you know, not\n Christians; and many an evening I have come with the village children\n to dance on the graves of the Englishmen who were turning to dust\n below there.\u201d\n\nFootnote 137:\n\n Namely, of Anne, daughter of Francis II., the last duke, to Charles\n VIII., and after his death to Louis XII. of France. Brittany was her\n dowry.\n\nFootnote 138:\n\n The insect popularly known as dragon-fly the Bretons call _nadoz-a\u00ebr_,\n or \u201cneedle of the air.\u201d\n\nFootnote 139:\n\n _Goazenn-H\u00eaault_\u2014Breton expression for a ray of sunlight piercing the\n clouds.\n\nFootnote 140:\n\n _Chercheur de pain, Klasker_\u2014the Breton name for beggar.\n\nFootnote 141:\n\n _Treid lu\u00e9 zo \u00e9n\u00e9 voutou_\u2014_i.e._, he must be an idiot.\n\nFootnote 142:\n\n _Genowek_\u2014a Breton insult equivalent to \u201cimbecile.\u201d\n\nFootnote 143:\n\n Faou, in the department of Finisterre (the ancient Pays de\n Cornouailles), was so called.\n\nFootnote 144:\n\n We are not to take literally, says M. Souvestre in a note, these\n Breton exaggerations. The church of Rumengol (corruption of _remed-ol_\n = _tous les rem\u00e8des_) is remarkable without being a wonder; the\n _golden statues_ are gilded figures of rude workmanship, and the spire\n is far from being comparable to that of Kreisker at St. Pol de L\u00e9on.\n\nFootnote 145:\n\n _Pen-god_ or _pen-scod_\u2014literally, a maul-pate, the Breton shillelagh.\n\nFootnote 146:\n\n _Penn\u00e9r\u00e8z_\u2014Breton for heiresses, marriageable girls.\n\nFootnote 147:\n\n Lovers met behind the gable end, because there there were no windows\n from which they could be overlooked; hence the expression for\n courtship, _to talk behind the gable_.\n\nFootnote 148:\n\n _Morzolik an ankou_ the Bretons call the wood-louse, in allusion to\n its faint, regular rapping. Cf. our _Death-watch_.\n\nFootnote 149:\n\n The precise distance at which the Bretons locate hell.\n\n\n\n\n NEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\n PHILOCHRISTUS. Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1878.\n\n\nThe peculiar merits of this book cannot be too highly valued by any\nsincere lover of Christ. Its sweet, earnest, intensely religious tone\nleads the reader through its learned pages over a most delightful walk\nof spiritual and intellectual recreation. Dry and unsatisfactory\ndiscussion is wholly avoided, and the all-absorbing subject, the human\nlife of the divine Redeemer, is pictured in a light glowing with\nfascinating love and luminous with precise intelligence. Assuming the\ncharacter of a disciple who actually lived with and followed Christ\nuntil the Ascension, the author represents himself as writing in\nAlexandria ten years after the destruction of Jerusalem, and when, he\nsays, \u201calmost all those disciples who with me saw the Lord Jesus in the\nflesh are now fallen asleep.\u201d He admits the impossibility of portraying\nChrist \u201cas he was in himself,\u201d but he \u201cdetermined rather to set forth an\nhistory of mine own life, wherein, as in a mirror, might perchance be\ndiscerned some lineaments of the countenance of Christ, seen, as by\nreflection, in the life of one who loved him.\u201d\n\nThe book opens with a brief but strikingly graphic statement of the\ncondition of Judea, both religiously and politically, at the time of our\nLord\u2019s public appearance. Its subjection to Roman domination had\neliminated its existence as an independent state, whilst the excessive\nlove of ceremonial into which the law had degenerated betokened the need\nof a new law and a new law-maker. For to be pious in those days meant\n\u201cto be obedient to the light precepts of the law, such as the laws\nconcerning the exact observance of the Sabbath, and concerning\npurifications, and concerning the consumption of nail-parings and the\nlike\u201d (p. 27). The nicety to which these casuistic pietists carried\ntheir human observances is shown from the example of one of them,\nAbuyah, who extolled the Law of the Tassels as most perfect; and so, he\nsays, \u201conce, because I had chanced to tread upon a portion of the fringe\nof my garment, going up a ladder, I steadfastly refused to move from the\nspot where I stood till such time as the rent had been repaired.\u201d It was\nthis same pious man that chid his mother \u201cbecause she wore on her dress\na ribbon that was not sewn but only fastened to her vesture, for thus\nshe transgressed the law by bearing burdens on the Sabbath.\u201d\n\nBringing in Philo and some Alexandrine Jews, with an exposition of their\nphilosophical opinions, adds much interest to the narrative. The\npatriotic spirit of the enthusiastic Galileans who hastened to gather\naround Jesus, whom they thought to have come for the restoration of the\nancient glory of Israel, is well depicted, and shown to have been the\nchief motive leading so many from that province to follow him. How\nslowly even the disciples learned the true mission of our Redeemer\nappears from the fact that Philochristus himself had no definite\nconception of it in the beginning. Conversing with Gorgias, a travelled\nJew, he sees advancing the tetrarch\u2019s Thracian guard, whose description,\nas well as that of the Roman soldiers, is admirable: \u201cI looked and saw a\nband of about three hundred men, of a wild and savage aspect, bearing\ntargets and girt with scimitars. But Gorgias, noting, as I suppose, the\nanger in my countenance, answered: \u2018These dogs (may the Lord destroy\nthem root and branch!) are swift indeed to shed the blood of women and\nchildren, but they are as naught compared with the Romans. Couldst thou\nsee a Roman legion how they march, these would seem unto thee but as\njackals at the lion\u2019s tail. Mark but how the dogs straggle. But when the\nRomans march the spears in their hands all point one way, and the swords\nby their sides hang all after one fashion, and even their stakes and\ntools (which they carry behind their backs) do all swing to one time,\nand their feet, arms, and heads, yea, even to the winking of their eyes,\ngo all together after the manner of a five-banked corn-ship of\nAlexandria, with her five hundred oars all keeping time; and when they\ncharge, they charge like ten thousand elephants clad in iron.... Verily\nthese Roman swine are all as children of Satan; but a Roman legion is as\nSatan himself\u2019\u201d (p. 126). As he had been listening to Christ teaching\nthat whosoever would enter the kingdom should become as little children,\nit seemed not easy to him to reconcile this with the temporal\nrestoration of Israel, and \u201cmethought,\u201d he says, \u201cit would be very hard\nto overthrow these Thracians, and much more the Romans, by becoming as\nlittle children\u201d (_ibid._)\n\nAlthough the work does not come out as a Catholic production, it is very\nencouraging to those who desire the spirit of Christ to be more\nuniversally diffused to find such books receiving extensive circulation.\nDogmatic or formally doctrinal propositions are not to be found in it,\nyet the substantial doctrine of the Gospel is clearly discernible in the\nbody of the work. Excepting the brief exposition of the doctrine of\ndivorce at p. 213, there appears nothing in the whole book inconsistent\nwith a candid, Catholic exegesis of Scripture. The beautiful exposition\nof Peter\u2019s faith and the founding of the church thereupon, at p. 249,\ncould not be easily surpassed. It is a good sign when Protestants have\nsuch works placed in their hands, and the publishers deserve well of the\npublic for the creditable manner in which they have brought out this\nadmirable volume. No professing Christian can read it without very much\nprofit, and, indeed, he will be filled with the author\u2019s declaration\nconcerning Christ: \u201cFor in his presence I find life; but to be absent\nfrom him is death\u201d (p. 242).\n\n\n HOLY CHURCH THE CENTRE OF UNITY; or, Ritualism compared with\n Catholicism. Reasons for returning to the True Fold. By T. H. Shaw.\n London: R. Washbourne. 1877.\n\n\nThis pamphlet is not a little remarkable among those which issue from\nthe pens of converts. It is very different from what its title leads us\nto expect. But perhaps it will take the Protestant mind all the better\nfor its peculiarities. We confess, for our own part, to being\ndisappointed at the same time that we are pleased. There is occasionally\nan exhibition of something like bad taste. There is extravagant use of\nitalics\u2014the effect of which is always weakening. There are outbursts of\npious sentiment\u2014a thing never suitable to polemical pages. Then, too,\nthere is no continuity of argument. Each chapter stands by itself and\nneedlessly repeats what other chapters have dealt with. Still, in spite\nof these defects, there is an earnestness from beginning to end which\ncannot fail to impress the mind of a real inquirer. And together with\nthis earnestness there is a force in the way some of the arguments are\nput which is greater, by contrast, than it would appear in pages of the\nusual style of controversy.\n\nThe writer begins by telling us that he has been \u201cfor nearly fifty years\na member of the Church of England.\u201d He is therefore no hot-brained\nundergraduate. He adds that his \u201cmisgivings were first aroused as early\nas the year 1851\u201d; and that his \u201cconvictions have become matured by\nmeans of earnest prayer for Divine guidance.\u201d Here is a mental process\nthat ought to strike a Protestant, and make him ask his conscience: \u201cAm\nI seeking that I may find? Am I praying for light as this man did? Can I\nbelieve that such persistent prayer has ended in delusion?\u201d\n\nThe author\u2019s next paragraph is a specimen of his way of putting things:\n\n\u201cRegarding the Church of England\u2014to say nothing of the overwhelming\ntestimony against her through lack of \u2018apostolic commission\u2019 and her\nwant of unity in doctrine\u2014the endowments, the system of patronage, the\nuntrained priesthood, are in themselves facts glaringly inconsistent\nwith the idea of the guidance of the Spirit of that God who is the\nauthor and source of all unity. There is no trade or profession for\nwhich it is required that a youth should go through less training than\nthat which suffices for the English clergy. Almost any scholar would\npass for holy orders whose father had a lucrative benefice at his\ndisposal. Is it so in Rome? I rather think that learning,\nself-sacrifice, and poverty are the main worldly requirements. Which\nmost corresponds to our Blessed Lord\u2019s life upon earth, whose \u2018kingdom\nis not of this world\u2019?\u201d\n\nOn pages 22-25 he quotes from Father Harper\u2019s reply to Dr. Fraser,\nBishop of Manchester, on infallibility. The learned Jesuit is appealing\nto the testimony of the Third, Fourth, and Sixth \u0152cumenical Councils.\nAll Anglicans profess to receive the Third and Fourth, some even the\nSixth. If their divines should honestly state, as arguments on the\nCatholic side, the passages cited by Father Harper, their cause would be\na lost one indeed, as many of them know but too well. It is therefore a\ngreat service to lay these passages before the candid inquirer, who, in\nall probability, has never heard of Father Harper\u2019s \u201creply,\u201d or would\nfear to read it if he had. Further quotations follow, from page 25 to\npage 27, showing how the dogma of Papal Infallibility, like all other\ndefinitions, is \u201cat once old and new,\u201d and thus refuting the stale\ncharge of innovation.\n\nWe conclude our notice with another piece of excellent advice to\nprofessed inquirers:\n\n\u201cWe should call a man insane who endeavored to roof in his house before\nhe had laid the foundation or measured its dimensions; just so it is in\nfact when people seeking the true church begin by attacking and trying\nto understand every dogma. These can never be fully understood. It is\nonly as the house becomes built up that the roofing begins; so it is in\nthe spiritual house of the soul. Faith leads us to the church. Faith is,\nthen, the foundation. As the soul _grows_ in grace and _humility_, so\nthe mysteries of godliness expand before the eye of the soul, revealing\nthat which at one time appeared most obscure.... The great thing needed\nis divine faith; and this is never found by mere arguing and reading. It\nis the free gift of God, to be obtained only by earnest prayer.... Get\n_this_, and then search whether Jesus Christ did establish a visible\nchurch.\u201d\n\nThe \u201cfaith\u201d here spoken of is not _fides formata_, for that \u201ccomes by\nhearing\u201d; but the grace of a right disposition for accepting the \u201cword\nof Christ.\u201d And this disposition is not merely an attitude of earnest\nattention, but, essentially, a spirit of _humility_\u2014the \u201cbecoming as a\nlittle child.\u201d It is precisely the lack of this child-like spirit that\nmakes our arguments barren of result even where they are listened to\nwith respect.\n\n\n LIFE OF ST. WINFRID, OR BONIFACIUS, MARTYR, ARCHBISHOP OF MENTZ AND\n APOSTLE OF GERMANY. By the author of _St. Willibrord_. London: Burns\n & Oates. 1878. (For sale by The Catholic Publication Society Co.)\n\n\nThis latest life of the great apostle of Germany is a truly interesting\ncontribution to the early missionary history of the church, and as such\nseems to commend itself in an especial manner to those of his wandering\nAnglo-Saxon children who would fain be of the church without being\nwithin it; since in this short narrative these may learn how, in the\neighth century, their great English saint laid his spiritual allegiance\nat the feet of Peter before he went forth successfully to undertake the\nconversion of the heathen and the reform of abuses among half-hearted\nand unruly Christians. And might not these also ponder on the counsel of\nPope St. Zacharias, addressed to the Saxon monk, when commenting on\ncertain of the Gallic clergy who held nationality above unity, the\nfringes of the episcopal robe of greater value than the seamless raiment\nof the Bride of Christ? \u201cPreach, dearest brother,\u201d writes the holy pope,\n\u201cthe rule of Catholic tradition we have received from the Holy Roman\nChurch which we serve, and of which God is the founder.\u201d\n\nThe present English biographer of St. Boniface has enriched the\nhistorical account of the saint\u2019s labors with letters that give a vivid\npicture of the faith and simplicity of those troubled times that seem so\nconfusing a maze as we look back on them with the clouded memories of\nearly school-days, when English history was a tangled web of Ethelwulfs\nand Ethelberts.\n\nTo American ears the name of St. Boniface grows familiar through the\nchurches that rise in his honor among his German children in the United\nStates, yet, while we seem to know him better under the title given him\nat Rome, we heartily enter into the feeling of loving pride that makes\nhis English biographer dwell on the sweetness of the Saxon name, and\nwith its peaceful syllables waken patriotic echoes among the forests of\nThuringia and the waves of the Zuyder Zee\u2014Boniface or Winfrid, he is\nalike peacemaker and worker of good for all the nations.\n\n\n VOYAGE OF THE PAPER CANOE: A Geographical Journey of two thousand\n five hundred miles, from Quebec to the Gulf of Mexico, during the\n years 1874-5. By Nathaniel H. Bishop, Author of \u201cOne Thousand Miles\u2019\n Walk across South America,\u201d and corresponding Member of the Boston\n Society of Natural History, and of the New York Academy of Sciences.\n Boston: Lee & Shepard; New York: Charles T. Dillingham. 1878.\n\n\nMr. Bishop has given us a most interesting and instructive book. It\ncannot fail to be interesting to every one who has any love for nature,\nor any appreciation of out-of-door life and adventure; and it is\ninstructive in two ways: first, by showing what can be done by a paper\nboat (a thing which most people know little or nothing about) under\nskilful management, and, secondly, by the information it gives regarding\nthat remarkable inland line of navigation which runs along almost our\nwhole Atlantic coast, the very existence of which is perhaps known to\ncomparatively few persons.\n\nMr. Bishop started from Quebec on July 4, 1874, in a large wooden canoe,\nwith which he had at first proposed to make his journey, under the\nimpression, in which well-informed seamen shared, that two hundred miles\nof his route would be on the open ocean. With this boat he ascended the\nSt. Lawrence and Richelieu rivers to Lake Champlain, thence proceeding\nby the Champlain and Erie canals to Albany. At this point he concluded\nto adopt a lighter craft, which was made for him at Troy by Mr. Waters.\nThis was the paper canoe with which the rest of the voyage was made; it\nwas only one-eighth of an inch in thickness, and weighed only\nfifty-eight pounds. In this seemingly frail but really very strong boat\nhe rowed along down the Hudson, through the Kill von Kull, up the\nRaritan, through the canal to the Delaware, down the Delaware to the bay\nand Cape Henlopen, thence along the coast nearly to Cape Charles. Here\nhe had to take the steamer across Chesapeake Bay; but thence, with the\nexception of short land-portages, the voyage was pursued through the\nsounds and inlets skirting the coast, and the Waccamaw River, to the\nFlorida line at St. Mary\u2019s, and across Florida by the St. Mary\u2019s and\nSuwanee Rivers to the Gulf of Mexico.\n\nWe have given a short sketch of what Mr. Bishop did; but how he did it,\nand the various incidents and adventures of his trip, must be learned\nfrom the book itself, which we commend heartily to the perusal of all\nwho like to read a most interesting story, which has the advantage of\nbeing true from beginning to end.\n\n\n SEVEN YEARS AND MAIR. By Anna T. Sadlier. New York: Harper &\n Brothers. 1878.\n\n\nThis is a pleasing and graceful little tale quite out of the common\ntrack. It opens amid the wild scenery and the wild people of the\nShetlands, passes thence to France, and goes back to a happy ending in\nits Shetland home. The out-of-the-way scenery and characters afford\nunusual scope for a picturesque imagination, which Miss Sadlier seems to\npossess in a very high degree, but which she holds under, a wise\nrestraint and never allows to run away with her. She delights in the\nlong, low sunsets, the gloom of night, the roar of the tempest, the\nswell of the sea, the grey and the rosy dawn of morning, the solemn\nbeauty of the starry night. All these have a meaning, a poetry, almost a\nlife for her; and she is very happy in her descriptions of them. These\nare enhanced by a sweet, clear English, which she has doubtless caught\nfrom a mother whose name is and will long remain a household word among\nCatholic readers. The narrative is fresh and pure and simply quaint.\nMiss Sadlier does not affect to depict the psychological monstrosities\nwhich are the ambition of most of the story-writers of the day. She\navoids microscopic inspections of the interiors, so to say, of\nimpossible personages, and gives us instead a pleasing story of the\nromantic style, with a few characters strongly marked and well\ncontrasted, the whole forming a refreshing change from the average\nfiction of the day.\n\n\n THE CHRISTIAN REFORMED IN MIND AND MANNERS. By Benedict Rogacci,\n S.J. The translation edited by Henry James Coleridge, S.J. London:\n Burns & Oates. 1877. (For sale by The Catholic Publication Society\n Co.)\n\n\nThis volume is the twenty-third of the quarterly series brought out by\nthe Jesuits in London. The original is a work of the seventeenth\ncentury. \u201cIt may be considered,\u201d says the editor, \u201cas the fruit of the\ngreat experience of Father Rogacci in giving retreats,\u201d and \u201cis one of\nthose series of meditations in which the whole substance and system of\nthe Exercises of St. Ignatius are worked up, although not precisely in\nthe form in which they lie in the Exercises themselves.\u201d Moreover, \u201cthe\nmeditations are meant for persons of all classes, not only for religious\npersons; and those who are familiar from practice with the text of the\nbook itself of St. Ignatius will not fail to see how perfect an\nacquaintance with and mastery of it must have been possessed by Father\nRogacci.\u201d\n\nThe meditations are arranged for an eight days\u2019 retreat, at the rate of\nfour a day. But since this may be considered excessive, a \u201cselection\u201d is\ngiven on page xii. \u201cfor persons who desire to make only three a day.\u201d\nIndeed, Father Rogacci\u2019s own practice was \u201cnot to give more than three\nmeditations a day, with a repetition, or some practical considerations\nhelping to the reformation of life, in the afternoon.\u201d \u201cThe place of\nthese considerations,\u201d continues the editor, \u201cis supplied in the present\nwork by a number of practical reflections which he calls _r\u00e9forme_, one\nof which he would have the exercitant read each day at the time of the\nconsideration. There are sixteen of these considerations, in order that\nthe exercitant may choose for himself, or as directed by his spiritual\nguide, whose assistance is supposed in works like this, according to his\nspecial needs.\u201d\n\nOur own judgment of the work is that it is most excellent as a whole,\nand we recommend it specially to those who are called upon from time to\ntime to give retreats, whether to religious or to sodalities. We regret,\nhowever, that the meditations on hell, which are assigned to the fifth\nday, have been left without annotations for those who may use the book\nin private. \u201cPious\u201d exaggerations and figures of speech which may be\nnecessary, by way of economy, to impress gross and sensual natures are\nvery much out of place, we think, in a work of the kind before us.\n\n\n OUR SUNDAY FIRESIDE: OR, MEDITATIONS FOR CHILDREN. By Rory of the\n Hill. London: Burns & Oates. 1878. (For sale by The Catholic\n Publication Society Co.)\n\n\nThe author of this series of stories, as we find stated in the preface,\naims \u201cto supply, for the use of children, some meditations on the choice\nof life,\u201d while he endeavors so to clothe, in a garb attractive to\nchildish minds, great truths of salvation and of every-day morality\u2014as\nwell as the more complex relations of \u201cchurch and state\u201d\u2014that, the\npicturesque raiment winning the eyes, the soul may be led to weigh the\nhalf-hidden substance. How far he has attained his aim remains for the\nchildren to prove to whom his words shall be read. To us the garb seems,\nin many cases, too deep-freighted with cabalistic embroidery for little\nhands to lift, and the substance too heavy with the world\u2019s fate for\nlittle minds to weigh. \u201cMany carps are to be expected when curious eyes\ncome a-fishing,\u201d says gentle Robert Southwell, and so our curious eyes\nopen wide with wonder at the wise little maiden of thirteen years who\ndiscourses of \u201camphibologics\u201d and \u201cthe hypodichotomy of petty schisms\u201d;\nwho quotes from Renan and Voltaire, Walpole and De Tocqueville, citing\nalmost volume and chapter, and who sets before her younger brothers and\nsisters the question of the great social conflict of the age, the\nceaseless war between Christ and the world in its modern phase of\n\u201cLiberalism\u201d versus the divine voice of the church of God. In his ardent\ninterest in the subjects whereof he treats we fear the scholar has often\nforgotten himself, and so has failed to stoop low enough, or rise high\nenough, to reach the hearts of the little people for whom he writes,\npicturesque as are his descriptions and full of meaning as are his\ntales, among which we like best \u201cThe Way of Life,\u201d for the greater\nsimplicity of its action; \u201cForgiveness,\u201d for the Christian pathos of its\nclose; and \u201cThe Last Mass,\u201d for the solemn beauty and true poetry of its\ncathedral vision.\n\n\n A MANUAL OF NURSING. New York: G. P. Putnam\u2019s Sons. 1878.\n\n\nIn reading this little volume it will be seen that nursing is an art\nonly to be acquired by a large experience and under competent\ninstruction. Although this _Manual_ has been published expressly for the\nTraining School for Nurses at Bellevue Hospital, nevertheless it would\nrepay perusal by any person who is liable to be called upon to act as\nnurse. As is truly remarked in the preface, the infirm and superannuated\nare not suitable as nurses. The young and vigorous are the proper\nsubjects to act in such capacity. Judging from its past record, the\nTraining School is a success, and its pupils are far in advance of the\nold-time nurses who vegetated about Bellevue and charity hospitals. Many\nphysicians state that numbers of patients are lost through injudicious\nacts on the part of the nurse. A careful perusal of this _Manual_, and a\ncareful attention given to the physician\u2019s advice, will certainly be\nimportant, and would repay the trouble a hundred-fold.\n\n\n FREDERIC OZANAM, PROFESSOR AT THE SORBONNE: HIS LIFE AND WORKS. By\n Kathleen O\u2019Meara. (First American Edition.) New York: The Catholic\n Publication Society Co., 9 Barclay Street. 1878.\n\n\nWe greet with pleasure the appearance of an American edition of this\ndelightful biography, an article on which appeared in THE CATHOLIC\nWORLD, February, 1877, on the event of its publication in England. This\nedition has, we understand, been published at the request of the Supreme\nCouncil of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul of this city, and we trust\nthere is not a member of the society in the country who will not read\nthis life of one of the founders, in fact we may say _the_ founder, of\nthe great and useful Society of St. Vincent de Paul.\n\n\n VACATION DAYS: A Book of Instruction for Girls. By the author of\n _Golden Sands_. Translated from the French. New York: D. & J.\n Sadlier & Co. 1878.\n\n\nThis is another of the admirable little series of devotional and\ninstructive works which Miss McMahon has been the happy means of setting\nbefore the English-reading public. _Vacation Days_ follows _Golden\nSands_ in its method of appealing simply and tenderly and with apt\nillustration to the young heart. We recommend it strongly to young\npeople who have the opportunity of idling during these idle days. A\npassing glance once a day at a page or two of it will form an excellent\nantidote to the literary trash which nowadays constitutes the staple\ncommodity of summer reading.\n\n\n SELECT WORKS OF THE VENERABLE FATHER NICHOLAS LANCICIUS, S.J. Vol.\n I. London: Burns & Oates. (For sale by The Catholic Publication\n Society Co.)\n\n\nThis is the first volume of a selected edition of the works of one who\nwas a very holy Jesuit and great master of spiritual life during the\nfirst half of the seventeenth century. It is a spiritual treatise\ndeveloping the eight days\u2019 retreat which is founded on the Exercises of\nSt. Ignatius, and contains many pious considerations supported and\nillustrated by opinions of the saints. We do not question the _doctrine_\nof the book; it is solid, orthodox, and inviting; but we believe the\nbook is one which, on the whole, is not adapted to people living in the\nworld, and had better be confined to that class of persons, religious\nand people retired from the world, for whom it was originally written.\nSome of the examples taken from the lives of saints are \u201chard to be\nunderstood,\u201d and several of the illustrations given in the chapter on\n\u201cHelps to escape Purgatory\u201d are not specially edifying to us. We do not\ncare to believe in the vision of a certain monk, or even to think about\nnumerous souls _impaled upon spits and roasted like geese before a large\nfire_, with a lot of devils around them acting the part of cooks. The\nwork is well translated from the Latin, and contains a short preface by\nFather Gallwey, S.J., whose name stands deservedly high in England.\n\n\n THE MYSTERIOUS CASTLE: A Tale of the Middle Ages. Translated from\n the French by Mrs. Kate E. Hughes. Baltimore: Kelly, Piet & Co.\n\n\nThis quaint autobiography of the Baron de Rabasteins is charmingly\nwritten. It is full of pleasant, lively incidents of travel, with\ndescriptions of the life and manners of the French people during the\nmiddle and latter half of the last century, a period which can hardly be\nclassed as medi\u00e6val, as the title given to the translation imports. The\nadventures of the young baron in the so-called \u201cmysterious\u201d castle of\nMons\u00e9gur surpass any story of the kind we have ever read in fiction. If\nthey knew what a treat was in store for them by its perusal, there is\nnot one of our young folks who would not like to get it as a school\npremium or as a Christmas present. However, we feel it our duty to say\nthat there are numerous faults in translation which in future editions\nshould be corrected. As, for example, on the first page we are\nconfronted with the expression \u201cdecision of the holy siege,\u201d by which we\npresume is meant \u201cthe judgment of the Holy See.\u201d\n\n\n THE ART OF KNOWING OURSELVES, etc. By Father John Peter Pinamonti,\n S.J. With TWELVE CONSIDERATIONS ON DEATH, by Father Luigi La Nuza,\n S.J., and FOUR ON ETERNITY, by Father John Baptist Manni, S.J.\n Translated by the author of _St. Willibrord_. London: Burns & Oates.\n 1877.\n\n DAILY MEDITATIONS ON THE MYSTERIES OF OUR HOLY FAITH, and on the\n lives of our Lord Jesus Christ and of the Saints. First Part,\n containing Meditations for the five weeks of Advent, for the six\n weeks after Christmas, as also on the Mysteries of the Life of\n Christ. Translated from the Spanish of Rev. Father Alonso de\n Andrade, S.J. London: Burns & Oates. 1878. (For sale by The Catholic\n Publication Society Co.)\n\n\nHere are two more volumes of meditations written for other times and\nrescued from oblivion. Of the three brief treatises contained in the\nfirst volume, the \u201cART OF KNOWING OURSELVES\u201d is a veritable gem. It may\nwell be called \u201cthe looking-glass which does not deceive.\u201d Regarding the\nother two treatises\u2014the \u201cTwelve Considerations on Death\u201d and the \u201cFour\non Eternity\u201d\u2014we have to remark again that there is much in them unsuited\nto the present age. We greatly prefer the second volume from the Spanish\nof Father Andrade; for though here, too, in the meditations for the\nfirst week of Advent, will be found things rather calculated to irritate\nthan to edify, yet the rest of the book is the more delicious for its\nquaintness, and has a way we have never seen surpassed of making us\nfamiliar with Jesus and Mary as our models, and of showing us what\nwealth is treasured up in the gospels which the church has chosen for\nher Mass.\n\n\n ST. TERESA\u2019S OWN WORDS; or, Instructions on the Prayer of\n Recollection, etc. London: Burns & Oates. (For sale by The Catholic\n Publication Society Co.)\n\n\nThis is a good English translation, by Bishop Chadwick, of St. Teresa\u2019s\nadmirable method of interior prayer. It contains the sense and substance\nof the whole third book of the _Imitation of Christ_, showing us in\nbrief how Truth speaks within, without the noise of words; and that\ninterior conversation of Christ with the faithful soul is the surest\nmeans of possessing our Sovereign Good in this world and the next. It\nis, as Edmund Waller says, \u201cinfinite riches in a little space.\u201d\n\n\n THE NOTARY\u2019S DAUGHTER. From the French of Mme. Donnet, by Lady\n Georgiana Fullerton. New York: D. & J. Sadlier & Co.\n\n\nAs the translator, Lady Fullerton, announces that this very pretty tale\nis an adaptation, and not in a strict sense a translation, we are\nassured that the gifted authoress of _Lady Bird_ has not only avoided\nservility in translating the parts of _Un Mariage en Province_ which she\nhas decided to employ, but has added to a very charming French story\nsome of her own excellent ideas, both in relation to plot and dialogue.\nThe story brings us to the south of France, about Toulon, and is\nstrikingly illustrative of the French theories in regard to matrimony. A\nnotary, M. Lescalle, who possesses great political influence, has a very\npretty daughter, Rose, whom he successively offers to all the great men\nin the neighborhood, desirous of his support, as a suitable wife for\ntheir sons. His offer is accepted by a rich roturier, but is abruptly\nbroken off by M. Lescalle himself, in consequence of another offer of\nmarriage by M. le Comte de V\u00e9delles, in behalf of his younger son,\nGeorge. Now George, being considered a fada\u2014namely, a half-witted\nperson\u2014is an object of aversion to Mlle. Rose; but, in spite of her\nrepugnance, the ceremony takes place. It is needless to say that George\nis not a fada, but is a poet, unappreciated by his relations, and so\neverything is brought to a happy conclusion. The dialogue is above the\naverage of novels, but even so, it is not very sprightly. The moral tone\nis exceptionally good. The plot affords an opportunity of condemning the\nsystem by which marriages are arranged in France, and invites\nreflections which cannot be discussed in a brief criticism.\n\n\n THE PRECIOUS PEARL OF HOPE IN THE MERCY OF GOD. London: Burns &\n Oates (For sale by The Catholic Publication Society Co.)\n\n\nWe welcome this beautiful little book as a great addition to our\nascetical literature. It is translated into English from the Italian,\nand, to judge by its grace and elegance, by a master of both languages.\nThe aim of the pious author was to awaken and increase in us a sense of\nconfidence in God, which is so necessary to our spiritual life; and he\nadmirably answers objections drawn from certain passages of the Sacred\nScriptures which heretics and others have abused, and from some opinions\nof the Fathers insisting on the severity of the divine judgments. We are\nreminded by this little work of the great and constant account which the\nearly Christians made of the virtue of hope, whose symbol was an\nanchor\u2014suggested by St. Paul to the Hebrews vi. 18-19\u2014and which, either\nalone or in connection with the fish (symbol of our Lord and Saviour),\nor combined with a cross, substituted for the ring by which the anchor\nis attached, was a very common device cut or impressed on lamps, rings,\nand other objects of daily use. Among early Christian inscriptions,\nalso, few are more frequent than those which express hope in the mercy\nof God, such as _Spes in Deo, Spes in Christo, Spes in Deo Christo_.\n\n\n THALIA. From the French of Abb\u00e9 A. Bayle, by a Sister of St. Joseph.\n Philadelphia: Peter F. Cunningham & Son.\n\n\nThe vast majority of the lovers of light literature look upon classical\nstories with a certain mistrust. They fear them either to be too\npedantic or wanting in \u201cesprit.\u201d _Thalia_ opens in Arles, thence we\nvoyage to Alexandria, then to Rome, from Rome to Nicomedia, and so on.\nThere are a few good scenes and descriptive passages; but, although a\nsomewhat agreeable way of learning the history of the time, it does not\nnecessarily make a pleasing romance. A Sister of St. Joseph has\ntranslated _Thalia_ into very correct English. The book is likely to be\ndiscarded as a light production by one who can appreciate its learned\nallusions, and to one who cannot, to read it will seem a task rather\nthan a pleasure.\n\n\n IRELAND, AS SHE IS, AS SHE HAS BEEN, AND AS SHE OUGHT TO BE. By\n James J. Clancy. New York: Thomas Kelly. 1877.\n\n\nThe comprehensive title of this work indicates the author\u2019s intentions\nin giving it to the public, and, if he has not succeeded in doing\njustice to a theme so important, he has at least produced a very\nreadable book, in which will be found many historical facts clearly and\nsuccinctly stated, and several suggestions that will command the\nattention of the thoughtful reader. With some of Mr. Clancy\u2019s views on\nthe past and present of his native country we cannot agree. They are\nthose entertained by a certain class of radical and impracticable\npoliticians whose sole claim to attention consists in the fact that they\nare continually inveighing against the inevitable, and criticising the\nacts of the able men who, like Edmund Burke and Daniel O\u2019Connell, have\nconferred dignity on their native land and earned for themselves the\nworld\u2019s applause. Still, the author of the book before us advances his\nopinions with so much comparative moderation that, while they do not\ncompel conviction, they certainly command our respectful consideration.\nThose who have read Mr. Sullivan\u2019s _New Ireland_ will probably like to\nread this Irish-American version of the oft-told tale of Ireland\u2019s\nwrongs and rights.\n\n\n WRECKED AND SAVED. By Mrs. Parsons. London: Burns & Oates. 1878.\n (For sale by The Catholic Publication Society Co.)\n\n\nThe author of this very pretty and instructive tale is already well\nknown to the public as the writer of several moral stories which, while\nthoroughly Catholic in tone and interesting in plot, are sufficiently\nattractive in an artistic point of view to command the attention of all\nintelligent readers. _Wrecked and Saved_ is a story of everyday life\nvery simply and gently told. The hero, who has been a shipwrecked babe,\npassed through all the phases of the life of a foundling, winning to\nhimself friends by his good conduct, cheerful disposition, and intrinsic\nmerits. Wrongfully accused of a heinous crime, he suffers imprisonment\nand mental torture, but, having finally been proven innocent, all ends\nhappily. The plan of the book can scarcely be called original, but the\nlessons of patience, industry, and dependence on the will of Providence\ninculcated are excellent.\n\n\n FORBIDDEN FRUIT. From the German of F. W. Hackl\u00e4nder. By Rosalie\n Kaufman. Boston: Estes & Lauriat. 1878.\n\n\nThis is a novel with the threadbare plot of a young heir being obliged\nto marry before a certain age or lose a considerable fortune. There is\nno grace or lightness about the dialogue, and scarcely a particle of\nhumor in the entire book. There are one or two characters well drawn, of\nwhom an old gentleman named Renner, and a young and vivacious beauty,\nFr\u00e4ulein Clothilde, are possibly the best. As a rule, this kind of novel\ndoes not prove a success when translated for an American public. How it\nmay succeed in Germany it is impossible to say, but certainly the book\nis even uncommonly stupid. When it is remarked that all the young ladies\nand gentlemen are distinguished for their elegance and beauty, the\ncharacter of the story will be appreciated.\n\n\n TOTAL ABSTINENCE IN ITS SOCIAL AND THEOLOGICAL ASPECTS. An address\n by the Rev. James J. Moriarty, Catholic pastor of Chatham Village,\n N. Y. Published by special request. Chatham Village, N. Y.:\n _Courier_ Printing-House. 1878.\n\n\nThis is a very earnest and eloquent address, which was delivered to a\nmixed audience of Catholics and Protestants. Studiously popular in its\nstyle, it is for that reason especially adapted to go home to the hearts\nof the people. Father Moriarty has happily hit on the peculiar danger\nand fascination of the vice of intemperance in the following passage:\n\u201cIt is a vice that lies in wait for the most prominent members of\nsociety, the highest in station, the most influential over their\nfellow-men. It is not the vice of the naturally mean, the selfish, or\nthe miserly. It is more apt, of its nature, to attack those of the\nfinest mind, the most brilliant talent, the brave, the frank, the\ngenerous-hearted, those open to the influence of the highest, the\npurest, the noblest sentiments.\u201d\n\n\n ERLESTON GLEN: A Lancashire Story of the Sixteenth Century. By Alice\n O\u2019Hanlon. London: Burns & Oates. 1878. (For sale by The Catholic\n Publication Society Co.)\n\n\nThe scene of this tale, as the title indicates, is laid in England, and\nthe time is that of Queen Elizabeth, before the Catholic gentry of the\ncountry became almost extinct, and the persecuting spirit of the\n\u201cReformers\u201d had died out for want of material upon which to exercise its\nfanaticism. The plot of the book is simple, and the story is, taken all\ntogether, sad. Two happy, unobtrusive families, allied by long\nacquaintance and sincere friendship, but still more by the bond of a\ncommon faith, are suddenly and cruelly interrupted in their retired\nhappiness by the agents of that government which it is the boast of some\nmodern historians to characterize as one of the most glorious England\nhas ever had. Then follow espionage, arrests, mental suffering and\nphysical torture, that, though less than historical facts and by no\nmeans distorted from the truth, sicken the heart and move us to thank\nGod we live in the nineteenth and not in the sixteenth century. As a\nwork of art _Erleston Glen_ is by no means perfect. Its stiffness of\nstyle argues an unpractised hand, and the incomprehensible Lancashire\ndialect is too often introduced to suit the general reader; but as a\npicture of English life as it was during the sudden paroxysm of\nProtestant reformatory zeal which characterized the reign of Elizabeth,\nit is both truthful and vivid. Many who do not care to read the more\nserious works lately printed in England on the same topic\u2014the sufferings\nof Catholics in that country\u2014will be both edified and instructed by a\nperusal of Miss O\u2019Hanlon\u2019s clever book.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Catholic Publication Society Company has in press, and will shortly\nissue, one of the most important of its excellent series of educational\nworks. This is the _History of the United States_ (for the use of\nschools), advance sheets of which lie before us. It is written by one of\nthe most experienced and cultured of our writers, Mr. J. R. G. Hassard,\nauthor of the _Life of Archbishop Hughes_, _Life of Pius IX._, etc. Its\nletter-press, illustrations, and maps are beyond criticism. Its method\nis singularly well adapted to assist both scholar and teacher. At the\nfoot of every page are questions on what has gone above. The _History_\nbegins with the discovery of America and brings us down to our own\ntimes. It has this special distinction to recommend it: it gives\nCatholics their due prominence in a history of which they occupy so\nlarge a place, but a place that has hitherto been resolutely denied\nthem. It is well, it is necessary, that Catholic children should feel\nand know that they have as grand a share in the history, the\ndevelopment, the life, the struggles, the triumphs of their country as\nhas any other class. Placing this _History_ in their hands at school is\nthe very best means of instilling into their minds facts which it has\nbeen the custom to ignore in the histories thus far published.\n\nThe work is intended for the more advanced students in our schools and\ncolleges. For younger scholars an _Introductory History_, arranged on\nthe catechetical plan, has been prepared as an abridgment of the larger\nwork, and will be issued simultaneously with the latter.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe would again call the attention of our readers to the new and\nexcellent works published by the Catholic Publication Society Co., and\nespecially intended for light summer reading. Such are _Six Sunny\nMonths_, _Sir Thomas More_, _Letters of a Young Irishwoman_, _Alba\u2019s\nDream_, and the various volumes of stories collected from THE CATHOLIC\nWORLD. We only call attention to these because they are the most recent\nof their kind. The field of Catholic fiction is now happily a large and\nrich one, and Catholics who are given to this kind of reading might well\nturn aside from the foolish romances that are made to suit a vicious\npopular taste to works which are fully as interesting as the others\nwithout their nauseous flavor and immoral tone and tendency.\n\n\n\n\n THE CATHOLIC WORLD.\n VOL. XXVII., No. 162.\u2014SEPTEMBER, 1878.\n\n\n THE MATHEMATICAL HARMONIES OF THE UNIVERSE.[150]\n\n\n ARGUMENT.\n\n\nThe primary light of reflection which awakens the human mind to a\ndistinct consciousness of itself at the same time reveals a world of\nunknown forms, the universe of space and succession, teeming with\nevolutions of order, beauty, and power. With the dawn of reason comes\nalso the principle of causality, and man asks himself, What mean these\nmighty changes on earth and in the sky? What urges the wonderful motions\nof wind and wave, of sunshine and of shadow, and yonder golden fires\nthat sparkle and burn in the high vault of heaven? Whence are they all,\nand whence am I? And the very first attempt to answer these spontaneous\nquestions produces the first theory of natural theology, inaugurating\nthe reign of the earliest natural religion.\n\nBut the curiosity of the intellect never slumbers, and the problem\nrepeats itself from age to age: What is the magnificent and mysterious\npower above man and before nature, the primordial Cause of all\nphenomena? And in response to this constant and ever-recurring\ninterrogatory the annals of speculation have presented several\ncontradictory solutions, as the atheistic, the sceptical, and the\npantheistic, none of which I shall now pause to criticise. I shall\nsimply undertake to prove, in accordance with the rigorous rules of\ninductive logic, that the great cause, the fundamental efficient of all\nfacts whatsoever, must possess the attributes of intelligence, and\nespecially mathematical reason.\n\nIt will be remembered, however, that on the subject of causation, as to\nthe reality of the abstract idea itself, the schools of both ancient and\nmodern philosophy stand divided. The disciples of one sect assume the\nexistence of secret forces in the bosom of nature, whose development\nresults in those varied manifestations of mingled matter and motion\nwhich become perceptible to our senses; while their opponents, now\nincluding the _\u00e9lite_ of the most enlightened thinkers, as strenuously\ncontend that the knowledge of efficient causes lies altogether beyond\nthe reach of the human faculties; that our science must therefore be\nlimited to the strict generalization of phenomena according to their\ninvariable conjunctions of simultaneity and succession, without the\npossibility of discovering any hidden _nexus_ or closer tie between\nthem. This is the doctrine taught alike by the great names of Reid,\nLocke, Hume, Brown, Kant, and Comte.\n\nBut it is fortunate that the path of the present argument will not carry\nus into the mist of that interminable controversy. I shall not pretend\nto determine the specific qualities of causation in general. On the\ncontrary, the whole extent of my purpose is to show that the fundamental\nefficient of all material facts, whatever else it may or may not be,\nmust be endowed with the attribute of rationality.\n\nI will begin by laying down the universal proposition: Every natural\nphenomenon having the characteristics of mathematical order and harmony,\nto the exclusion of chance, must be the effect of a rational cause.[151]\n\nNow, it is evident that the foregoing assertion, the major premise of my\nintended syllogism, predicates a uniformity of relation between a\ncertain class of facts and the power which produces them. In other\nwords, it affirms an invariable correspondence betwixt a given quality\nin the consequent, or effect, and a like definite attribute in the\nantecedent, or cause, whichever terminology different schools may\nprefer. The existence of this relation would by some be deduced from _\u00e0\npriori_ principles founded on a mental analysis of the abstract notion\nof causation, while a large majority of mankind actually take it for\ngranted as an intuitive axiom of self-evident truth; and thus, wherever\nthey behold the appearances of design or the beautiful evidence of\nmathematical order, their inference of previous or contemporaneous\ncausal intelligence is immediate and irresistible.\n\nBut neither of those procedures can be regarded as either certain or\nscientific. No sequence of events can attain to the dignity of a general\nand philosophic law until the antecedent and consequent are brought face\nto face and tested by the rigid rules of an infallible induction. The\ncomplicated web of circumstances must be unravelled to eliminate the\nextraneous facts, and discover what precise quality alone in the cause\nproduces mathematical harmony in the effect.\n\nFor example, it is known that the air supports animal life as well as\ncombustion. But that same atmosphere consists of two elements, oxygen\nand azote; how, then, shall it be ascertained which ingredient is the\nsupporter of life and flame? To determine this question the natural\nphilosopher performs an _experimentum crucis_ by plunging a bird or a\nlighted candle in a jar of pure azote from which the oxygen has been\nremoved, when the bird instantly dies and the candle is extinguished.\nThe problem is solved according to the inductive canon of difference.\nNevertheless, to make sure he reverses the experiment, and treats the\nanimal or the flame with oxygen instead of azote, when the functions of\nvitality and combustion proceed without disturbance\u2014indeed, with\nadditional vigor. Here there can be no longer any room for doubt. It is\nmanifest as any demonstrated theorem in geometry that of the two\nelements in atmospheric air, the oxygen, and not the azote, sustains\nboth life and combustion. And as I said before, this is the procedure of\ninduction by what Mill so happily terms the method of difference\u2014the\nmost potent and unerring of all the five canons for the investigation of\ncauses.\n\nNow, what we need for our induction as to the real and absolute\nefficient of mathematical order and harmony in the motions of the\nuniverse is a similar analyzed instance, where the naked antecedent and\nconsequent shall be detected in the very act of conjugation. And, by a\npropitious arrangement of nature in the great fact of our complex\norganization, we have it in our power to perform this decisive\nexperiment in the same manner and with as much certainty as in the\nprevious example. We can act as individual causes, either with or\nwithout the presence of a rational purpose. Then, let the student seat\nhimself, pen or pencil in hand, to make marks on the paper, without any\nintelligent design, as we sometimes do in a state of reverie when the\nreason is exclusively occupied with some other subject. The result is a\nmedley of irregular and disconnected figures, of letters and words\nwritten mechanically, without beauty, order, or consecutive meaning.\n\nAgain, let the experimentalist apply the test of his intelligence. The\neffect is a series of united diagrams solving some profound problem in\ngeometry, or a divine page of impassioned and classical eloquence, or\nthe elegant delineation of any particular object of nature or art,\naccording to the specific intention of the person. Here the analysis is\nperfect, and realizes the exact conditions imposed by the inductive\ncanon of difference. The circumstances are all precisely identical in\nboth cases, save the presence of rationality and its consequent\nmathematical harmony in the one instance, and their absence in the\nother. Hence there can be no question that in human causation the\nattribute of reason is the actual efficient of every species of order.\n\nBesides, even nature herself presents the same experiment in every case\nof total insanity. The madman is deprived of reason, but not of simple\nvolition or bare causal power; and the consequence is utter disorder and\nwant of method in his actions. He cannot produce mathematical effects,\nbecause he is deficient in mathematical intelligence.\n\nThe same general law is demonstrated also by the canon of agreement.\nUniversal experience shows in every department of science, industry,\nliterature, and art that intelligence is the invariable antecedent of\norder, and that the absence of that mental quality involves the\ncorresponding absence of all regular and harmonious sequence.\n\nIt remains, however, to prove our major premise by the method of\nconcomitant variations, the canon of which has been expressed with such\nclear and scientific accuracy in Mill\u2019s _Logic_: \u201cWhatever phenomenon\nvaries in any manner whenever another phenomenon varies in some\nparticular manner, is either a cause or an effect of that phenomenon, or\nis connected with it through some fact of causation.\u201d\n\nFor instance, in the case of heat, by increasing the temperature of a\nbody we enlarge its bulk, but by enlarging its bulk we do not increase\nits temperature; therefore heat must be the cause, and not the effect,\nof expansion. In a similar manner philosophers demonstrate the first law\nof motion, or uniform velocity in a straight line, by showing that\nretardation, or divergence, is always in the definite ratio of the\nobstacles encountered by the moving body.\n\nThe application of this rule to our argument, although its force cannot\nbe augmented, gives the evidence the greatest variety and splendor. For\nthe annals of all ages and nations, without one single exception, bear\nwitness that, in exact proportion to the increase of rationality, the\nhuman mind has always displayed corresponding effects of beauty and\norder in every sphere of art and civilization. What investigators have\nextended the limits of natural knowledge by perfecting the science of\ngeometry, or discovering the differential calculus, or fixing the true\n_principia_ of the material universe? Not a low class of intellects with\nfeeble faculties of reason and no broad sweep of mathematical\nperception, but men of the loftiest genius, such as the immortal names\nof Euclid, Archimedes, Leibnitz, or Newton.\n\nBut I have already spent sufficient, and perhaps the reader will think\ntoo much, time on this primary induction, which indeed, from the\nuniversality of the law, has every appearance of being self-evident.\nNevertheless, this fulness of discussion was indispensable to my\npurpose, that being to place all the premises of the argument on a\nscientific rather than a popular basis. And, if I am not mistaken, we\nare now entitled to consider the first proposition as completely proven:\n\u201cThat all natural phenomena having the attributes of mathematical order\nand harmony to the exclusion of chance must be the effects of a cause,\nor of causes, possessing rationality.\u201d\n\nI am aware, however, of the specious objection that the general\ninduction is too wide for the warrant of its particular instances. It\nmay be urged that although the demonstration is perfect as to the\nlogical relation of intelligence as a cause and harmony as the\nconsequent, yet still we are not justified in affirming that no other\ncause is capable of producing the same result. For example, a hundred\nseparate antecedents may lead to death; and many ordinary facts follow\nvery different material or mental efficients. Upon what principles,\nthen, it will be asked, are we enabled to pronounce the universal\nnegative that there cannot exist any unintelligent forces in the bosom\nof nature entirely adequate to the production of the mathematical order\nwhich we behold in the world of time and space? I state the adverse\ncriticism in all its strength, because it is the only answer that can be\ninterposed by the sceptical philosopher; and, besides, it constitutes\nthe main difficulty in the minds of the multitude. Nevertheless, it\ncannot claim the slightest pretension to the dignity of a scientific\nargument.\n\nIn the first place, I remark that the objection, if it has any semblance\nof validity, proves too much, as it goes to overthrow every general\nproposition which can possibly be framed on the subject of causation, so\nfar as assertion can proceed from the antecedent to the consequent. It\ncuts off from the realms of logic, at one reckless blow, the whole\ncategory of universal as to the predication of any causal sequence even\namong perceptible phenomena. Nay, it also denies the legitimacy of\nparticular affirmations in all cases of causation; for if the sceptic\nhas the logical liberty to assume the hypothesis of unknown and\ninvisible efficients in one instance, he may with equal plausibility do\nso in all; and therefore these secret and unseen causes may be the real\nproducing antecedents of every phenomenon whatever, and thus all\nknowledge must be reduced to naked conjecture.\n\nBy what rule, let me inquire, are we justified in extending the sublime\nlaw of gravitation to the various planets of the solar system, and even\nas high as the fixed stars? Obviously for the only reason that we\nperceive in the magnificent evolutions of the celestial bodies the same\nclass of effects which appertain to terrestrial attraction. And upon\nthat identical principle we are entitled to infer the existence of a\nrational cause wherever we behold mathematical harmonies or the manifest\nevidences of intelligence and design. The most stringent canons of\ninduction give us this right, and I can see no motive for refraining\nfrom its exercise, if the process should perchance conduct us to the\nrecognition of a Supreme Being. But as to this last point, we have not\nyet advanced far enough in the discussion to venture a positive\ndeclaration.\n\nIt must be admitted, however, that the axiom by which we are enabled to\ndeduce a cause with specific attributes from any definite facts, such as\nwe know by previous experience to be the natural consequents of that\nparticular efficient, must be restricted to the special case where we\nhave no acquaintance with any other cause competent for the production\nof the given phenomena. And this is precisely the condition of the case\nin our present argument. We have the most abundant and perfect\nexperience that intelligence is adequate to produce the harmonious\nregularity and beautiful order of nature; but we are altogether\ndestitute of scientific, or even superficial, knowledge as to the\nreality of any different cause which might yield those results.\n\nAs I have already observed, the most advanced schools of modern sensist\nphilosophy entirely ignore the investigation of efficient or producing\ncauses, _as removed beyond the sphere of the human senses_. On this\npoint the Scotch metaphysicians speak as decidedly as the disciples of\nLocke and Hume, or the more profound and intensely critical Kant.\nIndeed, Dr. Thomas Brown has clearly demonstrated that in the physical\nworld we can never hope to discover by sensation anything save\nphenomena, either antecedents or consequents, with their invariable laws\nof simultaneity and succession; while the deepest as the most laborious\nthinker of all, M. Auguste Comte, refuses even so much as to use the\nterm cause in his _Course of Positive Philosophy_.\n\nOn the other hand, those who aver the existence of imperceptible powers\nand occult qualities as the actual efficients of phenomena do not\nattempt to define their character, nor pretend that they fall within the\nlimits of sensible or intellectual cognition. A member of that sect,\nlike the pedant in the old play, may explain \u201cthat opium produces sleep\nbecause it has a soporific property\u201d; but if you ask him how he knows it\nto possess such a property, he can only answer, from the fog of his\nvicious circle, \u201cbecause it produces sleep.\u201d And such must ever be the\nvirtual avowal of utter ignorance as to the nature of causation by the\nadherents of this obsolete school. And could they thus solve, even to\ntheir own satisfaction, the question of _secondary_ causes, they leave\nthe question of the First Cause untouched.\n\nIt therefore follows, in accordance with all the rules of the most rigid\nand thorough induction, that the mathematical harmonies of the universe\nfurnish conclusive proofs of an intelligent cause; and if we reject this\ninference there is not, and cannot be, the faintest shadow of a possible\nhypothesis for the explanation of natural phenomena.\n\nI will next proceed to state my second proposition: All natural\nphenomena have the characteristics of mathematical order and harmony to\nthe exclusion of chance.\n\nNow, it is evident that a generalization so sweeping and universal as\nthe above could only be made good by an immense, an almost infinite\nseries of inductions. Nevertheless, we are not bound to assume an _onus_\nof such overpowering magnitude. For as the syllogism of our argument\nbelongs to the first figure, and we have to deal at present with the\nminor premise, that may well be particular; and the conclusion will be\nvalid as to everything embraced within its terms, and that will be found\nsufficient to warrant our conclusion.\n\nAs a preliminary, however, it becomes necessary to explain the logical\nprocess for the exclusion or mathematical elimination of chance. Suppose\nthere be two dice in a box, what are the chances of our turning an ace\nat a single throw? Obviously one-sixth, leaving six chances _minus_ one\nagainst the probability; while the chances against our throwing two\naces, or any other equation, may be set down, with sufficient accuracy\nfor the purpose of this argument, as the square of the last number, or\nthirty-six. The chances against an equation of four dice are 1,296;\nwhile against eight they amount to the enormous sum of 1,679,616\u2014an\nimpossible throw, unless the cubes have been loaded. And it is manifest\nfrom this example how very soon the multiplication of coincidences\nindicative of order must demonstrate causation to the utter elimination\nof chance. I will now commence with the particular cases of the general\nlaw announced in my second premise.\n\n\n INSTANCE I.\u2014MYSELF.\n\n\nI survey my right hand: it has five fingers; I look at my left: it has\nfive also\u2014the other member of an algebraic equation. I then turn to my\nfeet, and behold a similar equation of five toes on each. I next turn to\nmy bodily senses, and again find the mystic five. The wonder is\nincreasing. And now all the incalculable millions of my fellow-men rise\nup and sweep before the eye of the mind, in all the rich and radiant, or\ncoarse and unseemly, varieties of humanity; and all these, too, present\nthe identical God-announcing miracle, the quintuple equation of fives.\n\nLet us, however, apply the rigorous rules for the calculation of\nchances, not forgetting the judicious remark of Whately: \u201cThat the\nprobability of any given supposition must be estimated by means of a\ncomparison with each of its alternatives.\u201d\n\nNow, there can be but two suppositions possible as to this uniform\ncombination by which the number five is five times repeated in the human\norganism. The cause, whatever that may be, which produces these\ninvariable equations must be endowed with intelligence or not. There is\nno other conceivable alternative; for the _abscissio infiniti_ effected\nby the word not, in logical division, always exhausts the whole category\nof things, both real and imaginary. Every object must be rational or\nnot\u2014rational in thought and in fact.\n\nTherefore all these millionary equations of fives must have been\nproduced by a cause, or causes, possessed of reason, or by a power\ndestitute of that attribute. If we assume the first alternative there\nwill be no chances for calculation, the efficient itself being amply\nadequate to develop the mathematical harmony.\n\nBut take up the other and only remaining supposition, that the causal\nagent producing the human organism is mere blind force of some unknown\nand unimaginable nature; what are the chances against such a hypothesis?\nWe might say, in all logical strictness, that as we have no scientific\nknowledge of any such unintelligent cause capable of effecting the given\nphenomena of order, while we are acquainted with an efficient fully\ncompetent for the purpose, the chances against the naked assumption of\nblind force must be stated as infinity to zero. The chances against the\nequation of five fingers on each hand would be twenty-five. Add the five\ntoes on each foot, and the chances will be six hundred and twenty-five.\nThen incorporate into the calculation the five senses, and the chances\nare three thousand one hundred and twenty-five. Let me procure a larger\nsheet, as the measureless sea of infinite and nameless numbers is\nflowing fast upon me. Next reckon the chances in the case of two\npersons, and they swell to the vast sum of nine millions, seven hundred\nand sixty-five thousand, six hundred and twenty-five; while the chances\nfor four men will be the square of that number, and so on for ever. But\nthe enormous sums soon overpower all the magnificent processes of our\nalgebra, and no logarithmic abbreviations can aid us to grasp what\nstretches away into the unexplored fields of immensity. The attempt to\napply the calculation even to the inhabitants now living on the globe\nwould be as idle as the endeavor to enumerate the sunbeams shed during a\nsolar year. The arithmetic of the archangel would perhaps be\ninsufficient for the mighty computation.\n\nIn reference also to a single individual the subject might be pushed\nindefinitely farther\u2014to the bones of the arms, head, feet, and the\nconvolutions of the brain; for everywhere, and all through the physical\nframework, there runs a wonderful duality, where the series of constant\nequations counterbalance each other.\n\nIt must be borne in mind that I have shown in my major premise the\nnecessity of rationality in the cause which effects mathematical order\nin the sequences of any natural phenomena. Hence such a cause is\ndemonstrated for the whole of humanity. But, apart from the rigid logic\nof the argument, the question presents itself to popular apprehension:\nCould a cause without the intellect to perceive, the faculty to\ncalculate and arrange, numerical relations, produce this infinity of\nmathematical harmonies?\n\nIf it be answered that the efficient is some unknown power or secret\nquality involved in the facts themselves or concealed beneath them, the\nproblem still remains unsolved and rebounds upon us with accumulated\nforce: Is that supposed secret power or occult quality self-conscious?\nHath it the attribute of mathematical reason competent to the\ncalculation and production of all these beautiful and boundless\nequations?\n\n\n INSTANCE II.\u2014CHEMISTRY.\n\n\nLet us take our next comparisons from chemistry, that youngest sister of\nall the sciences, the splendid child of the galvanic battery, whose\nbirth was brilliant as that of lightning.\n\nGo analyze a cup of water. You find it composed of two parts of hydrogen\nto one of oxygen by volume, and eight parts of oxygen to one of hydrogen\nby weight. Nor do these numerical ratios ever vary. Freeze it into ice\nhard as the crystal of the jewelled mountains; dissipate it into vapor\nof such exquisite tenuity that a million acres of floating mist would\nscarcely form a single dewdrop; bring it from the salt solitudes of the\nocean, or from the central curve of a rainbow, and submit it to the test\nof analysis; and still the pale chemist, as he watches the evolutions of\nthe perpetual wonder from the depths of his laboratory, calls out: \u201cTwo\nto one, and one to eight, now and for ever!\u201d\n\nLet no one hope to estimate the chances against the hypothesis of the\nproduction of these mathematical relations by an unintelligent agent,\nunless he can first reckon the drops of a thunder-storm or measure the\ncapacity of the sea.\n\nA similar numerical harmony prevails in the atmosphere, which contains\ntwenty parts of oxygen to eighty of nitrogen in every one hundred by\nvolume, very nearly; the definite proportions never varying. Can it be\nimagined that the cause of this constant order, which rolled the aerial\nocean of the breath of life forty-five miles deep around the globe, is\nitself destitute of the reason to perceive the ratios of its own\nwonderful works?\n\nBut select as another example a bit of limestone. You discover its\nelements to bear a quadruple proportion. There are twenty-two parts by\nweight of carbonic acid, and twenty-eight of lime. Lime yields on\nanalysis twenty parts of the white metal calcium and eight of oxygen\ngas; while carbonic acid is composed of sixteen parts of oxygen to six\nof pure carbon. And these fixed relations of numbers are the same in\nevery particle of limestone on the earth: in the snowy stalactite torn\nfrom the roof of coral caverns, in the ponderous fragment hurled up from\nthe heart of the globe by the fiery hand of world-rocking volcanoes, and\nin the gleaming pebble which the child picks up from the waters of the\nbrook. What a field is here for the calculation of chances! What a theme\nfor devout and transcendent wonder! What a magnificent Bible with leaves\nof crystal is this among the old silent rocks! Must not such marvels of\nmathematical order have been produced by an efficient endowed with\nrationality\u2014a cause that, to borrow the sublime language of Hebrew\npoetry, had the skill \u201cto weigh the mountains in scales and the hills in\na balance\u201d?\n\nBut not only do we find numerical ratios here; symbolical angles are\nalso detected. All the hundred forms of carbonate of lime split into\nsix-sided figures, or regular rhombohedrons, whose alternate angles\nmeasure 105 deg. 55 min. and 75 deg. 5 min. Let the mathematician come\nwith his trigonometry fresh from the schools to study this lofty lesson;\nalthough no science can avail for the computation of the chances against\nthe hypothesis of an unintelligent cause for this celestial geometry of\nthe crystal mountains.\n\n\n INSTANCE III.\u2014BOTANY.\n\n\nWe will make our next inductions in that study so charming to all\ngenuine lovers of nature. Not over smoky furnaces or in darkened\nchambers will we read this division of our theme, but out in the sunny\nfields, and in the green-robed valleys, among the silken sisterhood of\nvegetable beauties, and beneath the radiant smile of the blue-eyed\nheavens.\n\nThe first ten classes of Linn\u00e6us are arranged simply according to the\nnumber of stamens presented in each blossom. For example, let us analyze\na flower of the tobacco plant. It is of the fifth class, and of course\nhas five stamens. But the equation does not end here; its corol has five\nparts, and the emerald cup of its calyx as many points.\n\nNow, suppose that every bloom is produced by some efficient which cannot\ncount; what are the chances against this combination of fives three\ntimes in a single specimen? Obviously one hundred and twenty-five; while\nfor two flowers they amount to the sum of fifteen thousand, six hundred\nand twenty-five. For four blossoms the chances would be the square of\nthe last number, and so on _ad infinitum_. What, then, must be the\nchances against the supposition of atheism in the flowers of a solitary\nfield, in all the fields of a solar summer, in all the summers of sixty\ncenturies?\n\nBut similar equations hold with all the vegetables to be found on the\nglobe, and in their fruit as well as flower. Some blossoms are perfect\ntime-pieces, marking the eternal march of the celestial lights in the\nfirmament. Many open to the morning sun; some only to the fiery kisses\nof noonday; others at purple twilight when the gentle dews begin to\nfall; and a few in the depth of darkness, as it were to gaze on the\nglory of the midnight stars.\n\n\n INSTANCE IV.\u2014LIGHT.\n\n\nI shall not hazard a remark as to the nature of that wonderful agent\nwhose coming at the dawn of every day is like the sweet smile of some\nviewless yet omnipresent divinity, bringing with it the revelation of a\nnew world. At present we have only to deal with mathematical evolutions,\nand not with the substantial essence of any fact or phenomenon.\n\nThe first law of light is an algebraic formula: The intensity of the\nfluid decreases as the square of the distance increases, and _vice\nvers\u00e2_.\n\nThe second law is equally mathematical: The angles of incidence and\nreflection are equivalent for every ray. Thus a sunbeam, falling on the\ntable before me at an angle of forty-five degrees, will be reflected at\nthe same angle.\n\nHere, then, in the development of these two general laws, we behold the\nmiracle of innumerable squares, circles, angles, such as sweep over\ncountless millions of leagues in the stellar spaces, with a regularity\nthat no Euclid or Legendre might ever hope to trace. And can it be\npossible that after all the great cause which thus _geometrizes_ may be\ndevoid of all geometrical knowledge\u2014nay, of even the faculty of\nrationality? If so, then might a blind mole, or the abstraction of a\nnonentity, compose a system of beauty and order superior in both\naccuracy and splendor to the _Principia_ of Newton or the sublime\ntheories of La Place!\n\nYou can scarcely commence the estimation of chances in reference to\nthese luminous angles being continually formed all over the material\nuniverse. Even imagination reels before the immensity of the conception.\nThink of all the fire-beams that emanate from the sun during one long\nsummer day\u2014of all the rays which flash out from the high stars for only\na single night! Then let the mind travel back over the march of dim and\ndistant centuries, gathering age upon age, rolling cycle after cycle, in\nthose vast segments of eternity where the Alps and Andes seem evanescent\nas the snow-flakes that ride on the gyrations of the whirlwind around\ntheir hoary summits; where Platonic years are fleeting as the pulsations\nof the pendulum, and even the starry galaxies come and go \u201clike\nrainbows.\u201d Then bid your soaring fancy lift her lightning-wings away\nfrom world to world, and behold the horizon of the space which hath no\nlimits, still opening for ever onwards and upwards, and thickening all\naround with serial columns of suns and stars, and undulating like some\nshoreless sea with its waves of nebulous light. Then tell me the number\nof rays that have shot athwart this teeming expanse of immensity since\nthe sons of heaven shouted their choral hymns in the morning of\ncreation. And answer me, who shall calculate the chances against the\nsceptical hypothesis here? Only a God of infinite intelligence may solve\nthis infinite problem.\n\n\n INSTANCE V.\u2014ASTRONOMY.\n\n\nThe first law of the celestial motions discovered by Kepler, like all\nthe rest, expresses a mathematical formula: All the planetary orbits are\nregular ellipses, in the lower focus of which stands the sun.\n\nNow, as the ellipse contains an infinite number of geometrical points,\nit follows that the chances against the repetition of this figure by the\nprogress of the same body along the same path in space must be infinity\nmultiplied into infinity, compared with zero.\n\nThe second law is equally decisive. It may be stated thus: The times\noccupied by a planet in describing any given arc of its orbit are always\nas the areas of the sectors, formed by straight lines from the beginning\nand end of the arcs to the sun as a common centre. And here it cannot\nfail to be remarked that every term of the enunciation is purely\nmathematical.\n\nBut the third law of Kepler is still more astonishing. The squares of\nthe periods of the planetary revolutions vary as the cubes of their\ndistances from the sun.\n\nWhat amazing evolutions are these to be the work of unthinking masses of\nmatter! What angel\u2019s music is this among the stars to be chimed by the\nchoir of tongueless atoms! And well might the inspired old man exclaim\nwhen the heavenly harmony first broke upon his ear: \u201cI have stolen the\ngolden secret of the Egyptians. I triumph. I will indulge my sacred\nfury. I care not whether my book be read now or by posterity. I can\nafford to wait a century for readers, when God himself has waited six\nthousand years for an observer.\u201d\n\nWe will not speak of chances in the production of such a mathematical\nmarvel. We dare not approach the stupendous calculation, unless we might\nborrow the geometry of the morning star.\n\nBut every region of astronomy overflows with similar wonders; yet I have\nonly time to adduce one more. The sun and all his suite of luminous\nattendants rotate from west to east, on axes that remain nearly parallel\nto themselves. La Place has computed the probability to be as four\nmillions to one that all the motions of the planets, whether of rotation\nor revolution, originated in a common cause. Is it, then, even so much\nas conceivable that the efficient of such an endless order should be\nitself destitute of all reason and foresight? For it is universally\nconceded that the discovery and quick perception of mathematical\nrelations evince intellect of the most lofty character; how incomparably\nsuperior, therefore, must have been the rationality required for the\nprimary composition and arrangement of these relations! If to think\ngeometrically demands intelligence, can any cause work geometrically\nwithout possessing the attributes of thought? We admire the genius of a\nKepler and of a Newton as almost superhuman, because they were enabled\nto understand the harmonious laws of the heavenly bodies; what madness,\nthen, must it be to deny the existence of mind as the necessary\nefficient for the production of these very harmonies!\n\nI might go on to career all over the fields of science, and show the\nprevalence of mathematical ratios and equations in every department of\napproachable nature. But on the strength of the instances already\nadduced I think we are entitled to assume our minor premise as\nthoroughly proven: that all natural phenomena have the characteristic of\nmathematical order and harmony to the exclusion of chance. And this\ninduction, although it only rests for support on the canon of\nagreement\u2014_per enumerationem simplicem, ubi non reperitur instantia\ncontradictoria_\u2014nevertheless has as broad and firm a basis as the\nphilosophic axiom that every fact has a cause. For as we have never\nfound a phenomenon without an efficient, so neither can we ever find one\nwithout its relations of mathematical order.\n\nAnd now calling to mind our major premise\u2014that every natural phenomenon\nhaving the characteristics of mathematical order and harmony must be the\neffect of a rational cause\u2014it follows irresistibly by the rules of\nlogic, from the conjugation of the two propositions, that all natural\nphenomena are the effects of a rational cause.\n\nBut we are not yet justified in dignifying the efficient of all these\nnatural phenomena with the name of God. For the cause, though\ndemonstrated to be intelligent, may be one or many, permanent or\ntransient, good or evil. We have only inquired as to its existence,\nwithout considering any other attribute. However, we have not far to go\nin the sequel of the investigation, as the laws of logical inference\nfounded on our previous inductions will enable us to give a speedy\nsolution of the remaining problems, at least so fully as they may be\nsusceptible of scientific explanation.\n\nOn the subject of causal unity it may be laid down as a general\nprinciple: That in the same sphere of time and space the identity of an\nefficient is to be concluded from the identity of the phenomena which\nexperience has shown it to be capable of producing. Thus we refer all\nthe electrical facts in the universe to a single imponderable agent; and\nwe always predicate the power of heat whenever we witness its usual and\nwell-known effects. Nevertheless, these instances are only analogous.\nBut the following are precisely in point. The affirmation of a single\nhuman being, the truth of his separate existence as a real and rational\nunit, is inferred alone from his manifestations as a cause in time and\nspace. He stands demonstrated, present or absent, by the power that he\ndevelops, or has developed, in his individual sphere. His physical\nfeatures may change, yet he will still be revealed in his intelligent\nactions. The divine pictures of a Raphael or a Rubens may be identified\nfor long ages after the hand that sketched the now immortal lineaments\nof some mortal face has been mouldering, like the lovely original, in\ndarkness and dust. No two persons\u2014that is to say, human causes\u2014present\nexactly the same effects. Every fact evolved will differ more or less.\nAnd, lastly, every cause is manifested as a unit by its occupation or\npervasion of a given space.\n\nApplying, then, this axiom of identity to the efficient of natural\nphenomena, the unity of the great Cause becomes at once apparent.\nEverywhere we behold the same laws of mathematical harmony. The\nidentical principle of gravitation, which we have proved to be the\neffect of a sublime rationality, carries us away to the utmost limits of\nthe solar system, and shows us one sovereign efficient, one pervading\nforce, that we may henceforth call God, all over those immeasurable\nfields of infinite azure. And when this path grows so dim and distant\namidst that far-off wilderness of flaming worlds that we can no longer\ntrace the footsteps of attraction, there still remains heaven\u2019s own\nhighway of radiant light to conduct us on and on towards the centre, or\nperchance it may be the circumference, of the universe, revealing the\nsame God enthroned on every sun; because every ray that flashes from the\ngreat blue deep of the firmament preserves the same identical laws of\nreflection and refraction.\n\nWho can elevate his mind to the contemplation of these amazing and\nmagnificent depths of distance, those profound caverns of space, teeming\nand sparkling with worlds like crystals? That light which travels almost\ntwo hundred thousand miles in a second does not reach us from the star\n61 Cygni until after a journey of nine years and three months; and yet\nthat is one of the nocturnal luminaries which may be termed the nearest\nneighbors of our system. The number of registered stars amount to two\nhundred thousand; while the entire host accessible to the sweep of the\ntelescope have been reckoned as a hundred millions, from some of which\nit takes the luminous rays thousands of years to fly down to the earth.\nWhat mathematician, then, shall measure this celestial expanse, brimming\nover with suns and stars, and swarming with galaxies of living flame?\nImagination stoops beneath such a giddy summit, nor dares attempt to\nscale those cliffs of golden fire. Reason, faltering on the brink of\nthat boundless ocean of immensity, recoils as from the verge of\nannihilation. None but God can walk the heights of those starry\npinnacles, and the light that burns and flashes around his feet falls\ndown to man as the proof of the divine presence. In fine, if we had\nnever before known a Deity, the telescope would have revealed him.\n\nThe unity of God being established, can we predicate his eternity? In\nthe first place, all history bears witness to the permanence of the same\ngrand principles of causation, since the primary annals of the species;\nand then geology takes up the subject, and carries it back for countless\nages through those records inscribed on the ancient rocks by the pencil\nof central fire, or the fierce pen of earthquakes and blazing volcanoes;\nand still everywhere we see the evidence of the same mathematical laws,\nthe same attraction and gravitation. Everything alike shows the\nexistence of the same all-creating Deity as anterior to itself; and\nfurther than this the canons of mere induction cannot go.\n\nNor can the goodness of God be demonstrated in the precise and\nconclusive manner which has marked our previous propositions. The\nbeauties of nature and the blessings of Providence are sufficient proofs\nto the majority of mankind; and for all the rest one must depend on _\u00e0\npriori_ reasoning, or look to the clearer light of a divine revelation.\n\nIt must be observed that the foregoing argument differs essentially from\nthat of the celebrated Paley. His is founded on the mechanical phenomena\nof the universe, but this on the mathematical relations of order and\nharmony\u2014on the present as well as the past physical evolutions in time\nand space, thus proving the continued agency of the supreme Cause, the\nDeity, both in immanence and in act.\n\nBut it is not my purpose to criticise other theories, nor to answer\nobjections, which must be impotent unless they can overthrow the\nlegitimacy of my inductions. Accordingly, I submit the whole.\n\nFootnote 150:\n\n The following article was recently found in Chicago among the\n posthumous papers of Judge Arrington, who died in that city nine years\n ago, a convert to the Catholic Church. It was written twenty years\n previous, when he was struggling to escape from the meshes of\n pantheism, and seems to be a vigorous effort to prove to his own\n satisfaction the reality of a personal, rational Deity.\n\n Some of the illustrations are recognized as having been used in a\n similar article published in the _Democratic Review_ about thirty\n years ago, which was extensively copied, and even translated into the\n French and German languages. The present is a much more elaborate\n statement than that, as if the author still dwelt upon the subject,\n and as the years rolled on wished with increasing knowledge to more\n strongly substantiate to his intellect what his higher nature so\n instinctively craved.\n\n At the bar Judge Arrington stood almost without a peer in the great\n Northwest for legal learning and oratorical power. Whenever he\n indulged in the luxury of literary and poetical composition he showed\n an ability that promised a like pre-eminence in those pursuits, had he\n devoted himself to them.\n\n This struggle of a great mind to fling off the incubus of modern\n error, whose every maze he had thoroughly explored, coupled with his\n subsequent conversion to Catholicity and his saint-like death in its\n communion, is an admirable practical illustration of the truth that\n nothing short of the light and grace to be found only in the true\n church of Christ can ever thoroughly satisfy a great soul.\n\nFootnote 151:\n\n Judge Arrington had devoted much time and attention to studying the\n nature and results of sagacity in animals; but he so distinctly saw\n that they are not _responsible agents_, and that the harmonious and\n orderly results produced by them\u2014as, for example, the mathematical\n regularity of the cells of bees\u2014are to be attributed not to them but\n to the Author of their wonderful instinct, that he does not even pause\n to treat this as an objection to his proposition or to draw a\n distinction between mediate and immediate causes.\n\n\n\n\n PEARL.\n\n\nBY KATHLEEN O\u2019MEARA, AUTHOR OF \u201cIZA\u2019S STORY,\u201d \u201cA SALON IN THE LAST DAYS\nOF THE EMPIRE,\u201d \u201cARE YOU MY WIFE?\u201d ETC.\n\n\nEarly next day Mrs. Monteagle sent down to the entresol to know if Col.\nRedacre was well enough to come up and see her, or, if not, could she go\ndown and see him; she wanted to speak to him on a matter of importance.\nThe answer came on a card of Mrs. Redacre\u2019s, written in pencil:\n\n \u201cI am so sorry! Hugh is really not able to see any one this morning.\n I hope you will come down to-morrow.\u2014Yours affectionately,\n\n \u201cA. R.\u201d\n\nMrs. Monteagle was surprised. There was nothing in the fact that the\ncolonel was not able to come up-stairs\u2014Balaklava sometimes made a great\ndifficulty about stairs; but why could she not go down to him? The hope\nthat she \u201cwould come down to-morrow\u201d was clearly an intimation that she\nwas not to go to-day. Why should she not go and see Mrs. Redacre, even\nif her husband was not in a humor to see people? The forenoon passed,\nand neither of the girls came near her. She inquired if the doctor had\nbeen sent for, but the servants said not. M. le Colonel had nothing the\nmatter with him; he complained of Balaklava just as usual; there was no\nquestion of such an extreme measure as sending for the doctor. This made\nit all the more curious why an old friend like herself should be kept\nout for the day. Mrs. Monteagle, however, was not a gossip, and, after\nturning it in her mind for a reasonable time, she concluded that it was\nno business of hers, and that it would be a nuisance, having friends\nliving in the same house with one, if one could not be left alone for a\nday without their seeing a mystery in it.\n\nLate in the afternoon she went out to pay some visits. It was Mme. de\nKerbec\u2019s day. Mrs. Monteagle had rather a horror of \u201cdays,\u201d but she was\npretty regular in attending this one. Mme. de Kerbec was very particular\nabout people calling on her day, and apt to take offence if they\nneglected it. To her it was the grand recurring opportunity of her life.\nShe loved dress with a passionate love, tenderly, humanly; and her day\nwas an opportunity for doing it honor, making a kind of feast to it.\nThis was a trial to some of her friends; they felt obliged to respond to\nthe challenge and come always finely dressed, and many were not inclined\nto don their first-best costumes on so ordinary an occasion. People,\nhowever, like Mrs. Monteagle, who had passed the age when society\nexacted this kind of homage from them, found great amusement in looking\nat the fine fashions, laughing at them very often, and at the mistress\nof the house, who, fat, fifty, and not fair, sat on her crimson satin\nsofa, with the latest and most magnificent costume spread out over it.\n\nTo-day she was gorgeous in a _Bismarck-en-col\u00e8re_ moire antique, so\ntrimmed that the original material nearly disappeared under elaborate\npassementerie, lace, and fringe. Nothing pleased her like being\ncomplimented on her dress; and Mrs. Monteagle, though she was fond of\nsnubbing people when they deserved it, was fond, too, of pleasing them,\nand occasionally gratified this weakness of Captain Jack.\n\n\u201cHow beautiful Mme. de Kerbec\u2019s dress looks!\u201d said some one, breaking a\npause in the languishing conversation.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s because it _is_ beautiful,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle in her literal\nway. \u201cWhere do you get those splendid costumes, countess? One does not\nknow which to wonder at most, their magnificence or their variety. I\nsuspect you have a Titania who works some time of the night weaving\nthose lovely silks and making them up into costumes.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! no,\u201d said Mme. de Kerbec gravely. \u201cI never would keep my maid up of\na night working, and I always tell the dressmaker that I would rather\nwait any time than have her keep those poor girls up all night at my\ndresses; but I dare say she does it all the same\u2014they are so selfish,\nthat class of people.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you tell me the class that is not selfish?\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle;\nbut she happened to catch Mr. Kingspring\u2019s eye, and there was a\ndangerous twinkle in it which made her look quickly away and observe\nthat there would be a fine display of dresses at the ball to-night, no\ndoubt.\n\n\u201cYes, I should think there would be,\u201d said Mme. de Kerbec, composing her\ncountenance, as she always did when dress was spoken of, assuming that\npeculiar gravity of manner which many people put on when anything\nconnected with the life to come is mentioned.\n\n\u201cIt is a pity you don\u2019t go to the Tuileries, countess,\u201d said Mr.\nKingspring; \u201cyou would cut them all out with your dress.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is a pity in one way,\u201d she replied; \u201cbut one has a principle or one\nhas not. It would make no end of a scandal if we were to be seen at this\ncourt. The count would never be forgiven by the faubourg; and I have to\nconsider his position before my own pleasure.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course, certainly,\u201d said Mr. Kingspring.\n\n\u201cIt is to be an unusually brilliant affair to-night; the Redacres are\ngoing, I believe,\u201d some one remarked.\n\n\u201cI fancy not; the colonel is not well,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle.\n\n\u201cThe young ladies are going with Mme. L\u00e9opold,\u201d said Mr. Kingspring. \u201cI\nmet her just now, and she told me Mrs. Redacre had written to ask her to\nchaperone them, as their father would not go.\u201d\n\nMrs. Monteagle looked at Mr. Kingspring as he announced this, and she\nfancied there was a glance of answering intelligence in his eyes.\n\n\u201cThe colonel is not seriously ill?\u201d inquired Mme. de Kerbec, who was\nrather proud of her intimacy with the Redacres.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s not ill at all,\u201d said Mr. Kingspring.\n\n\u201cThen why is he sending his daughters to the ball with Mme. L\u00e9opold?\u201d\n\n\u201cI really can\u2019t say, unless it be that he is not in a humor to go; a man\ndoes not always feel inclined to go to a ball, especially a man like\nRedacre.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! to be sure. Balaklava is a constant trial to him, poor, dear man!\u201d\nsighed Mme. de Kerbec.\n\n\u201cHave you seen him lately?\u201d inquired Mrs. Monteagle.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Mr. Kingspring. \u201cI turned in there this morning for a\nmoment. What does M. de Kerbec say of the \u2018situation,\u2019 as they call it?\nDoes he think we shall have war?\u201d This was to Mme. de Kerbec.\n\n\u201cHe never tells me what he thinks,\u201d said the lady in an aggrieved tone.\n\u201cI have, in fact, given up asking him. He only cares to talk politics\nwith men; that is the way with most of you.\u201d\n\nMrs. Monteagle began to be seriously mystified. This sudden interest in\nM. de Kerbec\u2019s view of the situation did not deceive her. Mr. Kingspring\nevidently had turned off the conversation from Col. Redacre on purpose.\nAnd why? She was not a meddling person or touchy, but really it was\nenough to set her wondering, this odd behavior of the Redacres. They\nwere distinctly keeping her out of the way while Mr. Kingspring was\nallowed to come in! And then Mrs. Redacre writing to Mme. L\u00e9opold to\nchaperone the girls to-night! What did it all mean?\n\nSuddenly it flashed on her that they were anxious to bring about a\nmarriage between Pearl and L\u00e9on, and had seized on the ball to-night as\nan opportunity for suggesting the same idea to the L\u00e9opolds. On the\nother hand, this was such a thoroughly un-English way of proceeding that\nit was hardly fair to suspect the Redacres of adopting it. Pearl, too,\nwas the last girl she knew who would be likely to fall in with such\nFrench man\u0153uvring. Altogether it was puzzling. Mrs. Monteagle was angry\nwith Mr. Kingspring, turned her back on him, and began to converse with\na French lady near her. People were dropping in in ones and twos, and\nMme. de Kerbec was in high delight, sweeping her glittering train behind\nher as she rose to greet each new-comer. Mrs. Monteagle took advantage\nof one of these triumphant moments to say good-by, and, without casting\na glance on the offending Kingspring, made her exit.\n\nJust as she reached her own porte coch\u00e8re Mr. Kingspring overtook her.\n\n\u201cAre you going in to see the Redacres?\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cNo; Mrs. Redacre sent me word that she hoped I would go to-morrow,\nwhich meant evidently that I was not to go to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I were you I would not mind that; I would go at once. You are their\noldest friend here; they will be the better for seeing you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is something amiss, then?\u201d And Mrs. Monteagle forgot her\ngrievance in real concern.\n\n\u201cThere is. I can\u2019t tell you any more. They will tell you themselves; you\nhad better go in and see them.\u201d\n\nHe shook hands and hurried away, fearing to say more if he loitered with\nher. Mrs. Monteagle went slowly up to the entresol, and, after an\ninterval of hesitation, she pulled the bell. \u201cThe idea of my being\nnervous at pulling Alice Redacre\u2019s bell!\u201d she said to herself.\n\nIt was answered quickly.\n\n\u201c_Madame ne re\u00e7oit pas aujourd\u2019hui_,\u201d said the servant.\n\n\u201cShe is not well?\u201d\n\n\u201cMadame is a little indisposed; M. le Colonel also.\u201d\n\nMrs. Monteagle left her compliments and regrets, and went on her way\nup-stairs.\n\n\u201cIt is quite clear they do not wish to see me,\u201d was her comment. \u201cWhat\ncan it mean? It looks odd\u2014it is odd,\u201d she added, correcting herself, as\nshe was in the habit of doing to other people for the same inaccurate\nmode of speech.\n\nGreat was her surprise an hour later to see the two girls going out on\nhorseback, accompanied by an old general officer who sometimes replaced\ntheir father in this way. Would they also go to the ball, in spite of\nthe something that was amiss? They always ran up to show themselves to\nMrs. Monteagle in their ball-dress whenever they went out; but she did\nnot expect they would do so this evening. At nine o\u2019clock, however,\nthere was a ring, and in they came. Pearl looked sad, though there was\nno sign of tears in her face; but Polly looked, as she always did on\noccasions like this, a vision of triumphant beauty. Her blue-black eyes\nwere all aglow with soft, tender lightnings, her curved red lips parted,\nher delicate skin bright as tinted alabaster. If the combined\nmisfortunes of life had fallen on her as she stood there in her exulting\nloveliness, Polly might have defied them. She looked a creature born to\nhappiness, buoyant, supple, invulnerable; you might as well have tried\nto hurt the mounting flame by sticking pins in it as to quench the glory\nof her youth in that royally beautiful maiden.\n\n\u201cDoes she not look pretty?\u201d said Pearl, surveying the young queen\nproudly.\n\n\u201cShe _is_ pretty, you vain puss!\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle. \u201cBut why do you\nalways wear white, my dear? Pink would suit your brown eyes better, eh?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhite is Polly\u2019s color, and any color does for me,\u201d said Pearl.\n\n\u201cPapa likes us to dress alike,\u201d said Polly; \u201cand pink does not go very\nwell with my hair.\u201d\n\n\u201cTut, nonsense, child! Duckady mud would go well with your hair,\u201d said\nthe old lady. \u201cBut Pearl spoils you\u2014that\u2019s what it is.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe does indeed!\u201d said Polly heartily, and she twined her lovely arms\naround Pearl and kissed her.\n\nA voice came from the stairs announcing that Mme. L\u00e9opold\u2019s carriage was\nat the door. The two girls kissed Mrs. Monteagle and hurried away,\nlooking very like a couple of swans as they floated off with their waves\nof white tulle round them.\n\n\u201cCome up early to-morrow morning and tell me all about it,\u201d said Mrs.\nMonteagle in a _sotto voce_ to Pearl; \u201cof course it will be settled\nto-night.\u201d\n\nPearl blushed up, and there was a sudden look of distress on her face as\nwith an exclamation of protest she hastened after Polly.\n\n\n CHAPTER III.\n CAPTAIN LEOPOLD INTRODUCES HIS FRIEND.\n\n\nBlanche L\u00e9opold was in great delight at having Pearl and Polly with her.\n\n\u201cWe are just like three sisters, are not we, petite maman?\u201d she said, as\nthey lightly tossed their skirts over each other so as not to crush\nthem.\n\n\u201cExactly, ch\u00e8res enfants!\u201d said Mme. L\u00e9opold, with a smile at both her\n_prot\u00e9g\u00e9es_; but it was Pearl\u2019s hand she pressed, it was Pearl\u2019s\nforehead that she stooped to kiss, in answer to Blanche\u2019s appeal.\n\n\u201cIs M. L\u00e9on to be at the ball?\u201d inquired Polly.\n\n\u201cOf course he is! What a question, you wicked child!\u201d said L\u00e9on\u2019s\nmother; and then she turned to Pearl and laughed, and pressed her hand\nagain.\n\nPearl\u2019s cheeks were burning like two live coals, but nobody saw this in\nthe dim light of the carriage.\n\n\u201cI thought he was on duty at the _Etat Major_ this evening?\u201d persisted\nterrible Polly.\n\n\u201cSo he was, but he contrived to get off,\u201d said Blanche.\n\n\u201cA higher duty called him to the Tuileries to-night,\u201d said his mother.\n\n\u201cOh! the emperor has named him on his staff? How glad I am!\u201d said Polly,\nand Pearl longed to choke her. \u201cYes, it will be very nice for you to\nhave him in the emperor\u2019s service,\u201d went on the incorrigible Polly, as\ninnocent as a babe of any mischievous intentions. \u201cYou are sure to be\nasked to the _Petits Lundis_ now; and we shall enjoy them more for\nhaving you all there. Are you very deep in engagements to-night,\nBlanche?\u201d\n\nThey compared notes and discussed partners till they drew up before the\npalace; that is to say, Blanche and Polly did. Pearl lay back very\nsilent all the way, and when they alighted Mme. L\u00e9opold noticed that she\nwas very pale and seemed provokingly out of tune with the gay scene.\n\nWho that has ever beheld it can forget how gay it was, that brilliant\ngathering in the old palace?\u2014the blaze of light, the flashing uniforms,\nthe splendidly-attired women, all the stars of fashion and wealth\nforming a dazzling galaxy round the beautiful Spaniard\u2019s throne, she\nherself the centre of the firmament, outshining all in grace and beauty\nand magnificence of attire.\n\n\u201cThere is L\u00e9on!\u201d cried Blanche the moment they entered the Salle des\nMar\u00e9chaux. And L\u00e9on, obeying the magnetic attraction that we all know\nof, suddenly turned round, and, across the crowd of \u201cfair women and\nbrave men,\u201d espied his mother and her maidens, and at once made towards\nthem. He was very striking in his picturesque hussar uniform with its\nhanging dolman.\n\n\u201c_Il n\u2019est pas trop mal, mon fils?_\u201d said Mme. L\u00e9opold, glancing from\nhim to Pearl and smiling at the latter. But Pearl made no answer, only\ncrimsoned and looked away.\n\n\u201cHow late you are!\u201d exclaimed L\u00e9on. \u201cI have been on the watch for you\nthis last hour. Are you all engaged, mesdemoiselles?\u201d bowing in one\nsweep to the three young ladies.\n\nThey all were, but their partners were not to the fore yet, and they\nmight not meet for a long time.\n\n\u201c_Les absents ont toujours tort_,\u201d said L\u00e9on; \u201cso I claim the privilege\nof replacing one of them.\u201d\n\nIt was to Polly he spoke; she responded by holding out her hand, and in\na moment they were wheeling along in a waltz.\n\n\u201cThat is a bit of masculine coquetry; he fancies he will make somebody\njealous,\u201d said Mme. L\u00e9opold, trying to look as if the joke amused her\nvery much; but she was really annoyed with L\u00e9on.\n\nPearl set her face like a flint this time, and, without blushing\nhappily, looked about her with an unconcerned air. She and Blanche were\nnot left long waiting. Partners quickly found them out, and came up in a\nbody, quarrelling over their claim to priority. Before Pearl had come to\na decision Mr. Kingspring was at her elbow, and proclaimed his right to\nthe first quadrille over all comers. She caught at this with avidity and\nhurried away with him.\n\n\u201cHow I hate being here to-night!\u201d she said when they were out of Mme.\nL\u00e9opold\u2019s hearing. \u201cI can\u2019t imagine why mamma insisted on our coming.\nYou could tell me if you liked?\u201d\n\nMr. Kingspring was taken aback by this direct appeal. He was very fond\nof Pearl, and she treated him with a sisterly _sans fa\u00e7on_ that he was\nproud of. They were friends, in fact. He might easily put her off with\nsome platitude or prevarication now, but he felt this would not be\nacting as a loyal friend.\n\n\u201cIs it fair of you to ask me? If your father has not let you into his\nconfidence yet, it would not be honorable in me to do so. It would not\nbe acting as one gentleman should towards another. You would not have me\ndo this? You would not have one whom you call your friend act otherwise\nthan as a gentleman?\u201d\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t imagine why there should be a mystery about it,\u201d sighed Pearl.\n\u201cIf anybody was dead, we should not have been sent to a ball, I\nsuppose?\u201d\n\nMr. Kingspring coughed and muttered a vague assent.\n\n\u201cIs Cousin Darrell dead?\u201d asked Pearl abruptly.\n\n\u201cNo, no; it is nothing about Darrell.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it anything about money?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, perhaps it may be; but I hope not. I mean I hope it will turn out\na mistake.\u201d\n\n\u201cMamma was crying this morning,\u201d said Pearl; \u201cshe does not cry for\nnothing.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope there may be no real cause for her tears. I believe myself there\nis not.\u201d\n\n\u201cPapa was in a dreadful state,\u201d continued Pearl. \u201cI heard him storming\nin his study for more than an hour. Was it about a letter he got from\nEngland?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere was a letter. But don\u2019t cross-examine me; don\u2019t, Pearl. It is not\nfair, and I really must not speak.\u201d\n\nPearl never remembered him calling her by her name before, though he\ndeclared he used to do so when she was a baby.\n\n\u201cTo think of their insisting on our coming here to-night when there is\nthis horrible anxiety at home!\u201d she said, and her eyes began to fill in\nspite of her.\n\n\u201cThere is no _certain_ cause for it so far,\u201d protested Mr. Kingspring.\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry till you know there is real cause for it; there is no use\nin saying good-morrow to the devil till you meet him. Let us take a turn\nwith the waltzers; you have done me out of my quadrille.\u201d\n\nThey took a few turns down the long gallery, now densely crowded, and\nthen he stopped to let her rest.\n\n\u201cWho is that Polly is dancing with?\u201d said Pearl, as she spied her sister\nin the distance with a tall, distinguished-looking man in the uniform of\nthe hussars.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know; probably some fellow L\u00e9opold has introduced.\u201d\n\nWhile they were still standing in the embrasure of a window L\u00e9on came\nup.\n\n\u201cMay I claim the honor of a dance, mademoiselle?\u201d he said, doubling\nhimself in two before Pearl.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t feel a bit in the mood for dancing,\u201d said Pearl, \u201cthe rooms are\nso hot and so dreadfully crowded. Do you know who that is that my sister\nis waltzing with?\u201d\n\n\u201cCaptain Darvallon, one of the most distinguished officers in the\nservice, and quite the best fellow I know; he is a great friend of\nmine.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen it was you who introduced him to her?\u201d\n\n\u201cI was proud to procure him that honor.\u201d\n\n\u201cPoor devil!\u201d said Mr. Kingspring. \u201cI suspect you have done for him; if\nhe has such a thing as a heart he will go home a miserable man to-night.\nI never saw Mlle. Polly looking so unmercifully pretty. D\u2019Arres-Vallon\nyou say his name is? Does he spell it in one word or two? I used to know\ntwo families of that name; one spelt it D\u2019Arvalhon, the other\nD\u2019Arres-Vallon. Which is his?\u201d\n\n\u201cNeither; he writes it in one word with a big D; he does not boast the\nnoble _particule_.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen he is a man of no family?\u201d\n\n\u201cNone whatever. He is what we call the son of his works; he has risen in\nhis profession by sheer force of intelligence and moral worth. There is\nnot an officer in the army more respected than Darvallon.\u201d\n\nPearl looked again at Polly\u2019s partner, and he struck her as still more\nprepossessing than at the first glance.\n\n\u201cAmongst military men I can imagine its making no difference; but\nsocially his low birth must subject him to disagreeables now and then,\u201d\nobserved Mr. Kingspring, following the direction of Pearl\u2019s eyes, and\nsurveying the hussar with the sort of interest one bestows on a curious\nvariety of animal new to one\u2019s experience.\n\n\u201cThe man who would subject Darvallon to anything of the sort would be\neither a fool or a snob,\u201d replied L\u00e9on coldly. \u201cI suppose there are\nplenty of both going about the world; but men like Darvallon have a sort\nof charm that keeps them at a distance.\u201d\n\nMr. Kingspring felt that this remark addressed to him was not that of a\nperfect gentleman; it sounded too like a snub. But the L\u00e9opolds, as Mme.\nde Kerbec said, were after all only Empire people, L\u00e9on\u2019s grandfather\nhaving been made a baron by the first Napoleon.\n\nPearl admired L\u00e9on for standing up so bravely for his friend; there was\nthat in her which responded instinctively to everything noble, even when\nit was violently against her own opinions or sympathies.\n\n\u201cHe must be a nice man, as well as clever,\u201d she said. \u201cIntroduce him to\nme when he has finished his waltz with my sister.\u201d\n\n\u201cReward me beforehand for that act of generosity by finishing the waltz\nwith me,\u201d said L\u00e9on.\n\nAnd Pearl did, Mr. Kingspring being left alone to meditate on the low\nideas of modern Frenchmen and the strange inconsistencies of well-born\nEnglish maidens.\n\n\u201cMademoiselle, may I have the honor of presenting to you my friend and\nbrother officer, Captain Darvallon?\u201d\n\nM. Darvallon bowed low, and when he looked up Pearl\u2019s soft brown eyes\nmet his with a glance of interest so full and frank that, if he had been\na coxcomb, he might have flattered himself he had slain her on the spot.\n\nPolly was a little tired and said she wanted an ice, so L\u00e9on offered her\nhis arm to the buffet, and Pearl followed with her new acquaintance. He\nwas a tall, powerfully-built man, with a Gothic head set on broad\nshoulders, and long, well-bred hands and feet. Judging from his hands\nand feet, Captain Darvallon might have had the blood of the Montmorencis\nin him; not that he needed this _cachet_ of distinction to redeem his\nappearance otherwise or stamp him outwardly as a gentleman. Pearl, even\nin the distance, had singled him out as somebody above the common. His\nhead, massive as it was, had nothing coarse about it; his features,\nwithout being handsome, were marked by an expression of energy,\nintelligence, and refinement that impressed you more than mere good\nlooks; and though the prominent characteristic of his whole appearance\nwas power, it was too tempered by gentleness to be alarming or\nrepulsive. An array of stars and crosses on his breast bore witness to\nhis prowess on the field, but his manner had borrowed no tinge of\nsoldierly roughness from the camp; it was, on the contrary, marked by a\ncourtesy towards the fair sex rare enough in these days, when the\nindependence of women who have rights is too often pleaded as an excuse\nfor forgetting that they still have privileges.\n\n\u201cWhat a crowd there is to-night!\u201d said Pearl.\n\nIt was a silly remark, but she wanted to say something that would put\nher companion at his ease. It was the first time that she had been in\nthe company of a man who had risen from the ranks, and she fancied the\nexperience on his side must be novel enough, too, to be embarrassing.\n\n\u201cJust at this point the crush is rather great; but I don\u2019t think the\nrooms are more crowded than usual. Is it your first ball, mademoiselle?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! no; I came out last season in London. You have never been to\nEngland, monsieur?\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon me; I spent five months there three years ago.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed! And did you think it a horrible place? Was it raining all the\ntime?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; it behaved very well in that respect, and I liked the country very\nmuch, and London especially; perhaps it was owing in a measure to all\nthe kindness I received there.\u201d\n\nPearl wondered who the people were who had shown him so much kindness;\ngood-natured middle-class people, no doubt, who thought it rather fine\nto have a French officer to entertain.\n\n\u201cThe English understand the virtue of hospitality in a charming way,\u201d\ncontinued M. Darvallon; \u201cthe mere fact of your being a stranger opens\nevery door to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhereas in France it shuts them?\u201d said Pearl.\n\n\u201cI am sorry if that is your experience of us, mademoiselle.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t say that; I only thought you meant to say so. But it is true;\nwe are fond of foreigners in England.\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing is more delightful, certainly, than the way in which you make\nthem welcome. I was staying at our embassy\u2014I went over with the Comte\nX\u2014\u2014 as military _attach\u00e9_\u2014but it was merely a kind of nominal\nheadquarters; I spent most of the time in the houses of English people.\nThe Duke of S\u2014\u2014 was particularly kind to me. I had known his brother in\nthe Crimea, and he made this a pretext for receiving me as an old\nfriend; so did Lord B\u2014\u2014. I spent two days at his place on the Thames.\nWhat a little paradise it is! The grounds and the house and the view\ncombine to make it a perfect Eden. Some of the country places of your\nold aristocracy are the most magnificent residences in the world, I\nsuppose; but they are so home-like, there is such a genial atmosphere in\nthem, that one is not oppressed by the magnificence.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad to hear you say so; one so often hears foreigners complain of\nour _morgue_ and stiffness.\u201d\n\n\u201cI saw none of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid you visit any of our palaces?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; St. James and Buckingham I saw at once, of course. But Windsor is\nglorious. We have nothing like Windsor in France. I have seen the finest\npalaces in Europe, and to my mind Windsor is the most beautiful of all.\nThere is such a prestige of historic interest about it, added to its\nartistic beauty; then the grounds and the surrounding country are so\nbeautiful. Nature and art have put forth their best to make it a worthy\nabode of royalty.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd our royalties\u2014did you approve of them, too?\u201d\n\n\u201cMost highly,\u201d said M. Darvallon, smiling; \u201cthey are excellent hosts,\nsince we are on the subject of hospitality. No one is overlooked. La\nReine Victoria has in a high degree that royal faculty of making all her\nguests, from the highest to the humblest, feel that they are duly\nnoticed in her salon.\u201d\n\nSo these were the middle-class people who had been ostentatiously civil\nto the French officer. Pearl was laughing to herself at the false hit\nshe had made, and also at her foolish idea that he needed to be\nencouraged to be put at his ease. It was impossible to be more entirely\nsimple and free from all shyness and affectation than he was. They had\nreached the buffet now, and L\u00e9on and Polly were pushing their way to get\nnext to them. This was not so difficult, for the crowd fell back, as it\ninstinctively does for all royalties, and made way for Polly as she\nadvanced. Pearl looked up at her companion, and saw his eyes fixed on\nher sister with an expression of admiration so unfeigned, and so full of\nrespect at the same time, that she felt quite tenderly toward the\nstalwart hussar.\n\n\u201cMonsieur le Capitaine,\u201d said Polly, as soon as they all came together\nround the ices, \u201che insists that it was you who took Sebastopol all by\nyourself!\u201d\n\n\u201c_Voyons_, L\u00e9opold, don\u2019t push modesty too far,\u201d protested M. Darvallon.\n\u201cYou lent me a hand; he did, I assure you, mademoiselle.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t believe him; he is a flatterer. It is a trick he learned at\ncourts,\u201d said L\u00e9on, and his solemn black eyes stared Darvallon full in\nthe face without a smile; but Pearl detected an expression of almost\nfeminine fondness in them as they met the gray eyes looking down on him.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t believe either of you took it,\u201d she said, with saucy defiance;\n\u201cit was my papa who took it. Did M. L\u00e9opold tell you our father is a\nsoldier too, and that he lost a leg at Balaklava?\u201d\n\n\u201cCol. Redacre\u2019s name and valor were known to us all in the Crimea,\nmademoiselle,\u201d said M. Darvallon, bowing deferentially.\n\nBoth the girls blushed with pleasure, and turned a smile of fullest\napprobation on the speaker.\n\n\u201cI told you he was a flatterer,\u201d said L\u00e9on.\n\nBefore M. Darvallon could enter a protest some one spoke from behind\nhim.\n\n\u201cI say, L\u00e9opold, you are going to catch it for staying away from your\nmother so long with these young ladies. She\u2019s very angry with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s no fault of M. L\u00e9on\u2019s,\u201d said Polly. \u201cWe stayed ourselves, dancing;\nthat\u2019s what we came for.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe had better go back to my mother and make an _acte de pr\u00e9sence_,\u201d\nsaid L\u00e9on. \u201cWhere is she, Kingspring?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere you left her, in the Salle du Tr\u00f4ne. I have just conducted Mlle.\nBlanche there after waltzing with her.\u201d\n\nMr. Kingspring moved towards Pearl, as if he expected to conduct her\nback; but M. Darvallon proffered his arm, and she took it.\n\nOn their way through the long ball-room they met Blanche waltzing down\non them with a slim, sallow-faced partner, of the type that Polly called\n\u201cscrubby.\u201d The partners pulled up, and then she saw that Blanche was\nradiant with smiles, and listening with delighted attention to whatever\nthe scrubby man was saying.\n\n\u201c_Qui est ce monsieur?_\u201d Polly inquired of L\u00e9on.\n\n\u201cThat monsieur is the Marquis de Cholcourt, the greatest _parti_ in\nFrance just now.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs he amusing?\u201d\n\n\u201cI really don\u2019t know. I shouldn\u2019t say he was, to look at him.\u201d\n\n\u201cBlanche is listening to him as if she thought him so.\u201d\n\nL\u00e9on made no remark, and they went on till they reached the Salle du\nTr\u00f4ne. There they saw Mme. L\u00e9opold, just where they had left her; but\nshe had risen from her velvet seat, and was expostulating in an excited\nmanner with M. L\u00e9opold, who had just joined her, and who seemed vainly\nendeavoring to pacify her. Madame shook her head, and opened and shut\nher fan, talking all the time volubly, and with a countenance disturbed\nby no pleasant emotion. When she caught sight of L\u00e9on and his companion\nshe became suddenly silent, and awaited their approach with an air of\ngrave displeasure.\n\n\u201cMesdemoiselles, you forget you are not in England; you must know that\nit is not the custom here,\u201d she began; but the good-natured deputy cut\nshort the scolding, and broke out into compliments to the two\ndelinquents: they were the stars of the Imperial firmament to-night;\nevery French girl in the room was dying with jealousy, etc.\n\nMme. L\u00e9opold was not sorry to have their attention drawn away from\nherself for the moment, and while this bantering went on with Pearl and\nPolly she said in a _sotto voce_ to L\u00e9on:\n\n\u201cMy son, you have behaved with criminal imprudence. Have you _said_\nanything to compromise you? Tell me the truth.\u201d\n\n\u201cCompromise! What on earth do you mean, mother?\u201d said L\u00e9on in amazement.\n\u201cI have spoken to no one but these two young ladies.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is just it! You have been parading yourself with Pearl for the\nlast hour. Have you said anything to lead her to hope\u2014\u201d\n\nL\u00e9on began to understand, and the look of indignant surprise that\nanswered his mother completely reassured her.\n\n\u201cThank Heaven!\u201d she muttered under her breath. \u201cI knew you were\nincapable of it, my son, but\u2014\u201d\n\nL\u00e9on did not wait to hear more; he abruptly turned away, fearful lest\nPearl should have overheard his mother\u2019s offensive insinuations; but a\nglance at her face showed him she had heard nothing.\n\n\u201cAre you engaged for the cotillon, mademoiselle?\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen may I claim your hand for it?\u201d\n\n\u201cGood gracious, my son! you are not so selfish as to want to keep me\nhere till four in the morning? I am worn out already\u2014I am indeed,\u201d\nprotested the terrified mother, whom her son and everybody else knew to\nbe simply indefatigable when the duty to society was in question.\n\n\u201cPray don\u2019t let _us_ detain you here, madame,\u201d said Polly with a certain\nasperity; \u201cwe shall be glad to go the moment you feel inclined.\u201d She saw\nthat a change had come over their chaperon, and she was annoyed at the\nway she snapped at L\u00e9on about the cotillon.\n\n\u201cIs it indeed true? You would not mind coming away now? I am so\nexhausted by the heat! I never knew the palace so overheated. But\nMarguerite wishes to remain for the cotillon?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have not the least wish to remain for it, madame,\u201d said Pearl; the\nsudden change from affectionate familiarity to being called \u201cMarguerite\u201d\nshowed that she had in some way incurred Mme. L\u00e9opold\u2019s displeasure.\n\n\u201cThen let us come,\u201d said that lady, signing to her husband to give his\narm.\n\n\u201cAnd Blanche?\u201d said L\u00e9on.\n\n\u201cGood gracious! It shows how ill I am that I could have forgotten her.\nWhere is she? It appears that English manners are _\u00e0 la mode_ everywhere\nto-night. Why is your sister so long away from me? Who is she with?\u201d\n\n\u201cI saw her dancing with M. de Cholcourt; but it is some time ago,\u201d said\nM. Darvallon.\n\n\u201cShe was dancing with him again then, five minutes ago,\u201d said Polly.\n\n\u201cM. de Cholcourt!\u201d repeated Mme. L\u00e9opold in a tone of unmistakable\nsatisfaction. \u201cAre you sure?\u201d\n\n\u201cM. L\u00e9on told me that was his name,\u201d said Polly. \u201cI asked him because\nBlanche seemed particularly to enjoy his conversation.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear child! I am glad she is amused. I wonder if she has made an\nengagement for the cotillon?\u201d This was said interrogatively to the two\ngirls and the two gentlemen with them.\n\nNobody knew. Meantime, L\u00e9on had gone in pursuit of Blanche, and it was\nnot long before he returned with her. She looked angry.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter with you, mamma?\u201d\n\n\u201cCh\u00e9rie, I am rather tired to-night, and these good children are anxious\nto get home.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was hardly worth coming to go away so soon,\u201d said Blanche, \u201cand I\nhave made an engagement for the cotillon.\u201d\n\n\u201cWith whom?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Marquis de Cholcourt.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa! My dear child, I am always ready to sacrifice myself to your\npleasure.... If your young friends don\u2019t mind waiting, I will stay for\nthe cotillon.\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon, ma m\u00e8re,\u201d said L\u00e9on, \u201cBlanche prefers your comfort to her\namusement; she will go home now.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son, you should consider your sister. If she has made an\nengagement....\u201d\n\n\u201cI will make her excuses to Cholcourt.\u201d\n\nMme. L\u00e9opold looked exceeding displeased, and tried to convey the full\nmotives of her displeasure to L\u00e9on through her eyes. But L\u00e9on would not\nsee it. Blanche saw there was a conflict between the two, and she sided\nwith her brother.\n\n\u201cYes, you will tell M. de Cholcourt,\u201d she said. \u201cWe had better go at\nonce, mamma, as you are not well.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat an angel she is!\u201d said the enraged mother, swallowing her vexation\nunder the fondest smile.\n\nThe drive home was performed almost in silence. Mme. L\u00e9opold lay back\nwith a pretence of utter exhaustion, and never said a word. Blanche and\nPolly sat opposite, and had a little confidential talk to themselves.\n\n\u201cIs he nice, that marquis who was dancing with you?\u201d inquired Polly.\n\n\u201cNice! He is the greatest _parti_ in all France. He is heir to the\ndukedom, and he has a fortune _now_ of two hundred and fifty thousand\nfrancs a year; besides that he is heir to his aunt, who has _enormous_\nproperty in the south; and I believe, only I am not sure, that the\nComtesse de V\u2014\u2014 has left all the family diamonds to him\u2014just think!\u201d\n\nBlanche summed up all this in a voluble whisper to her friend.\n\n\u201cWhat a catch he will be!\u201d said Polly. \u201cI hope he may fall in love with\nyou, Blanche.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Pas tant de chance, ma ch\u00e8re_; my _dot_ will be a drop compared to M.\nde Cholcourt\u2019s. I have not the ghost of a chance of making a marriage\nlike that.\u201d And the young French girl sighed.\n\n\u201cHe might fall in love with you,\u201d suggested Polly.\n\n\u201cHis family would never allow him.\u201d\n\nThey drew up at Colonel Redacre\u2019s door, and the two girls, thanking Mme.\nL\u00e9opold for her kindness, wished her and Blanche good-night.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAt a preternaturally early hour next morning Mme. L\u00e9opold presented\nherself at Mrs. Monteagle\u2019s.\n\n\u201cI make no apologies,\u201d she said on being admitted into that lady\u2019s\ndressing-room. \u201cThe case is so urgent that I could not delay an hour.\nDid you speak yesterday to the Redacres about that absurd idea of mine?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean did I offer your son\u2019s hand to Pearl?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! you have done it. We are compromised!\u201d exclaimed Mme. L\u00e9opold in\ndespair.\n\n\u201cConsole yourself, madame; I had not an opportunity of doing your\ncommission\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have said nothing! I thank Heaven! Then indeed we have had a narrow\nescape. My son is so chivalrous there is no saying what folly he might\nhave committed had he known it.\u201d\n\n\u201cKnown what?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I had asked Pearl in marriage for him. Happily, he has not the\nfaintest suspicion of anything. But I am heartily sorry for the poor\nchild,\u201d continued Mme. L\u00e9opold, finding room in her heart to pity Pearl\nthe moment her terrors for L\u00e9on were allayed. \u201cI feel deeply for her.\nThe disappointment will be a terrible blow, she is so much in love with\nmy son. That is the dreadful part of your English way of doing things;\nbut it is no fault of mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa! ha! ha!\u201d laughed Mrs. Monteagle. \u201cA terrible blow to Pearl, you\nsay? My good lady, take comfort; Pearl is perfectly heart-whole. Your\nson is the only person to be pitied in the affair. Ha! ha! ha! Capital!\nSo you thought Pearl was in love with him? What an excellent joke!\u201d\n\nMme. L\u00e9opold did not see the joke, and was deeply offended by this\nmanner of treating the matter.\n\n\u201cI see nothing surprising in the fact of my son\u2019s inspiring a\nsentiment,\u201d she replied. \u201cYou yourself seemed of that opinion yesterday.\nAs to L\u00e9on, he could not deny it when I put it to him; he had to admit\nthat it was true.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue that Miss Redacre had a _passion malheureuse_ for him? He says so,\ndoes he? Then I heartily congratulate Pearl on escaping him,\u201d said Mrs.\nMonteagle, bridling with the spirit of a gentlewoman and a loyal friend.\n\u201cI thought your son was a gentleman; it seems he is a cowardly coxcomb.\u201d\n\n\u201cMadame!\u201d Mme. L\u00e9opold stood up in wrath.\n\n\u201cI sincerely congratulate my young friend on escaping such a husband!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean to insult me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI mean to speak my mind. I am sorry if it insults you; but you may tell\nyour son from me, madame, he is stating what is false when he says that\nMiss Redacre is in love with him: it is a delusion of his own vanity.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe never said it,\u201d said Mme. L\u00e9opold. \u201cWhen I said so he did not deny\nit; he feigned not to believe it; but when I persisted in affirming it\nhe spoke in the kindest terms of Miss Redacre, and declared he was ready\nto make any sacrifice of his own inclination and happiness if it was\nnecessary to\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cPray tell him nothing of the sort is necessary. I am sure it is most\nkind of him,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle with a contemptuous chuckle. \u201cHe never\nwill have the luck to get such a wife; he is not worthy of her.\u201d\n\n\u201cMadame!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut since we are on the subject, may I ask why _you_ have so suddenly\nchanged your views about this marriage?\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you not heard? They are ruined.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho? The Redacres?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes. Is it possible you have not heard of it?\u201d\n\nMrs. Monteagle stared at Mme. L\u00e9opold with a troubled countenance for a\nmoment.\n\n\u201cSit down, I beg of you, and tell me what all this means,\u201d she said, her\ntone changed in a second from anger to one of intense and painful\ninterest.\n\nMme. L\u00e9opold was not sorry for the change as regarded her share in it;\nshe did not want to quarrel with Mrs. Monteagle, and she felt that the\nwrong had been on her own side. She sat down and told all she knew. It\nseemed that a letter had arrived on the previous day, by the early post,\nwith news of the death of some person, who by dying in this sudden way\nlet Colonel Redacre in for an enormous sum of money\u2014in fact, utterly\nruined him. This was all that Mme. L\u00e9opold knew. Who the man was, or how\nthe money was gone, she had not heard; but the main fact was positively\ntrue. M. L\u00e9opold heard it from M. de Kerbec, who knew more than he liked\nto tell; Mme. L\u00e9opold had heard it from her husband at the ball last\nnight. Mr. Kingspring knew it too; he had been to see the Redacres in\nthe morning. Apparently they wanted to keep the affair quiet for some\nlittle time, and this was why the door was closed yesterday on the plea\nof the colonel\u2019s not being well.\n\n\u201cAnd this was why they sent the girls to the ball, no doubt,\u201d said Mrs.\nMonteagle. \u201cIt is a most extraordinary affair. Do you know, I am\ninclined to think there is some mistake. I don\u2019t believe Colonel Redacre\never speculated to the extent of half a crown in his life; in fact, he\nhad nothing to speculate with, as he tells you himself; the money is his\nwife\u2019s, and that, I know, is bound up so that he could not touch it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know nothing except that in some way they are ruined,\u201d said Mme.\nL\u00e9opold. \u201cThe letter fell on them like a bombshell. I am very sorry for\nthem\u2014very.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo me it is like a personal misfortune,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle. \u201cAnd to\nthink of their not sending for me at once! How did M. de Kerbec hear it,\ndo you know? But I tell you there is some mistake; I feel certain there\nis. Those poor, dear girls! It is heartbreaking to think of them if this\nbe true. And the boys\u2014what is to become of them?\u201d\n\n\u201cBoys always pull through somehow,\u201d said Mme. L\u00e9opold. \u201cIt is the girls\nthat my heart bleeds for. I suppose they will have to go out as\ngovernesses\u2014Pearl at least. Polly\u2019s beauty would make it impossible for\nher to do anything; no family would run the risk of letting that face in\namongst them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey shall never be asked to run the risk so long as I can prevent it,\u201d\nsaid Mrs. Monteagle with a touch of her old asperity. \u201cWhile I have a\nhome those children have one.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is real friendship; it consoles me wonderfully to hear you say so,\nch\u00e8re madame.\u201d\n\nMrs. Monteagle made no answer. She was speculating on the possible truth\nof this story of sudden ruin, and it occurred to her how mysterious Mr.\nKingspring had been on the subject of Mrs. Redacre\u2019s not receiving the\nday before.\n\n\u201cI will go down the moment I am dressed,\u201d she said. \u201cI can\u2019t lose an\nhour till I know the truth.\u201d\n\nMme. L\u00e9opold rose to go.\n\n\u201cHave you breakfasted, or will you stay and have a cup of tea with me?\u201d\nsaid Mrs. Monteagle.\n\n\u201cThank you; I had my coffee before I came out. You will not mention that\nI have been here? They think at home that I am gone to see my poor\npeople; I always go early, because then they do not interfere with my\nday.\u201d\n\nMrs. Monteagle hurried through her breakfast and went down to the\nentresol. She was admitted at once.\n\n\u201cWhat is this? What does it all mean?\u201d she said, as Mrs. Redacre, who\nwas not lying on the sofa, but actively sorting letters at a table,\nstood up with an exclamation of welcome and hastened to meet her.\n\nThe colonel was standing with his back to the fire.\n\n\u201cIt means this: that we are beggared,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cOnly for a few years, Hugh. Don\u2019t speak in that despairing way about\nthings!\u201d said his wife, and she cast a look of tender entreaty at him.\n\n\u201cTell me, for goodness\u2019 sake, what has happened,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle.\n\u201cI hear that somebody has died and that you are ruined by their death.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is about it,\u201d said the colonel. \u201cI put my name to a bill for\n\u00a330,000 some five years ago, and the man for whom I did it is dead, and\ndied a bankrupt, leaving me to pay the money.\u201d\n\n\u201cThirty thousand pounds!\u201d repeated Mrs. Monteagle.\n\n\u201cWe can pay it, Hugh, and Providence will come to our aid,\u201d said his\nwife.\n\n\u201cBy sending us another income when every penny has gone to meet this\nbill?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know how; but trust me, dearest, help will come. If only you\nwon\u2019t break down under it! What does poverty or anything matter so long\nas we are left to bear it together?\u201d\n\nHe made no answer, but stooped down and gave the fire a savage poke.\n\n\u201cWhat madness possessed you, Redacre? I always thought you had a horror\nof speculation,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle, her resentment against him rising\nat the sight of Alice\u2019s gentle face of anguish.\n\n\u201cIt was no speculation,\u201d said the wife quickly; \u201che did it to oblige a\nfriend. Any one would have done it in his place.\u201d\n\n\u201cAny fool would,\u201d thought her friend, but she said nothing.\n\n\u201cFortunately we can meet it,\u201d Mrs. Redacre went on. \u201cI thought at first\nthat it might have been paid off at once with my fortune; but it shows\nwhat a goose I am in practical things,\u201d she said, trying to laugh. \u201cMy\nmoney is so tied up that neither Hugh nor I can alienate the capital;\nall we can do is to surrender the income for a few years till the debt\nis paid off.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe means that we must raise the money to pay it off, and pay back the\nloan by mortgaging our income for about ten years.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may not be for half that time, dearest. Providence may shorten the\ntrial for us unexpectedly.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean that Darrell may die. He is more likely to bury us all. Those\nkind of men live for ever. I am sure I don\u2019t want to hurry him away; I\nhave made a point of wishing him a long life. You have always heard me\nsay I hoped he might have a long life? Of course, if the Almighty saw\nfit to call him home, I could not but feel that the loss would be also a\ngain to me\u2014to you and the children, that is; for myself, I count no\nman\u2019s money.\u201d\n\n\u201cHas he a very large property to leave?\u201d inquired Mrs. Monteagle. Col.\nRedacre talked very openly about his money affairs, but in such a vague,\nexaggerated way that one never knew what to believe about his prospects\nor his difficulties.\n\n\u201cBroom Hollow is a glorious old place,\u201d he said, \u201cbut it brings in\nnothing; that must come to me. Darrell himself is a rich man, but he may\nleave his money to whom he pleases. As likely as not he will leave it to\npay off the national debt. He is just the man to do a thing of that\nsort.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear Hugh! he told you himself that you were to be his heir; that he\nhad made his will and left you sole legatee!\u201d said Alice.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s just it. When a man tells you he has made his will in your\nfavor, be you sure you will never see a penny of his money. I make a\npoint of never believing what men say about their wills.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe dean is not the least likely to tell a falsehood, dear, even about\nhis will,\u201d said Alice.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t say he is. I never said he was not a truth-telling man; but\npeople have crotchety notions about wills. However, we are a long way\noff from the settling of that question, I fear\u2014that is to say, I hope; I\ndevoutly hope the poor fellow may live for twenty years. At the same\ntime, if the Almighty sees good to call him to his reward sooner, and\nthat he leaves me his money, he will do as good an action as he ever\nperformed in his life.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you written to him about this unfortunate business?\u201d inquired Mrs.\nMonteagle.\n\n\u201cNo. I will worry nobody about it. What is the use? We are beggared, and\nthere is an end of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no use making things out worse than they are,\u201d said his\nfriend. \u201cThey are bad enough as it is; but, as Alice says, Providence\nwill pull you through somehow. I may turn out of some use myself; but we\nwill come to those matters by and by. The thing is, What are you going\nto do now? Is it out of the question\u2014your getting something to do? You\nhave friends who have influence; so have I.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat could they do for me? Could they get me back my leg? If it were\nnot for Balaklava I should not let this catastrophe cast me down a bit;\nbut it makes all the difference when a man has to face the world with\none leg.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense!\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle. \u201cYou have not half the sense I gave you\ncredit for, Redacre. What difference can it make, your having one leg or\ntwo? I don\u2019t expect you to enter an infantry regiment and go on the\nmarch. There are appointments to be had where legs are not wanted at\nall. My nephew, Percy Danvers, has an appointment of fifteen hundred\npounds a year at the Horse Guards.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut Danvers has both his legs?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut he doesn\u2019t write with his legs, and the work he does is all\nwriting.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow did he get the appointment?\u201d\n\n\u201cHis father got it for him. And, by the way, he had no legs at all, poor\nfellow; he lost one in the Crimea and the other in China. And he used to\njoke about it, and say that the loss of his legs was the best investment\nhe ever made, and the only one that paid regularly.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s just it: if a man loses both he is a hero; if he loses only one\nhe is a cripple. Balaklava never did anything for me but worry my life\nout.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is a most excellent idea!\u201d said Mrs. Redacre, turning with a look\nof sunny hopefulness to Mrs. Monteagle. \u201cI don\u2019t see why Hugh should not\nget something at the Horse Guards. We know so many old generals, and\nsome of them are influential, and I am sure all our friends will be kind\nand anxious to help us. Hugh, dear, we must lose no time in seeing about\nthis.\u201d\n\n\u201cFirst of all, we have got to pay this \u00a330,000. When that is done, it\nwill be time to think of the other. But with the government we have now\nI don\u2019t expect we would succeed. They are a beggarly lot, who toady all\nthe self-made men, as they call them\u2014fellows who have risen Heaven knows\nfrom what, and to whom it is as well to throw a bone to stop their\nmouths. I would see them farther before I asked a favor of them if I had\nmy two legs to stand on.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere are the girls?\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle; she was losing patience with\nthese lamentations over the missing leg.\n\n\u201cI sent them out for a ride before breakfast; they may as well enjoy it\nwhile they can, poor darlings!\u201d And the mother\u2019s voice faltered a\nlittle.\n\n\u201cHave you told them?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot the whole terrible truth. I prepared them for it yesterday a\nlittle, and again this morning. But they guess that worse is coming, and\nthey are very brave.\u201d\n\nThe noise of hoofs pattering under the porte coch\u00e8re announced that the\ngirls had come back. In a few minutes they both entered the room. The\nfair young things, in their beautifully-fitting habits, their\ncomplexions freshened by exercise in the morning air, their features\nlighted up with the buoyancy of youth hitherto untouched by sorrow, made\na pathetic and striking contrast with the group they broke in upon\u2014the\nfather stern and irritable, his fine face ploughed into sudden furrows\nof care, the mother courageous and tender, with undried tears on her\ncheeks. Pearl spied the tears at once, and, taking a bunch of violets\nout of her riding-habit, she went and kissed the wet face lovingly and\nfastened the flowers in her mother\u2019s breast.\n\n\u201cMy darling! Have you had a nice ride?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; but we had no heart to care about it. I wish you would let us stay\nat home with you, and not send us off to amuse ourselves while you are\nworried. It is not kind of her, is it, Mrs. Monteagle?\u201d\n\nPolly was standing at the table, holding up her habit, and looking from\none to the other of them all, with an expression of awakening terror in\nher large, lustrous eyes.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what it all means,\u201d she said. \u201cIs it very bad? Is it going\nto last long? Papa, we are not babies; you ought to tell us the truth.\u201d\n\n\u201cI ought, my dear; but I have not the courage to do it. Ask your\nmother.\u201d\n\n\u201cRedacre, you are a selfish brute!\u201d burst out Mrs. Monteagle, glaring at\nhim.\n\n\u201cOh! don\u2019t,\u201d cried Alice, with a look at once imploring and angry. \u201cOf\ncourse it is my duty, but I am such a coward!\u201d She let her head fall on\nPearl\u2019s shoulder, and sobbed aloud.\n\n\u201cFor God\u2019s sake, Alice, don\u2019t give way!\u201d cried her husband. \u201cI can bear\nanything but that; I can indeed, my love. It is quite true I am a\nselfish brute. I ought not to have asked you to tell them. Come, now,\ndon\u2019t! It will all come right, if you will only cheer up and help me to\nbear it.\u201d And he went over and laid his hand on her shoulder.\n\n\u201cHelp you to bear it!\u201d repeated Mrs. Monteagle; but she checked herself\nas she met Alice\u2019s eyes uplifted in supplication through her tears.\n\n\u201cCome with me both of you, children,\u201d said the old lady; \u201cI know all\nabout it now, and I will tell you everything. Come, and leave the\ncolonel and your mother to themselves a little; they were very busy when\nI came and interrupted them.\u201d\n\nThe two girls kissed Alice with many a tender endearment, and followed\nMrs. Monteagle up to her own apartment. She told them the truth as\ngently as possible, but without disguising anything.\n\n\u201cThen we have nothing at all to live on except papa\u2019s half-pay?\u201d said\nPolly, her eyes wide open in dismay, her lily-white hands lying\nmotionless on her knees.\n\n\u201cI fear not, my dear child; but I hope we will soon be able to get an\nappointment for him. Meantime you must not worry too much. I have some\nmoney lying by that he can have and welcome; he won\u2019t refuse me an old\nfriend\u2019s privilege at a moment like this. You must both do your very\nbest to help him and your mother to bear it. You will not let them see\nyou cast down.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the boys,\u201d said Pearl\u2014\u201cthey must come home and grow up dunces; that\nis the worst of all. What is to become of the boys?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is to become of any of us?\u201d said Polly. \u201cWhat could have possessed\npapa to promise to pay such an enormous sum of money for any one? It was\nvery wicked of him.\u201d And the big tears welled up and came streaming down\nthe lovely face.\n\n\u201cHas he written to Cousin Darrell?\u201d said Pearl.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle. \u201cI asked him, and he said he would not write;\nthat it would worry the dean.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut he might give us the money to pay this, or some of it, at any\nrate,\u201d argued Pearl. \u201cI am certain he would; since we are to have all\nhis money by and by, he would not refuse a portion of it now to do us\nsuch a service.\u201d\n\n\u201cI would not be too sure of that, dear Pearl,\u201d said her friend, with a\ndubious shake of the head. \u201cGiving and bequeathing are very different\nthings. Still, I agree with you, Colonel Redacre ought to write and tell\nyour cousin the truth; he owes that to the dean and to you all.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will make him do it!\u201d said Polly, brushing away the tear-drops and\nshaking back her head with a resolute air; \u201cand if he won\u2019t write, I\nwill.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mustn\u2019t do it against papa\u2019s will, Polly,\u201d said Pearl, a little\nfrightened by this unexpected display of will. Polly had always had her\nown way hitherto without making any effort to get it.\n\n\u201cI think we had better go down now,\u201d she said, not answering Pearl\u2019s\nremark. There was an energy in her manner and look that amazed Mrs.\nMonteagle.\n\n\u201cPerhaps you had, dears,\u201d said their friend; she was anxious to have a\nlittle private talk with Pearl on other things, but she did not venture\nto ask her pointedly to stay.\n\n\u201cI will go to papa at once, and tell him he must write to Cousin\nDarrell,\u201d said Polly; and gathering up the folds of her long habit, she\nwalked away, too absorbed in her own thoughts to say good-by or notice\nif Pearl was following her. Mrs. Monteagle signed to Pearl to stay.\n\nThe idea that this misfortune was weighted to Pearl with a super-added\nindividual sorrow had been in her friend\u2019s mind ever since Mme. L\u00e9opold\nhad announced the bad news to her. When that lady declared so\nemphatically that Pearl was attached to her son, Mrs. Monteagle had\ndenied it and laughed to scorn the pretended compassion of the\nman\u0153uvring mother. This was clearly her duty as a stanch friend, whether\nshe believed or not that Pearl loved L\u00e9on; but, indeed, she so earnestly\ndesired at the moment not to believe it that she concluded she did not,\nthat it was a delusion of L\u00e9on\u2019s vanity or his mother\u2019s; but now there\nrecurred to her Pearl\u2019s vivid blush at the mention of L\u00e9on\u2019s name, and\nher confusion when Mme. L\u00e9opold was announced. It was dreadful if the\nyoung heart was to set out on the rude battle of life with its bloom\nrubbed off and all its brightness quenched. But though she had a true\nwoman\u2019s heart, Mrs. Monteagle indulged little in sentiment. If the\nmischief was done, it must be undone as quickly as possible, and Pearl\nwas a girl of rare sense.\n\n\u201cMy dear, did L\u00e9on L\u00e9opold propose to you last night?\u201d said the old lady\nwhen they were left alone.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Pearl, looking her straight in the face. \u201cWhat put that into\nyour head?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut he ought to do so, ought he not? He has been paying you a great\ndeal of attention.\u201d\n\n\u201cL\u00e9on!\u201d The old innocent laugh rang out in spite of all her trouble, as\nPearl repeated in amazement, \u201cL\u00e9on?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you really don\u2019t care for him?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot I, and I should be very sorry to think that he cared for me; but I\nam perfectly certain he does not. If I were a _pot de confiture_ he\nmight.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou relieve me immensely, my dear,\u201d said Mrs. Monteagle, quite at rest\nnow on the score of Pearl\u2019s heart. \u201cIt would have been dreadful had you\nbeen in love with that young man.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would indeed,\u201d assented Pearl. \u201cI had better be going now; I don\u2019t\nlike leaving mamma alone\u2014without me, that is. Poor darling mamma, if I\ncould take some of the worry off her! What are we to do? I\u2019m sure I\ndon\u2019t know.\u201d\n\n\u201cKeep a cheerful spirit and a brave heart; that is all you have to do\nfor the present. I promise you things will come right in good time.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nMr. Kingspring called very early, and was closeted a long time with Col.\nRedacre. Pearl met him in the hall as she was coming out of her father\u2019s\nstudy, and whispered to him:\n\n\u201cMake papa write to Cousin Darrell.\u201d\n\nMr. Kingspring nodded yes and went in.\n\nIt had got wind that the Redacres were ruined, and everybody was very\nsorry for them. It was all conjecture yet how the ruin came about. The\ngeneral belief was that a banker with whom he had lodged his money had\n\u201cgone smash.\u201d Mr. Kingspring and M. de Kerbec were the only two who had\nknown the truth from the first, and they were not communicative as to\ndetails; Mr. Kingspring from innate discretion, M. de Kerbec from\nfriendly desire to shield Col. Redacre from the ridicule which awaited a\nman imbecile enough to fool away his money by signing a bill.\n\n\u201cNo, I can\u2019t write to Darrell,\u201d said Col. Redacre in answer to Mr.\nKingspring\u2019s urgent advice that he should at once apply to his rich\ncousin. \u201cDarrell is a man who never did a foolish thing in his life, and\nhe despises people who do. If he knew I had been idiot enough to put my\nname to a bill, he would disinherit me for a fool; he is a most\neccentric fellow.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut he is sure to hear of it,\u201d said Mr. Kingspring, \u201cand he will be\nmore likely to resent it if you seem trying to hide it from him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t see that he need ever hear of it. He never sees any one, never\nwrites to any one, I believe, except his medical man, and his lawyer\nperhaps; he leads the life of a hermit down there with his books. If he\ndoes not hear of this miserable business from ourselves, he is likely\nnever to hear of it.\u201d\n\nMr. Kingspring could not press the point after this. Pearl, meantime,\nwas on the watch to catch him when he left the study, and in answer to\nher eager \u201cHas he promised to write?\u201d Mr. Kingspring only replied, \u201cNo;\nhe says it would do no good; and I think he is right.\u201d Pearl was\ndisappointed, and took the news to her sister, who was awaiting it in\nher own room.\n\n\u201cIt is nothing but pride that prevents him,\u201d said Polly, angry and\nimpatient; \u201cit is cruel and selfish of papa to sacrifice us all to spare\nhis own pride.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is sacrificing himself as well as us,\u201d said Pearl; \u201cand I don\u2019t\nbelieve it is pride. I am sure papa has some good reason for it; he\nknows Cousin Darrell better than we do.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you write to him,\u201d said Polly; \u201che is your godfather, and he\npretends to be greatly interested in you. Tell him you will have to go\nout as a governess if he won\u2019t come to papa\u2019s help.\u201d\n\n\u201cI could not write against papa\u2019s will,\u201d said Pearl.\n\n\u201cStuff! Then I will.\u201d And Polly tossed back her head, and her\nalmond-shaped eyes had a light of dangerous wilfulness in them as she\nrose and went towards her writing-table.\n\n\u201cO Polly! you must not do that; papa would be so angry,\u201d pleaded Pearl.\n\n\u201cHe will forgive me when Cousin Darrell sends the money.\u201d And Polly sat\ndown and opened her dainty blotting-book and prepared for action.\n\n\u201cPolly, you sha\u2019n\u2019t. I will go and tell mamma of it. I won\u2019t be a party\nto your defying papa in this way,\u201d said Pearl resolutely, moving towards\nthe door.\n\nPolly started up.\n\n\u201cCome back; you need not play tell-tale. I won\u2019t write.\u201d And she shut\nthe blotting-book and flung the pen angrily aside.\n\n\u201cI am sure it is better not, darling,\u201d said Pearl. \u201cWe can\u2019t know as\nwell as papa in a matter of this kind.\u201d She went over to Polly and would\nhave kissed her; but Polly repulsed the caress with an impatient\nmovement of her head. Pearl did not force the kiss on her, but she felt\nthe tears rising as she turned away and left the room. If misfortune was\ngoing to change Polly like this, it was a worse sorrow than anything she\nhad anticipated.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\n THE ESPOUSALS OF OUR LADY.[152]\n\n\n(SCENE: _Before the Temple_.)\n\nST. JOSEPH.\n\n From boyhood up I had but one desire:\n To live alone with God\u2014as much alone\n As wholesome concourse with my fellow-men,\n And scope of humble traffic, would allow:\n Not sullenly churlish\u2014with a helping hand\n For others\u2019 need\u2014but peacefully obscure.\n And so, when came the glow of youth, and thoughts\n Of woman\u2019s love dawn\u2019d roseate, I upraised\n My heart to Him who was indeed to me\n The Good Supreme, the Beauty Infinite,\n And made, at once, a vow perpetual\n Of perfect chastity; and straightway knew\n \u2019Twas He had drawn me to it.\n\n Strangely, then,\n Sounded the High-Priest\u2019s message, summoning\n The unwed of David\u2019s lineage who had claim,\n By sacred right of kinship, to espouse\n Its sole surviving maiden\u2014bidding them\n Bring each a wand, whereby the Lord might show\n Whom he had chosen\u2014and, among them, me,\n Nearest of kin, but hoping to lie hid\n Half-way in the fifth decade of my years!\n But, ever wont to obey the voice divine,\n Within heard or without, I came, and stood\n Unseemly \u2019mid the suitors. Then the wands\n Were laid upon the altar\u2014the High-Priest\n Seeking the sign to Moses given of yore,\n When, in the wilderness, the tribes rebelled\n \u2019Gainst privileged Aaron.[153] So we knelt, and went,\n And waited on the Lord.\n\n And I, that night,\n Like Joseph, son of Jacob, dream\u2019d a dream.\n I saw a maiden, robed in purest white,\n Sit throned where once, in Solomon\u2019s vanished fane,\n Reposed the Ark beneath the Mercy-seat,\n Within the Holy of Holies. While I gazed,\n Behold, a sudden vista of long light\n Opened as into heaven; and, swiftly, a dove\n Descended on the maid, yet settled not,\n But o\u2019er her head hung brooding! Then a voice\n Said softly: \u201cFear not, Joseph, for thy vow.\n Bride of the Dove is she; and thou, her spouse,\n Shalt guard her for her Spouse.\u201d Whereat I woke,\n Astonished: and to find, upon the morrow,\n That one of the rods had budded in the night\u2014\n Budded and blossom\u2019d; and that rod was mine!\n\nSINGS:\n\n Though the dream brought me peace, there is mystery still:\n But in time He will solve it, the Lord of my love.\n \u2019Tis enough that I know I am wedding His will\u2014\n Beheld in this maiden, the \u201cBride of the Dove.\u201d\n\n Ah, who can she be\u2014there enthroned as a bride\n Where the Ark of the Covenant rested of old?\n Is it She for whose advent our fathers have sigh\u2019d\u2014\n The long-promised Virgin Isaias foretold?\n\n And what was the Dove? When the voice said \u201cher Spouse,\u201d\n Did it mean that Jehovah had seal\u2019d her his own?\n Has she too, like me, made the sweetest of vows\u2014\n To live evermore for Divine love alone?\n\n But she comes: and I feel that the angels are here.\n Their charge to be mine! They will share it, then, still.\n And the dear God himself, was He ever so near?\n Be at peace, O my soul! Thou art wedding His will.\n\nMARY (SINGS).\n\n My God, to Thee I bow:\n Thy will is ever mine.\n Thy grace inspired the vow\n That made me wholly thine.\n\n If Thou dost bid me wed,\n Thou canst but guide aright.\n I follow, darkly led,\n Till break the perfect light.\n\n I take my chosen lord,\n And plight him troth for Thee.\n So find thy sovran word\n Its handmaid still in me.\n\nCHORUS.\n\n All hail, blest pair, all hail!\n As yet ye little know\n What words that cannot fail\n To after-times will show.\n\n Not angel eyes command\n The glorious lot that waits,\n As, meekly, hand-in-hand,\n Ye leave the temple\u2019s gates!\n\nMAY, 1878.\n\nFootnote 152:\n\n Written for a children\u2019s \u201cMay Cantata.\u201d\n\nFootnote 153:\n\n Numbers xvii.\n\n\n\n\n THE BOLLANDIST _ACTA SANCTORUM_.\n\n\nFor many reasons the Bollandist series of saints\u2019 lives is one of the\nmost remarkable works that ever issued from the pen of man. As a serial\npublication, what other work of the kind extends over a period of nearly\ntwo centuries and a half, comprises upwards of sixty volumes in large\nfolio, and is still advancing, with upwards of one-sixth part of the\nwhole remaining to full completion? Or as a monument of devotion to the\nsaints of God, as a vast storehouse of example and instruction in the\nway of eternal life, there is nothing that can be put in competition\nwith it. Even this view of it is narrow, as compared with other claims\nto regard which it possesses, and which are fully recognized by literary\nmen, even among those who have little or no sympathy with the religious\nside of this great work. The whole range of history, from the foundation\nof Christianity, forms an essential portion of it. The lives of the\napostles demand the investigation of all that is known of that remote\nperiod; a large proportion of the Roman pontiffs are among the\ncanonized, and their records belong to the history of the Christian\nworld, including that of the middle ages. The sainted founders of\nreligious orders, from Benedict to Ignatius, from Anthony to Paul of the\nCross, cannot be described without entering at length into the origin\nand progress of their holy institutes, many of which were asylums and\nhomes of refuge for letters and learning during the darkest and most\ntroubled periods of European history, and others served as\ntraining-places, whence the confessors and martyrs of the Christian\nfaith went forth to the ends of the earth to propagate divine truth and\nlove at the sacrifice of everything that humanity holds dear, even of\nliberty and life itself. Or, if it is question of kings and emperors\nwhom the church venerates as saints, the secular history of their\ndominions naturally falls within the scope of their biographies: as of\nHungary under St. Stephen; of Germany under Henry II.; of England under\nEdward the Confessor; of Denmark under Canute IV.; of Spain under\nFerdinand III.; and of France under Louis IX. Not unfrequently the\nbiography of a saint comprises the history of his age: as of the fourth\ncentury in the life of St. Athanasius; of the eleventh in that of St.\nGregory VII.; of the twelfth in that of St. Bernard; and of the\nthirteenth in those of St. Dominic and St. Francis of Assisi. The limits\nof the _Acta_ are not confined to Europe; they are as wide as our globe\nitself. Wherever the seed of the Gospel has been sown or watered by the\nblood of martyrs, among every race of mankind, from China to Paraguay,\nfrom Lima to Japan, nothing is foreign to the Bollandists\u2019 pen; their\nwork embraces, incidentally or formally, all the history of all nations.\n\nIntimately connected with the historical researches of their work are\nseveral auxiliary branches of knowledge which largely enter into it and\ncannot be overlooked in estimating its scope and value. The aid of\ngeography, for example, had to be called in to settle the boundaries of\nepiscopal sees, of provinces, of kingdoms; to reconcile history with\ntopography by determining the obsolete or corrupted names of certain\nplaces, about which different authors may have held different opinions.\nSeveral treatises on chronology entered into the general scheme.\nArch\u00e6ology furnished the means of a minute and complete examination into\nancient manners, rites, laws, arts, and the rudiments of languages, and\nof a comparison among the sacred and secular monuments of various\nnations. Then, again, the art of employing the materials, characters,\nand other portions of ancient MSS. for the determination of dates\nengaged the attention of the Bollandists, and of P\u00e8re Papebroch in\nparticular; and this father, with the frankness inseparable from true\ngenius, did not hesitate to acknowledge his debt to the illustrious\nmaster _Rei Diplomatic\u00e6_, the Benedictine Mabillon. As might have been\nexpected, theology, canon law, and ecclesiastical history are largely\nrepresented in those sixty volumes. The teaching of the holy fathers,\nthe decrees of councils, the laws of the church constantly demanded\nscientific statement and vindication, as also did the perpetual glory of\nmiracles, of prophecy, of celestial revelations, and the undying gift of\nthe loftiest contemplation, as against a class of critics who, while\naffecting to patronize letters, assume that the lives of saints must be\nnothing more than a tissue of idle tales and old women\u2019s fables, or at\nleast speak of them as if they thought them so. In the judgment,\nhowever, of several eminent critics of the modern school even the\nlegends of saints, regarded as popular beliefs in a remote and\nhalf-instructed age, have their value as evidence of the ideas, manners,\nand customs of the people in the middle ages. M. Guizot was at pains to\ncount twenty-five thousand legends in the Bollandists\u2019 work; and these,\nhe remarks, were the real literature of the first half of that period,\nand served for aliment to the intellectual, moral, and \u00e6sthetic life of\nthose ages, and, from a historian\u2019s point of view, were on that account\nbeyond all price. Another French critic, M. Renan, also regarding the\n_Acta_ from an external point of view, expresses himself in language of\neulogy little to have been anticipated: \u201cQuelle incomparable galerie, en\neffet, que celle de ces 25,000 h\u00e9ros de la vie d\u00e9sint\u00e9ress\u00e9e! Quel air\nde haute distinction! quelle noblesse! quelle po\u00e9sie! Il y en a\nd\u2019humbles et de grands, de doctes et de simples; mais je n\u2019en connais\npas un seul qui ait l\u2019air vulgaire. Tous m\u2019apparaissent tels que les\npose Giotto, grandioses, hardis, d\u00e9tach\u00e9s des liens terrestres, et d\u00e9j\u00e0\ntransfigur\u00e9s. Ils plaisent peu au sens positif, je l\u2019avoue; mais qu\u2019ils\nont, apr\u00e8s tout, mieux compris la vie, que ceux qui l\u2019embrassent comme\nun \u00e9troit calcul d\u2019int\u00e9r\u00eat, comme une lutte insignifiante d\u2019ambition et\nde vanit\u00e9.\u201d\n\nSuch being the character of the _Acta_, who conceived the comprehensive\nscheme and gave it actual form and being? The names of its originator\nand early continuators are preserved in the following lines:\n\n Quod Rosweydus preparaverat,\n Quod Bollandus inchoaverat,\n Quod Henschenius formaverat,\n Perfecit Papebrochius.\n\nHerbert Rosweyd, a native of Utrecht in Holland, entered the Society of\nJesus in 1589, at the age of twenty, and taught philosophy and theology\nsuccessively at Douay and Antwerp. He was a man in whom great learning\nwas united to great piety. He composed and edited many works in Latin\nand Flemish, and among the rest published an edition of the Oriental\nascetic Moschus\u2019 _Spiritual Meadow_, and an original treatise on the\n_Imitation of Christ_ to prove its author to have been Thomas \u00e0 Kempis.\nEleven years before his death, in 1629, P\u00e8re Rosweyd published the\n_Lives of the Fathers of the Desert_, in a folio volume, at Antwerp. It\nmay be regarded as a first instalment of the _Acta Sanctorum_. While he\nwas engaged on one of his books the idea occurred to him to collect in\nsome twelve volumes the lives and acts of the beatified and canonized\nsaints of the Catholic Church. At the time when he first conceived his\ngreat plan he was too deeply committed to other literary works to take\nit up at once; but the idea never was abandoned, and death alone\nprevented him from at least commencing it. When the project was\nmentioned to Cardinal Bellarmine, he inquired if P\u00e8re Rosweyd expected\nto live two hundred years; such was the cardinal\u2019s estimate of the\nmagnitude of the undertaking\u2014an estimate fully borne out by the result.\nYet, as we shall presently see, in the first century and a half of the\nwork not a dozen only but four times that number of volumes were\npublished; and if twelve volumes could have comprised it the end would\nhave been reached in little more than forty years from its commencement.\nWhat Papebroch said of Bolland may be said of Rosweyd: It was\nprovidential that he who first started such a work could not foresee its\nvast extent. Who but a rash man, or one assured by divine revelation of\nhis success, would otherwise ever have dared to extend his plans and\nhopes to an age beyond his own, or counted upon the co-operation of\nfuture authors yet unborn in an association of labor up to that time\nwithout a parallel in the history of letters? It was probably only in\nthe bosom of a religious order like the Society of Jesus, in which years\ncount for days and centuries for years, that such a scheme could ever\nhave been carried out.\n\nRosweyd, then, was dead, but his conception survived him. The duty of\ngiving effect to it devolved on John Bolland (Latinized, in the style of\nthe period, into Bollandus), after whom the whole body of succeeding\neditors has since been named BOLLANDISTS.[154] Bolland was by his birth,\nAugust 13, 1596, a native of Tillemont, in Flanders. At the age of\nsixteen he entered the society, and professed the four solemn vows\nJanuary 27, 1630. His studies had been distinguished, and as a professor\nhe stood high in many various attainments, in letters and in Oriental\nand other languages. But, better still, his piety and religious fervor\nkept equal pace with his other acquirements. Even after his appointment\nto carry on the work suggested by P\u00e8re Rosweyd, P\u00e8re Bolland would never\nintermit the duties of the confessional in the church of St. Ignatius\nattached to the house of the professed fathers of the society at\nAntwerp\u2014now the church of St. Charles Borromeo, at the corner of Wyngard\nStreet and the Katelina Rampart. It was only the spare time unoccupied\nby hearing confessions that he gave to sacred literature.\n\nA glance at what had been previously done in the way of saints\u2019 lives\nwill enable us the better to understand the plan now adopted by P\u00e8re\nBolland. Of the acts of the martyrs and the other saints the very\nearliest form is the record of St. Stephen\u2019s origin, arrest, trial,\ncondemnation, and martyrdom, contained in the Acts of the Apostles.\nSimilar records began to be kept first of all in the Roman Church by\norder of Pope Clement. Notaries were appointed for the purpose of\ncollecting and authenticating the acts of martyrs. The testimony of\neye-witnesses was taken down, and, when duly attested, the records were\nsubmitted to the judgment of the pope. Similarly the martyrologies took\ntheir origin from the burying-places of the martyrs in the catacombs.\nWhen a martyr was carried to his rest from the Amphitheatre an\ninscription was placed beside him, a name, a date, a title, a\npalm-branch or a dove, perhaps a monogram. Such were the rudiments of\nthe earliest martyrologies. The Roman martyrology, in a few lines, each\nday records the names of the martyrs of the day under the favorite term\nof _Depositio_. The earliest calendar of the Roman Church is composed of\na list of depositions copied as it were from the galleries of the\ncemeteries. These honored names thence passed into the diptychs, and\nwere read aloud to the Christian assemblies on public occasions.\nSeparate churches had their own diptychs, and frequently exchanged them\nwith one another. At first martyrs only were admitted among the select\nnumber; but in the fourth century in the Western Church the first\nexception was made in favor of St. Martin. In the East the lists were\nopened to confessors somewhat earlier in favor of SS. Ephrem,\nAthanasius, Hilarion, and Antony. As regarded confessors, the acts were\nin fact an authenticated narration of their lives. In this way the\nmartyrologies and acts of the martyrs and other saints assumed the form\nwe now know, subject to the scrutiny of the bishops of particular sees,\ntill a later date, when the admission of a new name into the calendar\nwas reserved for the Supreme Pontiff. During the middle ages the\nliterature of saints\u2019 lives was in great part the work of the\nmonasteries. Eusebius, the ecclesiastical historian, at an earlier\nperiod laid the foundation of this class of composition. Prudentius, in\nthe third century, celebrated in verse the martyr\u2019s crown of victory.\nThere was the _Spiritual Meadow_ of Moschus, and the _Mirror_ of Vincent\nof Beauvais; and, most celebrated of all, the _Legends of the Saints_,\ncomposed by Da Varaggio, or De Voragine, Archbishop of Genoa\u2014a work\nbetter known by its title of the _Golden Legend_, given it by its\nadmirers. This collection was by far the most popular of all the works\nof the kind, and was translated into nearly every European language. It\nwas one of the earliest books printed in England by Caxton, in 1483, in\nfolio. To a somewhat later period belonged Surius the Carthusian, from\nwhose _Lives_, in seven folio volumes, we find Charles Kingsley\nadmitting that he had picked up his knowledge of ecclesiastical history.\nAfter Surius came P\u00e8re Ribadeneira, the Spanish Jesuit, author of the\n_Flower of Saints\u2019 Lives_. The work contemplated by Rosweyd and put in\nhand by Bolland was different from everything of the kind that had gone\nbefore it. The new scheme aimed at the collection and publication of the\noriginal acts and lives of all the saints in the order in which they\nstand in the Roman calendar and martyrology. Difficult and obscure\npassages were to be elucidated. It was adopted as a general rule that no\ntestimony could be admitted which the editors had not thoroughly\nexamined; that, in adducing an important witness, the age he lived in,\nhis trustworthiness and judgment as an author, should be rigorously\nestimated. Nothing which tended to fuller acquaintance with any saint\nwas to be slurred over without discussion; no place to be deemed too\nobscure, no people too ignoble, no country too remote, to which a saint\nhad at any time belonged; and, in a word, no language too rude to occupy\ntheir careful attention, as far as either the intervention of published\nand unpublished authors, or correspondence, or the agency of ubiquitous\nfriends could utilize human labor. Their plan was not simply to write a\nhistory of the church in numerous countries, strenuously as they meant\nto labor for that; its scope included the particular foundations of\nbishoprics, of cities, of monasteries, and of religious orders, the\nsuccessive stages of whose histories they professed, to the full extent\nof their powers, to investigate.\n\nP\u00e8re Bolland\u2019s first care was to collect materials for so extensive a\nwork. He opened a correspondence with churches and monasteries all over\nEurope and beyond its limits, inquiring in all directions for offices\npeculiar to different places, and for copies of the rarest archives of\nthe religious houses. These he gradually accumulated, until the\nfoundation of a valuable library and museum was established, which long\noccupied the upper floor of a detached building in the professed house\nat Antwerp. Out of these materials P\u00e8re Bolland then commenced to form\nhis _Acta_ for the month of January. Six years he toiled single-handed;\nbut in 1635 a coadjutor was given him in P\u00e8re Godfrey Henschen, S.J., a\nnative of Gueldres, in Holland, then in the thirty-sixth year of his age\nand the sixteenth of his religious profession. The fathers prosecuted\nthe work in company for eight years, and in 1643 the first two volumes\nwere published, comprising the saints belonging to the month of January,\nto the number of upwards of twelve hundred. P\u00e8re Bolland struck the\nkeynote of his great work at a sublime height in these few words of\ndedication:\n\n SANCTO SANCTORUM\n JESU CHRISTO\n \u00c6TERNO PONTIFICI\n EIUSQUE INTER MORTALES VICARIO\n URBANO OCTAVO\n ROMANO PONTIFICI.\n\nIt was no exaggeration of the fact when P\u00e8re Paul Oliva, afterwards\nelected father-general of the Jesuits, thus addressed P\u00e8re Henschen:\n\u201cYour reverence and your coadjutor are dwelling, in your every thought\nand with your pen, in the church in heaven.\u201d The success of the January\nvolumes was from the first assured, and went on increasing after the\npublication of the February saints, in three volumes, followed in 1658.\nPope Alexander VII., the reigning pontiff, recorded his opinion that \u201ca\nwork more useful to the church of God or more glorious for her had never\nbeen accomplished, or even begun, by any one.\u201d About the same time a\nsecond coadjutor was taken into the work in P\u00e8re Daniel Papebroch, S.J.,\na native of Antwerp. His family was originally from Hamburg, but at the\nReformation his father removed to Antwerp, where Daniel was born in\n1628. At the end of the usual studies he entered the Society of Jesus in\n1646, three of his brothers eventually following his example. P\u00e8re\nPapebroch was ordained in 1658, and called from the chair of philosophy\nat Antwerp to assist PP. Bolland and Henschen in the _Acta_. After the\nFebruary volumes appeared the pope invited the Bollandist Fathers to\nRome. P\u00e8re Bolland himself was too infirm to accept the invitation, but\nhis younger coadjutors went instead of him. They left Antwerp July 22,\n1660, old P\u00e8re Bolland accompanying them as far as Cologne. Their\nliterary tour, which lasted about two years and a half, was eminently\nsuccessful. They visited monasteries and libraries without number all\nover Germany, Italy, and France; every door, every drawer was thrown\nopen to them. Hundreds of precious documents were copied by them and for\nthem; their library and museum were enriched, beyond the expectation of\nthe most sanguine, with manuscripts and books; with missals, breviaries,\nmartyrologies, sacramentaries, rituals, graduals, antiphonaries, and\nother similar works of many various rites or \u201cuses,\u201d such as the\nMozarabic in Spain, the Ambrosian at Milan, the Sarum in England, and\nits Aberdeen daughter in Scotland. When at its best this library\npossessed some twelve thousand volumes, and in value and rarity is\nbelieved to have surpassed either the Barberini in Rome or the Mazarine\nin Paris\u2014collections especially noted for their pre-eminence in similar\nworks.\n\nP\u00e8re Bolland, who was now approaching his seventieth year, survived the\nreturn of his coadjutors from their tour only a few months. To the last\nhe took part in the work of the museum, while the fervor of his regular\nand holy life seemed to increase. The 29th of August, 1665, was the last\nday he visited the working-room, but on a proof-sheet being put into his\nhand he was forced to lay it aside and retire to bed. He lingered about\na fortnight, and then expired, after receiving all the sacraments of the\ndying. In his life and in his death, as well as with his indefatigable\npen, he proved how well he had studied the saintly models he had been\nfor upwards of thirty years daily contemplating.[155]\n\nThe next issue of the _Acta_, in three volumes, comprising the saints\nfor March, appeared in 1668, the joint work of PP. Henschen and\nPapebroch. It was memorable for more reasons than one. With it began one\nof the customs of the Bollandists, to open a new volume with a\nbiographical notice of any of their number who had died since the issue\nof the last. The first volume for March opened with an _Eloge_ of P\u00e8re\nBolland, accompanied by an excellent engraving of his fine head, taken\nfrom a portrait of him executed by Fruytiers, a pupil of Rubens. The\nfirst difficulty that beset the undertaking arose from passages in the\nsame volumes, in which a favorite opinion of the Carmelite Order, that\ntheir founder and first general was the prophet Elias, was quietly\nignored. Not only had Baronius and Bellarmine anticipated the Bollandist\nview of the question, but it had already been taken for granted by two\npreceding authors belonging to the Carmelite Order itself. The Flemish\nCarmelites, however, took umbrage at P\u00e8re Papebroch\u2019s opinion, and a\nquarto volume soon afterwards appeared in opposition, the first in a\ntolerably long series of publications resulting from this curious\ncontroversy.[156] The Bollandists took no notice of their opponents\nuntil the publication of the saints\u2019 lives for April, in three volumes,\nin 1675, afforded an opportunity of repeating and confirming their view\nof the actual origin of the order in question in the twelfth century of\nthe Christian era. The Flemish Carmelites again asserted the more\nancient origin; and when it was known in 1680 that three volumes of the\nMay saints\u2019 lives were about to appear, containing the life of another\nCarmelite saint, the order addressed an unusual request to P\u00e8re\nPapebroch that a copy of the life might be shown them before\npublication. After some difficulty the Bollandist forwarded a copy to\nhis father-general in Rome to be shown to the general of the Carmelites\nthere. For a long time no answer was returned; three of the May volumes\nwere ready; the bookseller was impatient; and P\u00e8re Papebroch was on the\npoint of leaving home for Westphalia. He therefore permitted the volumes\nto be issued for sale. He had hardly gone when P\u00e8re Henschen received an\norder from Rome to suppress the life of St. Angel, and despatched it to\nP\u00e8re Papebroch. But by this time many copies of the Bollandist May lives\nhad got into circulation; it was too late to attempt the suppression of\nthe life in question, and his father-general accepted P\u00e8re Papebroch\u2019s\napologies. The result was another large volume from a Carmelite pen. Up\nto this time the dispute had been restricted to the Flemish province of\nthe Carmelites, but in 1682 its area was extended to France by the\ncasual discovery of an opinion favorable to the Bollandist view,\nexpressed by Ducange, the illustrious arch\u00e6ologist, in a private letter\nto a friend. The provincial of the Flemish Carmelites next called on\nPope Innocent XI. to interpose his authority in the matter; and P\u00e8re\nJanning, a younger member of the Bollandist body, was sent to Rome to\nwatch the proceedings. In 1690, two-and-twenty years after the dispute\nbegan, P\u00e8re Papebroch was summoned to the tribunal of Pope Innocent\nXII., who referred the matter to the Congregation of the Index. Rome,\nhowever, did not move fast enough for Carmelite zeal. The _Acta_ were\ndenounced, 1691, before the Spanish Inquisition as a work originating\nwithin the dominions of the Catholic king. Four years later a decree of\nthe Inquisition condemned the March, April, and May volumes of the\n_Acta_ as \u201ccontaining erroneous propositions, scenting of heresy,\ndangerous to faith, scandalous, impious, offensive to pious ears,\nschismatical, seditious, presumptuous, offensive,\u201d etc., etc.\n\nThat this was a bitter trial to P\u00e8re Papebroch and his coadjutors cannot\nbe doubted. All the learned men of Europe were on their side, and the\nJesuits succeeded in obtaining a subsequent decree of the Inquisition,\n1696, permitting the Bollandists to appear and answer the charges; for\nthe former decree had been pronounced in their absence. Upon this P\u00e8re\nPapebroch produced a categorical defence of everything laid to his\ncharge, in three volumes (1696-1699). The Carmelites also were quite as\nbusy. Meanwhile, also in 1696, Innocent XII. forbade the disputants to\nattack each other. The Carmelite general, little satisfied with a\nneutral decision, petitioned His Holiness to end the dispute by a\npositive decree. After consulting the Congregation of the Council the\npope decided to impose silence on the whole question regarding the\norigin of the Carmelites, and issued a brief to that effect, dated\nNovember 20, 1698. The judgment of the Spanish Inquisition, June 11,\n1697, prohibited all the books relating to the dispute, but presumably\nexcluding the _Acta_ themselves; for in 1707 an index of forbidden\nbooks, published at Madrid under the authority of the Inquisition, made\nno mention of the Bollandist lives.\n\nFor thirty years, then, P\u00e8re Papebroch had to bear this unwelcome\ninterruption; and forty years after his death circumstances made it\ndesirable to restate his defence. In 1755 a _Supplementum Apologeticum_\ntook its place in the Bollandist series, containing all the apologetic\nvolumes published in defence of P\u00e8re Papebroch\u2019s view in his Carmelite\ncontroversy. The successors of the early Bollandists had a noble\nopportunity, and used it nobly, to bury all former rancors, in the first\nvolume of their revived work, in 1845, and the fifty-fifth of the\nseries. _The Life of St. Teresa_, the great Carmelitess, occupies nearly\nthe whole of its seven hundred folio pages\u2014the largest scale on which\nany one life had hitherto been executed by the Bollandists. It was the\nsolitary work of its author, P\u00e8re Vandermoere, and was illustrated by\ndrawings of places in Spain connected with the saint, and engraved in\nthe highest style of art.\n\nP\u00e8re Henschen lived to see the first three May volumes issue from the\npress in 1680, and the following year closed his useful life, of which\nforty-six years had been devoted to work as a Bollandist. P\u00e8re Papebroch\nwas now at the head of the work, and had for his assistants PP. Janning\nand Baert. It went steadily on, and before his death, in 1714, P\u00e8re\nPapebroch saw five volumes of the month of June, and of the series\ntwenty-four, completed. For five years preceding his death he was nearly\nblind, and when it occurred he had reached the age of eighty-seven. This\nsecond founder of the great series was the author of several other\nimportant works, such as the _Annals of the City of Antwerp_ and the\n_Acta Vit\u00e6 Scti. Ferdinandi Regis Castill\u00e6_.\n\nIt would protract our sketch beyond all reasonable limits if we were to\nfollow the progress of the great work, during the sixty years following\nP\u00e8re Papebroch\u2019s death, with as much detail as we have hitherto given.\nLet it suffice to say that it was prosecuted by fifteen Jesuit fathers\nin succession in addition to those already named; and when the work was\nsuspended in 1773, the year in which the Society of Jesus was for the\ntime suppressed, fifty volumes of the _Acta_ had appeared, and the\nfiftieth was the third of the month of October. The plan of the work had\nindeed grown and expanded since Rosweyd estimated its contents at twelve\nvolumes, since Bolland found two sufficient for the month of January,\nFebruary, March, and April had each of them occupied three, August six,\nJune and July seven, May and September eight. The chief sources relied\nupon for the heavy expenses of such a work were at first the gifts of\nprivate persons, bishops, abbots, and others, the patrimony of P\u00e8re\nPapebroch and his sister forming no inconsiderable item in the account.\nAfterwards the sale of the volumes ensured a limited annual profit; and\nin 1688 the court of Vienna granted the fathers a pension, but burdened\nwith the condition that subsequent volumes should each of them be\ndedicated to some member of the imperial house. Hence, after that date,\nevery volume bears at the head of it an engraved portrait of an emperor\nor empress, of an archduke or archduchess. The Bollandists also enjoyed\na certain revenue from their monopoly of the sale of classical books in\nthe Jesuit colleges of Belgium.\n\nA word as to the place where they lived and worked. Travellers who have\nvisited Antwerp must remember the handsome Renaissance tower of St.\nCharles Borromeo\u2019s Church, on the corner of the Katelina Rampart and\nWyngard Street. That church was originally dedicated to St. Ignatius,\nthe great first Jesuit, and was once a museum of Rubens\u2019 art. At the\nsuppression of the society its best ornaments were removed to Vienna,\nwhere many of them may be seen in the public gallery. The church itself\nperished by fire in 1718, but soon rose again as before. The small\nsquare it stands in is formed on two sides by massive buildings,\nformerly the Antwerp house of the professed fathers of the society. In\nthe upper floor of the building opposite the church P\u00e8re Bolland\nestablished his museum and printing-press, and there the work was\ncarried on for nearly one hundred and fifty years. Few places in the\nhistory of Christian literature have a better title to be remembered\nwith honor. In another article we shall trace the progress of the\nBollandist _Acta_ after the suppression of the Jesuit fathers until the\nlong suspension of the work itself consequent on the French Revolution.\nWe shall then give our readers an account of its revival some forty\nyears ago, together with a description of the new museum and library in\nthe Coll\u00e9ge St. Michel, Brussels, which the writer had the honor of\nvisiting a short time ago.\n\nFootnote 154:\n\n Nothing could give a truer idea of the fog of misconception and\n ignorance that envelops every subject connected with Catholicity in\n England than an incident which occurred to the writer in the course of\n last summer. He had applied to the editor of an influential monthly of\n high standing, published in London, for permission to contribute a\n paper on the Bollandist _Acta_. The editor in reply said that he\n should be happy to receive an article on such a subject, adding, \u201cThey\n were old friends and benefactors of mine.\u201d The phrase was somewhat\n puzzling; but it was fully explained to the writer by a literary\n friend of great experience as referring to the respectable family of\n the late Baron Bolland, a judge of the English Exchequer Court. The\n Catholic Bollandists were strangers even in name to the popular\n editor.\n\nFootnote 155:\n\n Among the numerous errors in the few lines devoted to the Bollandists\n in the new _Encyclop\u00e6dia Britannica_, not the worst is the statement\n that P\u00e8re Bolland was only a short time engaged on the _Acta_. More\n than one-half of a life of sixty-nine years was spent in the\n production of five folio volumes for his own share, besides\n superintending the preparation of others.\n\nFootnote 156:\n\n Particulars may be found in the _Biblioth\u00e8que des Ecrivains de la\n Comp. de J\u00e9sus_, of the P\u00e8res de Backer, S.J. Li\u00e9ge, 1854. Also in\n Nic\u00e9ron, _Histoire des Hommes Illustres_, II.\n\n\n\n\n TOMBS OF THE HOUSE OF SAVOY.\n\n\n \u201cLet us sit upon the ground\n And tell sad stories of the death of kings.\u201d\u2014_Shakspere._\n\n\nOne of the most secluded and picturesque valleys of Savoy is to be found\nabout twenty miles north of Chamb\u00e9ry, shut in, as by cyclopean walls,\namong gray jagged rocks, height piled on height\u2014Mont du Chat on the one\nhand, and the mountains of Beauges on the other, while away to the\nnorth, through the gorges that give passage to the arrowy Rhone, is the\ndark Jura range, and to the south-east, rising into the very clouds,\nshine the everlasting glaciers of the Alps. At the base of Mont du Chat,\nwhich here rises abruptly fifteen hundred feet from the shore, is the\nbeautiful lake of Bourget, clear, calm, and pure as the bright summer\nsky which is reflected in its bosom. It is the _lac enchant\u00e9_ of\nLamartine, who opens his impassioned romance of _Raphael_ upon its\nshores, and under the inspiration of the glorious scenery wrote his poem\nof \u201cLe Lac,\u201d in which he calls upon the hours on these enchanted waters\nto suspend their course, and thus prolong a bliss which, to use his\nexpression, neither time nor eternity could ever restore. In the fulness\nof delight and feeling he cries:\n\n \u201cAssez de malheureux ici-bas vous implorent,\n Coulez, coulez pour eux,\n Prenez avec leurs jours les soins qui les d\u00e9vorent,\n Oubliez les heureux!\u201d\n\nThe lake of Bourget winds for several leagues in and out among the capes\nand headlands, forming a beautiful series of bays and inlets which wash\npicturesque cliffs and verdant slopes covered with vines and fig-trees\nand fields of waving corn. Towards one end is the little islet of\nCh\u00e2tillon, with an old manor-house that seems to grow out of the rock,\nthe seat of an ancient race, flanked with towers, and surrounded by\ngardens with steps cut in the rock leading from terrace to terrace where\ngrow fruitful espaliers and the fragrant jasmine. Further south is the\npromontory of Saint-Innocent, with its granite cliffs and ancient\nch\u00e2teau jutting into the lake, of which it commands the entire view. Not\nfar from the eastern shore is Aix-les-Bains, whose hot sulphur springs\nwere frequented in ancient times by the Roman emperors, and are still\nresorted to for health or pleasure. Between Aix and the lake is the\nverdant hill of Tresserves, that rises almost perpendicularly from the\nwater, covered with enormous old chestnut-trees. To the south you can\nsee the mountains gradually descending towards the Arcadian valley of\nChamb\u00e9ry, with many a village spire peering forth amid the dark walnut\ngroves, or the tower of some ancient castle with battlements still\nfrowning, though they now only serve to point a moral and adorn the\nlandscape, if not, perchance, a tale. On the other side, at the foot of\nTresserves, is the ch\u00e2teau of Bon Port, overshadowed by trees, near a\nsheltered bay where boats are to be found for crossing the lake. Every\none goes over to the western shore, where in the gloomy shade of Mont du\nChat, which veils it from the glare of the sun the greater part of the\nday, is the royal abbey of Hautecombe, the ancient burial-place of the\nhouse of Savoy. The profound solitude, the grandeur of the scenery,\nvarying from stern mountain height to fair, sunny slopes and luxuriant\nvalleys, and the pure, limpid waters of the tranquil lake giving\nexpression to the landscape, render it one of the most lovely as well as\npeaceful spots in which to rest after life\u2019s fitful fever. The luminous\nsky, the purple, light on the mountains, the stately colonnade of the\npines with their solemn shades, the lulling sound of the torrents and\ncascades, the wind murmuring through the defiles, the sunny terraces\nwhere the eye passes from gloom to light, as the soul from darkness to\njoy, all dispose the heart to peace.\n\nHautecombe may be reached in less than an hour, but there is a delicious\ncharm in floating idly around this gem of a lake, all blue and gold,\ngiving one\u2019s self up to dreamy thought, breathing the mountain air,\nlistening to the gentle waves as they break against the shore and to the\nmelancholy songs of the boatmen, and looking at the chalets on the\nhillsides, the meadows and pastures, the herds with their tinkling\nbells, the insects floating in the sun, the quivering leaves and\nshimmering lights, and the dark pile of the abbey with its shadowy\ncloisters on the further shore.\n\nAt length we land on the terrace at the foot of a tall, octagon tower\nthat looks like a pharos, and, indeed, serves as one. The vast buildings\nthat constitute the abbey, the Gothic church with its painted walls, its\nstoried windows, the tombs and cenotaphs on every side, and the three\nhundred statues that people its chapels and aisles, are well worth a\nvisit. More than one tomb tells of the brave exploits of a valiant race,\nthe glorious part its chiefs took in the Crusades, their attachment to\nthe Holy See, for which they often shed their blood in the continual\nwars of Italy, and their prowess on every battle-field of Europe. All\nthese monuments of white stone, and these pale statues standing in\nniches or lying on tombs, have a somewhat ghastly, ghostly look that is\nthe more striking from the groundwork of black schist. The house of\nSavoy, which gradually rose by the bravery, policy, and fortunate\nalliances of its counts, first ruled over a sterile domain in the\nCottian Alps of which Chamb\u00e9ry was the principal town. These princes\nwere remarkable for their political sagacity and gallantry on the\nbattle-field. This was in part owing to their peculiar position. Savoy\nwas in the middle ages a border-land which forced its knights to live in\nthe saddle and hold themselves in readiness to meet the enemy, whether\non the side of France or the vast domain of the German Empire. And when\nnot needed at home they were always at the service of their allies, so\nthat they took part in all the wars of the times, and led a life of\nknight-errantry that often bordered on romance. Humbert _aux Blanches\nMains_, the first count, was a descendant of Duke Witikind, a\ncontemporary of Charlemagne. His benefactions to the churches of that\nday are still on record. The line of counts ended with Am\u00e9d\u00e9e VIII., who\nwas created duke in the fifteenth century. The ducal line extended\nthrough three centuries, when the peace of Utrecht in 1713 recognized\nVictor Am\u00e9d\u00e9e as King of Sardinia.\n\nThe abbey of St. Mary of Hautecombe was founded in the year 1125 by\nCount Am\u00e9d\u00e9e III. through the influence of St. Bernard and St. Gu\u00e9rin,\nwith whom he had intimate relations. _Combe_ is an old French word\nsignifying a valley between two mountains. The Cistercians generally\nbuilt their convents in a valley. The first abbot was St. Am\u00e9d\u00e9e\nd\u2019Hauterive, of a distinguished family in Dauphin\u00e9, who passed his youth\nat the court of the Emperor Henry of Germany, but afterwards became a\nmonk at Clairvaux, and was appointed abbot of Hautecombe by St. Bernard\nhimself. The Emperor Conrad II. held him in such esteem that he made him\na member of his council, and Frederic I., his chancellor. And when, in\nthe time of the Second Crusade, preached by St. Bernard, Count Am\u00e9d\u00e9e\ntook the cross at Metz in presence of an immense multitude, and set\nforth with his nephew, Louis VII. of France (in 1147), he left both his\nson and estates to the guardianship of the holy abbot of Hautecombe, who\nproved himself fully equal to the trust. He was an able writer also, and\nleft eight homilies in honor of the Blessed Virgin, which still form\npart of the collection of the fathers. They used to be read on certain\ndays of the year in the churches of Lausanne, of which he died\narchbishop in 1158. His tomb is still to be seen in the cloister at\nHautecombe.\n\nThe second abbot was St. Vivian, likewise a disciple of St. Bernard\u2019s.\nBy his exalted sanctity he gave additional renown to the abbey, which so\nprospered that when St. Bernard visited it a few years after its\nfoundation it already numbered two hundred monks. Many eminent prelates\nhave sprung from this house, two of whom were elevated to the pontifical\nchair\u2014Geoffroy de Ch\u00e2tillon in 1241, under the name of Celestin II., and\nNicholas III. in 1277, who belonged to the Orsini family. It was the\nlatter who gave the highest sanction to the devotion of the scapular of\nMount Carmel by the beatification of Simon Stock, who died at Bordeaux\nin 1265, in the hundredth year of his age.\n\nHautecombe does not seem to have been at first intended as a place of\nsepulture. Count Am\u00e9d\u00e9e III. died two years after his departure, on the\nisle of Cyprus, of some epidemic in the camp. His son, Humbert III.,\nsucceeded him. This prince was an able ruler, as brave as he was pious,\nand valiantly defended his domains against Guy IV. of Dauphin\u00e9. He also\ndistinguished himself at the siege of Milan, and was always the ally and\nardent defender of the rights of the Holy See. The religious education\nhe had received from St. Am\u00e9d\u00e9e gave him a proper estimate of earthly\nthings, and he would have gladly renounced the world and become a monk\nat Hautecombe, had it not been for the remonstrances of his people. He\noften retired here for a season, as well as at Notre Dame des Alpes, and\nwhen he felt his life was drawing to a close he took the holy habit and\ndied a few days after with a reputation for sanctity which time has not\ndimmed. Pope Gregory XVI. authorized public honors to be paid him, and\nSavoy celebrates his festival on the 4th of March, believed to be the\nday of his death. It was he who conceived the idea of making Hautecombe\nthe burial-place of his family, and he was the first to find a grave\nhere. The statue on his tomb represents him in the Cistercian habit with\n_sabots_ on his feet.\n\nTwo brothers of Humbert the Saint, as he is called, Peter and John, and\na sister named Margaret, embraced the monastic life and died in the odor\nof sanctity. Several other members of the house of Savoy have also been\nraised to our altars. A grandson of Humbert\u2019s, buried behind the high\naltar at Hautecombe, was beatified by Pope Gregory XVI. in 1838 under\nthe name of the Blessed Boniface. His festival is on the 13th of March.\nHe was styled, when young, the Absalom of the age, on account of his\npersonal beauty, but he early sought refuge from the seductions of the\nworld in the Grande Chartreuse, where he took the habit of St. Bruno. He\nwas subsequently called forth from his cell and appointed archbishop of\nCanterbury and primate of England. Pope Innocent IV. consecrated him at\nLyons. He was noted for his charity, and was at once an able theologian\nand jurisconsult. He defended the rights of the church against Henry\nIII. with energy, and showed equal zeal in supporting the royal\nauthority amid the disaffections of the times, thereby inspiring so much\nconfidence in the king that he appointed him regent when he went to\nFrance in 1259. Having gone to Savoy in 1270 to visit his brother, Count\nPhilip, Archbishop Boniface fell ill and died, after an episcopate of\ntwenty-five years, at the castle of St. H\u00e9l\u00e8ne, in the valley of the\nIs\u00e8re, and was buried at Hautecombe. The statue on his tomb represents\nhim with a serpent at his feet, emblem of prudence, and a bas-relief\ndepicts him defending the rights of the church before Henry III.\n\nCount Am\u00e9d\u00e9e IX. and two princesses of the house of Savoy are also\ninvoked as saints. There is a statue of St. Margaret of Savoy in the\nchapel of St. Felix at Hautecombe, representing her in a monastic dress,\nher hands meekly crossed on her breast. She was a daughter of Am\u00e9d\u00e9e,\nprince of Achaia, and after the death of her husband, the Marquis of\nMontferrat, having been wholly converted to God by the preaching of St.\nVincent Ferrer, she entered a monastery and devoted herself to the care\nof the sick in a hospital. She was canonized by Pope Clement X.\n\nThe Blessed Louise of Savoy was an angel of piety from her childhood,\nand after the death of her husband, Hugues de Ch\u00e2lons, prince of Orange,\nshe being then twenty-seven years of age and free from all obligations\nto her family, was solemnly veiled a nun in the convent of the Clairists\nat Orbe, which had been founded by a princess of her husband\u2019s family\nearly in the fifteenth century, and still observed the rule in all its\nprimitive rigor. Here she died in 1503 at the age of forty-two. Fifty\nyears after her death the Calvinists of Switzerland overthrew the altars\nof the conventual church, and gave the nuns the choice of going into\nexile or renouncing the monastic life. They chose the former, but before\nquitting the cloister they sent a crier through the streets to proclaim\nat the sound of a trumpet that if they had offended any one whomsoever\nthey humbly begged his forgiveness, and declaring that for the love of\nGod they forgave the offence committed against themselves in being\nbanished from their monastery. They were nineteen in number. They took\nwith them some chalices, ornaments, and rich vestments they owed to the\nliberality of the Princess Louise, and a Madonna of carved wood, called\nNotre Dame de la Gr\u00e2ce, which she had given the convent at her entrance\ninto religion. At Ouchy they embarked in three small boats for Evian, on\nthe southern shore of the Lake of Geneva, then faithful to the device on\none of its gates: _Deo regique fidelis perpetuo_\u2014gates opened more than\nonce, at that disastrous period, to exiles of the faith. The sky was\nclear when the nuns set forth, but a sudden tempest sprang up which\nthreatened destruction to their frail barks. The boatmen themselves were\nalarmed, much more these timid doves just driven from their nest, and to\nlighten the boats they threw all their effects into the water. They\nsucceeded, however, in getting ashore, and the magistrates and people of\nEvian came forth in procession to meet them, the bells meanwhile ringing\nout a peal of welcome. A few nights after some fishermen found Notre\nDame de la Gr\u00e2ce gleaming among the cliffs of Meillerie, and the people\nof Evian went forth again with white banners to receive and convey it to\nthe church. Some years later Count Emanuel Philibert built these exiles\na convent at Evian, where this Madonna was preserved for more than two\ncenturies; but in 1792 the nuns were again dispersed and the Virgin\nconcealed. The convent is now used as a Petit S\u00e9minaire, but people from\nall the country around still go to the chapel to pray before the Madonna\nof the Blessed Louise of Savoy.\n\nAnother princess, but not of the house of Savoy, is specially honored at\nHautecombe\u2014St. Erine, daughter of the Emperor Licinius, and niece of\nConstantine the Great. She was taken captive in the East by the army of\nSapor II. of Persia, and martyred because she would not renounce the\nfaith. Her body was afterwards taken to Patras, and Anselmo, a bishop of\nthe Morea in the thirteenth century, who had great devotion to her, gave\na portion of her remains to the abbey of Hautecombe, which, in spite of\nmany vicissitudes, is still preserved here in a reliquary of silver\ngiven by Charles Felix, King of Sardinia. The boatmen on the Lac du\nBourget invoke St. Erine in perilous storms, and many miracles are\nattributed to her intervention throughout the valley. On Whitmonday her\nrelics are solemnly exposed to veneration in the church.\n\nIn one of the aisles at Hautecombe is the tomb of Beatrice, daughter of\nCount Thomas I., and granddaughter of Humbert the Saint\u2014one of the most\nbeautiful and accomplished princesses of that age. She married Raymond\nB\u00e9renger, the last count of Provence, and was not only one of the most\nbrilliant queens of the Court of Love, but rivalled the troubadours\nthemselves in the _Gai Science_. One of her songs, addressed to her\nhusband, has been preserved:\n\n \u201cI fain would think thou hast a heart,\n Although it thus its thoughts conceal,\n Which well could bear a tender part\n In all the fondness that I feel;\n Alas! that thou wouldst let me know,\n And end at once my doubts and woe.\n\n \u201cIt might be well that I once seemed\n To check the love I prize so dear;\n But now my coldness is redeemed,\n And what is left for thee to fear?\n Thou dost to both a cruel wrong:\n Should dread in mutual love be known?\n Why let my heart lament so long,\n And fail to claim what is thine own?\u201d[157]\n\nWhat is unique in history, this Beatrice of Savoy had four daughters and\nthree granddaughters who were all queens or empresses. As Dante says:\n\n \u201cFour daughters were there born\n To Raymond Berenger; and every one\n Became a queen, and this for him did Romeo.\u201d\n\nIt was this Romeo de Villeneuve, the able minister of Count Raymond,\nwhom Dante finds worthy of a place in his Paradise, who is said to have\nfirst foreseen the grandeur of united France, and who negotiated the\ngrand alliances of his master\u2019s daughters. One married St. Louis of\nFrance; another, Henry III. of England; a third, Richard of Cornwall,\nafterwards Emperor of Germany; and the fourth, Charles of Anjou, King of\nNaples and Sicily. As for the granddaughters, Beatrice of Sicily became\nEmpress of Constantinople; Margaret of England, Queen of Scotland; and\nIsabella of France, Queen of Navarre.\n\nBeatrice of Savoy was first buried at Echelles, where a magnificent tomb\nwas erected, on which she lay, surrounded by the statues of her children\nand grandchildren with their consorts\u2014twenty-six in number, all of white\nmarble; but the tomb was destroyed at the Revolution, and her remains\nafterwards transported to Hautecombe, or at least what was saved of\nthem, and placed in a new tomb.\n\nIt was her daughter, the fair Eleanor of Provence, a princess of\nremarkable beauty and talent, who married Henry III. of England. Through\nher influence her uncle Boniface, of whom we have spoken, was appointed\nsuccessor of St. Edmund of Canterbury. The English historians do not\nspeak so favorably of Archbishop Boniface, but the number of foreigners\nwho followed Eleanor to England gave great offence to the people. Many\nof them married rich heiresses, and several families, like the\nFletchers, Butlers, and Grandisons, can trace their descent from a\nGrandson, Boutillier, and La Fl\u00e9chi\u00e8re of that period.\n\nThat part of London called the Savoy was so named from another uncle of\nQueen Eleanor\u2019s\u2014Peter, brother of Archbishop Boniface, who was created\nearl of Richmond, and had this tract of land given him by the king in\nthe Strand, where he built a palace. This was afterwards rebuilt on a\ngrander scale by the first duke of Lancaster, and became a place of\nhistoric interest. It was appropriated to the use of King John of France\nwhile a captive in England (1356-1364), and \u201cthyder came to see hym the\nkyng and quene often tymes, and made hym gret feest and cheere.\u201d And\nhere, by the way, King John brought his Bible in the vernacular, and\nthumbed it well too, it appears, for in the account of his expenses is\nrecorded the sum of thirty-two pence paid \u201cMargaret the bindress\u201d for a\nnew cover with four clasps. In the Savoy, too, lived John of Gaunt,\n\u201ctime-honored Lancaster,\u201d to whom the place descended, and here the poet\nChaucer was his frequent guest. One of the scenes in Shakspere\u2019s\n\u201cRichard II.\u201d is supposed to be laid here, though at that date the\npalace had been sacked and destroyed by Wat Tyler\u2019s followers.\n\nThis Peter, Earl of Richmond, who gave the name to the Savoy, was called\nthe Petit Charlemagne on account of his valor and other eminent\nqualities. He acquired great influence over Henry III., but returned to\nhis native land at the death of his brother, to whom he succeeded in the\ngovernment, being then sixty years of age. The abbot of St. Maurice, in\ngratitude for his services in behalf of the Valaisans against their\nsuzerain, who oppressed them with his tyranny, gave him the celebrated\nring of St. Maurice, that was henceforth used as the symbol of\ninvestiture by the counts of the house of Savoy. Count Peter died at the\ncastle of Chillon in 1268. His tomb, the richest at Hautecombe, has ten\npale mourning figures around it, called _pleureuses_, and a bas-relief\nrepresents him as ambassador at the court of Louis IX., arranging a\ntreaty of peace between France and England. Over his tomb is painted on\nthe wall the burial of Christ, and near by is the raising of Lazarus,\nwith their lessons of hope beyond the grave.\n\nArchbishop Boniface, Beatrice, Countess of Provence, etc., were the\nchildren of Count Thomas I., whose first wife, Beatrice of Geneva, is\nburied here. She was called the _Mater Comitum_, or the Mother of\nCounts, because three of her sons, Am\u00e9d\u00e9e IV., Peter, and Philip, all\nsucceeded to the government of Savoy. It was she who, being at Susa when\nSt. Francis of Assisi passed through, promised to build a convent of his\norder if he would give her a piece of his habit. He tore off one of the\nsleeves and gave it to her. It was long preserved in the chapel of the\nprinces of Savoy, whose descendants have driven the Franciscans of these\ndays from their homes. This relic is still preserved in the church of\nthe Capuchins at Chamb\u00e9ry. At Hautecombe, too, is buried Beatrice\nFiescha, wife of Count Thomas II., and niece of Pope Innocent IV. She\nbelonged to the great Genoese family from which afterwards sprang the\nmystic St. Catherine of Genoa. It was her son, Am\u00e9d\u00e9e V., surnamed the\nGreat, whose large tomb, inscribed _Belli Fulmen_, stands on one side as\nyou enter the nave. His is the most glorious name of the house of Savoy.\nHe was famed for his deeds of valor, which read like a chapter from the\nold romances of chivalry. He is said to have taken part in twenty-two\npitched battles and thirty-two sieges. His most famous exploit was his\nexpedition to Rhodes to aid the Knights of St. John in defending the\nisland against the Turks. At the request of the grand master he took the\nwhite cross on a red shield[158] instead of the eagle, the original\ncognizance of the house of Savoy. He likewise assumed the famous device,\n_F. E. R. T._, which is generally interpreted, _Fortitudo ejus Rhodum\ntenuit_\u2014His valor saved Rhodes. He was on intimate terms with his royal\nkinsman of England, was present at the marriage of Edward II. with\nIsabella of Valois and at Edward\u2019s coronation, and was employed in\nnegotiations between England and France. Here, too, lies his daughter\nAgnes, with her recumbent statue on the tomb, clasping a crucifix to her\nbreast, remarkable for pose and expression.\n\nCount Aimon comes next. He and his wife Yolande lie on a tomb in the\n_Chapelle des Princes_, his feet on a lion, hers on a dog, beneath a\nbaldachin, surrounded by saints and quaint pyramids. He was the second\nson of Am\u00e9d\u00e9e V., and destined at first to the ecclesiastical state,\nbut, his elder brother having died, he succeeded to the title and\ndisplayed great military ability on the side of the French in their wars\nwith England and the Netherlands. He protected the poor, loved justice,\nestablished courts of assizes, and founded hospitals and churches. Pope\nBenedict XII. had a special esteem for him, and gave him and his\nsuccessors the first place after crowned heads at the coronation of the\nSovereign Pontiffs. He married Yolande de Montferrat, of the imperial\nfamily of Pal\u00e6ologus.\n\nAm\u00e9d\u00e9e VI., son of Aimon, called the Comte Vert, or Green Count, was one\nof the most chivalric knights of the fourteenth century. His whole life\nwas spent on the battle-field, and he rendered his name immortal by his\ncourage and gallant deeds. He gained the battle of Abrets against\nFrance, aided Pope Gregory IX. and the Emperor Charles IV. in crushing\nthe Visconti, and rescued the Greek Emperor John Pal\u00e6ologus from the\nhands of the Bulgarians, who held him prisoner at Gallipolis, and\nreplaced him on the throne of Constantinople. The tournament he gave at\nChamb\u00e9ry in 1348, on the Place de Verney, was celebrated by the poets\nand romancers of the day. The colors he wore on this occasion, as well\nas his followers, and even his steed, procured for him the name of the\nComte Vert. He founded the supreme order of the Annonciade, one of the\nmost ancient known, in honor of Our Lady, consisting of fifteen knights;\nand built a Carthusian convent at Pierre-Ch\u00e2tel for fifteen monks, whose\nduty it was to say a daily Mass in honor of the fifteen mysteries of Our\nLady\u2019s life, for the fifteen knights of the order. Charles III. of Savoy\nafterwards added fifteen golden roses, part enamelled red and part\nwhite, to the collar, and the medal of the Annunciation.\n\nThe king of Sardinia is still grand master of the order, and its collar\nis the most glorious decoration he can confer. Two of the original\ncollars, presented by the Comte Vert, were long preserved at Hautecombe.\nAm\u00e9d\u00e9e VI. also created a charitable office called the Advocate of the\nPoor, still kept up\u2014a magistrate supported by the government for\ngratuitous services to the poor, whom he is bound to defend at court\nwhen their cause is just. Like all the old knights, Am\u00e9d\u00e9e was devout to\nOur Lady, and has left a monument of his piety\n\n \u201cO\u00f9 les grands ch\u00e2taigniers d\u2019Evian penchent l\u2019ombre.\u201d\n\n\u2014the church of Notre Dame, which stands in a beautiful spot overlooking\nLake Leman. He died of the plague at Naples in 1383, but his body was\nbrought to Hautecombe for burial. Twenty-four prelates and a host of\nlords from Savoy and the surrounding countries attended the obsequies.\nHis wife was Bonne de Bourbon.\n\nAm\u00e9d\u00e9e VII., styled the Comte Rouge, or the Red Count, from the color of\nhis hair, was the son of the Comte Vert. He married Bonne de Berry,\ndaughter of John of France, Duke de Berry. He added Nice and\nVentimiglia, and the valley of Barcelonette, to the domains of his\nancestors, thus extending them to the sea. The gradual acquisitions of\nthe house of Savoy gave rise to the witty saying that the kingdom thus\nformed was like an artichoke that had been plucked leaf by leaf. The\nConte Rosso was remarkable for personal address and valor, which he\nloved to display at jousts and tournaments. He made his first essay at\narms against the sire of Beaujeu, and at a tournament at Bruckberg\ndefeated the earl of Huntingdon with the lance, and the earls of Arundel\nand Pembroke with sword and battle-axe. His judgment and prudence caused\nhim to be repeatedly chosen mediator by the sovereigns of Europe. He was\na patron of letters and founder of the University of Turin. He died in\nhis thirtieth year at Ripaille, some say of a fall from his horse;\nothers, that he fell a victim to poison or the medicaments of a Bohemian\nquack, who promised him a luxuriant head of hair and an improved\ncomplexion. The statue on his tomb represents him in armor, resting on\nhis sword after victory. In a bas-relief he is fighting for Charles VI.\nof France, at the head of seven hundred Savoyards, against the English\nand Flemish at the siege of Bourbourg.\n\nThe Conte Rosso\u2019s widow, Bonne de Berry, left Savoy in 1395 and married\nher cousin-german, Bernard VII., Count of Armagnac, who became head of\nthe Orl\u00e9ans faction when his daughter Bonne married the young Duke\nCharles, and was murdered in a frightful manner by the Burgundians at\nParis in 1418. Her first husband poisoned, her second murdered, Bonne de\nBerry amply expiated her strong ambition and ended her days at Rhodez in\nthe practice of the most heroic piety. She left in Savoy, besides her\nson Am\u00e9d\u00e9e VIII., two daughters, one of whom married Louis, the last\nprince of Achaia, at whose death in 1418 Piedmont was united to Savoy.\nThis princess, named Bonne, like her mother and grandmother, left one of\nthe most curious legacies on record\u2014a bequest for a daily Mass of\nRequiem in the chapel of the princes of Achaia, in the church of the\nFranciscans at Pignerol, for twelve thousand years! She evidently\nthought the end of the world very remote, and had great confidence in\nthe stability of human affairs and the scrupulous fidelity of her heirs.\n\nOne of the chapels at Hautecombe was founded by the Count de Romont, a\nnatural son of the Conte Rosso. He went to the Holy Wars, and was a\ncaptive seven years among the Saracens. The shield on his statue is sown\nwith crescents, and here and there on the border of his garments is the\nArabic word _Alahac_\u2014God is just\u2014recalling his exploits in the East.\nTwenty-eight princes and princesses of the house of Savoy have been\nburied at Hautecombe, but the place lost its prestige when Turin became\nthe capital. In 1793 the monks were driven out, and the lands sold as\npart of the national domains. The republican commissioners went down\ninto the vaults, opened the tombs, and carried off all the precious\nobjects they could find; among others the ducal crown from the tomb of\nDuke Philibert in the _caveau_ of the _Chapelle des Princes_. The\nancient resting-place of sovereigns was turned into a _fabrique de\nfaience_, and the buildings had partly fallen to ruin when they were\nredeemed by Charles Felix, King of Sardinia, in 1824, from his own\nprivate means. He began the restoration of the church, and peopled the\nabbey again with Cistercians. And here he was buried, at his own\nrequest, in May, 1831. His wife, Marie Christine, completed the work and\nfound a grave here in her turn.\n\nAm\u00e9d\u00e9e VIII., the son of Bonne de Berry and the Red Count, was not\nburied at Hautecombe, but at Ripaille, on the southern shore of Lake\nLeman. Few travellers visit this place, though it is one of the most\ninteresting excursions to be made from Geneva. It stands on a point of\nland projecting into the lake just beyond Thonon, but seems so low and\nhidden from the water that it might be taken for a mere grange and its\ndependencies in the midst of orchards and woods. A pleasant walk from\nThonon brings you to a grove of linden-trees that shade a\nmonastic-looking establishment with pepper-box turrets and long\ncorridors leading to monk-like cells. Connected with it is a church of\nthe Renaissance, with pillars of gray marble in front, and above is the\ncross of Savoy serving as a support to the tiara and keys of the Papacy!\nHere was buried the first duke of Savoy, the last of the anti-popes, the\n\u201cbizarre Am\u00e9d\u00e9e,\u201d as Voltaire calls him; \u201cthe Solomon of his age,\u201d as he\nis styled by others.\n\nRipaille seems to have been a place of great antiquity, for Roman\ninscriptions and remains have been found here, as well as ornaments of\nthe time of the Merovingians, but it was only a _maison de plaisance_ in\nthe time of Am\u00e9d\u00e9e VI., who left it to Bonne de Bourbon. Am\u00e9d\u00e9e VII.\nmade it a hunting-lodge and here died. It was Am\u00e9d\u00e9e VIII. who gave it a\nworld-wide celebrity, and by his life here unwittingly added a new\nexpression to the French language. He married Mary of Burgundy and had\nnine children. He united Savoy and Piedmont, over which he ruled forty\nyears. He entertained the Emperor Sigismund with such splendid\nhospitality on his way to Italy that he elevated him to the rank of\nduke. This was in 1416. After the death of his wife, but still while in\nthe height of his influence and prosperity, he suddenly retired from the\nworld to Ripaille, taking with him six noblemen who had participated in\nthe most important transactions of his reign. He rebuilt the old\nmanor-house, surrounded it with moats, and flanked it with seven\nseigneurial towers, with a suite of apartments connected with each,\ncommunicating with each other by a long corridor. The tower next the\nlake was loftier than the others, and connected with a square edifice of\nvilla-like pretensions reserved for his own use. The others were for the\nsix lords who accompanied him. To the east was a park planted with oaks\nin the form of a star, still to be seen, venerable and broad-spreading.\nThis park was surrounded by a wall and laid out with alleys and winding\npaths. Am\u00e9d\u00e9e and his companions did not retire here to become monks,\nnor did he at first give up the reins of government, as some have\ndeclared. But he laid here the foundation of the order of chivalry known\nas the Knights of St. Maurice\u2014a semi religious establishment in his day,\nunder the direction of the canons of St. Augustine. Its members assumed\na particular costume, consisting of a gray habit and cowl, and a gold\ncross suspended from the neck. They divided their time between religious\nexercises and affairs of the state. They constituted, in fact, a\npermanent senate to manage the government, for which they fitted\nthemselves by meditation and prayer. And Am\u00e9d\u00e9e wished his successors to\nhave recourse to the Knights of St. Maurice on all important occasions.\nThey were always to be seven in number, and recruited from the highest\nclass. Here the duke married his son, gave judgment in certain cases,\nand showed by numerous acts that, though he had appointed his son\nlieutenant-general, he had by no means abdicated.\n\nOf course the world took it up. There were two reports. Some said the\nduke had given himself up to mortification and penance with a view to\nthe Papacy. Others declared he and his followers led a life of\ndebauchery. The expression _faire ripaille_[159] is said to be derived\nfrom the unfavorable reports spread abroad respecting their manner of\nlife. But it was not used in his time, nor, indeed, till the seventeenth\ncentury. These imputations are not derived from any writer of the day,\nunless we except Monstrelet, who in his _Chronicles_ thus speaks of the\nduke\u2019s life at Ripaille: \u201cHe and his followers are served, not with\nroots and water from the fountain, but with the best wine and best meats\nthat can be found.\u201d This is by no means a proof of sensuality, and, as\nthe knights were under no vow to live on roots and pure water like the\nhermits of Theba\u00efd, there was no reason why they should not select the\nbest meats and use the purest wine at their repasts. What would have\nbeen a simple, abstemious life for a prince and his courtiers might seem\nluxurious to the peasantry around, who perhaps gave rise to such\nreports. But Monstrelet, who had been made governor of Cambrai by the\nduke of Burgundy\u2014a prince exceedingly hostile to Am\u00e9d\u00e9e\u2014would be likely\nto take an unfavorable view of the life at Ripaille. This is why\nGuichenon considers his chronicle untrustworthy in everything relating\nto the history of Savoy. And he was too far distant to have a personal\nknowledge of what was occurring there. Oliver de la Marche, who also\nbelonged to the court of Burgundy, is not so unfavorable to Am\u00e9d\u00e9e. He\nsays \u201che governed so wisely in the time of French divisions that Savoy\nwas the richest, safest, and most productive of any country around.\u201d Two\nother writers are more explicit as to the duke\u2019s manner of life. Raphael\nVolaterra, speaking of the election of Am\u00e9d\u00e9e as pope under the title of\nFelix V. by the Council of B\u00e2le, says he was \u201cchosen on account of the\nfame of his mortifications.\u201d Jean Gobelin, the duke\u2019s secretary,\ndeclares he led a very austere life. Onofrio Panvini, an Augustinian\nmonk, says his life was \u201cangelic.\u201d The P\u00e8re Daniel, a conscientious\nhistorian, after examining the case, says it is certain he led an\ninnocent life here, without any scandal. And \u00c6neas Sylvius, secretary of\nthe Council of B\u00e2le, eminent as a writer, and who became pope under the\nname of Pius II., visited Am\u00e9d\u00e9e at Ripaille and bears this testimony:\n\u201cThe one who had more votes than the rest was the most excellent\nAmadeus, Duke of Savoy, dean of the Knights of St. Maurice in the\ndiocese of Geneva. The electors, considering that he was leading the\nlife of a celibate, and that his conduct was that of a religious,\nthought him worthy of governing the church,\u201d and, after eulogizing the\nduke at some length, adds that \u201che only wore what garments were\nnecessary to protect him from the cold, and only ate enough to keep him\nfrom dying of hunger.\u201d When the members of the Council of B\u00e2le wished to\nset up a pope of the Gallican race in opposition to Eugenius IV., it is\nevident that they would only choose, after serious consideration, a\nperson of irreproachable life. In fact, they did make the most minute\ninquiries, which led to the explicit statement that the duke, though not\nin orders, had \u201calways been regular in his habits, assiduous at the\noffices of the church, and exact in saying his breviary.\u201d[160] It was\nVoltaire who made the calumny popular. The calumnies concerning Am\u00e9d\u00e9e\nhave been caught up and perpetuated by a school always glad to find an\necclesiastical dignitary, even if an anti-pope, suspected of excesses,\nand have led some grave historians like Duclos to state that the duke\nand his followers led a voluptuous life at Ripaille.\n\nAm\u00e9d\u00e9e certainly should not be excused for yielding to the solicitations\nof the Council of B\u00e2le and usurping the tiara. P\u00e8re Monod says he\nresisted for a while and shed torrents of tears, dwelling on the\ndifficulty of the oaths to be taken, and even pleading the cause of his\ncompetitor, Eugenius; but the members made him believe it would be for\nthe welfare of the church, and he yielded. A deputation from the council\ncame to Ripaille to offer him the tiara, and he was enthroned with great\npomp in his church December 17, 1439, on which occasion he abdicated the\ngovernment in favor of his son Louis, drew up his will, and gave the\nKnights of St. Maurice a new dean, or prior, chosen from their number.\nBut he atoned for his weakness a few years after by the voluntary\nresignation of his usurped office, and retired a second time to\nRipaille, as cardinal of the title of St. Sabina, legate of the Holy\nSee, and administrator of the dioceses of Lausanne and Geneva, thus\nrestoring peace and unity to the Catholic Church. After spending two\nyears in retirement he died, and was buried in his church at Ripaille.\nThe eventful life of a prince who by turns had been count, duke,\nanti-pope, cardinal, and bishop, who was married, a widower, and a\ncenobite, is not without a certain dramatic interest that needs not the\nshading of calumny.\n\nA grandson of Am\u00e9d\u00e9e VIII., Louis II., the dethroned king of Cyprus,\ncame also to Ripaille to die. He married Charlotte de Lusignan, heiress\nof the king of Cyprus, and she and Louis were crowned as king and queen\nof Cyprus, Jerusalem, and Armenia\u2014high-sounding titles that soon became\na mere name, for they were forced to fly before James, a natural son of\nthe late king, who had married Catherine Cornaro of Venice, and was\naided by the soldan of Egypt. Queen Charlotte made a solemn donation of\nCyprus to her nephew Charles, and died a guest of Pope Sixtus IV. at\nRome in 1487, the last of the illustrious house of Lusignan, which had\nruled over Cyprus for three hundred years.\n\nIn 1536 Ripaille was devastated by the Bernese\u2014that is, the abbey. They\nrespected the ch\u00e2teau. The tomb of Am\u00e9d\u00e9e VIII. was broken to pieces,\nand his remains at a later day were taken to Turin. In 1575 Ripaille was\nrestored to the order of St. Maurice, which Gregory XIII. united to that\nof St. Lazare three years later. When St. Francis de Sales was Bishop of\nGeneva he placed Carthusians at Ripaille. Now it belongs to a private\ngentleman.\n\nFootnote 157:\n\n Costello\u2019s translation.\n\nFootnote 158:\n\n The white cross of Savoy, won by a chivalric knight of the ages of\n faith, but which one now learns to loathe in Italy\u2014the cross of\n torture: _crux de cruce_\u2014for Pius IX. of blessed memory.\n\nFootnote 159:\n\n The more ancient writers use this expression in the sense of enjoying\n the pleasures of the country or making good cheer, without any\n invidious meaning. Voltaire is one of the first to imply by its use a\n life of luxurious and sensual indulgence.\n\nFootnote 160:\n\n \u00c6neas Sylvius.\n\n\n\n\n A TRUE LOVER.\n\n\n At her heart\u2019s door he knocked and cried,\n \u201cLove! art thou there?\n So long to find thee I have tried.\n Sweet Love! dost hear?\u201d\n\n But Love sat silent all the while,\n Nor did he give\n One token\u2014neither tear nor smile\u2014\n That he did live.\n\n That knock so light it might have chanced\n Love heard no sound,\n And in so fair a place entranced\n In sleep lay bound.\n\n For sure no deepening of her cheek\n That touch awoke;\n No drooping of her eyelids meek,\n Love\u2019s light to cloak.\n\n He knocked more loudly than before:\n \u201cDear maid, give ear.\n Lo! here I wait at thy heart\u2019s door\n This many a year.\n\n \u201cFirst did I seek from thy true eyes\n If love dwelt there;\n I saw in them sweet thoughts arise\u2014\n Love had no share.\n\n \u201cOft from the rose of thy pure cheek,\n In my sad quest,\n Did I an answer\u2019s shadow seek,\n But none possessed.\n\n \u201cFrom thy sweet mouth I thought to win\n Some trembling sign,\n If that love\u2019s life could but begin\u2014\n Thine linked with mine!\n\n \u201cThe even sunshine of thy lips\n Too calmly fell;\n If love sat there in sweet eclipse\n I could not tell.\n\n \u201cIn thy pure speech\u2019s spotless gold\n Some link I sought\n Wherewith the love I begged, to hold,\n But gathered naught.\n\n \u201cNo thrill unconscious in thy hand\n Wherein Love spake,\n Too calm and gracious didst thou stand\n My touch to wake.\n\n \u201cLo! I have asked of hand and cheek,\n Dear mouth and eyes;\n Now in thy very heart I seek\n If Love there lies.\n\n \u201cAh! Sweet, my life is not misspent\n Because I wait\n Like soldier in his camping tent\n At thy heart\u2019s gate:\n\n \u201cEach day my life\u2019s work still goes on,\n My duty done,\n For thee, as time comes and is gone,\n Each honor won;\n\n \u201cAnd bears my life, though sadly weak,\n A pure renown:\n With honor must I honor seek\u2014\n Thy love, my crown!\n\n \u201cI dare not, if in things most high\n I held no part,\n E\u2019er win such love as sure must lie\n Within thy heart.\n\n \u201cI seek thy blessing on my life;\n Lo! here I wait\n That holy gift for strength in strife\n At thy heart\u2019s gate.\u201d\n\n He knocked more loudly than before,\n And Love awoke,\n Soft loosed the latch of her heart\u2019s door,\n And softly spoke;\n\n Quick speeding unto cheek and eyes,\n All unforbid,\n Trembling in speech so pure and wise,\n No more heart-hid.\n\n Her lover waits no more to win,\n Early and late;\n Love-crowned, he proud hath passed within\n Her pure heart\u2019s gate.\n\n\n\n\n ST. PAUL ON MARS\u2019 HILL;\n OR, THE MEETING OF CHRISTIANITY AND GREEK PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\nThere is, perhaps, no other episode in the adventurous journeyings and\nheroic life of the Apostle Paul so full of interest as his visit to\nAthens. To all those whose acquaintance with Grecian history enables\nthem to take in the peculiar surroundings and associations of that visit\nit certainly affords the most fascinating incident in connection with\nthe progress of the Christian faith; and it has always been regarded as\nthe most interesting event in the heroic age of Christianity. For what\nother event presents such striking antithesis?\u2014the newly-established\nreligion of Jesus of Nazareth face to face with the intellect and\ncultivation of Greece, the disciple of a crucified Galilean come to\ndethrone the disciples of Plato, a semi-barbarian Jew come to teach the\nmighty Athenians, who had taught the world.\n\nThe historical outline of the subject is thus given in the seventeenth\nchapter of the Acts of the Apostles:\n\n \u201cAnd they that conducted Paul, brought him as far as Athens, and\n receiving a commandment from him to Silas and Timothy, that they\n should come to him with all speed, they departed. Now whilst Paul\n waited for them at Athens, his spirit was stirred within him, seeing\n the city wholly given to idolatry. He disputed therefore in the\n synagogue with the Jews, and with them that served God, and in the\n market-place, every day with them that were there. And certain\n philosophers of the Epicureans and of the Stoics disputed with him,\n and some said: What is it that this word-sower would say? But\n others: He seemeth to be a setter-forth of new gods: because he\n preached to them Jesus and the resurrection. And taking him they\n brought him to Areopagus, saying: May we know what this new doctrine\n is which thou speakest of? For thou bringest in certain new things\n to our ears. We would know therefore what these things mean. (Now\n all the Athenians, and strangers that were there, employed\n themselves in nothing else but either in telling or in hearing some\n new thing.) But Paul standing in the midst of Areopagus, said: Ye\n men of Athens, I perceive that in all things you are too\n superstitious. For passing by and seeing your idols, I found an\n altar also on which was written: \u2018To the unknown God.\u2019 What\n therefore you worship, without knowing it, that I preach to you.\n God, who made the world and all things therein, seeing he is Lord of\n heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands. Neither\n is he served with men\u2019s hands as though he needed anything, seeing\n it is he who giveth to all life, and breath, and all things: and\n hath made of one, all mankind, to dwell upon the whole face of the\n earth, determining appointed times, and the limits of their\n habitation. That they should seek God, if haply they may feel after\n him or find him, although he be not far from every one of us: for in\n him we live and move and are: as some also of your own poets said,\n \u2018For we are also his offspring.\u2019 Being therefore the offspring of\n God we must not suppose the divinity to be like unto gold or silver,\n or stone, the graving of art and device of man. And God indeed\n having winked at the times of this ignorance, now declareth unto\n men, that all should everywhere do penance. Because he hath\n appointed a day wherein he will judge the world in equity, by the\n man whom he hath appointed, giving faith to all, by raising him up\n from the dead. And when they had heard of the resurrection of the\n dead some indeed mocked, but others said: We will hear thee again\n concerning this matter. So Paul went out from among them. But\n certain men adhering to him, did believe: among whom was also\n Dionysius the Areopagite, and a woman named Damaris, and others with\n them.\u201d\n\nSt. Paul went to Athens direct from Ber\u0153a in Macedonia; he had had a\nmost successful apostolate among the Ber\u0153ans, and had no intention of\nquitting the place so soon, were it not that his old enemies, the Jews\nof Thessalonica, came down upon him and compelled him to flee for his\nlife. It was only seventeen miles to the coast, and some of his Ber\u0153an\nconverts conducted the persecuted apostle as speedily as possible to the\nsea. From where they embarked it was a sail of three or four days in a\nsmall boat to the Pir\u00e6us. If the great apostle of the Gentiles had an\neye for the beautiful in nature, if scenes consecrated by historic\nassociation had any charm for him, he must have revelled in this quiet\nsail on the Interior Sea. As soon as he cleared the headlands of the\nMacedonian shore he saw Mount Olympus towering close above him; and as\nhe drew near the Thessalian Archipelago Mount Athos and the picturesque\ncoast-line of Attica began to be visible. For a distance of ninety miles\non his voyage the long island of Eub\u0153a forms the outer boundary of the\nnarrow sea, and every spot on either shore is classic ground, hallowed\nby some association of the past. On the northern shore of Eub\u0153a itself\nis the pass of Thermopyl\u00e6; opposite the southern extremity, on the coast\nof Attica, are the plains of Marathon; and when the little vessel\nrounded the cape of Sunium, \u00c6gina, Salamis, and the beautiful isles of\nGreece were in full view. But although one can scarcely imagine St. Paul\nto have been wholly insensible to the surpassing beauty of such scenes,\nthe historic associations which they recalled gave him but little\nconcern, for he was going to Athens to preach Jesus Christ and him\ncrucified, and this was his all-absorbing thought.\n\nHow little did the fishermen who tended their nets on the \u00c6gean Sea\nthink what destiny the white sail that passed them bore to Attica; and\nhow little did the people who came down to the beach to see the strange\nvessel come in imagine what a conqueror they had received on their\nshores! After landing at the Pir\u00e6us St. Paul at once sent back to Ber\u0153a\nfor Silas and Timothy. And it might appear from the account given in the\nActs as if he were afraid to begin work in Athens alone; but if he had\nany such hesitation his natural courage and burning zeal soon overcame\nit, and he lost no time in entering upon his labors.\n\nOver the ruins of the long walls which in the days of Pericles were the\nbulwark of Greece, Paul of Tarsus passed on to Athens. As he entered the\ngates of the city a sight met his eye which \u201cstirred up his spirit\nwithin him,\u201d and inflamed the passionate ardor of his zeal for the\nknowledge of the one true God. Evidences of the grossest idolatry\neverywhere met his view. Turn which way he would, statues of Minerva,\nJupiter, Apollo, Bacchus, and the Muses were before him; on every\nstreet-corner, in every portico, he saw altars raised to the false gods\nof Greece.\n\nIt was the custom of St. Paul, as, indeed, it was of all the apostles\nwhenever they entered a strange city, to seek out the Jews\u2014who were even\nthen scattered all over the civilized world\u2014and to begin his public\nteaching in the synagogue. And it may have been with this object in view\nthat he went to the Agora, or market-place, for he well knew where the\ntrading proclivities of his countrymen would make them apt to\ncongregate. But the Agora of Athens was a place of pleasure rather than\nof business; ideas were the chief commodities exchanged there, and it\nwas far more the resort of philosophers and sophists than of merchants\nand money-changers. It was, in fact, a sort of City Hall park filled\nwith statues and fountains and plane-trees, and, as a matter of course,\nwith loungers; and in those degenerate days nearly all the men of Athens\nwere loungers, and did little else than loll around the Agora, inquiring\nafter news and discussing the events of the time.\n\nSuch was the market-place of Athens, where St. Paul disputed every day\nfor we know not how many days.\n\nLet us picture to ourselves the great apostle of the nations, clad in\nthe toga of a philosopher visiting the Agora from day to day to break\nthe Gospel tidings to all who would listen to him. At one moment we can\nfancy him seated under a plane-tree in earnest conversation with a\nvenerable Israelite, who nervously strokes his beard as the apostle\ninsists that Christ was the true Messias, and in him was the fulfilment\nof the prophecies and the only hope of Israel. At another moment he is\nin the midst of a group of scoffing sophists, hotly disputing with them\nthe unity of the Godhead and the immortality of the soul. And again we\ncan picture him walking alone through the market-place, absorbed in his\nthoughts, and with an expression of sadness on his countenance as he\ncontemplates the gross errors that surround him in the \u201ccity wholly\ngiven to idolatry.\u201d\n\nThe monuments of Athenian glory, the masterpieces of Athenian art, the\nworks of Phidias, of Praxiteles, in the midst of which he moved, had no\ncharm for Paul of Tarsus; they but \u201cstirred up his spirit within him.\u201d\nHe longed to sweep them all away and plant in their stead the rude cross\nof Jesus Crucified. Renan, in his life of St. Paul, works himself up\ninto a rhetorical frenzy over the feelings awakened in the apostle by\nthe beautiful statues of Greece. He makes an apostrophe to them and\nwarns them of their danger. \u201cAh! beautiful and chaste images,\u201d he\nwrites, \u201ctrue gods and true goddesses, tremble. Here is one who will\nraise the hammer against you. The fatal word has been pronounced\u2014ye are\nidols. The error of this ugly little Jew will prove your\ndeath-warrant.\u201d[161]\n\nThe popular religion of Greece was a religion of the senses; it had\nlittle or no hold on the soul and none at all on the intellect. In its\nfirst developments it was the religion of patriotism\u2014patriotism elevated\ninto a divine sentiment. Its gods and goddesses were the supposed\nfounders and promoters of the state. In its later developments it was\nthe religion of beauty and art\u2014an adoration of the ideal in form and\nfeature\u2014and its gods and goddesses became the gods and goddesses of\nbeauty; hence the production of those masterpieces in architecture and\nart which are still so despairingly inimitable. If art alone could\nensure the perpetuity of a religion, the religion of Greece would still\nremain. Neither the eloquence of St. Paul nor the sublime maxims of the\nGospel which he preached would have been able to supplant it. But God\nhas implanted in the mind of man the desire for the true as well as for\nthe beautiful; and the possession of truth alone can satisfy the soul.\n\nThe Athenians were always in great unrest on religious matters; they\nwere ever inquiring, ever disputing, ever seeking out new gods and new\nforms of worship, and of course were never satisfied. How, indeed, could\nthey be satisfied, seeing that their religion had no foundation in\nreason, and hence no foundation in truth? It is one of those strange,\nunaccountable phenomena in the history of the development of the human\nmind that a people so intellectual as the Athenians, and having such a\ngrand philosophy, should have held to such an absurd, unreasoning system\nof religion. Reason and religion in their minds appeared to have been\nwholly separate. Philosophy had its sphere, religion had its sphere, and\nthere was little or no contact or relation between them. In this\nconnection M. Renan makes a remark which is unusually profound and is\nwell worth quoting. Speaking of the philosophers of Athens, he writes:\n\u201cThe aristocracy of thinkers cared very little for the social wants\nwhich made their way through the covering of so many gross religions.\nSuch a divorce is always punished. When philosophy declares that she\nwill not occupy herself with religion, religion replies to her by\nstrangling her. And this is just; for philosophy is nothing, unless it\npoints out a path for humanity\u2014unless it takes a serious view of the\ninfinite problem which is the same for all.\u201d[162]\n\nBut although Greek philosophy did not seek to reconcile the popular\nreligion of Greece with reason, which in truth it would have been vain\nto attempt, it did effect a reconciliation of supreme importance to\nmankind\u2014it reconciled the mind of Greece and of the civilized world to\nsome of the fundamental doctrines of Christianity, and so prepared the\nway for the coming of Christ and the preaching of St. Paul.\n\nIt will hardly be a digression here to look a little into the origin of\nGreek philosophy and the glimpses of truth to which it attained.\n\nSocrates was the father of Greek philosophy. There were philosophers\nbefore him and there were far greater philosophers after him; but those\nwho preceded him, such as Thales and Pythagoras, were physicists, and\ntheir speculations were almost wholly confined to the material universe;\nand those who succeeded him were his pupils, and simply followed up the\nnew field of investigation he had thrown open to them. Socrates was the\nsage _par excellence_, the first to turn his looks within and explore\nthe regions of the soul. He was the true founder of moral philosophy,\nthe first to lay down the great maxim that \u201cthe proper study of mankind\nis man.\u201d The human mind, its powers and moral perfectibility, was the\none great subject of all his speculations.\n\nSocrates was born in Athens 469 B.C., and he died there 399 B.C. He died\na martyr\u2014the first great martyr in the cause of moral truth and liberty\nof conscience. His father was an indigent sculptor, and for a time he\nhimself followed the same profession, but he early abandoned it for the\npursuit of wisdom. He was a self-taught man, and the means that he took\nto discipline his will and obtain the mastery over his passions and\nsenses were almost the same the saints have used. He practised\nself-denial and mortification in a remarkable degree; and the\nforbearance and long-suffering he exercised towards his violent-tempered\nwife, Xanthippe, betoken the sublimest patience.\n\nThe apostle of wisdom, Socrates went about the streets and squares of\nAthens day after day for many years, questioning, catechising, reasoning\nwith all who would listen to him, insisting ever on the wisdom of his\ngreat maxim, \u0393\u03bd\u03ce\u03b8\u03b9 \u03c3\u03b5\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03cc\u03bd\u2014know thyself. He felt himself commissioned by\nthe gods to teach the higher laws of conscience to the Athenians. Nor\nwas he so very far astray in this, for we cannot fail to recognize the\nprovidence of God in the mission of Socrates. He undertook the direction\nof individual consciences, and his relations towards some of his friends\nmore nearly resembled those of a father confessor than anything else.\nThe tie that bound the brilliant Alcibiades to the uncouth philosopher\nwas peculiarly tender. Socrates saved his life at the battle of Potid\u00e6a,\nand he in turn saved the life of Socrates at the battle of Delium. The\nfriendship that grew up between the profligate youth and the austere\nsage was a strange one. It was the wonder of all Athens; and whenever\nthey appeared together in public Alcibiades was jeered at by the youth\nof the city. Socrates for a time exercised the greatest influence over\nhis young friend, and restrained those passions in him which seemed\nungovernable. Such was the power of Socrates over minds the least\ndisposed to receive his moral teachings and submit to their restraints.\nBut what were the moral doctrines of Socrates? And in what way were the\nteachings of this sage a preparation for Christianity, so that he should\nmerit to be called the precursor of St. Paul at Athens? In the first\nplace, Socrates laid down those principles of moral ethics which are\nalso in part the basis of Christian ethics. He taught that the supreme\ngood of man lay in the path of wisdom and virtue, and he declared\nfidelity to conscience to be the highest law of life. With him began\nthat new departure in philosophy which directed the attention of mankind\nto mind rather than matter. The pleasures and possessions of the world\nare contemptible when compared with wisdom and virtue and the perfection\nof the soul, in the teachings of Socrates as well as in the teachings of\nSt. Paul. In his system, too, every other consideration must yield to\nthe law of conscience and of God. \u201cThe word of God,\u201d he says, \u201cought to\nbe first considered\u201d; and in the exhortation which he is represented in\nthe _Ph\u00e6do_ as making to his friends to care for their souls he appears\nto strike the key-note of the Gospel. \u201cO my friends,\u201d he said, \u201cif the\nsoul is truly immortal, should we not take the greatest care of her, not\nfor the short period of life but for eternity? And the danger of\nneglecting her eternal destiny does appear dreadful\u201d (_Ph\u00e6d._ 107). Were\nnot these words the remote echo of the great question of the Gospel,\n\u201cWhat doth it profit a man....\u201d? The language of reproof which Socrates\naddressed to the gross-minded and sensual, whose only aspiration in life\nis self-indulgence and sensuality, reminds one of the energetic rebukes\nof St. Paul to those who make a god of their bellies and their passions.\nAnd the declaration of liberty of conscience which Socrates made before\nhis judges when his life was trembling in the balance was worthy of a\nChristian martyr. \u201cA man who is good for anything,\u201d he said, \u201cought not\nto calculate the chances of living or dying. He only should consider\nwhether in doing anything he is doing right or wrong, acting the part of\na good man or a bad one\u201d (_Mem._ ii. 1. 28).\n\nBesides these moral teachings, Socrates maintained the existence of a\nSupreme Being, who exercised a care over all things and preserved\nharmony in the universe. He did not, however, break through the pagan\ninfluences that surrounded him sufficiently to hold to the belief in one\nonly God, but, while he accepted the doctrines of polytheism, he\nmaintained that there was one Supreme Lord, who exercised a universal\nprovidence over all things; and he further taught that in the eyes of\nthis Supreme Being all men were equal and there was nothing meritorious\nbut virtue. This was a bold innovation when we remember the Athenian\nnotions of race and caste. He was also of opinion that the gods\nexercised a watchful care over men and frequently inspired their\nactions; and the demon of Socrates, about which we hear so much, appears\nto have been a sort of guardian spirit, whose promptings, though always\nnegative, he constantly looked for and never disregarded. These\ncertainly were somewhat Christian conceptions of morality and of God,\nand although they are rather offset by other teachings and views of the\nGreek sage, yet in the main his doctrines foreshadow the light of the\nGospel. Were it not, however, for the great disciple who immediately\nfollowed up his teaching and threw the light of his genius around it,\nthe system of Socrates, if it can be called a system, would have\naccomplished little in the way of preparation for Christianity.\n\nFor the last eight or nine years of his life Socrates had had Plato for\nhis disciple, and it was through Plato that his teachings were\ntransmitted and developed into that sublime system of philosophic truth\nwhich St. Augustine so greatly admired and approved.\n\nPlato, the prince of human intellects, by his unaided reason attained to\nthe knowledge of many of the truths of revelation. The notion of a\nSupreme Being which he received from Socrates he developed into an\nalmost Christian conception of God and his attributes. In his system the\nSupreme Deity is not merely the source of the harmony of the universe,\nbut he is also the Father who created out of goodness; and he is in\nhimself so good and perfect that no unrighteousness, no imperfection can\nbe conceived as existing in him. Plato even appears to have had some\nnotion of the trinity of Persons in the Godhead, though of course vague\nand indistinct. His speculations on the destiny of man and the\nimmortality of the soul are wonderfully luminous. He recognized after a\nfashion the fallen nature of man and the need of some divine mediation\nor redemption to raise him up; but in his theory of Fall and Redemption\nmoral and physical defilement and regeneration are strangely and\nsomewhat incongruously blended. Plato\u2019s conception of virtue was exalted\nand his definition of it singularly Christian. \u201cVirtue,\u201d he said, \u201cis\nthe resemblance to God according to the measure of our ability.\u201d \u201cBe ye\nimitators of Christ,\u201d \u201cBe ye God-like,\u201d says St. Paul; and to become\nGod-like is to become \u201choly, just, and wise,\u201d according to Plato.\n\nHe also held the doctrine of future rewards and punishments, and he gave\nit as his opinion that the rewards and punishments of this life are as\nnothing compared to those \u201cthat await both the just and the unjust after\ndeath.\u201d He encouraged the just to be patient in all their trials and\nafflictions in life, assuring them that everything would work together\nunto their good, for the gods would have a care over them and see to it\nthat no enduring misfortune should happen to them, and the only great\nand irreparable evil, after all, was \u201cto go to the world below having a\nsoul which is like a vessel full of injustice and impiety.\u201d\n\nThe lofty speculations of Plato in the domain of religious truth have\nled many to suppose that he was acquainted with the Jewish Scriptures\nand drew some of his inspiration from them. And this is by no means\nimprobable. The Jews were wanderers and exiles as early as Plato\u2019s time;\nand if he did not himself read their law, he certainly, in his extensive\ntravels, must have met and conversed with those who were acquainted with\nthe teachings of the Hebrew Bible. At all events he must have known\nsomething of the primitive traditions of mankind; and we are not\nforbidden to think that, though a pagan, such a pure and lofty soul may\nhave had some light from on high to enlighten him.\n\nIt is well known what a harmony Philo Jud\u00e6us and the Alexandrian school\nestablished between the teachings of Plato and the principal doctrines\nof the Jewish dispensation; and what a near approach Neo-Platonism made\nto Christian philosophy in the first centuries of the Christian era.\n\nNext to Socrates and Plato the man who did most to create Greek\nphilosophy, and change the current of thought of the ancient world in\nthe direction of Christianity, was undoubtedly Aristotle. Though a\ndisciple of Plato, he did not follow in the wake of his great master,\nbut struck out a new course for himself. The genius of Aristotle was\nneither so lofty nor so speculative as that of Plato, but his intellect\nwas, if possible, more acute and his mind far more systematic. He made a\ncomplete analysis of the human understanding, and laid down those rules\nof logic and principles of certainty which are to guide men in the\nsearch after truth. He reduced all knowledge to a system, and made the\ngrasp of the principles of all science possible to the human mind. His\ngrand argument for the existence of a Supreme Being from the necessity\nof a prime mover\u2014_Primus motor_\u2014has never been surpassed, and has done\ngood service in every age for the cause of theism.\n\nThe moral doctrines of Aristotle, though not so much in harmony with\nChristianity as those of Plato, were on the whole not adverse to it, and\nthey exerted at least a negative influence, in preparing the minds of\nmen to receive the morality of the Gospel.\n\nGreek philosophy reached its acme in the schools of Plato and Aristotle;\nafter them there were no more great creative minds. The philosophers who\nsucceeded them did but borrow from them; they were the sources whence\nall future philosophic wisdom was drawn; they were the recognized\nmasters of human thought, not alone to the Greeks but to the Romans, to\nthe civilized and intellectual world; and the influence they exerted in\ngiving direction to the current of thought of the ancient world can\nscarcely be over-estimated.\n\nHere, then, four hundred and fifty years before St. Paul set foot in\nAthens, were three great pioneers of truth who prepared the way for him.\nThey were raised up by the providence of God, in the midst of the\ndarkness and superstition and sensuality of the pagan world, to remind\nman of his destiny, to teach him that he was made for wisdom and truth.\nThey were set up as the partial teachers of truth to the gentile world\nuntil the divine Teacher should come who would teach them all truth.\n\nDuring four centuries their doctrines of the existence of a Supreme\nBeing, of the providence of God over men, of the immortality of the\nsoul, of moral responsibility and fidelity to the law of conscience,\nfiltered through the generations, until in the fulness of time Paul of\nTarsus came to engraft their wisdom on the divine philosophy of Jesus\nChrist. That we should not hesitate to recognize the special providence\nof God in the development of Greek philosophy, that we should not refuse\nto Socrates, to Plato, to Aristotle a providential mission in the\nancient world, are opinions for which some of the greatest doctors of\nthe church have contended. Their philosophy certainly tended to do away\nwith polytheism and to establish the unity of the Godhead. It led the\nhuman intellect in the pursuit of wisdom and the search after truth. It\ncreated a lofty ideal of intellectual wisdom and morality, and by\nelevating the moral above the material, the future above the present, it\nprepared the way for the spiritual reign of Christianity.\n\n\u201cPlato and Aristotle,\u201d says a Protestant author, \u201chave had a great work\nappointed them, not only as the heathen pioneers of truth but as the\neducators of the Christian mind in every age. The former enriched human\nthought with appropriate ideas for the reception of the highest truth in\nthe highest form. The latter mapped out all the provinces of human\nknowledge, that Christianity might visit them and bless them\u201d\n(Conybeare, _Life of St. Paul_).\n\nAnd here we skip over four hundred years of the reign of Greek\nphilosophy, and come at once to the actual meeting of Christianity and\nGreek philosophy in Athens.\n\nThe schools of philosophy that were dominant in Athens at the time of\nSt. Paul\u2019s visit were the Stoics and Epicureans. The Stoics were\npantheists, and the Epicureans were not far removed from atheists\u2014poor\nrepresentatives both of the noble systems of Plato and Aristotle. In\ntheir hands Greek philosophy was rapidly declining. Athens, which in the\ncentury before had been the school of C\u00e6sar and Brutus and Pompey,\nwhither Cicero and Atticus and Horace had gone to receive instruction,\nhad now no higher wisdom to impart than the philosophy of pleasure and\npride. Nothing could be more opposed to the spirit of Christianity than\nthe system of Epicurus, which made the highest good of man to consist in\nthe pursuit of pleasure alone, denying the immortality of the soul and\nrejecting all notion of a hereafter, and having for its first principle,\n\u201cEat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die.\u201d Nor had the system of\nZeno and the Stoics very much in it that was in harmony with\nChristianity, although there were some points of affinity. The Stoics\ntaught that God was merely the soul or mind of the universe; that the\nsoul of man was corporeal, and after death would be consumed by fire or\nabsorbed in the infinite. The highest aspiration of man in the Stoic\nsystem should be to attain to the state of complete apathy, perfect\nindifference to all things. There should be in the human breast neither\npassion nor pity, no sense of pleasure or pain. Their moral doctrines,\nhowever, were based on those of Socrates, and hence they inculcated a\npractical rule of life and morality, and they laid great stress on\nfidelity to the dictates of reason. This, and the heroic spirit of\nfortitude which the Stoic discipline strove to impart, were its only\npoints of affinity with Christian teaching. To be sure some of the later\nor Roman Stoics, such as Seneca, Marcus Aurelius, and Epictetus, made a\nvery near approach to Christianity in many things, but then they lived\nmore in the light of Christian truth. The worst feature in the Stoic\nphilosophy was the view it took of suicide. Self-destruction was not\nonly permitted but was positively approved by the Stoics, and nearly all\nthe great leaders of the sect set the example of it.\n\nSuch were the philosophers with whom St. Paul disputed every day in the\nmarket-place of Athens. The doctrines of the Stoics at least were not\nnew to him; for Tarsus in Cilicia, where Saul was born and educated, was\na great centre of Stoic philosophy, and from his youth up he must have\nbeen more or less familiar with the salient points of the Stoic system.\nThe \u201cPainted Porch,\u201d the headquarters of the Stoics in Athens, was\nsituated in the Agora, and the Garden of the Epicureans was close at\nhand, so that in the market-place St. Paul was in the midst of the rival\nsects of philosophers\u2014in fact, on the battle-ground. We can have little\ndoubt of the kind of reception the Epicureans would give him. It was a\npart of their system to make light of everything, and to treat nothing\nseriously except their dinners. He spoke to them about \u201cJesus and the\nresurrection.\u201d Of course they called him a \u201cword-sower\u201d or a \u201cbabbler,\u201d\nthough Renan will have it that they called St. Paul a \u201cbabbler\u201d because\nhe spoke bad Greek. The Stoics were grave men, however, and they gave\nhim a respectful hearing. He knew the current of their thoughts and how\nto address himself to them; and his doctrines must have excited their\ncuriosity, if not their interest. They it was, doubtless, who invited\nhim to the Areopagus, the supreme tribunal, where every important\nquestion in religion, law, and philosophy was heard and pronounced upon.\nIt was an exceedingly great mark of respect for St. Paul and his\nopinions that he should be invited from the vulgar discussions of the\nAgora to speak before the most ancient and most august assembly of\nGreece; it shows the impression he must have made by his learning and\neloquence on the cultivated men of Athens, and it is a proof that after\nall St. Paul must have spoken pretty good Greek. The Areopagus, or\n\u201cCouncil of Twelve,\u201d was a tribunal set up in the earliest days of\nGrecian autonomy to try capital offences. Solon, 600 B.C., made it a\nsort of high council of state and bestowed upon it the power of veto.\nOnly men of unblemished reputation, who had rendered signal services to\ntheir country, were eligible to become members of it. The Athenians\nregarded it as the most sacred institution of their state, and it was,\nin truth, the most venerable tribunal of the ancient world. Though it\nhad been stripped of many of its prerogatives, it still retained its\nprestige and took cognizance of all matters relating to religion and\neducation in Greece. Had St. Paul been invited to address the Roman\nSenate in the days of its greatest glory, he would have spoken before a\nmore powerful but not a more august assembly than was the Areopagus the\nday that he stood before it on the summit of Mars\u2019 Hill.\n\nIt was one of the great events that mark an epoch in the world\u2019s history\nwhen Christianity, in the person of St. Paul, was summoned to appear for\njudgment before that high tribunal wherein all the cultivation and\nwisdom and intelligence of the gentile nations were concentrated. It was\na solemn moment for the Christian cause, and what must have been the\nfeelings of the great apostle as he ascended the long flight of stone\nsteps that led him up to Mars\u2019 Hill and into the midst of the sacred\ncircle of the Areopagus? The curious multitude pressed after him; the\ntwelve venerable judges, seated in benches hewn out of the rock, awaited\nhim, impatient to dispose of this \u201csetter-forth of new divinities.\u201d It\nwas a scene around which was gathered the glory of the ancient world and\nthe expectation of the new. From the summit of that hill which\noverlooked Athens St. Paul could, as it were, survey all the wisdom and\nphilosophy and religion of the past. His eye could rest on the spot of\nthe Academy where Plato taught, and on the Lyceum where was the school\nof Aristotle. Right before him stood the Temple of Mars and the Pantheon\nof Minerva, and rising close above him was the Colossus of Athens, cast\nout of the brazen spoils of Marathon. The Acropolis, Athens, Greece were\nbefore him, and they summed up nearly all that was great in the past.\n\nIt was not the first time that St. Paul had preached Christ before a\ngreat assembly, and we may be assured that he entered upon his subject\nwith his accustomed boldness. Standing up in the midst of the Areopagus,\nwith outstretched hand, he began his abrupt exordium. Even the pagan\npoet Longinus, in his list of the orators of Greece, includes the name\nof \u201cPaul of Tarsus, the patron,\u201d as he says, \u201cof an opinion not yet\nfully proved.\u201d And St. Paul\u2019s speech on this occasion must have called\nforth the full powers of his oratory. By all accounts the personal\nappearance of the great apostle was not striking, and we can hardly\nconceive of him as possessed of the graces of oratory; but these count\nfor little in addressing popular assemblies. His power lay in the divine\nearnestness of his faith and his burning zeal for its propagation. He\nalways spoke with the light that struck him blind on the road to\nDamascus shining in upon his soul, and the Voice that he heard ringing\nin his ear. Jesus Christ and his Gospel were an actuality to him, and he\nmade them an actuality to all who heard him. There was no doubting the\nsincerity of his conviction\u2014every tone of his voice, every expression of\nhis countenance, every motion of his body was a declaration of the\nsupreme power of the faith that possessed him. It was a novel experience\nto the free and easy Athenians, who were never thoroughly in earnest\nabout anything, to have a man so consumed with earnestness make an\nappeal before them, and it must have impressed them not a little. They\nmust have been a good deal taken by surprise also by the manner in which\nSt. Paul introduced his subject. Instead of feeling his way timidly in\nthe presence of so august an assemblage, he made a bold dash, carried\nthe war at once into the enemy\u2019s country, fought them on their own\nground and with the weapons they themselves had furnished him. The\npeople of Athens were so religious or so superstitious, or both, that\nthey wanted to make sure that no god should be left unhonored in their\ncity; and after raising an altar to every god of whom they had heard,\nthey bethought themselves that there might still be some god of whom\nthey had not heard, and so they raised an altar and dedicated it \u201cTo the\nunknown god.\u201d Pausanias states that there were several such altars in\nAthens, and Petronius declares that so bountiful were the Athenians in\nproviding altars and statues for the gods \u201cthat it was far easier to\nfind a god in Athens than a man.\u201d St. Paul might take it for granted\nthat every false god was honored in Athens by name, and the only god who\nwas \u201cunknown\u201d was the one true God whom he came to preach to them. This\ngave him at once an opening and a way to escape the accusation that he\nwas a \u201csetter-forth of strange divinities,\u201d which would have been\nprejudicial to his cause before the Areopagus. It was a master-stroke,\nand in it we discover a good illustration of that cunning of the serpent\nwhich the apostles were told to imitate. It is supposed that we have\nonly the outline of St. Paul\u2019s speech on Mars\u2019 Hill preserved to us in\nthe Acts of the Apostles; and yet the outline is in itself complete and\nperfect in its adaptation to the audience. The Athenians were above all\nthings proud of their city, and St. Paul told them that he was struck by\nits aspect; he noticed the religious feeling manifested in the setting\nup of so many objects of worship; and after having thus engaged the\nattention of the people he proceeded to lay before them the Christian\nconception of the Supreme Being, which must have recalled to the\nphilosophers present the highest flights of Plato and commanded their\nattention. He struck directly at the atomic theory of the Epicureans by\nasserting the creative act of God and the divine Providence that rules\nthe universe and orders all things. He spoke of the \u201cGod in whom we\nlive, move, and be.\u201d And the Stoics were full of interest; he appeared\nto side with their pantheistic notions of the Deity; he even quoted one\nof their poets\u2014Aratus of Cilicia\u2014and we can almost fancy some of the\ngrave philosophers of this sect rising to applaud him. But in the next\nbreath he crushed them, for he declared that God is a personal being,\nthat he is equally the Father of all men, and that there is only one way\nto approach him\u2014the same for all\u2014the philosopher must come down from his\nhigh conceits and do penance just the same as the poor and illiterate.\nHe broke down the barrier of race and national pride by declaring \u201cthat\nGod made of one blood all the nations of mankind,\u201d and the past times,\nhowever glorious they might appear, were in reality times of ignorance\nwhen the truth was not known. And to their utter astonishment he makes\nthe \u201cfoolishness\u201d of Christ and his resurrection the basis and proof of\nall religious truth and righteousness. This was the least philosophical\npart of St. Paul\u2019s discourse and created the most opposition; but it was\nthe most irresistible, for it was a fact.\n\nAthens had heard great orators before, but this was the most immortal\nspeech ever uttered in her hearing; even apart from its sacred character\nit would hold its own for eloquence and skill among the greatest\nproductions of the past. It is the true model of Christian eloquence,\nand illustrates that economy in the way of presenting divine truth which\nis the most striking feature in the teaching of St. Paul. \u201cInstead of\nuttering any invective,\u201d says Dr. Newman, \u201cagainst their polytheism, he\nbegan a discourse upon the unity of the divine nature, and then\nproceeded to claim the altar consecrated in the neighborhood to the\nunknown god as the property of Him whom he preached to them, and to\nenforce his doctrine of the divine immateriality, not by miracles but by\nargument, and that founded on the words of a heathen poet.\u201d\n\nBut the speech was not well received, nay, it was interrupted, cut\nshort, and, powerful as it was, only a very few persons in that large\nassembly were converted by it, and of these two only are\nmentioned\u2014Dionysius, a member of the Areopagus, and the woman Damaris,\nof whom nothing is known. It created a profound impression,\nnevertheless. It took the philosophers of Athens completely by surprise;\nthey were wholly unprepared to meet it, and the only part to which they\ncould make an immediate objection was the Resurrection, and they took\nadvantage of this to postpone the discussion and so escape the\nrelentless logic of St. Paul.\n\nNor did they give him another hearing, as they had promised. They were\ninsincere; like the modern triflers with truth, they were afraid they\nmight hear too much, and so took refuge in evasion. Such are still the\ntactics of flippant philosophers and men of bad faith all the world\nover. They simply do not want to know the truth, and hence they mock at\nit and evade it. But even the conversion of one member of the high\ncouncil of Greece was a great gain for Christianity. Dionysius was a\nconquest worthy of St. Paul, and to have given to France her glorious\nSt. Denis was a result that well repaid the highest effort of Christian\neloquence.\n\nThus it was that Christian philosophy encountered Greek philosophy on\nthe summit of Mars\u2019 Hill, and silenced and dethroned it; and during\ntwenty centuries thus has it silenced and dethroned every system that\nhas come in conflict with it; and although its supremacy has been\nconstantly disputed, it still remains supreme in the domain of reason\nand of truth. In cultivated Athens we behold the highest point to which\nunaided human reason can attain, and it is in cultivated Athens that we\nfirst find Christianity asserting its claim to be the gospel of reason\nas well as of faith.\n\nChristianity is the only system of religion that has made philosophy its\nhandmaiden and used it to elucidate its doctrines. It is, in fact, the\nonly religious system that can confidently appeal to the higher powers\nof reason, and hence it is the only creed that has ever made really\nintellectual conquests, that has ever compelled rationalism and\nscepticism to pause before it and believe, or at least doubt.\nChristianity alone, among all the religions of the world, has been able\nto exact the complete homage of the minds as well as the hearts of\ncultivated men.\n\nBut although philosophy to a certain extent prepared the way for\nChristianity, and Christianity constantly uses philosophy and appeals to\nit, it is a great mistake to suppose that philosophy played a very\nimportant part in the formation and propagation of the Christian faith.\nThe religion that bears the name of Christ is not a theory gradually\ndeveloped, but from the very first a definite system of religious\nteaching resting on facts. The logic of facts, not of philosophy, has\npropagated Christianity. St. Paul appealed to philosophy in Athens, and\nhe converted two persons. St. Peter appealed to facts in Jerusalem, and\nhe converted eight thousand. This is about the proportion of the\nrelative influence of philosophy and fact in the propagation of the\nChristian religion. Jesus and the Resurrection, the facts at the bare\nmention of which the Athenians mocked, were the facts that a century\nlater converted Greece when the tide of human testimony spread on from\nJudea and confirmed them. Philosophical theories have never founded a\nreligion, they have never wrought any great revolution in the belief of\nmankind; facts alone can produce wide-spread conviction and change.\n\nThe rationalism of our day affects to treat Christianity as a theory of\nreligion, a mere phase in the development of the religious thought of\nmankind, and as such to judge it and dispose of it; it feigns to ignore\naltogether the Christian religion as a system resting on facts. This is\ncertainly a crafty move; for it is easy to get rid of a theory, but\nfacts cannot well be explained away. Once they are well established,\nfacts are invincible. And the evidences of Christianity are\nfacts\u2014well-established, invincible facts\u2014that can neither be ignored nor\nexplained away. The Christian religion is a philosophical religion,\ninasmuch as it is in complete harmony with whatever is sound in the\nphilosophy of any age; but it is also an historical religion, and in its\norigin and progress rests on the certain basis of human testimony.\n\nThe divine Founder of Christianity did not appear in a remote age of\ndarkness and obscurity, but in an age of intellectual culture and\nenlightenment\u2014in an age when history had already attained to its full\npurpose and perfection. So that the life and doctrines of Jesus Christ,\nand the progress of the religion he founded, at once dropped into the\nstream of history and became a part of it. This is shown by the fact\nthat so many contemporary pagan historians have in their writings\nreferred to Christ, his miracles, his doctrines, and his sufferings.\n\nThe Great Teacher who came to give true light to the world was not\nafraid of the light; and it was without doubt a part of the eternal\ndesign that he should appear in an era of intellectual activity and\nculture and criticism, so that human reason might have no excuse for\nrejecting him, and the future enemies of Christianity could not upbraid\nit with being a system hatched out in darkness and obscurity. Here is a\npoint we should particularly insist upon: Jesus Christ has his place in\nhistory as much as C\u00e6sar or Napoleon or Washington or any other great\nman of the past. His miracles are as much matters of history as the\nvictories of C\u00e6sar; his law is as much a matter of history as the Code\nof Napoleon; and the kingdom of Christianity which he founded is as\npalpable a fact to-day as the republic of George Washington.\n\nChristianity is only a theory, say the rationalists. What a barefaced\nfalsehood in the face of all history! Christianity an effect without an\nadequate cause, say they. What an outrage on reason! Verily, the\ntheories by which the rationalistic school would account for\nChristianity are on a par with the Hindoo theory of the world, for they\nalso rest on nothing at all.\n\nChristianity is not a natural outgrowth or development of Judaism; it is\nnot a skilful adaptation of Oriental liturgy and Greek philosophy; but\nit is a religion of reason and truth, resting on the eternal facts of\nthe Incarnation, Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, the\nonly-begotten Son of the God of all truth.\n\nFootnote 161:\n\n Renan. _Vie de Saint Paul_, chap. vii. p. 126.\n\nFootnote 162:\n\n Renan, _Vie de Saint Paul_, c. vii. p. 135.\n\n\n\n\n ONE TO ONE.\n\n\n\u201cThe one soul to the one God.\u201d\u2014REV. HENRY GIESEN, C.SS.R.\n\n\n \u201cOne unto one!\u201d O Jesus, can thy creature\n Be truly one to one with thee, her King?\n Can the poor sinful heart for which thine suffered\n To thee alone in love and sorrow cling?\n To thee, the Son of God, the Word Eternal,\n So dreadly pure, so infinitely just?\n \u201cOne unto one\u201d! My God, when I would say it,\n \u2019Tis answered me, \u201cRemember thou art dust.\u201d\n\n \u201cOne unto one\u201d! O Jesus, meek and loving,\n And humbled down to Bethlehem for me,\n Humbled to own a human heart and nature,\n Jesus, my Saviour, _now_ I come to thee!\n I see thee on thy Virgin Mother\u2019s bosom\u2014\n An infant, though a God, a Judge, a King:\n \u201cOne unto one\u201d! Ah! yes, my infant Saviour,\n To thee at last I dare my love to bring.\n\n Again, in prayer and sorrow I behold thee\n Prostrate beneath the olive-trees\u2019 dark shade,\n The blood of agony for us outpouring,\n The burden of our sins upon thee laid.\n \u201cOne unto one\u201d! Yes, here too may thy creature,\n With all her sins before her, bring her heart\n Near unto thine; for she is only asking\n That in thy agony she may have part.\n\n \u201cOne unto one\u201d! The thorny crown, the scourges,\n The gall, the nails, the cross, the cruel spear,\n The death-swoon, and the last dear words\u2014O Jesus!\n \u201cOne unto one\u201d\u2014how can _I_ say it here?\n Only thy Mother with her priceless dolors,\n Methinks, can rightly say this daring word;\n She who shared all thy passion, meekly standing\n Beside thy cross, soul-pierced with Simeon\u2019s sword.\n\n Dead is the Son of God, the Son of Mary;\n Dead for our love\u2014for very love of me!\n \u201cOne unto one\u201d! O Jesus, my Redeemer,\n Grant that my life may die for love of thee.\n Grant that thy cross may be my only treasure,\n Thy blood my riches, and thy grace my prize;\n Until, my penance done, my sins all pardoned,\n \u201cOne unto one,\u201d to thee my spirit flies!\n\n\n\n\n HIS IRISH COUSINS.\n\n\nMr. Eugene Percival was seated in the dining-room of the Garrick Club,\nLondon, engaged in discussing a quiet little dinner consisting of a\nplate of real turtle, a red mullet, and a pin-tailed duck, preparatory\nto turning into Covent Garden to hear Titiens in _Semiramide_, when a\nservant approached him, bearing two letters upon a silver salver.\n\n\u201cIrish mail, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor me?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir.\u201d\n\nMr. Percival quietly finished his glass of pale sherry and ordered a\nclean plate ere he troubled himself about his Hibernian correspondence.\n\n\u201cIrish letters!\u201d he murmured. \u201cWho could write to me from that\nout-of-the-world country? Jack Hotham, possibly. His regiment is\nquartered on some solid bit of bog called the Curragh.\u201d He leisurely\ntook up the nearest epistle. \u201cA woman\u2019s hand, by Jove! And such a hand.\nHow she does scatter the ink! _Place aux dames._ Now, madam, I am\nprepared for the worst.\u201d And throwing himself back in his chair, he\nproceeded to open the envelope. The letter ran as follows:\n\n \u201cBALLYBO, CO. MAYO, June 1, 187-.\n\n \u201cDEAR COUSIN: A very nice young man, who says he is intimate with\n you, has been stopping here for a few days for the salmon-fishing.\n By the merest accident your name came on the _tapis_, and I\n immediately claimed you as a kinsman, my mother and your father\n having been second cousins. As kinsfolk should at least become\n acquainted with one another, I take this opportunity of letting you\n know that my eldest boy, Charley, and his sister Geraldine, are\n going to visit London next week, when any attention you can show\n them will be most gratefully received by your affectionate cousin,\n\n \u201cMARTHA MARY GRACE DEVEREUX.\n\n \u201cP. S. They will stop at the Charing Cross Hotel. Charley is\n twenty-three and Geraldine four years younger.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf all the cool epistles I ever read this _is_ the coolest,\u201d muttered\nPercival, holding the letter at arm\u2019s length, as though it were\ncombustible. \u201c_I_ never heard of Martha Mary Grace Devereux before. _I_\nhave no relations in Ireland. The idea of having a hulking savage with a\nbrogue that would peel a potato, and dressed like a navvy, and an\nawkward, dowdy, gawky girl, thrust upon me is rather too good. No, no,\nmy Irish friends. I respect you at Bally\u2014Bally-what-you-may-call-it, but\nin Piccadilly not quite.\u201d Here he commenced his ripe Stilton. \u201cThe idea\nof my being seen in Mayfair with\u2014Pshaw! it\u2019s too good.\u201d He turned the\nsecond letter over with his knife.\n\n\u201cA school-boy\u2019s hand. I suppose this is from Charley, with a modest\ndemand for a box at the opera for himself and his sister for every night\nduring their stay, seats on one of the Four-in-hand Club coaches,\ntickets for the Zoo for Sunday, invitations to swell balls. I know what\nIrish cousins mean, and, _per Bacco_! I\u2019ll keep the Channel rolling\nbetween us. Let\u2019s see what Charley says. A monogram, C. D. Gorgeous!\nWho\u2019d have thought of so much civilization in Mayo\u2014wherever that may\nbe?\u201d\n\n \u201cBALLYBO.\n\n\u201cMr. Charley Devereux\u2019 compliments to Mr. Percival\u201d\u2014that\u2019s civil at any\nrate\u2014\u201cand begs to say that in order to oblige his mother\u201d\u2014whose mother?\nMy poor mother died when I was toothless\u2014\u201che writes this note. Mr. C. D.\ndoesn\u2019t believe in bothering people who don\u2019t care about him\u201d\u2014come, now,\nthis is a sensible lad\u2014\u201cand he doesn\u2019t care for people whom he doesn\u2019t\nknow\u201d\u2014sensible again. \u201cIf Mr. Percival wants to see Mr. C. D., he will\nfind him at the Charing Cross Hotel on and after Monday next.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u201cI say, Minniver, just come over and take your Lafitte here. I have such\na _bon bouche_ for you!\u201d said Percival, addressing a gentleman seated at\na neighboring table.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the row?\u201d demanded Mr. Minniver, a tall, aristocratic man, whose\nhair was parted in the centre and whose eye-glass was the sole\noccupation of his life.\n\n\u201cTwo letters from Ireland.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d\n\n\u201cFact.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake my glawss and decanter over to Mr. Percival\u2019s table,\u201d said Mr.\nMinniver, addressing a waiter.\n\n\u201cShall I read \u2019em to you, Minniver?\u201d\n\n\u201cAre they in Irish?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! dear, no.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen let me have the two barrels.\u201d\n\n\u201cCongratulate me, old fellow.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn what?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have been claimed by Irish cousins.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a nuisance!\u201d observed Mr. Minniver in a tone of intense disgust,\nand letting his eye-glass fall on the table with a click, whilst he took\na sip of the rich, tawny wine.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s not enough. To claim me does not fill their cup of happiness.\nThey are coming over to see me.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Jove!\u201d wiping the glass carefully and screwing it hard into the\ncorner of his eye.\n\n\u201cYes. Just read this letter. This is the one that claims me, that takes\nme into the fold, and here\u2019s another that repudiates me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a very extraordinary document, Percival,\u201d observed Mr. Minniver\nwith an owl-like glance, solemn, important, but vacant withal.\n\n\u201cRead this now; it\u2019s from Charley.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, this ought to be framed and glazed. How old Thackeray would have\nchuckled over this in the smoking-room! You must let us have it in the\nsmoking-room; the fellows are infernally dull just now.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake both, my dear boy.\u201d\n\n\u201cThanks. What are you going to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cPreserve a masterly inactivity.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ll reply?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think not.\u201d\n\n\u201cDrop a pasteboard at the Cross?\u201d\n\n\u201cCards are expensive luxuries just now. You forget it\u2019s the height of\nthe season, Minniver!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you\u2019ll let it sink?\u201d\n\n\u201cMost unquestionably.\u201d\n\n\u201cI s\u2019pose you\u2019re right.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, rather. I can stand a good deal but Irish cousins. As the\nPrincess Huncomun says in \u2018Tom Thumb,\u2019 \u2018I shudder at the gross idea.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would never do, Percival\u2014never, never.\u201d And wagging his empty head\nsagaciously, Mr. Minniver again dipped his beak in the juice of the\ngrape.\n\nMr. Eugene Percival is a swell of the first water; a bureaucrat in the\nmost exalted sense of the term; a clerk in the Foreign Office, with\nexpectations of a third secretaryship at no distant date. His mother, an\nheiress, died in giving him birth; his father, a captain in the\nSeventeenth Lancers, fell in the bloody ride of death at Balaklava. A\nguardian took possession of the boy, and, having placed him at Eton,\nlater on transplanted him to Cambridge, where he took a degree, making a\nfair fight for honors. The failure of the banking firm of Overend &\nGurney, of Lombard Street, deprived Percival of over half his property,\nand then he resolved upon work.\n\n\u201cI cannot live upon fifteen hundred a year and idleness,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cI could live, and live well, on a hundred a year with work.\u201d\n\nThrough the influence of no less a personage than Benjamin Disraeli he\nwas installed at the Foreign Office at a nominal salary, and the evening\nupon which this story opens he was twenty-five years of age, five feet\neight inches in height, with yellow hair closely cropped, as is the\nfashion amongst the golden youth of the present hour, his eyes dark\nblue, his nose a delicate aquiline, his mouth and teeth unexceptionable,\nand the whole man bearing the unmistakable stamp of gentleman.\n\nA few days subsequent to the receipt of his Irish letters Mr. Eugene\nPercival strolled from the Garrick into Covent Garden Market, but little\naltered in its appearance since the days when Sam Johnson and Topham\nBeauclerk went on a rouse amongst the vegetable wagons, and at\nunhallowed hours, as the worthy lexicographer subsequently\u2014and\nsorrowfully\u2014admitted.\n\nTaking the central arcade, the bureaucrat stopped to admire bouquets\nthat would have brought tears of envy into the pretty eyes of Mlle.\nLouise of the _March\u00e9 aux Fleurs_, so fearfully and wonderfully were\nthey made up, so delicious in their harmonies, such veritable tone-poems\nin their lustrous yet satisfying effects. Stepping into a flower-shop,\nhe invested in a two-shilling moss rosebud reclining upon the petals of\na sprig of stefanotis, attached to his coat by a young lady who\naddressed him by name.\n\n\u201cMr. Pommery \u2018as just been \u2019ere, Mr. Percival.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! another bunch of violets?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir,\u201d she replied with a saucy laugh.\n\n\u201cWhy, he must be spending a small fortune.\u201d\n\n\u201cThese wiolets come from Algiers.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd he sends a bunch every day?\u201d\n\n\u201cEvery day, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you are sworn to secrecy?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you won\u2019t tell to whom those violets go?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot for anything.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Where_ do they go?\u201d\n\nThe young lady shook her head.\n\n\u201cIt is refreshing,\u201d laughed Percival as he quitted the shop, \u201cto find\n_one_ woman who can keep a secret.\u201d\n\nHe strolled down the arcade, gazing at the flowers and fruits, and the\n_bizarre_ crowd that gently surged hither and thither, from the\ncostermonger who came for his salad and radishes, to the \u201cDook\u201d who\nsought his five-guinea bouquet; from the weedy-looking woman, smelling\nhorribly of gin, who shelled peas, to the countess in search of an\norchid to make up her priceless collection.\n\nHe was standing opposite a window wherein lay exposed a basket of Belle\nAngevine pears labelled \u201c\u00a330 a dozen,\u201d when a hand was laid on his\nshoulder and a cheery voice exclaimed:\n\n\u201cNot thinking of that lot, Percival?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot quite, Pommery. They\u2019re a cut above me. My buying price is\nsixpence, and I falter at anything above that lordly sum.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey\u2019re not much, these Angevines. I had a cut into one last night at a\nlittle dinner Baby Bowles gave six of us at the Star and Garter\u2014a\npre-marital affair.\u201d\n\n\u201cPre-marital! Has the Baby surrendered at discretion?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has surrendered, which says little for his discretion.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Pauvre gar\u00e7on!_ By the way, you\u2019ve been away, Pommery?\u201d\n\n\u201cYaas.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhither?\u201d\n\n\u201cGuess.\u201d\n\n\u201cNorway, after the salmon?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\n\u201cMonaco, after _Rouge et Noir_?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\n\u201cParis, after a good dinner?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019d never guess. Hold on to your umbrella now, Percival, for I\u2019m\nabout to startle you. I\u2019ve been in Ireland.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever!\u201d\n\n\u201cA fact, I assure you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you\u2019re alive to tell the tale?\u201d\n\n\u201cIreland is not bad quarters, I can tell you. I was capitally fed. I had\na game of Polo in the Ph\u0153nix Park\u2014and that _is_ a park. I had as good a\nrubber at the Kildare Street Club as ever I played at the Raleigh. I saw\nsome very fit soldiering at the Curragh of Kildare. I landed my\nthirty-seven-pound salmon from a river with an impossible name in\nConnemara. I took to Connemara _con amore_\u2014excuse the pun, it\u2019s rather\nearly. And I\u2019ll let you into a secret, Percival: I mean to return for\nthe grouse on the 20th of August.\u201d\n\n\u201cApropos of Ireland, get Minniver to show you two letters I received\nlast week from some people calling themselves my cousins; they are the\nrichest things in town. They have had nothing in the smoking-room of the\nGarrick so good since the night old Fladgate told Thackeray that, in\norder to render his lectures on the Four Georges a success, he should\nhire a piano.\u201d\n\nJack Pommery is a clever, hard-working young barrister\u2014a coming man. He\nwas senior wrangler of his year at Cambridge, and carried off one or two\n\u201cbig things.\u201d He rowed in the \u2018varsity eight and boxed like a\nprize-fighter. Pommery, while he believes in work, stoutly maintains\nthat the brain can only do a certain amount of it, and under cover of\nthis theory casts aside wig and gown for a run with the Pytchley, a pull\non the Thames, a breezer in the Channel under double reefs, a month on\nthe moors\u2014in a word, he goes in for what Micky Free termed \u201chapes o\u2019\ndivarshin.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve just seen your _fleuriste_, Jack. She still keeps the key of the\nblue chamber.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe\u2019ll not sell me.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you won\u2019t let me into the secret\u2014you won\u2019t divulge the name of the\nviolet lady?\u201d\n\n\u201cSome day.\u201d\n\n\u201cSome day is no day.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s a caprice, Percival. Every clever man has a caprice.\u201d\n\n\u201cBravo! Let me hear you blow that trumpet again. Why, the guard of the\nWindsor Coach doesn\u2019t use his yard of tin with greater effect,\u201d laughed\nPercival.\n\n\u201cBah! chaff! The story is very simple. It is idyllic. I meet a girl, no\nmatter where. She has violet eyes. She is as modest as a violet. _Qui me\ncherche me trouve_ is her motto\u2014a true woman\u2019s motto, my man. I went\nspooney on her. I am spoons still. I told her that until I met her again\nI would send her a bunch of violets every day. I send the bunch of\nviolets every day, _et voil\u00e0 tout_!\u201d\n\n\u201cVery pretty and sentimental, \u2019pon honor\u2014worthy of being written by\nWilkie Collins and set to music by Arthur Sullivan. I won\u2019t press you on\nthe subject, Jack, but I\u2019ll tell you what I will press you to do.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d\n\n\u201cCome back to the Garrick and have a steak\u2014one of our famous fat slugs\nof beef that Thackeray revelled over after his favorite dish of tripe.\u201d\n\n\u201cTry a chop at the Albion with me. It\u2019s a real English chop-house, a\ntavern in the best sense of the good old English word. We\u2019ll be sure to\nmeet some queer people there. The theatrical stars most do congregate\nwithin its precincts. Toole, Irving, Barry Sullivan haunt it when not\n\u2018on circuit.\u2019 Confound their impudence in appropriating the pet terms of\nmy honorable profession!\u201d\n\n\u201cHave at thy chops, slave!\u201d cried Percival melodramatically as they\npassed along through groves of cabbages, batteries of turnips, golden\nvistas of carrots, groups of women engaged in shelling peas.\n\nThe two entered the tavern, and, having seated themselves in a sort of\nloose box constructed of black oak, with a table set in the middle,\nPommery gave the order to a waiter whose pronounced accent bespoke an\nintimate acquaintance with the road that leads from the Upper Lake at\nKillarney to Gougawn Barra. He was an honest-looking, open-faced,\nelderly man, civil without being servile, and the possessor of a twinkle\nin the corner of his eye that proclaimed the land of his nativity\nequally with his unctuous and oily brogue.\n\nA loud rapping on the table in the next compartment made itself heard,\nwhile an authoritative voice called:\n\n\u201cHas that sheep been caught yet?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s on the fire, sir,\u201d responded the waiter.\n\n\u201cI suppose you intend that as a sample of Irish wit.\u201d This said with a\nsneer.\n\n\u201cTroth, mebbe it\u2019s good enough for\u2014\u201d and the man checked himself.\n\n\u201cLet me have none of your impertinence, fellow. You Irish require to be\nkept under heel, every one of you.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo we?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do, and it takes an Englishman to do it.\u201d\n\n\u201cSee that, now,\u201d said the waiter, angrily brushing the table, and by a\nvigorous effort keeping back the fierce retort that was on the leap in\nhis heart.\n\n\u201cGet me my chop.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll get it, never fear,\u201d hurrying away.\n\nPercival and his companion overheard this dialogue.\n\n\u201cIf I were that waiter,\u201d exclaimed Pommery, \u201cI\u2019d chuck the chop at that\ninsolent fellow\u2019s head.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat can the poor wretch do? He\u2019s paid for this sort of thing.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s not paid to be insulted by a man who, the chances are, considers\nhimself a gentleman.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s very bad form.\u201d\n\nThe waiter returned with the autocrat\u2019s luncheon.\n\n\u201cHow dare you bring me a chop cooked in this way? Do you imagine I am in\nan Irish pig-sty? Send me an English waiter.\u201d\n\nAt this moment a tall, awkward-looking youth, attired in a home-spun\nsuit of gray frieze, ill-fitting if not shabby, slowly arose from a\ntable right opposite, and, lounging over, quietly asked:\n\n\u201cWill I do?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo what, sir?\u201d demanded the irate Saxon.\n\n\u201cWait on you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWait on _me_? You are not a waiter.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am an Irishman; perhaps _I_ might be able to please you better than\nmy countryman.\u201d\n\nPommery leaned over to Percival:\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s some fun here.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s danger,\u201d was the reply.\n\nThe bully stared very hard at the young Irishman, surveying him from\nhead to foot.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t want _you_,\u201d he growled.\n\n\u201cOh! you don\u2019t,\u201d still in the same calm tone.\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re certain?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ve had your answer, my gentleman. Go back to your luncheon.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot for one moment. I\u2019ve not quite done with you yet. I have heard your\nobservations to this helpless old man\u201d\u2014his voice quivering, his eye\nflashing\u2014\u201cyour brutal insolence.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir!\u201d starting as if he had been stung.\n\n\u201cYour ruffianly comments,\u201d continued the other. \u201cYou knew that your\neighteen pence was your armor, and that you could insult both him and\nhis country with impunity. Now, my good fellow, _I_ am an Irishman, and,\nonly that I happen to be in a very particular hurry, I\u2019d compel you to\neat that chop.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean, sir?\u201d he gasped.\n\n\u201cPrecisely what I say,\u201d replied the other.\n\n\u201cHow dare\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cSee here, now, my good fellow, keep your hectoring for helpless waiters\nand feeble women. I come from a country where the word _dare_ reaps a\ncrop of broken bones. I know you and your mongrel class. And before I\nleave let me give you a bit of advice. Don\u2019t speak disrespectfully of\nIreland until you are sure of your company. The moment you find yourself\nsurrounded by your own set fire away.\u201d And nodding jauntily, he walked\nto the cashier\u2019s desk, paid his bill, gave the now hilarious waiter a\nshilling, and sprang into a hansom that awaited him at the door, leaving\nthe bully turning red and white by turns and looking the very\nimpersonation of baffled hate and rage.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s no end of a brick,\u201d cried Pommery glowingly.\n\n\u201cA gentleman to the back-bone.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll swear it.\u201d\n\n\u201cBlood will tell.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wonder who he can be? Depend on\u2019t he\u2019s of the right lot.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a nice touch of the brogue!\u201d\n\n\u201cJust a _soup\u00e7on_. I\u2019m awfully sorry he didn\u2019t whip the fellow.\u201d\n\nAfter some fierce yet gloomy consultation with the manager and a couple\nof obsequious waiters the autocrat approached the table at which the two\nswells were seated.\n\n\u201cYou have been witness to a ruffianly act,\u201d clearing his throat, \u201con the\npart of a scoundrel who has just left. It amounts to an assault in the\neyes of the law. I do not intend to let the matter drop here. I\u2019m an\nEnglishman, and I\u2019d take it out of that sneak in double-quick. You saw a\ngentleman assaulted\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI saw him assault _no_ gentleman,\u201d said Percival.\n\n\u201cYou saw him assault _me_, sir,\u201d retorted the other loftily.\n\n\u201cI did; but I saw him assault no gentleman,\u201d coolly surveying the bully\nfrom head to foot. \u201cYou, sir, are what we call a cad. Come, Pommery.\u201d\n\nThe autocrat muttered something with reference to \u201cswells,\u201d eyes, blood,\nand other full-flavored language as the two young men sauntered forth in\nthe direction of \u201cthe Garden.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s nothing to be done at the office to-day; suppose we go to the\nPark\u2014the Ladies\u2019 Mile. Alice Lindsay has been presented by her uncle,\nSir Winifred, with a superb mount; let\u2019s see how she takes to it.\u201d\n\nIt is right genial pleasure to lean upon the rails in Hyde Park and\nwatch equestrians and equestriennes flash past on satin-coated,\narch-necked, dainty-limbed horses; to meet one\u2019s friends beneath the\nshade of the elms, and to enjoy a good round gossip, than which there is\nnothing pleasanter under the sun.\n\nPercival and Pommery knew everybody worth knowing. Nods, becks, and\nwreathed smiles greeted them right, left, and centre. Fair dames\nshowered graciousness upon them, handsome cavaliers nodded familiarly.\n\n\u201cWell, you Pylades and Orestes, Castor and Pollux, Siamese twins, how am\nyou?\u201d exclaimed a dapper little gentleman mounted upon a rattling cob,\nreining in and addressing our two friends.\n\n\u201cAh! Lindsay, you here? I thought you were in Constantinople,\u201d greeted\nPercival.\n\n\u201cSo I were,\u201d perverting his English; \u201cbut I left my fez behind me to\nshow my \u2019fiz\u2019 here. Twiggey voo?\u201d\n\n\u201cHow is your sister?\u201d\n\n\u201cPretty bobbish.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hear she has a superb mount.\u201d\n\n\u201cToo superb, _mon camarade_. She\u2019s a lucky girl if her collar-bone isn\u2019t\nfractured before twenty-four hours. The brute is a good brute, but just\nas fit for a woman to ride as a wild zebra. Here she comes. By Jove! she\ncan\u2019t hold him.\u201d\n\nA young girl cantered up, very red in the face from hard pulling.\n\n\u201cWell, Alice, you\u2019ve had enough of that brass elephant, hasn\u2019t you?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a bit of it,\u201d cried Miss Lindsay, a bright, aristocratic-looking,\nblue-eyed, tow-haired young lady, with lines of decision around a saucy\nmouth, and with a form that bespoke the use of dumb-bells and all those\nminor appanages relating to the development of muscular Christianity.\n\n\u201cShall I ride with you?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Fred; I can do the mile with Bertie,\u201d a younger brother astride a\nshaggy Shetland.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you see two fellows whom you know, Alice?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, of course I do. I\u2019ve nearly nodded my head off at both of them,\nand they have jerked the rims of their beavers out of shape,\u201d laughed\nthe girl. \u201c_Allons_, Bertie.\u201d And lightly touching the magnificent but\nvicious-looking animal, which she sat _\u00e0 ravir_, she started off like an\narrow from a bow, followed by the shaggy Shetland.\n\n\u201cHave a lift behind, queer fellows? No? Then I\u2019ll leave you to your\nmeditations.\u201d And Fred Lindsay trotted off in the direction taken by his\nsister.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s the happiest dog I know, Percival,\u201d observed Pommery. \u201cTen\nthousand a year, a house in May-Fair, a villa on the Thames, a\nshooting-box in Scotland, a loving tailor, a careful cook, and the\nconstitution of a horse and cart.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has, as the Americans say, a good time of it. By the way, who\u2019s to\nwoo and win his sister?\u201d\n\n\u201cDymoke, of the Guards.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, he hasn\u2019t\u2014but, I say, what\u2019s this? A runaway, by George!\u2014a woman.\nShe\u2019ll get thrown; she reels in the saddle,\u201d jumping excitedly on a\nseat. \u201cShe\u2019s a brick. She\u2019s pulling the brute. Yes\u2014no\u2014it\u2019s Miss Lindsay.\nShe can do nothing. She\u2019ll be killed if she loses her seat. The pace is\nawful. She\u2019s lost her head. She\u2019s done for.\u201d\n\nSuch were the exclamations rapidly uttered by Eugene Percival as the\nfainting form of Miss Lindsay was borne past him like a flash.\n\n\u201cMagnificently done!\u201d shouted Pommery. \u201cThat fellow is a man, whoever he\nis.\u201d\n\nJust as the young girl was swaying heavily from side to side in her\nsaddle, and about to sink fainting to the earth, one of the onlookers\nplunged forward, and, seizing the reins of the maddened horse in a grasp\nof steel, brought the animal almost to his haunches. The swooning girl\nwas thrown violently forward, to be received in his arms as though she\nwere a down pillow cast at him in play.\n\nPercival and Pommery forced their way through the crowd.\n\n\u201cMake way, please; we are friends of this lady,\u201d cried Percival. \u201cLet\nher have air. Carry her into the shade.\u201d\n\nMiss Lindsay was borne to the pathway and placed upon one of the\nbenches, while some cold water was dashed in her face.\n\n\u201cHow splendidly she behaved!\u201d cried one of the bystanders.\n\n\u201cSuch nerve!\u201d\n\n\u201cSuch English pluck!\u201d\n\n\u201cPshaw!\u201d exclaimed the gentleman who had been the means of rescuing her,\n\u201cI know twenty Irish girls who would have brought that brute to his\nsenses without any of this sort of fuss.\u201d\n\nAt this juncture Fred Lindsay galloped up.\n\n\u201cIs she much hurt?\u201d he anxiously demanded.\n\n\u201cShe\u2019s not hurt at all; she\u2019s frightened.\u201d And half a dozen persons\nvolunteered a statement of the occurrence, all speaking together.\n\n\u201cHow _can_ I thank you?\u201d said Lindsay, turning to the stranger. \u201cLet me\nhave your name and address. By Jove! I must do something to express our\ngratitude.\u201d\n\n\u201cI stop twenty horses a day in the fields at home, and wickeder brutes\nthan that, so don\u2019t say one word.\u201d And ere Lindsay could interpose the\nother had mingled with the crowd.\n\n\u201cDid you see him?\u201d asked Percival of Pommery.\n\n\u201cWho?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe young fellow who rescued Miss Lindsay.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot particularly.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, it\u2019s our Irishman.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo it is. I\u2019m awfully sorry not to have spoken to him. What a fellow he\nis, to be sure!\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nEugene Percival, amongst other invitations, received a card for a\ndinner-party at the Lindsays\u2019 for the following Tuesday.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019ve been sadly put about,\u201d said Miss Lindsay as he arrived, \u201cgroomed\nto a hair.\u201d \u201cOur party was made up, fitting oh! so nicely. I had my old\nman and my old lady, and the man who can talk opera, and the girl who\ncan talk Tennyson, and my M. P. who can talk politics. I had the\nagricultural element and the lawn-tennis element, and a man who can talk\nacross the table, and the man who knows everything\u2014yourself\u2014and lo! a\nwicked fairy _bon gr\u00e9 mal gr\u00e9_ adds two unexpected guests to my party by\na wave of her wand, and spoils it. Isn\u2019t it awful?\u201d cries the hostess\npiteously, elevating a superb bouquet to her dainty nose.\n\n\u201cWhat did she give you?\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly fancy\u2014two Irish people!\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is ironical of destiny,\u201d laughed Percival.\n\n\u201cI won\u2019t know what to say to them, what to do with them. I want you to\nstand in the gap, Mr. Percival, to see me through this miserable\n_contretemps_.\u201d\n\n\u201cPut me down for anything, from the _Annals of the Four Masters_ to\ndancing an Irish jig. I haven\u2019t the faintest idea who the Four Masters\nare, and I\u2019ve never seen the jig danced, but \u2019shure I\u2019ll troy,\u2019\u201d\nendeavoring to imitate the Irish brogue, and failing dismally, as does\nevery cockney rash enough to venture upon the experiment.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve never seen these people. I called at their hotel yesterday, but\nthey were out doing St. Paul\u2019s, or the Tower, or the Houses of\nParliament, or the Thames Tunnel, as is the habit of tourists proper.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow did you drop into this trap, Miss Lindsay?\u201d\n\n\u201cThis wise: My uncle, Sir Winifred, spent some weeks last autumn with\nthem in Ireland. He is a man who is ever anxious to repay a courtesy\ntwofold.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wonder, if I lent him ten sovereigns, would he return me twenty?\u201d\nlaughed Percival.\n\n\u201cIf it was _en r\u00e8gle_, he would most decidedly. He, it appears, met\nthem\u2014wherever do you think?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sure I cannot say.\u201d\n\n\u201cAt Madame Tussaud\u2019s.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir Winifred at such a place! What an old wax-work it is!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe loves that Chamber of Horrors, and every time a murderer\u2019s head is\nadded to it my uncle potters off directly to have a look at it. He\nencountered his Irish friends in this Chamber last Saturday, and\ninstantly takes them to the Star and Garter at Richmond to dine. He had\nthem at the Zoo on Sunday, last night at the opera, and to-night he has\nfoisted them on me; so you won\u2019t mind roughing it a little, will you?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly not. Is there anything Irish in the house? One must talk\nIreland, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing except a genuine Ulster that never crossed the Channel in its\nlife. We bought it last year at the Robber of the North\u2019s, McDougal, at\nInverness.\u201d\n\n\u201cWere you in Scotland lawst year?\u201d drawled a pink-faced young man,\nlounging up.\n\n\u201cOh! yes; we did the Kyles of Bute, and the Crenan Canal, and Oban, and\non by Ballachullish to the Pass of Glencoe, and we slept at Bannavic,\nand went up the Caledonian Canal.\u201d And Miss Lindsay went off into a gush\nof rapture over the glorious scenery of the land o\u2019cakes.\n\nA powdered-headed flunky announced Mr. and Miss Devereux, but in such a\nmanner that the name might as well have been Smith. Miss Lindsay\ncourteously advanced to receive her guests with \u201cSo pleased to see you!\nCalled at your hotel yesterday. How long have you been in London? How do\nyou like Babylon? Your first visit?\u201d\n\nCharley Devereux\u2014for \u2019tis he\u2014gazes very hard at his hostess. Could he be\nmistaken, or is not this the young lady whom he \u201cchucked off\u201d the\nrunaway horse?\n\n\u201cAre you fond of riding?\u201d he abruptly asked.\n\n\u201cOh! passionately. I ride every day.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid you ride in the park on Friday?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, and was nearly killed. My horse, a thoroughbred, bolted. I fought\nhim as long as I could. I got giddy, and I can recollect nothing till I\nfound myself stretched on a bench beneath one of the trees on the side\npath.\u201d\n\n\u201cWere you thrown?\u201d asked Miss Devereux, of whom more anon.\n\n\u201cWell, yes and no. A man in the crowd\u2014a young mechanic, my brother\nsays\u2014stopped the horse and caught me as I was flying through the air.\u201d\n\n\u201cCharley, don\u2019t _you_ know something\u2014\u201d\n\nA look from her brother silenced Miss Devereux.\n\n\u201cWere you present?\u201d asked Miss Lindsay.\n\n\u201cI should rather say he was,\u201d interposed Lindsay, who had just entered,\ngiving a finishing touch to his toilette as he bounded down the stairs.\n\u201cWhy, hang it, Alice, don\u2019t you know that it is to this gentleman you\nprobably owe your life?\u201d\n\nMiss Lindsay opened her blue eyes very wide.\n\n\u201cIs this possible?\u201d she cried.\n\n\u201cWhy, of course it is. My dear fellow,\u201d exclaimed Lindsay, seizing\nCharley Devereux by both hands, \u201cneed I say what intense pleasure it is\nto find my sister\u2019s rescuer in the person of a friend of my uncle?\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. Devereux,\u201d added Alice, presenting two dainty hands in gloves of\nmany buttons, and impulsively flinging away her brother\u2019s hands, \u201cthis\n_is_ a joyous surprise. Why, Fred told me you were a mechanic\u2014that is,\u201d\nshe added with a blush\u2014\u201cyou see he is awfully near-sighted.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t apologize, Miss Lindsay. My old home-spun suit is becoming very\ndingy, but I like it so well that I wouldn\u2019t part with it for one of\nSmallpage\u2019s marvellous frocks.\u201d\n\nThe pompous flunky announced dinner.\n\n\u201cYou will take _me_ down, Mr. Devereux. I shall jilt Lord Jocelyn for\nthe _preux chevalier_ who has so charmingly proved that the age of\nchivalry is not yet dead. By the way, I must do _my devoirs_.\u201d And\nsummoning Percival from a distant corner of the room, she presented him\nto Miss Devereux.\n\nHe did not catch the name, but, offering that young lady his arm, he\nmoved towards the door.\n\n\u201cNow for pigs and potatoes,\u201d he thought.\n\nHe took a good look at the young girl on his arm, and he beheld a very\ncharming form, soft brown wavy hair in a glorious luxuriance, tastefully\nand neatly bound up in plaits, a fair skin slightly freckled, a nose a\nlittle tip-tilted like the petal of a flower, a rich red mouth, and\nearnest gray eyes shaded by long, sweeping lashes.\n\n\u201cYour first visit to London?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy first.\u201d\n\nShe turned her face to him, and then he perceived its delicate oval, its\nlow, straight forehead, its pencilled brows, its charming innocence and\npurity of expression. This was not the brogue he expected to hear. This\nwas not the face or form he had so dreaded to meet. Why, he could get on\nwith this charming bit of Emerald without any reference to the Isle,\nsave what it might please her Serene Greenship to indulge in.\n\n\u201cAnd how do you like London?\u201d he asked, after the gentle fuss of\nseat-taking had subsided, and every person had opened his or her napkin\nafter his or her own particular fashion.\n\n\u201cIt oppresses me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn what way?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is too vast, too grand, too colossal. It wearies. I have had more\nheadache since I came here than ever I earned over my Latin grammar.\u201d\n\n\u201cLatin grammar! Are you so deep as Latin?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have taught Latin,\u201d and, seeing his puzzled expression, \u201cto my _very_\nyoung brothers.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Jove!\u201d It\u2019s all Percival has to say, and he says it.\n\nMiss Devereux indulged in a low, musical laugh at her cavalier\u2019s\nexpense.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re laughing at me?\u201d said the bureaucrat, giving a tremendous tug to\nhis moustache.\n\n\u201cI am,\u201d was her reply.\n\n\u201cWhy?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s singularly amusing to hear an Englishman focus all his energies\nupon his favorite exclamation.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what do you say in Ireland?\u201d he retorted, somewhat nettled.\n\n\u201cYou must ask my brother.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf he waits till I ask him,\u201d thought Percival, \u201che\u2019ll be as gray as a\nbadger.\u201d\n\nMr. Percival indulged in another gaze at his fair companion, who was\nengaged in the unromantic task of enjoying her dinner, while he found\nhimself _hors de combat_ after a spoonful of soup and a devilled\nwhitebait. He discovered a certain magnetism about her that irresistibly\nattracted him. The charm of her beauty was not in her golden hair, whose\nwavelets threw up the brilliancy of her rich color; not in the pure\ncream-tinted skin, not in the exquisitely delicate curve of the chin and\ncheek, nor in the sauciness of her _retrouss\u00e9_ nose; it was the\nunconscious pleasure in her face, a joy that positively breathed\nhappiness from every feature.\n\n\u201cHow does it come that you have no brogue?\u201d he abruptly asked.\n\n\u201cOh! dear, yes I have. I would shame the bogs of Ballynashaughnagaun if\nI did not fairly represent them in the land of the Saxon.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo pronounce that jaw-breaker again.\u201d\n\n\u201cBallynashaughnagaun.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow dreadful!\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have longer names than that.\u201d And Miss Devereux, to Percival\u2019s\nintense amusement, proceeded to run over the townlands surrounding her\nwild Connemara home.\n\n\u201cOnly fancy if a man got lost in Knocka-what-you-may-call-um; why, he\u2019d\nperish by the wayside ere he could ask his way to the place from whence\nhe came.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am quite prepared to think that you would,\u201d she laughed.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m rather a dab at languages,\u201d he said, with a certain tinge of\nself-satisfaction in his tone.\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon\u2014a what?\u201d\n\n\u201cA dab.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay I ask which of your languages is that word borrowed from, Mr.\nPercival?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s supposed to be English,\u201d he laughed.\n\n\u201cOh! I am so relieved. I was afraid you were going to attach it to\nIreland, and then\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd then?\u201d\n\n\u201c_Guerra al cuchillo_\u2014war to the knife.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you a dab?\u2014I beg pardon; do you speak Spanish?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do; we are quite an Irish-Spanish colony.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn Irish-Spanish colony! In the name of wonder what is that?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell you. The _Infanta_, one of the largest of the vessels\nattached to the Spanish Armada, was wrecked on the coast of Mayo. The\nsurvivors settled along the coast as far as Galway. My great, great,\ngreat, ever so great-grand-mamma was a daughter of one of the officers.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow is it that you come to have such glorious gray eyes?\u201d This was said\nenthusiastically.\n\n\u201cDo not let that iced _soufflet_ pass, Mr. Percival; it is too good to\nsnub so unmercifully.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a facer!\u201d thought the Foreign Office clerk as he called back the\nservant with the _entr\u00e9e_ in question.\n\nMiss Devereux did not understand any gentleman\u2019s gushing in this manner\nupon an acquaintance of twenty minutes. If young ladies would only ice\nmenkind occasionally, instead of permitting them to say what they will,\ntheir sway would be absolutely without limit; but, alas! the girls of\nto-day are too\u2014but I will not be cynical.\n\n\u201cWhat part of Ireland do you come from, Miss \u2014\u2014?\u201d He has not heard her\nname, and mumbles something unintelligible to fill up the gap.\n\n\u201cConnemara.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know some people living out there.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed! As I know everybody living _out there_, I am quite sure we\nshall discover mutual friends.\u201d\n\nNow, Mr. Eugene Percival, not having the remotest idea of who Miss\nDevereux might be, imagines that this is a very good opportunity for\nbeing very amusing, and he accordingly plunges _in medias res_ without\nmore ado.\n\n\u201cThe name is Devereux,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cDevereux?\u201d she repeated. \u201cThere is but one family of that name in\nMayo.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf Bally\u2014something.\u201d\n\n\u201cBallybo?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s it. Ballybo. Do you know them?\u201d\n\nShe gave one short, sharp glance at him. Was this Englishman about to\namuse himself at her expense? Was he going to exercise his English\nstupidity in a practical joke? No; she instinctively felt that Percival\nwas a gentleman and would not _dare_ take a liberty; and she perceived\nhim so full of suppressed mirth that she resolved upon letting him have\nit all his own way.\n\n\u201cYes, I know them,\u201d she replied.\n\n\u201cWhat sort of people are they?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! very commonplace, and somewhat old-fashioned in their ways,\u201d hardly\nable to keep back a burst of laughter.\n\n\u201cI thought as much. I\u2019ll tell you a capital thing that has occurred\nwithin the last week.\u201d Here he indulged in a series of gentlemanly\nchuckles. \u201cI had a letter from Ballyporeen.\u201d\n\n\u201cBallybo? _You_, Mr. Percival?\u201d she exclaimed in a surprised way.\n\n\u201cYes, from an excellent lady, who addresses me as her cousin, and signs\nherself Martha Mary Grace Devereux, and who informed me that her son and\ndaughter were coming to town, and begged of me to take care of them.\u201d\n\nMiss Devereux, dropping her knife and fork, gazed steadily at Percival.\nShe became very white, while a sudden anger flamed in her expressive\neyes.\n\n\u201cYou, then, are Mr. Eugene Percival?\u201d she said, a harshness in her\nvoice.\n\n\u201cYaas.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf the Foreign Office?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have the honor to be attached to that blundering institution.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I do not mistake, Mr. Percival, you received more than _one_ letter\nfrom Ballybo.\u201d\n\n\u201cYaas, I got one from a sulky young Irishman who\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you met him?\u201d she interrupted.\n\n\u201cNo, thank Heaven! and I hope I never shall.\u201d\n\nThis was uttered so fervently that Miss Devereux, yielding to an\nungovernable impulse, rang out a peal of musical laughter so bright, so\njoyous, so contagious that the remainder of the company ceased their\ncolorless prattle in order firstly to listen and then to join in it.\n\n\u201cYou are having all the fun to yourself,\u201d cried Lindsay, addressing\nGeraldine Devereux. \u201cWhat is the _mot_? Do send it round; we want\nsomething more _piquante_ than an _entr\u00e9e_ at this stage of the\nproceedings.\u201d\n\nGeraldine, all blushes at this unlooked-for notoriety and isolation,\ndeclared that her laughter arose from a story that was being narrated to\nher by Mr. Percival.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s the first time Percival ever succeeded in making anybody laugh\n_with_ him,\u201d exclaimed a sour-looking old gentleman who wore the red\nribbon of a C. B. round his neck.\n\n\u201cLet us have it, Percival, _pro bono publico_.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it any secret of the office, Mr. Percival?\u201d demanded Miss Lindsay.\n\u201cBecause if it is there\u2019s \u2019a chiel amang ye takin\u2019 notes.\u2019 Eh, Lord\nJocelyn?\u201d\n\n\u201cLike the ghost of Hamlet\u2019s father, I am forbid to tell the secrets of\nmy prison-house,\u201d was Percival\u2019s retort.\n\n\u201cIs it worth hearing?\u2014that is the question.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well worth hearing,\u201d said Geraldine.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s merely an Irish adventure,\u201d observed Percival.\n\n\u201cMerely? Why, where is adventure to be achieved, if not in Ireland?\nCome, Percival, let us have it,\u201d urged his host.\n\nThis was too good a chance for the member of Parliament. \u201cI was in the\nHouse the night the Home-Rulers\u2014\u201d And he commenced an anecdote under\ncover of which the Foreign Office clerk was enabled to beat a retreat.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s an awfully funny story, but some of the people here wouldn\u2019t see\nit, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t see it yet, Mr. Percival; you have only just commenced. Pray\nproceed.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, you see, I got this letter raking me up, you know, and the other\nletter from the young Irish wolf-dog, who wouldn\u2019t have me at any price.\nHow awfully emerald these people must be to imagine that _I_ could\u2014may I\nuse an Irish word?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d hotly.\n\n\u201cBother myself about them, especially in the height of the season.\u201d And\nMr. Percival emptied a glass of champagne to his own sentiment.\n\n\u201cPoor things! And you don\u2019t intend taking any notice of them?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo more than if they never existed.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd are you their kinsman?\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe so, now that I have looked into the matter.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you think you are acting rather shabbily?\u201d\n\n\u201cSo Jack Pommery says.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd Jack Pommery is right,\u201d exclaimed Geraldine, clinching her little\nleft hand and bringing it down into the rosy palm of her right.\n\n\u201cDo you know Jack Pommery?\u201d asked Percival.\n\n\u201cI\u2014I have met him.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt must have been in Ireland, then,\u201d earnestly.\n\n\u201cIt was.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Jove!\u201d\n\nThis exclamation caused Geraldine to observe Percival. There was a\nmysterious knowingness on his face that sent the mercury of her\ncuriosity up into the nineties.\n\n\u201cIs Mr. Pommery an acquaintance of yours, Mr. Percival?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is my _alter ego_, my better man; and I think I have got at his\nsecret.\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely such strong friends have no secrets from one another.\u201d\n\n\u201cJack kept one bottled up ever so tight, wired down like the bitter beer\nthey send to India. May I ask you a question?\u201d turning abruptly to\nGeraldine.\n\n\u201cYou have asked so many that usage has almost become a right, Mr.\nPercival.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you fond of violets?\u201d\n\nA red, red rose-blush spread itself over the young Irish girl\u2019s face and\nneck and shell-like ears\u2014a blush that came and glowed and refused to be\nput down\u2014a blush that wooed and caressed and fondled.\n\n\u201cWhy do you ask me?\u201d she palpitated.\n\nAt this moment Miss Lindsay telegraphed for the ladies to retire, and\nthe usual uprising, and rustle and removal of chairs, and grim punctilio\nof menkind, and saucy _insouciance_ of womenkind took place. When the\ngentlemen had reseated themselves the host cried:\n\n\u201cClose quarters, _mes braves_. Approach to the attack of this fortress\nof Ch\u00e2teau Lafitte. Get up here, Percival; you were lost to me for the\nlast two hours.\u201d\n\nIn obedience to the mandate of his host the bureaucrat moved more above\nthe salt, and, casting his eyes across the table, he was astonished and\ndelighted to discover the young Irishman who had so pluckily\ndistinguished himself upon the two occasions already detailed in this\ntruthful narrative.\n\n\u201cI am awfully glad to meet you,\u201d he said, taking up his glass and moving\nto a vacant chair beside Charley Devereux.\n\nCharley bowed stiffly and awkwardly.\n\n\u201cI was at the Albion with a friend last Thursday when you dropped upon\nthat disgusting cad.\u201d\n\nDevereux blushed like a schoolgirl.\n\n\u201cHe was a low, swaggering blackguard, and, only I had an appointment\nwith my sister, I\u2019d have kicked him into Covent Garden among the\ncabbages,\u201d he warmly exclaimed.\n\n\u201cHe wanted my friend and I to witness what he called the assault, but we\ngave him scant encouragement. I also saw you the very same day do a very\nplucky thing in Hyde Park.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! I know what you mean. Pshaw! it\u2019s not worth mentioning.\u201d\n\n\u201cIsn\u2019t it? The eyes of our fair hostess tell another story.\u201d\n\nCharley Devereux drained a glass of claret and remained silent.\n\n\u201cAs you announced your nationality at the Albion, I know that you are\nIrish.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo the backbone, I hope.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you reside here?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; I\u2019ve only run over for a few days.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall be glad to make you an honorary member of my club.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat club is it?\u201d asked Charley.\n\n\u201cI belong to two, the Garrick and the Reform. I can make you an honorary\nmember of the Reform; at the Garrick we are powerless.\u201d\n\n\u201cThanks. I won\u2019t trouble you, my stay is so short. I know, at least I do\nnot know, a member of the Garrick.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s his name?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, he\u2019s not worth naming. He\u2019s what you call in this country a cad.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe don\u2019t patronize cads in Garrick Street, Covent Garden,\u201d said\nPercival, somewhat coldly.\n\n\u201cWell, you\u2019ve got one full-blossomed cad amongst you at all events\u2014what\nwe would call in my country a _shoneen_.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course, as there\u2019s a black sheep in every flock, there\u2019s a shady man\nin every club. May I ask who this _shoneen_ is?\u201d\n\nCharley Devereux was on the point of uttering the two words \u201cEugene\nPercival\u201d when Lindsay burst in.\n\n\u201cI say, you two fellows, you\u2019re snubbing my cellar most awfully. You\nremind me of two pashas whom I met at a dinner-party at Constantinople,\nwho\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeaking of Constantinople,\u201d interrupted the member of Parliament, \u201cSir\nStafford Northcote on Tuesday night\u2014\u201d commencing a sing-song, Dryasdust\nHouse of Commons story which lasted until coffee was announced.\n\nAs the gentlemen were ascending the stairs Percival observed to\nDevereux:\n\n\u201cI took a countrywoman of yours down to dinner.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou took my sister.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed! You do not resemble one another.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is just a family likeness, that\u2019s all.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you reside in Dublin?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot exactly; we live in the wildest portion of Connemara.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you permit me to exchange cards with you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI haven\u2019t got a card, but my name is Devereux.\u201d\n\n\u201cDevereux!\u201d exclaimed Percival, staggering against the wall.\n\n\u201cYes, Charley Devereux.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf Ballybo, County Mayo?\u201d turning red and white by turns.\n\n\u201cQuite right.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd\u2014and\u2014the girl I took down to dinner is _your_ sister?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou took Miss Devereux into dinner,\u201d said Charley proudly.\n\nPercival said nothing. The situation revealed itself in a lurid flash.\nIt was too ghastly. Miss Devereux had listened to his miserable story,\nand, while he imagined he had been amusing her, he had been engaged in\ndigging a pitfall in which it were well he had broken his neck. He had\nbeen constructing a pillory wherein he had sat to be pelted with\ncontumely and ridicule. And Devereux, this lion-hearted young Irishman,\nwhose pluck was of the age of chivalry\u2014this splendid specimen of an\nIrish gentleman whom he had disowned\u2014had written him down a cad. What\nshould he do? What _could_ he do? What could he say? All the water in\nthe Irish Channel were not sufficient to wash him clean of the stains\nimprinted by his own bovine ignorance. What idiotic folly tempted him to\nrush into the details of that wretched episode? Why had he not acted as\na gentleman? Why had he not replied to the letter of Mrs. Devereux and\nleft his card on his kinsfolk? The affair would have died out then and\nthere, and he would have done his _devoir_. He felt sick and giddy. The\nworst impeachment is that which comes from one\u2019s self. No sentence so\nstern, no torture so severe. He felt that, blinded by prejudice, he had\nacted a mean, unmanly part, and was now hoist on his own petard. Nemesis\nhad followed him, and the sword of Damocles descended how unexpectedly!\nOf course Miss Devereux despised him. She was civil because\nconventionality demanded it and because true blood always tells. To her\nbrother he should reveal himself, cost what it would. All that a\ngentleman can do is to apologize, and the _amende honorable_ was already\nan overdue draft.\n\nTo do Eugene Percival justice, he was not a bad sort of fellow. He was\nonly thoroughly English; and, whilst the English love the Irish\nindividually, collectively they despise them. This farcical ignorance of\nIreland and the Irish leads to a deal of misconception, and there are\nthousands of Saxons who would travel across Central Africa sooner than\nundertake the four hours between Holyhead and Kingstown, the sixty-three\nmiles separating North Wales from the county of Dublin.\n\nThey had reached the drawing-room landing. At the open door Miss\nDevereux was chatting with considerable animation to Miss Lindsay.\n\n\u201cMr. Devereux,\u201d said Percival, \u201cwill you oblige me by stepping this\nway?\u201d advancing to where the ladies stood.\n\n\u201cWell, Mr. Percival,\u201d exclaimed Alice Lindsay, \u201cwhen are we to have your\nIrish story?\u201d\n\n\u201cNow.\u201d\n\nThere was something in the tone that compelled attention. Miss Devereux,\nwith a woman\u2019s quick perception, felt the approaching _d\u00e9nouement_, and,\nlike a true woman, endeavored to spare this man his utter humiliation.\n\n\u201cIrish stories should be told in Ireland,\u201d she cried.\n\n\u201cThere is one Irish story that must be told _here_, Miss Lindsay,\u201d said\nPercival gravely, \u201cand I would beg your attention for a very brief\nmoment.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, it must be a very tragic one,\u201d cried the hostess. \u201cYou are as\ngrave as the entire senate when Othello addressed them,\u201d to Percival.\n\u201c_You_, my dear little Irish girl, from being as joyous as Nora Creina,\nare as sad as poor suffering Erin herself; and you, _caballero mio_,\u201d to\nDevereux, \u201chave summoned a winter cloud of frown to your brow, behind it\nthunder. If Mr. Percival insists let us hear his horrible tale in\ncomfort. _Messieurs et mesdames, asseyez vous._\u201d\n\nNo one took a seat but the hostess, and she sought a coigne of vantage\nupon the stairs.\n\n\u201cI hardly know how to begin,\u201d said Percival very slowly. \u201cI can make no\n_amende_ beyond the utter humiliation the narration of the story will\ninflict, and no ordeal that I could be put to could possibly prove more\nbitter. Until five minutes ago I was in utter ignorance that to Miss\nDevereux and her brother I could claim relationship.\u201d\n\n\u201cRelationship! How awfully jolly!\u201d exclaimed Miss Lindsay, fanning\nherself violently.\n\n\u201cYou, then, are Eugene Percival?\u201d cried Charley Devereux, surveying him\nwith a glance in which scorn and anger struggled for mastery.\n\n\u201cI am Eugene Percival, your kinsman. Stay,\u201d he added as Charley was\nabout to interrupt him. \u201cI ask to be heard\u2014that is all. To err is human,\nto forgive divine. I have made a ghastly mistake; I now eat the humblest\nof pie. I can urge nothing in extenuation for my silly small-talk. It\nwas weak, it was shabby. I pillory myself. I beg to assure you, my\ncousins, that within the last five minutes I have passed through a\nbitter agony. I did not catch your name, Miss Devereux, when the honor\nwas conferred upon me of taking you down to dinner. I had not the\nfaintest conception who you were whilst my stupid tongue babbled. I was\nnot aware that this gentleman was your brother. I did not know who he\nwas until within five minutes. Fate has been playing at cross purposes\nwith me. I offer no apology for my bad form in not replying to the\nletters I received. There is none that could be accepted. A chain of\ncircumstances has woven itself which ties me to the earth. I can only\nsay that I earnestly hope some chance may be granted me of showing how\nanxious I am to redeem myself with my Irish cousins.\u201d And making a deep\nbow, Eugene Percival hurried down the stairs and from the house.\n\n * * * * *\n\nUpon the day following this _d\u00e9nouement_ Percival called upon Jack\nPommery at the lodgings of the latter in New Bond Street.\n\n\u201cHave you been appointed secretary of legation at Ujiji?\u201d laughed Jack.\n\u201cYou look about as cheerful as if you were in for the yellow fever.\u201d\n\n\u201cDrop chaff, Jack; I want to have a long talk with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake that chair, old fellow, and out with it, whatever it is,\u201d cried\nPommery, rolling a luxurious arm-chair to his companion and flinging\nhimself upon a sofa.\n\n\u201cJack, go and call at the Charing Cross Hotel to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cMiss Geraldine Devereux is stopping there.\u201d\n\n\u201cMiss who?\u201d demanded the other, springing like an acrobat to his feet.\n\n\u201cMiss Geraldine Devereux, of Ballybo, County Mayo.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t mean it, Percival!\u201d a great wave of joy passing over his\nhandsome face.\n\n\u201cI do indeed.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow did you come by this?\u201d\n\n\u201cI met her at dinner yesterday at the Lindsays\u2019.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d\n\nPercival repeated his reply.\n\n\u201cAnd I was asked there, and refused for a vile whitebait dinner at\nGreenwich,\u201d said Pommery with a dismal groan.\n\n\u201cShe is absolutely charming, Jack\u2014so na\u00efve, so frank, so coquettish, and\nso pure.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you hit?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would be if my proof-armor had not been buckled on by my friend\nPommery. No, Jack, I want to ask you all about these people, and I\u2019ll\ntell you why: they are my Irish cousins.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot the\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, the writer of one of those fatal letters was Mrs. Devereux; of the\nother, Charley.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is a bad business, Percival,\u201d observed Pommery after a silence.\n\n\u201cIt is a bad business. I am written down a cad, and, by George! I\ndeserve the appellation,\u201d cried Percival, smiting the arm of the chair a\nsevere blow.\n\n\u201cGiving those letters to that ass Minniver was bad form, and I said so.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have got them here. Luckily, Minniver has been down with Bertie\nBaging for the Ascot week, and, except to old Fladgate, he has never\nshown them to mortal. Do you know who Devereux turns out to be?\u201d\n\n\u201cWho?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe young fellow who so pluckily sat upon the rowdy at the Albion.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Jove!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd only fancy, he did not know who Alice Lindsay was until he came to\ndinner at Curzen Street.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Jove!\u201d repeated Jack Pommery.\n\nImpart a piece of startling intelligence to an Englishman, and he will\nalways exclaim, \u201cBy Jove!\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, Jack, tell me all about the Devereux\u2014all that you know. She has\nyounger brothers. Has she a sister?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe has.\u201d\n\n\u201cYounger?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnything like your girl?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is _not_ MY girl, Percival. I only wish that she was,\u201d he added\nwith fierce energy.\n\n\u201cYou should have seen how she blushed when I asked her if she liked\nviolets.\u201d\n\n\u201cPercival!\u201d exclaimed Pommery, \u201cthat was hardly fair.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t agitate yourself, old fellow; the subject was handled, as we say\nat the office, \u2018delicately.\u2019 How old are the younger brothers?\u201d\n\n\u201cOne is about eighteen.\u201d\n\n\u201cBright?\u201d\n\n\u201cVery. He showed me one of Browning\u2019s poems done into Latin, French, and\nsome other language\u2014I think German.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are certain of this, Jack?\u201d cried Percival earnestly.\n\n\u201cI am certain the lad showed them to me, and that he said they were his\nown translations. He\u2019s in Trinity College at Dublin.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat are they going to do with him?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey were speaking of the civil service or the Irish bar. _Entre nous_,\nthey haven\u2019t much money, and it\u2019s a wonder they have a stiver, they are\nso recklessly hospitable. Why, my dear fellow, there were fifteen guests\nstopping at Ballybo while I was there, and we met a whole caravan\ntraversing the beautiful road that runs from Westport along the Atlantic\nwhen _en route_ for the train.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is admirable,\u201d muttered Percival, half thinking aloud.\n\n\u201cWhat is admirable?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind. Is Ballybo a handsome place?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s a fine old mansion of that order of architecture so much in vogue\nwhen Queen Anne was busying herself in distributing largess to\nMarlborough. It is surrounded by superb trees, in which ten thousand\nrooks keep up a cawing that is almost deafening. An inlet of the\nAtlantic almost brings the seaweed to the hall door-steps. The stables\nare fit for the Duke of Beaufort, and I can tell you there are horses in\nthe stalls that would bring their five hundred guineas at Tattersall\u2019s.\u201d\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe \u201cWild Irishman,\u201d as the express from London to Holyhead has been\ntermed, on account of the almost reckless speed at which it travels, was\nabout to start from Euston Square when Mr. Eugene Percival made his\nappearance upon the platform, and, walking along the line of carriages,\nsuddenly stopped opposite a first-class _coup\u00e9_. The compartment was\noccupied by a young lady and gentleman. The lady was Miss Geraldine\nDevereux, the gentleman her brother.\n\nPercival had called at the Charing Cross Hotel, merely leaving cards.\nHis visit was not returned. He sent Miss Devereux a box for the opera,\nwith a superb bouquet from Covent Garden. The box voucher was sent back\nwith the compliments of Mr. Devereux; the flowers Miss Devereux\nretained. For the few days that his Irish cousins remained in London\nEugene Percival made no sign.\n\nRemoving his hat, he respectfully bowed to the occupants of the _coup\u00e9_.\nMiss Devereux sat nearest the window at which he stood.\n\n\u201cI have come to beg forgiveness,\u201d he said. \u201cDo not go back to Ireland\nwithout uttering my pardon.\u201d\n\nNow, it so happened that Charley Devereux, who had been dining with an\nold college chum, was in very good humor, all his war-paint having been\nremoved under the pleasurable influences of a renewed friendship. So,\nthrusting forth his hand, he exclaimed:\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t say anything more about it, Percival. I\u2019m sure you\u2019re sorry.\nYou\u2019ll do better next time, and won\u2019t let your English prejudice bolt\nacross country with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you, Miss Devereux?\u201d\n\n\u201cI may forgive you, and perhaps call you cousin, when you shall have\nmade a lengthened tour in my own sweet land.\u201d\n\n\u201cAm I to avoid Ballybo?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd commit another mistake?\u201d she archly exclaimed.\n\n\u201cI have done with mistakes for ever.\u201d And as he uttered the words the\ntrain moved silently but swiftly away.\n\nAbout three weeks after Miss Devereux had regained her wild mountain\nhome she was considerably astonished one morning upon receiving from out\nthe post-bag a large, important-looking document with the words, \u201cOn Her\nMajesty\u2019s Service,\u201d in front, and an enormous seal on the back, with the\nroyal arms of England stamped upon the red sealing-wax and \u201cForeign\nOffice\u201d underneath them.\n\n\u201cCan this be from Eugene Percival?\u201d she thought, as she tore it open and\nread:\n\n \u201cFOREIGN OFFICE, July 26, 187\u2014.\n\n \u201cDEAR COUSIN GERALDINE DEVEREUX: I enclose a nomination for the\n Foreign Office for my cousin, Patrick Sarsfield Devereux, your\n brother. From the correspondence which has taken place between my\n dear friend Jack Pommery and my kinsman on the subject of his\n future, I trust that this opening is one that will prove suitable to\n his tastes and his talents. It is not impossible that I may visit\n your \u2018impossible country\u2019 when Mr. Pommery runs over for the\n grouse-shooting. With kindest regards to all my kinsfolk, I remain,\n dear Cousin Geraldine Devereux, your friend and cousin,\n\n \u201cEUGENE PERCIVAL.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s a good fellow after all,\u201d cried Geraldine with streaming eyes,\n\u201cand has made more than the _amende honorable_ to his Irish cousins.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n ENGLISH STATESMEN IN UNDRESS.\n LORD CARLINGFORD AND JOHN FRANCIS MAGUIRE.\n\n\nThe English statesman whose personal acquaintance I first made was the\npresent Lord Carlingford, who was at that time the Hon. Chichester\nFortescue, Secretary of State for Ireland in the cabinet of Mr.\nGladstone. I had in my possession a letter of introduction to him, but I\nwas unwilling to use it as a means of \u201cinterviewing\u201d Mr. Fortescue. I\ndesired to obtain certain information from him which he might not be\nwilling to give; and I did not wish that my possible indiscretion in\nasking for the information should reflect at all upon the friend who had\ngiven me the letter. I wrote to Mr. Fortescue, telling him simply who I\nwas and what I wanted, and asking whether he would permit me to call\nupon him. I received a note from his secretary, informing me that at a\ncertain hour Mr. Fortescue would receive me at his office in Great\nGeorge Street, Westminster. This was before the new government offices\nin Whitehall were completed, and when the various governmental bureaus\nwere scattered about, hither and thither, in houses that were not\naltogether magnificent or imposing. By an error of my own in estimating\nthe time necessary for a drive from Bayswater to Great George Street, I\nwas some minutes behind the appointed hour; and when I gave my card to\nthe servant in waiting he regarded me with a reproachful air. \u201cYou have\nbeen asked for, sir,\u201d he said, as he conducted me up-stairs and ushered\nme into an ante-room very plainly, almost poorly, furnished. In a few\nmoments he reappeared, and, leading me through a narrow hall, opened the\ndoor of a larger room, and I found myself in the presence of the Irish\nsecretary: a tall, slim, thin-faced, handsome man, dressed with\nscrupulous neatness, rather starched and stiff, not unlike Fernando Wood\nin his prim correctness. Motioning me to a chair in front of his table,\nhe resumed his seat behind it, and the conversation began. Cold and calm\nat first, he soon warmed with the subject, and spoke with earnestness\nand freedom, at times with enthusiasm. Her majesty\u2019s government, he\nassured me, were earnestly anxious to do justice to Ireland; he thought\nthey had proved this by their past acts. If they remained in power they\nwould convince all the world of their sincere desire to remove every\nlegitimate grievance of which Ireland could complain. He appreciated the\nforce of my suggestion that the reflex action of public opinion in\nAmerica upon public opinion in Ireland was not to be despised. He\nquestioned me closely upon the extent to which the American press was\ninfluenced by Irish thought; were there many Irish writers in the New\nYork newspaper offices? who were they? what were their opinions? were\nthe adverse criticisms upon the Irish policy of the imperial government\ninspired by them, or were these the spontaneous thoughts of American\nobservers?\n\nI began to think I was the interviewed and not the interviewer; but Mr.\nFortescue was ready enough to answer questions in his turn. It was quite\ntrue, he said, that the land question and the question of higher\neducation in Ireland bristled all over with difficulties. If the demands\nof the tenant-farmers in Ireland were granted, a precedent would be set\nup that might be attended with most inconvenient consequences in\nEngland; if Mr. Gladstone were to propose a measure for university\neducation in Ireland that would be satisfactory to Cardinal Cullen, he\nwould encounter a storm of opposition from the Irish and English\nProtestants, and from the even then rapidly-growing secularist party in\nEngland, that might overwhelm him. I remember the earnestness with which\nMr. Fortescue refuted a chance suggestion of mine that Mr. Gladstone was\nat heart a foe to the Catholic Church. The very contrary was the case;\nhe leaned, if anything, too much the other way. Archbishop Manning was\nhis near and dear friend. He incurred the suspicion and the latent\nenmity of the ultra-Protestants, and especially of the Nonconformists,\nby his unconcealed anxiety to compensate the Irish Catholics for the\nwrongs they had suffered in the past, and to make the future equable and\npleasant for them. In Mr. Fortescue\u2019s belief, an American having it in\nhis power to influence and enlighten American opinion, and especially\nIrish-American opinion, respecting the real wishes of the leaders of the\nLiberal party regarding Ireland, could not do a better work than to\nimpress upon the minds of his countrymen the fact that England\u2014at least\nthe England of that day\u2014was heartily and sincerely anxious to do justice\nto Ireland. The success of the then contemplated measures of the\ngovernment would depend very much upon the spirit in which the Irish\npeople received them.\n\nMr. Fortescue was evidently not thoroughly satisfied with the state of\nfeeling in Ireland, and he made some remarks concerning the Irish press\nthat it is not necessary to repeat. He returned again, however, to the\nsubject of the influence that Americans, and Irish-Americans in\nparticular, had upon Irish opinion; and his observations upon this point\nconvinced me that the secret-service department of his bureau was not\nbadly conducted. Towards the end of our conversation I mentioned that I\nhad a letter of introduction to him from \u2014\u2014, and presented it,\nexplaining why I had not done so in the first instance. We had a laugh\nover what he called my \u201cun-American scrupulousness,\u201d and we parted very\ngood friends. Mr. Fortescue is the possessor of very enviable qualities.\nI was quite convinced of his sincerity; but I reflected that the\nfascination of his manner when he was aroused and anxious to make a\npoint might easily blind the judgment. We met occasionally after this\nfrom time to time; and I last saw him at his residence at Strawberry\nHill, where his wife, the Countess Frances Waldegrave (whose own history\nis a romance), is the centre of a circle of no small political and\nsocial importance. The future of which we had talked in our first\ninterview had become the past: Mr. Gladstone had played his trump cards\nand had lost his game, Mr. Disraeli reigned in his stead, while Mr.\nFortescue had become Lord Carlingford and was not unhappy. But Ireland\nwas not happy yet; and I ventured to say so to his lordship. \u201cWhat would\nyou have?\u201d he asked\u2014\u201cCatholic university education on Cardinal Cullen\u2019s\nplan; a tenant-right law that would make the landlord the slave of the\noccupier; and Home Rule, under which the tragedy of the Kilkenny cats\nwould be enacted all over Ireland until none were left to tell the tale,\nor tails. _Ce n\u2019est pas possible, mon ami._\u201d\n\nThe words \u201cHome Rule\u201d recall the memory of a very dear friend whose\nacquaintance I made in London, and who has now gone to rest. With sad\nbut pleasant reminiscences I rummage through my letter-cases, filled\nwith cherished epistles, until I come upon a packet tied with black tape\nand labelled \u201cJohn Francis Maguire.\u201d He was a splendid man, impulsive\nand quick, but with a sound judgment that held his emotions under\nsufficient control; full of lofty and poetic aspirations for his\ncountry\u2019s future, but guided in his actions by the most sober and\npractical common sense. In the midst of arduous political and\nprofessional labors, all the more severe from the pressure of a constant\nstruggle with inadequate pecuniary resources, from the demands of an\nexacting constituency, and from the burning passion of his soul for the\nhappiness of Ireland, he found time for literary work that was at once a\nsource of profit and of pleasure to him. Every one will remember his\n_Irish in America_ and his _Pontificate of Pius IX._; but it is with a\npang that I remember the pages of manuscript that he read to me on my\nlast visit to him. They were portions of a novel he was writing\u2014and it\nwas to be a Jesuitical novel. What Eugene Sue had done to vilify and\ntraduce the Society of Jesus he would do to vindicate and exalt it. He\ndescribed to me the plot; disputed with me over the proposed\n_d\u00e9nouement_; laughed over the skill with which he had introduced\nwell-known personages into the story; and asked me if, under the\ndisguise of Sir Guichet de Nouvelle, I recognized that Don Quixote of\nProtestantism, Mr. Newdegate.\n\nMr. Maguire died before his novel was completed\u2014at least, I never heard\nof its completion. When I first knew him he lived in pleasant apartments\nin Bessborough Gardens, and there it was I last parted from him. The\npresentation of my letter of introduction resulted in an invitation to\ndine with him the next day; and this was the first of a long series of\nlittle banquets that we had together, alternately at his apartments and\nin a cosey room on the third floor of the London Tavern, Fleet Street,\nwhere I played the host. Charming were these symposiums, generally held\non Saturday nights, because the House was not then in session, and\nsometimes lasting far beyond midnight. I remember one of these\noccasions, on a lovely night in June, when, having sat together until\ntwo o\u2019clock in the morning, I proposed that we should walk to Pimlico\ntogether, where I would leave him at his door. Our route took us through\nTemple Bar, up the Strand, down Parliament Street, past the Parliament\nhouses and Westminster Abbey, and through St. James Park. The morning\nair was delicious. At this season of the year the night in London is\nvery short; one can see to read without gaslight as late as nine\no\u2019clock, and the stars begin to pale as early as two o\u2019clock in the\nmorning. They were beginning to pale as we left the tavern and began our\nwalk. The moon, hastening to hide itself before the sun arose, threw a\nsoft light over the scene; all that was ugly and commonplace in the\nglare of day was hidden or disguised; all that was beautiful was arrayed\nin new and seductive splendor. The Strand was almost deserted; here and\nthere a policeman paced his beat; here and there the form of some poor\nwretch glided out of the shade of an archway, lingered a moment, and\ndisappeared. Trafalgar Square was glorious; the fountains made music for\nMarochetti\u2019s lions at the base of Nelson\u2019s pillar, and the little lion\non the top of Northumberland House seemed to wag his tail as if beating\ntime to the melody. Presently the grand vista of the Abbey and the\nParliament houses opened before us; but scarcely had I glanced at it ere\nMr. Maguire hurried me through a narrow passage to the left. \u201cCome,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201clet us see where a king\u2019s head fell.\u201d I had seen it before\u2014the\nlittle square in Whitehall where Charles I. was beheaded, and where the\nstatue of James II. stands, the king pointing with his sceptre to the\nspot where the head of his father fell. In the daytime the place has a\nmean and squalid appearance, although the Crescent and gardens around it\nare handsome and trim enough. At this moment the surroundings of the\nplace were bathed in a light that hid their deformities and enhanced\ntheir beauties, and the memories of the tragic scene enacted there had\nnothing to disturb them. The ghastly drama re-enacted itself before our\nmental vision. There was the window of Whitehall Palace in front of\nwhich the scaffold had been erected. From this window the king emerged;\nhe stood on the scaffold, with his head erect, wishing to address the\npeople; but the troops filled the place, and the populace were kept at a\ndistance. \u201cI can be heard only by you,\u201d said the king to the soldiers;\n\u201cI will therefore address to you a few words.\u201d And he repeated to them a\nlittle speech which he had prepared. A curious discourse it was\u2014grave\nand calm, \u201ceven to coldness,\u201d as Guizot has it. He had been in the\nright, he said; every one else was in the wrong; the deprivation of the\nrights of the sovereign was the true cause of the unhappiness of the\npeople; the people should have no voice in government; it was only on\nthis condition that the kingdom could regain peace and liberty! While he\nwas speaking some one touched the axe. \u201cDo not dull the axe,\u201d he\nexclaimed; \u201cif it is dull it will hurt me.\u201d The executioner directed him\nto gather up his long hair under a silk cap which he wore, and the\nProtestant Bishop Juxon assisted him to arrange it.\n\n\u201cI have,\u201d said the king, \u201ca good cause and a clement God.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sire,\u201d replied Juxon. \u201cThere is only one more step before you; it\nis full of agony, but it is short, although it will transport you from\nearth to heaven.\u201d\n\nThe king replied: \u201cI pass from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown;\nthere I shall fear no sorrow.\u201d Then, after asking the executioner if the\nblock was firmly fixed, and saying to Juxon the mysterious word\n\u201cRemember!\u201d he knelt down and extended his head upon the block. \u201cI shall\nsay a short prayer,\u201d said he, \u201cand when I extend my hands, then\u2014\u201d In a\nfew moments the king stretched out his hands; the executioner struck,\nand the head fell directly over the spot where we were then standing.\n\n\u201cIt was a wretched piece of work,\u201d said Mr. Maguire as we walked away;\n\u201cbut the men who did it had the courage of their opinions. Who has the\ncourage of his opinions now?\u201d\n\n\u201cMr. Gladstone, perhaps,\u201d I suggested.\n\n\u201cYes, no doubt; but what are his opinions? Those of to-day will be\ndiscarded to-morrow. He is all on our side now; there is nothing he\nwould not do for us to-day; but to-morrow, if affairs go wrong, he will\nthrow us over, and Ireland and the church may find in him their worst\nfoe. The man wants a balance-wheel,\u201d continued Maguire, warming with his\ntheme as we walked on, \u201cand only the grace of God can give it him. I\nthink sometimes that he will have it yet. I admire him, I esteem him. If\nhe were only a Catholic he would have a guide that would keep him from\nmischief. There,\u201d said he, as we came to the end of Whitehall\u2014\u201cthere is\nWestminster Hall, where Charles I. received his sentence; and there is\nWestminster Abbey, where his body was carried in the face of a blinding\nsnow-storm and buried with maimed rites. There, too, is the door through\nwhich they carried the body of his murderer, Cromwell, to bury it among\nthe kings. But the ashes of the kings are yet there, while Cromwell\u2019s\ngrave was broken open, his body dragged out and hung upon a gallows in\nTyburn. He deserved it, the brute! Do you know the story of how, after\nhis post-mortem execution, his head was cut off and stuck upon a spike\non the top of Westminster Hall, just there in front of us, and how it\nremained there, blackening and withering in the air, until one stormy\nnight it was blown down and picked up by the sentry on guard, who was an\nold Cromwellian himself? He hid the precious relic under his jacket, and\nafterwards sold it to a gentleman in Kent, in whose family the skull\nstill remains.\u201d\n\nHad Mr. Maguire lived a few years longer it is probable that the\nHome-Rule movement would have taken a somewhat different shape, and\npossibly might have been brought to a successful realization. When I\nfirst met him he was engrossed in developing and shaping his ideas on\nthe subject; and I spent a whole night with him in explaining, in all\nits minuti\u00e6, our own system of duplex government, State and federal, and\nshowing how State rights and federal sovereignty were both preserved. He\nwas the real father of the Home-Rule movement, and to his untimely death\nmust be ascribed, in a great measure, the present apparent collapse of\nthe party. No member of the House of Commons was more generally\nrespected and esteemed than he; Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Disraeli alike\nregarded him with admiration. Uncompromising in principle, he knew how\nto be firm without being offensive; and he did not commit the too common\nerror of insisting upon impossibilities. Even Mr. Newdegate cherished a\nsneaking liking for the man; and Mr. Maguire once happened to let me\ninto the secret of that strange affection. \u201cI can turn the laugh on him\nany day,\u201d said he, \u201cand if it comes to serious work he gets the worst of\nit; but often it is best to let him have his fling. Occasionally I give\nhim a lift over a stile, knowing quite well that if he goes on a little\nfarther he will tumble into the ditch and scramble out all covered with\nmud.\u201d\n\nRespecting Home Rule, Mr. Maguire\u2019s favorite idea was a confederation of\nthe three kingdoms, England, Ireland, and Scotland, upon such a basis as\nthat of our Union, with a written constitution defining with exactness\nthe limits of provincial autonomy and of imperial sovereignty. It was to\nperfect this plan that he made me expound to him, in the most minute\ndetail, the workings of our own duplex system of government; and among\nhis papers should have been found an elaborate scheme for the British\nConfederation, the joint result of our deliberations. I was summoned to\nthese momentous conferences by such notes as these\u2014and I select with a\nsad heart the last I received from him, a few months before his death:\n\n \u201cI shall be at home this evening altogether, and would be glad to\n see you, and we could spend an hour or two over wine or\n whiskey-punch. Or I shall be at home to-morrow after seven o\u2019clock.\n Send me a line quick to say when you will come.\u201d\n\n\u201cWine\u201d and \u201cwhiskey-punch\u201d had an esoteric meaning as well as their\nordinary significance; for \u201cwine\u201d meant mere gossip, while\n\u201cwhiskey-punch\u201d was understood to be the accompaniment of very serious\npolitical discussions.\n\n\n\n\n THE CREATED WISDOM.[163]\n BY AUBREY DE VERE.\n III.\n\n\n My flowers are flowers of gladness: mine\n The boughs of honor and of grace:\n Pure as the first bud of the vine\n My fragrance freshens all the place.\n\n The mother of fair Love am I:\n With me is Wisdom\u2019s name and praise:\n With me are Hope, and Knowledge high,\n And sacred Fear, and peaceful days.\n\n Be strong all ye that love your God:\n He maketh Wisdom to abound\n Like Tigris swollen with vernal flood,\n Like broad Euphrates harvest-crowned.\n\n Through garden-plots my course I took\n To bathe the beds of herb and tree:\n Then to a river swelled my brook:\u2014\n Ere long my river was a sea.\n\n More high that sea shall rise, and shine\n Far off, a prophet-beam of morn,\n Because my doctrine is not mine,\n But light of God for seers unborn.\n\nFootnote 163:\n\n Ecclesiasticus xxiv.\n\n\n\n\n LOPE DE VEGA.\n\n\nA prolific playwright, a popular poet, a voluminous romance writer, an\nauthor whose fecundity is equalled only by the elder Dumas, the\ncontemporary of Shakspere, the friend of Cervantes, the intimate and\nguide of Calderon, the founder of the Spanish national drama\u2014Lope de\nVega was all these, and yet today he is carefully forgotten. His\nbiography even remains unwritten. The attempt, it is true, has been\nmade, with more or less success, in England by Lord Holland, in America\nby Mr. Ticknor, and in France by M. Damas-Hinard. None is fully\nsatisfactory; all three are too prejudiced, the first two against him,\nthe last in his favor. Mr. Ticknor\u2019s is the fairest and the ablest. But\nthe space in a history of literature which can be assigned to any one\nauthor is necessarily too limited to permit the introduction of a\nfull-length portrait; with a slight sketch, or a kit-cat at best, we\nmust content ourselves. The articles in the various encyclop\u00e6dias and\nbiographical dictionaries are either scant or in great part taken from\nLord Holland\u2019s book. Much biographical material exists, scattered here\nand there, and needing only judicious gleaning. But a few months after\nhis death _La Fama Postuma_, a eulogy containing many curious details of\nhis manner of life, was published by his friend and follower, Montalvan,\nwhom Valdivielso calls the \u201cfirst-born of Lope de Vega\u2019s genius.\u201d The\nallusions to him in the works of his contemporaries are copious; but his\nbare biography can be condensed into a few lines.\n\nLope Felix de Vega Carpio was born at Madrid, November 25, 1562. He was\na precocious child, reading Latin as well as Spanish at the age of five,\nand at eleven he wrote his first plays. Left alone in the world at the\nage of fourteen by the death of his father, also a poet, he travelled as\nfar as Segovia with a school-fellow. Their money gave out, and when they\nattempted to sell a gold chain to pay their way back they were arrested.\nThe _corregidor_ before whom they were brought, seeing that they were\nbut school-boys, kindly sent them back to Madrid in care of an\n_alguacil_. At fifteen Lope was a soldier warring in Portugal and\nAfrica. At sixteen he was the page and secretary of Geronimo Manrique,\nBishop of Avila, and also studied and took the degree of Bachelor at the\nUniversity of Alcala. While in the bishop\u2019s house he wrote a few\neclogues and a pastoral comedy. Then he became the secretary of Antonio,\nthe grandson of the great Duke of Alva; his _Arcadia_, written then, is\nmore or less an account of the gallant adventures of his patron.\nReturning to the bishop, he was about to become a priest when he fell in\nlove, and in 1584 he married Do\u00f1a Isabella d\u2019Urbina. Quarrelling with a\n_hidalgo_ of little reputation, he was arrested, by the aid of Claudio\nConde released from prison, and exiled; he lived two years in Valencia,\nand there he first regularly wrote for the stage. Shortly after his\nreturn to Madrid his wife died, and in conjugal despair he embarked on\nthe famous Armada, finding time to write a poem, \u201cThe Beauty of\nAngelica,\u201d a continuation of the _Orlando Furioso_, before the\ndispersion and destruction of the great fleet by Drake. After travelling\nin Italy he returned to Spain and became the secretary of the Marquis of\nSarria. In 1597 he married Do\u00f1a Juana de Guardio. For nearly ten years\nLope de Vega seems to have been quietly happy, devoting himself to the\ncare of his son Carlos, but in 1607 or 1608 both his wife and his son\ndied, leaving him an infant daughter. During these years he had been\nwriting steadily for the stage; in 1609 he delivered his _Arte Nuevo de\nHacer Comedias_, and in the same year he became a priest. He was also a\nFamiliar of the Inquisition\u2014an honorary distinction, attesting the\npurity of his Catholic blood, and conferring the privilege of being\ncalled into the service of the institution. In 1625, according to Mr.\nTicknor, \u201che entered the congregation of the native priesthood of\nMadrid, and was so faithful and exact in the performance of his duties\nthat in 1628 he was elected to be its chief chaplain.\u201d After working for\nthe theatre for forty years, in 1630 he definitely renounced dramatic\nauthorship. In 1628 the pope, Urban VIII., wrote him an autograph\nletter, conferring upon him the degree of Doctor of Divinity and naming\nhim a Knight of the Order of Malta. For more than twenty-five years he\ndaily devoted some portion of his time to the service of the church; on\nthe title-page of his plays he calls himself Frey Lope de Vega, Familiar\nof the Inquisition, and the last important work he published was\n_Dorotea_, a long prose romance in dialogue, probably slightly\nautobiographical. Finally, on August 27, 1635, at the age of\nseventy-three, Lope Felix de Vega Carpio died. The funeral ceremonies,\nlasting nine days, were magnificent; the eulogistic poems published in\nSpain and Italy would fill several volumes; and \u201cmost solemn of all,\u201d\nsays Mr. Ticknor, generally disposed to underrate Lope de Vega\u2019s\npopularity and ability, \u201cwas the mourning of the multitude, from whose\ndense mass audible sobs burst forth as his remains slowly descended from\ntheir sight into the house appointed for all living.\u201d\n\nFor forty years the works of Lope de Vega had filled the theatres not\nonly of Spain but of all Europe. There were but two dramatic companies\nin Madrid when he began to write; there were forty when he ceased. He\ncomposed over fifteen hundred dramas and an unknown number of lighter\npieces, in addition to his non-theatrical works. He was as popular as he\nwas prolific. Not only in Europe but in America were his plays\nperformed. One of his comedies, the _Fuerza Lastimosa_, was even\nexhibited within the seraglio at Constantinople. His merit was so\nuniversally recognized that to call anything a _Lope_ was to stamp it as\nbeing sterling; it was sufficient to say _es de Lope_. When the king and\nqueen of Spain met him in the street they caused their carriage to stop,\nthat they might better see the illustrious man. The Spanish dramatists\nof his own and the succeeding age did not hesitate to call him their\nmaster. Tirso de Molina, Alarcon, Calderon, and Guillen de Castro hail\nhim as their chief. And he was as popular a man as he was an author; he\nwas personally beloved by nearly all his contemporaries; he had few\nenemies and many friends. A gentleman by birth, breeding, and education,\nhe had a kind word for all. He was handsome and agile. He wittily\ndeclared that he disliked only those who ask a person\u2019s age without\nmatrimonial intentions, those who take snuff in the presence of their\nsuperiors, those old men who dye their locks, those churchmen who\nconsult gypsies, and those men who, though born of woman, yet speak ill\nof the sex.\n\nAlthough it is as a playwright that he is best known, yet he was the\nauthor of many other works. He wrote two heroic, four mythological, four\nhistorical poems (among which was _La Dragontea_, devoted to the abuse\nof Sir Francis Drake), one burlesque (_La Gatomachia_, describing the\nloves and rivalries of two cats), many descriptive and didactic verses,\nand a multitude of sonnets and epistles. He was also the author of eight\nalmost interminable prose novels. His plays, however, are the noblest\nmonument of his genius, although he himself thought otherwise. He\ndeclared that his _autos_ (a sort of revival of the mysteries and\nmoralities of the middle ages) were his best works, and regretted that\nhe had not devoted his whole life to religious poetry.\n\nHis dramas (the Spanish word _comedias_ meaning merely plays) may be\nroughly divided into three classes:\n\n1. Comedies of common life, or domestic dramas;\n\n2. Heroic dramas, which perhaps might sometimes be called tragedies; and\n\n3. Comedies of intrigue, or _comedias de capa y espada_ (comedies of\nCloak and Sword, as the Spanish call them, from those frequently-used\n\u201cproperties\u201d).\n\nHe also wrote religious plays, some, like the _autos_, resembling the\nmysteries and moralities, others more infused with a modern and secular\nspirit. He often chose Scriptural subjects for his plays, and in some of\nhis heroic dramas the heroes are holy men and saints. But it is\nespecially in the _comedias de capa y espada_ that he excelled. They\nwere interesting stories thrown into dramatic shape and written with the\nview of exciting surprise and curiosity. Only those ignorant of the\nSpanish habits and the Spanish customs of that day will reproach him for\nhis frequent use of duels and disguises. He faithfully transcribed the\nromantic existence of the time. A rigid examiner may declare that his\nmost successful pieces were comedies of intrigue rather than comedies of\nmanners. They please by their plot, always ingenious and almost always\noriginal; by their interest, always sustained and exciting. Lope de Vega\nwas a thorough master of stage effect. He weaves and reweaves the web\nand woof of his story, gaining and retaining the attention of the\nspectator by the growing interest. We are carried rapidly along by the\nskill of the dramatist, sometimes in spite of ourselves. Even in the\nbest of his plays the incidents are often improbable, but in our\nenjoyment we can readily pardon this. When Shakspere has called Bohemia\na desert country by the sea, and Beaumont and Fletcher speak of Naples\nas though it were an island, it would indeed be strange if Lope were\nexempt from such errors. In one play we find Adam and Eve \u201cdressed very\ngallantly after the French fashion\u201d; in another Nero sings a serenade in\nthe streets of Rome. The American Indians discourse of Diana and Ph\u0153bus;\nCyrus the Great, after his ascension to the throne, marries a\nshepherdess; Job, David, Jeremias, and St. John the Baptist are\nintroduced in one play; and in \u201cThe New World Discovered by Christopher\nColumbus,\u201d among the _dramatis person\u00e6_ are Providence, Imagination, The\nChristian Religion, Idolatry, and a Demon. Haste is hardly an excuse for\nthis, and De Vega worked in haste. The elder Dumas wrote a novel in\nseventy-six consecutive hours. For fifteen days De Vega wrote an act a\nday, and more than one hundred of his plays were written within\ntwenty-four hours each. At least this seems to be the meaning of\n\n \u201cPues mas de ciento en horas veinticuatro\n Pasaron de las musas al teatro.\u201d\n\nMr. Ticknor, however, reads these lines to mean that more than a hundred\nwere performed within twenty-four hours after their completion. Perhaps\nthis interpretation is accurate, but to any one acquainted with the\ndifficulties attending the mounting and rehearsing of a modern comedy it\nseems, to say the least, improbable; and, at any rate, De Vega\u2019s\nfacility of composition was so great that many writers rashly assert\nthat he could compose a play in three or four hours! Montalvan tells a\npleasant anecdote illustrating the rapidity of his work. To oblige a\nmanager Lope and Montalvan agreed to write a piece together. The first\ntwo acts of the _Tercera Orden de San Francisco_ were divided between\nthem, each writing an act a day. The third act was to be halved into\neight leaves each. Montalvan continues, to quote Lord Holland\u2019s version:\n\u201cAs it was bad weather, I remained in his house that night, and, knowing\nthat I could not equal him in the execution, I had a fancy to beat him\nin the despatch of the business. For this purpose I got up at two\no\u2019clock, and at eleven had completed my share of the work. I immediately\nwent out to look for him, and found him very deeply occupied with an\norange-tree that had been frost-bitten in the night. Upon my asking him\nhow he had gone on with his task he answered: \u2018I set about it at five,\nbut I finished the act an hour ago, took a bit of ham for breakfast,\nwrote an epistle of fifty triplets, and have watered the whole of the\ngarden\u2014which has not a little fatigued me.\u2019 Then, taking out the papers,\nhe read me the eight leaves and the triplets\u2014a circumstance that would\nhave astonished me had I not known the fertility of his genius and the\ndominion he had over the rhymes of our language.\u201d At this period Lope\nwas nearly seventy years old, or such a trifle would scarcely have tired\nhim.\n\nSchlegel draws a brilliant comparison between Lope de Vega and\nShakspere, or rather between the Spanish and the English stage. Any such\nmethod of measurement injures the Spaniard; it is only in the management\nof his plots that he is able to rival the Englishman. It is curious,\nhowever, to note that each great writer was surrounded by minor\nlights\u2014set, as it were, with glittering but inferior gems. Shakspere\nshone in the midst of a glorious company containing Jonson, Ford,\nFletcher, Beaumont, Greene, Nash, Marlowe, Massinger, and Webster. Lope\nde Vega, following Lope de Rueda, was surrounded by a brilliant throng\nof friendly rivals\u2014Cervantes, Calderon, Montalvan, Moreto, Alarcon,\nMatos-Fragoso, and Guillen de Castro. It is also remarkable to find that\nEngland and Spain, then the possessors of a great drama, are now barren\nfields; while France, once but the empty echo of the classic muse, is\nto-day the chief country in possession of a living dramatic literature.\nFor this literature France owes largely to England and Spain; French\ntragedy and French comedy are directly indebted to Lope\u2019s influence.\nFrom a play of Guillen de Castro, one of Lope\u2019s followers, Corneille\nderived his _Cid_, the greatest French tragedy; and from a play of\nAlarcon, another of Lope\u2019s followers (and the first of American dramatic\nauthors, for by birth and education he was a Mexican), Corneille took\nhis _Menteur_, the earliest of French comedies. In a letter to Boileau\nMoli\u00e8re said: \u201cI owe much to the _Menteur_. At the time it appeared I\ndesired to write, but I was uncertain as to what I should write. My\nideas were confused; this work came and defined them. Without the\n_Menteur_, no doubt, I should have written some such comedies of\nintrigue as the _Etourdi_ and the _D\u00e9pit Amoureux_, but perhaps I should\nnever have written the _Misanthrope_.\u201d\n\nThe _dramatis person\u00e6_ of Lope\u2019s plays are not character studies, finely\nand fully polished, like those of Moli\u00e8re; they are rather off-hand\nsketches, fresh and original. Although they often disclose haste, they\nalways show the firm though rapid touch of a master; and however wanting\nin completeness of detail, they never lack boldness of outline. The\npeople who walk and talk in Lope de Vega\u2019s comedies are living men and\nwomen, speaking and acting like human beings, and true to human nature\nas it was in Spain in those adventurous times; they were not lay\nfigures, mere puppets, pulled hither and thither by visible wires. He\nrarely created an eccentric character, never an impossible one.\n\nHe did not allow himself Moli\u00e8re\u2019s privilege of taking his material\nwherever he found it. Only once is it known that he used the work of\nanother: his _Esclavos in Argel_ is based on Cervantes\u2019 _Trato de\nArgel_. He was an originator\u2014copied, not copying; and if at times his\ncharacters seem to lack novelty, it is perhaps in part because we live\nin the nineteenth century and he wrote in the sixteenth. For two\ncenturies and a half the playwrights of the world have been pillaging\nhim until his people and his plots have become public property. Calderon\ncopied him; Moli\u00e8re and Corneille carried Calderon to France; the\nEnglish stole from all three; so it is small wonder that what Lope de\nVega transcribed from nature is now typical and traditional. He was\nfirst in the field; others have stolen his pressed flowers.\n\nA full exposition of De Vega\u2019s ideas of dramatic art can best be found\nin his own essay on the subject, the _Arte Nuevo de Hacer Comedias_. It\nwould seem from this essay that in Lope\u2019s time Spain was slowly freeing\nherself from the fetters of the unities, first riveted by Aristotle.\nEngland had set the example; Spain was fast following. In these two\ncountries the fierce fight was then fought that two centuries and a half\nlater was to agitate France. Spain then had her battle between the\nRomantics and the Classics, and Lope de Vega, while ironically\ndeferential to the ancient laws, fought foremost on the side of freedom.\nAs in France Victor Hugo in 1830, so in Spain Lope de Vega in 1600. Both\nwere leaders; both have written essays on dramatic art. It is curious to\ncompare the Spanish writer\u2019s _Arte Nuevo de Hacer Comedias_ with the\nFrench author\u2019s elaborate and scientific discussion of dramatic effect\ncontained in the celebrated preface to his never-acted _Cromwell_.\n\nThe _Arte Nuevo de Hacer Comedias_ was written in 1609 at the request of\none of those numerous academies then existing in Spain, and founded in\nimitation of the Italian Della Cruscans. It contains internal evidence\nof haste in its construction; although he knew better, Lope carelessly\nmistakes Terence for Plautus. Capable of composing a comedy in a day, he\nmay easily have dashed off this little essay in a very few hours. It is\nwritten in blank verse, only the last two lines of each stanza rhyming.\nThe stanzas, also, are of unequal length. Although the essay seems\nalmost an improvisation, it is extremely interesting not only to the\nstudent of his plays but also to the casual reader, as it gives a view\nof the state of the Spanish stage at the time not elsewhere to be found.\nThe following unabridged English rendering of the essay has been made\nfrom the excellent French version of M. Damas-Hinard:\n\n\u201cARTE NUEVO DE HACER COMEDIAS.\n\n(_The New Art of Writing Plays._)\n\n \u201cNoble minds, flower of Spain, who, in this illustrious academy,\n will soon have surpassed not only those academies of Italy which\n Cicero, emulating Greece, established in the land where sleep the\n waters of Avernus, but even that school of Plato in which Athens saw\n so rare an assembly of philosophers come together, you order me to\n write you an essay on dramatic art in accordance with the public\n taste to-day. This task seems easy, and, indeed, it would be to him\n among you who has worked the least for the stage, and who therefore\n better knows the rules; but it must be done by me, who have never\n composed except contrary to the rules of the art. It is not, thank\n Heaven! that I do not know them: these theories were familiar to me\n when I was yet a school-boy, and when the sun had not ten times\n passed from Taurus to Pisces; but at the time when I chose this\n career I found the stage filled with works very different from those\n which the first inventors of the art left as models, and such,\n indeed, as were composed by the barbarians, who had accustomed the\n vulgar to their crudities. And they have so thoroughly established\n themselves in this fashion that he who would now write for the\n theatre according to the precepts of the art dies without glory and\n without reward; for among those who lack the enlightenment of a\n superior mind custom always carries the day.\n\n \u201cSeveral times, it is true, I have written following these\n principles, which but few people know; but as soon as I see these\n monstrous compositions appear, full of magical apparitions, to which\n rush the crowds and the women, always worshipping such absurdities,\n then I return to my barbarian habits. And when I have a comedy to\n write I lock up the rules behind triple bolts; I cast Plautus and\n Terence out of my study for fear of hearing their cries, for truth\n calls aloud in these dumb books; and I then write according to the\n art invented by those who wished to gain the applause of the crowd.\n After all, as it is the public who pays for these absurdities, \u2019tis\n but just that it be served to its taste.\n\n \u201cTrue comedy has one aim, as has every kind of poem, and this aim is\n to imitate the action of men and to paint the manners of the age in\n which they lived. Now, every poetical imitation is composed of three\n things: dialogue, versification, harmony or melody. Comedy and\n tragedy agree in this; but they differ, inasmuch as the former\n represents the action of the lower orders, and the latter only\n concerns itself with kings and high personages. Judge from that how\n much may be said against our comedies.\n\n \u201cAt first our pieces were called _autos_, because they confined\n themselves to the imitation of common actions and interests. Among\n us Lope de Rueda was the model of this style; his comedies, which\n have been printed, are in prose, and of an order so low that he has\n introduced artisans and traces the loves of a blacksmith\u2019s daughter.\n To-day we call them _interludes_, these antique works in which the\n rules of art are carefully observed, in which the action is simple\n and takes place among the middle classes\u2014for an interlude was never\n seen in which kings figured. And this explains how plays little by\n little fell into deep discredit because of the lowness of style, and\n how they put kings and princes into comedy, to the great\n satisfaction of the ignorant.\n\n \u201cIn the beginning of his _Ars Poetica_ Aristotle relates, in a\n manner quite obscure, it is true, the debate which took place\n between Athens and Megara touching the originator of the theatre\u2014the\n Megarians attributing this glory to Epicharmus, while the Athenians\n claimed it for Magnes. Donat traces back the first attempts to the\n ancient sacrifices, and, in this respect following Horace, he\n attributes the origin of tragedy to Thespis, and that of comedy to\n Aristophanes. The _Odyssey_ of Homer is the result of a comic\n inspiration, but the _Iliad_ was the noble model of tragedy. It is\n in imitation of this poem that is composed my _Jerusalem_, which I\n have called a tragic epic. They commonly call by the name of comedy\n the _Inferno_, _Purgatorio_, and _Paradiso_ of the celebrated poet\n Dante Alighieri, and Manetti gives the reasons for this in the\n preface to that poem.\n\n \u201cAll the world knows that comedy, falling into disrepute, was\n condemned to silence for a time; that after that came the _satyres_,\n which, being still more cruel, passed away more promptly; and that\n then the new comedy was born.\n\n \u201cIn the beginning dramatic works consisted but of choruses. Soon\n there was added a certain number of characters. But Menander,\n followed in this by Terence, rejected the choruses as tedious. This\n latter was a most scrupulous observer of the precepts; never did he\n raise the style of comedy to a tragic loftiness, wiser in that\n respect than Plautus, whom they have so much reproached for this\n fault.\n\n \u201cTragedy is founded on fact, comedy on fiction, and the latter was\n called \u2018flat-footed\u2019 because it was played without _cothurnus_ or\n scenery, and because it took its plots from the humblest classes.\n Yet then, as now, there were several kinds of comedy: there were\n _pallium_ comedies and _toga_ comedies, and pantomimes, and _fabul\u00e6\n atellan\u00e6_ and _tabernari\u00e6_.\n\n \u201cThe Athenians, who gave prizes to their dramatic poets and to their\n actors, in their comedies rebuked wickedness and vice with antique\n elegance. This is why Cicero called comedy the mirror of manners,\n the image of truth\u2014sublime attribute which raises Thalia to the rank\n of history, and which shows us how much she merits esteem and honor.\n\n \u201cBut already it seems to me that you draw back, saying: \u2018What use is\n this translating of books and this fatiguing show of erudition?\u2019\n Believe me, it is not without motive that I recalled to your memory\n all these things; I wished to let you see that you have asked me for\n an essay on dramatic art in Spain, where all plays are written\n contrary to art, and I wished to declare that our pieces are not\n according to right or the ancient rules. But let us leave this; you\n have recourse to my experience, and not to what I may have been able\n to learn of an art which tells us the truth, but to which the vulgar\n prefer the false.\n\n \u201cIf, then, you asked me for the rules of the art, I should refer you\n to the wise and learned Rebortelo, and you would see explained in\n his book on Aristotle or on comedy what otherwise is scattered in a\n crowd of works without order and without light. But since you ask\n the opinion of those now in possession of the stage, acknowledging\n that the public has the right to establish the incongruous laws of\n our dramatic prodigy, I will tell you my idea, and your command must\n excuse my temerity. I should like, since the public is in error, to\n deck this error with agreeable colors; I should like, since it is no\n longer possible to follow the ancient rules, to find a mean between\n the two extremes.\n\n \u201cFirst choose the subject of your comedy, and, in spite of the old\n precepts, do not disquiet yourself whether there be or be not kings\n among your characters. I ought not to conceal, however, that our\n king and lord, Philip the Prudent, was angry every time he beheld a\n king on the stage, either because he saw in that a violation of the\n rules of the art, or because he thought that even in fiction the\n royal authority should not be presented too near the gaze of the\n people.\n\n \u201cBesides, in this we draw near to the ancient comedy, in which\n Plautus did not fear to place even gods, as the part he gives\n Jupiter in the _Amphitryon_ proves. Heaven knows it is difficult for\n me to approve of this. Even Plutarch, in speaking of Menander,\n formally blames ancient comedy; but since we in Spain have renounced\n the rules of the art and treat it cavalierly, this time the\n classicists are silenced.\n\n \u201cIn mingling the tragic and the comic, and Terence with Seneca (from\n which results a species of monster like the Minotaur), you will have\n one part of the piece serious and the other farcical. But this\n variety pleases very much. Nature herself gives us the example of\n it, and it is from such contrasts that she gains her beauty.\n\n \u201cTake care only that your subject presents but one action; take care\n that your story is not overcharged with episodes (that is to say,\n with things which lead away from the main idea), and that no part\n can be detached without overthrowing the whole edifice. Do not\n trouble yourself about confining all the action within the space of\n one day, although it is the rule of Aristotle; we have already\n rejected his authority in mingling tragedy and comedy. Let us\n content ourselves with reducing the time as much as may be possible,\n unless the poet composes a story the action of which extends over\n several years, and in this case he could place the intervals of time\n in the \u2018waits\u2019\u2014as, for instance, if one of his characters has a\n journey to take. These liberties, I know, disgust the critics. Well,\n the critics may stay away from our pieces.\n\n \u201cHow many of these fellows cross themselves in horror, seeing\n several years given to an action which ought to be accomplished in\n the space of an artificial day\u2014for they would not even accord us the\n twenty-four hours! For my part, considering that the eager curiosity\n of a Spaniard seated at the play cannot be satisfied even by showing\n him all the events from Genesis to the day of the Last Judgment in\n two hours, I think that, if our duty is to please the spectators, it\n is right that we should do all that is necessary to gain this end.\n\n \u201cThe subject once chosen, write your piece in prose, and divide it\n into three acts, doing your best that each act, if it is possible,\n embrace but the space of one day. Captain Viru\u00e8s, an illustrious\n writer, first put comedy in three acts, which before had gone on all\n fours like a child; and truly it was then in its infancy. I myself,\n at the age of from eleven to twelve years, wrote in four acts and\n four sheets, for each act was contained in a sheet of paper. In\n those days they played three little interludes in the intervals of\n the acts, and now it is much if they play even one, which is\n immediately followed by a dance. Dancing, however, fits so well into\n comedy that Aristotle approves of it, and Atheneus, Plato, and\n Xenophon do not blame it, except when it is not decent,[164] like\n that of Callipedes. The dance seems to me to replace amongst us the\n chorus of the ancients.\n\n \u201cThe subject being treated in two ways, let them from the start be\n joined and well connected together until the end of the piece, so\n that one can divine the _d\u00e9nouement_ but at the last scene; for when\n the spectators know it they turn their faces to the door and their\n backs to the actors, to whom they have listened for three hours with\n interest, and of whom they think no more when they no longer need\n them to know what will be the result.\n\n \u201cLet the stage rarely remain empty. These delays make the spectator\n impatient and uselessly prolong the play; and besides being a great\n fault, to avoid it is to add art and grace to the work.\n\n \u201cThen begin to versify, and in your language, always choice, use\n neither brilliant thoughts nor witty remarks when you treat of\n domestic affairs; it suffices in such a case to imitate the\n conversation of two or three persons. But when you bring upon the\n stage a character who exhorts, counsels, or dissuades, you can allow\n yourself the use of fine language and striking ideas, and in this\n you will imitate nature; for when we give advice, when we wish to\n encourage or deter, we speak in a manner totally different from\n familiar chat. In this regard we follow the opinion of the\n rhetorician Aristides, who desires that the language of comedy\n should be clear, pure, and easy, like that of ordinary conversation,\n adding also that it should differ essentially from the tragic style,\n where we may use expressions pompous, sonorous, and glittering.\n\n \u201cNever quote Scripture, and take care never to offend taste by an\n affected erudition; to imitate the language of conversation you need\n name neither hippogriffs nor centaurs, nor the other mythological\n entities.\n\n \u201cIf you make a king discourse, let it be with the dignity proper to\n the royal majesty; let the old man express himself with sententious\n gravity; let the conversation of lovers be replete with such lively\n sentiments as to move those who hear. In monologues let the\n character be totally changed; by this transformation let him force\n the spectators to identify themselves with him; let him speak and\n reply to himself in a natural manner; and if he bemoans a lover\u2019s\n lot, let him not forget the respect due to the fair sex. Under all\n circumstances let the ladies preserve the modesty they ought to\n have; and if they don male attire (which is always very agreeable to\n the public), let this change of costume have a reasonable motive. In\n short, never paint impossible things, for the first maxim is that\n art can only imitate the possible.\n\n \u201cLet not a servant treat too lofty subjects, and take care not to\n put into his mouth those witty sayings which we have seen in some\n foreign comedies.\n\n \u201cLet your characters never forget their nature; let them remember at\n the end what they have said at first, lest we make the same reproach\n to them as was made to the _\u0152dipus_ of Sophocles\u2014that he had\n forgotten his fight with La\u00efus.\n\n \u201cAdorn the end of your scenes with some swelling phrase, with some\n joke, with lines more carefully polished, so that the actor at his\n exit does not leave the audience in ill-humor.\n\n \u201cIn the first act lay the foundation; in the second let the\n complications commence, and contrive in such a way that until half\n through the third act no one can foresee the end. Always deceive the\n curiosity of the spectator by showing him, as though possible, a\n result entirely different from that to which the incidents seem to\n point.\n\n \u201cLet the versification be tastefully appropriate to the subject you\n treat. Decasyllabic lines suit lamentations; the sonnet is well\n placed in a monologue; descriptions demand the romantic stanza,\n although they are as brilliant as possible in octosyllabic metre.\n Triple-rhymed lines are reserved for grave affairs, and the\n _redondillas_[165] for lovers\u2019 conversations.\u201d\n\nThe sound sense of this little essay shows how thoroughly De Vega\nunderstood his subject. Writing to please the populace, not the learned\nand possibly hyper-critical, he had studied the playgoer and knew all\nhis peculiarities\u2014how to please him and how to take liberties with\nimpunity. His comedies of Cloak and Sword are the least careless and the\nmost admirable of his plays, and they were the most successful. The\ninvolved and complicated plots, the duels and disguises, the hurry and\nthe vigor of this class of plays are seen to best advantage in Lope de\nVega\u2019s works. He had founded the school, and the bent of his genius\nfitted him to be its master. His works and those of his scholars went at\nonce to all parts of Europe. In England Mrs. Behn, Mrs. Centlivre,\nFarquhar, Congreve, Wycherly, Holcroft, were his followers, copyists,\nplagiarists. Not only did others pillage him, but, like almost all\nprolific authors, he plagiarized from himself. Over thirty or forty\ntimes has he treated one subject: a lady and a knight forced to leave\nthe court in disguise because of the persecutions of the king, and\ntaking refuge in a village, where, after many mishaps and adventures,\nthey are finally married. Of course in each of these twoscore plays the\nsituations vary, but the central idea is the same in all. To an author\nof such facility the great difficulty was in the discovery of a subject.\nThat was all he needed; its dramatic dressing was an easy task. Hardly\none of the picturesque points of Spanish history did he neglect. His\nlighter plays were often historical. Generally they were not. His _Perro\ndel Hortelano_ (\u201cDog in the Manger\u201d) is, for instance, an original\ninvention. It contains a delightful sketch of a woman absorbed by\njealousy, and yet unable to make up her mind to marry the loved one\nbecause of his inferior birth. Both lovers are drawn with delicious\nvigor\u2014a vigor suggesting, perhaps remotely, Thackeray. This charming\ncomedy shows of what things Lope was capable in this line had he so\nwilled. It is somewhat in the style of Scribe at his best. Indeed, in\nmany respects he was the precursor of Scribe, who greatly resembled him\nin fecundity, facility, and felicity of execution. More than one of his\nplays, if modernized, might pass for the work of the brilliant French\ndramatist.\n\nBut the best of Lope\u2019s work is many degrees above the best of Scribe\u2019s.\nIn ingenuity and in originality, and in the conduct of the business of\nthe stage, the Spaniard is at least the equal of the Frenchman, while in\nthe depicting of passion he is by far the superior. Scribe was incapable\nof anything at all approaching the sombre and inevitable conclusion of\nthe _Star of Seville_, appalling with the inexorable logic of fate. Mrs.\nFrances Anne Kemble has produced a spirited English play suggested by\nit, of which Lord Holland has given a long analysis with translated\nextracts. As he justly remarks, no mere relation of the plots of Lope\u2019s\nplays would give a sufficient idea of the attractions they possess, \u201cnor\ncan they be collected from a mere perusal of detached passages. The\nchief merit of his plays is a certain spirit and animation which\npervades the whole, but which is not to be preserved in disjointed limbs\nof the composition.\u201d\n\nIt is easy to find the reason for Lope de Vega\u2019s theatrical activity. He\nwas poor, and play-writing was profitable. He says somewhere that\npoverty and himself formed a copartnership to work for the stage. At the\nclose of the sixteenth century Spain was divided into several almost\nindependent provinces, and there was no interprovincial copyright; the\nbookseller of Castile could reprint and sell for his own profit the\nsuccessful work first published in Leon. An author in those days could\nnot even get pay for advance-sheets. Under these circumstances\npublishers naturally paid authors little or nothing. Literature was a\nlabor of love. The dramatic taste, however, of the Spanish people was\nincreasing. The two companies of actors gradually grew to forty, and the\nforty audiences asked for novelty. The managers endeavoring to satisfy\nthis demand, the consumption of comedies was something enormous. There\nwas a uniform price fixed in advance: a comedy was worth five hundred\nreals, equivalent to about forty or fifty dollars of our money. The\nreward was not great, but the labor was light\u2014at least to Lope. Dramatic\nwork paid; other literature did not. Lope would have been certainly\njustified in devoting himself exclusively to the drama. He might labor\nin other fields; on the stage he ruled. What is done quickly may die\nquickly, and few of Lope\u2019s plays hold the stage to-day even in Spain.\nBut if his plays are not seen, his influence is visible in the drama of\nFrance, of England, of Germany, and of Spain, his own country, of the\nliterature of which he and Calderon and Cervantes are the greatest\nglories. Calderon was his follower and Cervantes was his friend.\nAlthough it has been said they were at enmity, it is known that Lope de\nVega praised Cervantes, and the author of _Don Quixote_ generously\neulogized his more successful rival thus: \u201cAt last appeared that prodigy\nof nature, the great Lope de Vega, and established his monarchy on the\nstage. He conquered and reduced under his jurisdiction every actor and\nauthor in the kingdom.... And though there have been many who have\nattempted the same career, all their works together would not equal in\nquantity what this single man has composed.\u201d\n\nAnd Cervantes wrote these lines almost twenty years before Lope de\nVega\u2019s death, almost twenty years before he had ceased composing. It is\nwith the following brilliant paragraph that Mr. Ticknor, always strongly\nprejudiced in favor of Cervantes, begins his historical criticism of\nLope\u2019s life and labor, and with it we end: \u201cIt is impossible to speak of\nCervantes as the great genius of the Spanish nation without recalling\nLope de Vega, the rival who far surpassed him in contemporary\npopularity, and rose, during the lifetime of both, to a degree of fame\nwhich no Spaniard had yet attained, and which has since been reached by\nfew of any country.\u201d\n\nFootnote 164:\n\n It was recently said that there were three kinds of dancing: the\n graceful, the ungraceful, and the disgraceful.\n\nFootnote 165:\n\n _Redondillas_ are stanzas of four short lines. This paragraph on\n versification reads curiously to ears accustomed to the pentameter\n blank verse of the English drama, stately at times and sprightly when\n need be, and, indeed, capable of infinite variety. The Spanish plays\n of to-day are written in very short metre, and French tragedies still\n rhyme.\n\n\n\n\n ENGLISH TORIES AND CATHOLIC EDUCATION IN IRELAND.\n\n\nThe motives which impel men to their best actions are not always,\nperhaps they are not generally, the best possible motives. It is not\nimprobable that more men are driven to the tribunal of penance by\nattrition than are led thither by contrition. If this be true of men in\ntheir individual and private affairs, it is still more strikingly true\nof politicians and statesmen in their public acts. He would indeed be\nfanciful and credulous who should imagine that Mr. Gladstone, in\nframing, advocating, and insisting upon the passage of his bill for the\ndisestablishment and disendowment of the Protestant Church in Ireland,\nwas inspired by a pure love of abstract justice and right, and a\ndisinterested desire to relieve the Irish people from a flagrantly\nunjust burden and a crying wrong. He saw as clearly as any one that this\nwrong existed, but he perceived also that by removing it he would win\npopular support for himself and his party. It is tolerably safe to say\nthat had Mr. Gladstone imagined that the passage of the bill for the\ndisestablishment of the church would have resulted in the expulsion of\nhimself and his party from power, he would not have urged the measure.\nIn this case there were two motives: one positively and abstractly good,\nthe other good in the estimation of those who believed that the\ncontinuance of power in the hands of the Liberal party was desirable.\nThe latter incentive was the ruling one. Mr. Gladstone, we believe,\nwould not have advocated a measure which he knew to be bad, although\nthis advocacy might have secured him an extension of power. Nor would he\nhave insisted upon the adoption of a measure which he knew to be good\nhad he known that this insistence would deprive him of power. But he saw\nthat while the disestablishment and disendowment of the alien church in\nIreland would be an act of justice in itself, it would also be a good\npolitical stroke, tending to strengthen his own position and to give a\nlonger lease of power to his party.\n\nOne need not trouble himself to assign higher motives than these to the\nTory government, which, to the surprise and delight of the Catholics in\nIreland, has brought forward a really fair scheme for intermediate\neducation in Ireland, and seems honestly disposed to carry it at the\npresent session of Parliament. Just as we write the bill has passed the\nHouse of Lords, and is about to be brought up for final passage in the\nCommons. The queen\u2019s speech at the opening of Parliament contained a\npromise that a bill for the promotion of intermediate education in\nIreland should be introduced; but it was not until events made probable\nthe speedy dissolution of Parliament and a general election that this\npromise was redeemed. It is not uncharitable to suppose that the\ngovernment felt it necessary to have something to offer to Ireland in\nthe event of an appeal to the constituencies under circumstances that\nwould make every vote important. The bill passed its second reading in\nthe House of Lords on the 28th of June\u2014a moment when it was still\npossible that England might soon find herself embroiled in a foreign\nwar, and when it was given out in governmental circles that Parliament\nwas to be dissolved and a general election ordered. The third reading\nand final passage of the bill in the Lords took place some two weeks\nafterwards. Meanwhile the position of affairs had somewhat altered: the\nconclusion of the labors of the Congress of Berlin and the disclosure of\nthe Treaty of Constantinople had greatly strengthened the hands of the\ngovernment; the Opposition gave evidence of demoralization and discord\nin its own ranks, and toward the close of July the inspired journals\nannounced that Parliament would not be dissolved this year, inasmuch as\nthe general approval of the course of the government was too plain to be\nmisunderstood or denied. The Irish Education Bill came up for its second\nreading in the House of Commons under these circumstances, and its\nfriends fancied that they discovered a little less earnestness on the\npart of the government in pushing it forward than was displayed under\nthe more critical circumstances in the House of Lords. Still, the\nprobabilities are that the bill will pass and receive the royal assent\nbefore the close of the present session; and if this be so, the Tory\ngovernment of Earl Beaconsfield will go down to posterity as the first\nadministration which has had the courage, the wisdom, and the good-will\nto award to Ireland anything like justice in the matter of education.\n\nThe bill provides for a system of payments by results, and practically\nis identical with the system which Mr. Isaac Butt laid before the writer\nduring a conversation in London four years ago. We are unaware whether\nthe Lord Chancellor, Lord Cairns\u2014who is, like Mr. Butt, a Protestant, an\nIrishman, and a graduate of Trinity College, Dublin\u2014has availed himself\nof Mr. Butt\u2019s ideas in the preparation of the measure; but this is not\nat all improbable. Mr. Butt has expressed his cordial approval of the\nmeasure. To what extent the Tory government may have been able to\ninspire such organs of public opinion as the _Saturday Review_, and such\nwriters as Matthew Arnold in the _Fortnightly_, we cannot say; but the\nfact is that for the first time in its existence the _Saturday Review_\nhas recognized and defended the right of Irish Catholics to be educated\nin the way that they considered proper, and that Mr. Arnold seems\nsuddenly to have arrived at the conclusion that the denial of a Catholic\nuniversity in Ireland is a wicked, absurd, and mischievous freak of\nEnglish Puritanism. The development of opinion in the _Saturday Review_\nis startlingly rapid. In a remarkable article written before the\nintroduction of Lord Cairns\u2019 bill the _Review_ said that \u201cthe injustice\nof refusing either to give the Irish Roman Catholics a university or to\nallow them to set up one for themselves is so patent that if the demand\nfor a charter were once more put forward it could scarcely be very long\nresisted.\u201d But in the same pages it warned the Irish Catholics that they\nmust not expect to receive anything like an endowment from the state for\ndenominational education:\n\n \u201cThe demand for a state endowment of a Roman Catholic university, or\n of a Roman Catholic college in a mixed university,\u201d we were told,\n \u201cmay be perfectly just, but it is at the same time perfectly\n impracticable. For this purpose the surplus revenues of the Irish\n Disestablished Church will undoubtedly be treated as money belonging\n to the nation, and unless a radical and almost miraculous change\n should come over the whole mind and temper of the English people,\n not a shilling of it will be devoted to a denominational object.\n This determination on their part may be quite illogical, but it is\n very firmly rooted. The endowment of a Catholic university or a\n Catholic college may continue to furnish the text for an annual\n motion and for any number of annual speeches, but it will do nothing\n more. The late government attempted to meet the difficulty by\n establishing a university in which the subjects upon which Romanists\n and non-Romanists most differ should be temporarily excluded from\n the university course. Denominational colleges might be incorporated\n into this university and teach what they liked, but the teaching of\n the university was to leave burning questions on one side until the\n university should have become strong enough to run alone, and to\n decide for itself in what subjects it should give instruction to its\n students. The scheme fell through.\u201d\n\nWithin a few days after this candid expression of opinion the same\njournal was applauding Lord Cairns\u2019 bill for intermediate education in\nIreland, which provides for the application of a certain portion of the\nsurplus revenues of the Disestablished Church for the support of schools\nthat certainly will be \u201cdenominational.\u201d True, the money is not to be\ngiven directly in payment for religious instruction, but it is to be\ngiven in payment to teachers who will impart religious instruction to\ntheir pupils. \u201cNot a shilling will be devoted to a denominational\nobject,\u201d said the _Review_ one week; but a fortnight afterwards it was\ndelighted with a measure that proposed to devote a million sterling for\nthe support of a system which is nothing if it be not \u201cdenominational.\u201d\nWe rejoice at this sudden and remarkable conversion without inquiring\ntoo closely how it came. Catholics everywhere, and Irish Catholics\nespecially, should rejoice when organs of opinion like the _Saturday\nReview_ speak of a measure that is satisfactory to the hierarchy, the\nclergy, and the Catholic laity of Ireland as \u201can honest endeavor to\nsupply Ireland with an article which she really wants, and which nothing\nbut the absurd prejudices of Englishmen has prevented her from attaining\nbefore now.\u201d It is certainly encouraging to hear Englishmen told by\ntheir most un-Catholic and worldly-minded instructor that in their\nrejection of Ireland\u2019s claims for Catholic education they have been\n\u201csingularly unamiable and singularly foolish\u201d; that they have been bent\nupon educating Irish Catholics in a way in which Irish Catholics have\nbeen equally determined not to be educated.\n\nThe provisions of Lord Cairns\u2019 bill are briefly these:\n\n \u201cA Board of Intermediate Education of seven commissioners\u2014three to\n form a quorum\u2014is to be appointed by the lord lieutenant\u2014the members\n to be removable by him\u2014with two assistant commissioners, who will\n also act as secretaries and inspectors, at salaries of one thousand\n pounds each, to be appointed by the same authority. Other officers\n may, from time to time, be appointed by the board, with the consent\n of the lord lieutenant and the approval of the treasurer. This board\n will be a mere examining body, conducting by its officers annual\n examinations in June and July at convenient local centres over\n Ireland. The programme of subjects includes six different classes of\n attainments: (1) languages, literatures, and history of Greece and\n Rome; (2) the same of England; (3) the same of France, Germany, and\n Italy; (4) mathematics, including arithmetic and book-keeping; (5)\n the natural sciences; and (6) another group of subjects to be named\n by the board. Candidates for examination must show that they have\n been under instruction in Ireland for the year previous to the date\n of the examination; and the maximum ages fixed are sixteen,\n seventeen, and eighteen years respectively for the three years\u2019\n course. Certificates, or testamurs, will be given, setting forth the\n results of successful examinations; graded prizes, and also annual\n exhibitions, of from twenty to fifty pounds, will be awarded, the\n condition of attendance for at least one hundred days a year in an\n intermediate school being required in the latter. Holders of any\n other exhibitions are to be ineligible. The school in which the boy\n has attended the required number of days receives a bonus of three\n pounds should he pass in two subjects, four pounds for three, and\n five pounds for four of the six subjects of the first year\u2019s course;\n another grant is increased in like ratio for the second and third\n years. No subject of religion is to enter into the examination or be\n paid for. A conscience clause (7), while not requiring any such\n school to be open to all or any classes, is thus framed to protect\n religious minorities who may attend: \u2018The board shall not make any\n payment to the managers of any school unless it be shown to the\n satisfaction of the board that no pupil attending such school is\n permitted to remain in attendance during the time of any religious\n instruction which the parents or guardians of such pupil shall not\n have sanctioned, and that the time for giving such religious\n instruction is so fixed that no pupil not remaining in attendance is\n excluded directly or indirectly from the advantages of the secular\n education given in the school.\u2019 One million from the surplus funds\n of the Disestablished Church is to form the endowment for this\n scheme, being, in round numbers, \u00a335,000 a year. The Church\n Temporalities Commissioners are empowered to borrow this sum,\n pending the close of the liquidation of the assets. The board may\n alter and amend the whole scheme, save so as to change its leading\n principles, and may frame codes and rules and lay them before\n Parliament, when, if not objected to by either House within three\n weeks, they acquire the force of law.\u201d\n\nThe debate in the House of Lords on the second reading of the bill was\ncharacterized by a remarkable exhibition of good sense and good feeling\namong the Protestant members who spoke, while the remarks of the two\nCatholics who expressed their approval of the measure, Lord O\u2019Hagan and\nLord Emly (formerly Mr. Monsell), were discreet and well considered.\nLord O\u2019Hagan gave what he properly described as some \u201cstartling\nstatistics\u201d concerning the aptitude of Irishmen for fitting themselves\nfor the discharge of public trusts, even under the limited and\ndiscouraging conditions of education which had thus far prevailed in\nIreland. He showed that England has 72-1/2 per cent. of the population\nof the United Kingdom, Ireland 17 per cent., and Scotland 10-1/2 per\ncent. Since 1871 there had been 1,918 places in the excise and customs\nbestowed in public competition. For these places there had been 11,371\ncandidates, of whom 11 per cent. were Scotch, 46 per cent. English, and\n43 per cent. Irish. Of the places Scotland gained 6 per cent., England\n38 per cent., and Ireland 56. Of every 100 Scotch candidates 9 passed,\nof every 100 English 14, and of every 100 Irish 22.\n\nThese figures showed what the youth of Ireland could do when they were\neducated. But what were their opportunities? As children, up to fifteen\nthey might avail themselves of an excellent primary education, but after\nthat they have few if any opportunities of advancing further. The fact\nwas undeniable that for three hundred years legislation has been\ndirected against education in Ireland, except in a form in which the\npeople would not receive it. The bill now proposed was the first step in\nthe contrary direction, and in Lord O\u2019Hagan\u2019s opinion, if it were\nadministered in the same impartial and fair spirit which had dictated\nits framing, its results would be most wholesome.\n\nThe bill, on the whole, although not perfect, is so great a contrast to\nall the former educational measures which England has devised for\nIreland, and is conceived in so different a spirit, that the Irish\nCatholics are right in accepting it gladly. It is only to be hoped that\nthe House of Commons will prove to be as reasonable and just as the\nLords have been, and allow the bill to pass without mutilating it by\nmischievous amendments. For half a century England has been tinkering at\nIrish education, always with the idea that she could compel the Irish to\naccept Protestant education if Catholic education were made impossible\nfor them. Thus was devised the national system of 1831, the queen\u2019s\ncolleges of 1845, the supplementary charter of 1866, Lord Mayo\u2019s charter\nscheme of 1867, the unfortunate University Bill introduced by Mr.\nGladstone in 1873, the National Teachers\u2019 Act, and Mr. Butt\u2019s University\nBill. The English government in their present measure do not storm the\nPlevna of the religious difficulty; they simply turn it. They do not\npropose to establish any new institutions, nor to aid the erection of\nany, nor to subject to inspection and control any of the existing\nintermediary schools that have been founded by the zeal of the clergy\nand the charity of the faithful. They leave these alone; but they offer\nto reward them, and all other similar schools that may be founded, by\ngiving prizes to their pupils, and a bonus to the schools themselves of\nfrom fifteen to twenty-five dollars for each pupil who meets certain\nconditions. The Irish Catholic schoolmasters and schoolboys will not be\nafraid to enter into this competition; on the contrary, they will \u201cleap\nat it,\u201d and the best results may be expected to follow. More important\nstill, this step, once taken, will lead ere long, by logical\nconsequence, to the settlement of the Irish university question in the\nsame way. Lord Beaconsfield\u2019s administration of the government of\nEngland promises to live in history as an epoch of many brilliant and\nimportant events; but if under his rule the Catholic education of\nIreland is adequately and satisfactorily provided for, that will be\nreally a more lasting and glorious monument to his memory than his\ndiplomatic victories at Berlin, his second conquest of India, or his\nvirtual annexation of Asia Minor to the British crown.\n\n\n\n\n LAC DU SAINT SACREMENT.\n\n\n Fair in their peace, \u2019twixt shore and shore,\n Lake George\u2019s waters rest,\n And fair the great hills, rising o\u2019er,\n Lie mirrored on its breast.\n\n The leafy forests hide no tread\n Of stealthy Indian foe,\n The sunshine gilds no dusky head\n In shadow stealing slow.\n\n The calm no hostile navies rend,\n Pealeth no threat\u2019ning gun,\n Silence and stillness softly blend\n Beneath the undimmed sun.\n\n Faded the lilies\u2019 bloom long since\n On Horicon\u2019s green mere;\n The soldiers of the German prince\n Lift not the red cross here.\n\n The stars alone are guardians now\n Of this bright forest sea\n Whose waves, whatever wind may blow,\n Sing freedom\u2019s royalty.\n\n Ah! fair Lake George, I would thy name\n Were changed for one more meet,\n That thy bright waters spoke the fame\n Of him whose accents sweet\n\n First named thee in a Christian tongue\u2014\n His maimed hands raised to bless\u2014\n Who, rapturous, round thy beauty flung\n Thy Maker\u2019s loveliness.\n\n Who sighed blind Indian souls to lead\n Unto their Father\u2019s feet,\n To teach strong hands for peace to plead,\n Fierce hearts Christ\u2019s cross to greet.\n\n Who bore with awe his Master\u2019s name,\n Was bound for His sweet sake,\n God\u2019s glory deed and thought should claim,\n Knowing no lesser stake.\n\n Who ready stood, for God\u2019s dear love,\n Through toil and torture fire\n Still with the cross to point above\u2014\n A living Christian spire.\n\n O lake beguiling! on that eve\n How still thy waters lay,\n All hushed in sunshine each green wave\n Calm as the golden day.\n\n How full of grace on that blessed eve\u2014\n God\u2019s love athwart the sky;\n Pure as his balm for souls that grieve\n Thy mirror seemed to lie.\n\n Warm as the Love that gave itself\n The softened mountains seemed;\n Fusing strong tree and rugged shelf,\n The wondrous glory streamed.\n\n A burning worship heaven filled,\n And breathless it adored,\n While through the air, all-reverent, stilled,\n The earth\u2019s sweet incense soared.\n\n Did dreams of France, his own loved France,\n The Jesuit\u2019s spirit steep\n With thought of hearts that love would trance\n As they God\u2019s feast should keep\n\n With myriad lights and thronging flowers,\n Strong voices\u2019 mellow peal?\n And did he long through those sweet hours\n Before his Lord to kneel?\n\n From far cathedral pomp aloof,\n And simple, loving hearts,\n For columned church the wood\u2019s green roof\n Darkened with heathen arts.\n\n Still seemed the glory of the day\n The golden hope to give\n Of Love Almighty\u2019s deathless sway\n O\u2019er nations yet to live.\n\n An echo of St. Thomas\u2019 hymn\n Came faintly o\u2019er the wave;\n The Jesuit\u2019s eyes with tears grew dim\n At thought of souls to save.\n\n And \u201c_Bone Pastor, Panis vere_,\u201d\n His firm lips softly spoke,\n O \u201c_Jesu, nostri miserere_,\u201d\n From heart, love-burdened, broke.\n\n And \u201c_Lauda Sion, Salvatorem_\u201d\n Thy glad waves seemed to cry;\n While \u201c_Lauda Ducem et Pastorem_\u201d\n Flung back the happy sky.\n\n Lake of the Blessed Sacrament,\n That hour won thy name\u2019s grace\n As holiest thought of love was lent\n To sign thy maiden face.\n\n Its look of heaven as of yore\n Still wears thy calm, sweet face;\n Alas! that thou shouldst keep no more\n Thy first baptismal grace.\n\n\n\n\n THE THREE ROSES.\n\n\n I.\n\n\nIt was at precisely half-past ten, as he satisfied himself by looking at\nhis watch, on the morning of the 17th of June, in the year 1743, that a\nyoung gentleman got up from a chair in front of the Caf\u00e9 Procope (just\nthen opening with that air of stretching itself, rubbing its eyes, and\nyawning which marks a caf\u00e9 in the ante-meridian hours). He stood for a\nmoment twirling his cane and his moustache alternately, and then, as if\nsuddenly reminded by the look of the caf\u00e9 of a great moral duty omitted,\nstretched himself slightly and yawned prodigiously. It was, to be sure,\nrather early in the day to begin yawning, except for caf\u00e9s; but then\nthis young chronologer had his own way of dividing time, and, believing\nwith the poet that the best of all ways to lengthen our days is to\nsnatch a few hours from the night, what was early in the morning for\nmost men was only somewhat late at night for him. It is to be noted,\ntoo, since the most trifling incidents in the life of a hero are worthy\nof record, that he yawned with such admirable self-possession, with such\na mingling of good-will and graceful languor; he had so much the air of\ngiving his whole mind to it, and at the same time of being so used to\nyawning that he really didn\u2019t care so much for it after all, that you\nsaw at once he was a man of distinction, to whom a yawn was not, as to\nmost of us, a rare luxury, but a daily, nay, an hourly, a half-hourly,\nnecessary of life.\n\nMuch might here be said, if space permitted, of a highly instructive\nnature, on the philosophy of yawning and its many varieties: the\ngo-to-bed yawn; the get-up yawn; the tired yawn, the yawn of simple\nlassitude; the good-humored yawn, which takes itself as an excellent\njoke; the peevish yawn, which denies itself acridly as if it were a\ncrime; the writer\u2019s yawn and the reader\u2019s yawn (_quod Jupiter omen\navertat!_); the chronic yawn and the fixed yawn which merges into the\ndrawl; the imitative yawn, into which unwary grandmothers are seduced by\nwicked little boys with slowly-flapping palm; the bored yawn, which is a\nprotest against the world in general; the well-bred yawn, which is a\nprotest against the immediate company, and is practised only in\nsolitude. (It is, of course, the last-named sort in which our hero\nindulges.) There is a great deal of character, too, in a yawn, from your\ntimid little lady\u2019s yawn, shrinking away and hiding behind fan or\nhandkerchief, or with hypocritical feminine art so moulding itself that,\nlike Lucy Fountain\u2019s, \u201cit glides into society a smile,\u201d to your open,\nhearty, man\u2019s yawn, showing all its grinders shamelessly, as if it were\na fine natural prospect one ought to be grateful for. Napoleon judged\nmen, as he led them, by their noses;[166] a true philosopher would\nclassify them by their yawns.\n\nMeantime, however, we are leaving our hero yawning at the risk of\ndislocating his jaw and of setting the reader to keep him company. Let\nus, therefore, resume. Having indulged himself sufficiently in this\nrefreshment, and recomposed his features again with some care, the young\ngentleman stood for a moment irresolute, tapping his boot with his cane,\nand then, as if his mind were made up, set off at a brisk pace in the\ndirection of Notre Dame. As he stepped out it did not need his showy\nuniform, which was that of the famous corps of _Mousquetaires_, his\njingling spurs, or his long rapier, of a heavier make than the\ndress-sword then worn by every gentleman, to show him for a soldier. You\nsaw it in his measured stride, in every movement of a lithe and graceful\nyet strong and well-knit figure, in the gay recklessness of his manner,\nand especially in the ardent and somewhat imperious glance of his dark\ngray eye. A trace of superciliousness and vanity on his bold, handsome\nface you would have pardoned to his years and comeliness. Women smiled\nkindly on the gay young mousquetaire as he passed them, and were not\nill-pleased at the kisses he flung them in promiscuous homage from the\ntips of his gloved fingers. Male glances not so kind, instinct, indeed,\nwith smouldering scorn and hatred, were shot at him covertly too\u2014glances\nsuch as a half-century later gloated openly with savage ferocity over\nthe death-struggles of other hapless young mousquetaires dying\nhopelessly and gallantly, sword in hand, for a king who knew how to make\nlocks but not laws, and a queen who could win all hearts but those of\nher people.\n\nBut right little recked our young mousquetaire of glances, hostile or\nkindly, from those he looked upon but as a rabble of the gutter, to be\nkicked or beaten like other animals out of his lordly path. The young\nsummer in his blood all unconscious of that slumbering storm, he strode\nalong, dispensing musk and kisses, and gaily humming a madrigal of\nBenserade, to the Rue des Poulies, and along that street, picking his\nway daintily over the wretched pavement till he came in front of a\ncertain bric-\u00e0-brac shop. There he paused, hesitated a moment, and,\npulling off his plumed hat and putting on his most fascinating smile,\nbowed low to two persons standing in the doorway.\n\nThis simple act of courtesy had a singular effect on the two persons in\nquestion, a young man and a young woman. This effect was apparently the\nsame on both: they first colored violently, then frowned, then turned\npale. But to an observer in the attic window over the way it seemed that\nthe internal emotions indicated by these facial changes were very unlike\nin each. The young man seemed\u2014to this observer\u2014to be moved by\ndispleasure rising even to intense rage; the girl\u2019s uppermost feeling\nseemed to be embarrassment, and displeasure, if any, only at being\ncaused embarrassment. But the observer could not quite decide that she\nwas displeased at all by this act of politeness, and he inclined rather\nto think that her blush was caused by pleasure at seeing the young\nmousquetaire, while her frown was directed at her companion for his\ninopportune presence.\n\n\u201cYes, that is it,\u201d said this acute analyst to himself: \u201cthe blush was\nfor the mousquetaire, whom she is glad to see, the frown for M. De Trop,\nwho is in the way, and the pallor for herself, whom she heartily wishes\nout of the way in the row she foresees coming.\u201d\n\nWhile this thoughtful philosopher of the attic was thus moralizing a\ncurious incident took place. The girl, who held some roses in her hand,\ndropped one of them, no doubt from agitation. The mousquetaire sprang\nforward to seize it. As he stooped over the flower the young man of the\ndoorway, with an angry exclamation, thrust him back with such good-will\nthat he reeled into the roadway and came near falling. Recovering\nhimself in an instant, he whipped out his sword and rushed upon the\nother, crying:\n\n\u201cBaseborn scullion! darest thou raise thy hand to a gentleman? Thy life\nshall pay it.\u201d\n\nThis was not, perhaps, his exact language, but it is so much nicer than\nwhat he really did say that we will let it stand in despite of history.\nAt all events the young man understood him very clearly to express an\nintention of skewering him upon the spot; so, with a natural reluctance\nto being skewered, he armed himself with an iron bar used for fastening\nthe door of the bric-\u00e0-brac shop, and resolutely awaited the onset.\n\nAt sight of these warlike overtures the girl screamed and the neighbors\ncame flocking to doors and windows in pleasurable anticipation. The\nphilosopher in the attic appeared to await the issue with composure.\n\nSuddenly she who was the lovely cause of strife between the heroes\nstepped forward.\n\n\u201cForbear, gentlemen,\u201d she cried. \u201cFor shame! Would you shed blood for a\npaltry flower? If \u2019tis but a rose you want, here is one for each of\nyou.\u201d\n\nAnd with a charming mixture of shyness and coquetry-the coquetry of a\npretty woman who feels herself to be the object of contention between\nbrave men\u2014she proffered to each of the champions a rose.\n\nThe mousquetaire sheathed his sword at once, seized his flower with\nrapture, pressed it to his lips and to his heart, and looked altogether\nso languishing and sheepish that the young girl had to bite her lips to\ncontrol a smile. She could not so easily hide the laugh that sparkled in\nher dancing eyes and made them still more dazzling.\n\nThe young man of the doorway received his rose with reluctance, seemed\nhalf disposed to reject it, and more than half disposed to throw it away\nafter taking it, and fell back with so sullen and sulky an air that the\nHelen of this _Iliad_ could forbear no longer, but laughed outright and\nmerrily.\n\nAt that electric stroke of happy ridicule the clouds passed and the air\ncleared; the storm was over. The neighbors withdrew discontentedly to\ntheir shops, while the mousquetaire, with another bow and smile,\ndeparted. But he did not kiss his finger-tips to this young girl, as he\nhad to the others.\n\nThe philosopher of the attic surveyed these events with conflicting\nemotions.\n\n\u201cHumph!\u201d said he, rather ruefully, \u201cthe roses I spent my last sou for,\nthe price of my breakfast, in fact, to lay upon her window-sill this\nmorning. The one in the gutter, I suppose, is for me; was it by accident\nor design she dropped it? I wonder which of them she likes best?\u201d\n\nGentle reader\u2014for in these days it is only a gentle reader will deign to\ncast an eye over a simple love-tale like this\u2014go with us but a little\nway, and we will try to unravel the philosopher\u2019s problem.\n\n\n II.\n\n\nHad you chanced, then, miss or madam, to be your\ngreat-great-grandmother\u2014as, Heaven be praised! you did not\u2014and had you\nhappened to be in the neighborhood of the Rue des Poulies in the year of\ngrace 1743, and had it occurred to you to ask for the richest man in the\nquarter, public opinion would have answered unhesitatingly, \u201cPapa\nLamouracq, who keeps the bric-\u00e0-brac shop.\u201d And had you further inquired\nwho was the finest fellow and the best match in the neighborhood, the\nvote would still have been nearly unanimous for Raoul Berthier, the\nwell-to-do ironmonger of the Quai de la Ferraille. And had you once more\nsought to know who was the prettiest girl\u2014well, here there might have\nbeen some dissent, for the other prettiest girls and their mammas would\nno doubt have cast a scattering vote or so; but, counting the blind\nbeggars for whom her hand was ever open, and the babies she was always\nready to romp with, not to speak of the shrewd old fathers of families,\nwho saw her beauty, as shrewd old fathers will, in the light of her\nimagined expectations, a decided majority would still have been given\nfor Pauline Lamouracq, the old _brocanteur\u2019s_ young and only daughter.\n\nNow, however public opinion may have erred with regard to two of the\npersons named\u2014and, indeed, Papa Lamouracq, whenever the matter was\nbroached, would protest, with many oaths and shrugs and groans, that, so\nfar from being the richest man in the parish, he was in reality the very\npoorest (but what bric-\u00e0-brac dealer was ever otherwise, especially if\nhe be an Auvergnat, as in Paris he generally is when he is not a\nJew?)\u2014certainly it made no mistake with regard to Pauline. Pretty beyond\na doubt she was, with her trim young figure and her dark brown hair and\neyes, lit both with a flash of golden light, and her\u2014but, no; let us not\nattempt the impossible task of describing the charm and freshness of\ngirlish beauty at eighteen. Do you, miss, look in the glass, or do you,\nsir\u2014if so be it that stray masculine eyes shall linger over these\nartless pages\u2014think of her you love best, and let that be our Pauline.\nOnly herself seemed to be unconscious of her great beauty; for, though\nher mirror must have whispered to her now and again the charming secret,\nas it will to other young maidens, she fled from that perfidious\ncounsellor, lest she should have a grievous addition to the load of\npeccadilloes she was wont to carry weekly to the confessional of her\ngood friend and adviser, the old _cur\u00e9_ of the Church of St. Germain\nl\u2019Auxerrois.\n\nIndeed, she had fewer incentives to vanity than many girls not half so\npretty, inasmuch as she had fewer admirers. Not that there were not many\nwho sighed for her in secret; but Raoul\u2019s temper was known to be as\nquick as his hand was heavy, and they discreetly held aloof. Raoul and\nPauline had been betrothed from a very early age, and the former was not\none to brook any rivalry. From the cradle almost he had been wayward and\nheadstrong. Years before, when little more than a child, he had run away\nto sea, and strange tales were whispered of his doings with Jean Bart,\nthat famous privateer and scourge of perfidious Albion. Now that he had\ncome back a fine, bronzed, athletic fellow of six or seven and thirty to\ntake his place in his dead father\u2019s business, and handle, the gossips\nsaid, a very pretty pot of money, he was more violent and self-willed\nand exacting than ever; and there were not wanting those who, seeing the\nlook that came too often into his dark, handsome face, shook their heads\nand prophesied that all would not be sunshine in the married life of the\npretty Pauline.\n\nIf she herself shared any of these misgivings she never showed it, but\nwas as affectionate, and even obedient, to her intended husband as the\nmost jealous swain could ask. On one point only did she go counter to\nhis wishes, and that was in seeing a distant cousin, Andr\u00e9 Thiriot, who\nalone of all the young fellows in the neighborhood made her the object\nof an absorbing devotion that every one but herself laughed at. In\ntruth, poor Andr\u00e9 was not fitted out by nature for the ideal lover. Lame\nfrom a fall in his childhood, small and insignificant in appearance (but\nfor a high white forehead and a pair of large and brilliant eyes), and a\nbeggarly _huissier\u2019s_ clerk to boot, he was a pretty fellow, forsooth,\nto aspire to the hand of the richest heiress in the quarter. So Papa\nLamouracq thought, and, when his poor kinsman first hinted timidly at\nthe idea nearest his heart, bade him begone with bitter rebuke and\nreviling. \u201cHe marry Pauline, indeed! Puny weakling! No man should have\nhis girl who could not protect her with an arm as stout as his own. In\nthese days,\u201d said Papa Lamouracq, very truly, \u201cwho knows at what moment\nhis women-kind may need protection from these vile marquises and\nmousquetaires that go about troubling the peace of honest folks?\u201d And\nPapa Lamouracq, who had served in the wars, drew himself up to his full\nfive feet nine\u2014which in France, you know, is a colossal stature\u2014squared\nhis broad shoulders, and looked very fierce and resolute. It was,\nindeed, a time when beauty and innocence of the _bourgeois_ class,\nwhere, indeed, very much that there was at Paris of beauty allied to\ninnocence resided, needed stout hearts and strong arms to fence it. The\ngay courtiers of Louis XV. respected few laws, human or divine, and no\nwoman not of the privileged classes was safe from their insults.\n\nSo poor Andr\u00e9 was sent to the right-about with a very large sized flea\nin his ear, and could only see his fair cousin thereafter by stealth.\nRaoul swore that if he ever caught him prowling about her he would break\nevery bone in his body. For that threat, indeed, Andr\u00e9 cared little, for\nhe had a brave spirit in his little body; but he loved his cousin too\nwell to cause her needless annoyance, and he had perforce to content\nhimself with the stolen interviews she could give him at such odd times\nas her father was away with Raoul at the cabaret, which, indeed, was\nonly too often. Nor was Pauline loath to profit by these chances to see\nher cousin. That everybody repulsed and derided him was to her woman\u2019s\nnature of course only an additional reason for liking him. Then, too, he\nhad been her mother\u2019s favorite, almost as a child to her on the death of\nhis own parents, and, lastly, he talked very differently from the others\nabout her. Pauline, thanks to the watchful care of her good friend and\ngodfather, the _cur\u00e9_ of St. Germain, had had a better education than\nmost girls of her class, and Andr\u00e9 was a genius and a poet\u2014at least,\nthey both thought so; which, for them, came to much the same thing. He\nrhymed about as well as the rest of the rhyming crew, in an age when in\nFrance and England there were many rhymers and few poets, and those few\nnot always greatly cared for; when Voltaire passed sentence on Homer\nShakspere; when Dorat\u2019s perfumed nothings fluttered in every boudoir,\nwhile Gilbert starved in a garret. To the taste of one simple maiden\nAndr\u00e9\u2019s madrigals and sonnets and what-not were as good as the best, and\nshe never tired of hearing them. Even when she could not see him she\ncould still hear them; for our poet had a very pretty turn for music as\nwell, and from his window opposite hers would sing her his chansons, set\nto his own music, with such ardor and perseverance as quite enchanted\nhis pretty cousin, and won for the performer a singular degree of\nunpopularity among his neighbors.\n\nSo the lame bard remained Pauline\u2019s only open admirer until one eventful\nday when there came spurring through the dull and sombre street,\nlighting it up like a flash of sunshine, a splendid vision of a\nmousquetaire. Pauline chanced to be standing in the doorway of her\nfather\u2019s shop, and, as he caught sight of that lovely picture set in the\ndark frame of the portal, the bold cavalier, riding to her side,\nstraightway proceeded to woo her in the off-hand fashion of the court.\nBut in the soft, half-wondering reproach of the brown eyes lifted for\nbut a moment to his own there was a depth of purity and innocence that\nbaffled this intrepid courtier more than any words; he stammered over\nhis first sentence, hesitated, broke down, and\u2014blushed. Yes, incredible\nas it may seem, in the middle of the eighteenth century, and in the very\nfocus of civilization, a mousquetaire blushed. To be sure he was young.\nPerhaps it was a reflection from his glowing cheek that brought to\nPauline\u2019s pale one a rosier tint; perhaps it was simply wonder at this\nunprecedented phenomenon; Pauline, too, was young, and the culprit, it\nmust be owned, was very handsome. At all events he could only gasp out a\nhasty apology before she withdrew and left him to ride away, over head\nand tingling ears in love.\n\nRaoul heard of this encounter and roared\u2014burst out into a furious\npassion of rage and jealousy that left Pauline in tears.\n\nAndr\u00e9 saw the meeting from his eyrie in the attic and\u2014sighed. With one\nhandsome rival he might hope, he might even, with some aid from the\nmuses, hold his own; but with two\u2014? The poor bard took to reading\nTibullus; he had no heart for madrigals when life itself was an elegy,\nand for a night or two the neighbors slept in peace.\n\n\n III.\n\n\nOne morning a young man presented himself to Papa Lamouracq and asked to\nbe taken as an apprentice to learn the bric-\u00e0-brac trade. Papa Lamouracq\nwas a little shy of apprentices; but as he really needed help and the\npremium offered was large, he could not resist the temptation to his\nbargaining instinct, and the postulant was accepted.\n\nThe new-comer was active, intelligent, and above all good-looking; and\nthese virtues soon won for him a fair place in Pauline\u2019s esteem until\nshe caught him making sheep\u2019s eyes at her with extreme persistency and\nuncompromising sheepishness. Thereat she reproved him sharply, and, to\npunish him, set him to washing the dishes\u2014a task he undertook with\nentire good-humor, but so much more zeal than skill that he broke more\nthan he cleaned and speedily had to be relieved. Then he took to sighing\nlike a bellows, and when his mistress laughed at him this audacious\nintruder made love to her outright, and of course got properly snubbed\nfor his pains. But fancy Miss Pauline\u2019s amazement when this astonishing\napprentice, so far from being abashed by her chilling rebuke, went down\nupon his marrow-bones, and, revealing himself as the Chevalier\nd\u2019Aubuisson, plumped her an offer of his heart and hand and a fine old\nch\u00e2teau in Normandy.\n\nThe sight of this dashing mousquetaire in a shop-boy\u2019s apron seemed so\nabsurd that the young lady thus tenderly adjured felt more inclined to\nlaugh than ever\u2014indeed, she was a merry little maiden, more given to\nsmiles than tears\u2014but the evident sincerity of the young man\u2019s emotion\ntouched her.\n\n\u201cHe has cut off that lovely moustache to be near me,\u201d was her pensive\nreflection, as she gazed upon his eloquent, upturned face, from which\nthat military embellishment was indeed missing. No doubt, too, she was\nsecretly flattered and pleased; for it was not every day, I promise you,\nin the Paris of a century ago, that a shopman\u2019s daughter had the chance\nof refusing to be the wife of a handsome young noble. And then what\nyoung girl\u2019s heart could help going out a little to the romantic side of\nthis madcap adventure?\n\nBut there was another aspect to the affair which made her grave at once.\n\n\u201cPray rise, sir,\u201d she said coldly; \u201cthis position is unbecoming to you\nand uncomfortable to me. \u2019Twas not well done, M. le Chevalier, to steal\ninto my father\u2019s household under false colors; and though I feel the\nhonor you do me, I cannot listen to you further. I am already affianced.\nIf you have any of the regard you profess for me, you will instantly\nquit this travesty and this house.\u201d\n\nThis was reasonable advice, so our impetuous young mousquetaire rejected\nit at once. He would never leave her, he vowed with vehemence, till she\nhad promised to be his.\n\nThis wild proposal plunged poor Pauline into great perplexity. To tell\nher father or her intended would, she foresaw, precipitate a terrible\nrow and scandal with probable bloodshed; and perhaps it was not wholly\ntenderness for her relatives which checked her as she glanced furtively\nat her embarrassingly handsome wooer, revolving the problem of how most\neasily to get rid of him in an anxious mind. Nor could she go to her\ncousin; she blushed, she scarce knew why, as she thought of it. So, as\nusual in all the little difficulties of her life, she betook herself to\nher friend the _cur\u00e9_, who soon found a key to the riddle.\n\nThe next day there rode up to the door of Papa Lamouracq\u2019s bric-\u00e0-brac\nshop an orderly with a letter for M. le Chevalier d\u2019Aubuisson, and by\nnoon his majesty\u2019s corps of mousquetaires had received a reluctant and\nrather mutinous reinforcement of one. And\u2014O bitter and humiliating\nthought!\u2014the moustache had been sacrificed in vain.\n\n\n IV.\n\n\nSo matters stood in the Rue des Poulies at the time of that remarkable\nmeeting which opens this eventful history, and apropos of which an\nobserver in the attic asked himself, as you may remember, \u201cWhich does\nshe like best?\u201d Raoul\u2019s rage upon this knew no bounds; and Papa\nLamouracq, when he came to hear of it, was little better. They both\ninsisted that the wedding-day should be fixed at once, and for no\ndistant date, and poor Pauline was fain to consent. Yet, as the fatal\nday drew near, she shrank from it more and more. School herself as she\nwould into obedience to her father\u2019s will and love for her future\nhusband, the coming marriage filled her with an invincible repugnance.\nWas it because she had given her heart to another, or only because\nRaoul\u2019s brutality had alienated her esteem? I do not know; she did not\nknow herself: it was a question she never dared ask her heart.\n\nIn the midst of this moral conflict by which she was so cruelly torn her\nmind went back often and longingly to the serenity and calm of the\nconvent where she had passed so many of her early years, and to the\npeaceful, happy faces of the nuns. She yearned with an inexpressible\nyearning to be among them once more; she had even wild, half-formed\nthoughts of flying from her wretchedness and trouble and taking refuge\nin that quiet haven.\n\nNaturally, therefore, when Andr\u00e9, to whom she had dropped an intimation\nof her thought, urged her strongly to act upon it, she turned and rent\nhim.\n\n\u201cHow dare you say such things to me!\u201d she cried with more passion than\nhe had ever seen her show. \u201cHow dare you advise me to disobey my father!\nYou know very well my first duty is to him. He wishes me to marry Raoul,\nand\u2014and I wish it. I am _not_ miserable. I love Raoul dearly, and we\nshall be very hap\u2014hap\u2014happy.\u201d\n\nAnd to prove the joyful nature of her anticipations she burst forthwith\ninto tears.\n\nThe poor poet stood aghast; he was not prepared for this display of\nfeminine consistency. Genius as he was, he had yet to learn that to set\na woman against a doubtful project she is coquetting with in her mind,\nthe surest way is to urge her to it. Dearly as he loved his cousin and\nwished to make her his wife, he loved her happiness more, and would\njoyfully have seen her take the veil, marry the mousquetaire even, whom\nhe suspected her of favoring, anything to escape this marriage, in what\nhe foresaw for her only wretchedness, if not death. Raoul in his drunken\nfuries, he knew, would stop at nothing, and even as a lover he had\nthreatened her life.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d he stammered, conscience-stricken, \u201cI thought you said you wished\nto be in the convent.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know I never said anything of the kind,\u201d sobbed the indignant fair.\n\u201cI forbid you ever to say such things to me again. You are very unkind\nto tease me so, and it is only your mis\u2014miserable jealousy.\u201d\n\nThe poet winced under this poisoned shaft, but was too generous to\nretaliate. His cousin had the right of suffering to be unjust.\n\nNevertheless, he could not forego another effort to rescue her, as he\ncalled it. It wanted but a day or two of the wedding when he next got a\nchance to see her, for she was now watched and guarded almost like a\nprisoner. Drawing a little packet from his pocket, he said with a sad\nsmile:\n\n\u201cPauline, here is my wedding gift. It is the most precious, indeed, the\nonly precious, thing I have.\u201d\n\nPauline opened the packet. It held only a withered rose. She looked in\nperplexity from the gift to the giver.\n\n\u201cDo you know what rose it is, Pauline? \u2019Tis the one that was trampled in\nthe mire the day the mousquetaire and Raoul fought.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear Andr\u00e9!\u201d said Pauline, pressing his hand. She was greatly touched\nby his unobtrusive devotion.\n\n\u201cI have often wondered,\u201d she went on musingly, \u201cwhere those roses came\nfrom.\u201d (You see, miss, a posy was more of an event in this simple life\nthan in yours, bouqueted and basketed as it is.) \u201cI have sometimes\nthought, do you know, it was\u2014\u201d Pauline stopped suddenly and blushed.\n\n\u201cRaoul, of course,\u201d said Andr\u00e9 quietly.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Pauline briefly, and blushed again.\n\n\u201cNot the mousquetaire?\u201d said Andr\u00e9 in affected amazement.\n\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d said Pauline, still very rosy\u2014\u201cthat horrid mousquetaire. I\u2019m\nsure,\u201d she added with a toss of her pretty head, \u201che had impudence\nenough for anything.\u201d\n\nThis is the way, messieurs, that the ungrateful fair for whom we run all\nrisks characterize our devotion.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Andr\u00e9 gently, \u201cit was not the mousquetaire.\u201d\n\nThe girl looked up quickly, a sudden light in her eyes.\n\n\u201cDear Andr\u00e9!\u201d she said again, \u201cyou are very good to me.\u201d\n\nThey were silent awhile, and then the poet, taking the girl\u2019s hand, said\nearnestly:\n\n\u201cListen to me, Pauline. There is a condition to my gift. It is that if\nat the last moment you should change your mind in regard to\u2014to\u2014\u201d he\nhesitated\u2014\u201cto what we once spoke of, you will send me back this\nrose,[167] and I will find a way to save you.\u201d\n\nPauline made no answer; but she no longer scolded, and Andr\u00e9 was\nsatisfied that she had agreed. We shall see if he was right.\n\n\n V.\n\n\nOn the night before Pauline\u2019s wedding-day a merry and noisy company of\nmousquetaires were gathered in the Caf\u00e9 _Aux Fers Crois\u00e9s_. Some were\nplaying billiards, others baccarat; all were drinking, and nearly all\nwere singing and shouting at the top of their lungs. Only our old\nfriend, the Chevalier d\u2019Aubuisson, sat apart by himself, very woebegone\nand silent.\n\nA comrade, drawing near, slapped him on the shoulder and said\nboisterously:\n\n\u201cCome, come, my friend, cheer up. Don\u2019t mope your life away because your\nlight o\u2019 love is false.\u201d\n\nThis delicate counsel the mousquetaires greeted with vociferous\napplause.\n\nD\u2019Aubuisson sprang to his feet with flashing eyes.\n\n\u201cVicomte de Brissac,\u201d he cried, \u201chold! The first who breathes a word\nagainst that angel dies. I swear it, by this sword!\u201d\n\nThe mousquetaires were silent; not that they respected his evident\nemotion\u2014they respected little enough, not even themselves\u2014but they did\nrespect his sword.\n\n\u201cWhy, man!\u201d said De Brissac at length, \u201cyou don\u2019t mean to say you are in\nearnest\u2014that you would marry the girl?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-morrow, if she would have me. God knows how willingly; and to-morrow\nI lose her for ever.\u201d\n\nWith a groan the chevalier sank back into his seat and buried his face\nin his hands.\n\n\u201cTut, tut, man!\u201d said De Brissac, who was naturally kind-hearted. \u201cIf\nyou love her so, why give her up tamely? She must like you better than\nthis shop-keeper.\u201d Our mousquetaires had a brave contempt for all men\nwho earned their living honestly. \u201cWhy not make a bold push for it and\ncarry her off from under his nose? We\u2019ll all stand by you\u201d\u2014\u201cThat will\nwe,\u201d in chorus from the rest\u2014\u201cand, take my word for it, the bird will\nthank you for her rescue from the fowler.\u201d\n\nD\u2019Aubuisson looked up quickly, a gleam of hope in his face. But his brow\nsoon grew dark; he knew Pauline too well to believe that she would\nsanction or forgive such an act of violence, however much she loved him.\nAnd he was more than half persuaded she did love him, in spite of her\nrejection, conceited young mousquetaire that he was; he was fully\npersuaded she did not love Raoul, both from his own observation and the\nstatements of Papa Lamouracq\u2019s old housekeeper, Ang\u00e9lique, whom he had\nwon to his interests. If he could but bring her to consent! It was a\nforlorn hope, but he would make a last appeal.\n\nHe wrote a fervent letter to Pauline, proposing, if she agreed, to place\nher in charge of his aunt, the abbess of the Convent of Pont-aux-Dames,\nwhere she would be in safety until he could marry her. Both these\nlovers, you see, had the same thought, but with very different motives.\nThis letter he despatched to his friend the housekeeper, promising her a\nroyal reward if she got him an answer.\n\nIn an hour\u2019s time the answer came: it was only a withered rose.\n\nD\u2019Aubuisson eyed it in blank amazement. Was it a cruel sneer, a mistake,\nor what?\n\n\u201cBah!\u201d cried De Brissac after a few moments\u2019 study of the problem. \u201cLove\nhas made you dull, comrade, as it does most men. Don\u2019t you see? Where is\nthat weed I have seen you kissing a hundred times so insanely? This is\nthe mate to it, and the message can have but one meaning: she is yours.\u201d\n\nAng\u00e9lique confirmed this view, which our mousquetaire was only too\nwilling to accept; so with much clinking of glasses and vowing of vows\nthe rescuing party was made up.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAll night long the poet kept lonely vigil in his attic, waiting and\nlonging, and hoping against hope, for the rose which never came. Had it\ncome he would have been puzzled to know what steps to take for Pauline\u2019s\ndeliverance; but somehow he felt he would compass it, if he had to ask\nthe aid of his rival the mousquetaire, and though the price were his\ncousin\u2019s hand. But the long hours dragged wearily on and no word came.\nThe dawn found him still keeping his weary watch, no longer hoping, but\nhaggard indeed and the picture of despair\u2014a most dismal philosopher, who\nin all his philosophy could find no comfort.\n\n\n V.\n\n\nIt was a very gay wedding party that gathered next day at the Mill of\nJavelle, then a famous resort for the Parisian merrymakers, to do honor\nto the nuptials of Raoul Berthier and the lovely Pauline, less lovely\nnow, alas! for care and sorrow had worn her almost to a shadow of her\nformer self. With the wedding guests mingled freely an unusual number of\nmasks; but their presence excited little remark and no objection, for it\nwas one of the familiar privileges of the time. And the strangers,\nwhoever they were, made themselves so agreeable to the feminine part of\nthe company that by these, at least, they were voted a welcome addition\nto the pleasures of the day.[168]\n\nIt had been arranged that the wedding ceremony should be performed by\nthe cur\u00e9 of St. Germain l\u2019Auxerrois in a little chapel hard by at ten\no\u2019clock, and that the wedding breakfast should follow. But ten o\u2019clock\npassed, and eleven, and still there was no sign of the good priest. Noon\nwas drawing near when Papa Lamouracq swore roundly that they would wait\nno longer, but sit down to the feast at once, let the marriage take\nplace when it might\u2014a decision hailed with acclamation by his guests.\nPerhaps, too, a glance at Raoul\u2019s condition\u2014he had been drinking deeply\nall the morning and through the previous night\u2014may have suggested the\nwisdom of postponing the ceremony.\n\nAt this moment one of the masks drew near Pauline, who stood a little\napart, pale and sorrowful, and whispered hurriedly in her ear:\n\n\u201cDearest, come; it is the time. A post-chaise waits for us in yonder\nclump. In an hour\u2019s time we shall have you safe behind the convent\nwalls.\u201d\n\nPauline shrank from him in mingled astonishment and terror. Then he\nshowed her a withered rose; she knew it at once for the same she had\nsent the night before to Andr\u00e9 upon receiving D\u2019Aubuisson\u2019s letter. This\nshe had torn to pieces in a transport of indignation and bade Ang\u00e9lique\ncarry the pieces back to the writer. But the very suggestion so\nterrified her in her nervous state with the idea of an attempted\nabduction such as was only too common in that lawless time, that her\nscruples yielded at last, and she resolved to take Andr\u00e9\u2019s advice and\nseek refuge in a convent. With this view she commissioned the\nhousekeeper to carry to her cousin the signal rose. That crafty old\nperson, however, shrewdly surmising that the return of his own torn\nletter would win her scant esteem or guerdon from her employer, took it\nupon herself to give him the rose instead\u2014a message on which at need she\ncould put her own construction.\n\nAt sight of the flower Pauline hesitated. Surely this could not be her\ncousin; the figure seemed much too tall, yet, if not, how came he by the\nsignal? In her confusion and incertitude she suffered herself to be\nhalf-passively drawn by the unknown in the direction of the thicket he\nspoke of. As she did so the other masks drew together about them\u2014a\nmovement unnoticed by the rest of the company, whose thoughts and eyes\nwere all intent upon the loaded and steaming tables, to which they were\non the point of sitting down under the trees.\n\nSuddenly a wild scream startled them. It was from Pauline, who had just\ncaught sight of Andr\u00e9\u2019s pale, reproachful face gazing at her fixedly\nfrom the outskirts of the crowd. At her scream the wedding guests,\nheaded by Papa Lamouracq, came hurrying towards the bride with various\ncries of anger, astonishment, and menace. The situation bade fair to be\nembarrassing.\n\nBut the chevalier was a man of promptness and decision, by no means one\nto draw back from an undertaking once begun. Besides, to him Pauline was\nonly hysterical; she must be saved in spite of herself. Further disguise\nwas useless; force only would now prevail. So catching the fainting girl\nin his arms as if she were an infant, and shouting, _A moi,\nmousquetaires!_ he pressed on to the carriage.\n\nBut he was not to reach it unopposed, however. The word _mousquetaires_\nmade plain the whole design to the dullest-witted in the assembly: the\nfame of those audacious scamps for similar exploits was wide-spread.\nAmong the wedding company was more than one old privateering comrade of\nRaoul\u2019s who had swung cutlass and boarding-hatchet by his side; and it\nso chanced that two other wedding parties had brought to the mill that\nsame day some scores of sturdy blacksmiths and fishermen and stout\nbutchers from the Halles. Armed with stools and benches, with sticks and\nstones, they flung themselves furiously upon the mousquetaires, some\nfifty or sixty in number. The latter, casting off mask and domino, and\nforming a circle about D\u2019Aubuisson and the unconscious Pauline, defended\nthemselves with vigor.\n\nThe fight was long and uncertain, and many were hurt on both sides. But\ndisciplined valor won the day as usual over brute strength, and in spite\nof every effort of their antagonists the mousquetaires slowly but surely\nmade their way towards the fatal thicket. Papa Lamouracq, himself\nwounded more than once, and disabled, could only gnash his teeth and\nhowl impotent curses at the foe; the bridegroom, at his first step\ntowards the scene of conflict, had staggered and fallen, and was lying\non the grass in a drunken stupor; the little poet, bleeding already from\na ghastly wound in the forehead, had to be forcibly held back from\nflinging himself like another Winkelried upon the bristling blades of\nthe mousquetaires. All seemed lost.\n\nBut despair, too, has its inspirations. The poet\u2019s eye, in a fine frenzy\nrolling, seeking everywhere for a weapon to annihilate his enemies, fell\nupon one of the steaming tureens of soup just served for the wedding\nfeast. Instantly he caught it up and hurled it, contents and all, full\nat the heads of the victorious mousquetaires. Two went down at once\nbefore the shock; half a score were scalded by the boiling liquor;\ndouble that number\u2014O much more direful and appalling tragedy!\u2014had their\nsplendid uniforms stained by good M\u00e8re Leroux\u2019s most savory _potage_.\n\nShrewdly did C\u00e6sar bid his veterans strike only at the faces of Pompey\u2019s\ndandy cavaliers. Thus does history repeat itself. Death and torture our\nmousquetaires would have faced unflinchingly, and charged a battery as\ngaily as they would have danced a minuet; but their clothes were dear to\nthem. For most of them they were their only clothes, and what wonder if\nat the onslaught of this novel and terrific weapon they wavered? So\nmight the bravest knight who first faced the terrors of gunpowder have\nhesitated without shame to his courage. Andr\u00e9\u2019s example was infectious.\nFrom all sides was rained upon the hapless mousquetaires a shower of\nsoups, ragouts and entremets, sauces, sausages and salads, omelettes\n_aux fines herbes_ and omelettes _sucr\u00e9es_, until they fairly broke and\nfled, dripping, not blood, but gravy at every pore, and dragging with\nthem by main force their frantic leader, who wished not to survive the\nloss of his Pauline.\n\n\n VI.\n\n\nNeed the sequel be told? Of course the valiant poet was rewarded with\nthe hand of her he had loved so faithfully and rescued so oddly. Papa\nLamouracq was loyal to his vow that only to the man who could protect\nhis daughter should she be given, and it was Raoul\u2019s turn to be sent off\nin disgrace. He sold out his business, disappeared from the Quai de la\nFerraille, and betook himself to his old trade of privateering, or, many\nfolks said, something worse. As for Andr\u00e9, he became a famous poet, was\npresented at court, and duly enrolled among the glorious fellowship of\nwits\u2014the great M. Voltaire deigned to call him _confr\u00e8re_, much to\nPauline\u2019s indignation, for that great man\u2019s notions were by no means to\nher taste\u2014and his poems may no doubt still be found by those who look\nfor them in the Biblioth\u00e8que Imp\u00e9riale.\n\nWhat were they, do you ask? Truly I have never heard, but he was a most\nfamous poet.\n\nWhat was better, he was a most happy husband, and Pauline never\nregretted the chance which made her his wife instead of Raoul\u2019s. She\nowned she had always liked him the best, which I dare say was true,\nthough I suspect that in her secret heart she would have liked a more\nromantic fashion of being won, and was not over and above pleased when\nAndr\u00e9\u2019s friends, in allusion to his valor, called him Marshal Terrine or\nM. De Bouillon. But she was very happy, especially when, after her\nfather\u2019s death, they found themselves rich enough to fulfil that dream\nof every good Parisian, a neat little country house with a lovely garden\nin the suburbs.\n\nAnd the poor mousquetaire? Ah! miss, you are right. Could we but have\nhad him for our hero, which was indeed the author\u2019s intention at the\nstart, as you may see by looking back to the earlier pages of this\nveracious history! But fate, alas! is not to be gainsaid, and on the\nwhole, perhaps, Pauline was better off with her poet. The chevalier\ncould not face the ridicule poured upon him for his share in the Battle\nof the Soup-Kettle, as the wits called it. He got himself exchanged into\na regiment at the front, and fell fighting gallantly in the decisive\ncharge which broke the English column at Fontenoy.\n\nI forgot to mention that Pauline\u2019s favorite pastime in her country life\nwas cultivating roses, with which her garden in the season fairly\nglowed; and on each anniversary of her wedding-day it was her custom to\nput by her husband\u2019s plate at breakfast a little posy containing exactly\nthree of the flowers in question, which he never failed to receive with\nan air of the utmost surprise as to where they could possibly come from.\n\nFootnote 166:\n\n Napoleon thought a big nose to be a sign of intellect, says history,\n mother of lies. Fiddlesticks! He chose men with big noses because they\n were easier to lead. An army of snub-noses would never have gone to\n Moscow.\n\nFootnote 167:\n\n It will occur to the ingenious reader, as indeed it has to the\n ingenious writer, that it would have been much simpler and more\n natural to ask Pauline to write her wishes. So it would. But then\n Andr\u00e9 was a poet and a genius, and\u2014this is a romance. Besides, who\n knows but Pauline might have been locked up at the critical moment and\n denied writing materials?\n\nFootnote 168:\n\n It was the very incident here related, and which in its main outlines\n is historically true, that led to a police regulation forbidding the\n intrusion of masked outsiders into wedding parties and other\n festivals.\n\n\n\n\n THE ENGLISH PRESS AND THE PAN-ANGLICAN SYNOD.\n\n\nOn the 2d of July a certain, or rather uncertain, number of English,\nIrish, Scotch, Canadian, and American gentlemen met together in the\nlong-desecrated chapel of Lambeth Palace; and on the 27th of the same\nmonth the same gentlemen, after listening to a discourse in St. Paul\u2019s\nCathedral from one of their number, the \u201cBishop of Pennsylvania,\u201d bade\neach other farewell. During the twenty-five days that had intervened\nbetween these two dates the gentlemen in question had talked a great\ndeal to and at each other, sometimes in public and sometimes with closed\ndoors. A general sense of confusion concerning this assemblage seemed to\npervade that portion of the public mind of London which paid any\nattention to it. The London newspapers, which must notice everything,\nfrom the arrest of a pickpocket to the reconstruction of an empire,\ncould not agree upon the title to be given it. In the _Morning Post_ it\nwas spoken of as \u201cThe Lambeth Conference\u201d; the _Spectator_ called it\n\u201cThe Gathering of the Bishops\u201d; the _Times_ on one day entitled it \u201cThe\nPan-Anglican Synod,\u201d on another it spoke of it as \u201cEpiscopal Visitors\u201d;\nthe _Pall Mall Gazette_ and the _Saturday Review_ agreed upon \u201cThe\nBishops at Lambeth\u201d as a sufficiently safe and non-committal title; but\nthe former, on one day, went so far as to venture to speak of the\nassemblage as \u201cThe Pan-Anglican Conference.\u201d Nor did the reporters of\nthe journals arrive at a _consensus_ of opinion concerning the number of\nthese gentlemen; one authority reporting them as numbering \u201csomething\nlike eighty-five prelates,\u201d while another placed the assemblage at\n\u201cabout one hundred,\u201d and a third, with greater precision, spoke of\n\u201cabout one hundred bishops and four archbishops.\u201d A still more notable\ndiversity of opinion prevailed as to the purpose for which these\ngentlemen had come together\u2014some of the writers in the journals\ninsisting that the affair was a mere social gathering; others that it\nwas a species of debating society composed exclusively of Anglican\nbishops; others that it was a conclave to devise combined action \u201cto put\ndown the Ritualists\u201d; others that its purpose was to \u201csell out\u201d to the\npope, if peradventure he would buy; others that it covered a scheme for\nthe \u201ccorporate unity\u201d of the Protestant Episcopal Churches in Great\nBritain, Ireland, the colonies, and America, with the Archbishop of\nCanterbury as patriarch. The journals which care most for the\nrespectability and perpetuation of the Anglican body besought the\ngentlemen to content themselves with talking, taking tea, and smoking in\nMrs. Tait\u2019s back garden, and not to attempt to do anything else. \u201cWe\nrecommend the bishops,\u201d said the _Spectator_, \u201cnot to attempt a\npastoral, as they did last time; not to try their hands on points of\ncreed; not to suppose that for any purpose of defining religious belief\nthey will be strengthened by this concourse, if not rather weakened.\u201d\nThey might, perhaps, discuss \u201cwhat concession could be made to pagan and\nheathen converts brought up under a very different morality from the\nChristian\u201d\u2014as, for instance, we suppose, whether a Turkish convert might\nnot be permitted to indulge in his peculiar ideas regarding marriage,\nand whether a converted Thug should not be allowed to strangle a victim\noccasionally. Or they might even venture to discuss \u201cthe practicability\nor impracticability of church discipline\u201d\u2014that is, whether it be\n\u201cpracticable\u201d or \u201cimpracticable\u201d for a clergyman to refuse to marry a\ndivorced person or to exclude an unrepentant murderer from the\ncommunion-table; or for a bishop to prevent one of his clergy from\nturning the communion service into a Methodist love-feast, or another\nfrom making it a close imitation of the holy sacrifice of the Mass. They\nmight \u201cdiscuss\u201d these things, but they must not act upon them, and they\nmust above all refrain from \u201cdiscussing creeds.\u201d \u201cWe strongly recommend\nthe Pan-Anglican Synod,\u201d exclaimed the _Spectator_, \u201cto renounce\nentirely the superstition which attaches to _such_ assemblages of\nbishops a sort of divine skill in discriminating truth from falsehood.\nIndeed, we believe them to be under very special incapacities for any\nsuch discrimination.\u201d Honest and true advice, but hard for the so-called\nbishops to bear, as coming from a journal warmly attached to Anglicanism\nand edited by two prominent and zealous members of that church. No\ndiscussion of creeds! no discrimination of truth from falsehood! Why,\nhere is the Anglican body throughout the English-speaking peoples, with\na clergy no two of whom can agree upon the most vital dogmas of the\nChristian faith; who are disputing with each other and befogging the\nminds of their people with their discordant \u201cviews\u201d upon the subject of\nbaptismal regeneration; upon the sanctity and indissolubility of the\nmarriage relation; upon the real presence of Jesus Christ in the\nEucharist. If these were true bishops, if their church were really a\nchurch and anything but a state-born and worldly association, these\nbishops would not have separated without not only \u201cdiscussing\u201d but\ndefining the faith and providing for its preservation and enforcement.\n\nThey took the _Spectator\u2019s_ advice. They took it all the more readily,\nperhaps, because the _Times_ pointed out to them that \u201cthese highly\nrespectable gentlemen from the antipodes and the tropics, from the\nTransvaal and the Falls of Niagara,\u201d must make up their minds that to\neat \u201ca dinner at the Mansion House\u201d was the most important work they\nwould have to perform, and that in \u201cthe social assemblages\u201d that would\nfollow they would \u201cfind more benefit than from their public\nconferences.\u201d The _Times_ frowned upon the suggestion that the Primate\nof All England countenances, even tacitly, the suggestion that he should\nbe recognized as the metropolitan of the Anglican Church; the _Saturday\nReview_ ridiculed the opinion that \u201cthe reliance of the independent\ncommunities upon England might be regulated and strengthened by\ndeclaring that the Archbishop of Canterbury was a patriarch, and Lord\nPenzance, we suppose, family lawyer all round,\u201d and went to the extent\nof comparing the church to an \u201cOdd-fellows\u2019 society.\u201d In the face of\nchaff like this the gentlemen from the antipodes and Niagara Falls, as\nwell as those from Lincolnshire and Edinburgh, turned a deaf ear to the\nappeals alike of Ritualistic working-men and Low-Church green-grocers,\nand wisely contented themselves with eating the lord mayor\u2019s dinner,\ngoing to sober evening parties, preaching sermons in London churches,\nand devoting a few hours each week to the discussion, in church-congress\nfashion, of such thrilling and vitally important themes as \u201cVoluntary\nBoards of Arbitration,\u201d or \u201cthe position of Anglican chaplains on the\nContinent of Europe and elsewhere.\u201d To cap the climax, during the\nsession of the conference the first anniversary of \u201cthe Reformed\nEpiscopal Church of England\u201d was held in Newman Hall\u2019s church in London.\nThe Reformed Episcopal Church of England, it may not be generally known,\nwas imported into England from the United States, and had its birth by\nthe secession of Bishop Cummings, Mr. Cheney of Chicago, and some others\nfrom the Protestant Episcopal Church. The Reformed Episcopal Church of\nEngland has a bishop\u2014one Mr. Gregg\u2014and at this anniversary meeting\nBishop Gregg said:\n\n \u201cThe Church of England might be likened to a ship. When he joined it\n he thought he was going straight to a Protestant port, but he\n afterwards found that the ship had turned its head, had altered its\n course, and was now bound straight for Rome. For this reason, as he\n did not want to go to Rome, he thought it best to come out of it.\n Some people had asked, \u2018Why not remain in it and endeavor to alter\n its course? Why not try to reform it?\u2019 His answer was that others\n had tried to do it and had failed, and therefore he had come to his\n present conclusion. After denouncing the evils of sacerdotalism Dr.\n Gregg said that he considered the present Prayer-book was the cause\n of many of the existing evils. The Reformed Episcopal Church had\n therefore entirely revised it, freed it from all sacerdotalism, had\n thoroughly uprooted all its dangerous dogmas, and the revised\n edition now in press would shortly be issued.\u201d\n\nThe bishops at Lambeth were so fearful of disobeying the injunctions of\nthe _Spectator_ not to \u201cdiscuss creeds,\u201d or to attempt to \u201cdiscriminate\nbetween truth and error,\u201d that they did not even venture to rebuke\nBishop Gregg or to take any steps against this schism. Indeed, how can\nthey be sure that he is not right and that they are not wrong?\n\nThe first Pan-Anglican Synod, convoked eleven years ago, the London\n_Times_ says, \u201cexcited some curiosity, mingled with more ridicule and\nremonstrances.\u201d But it discharged its \u201capparent functions\u201d to the\nsatisfaction of all concerned. That is\u2014\n\n \u201cIt afforded to a great many hard-working gentlemen the opportunity\n of taking a holiday under the guise of an episcopal progress. A\n certain number among them it enabled to render an account in person\n to their constituents in England of the value they had received for\n the funds entrusted to their hands, and to beg for more. Over and\n above these material objects, the synod professed its aim to\n preserve Anglican churchmen throughout the world in theological\n harmony. This, too, it accomplished, at least negatively. English\n churchmen were able to testify that Protestant bishops from the east\n and from the west resembled each other very closely in demeanor and\n in their forms of thought. They even had, surmounting the obstacles\n of their local accent, the very tone of voice which no other body of\n clergy throughout the civilized world can boast, and which gives\n Church-of-England ministers a virtual monopoly of the clerical sore\n throat. Our visitors, whose episcopal residences and cathedrals are\n scattered over the globe, carried home, we believe, an equally good\n report of church conservatism in the mother-country.\u201d\n\nBut the subtle mind of the late Bishop of Winchester, who was the\nreputed author of this episcopal picnic, had deeper views at bottom. He\nintended the first Pan-Anglican Synod as an answer to the sneer that the\nChurch of England is a local accident, without any principle of\nspiritual authority, growth, or development. The synod was held, but the\nBishop of Winchester was disappointed: the bishops would do nothing;\nthey would not even order Bishop Colenso to the stake; and, \u201cas\nclergymen, what they manifested above all else was that the Anglican\nChurch in England and the Anglican Church out of England resemble each\nother almost to identity. The special peculiarities of the Church of\nEngland come into even more prominence abroad than at home. We are more\nimpressed with the spirit of the state church carved out by King Henry\nVIII. when we meet with its foreign professors than we are in the\ncountry of its birth.\u201d How biting is this sarcasm, and how deeply it\nmust cut into the heart of the Anglican or the American Episcopalian who\nstills fancies that the mind of England is true to Anglicanism!\n\nThe Lambeth Conference which has lately ended was as barren of results\nas was its predecessor. On the day before its first meeting a number of\nthe American and colonial bishops went down to Canterbury, where Dr.\nTait, perhaps as an undress rehearsal of his anticipated elevation to\nthe post of Protestant Pope, had \u201cthe chair of St. Augustine\u201d brought\nforth, enthroned himself in it, and delivered a discourse. The audacity\nof this performance was extreme; perhaps the thoughts which it must have\nsuggested to the spectators will yield their proper fruit. In face of\nthe _disjecta membra_ of a creed before him Dr. Tait had the extreme\nrashness, not to use a harsher term, to say in this discourse that he\nand his hearers \u201chad advantages which the great St. Augustine had not,\u201d\nfor \u201cthey stood nearer to the pure, primitive Christianity of the\napostles than St. Augustine stood, ...\u201d and that St. Augustine\u2019s faith,\nwhich is that of the whole Catholic Church to-day, was \u201ca sort of\nsemi-pagan Christianity.\u201d St. Augustine preached in England in the sixth\ncentury, Dr. Tait talks in the nineteenth; which is \u201cnearer,\u201d\nchronologically, \u201cpure, primitive Christianity,\u201d and which is nearer,\ndoctrinally, the faith that St. Augustine received from Rome or that\nwhich Dr. Tait has received from Henry VIII. and Queen Elizabeth?\n\nOn the next day, July 2, the conference opened at Lambeth Palace. There\nwere \u201csomething like eighty-five prelates present,\u201d of whom forty-three\nwere from the colonies and the United States. It seems that there are\nten bishops unattached, living in and around London, who had expected to\nbe invited and who were disgusted at being left out; but it is explained\nthat \u201cthe primate felt that the line must be drawn somewhere, and these\nprelates had no jurisdiction, even of a delegated character,\u201d so he drew\nit at them. Before entering the chapel to receive holy communion the\nbishops adopted the following declaration:\n\n \u201cWe, bishops of Christ\u2019s Holy Catholic Church, in visible communion\n with the churches of England and Ireland, professing the faith\n delivered to us in Holy Scripture, maintained by the primitive\n church and by the fathers of the blessed Reformation, now assembled\n by the good providence of God at the archiepiscopal palace of\n Lambeth, under the presidency of the Primate of All England, desire,\n first, to give hearty thanks to Almighty God for having thus brought\n us together for common counsel and united worship; secondly, we\n desire to express the deep sorrow with which we view the divided\n condition of the flock of Christ throughout the world, ardently\n longing for the fulfilment of the prayer of our Lord, \u2018That all may\n be one, as thou, Father, art in me and I in thee, that they may also\n be one in us, that the world might believe that thou hast sent me\u2019;\n and, lastly, we do here solemnly record our conviction that unity\n will be more effectually promoted by maintaining the faith in its\n purity and integrity\u2014as taught in the Holy Scriptures, held by the\n primitive church, summed up in the creeds, and affirmed by the\n undisputed general councils\u2014and by drawing each of us closer to our\n common Lord by giving ourselves to much prayer and intercession, by\n the cultivation of a spirit of charity and a love of the Lord\u2019s\n appearing.\u201d\n\nIs it not extraordinary that men of intelligence will persist in\nbefogging themselves with phrases about \u201cthe deep sorrow\u201d with which\nthey view the divided condition of the flock of Christ throughout the\nworld, and their longing for the fulfilment of the prayer of our Lord\nfor the unity of his people? The flock of Christ is not divided; it has\nnever been divided, and can never be divided for the reason that he not\nonly prayed for its unity but willed its unity, and provided infallible\nmeans for the preservation of its unity.\n\nThe communion service over, Dr. Thomson, the Archbishop of York,\npronounced a somewhat remarkable discourse, in which Catholic truth,\nProtestant error, and fanciful theory were strangely mixed, from the\nwords of St. Paul, \u201cBut when Peter was come to Antioch I withstood him\nto the face, because he was to be blamed.\u201d He exposed the fallacy of the\ntheory that the great apostle of the gentiles and the first Supreme\nPontiff were in antagonism to each other, and he did this ably; but he\nended his sermon with the following absurd passage:\n\n \u201cMore than one writer has been pleased to point out that in the\n first century there were three periods, in which three\n apostles\u2014Peter, Paul, and John\u2014predominated in succession; and they\n think they can trace the same succession in the larger field of\n church history, so that the Petrine period ends at the Reformation,\n and the Pauline succeeds it, whilst the time of St. John is supposed\n to be the beginning. There is something fanciful in this\n arrangement. Yet pardon the fancy for the truth that underlies it.\n And when Peter falters, impulsive, and is inconsistent with himself,\n and Paul withstands him to the face, let the third apostle enter on\n the scene and remind us that we can afford to use the largest\n charity whilst we hold still the firmest trust. His contribution to\n the eternal diapason of the church\u2019s faith and love shall be this:\n \u2018Whosoever shall confess that Jesus is the Son of God, God dwelleth\n in him and he in God.... And this commandment have we from him, that\n he who loveth God love his brother also\u2019 (1 John iv. 15, 21).\u201d\n\nIt will not do to set up St. Paul as the John the Baptist of Luther and\nHenry VIII.\u2019s Reformation; nor will it do to assume that Peter, whose\nprovince it is to confirm the faith of his brethren, \u201cfalters and is\ninconsistent with himself,\u201d or that the church has waited until now to\nunderstand the words of St. John.\n\nBut here the curtain falls upon the public proceedings of the\nconference. They retired from the profane sight of men, and, shut up in\ncompany with \u201cfour reporters pledged to secrecy,\u201d and who duly gave to\nthe journals every day accounts of all that happened, they spent a few\nhours of each day in discussing \u201cnot creeds,\u201d but \u201cmodern forms of\ninfidelity\u201d; \u201cthe best mode of maintaining unity among the various\nchurches of the Anglican communion\u201d; \u201cVoluntary Boards of Arbitration\nfor churches to which such an arrangement may be applicable\u201d; \u201cthe\nrelation to each other of missionary bishops and of missionaries in\nvarious branches of the Anglican community acting in the same country\u201d;\nand \u201cthe position of Anglican chaplains and chaplaincies on the\nContinent of Europe and elsewhere.\u201d Nothing could be less interesting\nthan much of this; and the prelates were no doubt glad when all was\nover, and when they closed their meetings by a sermon from the Bishop of\nPennsylvania in St. Paul\u2019s Cathedral.\n\nAs is plain from the comments already given by the leading organs of\nEnglish opinion, the second Pan-Anglican Synod attracted even less\nattention and more general contempt than the first. When men come to ask\nthemselves what has been accomplished by the twenty-five days\u2019 session\nbesides tea and talk, what is the only answer? It is this: the synod\nended, as it began, in nothing.\n\n\n\n\n NEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\n ETHICS, OR MORAL PHILOSOPHY. By Walter H. Hill, S.J., Professor of\n Philosophy in the St. Louis University, author of _Logic and\n Ontology, or General Metaphysics_. Baltimore: Murphy & Co.; London:\n Washbourne. 1878.\n\n\nWe rejoice to learn that Father Hill\u2019s first volume of the course of\nphilosophy has met with great success. We have been long desiring to see\nthe second part in regular order, namely, the Special Metaphysics. This\nis, undoubtedly, the most difficult part to treat in a satisfactory\nmanner, as well as the one most controverted among Catholic writers,\nparticularly as regards cosmology. Precisely on this account we were\nespecially curious to hear Father Hill\u2019s exposition of the debated\nquestions, and perhaps this is also the reason why he has postponed this\npart of his work, and published first his Ethics. Ethics is equally\nimportant, and even more generally necessary and useful. We are,\ntherefore, glad to welcome the Ethics of Father Hill, hoping that he may\nhasten, as much as his heavy labors in the work of teaching and in that\nof the sacred ministry will permit, the completion of his Metaphysics.\n\nThis volume is, like the first one, an English text-book of the same\ngrade and quality with our standard Latin text-books in philosophy. It\nis suited for the educated reader and for the higher classes in\ncollege. Both volumes are above the capacity of pupils of a lesser\ndegree of intellectual development and instruction. If it is possible\nto bring the study of philosophy down to the level of this class of\npupils without reducing the science to a merely nominal and\nsuperficial condition, the text-book fitted for this purpose still\nremains a _desideratum_. For the general reader and the pupil who is\nable to understand it this manual of ethics will prove of great\nservice. It has always been the rule and practice of the illustrious\nSociety of Jesus to follow in instruction the doctrine of St. Thomas,\nas understood by the great body of Catholic theologians and\nphilosophers, in all those particulars in which such a common\nunderstanding exists. In ethics, happily, there does exist such a\ncommon and generally accepted doctrine in regard to all chief and\nimportant topics, and there is consequently a great degree of unity\nand harmony in the teaching imparted by Catholic professors to their\npupils. Without doubt it is the safest and most practical method to\nmake the text-books of theology and philosophy, and the lectures of\nthe class-room, conform to this common doctrine. Deeper and more\noriginal and free discussions of difficult and undecided or\nimperfectly-elucidated questions belong to another class of works.\n\nFather Hill\u2019s text-book may be taken as a safe and sound exponent of the\nsystem of ethics contained in our approved Latin manuals and taught in\nour seminaries and colleges. In substance its doctrine is scholastic,\nthe doctrine of Aristotle, St. Thomas, Suarez, Bellarmine, Liberatore,\nand the generality of similar authors of approved reputation. The great\nnumber of original texts, with translations, which are interwoven with\nthe author\u2019s own exposition, gives the ordinary reader a notable\nadvantage, by making him acquainted with the great writers on ethics,\nand furnishing a guarantee of the fidelity with which their ideas are\npresented by the author.\n\nA minute criticism of the work before us in its minor details would\noccupy too much space for a mere notice. We are obliged, therefore, to\ncontent ourselves with a general expression of our favorable opinion of\nthe manual as a whole, and of the treatment given to the principal\ntopics in its several parts, and the briefest possible notation of\nparticular points of remark. The first chapter, on the Ultimate End of\nMan, presents sufficiently for a treatise of such limited compass the\ntwofold relation of humanity by nature and by grace to God as the Final\nCause. One statement (p. 21), that \u201cit is not simply impossible for God\nto make a creature so perfect that intuitive vision of the divine\nessence would be connatural to it,\u201d we cannot concur in, and it is\ncontrary to the common opinion that grace elevates its subject \u201csuper\nomnem naturam creatam _atque creabilem_,\u201d so admirably defended by\nFather Mazzella in his _De Deo Creante_. We think, also, that the author\nconfuses the abstractive with the discursive process in the same\ncontext, and refer to Liberatore\u2019s exposition of the nature of angelic\nknowledge and the similar knowledge proper to the state of separated\nspirits, in his work _Deli Uomo_, for our reasons of dissent from the\nexposition of Father Hill. The qualification of \u201cunnatural,\u201d used in\nrespect to a desire of the soul to see God intuitively, on page 23,\nseems to us objectionable, on account of the use of a term at least\nambiguous, and liable to be taken as signifying a positive opposition\nbetween nature and a final term which transcends its specific active\nforce. The remainder of the whole division of General Ethics, comprising\nthe following chapters: ii., Action of Man as a Rational Being; iii.,\nPrinciples of Moral Goodness; iv., The Passions; v., The Virtues; vi.,\nLaw; vii., Civil Law; viii., Conscience, is in our opinion admirable,\nand we find nothing to criticise. We are particularly pleased to see\nthat the author refutes a common fallacy that sin is an infinite evil,\nmeriting an infinite punishment. It is most important at this time, when\nthe doctrine of endless punishment is so generally and violently\nassailed, that the exaggerations and fallacious arguments which cling\naround it should be cleared away, and only that which is the real\ndoctrine of revelation be presented, sustained by rational arguments\nwhich are solid, which has been done by Liberatore, and also by Father\nHill in his section of this subject.\n\nIn the second part, on Special Ethics, four chapters are included: i.,\nRights and Duties; ii., Special Duties; iii., Man as a Social Being;\niv., Civil Society. We are glad to see that Father Hill distinctly\nasserts the rights of rational creatures before God, a most important\npoint against Calvinistic, Jansenistic, and rigoristic exaggerations of\nthe doctrine of God\u2014absolute dominion and divine sovereignty, which make\ntheology odious and drive many minds toward atheism in their\nintellectual despair. The question of veracity, lying, and mental\nreservation, which Grotius said made him sweat, is too briefly treated\nfor a satisfactory enucleation of its difficulties, especially as the\nauthor departs from the common opinion of Catholic moralists. We are\nrather disposed to favor his view, which has strong reasons in its\nsupport, though not prepared to express an opinion that it is altogether\ncomplete and sufficient.\n\nIn treating the great question of civil society, with the subordinate\nquestion of the origin and legitimacy of government, etc., the author\nhas shown great judgment and discrimination. He adheres to the theory of\nSuarez, Bellarmine, and the great body of the ablest Catholic authors,\nrespecting political society. Ultra-monarchical and ultra-democratic\ntheories are equally indefensible, and both are mischievous. We trust\nthat loyal citizens of our republic who are reasonably conservative will\nfind evidence, in Father Hill\u2019s calm and moderate statements, that the\nCatholic religion is admirably suited to give stability to our own\nnational institutions, notwithstanding its total opposition to the\nEuropean liberalism and radicalism that would fain overthrow the\nconstitutions and governments of the Old World.\n\nIn respect to style, the main point in a work of this kind is to make\nits ideas clearly and distinctly intelligible. The author, in general,\nhas succeeded in his effort to accomplish this result as well as the\nnecessity of adhering to the phraseology of Latin authors would permit.\nSometimes, however, succinctness and condensation produce ambiguity and\nobscurity\u2014a defect which we suspect in some instances is partly or\nentirely owing to errors in printing. Again, there are some words used\nin a way which is not conformed to the English idiom\u2014as, for instance,\nthe word \u201cavert,\u201d used intransitively, and the phrase to \u201cput an\naction.\u201d There are many minor faults of this sort which can be easily\ncorrected in a second edition. Let us, by all means, have the other\nvolume as soon as possible. The whole, when complete, will serve a most\nimportant end, by extending among intelligent readers of English books a\nknowledge and taste for scholastic philosophy. This taste, when\nawakened, will demand much larger and more thorough works on the same\nsubjects. We think, moreover, that those who write these works must\nbreak away from the trammels of an artificial Latinized style and write\nin idiomatic English, like Dr. Newman and the best writers in the\n_Dublin Review_ and _Month_. We desire to see works on Catholic\nphilosophy which are as fine specimens of pure English idiom as those\nwritten by Liberatore in his native language are of a charming and\nliterary Italian style.\n\n\n I. A HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS, ACADEMIES,\n AND COLLEGES. By John R. G. Hassard, author of _Life of Archbishop\n Hughes_, _Life of Pius IX._, etc. 1 vol. 12mo, illustrated.\n\n II. AN INTRODUCTORY HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES FOR THE USE OF\n SCHOOLS. Arranged on the Catechetical Plan. 1 vol. 16mo,\n illustrated. New York: The Catholic Publication Society Co. 1878.\n\n\nIn this history Mr. Hassard has performed a very rare feat. He has made\na school-book which, while being in every respect a thorough\nschool-book, is full of interest from cover to cover. There is not a\ndull page in it.\n\nOf course the first thing that commends this book to Catholic teachers\nand students is that it is written by a Catholic, and Mr. Hassard\u2019s\neminent qualifications for the preparation of such a work are too well\nknown to need any mention here. The part that Catholics played, not only\nin the discovery of this continent but in its exploration and\ncolonization; the part borne by them in the War of Independence and in\nthe later history of these United States, has been carefully forgotten,\nor slurred over, or misrepresented, or omitted altogether in the average\nhistory set in a boy\u2019s hand at school. This is not history; and to\nremedy this capital defect, we take it, has been the chief object of Mr.\nHassard\u2019s book.\n\nHe has done his work thoroughly and in an excellent manner. He is\nnowhere aggressive; he is simply historical from first to last. Where\nCatholicity comes in he gives it its place; where it does not enter he\nnever drags it in. He is concerned with facts, and he attends chiefly to\nthem. How he has succeeded in grouping them together, in collecting the\ntangled threads of events that are scattered over a vast continent,\nwhere so many nations and tribes of men and forms of religion and\ngovernment contended for the mastery; the patient skill with which he\nhas woven these into a bright, clear, and picturesque whole, can only be\njudged by those who read the book, which, for our own part, we could not\nset down until we had read it through. The history begins with the\ndiscovery of the continent, and brings us down by easy yet rapid stages\nto our own times. The story of the Spanish colonies, the French, the\nEnglish, the Dutch, are all given due prominence. The work of Catholic\nmissionaries in exploring the continent and attempting to convert the\nnative tribes is briefly yet fully set forth.\n\nThe long struggle for national independence is given with great skill,\nforce, and clearness, and indeed these qualities characterize the whole\nwork. It is very plain that the author had everything clear in his own\nmind before he sat down to inform others. The result is a clean-cut and\ncomplete whole, with no important omissions, no waste, and no\nredundancy. The narrative is invariably spirited and flowing, and to\nstudents is in itself a model of clear, strong, simple English. It is\nwonderful, too, to see how, with the brief space at his command, the\nauthor has contrived to throw in at the right time those little personal\nallusions, pictures, or reminiscences of famous men and events that lend\nits charm to history and so aptly illustrate the times. Indeed, the\ngifts here displayed by Mr. Hassard are obviously those that would lend\ngrace, strength, and dignity to a much more ambitious, though not more\nuseful, work than that before us. The sense of historical truth and\naccuracy plainly predominates in the author\u2019s mind.\n\nHis efforts to produce a history that was much needed, yet had hitherto\nremained unwritten, have been ably seconded by the publishers. The text\nis a delight to the eye; the illustrations, though many, are\nunexceptionally excellent; the little maps thrown in here and there are\nof great use in illustrating the text; and the questions at the foot of\nthe page are all that either student or teacher could desire. It is\nimpossible to commend such a work too heartily. It simply stands alone.\n\nWe have often heard the just complaint that Catholics had no history of\nthe United States which they could safely use in their schools\u2014none, at\nleast, which was satisfactory. That complaint can exist no longer.\n\nThe _Catechism of United States History_ is made from the larger work,\nand is in every way suitable for parish schools and junior classes in\nacademies. The narrative is continuous, so that it can be read without\nthe questions as a regular history.\n\n\n LE PROGRES DU CATHOLICISME PARMI LES PEUPLES D\u2019ORIGINE ANGLO-SAXONNE\n DEPUIS L\u2019ANNEE 1857. Par Mgr. De Haerne, Membre de la Chambre des\n Representants (de la Belgique). Extrait de la _Revue Catholique de\n Louvain_. Louvain: Peeters. 1878.\n\n\nThis pamphlet is an evidence of the awakening of a great interest in\nCatholic Europe in the Catholic Church existing and increasing within\nthe dominion of the British Empire and the republic of the United\nStates. Ample justice is done by the author to the great Celtic element\nwhich pervades the church in English countries, although the term\nAnglo-Saxon appears so distinctively in his designation of the territory\nwhich he has made the object of his investigations. It is almost\nimpossible to give an account of a pamphlet so full of statistics\nwithout translating the whole bodily. The author has made it as full and\ncorrect as he could, considering the means within his reach. The defects\nare those of his sources of information, and his few mistakes are those\nwhich a foreigner would easily make\u2014as, for instance, in making Seton\nHall College an institute of the Jesuits, and attempting to enumerate\nthe generals of the army of the United States who have become converts.\nA translation of this interesting pamphlet made by a competent hand,\nwith the corrections and additions in respect particularly to our own\ncountry and British America which a fully-informed writer living among\nourselves could make, would furnish some very valuable information both\nto the friends and the enemies of the Catholic religion. We owe grateful\nacknowledgments to the eminent Belgian prelate and statesman for his\nexcellent and elaborate essay, and for his kindness in favoring us with\na copy.\n\n\n I. ANCIENT HISTORY. II. HISTORY OF ROME. III. HISTORY OF THE MIDDLE\n AGES. Adapted from the French of Rev. P. F. Gazeau, S. J. New York:\n The Catholic Publication Society Co. 1878.\n\n\nWhoever knows the above works in their original French will be glad to\nsee them in their present convenient, cheap, and attractive English\nform. The series makes delightful reading, even in a desultory sort of\nway. They are full of sound learning and philosophical inference;\nindeed, it would be hard to find books containing more wealth of\nresearch in so small a space. As might be expected, the style is concise\nand yet smooth, flowing, and agreeable.\n\nSuch books as these are needed. Without denying the zeal and learning of\nmost of our teachers, it is still safe to say that few of our higher\nstudents ever finish a course of history. The difficulty lies with the\ntext-books generally in use. They are for the most part so large and\nfull of detail that the pupil leaves school without a fair knowledge of\nthe events connected with the Roman Empire, the formation of the modern\nstates of Europe, the conversion of the barbarians, the Crusades, the\nevents that led up to the Protestant Reformation, and the important\nchanges and revolutions that have occurred since that period, because\nall or most of the time available for history has been consumed in the\nepochs preceding the time of our Saviour.\n\nThe _Ancient History_ is a complete compendium of the history of Egypt,\nAssyria and Babylonia, Media and Persia, Ph\u0153nicia and Carthage, Greece,\nMacedonia, Alexander\u2019s Empire and the states founded on its ruins. The\n_History of Rome_ treats of the Eternal City and its dominion from the\ntime of Romulus to that of Romulus Augustulus.\n\nThe _History of the Middle Ages_, of which we have before us advance\nsheets, is now in press. Scholars will be surprised by its wonderful\ncombination of learning, sagacious reflections, and convenient grouping\nof events. Its narrative stops with the taking of Constantinople (1453).\nA _Modern History_ of the same series is in preparation, and will follow\nas soon as possible. It will bring the series down to our own times.\n\nThe orthography of the proper names is made to conform to the practice\nof the best modern English and American writers. The judgment and\nlearning of the American editor are apparent in the many wise\nalterations and additions which he has made. Review questions are given\nat the end of each chapter, except in the _Middle Ages_, where the\nquestions will be printed at the end of the book, so as not to break the\ncontinuous appearance of its pages for the general reader. The three\nbooks may be gone through in one term of ten months without any resort\nto \u201ccramming,\u201d and we can recommend them to our high-schools, academies,\nand colleges as the most compact, complete, and continuous set of\nhistories yet given to the Catholic public.\n\n\n DOSIA. From the French of Henry Greville. Boston: Estes & Lauriat.\n 1878.\n\n\nIt has been hinted that Henry Greville is the _nom de plume_ of a French\nlady who lived for some time in Russia. The sex of the writer may be\nreadily judged from the book itself, which is decidedly feminine both in\nplot and in dialogue. Its sketches of Russian society are in a measure\nvery neutral in color; and as to the two facts that peculation is very\nactive in Russian official circles, and that extravagance is very common\namong the \u201ccrack\u201d regiments at St. Petersburg, these are so very well\nknown that the story, if written to exhibit such phases of society, is\nsuperfluous, as that information could better be obtained by reading\nsome standard work of travels in Russia. As a novel it is trifling and\nflimsy, and the authoress cannot compare with Daudet either in dramatic\nforce or beauty of diction. The plot is feeble, but the dialogue is\noften amusing and the situations on certain occasions not wanting in\ninterest.\n\n\n A SAINT IN ALGERIA. By Lady Herbert. (Reprinted from the _Month_.)\n London: Burns & Oates. 1878.\n\n\n_A Saint in Algeria_ is the record of one of those lives ever living in\nthe bosom of the church of God\u2014a link in the vast unbroken chain of\nsaints binding through all the centuries the church suffering on earth\nwith the church triumphant in heaven.\n\nWe recommend this little memoir of Margaret Berg\u00e9sio (better known as\nAgarithe Berger) to those who look on the past ages only as the days of\nfaith and of a charity that faileth not. In the life of this pure\nmountain blossom of Piedmont, transplanted to the thick atmosphere of\nLyons and finally finding its perfection among the hills of Algeria,\nthese mournful souls may, in the midst of the seeming decay they weep,\nfind consolation in a new name added to a saintly list that in future\nyears may make some Kenelm Digby sigh for the earnest and active faith\nof the church in the nineteenth century.\n\nAnd the devoted Agarithe has found in Lady Herbert a loving biographer,\nwho writes with a fervor and simplicity worthy of the high humility of\nthe holy heroine.\n\n\n LEGENDS OF HOLY MARY. Baltimore: John Murphy & Co. 1878.\n\n\nAs we read the preface to this little book we feel our weapons of\ncriticism trembling in their sheath, since, should we use them, we find\nourselves well-nigh denied any seat in that kingdom whereof Holy Mary is\nqueen; while our critic\u2019s spoils lie out of our reach safe in her hands\namid whose lilies, as once wrote St. Bernard, our earthly offerings lose\ntheir stain and wear only the whiteness of the heavenly bloom.\n\nThe writer of the present volume has gathered from ancient gardens, in\nthe devotional spirit of old-time minnesinger, a nosegay of legends\nbreathing the pervading presence of her who is the \u201cmother of fair love,\nand of fear, and of knowledge, and of holy hope,\u201d the ever-merciful\nmother of the poor children of Eve.\n\nFew can fail to gather some sweetness from such a nosegay\u2014one that among\nits blossoms counts that fair one of Provence whose perfect perfume\nfills one of Adelaide Procter\u2019s most perfect poems teaching the\ncompleteness of the mercy of God:\n\n \u201cOnly Heaven\n Means _crowned_, not _vanquished_, when it says,\n \u2018Forgiven!\u2019\u201d\n\n\n THE YOUNG CATHOLIC.\n\n\nThe _Young Catholic_, published by the Catholic Publication Society Co.,\nenters this month on its ninth year. It may be that some persons who are\ninterested in this kind of literature have not yet seen the _Young\nCatholic_. For their benefit we would say that it is a monthly paper of\neight pages for children and young people. It is finely illustrated and\nfilled with original matter that is at the same time entertaining,\ninstructive, and edifying.\n\nAs a literary work, our young people may well be proud of the _Young\nCatholic_. It can take its place beside the best literature of that kind\nin our country.\n\nIt is most suitable for Sunday-schools, convent schools, etc., and the\nlow price at which it is published brings it within the reach of all.\nThe following is the table of contents for September:\n\nThinking over the Actions of the Day; illustrated. Hero Priests. The\nSparrow and her Children. Twilight Talks. Beautiful Things. The\nMocking-Bird; illustrated. Heroism of a Little Girl. The Holy Rupert of\nBingen. What is He? illustrated. Talk by the Fireside; illustrated.\nInsects of August. A Lake Asleep. The Little Cricket. Perils of\nMissionary Life; illustrated. Stockings. The Farmboys, Chap. III. Hymn\nto St. Aloysius, with music, composed by a pupil of Loretto Convent,\nEnniscorthy, Ireland. A Letter from \u201cMartha from the Country.\u201d Letters\nfrom \u201cUncle Ned\u2019s Sunbeams.\u201d Enigmas, Riddles, etc.\n\n\nTERMS, PAYABLE IN ADVANCE.\n\n\n5 copies, per annum, $2; 15 copies, $5; 50 copies, $16; 100 copies, $30;\n250 copies, $70; 500 copies, $125. No subscription for less than five\ncopies received, and not less than five copies sent to one address.\n\nIn sending money, a post-office order ought to be procured, and where\nthis cannot be had the letter should be registered. Every postmaster is\nobliged to register a letter if required; the cost is fifteen cents\nextra. Large clubs can be divided into fives, tens, etc., and sent to\ndifferent post offices and addresses.\n\nAddress THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY CO., 9 Barclay Street, New\nYork.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWe need scarcely call the attention of our readers to the new serial\nfrom the pen of Miss Kathleen O\u2019Meara, which has just begun, and which\nwill run through our next volume. We have no doubt that _Pearl_ will\nprove to our readers, as it has proved to us, to be by far the finest\nstory that this accomplished writer has yet given us.","title":"The Catholic World, Vol. 27, April 1878 to September 1878","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":478853}