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Catholic world

Paulist Fathers

-^,a,wa*«.«*6

l^arbarli College i^iftrarg

TROM THfe BEqUF.ST OF

JAMES WALKER, D.D., LL.D.,

(Clau of 1814),

FORMER PRESIDENT OF HARVARD COLCEGE;

" Preference being given to works in the
Intellectual and Moral Sciences."

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THE

CATHOLIC WORLD.

MONTHLY MAGAZINE

General Literature and Science.

VOL. LXII.
OCTOBER, 1895, TO MARCH, 1896.

NEW YORK :

THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD,

120 West 60th Street.

1896.

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The Columo* Prem, 120 West 60th St., New York.

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CONTENTS.

After the Manner of St. Francis. {Illus-
trated.)— John J. O' Shea, . . 377

Acadian Missionary, and His last Rest-
ing Place, An. — M. A. Condon, . 8oi

Among the Butterflies. {Illustrated.) —

William Seton, LL.D,, . . .302

«• A Nun and a— Litterateur ? " — ^.

A. McGinley, 512

Armenia, Past and Present. {Illustra-
ted. ) — Henry Hyvernat, D.D., . 312

Artist Philosopher, An. {Illustrated.)

—Frank H. Sweet, . .114

^Boston Half a Century Ago. {Illustra-

ted.)-^F. M. Edselas, ... 733

Brother to a Saint. — Helen M. Sweeney, 613

Cardinal Manning. {Frontispiece,)

Cardinal Manning, Life of. — Very Rev.

A. F. Hewit, D.D., .... 836

Otholic Schools and Charities under
J the New Constitution. --/<?A« T.

McDonough, 682

Catholicism in Madagascar. {Illustra-
ted.) — Thomas Gtlleran, . . 533

CatholicisBk, Protestantism, and* Pro-
gress. — Rev. Francis W. Howard, 145

Causes of the Present War in Cuba,
The. {Illustrated.)— Henry Lincoln
de Zayas, M.D., . . .807

> Celtic ReTival Arose, How the. — M.

A. O* Byrne, 764

Century of Catholicity, A.—B. Morgan, 433

Change of. Heart, A. — /. H. L., . , 22

Church and the New Sociology, The,-^ 290
Rev. George McDermot, C.S.P., .

Church Honors the Medical Profession,

How the. — Rev. Henry A. Brann, 643

City of Redemption, The. {Illustrated.)

— Rev. R. M. Ryan, .667

Columbian Reading Union, The, 139, 283,
432, 572, 716, 856

Comer-Stone, The.--i^«'. John Tal-
bot Smith, 384

Dante's House, Florence. {Frontispiece.)

Daughter of Kings, A, . . . 205

Dawdlings in Donegal. {Illustrated.)

— Marguerite Moore, 167

Don Unia and his Lepers. — E. M. Lynch, 817

Editorial Notes, 136, 279, 430, 570, 710, 854

Enforcing Law : Is It Right ?—

Robert J. Mahon, . .179

Euthanasia. — Cornelius M. CLeary,

M.D., LL.D., 579

For Religion's Sake. {Illustrated.) —

P. G. Smyth, 72

General Convention of the Protestant
Episcopal Church, The. — Jesse
Albert Locke,

Golden Age and its People, A. {Illus-

trated.y—F. M. Edselas, ... 600

Hawthorne's Favorite Walk in the

Woods. ( Frontispiece. )

His Dry Sunday. — Edith B rower, . 780

History of Philosophy as applied to
the Church, Tht.— Cornelius M.
O'Uary, M.D., .... 36

HonaeatLast. — Walter Lecky, , . 327

Homeless City, A. — John J. CShea, 647

Impression of Holland, An. {Illustra-
ted.) — Bart Kennedy, . . 775

King Edward Sixth School, A. (Illus-
trated.) — T. Set on Jevons, . . 791

Last Mass, The. — Lady Herbert, . 747

Legislation as a Cure-Ail. — Robert J.

Mahon, 729

Little Cripple of Lisfarran, The. —

Katharine Roche 238

Living Mosaic, A, 187 i

Looking back at the Maynooth Centen-
ary. --^«;. CAtfr/«i/cCr^tf<i[y, /?./?., 396

Madame Gamier and Her Work. —

Annie Blount Storrs. . . 233

Madonna del Sasso, Lago Maggiore,

Italy, The. {Frontispiece.)

Madonna del Sasso, Locarno, The. {Il-
lustrated.) — E. M. Lynch, . 97

Memorable Christmas Night, A. —

Anna H. H. Keane, . . 495

Modern St. Francis, A. — Comtesse de

Courson, 155

Montmartre the Holy. — Rev. Edward

McSweeny, .... 342

Morning in Florence, A. {Illustrated.)

— Marion Ames Taggart, . . 255

Much-Needed Book, A. — Maurice

Francis Egan, . • . . . 487

Neglected Call, A. {Illustrated.) —

Sarah C. Burnett, .... 464

New Poet Laureate, The. {Illustrated.)

-^ John J. O'Shea, . . . . S22

Npw Road from Agnosticism to Chris-
tianity, A. — Very Rev. A. F. Hewit,
D.D 2

Nicaragua Canal Project, The. {Illus-
trated.) — Patrick SarsJield Cassidy, 499

Old Houses I have Known. — M. de

Brian (on, 119

Old Rome and Young \X.a\y.—John J.

O'Shea, 104

Old-Time Temperance Societies. —

Rev. Patrick F. McSweeny, D.D., 482

Organic Conception of the Church, The.

— James Golf, .... 723

Our Africa.— >?«'. E. L. Quade, . . .830

Paquita's Christmas-Tree. {Illustra-
ted.) — Helen M. Sweeney, . . 404

Pedro : The Tale of a Young Tramp.—

A. E. Buchanan, .... 59

Personal Reminiscences of Washing-
ton Irving. {Illustrated.) — John
Morris, M.D., 627

Princess de la Tour d'Auvergne at
Jerusalem, The. {Illustrated.) —
Olive Risley Seward, . . 350

Professor Nitti's •* Catholic Socialism," 85

Religious Organization in the Sacred
City. {Illustrated.)— Orby Shipley,
M.A., 50

Retreat of St. Etheldreda, The. {Il-
lustrated.) — J. Arthur Floyd, . 441

Round YesLT, A,— Marion Ames Taggart, 362

Ruse de Guerre, A. — John J. O'Shea, 543

Shrine of St. Ann, The.— {Illustrated.) 14

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Contents.

Simian Anthropoid, The.— ?Vry Rev.

A. F. Hetuit, D.D.,
Story of Consolation Jones, The.—

Paul O'Connor, ....
Study in Shakespearean Chronology, A.

—Applet on Morgan y
Study of the Sunday Question, A. —

Rev. Patrick F. Mc Sweeney, D.D.,
Talk abo. ew Books, 129, 271, 416,

696,
" The Northern Athens." {Illustrated.)

^ John J. O'Shea, ....

655
AA9

250

558.
842

195

The Presentation.

{Frontispiece.^
What the Thinkers Say, . 137, 281, 71 ^

Who is St. Nicholas?— W^. /. D.

Croke,

Why Not ?— i?rt'. F. G. Lentz,

Why We Catholics Sympathize with

Armenia. — Rev. R. M. Ryan, .

Winter-School in New Orleans, The. —
Rev. James J. McLoughlin,

Wonders of Old Ocean, The. {Illustra-
ted.)— F. M. Edselas, . ..

26s
621

181

554'

219

POETRY.

Angel's Christmas Quest, The.— ^«'. Mary Mother. {Illustrated.)— Eliza-
John B. 7 abb, 289 beth Gilbert Martin, ... 95

Ave, Gratia VXensi. — Austin O'Malley, 695 }A\s\.s.~Jes'ie Willis Brodhead, . . 779

Capital and Labor. — Eleanor C. Moonlight Reverie, A.— Viator, . . 800

Donnelly, 154 Moonrise, At.— Jf. T. Waggaman, . 118

Golden Wedding, 1\i^.— John Jerome Rejecied Levers.- Francis Thompson, i

^^"^y 6" Simile, A Lilian A. B. Taylor, . . 218

ngratitude.-^'Wr C. Donnelly, . 732 song of i e Soul. A.^Mary T Wag-

In the XJbvl Valley. — Louise Imogeti gaman, 510

^'"'"O'' 532 Teachers, '-^Yie'.— James Riley,' ! '. 70

'* I Sleep, but My Heart Waketh."— To the Sultan.- y£>A« Jerome Roonev, 841

/essie H^'illis Brodhead, , 186 Triplet, A.'—Franh H. Siveet, , .194

NEW PUBLICATIONS.

/Ethiopium Servus : A study in Christian

Altruism, 847

Alethea's Prayer, and other Tales, . 422
Anarchy or Government, . . 852
Aspects of the Social Problem, . 132
Ballads of Blue Water, and other Poems, 562
Catechist, or Headings and Suggestions
for the Explanation ol Christian Doc-
trine, The, 427

Catholic Home Annual, . . . 560

Chapters of Bible Study ; or, A Popular
Introduction to the Study of the
Sacred Scriptures, .... 569
Christ's Idea of the Supernatural, . 567

Christian's Model ; or. Sermons on the
Life and Death of Christ, the Example
and Virtues of Mary and other Chosen
Saints of God, The, . . . .709
Comedy of English Protestantism, The, 845
Compulsory Education : the State of
Ohio versus the Rev. Patrick Francis

Quigley, D.D., 134

Constantinople, 275

Correct English, 130

Elements of Expression, Vocal and

Physical, 703

English Literature : A Manual for Acad-
emies, High-Schools, and Colleges, . 704
Fabiola ; or, the Church of the Cata-
combs, . . . ^. . . 843
Function of Criticism, The, . . . 424
Geoffrey Austin, Student, . . 564
Glories of the Catholic Church in Art,
Architecture, and History, . 851

Golden Sands, 421

Historic Towns. New York, . 701

History of the University of Notre Dame

du Lac, Indiana, . . '131
Hollow of the Hills, In a, .566
Introduction to the Sacred Scriptures, 276
Jesuit of To-day, A, . . . . 850
Katharine Lauderdale, .... 274
Leaves from the Annals of (he Sisters
of Mercy, 561

Life of Reverend Mother Mary of St

Euphrasia Pelletier,
Little Book of Western Verse, A,
Longman's English Classics,
Lover of Souls— Short Conferences on

the Sacred Heart, The,
Lovers' Saint Ruth's, and Three Other

Tales,

Making Friends and Keeping Them,
Means and Ends of Education,
Memoir of Father Dignam, S.J., .
Memoir of Mother Francis Raphael,

O.S.D., A,

Memoirs of a Minister of France, .
Memorial of the Golden Jubilee of Rev

Sylvester Malone,
Men of the Moss-Hags, The,
Month of St. Joseph, for People in the

World,

New Orleans : The Place and the People,
Outlines of Dogmatic Theology, .
Petronilla, and other Tales, .

Poems,

Poor in Great Cities, The,
Questions Actuelles D'Ecriture Sainte,
Red Rowans, ....

Road to Rome : and How Two Brothers

got There, On the,
Roman Court, The,
Short Conferences on the Little Office

of the Immaculate Conception,
Sister Songs : An Offering to Two

Sisters,

Songs, chiefly from the German, .
Stories of the Promises,
Striking Contrast, A, .
Studies in the New Testament,
Thoughts and Counsels for Women of

the World,

Tuscan Magdalen, and 'other Legends

and Poems, A, . . . .
Wise Woman, The,
Work of the Women of Calvary, and its

Foutidr,ess, The, ....

569
423
S6i

^53

698
559
842
707

425
131

563
420

845
560
428
421
565
558
850
416

273
706

846

271
696
422
422
847

703

843
276

277

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OCTOBER, t895.

fe/^

Bejected Lovers. (Poem.)

FRANCIS THOMPSON.

A New Bead from Agnosticism to Christianity.

Very Eev. A. P. HEWIT, D.D.

The Shrine of St. Ann. Illustrated.

A Change of Heart. J. n. L.

_^g^ The History' of Philosophy as applied to the

^^^ Church. ri CORNELIUS M. O'liEABY, M.D.

Religious Org'anization in the Sacred City.

Illustrated. obey Shipley, m.a.

'he Tale of a Young Tramp.

A. £. BUCHANAN.

hers. (Poem.) james biley.

:ion's Sake. Illustrated.

p. G. SMYTH.

Nitti's " Catholic Socialism."
ther. (Poem.)

ELIZABETH GILBEBT MABTIN.

Dnna del Sasso : Locarno. lUus.

E. M. LYNCH.

5 and Young Italy.

JOHN J. O'SHBA.

b Philosopher. Illustrated.

FBANE H. SWEET.

les I have Known.

M. DE BBIANCON.
Price, 25 Cents ; S3 per Year.

THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD, NEW YORK

P. O. Box 2, Station G.

CATHOUC PUBUSHINB CO . 30 and 32 Manchester St., Uver|io«l. t

Cntirid at TMi Po»T-OrFioi Aa SiooNoXukM Mattir. *^^ O

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It is Just the book for
instructing converts.

This Publication is printed with I^K manufactured bj^byV^OO^lC
FRED'K H. LEVEY CO., 50 Beekman St., New York."

THE

CATHOLIC WORLD.

MONTHLY MAGAZINE

General Literature and Science.

Vol. LXII. OCTOBER, 1895. No. 367.

Articles sent to the Editor for consideration must be accompanied
by a stamped and addressed envelope^ as well as by postage sufficient
to return the MS,, i/, not found available^ Otherwise the Editor will
not feel bound to acknowledge receipt »

New York:

THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD,

P. O. Box 2, Station G.

Entered at the Post-Office as Second-Class Matter,

DEALERS SUPPLIED BY THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY.

2r,B.— Tlie postage'.ott *' The Catholic World " to Great Britain and Ireland, Prance, Belgium,

Italy, 'and Germany is 5 centi«

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CO
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The American ^
T emperance

Life I nsurance
f A ssociation,

No. 253 BROAD^WAir, 1S1SW YORK.

The object of The American Temperance Life Insurance
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THE

CATHOLIC

Vol. LXII. OCTOBER, 1895. No. 367.

y^^{£.<2lS^

JLcn^^.

SuL uct uxhi^ oM tni4e> MJ o>e4^ &i/ed^ ctnJ^

viaruJ no/i/o i&^^ ^ict qJ%ouJ. dii/tne>^ tln&i^^ I

(^Tri cJuZcL ! puitO/ (M^ CftjOtL ^fS^tnit/uynjol^^

IP iatlu un^ ! dUeJ me /truun^ /MtTthay

<^fXl/rUuJ JnornJhfm).

Creccas Cottage^ Pantasaph^ Holywell^ N, WaleSy England.

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2 Nsw Road from Agnosticism to Christianity. [Oct.,

A NEW ROAD FROM AGNOSTICISM TO CHRIS-
TIANITY.*

BY VERY REV. A. F. HEWIT, D.D.

R. ROMANES is well known as one of the most
eminent English biologists, a disciple of Huxley
and Darwin. At the beginning of his career, a
little more than twenty years ago, at Cambridge
University, he was a Christian. Soon after, he
became an Agnostic, and wrote against Theism. He remained
a pure Agnostic, yet, nevertheless, he reverted gradually toward
a recognition of the necessity and value of spiritual intuitions
as distinct from the scientific reason, and of the historical and
spiritual evidences of Christianity. He arrived at the conviction
that it was reasonable to be a Christian believer, and at length,
Mr. Gore says, " returned before his death to that full, delibe-
rate communion with the Church of Jesus Christ which he had
for so many years been conscientiously compelled to forego.
In his case the * pure in heart ' was after a long period of dark-
ness allowed, in a measure before his death, to * see God ' ** (p.
184). He died during the early summer of 1894, soon after his
return to the Church of England, and as there is no reason to
doubt that he was sincere and in good faith in taking this step,
we may hope that he was united to the soul, though not to the
body of the Catholic Church, and pray that he may rest in
peace.

Dr. Romanes was intending to write a work on the funda-
mental questions of religion, when his career was suddenly cut
short. He left only some fragmentary notes written in prepara-
tion for this work. These were given to Mr. Gore, who has
edited and published the greater part of them ; and they have
a special interest and importance as partially explaining a very
singular point of view, from which an avowed Agnostic looks
upon Christianity as reasonable and credible.

All that I know of Mr. Romanes, as a man, leads me to
believe that he was personally upright and virtuous, with a high

* Thoughtson Religion, By the late George John Romanes, M.A., LL.D., F.R.S. Edited
by Charles Gore, M.A., Canon of Westminster. Chicago : The Open Court Publishing Com-
pany.

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189S-J New Road from Agnosticism to Christianity. 3

moral ideal to which he endeavored to conform his life, and
that this was one principal cause of his final return to the reli-
gion of his early youth. He had in him no aversion to the
God whom he had been taught in his childhood to worship, and
no love for, or joy in Atheism ; and his mental attitude toward
Theism was that of a sceptic rather than that of a positive de-
nier. In the Candid Examination of Theism^ published in 1878,
he had written as follows :

" Forasmuch as I am far from being able to agree with those
who affirm that the twilight doctrine of the * new faith * is a de-
sirable substitute for the waning splendor of *the old/ J am
not ashamed to confess that with this virtual negation of God
the universe to me has lost its soul of loveliness ; and although,
from henceforth, the precept to * work while it is day ' will doubt-
less but gain an intensified force from the terribly intensified
meaning of the words that * the night cometh when no man can
work,' yet when at times I think, as think at times I must, of
the appalling contrast between the hallowed glory of that creed
which once was mine, and the lonely mystery of existence as
now I find it, — at such times I shall ever feel it impossible to
avoid the sharpest pang of which my nature is susceptible. For
whether it be due to my intelligence not being sufficiently ad-
vanced to meet the requirements of the age, or whether it be
due to the memory of those sacred associations which to me at
least were the sweetest that life has given, I cannot but feel
that for me, and for others who think as I do, there is a dread-
ful truth in these words of Hamilton, — Philosophy having be-
come a meditation, not merely of death, but of annihilation,
the precept know thyself has become transformed into the ter-
rific oracle to CEdipus — *Mayest thou ne'er know the truth of
what thou art ' " (p. 28).

It is noticeable that while Romanes was young, he was most
positive and categorical in expressing his sceptical propositions
as if he were certain that they were the absolute truth. This
seems very strange in a professed Agnostic^ and quite inconsis-
tent. He lost, however, as time went on, this arrogance, and
changed a number of these positive opinions, without any
effort at concealing the fact, or at keeping up a show of con-
sistency.

If we ask for the intellectual cause of the strange aberrations
of his mind and of similar minds at the universities, we may
find it in the lack of a philosophy broad and strong enough to
serve as a ground on which the foundations of theology and

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4 New Road from Agnosticism to Christianity. [Oct.,

science could simultaneously rest in security. Such as it is, it
is like the made ground in the Back Bay of Boston, which sinks
if too great a weight of buildings is put upon it. The Lutheran
Reformation began by attacking the authority of the Church in
favor of the Bible, it proceeded by attacking the authority of
the Bible in favor of Reason, and at last attempted to de-
throne Reason by philosophical scepticism, masked as positive
Science.

The chaotic state of Theology in that aggregation of sects
called the English Church, and the lack of consistency and au-
thority in this heterogeneous body, was another cause of aber-
ration.

Left without any safeguard except his own moral integrity
and a subjective disposition toward religion, the result of his
early education, Romanes fell an unwilHng victim to the fatal
spell of Agnosticism. Mr. Romanes explains what he meant by
" Agnosticism," and the distinction which he drew between
" pure " and " impure " Agnosticism in clear terms. Pure Ag-
nosticism, which he himself embraced, is that of Huxley ; im-
pure, that of Herbert Spencer.

'* The modern and highly convenient term * Agnosticism * is
used in two very different senses. By its originator, Professor
Huxley, it was coined to signify an attitude of reasoned ignor-
ance touching everything that lies beyond the sphere of sense-
perception — a professed inability to found valid belief on any
other basis. It is in this its original sense — and also, in my
opinion, its only philosophically justifiable sense — that I shall
understand the term. But the other, and perhaps more popu-
lar sense in which the word is now employed, is as the cor-
relative of Mr. H. Spencer's doctrine of the Unknowable '*
(p. 1 08).

From this point of view of pure agnosticism he levelled his
argument against the anti-Christian scepticism of Spencer, and
followed it further afterwards against the entire system of anti-
Theistic and anti-Christian negation of revealed religion, which
shelters itself behind the agnostic formula of Huxley. "This
latter term (Spencer's Unknowable) is philosophically erroneous^
implying important negative knowledge that if there be a God
we know this much about him — that he cannot reveal himself ta
man." By this one blow Romanes dashes the whole theory of
Spencer into shivers. The upshot of his remark is: Mr. Spen-
cer, you are not logical and consistent in your agnosticism ; you
affirm and deny it in one breath. First, you affirm that we dO'

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i895-] New Road from Agnosticism to Christianity. 5

not and cannot know anything about the original source and
support of existing phenomena, and whether it is, or is not
God ; and if it is God, what he is. Then you assert that we
do know this about your so-called Unknowable, that if it be
God, he cannot make himself known to man. You ought to say,
that we do not know whether he can or cannot reveal himself.
It is plain that Mr. Romanes has furnished us with a weapon
wherewith we can destroy all h priori arguments against the
fact of revelation derived from its antecedent impossibility, and
against all dogmas which the church proposes as revealed, e, g,^
the Trinity of Persons in the Godhead. If we do not know
whether God can or cannot reveal himself to man, we must de-
termine whether he has or has not done so by reasoning h pas-
teriori. So also, if we know nothing from reason about the
divine nature, we cannot pronounce, h priori^ that the Trinity,
the Incarnation, Prophecy, Miracles, Inspiration, etc., are in-
credible.

Darwin is reckoned as the most pure agnostic among all
the scientific men known to Mr. Romanes, but his rejection of
Christianity is stated not to have been a deduction from his
agnostic principle. Hume's it priori argument against miracles
is cited as an illustration of impure agnosticism. It is this im-
pure agnosticism which Mr. Romanes is constantly striving to
eliminate, and in so doing he clears the track for his own new
path from pure agnosticism to that kind of Christianity at which
he finally arrived. It is this new road which I am trying to
survey and delineate, so far as the fragmentary character of
the Notes will allow.

The agnostic attitude, pure and simple, as defined by Hux-
ley, with the assent of Romanes, is, as we have seen, "an atti-
tude of reasoned ignorance touching everything that lies beyond
the sphere of sense-perception — a professed inability to found
valid belief on any other basis." The sphere of sense-percep-
tion, the scope of the scientific reason, the object of scientific
investigation, according to Mr. Romanes, is confined to natural
causation. On his theory, there is no thoroughfare by this road
into "the sphere of the final mystery of things with which re-
ligion has to do" (p. no). How then could Mr. Romanes find
any other road, and escape falling into atheism by a rigorous
logical necessity? He says: "Here we should all alike be pure
agnostics as far as reason is concerned." We seem to be shut
up in a cuUde-sac. When Christian and Hopeful had been
locked up by Giant Despair in the dungeon of Doubting Castle,

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6 New Road from Agnosticism to Christianity. [Oct.,

Hopeful suddenly remembered that he had a key in his bosom
which would open all its doors. Mr. Romanes felt for a time
as if he were hopelessly shut up in the cul-de-sac of atheism.
But now, he shows us a key which he thinks may open a door
into another path than that of reason, leading to "the sphere
of the final mystery of things."

Mrs. Stowe's Tiff remarked at a revival meeting: "The
preacher told us to go in by the do* and walk along the way to
life everlasting ; that's jest what I want to do, and to take
in these chillen ; but I don't see no do' nor no way." Be-
fore reading Mr. Romanes* Notes, we are in the same predica-
ment. We are wishing to find out what is his key, where is
his door, and how his path leads from Agnosticism to Theism
and Christianity. And here are the key, the door, and the
path :

" It is generally assumed that when a man has clearly per-
ceived agnosticism to be the only legitimate attitude of reason
to rest in with regard to religion (as I will subsequently show
that it is), he has thereby finished with the matter; he can go
no further. The main object of this treatise is to show that
such is by no means the case. He has then only begun his
inquiry into the grounds and justification of religious belief.**

But how is he to make this inquiry, when he is ignorant of
everything beyond the sphere of sense-perception ? What grounds
of religious belief can there be, when valid belief cannot be
founded on any other basis than sense-perception? The an-
swer of Mr. Romanes to this question is : " Reason is not the
only attribute of man, nor is it the only faculty which he habi-
tually employs for the ascertainment of truth. Moral and spiri-
tual faculties are of no less importance in their respective spheres
even of every-day life ; faith, trust, taste, etc., are as needful
in ascertaining truth as to character, beauty, etc., as is reason.**
The next sentence shows what his notion is of reason, viz., a
faculty of apprehending facts and phenomena of natural causa-
tion through sense-perception, or sensitive cognition informed
by intelligence. Accordingly, his agnostic scepticism stops short
with the affirmation that the investigation of natural causation
does not lead to the knowledge of the First and Final Cause,
which is God. But neither does it lead to the knowledge of
the contrary as being the truth ; viz., that there is not and can-
not be this First and Final Cause, from which all natural causa-
tion depends.

But, according to Mr. Romanes, there is a key opening an-

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i89S-] New Road from Agnosticism to Christianity. 7

other gate into another road to knowledge. He speaks, indeed,
in the earlier speculations of his Notes, in a hypothetical man-
ner, but he arrived at last at the conviction of the truth of his
hypothesis.

'^ If any of us are to attain to any information (respecting
the final mystery of things), it can only be by means of some
superadded faculty of our minds. The questions as to whether
there are any such superadded faculties ; if so, whether they
ever appear to have been acted upon from without ; if they
have, in what manner they have ; what is their report ; how
far they are trustworthy in that report ; and so on — these are
the questions with which this treatise is to be mainly concerned "
(p. no).

This signifies, that all the facts and phenomena of religion,
especially Christianity, must be impartially examined, on the
principles of the inductive philosophy. The results of this ex-
amination are partly negative and partly positive. The negative
results are, that unbelief is not intellectually and morally a higher
and better state than belief, but the reverse.

" Very few unbelievers have any justification, either intellec-
tual or spiritual, for their own unbelief. Unbelief is usually due
to indolence, often to prejudice, and never a thing to be proud
of " (p. 145).

" Nothing is so inimical to Christian belief as un-Christian
conduct. This is especially the case as regards impurity; for
whether the fact be explained on religious or non-religious
grounds, it has more to do with unbelief than has the specula-
tive reason " (p. 166).

There is a great deal of very dreadful truth hidden under
this brief and calm statement, as is proved by the disclosures of
that kind of first-class fiction which is truer than history, and
by a thousand other evidences too well known to those who
are acquainted with the moral ulcers and cancers which devour
the diseased body of modern society. From moral corruption,
and above all from impurity, come apostasy and unbelief.
Luther, Zwingli, Cranmer, Knox, Henry VIIL, Voltaire, are sig-
nal instances. The testimony of Romanes is that of a man
who was in a position to know. And it is important for all
who are engaged in the work of reviving faith among those who
are nominal Christians and converting those who are not, that
they should rely chiefly on those means which will awaken and
enlighten the conscience, bring men to be in earnest about their
moral reformation and spiritual sanctification, without which all

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8 New Road from Agnosticism to Christianity. [Oct.,

reasoning and instruction which relate to the grounds and
motives of believing will prove futile.

Another negative consideration in favor of faith, emphasized
by Romanes, is the misery of human nature without religion,
without God.

" It is thoroughly miserable. . . . Some men are not
conscious of the cause of this misery ; this, however, does not
prevent the fact of being miserable. For the most part they
conceal the fact as well as possible from themselves, by occu-
pying their minds with society, sport, frivolity of all kinds, or,
if intellectually disposed, with science, art, literature, business,
etc. This, however, is but to fill the starving belly with husks.
I know from experience the intellectual distractions of scientific
research, philosophical speculation, and artistic pleasures ; but
am also well aware that even when all are taken together and
well sweetened to taste, in respect of consequent reputation,
means, social position, etc., the whole concoction is but as high
confectionery to a starving man. He may cheat himself for a
time — especially if he be a strong man — into the belief that he
is denying himself by denying his natural appetite ; but soon
finds he was made for some altogether different kind of food,
even though of much less tastefulness as far as the palate is
concerned.

" Some men, indeed, never acknowledge this articulately or dis-
tinctly even to themselves, yet always show it plainly enough
to others. Take, e. g., ' that last infirmity of noble minds.* I
suppose the least carnal of worldly joys consists in the adequate
recognition by the world of high achievement by ourselves. Yet
it is notorious that —

" * It is by God decreed

Fame shall not satisfy the highest need.'

It has been my lot to know not a few of the famous men of
our generation, and I have always observed that this is pro-
foundly true. Like all other ^ moral * satisfactions, this soon palls
by custom, and as soon as one end of distinction is reached,
another is pined for. There is no finality to rest in, while dis-
ease and death are always standing in the background. Cus-
tom may even blind men to their own misery, so far as not to
make them realize what is wanting ; yet the want is there.

" I take it then as unquestionably true that this whole nega-
tive side of the subject proves a vacuum in the soul of man
which nothing can fill save faith in God" (p. 151).

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1895.] New Road from Agnosticism to Christianity. 9

This is very strong language, and the statements of Mr. Ro-
manes, which cannot be disputed, make it plain that religion
alone makes life worth living ; that the only alternative of faith
is pessimism.

There is a positive as well as a negative side to the ques-
tion ; which is, namely, that whereas nothing else can fill the
vacuum of misery in human nature, religion does fill it, as is
proved by the testimony of millions of men, among whom are
included the ilite of mankind in respect to moral goodness.

"Now take the positive side. Consider the happiness of re-
ligious — and chiefly of the highest religious, u e.j Christian —
belief. It is a matter of fact that besides being most intense,
it is most enduring, growing, and never staled by custom. In
short, according to the universal testimony of those who have
it, it differs from all other happiness not only in degree but in
kind. Those who have it can usually testify to what they used
to be without it. It has no relation to intellectual status. It
is a thing by itself, and supreme.

" So much for the individual. But positive evidence does not
end here. Look at the effects of Christian belief as exercised
on human society — ist, by individual Christians on the family,
etc.; and 2d, by the Christian Church on the world.

" All this may lead on to an argument from the adaptation
of Christianity to human higher needs. All men must feel these
needs more or less in proportion as their higher natures, moral
and spiritual, are developed. Now, Christianity is the only
religion which is adapted to meet them, and according to those
who are alone able to testify, does so most abundantly. All
these men, of every sect, nationality, etc., agree in their account
of their subjective experience ; so as to this there can be no
question. The only question is as to whether they are all
deceived.

" Peu de Chose.

" ' La vie est vaine :
Un peu d'amour
Un peu de haine :
Et puis — bon jour !

' La vie est br^ve :
Un peu d'espoir,
Un peu de r^ve :
Et puis — bon soir ! ' '*

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lo New Road from Agnosticism to Christianity. [Oct.,

For the benefit of those who do not read French, I give
the following free version, a literal one in verse being impossible:

Vain is our life :
One loving sigh,
One moment's strife :
And then, good-by!

Our life doth seem,
Hope's transient light
In one brief dream :
And then, good-night!

"The above is a terse and true criticism of this life without
hope of a future one. Is it satisfactory? But Christian faith,
as a matter of fact, changes it entirely.

" * The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of a whole world dies
With the setting sun.

* The mind has a thousand eyes,

And the heart but one ;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.*

Love is known to be all this. How great, then, is Christianity, as
being the religion of love, and causing men to believe both in
the cause of love's supremacy and the infinity of God's love to
man " (p. 152).

Here is another extract in the same strain and bearing upon
the same point with the foregoing :

" It is on all sides worth considering (blatant ignorance or
base vulgarity alone excepted) that the revolution effected by
Christianity in human life is immeasurable and unparalleled by
any other movement in history ; though most nearly approached
by that of the Jewish religion, of which, however, it is a devel-
opment, so that it may be regarded as of a piece with it. If
thus regarded, this whole system of religion is so immeasurably
in advance of all others, that it may fairly be said, if it had
not been for the Jews, the human race would not have had
any religion worth our serious attention as such. The whole
of that side of human nature would never have been developed
in civilized life. And although there are numberless individuals

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i895-] New Road from Agnosticism to Christianity, ii

who are not conscious of its development in themselves, yet
even these have been influenced to an enormous extent by the
atmosphere of religion around them.

" But not only is Christianity thus so immeasurably in advance
of all other religions. It is no less so of every other system
of thought that has ever been promulgated in regard to all
that is moral and spiritual. Whether it be true or false, it is
certain that neither philosophy, science, nor poetry has ever
produced results in thought, conduct, or beauty in any degree
to be compared to it. This, I think, will be allowed on all
Ivtnds as regards conduct. As regards thought and beauty, it
may be disputed. But, consider, what has all the science, or
all the philosophy of the world, done for the thought of man-
kind to be compared with the one doctrine, * God is love ' ?
Whether or not true, conceive what belief in it has been to
thousands of millions of our race — i. ^'., its influence on human
thought and thence on human conduct. Thus to admit its in-
comparable influence on conduct is indirectly to admit it as
regards thought. Again, as regards beauty, the man who fails
to see its incomparable excellence in this respect merely shows
his own deficiency in the appreciation of all that is noblest in
man. True or not true, the entire Story of the Cross, from
its commencement in prophetic aspiration to its culmination in
the Gospel, is by far the most magnificent in literature. And
surely the fact of its having all been lived does not detract
from its poetic value. Nor does the fact of its being capable
of appropriation by the individual Christian of to-day as still a
vital religion detract from its sublimity. Only to a man wholly
destitute of spiritual perception can it be that Christianity should
fail to appear the greatest exhibition of the beautiful, the sub-
lime, and of all else that appeals to our spiritual nature which
has ever been known upon our earth" (p. 159).

The explanations and quotations already given may suffice
to show the general trend of the path which Mr. Romanes trod
on his return to Christian belief.

I must not be understood as approving or in any way apolo-
gizing for what he calls pure agnosticism, to which, so far as
appears from his writings, he adhered to the end. He shows
that the impure agnosticism of Spencer is self-contradictory.
His own pure agnosticism is equally so. He defines it, after Hux-
ley, as " an attitude of reasoned ignorance touching everything
that lies beyond the sphere of sense-perception — a profound
inability to found valid belief on any other basis."

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12 New Road from Agnosticism to Christianity. [Oct.,

Now, he does proceed to lay the foundation of a valid be-
lief in Theism and Christianity on another basis. He does this
by reasoning, and by sound, conclusive arguments. But they are
in a diametrical contradiction to his agnostic principle.

No one is better fitted than Dr, Mivart, the thorough scien-
tist and the thorough philosopher, to pronounce a judgment
upon agnosticism. Here is what he says:

" Agnostics may prate of morality and * altruism * ; let them
show us some examples of it in practice. Till then let them
keep silence and cease to do the devil's work by unjustifiable
negations, and by throwing doubt upon that knowledge which
is the necessary antecedent and accompaniment of all rational
well-doing. On the other hand, let those who are puzzled and
confused by such sophistries take confidence. Agnosticism is
evil to the core and full of diabolical malignity, but its wicked-
ness all but fades from our gaze when contrasted with its amaz-
ing, its unutterable absurdity." *

I have said at the beginning of this article that one cause
of the early aberrations of Romanes was the lack of sound phil-
osophy at Oxford.

In the admirable article from which I have quoted Dr. Mi-
vart insists very emphatically upon the necessity of cultivating
philosophy as an antidote to the poison of agnosticism, and a
prophylactic, a kind of intellectual quinine to guard young minds
from the malaria arising from this swamp. While writing on
this head he speaks as follows of the Catholic University at
Washington :

" A new university, full of promise, has also, by Pontifical
favor and support, happily begun its operations in the Rome
of the new world — Washington. There also philosophy will en-
joy the consideration it deserves, and has begun to prepare the
way for the various physical and historical sciences which are to
follow. It is, of course, manifestly necessary that every kind
should ultimately find its home there. . . . These matters,
however, we only glance at in passing. It is the question of
philosophy which concerns us now, and we desire to record our
supreme satisfaction at the circumstance that these two inde-
pendent institutions (the new schools of Washington and Lou-
vain) have been initiated to grapple with the philosophic follies
of the day, the folly of those who, while opposing Theism,
* profess themselves to be wise.* Our main object in writing

♦ Art. " Professing Themselves to be Wise they become Fools," American Catholic
Quarterly Review^ April, 1891.

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i89S-] New Road from Agnosticism to Christianity, 13

the present article is to arouse young men who will receive
benefits from the Catholic University of the United States to
exert themselves in two ways : (i) By an unmistakable pre-
eminence in some branch of empirical science, and (2) by ability
to make use of a thorough knowledge of philosophy. . . .

"In refuting the Agnostic systems of negation, we are far
from professing ourselves to be wise. We but follow humbly in
the wake of the great series of thinkers and teachers who, from
Aristotle, through Albertus Magnus, St. Thomas, Duns Scotus,
to Leo XIII., have upheld one philosophy essentially consen-
tient and absolutely consistent with itself. . . . We confi-
dently look forward to the delivery of many successful assaults
on the Agnostic position from present or future students of the
new Catholic University of Washington."

I heartily concur in all that Dr. Mivart says on this topic.
The Catholic University is now about entering on a new and
enlarged sphere of operation with the opening of McMahon
Hall, and I fervently hope that the prognostics of Dr. Mivart
will be amply fulfilled.

The signs are most auspicious that a mighty refluent tide
is setting in toward religion, Christianity, and Catholicism. One
of these signs is the conversion of men like Littr^, Palgrave,
and Romanes. May they be the precursors of a crowd of simi-
lar converts! The eighteenth century was an age of infidelity
and revolution. The nineteenth century has been an age of
science. We may hope that the twentieth century will be an
age of science, reconstruction, and faith.

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Basilica of Ste. Anne d'Auray.

THE SHRINE OF ST. ANN.

HILE we hear a great deal — and rightly so — of
our American pilgrimage of Ste. Anne de Beau-
pr6, comparatively few in this country know any-
thing of its European ancestress, of the mother
shrine in the Old World which the Breton sailors,
mindful of home and its associations, had in view when, tossed
by the storms of the Atlantic, they promised " la bonne Sainte
Anne " that if she saved them from the seas they would erect
in her honor, and on the very spot where they would land, a
new shrine on this distant shore. Saint Ann heard the prayers
of her children : we possess our beautiful sanctuary under her
protection, which bids fair to become for Canada and the New
World what Sainte Anne d'Auray is for Brittany and the Old —
the nucleus of the devotion to the mother of the Blessed
Virgin.

The beloved of those we love are always dear to us ; can
Mary's mother, therefore, fail to awaken in every Catholic heart
a particular and filial interest ? Come, let us make together a
pilgrimage to her celebrated shrine in the otherwise obscure
little village of the primitive and melancholy province of Brit-
tany, whose severe aspect seems reflected in the character of
her people. We shall not avail ourselves of the modern means
of travel, but, like true pilgrims of old, take up our staff and
mingle in one of the processions which on every 2Sth of July,

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ia95-] The Shrine of St. Ann. 15

eve of the saint's feast-day, journey towards Auray, the Mecca
of Brittany ; to which, according to a local tradition, every
Breton must go once, if not in this life in the other :

" C'est notre Mfere k tous ; mort ou vivant dit-on,
A Sainte Anne, une fois, doit aller tout Breton."

We shall see along the way much that is touching and beau-
tiful ; much, too, that will seem strange to our American eyes,
unaccustomed as they usually are to these outward demonstra-
tions of devotion. Where shall be our starting-point, the banks
of the Loire, a fishermen's village on the sea-coast, or a town
on the borders of sunny Normandy? It matters little, for in
any case our route and our companions will be quaint and in-
teresting. We have joined, then, one of the bands of pilgrims
representing a parish and led by the cur^ and his assistants,
bearing their richest banners and preceded by an acolyte car-
rying a large crucifix; then follow' the religious orders, the
sodalities and confraternities wearing their habit or badge, and
finally the body of the parishioners, of all ages and conditions
of life, the rich and the poor, the old peasant who perhaps is
making the journey for the last time, and the infant still in his
mother's arms, who strains his eyes to catch a first glimpse of
the beautiful golden statue which has been described to him.

Now truly we are in Brittany ; not, however, it seems to
us, the Brittany of the nineteenth century, but in that of long
ago, of those remote ages with which such fites are associated
in our minds. This sturdy peasant in front of us, with flow-
ing hair and serious countenance, with arms folded across his
breast, half concealing his embroidered waistcoat which sur-
mounts his knickerbockers — is he not a Celt of long ago come
to life again ? Look at this short skirt, this 'kerchief, this high
fantastic coiffe raised like a pyramid ; this other one, with its
lo ig, wing-like ends falling on the shoulders — are they not relics
of a past growing every day more remote ? As we look at the
quaint figures around us and listen to the rise and fall of the
voices in some hymn or canticle we recall, perhaps, another pil-
grimage we have made to an even more famous shrihe and
imagine for an instant we are about to revisit it, but a glance
before us tells us that it is not Lourdes but Auray we are ap-
proaching. Not that the country has not a charm of its own,
for it is grand in and by its very wildness and ruggedness. On
every side stretches the moorland, low, monotonous, heath-
covered, dark in spite of- the July sun overhead, and broken
here and there by tiny hamlets, with their inevitable apple

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i6 The Shrine of St. Ann. [Oct.,

orchards, or by a few of the diminutive cattle of the country;
the white road in front of us seems to ascend in zigzag to
meet the sky, while far, far to the westward is a faint streak
of gray which we know to be the ocean.

The ocean ! What a world of meaning the word possesses
on these primitive shores, where the mighty monster, plays such
a part in the existence of the people ; where so many are
nursed, live and die upon its bosom, where all through their
lives is heard its melancholy music, as their cradle-song, their
hymn, and their dirge. The French navy is manned in a great
measure by the sons of this loyal and Catholic province. In
our pilgrim-band are many whose weatherJbeaten faces would
reveal their avocation did not their costume unmistakably do
so ; rude fishermen who have braved many a storm ; who, per-
haps, are now on their way to . thank Saint Ann for a safe
return from some perilous voyage to the coast of Iceland or
Newfoundland, the favorite rendezvous of Breton fishing-boats,
the grave ofttimes, too, of many of their crews.

The sun begins to decline towards the horizon ; we have
passed many villages, for the most part picturesque but poor
and none too clean-looking, and as our shadows lengthen along
the road we wonder if the end of our journey can be much
further off, or if our companions, as they plod on so bravely
to the rhythm of their voices, feel no sense of fatigue as we
do. We are thinking these things, when suddenly the chant
ceases, and, as if at a given signal, the entire band kneels upon
the dusty road, their heads reverently bowed down, their hearts
uplifted in prayer — they have caught a first glimpse of the
statue of their protectress which crowns the basilica ; Saint Ann
has smiled upon them from afar. Our pace quickens and the
tiny speck we beheld just now, shining in the sunlight, grows
perceptibly. Soon we descry other processions than ours, and
some familiar hymn or canticle is born to our ears across the
heath by a faint evening breeze. Then before us, in the shadow
of the beautiful sanctuary and grouped around it as if for pro-
tection, lie the houses of the little town. As we come nearer
we see that its streets are full to overflowing with people com-
ing* going, and speaking to each other, the greater part of
them, at least, in their native. Celtic tongue. Although every
cottage and hut will be strained to its utmost capacity to-night,^
many, after the fatigue of the day's travel, will be obliged ta
camp in the fields under the canopy of the summer firmament.
Nothing daunted by this, these true pilgrims of Saint Ann,
like the Israelites of old, pitch their tents on the plain in front

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J895-] The Shrine of St. Ann. 17

of the promised land ; while we, degenerate children of great
ancestors, go in search of the only modern hotel in the town,
beyond the purse of most of our brother wayfarers. Thence,
after refreshing ourselves, we wander out through the narrow
streets to obtain a better view of the basilica than we can
possibly have to-morrow, when it will be crowded to over-
flowing, and when the grand and solemn rites of the church
will claim our attention. There it stands, an imposing granite
structure, in the style of the Renaissance as it was treated dur-
ing the reign of Louis XIII., a monument worthy of its object
an^ of the love and homage of the Breton people. Let us
enter. Extending in the shape of a Latin cross, with its marble
columns, its altars, its sculptures and its paintings, it is indeed
an imposing edifice. With true Catholic instinct we seek first

La Scala Sancta, at Auray.

the high altar, and, before making a tour of inspection around
the church, offer our adoration to the hidden Presence therein.
The marble of this altar was presented by Pius IX. This truly
noble gift was taken from the Emporium, where the Roman
emperors deposited marbles brought from foreign countries, and,
as the inscription states, was bnought there during the reign of
Domitian. The floor of the sanctuary is a rich mosaic, the
communion rail is sculptured in Parian marble and Alpine
granite. But we scarcely notice these artistic gems when we
are told that this little monument near the altar marks the spot
where, more than two hundred years ago, Yves Nicolazic, the

VOL. LXIL— 2

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1 8 The Shrine of St. Ann. [Oct.,

humble instrument of God's designs in this obscure corner of
France, discovered the miraculous statue of Saint Ann.

Great things often come from little beginnings. As in the
history of Lourdes, La Salette, and our own Guadalupe, so here
we find a simple and unlettered peasant chosen by Heaven as
a witness of its manifestations. Gratitude, say the French, is the
memory of the heart ; the good Bretons may be said to possess
this quality, for during ten centuries they guarded and cherished
the remembrance of favors received in a little chapel, erected
in remote ages in their midst, in honor of the mother of the
Blessed Virgin, and which disappeared in the seventh centiyy.
Its site was regarded as sacred, and the laborer in cultivating
the field of Bocenno stopped his oxeii at the spot, as his
father had done before him, and as he taught his son to do
after him. In the long winter evenings, when the women sat
spinning and the men talking by the fireside, the simple vil-
lagers often expressed the belief and the hope that Saint Ann
would revisit them, and that she would once more be honored
as she had been by her favorite children. They were not dis-
appointed. In 1623 Nicolazic first saw the " Majestic Lady, en-
veloped in the folds of her luminous draperies and bearing in
her hand a lighted taper." After several such apparitions, she
at last addressed him thus : " I am Ann, Mother of Mary ;
tell your pastor that in the piece of land called Bocenno there
stood formerly, even before the existence of the village, a chapel
dedicated to me. It was the first in this country, and it is nine
hundred and twenty-four years and six months since it was
destroyed. I desire to have it rebuilt as soon as possible. God
wishes me to be honored there." The apparition vanished.
Nicolazic went as directed to his pastor, who, treating him as a
dreamer and a visionary, advised him not to allow himself to
be deceived by the demon.

Yves was troubled, but prayed much. The apparitions con-
tinned ; so did the persecutions he suffered on account of them,
until other witnesses, adding their testimony to his, succeeded
in convincing the cur^, and through him the bishop of the dio-
cese, of the veracity of his statements. Still the ecclesiastical
authorities hesitated before giving their consent to commence a
chapel which, like so many others, might soon be abandoned.
There remained too the question of procuring the means with
which to fulfil the saint's request. The means were not long
wanting. Nicolazic awoke one morning to find on the table by
his bed-side a pile of gold coins, which he hastened to carry to
his incredulous pastor, and one of which is still to be seen in

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1895.] The Shrine of St. Ann. 19

the Carmelite convent in Auray. A final apparition took place
on the night of March 7, 1624, when the " Beautiful Lady "
directed Nicolazic to take with him some of his neighbors and
follow a light that would lead them to something valuable as a
proof to the world of the truth of his assertions. Yves obeying,
followed the celef'stial guide to the very spot on which we stand,
where, upon dig^ng Some distance below the surface, he found
a piece of statuary, about three feet high, representing the saint
leading the Blessed Virgin, who is pointing heavenward.

Considering the time it had lain there, since the seventh cen-
tury, it was in a wonderful state of preservation, the extremi-
ties alone being destroyed. After a rigid examination Yves was
permitted to begin a humble wooden oratory, in which a box
covered with a white cloth served both as altar and as a pedes-
tal for the statue. Such was the first chapel of Saint Ann,
lowly like the stable at Bethlehem, poor like its architect, who
lived, however, to see his Bonne Maitresse honored in a more
fitting sanctuary, and to behold the completion of a larger and
more commodious chapel, which occupied the spot until 1867,
when, unable any longer to contain the multitudes which
thronged to it, it disappeared to give place to the lofty temple
in which we stand.

As we pass on to the altar of Saint Ann, and pay homage

to all that remains of the miraculous statue, we think of how

many have done so before us, of the numberless pilgrims who

jrome from far and wide to ask some grace or blessing, and of

the countless favors that have been here dispensed.

The light is fading within the great basilica ; we know that
the long summer twilight must come to an end ere long, and
that we can afford but a glance at the other eleven altars, each
of which is a gem in itself. They are dedicated to the Sacred
Heart, St. Joseph, St. Joachim, St. John the Baptist, St. Eliza-
beth, St. Peter, etc. That of St. Yves, in the vestibule, detains
us longer, for in a vault under it lie the remains of Saint Ann's
apostle, the good Nicolazic. How happy must he be when,
looking down from above, he counts the crowds who pass in to
do honor to his beloved patroness !

We have admired the grand mural painting in the sanctuary,
have stood in admiration before the splendid gallery of windows
representing events in the lives of our Saviour, the Blessed Vir-
gin, and Sdint Ann, yet we turn with more emotion still to an-
other gallery, less artistic indeed, but more eloquent than the
other: the plaques of marble that cover the walls, the rude
paintings which relate such touching tales, the oars, the swords.

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20 The Shrine of St. Ann. [Oct.,

the canes, the crutches, hung here and there, possess a depth
of feeling often wanting in more pretentious works of art ; they
tell us of the goodness of Saint Ann and of the love of her
children ; they tell us that sailors and soldiers come to pray in
this sanctuary, and that, at the end of this century of scepti-
cism and atheism, the light of Faith still shines as brightly as
ever in the hearts of these true sons of the church.

We cannot leave without a glimpse of the treasure-room, be-
hind the sacristy. We are shown the relic of Saint Ann, given
by Louis XIII., and the papers verifying its authenticity ; the
reliquary, containing another of the same saint, presented by the
Empress Eugenie ; a stone from St. Ann's Church in Jerusa-
lem, from the French consul to that city in 1861 ; two chalices

Fountain at Ste. Anne d'Auray.

from Pius IX.; a piece of the true cross from Monsignor Gar-
nier, formerly Bishop of Vannes. Here, too, are worldly orna-
ments, insignia of rank and honor, placed at the feet of the
saint ; crosses of the Legion, decorations of all kinds, Swords
of Christian soldiers, that of General de Charette, the brave
old warrior who has now laid it down for ever. It bears the
arms and the motto of Brittany, " Potius mori quam feodari "
(Rather die than betray). Monsignor de S^gur, who loved St.
Ann so well, gave to her treasury a white soutane worn by
Pius IX. in the thirty-first year of his pontificate and* a pen used
by the same Holy Father just before his death. This chasuble
was given by Ann of Austria, this ostensory by the Duchess of
Angouleme.

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1 895-] The Shrine of St. Ann. 21

The shadows have gathered within the vast basilica, and, as
we pass through it on our way out, it seems to us loftier,
grander than before, for the outlines of its columns are lost
in the twilight, and its vaulted roof, which re-echoes our foot-
steps, has become invisible in the gloom. With a -short prayer
before the tabernacle, and a " Good-night " to St. Ann, we
pass out into the warm July evening. Out there, beyond the
houses, the weary pilgrims, for whom — as of old for the Saviour
and his Mother — " there is no room in the inn,** are sleeping,
secure and happy, under the protection of their patroness. We
too soon follow their example and are lost in slumber, mur-
muring softly as we fall asleep " St. Ann, pray for us ! " The
dreams of the night are more a reality to us than the events
of the next morning. The grandeur of the edifice, the solem-
nity of the always awe-inspiring Sacrifice of the Mass; the rev-
erence of those thousands of communicants, the quaint costumes
illumined by rays of every hue which stream in upon them
through the stained windows ; the deep tones of the mighty
organ blending with the chanting of the Te Deum ; the moving
accents of the pastor of this multitude, the Bishop of Vannes —
all this forms a whole to be felt, not described. Did we pray?
We cannot remember having repeated a single vocal prayer,
but our hearts were uplifted as they rarely are, adoring, thank-
ing, entreating for ourselves, for our dear ones, for our country,
for the church, for Christianity ; it was, perhaps, the . most
fervent prayer of our lives. Enough, enough ! we cry ; we will
leave while this emotion is still upon us, while this scene is yet
before our eyes ; we will take back the recollection of it to our
daily occupations, to the too-absorbing business of the world,
unimpaired by later impressions. We but took a glimpse at
the fountain of St. Ann, near which the first apparition to
Nicolazic took place, and whose waters have brought relief and
health to many a sufferer, and at the Scala Sancta, which con-
tains in one of its columns a piece of the Pillar of the Flagel-
lation, and whose steps pilgrims ascend upon their knees. An-
other time we may wander back to this quaint old province to
visit the Celtic remains at Carnac, the Champ des Martyrs
where, after the defeat of Quib^ron, nearly one thousand of the
remnant of the royal army were shot by order of the Conven-
tion. Interesting as these and other places of historic associa-
tion may be in themselves, we should now fail to appreciate
them — we should have seen them first. We go then, bringing
with us, let us hope, a more filial confidence in her whom our
Mother *in Heaven calls by that tenderest of names.

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22 A Change of Heart. [Oct.,

A CHANGE OF HEART.

BY J. H. L.

L night the rain has been ftriling in drizzling
showers, and as day breaks the view of sky and
ocean is gloomy and depressing. Along the low
stretch of sands, which under the sunlight look
cheerful and glistening, the waves are sweeping up
with a dull, sluggish swash.

It is a day for gloomy introspection, with its consequent
lowering of spirits and lessening of courage, and a loneliness
that is in harmony with the scene clings to the form of the
man who is sauntering along the water-line. Now he walks a
few paces, then stands in thoughtful mood digging deep down
with his stick into the shifting sands. " What is the use of it ? **
he murmurs ; " what's the use of dragging on day after day in
disappointment ? And yet what is the satisfaction or gain com-
ing from putting an end to it? If I were, with my want of
belief in an after-life, one of those who are said to be * up to
date,* I would write a stupid letter of farewell, fold my coat
neatly, lay it here on the sand with my letter pinned to it,
make one plunge — no, I'd be obliged to wade out quite a dis-
tance, it's too shallow — feel the water creeping up, up, till it
surged in my ears, and then when I'd wish to get td land again
find I couldn't because of cramp — and so it would end. Then
would follow my picture in the papers, sensational stories headed :
Suicide of John Wayton, son of Henry Wayton, the patentee
and millionaire philanthropist ; next would be a verdict of in-
sanity to soften it all for the p^re. Perhaps he would show
up and do the paternal with a few tears and so on. Then
would come the funeral, with all its attendant mockeries; he'd
have me in church dead, when he couldn't succeed in keeping
me there living ; there would be the ordinary amount of pious
gush in preaching and singing, flowers to perfume my poor dead
flesh, then a grave, and maybe a monument. 'Pon my word it
would be worth trying, if one could but enjoy the luxury of
seeing as well as doing it all. On the whole I think it wouldn't
do ; it's too ordinary, too common. I'll have to introduce a
change in the fashion of doing of disappointed men — I'll con-

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I895-] A Change OF Heart, 23

tinue to live." Here he ceases to speak, and chuckling quietly
at his own gruesome attempts at wit, he walks back from the
sands towards the high wall of stone that raises the road-bed
above the level of the water.

A change comes over his face now and drives away all sar-
casm and amusement, leaving only sadness in their place, and
again he voices his sombre thoughts. " What a life mine is
that I should wish it to continue ! Chapter after chapter of its
story closes in gloom and cold'ness, and now this last chapter
is more gloomy and disappointing than all the others. As a
boy I had some peace and comfort ; mother was living and
watching kindly and gently over me. Had she lived longer
than she did, I don't think my nature would have given out
so rank a growth. But she was taken while I was yet a child,
and there was no one to fill her place, and so ended chapter
first. Then came twelve long, weary years of school with its
boarding-house arrangements ;. so much time for this, so much
for that. Always strangers ! Never one of my own, not even
Alf ; what was father thinking of ? Why didn't he give me
the consolation of having my own brother with me — at least
that.^ No; love went out from our lives with mother's death,
and we were to be brought up practically, by incubation, I might
say. I was to be a preacher, and gratify my father's love of dis-
play by filling the pulpit in some ultra-refined church in his be-
loved city. So off to an Episcopal school I must go and imbibe,
from boyhood upwards, the amount of knowledge of theology,
good form, and accent requisite for a minister of that eminently
proper church. Meanwhile Alf, poor fellow! was brought up to
be a partner with, and successor to, father in all his business
concerns. Poor Alf! I say, and may well say it. Why, he is
to-day in a worse state than I am. How he would laugh if he
heard that ! He imagines himself to be eminently successful — he
with a heart running by a system of cogs and wheels, a mind
occupied by steam and electricity, and hands ever grasping for
money, while eyes are strained to search out new ways of mak-
ing it. Poor fellow ! I say again ; how he did try to advise me
when the smash-up came about. * Preach, Jack,' said he ; 'what
the deuce do you care what you preach on ? I go there Sun-
day after Sunday. It pleases father, and it's a good place to
rest the mind, or even to plan out things ; then the singing is
not half bad. But do you think I bother about what the rev-
erend rector is saying? The only time I pay any attention is
when he starts in to improve politics and all that, dt which time

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24 A Change of Heart. [Oct.,

I am inclined to tell him to learn a little about such things
before he begins to teach. Preach away on anything; take up
the latest fad, the new novel, and talk away till something
newer comes out. Why, my boy, you Ve got to do it ; the p^re
wishes it, and without his help or your salary you can't very
well get on. You have been hitched in those traces, taught to
walk or run according to their guidance, and it's too late to be
kicking over them now.* Again I say, I prefer to be as I am
than to be in Alfs place. Ah!' what a shiver passes over me
at the thought of those days. Me in a pulpit ! I can see my-
self standing there with the heavy odor of hot-house flowers
stifling me, looking down on a collection of set, high-bred faces
and forms adorned with the finest and latest display of dress
and millinery that could be found in all the city — for St. Goth's
is the church of the favored ones of earth. I talked to them and
at them, and it didn't please them to be so addressed; they
had a nice, placid surface, and my talk served only to make
that surface turgid by stirring up the mud that lay beneath.
The rector thought it well to caution me : ' Never mind revival
methods, dear Mr. Wayton ; be more moderate.' Ha ! he'd have
rid himself of me sooner than I went, if father did not have so
much power in the vestry. I descended from that pulpit, tried
other churches, read and listened to advanced thinkers and
preachers, began to pick flaws in the Bible, and wound up by
losjng all belief in Christianity. Bah, what a chimera is this
same Christianity! How it comes up again and again in one's
life, seeming to have only one thing in view, namely, to make
one wretched !

" That chapter in my life's story closed. Another opened
here in this little city of Storwell. I was determined to let
father see I have some strength of character in me, despite the
fact that I would not be a minister * made to order.' Here I
have spent five years, advancing gradually in my employer's
favor until I have at last reached a place that is not altogether
bad. And now comes this last and worst blow of all. Like the
clouds drifting above there in the skies, the clouds of disap-
pointment go moving onward over my life, hiding the sunlight
from me and making all dark and dreary below. Will I ever
see the silver lining of those same clouds, I wonder ? "

All cynicism has gone from his face now, leaving grief and
discontent thereon. He rises from the wall on which he has
been sitting during his musings, and saunters in a drooping,
spiritless way toward the town.

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I895-] A Change of Heart. 25

II.

John Wayton really seemed to deserve more kindness from
Providence than he had thus far received. He was earnest and
sincere, and his earnestness and sincerity were the very quali-
ties that were stumbling-blocks in his path through life. He
could not smother the good instincts that were strong within
him. His calling a spade by its proper name had made him
disliked by those who were accustomed to tone down the rigor
of plain speech. The account he gives of himself to-day tells
sufficiently well what his career so far has been. Let us, how-
ever, open up the chapter that has been the latest in his life-
story, and follow it as far as we can.

John's life had been, until recently, untouched by love ; but
it has come to him at last. He had met Agnes Seery some
months ago at an evening gathering in the home of one of his
friends, and he was attracted by her quiet, well-bred manner of
speaking and, above all, by her display of intelligence and good
sense. Since that time he met her often — in fact whenever and
wherever he could— until it became clear to him that he could
not live happily without her continual companionship. When
he was with her his bitterness and cynicism found no vent — life
seemed better and brighter to him. Last night he allowed him-
self to show his feelings and declared his love. He had met
her on her way homewards from the rooms where she taught
music all day, and as they walked along, chatting on one thing
or another, a feeling swept over him that he must speak, no
matter what might happen, and speak he did in his own abrupt
way.

" Miss Seery, may I venture to hope that my constant atten-
tion to you has not escaped your notice ? "

" Why, Mr. Wayton, what do you mean ? "

" Just what I say. I am blunt about it, I suppose, but none
the less in earnest. You must have noticed that I have followed
you about constantly for the past half-year. Do you like me
to do this ? Do— do you love me ? There now, it's out,
thank goodness ! " •

"Do you always propose in this matter-of-fact fashion, Mr.
Wayton ? " asked Agnes, smiling and blushing.

"Miss Seery — Agnes — please don't laugh at me. This' is
not an ordinary occurrence with me. Answer — do you or don't
you care enough for me to give heed to my question ? "

" Are you serious, Mr. Wayton ? "

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26 A Change of Heart. [Oct.,

" Can you imagine anything else ? "

" Well, I must say you have surprised me. Like yourself, I
am unaccustomed to proposals and never gave such things a
thought in connection with you or any one else ? *'

"But answer me, now that I have spoken — do you care for
me?"

" As a friend — yes. In any other light I cannot say ; the
whole affair is too new, too surprising, for me to answer
hastily."

" Is not this something like trifling ? "

"Trifling, Mr. Wayton ! Have you a right to say that to
me ? Have I, in my manner of acting toward you, led you to
think that I was encouraging you ? Don't you think you go
too far } " Agnes was high-spirited, and in fact did not like the
turn a hitherto harmless conversation had taken.

" Forgive me. Miss Seery ! I know I am too blunt. But
let me tell you my story, and I am sure you will understand
why it is I have not the same way other men have. My life
has been dreary, and you have come into it, it seems to me, to
cheer and brighten it, whether you are willing or not." Here
he poured out his story of loveless boyhood, empty youth, and
disappointed manhood, Agnes listening attentively and at many
parts of it showing sympathy in her face and manner.

When he ceased to speak she did not break silence, save to
say, "Thank you, Mr. Wayton, for your confidence ; you may
rest assured I will respect it." This was all, and as they walked
along side-by-side she continued to think deeply on all that he
had told her.

Finally she spoke quietly and firmly. " Mr. Wayton, let me say
to you what I think about your story. I can sympathize with you
in many things, I think; but you make the whole world too 'cold.
You have become so filled with one idea that you are prone to
be morbid and selfish. You blame your father, who may have
been mistaken, indeed, even though he meant well. You despise
your brother, who spoke according to his lights. Why don't
you blame yourself? The world is not as cold as you would
make it out to be ; there are warm-hearted people enough in it, I
think." Agnes now paused, and then, gently still yet more firmly,
continued : " One thing strikes me more forcibly than all the
rest in your story, and in the light of that, even were I certain
that I loved you, I would not consent to be your wife. You
have smothered up in your soul all religious instincts, as far as
you could, so that now you take a pride in calling yourself an

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1 895-] A Change of Heart. 27

unbeliever. Why, Mr. Wayton, consider what / am — a Catholic,
an intense Catholic, who love my religion above aught else on
earth."

" Catholic, Miss Seery ? You a Catholic ! "

" Is there anything so surprising in that, Mr. Wayton ? **

" But Catholics are so benighted, so ignorant, and you —
again I ask your forgiveness. Miss Seery. But really, are not
most Catholics ignorant?"

"You are amusing! We might know more than we do, no
doubt; but I don't think we are alone in that matter. Did
you never meet Catholics before ? Are you so ignorant of their
mental and mor^l qualities as all that } "

"Well, Miss Seery, excuse my ignorance, and remember
that I never have come in contact with any one who could or
would give me information in this matter."

" And when you were casting about during your soul's
tempest, did you never think of the true * Bark of Peter * ? "

" If you mean the Romish Church, neither then nor now
have I given it a thought."

" How, then, since you have so good an opinion of me, will
you explain my being a Catholic ? "

"In the same way in which I would explain many Protest-
ants' adherence to their church — it is a matter of self-persuasion.
I think, however, they are more justifiable in their belief, which
is within the scope of their own reasoning, while that of Cath-
olics is narrow and circumscribed by the dictation of others."

" Again you transgress, Mr. Wayton. However I am char-
itable and will ascribe it all to your lack of knowledge of my re-
ligion," Agnes was during the last few words of their conver-
sation standing at the gate of her father's house. " Good-
evening," she now said, holding out her hand, as though she
considered the subject well exhausted.

"Good-by, Miss Seery; another disappointment has come to
me."

III.

You can now understand in what state of mind John
Wayton was. He considered everything to be at an end
between himself and Agnes Seery, because his mind was too
deeply imbued with unjust and ignorant ideas of Catholicism to
cast out prejudice, even when it, prejudice, was opposed by
love. He had never given her religious views a thought ; nay
more, as she never spoke about religion, he would be likely to

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28 A Change of Heart, [Oct.,

say, if the question of her belief arose, that she was too sensi-
ble to have any views. Alfred, his brother, would have acted
differently, were he put in the same place. He would have
told Agnes that she might keep her religious views; she might*
continue being a Catholic, and he would continue loving her;
and deep down in his soul he would have hidden a determina-
tion to win her over from so antiquated, unprogressive, and un-
fashionable a faith as Romanism seemed to him to be. John
could not do this, and so this morning he had risen early after
a sleepless night, and had gone down to the beach to think it
all out .and indulge his misery. And thus he carried a heavy,
hopeless heart with him as he went up the hilly road that led
to the town.

He took up his daily grind of work in the bank, where he
was book-keeper, with a lowness of spirit that had not been
upon him for many days. His task, which before he met
Agnes had been a mere task, had become, after he knew her,
almost a labor of love. Those ponderous ledgers meant a
good salary, and a good salary helped him to indulge in bright
dreams of a home and comforts for Agnes. But all these
dreams had passed, and to-day the rows of figures danced
before his eyes, while his head ached with a dull throbbing
pain. " Oh, I could throw the confounded things through
yonder window ! " he said. " If it were not for the looks of the
thing, I would throw up the place and leave town. But I
have some pride yet, and Til stand my ground."

Some few days passed, one as wearisome as the other. He
did not see Agnes during this time. Love, pride, and prejudice
were involved in an unequally divided contest in his being.
Love would whisper : " Go up to the Renway Library ; this is
the time when she is generally there, looking over the new
books and magazines." Pride would say : " No, no ; she did
not seem to think your declaration of love worth a thought,
especially when you looked for kindness, at least, after telling
your story.'* Then Prejudice would step in : " Yes, and more
than that, she began to taunt you with her blind old Romish
faith. Keep away from her, and you will soon forget her."
" Forget her ! " was Love's whisper ; " never." So the con-
test would wage within his breast until heart and brain would
ache. Still he kept away from the places where they had
formerly met.

It was on Monday that he had this eventful talk with
Agnes, and on Thursday, just at dusk, he set out for a walk,

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1 895-] A Change of Heart. 29

determined to shake off his miserable feelings. As he went
along Elm Street he saw a church-door wide open; he saw
many people streaming in through it, and looking up to the
trim little tower that pointed up from the side of the building,
he saw the cross standing out dimly against the darkening
sky. An organ was sending forth strains of soft, sweet music
that reached him through the open door.

" Perhaps this is a Catholic church," he thought. " I will
go in and see some of the doings that have so great an
attraction for her." He entered the church in a diffident,
hesitating way, and sat back under the gallery. Some lights
were burning dimly in the body of the church, but up at a
small altar there was a pleasing arrangement of lights and
flowers around a statue of the Madonna. It was May-time,
and the people were there to show their love and devotion for
Mary, the Mother of Christ. He felt like going out, as he
began gradually to comprehend the significance of the lighted
altar and the people gathered before it ; this was a specimen
of that very idolatry of which he had read. They were actual-
ly preparing to adore a plaster statue !

A determination to see it out came over him, and just then
he saw a tall figure, clad in cassock and surplice, passing across
the sanctuary to the altar and kneeling there. He knew it
must be the priest who was to conduct the services. The
music, which had been stealing out softly through the shadows
of the church, now assumed a stronger volume and sounded
out the opening strains of a hymn, which was taken up by a
chorus of sweet, girlish voices. He had often in the old days
listened to Madame Godin's rich, powerful contralto pouring
out grand arias in St. Goth's, but never had her fine cultured
voice ardused him as did those sweet, fresh tones of the chil-
dren's voices in the gallery above him. He moved silently to
a vacant seat beyond the space of the gallery, and listened
with all his soul. The words themselves did not seem to strike
him so forcibly ; it was the music breathing faith, hope, and
love in its every sound. He knew they were words of prayer
and praise, offered to her whose statue was brightened by the
lights before him. He forgot his prejudices now and attended
eagerly to everything.

The children's voices ceased, and the organ sank in softer
and softer tones into silence. And now the priest arose from
his knees, and, turning to the people, spoke to them quietly
and devoutly on their duty to God and their fellow-men. Pass-

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30 A Change of Heart. [Oct.,

ing from that point, 'he showed them the part Mary takes in
the performance of those duties, exhorting them to implore her
aid in all their difficulties regarding those duties, as God heark-
ens more readily to her than to men on earth.

As he was ending his instruction he said : '' If any one
should ask you whence you can find authority in the Bible for
your devotion to the Mother of Christ, refer them to the
accounts of the sanctification of John the Baptist, the joy of
holy Simeon, the miracle of Cana in Galilee ; tell him, more-
over, that it is not to the Bible you look for all your acts of
devotion, as many of them, and no doubt this one of devotion
to Mary, were practised in the Christian Church before the
Gospels even were all written."

A ray of light entered John Wayton's soul at those words,
and a cold sweat beaded his brow. *' What does he mean by
speaking of the church previous to the existence of the Gos-
pels?" he asked himself. "Can I have been blind all these
years to the truth ? It was the insufficiency of the Bible that
forced me to lose my belief in Christianity. Can there be any-
thing logical in this tradition of which Catholics are said to
make an abuse ? "

As these thoughts surged through his mind, stirring him to
unrest, the silence was again broken as the organ sent out the
sweet strains of a prelude. Then came two soft voices singing
in a harmony that was exquisite. He thought he had never
heard more touching notes, and the words, which he heard dis-
tinctly, suited the notes :

" Ave sanctissima, we lift our souls to thee ;
Ora pro nobis, 'tis night-fall on the sea."

The voices continued the words of the dear old hymn, and
sang it through with a devotion and fervor that made it a
prayer. A sob wrung his breast as the conviction came home
to him that one of the singers was Agnes. He had forgotten
her in the vague unrest that had come to him, but now
thoughts of her and of sacred things became mixed in his
mind.

The priest now read some prayers, the import of which he
did not grasp, and the services were ended. He drew back
again into the shadows under the gallery, and waited till the
people had dispersed and only a few were remaining in quiet
prayer. He had no purpose in doing it except that of wishing

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1895.] A Change of Heart, 31

to go out unobserved, as he was well known in the city, and
his presence in a Catholic church might come to his friends*
ears and give them chances of chaffing him. He did not care
what they would think ; he merely hated chaffing. As he arose
to go he met Agnes face tq face, as she stepped down off the
gallery stairs. She started slightly, then quickly recovering her-
self, bowed to him pleasantly, and passed out through the door
.without speaking.

IV.

When they had reached the street, John stepped to her
side, saying : " This is the first time I ever entered a Catholic
church. Miss Seery. I do not know what led me to do so,
unless it were that your Church has occupied my thoughts so
much during the past few days that, when I saw the people
going in, I was tempted to follow and see what it is like. I
enjoyed the children's singing very much ; but when you com-
menced — you see I knew your voice — I was surprised. And
yet I should not have been, as it is the only Catholic church
in town, I suppose.''

" Thank you for your kind words of appreciation ; I am
the organist of the church, you know. But how did you like
the other parts of the services — the instruction, for instance?"

" I liked the services as well as a person naturally preju-
diced against such forms of worship could like them. As for
the clergyman's instruction, I would be much pleased if I could
get an explanation of his remarks on teaching and practices
anterior to the writing of the Gospels. That thought never
came to me before."

" Well, Mr. Wayton, I am not, I am sure, well versed
enough in polemics to instruct you or to enter into argument
with you on the point. We have many good solid works of
explanation of our doctrines, some of which I can mention to
you. But I would advise you to call on Father Trafton, the
priest who spoke to-night; he will do all he can for you."

" But, Miss Seery," John said, " I wish to know your
opinion. What did you deduce from his words ? "

"Why, that the devotion to Our Lady, who died about
twelve years after Jesus' ascension into heaven, was practised
by the Christian Church in the first century. Now that should
be proved ; and then contrast that, a fact, with the fact that
St. John wrote his Gospel at the close of the first century;
thence you can deduce the truth of Father Trafton's assertion,

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32 A Change of Heart. [Oct.,

namely : there is no need of searching the Scripture to have
authority for our belief and devotion relative to the Virgin
Mary."

" But is it an historical fact, that of the existing practice ? "

Agnes was smiling now, as she answered : " The priest said
that, not I. Go and ask him, as I said before. You see, as
you said once to me, Catholics are ignorant." Here she was
speaking quizzically. '' I think it has always been so natural
for me to believe these things without questioning, that I would
make a poor attempt at answering a question. I have not
many of the pros at my fingers' ends, and you may have too
many of the cons''

" Miss Seery, I understand your meaning, and I think you
do not understand me." John was speaking quickly, angrily
almost. " If I thought the Catholic or any other church could
give me a satisfied mind, could help me in my difficulties, could
brighten the clouds that darken my life, I would belong to
that church this very minute. Give me credit for sincerity.
That drove me from a comfortable berth, lost me the favor of
my father, and left me comparatively poor. That keeps me as
I am, an unbeliever. Do you think I have reasoned myself
thereby into being happy, or. contented even?" Here a new
thought came to him and caused him to look keenly down at
her. " Moreover, don't think for a moment that I am seeking
to gain favor in your eyes by entering a Catholic church or
speaking about it to you. To-night I had made up my mind
that I would try to forget you, and all this because you belong
to a church and profess a faith which I believe to be pagan
in tendencies and practices. I fear you have not grasped my
motive in questioning you."

Agnes was abashed for a moment, for she was suspecting
his motives and his questions, because of the conversation they
had had on the previous Monday. She hesitated, therefore, in
answering : " Mr. Wayton, can you not understand my feelings
regarding you ? I lost a very pleasing friend the last time we
were together, and I have felt the loss keenly since. I surely
did not gain a lover, nor do I wish to look on you in that
light. You cannot blame me for suspecting, when I saw you
coming out from the church just now. I have seen so many
of my friends led into marriages that have turned out wretch-
edly because of difference in religion. And most of them made
the venture depending on the apparent, and possibly well-
meant, liberality of the Protestant party. I believfed you when

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i895-] A Change of Heart. 33

you told me of your love for me that night, and so to-night I
did fear that you would try to influence me by coming in with
my views — not' my religious faith, but my views. Now, there-
fore, I am grateful to you for what you have said to me, and
I am ashamed of my too hasty judgment."

" I see you understand me at last."

" But now, putting aside everything except religion, why do
you not inquire honestly and sincerely— don't interrupt me,
please — into the Catholic religion ? By honestly and sincerely
I mean with a desire to learn the secret of our steadfastness
in our faith, not to pick flaws in it. If you do, I know you
will be a Catholic in time. Your religious instincts, which you
have been putting down all these years, are Catholic." Agnes
spoke eagerly and enthusiastically almost ; this man's soul was
dear to her now, dearer than all the love of his heart could be.

John answered quietly: "I will comply with your request.
I think, though, you assume too much in foretelling my con-
version. I would attend Catholic services regularly if there
were another church in town ; it would be embarrassing to me
to go to your church every Sunday."

"There is a new parish in the town, and the chapel is at
present on Park Street. Why not go there ? "

" I will. I would prefer, however, to meet your clergyman ;
Father Trafton, I think you said he is called. How and when
can I do that?"

" Call at his house any time when you are at leisure ; he
lives in the rectory, to the left of the church, and on the
same street. You can open your mind and heart as easily to
him as you have to me. Well, here I am at home, and I
must bid you good-night, Mr. Wayton, as I must give a lesson
to a pupil whose day is taken up by her work. I cannot,
therefore, ask you to come in ; we workers cannot always suit
our own inclinations. Come to see us when you can." A
smile and bow, and Agnes entered her home and John went
on his way.

As he strolled along in the calm evening light a sense of
satisfaction stole faintly over him, and his thoughts became
brighter than they had been since Monday. She had never
invited him to visit her before this evening ; they had merely
met in one place or another and made talk with each other.
He knew her well enough to understand that she was making

VOL. LXII, — 3

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J4 A Change of Heart. [Oct.,

no advance to him, but simply following an impulse of her
frank, girlish nature, which was moved to enthusiasm when she
dwelt on her beloved religion.

It would take too long a time to describe his motions of
heart and mind during the days that followed. He fulfilled
his promise by going to see Father Trafton, and went again
and again, being led by the interest which the priest's con-
versation excited in him. Point after point of long-standing
prejudice was reasoned away, and he felt like laughing at him-
self when he thought how little he had known about a religious
faith which was diffused through the civilized world. Tradition
and the Bible were now reconcilable in his mind ; the liturgy of
the church, so filled with symbolic meaning, interested him,
and he followed and understood the movements of priest
and people at Mass in the little chapel on Park Street, where
he was present every Sunday.

He acted on Agnes' invitation and called at her home, where
he met the other members of the Seery family. Here he spe;it
many a pleasant hour in conversation with her parents or
sat listening with delight to her singing and music. He had
a good tenor voice, and did his part to make the time pass
pleasantly. One thing he liked, namely, beyond the fact of ex-
pressing pleasure when he told her of his respect and esteem
for Father Trafton, she never reopened the subject of religion
to him after the night they met at the church. He would have
resented any allusion to it, if she had ; for he was by no means
on the way to the church, so he told himself often. Agnes
knew he was on his way, and she was content with his progress.
She could have told him of many an earnest, heart-felt prayer
for his conversion that found its way from her pure soul up to
the throne of God. She was beginning to think of him many
times during the day, and the thoughts caused a sweet restless-
ness within her heart. But she did not pause to analyze her feel-
ings ; she was . thinking of something higher and better than
human love, his soul's salvation.

Summer came and went, and she was so taken up with some
extra work she was doing, that she did not meet John as often
as she did during May and June. She knew he was away on
his annual vacation, as he had called to bid her good-by. One
afternoon she was walking down on the beach, gazing out on
the vista of sky and water, while a sweet, gentle melancholy
stirred her heart, when she heard a firm, quick step on the
walk above, and looking upwards she saw him coming towards

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1895.] A Change of Heart, 35

her. When he reached the place where she was standing, she
saw that he looked fresher and younger than he had ever
seemed to be, and as he took her hand in a tense, eager clasp
she knew that something greater than the delight of seeing her
moved him.

"Why, you should go away more frequently, if you improve
as well on every vacation as you have on this," said she play-
fully and yet nervously.

*' Miss Seery, I am so happy, so much at rest. I am a
Catholic! I went to a monastery near New York, and there
made a retreat of a week, and when that ended I was received
into the church. Father Trafton advised me to do this. Would
to God I had met you before I did, for through knowing you
I have been led into the true fold of Christ. How can I thank
God for his mercy ? And how can I thank you, the instrument
of that mercy? Peace has come to my soul — peace that leads
me to love the whole world, it seems to me. I went to my
father after my reception into the church, and I know now
that I had been harsh in my judgment of him. He actually
s}anpathized with me in my change of heart and soul, and said
to me : * John, I may not believe in Roman Catholicism and all
it teaches ; still it is Christianity, and I would prefer ten times
over to see you a Roman Catholic, rather than see you as you
were when you left me — a cynical, sneering unbeliever. That it
was whjlch made me so stern in outward seeming toward you,
even when my heart yearned for you, my son.* I left him and
Alf with the most cordial feelings of love and good-will, and
with a prayer in my heart that the light that has shone on me
may illumine their souls and lead them to see the truth."

Agnes' eyes were dimmed by happy tears, and she pressed
his hand, which still held hers, as he concluded his eager, al-
most incoherent, account of himself. And so they stood on the
sands, side by side, looking out over the expanse of water to
where the setting sun was making golden pathways that seemed
to stretch down the horizon to infinite depths beyond.

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36 The History OF Philosophy [Oct.,

THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY AS APPLIED TO

THE CHURCH.

BY CORNELIUS M. O'LEARY, M.D.

ISTORY has been defined by the prince of Roman

orators as philosophy teaching by example, and

if this definition be correct, then the philosophy

of history may be described as the science that

deals with the forces which prompted those

examples, which gave them tone and significance, and which

seeks to explain their origin by their purpose. This science

strives to reveal the hidden springs of those actions that glow

on the pages of the historian, to sink the plummet into the

depths of the human heart, to bring to light the secret motives

that inspired the policy of cabinets, the wars and treaties of

princes, the alliances of nations, and the causes that led to

revolutions, and brought about the overthrow of dynasties.

SPECULATIONS OF THE ANCIENT HISTORIANS.

Without the light which this important science supplies
history would sink into a mere chronological narrative of
events, in which men would appear as mere puppets on the
world's stage, moved at will by some hidden agent, whose pur-
poses are hopelessly cloaked from view. The very earliest his-
torians, the mere chroniclers of what they heard and saw, dimly
perceived the necessity of assigning some cause for the events
which they recorded, and each one, following the bias of his
moral and intellectual nature, accounted for the occurrences
which he embodied in his narration. Thus the piously inclined
Herodotus, the reputed father of history, referred everything to
the will of the gods, and though it was difficult in many
instances to reconcile the divine pleasure with the character of
the events recorded, his piety and credulity enabled him to find
therein a satisfactory solution of the problem.

Subsequent historians, impressed with the obvious inadequacy
of Herodotus' philosophy, and deeming it in accordance with
reason to seek more proximate causes than the divine will,
sought this explanation in the tortuous windings of the human
heart, in the hopes, fears, and ambitions of men, and in the
countless motives that sway their conduct. And herein we find

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l89S-] ^-5 APPLIED TO THE ChURCH, 37

the true beginnings of the philosophy of history; for one step
behind every momentous occurrence there must exist a motive,
and back of this motive a condition, interwoven with other
conditions, the relation between all which it is the mission of
the true historian to study and ascertain. The more numerous
are the motives that fall within the ken of the historical stu-
dent, the more clearly does he establish the relation between
them ; and the more fully does he exhibit them, as consolidated
and reduced to unity, the more readily in proportion will the
logical mind accept his interpretation of events and acquiesce
in his conclusions. But it is obvious that this method of phil-
osophizing on the data of history is variable and capricious,
inasmuch as it depends upon the mental bias and training of
the writer, whose explanation must receive its coloring from
the particular point of view from which he surveys the field of
inquiry, and from the habits of thought which he has acquired.
And, indeed, this we find to be so in the case of the celebrated
historians of antiquity. The most accomplished of them all,
the eloquent and observant Thucydides, was an astute politi-
cian, and delighted in displaying his political sagacity, by seek-
ing an explanation of the occurrences which he chronicled in
purely political sources, in the wily schemes of statesmen, in
the ambitions of military commanders, and in the jealousies
and animosities of neighboring rival states.

MATERIALISTIC EXPOUNDERS OF HISTORY.

It is plain that the human heart, being many-sided and pro-
lific of change, cannot be circumscribed in its activity by any
one set of motives. And hence Thucydides, notwithstanding
his marvellous ingenuity, has not only frequently failed to
grasp the full significance of the important events he has
handed down, but has deceived and misled his readers by mis-
interpreting them. In further proof of the essentially one-
sided character of a philosophy of history which ascribes all
historical events to the operation of human conditions as their
ultimate cause, we need but refer to the masterly narratives of
Xenophon and Tacitus; the former refers all events to the
causative influences of the moral order in general, while the
latter limited their cause to the operation of the baser and
darker passions of the human heart. This limiting character of
a purely human philosophy of history is equally exhibited in
the pages of Sallust and Livy, as well as in the works of those
modern historians who have seen fit to turn aside at times, and

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38 The History of Philosophy [Oct.,

at times only, from the effort to compass fulness and accuracy
of narration, in order to deal with the study of purely histori-
cal causes. For there is this marked difference between ancient
and modern history, that while the former is more speculative
and philosophical, the latter chiefly aims at truth of narration,
accuracy of statement, and fulness of detail. And the reason
of this difference it is not difficult to discover. The sources of
information which antiquity supplied to the historian were few
and unreliable, and frequently fiction and fact were inextricably
blended tcrgether, so that it was impossible for the annalist to
assure his readers that his narration of events was in the main
correct and reliable, and he consequently inclined more freely
to the congenial task of speculating on causes, and weaving
fancy unto fancy without end. The modern historian, on the
other hand, is in possession of those canons of investigation
which constitute the art of historical criticism, and the currents
of his energy flow toward proofs and verifications, and the
establishment of the authenticity of documents, or their rejection
on the ground of being spurious.

Historical criticism deals chiefly with the sifting of testi-
mony, the credibility of witnesses, the genuineness of historical
monuments, and the whole machinery of proof whereby discrimi-
nation is made between the true and the false. And so numer-
ous are the precepts of this art, so absorbing the necessity of
constant watchfulness which it imposes, that the historian has
little time or taste to account for those occurrences which he
has brought under so fierce a glare that their existence seems
to be their only explanation.

The modern historian is not necessarily impartial, but he
strives to warp the truth, not so much by mistaken specula-
tions concerning causes, as by coloring his narrative so adroitly
as to produce the impression at which he aims.

MODERN WORD-PAINTING AT THE EXPENSE OF TRUTH.

Picturesqueness of style is more consciously sought after by
the historian of modern times, since narrative is all in all with
him, and he must consequently be above all things an accom-
plished teller of tales. It is true he can never rival the child-
like simplicity and charm of Herodotus, nor the exquisite pen-
pictures of Thucydides, nor yet the stately flow of Livy's milky
richness, nor the depth and vigor of Tacitus, for he is all too
conscious of what he is about to be perfect ; but it is none the
less true that he subordinates reach of thought and astuteness

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1 895-] ^^ APPLIED TO THE CHURCH. 39

of speculation to the charm of narration and the interest
which the dramatic quality of his story is calculated to awaken.
Gibbon is essentially a narrator, bubbling over with facts woven
into a fascinating tale ; but he affects the philosophical style of
narrative, and becomes ponderous in striving to be aphoristic.
He rarely undertakes to probe causes, and when he does so
he proceeds in an elephantine way, as, for instance, when he
hopelessly and helplessly seeks to apologize for the imperial
persecutors of the Christians.

And who that has been dazzled by the beauty of Macau-
lay's entrancing page and the torrent of tropes that flow from
his pen, will not recognize on his part an ambition, first and
foremost, to please, and, at a long interval after, to instruct ?
He has a pleasant story to tell about William and Mary, and
he tells it inimitably well ; but he uses his abundance of mate-
rial as a dramatist uses incidents, that he may hold his reader
spell-bound by the matchless art with which he draws the pic-
ture of a period as it presents itself to his one-sided imagina-
tion. And the rugged style of Carlyle is but a reflection of
his conception of what appeared to him to be a great and
worthy character, as when he chose to apotheosize Frederick of
Prussia and make him a hero for men to imitate and worship.
He is the i£schylus of history, and influences his readers by
the force of a rough and expressive phraseology — a phraseology
that overpowers by its weight. But whatever peculiarity
attaches to the productions of ancient and modern historians,
whether they shine by the charm of their narrative and the*
fascinations of their style, or sway their readers by the shrewd-
ness of their observation touching the social and political
causes of events, it is evident that, while they limit their inves-
tigation to secondary causes, each one must apply philosophy
to history according to the bent and character of the sum of
his moral and intellectual qualities, and so rob this interesting
science of its essential qualities of unity and uniformity.

THE QUESTION OF A DIVINE RULER IN MUNDANE AFFAIRS.

We come now to a consideration of an aspect of the sci-
ence of history which, while admitting the necessity of thor-
oughly sifting historical occurrences in the light of human
motives and agencies, and while even extending the operation
of these causes along more complex and far-reaching lines, looks
in the last analysis fo the designs of an all-wise Providence as
the ultimate cause of human occurrences. This view of the

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40 The History of Philosophy [Oct.,

philosophy of history completes it as a science, reduces it to
its proper head in the classification of human knowledge, and
relieves it from the unscientific character of conjecture and
mere cumulative probability. But it is not an easy matter to
form a clear and correct idea of this divine intervention in the
affairs of men, since the inquirer is prone to come to grief on
the Scylla of fatalism, on the one hand, whilst shunning, on the
other, the Stoic's Charybdis of a passive, non-intervening deity,
whose Olympian placidity is never disturbed by the lights and
shadows that fall athwart human lives.

Christian theology assures us of the existence of a Supreme
Power, judge and arbiter of the universe, the creator at once
and conservator of all things, without whose consent not even
a sparrow falls to the ground, and into whose broad designs
every physical, mental, and moral act of ours enters as the
warp and woof of a mighty fabric. Thus, the petty deeds of
our daily lives, our passing thoughts and aspirations, our fleet-
ing hopes and fancies, our fears, our joys and our sorrows,
and our projects palpitating with fresh life — these, as well as
the larger actions painted on the canvas of life, and consti-
tuting the great drama of humanity, are the raw material out
of which Providence builds up its purposes in time, out of
which it shapes its marvellous designs for eternity. The span
of its infinite operations continues to blend the lives of the
first created among men with the lives of those who even
now fret their brief hour on the world's stage, and welds out
of all a strange and mysterious whole. It takes up the tangled
skein of human lives from the very beginning, and from their
interlacing odds and ends of good and evil import weaves, in
patience and in wisdom, the perfect fabric of a world divinely
redeemed. It exhibits to us the archetypes of all things, of all
thoughts, and of all deeds, as cradled in the Divine Mind from
eternity, and actively reproducing themselves in time, through
the operation of necessary laws and the exercise of man's free
will. This conception of Providence unifies and simplifies the
idea of the cosmos, and exhibits it to us as subject to law, yet
not destructive of free will ; as the abode of that perfect order
which, rightly viewed, is never disturbed, even by the crimes
and passions of men. For as the shadows in a picture play an
essential part in the artist's work, brightening the lights and
freshening the tints, so do the follies of men and their frequent
revolts against the eternal decrees of their Maker become part
and parcel of the divine economy, and contribute to the

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1895.] ^S APPLIED TO THE CHURCH. 4I

accomplishment of its designs. Just as the genius of a mighty
captain forecasts with marvellous accuracy the blunders which
his adversary is about to commit, and embodies their results in
his own plan of operations, massing here, detaching there, and
strengthening everywhere, as the short-sightedness and inca-
pacity of his opponent suggest ; so does the Almighty, only
with infinite foresight and unerring accuracy, weave the results
of men's infirmities into his own designs, nor yet disturb in
aught the perfect freedom they enjoy. Was it not in the very
hot-bed of political machinations and intrigues, amid the mad
ambitions of men and the jealousies of great parties, that those
events occurred which led up to the battle of Actium, and
thereby brought about the blessed era of profound and uni-
versal peace, foretold for centuries before, when the heavens
were to open and rain down the just? Brutus and Cassius had
conspired freely against Caesar, and freely too did Antony and
Octavius enter the lists against those two, till the storm of con-
flict was finally lulled on the historic waters of the Ambracian
Gulf. Thus we might say, that the very birth of Christianity
best exemplifies Bossuet's and Schlegel's conception of the true
philosophy of history, the Christian conception of it, which
takes into account the manifold motives of men, the passions
of the human heart at white heat, the greatness and littleness
of the human soul, man's towering ambitions and defeated
hopes, the fine-spun projects of his busy brain, his subtle
schemes and craftily concerted plans, his hatreds, jealousies,
and vows of vengeance, and exhibits them as conspiring, and
conspiring freely, to render that hallowed and gracious time a
time of peace and rest to a soul-weary and passion-torn world.
But behind these secondary causes, operating along the
plane of natural activities, is beheld the will of God bending
consequences and directing events to the consummation of its
purposes and the fulfilment of its eternal designs. This
conception of history beholds Divine Providence converting
human agencies from their intended and ostensible purposes to
the accomplishment of far different ends ; it beholds the
lightning flash burst from the murky cloud-mass, making that
the source of luminous beauty and grandeur whose inky black-
ness had but an instant before all but blotted out the heavens.
And from that moment onward, throughout the awful struggle
of the early church with those twin arch-foes of the Gospel,
Roman stoicism and pagan sensuality, throughout the bloody
days of Nero, Domitian, and Marcus Antoninus, we constantly

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42 The History of Philosophy [Oct.,

behold the powers of darkness arrayed against the powers of
light, and still perceive the cause of truth marching along in
triumph through the providential conversion of human enor-
mities into instruments of human progress and enlightenment,
and the uplifting of humanity to the heights of Christian purity
and grace. Surely it may be said in this sense that the blood
of the martyrs became the seed of the church, for with every
blow that the cruel arm of Rome struck at divine faith,
divine love was kindled afresh in the hearts of those who
believed, and heavenly hope grew brighter in their souls.

THE USES OF ADVERSITY SEEN IN THE RESULTS OF HERESIES.

Even the very mistakes and offences against truth that afflict-
ed the church within her own lines became prolific of good, and
every heresy that was broached within her own bosom served
to cement a fresh course of erection in the ever-growing propor-
tions of the divine edifice. Here I do not mean to touch
upon the debatable ground of doctrinal developments which the
eloquent pen of the great Newman has made memorable, and
which paved the way to his entrance into the church ; I wish,
rather, while admitting the constantly growing need of a
fuller expression of doctrine in the face of new heresies, to re-
gard this as a providential equipment against coming dangers
rather than the result of a true esoteric evolution, a fresh
phase of organic development from within. The definitions of
new dogmas may have reference as well to the necessities of a
period as to the suppression of false teachings, and in both
cases the church is but fulfilling her mission as the watchful
mother of wayward children with whom the operation of count-
less influences, alien to her spirit, is constantly going on, im-
planting new impulses, creating fresh energies, and opening up
new channels of activity, whjereby the spirit of a period is
revolutionized and the face of society is renewed. Thus, whilst
it is true that the condemnation of Arius by the Nicene
Council more definitely presented to the faithful the orthodox
view of the divinity of Christ, it is equally true that this early
expression of the full meaning of the Incarnation was a pro-
vidential means of setting the seal of ultimate reprobation on
the most destructive heresy that rent the bosom of the church
before Luther sounded the tocsin of religious revolt on the
banks of the Rhine, and of saving society from intellectual chaos.

The numberless controversies that grew out of this unhap-
py event invariably spent their force upon the barrier which

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the hands of Athanasius had erected against it, and had
not the rationalistic spirit which it engendered met a con-
stant rebuff in the decrees of Nice and Constantinople, this
hydra-headed monster would not only have hastened the down-
fall of the Empire of Rome, as it undoubtedly did, but its
ravages would have spread throughout the whole of Christen-
dom, and so have retarded the progress of Christian conversion
for centuries. But, under the guidance of Providence, not only
did the early and explicit statement of the true doctrine of the
Incarnation serve as a breakwater for all time against the
most insidious and formidable heresy that could assail the
church, but its final extirpation eloquently bespoke the zeal
with which she labored for the advancement of civilization and
the promotion of human happiness in every direction. For
with the disappearance of Arianism, or rather its relegation to
a few semi-civilized Germanic tribes, the church at last became
free to address herself to the momentous task of moulding into
shape the discordant and chaotic elements which the moral and
intellectual decay of pagan Rome and the irruption of north-
em barbarism had thrown into fermentation.

It is with difficulty that any mind can realize the condi-
tion of European society at this juncture. The last remnants of
Roman civilization were disappearing, the profligacies of those
monsters who had arrogated the proud title of the Caesars had
seamed society from top to bottom with iniquities, and the
refinements of oriental vice had degenerated into the unspeak-
able coarseness of Roman brutality. The air of the dying and
dismembered empire of Augustus reeked with pollution, for
every vice had reached its zenith — omne vitium in prcecipitis
stetit. Into this slough of double-bred corruption, into this
seething mass of emasculated humanity, there burst, like a
torrent of scoria, the steel-sinewed hordes of the North, whose
day-dreams were of carnage and whose baptism was in blood.
For them the fair fields of Italy possessed no beauty; its slop
ing hillsides, empurpled with the grape and perfumed with the
spices of the South, were as ruthlessly trampled by the charg-
ing squadrons of Alaric as though those hardy troopers of the
North were riding rough-shod through the dismal swamps of
their own barbaric home. The sword and the. torch speedily .
changed the richest provinces of the empire into a desolate
wilderness of woe, the sad memorials of whose past grandeur,
the stateliest monuments of antiquity, were shivered into
fragments by the battle-axes of the Vandal, the Goth, the

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44 The Hjstor y of Philosophy [Oct.,

Ostrogoth, and the Visigofth. It was to evoke order out of this
chaos, to reduce this discord to harmony, and to build out of
those unpromising materials a new and better civilization, that
the Church of God was solemnly called upon by the wailing
voice of despairing humanity. Who can rightfully estimate the
magnitude of this work, or accurately measure the resources
needed for its accomplishment ? Yet the church, faithful to
her trust and relying on Divine Providence, undertook the
herculean labor, and after ages of wearisome endeavor, after re-
peated disappointments and discomfitures, at last beheld with
satisfaction the rude and rebellious elements settle into place,
and saw the fairest structure of all times, Christian civilization,
spring from the imperishable foundation of divine truth. And
that there was a prov^cjei^tial intent in the fact that the task
thus assigned to the church, of creating a new civilization rather
than of accepting and modifying a pre-existing system, must be
apparent to those who, guided by the light which the philoso-
phy of history supplies, comprehend the essential character of
Christian civilization. It was necessarily the introduction of a
new order, the erection of a new structure, for the foundations
of which even the ruins of the past had to be cleared away,
since even the negative qualities of barbarism were preferable
to a civilization which was intrinsically vicious, in which natural
good was inseparably wedded to evil.

SOCIAL ROTTENNESS OF THE OLD ROMAN SYSTEM.

For. it is indisputably true that beneath the veneer of Roman
civilization, beneath the stern virtue of Cato the Censor and the
Stoics, which have shed a false lustre on the domestic life of
Rome, slavery and the degradation of woman lay coiled like a
serpent at the root of society. Therefore, gigantic as was the
task, the necessity was all imperative of brushing aside every
living vestige of the past, so that no leaven of the old might
be left to contaminate a civilization whose corner-stone was to
be a redeemed and regenerated humanity. In this interesting
chapter of her existence we behold her gradually breaking the
shackles of the bondsman, proclaiming the identity of his origin
and destiny with that of his merciless owner, and convening
council after council for the purpose of wiping out for ever
this blackest stain in the history of the human race. And that
she adopted the policy of gradual emancipation is proof both
of her practical wisdom in matters affecting the temporal con-
cerns of man, as well as her compassionate regard for human

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l89S-] ^^ APPLIED TO THE CHURCH. 45

infiI;^lity. Her numerous councils, those of Orleans, Paris,
VerneuH, Lyons,- Rheims, London, and Coblentz, extending
over centuries, bear eloquent testimony to her desire to blot
out this curse^ of society, and to crush the infamous doctrine
of paganism, a doctrine to which even Plato and Aristotle sub-
scribed, that nature had established an essential difference be-
tween slaves and freemen. That she signally triumphed in her
efforts, in the teeth of the most violent opposition ; that she
vanquished the avarice of owners, over-rode the deep-rooted
prejudices of centuries, and eventually broke down the hated
barriers of caste, affords a convincing proof that her mission is
indeed divine, and that the lines of her activity lie where the
finger of God points.

woman's emancipation.

The other chief achievement of the church at this time,
and one which entitles her to the undying gratitude of all the
generations of men unto the end, was her deliverance of woman
from the depths of a degradation too deep to discern, her
release from a bondage whose shackks cut deeper into the
heart and the soul than sharpest lash ever cut into the quiver-
ing flesh of an abject and cowering slave. She brushed the
soiled wings that had trailed in the dust of filthy Rome for
centuries, and their purity and strength were restored. She
lifted woman from depths into which no man had ever sunk,
up to heights of purity and grace which no man can ever reach,
and gathering together the written and unwritten laws, the
abominable traditions, practices, and customs which had served
as the instrument of woman's degradation, she placed them under
her heel to crush into everlasting death, as the heel of a Virgin
had crushed the head of the serpent.

These two benefits which the church conferred upon man-
kind may be regarded as the brightest gems that sparkle on
the brow of civilization, for no society is safe where the masses
writhe in the death-clutch of slavery, just as no society can be
pure and refined where woman does not reign as queen. And so
she erected these two glistening mile-stones along the highway
she was hewing to a new and better civilization, that those who
followed her beck might, in contemplating them, draw the
breath of renewed hope and take courage for the future.

THE AGE OF THE MONKS.

Then came the dark and difficult days of feudalism, when

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46 The History of Philosophy [Oct.,

•

society was split up into petty warring communities, dominated
by bandit barons and thieving churls ; when every m^n's hand
was raised against his brother, and neither life nor property was
safe. There then existed no people in the modern meaning of
the term, for the lords were tyrants to their vassals and rebels
to their sovereigns, and in the conflicts between them the men
and women of the time were crushed as between upper and
nether mill-stones. But the church, ever fertile in resources,
met the pressing needs of those trying and turbulent times in
her customary spirit of patience and perseverance. She looked
round the wide spaces of her sanctuary, and beholding there
hundreds of men aglow with holiness, and quickened by fires of
divine love, she summoned them to her, and commissioned them
to preach the Gospel to the serf toiling in the field and to the
lord carousing in his hall.

The signal is given, and these hundreds of holy men, in-
flamed with supernatural zeal, go forth into the highways and
byways of Europe, proclaiming peace and hope unto all. They
wrestle with the ignorance of the hewer of wood and drawer of
water, and rebuke the pride of the mailed chieftain whose foot
is planted on the necks of the people. They founded institu-
tions, built monasteries, reclaimed waste land, fed the hungry,
clothed the naked, and made the rough places of the Conti-
nent to bloom like gardens in the South.

This and more did the monks of the middle ages accomplish.
They fostered the spirit of individualism by proclaiming the
dignity of man, and thereby sowed the seeds of those dim,
wavering, and uncertain democratic impulses that then for the
first time softly stirred the hearts of men, and begot the golden
hope of national births and deliverances. Monarchies were es-
tablished, community lines were blotted out, villages succeeded
to seigniorial dependencies, and then, for the first time, men
gathered together in sufficient numbers to feel their own power
and to estimate their own worth. The change from feudal iso-
lation and barbarism to regular forms of government was a
decided advance in the line of social and political reconstruc-
tion, and rang the death-knell at once of Roman solidarity and
Franco-German feudality.

THE POPE THE SHIELD OF THE OPPRESSED.

But the national instincts were as yet undeveloped, the timid-
ity engendered by ages of oppression and semi-servitude still
lurked in the hearts of the people, and though they had been

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1 895-] AS APPLIED TO THE CHURCH. 47

delivered from the bonds of vassalage, they failed to enjoy a
particle more freedom under the larger tyranny of princes.
Naturally the church found herself in closest touch with the
monarchical system of the times. Therein lay the only hope of
humanity, and the light of deliverance from oppression seemed
to shine from the throne and lay centred in the crown. But
the throne was, in another sense, an object of solicitude to the
Holy See, for its chief support lay in the good will of its sub-
jects as bent and fostered by the strong and shaping hand of
Rome. This solicitude meant that monarchs should not over-
step the bounds of moderation in their sway, or oppress those
whom they were appointed to rule, and whose happiness it was
their privilege to promote. But the sovereigns of those times
rarely took this large and unselfish view of their functions, and
too often they looked upon their subjects as the instrument of
their ambition, whose lives were but as stepping-stones to the
consummation of their projects. Protest after protest emanated
from the popes against this oppressive violence of princes, till
the straining bond between them snapped. Then the great
Pontiff whose dying words, ''I have loved righteousness and
hated iniquity," are the truest index to his character, brought
matters to an issue by rebuking the despotism of Henry IV.,
and summoning the haughty Emperor of Germany to the eter-
nal City. We all know how this memorable struggle ended;
how right triumphed over might, and the cause of the people
struck deeper root into the soil of Europe, and thenceforth grew
and prospered, and waxed stronger day by day.

Though much obscurity still surrounds the history of this
period, and the noisy quarrel about the papal investitures has
cast other and more important issues into the shade, the dis-
cerning student of history cannot but see that the real struggle
of that time lay between the emperor, on the one hand, and
the pope, on the other, standing forth as champion of a crushed
and impoverished people. The absolution of imperial subjects
from their oath of allegiance to the tyrannic ruler of half Eu-
rope was the first note of modern democracy ringing clear and
triumphant through the world, the harbinger of many a subse-
quent revolt against the cruel sway of despots. Quick on the
heels of those stirring events came one of still more startling
import, whose influence on the church and on society will not
cease to be felt until the end of time ; an event with which
the name of Gregory VII. is gloriously and inseparably en-
twined.

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48 The Histor y of Philosophy [Oct.,

THE DOCTRINE OF THE REAL PRESENCE.

As St. Athanasius had vindicated the cardinal doctrine of
the Incarnation against the attacks of Arius, so Gregory, . acting
under a truly divine impulse, upheld the most precious dogma
of our faith, the Catholic belief in the real presence of our Lord
in the Sacrament of the Altar, against the insidious assault of
that slipperiest of heresiarchs, Berengarius of Tours. Never were
the wiles of the arch-enemy of mankind more adroitly exercised
than in the many shifts then made by the friends and abettors
of this champion of an infamous doctrine to evade papal con-
demnation. But the vigilance and resolution of Gregory proved
superior to the tricky evasiveness of his opponents, and he com-
pelled Berengarius to subscribe to such a clearly formulated
statement of the Catholic doctrine that all subsequent attacks
fell harmless and inert at its feet. This formal and explicit ex-
position of the doctrine of transubstantiation at this time was
truly providential, since it was the embodiment of all the teach-
ings and traditions of the church touching the Eucharist, from
its very cradle down to the year 1079; and this article of our
faith continued to be a target of the deadliest shafts subse-
quently levelled against Christianity, up to the time of Luther's
formidable revolt, but this seasonable statement of the truth
blunted their edge, and neutralized their venom. The interests
and principles contained in the Christian idea were now suffi-
ciently organized and consolidated to enable the church to pro-
secute with energy and independence her work of civilizing
the world in accordance with the spirit of her Founder, and of
breaking down the opposition to her plans that mainly pro-
ceeded from the strifes and ambitions of princes. This instinct
of antagonism between tyranny and the papacy naturally led
the masses of the people to regard the Roman pontiffs as their
friends and allies, and this congenial 'bond between them had
the happy effect of both mitigating the harshness of princely
rule, and of tempering the fierceness of the first turbulent out-
burst of the democratic spirit.

The student of history cannot but be amazed at the pro-
found discrepancies in the statements and opinions of historians
who have made the twelfth and thirteenth centuries the subject
of their investigations. The Protestant historians, without ex-
ception, delight in picturing the arrogance and tyranny of Rome
during those two centuries, whilst the oldest chroniclers and the
most recent annalists of all exhibit a condition exactly the reverse.

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1895.] ^S APPLIED TO THE CHURCH. 49

UNFITNESS OF HISTORIANS FOR THEIR SELF-APPOINTEP TASK.

The truth is, the majority of historical writers do not come
to their allotted task with the requisite dispositions. They fail
for the most part to cultivate the historical spirit by virtue of
which the mind, divested of all partiality and partisan inclina-
tions born of prejudice and passion, is enabled to view all
questions in the clear light of truth alone. Yet how few really
do this! How few, for instance, can to-day discuss with calm
impartiality the philosophy, the causes and effects, and contem-
poraneous influences of the Crusades ! How few can speak in
unimpassioned accents concerning the Inquisition and the cir-
cumstances of the times in which it took birth ! And yet, un-
less one comes to the study of such questions in this absolutely
impartial frame of mind, there can be but little prospect that
the light of truth will illumine his efforts. But more essential
still to this happy mental equipoise is a spirit of charity, so
needful in the prosecution of historical inquiries ; the feeling that
binds all men, even unto the most distant generations of the
past, in the bonds of a universal brotherhood ; the spirit that
prompts every man, conscious of sharing the infirmities of our
common humanity, to look with indulgence upon the short-
comings and imperfections of his brother-men of long ago. This
spirit, which alone can help us to feel, and feel intimately, that
the blood which flows red and warm through the natural gates
and alleys of the living body to-day, is kindred in impulse with
that which coursed through the veins of the men and women
who trod the world's stage in the dead centuries of the past.
If, animated with this spirit, we should rend the sable envelop-
ment of wars and revolutions, of sieges and sacks, of butcheries
and conflagrations, that lies thick and heavy over the records
of the period of the Renaissance, we should perceive, deep be-
neath it, the spirit of our modern love of liberty struggling to
the surface, quivering with the same energy and life that once
palpitated in the heart of the ancient Roman, but now purified
and exalted by the fires of Christianity. If we could remove
the scales of prejudice and passion from our eyes, and unseal
our lids to the light of the truth alone, we would see through-
out those eventful years of restless strife and change the church
of Christ ever fighting the battles of humanity, hastening the
days of our deliverance, and making straight the paths that led
the way to social and political regeneration.

VOL. LXIId»4

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so Religious Organization in the Sacred City. [Oct.,
RELIGIOUS ORGANIZATION IN THE SACRED CITY.

BY ORBY SHIPLEY, M.A.

HE stra,ngest point which strikes the student in his
survey of the churches of Rome is their outward
appearance in relation to their interior details.*
With noteworthy exceptions, their outward aspect
is not prepossessing; and as a rule, the greater
the interest within, the less is the exterior attractive. For
dignity and grandeur the churches rely on position, size, length,
width, and height — in proportions which make average old or
middle-age English churches look small and low and poor.
Even where the facade has been piously left for the future
generations who have failed to avail themselves of the privilege
to complete the design, the building is redeemed from critical
contempt by a well-shaped dome suspended in mid-air, or by a
light, elegant campanile of many stories and windows increasing
in number with each successive story. But, once within the
holy fane, whatsoever may be the prepossessions against being
impressed, and whether the temple be rectangular, or cruciform,
ai; circular, or oval, or any combination of these mathema-
tical figures, the outside is forgotten. Of course there are
many exceptions to the general impression here Conveyed.
Amongst other churches, always excluding St. Peter's, perhaps
the most perfect specimen in the whole world of a Christian
temple surrounded, in one composite block, and with one uni-
form idea pervading the builder's mind and imparting itself to
the student's eye, is that of St. Mary Major. On whichsoever
side is inspected the cluster of buildings for the worship of
God and the abode of his ministers, one is struck with the
unity of the plan and the harmony with which the design is
carried out. The west front (speaking architecturally) with its
graceful column in front ; the double-storied and arcaded nar-
thex gallery for Papal benediction ; the bold parapet surround-
ing the whole, with five statues of heroic size surmounting all ;
the clock-containing campanile, with its pyramidical roof — per-

* a History of Architecture in all Countries. By James Ferg^usson. Third Edition ;

vols. 1. and ii. London : Murray. 1893* Rome^ Ancient and Modern^ By Jeremiah

Donovan. In four volumes. Rome. 1843. U Annie Liturgique d Rome. By X. Barbier

de Montault. Fifth edition. Rome : Spithover. 1870. Diario Romano, Rome. 1879.

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i895-] Religious Organiza tion in the Sacred City. 51

haps not the most beautiful specimen of a bell-tower in Rome-^
and the two canonical residences flanking the centre:, the whole
is an imposing edifice. The view half way down the Esquiline
hill, on the top of which stands the Liberian Basilica, to one
looking upwards at the east end of the sacred edifice, is also
impressive. Here one perceives a substantial block of buildings
in rich time-colored travertine surmounting the highest part of

Convent and Belfry of St. Pudentiana.

the hill. A magfnificent flight of steps reaches from the nearest
convenient level spot accessible to carriages— which is built in
more than a single sweep with a bold curve in the middle.
This, leads to the platform on which the basilica is built, and
the east end rises in due course, with its fine apsidal sanctuary,
surmounted by a semi-dome, enriched in. its turn with ancient

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52 Religious Organization in the Sacred City. [Oct.,

mosaics, and flanked by two low, tower-like bastions roofed with
cupolas. The whole efifect is worthy of the conception which
imagined and the talent which produced this noble church.
St. Mary Major forms an exception to the average external
appearance of Roman churches.

Once having crossed the sacred threshold, however, the
vision of piety, devotion, and beauty which meets the eye
destroys any unfavorable impression which may have been
created by the outward aspect of basilica, church, or chapeL
The contents and details, architecturally speaking, of a typical
church in Rome may be described, in outline, from features
taken from many buildings and combined in imagination into a
consistent whole. Of course, such a church as the following
seeks mentally to reproduce does not exist ; but each detail of
it may be easily identified, and the whole forms a picture in
imagination to one who has devoted time and thought to the
creation of such a design. The church, one of the grand
basilica type, stands in a commanding situation in the Eternal
City. Before it is placed a sacred enclosure, four-sided and of
a like breadth with the length of the west-front, sufficiently
large to allow of the entrance of carriages, to contain a central
fountain of pure water, and to be surrounded by a covered
cloistered colonnade. This colonnade starts from the large
entrance gates and runs, on either side, round three sides of
the enclosure until it meets and is lost in the west-front of the
church. The latter is bounded on the west by a columned
portico placed at the top of a dignified flight of steps, and
communicates with the interior of the building by three large
door-ways. You enter by one of the smaller side doors into
an aisle. On gaining the nave, you place yourself, backed by
the great west door, facing the east ; and looking down,
through a vista of pillars some two, three, or four hundred
feet, you contemplate a scene of architectural grandeur and
beauty. A nave and four aisles, with sanctuary and transepts
and side-chapels, complete the vista at first glance. The aisles
are divided from the nave by a series of marble pillars, of a
single stone, with an architrave above; and the side chapels
open out of the aisles, and besides fulfilling their chief object
of worship, afford places of solitude, contemplation, and repose
for both the pious and those who seek the consolations of our
holy religion. The pavement, unencumbered with seats, is made
of rich parti-colored mosaic marble work, which goes by the
name of, but is not, opus Alexandrinutfiy m endless variety of
pattern, angular, circular, polygonal, or kaleidoscopic. The

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i89S-] Religious Organiza tion in the Sacred City. 53

roof is flat, paneled, and deeply coffered — the panels' being
ornate with enrichment of carving, paint, and gold, and the
centre of the nave is filled, in a larger compartment, with an
oil-picture, by some master hand, of the Assumption of Our
Lady into heaven. Between roof and pavement, on the top of
the architraves, runs a triforium gallery, the columns of which,
joined by round arches, support first the triforium galleries, next
the clerestory walls, and then the roof. The church has lately
be^n restored with taste and judgment ; and between the lower
row of pillars and the top of the balustrade of the triforium a
series of pictures has been painted illustrating the life of the
saint to whose memory the church is dedicated. The windows
here, like all the finest glass in Rome, are colorless and admit
only the pure Italian blue of heaven. The altar, well elevated,
stands on a platform, at the entrance of the chancel ; it is
placed basilica-wise, is surmounted by a baldacchino on porphyry
pillars, and is surrounded by seats for the priests, the whole
being covered by a semi-dome, whence look down on the sacri-
fice and worshippers gigantic forms in mosaic of our Lord in
glory, enthroned with Our Lady seated on his right hand, and
a company of apostles and saints, dead or living at the date of
the mosaic. In front of the sanctuary, and beneath it in the
crypt, has been excavated a confessio, which contains the uncor-
rupted body of a servant of God, enshrined in a precious
casket of metal, glass, gold, and jewels. Of course, there stands,
it being Easter-tide, the paschal candle ; the bishop's throne, in
the centre of the apse ; the ambone, whence are read the epis-
tle and gospel in Mass ; a baptistery, with a font sufficiently
large for immersion, in a chapel near the west end ; and a
sacristy, at the altar of which marriages are wont to be cele-
brated, of the size of many an English church.

It is impossible, however, to describe, as a single typical ex-
ample, the many variations of form or detail of which a study
of the churches of Rome causes one to be familiar. No two of
them are quite the same, nor nearly the same, though a gen-
eral family likeness, so to say, is witnessed in many of them.
Each one possesses its own characteristic, or perhaps several
characteristics, which being named immediately brings to mind
the sacred fane which contains it, or them. For instance, to
speak of but a few — the position and ascent to Ara Coeli, the
underground church and atrium and ambones of St. Clement,
the four-aisled basilica of St. Paul's with its forest of columns,
the cloisters and mosaics at St. John Lateran, the flat, deeply
coffered ceiling and inlaid pavement in St. Mary Trastevere, the

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54 Religious Organization in the Sacred City, [Oct.,

white marble Greek Ionic monolyth pillars and the two sump-
tuous chapels and the relics at St. Mary Major, the triforium-
galleries and upper chancel at St. Lawrence, the perfect cata-
comb of St. Agnes, the beautiful bell and campanile of St. Pu-
dentiana, the statue of the saint at St. Cecilia, and the wide-
spread and magnificent bird's-eye view of Rome from St. Onofrio.

Something cursory remains to be said of the official staff
of priests who are responsible for working the - churches of
Rome, and more space is demanded than can be given for
a due treatment of the works of mercy and others that are
connected with the several ecclesiastical centres. Of course, the
usual works of mercy, education, charitable relief, and so forth,
are attached to the various parochial churches. To other
churches are affiliated hospitals for both men and women in
sickness and distress, for incurables, the homeless, lunatics, pil-
grims, children, the aged, and women in child-birth. On this
question the evidence of an impartial critic may be quoted.
" Few cities in Europe," says the author of Murray's Hand-book
to Romey "are so distinguished for their institutions of public
charity as Rome; and in none are the hospitals more magnifi-
cently lodged, or endowed with more princely Hberality. The
annual endowment of these establishments is no less than
;f 120,000 a year, derived from lands and houses, from grants,
and from the municipal treasury. In ordinary times the hospi-
tals can receive about 4,000 patients " (/. ^., about one patient
to every 50 souls of the population). San Spirito, an old foun-
dation first of the eighth and then of the twelfth century, is the
largest hospital, and there are ten or twelve other principal
hospitals-, in addition to which public charities for medical, surgi-
cal, and charitable cases "there are several small institutions of
a more private nature, belonging to different nations and cor-
porations — the Germans, Spaniards, Portuguese, Lombards, Flo-
rentines, and Lucchese have each their several hospitals." To
these may be added other institutions of a more secular type,
which are either connected with the various churches, or have
individual churches attached to them : e, g.y seminaries and col-
leges ; the university ; an observatory ; museums, Christian and
other ; many magnificent libraries, several being of the first class ;
a printing-press which, probably, contains fonts of every printing
type in the world ; and the cemetery and catacombs of Rome.

The devotional uses to which the churches of Rome are dedi-
cated can be also treated only with brevity. Statistics given
above suggest the amount of priest-power available for Divine
worship daily in the Eternal City ; but they do not convey the

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whole truth. We have seen that the Holy Sacrifice is oflfered
once daily for about every 130 or 140 of the inhabitants by
secular priests, and apart from the offerings of the regulars.
Nor does this exhaust the actual opportunities for daily worship
to the average member of the Roman family, or of the foreign
guests who frequent the city nearly all the year round. For
many churches are opened only occasionally; and many con-
ventual churches are opened only at an early hour, and are
then closed for the day; and many are the Italian and other
priests who visit Rome, say their daily^ Mass and add to the;
intercessory power of the Church. For instance, there must be
considerably upwards of 100 Masses offered daily in St. Peter's
alone ; and in a ^mall national Spanish church, situate in a back
street, the writer, was informed, on inquiry, that 25 Masses were
usually said before noon. These form the staple of the daily
services in Rome ; it may be said form the minimum of wor-
ship ; for, in addition to these morning offerings in all the tem-
ples of God, the capitular and religious churches publicly recite
the hours of prayer, some, if not all, in certain churches in ro-
tation. Benediction is given daily at certain hours all the year
round ; in three churches or chapels there is perpetual adora-
tion ; and there exists a system for Exposition at certain other
churches, according to the days of the week, and according to
the Sundays in each month. Moreover, in Advent and Lent,
litanies, the rosary, devotions for a good death, the Via Crucis,
and other spiritual exercises are conducted either daily or so
many times a week.

But there is a still more elaborate division of priest-work in
Rome, on principle. That principle, as has been already sug-
gested, consists in treating the population as one huge Christian
and united family, and each church, or set of churches as the
one centre for united worship, in regard to any given service
or day, for the whole of Rome — so far, indeed, as is consistent
with parish organization and the requirements of the great
seasons or holydays. In order to indicate all these functions
in the various churches which are included in the scheme of
services, a Sacred Diary (before named) is published by authority
before the beginning of Advent in each year. The Diario con-
tains the needful ceremonial information for the day, week,'
month, and year, and also for extraordinary occasions ; and it is
said that, in God-fearing families, the portion which applies to
the coming day is wont to be read aloud by the head of the
house after the Litany of Loreto, or the night prayers. The
scheme is elaborate and effective : and opportunities for worship,

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56 Religious Organization in the Sacred City. [Oct.,

divine or secondary, acre fairly divided amongst all the more
important churches of the city. First, the ordinary and extra-
ordinary functions are arranged for a comparatively small
number of churches, in a daily order, and on greater festivals.
Then, in a wider range and in a larger number of churches,
they are arranged for every day in the week. Then, in a still
more extended circle, the like is given for each Sunday in the
month. And, lastly, in order to include the largest number of
churches, the functions for every day in every month in the
year are tabulated. Moreover, where the information is need-
ful, or the time is variable, the hours of Divine Service are also
mentioned. These functions for the most part cluster around
the Church's daily and pure offering. Holy -Mass, in varied
degrees of solemnity, High Mass, or Missa Cantata, Exposition,
Procession, or Benediction, in addition to Vespers, or in Lent to
Compline. From the end of November to the beginning of June
there is a complete system of adoration and intercession before
the Holy Sacrament, in the Quarant* Ore, at certain selected
churches in order. Again, there is—as is 'well known, though it
must be said in order to make the statement approach to com-
pleteness — an organized system of devotions held in all the older
churches of Rome, which have their origin in the dimmest anti-
quity, and are called the Stations. They are held all the year
round, but chiefly in Lent, and then daily. The several churches
in which the Stations are held put on a festal appearance. All
the relics, treasures, objects of note, value, or interest possessed
by the sacristy are exhibited ; the arches are wreathed and can-
delabra are hung from above ; the pillars are draped in crimson
cloth, velvet, or silk, and the pavement is covered with leaves of
the aromatic smelling box, or other greenery; the high altar is
ablaze with candles, the side altars are lighted, and the shrines,
confessios, and underground chapels, or churches, or the adjoin-
ing catacombs, are illumined ; and the faithful repair thither
from all parts of Rome to keep festa and to perform their de-
votions. Solemn Mass is sung, perhaps by a cardinal, probably
assisted by the Papal choir, and for the rest of the day the
temple becomes a centre of attraction for the city, to prince
and peasant alike. Once more, missions of a day's length are
regularly preached in certain churches in rotation, on all the feast
days of each month ; in other churches longer missions of eight
days are held ; in one of which a holy sacrifice is offered accord-
ing to the use of various national rites, Greek, Armenian, and
Latin ; and sermons are delivered in different tongues ; devo-
tions (sometimes with a sermon) are held before a sacred image

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1895.] Religious Organiza tion in the Sacred City. 57

of the Madonna, and daily in as many churches in the city as
are dedicated to the Mother of God as there are days in the
month, to implore Divine help " for the liberty and exaltation of
our holy Mother the Church " (perhaps instituted by the pres-
ent Holy Father ?) ; whilst Novenas, Triduos are held, and 7>
Deums and Veni Creators are sung, panegyrics are made, and
litanies are recited at other specified churches. These functions,

Church of SS. Cosmas and Damian.

of course, are all supplementary to or are distinct from the ordin-
ary routine of festival, fast, or feria, holy days and seasons,
vigils, eves, and octaves ; they all find a place in the Diario
Romano, in about one hundred closely printed pages (which
contains, also, brief historical, astronomical, and horological notes,
etc.) : they all form a part and parcel of that system of organ-
ized devotions which has been perfected with the growth of

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58 Religious Organization in the Sacred City. [Oct.,

ages, and may be witnessed in actual working order, and is the
hereditary birthright and privilege of the Roman people at
the hands of their spiritual ruler, the Holy Father.

A few words in conclusion may be ventured upon. The
system of worship which obtains in the churches of Rome is
noteworthy both in its organization and details, as well as for
the extent and perfection to which it is carried. What the
results may be, not, of course, inwardly, of which no man can
speak, but outwardly, even a passing stranger may testify.
The result, so far as a foreign visitor on an occasion witnessed,
and in the matter of attendance at the spiritual feast provided
gratuitously for all who would come, was markedly satisfactory.
Specially of the large numbers of men who were drawn to
Divine worship can he state without hesitation that such was
the case. Whether in the churches frequented by the people,
as St. Agostino ; or in the fashionable resorts for sermons, as
the Gesu ; or in the great basilicas for worship, as St. Maria Mag-
giore — in all was this law observed. And the satisfactory result
applies to the stronger sex ; for, from the days of Calvary
downwards, the weaker sex has ever predominated around the
Crucified. It might have been expected, without speaking pro-
portionately, that the popular churches would be thronged with
men. But/ to find in the church of the Jesuits that the men —
many of them genuine working-men in obviously working-men's
garb — absolutely preponderated over upper-clas3 women of the
religious world, for the Sunday morning sermon, was not to be
expected. Yet they were there in comparative numbers
to which the present writer has seen no approach in Eng-
land. Whilst, at the early, Low Masses on a certain Christmas
day at St. Peter's men were present in such vast numbers, in
proportion to the other sex, as to suggest the inquiry, Where
can the women be? There were crowds of men — the majority
being of the lower orders — who surrounded each altar, and
moved from altar to altar in turn, to the almost entire exclu-
sion of the women. Of course early domestic duties kept
many women from the basilica, save for their Mass of obliga-
tion, or their three Masses of devotion ; perhaps St. Peter's is
not the parish church for a large population in the Borgo ;
certainly there were crowds of the contadini from the Campag-
na present in their peculiar costume. In any case, explain the
matter as it may or can be explained, the fact was as it has
been stated, and that fact is not unworthy of being placed on
record in these rough notes on the Churches of Rome.

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1 895-] Pedro : The Tale of a Young Tramp. 59

PEDRO: THE TALE OF A YOUNG TRAMP.

BY A. E. BUCHANAN.

rT was evening time — evening for the laboring man ;
for the aged one also ; and for the tired, foot-
sore beggar-boy, who trudged along to the only
roof that sheltered him, and to the hard master
who had beguiled him from his happy home in
Southern Italy to work for the daily bread of them both.

Pedro was only a tiny boy when Dodo Ramsay — so-called
— took him " for a sail in a beautiful ship to see the fine
prairie-land " ; but he was not too young to realize that all he
then saw was considerably unlike, and not to be compared
with, his own dear home; and this thought left an aching
void in his young heart, which seemed to increase as he grew
older, even though he had the consolation of hearing Dodo
once say that he was only to be with him "just while he was
a boy."

At nightfall it was Pedro's duty to return from the city
with the pence that he had earned by singing and playing on
the little harp that he carried all day long. Sometimes he was
so fortunate as to earn several dollars, but if he were ever
compelled to return with a less sum than one dollar a summary
chastisement was visited upon him for the deficiency; and it
happened that this evening the poor boy was returning with
only sixty cents, after a day of untiring efforts to gain more.
This was, happily, a rare occurrence.

Well knowing what awaited him, Pedro had scarcely the
heart to go back ; but he was always sincerely true to duty, and
his almost too faithful life was beginning to set its marks upon
his handsome face, while those dark hazel eyes of his — which
silently spoke their gratitude for every cent he received — only
grew more pensive and more beautiful as his little life increased
in sadness.

So onward he went. Dodo was, as usual, in the smoky cor-
ner of his hut, awaiting the result of the boy's toil.

" How much ? " was the surly greeting from the miserable
old man.

Pedro shook with fear, but bracing himself, as he always

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6o Pedro: The Tale of a Young Tramp. [Oct.,

had done, for the fiery ordeal, he put the copper coins upon
the table, and was turning to effect a retreat, when Dodo dealt
him such a blow across the face that the poor boy staggered
and with difficulty retained his consciousness. But that recu-
perative power of his served him in his need, and, reaching the
door, he managed to gain the kindly refreshing evening air.
After bathing his aching head and resting awhile, he felt less
the smart of the blow than the base ingratitude of the man
for whom he had honestly worked in heat and hunger and
thirst. Such was Pedro.

The inborn and early nurtured spirituality, and the sweet,
peaceful temper of the boy were the mainspring of his quiet-
ness under such provocations. His soul had been fashioned
from the first to Hve the higher life, and to bear injuries with
meekness.

There was a cottage not far from the hut in which lived an
aged couple — Jean Beaujour and his wife Eugenie. These
good pJeopIe were fond of Pedro, and, knowing the ill-treatment
he sometimes received, generally watched for him as he went
in the evening to do the " chores." Seeing him leaving the
hut evidently in tears, they made ready a parcel of cakes for
his pockets as soon as they perceived him at the barn ; for
they were aware that Dodo was under-feeding him, besides giv-
ing the lad still less when he returned with any amount under
a dollar; so that on this miserable night the poor boy limped
back to the hut comforted by his good friends, and able again
to face his enemy.

Dodo bestowed upon him a basin of bread soaked in water,
which, after the beautiful hot cakes he had eaten in the barn,
hardly served for digestion before lying down to rest upon his
straw pallet.

Feeling somewhat stiff in the morning, after he had com-
pleted his early work and eaten his frugal breakfast, he set out
once more to try his luck in the big city, the streets of which
he was beginning to know by heart. After a walk of more
than three miles — for Dodo took care to live well out of town
— Pedro began his minstrelsy in a busy corner of one of the
crowded thoroughfares leading to the city. By some influence,
unaccountable to those who never take note of the diplomacy
of Providence, his voice was never sweeter than when he com-
menced his little song, one that he had learnt as a child in
Italy — " La Peria ** — and the passers-by stopped to listen as if
spell-bound by such sweet strains coming from the poor beggar-

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iSqsO Pedro: The Tale of a Young Tramp. 6i

lad. Their pity soon became practical, for one after another
the bright silver coins were put into his cap, which was getting
quite weighty ; then followed a real gold piece from a lady
who was passing somewhat hurriedly. Pedro could only see
that she was '' una bella signora who looked at him with beau-^
tiful eyes." As he looked upon the shining coins, the result of
only an hour's work, his heart leaped for joy and the mist was
in his eyes in spite of himself. At last the passers-by grew
less, and he felt that he could stand there no longer. He
therefore lost no time in going to a quiet lane where he knew
he would be safe from any intrusion, and there, on the friendly
old block upon which he had often before taken his piece of
bread — his mid-day meal — he sat down and carefully counted
his money.

Musing upon what Dodo would say, and also upon the
delightful prospect of an evening at his books, he suddenly
recollected that he had a commission for Dodo which necessi-
tated his return to the city.

Here we must not forget to mention that Pedro was no
illiterate boy; he had been to school at intervals, so that
Dodo might avoid lex terrcBy and, being very intelligent, he had
learned more thus than many who are there altogether. One
little book was often seen peeping out of his pocket as if he
read it on his rambles. This was the Imitazione,

At last the sun began to show his evening signal for return,.
and Pedro retraced the steps that in the morning he had taken
with a heavy heart. Just as much as he dreaded going home
on the previous evening, he was glad to return to-day. His
headache — ^the memento of his master's punishment — was quite
gone, and his limbs — poor boy! they seemed to go of them-
selves.

Arriving at the hut, there was Dodo in the same dusky
corner as ever, and with the same surly countenance; but he
raised one eye to look at the lad, and lo! what a change. He
had seen in an instant, by Pedro's tell-tale face, that something
unusually pleasant had occurred, and his adamantine heart
was melted accordingly. Down went coin after coin upon
the table : nickels, dimes, quarters, dollars, and — Pedro held
it a moment playfully — a twenty-dollar gold piece! How
bright, how beautiful it looked ! Dodo's eyes sparkled with de-
light.

^'That's all," said the boy.

** And enough too, my lad ; vera good, vera good for one

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6z Pedro: The Tale of a Young Tramp. [Oct.,

day; you shall have vera fine supper"; and Pedro went, con-
siderably lightened, to do his "chores."

Turning off at the back of the barn in order to run to tell
the Beaujours of his good luck, he thought he heard an unusual
sound, coming, it seemed, from the direction of the hut ; but
after stopping for some minutes to listen, and not hearing it
again, he hurried on and gave the old folks an account of his
good luck. This done, he ran back to finish his work, and
then returned to the hut. But a terrible sight awaited him !
There, beneath a huge rafter that had fallen from the ceiling,
lay Dodo. Pedro endeavored to. release him, but could not
bring him to consciousness. He ran to the cottage for Jean,
and then to the city for a doctor ; and the two returned with
all speed, but too late. Dodo had shown but one sign of con«
sciousness, and, Jean said, he then murmured something like
" Pecca — Pedro — Peccavi," and fell back dead.

" Ah, yes ; poor Dodo ! " said Pedro, " he was saying he was
sorry. God have mercy on him ! "

The doctor remarked that the blow which the rafter had
given him was. quite sufficient to cause instant death.

Eugenie put the hut tidy, and Jean volunteered to stay
there while she took the boy to their cottage and gave him
his supper, for he was almost fainting from over-exertion.

Arrangements were duly made for giving Dodo decent burial,
and the money which had been earned by Pedro's beautiful
voice on that morning, and which was still in the old man's
pocket when he was called so suddenly to his account, was now
to defray the expenses of the funeral.

When all was done, and the earth had closed, over what re-
mained of the man who, for greed of gain, had been so. cruel
and hard a master to an innocent boy, and they were talking
over the incidents of the last few days, it occurred to Jean that
a board in the corner of the hut was broken or loosened by the
fall. .

" Pedro," said the old man, " did you notice how that board
in the corner was out of place ? " To which Pedro replied in
the negative.

" We must look to that," continued Jean. " I wonder what
made Dodo stick to that corner in the way he did. Did you
ever know what became of all the money you earned ? He
never spent any, for he never left the hut ; and the little he
gave to you to bring groceries and things was but a little in-
deed. What could he have done with it , all?"

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I89S-] Pedro: The Tale of a Young Tramp. 63

Pedro was no better informed than he, so that he could only
think over what seemed to him a great mystery,

"If you could find something of your earnings, my boy, we
should be happy. What did he do with it all ? "

Jean paced the room and wondered. Suddenly he thought
of something that appeared to throw a light upon the subject ;
and Eugenie simultaneously asked if there was no place in the
hut where he kept it ? Pedro had never noticed, but Jean
said:

" Enfin ! " — Jean was a Frenchman — and suddenly waking up,
as if from a dream, he suggested that they should all take a
walk to the solitary hut.

" Here, Pedro," said he, going to the corner — Dodo's favorite
place, and where the rafter fell — " this is what I mean ; what's
the matter here ? " And they tugged at the plank to put it into
its place, when a screw gave way and it came out altogether,
revealing at the same time something that resembled an old
sack.

"Le bon Dieu ! " exclaimed Eugenie.

"Ah, le bon Dieu!" echoed Jean solemnly. "This. was his
bank; no wonder the man stuck to this corner; it's pretty
weighty "; and he dragged it onto the floor. It was no easy
matter to count the- cents, but; Jean was intent on numbering
the dollars. At last it was found to be upwards of four hun-
dred dollars, and he proposed that they should take it to a
bank at once.

" This will help you along, anyhow, my lad," said Jean
thankfully; and Pedro responded with gratitude and joy. The
boy had long cherished a scheme which he had not revealed,
even to them.

This idea was awakened one evening when, having pleased
Dodo by bringing home several dollars, the latter talked very
freely of Italy, and implied that his — Pedro's — mother and sister
were there; while, on a map that the boy had in his atlas, he
showed him the place where the family owned an estate. Many
other little stories of the boy's babyhood were related, which
Pedro used to ponder over, very often, as he tramped along his
weary way.

It was still early in the day, so that Jean put the newly-
discovered money into a satchel, and they both set off to the
jiearest bank to deposit it safely.

The same old road to the city, Pedro ; but now under what
•different circumstances ! Your worn-out clothes are about to be

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64 Pedro: The Tale of a Young Tramp. [Oct,

cast away, and kind old Jean, who is by no means devoid of
good taste, will see you in a becoming suit before you leave
the city again.

For the purpose of procuring a complete outfit some dollars
were retained from the " big sum " that was deposited in the
bank, and, added to his nice appearance, Pedro carried home
a very large parcel of extra requirements. It was touching to
see the moist eyes of his good friends when he stood on the
threshold of their cottage door the embodiment of all that was
good and handsome. He was pale and sad-looking still, but
the interior peace that had marked the boy's life kept him
strong to bear the reaction attendant upon such a sudden atid
great change in his eventful life.

Then followed those halcyon days of calm after storm, and
the old people began to wish that " such as Pedro " could " al-
ways bide with them."

But the boy used to study the map of Italy, and he told
them of the places where Dodo said his family had lived.
'' Don't you think, Monsieur Jean, that I could find some of
them if I were to go back now?" he asked timidly one day
when he was specially intent on tracing railway lines on a map
in an old time-table that he had become possessed of.

"I don't see haw^ my boy; but I do wish you could, for
they're your own, and Dodo told us he ought not to have
brought you out here. It wasn't his name they go by, and I
don't see how you could find them."

Pedro smiled as if he felt more assured of success than
Jean naturally could feel ; and he continued : '' I might as well
spen^ a little of the money in trying, and if I could not find
them I would come back to you."

** Of course .you can go to Italy easily enough, nowadays,
with a ticket straight to the place ; but, my poor boy, I'd
grieve to have you lose yourself and your money, and get
into troubles again," urged the old man.

"I wouldn't take more money than I wanted," rejoined
Pedro; and Jean saw that the idea was settled in the boy's
mind, and that it must be carried out. His eyes began to
get misty, and he went out " to see after that goose of a
Betty that was always getting into other people's fields.*'
Poor old Jean! he loved the exiled boy as his own son.
And Eugenie, she only said " Bon " to herself, as she sat
thinking over the queer times.

" Jean will fix it all for you, Pedro, mon pauvre gar^on,'*

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1895.] Pedro: The Tale of a Young Tramp. 65

she began, after some moments of silence, during which Pedro
had some promptings to tell her that he thought he might play
at " the strolling singer " when he got to Italy ; but he kept
his secret for fear of giving anxiety to his good friends. Jean
forwarded every plan for the speedy departure of Pedro, and
our hero was soon on the deck of a fine ship on his way to
his own loved land. To one who had never tossed on the sea
of life this might have been too bold an adventure; but to
Pedro it was a pleasant pastime, with bright anticipations.

" How blue the Mediterranean is to-day, dear Eleanor," said
a delicate-looking lady in deep mourning to the tall, graceful
girl at her side. " Put back the hood a little ; I should like to
give something to that poor child. Montpensier used to say it
was cruel to pass by those little beggar-boys, for they are near-
ly always ill-treated." And the little fellow's cap received -so
many soldi that he literally danced with delight. "We did
think," continued the lady, "that we could always live quietly
in San Remo, but look at the crowd of people on the Terrace.
Here is Ronald Weber ; how the boy grows ! "

The usual salutation followed and the youths passed on.
Ronald Weber had a companion with him, evidently about his
own age, who remarked :

" Who may that be ? Who are those ladies in such deep
mourning? The one in the chair looks so awfully ill."

" She is the Marquise de Salva," replied Ronald, " and the
young lady is her daughter; pretty girl, isn't she? And she
has the sensible name of Eleanor. Substantial sort of name,
isn't it?"

His Companion was silent.

" Don't you hear a fellow expounding to you ? What a
reticent old man you are ! " continued Ronald ; and he changed
the subject to give a list of the amusements in San Remo, until
it was time to return to their hotel.

The two boys had made each other's acquaintance as boys
will who are staying at the same hotel, and they began to re-
connoitre San Remo together. Ronald Weber saw much that
he liked in the lonely stranger, who, though intensely reserved
and very shy, seemed to have a refinement about him that
suited Ronald, and there was no other youth at the hotel so
near his own age.

"I say, old fellow, I heard you rehearsing something in
your room this morning; ar^ you going to sing, at a concert

VOL. LXII.^5

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66 Pedro: The Tale of a Young Tramp. [Oct.i

to-night?'* asked Ronald one day when they were off betimes
on one of their excursions.

"Do you mean that croaking Iwas making over a song. I
used to be able to sing all right," replied his companion.

" I don't see what there is amiss about it ; and I wish you
would favor me with a repetition when we can get to the piano
by-and-by," continued Ronald.

"FU tell you where 111 sing it for you," was the eager
reply.. "If you will show me where that lady lives — ^we met
her yesterday, you know — Fll sing the song through, somewhere
near her house."

" Northumberland J man, that's what the beggars do ! " ex-
claimed Ronald. "Oh, I see!" changing his .manner as the
other laughed aloud ; "you're going to serenade that young
lady." Evidently believing his friend to be joking, he pointed
to a pretty villa- that topped the trees at the end of the road
by the terrace. "The high wall on that slope round the corner
IS at the back of their house — "

" Just the place," interrupted his new friend, who forthwith
urged him on in that direction, and, reassured by his own
incredulity, Ronald followed suit.

On arriving at the spot, to his utter amazement the song
was begun quite seriously, and with such pathos that he was
charmed in spite of his fears. Directly it was -over a gate in
the wall — which they had not noticed — was quickly opened, and
a man servant passed out who evidently recognized .Ronald;

"There!'' exclaimed he, "I'm in for it now. He is Fran-
ifois^ the marquise's butler, and he noticed me."

" Oh ! never mind, Ronald ; I'll try to make it all right
somehow ; don't trouble about it,", said the other feelingly.

: ." But you are a queer fellow, and I would never have come
.with you if I had thought you were in earnest," persisted . the
former. f

At this moment the Mediterranean breeze wafted towards
them the deep, unmistakable sound of the Angelus, and, sur-
prised to find it so late, they hastened back to the hotel.

" Behind time to-day, Ronald," said his father, as the boy
took his seat at the luncheon table. " We've been served
nearly half an hour. You have had quite a long stroll. Fran-
cois has just brought a note from Mme. de Salva asking you
to go there."

" Me ? " said Ronald, looking up in very uneasy surprise.
" What can Mme. de Salva want, to see me for?"

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I89S-] Pedro: The Tale of a Young Tramp. 67

" Some little plan of hers for your amusement, no doubt.
Poor lady ! she bears her terrible losses with immense fortitude.
Go as soon after luncheon as possible.'*

Ronald's appetite was very greatly impaired by the unex-
pected news. His mind was ill at ease, while he questioned
himself unmercifully as to why the marquise had sent for him ;
therefore, after an apology for luncheon, he repaired to the Villa
Marina.

The marquise was in the library when he arrived, and the
kind greeting that he received on the threshold of the door
completely reassured him. Advancing to meet him, she said :
" My dear Ronald, I am so very anxious to know who was sing-
ing a charming song outside our gate this morning that you
must excuse my having sent for you in propHd persond''

The youth became hot and cold alternately, and with some
hesitation replied : " You must refer to Mr. Ramsay for the
meaning of that extraordinary performance. He is a fellow -about
my own age who came to the hotel alone the other day, and*
his room being next to mine, we soon became friends. He is
a peculiar sort of fellow, but when he told me he was going to
shout in that vagrant way I, of course, thought he was
joking. I am awfully sorry if it annoyed you, Madame la
Marquise."

" Not in the least, I assure you ; quite the contrary — we
became very interested. You say his name is Ramsay — a Mr.
Ramsay and quite alone ? " repeated the lady. " Eleanor ! " she
continued, as her daughter entered the room, "Ronald says
that it was a Mr. Ramsay, a new arrival at the hotel, who was
singing this morning."

" And you know him, Ronald ; was he not with you yesterday
when we saw you en passant ? '* asked the young lady.

"Yes," replied Ronald, who began to wonder what was
coming next.

"Would Mr. Ramsay come with you to take tea with us
this afternoon, if you would give us that pleasure ? " inquired
the marquise.

" Oh, yes ! thanks," rejoined the disconcerted youth ;. " we
should be delighted to come. I can answer for Ramsay, as he
has nothing in the world to occupy him at the hotel."

This proposition shortened that dreaded visit, and it, was
not long before Ronald returned to the hotel, and then, taking
three steps at a time to gain the second floor, he found his
friend quite ready to excuse a raid upon his solitude.

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68 Pedro: The Tale of a Young Tramp. [Oct.,

On hearing the story of the visit to Villa Marina, the latter
considered it a joke in retaliation for his morning performance ;
nor did he. believe in the invitation until he found himself
actually in the presence of the two ladies whom they had met
the day before.

For a while the conversation — ^about nothing particular —
went on around him. The young stranger was unused to
society^ although he had travelled considerably, and, after all, he
was a mere boy.

At last Ronald remarked : " This friend . of mine is the
warbler of San Remo,. Madame la Marquise."

**And," replied the marquise, "how delightful it would be
to hear some of his warbling in this room ! *' There was a
tremor in the lady's voice as she continued : " Mr. Ramsay, will
you allow us to take advantage of this piece of information ?
Will you give us the pleasure we are all coveting, of hearing
you?"

" Do you play your own accompaniment ? '*

The younger lady stood near the piano, and as the song
was begun at once — though with a little hesitation at first— she
could not resist a few chords, and a facile movement of hers,
that suited it admirably.

The marquise took a chair by the side of them, and became
intensely interested as the boy's voice grew more and more
charming.

" How beautifully you sing it ! " they exclaimed simultane-
ously.

" Where in the world," continued the lady, " if I may ask
you, did you learn that song and the air ? "

" My sister taught it to me when I was a very little boy,
before Dodo took me away to America. He died last Novem-
ben Once he showed me the places on the map where my
family used to live. My sister was ten years old when she
wrote that song herself, and she said no one was to sing it but
me. I thought, if I could find her — "

" Giulio ! my own lost Giulio ! " exclaimed the poor mar^
quise. She clasped the boy in her arms for a moment, and
then, supported by her daughter, sank back into a chair com-
pletely overcome. Tears — tears of joy — were speedy restora-
tives. Pedro — for it was he — told them all, describing " Dodo,"
who proved to be a worthless cousin of his father's, and for
whom they had searched for nine long years, that they might
gain some clue to Pedro's whereabouts. But the man was not

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1895.] Pedro: The Tale of a Young Tramp. 69

to be found. A few letters of Dodo*s which Pedro carried,
although containing only minutiae, served still farther to prove
the identity, in the mind of the marquise, of the man who had
caused them such terrible sorrow.

" And Pedro / how was it he called you Pedro ? That alone
would have marked you in some places. It is one of your
names ! " said his sister, whose delight was unbounded.

The news of the joy that had come so suddenly to supple-
ment the grief of the widowed lady who had so lately lost her
eldest son in an engagement near Gaeta spread quickly through
San Remo, and our hero was recognized in a few hours as the
little boy for whom such a long and wearying search had been
made — the young Marquis de Salva.

The Beaujours were by no means forgotten. Pedro sent
them " a lightning message " across the sea, and subsequently,
as they could not be persuaded to leave their old home, pro-
vided them with an annuity that would supply all their needs.
We recently heard that the young marquis was contemplating
another beneficent act, viz., the erection in a certain city in
America of a House of Refuge for young tramps.

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70 The Teachers, [Oct.

THE TEACHERS.

BY JAMES RILEY.

le hills for thoughts sublime,
e and laughter ;

of flowing rhyme,

after.

lere glories ring,

ender,

» wing

ider.

Divinely linking dreams of soul,
They act on man's endeavor ;

Inspiring answering songs that roll
For ever, and for ever !

As far as sunshine of the heart.
In language ■ deep, all glowing,

They teach the old and higher part —
Perspective's dream bestowing.

They lead to Genius' silent sway,
That artist soul may capture

The golden measure of the day.
For unborn ages* rapture.

Inspiring nations to be brave,
They uphold all flags flying ;

And strike the shackles from the slave
In words that are undying.

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i89S-] The Teachers.

The highest goal is for the soUl
Of him who scales the mountains;

Who follows down the streams that roll
From far perennial fountains.

All Beauty's dream is but a gleam
Of hills and valleys drinking

The sunlight of each wayward stream
That wells from fonts unthinking.

He drinks Life's waters and is cheered
Who knows the vales will bless him ;

The rime of time upon his beard,
Suns linger to caress him.

Then hail the Light that lifts the night !

The hills and vales adorning ;
Showing afar the Maker's might,

As on that first bright morning.

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Alt..

Very wretched was the condition of Ireland after the awful
wail of lamentation arose on the shores of the Cove of Cork
over the departing Irish army. Weeping Niobe trailed her di-
shevelled hair in the dust, and her enemies mocked at her grief.
"Their youth and gentry (are) destroyed in the rebellion or gone
to France/' exultingly wrote the bigot Sir Richard Cox, on
October 24, 1705. "Those that are left are destitute of horses,
arms and money, capacity and courage. Five in six of the Irish
are poor, insignificant slaves, fit for nothing but to hew wood
and draw water.**

In less than a year after the last Irish sword had flashed on
Irish soil the thunders of sectarian persecution began to roll,
and the dread rain of penal laws to descend. The Treaty of
Limerick, which guaranteed the Irish Catholics their ordinary
rights as men and Christians, was ruthlessly torn to pieces.
Catholic lords and commons, venturing to attend the first Irish
Parliament of the reign of William III., were confronted with
the oath of supremacy, declaring the King of England to be
head of the church, and affirming the sacrifice of the Mass to
be damnable ; refusing to take it, they were promptly excluded.
All the Catholic judges were removed from the bench and Pro-
testant lawyers put in their places. Five years later even Pro-
testants who had taken Catholic wives were disabled from sitting
or voting in either house of Parliament.

An act was passed (the seventh William III.), which is prac-
tically in force to the present day, disarming the Catholics ; any
of those dangerous persons who dared have arms or ammunition,
even for the purpose of shooting crows or rabbits on their farms,
were liable on conviction to be exhibited in public with their

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i395-] For Religion's Sake, 73

heads and hands secured in the degrading pillory, after the pub-
lic hangman had torn their backs with the cat-o '-nine-tails. Any
person who dared have his child educated by a Catholic teacher
forfeited all his estates, both real and personal, and was deprived
of the right of bringing any action in law. Any Catholic who
dared possess "any horse, gelding, or mare of the value of £^
or more " forfeited the animal to the first Protestant who dis-
covered it and gave information to the authorities. Any Catho-
lic prelate, priest, or friar who dared remain in Ireland after
May I, 1698, was liable to be seized and transported ; if he re-
turned after transportation, he would be adjudged "guilty of high
treason, and to suffer accordingly** — i. ^., on the scaffold. Any
laborer who refused to work on a Catholic holyday was made
liable to a fine of two shillings, or, in default of payment, pun-
ishment with the lash.

Such was the preliminary discharge of thunderbolts ; such
was the treatment accorded to the articles so recently signed in
all military good faith by a group of gallant officers circled
round the Limerick Treaty Stone ! In the Irish House of Lords
ten Protestant peers and five Protestant bishops rose and nobly
protested against such perfidious conduct, but in vain ; the in-
famous measures passed and became part of the law of the land.

Thus the gloom deepened, bringing woe and degradation
alike to gentle and simple of the proscribed faith. As for
the Catholic nobles, now suffering for having drawn sword for
unhappy James II. as against his parricidal daughter, Mary, the
light blue banner of St. Louis, sprinkled with the golden fleur-
de-lys, waved over the cream of them, brave fellows who had
left behind them 1,060,792 acres of rich Irish land, their forfeited
estates, now divided among the Williamites. Their commands
were now ringing out on many a European battle-field, as the
red uniforms and white cockades of the Irish Brigade came on
to the charge. How their poor brethren at home, riding about
on sorry nags, their homes liable to nocturnal search and their
wives and daughters to insult by the coxcomb ascendency
squireens who lived around them, must have envied many of
them even their honored graves on the banks of the Rhine or
the Scheldt!

It is one thing to make a law, another to enforce it. Those
vexatious priests and friars will not down or disappear. They
hide on the moors and the mountains, in caves and woods, in the
cabins of the faithful peasantry, occasionally in the "priest*s
hole " or secret chamber in some Jacobite mansion. They say

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74 For Religion's Sake. [Oct.,

Mass, and administer the sacraments and spiritual consolation to
the • oppressed people, and brave the rigors of the law. Fear-
less and devoted as the pastors of the early Christian church
are they, these lion-hearted Irish clergy of the penal days.

Again the fetter-forge in Dublin goes to work, and a new and

They hide on the Moors and the Mountains.

terrible assortment of chains is produced. A truly pathetic
scene is that witnessed in the Irish House of Commons on a
February night in 1704, when three Catholic advocates appear
at the bar to plead the cause of their fellow-religionists against
the fearful additional code which is about being launched against
them — the eminent counsel Sir Toby Butler (who had been
solicitor-general for the vanquished King James), Richard Malone,
and Sir Stephen Rice, the first two in the black robes of their
profession, as representing the Catholic body, the last in plain
citizen attire, he appearing for himself as one of the aggrieved.
Sir Toby makes an eloquent and argumentative speech, appeal-
ing to law, to justice, to manly fair play, and ordinary human
sympathy: but vain to look for the latter qualities in the ag-
gregation of tyrants whose faces, grim and dogged with hate
and bigotry, glare upon the speaker. Many a jury has good
Sir Toby faced, but never one so utterly unsympathetic and
prejudiced as this. Dealing with some of the clauses of this
new "Act to prevent the further growth of Popery,*' he says:
" For God's sake, gentlemen, will you consider whether this

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1 895-] PoR Religion's Sake. 75

is according to the golden rule, to do as you would be done
unto? And if not, surely you will not, nay you cannot, with-
out being liable to be charged with the most manifest injustice
imaginable, take from us our birthrights and invest them in
others before our faces/*

But his earnest pleading to these precursors of the A. P. A.
fall upon scornful and impatient ears. Next day the bill is or-
dered to be engrossed and sent up to the House of Lords.
Here the appeal is repeated, and with like miserable result ; so
finally the measure becomes law — and such law!

By it if a child of a Catholic turn Protestant he immediately
makes his father tenant for life, with no power to sell or mort-
gage the estate ; and the child, if under age, is taken from the
father and placed under the guardianship of the nearest Protest-
ant relative or of the crown. Catholics are prohibited frona
purchasing lands, and they may not obtain leases for more than
thirty-one years, nor can they inherit lands from a deceased
Protestant relative. On the death of an estated Catholic his
land must be gavelled or evenly divided among all his children
— so that eventually, unable to live upon the product of their
scanty holdings, they shall be obliged to sell to Protestants — the
only legal purchasers ; and thus all Catholic estates will be event-
ually swallowed up and disappear. No Catholic shall be eligi-
ble for office or for voting for one unless he takes an oath re-
nouncing his religion.

At length, despairing of driving out the Catholic clergy, the
government adopted the device of having them come in and
register their names and the names of the parishes " of which
they pretended to be Popish priests," with sundry other infor-
mation, on the tacit understanding that Catholic worship would
be tolerated if it were only practised in quiet, out-of-the-way
places — much as the mayor of a modern American city might
be induced by a " pull " to tolerate gambling. Each registering
priest was required to furnish two "sufficient sureties," bound
each in the penal sum of £$0 sterling, that he should be " of
peaceable behavior, and not remove out of such county where
his or their place of abode lay, into any other part of the kingi
dom." Accordingly, on the specified registration day, that of
the quarter sessions held after St. John Baptist's day, 1704, th6
poor soggarths issued from their retreats and repaired to their
respective county towns, where they duly gave down their names
and other particulars to the Orange clerk of the peace, and
bonds were entered into by their sureties. The latter were in

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76 For Religion's Sake. [Oct.,

many cases friendly Protestants, substantial Catholics having
grown scarce under the stringency of the penal code. Here is
a sample registration from the diocese of Killala :

Popish priest's name, James Monely ; place of abode, Cloon-
tekilly; age, 55; parish of which he pretends to be popish
priest, Killcoman, Erris ; year orders received, 1677 ; place he
received orders, Dublin ; from whom he received them, Dr.
Foster, Titular Bishop of Kildare ; sureties* names that entered
into recognizances for him, according to act, Manus 0*Donnell,
Rossturk, and George Brown, Liskillin.

Next year, 1709, brought over the infamous political trickster,
Thomas, Earl of Wharton, with no less a personage than the
polished essayist Addison, of the Spectator^ as his secretary ; and
now the persecution took a notable bound in meanness and
malignancy. By the registration of five years previously the
names and residences of the parish priests had been obtained ;
these were now ordered to come in and take the oath of
abjuration — swear that the pope was not the head of the
church — on penalty of being considered guilty of prcemunirey or
holding allegiance to a foreign power, and accordingly pro-
secuted for. high treason. The clergy could not and would not
take a sacrilegious oath ; consequently they had to leave their
homes and assume disguises in order to evade the numerous
host of " priest-hunters " that now started on their trail, their
cupidity excited by the offer of the following rewards :

For the arrest of an archbishop, bishop, vicar-general,, or

other person exercising ecclesiastical jurisdiction, . £^0

For the arrest of a monk or friar, or any secular priest

not duly registered, ;£'20

For the arrest of a popish school-teacher or usher, . £\o

On Dr. O'Rorke's appointment by the pope, in 1707, as
Bishop of Killala, in the west of Ireland, Prince Eugene pre-
sented him with a gold cross and a ring set in diamonds, and
introduced him to the Emperor Leopold. The latter, by private
letter, warmly recommended him to Queen Anne of England,
and to all his allies by a passport written on parchment,
signed by Leopold himself and sealed with the great seal of the
empire. So, bidding adieu to a pleasant life in courtly and
cultured circles in sunny Italy, Dr. O'Rorke set out to tend
the spiritual wants of his persecuted flock among the wild
mountains and moors of Mayo. In passing through London he
received favorable audience of Queen Anne, who even gave him

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1895.] For Religion's Sake. 77

letters of recommendation to some of the leading men of
Ireland ; but even the friendship of England's queen could
avail him nothing under the gloom of the Irish penal laws!
Arrived in his diocese — its first bishop for over half a cen-
tury — he was dogged as a popish spy and in imminent danger
of capture. Assuming the alias of Fitzgerald, he made his way
to the lonely bogs of the Joyce country, where for some years
he found shelter in the cabins of the devoted peasants. Thence
he made his way to Belanagar, in Roscommon, the residence of
his brother-in-law (husband of his sister Mary), namely, Denis
O'Conor, head of a family which had long supplied kings of
Connaught. Here the hunted bishop found frequent refuge,
and from here he often dated his letters in the style of the
fugitive Catholic hierarchy, " Ex loco nostri refugii." In one of
these letters, to a friend in Rome, he mentions that the Irish
Roman Catholics trembled at the idea of writing a letter, that
ivhen they ventured to write they wrote in Irish, and that he
risked his life by posting a letter for Rome, though it regarded
only his pastoral and temporal concerns. A lively and hospi-
table place was Belanagar even in that time of persecution.
One Christmas eve the company present included a dancing-
master, a fencing-master, an Irish master, a crowd of educated
gentlemen, and the celebrated Turlough O'Carolan and a crowd
of other harpers for the Midnight Mass. .

In the same year that the Sligo magistrates tried to ferret
out information as to the whereabouts of Catholic bishops and
priests, Mayor Edward Eyre of Galway led a file of soldiers to
the Franciscan convent in that city, thrust the nuns into the
streets, ordered them to quit the bounds of his jurisdiction, and
converted their convent into a barrack. The nuns made their
way to Dublin, where their religious habits soon attracted at-
tention, and by rude official hands they were led to jail.
Such was the fanatic fear and alarm caused by the arrival of
these few weak women in the capital that special govern-
mental orders were at once issued for the arrest of Archbishop
Edmund Byrne of Dublin, Bishop Nary, and Dr. John Burke,
provincial of the Irish Franciscans ; but probably the execution
of the order was difficult as the enforcement of the act upon
which it was based.

Prominent among priest-hunters was the notorious John
Mullowny of Mayo, nicknamed by the peasantry, from his
odious calling, Shawn-na-Soggarth (John of the priests). Origin-
ally a Catholic — his Irish surname, with orthographical irony,

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78 For Religion's Sake. [Oct.,

signifying Devotee of God (Mael-Dhomnaigh) — he embraced the
Reformed religion from a spirit of lucre and, like the typical
turncoat, became a bitter hater and persecutor of the faith
which he had deserted. The appearance of Shawn-na-Soggarth
is thus described by a Mayo writer : " In stature he was rather
under the middle size, while the shoulders, which supported a
short, thick neck, surmounted by a bullel-shaped head, were by
no means on a level, one aspiring some inches above the other.

••He knocked Him senseless with one powerful Buffet."

But then his arms were of unusual length, his chest of ample
breadth, and the legs, that formed the pedestals to this super-
structure, of that bowed description generally indicative of great
strength and firmness of footing. It was the. countenance, how-
aver, that constituted the portion of Mullowny's person that,
once seen, could not be easily forgotten. His complexion was
colorless, and his features heavy and massive, though not de-
formed. But it was his deep-set eye, with its overhanging neavy

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J 895-] For Religion's Sake. 79

brow, the numerous surrounding furrows that belonged not to
his years — for he was a young man, though with but little of the
lightness or buoyancy of youth in his person or aspect — and
the character of his large and prominent mouth — that most
eloquent of all our features — that told, as distinctly and more
truly than words might tell, that within rioted passions which had
never been checked, fierce, relentless, uncontrollable, though at
times there was a cat-like expression of cunning mingled with the
ferocity of the aspect." He acted chiefly under the directions
of Sir John Bingham of Castlebar, a violent persecutor, who, in
rigorous enforcement of the provisions of the penal law, had
laborers flogged at the cart's tail through the streets of that
town for refusing to work on Catholic holydays.

Bingham was the ancestor of the present Earl of Lucan,
whose late father luridly distinguished himself by exterminating
hundreds of families of Mayo peasants and also by issuing the
fatal order which sent the Light Brigade to destruction in the
valley of Balaclava.

. Vivid memories of Shawn-na-Soggarth still survive, especially
in the neighborhood of the stately old abbey ruin of Ballintubber,
where were performed many of his noted feats of priest-hunting.
"Tha ma keese bleeun echy" (my year's rent is paid) was his
usual exulting expression on finding the trail of a likely quarry,
and his favorite oath was "By the glory of hell." One Sunday
morning he surprised a Catholic congregation hearing Mass in
the corn-loft of Myles Bourke, when his appearance created
such confusion that the flooring of the loft gave way, precipitat-
ing about two hundred - persons a depth of sixteen feet, causing
many bruised and broken limbs and the crushing to death of an
aged mendicant. Shawn coolly watched for and pounced upon
the celebrant. Friar David Bourke of Clare-Galway ; but the
latter knocked him senseless with one powerful buffet and made
good his escape. On another occasion, simulating extreme ill-
ness, he entered the cabin of his sister. Widow Nancy Loughnan,
and begged her to bring him a priest, as he felt his last hour
had come. After some hesitation the woman, who knew where
a priest was in hiding, complied, and very soon the venerable
-Father Bernard Kilger (or Kilker), uncle of the Friar Bourke
already mentioned, stood beside the couch on which Shawn
was shamming death-sickness. " By the glory of hell, I have
him at last ! " cried the ruffian springing up and seizing the
clergyman, whom he hurled to the floor. The widow seized the
tongs from the hearth and striking her villanous brother on the

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8o For Religion's Sake. [Oct.,

hands compelled him to loose his hold, so that the priest was
enabled to get up and rush to the door ; but ere he could pass
put Shawn plunged a dagger twice into his neck, laying him a
corpse upon the floor !

The funeral of the murdered priest was attended by his
nephew, Friar Bourke, or, as he was familiarly called, " Father
Davy," disguised in the white cap and long blue cloak of a
peasant woman. Shawn, who was truculently on the watch,
recognized the friar despite his disguise and rushed to seize him,
but was hampered by the interference of some of the women
attending the funeral, while the friar, throwing off cap and cloak,
made a run for life and liberty. A sharp chase ensued. In
passing through a plantation the friar's foot caught in a root
and he was hurled to the ground. Ere he could arise Shawn
was upon him, his pistol-butt lifted to strike. Suddenly, in re-
sponse to a hint shouted by a third party who had joined in
the race, the friar drew from his breast a skian or long knife,,
which had been given him for his protection, and plunged it
into the side of his enemy, who dropped his pistol and felL
The third party, a peddler — called Johnny McCann, but whose
real name was Andrew Higgins, and who was a nephew of one
of Shawn's clerical victims — now came running up. Drawing
the skian from the wound he remorselessly plunged the red
blade again and again into the body of the priest-hunter, fiercely
bidding, him look up and see who was killing him, and ceasing
not till the cruel features of Shawn had grown rigid in death.

The body of Shawn-na-Soggarth was interred in a little
ruined chapel adjacent to Ballintubber Abbey. Over his grave
grew a singular ash-tree, long an object of curiosity to visitors
even after it had become a leafless and withered trunk. Spring-
ing from one side of the grave, it bent downwards to the other
and took root again, forming an arch across the grave mound
and sending up a second stem. The peasantry regarded it
with awe, considecing it placed there by Providence to isolate
from contact with Christian remains the dust of the blood«^
stained priest-hunter.

Another noted member of the profession was a Portuguese
Jew named Garcia, through whose vile efforts two Jesuits, three
secular priests, one Franciscan, and one Dominican were appre-
hended in Dublin and banished the kingdom with the usual
warning of death if they dared return. Several of the priest-
hunters were Jews, some of whom pretended to be priests in
order to win the confidence of the people and increase their

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I895-J PoR Religion's Sake. 8i

receipts of blood-money. Sometimes these miscreants were
saluted with showers of missiles and curses from both Protest-
ants and Catholics. Various were the ways taken to outwit
them. Once, when a party of them had almost surprised a
priest in the celebration of Mass, a gentleman of resource, Mr.
Charley Phillips of Cloonmore, in Mayo — of a family now ex-
tinct — threw the priest's chasuble over his shoulders and started
off at a rapid pace, leading the eager pack a lively dance over
fields and fences, quite away from the real trail, and being at
length captured only to be discharged by the amused magistrate
before whom he was brought, who happened to be a personal
friend of his.

It had been ascertained that there were i,o8o registered
priests in Ireland,
yet despite the cruel
manner in which the
infamous laws were
enforced ^gaii^st
them, and the ruth-'
lessness with which
they were continual-
ly chased like wolves
or other vermin, only
thirty-three of them
came in and took
the odious oath of
abjuration, and of
these not more than
a dozen abandoned
their faith to accept
the £y> per annum
which Lord-Lieuten- ** "^"^ Sligo magistrates tried to ferret, out .

Information."

ant Wharton offered ;)

as a bribe to any Irish Catholic priest who would turn Prot-
estant. . •

■ • - . ..... .. ■. ^.

Another bribe offered by the wily Wharton -was an; annuity
from the estate to any child of an estated Catl>olic who became
a Protestant. If a Catholic ^wife turned Protestant -she thereby
l^came entitled, to receive a share of her husband's chattels.
As for the heir of a Catholic, he had, to become at once )\if
.virtual owper of the estate^ merely to ^^^ead l^is; recantation " in
the i^earest Protestant church and obtain such' a certificate ^
the foilowing, which is a boi\a fide 3peci^[lJ8n'^ ;: , -. / . . ,.^

VOL. LXII. — 6

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82 Foji Religion's Sake, [Oct.,

" Mordecai, by Divine Providence Lord Bishop of Killala
and Achonry, greeting : — We do hereby certify that William Fen-
ton, now an inhabitant of the parish of Kilmacshalgan and Tem-
pleboy, hath renounced the errors of the Church of Rome, and
that he was by our order received into the communion of the
church on Sunday, the 24th of April last, and that the said
William Fenton is a Protestant, and doth conform to the Church
of Ireland as by law established. In witness whereof we have
hereunto affixed our manual seal this 4th day of March, 1737.
— MORDECAI, Killala and Achonry."

Bitter were the family feuds, great the filial injustice, many
the gray heads that went down in sorrow and dishonor to the
grave under the operation of the penal clauses that encouraged the
son to rob the father. Among the most remarkable sufferers was
Peter Brown, ancestor of the present Marquis of Sligo. Peter,,
the son of a Jacobite colonel who was one of the signers of
the Treaty of Limerick, possessed estates lying along the shore,
of Clew Bay and often attended Mass in a barn which stood on
Carnalurgan hill, where now stands his monument, a square block
of freestone with the inscription, " Orate pro anima Petri Browne
qui me fieri fecit, 1723." Peter's son John turned Protestant,
dispossessed the old man, became a rabid persecutor of the faith he
had forsaken, and otherwise so pleased the government that he ob-
tained the title of ]^arl of Altamont. The grandson of this earl,
who founded the present pretty town of Westport, was created
Marquis of Sligo for voting for the infamous Legislative Union
between Englapd and Ireland, and his grandson in turn is the
present marquis, w|io proved himself in the days of the
famine one of the most merciless and sweeping of extermi-
nators.

Sometimes the soy did not get the better of the father in
the trick of apostasy. Owing to an after-dinner dispute between
Christopher Nugent of Westmeath and his son Lewellyn, or
Lally, the latter determined on revenge and set out for Dublin.
The father, divining the son's object, also set out for the metro-
polis, where by taking ia shorter road he managed to arrive first,
and proceeding without delay to Christ Church promptly "read
his recantation." On leaving the church he met his son, enter-
ing with similar interested purpose, at the door, and galled him
with the jeer: "Lally, you are late!"

The Irish Catholic gentry being ardent huntsmen and steeple-
chasers, and admirers of good horseflesh, the mean penal clause
restricting their ambition to horses of not more value than £^

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I895-] PoR Religion's Sake. 83

naturally caused them much annoyance and humiliation. Dar-
ing riders and high-toned gentlemen, they chafed at seeing up-
start shoneens, fellows who neither knew the points of a good
hunter nor the pleasure of taking a six-foot wall, superbly
mounted and swaggering in the cavalier distinction the law
conferred upon them but nature never could. Under these cir-
cumstances some of the Catholic gentry ventured to provide
themselves with good horses, and their popularity with their
Protestant neighbors made the insulting law a dead-letter; but
not always. One day when a Catholic gentleman of good old
family, Mr. Kedagh Geoghegan, of Donower, in Westmeath,
drove into MuUingar in a carriage drawn by four fine horses,
he was approached by a rich Protestant named Stepney, who
proffered ;f 20 and claimed the four horses as his, according to
law.

" Just one moment. Stepney," said Geoghegan, and with his
own hand he shot the four noble animals dead. Then, with a
brace of pistols held by the barrels in each hand, he returned
to the would-be legal robber.

" You can't have those horses. Stepney ; I have shot them ;
and, unless you are as great a coward as you are a scoundrel,
I will do my best to shoot you. Choose your weapon, and
take your ground."

The baffled poltroon retreated amid the contempt and de?
rision of his co-religionists ; and thenceforward, to avoid a simi-
lar outrage and emphasize the contemptible nature of the penal
laws, his cattle, whenever he visited the county town, consisted
of four oxen.

Another Geoghegan, fearful that a kinsman would outwit
and rob him by. the Verting system prescribed by law, turned
Protestant. In Christ Church, when the sacramental wine was
presented to him, he drank off the entire contents of the Qup,
and was in consequence rebuked by the officiating minister for
his lack of decorum. "You needn't grudge it to me," he retorted ;
" it is the dearest glass of wine I ever drank."

That afternoon he entcjred the Globe Coffee-room in Essex
Street, which was crowded by members of the " ascendency "
and the higher class of Dublin citizens, and, gazing round defi-
antly, with his hand on the hilt of his sword, said :

"I have read my recantation to-day, and any man who says
I did right is a rascal."

This occurred on a Sunday. Next day he sold his estate,
and on Tuesday returned to Catholicism. When twitted on his

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84 For Religion's Sake.. [Oct.,

rapid change he declared : •* I would rather trust my soul to
God for a day than my property to the fiend for ever."

Suddenly, in the midst of all this shabby oppression, while
the wretched Parliament of the English colony in Ireland was
concocting fresh schemes for the further degradation of the
Irish Catholics, came tidings which shot through the hearts of
the latter a grand, wild thrill of joy and exultation. It was the
news of Fontenoy! The Irish Brigade had at length met their
hereditary foes, exacted a bloody vengeance for years of wrong
and oppression, and notably helped to humble the might of
England before the world.

" Cursed be the laws that deprive me of such subjects ! "
swore King George, and next year, with the object of relaxing
those laws, he sent to Ireland as lord-lieutenant the courtly
Earl of Chesterfield, now an old beau of fifty-two. The " Mass-
houses " were allowed to reopen, the priests might appear in
public without fear of the handcuffs, the people visit the holy
wells without terror of the lash. Chesterfield politely mocked
at the fears of the indignant ; he said the only " dangerous
Papist " he saw in Ireland was Miss Eleanor Ambrose, a Catho-
lic beauty who attended his court.

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J 895-] Professor Nitt/s ''Catholic Socialism:* 85

PROFESSOR NlTTrS "CATHOLIC SOCIALISM."*

Catholic socialism is the first of a series of
volumes which are to treat in turn the different
phases of contemporary socialism. Its author,
Francesco S. Nitti, a voluminous and leiarned
writer on all social and economic questions, is pro-
fessor of political economy at Naples University. Published
first in 1891, this, his most important work, has since been
translated into French and English. The fact that it won the
approval of the late Cardinal Manning is sufficient guarantee
of our giving a critical summary of the volume.

The book professes (Introduction, p. ix.) to give an impartial
and unprejudiced account of what Catholics have been doing
the world over in regard to solving the problem of the " Sphinx
of our modern society — the Social Question."

Naturally enough, the work is tainted with the false Italian
liberalism which views Christianity and its Founder through the
glasses of the French rationalists. Dollinger is praised for his
fioble protest against the dogma of Infallibility, which, accord-
ing to Professor Nitti, is "contrary to the spirit of Christianity
and the traditions of the church*' (p. 123); the Syllabus is
denounced as " opposed to reason and science " (p. 250) ; the
popes from the time of Charlemagne have been "animated solely
by the desire to preserve and extend their . temporal power '*

(P- 395). .

Many indeed of the men whose work he so vividly describes
have protested again and again that the terms Catholic and
Socialism are utterly incompatible. They maintain that Social-
ism properly so called is founded on materialism, atheism, and
the denial of private ownership ; therefore it is absurd to speak
of Catholic Socialism. One might reply that Socialism is to-day
a very lax term ; if, then. Catholic Socialism be defined as " a
system which aims at the betterment of the working-man
physically, intellectually, and morally," what boots it to quarrel
sibout words? But there is some confusion in Professor Nitti's
itiihd, for he speaks of the contradiction between the pastoral

•// Socialtsmo Cattoltco. By F. S. Nitti. Torino : Roux. 1891.— Z> Sociahsme
Catkoiique, By F. S. Nitti. I^aris : Guillaumin & Co. 1^.— Catholic Socialism, By F. S.
Nitti. New York : Macmillan & Co. 1895.

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86 PnoFESson NiTT/s " Ca tholic Socialism:' [Oct.,

of the Bishop of Perugia (1877), which speaks so eloquently of
the sufferings of oppressed working-men, and the Encyclical of
Leo XIII. (1878) wherein the Holy Father denounces Socialism
as destructive of civil society (pp. 374-5). But there is no
contradiction here ; the first is not socialistic and the second anti-
socialistic. Rather, the former is the church's defence of the poor
which dates from the beginning ; the latter is the church's pro-
test against the nihilistic and anarchistic disturbers of peace and
order.

Modern Socialism, says Professor Nitti, is like modern
democracy whence it springs, a product of the last one hundred
years. The people have but lately become possessed of politi-
cal liberty. Are they the gainers thereby ? No, they are now
seeing that political liberty is not the panacea they looked
forward to ; the economic slavery under which they now bend
is still harder to bear since politically they are free. The key-
note of the situation is struck by the Holy Father when in his
encyclical on the Labor Question he says : " By degrees the
working-men have been given over, isolated and defenceless, to
the callousness of employers and the greed of unrestrained
competition. The evil has been increased by rapacious usury,
which, although more than once condemned by the church, is
nevertheless, under a different form but with the same guilt,
still practised by avaricious and grasping men. And to this
must be added the custom of working by contract and the
concentration of so many branches of trade in the hands of a
few individuals, so that a small number of very rich men have
been able to lay upon the masses of the poor a yoke little
better than slavery itself."

It is the evils of this our modern industrial system which
have been the occasion of the rapid spread of Socialism. The
flame has been fanned by the appeal to the economic doctrines
of the liberal school, by the fatalistic views of Hegel, Schopen-
hauer, by the infidelity born of Protestantism. When men
expect nothing from God, when they look upon this world and
the things of this world as their all, it must needs be that they
revolt at the thought of suffering and pain. These must cease,
they say, for to-morrow we die.

It is the misery of the working-classes and the extensive
propagandism of the atheistic Socialist among the people that
have taught European Catholics the need of interesting them-
selves in the social problems of the day. Their school is in
reality but the growth of the past thirty years or so ; but they

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1 895-] Professor Nirrfs " Catholic Socialism:' 87

are a well-organized body, with a well-defined programme, with
a body of earnest clergy and laity doing their best to ameliorate
the condition of the working-man by means of the press, the
platform, trades-unions, co-operative associations, popular banks,
state aid and the like.

Many agree with the ultra-socialist as to the need of an
utter transformation of our modern social system, but they are
at the same time enemies of that socialistic state wherein per-
sonal energy is stunted and the individual becomes a mere cog
in the great wheel of government. Whereas materialistic
economics can but prate of the struggle for existence and of
the operation of natural laws, and whereas the sum of its
philosophy is that force is the only power deserving recognition,.
Christianity holds out her arms to the poor and disinherited,
and, while putting in bold relief the rights of justice, teaches
them resignation till a better time dawn.

With a chapter (ii.) on the "Social Struggles of Antiquity,"
wherein he shows that Socialism as we know it did not exist
among the Greeks and Romans, because the idea of the '' same
absolute right of all to share in the government and wealth of
the nation " (p. 35) was foreign to their way of thinking,
Professor Nitti goes on to discuss " The Economic Origin of
Christianity and the Social Traditions of the Catholic Church "

(iii.)

This is the most unfortunate chapter of the book. From
beginning to end it is but a travesty of the truth. With Renan,
Letourneau, and De Laveleye for guides, what wonder that he
fall into the pit ? After a false picture (a copy after Renan) of
the state of mind among the Jews as to the iniquity of being
wealthy, he maintains that private ownership is opposed to the
spirit of the Gospel, that the rich as rich are anathematized
by our Lord, that the Fathers of the church are at one as
to the incompatibility of wealth and Christianity. ^ He writes :
** The parable of Lazarus became the parable of the bad rich man
when the Christian body felt the need of justifying the posses-
sion of wealth, but it is in reality only the parable of the rich
man^* (p. 61). No proof of this is adduced, and yet the occa-
sion of the parable was a rebuke to the covetous Pharisees
(Luke xvi. 14).

The parable of the unjust steward is fruitful of the following
strange exegesis : " Wealth is therefore contrary to eternal life,
since the robbing of the rich to benefit the poor is not only
praiseworthy, but worthy of thq kingdom of heaven ** ! (p. 63).

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88 Professor NiTTfs ''Catholic Socialism:* [Oct.,

But how revolting to think of Christ as the approver of fraud
and injustice ! Nay, he is holding up to the disciples the ex-
ample of the farsightedness of the men of the world a^ com-
pared to the spiritual dulness of the men of the kingdom.
" Blessed are the poor in spirit " (Matt. v. 3) are the words of
the beatitude. It is not always the poor in worldly goods
that are so ; in so far, therefore, as they are eaten up with the
desire of riches, they fall hot under the blessing. Whereas the
rich, if they act as the stewards of God's bounty, if they *'be
not high-minded, nor trust in the uncertainty of riches " (I. Tim.
vi. 17), may well be called blessed. '' Non enim census^ ied
affecius in crimine est^* says St. Ambrose — "The crime con-
sists not in the having of wealth, but in the inordinate love
thereof."

The question as to the communism of the Apostles and the
Fathers of the church, and their denial of the right of private
ownership, has been raised time and time again, and has been
as often refuted.

Communism was never a sine qud non of church-membership ;
the Fathers were not opposed to the rich as rich ; they were not
loud in their denunciations of the right of private ownership.
We have St. Irenaeus to the contrary [Adv, hizr. 2, 32) ; and St.
Clement of Rome {Ep. §39), Justin Martyr {Ap. i, 67), Tertullian
{Ap, 39), St. Augustine, and others of the fathers urge the duty
of almsgiving on the rich. In fact the inference from the pas-
sage cited from St. Ambrose (De OfficiiSy I. xxviii.) — overlooked
by Professor Nitti, for he undoubtedly quotes second hand — is
" Therefore, according to the will of God or the bond of nature,
we are bound to help one another ... by kindliness, by
service, by money. . . .**

Undoubtedly the questions nearer the hearts of the early
Fathers were religious rather than economic. They lived and
wrote to shpw men " the way, the truth, and the life," not to
expound social theories. Yet withal they ever recognize the
existence of rich and poor, and in no place declare the rich ipso
facto outside the pale of the Catholic faith. Passages especially
condemnatory are easily explainable if we keep before us the
principle laid down by Leo XIII., "that it is one thing to have
a right to the possession of money, and another to have a right
to use money as one pleases."

As for the Apostles, St. Ambrose (Ser. 18) quotes chapter
the fifth of the Acts of the Apostles as proof positive that the
early Christians were free both in the selling of their land and

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1 895-] Professor Nitt/s ''Catholic Socialism'' 89

in the handing over of the proceeds. St. Augustine {Quod vult
Deus) also cites it against the heretics known as the Apostoliciy
who were of Professor Nitti's mind in this matter.

Chapter iv. deals with the relations of Catholicism and
Protestantism to the social question. The Reformation is
spoken of as "a religious reform for the benefit of the wealthy
classes in Germany" (p. 75), and Luther is blamed for his atti-
tude towards the peasantry he had incited to rebellion, and for
the closing of the convents and the sequestration of ecclesias-
tical property whence so many poor were daily fed and sup-
ported.

The Catholic Church of the middle ages is described truly
as devoting nearly half her revenues to the maintenance of the
poor, and the abbeys and priories are held up as the break-
water against pauperism. The conclusion of the chapter is that
the Catholic Church * is better prepared than the Protestant
churches to deal with the social question.

Chapters v., vi., and vii. treat of the work accomplished by
the German Catholics and the economic views of the principal
leaders.

Socialism as a political party in Germany dates from the
time of Lassalle and Marx, some thirty years ago. And yet it
has spread like a prairie-fire among the people, and is to-day
the most powerful party agency in the German Empire.* The
causes assigned by Professor Nitti are the traditional feeling of
dependence on the state, the sudden foisting of universal suffrage
upon the people on the eve of the war with Austria, and, lastly,
the determined opposition of Bismarck, which only strengthened
the foe it meant to destroy. German Socialism takes a very
practical form, and is unique in counting among its adherents
men of all classes.

The German clergy were the first to enter into the labor
problem. Theirs it is to have carried on the work with the
greatest success. In 1863, when Social Democracy was in its
infancy, we find Dollinger urging the " Gesellen-Vereine ** to be ^
up and doing. These labor-unions had been founded in 1847
by Father Kolping, himself at one time a poor working-man.
They were mutual-benefit associations devoted to church and
labor interests. They had charge of schools for the education
of the children of the working-man ; of savings-banks for the earn-
ings of the parents ; of societies for bringing the young men

♦From 1871-1S95 the votes for Socialists elected to the Reichstag were respectively
102,000—4,000,003 {ForufHy March, 1895).

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go Professor Nitt/s '* Catholic Socialism:' [Oct.,

together ; they provided for the sick and the unemployed.
When Father Kolping died, in 1865, there were four hundred
of these associations, comprising a membership of eighty thou-
sand ; to-day they are double this number.

But the first man to give prominence to the Catholic move-
ment in Germany was G. E. von Ketteler, Bishop of Mayence.
His book, Die Ar belter frage und das Christentkum — Christianity
and the Labor Question — caused quite a sensation throughout
Europe. It was the church's duty, he declared, to look after
the temporal as well as the spiritual interests of her children ;
it was his duty as a Christian and as a bishop to take up the
case of God's poor.

He laments that under our industrial system '' labor has
become a merchandise subject to the same laws which govern
other merchandise, . . , the result often being that human
merchandise is sold below cost price — in other words, necessity
frequently forces the working-man to labor for a salary insuffi-
cient to provide for the most urgent needs of himself and
family" (p. 126). He is loud in his disapproval of the policy
of laissez-faire, maintaining that "to leave poor men with all
the natural and social disadvantages under which they labor
free to compete with the rich and powerful is a mere mockery
of liberty" (p. 127). Liberty of contract often means the
liberty to die of hunger.

While the state should tax parishes and property to aid the
very poor, the betterment of the working-classes as a whole
devolved upon the church. The best method would be the
organization of co-operative associations of production supported
by voluntary contributions from the well-to-do faithful. His
plan was similar to Lassalle's, except that the latter demanded
a million thalers from the state, while the bishop depended on
the charity of German Catholics. Catholic charity in the past
had founded convents, schools, hospitals, reformatories, and in
every way had helped the needy and infirm ; to-day its mission
was to help the working-man. Later on, when this appeal of
his met but little response, he gave his support to those who
looked rather to the state for aid.

Bishop Ketteler's example was a rallying point for the Ger-
man clergy. Societies devoted to his views were everywhere
formed ; a review. Die Christlich-Sociale Blatter, was started by
his friend Canon Monfang ; labor congresses were held.. Around
the new review there soon gathered a group of Catholics, men
such as Father Hitze, Count Losewitz, Drs. Meyer and Rat-

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f895-] PnoFEssoJi NiTTfs ''Catholic Socialism:* 91

zinger, whose influence was soon greatly felt in the way of
labor reform.

Canon Monfang maintained that the state should prohibit
all work on the Sunday, if only as a hygienic measure ; it should
reduce the hours of labor for adults, and absolutely forbid the
working of women and childrep. Especially is this latter
necessary, as experience proves that factories are often dens of
corruption where employment becomes the price of a woman's
honor — where evil associations are the ruin of a child's after-
life. The state should also regulate salaries, and advance
money to trades-unions, as it does to railways and other enter-
prises of moment. Militarism, which yearly takes away thou-
sands of laborers from the fields and work-shops, the learned
canon denounced as strongly as do the Social Democrats to-day.

Fully to appreciate the spirit which animates these men,
one should read carefully the speech of Father Hitze at the
Congress of Freiburg-im-Breisgau. Among other things he says :
" The economic and social reverses of our day have created
new duties towards souls, they have laid open new paths.
. . . If you wish to fulfil the duties of your position, you
must study the problems of the age. . . . Yes, we must
study the Social Question; we must learn how to distinguish
what is just from what is unjust in the claims of the working-
men. . . . We must ever proclaim the Christian ideal in the
midst of the errors and confusion that surround the Social
Question. We must show that economic progress must be
inspired by that ideal " (p. 148).

After a summary of the views of Canon Hitze, and of the
labor reforms brought about by him and his supporters, a
sketch of the work of Fathers Keller and Winterer in Alsace
follows. Here, as in other parts of the Continent, Catholics are
divided as to the advisability of a return to the corporations
of the Middle Ages, adapted, of course, to the age and country.
Professor Nitti is opposed to them in any form whatever. In
Austria Baron von Vogelsang succeeded in having them estab-
lished in 1883 ^^^ certain industries, despit^ the opposition of
the liberals and the Jews, but his example has not been fol-
lowed.

Chapter vii. is given to a brief sketch of the Association of
Manufacturers which looks after the factory-workers, the above-
mentioned Gesellen-Vereine, and the Bauern-Vereine of Bavaria
and Westphalia, which are devoted to the interests of the small
land-holders of southern Germany.

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92 Professor Nitt/s " Ca tholic Socialism:' [Oct|

There is no doubt that this attitude of the German Catho-
lics is important, for it saves the people from the atheism of
the Social Democrat, and acts as an incentive to similar work
elsewhere.

Austrian' Socialism is likewise of late date owing to the fact
that most of the country's wealth was drawn from the land>
and industrialism was in the chrysalis stage. But the misery of
the people ground down by the exactions of the Jews, wild
speculation, vast monopolies, and evils akin to these, soon pre*^
pared the way for its spread. Anti-Semitism in Austria is at
once explained when we see that it is due to economic rather
than religious causes, the press, the banking> the Bourse, and
most of the land * being in the hands of the Jews.

Maxen, one time professor at G5ttingen, was the first to
popularize in Austria the views of his friend Bishop Ketteler.
But the Protestant Dr. Meyer and the Baron von Vogelsang were
the first and principal agents in the forming of a strong party
devoted to the interests of the working-man.

Dr. Meyer held that the state should regulate both the pro-
duction and distribution of wealth, that it should fix a mini-
mum salary, limit the normal number of hours for work in the
diflFerent branches of industry, aid in establishing co-operative
stores, enforce the old laws against usury, pass agrarian lawsf
to protect small land-owners, organize the trades into corpora-
tions, establish boards of arbitration to settle differences and
the like. With Vogelsang the solution of the labor problem is
in the return to the old-time corporations. It is owing to his
appeal that an investigation was made into the condition of the
Austrian working-man, and such wretchedness and misery did it
bring to light that it spurred on the Reichsrath to many social
reforms.

" In no country of Europe," says Professor Nitti, " is the
condition of the working-man so favorable as in Switzerland "
(p. 242). The market is not overstocked with workmen, salaries
are pretty stable, the manufacturers are as a rule just to their
employees. Profit-sharing is practised in many of the cantons,
co-operative societies of consumption, mutual-benefit associations,
unions of masters and workmen are common.

Chapter ix. deals chiefly with the work of Gaspard Decur-
tins, a man who has had great influence on labor enactments in

♦ They own 33^^ per cent, of Hungary ; 8 per cent, of Galicia. The Rothschilds alone
own 25 per cent, of Bohemia.

t In Hungary alone the number of small proprietors has of late years decreased by 500,000.

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I895-] PiiOFEssoii NiTT/s ''Catholic Socialism:' 93

Switzerland. He unites with the radicals and socialists to ob*
tain the needed reforms, on the ground that " hunger knows of
no distinction of creed or party." He has caused the institu-
tion of the " Secretariat Ouvrier," an intermediary board ap-
pointed by the trades-unions and paid by the government. Its
office is to present to the government the claims of the . working*.
men, and their complaints as to the non-observance of the in-
dustrial laws. He also worked hard for an international legisla-
tion in favor of the working classes, for industrialism has every-
where the same problems and the same difficulties ; with .the
radical deputy, Favon, he was indirectly the originator of the
International Congress of Berlin.

The French Catholics are divided into two schools in regard
to the Social Question. The first follows the lines laid down
by P^rin and Le Play ; they are opposed to state interference
and the revival of the old corporations. The second is modelled
after the theories of Hitze and Vogelsang.

Charles P^rin, professor several years at Louvain, believed
that a reform of the Christian social order was needed. Op-
posed to the liberal doctrine of laissez-faire^ he declared thatt
although the state should grant general protection to the labor-
ing class, no la^y could burden the capitalist with such onerous
duties as compulsory insurance and the like. He also denies
±he right of the state to regulate production or distribution,
and looks on charity as the sole remedy of existing evils. In
his eyes the social problem is rather a moral than an economic
question.

Just after the horrors of the Paris Commune, was founded,
under the able leadership of the Count de Mtm, the labor asso-
ciations known as '* Les Cercles Catholiques d'Ouvriers." France
was divided into seven sections, and these again subdivided for
purposes of thorough organization. In fifteen years there were
over one hundred of. these associations in France.

Originally the society was to assume the corporative form,
as De Mun hoped great things from a return to the compulsory-
corporations of the Middle Ages; he has since abandoned the.
.idea. His picture of our social system is gloomy indeed. Having
enumerated the many factors which have gone to widen the
breach between rich and poor he writes:

''Is not such a ^tate of things to be condemned as unjust
and unchristian ? Our age will go down to history as the age
of Usury. ... It has made Christian society relapse into
the morals of heathendom. Prates it of liberty? I see but the

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94 Professor Nitt/s ''Catholic Socialism'* [Oct.

slavery of the working-man. Laissez-faire ? It is but a formu-
la to consecrate the abuse of force." Like his colleagues in
Germany and Austria the Count de Mun has effected much in
the way of labor reforms.

The chapter on England is chiefly interesting from its account
of that great friend of the working-man, the late Cardinal Man-
ning. In his eyes our modern industrial system is destructive
of the domestic life of the people, for it turns "wives and mo-
thers into living machines, and fathers into creatures of burden.
. . . We dare not go on in this path. These things cannot
go on ; these things ought not to ga on.*' " Labor is a social
function ; and as such should not be subject to the law of sup-
ply and demand."

The last chapter, on the " Papacy and the Social Question,"
mentions the Holy Father's letters of encouragement to the
various European leaders, and briefly summarizes the encycli-
cals which in any way touch upon the social problems of the
age.

According to Professor Nitti, the Encyclical Navarum Rerum^
" although blaming the privileges of the capitalist, and deploring
the lot of the working-man, by no means proposes remedies
commensurate with the evils it deprecates " (p. 388) ; " It con-
sists only of vague and ill-defined statements" (p. 389).

It would seem that a cut-and-dried treatise on political econo-
my had bcpn expected ; the Pope's aim was rather to set forth
the claims of justice and charity, to lay down general principles
such as those of a just wage, the particular duty of the state
in protecting its working population and the like, and finally to
set the seal of the church's approval upon the work already
effected by Catholics in view of a question " greater than which
the world has not yet faced."

Professor Nitti's book is valuable in so far as it presents a
picture of the activity of Catholics abroad. Let it act to us as
a spur in the same direction. There are many social problems
in this country waiting to be solved. Take but one, the crowded
tenement-house of our large cities — ^the hot-bed of disease, crime,
immorality, and irreligion. There is a remedy. George Pea-
body's gift of $2,500,000 now provides pleasant homes at low
rent for over twenty thousand of the London poor. " Every one
then should put his hand to the work which falls to his share,
and that at once lest the evil which is already so great may by
delay become absolutely beyond remedy."

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MARY MOTHER.

BY ELIZABETH GILBERT MARTIN.

I EAR, and most dear, thy purity,

O Mother of the Word,
J Which drew, from far eternity,
The smile of the Adored !
.Time was that fair prerogative

Outshone to me the rest; ^^ .;

Scarce for its splendor could I see
.^ The Infant on thy breast; ,'

The smile of God I the Ecstasy

Of thy returning smile
When into time He summoned thee ! —

These rapt me, even while
I saw thee 'neath the dreadful Rood.

" Deep, Mother, is thy sorrow,"
My ipind would muse, my heart meanwhile
Rejecting thought so narrow.

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96 Mary Mother, [Oct.,

Was He not thine, the Uncreate Love?

Thine, too, the Incarnate Son?
What time or grief to thee, when These

Thy clear eyes rested on ?

I know not if the mood were wrong;

I know that it is past.
Dear to me now thy motherhood,

Thy grief-struck eyes, upcast
In anguished sympathy to Him

Whose faintest pangs, to thee.
Were those that tore His flesh and dyed

With blood the saving Tree.
Yea, if one dare to praise Him, wise

With wisdom strange and dread.
Was God when, coming man to men.

He was of woman made!
O Mother-heart ! most like His own.

Creative, yearning, vast.
Filled with strange joy, strange bitterifess,^

To thee we turn at last, —
We mothers, sorrowing for our own.

Oh, pure all thought above !
Yet likest God in purity?

Nay, but in deathless love !

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1 895-] The Madonna del Sasso, Locarno. 97

THE MADONNA DEL SASSO, LOCARNO.

BY E. M. LYNCH.

UR LADY of the Rock" is the most wonderful
feature of the beautiful scenery round Locarno.
The " Sasso," or Rock, rises abruptly behind the
little old town to the height of several hundred
feet. This daring natural spire is crowned by

the pilgrimage church

and the monastery.

The " Sasso " stands,

at all points but one,

absolutely clear of the

semi-circular heights

that shelter Locarno ;

and the buildings are

mortised to their rocky

pinnacle in such firm

fashion that it seems

as if they were a natu-
ral growth. The coral

insects are scarcely

more cunning builders

than were some of the

old monks.

The sanctuary dates

back to the year of

the plague, 1480 ; and

its origin is interesting.

Locarno and the neigh-
boring villages suffered

severely by the pesti-
lence. One hamlet

goes to this day by the

name of the sole survi-
vor of those fatal days

— Orsolina, or Little

Ursula, and Another ,. g^ ^arlo Borromeo came here in 1567."

townlet is called Sol-

duno — a corruption of Soltant* Uno (But one man left).

VOL. LXII.— 7

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98 The Madonna del Sasso, Locarno. [Oct.,

Fear and mourning were widespread when Fra Bartolomeo
dlvrea, kneeling in prayer in his cell in the Franciscan friary
down in the plague-stricken town, raised his eyes one bright

August night towards the mountains and saw a vivid space of
light upon the arrowy summit of the " Sasso." Against this
luminous background appeared the Blessed Virgin surrounded by-
angels. The good friar was commissioned to build there a shrine,
and was filled with the faith that, if the pious work were

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1 895-] T'^^ Madonna del Sasso, Locarno, 99

undertaken, the pestilence would be stayed. He set about his
task immediately. The Masina family gave him the site.
Others promised him labor or treasure for his undertaking ;
and after his vision no death from the plague occurred in the
whole neighborhood.

\ti 1487 a chapel was finished and consecrated. Fra Barto-
lome'o came up from the friary, and lived close by the new

*'The Stations," Locarno.

sanctuary in a little hermitage. After a time a house for the
Friars Minors was erected against the chapel walls, and used as
a dipendance of the monastery down below ; and it was not
long before the Locarnese and the inhabitants of all the sur-
rounding townships came flocking to the shrine to pray their
good Mother's intercession on their behalf. Princes of the
church were amongst the pilgrims. St. Carlo Borromeo came
here in 1567, and again in 1570.

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loo The Madonna del Sasso, Locarno, [Oct.,

It is beautiful to see, in these unbelieving days, what
numbers of the faithful visit this sanctuary, and how edifying is
their demeanor. The steep zigzags which mount the hill are
bordered by shrines in which are painted the Stations of the

>•

Cross ; and all day long, and nearly every day, in autumn and
early winter, pious people of all classes and of every age may
be seen trooping up the sharp-stoned inclines, or devoutly
kneeling before the stations, or in the church above.

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1895O ^^^ Madonna del Sasso, Locarno. ioi

There are numbers of ex-votos hung upon the interior walls :
a whole gallery of pictures illustrating granted prayers ; scores
of gold and silver hearts, tokens of gratitude ; wax models of
limbs, once ailing, now sound ; some crutches of cured cripples ;
thank-offerings of patient embroideries, framed and glazed ; and
mural tablets setting forth names, dates, and circumstances;
everything, everywhere, painted or deeply stamped G. R., for
grazie recivute — otherwise, favors received. It is always pretty
to watch the little children creep away from their kneel-
ing mothers and pass slowly, in awed procession, before the
paintings of calamities — falling walls ; burning houses ; sick-beds ;
boats in danger ; — perils happily surmounted ! most certainly,
those young minds take in, through the eye, pious impressions
that otherwise could not possibly have been conveyed to them
with equal vividness.

Locarno has been Swiss (it is in the Canton Ticino) since
15 13, but to all outward appearances the place is Italian. In
general build, features, and complexion the people are of the
south. The Locarnese gymnasts form a complete contrast to
their northern compatriots when they compete together in the
intercantonal Turnfeste. Locarno's sons seem rounded, grace-
ful, almost girlish, beside the angular, heavy men of the Ger-
man-speaking cantons, or ^ the spare, muscular French-Swiss.
The Ticinese have the " pointed hands " of the Latin races —
shapely, like antique sculptured hands. They have the classic
heads, too ; and the dark eyes and vivacity of Italians.

The architecture of Locarno also recalls Italy. The streets
are, in great part, colonnaded. Houses run up to a belvd-
d^re — suggesting the habits of southerners, who provide them-
selves with a roof-garden for a pleasant lounge in the hot sum-
mer twilights. Most of the local gardens on lower levels have
their pergola — a pillared walk, tapestried throughout the leafy
months by the thick greenery of vines. And the language is
la dolce favella.

Descending the Alps from the Swiss side, and passing down
to the Lago Maggiore by the Pilgrims' Road, just below the
church built over the tomb of // Beato d^Ivrea (Fr^ Bartolomeo,
of the vision), an odd example of Italian naivetf greets the way-
farer. On the end gable of a little hostelry stands a brightly-
colored fresco, representing the Assumption. Underneath the
painting is a long wooden shelf on brackets, laden with jars
of flowers, candlesticks, and a lighted lamp. Just under this pious
decoration (it is very like a class-room altar) there is an in-
scription. The traveller first jumps to the conclusion that it is

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I02 The Madonna del Sasso, Locarno. [Oct.,

an aspiration, a text, a dedication — in short, something reli-
gious ; but it is nothing of the sort. On closer inspection it
reads : Vendita di vino^ birra, egassose ; or, " Wine, beer, and
effervescing drinks sold here ** !

They are fond of open-air painted letterings for the walls about
Locarno. A peasant*s house bears the
words : Tempore felici, multi numeran-
tur amicu Si fortuna exit^ nullus amu
cus erit, (" Happy days, friends in
numbers. Fortune turns her back, no
friend remains.*')

A Grandmother from Locarno.
Is it not a vague echo from Ovid's "Tristia"?

" Donee eris felix, multos numerabis amicos :
Tempora si fuerint nubila, solus eris."

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1895J The Madonna del Sasso, Locarno. 103

Have we, in this motto, the taste of a pessimist peasant ? Or
did some simple soul ask an irascible man of letters to select
his motto for him ? The passing stranger is unequal to the task
of resolving these questions.

One trait of the Locarnese is more Swiss than Italian,
namely, their extraordinary industry. The women carry enor-
mous loads on their shoulders, in baskets called gierli. Lambs,
kids, calves, some stoneVweight of bread, a cask of wine, a
colossal pile of roped leaves for bedding for the cattle, hemp
for rope-making or for weaving the coarse, home-made linen,
or fire-wood, can be put inside or heaped upon a gierlo. Often
the wood-cutters, or the gatherers of broken branches, are hardly
to be seen for their burdens. Birnam Wood staggers swiftly
up to Dunsinane ; and no one, save the foreigner, is startled.

The industrious children who follow their grazing goats
are knitting as they walk. The old dame, who watches her
cow in the orchard, plies the distaff. The mountain-sides are
terraced, and land is created where, originally, there were but
cliff and precipice. In this old-fashioned corner of the globe
the people still wear " costume." The women have dark dresses
and dark aprons, brightened by the snowy sleeves of their
"empire waists." Every valley seems to have some small dis-
tinguishing feature in its uniform, so that neighbors recognize
each other at a long distance. Taken one by one, none of the
local dresses may seem very beautiful — for there is little charm
of color ; a figure tied in across the chest, or even just below
the armpits, may lack beauty of form ; and the heavy wooden
shoes, like pattens, strike the unaccustomed beholder as very
clumsy. Still, a crowd of these peasant-women, in the Locarno
market-place, is highly picturesque. They are Italian in their
taste for rainbow-colored head-gear — tying bright 'kerchiefs over
their hair, whether it be still youthfully dark, or silvered, or
snowy. Otherwise, their uniforms are strangely dull in hue,
compared with other southern costumes.

Early and late these peasants toil. The sun is bountiful to
them. Corn waves in yellow patches on the shoulders of the
mountains, just below where the chestnuts grow, beyond which
again the stone-pines flourish. Half-way down the hillsides there
are olives, vines, root-crops, and vegetables ; and, by the shores
of the Great Lake, glorious sub-tropical gardens. Their " own
Madonna" blesses her faithful children still from the pillar-like
** Sasso " — blesses them with sunshine and the healthiest of
climates, and some of the finest fruits of the earth.

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I04 Old Rome and Young Italy. [Oct.,

OLD ROME AND YOUNG ITALY.

BY JOHN J. O'SHEA.

RESCRIPTION or lapse of time is the magic
elixir which is supposed in territorial affairs to
transmute the wrong of unlawful possession into'
the right of legal ownership. It is by virtue of
twenty-five years of possession that " United
Italy " asks the world this year to condone and smile approval
on her occupancy of the Papal territory and the City of Rome.
The astounding effrontery of the spectacle touches the depths
of cynicism in politics. The ambassadors of the great powers
are asked to participate in the celebration of an event which
strikes at the very root of the principle which ambassadors
represent — the principle of public faith. The seizure of Silesia
by Frederick had a more respectable claim to anniversary honors
than the event which " United Italy " now celebrates ; the na-
tions might with as much reason be asked to celebrate the parti-
tion of Poland. When international perfidy becomes a glory
and an honor to those guilty of it, then Europe may decently
be asked to join with a successful marauder in revelling over
his broken pledges. Now, the law of nations affords no prece-
dent for the condonation of international robbery. It gives the
usurper no prescriptive title, further than what he is able to
make good by the strong hand. This is a fact so well estab-
lished by manifold precedents that it is entirely unnecessary to
warn United Italy of the danger she stands in from any sudden
fluctuation in the game of European politics. By a gambler's
chance she won ; by another she may lose any day. And is
the civilized world, in its sober senses, to be asked to counte-
nance the principle that violence and plunder are permissible
because the plunderer is strong and the victim weak? This is,
indeed, the principle which Italy is asking the world to sanction
by its celebration of the events of Porta Pia.

To the middle-aged readers of to-day it is unnecessary to re-
call the facts of the seizure of Rome by the army of Victor
Emmanuel. To the young it is not irrelevant to rehearse the
salient facts of the case. For more than a decade of years pre-
vious to the outbreak of the war between France and Germany

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two forces, diametrically opposed in principle but co-operating
for a common object, had been converging on Rome, with a
view to its absorption and the overthrow of its government.
On the one hand were the tatterdemalion legionaries of the
Revolution, whose apostles were Mazzini and Garibaldi — hordes
of assassins and carbonari, atheists and blasphemers, whose idea
of patriotism was plunder, and the means of attaining Italian
unity the stiletto. On the other, the organized forces of the
Piedmontese government, which, profiting by the French suc-
cesses over Austria, advanced into Lombardy and occupied the
Quadrilateral, and, moving downwards from Turin with the march
of the Revolution, successively made its temporary headquarters
at Milan and afterwards at Florence, preparatory for a dash at
Rome whenever the fitting opportunity appeared to present it-
self. This monarchical force saw nothing flagitious in utilizing
the forces of the Revolution, whose ostensible motive was the
establishment of a Republic ; and the Revolution was equally
flexible in its attitude towards the monarchy, whose sworn foe
it affected to be. Under the astute guidance of Cavour and
the friendly co-operation of the English Prime Minister, Lord
Palmerston, the movement for " Italian unity " >vas so engi-
neered as to blind the European governments to the real nature
of the agitation, and the means by which it was sought to be
accomplished. Whilst the Garibaldian sans-culottes were sent
into the territory of the Papal States to ply the dagger and
make anarchy, the troops of Victor Emmanuel were massed along
the border, with the benevolent object of " maintaining order.*'
The Garibaldian rabble were held in check by the Papal Zouaves,
under the chivalrous General de Lamoricifere, and were com-
pletely routed later on by a number of French troops at Men-
tana. But oh the declaration of war in 1870 the French troops
were withdrawn, and the cry ** On to Rome ! " arose from the
revolutionists all over Italy. Victor Emmanuel aflfected to bow
to the national will. The desire to gratify Italian aspirations
became a more potent influence with the son of Charles Albert,
the " Re Galant'uomo," than the faith of treaties and the honor
of nations; and hence, without a shadow of justification for the
deed, the Italian army was ordered to march against Rome, as
against a foreign invader, and summon it to surrender. Pius
IX. was not the man to yield up the trust confided to him by
divine commission at the behest of any spoiler, and the insolent
demand was rejected. Then the artillery of the invader added
its voice to the shout of the Revolution, and ere many hours

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io6 Old Rome and Young Italy. [Oct.,

■

were over a breach was made in the walls, at the gate called
the Porta Pia, and though the gap was heroically defended by
the handful of Papal Zouaves, the Pope, seeing that further
bloodshed would be in vain, commanded a surrender, and the
city was occupied by the army of " United Italy."

These are the simple facts of the case up to that point.
The first act in the drama had been successfully played. Open
intematitmal robbery had been done in the face of the Euro-
pean powers, and not one had uttered a word of protest. The
Papal States and the City of Rome were as truly an integral
part of the European comity as Switzerland was, or Belgium,
or Holland, or any of the lesser states which, surrounded by
powerful neighbors, are guaranteed in their sovereignty by the
usage of nations and their own inherent right. It is a vital
principle in international ethics that no unprovoked aggression
shall be made by large states against small ones, and even if
the smaller give provocation it is likewise the understanding
that the small one shall not be absorbed or wiped out if de-
feated, since its existence is necessary to the preservation of
the peace amongst the others. But all these considerations had
been flung to the winds by the government of Victor Emman-
uel. It seized upon its prey without the smallest pretext of
provocation ; and when the crime had been accomplished it set
about the work of adding sacrilege to plunder. The sequestra-
tion of an immense number of churches and religious institu-
tions followed the seizure of the pope's palace of the Quirinal
for the king's use. Scores of religious establishments were
broken up and their inmates sent adrift. The revenues of the
church were pounced upon ; the sack of Rome by the Goths
and Vandals was imitated, but on a far more formidable plan,
for those barbarians were but transient visitors, whilst their imi-
tators had come to take up a permanent abqde. To furnish a
cov^r for these monstrous proceedings the Italian Parliament
was called together, and asked to pass a measure called a Law of
Guarantees, whose object was to tender the pope as Head of
the Church an annual income, in lieu of the revenues forcibly
seized, and to provide incomes for as many of the clergy as-
the government deemed to be necessary for the spiritual work
of the city. But Pius IX. unhesitatingly rejected any such
compromise with the shameless spoilers of the church. He
would have none of the money offered him, and his successor,
Leo XIII., has no less nobly stood by the indefeasible rights of
the Holy See. Not a penny of that allocation has ever been

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1 895-] Old Rome and Young Italy. 107

touched by either of the popes ; and it is safe to prophesy that
as long as the Italian government remains in Rome in the
position of an intruder and a usurper, so long will the Papal
policy treat it as a criminal not to be bargained with or entitled
by any means to have its felony compounded. Neither pope
has left the Vatican since the invader entered the city. The
Pontiff has no freedom of movement through the city which the
popes have made. He is practically a prisoner in his home.
But both Pius and Leo have unflinchingly stood up for the
right of the church and the right of the temporal sovereignty
ever since the usurpation. They have again and again pro-
tested against the continuance of this usurpation, and the
hampering of their action in the government of the church by
the constant encroachments and the incessant meddling of the
secular authorities. No notice — no official notice, at least — has
been taken of these protests. Only the world of listening and
observing Catholicism has noted them. But they may bear
fruit more suddenly than the indifferent listeners think. The
pope has not been dethroned from his temporal position.
He is there the acknowledged sovereign still, and his services
as mediator and arbitrator are often sought by outside powers.
The dynasty which was responsible for the assault on Rome,
by its withdrawal of a useless handful of troops, has been swept
from the face of the earth, and the dynasty of the spoiler ap-
pears to be tottering to its fall, while he himself has been
summoned to account for the violent hands he dared to lay upon
the Church of God. Louis Napoleon and Victor Emmanuel were
not the first monarchs to find it is not a good thing to lay
sacrilegious hands upon the pope and the church. These re-
main no matter who comes or goes, while the prize of the
spoilers crumbles in their hands like Dead Sea fruit.

It is always monarchs who are in desperate straits who
resort to enterprises of a nature palatable to the mob. The
necessity of Louis Napoleon was cruel when he resolved to
appeal to French hatred of Germany; the Revolution almost
held his throat in its merciless fingers. The need of Victor
Emmanuel was still greater. It was not alone that an empty
exchequer and a plethoric list of demands upon it made his
life miserable, but the dogs of the Revolution kept barking at
his heels. He was forced on as by an irresistible fate, until he
found himself before the walls of Rome, to be used as a batter-
ing ram against the sacred gates by the common enemies of
pope and monarchy. This great international crime — this out-

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io8 Old Rome and Young Italy. [Oct.,

rage against heaven and human law — overtopped all previous
infamies of lawless confiscation in daring sacrilege ; in mag-
nitude of spoliation it simply baffles the powers of description.
Hundreds of churches, monasteries, and nunneries, throughout
the Italian peninsula, were seized, their inmates ruthlessly turned
out, their pictures, furniture, and fittings sold by auction, and
the buildings themselves turned into barracks or dens of in-
famy. The amount of revenue diverted from pious uses during
these twenty-five years can never be adequately ascertained.
To measure it millions of dollars must be brought before the
mind, and these millions measured by the thousand. No such
spolia opima were ever before gathered in by conquering
hordes; but it was wealth poured, as it were, into a sieve.
" United Italy " has gained nothing by it. Beggary was one of
the reasons which drove her -to robbery ; beggary more hope-
less stares her in the face now, after twenty-five years' enjoy-
ment of the riches of the church.

But it is not even as the maximum act of vandalism and
fraud that we are called upon to consider the seizure of Rome.
There are much higher crimes than those against civilization ;
there are crimes against God — crimes whose direct aim it is to
insult the majesty of God and trample the cross of the Saviour
in the dust. This crime is facile princeps of all that horrifying
category. No concealment of their objects was made by the
leaders of the Revolution. To destroy Catholicism root and
branch throughout Europe was the object they openly pro-
fessed ; and not only Catholicism, but all Christianity. ** We
cannot advance one step without striking the Cross " was the
declaration of Giuseppe Farrari, one of the foremost Revolu-
tionists. " Italy has risen against the system of Christianity.
The Italian people is called upon to destroy Christianity,"
declared Signor Crispi, now the Prime Minister of " United
Italy." ** Between us and the Pope there can be no truce."
The cries of these reformers bear indeed a remarkable resem-
blance to those which Milton puts into the mouths of the
demons in Paradise Lost,

It would not be decent for Catholic rulers, as those of the
house of Savoy professedly are, to openly countenance such
shocking impiety as this, but decency might have led. them also
to discountenance it in their ministers and in the Italian Parlia-
ment. But such was not the case. The sentiments- uttered
over and over again by radical deputies in that assembly dif-
fered only in form of phraseology from the platform cries of

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I895-] Old Rome and Young Italy. 109

the revolutionists. The course of the rulers and the ministers
was indeed baser, for they added to impiety in deed the odious
vice of hypocrisy. They professed to aim merely at abolishing
the temporal power of the pope; it was not long ere they dis-
closed the intention to control the spiritual power as well.
Various measures were introduced into the Chamber of Depu-
ties with that object, the most notorious of which, known as
the Law on Clerical Abuses, struck directly at the religious
work of the Catholic Church in Italy. Acts for the purpose of
compelling the clergy to do military duty, and other measures
of an equally oppressive character, soon demonstrated that
there was something more in view in the seizure of the capital
of Catholic Christendom than the mere abolition of the pope's
temporal power.

The courage with which the beloved Pontiflf, Pius IX., con-
stantly raised his voice in protest against these iniquities, sur-
rounded though he was by his enemies, must always excite our
admiration. In that ringing Allocution which electrified Europe
in the March of 1877 the Holy Father put himself on record thus :

"But do not think, venerable brethren, that amid so many
misfortunes, which afflict us and weigh heavily upon us, our
soul gives way in despair, or that this confidence with which we
await the decrees of the Almighty and Eternal God is failing
us. In truth, since the day on which, after the usurpation of
our state, we formed the resolution of remaining at Rome
rather than of seeking a tranquil hospitality in foreign countries,
and that with the intention of keeping a vigilant guard by the
tomb of St. Peter for the defence of Catholic interests, we
have never ceased, with the help of God, to fight for the
triumph of his cause ; and we still keep up the fight, nowhere
giving way to the enemy unless we are driven back by force,
so as to preserve the little that still remains after the irruption
of these men who sack and pillage and strain every nerve to
destroy all. Where other aids have failed us for the defence
of the rights of the church and of religion, we have made use
of our voice and our protests. You can testify to this your-
selves, you who have shared the same dangers and the same
sorrows as we have. You have, in eflfect, frequently heard the
words which we have spoken, either in reproof of fresh attacks
or in protest against the ever-increasing violence of our ene-
mies, or when instructing the faithful by wise counsels, lest they
should fall into the snares of the wicked, which are covered by
a kind of* would-be religion, and lest they should allow them-
selves to be surprised by the perverse doctrines of false breth-

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no Old Rome and Young Italy. [Oct.,

ren. May God grant that they, at last, heed the warning of
our words and turn their attention to us, whose duty and great-
est interest it is to maintain our authority and systematically
defend our cause, the justest and the holiest of all causes ! For
is it possible that their prudence fails to discern that it is use-
less to count on the solid and true prosperity of nations, on
tranquillity and order among peoples, and on the stability of
power with those who wield the sceptre, if the authority of the
church, which maintains all justly constituted societies by the
bond of religion, is disregarded and violated with impunity,
and if her Supreme Head cannot enjoy full liberty in the ex-
ercise of his ministry, and remains subject to the good will of
another power ? "

It may be said, and has again and again been said, even
by Catholics, that this is not a religious question, but a secular
question — a question for the Italian people to decide. Admit-
ting for argument's sake that religion has nothing to do with it,
and that international right is equally out of the question, let
us see what material gain has accrued to Italy from the triumph
of the Revolution. The taxation during the quarter of a cen-
tury under review has increased in the enormous ratio of about
five hundred per cent. Italy has borrowed to the last cent she
can borrow. Her public debt stood in 1890 at $2,500,000,000.
On this she has to pay an annual interest of $153,000,000. To
meet this enormous drain the resources of the tax-devisers are
exhausted. Nearly all the necessaries of life are taxed — sugar,
salt, tea, coflfee — everything which enters into the daily food
of the people. There is a house-tax reaching down to the
hovel ; the shopkeeper is taxed for his store and the peasant
for his pig-sty. Many of the articles which pay duty are taxed
several multiplicands of their value. So intolerable is the bur-
den that the whole of Sicily rose in revolt against it last year,
and the cry was that the rule of the much-anathematized King
Bomba was bliss compared to that of " United Italy." In this
way the great crime of the Revolution has been terribly avenged,
and the vengeance necessarily was indiscriminate ; all the people
feel it. They are plundered as no people ever before were
plundered ; and the plunderers are in the Parliament and in the
king's councils. In the name of unity and progress they have
been robbed and enslaved.

It is no wonder that, seeing these things, thoughtful men
outside Italy, as well as within her borders, have begun to cast
about for a solution of so terrible an impasse. It appears to
be, indeed, impossible that the present situation can exist much

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1895-] Old Rome and Young Italy. hi

longer. It has been suggested several times that Italy should
seek a reconciliation with the Papacy, and there is no doubt
that the great heart of Leo XIII. would only all too gladly
welcome any genuine approaches towards such a desirable end.
He has declared his mind very clearly on the subject, showing
that whilst willing to forgive, he claims for the Roman Pontiffs
full liberty and freedom from secular interference in the govern-
ment of the church. In an Encyclical Letter of June, 1877, ^^s
Holiness laid down these propositions:

" What may be said generally of the temporal power of the
popes' holds still more strongly and in a special way of Rome.
Its destinies are written large across all its history; that is to
say, as in the designs of Providence all human events have
been ordered towards Christ and his Church, so ancient Rome
and its empire were founded for the sake of Christian Rome ;
and it was not without a special disposition of Providence that
St. Peter, the Prince of the Apostles, turned his steps towards
this metropolis of the pagan world, to become its pastor and
to hand down to it for ever the authority of the Supreme
Apostolate. It is thus that the fate of Rome has been bound
up in a sacred and indissoluble way with that of the Vicar of
Jesus Christ ; and when, with the dawn of happier times, Con-
stantine the Great resolved to transfer the seat of the empire
to the East, we must admit with truth that it was the hand of
Providence guiding him, that the new destinies of the Rome
of the popes might be the more easily accomplished. It is
certain that about this epoch, thanks to the times and cir-
cumstances, without offence and without the opposition of any
one, by the most legitimate means, the popes became the mas-
ters of the city even in a political sense ; and as such they
held it until our own day. It is not necessary now to recall
the immense benefit and the glory with which the popes have
covered the city of their choice — a glory and benefaction which
for that matter are written in indestructible letters upon the
monuments and the history of all the ages. It is needless to
point out that, deep graven upon her every limb, Rome bears
the mark of the pontiffs ; and that she belongs to the popes by
titles such and so many that no prince, whoever he be, can
show the like for any city in his kingdom. Nevertheless it is
necessary to lay stress upon this, that the arguments in favor
of the independence and freedom of the Holy See in the exer-
cise of its apostolic ministry, become clothed with a new and
special force when they are applied to Rome, the natural see
of the Roman Pontiffs, the centre of the life of the church, and

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112 Old Rome and Young Italy. [Oct.,

the capital of the Catholic world. Here, where the pope
habitually dwells, whence he directs, administers, and governs,
in order that the faithful of the whole world may be able in
all confidence and security to oflfer the homage, fidelity, and
obedience which in conscience they owe; in this spot, if possi-
ble, the pope ought to be placed in such a condition of free-
dom, that not only shall his liberty not be contravened, in fact,
by any one whoever he may be, but that this shall also be
absolutely evident to every one ; and this not owing to condi-
tions subject to change and at the mercy of events, but from
their nature stable and lasting. Here more than anywhere
the development of Catholic life, the solemnity of its worship,
respect for and public observance of the laws of the church,
the quiet and legal existence of all Catholic institutions ought
to be possible and without fear of hindrance.

" From all this it may easily be understood how incumbent
it is upon the Roman Pontiffs, and how sacred is their duty,
to defend and uphold the civil sovereignty and its lawfulness ;
a duty which is rendered still more sacred by the obligation of
an oath. It would be folly to pretend that they would them-
selves sacrifice along with the temporal power that which they
hold most precious and dear; we mean that liberty in the
government of the church for which their predecessors have
always so gloriously struggled.

*'We certainly, by the grace of God, will not fail in our
duty, and without the restoration of a true and effective sover-
eignty, such as our independence and the dignity of the Holy
See require, do not see any open way to an understanding and
peace. The whole Catholic world, very jealous of the indepen-
dence of its head, will never rest until justice has been done
to his most righteous demands.'*

In war there are victories which are as costly as defeats :
Young Italy's victory over Old Rome is of that . Pyrrhic order.
It is a victory which clings around the conqueror like the
poisoned shirt of the centaur around the limbs of the hero, in
the myth. Young Italy places in vain her effigies of Garibaldi
over against the Vatican palace, to insult the most august head
in Europe ; in vain she rears her figure of Bruno to outrage the
religion of Christ. The church lives on, whilst the serpents of
debt and decrepitude tighten their folds about the tender
limbs of the callow stripling and disable while they madden,
like the doomed youths in the Laocoon. It needs no prophetic
eye to discern the approach of a change. Gradually it is being
realized in Europe that the Papacy is an indispensable instita-

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I895-] Old Rome and Young Italy. 113

tion ; and that to be a useful institution it must be free.
Thoughtful men, even non-Catholics, have long ago recognized
this, and confessed that if Italy is to be saved from destruction
— from the triumph of blaspheming socialism on the one hand,
and the dishonorable grave of national bankruptcy on the
other — it must be through a restoration of the freedom of the
church and a reconciliation with the foremost of Italian citizens,
the illustrious occupant of the Chair of Peter. By such a re-
conciliation the vast power of Catholic Italy, now held in
check and neutralized by the continuance of the cause of
quarrel, would be liberated and set in motion to stimulate the
pulses of the national life. The most effectual barrier against
the inroads of socialism would be found in this now dormant
power; the credit of the country would rise with a bound on
the news of the healing of this long-open sore; and the great
Italian nation, united from end to end and undisturbed by a
rankling domestic wound, would then be free and unimpeded
in the working out of its own destiny. Then, and not until
then, will it be possible to realize the aphorism of Cavour :
" Italia fara di se."

I have nothing to add to the foregoing article, written by
my request, in accordance with the desire of the Most Rever-
end Archbishop, except to give it my endorsement.

The Catholic World has steadily and consistently de-
fended and advocated the cause of Papal Infallibility and Papal
Sovereignty. Its conductors have always endeavored to receive
air the instructions emanating from the Holy See with docility
and obedience.

I desire and I hope that the wicked party of the invaders
and oppressors of Rome may be speedily overthrown, and Leo
XIIL be seated, in triumph and security, on the throne of his
predecessors. In saying this, I express the unanimous senti-
ment of the members of the Congregation of St. Paul, and of
the Catholic clergy and laity of the United States.

I wish for no disaster to the nation and people of Italy;
but, on the contrary, for their true Christian regeneration, and
temporal prosperity. The liberation, exaltation, and triumph of
the Holy Roman Church is necessary for this end, as well as for
the welfare of all Christendom, and of all mankind. May God
speed the day when the restoration of the Sovereign Pontiff to the
possession of his temporal rights shall inaugurate this happy era !

Augustine F. Hewit.
vouLxn.— 8

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Birth-place of Gilbert Stuart, Narraoansett, R. I.

AN ARTIST PHILOSOPHER.

BY FRANK H. SWEET.

OW and then appears a man whose destiny seems

to be to dazzle the world. Every age and

every land produces them ; and Dame Fortune,

instead of being elusive, seems to delight in

falling at their feet in obsequious service. The

last half of the eighteenth century was particularly rich in such

examples, not only in America but throughout all Europe, and

the advent of names that were to become bulwarks of history

was of almost daily occurrence. And among all these dazzling

figures none was more picturesque and remarkable than that of

Gilbert Stuart, the artist.

Sprung from an obscure part of Rhode Island, at a time
when art was at a low ebb in America, he crossed the sea and
at almost a single bound gained a recognized position among
the foremost artists of the Old World. Even while in the
studio of his friend and teacher. West, he demanded and
received prices for his work second only to those paid to Sir
Joshua Reynolds and Gainsborough.

Almost as soon as he commenced his studies his genius
began to outstrip the precepts of his masters. His fellow-stu-

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1895-] A^ Artist Philosopher. 115

dents scoffed, then admired, then followed. The public saw
his pictures and credited them to his master, then learned the
mistake and paid him homage. West remarked to one of the
other pupils one day : " It is of no use to steal Stuart's colors ; /
if you want to paint as he does you must steal his eyes.'*

Most artists have years of precarious toil and repeated dis-
appointments before they win fame or fortune, and not a s'mall
proportion of them go through life with only a modicum of
either. When Stuart crossed the sea he was poor and un-
known ; when he left his patron's studio, a few years later, he
engaged expensive apartments and began to entertain royally*
He was remarkably gifted in conversational powers; quick,
sympathetic, and humorous ; and there was nothing in all the
world he liked so well as to have a large circle of congenial
spirits around him — painters, poets, musicians, droll fellows,
actors, authors, and talented men of any professional or social
line. Alreadyv,he had a wide acqus^intance among the nobility,
and it was becoming a recognized fad for the fashionable world
to have portraits painted by Stuart. Orders and money ppured
in on him ; but as it freely came, so it freely went. He Worked
industriously during the forenoon, but always reserved the
afternoons and evenings for his friends and social intercourse.
A characteristic story is told of his arranging seven cloak-pegs
in the hall, and then informing his friends that whoever called
and found one of the pegs empty was to understand that he
was invited to remain to dinner, but if the pegs were full he
was to go away and try to come earlier the next day. In this
connection Stuart says of himself : " I tasked myself to six
sitters a day ; these done I flung down my palette and pencrls,
took my hat and ran about and around the park for an hour,
then home, got ready for dinner, approached my drawing-room
with the certainty of meeting as clever men as could be found
in society ; and what added to this comfort, I knew not what
or who they might be until I saw them, and this produced a
variety every day without any trouble."

This lavish profusion of the present and utter disregard for
the future was characteristic of Stuart's whole life. Anything
that pleased himself or his friends must be had, whatever the
cost. He kept no accounts, and frequently did not know
whether pictures had been paid for or not. Receipts were a
bother, so he did not take them, and in consequence was often
obliged to pay bills the second time. Once he purchased a
stock-farm and paid about four thousand dollars down, but no

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ii6 An Artist Philosopher. [Oct.,

papers were passed, and when the man died the payment
became another item in the long list of the artist's losses.

But such things troubled him little. He was always crowded
with orders, and when in debt, or in pressing need for money,
had but to task himself to a few hours at his easel to remove

Stuart's Portrait of George Washington.

all present need for anxiety. People considered it a privilege
to sit to him, and were ready to pay anything he thought
proper to charge them. He painted the portraits of his majesty,
George HI., and H. R. H. the Prince of Wales, the Duke of
Northumberland, Sir Joshua Reynolds, John Kemble, Colonel

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I895-] An Artist Philosopher. 117

Barr^, and distinguished characters and nobles almost without
number.

But assured as were his professional and social success, and
strong as were the inducements held out for the future, he had
a constant longing to return to America. His great ambition
was to paint the portrait of Washington, and at last he yielded
to the inclination and threw up all his engagements and orders.

Almost the first letter he received after reaching New York
was a request for him to come to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and
paint the portrait of the Duke^of Kent, who offered to send a
ship-of-war for him ; but he declined, for it was his fixed deter-
mination to paint Washington at any sacrifice. Removing to

Stuart's Portrait of Martha Washington.

Philadelphia he took a house on the south-east corner of Fifth
and Chestnut Streets. This building is still standing, with some
slight alterations. Here he painted his first portrait of Wash-
ington, and it was only when he was too much overrun with
work and his time was too rnuch taken up with callers that he
removed to Germantown, where the ruins of the building in
which he painted may still be seen.

At this time Philadelphia was unusually attractive. Congress
met there, and the society of the place was noted for its beau-
tiful women and brave men. Mr. and Mrs. Washington were
central figures, and the " Republican Court " has described the
delightful entertainments which' were given by the President's
wife.

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ii8 At Moonrise. [Oct.,

Stuart was pre-eminently a society man. He was a fine
musician and played well on many instruments, his voice was
flexible and rich, and his wit was keen and sparkling. He
went everywhere, and his house on Chestnut Street was daily
the resort of many prominent and fashionable persons. Here
he painted most of the beautiful portraits that have come down
to us : Mrs. Washington, Mrs. Bingham, the Marchioness
D'Yrujo, Mrs. Madison, Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, and many
others. And it was here that he painted portraits of Washing-
ton and Jefferson, and other distinguished men of the period.

Gilbert Stuart was an extraordinary man, and was not only
one of the first painters of his time, but one who would have
found distinction easy in any other profession or walk of life.
His mind was of strong and original cast, his perceptions as
clear as they were just, and in the power of illustration he has
rarely been equalled — in a word, he was in its widest sense a
philosopher in his art. #

AT MOONRISE.

BY M. T. WAGGAMAN.

|EYOND the mists the constellations stand.
Faint fiery ciphers of the Trinity,
To which the Angel Azrael holds the key ;
Dark sapphire shadows whelm the level land.
Upon the salt wind seems to float a band
Of phantoms, whilst the vast, melodious sea
Vibrates with mystic music. Ceaselessly,
The tides pour blanched libations on the strand.
The black east flushes, — the horizon burns, —
From out the deeps the red moon bursts. Blood-bright
The waters blaze and dartle ruby stars ;
Surcharged with Beauty, my vain spirit yearns
To flower forth its rapture to the night.
Yet trembles, — conscious of Art's icy bars.

Ocean City^ Maryland,

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1 8950 Old Houses I have Known. 119

OLD HOUSES I HAVE KNOWN.

BY M. DE BRIANCON.
CHANTMERLE.

'HE name of this place means Song of Blackbird,
and in visiting it once more I seem to hear
again the morning music of life in happy child-
hood. The house is of gray stone, very old, very
gray, with mullioned windows extremely high
up, more picturesque than cozy. On the lawn in front stands
a stone statue of St. Peter with a bunch of keys in his hand ;
he rests on a pile of stones, he and they being some of the
debris of the old monastery, of which indeed the house itself
IS a part. May — she is my eldest sister — told me the hobgob-
lins come in after night-fall and take the coats and hats in the
entrance lobby ; that is tall for disembodied spirits. But all the
same the place is haunted. We have Lady Ann's chamber,
which we kindly keep as a guest-room. Every night at twelve
o'clock precisely the door of that room mysteriously opens — it
makes my blood run cold to think of it, — not the door you en-
ter by, but another at the far end, leading, I can't tell where,
up a steep, dark staircase. I think it was a way to the old
chapel now in ruins. If you were in this house at night you
would hear awful sounds, as of barrels bursting in the old monks'
cellars underneath. We children were just as happy for all
this. We had a beautiful garden with two entrances; one cov-
ered in the spring-time with lilac in flower and the other with
laburnum. How we rioted and racketed all summer! not only
there, but a little way beyond where the abbot had his fish-
ponds, and beyond that again the old graveyard, where they
had left a stone coffin unfilled, with just a stone pillow for the
head ; we were always fitting ourselves into this, and in and
out of the ruined walls we found grand hiding-places. And do
you think we slept one whit the less soundly because when the
wind was from the west and sighed along the corridors you
could hear all night the pitter-patter on the priest's walk ? That
is where Father Francis tells his beads year in year out. What
delightful walks we took over the hills and far away and through
the deep woods where^ grew anemones, blue hyacinths, and

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I20 Old Houses I have Known, [Oct.,

primroses. Set in the midst of these was a chapel — much
more beautiful than 'any I have seen since. I never hear rooks
cawing or peacocks screaming without thinking of that chapel
in the woods. There were statues and pictures there, and my
sister, who was very little, said she did not fancy the saints,
who were so fine, would think much of her in her cotton gown,
but my little brother said : " Why do they put the saints like
that ? They don't look so in heaven ; they have got their bodies
on." The same little boy would not go out of doors when the
stars were shining because he thought the great bear would eat
him. When first he remarked the stars he said he knew heaven
was up there all right, for there were little chinks in the floor
and the light showed through. We thought our Lord was born
again every Christmas night, and that we had presents at Christ-
mas-time because the three kings brought some to the dear In-
fant Jesus and we had to be like him. Is this the same world
that we live in now ? the same blue sea and sky ? the same
sweet flowers and sun ? Oh, no ! childhood is fairyland, and the
golden gates are bolted if once you step outside. Our happy
little band was a chain with broken links ; there were three small
green graves which nestled near the old church by the castle;
and our fond mother when her living children slept, those who
were still left to her, and she had tucked them in and sat be-
side them in the shadowy room, oh ! then, she opened wide her
tender arms and gathered to her bosom her angel children, those
who had flown heavenward at their early dawn of time, caressed
them, wept over them sweetest of good-nights — to those who
had no night but day for evermore. She taught us in a hun-
dred ways always to remember them. We used to find their like-
nesses in pictures of angels : *• This is Ally's likeness, mamma ;
and this one little Willie's ; and here is Julie, dear little Julie ! "
Our mother kept us close together in her heart, and now is
gone to see those other little ones ; she had not to go with
them when they went ; they had no fear in going, even in go-
ing alone ; it was not far, and the road was not dark. Children
are so near heaven ; but the longer we live the further off, alas !
we seem to get. I know that the childhood we had and the
childhood we remember are not the same, yet when all is said
and done methinks it is the bluest bit in our earthly sky.

TEMPLE MUNGRET.

When my sister May was nineteen, and I — Monica — four
years younger, we went for a time to Ireland and stayed with

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1895.] Old Houses I have Known. 121

her godmother, who lived at Temple Mungret. I shall never
forget the first time we rode on an outside car. I said to the
coachman, " Don't people ever fall off these things ? '* "I
s'pose they do, miss," said he quaintly. This place is situated
on a slight eminence east of the Shannon, which it overlooks,
two or three miles distant from Limerick. The very spot on
which the house stands was once the site of a building used by
the Knights Templars as a hospital for their sick, their castle
being near at hand. Some few hundred yards south of Temple
Mungret stands the ruin of the ancient Abbey of Mungret, at
one time said to contain fifteen hundred monks. It is related
that Alfred the Great received in part his education in this
monastery. There is a funny little story told of the learning of
these monks, who were of the Order of St. Augustine. The
religious of another monastery, also famed for erudition, were
anxious to know if the reports of their science which had
reached them were well founded ; they therefore sent some of
their brethren to visit them to see if their knowledge equalled
their own. The monks of Mungret, instructed of their proceed-
ings and not knowing if they should be able to stand the con-
test with honor, disguised some of their novices as washer-
women and sent them to wash in a stream over which the other
monks had to pass. When they drew near and saw the women
they began inquiring of them the \(^ay to the abbey, and asked
them many questions, to all of which the apparent washer-
women answered in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, old French, etc.
Immediately the travellers began to consult among themselves
and decided it would be better not to continue their journey,
for said they : " If the common people of this country are so
learned what must the monks be ? '* I almost love that old
abbey and the silent dead who sleep so peacefully beneath. It
is a beautiful relic of past ages of devotion, and very sad and
ghostly it looks of evenings. Two tall trees have struggled
through the east window where the holy altar once stood. A
king, the founder, lies below. Does his royal dust shudder from
contact with the plebeian bones of these later times? They lie
alongside now, but do they sleep, those buried ones? I often
look across moonlight nights and ask myself questions as to
how they feel and how we shall feel some day — the unseen
world is close around us, oh ! nearer than we think. This same
spring, when May and I were in England, we took a walk one
evening ; shall we ever forget it ? We came by wooded lanes
to a time-worn church, and thought we would go through the

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122 Old Houses I have Known, [Oct.,

neat, grassy burial ground surrounding it, and if the door were
open inspect the building. This we did, and staying over-long
so that the moon shone in through the high windows, we felt
like going home. It was not dark ; the moon comes up in
spring before daylight is done, so May thought she would go
upstairs to the belfry, which she did, whilst I went outside
and waited for her in the porch. In a few minutes she came
down pale and startled. What had she seen ? Oh ! she did
not know ; she had gained a little room at the top of the stairs
and entering was attracted towards a door which she thought
led to the tower ; she opened this door and here some awful
presence froze her; she did not wait to become more intimate-
ly acquainted with it, but I have since heard that the village
maidens share the same terrors and cannot be induced to go
there after nightfall. You need not believe in ghosts to feel
these things.

How mild and soft the Irish climate is ! Almost always there
are tears in its eyes and often they fall. I think the Irish
character has a gentle haze about it something like the climate,
which makes it very attractive and softens angularities. How
nicely they put things ; even the beggars (at the church doors
there are quantities of them, like there are in Italy) say such
'cute things ; if you are walking with a gentleman for in-
stance, "Arrah, thin, give us something for the sake of the
purty lady." A man feels like a brute to refuse. We often
drove into Limerick, along the beautiful banks of the Shannon,
especially on Sundays to church, when we always met a solitary
individual walking out to attend the Protestant service at
Raheen so as to make a quorum of three, that being the
number necessary to obtain the government benefice. I think
the clergyman's wife and the clerk completed the congregation.
This was before disestablishment.

Ireland looks as if it wanted to be drained all over. May
pretended she could not understand how Irish landlords were
so poor, as they have no drains on their estates ; they have been
poorer since. , One day she and I took a little boat and punted
across the river to a place called Essex Lawn, which stands on
the other side. During this short excursion we talked of seri-
ous subjects, as usual when alone ; of love, its pains and joys,
and then the sin of loving anything earthly too much with
these immortal souls, and we concluded that an unfulfilled love
might give more happiness than an accomplished one, seeing
that familiarity breeds contempt and satiety destroys, and when

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1 8950 Old Houses I have Known. 123

there is nothing more left to wish for should we not begin to
want something else ? I have learned since that love is
immortal in its essence and consecrates the beloved object ;
true love, image of God's love for us, never tires ; it is all that
remains to us of the terrestrial Paradise. Adam and Eve
brought it with them when they left ; the angel with the flam-
ing sword took pity on them and let it pass. We went up a
long avenue and called on our friend Agnes, and we three girls
together talked of things we prized — music and poetry and
school-days, and touched a little on philosophy in a light girl-
ish way, and piety, which is a woman's crown, and makes all
her virtues tender and sacred. Woman, the first to fall, should
still be the first with many loving wiles and winning ways to
bring her hapless partner back once more along the thorny
road that leads to the Heaven they forfeited. We sat in the
lingering summer in a room looking southward, a ruined castle
beyond. Then we spoke of relics, and the little sister fetched
a box containing such. " Do you keep relics ? " said Agnes,
innocent mementoes of her young life and those she had known
and loved therein. Amid the relics was an old pocket-handker-
chief with a faded name that I knew well in the corner. It
was never washed since it had been a relic, she said ; no doubt
she feared to lose the poetry of his last touch upon it. We
came back through the changing leaves and low-hanging clouds,
rowed over, and thanked God that no vain or idle word. had
passed our lips created to praise and bless him for ever. "Oh,
my dears ! " said our hostess to us on our return, " what do you
think ? Miss R has run off with her groom ; is it not dis-
graceful ? You would not do such a thing, May, would you ? *'
" No, indeed ! " replied my sister demurely, ** unless — unless
it were a bridegroom^ There were plenty of would-be bride-
grooms about, and so many cages open for May, you never
knew which she would fly into ; but she was a bird not to be
easily caught. One of those numerous lovers one day said to
her, after a great many pretty speeches, " But you must find
our accents wretched." " Nay," she answered, "^the accents of
friendship are always delightful." It is as natural for an Irish-
man to make love as for the sun to shine on flowers, and this
dear princess accepted all their adorations calmly and with a
sweet unconsciousness as if it were a maiden's daily crown of
life to be so worshipped. How well I remember one time — it
was in September — I was upstairs and leaning out of our room
window, which looked down on a lovely archway of white star-

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124 Old Houses I have Known. [Oct.,

like clematis, now in full bloom. Under this May was standing
with Will Yarrow ; she looked so pretty in her soft pale blue,
with her shining fair hair crowning her stately head. I heard
him say : " It is a great mortification for me to be forced to
love you so, for I do detest your nation ** (you might not
believe it ; they are not over and above fond of us English, but
loving and liking are different). Will was rather lame, but he
had the sweetest voice; it was like music, hearing him talk. I
saw him pick up a clematis spray that fell from her dress ; was
his love like its bloom, so light and frail ? No ; he crossed the
ocean three times only to look at the outside of the house
where she dwelt, because — oh, well ! their paths lay diverse,
and he for many a year knew in his heart " the constant
anguish of patience," but at last, like the blossoming of an aloe,
an Indian Summer was granted them ; when all hope of good
things had vanished the best time came. Don't you remem-
ber, May, the odor of mignonette in the flower-beds, and in
the pleasure-garden the roses blooming again like second loves,
and the china-asters so grave and sweet adorning the gentle
evenings, those evenings that climbed up the rosy western ways
and slept on night's starry bosom ?

LES VIGIERS.

Come with me to sunny France, far away down in Guienne,
that lovely land that once belonged to the English ; come to
the P^rigord, famous for good living, where you eat truffles and
pit^s de foie gras, where there are no corn-fields but only vine-
yards and verdant meadows, where you make your own claret.
Here I stayed a winter in an old chateau — could it have been
winter? All the time 'twas glowing sunshine, and when Feb-
ruary came it was quite spring. I was visiting a marquise, the
mother of one of my school-fellows. The house is so vast that
there were rooms upon rooms unoccupied, although the family
was pretty large. First the present marquis, father of my friend,
quite one of the old noblesse — when I say this I describe a
perfect gentleman, of such courtly manners as you will rarely
find nowadays. I can only begin to tell you how good and
sweet was his wife — I have still a bracelet she gave me in
parting, with her hair in a large carbuncle pendant from it.
She prettily said, as the hair in the bracelet would retain its
color when hers should be gray, so also should she cherish an
unchangeable affection for me. If you want to know really
nice people — graceful in speech, distingu^s in sentiment, brave

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in misfortune — you will find them among the old French fami-
lies. Besides Suzanne, my friend, there were two boys,
younger, at college ; her grandmamma, the old marquise, and
her sister, Mile. Claire, a dear old lady. We played " Boston "
nearly every evening when the gentlemen came in from shoot-
ing — they seemed to have little else to do ; and we ladies
loitered through the day in a delightful manner, occasionally
receiving friends at home and dining out at neighboring cha-
teaux. My little friend was deformed, and her dear father used
to carry her upstairs every night to her bed-room. The one
they had given me was large enough to put a Canadian settler's
house in. It would have pleased you to have seen its sofas
and arm-chairs in amber, with shepherdesses and their little
lovers embroideredf on the backs — sofas as large as beds, arm-
chairs big enough |o swallow one. Down-stairs whole suites of
rooms were hung with tapestry, principally representing battle-
scenes, great warriors with staring eyes hewing one another.
The house faced south — they all do in this land of sunshine.
•At the back was a Charmille (a grove of slender trees inter-
sected with paths). We had a young artist staying here for a
long time ; he came to paint the family portraits. Don't suppose
I fell in love with him, and lost my heart to his Vandyke beard
and melting eyes ; oh, no ! He bowed and languished and threw
kisses from his window overlooking the Charmille whilst I was
gathering flowers, and listening to the nightingales ; this made
me run away laughing. I don't like a man that is ashamed to
go to church because it is not considered fashionable for men
to go. When he met me on the stairs one night and my candle
had blown out (I won't say I did not let it out on purpose to
see what he would do), he held his towards me with a most be-
witching bow, and, his left hand pressc^d to his heart, murmured :
"Voulez vous de ma flamme, mademoiselle." "Non, monsieur,
mais je veux bien de votre lumi^re," I replied. The old marquise
was very strict and would not, if she knew it, allow me to speak to
any gentleman ; they seem to think girls are not to be trusted ;
they don't know English ones. She lent me a book to read
entitled L Amour dans le Mariage^ and what tickled me im-
mensely was, the two instances given in the book were of
English people well known in history. They appear to be un-
acquainted with the fact that it is an Englishman's daily bread
to love and be loved in marriage. However, I was not think-
ing of any Englishman, and in spite of restrictions, Roger and
I settled matters pretty straight between us. Roger is the only

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126 Old Houses I have Known. [Oct.,

son of the Baron de Brian^on, whose land lies over the fence
from Les Vigiers.

In those lovely February mornings I used to go out with
my book or work and sit on a piled-up heap of stones at the
end of the nearest vineyard before grandmamma left her room
(we breakfasted late). Roger was a sportsman and generally
found his way round there when out shooting ; he was fond of
beating that cover, he said. You would never have taken him
for a young Frenchman, but a sturdy English squire ; I suppose
that is why I fancied him first of all. He and his father lived
in their chateau, Les Rochers. I have since known it is a very
pretty place, though in those days one of mystery to me. He
used to come out of the morning blue .across the shimmering
fils de vi^rgCy like cobwebs on all the vines, in gaiters and knicker-
bockers; son of the gods, divinely tall though not divinely fair.
Grandma said to me one day : " Mees Monica, why do you al-
ways wear that gray gown ? " I did not reply, Because, chfere
madame, I don't want the servants to see me sitting on the
gray stones talking to Roger ; but the pretty young marquise,
said, caressing my cheek : '' Our little Monica is always gentille,
bonne maman, whatever she puts on." In the end there was
no objection to the match — because why ? I had a nice little
fortune. Frenchmen are not supposed to marry for love, but
when they do they make delightful husbands. / ought to know ;
we have been married some years now. We did enjoy those
meetings ; I suppose the spice of wickedness, being contrary to
custom, made them delicious. Like a cynic said about eating
a peach, it only wanted to be a sin to be perfect. Roger is
not great at learning ; when he was in philosophy at college
they asked him "Qu*est ce que la force agissant selon la loi?'*
he replied he guessed it was a policeman. He did not go up
in class for this, though some of his comrades thought he should
have done. He has since said he shows his philosophy by mak-
ing the best of a foolish little thing like me, being contented
to bask in the smiles of his wife, and not caring to sit in the
shadow of a very learned one; he is not the only man of this
opinion I am acquainted with. Roger's father tells the biggest
stories I have ever heard ; but then, you know, it is said " See
the waters of the Garonne and you will never speak truth after-
wards." He is also a great boaster and terribly vain of his
country, as are all other Frenchmen I have known (except one).
"The French," he says, "are the bravest, the most honorable,
noblest, truest, most heroic nation — they never fight for gain,

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1 895-] Old Houses I have Known. 127

only for honor/* " You have forgotten one of their good quali-
ties, monsieur/' said I — " their modesty/* This puts me in mind
of some old savants who were composing another French dic-
tionary. They had got as far as Bataille, and were considering
how to spell and pronounce it, when one of them remarked :
" Gentlemen, we write Battle and pronounce Victory ** ; this was
before Sedan, but after Waterloo. I believe it is their little
weaknesses that make Frenchmen so amiable, but I don't think,
with all their appreciation of women, there is any one of them
capable of writing such dainty, exquisite things about them as
our Mr. Coventry Patmore and John Ruskin have done. Every
woman who reads what they say of her must, it seems to me,
endeavor to become better so as to merit such praise ; like a
sweet little wife I know, who once told me her dear husband
thought she had so many virtues she did not possess, that she
was always trying to acquire them so as not to wrong his judg-
ment. I am sure of one thing, that it takes a lavish supply of
the oil of mutual kindness to keep the domestic machine running
sweetly. It would seem almost better to strike some dear wo-
men than for those they love to speak harshly to them ; they
and children and flowers are alike in this, they cannot blossom
out into beauty and sweetness under cloudy skies.

A dear old cur6 used to dine periodically at the chslteau.
He was awfully afraid of this young English girl; he heard. she
knew so much that she could speak English almost as well as
French, and " Is" it true, mademoiselle ? Oh ! but it seems so
natural to me, you know, to speak in French," he said naively.
" And have you learned Italian ! Latin too and German ! — tiens !
tiens ! tiens ! "

On Sundays we went to his poor, humble little church,
which had a touching beauty of its own however. We drove
in a carriage and pair through a delicious country.

The women here wear bright-hued handkerchiefs on their
heads instead of caps, knotted knowingly by the left ear; little
shawls crossed on the bosom, leaving the neck slightly bare but
always adorned with a gold cross attached with narrow black
velvet ; their red petticoats do not reach to their ankles. How
gaily they all chat and laugh, these peasants, as if they had no
cares ! When the carriage drives up they all turn and stare ;
they are not so respectful as the poor in England, who lived so
long under feudal laws, and who have naturally more deference
for superiors. It did one good to hear the cur6 preach ; what
he said does not matter — he was himself the sermon. How his

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128 Old Houses I have Known. [Oct.,

face shone ! how through all his words and actions you felt he
loved his Master, and you too longed to love and serve him
better ! I don't know where they spring from, these bons cur^s
de campagne, they are so unlike all the other men one sees ;
perhaps it is their special training or the grace of vocation ;
there are hundreds and thousands of them scattered up and
down the length and breadth of fair France. God is very
merciful to give the people such humble and faithful shepherds.

Before I left Les Vigiers, I went to call upon our good
curd and take him a girdle I had made for him (with a great
deal of help and hindrance from Roger). A young lady may
not go out alone in this or any other part of France, so Malie,
foster-sister (sceur du lait, they call it) to the marquis, went with
me ; her mother had been his nurse, and the two children were
brought up under the same roof. Malie had never lived away
from the chateau ; when she was old enough she married Pierre,
foreman on the property; they had one pretty boy of twelve,
who was beginning to wait at table. Malie only spoke in
French when addressing me, in patois to every one else, as did
all the other servants.

This was the first time I had ever walked to the church.
At one side of it, just before you came to the curd's little
garden, was a Calvary — a large cross with a Divine Saviour
nearly life-size. Before this we saw the curd kneeling, and we
walked very gently so as not to disturb him in his devotions. I
fancy I can see him now ; his breviary lay beside him as he
knelt, hands clasped, head uncovered, his long gray hair stirred
by the wind ; his eyes were raised to heaven, tears streaming
down his cheeks. He seemed to say : " Are these thy hands
and ieet, is this thy pierced side, sweet Saviour, and didst thou
in thy mortal life endure such sufferings, and all for me ?" Mile.
Mathilde, his sister, kept house for him. She was little and thin,
and no longer young, but so good, such a joyous creature, so
full of charity, a life devoted to benevolence, so that she was
never dull. She told me that morning a poor woman I had
been able to help, through her, had been to see her, and that,
thanks to the kindness done her, she had been rescued from
misery and set on the road to prosperity. This made me feel
happy.

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essential as a substantial portion of modern education — to be
" marked, read, and inwardly digested," not in a way to cause
literary dyspepsia, but in a systematic and regular manner cal-
culated to make a lasting and profitable impression. The edi-
tion is heralded by an introduction by Professor Brander
Matthews and notes by Professor George Rice Carpenter; and
may therefore be regarded as a Columbia College edition. . We
hope the book may have an extensive sale, whatever the fate
of the pedagogical recommendations with which it is freighted.
It is one of the most charming works of the kind in the
English language, and deserves to be read, not merely for the
purpose of having one's head stuffed with Washington Irving, but
for simple sheer delight and recreation. In those days of literary
rococo and monstrous perversions of Anglo-Saxon homeliness,
it is refreshing to light upon a style which is neither bewilder-
ing in prosody nor demoralizing in sentiment, like the produc-
tions of George Meredith or Madame Sarah Grand. This edi-
tion of the Tales has only one drawback. The portrait of
Irving which it gives as a frontispiece looks like a smudgy
caricature.

The happy chance, prescience, premonition, or what you
will, that named Alice Brown's last volume. Meadow GrasSy has
in it a touch of the perfection of genius. Just that would we
call this collection of short stories, or rather annals, of Tiverton.
There is a freshness about it, a sweetness of odor, a glint and
gleam of sun-swept meadows most heartily welcome in these
days of " fad " and " study," or psychological exposition. *

VOL. LXII.— 9

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I30 Talk about New Books. [Oct.,

We began by going to school at Number Five, " a little red
school-house, distinguished from other similar structures within
Tiverton bounds by ' District No. V.,' painted on a shingle in
primitive black letters, and nailed aloft over the door,*' and
ended by attending the circus given by the " Strollers " in Tiver-
ton. In between we enjoyed the company of Farmer Eli on
his vacation, whose joy was too great to be grasped and so
became a pain, of Lucinda and her pathetic emancipation, of
Mrs. Pettis with her indomitable will and determination never
to grow old, and a score of others whose narrow lives ran in
grooves to be sure, but grooves that lay in healthy soil and
held all the sweet scents and sounds of simple country life.
It is refreshing to read of such in this heated, dusty atmos-
phere.

To the myriads of books on rules of speech and writing
Miss Lelia Hardin Bugg has elected to become a contributor.
She has given us a book on "correct English,"* the product of
years of note-taking, intended primarily for her own use and
benefit, but as an after-thought given to a world sadly in need
of useful information on rules of grammar. The claim she
makes for this book is that it embraces more useful matter
than any other single volume on the same subject. The fright-
ful abundance of error in our ordinary conversation is amply
proved by the immense number of corrections of vulgarisms
embraced in the pages of Miss Bugg's book. If one were
morbidly addicted to 'the habit of detecting flaws of this kind,
a whole lifetime might be passed in that thankless pursuit.
There are public schools without number, and we presume teach-
ers of correct English in them constantly pointing out what
vulgarisms and solecisms are to be avoided, but they make no
impression upon the dead weight of habit. Pass through any
street and listen to the talk of any group of people, and the
frightful " ain't you " and the still more barbarous " was you
there " are almost certain to crop up many times in the course
of a few minutes. These are the commonest errors to be met
with amongst the work-a-day crowd ; with folks supposed to be
better instructed the confusion of the verbs "to lay" and "to
lie," and the uses of "shall" and "will," almost argues an
incurable defect of apprehension. Miss Bugg's book, in the cor-
rection of such tendencies, will be found to possess the merits
of conciseness and lucidity. It is this which enables her to

* Correct English, By Lelia Hardin Bugg. St. Louis : B. Herder.

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1895.] Talk about New Books. 131

claim for it the multutn in parvo character she does. Although
it seems very like the task of Mrs. Partington mopping out the
Atlantic to fight against bad English, we must persevere ; there-
fore we commend the book as a good one for its purpose.

A decided advance is visible in Mr. Weyman's latest work —
a collection of anecdotal stories relative to the French court in
the days of Henri Quatre.* He displays some sense of French
lightness and a power of differentiating his characters but little
visible in his previous work. In nearly everything previously
given us the tone of the dialogue was much the same, whether
in the mouth of peer or peasant. There was likewise a tire-
some sameness in the description of the emotions of the sup-
posed narrator, and a great deal too much space was often
taken up with these introspective confessions. He is working
hard to obtain the lightness of touch of his French models,
but the task is a difficult one. He is a very careful and con-
scientious workman, however, and despite his heaviness of style
succeeds by close attention to minutiae in giving a good picture
of the subject in hand. The gallantries of Henry of Navarre,
or rather the troubles arising out of them, form the pegs upon
which this string of anecdotes is hung — a picturesque and attrac-
tive period for the romancist, and one abounding in raw material
for the fictionist. Letters were well represented at Henry's
court, during his occupancy of the French throne, and the
writer who leans to the Huguenot side in his fiction, as Mr.
Weyman does not a little now and then, will find enough in
the " historians " of that court to last him for a life-time. It
is singular that Mr. Weyman does not try his hand at the
romance of the Tudor period in England. He would be much
more at home there, one would fancy, than in a field where
many brilliant French writers have been before. However,
there is no accounting for an author's tastes ; we are supposed
to be thankful for what we get. But we do not care to see a
single mine worked for more than it is worth.

There is fascination in the page that tells of the conquest
of Mexico and Peru by handfuls of Spanish cavaliers, led by
ambitious adventurers ; there is more of real romance in the
history of the founding of Notre Dame University, Indiana.f
At the celebration of the golden jubilee of that remarkable

^ From the Memoirs of a Minister of France, By Stanley M. Weyman. New York;
Longmans, Green & Co. •

f History of the University of Notre Dame du Lac^ Indiana, Chicago : The Werner Co.

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132 Talk about New Books. [Oct.,

event last June, the chronicle of the conquest of the icy wil-
derness and snow-bound forest where the university stands was
presented to the Catholic public. The raising of Aladdin's
palace was hardly more magical than the founding and rearing
of a great seat of learning in such a desert as this.

The history of the institution from its foundation was one
of steady persistence towards the realization of a colossal
idea. The conquest of the desert and of poverty and privation
was made by dint of heroic perseverance ; and by degrees the
college prospered until it became a university, more prosperous
and progressive still. The tale is told in the souvenir volume
prepared for the jubilee celebration by some modest author. A
great many excellent portraits of those priests whose names
afe inseparably linked with Notre Dame du Lac, and some
nice views of the grounds, are interspersed throughout the
work. It is handsomely bound in royal blue and gold, and is
a credit to the publisher no less than the anonymous historian.

A kindred work, in a sense, is the paper on "La Congrega-
tion de Sainte-Croix en Canada," in the July number of the
Revue Canadienne, from the pen of the Rev. Joseph C. Carrier,
C.S.C. The brotherhood has rendered most notable service to
the cause of education in that country, and their college of St.
Laurent is a place which has an old historical reputation as a
great educational centre. Father Carrier's sketch of the order
and the college is characterized by that grace of style and
sympathy of treatment which is so peculiarly a French trait.

Roderick McNeil^ a tale of school-boy life, by a Sister of
Mercy, is tastefully produced by the ifirm of John Murphy & Co.,
Baltimore. It shows considerable skill in depicting different
types of boys — wild boys, wily boys, rash and impulsive boys,
and clever boys. It illustrates in a very vivid way the efficacy
of the devotion to the Holy Rosary, and the seeming paradox
that even in the most passionate and impetuous natures the
memory of a beloved mother and the devotional practices early
instilled by her may redeem a wayward nature and counter-
balance many a defect of temper and judgment.

I. — ASPECTS OF THE SOCIAL PROBLEM.*
We have before us eighteen essays on subjects of social need,
or in some way connected with the genesis of social reform, by

* Aspects of the Social Problem, By various writers. Edited by Bernard Bosanquet.
London and New York : Macmillan & Co.

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I895-] Talk about New Books. 133

different writers, and we have very great pleasure in saying
that they are a decided contribution to social literature. They
are the work of men some one or other of whom brings trained
observation into the field, or sound theory, or theory combined
with observation and criticism.

There is great variety in the titles. Mr. Bosanquet in two
essays sketches from a theoretical point of view what he con-
ceives, by analogies drawn from other times and states and
from the qualities which form social character, to be the duties
of the citizens of his own country at the present time.

At one with these in spirit and tone is Mr. Denny's purely
practical paper on the position of women in industry, or that
entitled " The Children of Working London." The whole series
exhibits an unity of purpose which we would sometimes seek in
vaia in works purporting to be scientific, although the subjects
treated are different and were originally selected for different
purposes. For instance, the masterly article of Mr. Loch on
" Pauperism and Old Age Pensions " was written with reference
to legislation then in .the very air; and we can congratulate
hiip on proving in his own performance that the marvellous
political insight for which the countrymen of Edmund Burke
are distinguished has not departed.

All the papers deserve praise, but worthy of particular note
are the papers by the editor himself.

He shows that the speculative intellect is as well represented
in the book as the practical sagacity which applies with unerring
accuracy to the phenomena before it the conclusions of the
former.

The essay of Mr. Bosanquet on " Socialism and Natural
Science," like those on "The Duties of Citizens," stands on a
high plane, but he breathes the difficult air with the freedom
of one accustomed to spend much of his time on the tops of
the mountains and to hear the distant grinding of the glaciers as
they slowly crawl upon their eternal way.

How good it is to listen to him saying, in fine scorn of the
biological sociologists, that where a continuous evolution is con-
cerned, " mere difference and mere sameness are more than
usually inadequate instruments " to express the relation between
its stages. We fully recognize how different the parts and fates
of contemporary societies may be, and that it is eminently con-
ceivable that out of a civilization, dead as any extinct species,
a vital society may have sprung which at the present moment
is filling the world with groanings of its travail.

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134 Talk about New Books. [Oct.,

But the dead died in giving birth, each age has given some-
thing to the next, and all the past, from pole to pole, has in
some way served to widen and deepen the civilization of to-day.
This is the important fact to bear in mind in the evolution of
society ; for all individuals that ever played a part in life have
consciously or unconsciously served the advancement of the race
and been instruments in the hands of God to accomplish his
purposes. Through the history of mankind we can trace an
unity of design as clearly as in the order of external nature.

Thinking in this manner, we relish Mr. Bosanquet's healthy-
contempt for the new-fangled nomenclature borrowed from the
lower forms of organic life to express recognized phenomena of
civilized society. Can anything outside the mansions of the
moon be madder than Mr. Herbert Spencer's notion when he
says "A human society is a local variety of the species."

Hence, instead of the serious business of investigation, care-
ful collation of facts and conscientious inference, we have such
grave questions as whether or not "the struggle for existence,"
"natural selection," and "panmixia" are conditions of human
progress. The libelled Schoolmen never stated for academical
purposes theses so far-fetched as the naturalist-sociologists do.
When one is stunned by their blatant polysyllables and lost in
the wilderness of their never-ending sentences, he is tempted to
say : Oh ! for an hour of some old Dandolo of the schools, one
of the great ones gone, some Scotus, some Erigena, to expose
with pitiless, inexorable logic the wordy whimsicalities, inanities,
nonsensicalities of Mr. Spencer and his kind.

2.— DR. QUIGLEY AND COMPULSORY EDUCATION.*
This bulky volume of six hundred pages was copyrighted by
the late Rev. P. F. Quigley. It contains the account of his
arrest and imprisonment on the charge of violating the compul-
sory education law of the State of Ohio. From the court of
Common Pleas, where the criminal prosecution was begun in
1890, the case was carried to the Circuit Court, and thence to
the Supreme Court of the State, where a decision was rendered
in 1892. The Educational Review admitted that the case was
argued on broad constitutional grounds. No decision more im-
portant to the future of compulsory legislation regarding schools
was ever rendered by an American court.

Dr. Quigley contended that the law which he opposed was

* Compulsory Education : the State of Ohio versus the Rev. Patrick Francis Quigley^
D,D. New York : Robert Drummond, 444 Pearl Street.

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i89S-] New Books, 135

unconstitutional because of the unwarranted invasion of parental
rights as to all people, and that as to some people it was also
unconstitutional because of its invasion of conscience rights in
religious matters. On page 12 of his introductory chapter he
stated briefly what the ablest minds see clearly, that the school
question to-day is how to get the right system established ;
" how to get a public system which shall be really public — one
which all the public can use ; one of which all can approve, one
which all can support."

NEW BOOKS.

The Open Court Publishing Co.. Chicago :

The Gospel of Buddha. Told by Paul Cams.
Macmillan & Co., New York :

Aspects of the Social Problem, By Bernard Bosanquet. Katharine Lauder^
dale. By F. Marion Crawford.
Publishing House A. M. E. Church Sunday-School Union, Nashville,
Tenn.:
Glimpses of Africa, By C. S. Smith. Introduction by Bishop H. M. Tur-
ner, D.D.. LL.D.
George Gottsberger Peck, New York :

The Idiomatic Study of German, By Otto Kuphal, Ph.D.
The Christian Literature Co., New York:

A History of the Roman Catholic Church in the United States, By Tho-
mas O'Gorman, Professor of Church History in the Catholic University,
Washington, D. C.
Fr. Pustet & Co., New York and Cincinnati :

Studies in Church History, By Rev. Reuben Parsons, D.D. Vol. ii.
D. & J. Sadlier & Co.. Montreal and Toronto:

Stories of the Promises and other Tales, By Mrs. M. A. Sadlier and her
Daughter.
Benziger Brothers, New York :

Memoir of Mother Mary Rose Columba Adams, 0,P, By Right Rev. W. R.
Brownlow, D.D., Bishop of Clifton.
Wm. Graham Co., Detroit :

Alethea's Prayer, and other Stories for the Young,
P. J. Kenedy, New York :

Plain Facts for all Outside the Catholic Church, By Rev. R. H.Walsh.
Second edition.

PAMPHLETS.

The New York Society for Improving the Condition of the Poor :

Inquiry into the Causes of Agricultural Depression in New York State,
Rand, McNally & Co., Chicago:

The Degeneration Chimera : An Answer to Nordau, By E. C. Spitzka.
Notre Dame University, Ind.:

De Impedimento Matrimonii Dirimente Impotentia Observationes quadam
Physica, Auctore Augustino O'Malley, M.D., Ph.D., LL.D.

The Journal of Prison Discipline and Philanthropy, January 1894-95.

God Calls to Christian Unity, By Rev. Silliman Blagden.

Two Lectures: i, The Origin of Law, 2, The Present Condition of
Practical Jurisprudence, By Professor William C. Robinson.

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The convention of the Society of St. Vincent
de Paul which met in New York during the past
month was the most important gathering of that
great organization ever held in this country, judging, if not by
attendance, by the decisions arrived at and the resolutions
adopted. One of these resolutions is of so far-reaching a char-
acter that it is impossible to say where the good results which
are certain to flow from it may stop. By its terms the society
now holds out the hand of fellowship to all kindred organiza-
tions, no matter to what church they belong, and intimates its
readiness to co-operate with them in all charitable work. There
is more hope for Christian unity in this one practical step toward
that object than in tons of pamphleteering and leader-writing.
The relief of suffering humanity, whatever its creed or race, is
a platform broad enough for all.

Decisive action was also taken with reference to the liquor-
dealer question. The convention, after an animated discussion,
resolved to give effect to the recent resolution adopted on that
subject by formally promulgating it. To do otherwise would be
for the association to stultify itself. It cannot be made too
clear that the relation of liquor-selling to charity is that of
cause and effect. The miseries which the St. Vincent de Paul
Society try to cure may often be traced, indirectly at least, to
the pernicious trade with which it now declines to have anything
to do. No peace is possible with such an enemy — that is, no

peace with honor.

♦

The Sunday Question has been placed in the front of the
political fight in New York by the action of the Republican
party, placing a plank in its platform whereby it states that
Sunday laws are to be maintained " in the interests of labor and
morality." The struggle for the maintenance of the Christian
Sunday will be more than interesting; it will be eminently use-
ful inasmuch as it will call out the best elements in the com-
munity and consolidate their forces against the aggressions of
the saloon-power.

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i89S-] What the Thinkers Say. 137

WHAT THE THINKERS SAY.

EDUCATIONAL VALUES.

(G. Stanley Hall^ in Journal of Education,)

There are upwards of 300 trades and industries in which ordinary men and
women are engaged, and any one of these awakens as large an area of the brain
and secures as much brain development as an entire course in reading, writing,
arithmetic, and geography. Many of these are of much greater value.

It is unaccountable that the Committee of Ten should not have known, or,
knowing, should not have recognized the fact that the great study of educational
specialists i& the mental complication and consequent relative value of each branch
studied in school.

This mechanical learning of the regulation branches was for a long time the
chief work of the school, and it affected a slight brain area. When the objective
work came in its best form the area awakened, strengthened, and developed ;
was increased about threefold, and with the introduction of manual training in
all its departments of sloyd, cooking, sewing, and drawing, the will areas were
reached and five times as much area was awakened as in the mechanical. These
areas literally g^ow so long as there is earnest study that affects them.

Even now, less than one-half of the areas of the brain are awakened by those
who take a full American university course. The basal, automatic, sympathetic
areas are wholly unprovided for in any curriculum.

Religion, directly and indirectly, would influence vast areas that are now
wholly fallow. No virtues of a secular school system can atone for the absence
of all religious cultivation. We have much to learn from the Catholic Church in
this regard. I am a Protestant of the Protestants, but I would rather a child of
mine should be educated in a nunnery, or in a rigid parochial school, with its
catechism and calendar of saints, than to have no religious training. The Catho-
lic Church is strong where we are weak ; namely, in the worship of the saints.
We have allowed our prejudices to deprive us of one of the grandest features of
brain-awakening and mental development in this matter of saints. It is no suffi-
cient answer that they do not get from the study all they might. There are at
least sixty-three large books devoted to the saints of the Catholic Church, while
there are but three discoverable that attempt a similar work with Protestant
children in school, or Sunday-schools.

Our Sunday-schools and theirs ought to study pedagogics. The home
leaves the child to the school for his mental training, and to the Sunday-school
for his religious culture, and neither are equal to the demands placed upon them.
This is specially true of the Sunday-school.

AH that we know of men is in a critical state just now. The emotional life
conditions the intellectual. Religion is, and has always been, the centre of life.
It always will be.

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138 W^AT THE Thinkers Say. [Oct.,

OUR LITERARY TENDENCY.

(jf^dge Tourgie in The Authors* JournaL)
"In literature there is an intangible something that marks the line between
good and bad, which is not dependent upon the author's skill, and which can be
estimated only by the effect upon the reader. A great subject does not, indeed,
make a great artist, and a worthy purpose will not insure a good literature ; but it
is only a great artist who can use his skill to inform a fit subject with that interest
which shall make it an eternal appeal to sentiment, emotion, aspiration. All the
skill of all the ages cannot make a great picture of an unworthy subject — ^a flea, a
sore, or a wart, for instance. And only that literature is worthy which joins to a
noble purpose the skill which makes its grand conceptions an elevating and re-
fining force. Both in literature and in art, the test of absolute merit is the effect
produced on those subjected to its influence. Skill in the use of means and instru-
mentalities is only a measure of comparative merit. The art which degrades is
never high art, and the literature which enervates, debases, and depresses is
never a good literature, and no amount of skill on the part of author or artist can
save such art from ultimate condemnation.

" The most dangerous tendency of our recent literature is this inclination to
make form rather than effect the sole test of merit. . In our desire to avoid moral-
izing we have forgotten that literalness is not all there is of truth. We fail to
draw the distinction between a story with a moral and the moral effect of a storj-.
Because there is no moral in the Hiad — that is, no specific ethical principle which
it was intended to enforce— we ignore the fact that it so extols courage, fortitude,
and honor that it has been an undying impulse to grand achievement from
Alexander's day until Gordon's heroic self-sacrifice. So with Shakspere and
Scott, and a score of others, the greatest names in literature, whose works have
indeed no specific moral aim or purpose, but have been the mightiest of moral
agencies, making the world stronger, better, and braver by contrasting strength
with weakness, noble with ignoble purpose, courage with cowardice, truth with
falsehood, vice with virtue.

" The most subtle poison that ever enters the veins is that which takes away
the desire for life — the inclination to exertion. What this benumbing force is to
the body, such is the so-called * realistic' novel to the heart and brain. Instead of
stimulating it depresses : instead of exalting it debases ; instead of making the
reader emulous of great achievement it renders him incredulous of worthy motive ;
instead of inspiring patriotism it mocks at courage; instead of exalting self-
sacrifice it teaches selfishness."

FRENCH "SERVANTS OF THE POOR."

{From the Saturday Review?^
*' There is at any rate one charitable organization in France which is with-
out a parallel in England, and it has what seems to us a beautiful name, " Ser-
vants of the Poor.' The congregation already possesses four houses, one at Paris,
one at Joinville, and one at Parthenay, while the original establishment is at An-
gers. The idea and organization were due to a Benedictine monk. * My daugh-
ters, he was accustomed to say, * when the poor are ill, there is no one to take
care of the house, for both husband and wife have to gain their livelihood by
labor. Go to them, and be kinder and more serviceable than any servant ; you
must accept nothing of them, neither a morsel of bread nor a glass of water. And,
above all, be sweet and amiable, that you may win their hearts and that they may
see that God has sent you.' There were five sisters at the beginning ; there are
now sixty of these ' servants of the poor.* "

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I89S-] The Columbian Reading Union. 139

THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.

WITHIN the past fifteen years a very considerable quantity of literature bear-
ing on social and economic questions has been produced by Catholic
writers in France and Belgium. In Germany also eminent thinkers have taken
the data gathered by practical workmen, and contributed largely to the discussion
of many vital points. It has been shown that the ethical aspects of important
economic questions are closely associated with the Catholic teaching of moral phi-
losophy. The conviction has been brought home to numerous Christians hitherto
inactive that labor and capital should not be allowed to engage in a sanguinary
struggle, that the victory of the strongest is not always according to justice, and
that the welfare of society cannot be advanced when the intelligent classes refuse
a fair hearing to strikes and other disturbing influences. For many in high
position it is undoubtedly a duty to become better informed concerning the pro-
duction and distribution of wealth, the relations of labor and capital, and the effects
of various systems of land-tenure on the people who pay rent. Economic condi-
tions demand attention no less than the ethical principles involved in settling con-
tentious struggles. A law which protects the selfish interests of only one class in
society will no longer suffice, when by it an injustice is established which is op-
posed to the common good.

Letters of inquiry have been sent to the Columbian Reading Union con-
cerning the available literature on the Social Question in English, written by Catho-
lics in accordance with the teaching of Pope Leo XIII. We desire to express the
hope that the Rev. Thomas A. Finlay, S.J., may be induced to edit translations of
the best foreign literature on the condition of labor. His remarkable lecture
delivered at the opening, October 3, 1893, of the Aula Maxima, St. Patrick's College,
Maynooth, Ireland, on the progress and prospects of Socialism, has not been sur-
passed. It was published in the Irish Ecclesiastical Record, November, 1893
(Brown & Nolan, Dublin).

The numerous magazine articles written by Dr. William Barry deserve the
highest praise for wide learning, accurate statement of principles, and elegant
diction. The student of sociology in America, however, cannot be expected to
realize fully the value of Dr. Barry's writings until they become more accessible
in book-form.

The Catholic Truth Society of London has rendered a service to those wha
wish to ^tudy the Christian aspects of the labor question by publishing in pamphlet
form several papers wntten especially for young men by the Right Rev. Abbot
Snow, O.S.B. Without seeking for popular applause, he demands fair treatment
for honest work, and gives an elaborate commentary upon the precept which
obliges employers to love their workmen as themselves.

The Month for August, 1895, a magazine published by the Jesuits of London,
contained a notable article, by the Rev. G. Tyrell, on " The New Sociology," which
is a critical review of Kidd's work on Social Evolution.

The Catholic World for September, 1895, had an article by the Rev,
George McDermot which has a special value for young men beginning the study
of Sociology. It indicates a broad grasp of legal principles, and calls attention to
a book approved for the Chautauqua Reading Circles entitled an Introduction
to the Study of Society,

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I40 The Columbian Reading Union. [Oct.,

The Pope and the People, edited by the Rev. W. H. Eyre, S.J., and bearing
the imprimatur of the Cardinal-Archbishop of Westminster, is a collection of ten
Encyclical Letters chosen as including the teaching especially characteristic of
his Holiness, the present Pope. They are those treating of the condition of the
working-classes ; the evils affecting modern society ; the Christian constitution of
states ; the chief duties of Christians as citizens ; human liberty ; Christian mar-
riage ; the right ordering of Christian life ; the modern errors, Socialism,
Communism, Nihilism ; working-men's clubs and associations ; and the reunion
of Christendom. Father Eyre suggests that it would be an exceedingly useful
form of charity to have these letters printed singly for distribution. Meanwhile,
this volume is sold at a low price, and the Catholic, while reverencing its utter-
ances himself, can recommend it to Protestant and unbelieving friends as contain-
ing more worldly wisdom and keen analysis of society and of modern civilized
man than any other person in the world could compress within the same space.
Setting aside everything supernatural, and remembering only the Pope's age and
vast experience, the position which enables him to view the affairs of the whole
world, and, without personal solicitude or interest, to watch the nations wax and
wane ; the enormous mass of records always at his service, making the past
almost like the present to his apprehension ; and his perfectly judicial balance of
mind, impossible to any statesman whose country has boundaries or limits, one
sees that his decisions command respectful attention from all earnest minds.
These carefully worded messages, with each phrase considered in every possible
aspect, and reviewed with the deepest sens^ of personal responsibility, are a pre-
cious possession for him who would understand the time, its diseases and their
remedies. (Benziger Brothers, New York City.)

The American Magazine of Civics (Andrew J. Palm & Co., New York City)
became widely known among Catholics through an article published February,
1895, on "The Catholic Church and the coming Social Struggle." We are much
indebted to the writer of that article, Mr. Charles Robinson, for his kind co-opera-
tion in preparing at our request the guide-list here given. He is of opinion that
very little Catholic literature on the Social Question is available for the general
reader. So far as can be learned, no book has yet been published in English in
which this subject is dealt with from the point of view of the church. Quite a
number of valuable works of this kind have appeared in French. Among these
the following deserve special mention :

1. La Question Ouvrikre, par I'Abbe P. Ferst, cur6 de Saint Maurice, Paris.
This work, which is divided into three books and enriched with many statistical
tables, forms a really indispensable manual for those interested in the study of
this question.

2. Le Socialisme Catholique au Christianisme Int^grae, par Paul Lapeyre.
This is a monumental work, in three volumes, of great value. I have only seen the
first volume, which deals with " Les V6rit6s Males."

3. Vliglise et la Question Sociale, par le R. P. de Pascal, Missionaire Apos-
tolique, Docteur en Theologie. This is a luminous commentary on the Encycli-
cal Rerum Novarum, and has met with unqualified praise from the Catholic press
in Europe.

4. La Question Sociale et lOrdre ou Institutions de Sociologies par le R. P.
Albert-Maria Weiss, de I'Ordre des Freres Pr^cheurs. This work has been trans-
lated into French by I'Abbe L. Collin, and forms two large volumes.

5. Le Mai Social, ses Causes, ses Remedes, par Don Sarda y Solvany. Three
volumes.

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1 895-] The Columbian Reading Union, 141

6. Le Pain Pour tout le Monde, par Vicomte de Montaignan. A brief
brochure.

All of the above works are published by P. Lethielleux, £diteur, lo, rue Cas-
sette, Paris. .

Among German works Bishop Ketteler's book on Christianity and Labor
stands pre-eminent. A valuable pamphlet in German on The Social Question,
by the Rev. Hans Jacob Stadt, Pfarrer of Freiburg-im-Breisgau, appeared last
year and had an immense sale.

Socialism Exposed and Refuted is the title of a valuable little work by the
Rev. Victor Cathrein, S.J., being a chapter from the author's Moral Philosophy.
It has be^n translated from the German by the Rev. James Conway, S.J., and is
published by Benziger Brothers. Its chief importance lies in the fact that it goes
to the true sources of Socialism, whether considered as a scientific economic
theory or as a living social and political movement.

An exhaustive review in English, by Miss Helen Zimmern, of Francesco S.
Nitti's well-known work on Catholic Socialism ♦ appeared in the Leisure Hour
(Cassell & Co., London) for November, 1891. Signor Nitti is editor of La
Riforma Sociale (197 via Tritona, Rome), which contains in almost every issue
more than one article on this subject, written of course in Italian.

Mr. W. S. Lilly's contributions to current periodical literature on the Social
Question are well known. " I have kept no list of these contributions," he wrote
me the other day in answer to a question, " but the more important of them have
been incorporated in my books." These are as follows :

I. Ancient Religion and Modern Thought; 2. Chapters in European History;
3. A Century of Revolution ; 4. On Right and Wrong ; 5. On Shibboleths ; 6. The
Claims of Christianity ; 7. The Great Enigma.

All the above-named books are published by Chapman & Hall with the
exception of the last-named, which is published. by John Murray.

Two articles by Mr. Lilly on the Social Question, both of which appeared in
the New Review (Longmans, Green & Co.), are worthy of special mention in this
connection, viz.:

"The Indictment of Dives," December, 1893.

"Communism and Christianity," October, 1894.

" The Papacy, Socialism, and Democracy " forms the subject of two masterly
articles by Paul Leroy Beaulieu, which appeared in the Revue des Deux Mondes
for December i and December 15, 1891. A synopsis of these articles in English
appeared in the Review' 0/ Reviews for January and February, 1892. M. Beaulieu
has since discussed the subject more than once in the columns of L*£conomiste
FroM^aise (Cit6 Berg^re 2, Paris), of which he is editor.

Two able and important papers on the attitude of the church regarding the
Social Question were read before the Catholic Congress at Baltimore in 1889.
The first, by Peter L. Foy, was entitled " The New Social Order," and the second,
by William Richards, " Labor and Capital." These papers are included in the
*• Official Report " of the proceedings of the Congress published by William H.
Hughes, II Rowland Street, Detroit, Mich.

Monsignor Seton's discourse on " The Dignity of Labor," delivered at the
Forty-ninth Annual Commencement of the University of Notre Dame, is issued
in pamphlet form by the Ave Maria Press.

The Encyclical Rerum ,Novarum called forth many important utterances on

* A complete English, translation 'Of Catholic Socialism is now published by Swan, Son-
nenschein & Co.

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142 The Columbian Reading Union. [Oct.,

the Social Question, which was fully treated at the time in all its phases by the
leading continental as well as the English and American reviews.

Among the more notable articles written from the Catholic point of view
were the following :

" Leo XIII. on ' The Condition of Labor/ "by Cardinal Manning* in Dublin
Review, July, 1891.

" The Encyclical and the Economists," by Rev. Herbert Lucas, in The Month,
July, 1 891.

"The Encyclical Letter of Leo XIll." American Catholic Quarterly Review^
July, 1891.

" Ethical Aspects of the late Encyclical," by Brother Azarias, in International
Journal of Ethics, January, 1892.

Among the more notable French articles on the Encyclical may be mentioned
" The Social Question and the Encyclical." by A. Casselin, in Revue Ginirale
(Brussels) for August, 1891, and " The Labor Encyclical," by G. Govreman, in
the Magazin Littiraire (Ghent) for December 15, 1891.

Of the Italian reviews the Nuova Antologia of June i, the Rassegna
Nazionale of June i, and the Civilta Cattolica of June 6 and 20, contained
important utterances on the subject. The last-named magazine, which is edited
by Father Brandi, S.J., has within the past few years published a number of valu-
able articles on the Social Question, including the following :

1. "II Discorso del Papa agli operi Francesci e un ex-ministro Italiano," ser.
xiv. vol. V. p. 32.

2. " L'Enciclica * Rerum Novarum ' del S. Padre Leone XIII.," ser. xiv. voL
xi. pp. 5, 271, 417 ; vol. xii. p. 22.

3. Lassalle, F. Marx : "Cenno storico di ambidue," ser. xiv. vol. vi. p. 271.

4. " II Socialismo contemporaneo," ser. xiv. vol. v. p. 22.

5. " Dei rimedii al Socialismo," ser. xiv. vol. vi. p. 129.

6. " II Socialismo donde veirga," ser. xiv. vol. vii. p. 513.

7. " II Socialismo Cattolico," ser. xv. vol. xii. p. 641.

8. Bertolini, R.: " II Socialismo contemporaneo, di Giovanni Kz.t" Rivista,
ser. xiv. vol. viii. p. 77,

9. Bissolati : " La Borghesia nello rivoluzioni Labriola A. del Socialismo,"
Rivista, ser. xiv. vol. iii. p. 698.

10. Deciortius, K.: ** La question de la protection ouvri^re Internationale, "
Rivista, ser. xiv. vol. v. p. 448.

11. Nicotra, S.: " Socialismo," Rivista, ser. xiv. vol. v. p. 337.

12. Bernofilo, A.: " La Democrazia a la questione Sociale," Rivista, ser.
XV. vol. iii. p. 704.

13. Doutreloux: " Lettre pastorale sur la question ouvri^re," ser. xv. vol, x.
p. 583.

14. Ferst, P.: "La question ouvri^re," Rivista, ser. xv. vol. viii. p. 572.

15. George: " La canolizione dei lavoratori ec. lettera aperta a SS.," Rivista,
ser. XV. vol. i. p. 316.

16. Legay, Ch.: " La question Sociale," Rivista, ser. xv. vol. ii. p. 208.

17. Leon, G. : " Le Pape, les Catholiques et la question Sociale," Rivista,
ser. XV. vol. vii. p. 448.

18. Maumus, P. V.: "L'£glise et la Democratie," Rivista, s^r, xv. vol. vi.

p. 709.

* A speech on labor delivered by his Eminence some time before, together with the views
of the Bishop of Newport and Menevia on this question, will be found in Mr. Stead's pamphlet
entitled The Pope on Labor, which also contains a comprehensive synopsis of the Encyclical.

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i89S0 The Columbian Reading Union. 143

19. Nicotra, S. : " II minimum del Salario e la Enciclica * Rerum novarum,' "
Eivista, sen xv. vol. vi. p. 588.

20. Nitti, F. S. : "II Socialismo Cattolico," Rivista, ser. xv. vol.' iii. p. 460.

21. Zanetti, F. : " II Socialismo," Rivista, ser. xv. vol. ix. p. 75.

22. figments d'£conomie politique, par J. Rambaud," Rvvista^ ser. xv. vol. i.
pp. 580 and 696.

By reference to these articles the reader wilj find references to a great deal
more matter on this question.*

The following articles, which are of a more general character than the pre-
ceding, may be of interest to those who wish to study the Social Question in some
of its different phases :

"Socialism and the Catholic Church," by Monsignor Preston in the Forum,
April, 1888.

" The Social Question," by A. Villa Pernici in La Rassegna Nazionale, March,
1 891.

" The French Catholic Economists and the Social Question," by C. Clement,
Revue G^ndrale, (Brussels), July and August, 1891.

" Socialism and Labor," by Bishop Spalding in Catholic World, September,
1 891.

" Leo XIII. and the Labor Problem," by Rev. M. M. Sheedy in Catholic Read-
ing Circle Review, January, 1892.

" Henry George and the late Encyclical," by Charles A. Ramm in Catholic
World, January, 1892.

"The Social Movement." Three articles by Urbani Guerin bearing this
title appeared in the Revue du Monde Catholique (Paris), for May, 1892, February,
1893, and November, 1893, respectively.

" The Catholic Party in Switzerland and the Social Question," by Paul Pictet
in Bibliothkque Universelle (Lausanne), May and June, 1892.

" Political Economy and the Church," by F. Bandiott in Revue du Monde
Catholique (Paris), June, 1892. See also " Anarchy and the Social Peril," by J.
Huirdet, in same issue.

" The Federation of Catholic Circles and of Conservative Associations," in
Revue C7/«^fl/^ (Brussels), June, 1892.

" French Catholics and the Social Question," by Claudio Jannot in Quarterly
Journal of Economics (Boston), January, 1893.

" The Social Movement and State Intervention," by Charles Woesle in Revue
Gdn^rale (Brussels), February, 1893.

" Labor and Capital," by Rev. William Barry in Dublin Review, April, 1893.

" The Social Question in Spain," by Louis Vega Rey in Revista Contempo-
ranea (Madrid), June 15, 1893.

" Temperance and the Social Question," in Dublin Review, October, 1893.

" The Farci and the Social Question in Sicily," in Revue Encyclopidique (Paris),
January 15, 1894.

" Commentary on the Pastoral Letter of Monsignor Doutrel6ux on the Labor
Question," by E. Van Der Smissen in Revue Ginirale (Brussels), March, 1894.

" The Church vs. the Doctrinaires in Social Economy," M. O'Riordan in
Catholic World, April, 1894.

" The Ethics of Labor," by Rev. F. A. Howard in Catholic World, Septem-
ber. 1894.

• Complete files of the Civilta are to be found at St. Francis Xavier's College, New York
City ; at St. John's, Fordham ; and at Father Russo*s, 303 Elizabeth Street, New York City.

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144 The Columbian Reading Union. [Oct., 1895.

*' The Social Question," by Claudio Jannot in La R^forme Sociale (Paris),
November, 1894.

Several articles on the Social Question have appeared in the Association Catk-
olique (Paris) which, if translated into English, would do much good.* I refer in
particular to the following :

(i) " Introduction to Social Studies," by the Marquis de la Tour du Pin Cham-
bly, February 15, 1893.

(2) " The Rudimentary Principles of Socialism," by R. P. de Pascal, April 19,
1893.

(3) " Sketch for a Progress of Social Studies," by R. P. de Pascal, November,

1893.

In the August, 1895, number of the North American Review the Rev. J. A.
Zahm, writing on " Leo XIII. and the Social Question," gives what he calls the
" Latino-Germanic genesis " of the Encyclical Rerum Novarum, Since issuing
this famous Encyclical Leo XIII. has, as Father Zahm points out, developed his
doctrine more in detail in his letters to the Archbishop of Mechlin, the Bishops of
Li^ge and Grenoble, I'Abb^ Naudet, I'Abb^ Six, M. Decurtins, and the Count de
Mun. The latter, as is well known, has written much on the Social Question.

.Under the title of " Apropos of a Religious Debate " an article appeared in
the Rtuue des Deux Mondes for June, 1894, by Vicomte Melchoir de Vogue, which
is valuable for its thoughtful criticism upon the present state of social affairs in
France.

The more important of the foreign articles here mentioned have been noticed
as they appeared in the Review of Reviews, and in some cases a brief synopsis of
them has appeared. Greater space has been given to articles bearing on this
question in the English than in the American edition of this periodical.

Other books are :

" Social Aspcrts of Catholicism," by De HauUeville.

" Socialism and the Church," by Rev. Willebald Hackner.

" Why no good Catholic can be a Socialist," by Rev. Kenelm Digby Beste,

" Socialism," by Rev. Joseph Rickaby, S.J.

" Ethics of Anarchy," by B. F. C. Costelloe.

The above books may be ordered from Benziger Brothers.

John Brisben Walker's lecture on " The Church and Poverty," delivered at
the Catholic University some time ago, and which attracted so much attention, is
published in pamphlet form by the Commonwealth Co., 28 Lafayette Place, New
York City.

At the recent Pan-American Congress of Religion and Education held at
Toronto, July 18-25, the following paper was read:

" Christianity and Labor," by Rev. H. W. Bennett, D.D., of Akron, O.

These papers on the Social Question were read at the Columbian Catholic
Congress, viz. :

"The Encyclical of Pope Leo XIII. on the Condition of Labor." Papers by
Bishop Watterson and by Judge Semple.

"Rights of Labor: Duties of Capital." By Rev. W. Barry, D.D., and by
John Gibbon, LL.D.

" Poverty : Cause and Remedy." By Hon. M. T. Bryan.

* Thp nearest thing to these I have yet seen in Eng^lish have been the papers on ** The
Study of . cial Questions," which have just been concluded in the New York Freeman's
Journal.

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THE

CATHOLIC WORLD.

Vol. LXII. NOVEMBER, 1895. No. 368.

CATHOLICISM, PROTESTANTISM, AND PROGRESS.

BY REV. FRANCIS W. HOWARD.

INFLUENCE of religious belief on the tempo-
ral and material welfare of mankind has always
been the theme of much confroversy. It is a
subject well worthy of candid discussion, but,
unfortunately, it is too often made the basis of
partisan attacks and of fruitless and angry recriminations. It
Can hardly be doubted that religion, affecting as it does so
largely the customs an'd institutions of a people, does to a
great extent exert an influence on their material condition and
temporal welfare ; but the great and primary object of religion
being the spiritual welfare of mankind, the influence it may
exert on man's temporal condition is usually operative only
through secondary causes. This subject, moreover, is often
viewed from opposite stand-points. Historians like Buckle and
socialists of the materialist school have only an economic inter-
pretation for all the phenomena of history, and they regard
forms of religious belief and worship as, for the most 'part, the
products of economic causes ; while, on the other hand, if we
were to base our conclusions on the reasoning brought forward
by many controversialists, we might easily persuade ourselves
that a nation's progress and prosperity are entirely due to the
influence of the religion professed by the larger portion of the
people. The study of subjects involving so many phenomena
is intricate and complicated, and one-sided views are almost cer-
tain to be erroneous. In treating of such subjects positive
assertions are likely to be evidences of superficiality, and upon
hardly any subject will the student pronounce his opinion with
less confidence and decision than on the relation existing

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146 Catholicism, Protestantism, and Progress. [Nov.,

between a form of religious belief and the material prosperity
of the nation in which that belief is professed.

RELIGION IN RELATION TO NATIONAL PROSPERITY.

The first and most important matter to be determined in
discussing the influence of religion on the material condition of
a nation is, By what standard shall this influence be tested?
We must know what the great object and end of national
existence is before we can determine the influence a particular
form of religious belief may have in promoting that object.
Unless there be some agreement on this point, there can be no
hope of arriving at any definite conclusions.

All writers on ethics agree that man seeks happiness in all
his acts, and that the end of individual existence is the attain*
ment of happiness. It is held by many that the predominant
aim of national existence likewise should be to obtain a maxi-
mum of happiness, and that influences promoting this great end
should be cherished. This theory is known in English political
philosophy as " Benthamism," or the " greatest happiness prin-
ciple " ; its rule of action for legislative and other practical pur-
poses being comprehended in the maxim "The greatest good
for the greatest number." If this be our standard, then, when
the happiness is attained, the object of national existence is
realized ; and judging by this standard it would be illogical to
reproach a happy people simply because of their backward
condition and lack of industrial development.

Nothing, however, is more common than to find writers
who ignore the question of happiness in uttering this reproach.
It is a very ordinary observation that some nations do not pos-
sess great railways, great industry and great commerce, because
they do profess belief in the Catholic religion. Men have a
natural inclination to judge all things from their own stand-
point, and hence they infer that the means to their happiness
must be means of happiness to all men. Acting on this princi-
ple, modern nations have exterminated races of aborigines who
were satisfied with their conditions of life, on pretence of con-
ferring on them the blessings of civilization.

RELATIVE DEGREES OF HAPPINESS.

This opens up the question. How do we judge of happiness,
and what warrant have we for saying that one state of happi-
ness is better than another ? It is the old problem, Whether is
it better to be a pig satisfied, or a Socrates dissatisfied ? Hume
makes a remark to the effect that a child with a new dress
can be as happy as a general who has achieved a great vie-

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i^SO Catholicism, Protestantism, and Progress. 147

tory. Plato says that the highest* happiness is to be found in
the pleasures of the intellect. How shall we determine whether
there is more happiness among those who enjoy a Wagner fes-
tival at Bayreuth than among those who delight in a Wild
West show at Chicago ? By what standard shall we decide
whether Newton was more happy in working out his profound
mathematical calculations than his dog Diamond was when he
tore to shreds the paper to which they had been committed?

Happiness may be defined as a state of mind resulting from
the proper exercise of one's faculties. But the larger number
of faculties do not necessarily mean the greater happiness ;
they simply mean that happiness may be obtained in more
diversified ways. In the age of Pericles civilization was carried
to a high degree of perfection. The Athenians then listened to
great orators, enjoyed masterpieces of painting and sculpture,
saw the noblest dramas played, and were ruled by g^eat gen-
erals and statesmen. There were many sides of life, many pow-
ers and activities brought into play. If all these faculties found
proper exercise then, were the people happy? Now, when we
say that their happiness was of a higher order than that of the
ideal savages of Rousseau, we mean that more factors con-
tributed to bring it about, not that the result was different. A
sum in addition may give us ten, and an algebraic equation
involving a multitude of factors may give us the same result.
There is no greater value in the second result, though it is
arrived at through a greater variety of operations. If Plato
were to reproach a savage for not enjoying philosophy, it would
be much the same as if a musician should find fault with a
deaf-mute for not enjoying a symphony.

If happiness be the object of national existence, then it is
absurd to claim that one nation is better off than another
merely because it has more capital, more industries, more steam
railways and canals. The happiness produced by these means
is not better than happiness brought about by a simpler pro-
cess ; and happiness, moreover, as we shall see later, does not
necessarily go with all this industrial activity.

INFLUENCE OF CATHOLICISM IN MEDIAEVAL TIMES.

Now, there is a principle of the Catholic religion which has
always powerfully contributed to bring about a state of happi-
ness in any society where it has had free operation, and this
principle is, that the interests of mankind are essentially one,
though often apparently diverse, and that the individual should
seek his happiness in promoting the welfare of society. This

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148 Catholicism, Protestantism, and Progress. [Nov.^

principle, which in our time is dignified with the name of '' uni-
versalistic hedonism/* has always been the practical rule of con-
duct taught by the Catholic Church. Thoughtful students of
history and economics, such as Hallam and Thorold Rogers^
have stated that the lot of the laborer in mediaeval England
was preferable to that of his modern successor. Socialist
writers are fond of contrasting the laboring classes under Pro-
testantism with the same classes under Catholicism, and of de-
scribing the happy condition of the latter.* The wants of the
laborer in mediaeval times were not so many nor so varied,
but they were more easily supplied. On the whole there is
good ground for asserting that the influence of Catholicism
resulting from the operation of the teaching above mentioned
has been productive of happiness to a great extent, and this
conclusion is largely reinfoq:ed by the lessons of history.

There are some, however, who contend that progress, and not
happiness, should be the predominant aim of national life ; and
according to this theory, progress is the standard by which to
test the value of the influence which a religion may have on
a nation's material condition. Thus, on this theory it might be
desirable, leaving other considerations aside for the moment, for
a nation to foster a religion that tends to promote progress,
rather thaa one that promotes happiness. The aim of national
life is supposed to be to attain a larger and more diversified
life rather than a more complete and happy life. A nation
achieves its goal when inventions are multiplied, industries
fostered, division of labor carried to its utmost limit. The
question whether all this contributes to human happiness is often
assumed and often ignored, much in the same manner as the
early economists, who clamored for freedom of industry and of
contract, did not always consider whether this would contribute
as much to the nation's happiness as it would to the nation's
wealth.

PROGRESS" VERSUS HAPPINESS.
The famous law of progress which we have from Herbert
Spencer is, that it consists of a change from an " indefinite, in-
coherent homogeneity to a definite, coherent heterogeneity." In
all this there is no ethical principle, and happiness and human
welfare, if they appear at all, are only incidentals ; just as in the
progress of the steamship from the indefinite homogeneity of
Fulton's Folly to the definite heterogeneity of the modern
Cunarder, the amount of steam required, while always a neces-
sary element, is always a subordinate one. Spencer, indeed,

*See Historical B<isis of Socialism in England^ by H. M. Hyndman.

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iSgsO Catholicism^ Protestantism, and Progress, 149

affirms that "happiness is the supreme end of life/' and that it
is " the concomitant of the highest life." * The " highest life "
to which he refers is, of course, the life which progress tends
to bring about ; the life in which not only all activities are
duly exercised, but in which there is a very large number of
activities. It is the* life of progress, of definite, coherent hetero-
geneity, of electricity, steam railways, and physical science.
But happiness is not a necessary concomitant of this life; it
may indeed have great misery as a concomitant. A genius, for
instance, may contribute to progress a labor-saving appliance
that will be productive of injury to thousands. Darwinian
ethics, of course, will tell us to console ourselves for the pres-
ent sufferings of the unfit with visions of the beatitude of pos-
terity, unmindful that if progress is to continue posterity will
have enough suffering of its own from such causes to care for.f
There is no inherent reason why happiness should be an ac-
companiment of this progress, and to infer from our railways,
our large cities with their hundreds of busy industries, our
great command over the forces of nature, that the people
among whom all these things find place must be happy, would
be much the same as if a traveller on the river Nile were to infer
the happiness of the ancient Egyptians from the number and
grandeur of their public works whose ruins remain. -It is true,
indeed, that in every society a certain quantum of happiness
must exist, but in progress only the minimum is required, or
just enough happiness to keep society in a state of stable equi-
librium.

THE IDEAS OF LUTHER AND ADAM SMITH.

It is the boast of Protestantism that it exercises an influ-
ence on national affairs conducive to progress, and that modern
progress is largely due to that influence. This claim has strong
support, and the principle of individual initiative and enterprise,
to which progress is so much indebted, may be derived by no
violent steps from the great Protestant principle of private
judgment. Matthew Arnold tells us that the maxims of the
middle class in England, '*the great representative of trade and
Dissent," are, " Every man for himself in religion, and every man
for himself in business." X From the maxim " Every man for
himself in religion," which is the gospel according to Luther, it
is but a step to the maxim " Every man for himself in busi-
ness," which is the gospel according to Adam Smith. The

* Data of Ethics^ chap. ix.

tThis consolation would remind one of the Irish peasant who during the time of the
famine is reputed to have had for his breakfast a vision of bacon.
X Culture and Anarchy^ chap. ii.

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ISO Catholicism, Protestantism, and Progress. [Nov.,

cardinal principle of Protestantism is this right of private judg-
ment. The leaders of the Reformation declared that every man
should be his own judge in spiritual matters — every man is his
own pope. In so f^r as this may mean that a man owes allegi-
ance to his own conscience, it i^ but the affirmation of a Catho-
lic doctrine. But ignoring the fact that all are not possessed
of great learning and ability, they applied the principle of in-
dividual competency to matters in which these qualifications
were called for. This was the introduction of individualism into
religious matters in modern times, and, owing to a variety of
circumstances, it found wide acceptance. After this principle
had operated for some time in religion it was gradually intro-
duced into industry. If man is a law to himself in religion,
why should he not as well be a law to himself in economic
matters ? Hence there was a gradual separation of interests,
and the rise of Protestantism is marked by the decay of the
mediaeval guilds and an accentuation of individual variations.
The strongest no longer thought that he owed his strength to
his fellow-men, but as his strength was his own, why should not
the fruits of it be his own ? As Luther gave us the principle
of private judgment in religion, so Adam Smith formulated the
principte of private interest in economics ; and the theory that
an individual should seek to promote public welfare was openly
ridiculed by him as a sham and a pretence. He taught that
men should have no motive but private interest in business
matters, and he believed it to be one of the dispensations of
Providence that this would always subserve the best interests of
society. This motive leads to many changes and variations.
Private interest continually urges men to be on the alert to
seize any advantage that may come to their notice. It has
brought about the many inventions for which our age is
famous, and has stimulated the study of the natural sciences.
Our world-wide commerce, and the vast specialization of modern
industry, are the triumphs of its operation.

THE CATHOLIC TENDENCY TOWARD ALTRUISM.

Thus we may say that Protestantism is* the religion of indi-
vidualism. We see an instance of this in the self-regarding
tendencies of its prayers. They are usually personal and indi-
vidual. The great question is, "What shall / do to be saved?"
The Catholic Church, however, lays more stress on the social
qualities. The pronoun I is in small favor with her, and does
not occur with frequency in her authorized prayers. She sets
small store by the principle of private judgment, and her con-

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I89S-] Catholicism, Protestantism, and Progress, 151

stitution, her history, and her traditions ar6 opposed to individ-
ualism. Her influence on the earth is for social well-being, and
her teaching has always been that the private interests of the
individual should be subordinate to the public welfare.

Protestantism insists on the value of individual qualities, and
the principle of individual variation may be said to be practical
Protestantism. This principle is one that is held in high esteem
in the biological sciences. It is to be remembered, however,
that in the growth of species and of nations this principle plays
only a subordinate rSle. The nations that survive are not those
which foster all individual variations, but those which foster
only such variations as are conducive to social welfare. The
principle of individualism was a characteristic feature of Grecian
life, and the mutual hatred and jealousy among the cities result-
ing from it prevented them from combining against a common
foe. Some modern writers on political philosophy* have con-
tended that the most important need for society is that the in-
dividual have entire freedom to develop his powers. When this
is pursued to its full extent it leads to the development of
individual qualities that are antagonistic to social welfare, and
it has been the cause of the ruin of nations. In all orders of
life only those individuals survive which are best fitted for the
conditions of their environment, but nature in the long run
tends to preserve only those qualities which are conducive to
the welfare of the species ; and this welfare is not always
compatible with the largest possible development of all its com-
ponent individuals. And similarly among men, while there is
need that the individual should have freedom to develop his
powers, nevertheless only those individual qualities which are
at the same time social qualities will in the end prevail.f

Without presuming to attach strict accuracy to the assertion,
we may say that in general, so far as religion does exert an
influence on society, the influence of Catholicism tends to pro-
mote the happiness of society, while the principle of Protestant-
ism is the mainspring of progress. Which, then, is more desirable
as the great aim of national life ? Which should be the pre-
dominant purpose of a nation's endeavors, to attain happiness
or to strive for progress ?

Now, happiness pursued without reference to progress natur-
ally leads to a stationary or retrogressive state. A modicum of
unhappiness is not an undesirable element in national life ; for
where there is a disposition to be satisfied with little there is

♦ See John Stuart Mill On Liberty,

t See Social Evolution^ by Benjamin Kidd, last chapter.

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152 Catholicism, Protestantism, and Progress. [Nov.,

begotten a tendency to be satisfied with less, and happiness as
a sole aim of national life leads to stagnation.

DISASTROUS INFLUENCE OF PROGRESS.
On the other hand, let us consider what are the results of
modern progress, or progress pursued without reference to hap-
piness. On this subject we have a rich literature of denuncia-
tion, from vehement and angry invectives by Carlyle to the cold
eloquence of government reports* Progress has not brought an
easier, more secure, or more desirable state of existence to the
great majority. The primary purpose of our great inventions
was not to benefit the laborer but to displace him. In the
modern competitive system we have perfectly realized the bellum
omnium contra omnes of Hobbes. Rev. Alfred Young in a late
work* adduces much startling testimony in reference to the
ignorance and debased condition of the laboring classes in Eng-
land. Marx has taken a multitude of facts from English offi-
cial reports, and has framed the strongest indictment of the
English industrial system.f Henry George tells us : "I think
no one who will open his eyes to the facts can resist the con-
clusion that there are in the heart of our civilization large
classes with whom the veriest savage could not afford to ex-
change. It is my deliberate opinion that if, standing on the
threshold of being, one were given the choice of entering life
as a Terra del Fuegan, a black fellow of Australia, an Esqui-
mau in the arctic circle, or among the lowest classes in such a
highly civilized country as Great Britain, he would make infin-
itely the better choice in selecting the lot of the savage.":j: This
progress which comes in great part from the principle of Pro-
testantism has given us the divitariat at one end of the social
scale and the proletariat at the other. It has given us the an-
archy of private opinion in religion, and the anarchy of com-
petition in industry. It is much disputed whether the laborer
is better off to-day than in mediaeval times, but it is certain
that what the laborer has gained in freedom he has lost in
security. Many of the thinkers and statesmen of the age are
profoundly dissatisfied with the existing conditions of society.
John Stuart Mill, writing in 1848, affirms that if a continuation
of the present conditions or communism were the alternative, all
the difficulties, great or small, of communism would be as dust in
the balance. Mr. Gladstone in his Budget speech of 1864, con-

* Catholic and Protestant Countries Compared.
» t See his work on Capital^ chap. x. sec. 4 ; chap. xv. sec. 8 ; and in particular the long;
chapter xxv. on •' The General Law of Capitalist Accumulation." Chap, xxvii. is a remark-
able account of the " expropriation of the agricultural classes from the land " (of England).

X Progress and Poverty^ book v. chap, ii.

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iSpsO Catholicism^ Protestantism, and Progress, 153

trasting the enormous growth of wealth in England with the
distress of the working-classes in the great towns, asks, "What
is human life in the great miajority of instances but a mere
struggle for existence?" Professor Huxley declares that if
there were no hope of permanent large improvement, he would
hail the advent of some kindly comet that would sweep us into
space. Thus progress, like Saturn, devours its own children,
and, in spite of our optimism, to this complexion does definite,
coherent heterogeneity come at last.

THE DESIDERATUM.

What we need is some principle or influence that will combine
happiness and progress, and make our progress subordinate to the
welfare of the whole people. Happiness is the great end of na-
tional life, but who is there that would not prefer the happiness
that might be found in the Greece of Pericles to the joys of any
savage life? We seek progress because motion is the law of
life, because our nature demands that we should ever be striv-
ing for a higher and more complex life. We seek progress be-
cause we are creatures of ** large discourse," because He that
made us "gave us not that capability and god-like reason to fast
in us unused." But progress dominated solely by self-interest,
as it has hitherto largely been, leads to inevitable decay and
dissolution. If progress necessarily entails suffering, it is plainly
desirable that we should have more happiness and less progress.
But we feel that there is no good reason why the fruits of
progress should not result to the benefit rather than to the
injury of mankind, and if this has not been so in the past it is
because progress has been pursued as an end in itself and
ethics have been divorced from economics. The influence of
the Catholic Church has always been exerted for social well-
being, and her influence will be most powerful in conserving the
good that comes from Protestantism, and in turning the results
of modern progress to the benefit of mankind. She teaches
the principles of social regeneration, and many of the sincere
reformers of the day are guided by her teachings, though not
conscious of it. The Catholic Church does not exist as a relic
of the past, but she exists and thrives because she is able to
cope with the problems of this age and the questions of to-day.
She retains her hold on the masses of mankind, and if progress
is to be a means of promoting human happiness and social wel-
fare, and not a cause of suffering, this result will be accomplished
in large part through the influence which her teachings are ex-
erting on society. *

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Capital and Ixaboi^.

**A consummation devoutly to be wished" — Ham LET.

N th' arena of our age they stand,
Lock'd in fierce combat. — One, of princely mold,
Besprent with gems and girt with cloth of gold ;
The other, coarsely-clad and rough of hand.
His face toil-grim'd, his stout arms bare and
tann'd.
And his stern front as his who dares the Fates: • . .
Earth, watching while her wrestlers spurn the sand,
With fear and dread the desp'rate issue waits.

Shall victory attend this glittering Knight?
Or shall the Workman triumph in his brawn ?
Not so : a Mightier comes ! The Lord of Light
Leaps to the lists — strikes — and old feuds are gone I
The Christ who toiled in Naz'reth's sweat and dust
Hath hallowed Labor — Capital made just,

ELEANOR C. DONNELLY.

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1895-] A Modern St. Francis. 155

A MODERN ST. FRANCIS.

BY THE COMTESSE DE COURSON.

^N authoress popular both in the old and in the new
world, the late Mrs. Augustus Craven, thus wrote
of Fra Lodovico da Casoria, a Neapolitan Francis-
can, with whom she was personally acquainted :
"Those who knew Fra Lodovico can understand
what must have been the heart, the soul, and the mind of St,
Francis himself."

In our busy and restless nineteenth century the history of
the Neapolitan friar reads like a legend from the "Fioretti";
yet, by a strange contrast, this simple-minded monk, so full of
blind faith and of child-like enthusiasm, was keenly alive to the
needs of the age in which he lived. If, on the one hand, he
seemed to belong to the mediaeval group of brothers who once
followed St. Francis over the fair Umbrian hills, on the other,
he appeared no less capable of filling his place in our scep-
tical, matter-of-fact age, for none grasped more thoroughly than
he did its virtues and its vices, its aspirations and its needs.

The son of poor but honest parents, Archangelo Palmen-
tieri was born in the little town of Casoria, in the kingdom of
Naples. After an innocent boyhood, he joined the Franciscan
Order and took the name of Fra Lodovico. At first nothing
seemed to distinguish him from the other religious ; he was do-
cile and regular, but showed no signs of extraordinary fervor.
Towards 1847, however, when he was at the Franciscan convent
of San Pietro ad Aram, at Naples, a great change came over
his soul. The words of the Gospel, " Be perfect as your hea-
venly Father is perfect," words often heard and often repeated
before, suddenly struck him with a new light. They became
from that time the guiding rule of his life, the object of all his
aspirations and of all his thoughts. During the thirty-eight
years that followed he never wavered or turned back in his up-
ward path ; his naturally loving heart and generous nature ex
panded as his love of God increased, and his life from that
moment is one long act of devotion to the wants of others.

The eminent sanctity to which he attained, even more than
his natural gifts, can alone explain the influence he exercised

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I $6 A Modern St. Francis.- [Nov.,

on all who approached him. He was not an educated man, he
could riot fcven speak Italian correctly, and he generally used
only the Neapolitan dialect with which he had been familiar
from his childhood. But, although ignorant and uncultivated
as regards worldly lore, he had an innate appreciation of all
that is good, great, and beautiful, even in the realms of art
and science, where he possessed no practical knowledge.

The charitable works undertaken and carried out by Fra
Lodovico were no less varied than numerous. He began by
establishing, with his superior's permission, an infirmary for the
sick religious of his order; for, strange to say, the convent of
San Pietro ad Aram did not possess one. He had often heard
his brethren lament over this state of things, but no one seems
to have had energy enough to suggest an improvement. It was
a humble beginning enough ; Fra Lodovico gave up half his
cell for the purpose, and by begging from door to door he col-
lected sufficient money to establish a small pharmacy. The
success of this first attempt encouraged the worker, and, with
renewed zeal and confidence in God, he set about his next un-
dertaking — the revival of the Third Order of St. Francis. Here
again God visibly blessed his efforts ; ere long men and women
of every condition — magistrates and workmen, princesses and
peasants — enrolled themselves under the banner of the Seraphic
Father, as his children lovingly call him. In less than two
years the Third Order numbered four hundred new members of
both sexes. Fra Lodovico went from town to town, generally
on foot, explaining in his simple, earnest way the advantages of
an institution to which St. Louis, King of France, Dante, Giotto,
and Columbus were proud of belonging. To those who ques-
tioned him as to his mission, " I am a poor friar, Lodovico da
Casoria," he used to reply ; " my business is to draw Christians
to perfection and to enroll them, if they wish it, in the Third
Order of St. Francis."

Among his tertiaries he selected a certain number who,
though laymen, were free of their time and willing to de-
vote themselves to charitable works. He gave them a kind of
religious habit, of a grayish color. ** I like gray," Fra Lodovico
used to say cheerfully ; " it reminds me of death and gives me
thoughts of humility and penance."

The Bigi, as these tertiaries were generally called, were Fra
Lodovico's trustiest helpers, both in the prisons and ^hospitals
of Naples, and later on the African missions. Thus, in 1861,
twenty-seven Franciscan friars set sail for the dark continent,

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i89S-] A Modern St. Francis. 157

accompanied by five Bigi — a laborer, a shoemaker, and three
carpenters; the following year they were joined by others.

By degrees Fra Lodovico's sphere of action extended ; by
dint of begging he collected enough money to buy, near Capo-
dimonte, a house with a large garden in which stood a splendid
palm-tree. In this property, which was called Palma, he estab-
lished a large infirmary destined especially for priests. The
house, though well situated and healthy, was terribly poor, much
to Lodovico's delight, for he shared his founder's chivalrous de-
votion ta " Our Lady Poverty." He related triumphantly how
the father-general of the Franciscans, having once visited Palma,
was obliged to sleep on the bare floor with Fra Lodovico's
cloak as a pillow!

The object of his next work was the salvation of the negroes ;
one day, as he was passing through the streets of Naples, and
praying God secretly* to give him something more to do for his
fellow- creatures, he met two little negro boys, whom a holy
priest from Genoa, named Olivieri, had just bought in a slave
market in Egypt. Fra Lodovico begged to have the boys sent
to Palma; he devoted himself to training and instructing them,
and was delighted with their progress. " What good soil I have
to cultivate ! ** he writes, alluding to the happy dispositions of
his little neophytes. His success encouraged him to extend his
work ; he remembered too how his father, St. Francis, had loved
Africa and longed for its conversion, and he determined with
God's help to do his best for the negroes. In April, 1857, he
sailed for Egypt, and, with the assistance of King Ferdinand of
Naples, whom he had interested in his mission, he was able to
buy twelve negro boys, whom he brought back to Palma. The
good priest Olivieri, from whose hands he had received his first
pupils, lent him his cordial assistance, and in the course of the
following year, 1858, a college for negroes was founded at Naples
under the direction of the Franciscans. The course of studies
of this college was drawn up in view of the negro pupils and
their special needs. They were either trained for the priesthood
or taught a trade, according to their own desire and aptitude ;
in any case, both as priests or as laymen, they were formed to
habits of solid piety, and all were eventually intended to return
to Africa and there to labor for the conversion of their coun-
trymen by their teaching and their example. " Africa will be
converted by Africa," often said Fra Lodovico.

A similar institution for little black girls was founded soon
afterwards and placed under the care of the Stimatine nuns.

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iS8 A Modern St. Francis. [Nov.,

The ragged children of Naples excited our good friar's com-
passion no less than the negroes of Africa ; it has been said,
probably with some exaggeration, that there were at that time
fifty thousand vagabond children in the streets and suburbs of
Naples. He resolved to provide them with a Christian educa-
tion and to make them useful men and women. It is charac-
teristic of Fra Lodovico that he began by giving his proUgis
a thorough washing, for this ardent lover of poverty was
scrupulously clean. Two years later schools for boys and girls
had been opened, and over one thousand little waifs had been
withdrawn from idleness and its attendant temptations. Out of
these three hundred were orphans, and were placed by their
benefactor in schools and convents ; the others continued to live
with their parents, but Fra Lodovico undertook to clothe them
and to have them taught carpentering, book-binding, printing,
and other trades.

Although he was unskilled in worldly knowledge, our hero
had a singular power of treating questions which were appar-
ently far beyond his grasp. His simplicity often recalled the
monks of mediaeval times and reminded his hearers of the com-
panions of St. Francis, with whom the " Fioretti " have made
us familiar ; nevertheless he was well abreast of all modern
progress and improvements, keenly alive to the needs of his
time, eager for its intellectual development. The contrast
between these different aspects of his character gave him an
individuality all his own.

He considered it a duty for Catholics to be thoroughly
armed against the attacks of rationalistic science and philoso-
phy. " At a time like ours,*' he wrote, " priests and religious
must not bury their talents " ; and, with this object in view, he
founded at Naples a Catholic academy, and appealed to all
Italians, priests and laymen, to help in the work. In conse-
quence of local difficulties the Academia was eventually sup-
pressed. Fra Lodovico bore the disappointment with his usual
cheerful resignation. " God has shown us that he does not wish
us to do this work," he said; "he will send us something else
to do instead and allow us to succeed.*'

The monthly review which he established at the same time
as the Academia is still flourishing. It was called La Carita^ and
its object, in our hero's own words, was to distribute to men
"the bread of science," no less necessary in its way than the
bread that feeds the body. The writers of the Carita were
fnen competent to discuss all the philosophical [and scientific

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i895-] A Modern St. Francis. 159

questions of the day; they possessed a knowledge and a cul-
ture that were wanting in the illiterate monk whose voice had
gathered them together, yet one and all recognized his master-
mind and listened, with touching deference, to his ideas and
suggestions.

Inspired by the same desire to promote the intellectual
development of the higher classes, Fra Lodovico bought the
palace of the dukes of Atria and founded a college for boys
of good family. Its success far surpassed his hopes ; but, after
having placed the institution in the hands of a body of priests
well qualified to direct it, our hero retired from the scene ;
only now and. then he used to come to chat with the boys,
with whom his cheerful piety made him very popular, but
none could guess that the humble friar, so gentle and unassum-
ing, was the real founder of the college.

No kind of work seemed to come amiss to him : he founded
an order of nuns, the Elisabethines, Franciscan tertiaries, who
were to take care of the sick poor and assist the dying. Three
years later he established an orphanage at Florence. As usual
he began without a penny. "Is your house furnished?" asked
the Archbishop of Florence, with whom he was dining. "No,
my lord." " How, then, will your orphans sleep there to-night ? "
** Providence has helped me to begin. Providence will help me
to go on," was the reply.

On leaving the palace our hero went from door to door,
begging for bits of old furniture, a few pots and pans, or even
a little straw. By degrees the work developed ; to an elemen-
tary school for infants were added work-shops where printing,
tailoring, carpentering, and other trades were taught to the
orphan boys. This was not Fra Lodovico's only work at Flor-
ence. He also built a church in honor of the Sacred Heart,
and, marvellous to relate, this church was begun and completed
in the course of one year.

At Assisi, the birthplace of his beloved founder, our hero
established an asylum for deaf and dumb children. At first he
had scanty means to carry on the work. " No one has given
me anything as yet," he wrote ; " all the better ; this only shows
me that .our work is' the work of Providence and that we shall
want for nothing." The present Pope, Leo XIII., was then
Archbishop of Perugia ; he entrusted two . little mutes belonging
to his diocese to Fra Lodovico, but wondered at the founder's
extreme poverty. " How will you provide for your children ? "
he inquired. " Providence is there," was the reply. " O man

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i6o A Modern St, Francis. [Nov.,

of faith ! " exclaimed the archbishop ; " yes, indeed, I feel cer-
tain that Providence will assist you."

In addition to these different works, the unwearied apostle
founded a refuge for destitute sailors and a hospital for scrofu-
lous children at Pausilippo, near Naples; a Franciscan convent
in his native Casori^; and a hospital for women at Monte
Corvino. One of his last works was of a different order and
reveals the artistic and patriotic side of his character. His filial
love for St. Francis had long made him wish to raise a monu-
ment worthy of the saint. He wished this monument to be
placed at or near Naples, and to be a perpetual memorial of
the influence exercised by the Seraphic Father iover the intellec-
tual development of his countrymen. The work was executed
under his direction, at the cost of great difficulties ; it repre-
sented the saint of Assisi surrounded by three great Italian
tertiaries : Dante, who proudly boasted of the Franciscan cord
that he always wore ; Giotto, the glorious painter of the sanctu-
aries of Assisi'; and Columbus, who was received into the third
order by the Franciscan prior of Santa Maria della Rabida.

The monument was inaugurated at Pausilippo on the 3d day
of October, 1883, amidst art immense concourse of spectators.
The Archbishop of Naples was present, with several bishops,
numberless priests and monks, besides laymen of every condi-
tion, princes, military men, members of the government, peasants,
and workmen. The ceremony was, at Fra Lodovico's special
request, followed by a banquet, where five thousand poor peo-
ple were waited upon at table by the prelates and noblemen
present ; it was fitting that the humble clients of " our dear
Lady Poverty" should be represented at this glorious festival.

The manner in which our hero carried out his charitable
works is perhaps more striking even than the- number and
variety of those works themselves. As Mrs. Craven rightly
observes, he had many traits of resemblance with his father St.
Francis ; his simplicity, his kindness, his love of poverty, his
artistic instincts and poetic temperament, recalled the Saint of
Assisi ; certain incidents of his life seem taken from the " Fior-
etti."

St. Francis was a musician and a poet, -and his contempor-
aries speak with enthusiasm of the hymns of which he torn-
posed both the music and the poetry; they breathe throughout
a humble, loving, joyous spirit, such as breaks forth in all Fra
Lodovico's writings. His letter to death reminds us forcibly of
the Seraphic Father's well-known hymn, the Alleluia of Assisi,.

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1895.] A Modern St. Francis. 161

as it is generally called : " O Death ! my dearest sister, every one
flies from thee, no one loves thee ; every one fears thee, no
one speaks of thee." Thy very name alarms both the great and
the humble, the young and the old. . . . Like my Seraphic
Father, I venture to call thee my dearest sister, because in real-
ity thou art not death but life eternal, a sweet sleep for those
who believe and who long for divine light. Only through thee.
Sister Death, can we reach God."

No translation can render the singular charm of this letter
to Death in the soft Italian tongue.

Like St. Francis also, our hero considered music as a m^ans
of drawing souls to God ; he had never learnt it as a science,
but he was evidently a born musician. Among his favorite
disciples was a young man named Parisi, the son of Gennaro
Parisi, a well-known composer. Both father and son belonged
to the Third Order of St. Francis and were warmly attached to
Fra Lodovico. When, according to his expression, the latter
heard music in his soul, he used to sing, following only his in-
spiration, while young Parisi either tried to catch the tune on
the piano or else wrote down a few notes on paper. When
this was done, the artist repeated the melody which he had
thus gathered from the lips of the good monk and written down
according to the canons of art. Sometimes Fra Lodovico was
satisfied ; at other times he would exclaim : " No, no, I did
not mean that ! " and he began to sing again, until Parisi suc-
ceeded in rendering his impression correctly. Thus guided
and inspired by his friend, who yet possessed neither the
knowledge nor the culture of an artist, Parisi composed a
number of oratorios and hymns which were successfuliy exe-
cuted at Naples, generally for the benefit of one or other of
Fra Lodavico's charitable institutions.

In spite of the strain of poetry that lent so great a charm
to his character, our hero was thoroughly practical in his under-
takings ; the greater part of his life was spent, not indeed in
poetical or mystical contemplations, but in a hand-to-hand
struggle with human misery. He was essentially matter-of-fact
in his dealings with the poor : " If you exhort a sick man lying
on a bed of straw to go to confession, he will be too much
absorbed by his sufferings to listen to you ; lay him on a good
bed, with clean sheets, change his linen, give him a cup of
broth, and he will revive. Then you may speak to him of God,
of Jesus Christ; he will go to confession and bless God.**

Another characteristic trait of Fra Lodovico was his blind

VOL. LXII.— 1 1

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1 62 A Modern St. Francis. [Nov.,

trust in Providence. Over and over again he was asked, when
he started a new work: "Where is the money to come from?"
His reply was always the same : " Providence will give it to
us." Sometimes Providence came to his assistance in a truly
marvellous manner. Once he was travelling on foot from the
town of Maddaloni to Naples; he had eaten nothing for thirty-
four hours and at last, from sheer exhaustion, he sank down on
the road-side. No one was in sight ; suddenly he perceived
close at hand a large loaf of bread and a tempting cheese, pf
the kind called in the country "provatura." He partook of
both, blessing God for his fatherly care. He often related this
incident, not indeed as a miracle but as an example of God's
tender care for his children. Another time, in 1873, it happened
that the institutions founded at Naples by Fra Lodovico were,
owing to an imprudent act on the part of one of the brothers,
about to be closed by the Italian government. In the midst of
his distress he remembered that ten years before, much to his
surprise. King Victor Emmanuel had made him a knight of the
Order of St. Michael and St. Lazarus. A bright idea struck
him : he hunted up the document that had been sent to him on
that occasion, collected all the letters that he had received at
different times from government officials acknowledging his
services, and, having made a packet of the whole, he went to
pay a round of visits to different members of the government.
To each one he exhibited his papers. " You see," he said, " I
am not an enemy of the government, but only a friend of the
poor " ; and all along the streets he kept repeating to himself :
" Good Providence, I will not go home until I have got over
this difficulty and saved my poor." Providence did not abandon
him ; the Duke of San Donato, whom he went to see, warmly
pleaded his cause and finally gained it. Our hero's loving con-
fidence in God was frequently put to the test, for, like all men
who attempt and execute great things, he was frequently
attacked and criticised with much acrimony and violence. The
Italian government, men of the world, even priests and religious,
occasionally accused him of imprudence, exaggeration, or undue
enthusiasm. He bore these attacks with touching meekness ; in
1874 some religious of his order sent a report against him to
the father-general, who showed the paper to Fra Lodovico
and requested him to refute it ; his reply breathes a spirit of
humility that must have gone straight to the heart of St.
Francis. "I do not think," he writes, "that these accusations
proceed from malice, but rather from ignorance of the real state

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1895.] A ^Modern St. Francis. 163

of the case. I love my dear brethren more than ever." He
used o£ten to say that "without sufferings nothing is safe,"
that " suffering is the seal that God sets upon the works he
considers his own."

In spite, however, of the attacks to which he was exposed
occasionally, Fra Lodovico enjoyed, on the whole, an extraor-
dinary influence in Naples and even in Italy. Among men of
every condition and character, with his simplicity, his forgetful-
ness of self, his tender love for his fellow-men, he passed
through political and social catastrophes beloved and respected
by all.

When Ferdinand II. lay dangerously ill at Bari, the queen
and her children were anxious to remove him to Caserta, where
the situation and arrangements of the palace gave him a better
chance of recovery. The king, however, obstinately refused to
let himself be removed, and the queen, in despair, had recourse
to Fra Lodovico. He came to see Ferdinand, and after speak-
ing to him with his usual simplicity and charity, he said : " Till
now, sire, you have acted like a king ; now you must become a
little child and obey St. Francis. I am only a poor brother of
St. Francis, but I declare to you, in his name, that you must
remove to Caserta and take better care of your health." " Very
well," replied the sovereign, " I will obey the son of St. Francis."
And the next day he left for Caserta.

Fra Lodovico had a deep affection for Ferdinand II. and
for his son. King Francis ; both had been the generous benefac-
tors of his first foundations, and the revolution of i860, that
drove the young king into exile, cut him to the heart. His first
impulse was to fly from Naples, to abandon his different works
and bury himself in some distant -convent of his order. Before
acting upon this impression he consulted Pope Pius IX. ** Son
of St. Francis," replied the pope, " return to Naples, throw your-
self into the fight ; make use of your enemies in order to do
good, and you will please God."

He obeyed and continued to serve God and the poor, shut-
ting his eyes resolutely to all political intrigues. When the in-
terests of God required it, he knocked at the palace door as in
old times. "I am come to see King Victor Emmanuel," he
used to say to the astonished porter ; " will you please tell him
that Fra Lodovico would be glad to speak to him?" He was
seldom refused an audience, and he generally obtained what he
came to ask for.

The Archbishop of Naples, Cardinal Riario Sforza, was our

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i64 A Modern St, Francis. [Nov.,

hero's warm friend. The two were very different ; the one of
noble birth, refined, aristocratic, and dignified in manners and
appearance ; the other, a son of the people, uncultivated and
illiterate ; but they possessed in an equal degree that which
bridges over all social differences — an ardent love of God and of
the poor.

The cardinal died in 1877, to Fra Lodovico's intense grief.
" O Jesus ! what hast thou done ? " he writes ; " who can- ever
replace him ? . . . My faith tells me that he was a saint
and that thou didst desire, 'O Jesus ! to reward his virtues."

Our hero's best friends were the poor, the sick, the weak
and little ones of this world ; but if chance circumstances brought
him into contact with illustrious personages he was just as simple,
cordial, and cheerful as among his negro boys.

During his mission to Africa he found himself on one occa-
sion stranded on the banks of the Nile, looking out for a boat
to take him back to Cairo. A magnificent steamer, belonging
to Prince Anthony HohenzoUern, happened to pass by, and the
prince, hearing of the good friar's embarrassment, offered to take
him on board. The offer was gratefully accepted, and Fra Lo-
dovico was welcomed with the utmost deference by his noble
host. He took the honors paid to him with his usual simplicity ;
alluding to this incident he writes: "If we are told to accept
humiliations, why should we not also accept honors when they
come in our way ? Believe me, when the soul is closely united
to God, both are good ; without God everything does us harm,
with God everything may do us good."

This was the secret of his holiness ; he had attained to such
a degree of union with God that the things of this world seemed
powerless to trouble the peace and purity of his soul.

The present Pope, Leo XIII., treated our hero with constant
kindness ; he often received him in his private study, conversed
with him as with a familiar friend, and, speaking of him to
Cardinal Alimonda, he once exclaimed, with a ring of tenderness
in his voice : " O Fra Lodovico ! he is indeed my friend."

The fact that among his friends were men of every rank
and opinion, princes, peasants, priests, laymen, religious, and
free-thinkers, poets and politicians, magistrates and artists, proves
his extraordinary power of sympathy. Cantti, the celebrated
critic, gloried in his friendship ; Augusto Conti, another writer,
says that " he was another St. Francis ; . . . which of the
great personages of our day," he adds, " is really greater than
the poor brother of Casoria?" Count Campello, brother-in-law

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iSgsO ^ Modern St. Francis, 165

to Cardinal Bonaparte, often observed : " He is the holiest man
I ever knew." " He took the world as it is," says another, " only
trying to make it as good as possible." He was never gloomy
or despondent in his way of judging men, and never violent,
bitter, or querulous. He appeared as much to his advantage
among the rich as among the poor, in an assembly of religious,
in a group of politicians, or in a consistory of cardinals ; always
simple, kind, and gentle.

To this sunny temper, which made him inclined to look up-
on the world with indulgent eyes, Fra Lodovico united a love
of suffering, which is in itself alone a mark of holiness. Always
ready to relieve the miseries of others, he bore his own with joy
and gratitude. For many months before his death he suffered
from a painful internal malady. He knew that the disease was
mortal, but as long as human strength could hold out he went
about his work in his old, cheerful way. In the spring of 1885
he was asked to visit an English lady, Mrs. Montgomery, who
lay dangerously ill. "You will be cured," he said to her, "but
I am going away; my mission is accomplished." On the 2d of
March of the same year he visited the different institutions he
had founded in Naples ; he spoke kindly ^s usual to the nuns,
the Bigi, the orphans, to whom he was a father ; only once he
was heard to murmur " I shall never come back here."

About the same time he wrote to King Humbert as simply
as he had formerly knocked at the palace door to visit King
Victor Emmanuel. " Sire," he said, " a poor son of St. Francis
begs your Majesty to set Pope Leo XHI. free ; . . . show
yourself the worthy heir of so many holy persons. . . .
Leave Rome to the pope. . . ."

At last the end came, and, like a laborer who has faithfully
finished his task, Fra Lodovico lay down to die. He bore his
excruciating sufferings without a murmur. " Jesus must be loved
on the cross," he often repeated ; " if he is not loved on the
cross, he is not really loved." " I am on the cross," he added,
"** and both my soul and my body are well."

On Palm Sunday, March 29, 1885, he received Holy Com-
munion, and divided between the Bigi present a palm-branch
which he held in his hand. The next day, at an early hour, he
again received the Blessed Eucharist and blessed the disciples
who were kneeling around his bed. Then, with a gesture fami-
liar to him in life, he threw back his head and looked straight
upwards towards heaven ; gently his head dropped forward and
his spirit passed away. It was seven in the morning, and the

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i66 A Modern St. Francis. [Nov.

radiant sun of an Italian spring morning flooded the poor cell
with its golden light, a sign and symbol of the heavenly glory
into which the pure spirit had winged its flight.

Fra Lodovico*s body was laid out in the chapel of the hos-
pital of Pausilippo, where he died ; the inhabitants of Naples
came in thousands to take leave of their best friend and, with
the demonstrative devotion of their race, they cut off pieces of
his habit as relics. As he lay there so calm and still, with his
poor tunic all torn and tattered, he reminded those present of
the figure of Poverty, painted by Giotto, in the Basilica of
Assisi.

On the 31st of March, 1885, he was carried to the cemetery
of Naples amidst an extraordinary concourse of people. The
Bigi bore the coffin ; they were surrounded by those for whom
the dead friar had spent his life — the negroes, the orphans, the
pupils of the noble college, the nuns, and the poor. Then came
the deputies, magistrates, and political characters of the city,
many of them openly irreligious, but all united in a common
bond of reverence for him whose loving heart had conquered
animosities and prejudice.

The windows and balconies were lined with spectators ; many
tears were shed. " Our friend has gone to heaven," sobbed a
workman, "but he will surely continue to help us, he loved us
so much ! "

Two years later the Bigi obtained leave to take up their
founder's body, and to bury it in the chapel of the hospital at
Pausilippo, where it now rests. Documents are being collected
wherein the many graces attributed to Fra Lodovico's inter-
cession are carefully recorded, and it is hoped that they may
serve at some future time to bring about the canonization of
him whom popular devotion has already surnamed the modern
St. Francis.

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The Last Glimpse of Erin — Moville.

DAWDLINGS IN DONEGAL

BY MARGUERITE MOORE.
THE GREEN LADY OF DONEGAL.

lR, beautiful Donegal ! saint-blessed, landlord-

ursed dark Dun na gal) ! how boldly picturesque

ts green headlands seem from the deck of the

Vnchor liner which bears the exile home. Tory

_sland, first land sighted by vessels bound for the

North of Ireland, the Bloody Foreland, Fannet Point, Innis-

trahull, hoary Malin, picturesque Shrove are passed, each well

remembered landmark being hailed with delight, while strangers

note the odd effect produced by the small mountain holdings

cut into patches of potatoes, corn, turnips, each a different

shade of green if it be the spring-time, of russet and gold in

the autumn.

Off Innishowen the pilot climbs on board and Lough Foyle
is entered, all looking towards the Antrim coast, where in clear
weather the basaltic pillars of the famous Giant's Causeway can
be seen. Country residences dot the' Donegal shore, white-
washed cabins gleam brightly in the sunshine.

The fort at Greencastle passed, the anchor rattles overboard.

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i68 Da wdlings in Donegal. [Nov.,

to the boom of a gun, opposite Moville, a charming watering
place. Throughout the summer days the " Green " is crowded
with holiday-makers, who wave welcome to the voyagers-
Passengers for Irish soil are transferred to the " tender " for
Londonderry, sixteen miles distant. As the tug steams through
the historic waters of the Foyle travellers familiar with the
scene eagerly point out places of interest. They show where, at
the siege of Derry, King James's men placed a boom across the
river to prevent English ships from bringing provisions to the
besieged. The handsome mansion amid the trees is " Boom
Hall."

Pointing to a leaf-embowered village, a man laughingly tells
how in bygone years its police sergeant made the following
entry in the day-book : " Every policeman in this barrack at-
tended divine service this morning with the exception of Daniel
O'Hara, who went to Mass."

The City of Londonderry is sandwiched into the County
Donegal in the oddest fashion, its own county being altogether
on the opposite side of the Foyle, along which it stretches to
the town of Coleraine, where Kitty stumbled with her pitcher of
buttermilk. Here the River Bann divides it from the County
Antrim.

The Maiden City, as Londonderry is called by her admirers,
is surrounded by a wall some twenty feet thick, having on top a
broad, pleasant walk from which delightful views of the sur-
rounding country may be obtained. On it stands a monument
to Governor Walker, defender of the town during the siege.
Twice every year the " Society of Apprentice Boys " — founded
in memory of the thirteen apprentices who closed the gates
and insisted on defending the city — assembles here to hang in
effigy Lundy, the governor who attempted to surrender without
a struggle. Outside the walls, surrounding them as did King
James's army, and with no more friendly feeling to the Orange-
men, is the large portion of the city known as the Bogside, the
population of which is Irish and Catholic to a man.

As Catholics are in the ascendency throughout Donegal, reli-
gious rancor is not so rife as in others of the Ulster counties.
Of course now and then a little bitter spirit crops up where-
ever Orangemen can muster sufficient strength to blpw fifes and
beat drums on the I2th of July, or other anniversary of the
times when two foreign princes fought on Irish soil for -the
crown of England. The teachings of the Land League did
much to do away with bigotry. The Catholic, Protestant, or

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i89S-] Dawdlings IN Donegal. 169

Presbyterian tenant farmer were equally oppressed ; banded
together for a common cause, they learned to know each other
and understood the policy which kept them separate. The
lesson of union was not easily learned at the first. The twining
together of the green and orange as the Land League emblem
was very hard on some good men who were always ready to
fight for their religion ; often more ready to fight for it than
to practise it. I remember once, on the 4th of July, I was driv-
ing to a meeting in Donegal ; we passed a roadside garden
where orange lilies grew with a profusion to excite suspicion as
to the tenets of the cultivator. Addressing the driver, I said :
*' Give the reins to me, John, and go into that garden for lilies to
decorate the horse's head ! " John looked at me reproachfully
for a mocnent, then emphatically declared : " With all due re-
spect to you, ma'am. Til be if I do ! Why, tlje horses

wouldn't travel with them on." We drove away without the
lilies.

Londonderry is the starting point for a tour through
Donegal, and many routes offer themselves for choice. A
favorite one is by the Buncrana and Lough Swilly Railroad to
Fahan, a lovely cliff-sheltered village on the Innishowen banks
of Lough Swilly. A small steamer plies across to Rath-
mullen, another delightful summer resort which catches all the
sunshine going, no matter what the season. Looking from the
side of the little craft, on6 cannot fail to observe the peculiarity
of the waters over which we are moving. The clear blue sur-
face is as a mirror in which pass shadow-pictures of wondrous
beauty. Long ago this was noted by the poetic and observant
Irish, who gave to it a name signifying Lake of Shadows. The
tourist will not leave the boat at RathmuUen, as on summer
evenings the sail to Ramelton is preferable to driving along the
dusty road. The waters now narrow and grow shallow, trees
lining the banks meet overhead, soft breezes rustle the leaves,
birds sing in the branches, the odor of the hawthorn falls
sweetly on the nostrils, all grows' dim, mysterious, poetical, the
past fades from view, the intoxicating delight of the present is
sufficient ! On, on ! as in a dream, till a bump, a rush, the
clatter of chains, and calls for ropes announce arrival at
Ramelton, a neat little town which has done much for the
heads and minds of New-Yorkers, for Knox the hatter and
Robert Bonner were both born here ; one covered heads and the
other lined them. Donegal has not forgotten the soul's needs
either, for at Letterkenny was born the Rev. Charles McCready,

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I70 Dawdlings IN Donegal. [Nov.,

of Holy Cross parish, New York. At Garton, near Letterkenny,
was born, in 521, the great St. Columb, the church-builder, the
poet, and the prophet. The place of the saint's birth is marked
by a large flat stone, said to possess a spell potent to prevent

A Gate in '•Derry's Walls.'

nostalgia in those who lie on it the night previous to depar-
ture into exile. It accords well with one's ideas of the dear
saint's gentle, sympathetic character, that he who had suffered
so much in absence from his native land should endeavor to

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i89S-] Dawdlings in Donegal. 171

assuage the pangs of others whom he, through his gift of pro-
phecy, foresaw should in centuries to come be driven from the
Ireland that he loved.

Every tourist visits Gweedore; it is a long drive from
Letterkenny, but the roads are good, the scenerj' varied, at
times savagely grand, at others cold, bare, dreary. The people
are courteous and good-natured, and the journey can, in fact
should, be broken at Dunfanaghy, besides taking a short rest at
Creeslough. There are two odd mountains in those regions.
One, black and barren, is called " Muckish," the Pig, from its
resemblance in form to that animal. There is always a dark,
threatening look about Muckish, and the storm-cloud rides often
on its back. Errigal is different ; white and pointed, seen in the
gloaming it suggests an Egyptian pyramid. On the summit is
a quarry of sand valuable in the manufacture of the finest glass-
ware. It is rare, much being imported from Germany. Many
years ago some English capitalists discovered the existence of
the deposit on Errigal and opened negotiations for the working
of it. This would result in the giving of employment in a
district where such was badly needed. From Dunfanaghy
sailing vessels or steamers would be freighted for Irish, English,
French, and Belgian ports. Landlord greed stood in the way,
refused to grant a lease, without which capitalists would not
invest their money, and the project fell through. The sand is
still unutilized, and the laborer must seek on English and Scotch
harvest-fields means for paying rent which he cannot take from
the land on which it is levied.

Close by Dunfanaghy, at Horn Head, is McSwine's gun,
which boomed across the water for centuries before the inven-
tion of gunpowder. The wild sea running underground leaps
upward through a funnel-shaped cavity in the rocks with a thun-
drous noise heard far out to sea like the booming of a gun,
loudest at the approach of a storm. It is said the gun no longer
sounds with its old-time vigor; drifting sand is filling up the
cave, and the end will be silence.

At Gweedore the late Lord George Hill built a very hand-
some hotel for the accommodation of tourists and anglers. Dur-
ing the land troubles of 1 880-1-2 this hostelry was severely boy-
cotted, the servants left, no self-respecting driver would rein in
his horse before its gates, grass grew in the once trim paths,
and gloom was over the whole building, though not of as deep
a nature as that which overshadowed the homes of the peas-
antry.

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172 Dawdlings IN Donegal. [Nov.,

In the early part of June, i88i, a bailiff, serving notices of
eviction on the Hill estate at Gweedore and Bunbeg, was set
upon by some women who pelted both him and his police es-
cort with " sods " of turf ! At once double-leaded head-lines in
the English and Tory papers announced " Awful outrages at
Gweedore ! " etc. A company of soldiers were hurried thither
from Belfast, extra police were sent from everywhere, and a
gunboat anchored in the bay kept its one heavy gun trained
upon — the bog !

The people of Gweedore had not a great deal of food for
themselves, and absolutely refused to sell anything to the invad-
ers, who were in imminent danger of starvation when the army
service corps arrived with ambulances full of provisions.

One July evening two ladies drove up to the Gweedore
Hotel. They came from Dungloe, where no one warned them of
the state of things farther on, and as they neared their journey's
end visions of elaborate " high tea/* with cream, eggs, ham, golden
butter, and green cress, fragrant strawberries, hot "scones,** and
other creature comforts, cheered them into forgetfulness of
fatigue, Alas ! for the reality. The gates were closed, the lamps
unlit, larder almost empty ; no bread, no tea, no sugar, the pres-
ence of eggs doubtful ; potatoes, bacon rashers, and turf sole
certainties. The ladies were weary, hungry, tearful. Fortunately
for them, a dear little red-haired, freckle-faced sub-inspector of
police, named Davis, arrived on the scene of inaction in time to
hear the doleful tale. Bravely the wee man buckled on his
sword, summoned a guard, and started for Bunbeg, whence he
returned in an ambulance with two loaves of bread, sugar, tea,
soap, and other supplies.

In those days Father McFadden, the parish priest, kept open
house and entertained guests from all over the world — men and
women who came " to see for themselves,'* journalists, members
of Parliament, artists, etc.

The little church at Gweedore stands a monument to two
awful tragedies. The first the drowning within its walls of five
victims in August, 1880; later the attempt by District-Inspector
Martin to arrest the Rev. Father McFadden as he came from
celebrating the holy Mass, still wearing his priestly garments. A
stone thrown by one of the crowd, furious at the insult offered
his beloved pastor, killed Martin, to the great sorrow of the
priest, who would willingly have sacrificed his own life to save
that of the wretched man who provoked the conflict.

When question arose of building a church for Gweedore, the

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i89S-] Dawdlings in Donegal. 173

then lord of the soil would give no site but one in a- miniature
glen, amid two steep hills, through which ran a brawling stream.
Here the church was built, the stream ran underneath the sane-
tuary, its now subdued murmur sounding like a never-ending
h)rmn of praise. The church, cruciform in shape, had a heavy
oaken door in each arm of the cross. In such a hollow lay the
church there was no hint of its existence in the landscape; it.
came as a surprise when you stood on the hill above it.

The Feast of the Assumption, August 15, 1880, the church
was thronged with worshippers who had braved the heavily
falling rain in order to honor Our Lady's feast. At the Com-
munion the sanctuary rails had been twice filled and vacated ;

A Typical Donegal Landscape.

for the third time Father McFadden was going around, ciborium
in hand. The darkness had grown intense, rain beat furiously
against the window-panes, almost drowning the voice of the
priest — Animatn tuam in vitam ceternam / — crash ! the heavy
door gave way before the raging torrent, which filled the church.
Wild cries and prayers for mercy, heroic attempts at saving life
— a clinging to the altar, to the windows, one of which Father
McFadden reached with the sacred vessels, frenzied hands
clutched the rope from which hung the sanctuary lamp ! In less
time than it takes to relate all was over. The second door
gave way, and the mighty torrent rushed on to the sea, while
five souls passed before the judgment seat. Three corpses were
found in the bed of the stream, two lay in the pews where they
had so lately prayed. Rocks were blasted and the course of

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174 Dawdlings IN Donegal. [Nov.,

the waters changed, but the memory of the awful scene will
long linger in Gweedore.

The poverty here is extreme, the land cold and unproduc-
tive. The damp sea breezes are apt to blast the crops even in
favored localities, yet with all their discouragement the people
are industrious. Yearly the able-bodied men and women cross
to Scotland and England to earn the rent in the harvest-fields
of those countries. The women knit, weave, spin. The men
fish, cut turf, break stones for road-mending. They are chari-
table ; though it is little they have to give — a handful of Indian
meal, two or three potatoes, a night's lodging! — ^they give it
cheerfully. The term beggar is never used in Donegal — ^a " tra-
velling man " or ** woman " is the correct euphemism.

Of all the Ulster counties Donegal is the most interesting
for its history, scenery, and variety of population. It has always
been regarded as a thorn in the side of loyal Protestant Ulster ;
something it would be pleasant to get rid of, to have added up
in the census of another province ; for Donegal statistics give
the lie to so many cherished vaunts of the average Ulster drum-
whacker. " Ulster is flourishing and prosperous ! " " What about
the returns from Donegal ? " " Ulster has tenant-right and is con-
tented!" **What about Donegal's landlords — Leitrim, Adair,
McNeill, Olphert, Hill, etc.? ** Then Donegal is Catholic, loving
the memory of her saints, revering the lore of her ancient mas-
ters. In many parts of Donegal the tongue in which bards
chanted and sages squabbled, when an Irish king held court at
Tara, is still the tongue of the people.

In all its bitter poverty education is coveted throughout
Donegal. The school-houses are well filled, the Natipnal teach-
ers are exceptionally bright and deeply read. From their classes
many a pupil has come to win in this broad land the indepen-
dence and position denied to them at home. The names of
Higgins of Shrove, McColgan of Culdaff, McDevitt of Killy-
begs, and numerous others are loved and revered in many house-
holds, the heads of which owe everything to the self-abnegation
of their patient teachers.

There are many varieties of race in Donegal. In Innishowen,
a peninsula lying between Lough Foyle and Lough Swilly, one
finds on the shores of the Foyle from Shrove Head to Moville
mannerisms, features, and broad accents that are distinctly
Scotch.

An early acquaintance with the works of Sir Walter Scott
and Robert Burns aids the comprehension of such words and

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1 895-] Dawdlings in Donegal. 175

phrases as linty unco sib, ganging to the moss for peat, greeting
sair, the gloamings the loaming^ ze/^f^^-bushes, Wa:^-berries, weanSy
ye'lmsj wee cuddie, peait-reek, sark, and a long list of Scotch
terms in common use. Where this dialect exists high cheek
bones, prominent teeth, freckles, and general coarseness destroy
all pretensions to beauty. In farther you meet the country of
the O'Donnells ; the land has nearly all passed from the ancient
race, but the name is well represented still. Here the Irish
language is spoken as well as around Dunfanaghy, Falearragh,
Gweedore, Kilcar, Killybegs, and all around the coast the peo-
ple, men and women, are handsome and well built.

The inhabitants of Donegal are industrious and do not
seem discouraged by the poor prices paid for their labor.
There are two or three factories for the manufacture of shirts
and underwear in Londonderry. Their agents in all small
towns give • out the work to the country girls, who bring it
home. During the long summer days and winter evenings
three, four, or five girls meet together to s^w. In winter they
thus economize on light and fuel, and the nimble fingers fly
faster for the company. On dark nights the mountain sides
are aglow with star-like beams from cabin windows behind
which the sewing-circle sit far into the wee sma' hours. It
takes an expert two weeks of constant work to finish a dozen
of shirts. For this she receives three shillings and . sixpence.
The collars, cuffs, and bosoms are already machine-srtitched, but
she has to fit them carefully and make all the buttonholes.

Around Dunfanaghy, Dungloe, Glenties, Gweedore, and the
western coast stocking-knitting is the chief industry, the price
for a pair of men's hose being three cents; a good knitter
finishes three socks in a day, thus making nine cents in two
days. At land meetings it was a common sight to see in the
crowd women intent on the speaker's words while their needles
flashed in the sunlight. Often a baby tied in a shawl on its
mother's back gazed wonderingly around.

Beautiful hand-embroidery comes from Donegal. The cot-
tage industries established through the exertions of Mrs. Ernest
Hart, whose Donegal Village at the Chicago Fair attracted
favorable attention, have developed much talent, brought com-
fort to many a home^

Lace-making, embroidery on linen, wood-carving, are among
the branches she succeeded in having taught in addition to the
weaving of frieze and damask.

There is nothing distinctive about the dress of the Donegal

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1/6 Dawdlings IN Donegal. [Nov.,

peasant. Men who can afford to do so wear the stout native
frieze. Scotch shoddy finds a market owing to its cheapness.
Shawls and 'kerchiefs in bright red plaids are very much in
evidence among the congregations in the churches at Doagh
and Falearragh, while in Gweedore and on the islands of Innis-
trahuU, Tory, and Arranmore, they wear whatever they can
get. A favored few spin wool and linen yarn from which is
woven a durable cloth called Tamney.

The cultivation of flax has considerably fallen off in Done-
gal. It is a troublesortie crop, one likely to impoverish the
ground from whence it springs. A field of flax in bloom is a
thing of beauty, the green so softly restful to the eye, the tiny

Where the Boom was placed at the Siege of Derry.

blossom a delicate cornflower blue. When the crop is ripe for
pulling it is thrown into a dam to macerate ; when sufficiently
soft it is taken out and spread out on the field to dry. In
this stage it appeals to your sense of smell as strongly as at
an earlier stage it touched your artistic eye — not so pleasantly,
however, for the odor borne on the autumnal breeze suggests a
tan-yard, several tan-yards !

The lint gives employment to many thousands, undergoes
many transformations before Belfast and other mills send it
over the world in the form of shining damask and delicate
linen.

Donegal is rich in ferns, many of them rare species ; they
clothe her barren rocks with wondrous beauty, even as the

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1 895-] Dawdlings IN Doi^EGAL. 177

luxuriant ivy casts its friendly mantle over her many ruins.
In common with her sister counties, Donegal has an abundance
of wild flowers; primroses, violets, bluebells, cowslips, wild
roses, ox-eyed daisies, woodbine, as well as pink and white
hawthorn, golden laburnum, purple lilac, coral-berried mountain
ash, silver and copper beeches, making gay her fields and
hedges, brightening the landscape in favored regions. The
most barren spots are rendered beautiful by the green and gold
of the friendly furze, the royal purple of the mantling heath.
There are blackberries and wild strawberries on hills and under
hedges, blueberries in the mountain moss. The streams are
full of brown and speckled trout, the seas teeming with fish.
Hare, snipe, woodcock, grouse, and all kinds of game abound in
the mountains. Nets entangle the lordly salmon in Loughs
Foyle and Swilly. There are weirs for his capture at Bally-
shannon. And, above all things created to delight the epicurean
palate, the " barnacle " visits Lough Foyle in the winter months
to seek its favorite food, the bulb of the alga marina, a soft,
ribbon-like sea-wered which during storms is detached in great
masses from the bed of the sea and floats until driven on shore.
Dried it is very much used for the stuffing of furniture, cheap
mattresses, etc.

The " barnacle " being thus restricted in its diet, using none
but the marine vegetarian system, is placed in the category of
dishes that may be lawfully eaten on fast days, a fact of which
full advantage is taken by the Catholics of the Derry diocese
who can afford to pay four shillings a brace for the delicious
feathered biped theologically declared to be neither flesh nor
fowl.

Donegal farmers find a ready market for butter, eggs, fowl,
pigs, etc. The cotter's wife, with but a few hens, barters the
eggs at the tiny store near hand for tea, sugar, or bread. The
woman with one cow disposes in like manner of the product of
her churning. She can only afford to give her family the
buttermilk. Once or twice a week the dealer locally known as
the " butter-and-egg man " makes the circuit of stores and
farm-houses. In the former he buys eggs by the hundred,
allowing an advance of five or six cents on the price given.
The butter, eggs, potatoes, fowl thus bought he exports the
same evening by steamer to Glasgow, which en route from
Londonderry stops at Moville to take on board fish, potatoes,
pigs> eggs, butter, etc. This is for Innishowen. From other parts
of Donegal goods go to Londonderry via rail from Letterkenny,
VOL. LXii.— 12

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178 Dawdlings IN Donegal. [Nov,,.

to Scotland by the steamer from Sligo, etc. The dealer has his
profit, the Glasgow brokers another advance, as also has the
shopkeeper who sells by retail, hence the commodities have
gained considerably in price from the time they left the cabin
in Donegal until their appearance on the breakfast-table of the
English or Scotch artisan.

The story of Donegal's sufferings from landlordism is an
oft-told tale. The mention of such names as Adair of Glen-
veigh. Lord Leitrim, Stewart of Ards, Hector McNeill, Hill of
Gweedore, Olphert of Ballyconnell, Charley of Arranmore re-
calls proceedings at the recital of which the world shuddered.
Yet the writer heard the Rev. Father James McFadden of
Gweedore declare, at a time when his flock were enduring intense
suffering, that they were the most law-abiding, temperate, and
peaceful people on the face of the earth !

In the Donegal Highlands the scenery is magnificent; land-
scape painters grow rapturous in romantic Barnis Gap, brilliant
in glowing light or softened by the magic of moonlight.
Throughout the country the roads are generally in good condi-
tion for bicycles ; but is there any one " with soul so dead " as
not to prefer the Irish jaunting car, with a happy-go-lucky
driver telling you stories and pointing out objects of interest ?
Whistling, singing, as the mood may seize, always full of fun,
and amusing even when he rings off on you the olden joke
that you can never suffer from thirst on his car, as it has " two
springs and a well " ! But whether on bicycle or jaunting car,
there is nothing more delightful in the long summer days, when
the fields are green, the sunshine warm, and the air invigorating,
than to dawdle time away through the mountain passes of dark
Dun na gall.

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1 895-] Enforcing Law : Is It Right? 179

ENFORCING LAW : IS IT RIGHT?

BY ROBERT J. MAHON.

'NACT the law, but disregard it," is a motto of
government not commonly followed. It is now
advanced with brazen alarm by some of the
claimed spokesmen of the people. There is no
apparent shame in the pronouncement, and lan-
guage can give it no greater accuracy or more absolute definite-
ness. It is not formed by the studied sentences of orators, but acts,
conditions, and facts of public notice make it as plain as day. It
is, in truth, an involuntary cry of rebellion against established forms
of government, forced out by certain conditions in New York.

When the people of the State in due form expressed the
will, and made it law, that liquor-shops be closed on Sunday,
no public man dared say openly " Disregard it." There was
then no cry against the invasion of personal rights or pleasures.
In some way, by some influences, no full, earnest effort was
ever made to enforce the law. Officials charged by law and
oath with this duty said at one time that it was being enforced,
and at another that enforcement was impossible. In effect the
law was illegally repealed by public servants ; against the legally
expressed will of the people, and by a new veto power born
of corruption or weakness.

In other ways, and by other influences, a new set of officials
come into power and they do enforce the law. At once the
cry is raised against them. Our senator in Congress first sounds
the alarm and sends the first challenge to the new officials.
They are " harsh," " unintelligent," " undiscriminating," and
mere "hypocrites." He claims to preach the gospel of "per-
sonal liberty," and would fain be the "poor man's friend."
Under the pretence of criticising the law itself, he attacks its
enforcement and treats the officials with fine scorn. Although
we have lived for years under this law, no one has cared enough
for liberty to even suggest repeal. None will be so bold as to
deny that there was always partial enforcement. We had "wet
Sundays " and " dry," with the suggestion of the screw and the
rack. It is only at honest, impartial enforcement that this seem-
ing opposition arises. It is diflRcult to see how an issue can
be more clear or definite. All conditions are now the same as
when the law was enacted and during the long period of "dis-

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i8o Enforcing Law : Is It Right f [Nov.,

criminating " enforcement. If personal rights were not then im-
perilled, they are not now in jeopardy; and no one can so de-
clare without making the issue against honest administration.
The public men who now beg for change are, in effect, for a
vitiated public life. But few citizens are so dull as to need
argument on so crude a controversy. There is no excuse for
dishonest enforcement of any law, and no apology for the
non-enforcement of a law which is not immoral. None will
say that prohibition against Sunday liquor-selling is immoral.
Because this or that obsolete statute, be it blue or other color, is
not enforced, is no reason why a general statute, understandingly
made and intended by the people as a rule of conduct, should
be made the plaything of incapable, dishonest, or weak-hearted
officials. The law itself is not truthfully in the controversy, and
no amount of special pleading, verbal chicanery or subterfuge,
can bring it in. The wisdom of the law we do not now discuss.
Suffice that it is general, was so intended, and has always been
partially enforced with either corrupt motive or weak intent.

There is no question of politics, faction, or class in this mat-
ter ; and it cannot be settled by political platforms or promul-
gated principles. A movement is now being pushed, in which
are joined, by common wish, the brewer, the liquor-men whole-
sale and retail, the tipplers who drink on scant credit, and the
business politicians ; all making for a common goal, crying for
fairness because a law is fairly enforced, and begging for justice
when for once they are getting justice most even-handed.
There would be humor in the situation were it not so debasing
to our citizenship. The " poor man," the usual plaything of
the business politician, is taken up again to help the false cry
along. He is being coddled and coaxed to help restore the old
" discrimination " and punish official uprightness. With our suf-
frage as broad, undiscriminating, and universal as it is, there
may be hope for demagogism, unless as citizens we do our part
so far as we may. Political parties may promise one thing or
the other ; they may agree or differ ; but, however this may
be, the duty still rests on the individual. If we want clean
homes and a decent community, we must make for law and for
order. And we cannot have order without honest administra-
tion of law. And we must not rest with the suppression of
burglary and kindred offences. This does not constitute public
order. There is a higher plane of civic life to which we have
the right to aspire. But we will never enjoy it unless as indi-
vidual citizens we brand as traitorous to American institutions
the present cry of non-enforcement of statute law.

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i89S-] Why Catholics Sympathize with Armenia. i8i

WHY WE CATHOLICS SYMPATHIZE WITH

ARMENIA:

BY REV. R. M. RYAN.

^HE Armenian question has ceased to be national
or even merely international. It has become
universal. It is one in which a common hu-
manity prompts all men who retain living and
active instincts of humanity to become interest-
ed. These the " unspeakable " Turk seems to have abdicated.
The writer has seen a dog — a good and faithful one — turn on
its own master, who * savagely beat its fellow-dog. This much
feeling no portion of the Turkish people has had the common ani-
mal instinct to show in behalf of their unfortunate fellow-mortals
and fellow-subjects of Armenia. The blood in human veins runs
cold at the bare recital of the atrocities this heroic nation has
had to suflfer. Daily recurring accounts make so overwhelming
the evidence that " All the horrors of war before known or
heard of were mercy to this new havoc " — as was said of * War-
ren Hastings' exploits in India — that no one now, not even the
sublime Porte, that has so long been notorious for its sublime
duplicity, dares deny them.

These cold-blooded savageries have been inflicted, not on
barbarians — like the inflicters — but on a refined, religious, re-
nowned race — one than whom there is no nobler on the face of
the earth. The Armenians are the oldest and most pure-blooded,
they are the longest Christianized, and the most devoted to
their religion, of any other nation in the world. With only a
tithe of a chance that all the European nations have had they
would, centuries ago, have civilized and Christianized the effete
pagan nations surrounding them. Unfortunately the odds have
always been over a hundredfold against them, and all on account
of their religion.

Great as have been the sufferings of Ireland and Poland in
the same cause, they do not compare with those of devoted
Armenia. Poland's persecution is of comparatively recent date ;
and prolonged as have been poor Ireland's (/^^r, although na-
ture's paradise !) " for justice' sake," Armenia was in the midst

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i82 W^Y Catholics Sympathize with Armenia. [Nov.,

of the conflict ere Erin won her proud title of " Island of Saints
and Scholars."

As early as A. D. 480, whilst St. Patrick was still preaching
in Ireland, Perozes, King of Persia, was engaged, as the Turkish
Sultan now is, in endeavoring to exterminate the Christian Ar-
menians, or make them apostatize to Zoroastrianism. Becoming
thoroughly convinced of the impossibility of doing either, he,
by the advice of a self-constituted Nestorian bishop named Bar-
sumas of Nisibis, directed all his efforts to make them give up
their adhesion to the Catholic Church ; and, whilst remaining
Christians, turn Nestorians ; feeling assured that the step from
heresy to Parseeism was much shorter and easier than from
Catholicism. The king put unlimited power into the hands of
Barsumas for this purpose. The latter commenced in the way
that has been followed ever since by insidious persecutors. A
decree was published allowing the clergy to marry. The French
Masonic trick of a few years ago is the latest instance of this
silly and sinister mode of undermining the true faith. The
English statute books still contain similar modes of attack on
the same lines.

It is needless to state that Barsumas, like the sixteenth cen-
tury heresiarchs, led off the hymenial performance, that he hoped
would be a procession of many other semi-sacerdotal couples,
by taking unto himself a fair partner to help him govern the
Armenian clergy, who, however, to a man, objected to petticoat
rule, and appealed to their metropolitan of Selucia against him.
He was at once excommunicated. The renegade sent the de-
cree to Perozes, who ordered the archbishop to be suspended
to a beam by the annular finger and there scourged to death.

Christopher, patriarch of Armenia, after seventy-seven hun-
dred faithful Catholics had been immolated to the fury of the
persecutor, feeling that one of three courses alone was open to
the remainder, apostasy) extermination, or the defeat of the
Persians in open war, decided on risking the latter. He issued
a circular to all those subject to his jurisdiction advising them
of his determination, and calling on them to be ready to die
gloriously if necessary, like so many of their fathers of the two
preceding centuries. They rose up as one man and defeated
the Persians in a pitched battle A. D. 481. In the spring of the
following year Perozes renewed the attack, and, although with
vastly inferior numbers, the Armenians were completely tri-
umphant.

With only half a chance they would do the same thing to-

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I895-] Why Catholics Sympathize with Armenia. 183

day. What a pity the half-hearted Christian nations of Russia
and England would not afford these brave warriors a similar
opportunity! No one doubts the result. Asia and Europe would
gain immensely thereby. With civilized Armenia on the West,
and civilizing Japan on the East, Asia's redemption would be
soon brought about, and the Turk's long-deserved day of retri-
bution would not be long deferred afterwards.

The "Judas Machabeus " of the Armenians was Vahari, a
descendant of the Chinese imperial family, who had found
refuge in the country. He followed up his successes with
untiring energy. Until the death of Perozes, A.D. 484, he held
out against all the forces of Persia. The successors of the per-
secutor became terrified at the gigantic strength evoked by the
determination of a whole people, sworn to die rather than deny
their faith, and accordingly honorable terms of peace were
offered to Vahan. Thus ended one persecution ; thus, and more
easily even, might the present one be made to end.

On the hero's entry into Dovin, the capital of Armenia, he
was met .by the patriarch and clergy in solemn procession, and
conducted to the cathedral, where the whole city joined in
solemn thanksgiving to the God of Victories, through whom
liberty was achieved. Not less remarkable was the modesty
than the heroism of Vahan. To the divine aid and the bravery
of his followers he attributed all the success ; in testimony of
which, he deposited on the altar the sword that had won him
so much renown.

Accustomed as we have been to look upon the eastern
nations as semi-barbarians — as indeed they now are, almost all
of them — it was not always so ; nor is so at present with the few
that have remained Christian, in spite of the brutal and blight-
ing Mohammedan yoke that keeps them under. Conspicuous
amongst these is Armenia, surrounded though she be on all
sides by the followers of the impostor. But great as is the
glory of Armenia for remaining thus faithful and for maintain-
ing a civilization superior to that of all her neighbors ; equally
great is the fame of her exploits not only on the field but in
literature, science, and the arts ; in fact, in everything that makes
a people renowned. Had not the cursed shadow of the cres-
cent blighted all hef energies and eaten up all her resources, she
would be second to no country in the world to-day. Hence
civilized nations owe it to themselves and to humanity, to once
for all break the fetters enthralling a people whose onward
strides would otherwise keep up with themselves, and set the

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1 84 ^Why Catholics Sympathize with Armenia. [Nov.,

pace for the miserable laggards encompassing them. He who
wishes for the civilization of Asia must sympathize with down-
trodden Armenia.

' When the rest of Europe was contending against hordes of
barbariana — Goths, Vandals, Heruli, Tartars — as Armenia now
struggles with her oppressors — she was cultivating, during the
short intervals from persecution which she enjoyed, all the arts
of peace with most singular success. Literary treasures little
dreamed of now by Europeans lie hid in Syriac and ancient
Armenian. The Roman Martyrology alone — not to speak of the
Greek or Syriac — contains references to hosts of saints, martyrs,
and scholars of Armenia, There was St. Gregory the Illumina"
toTy than whom no nation can boast a scholar more erudite.
St. James, called the Doctor^ Bishop of Batnce or Sarup, devoted
a life of seventy-two years to the defence of the Catholic
faith, against the Nestorians and Eutychians. He died 522,
leaving numerous works in Syriac which are as remarkable for
their flowing elegance of style and richness of imagery as for
soundness of Catholic doctrine. Another great saint, and his
contemporary, was St. Isaac, Bishop of Nineveh, who on the
very day of his consecration became so terrified with the awful
responsibilities it entailed that he resigned all the dignities and
emoluments it brought him, and betook himself to a hermit's
life in the desert of Scete in Egypt. Here he wrote four
works on the Monastic State, and was looked up to as the
model and teacher of all the other cenobites. Another elegant
writer of the same century was John Sabbas, who has left
several learned treatises on mysticism. Ecclesiastical history
furnishes the names of many more. The works of the writers
on profane subjects had a poorer chance of preservation out-
side the monasteries, although enough remain to assure us of
the high attainments of their authors, and of the advanced civil-
ization of their nation.

There is a species of madness peculiar to Turkey when it is
seemingly in extremis. The moribund body becomes suddenly
galvanized into horrible activity, the resuscitating power being
the ineradicable passion of religious fanaticism. While this
frenzy lasts the Turks behave exactly like Malayans running
amuck. Kill, kill, kill, is the watchword everywhere, though
the sating of this blood-thirst mean instant ruin to the Turkish
power. This fit is now upon the Ottoman. Horrible butcheries
of Armenians have taken place, even in Constantinople itself.
Large numbers of the unhappy people went there lately for the

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1895.] Why Catholics Sympathize with Armenia. 185

purpose of demanding justice of the Porte, but instead of jus-
tice they met the edge of the scimitar. They were slaughtered
in the streets and in the houses in which they took refuge, their
murderers being the class of fanatic Mussulman students known
as Softas. The pretence alleged for the massacre was that the
deputations to the Porte were in reality revolutionary Arme-
nians intent on mischief. " But this excuse does not cover the
subsequent massacres of Armenians in the provinces of Bitlis
and Van, reports of which are now beginning to arrive. All this
horror has been going on while the war-ships of the European
powers threaten the Turkish capital and hold the Bosphorus
and the Dardanelles in iron grip. With their guns trained upon
his palace, the Sultan still hesitates to concede the reforms the
European powers demand for Armenia; and the reason of his
hesitation cannot be any other than the dread of his own sub-
jects. The tiger-blood of the Turk is up, and what may happen
now, with this danger in prospect, may be decisive not only of
the fate of Armenia but of the accursed Turkish Empire.

It is full time to end the sufferings of this highly-gifted and
cultured race. All Christians should join in the effort, and con-
spicuously Catholics; for, although the Armenians are now
mostly Nestorians, it is more their misfortune than their fault.
In common with Russian and other Greek Catholics, they want
but the permission of their rulers to enter the one true fold.
Give them freedom first ; the little separating them from the
true church will quickly disappear.

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1 86

'I Sleep, but My Heart Waketh:

[Nov.,

I SLEEP, BUT MY HEART WAKETH."

BY JESSIE WILLIS BRODHEAD.

ILEEP to the troubles of life,
Sleep, heart, sleep ;
But to the mercy of God

Vigil keep
Safe in the hollow of His hand.
Thus shalt thou come to understand
Joys and sorrow so wisely planned :
Sleep, then, sleep.

Sleep to the tumult of wrong,

Sleep, heart, sleep ;
Wake to the sweet peace of God,

Deep, so deep !
E'en though the tears abundant fall.
They shall but rainbow hopes recall,
God's dear promise to each and all:

Weep, then, weep.

Sing, O thou comforted heart !

Sing, heart, sing ;
Softly, as praiseth the lark,

Carolling.
Sleep to thy past of tears and sighs.
Wake in the light of God's holy eyes ;
Herald His glory throughout the skies:

Sing, then, sing.

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i89S-] A Living Mosaic. 187

A LIVING MOSAIC.

[ANY years ago when visiting the Metropolitan
Museum I glanced at what I thought a beauti-
ful painting of a rose and buds on glass. The
friend who was with me saw that I was not giv-
ing it the notice it deserved, and called my at-
tention to the fact that it was a mosaic. Then my interest was
aroused, and I studied with some care a marvel with which not
many untravelled American eyes are familiar.

To-day I would write of a living mosaic which I have had
before me for more than a decade of years, and which, I be-
lieve, is passed over by the many, without a thought of giving
it close observation because they are quite sure that they know
the materials and the combination, with all their effects. It is
my desire to be the helpful friend of such lookers-on who, per-
chance, may never have my opportunities of becoming observers.
My living mosaic is a school instituted by nuns and carried on
by them for many years.

This article is not designed for a prospectus, and certainly
not for an advertisement, therefore I shall not tell you more
of its location than to say that it is a little north of the forty-
second parallel and a little west of the seventy-second meri-
dian.

The writer may also add that she not only knows thoroughly
this school and these teachers, but that she is familiar with the
systems and schools about her, as both pupil and teacher ;
moreover the fault from which she is farthest removed is a dis-
position to undervalue anything or any one that New England
produces.

We are all aware that an ideal school is not its surround-
ings ; it is not its buildings ; and it certainly is not its furni-
ture; it is, before all else, as was wisely said, even a log with
a real teacher at one end and a student at the other.*

What a parent has a right to ascertain before he consigns
his child to any school — what he should ascertain, is whether or
not there are real teachers in that school ; we do not say the
very masters of the profession, but competent, conscientious in-

* President Garfield said : *^ My ideal coUeg^e is a log: ^i^^ Mark Hopkins on one end and
a student on the other."

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1 88 A Living Mosaic, [Nov.,

structors. Masters in this profession are as rare as in any art.
The world is not sanguine enough to look for even one more
St. Augustine or another Dante. It knows that it has reached
its highest possibilities in sculpture in the frieze of the Parthe-
non. Let it not, then, expect many more Origens or Blessed
De La Salles.

Nevertheless, I make the proud claims — and I do not doubt
that it may be made with equal, if not with more, truth by
many more schools of religious — that we have exceptionally
excellent teachers among us.

I do not think that the public, in judging us, has ever fully
considered the preparation for our work which we have had be-
fore coming within convent walls, any more than it does what
means are taken there to perfect our training, or to begin and
continue it if not already begun.

This same public seems to imagine us wholly shut off from
the intellectual impulses of our age, because it does not see us
habitually in its lecture-rooms or meet us in any of its great
assemblies. It does not reflect that nearly everything which is
worth saying, as well as a multitude of things that are not, are
placed in a few hours, or, at the farthest, in a few days, before
readers hundreds and even thousands of miles away.

Look with me now, if you please, about among our teachers.
Here is one who benefits us from time to time by telling us
"what we used to do at South Hadley" — a home, as all who
know the school will readily admit, of sound scholarship per-
vaded by many Christian truths and blessed by Christian
morality.

Not far away is a former pupil, and, if we mistake not, a
graduate of the McGill Normal School in Montreal. When we
take up. our geologies we remember that she has had the instruc-
tion of Professor Dawson, and we know that she profited to
the utmost by that and every other advantage.

Framingham Normal did not make us a voluntary gift of
that other teacher near by, but we thank her for the much she
did to enhance the value of the mind that is consecrating all its
powers to the glorious work of Catholic education.

Albany has given us of her culture in another of our teach-
ing force. Richmond, Va., has bestowed one upon us, and an-
other was the heiress of the influences in the society which
gathered about James Russell Lowell. The National Schools of
Ireland have given our community of their best, as well as
many, fnany grammar and high schools all over our own land.

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I895-] A Living Mosaic. 189

Is it not evident that schools which draw their teachers
from such a wide area must, almost necessarily, give a broader
training than those whose supply comes from a single section
of our own country ? We think we detect the complacent smile
of some opponent who fancies we have given him a keen
weapon to use in his own defence, by granting in effect that
our best workers are not those trained in our own schools.
This is not the inference to be drawn from the statements
which we have just made. We have simply been acknowledging
frankly and gratefully an obligation due to many more or less
willing creditors ; who, indeed, in their turn owe nearly all that
is excellent in their methods to Catholic educators in times
near or far; while the larger part of their facts they have re-
ceived from Catholic scientists, to say nothing of the many
great creations of the great Catholic literatures of the world.

We do not owe all, or even the larger part, of our best
teachers to other schools than our own. As we pause to count
them, we find that the great majority of our principals come
from the schools of religious.

We think it also a very important fact to remember that re-
ligious teachers benefit each other to an extent quite impossible
among others of the profession. We often study in a common
room, and each is always accessible to the others, and thus'
receives assistance and stimulus far more than equivalent to the
weekly or fnonthly meetings, and still less frequent conventions
which are features of other systems. Then, as a rule, we have
more reference books constantly at hand than any but a very
exceptional individual is likely to have in her home.

We religious are erroneously supposed to be quite out of
touch with the great world as it is unrolled in the daily papers.
It is true that it is not our custom to read them, but when
great events are transpiring they are either read to us or are
given to us. Then we do have weekly and monthly publica-
tions of great value which are sufficient to keep us keenly
alive to the important issues of our times.

We know what is meant by the Force Bill. We are not
wholly ignorant in regard to the McKinley Bill. We are not,
to be sure, either Free-Traders or Protectionists, for when we
read Mr. Gladstone on the one side in the North American
Review and Mr. Blaine on the other, we perceived that each
adduced such strong arguments that we felt that it would be a
kind of intellectual foolhardiness in u$ to decide in a matter in
which two such men honestly disagree.

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I90 A Living Mosaic. [Nov.,

We could, without a moment's delay, take you to book-cases
where you would find the Review of ReviewSy the Century,
Harper Sy the North American Review , LittelFs Living Age,
besides some numbers of the somewhat formidable Catholic
Quarterly Review, with all THE CATHOLIC WORLD from its be-
ginning. Then, among our own less weighty publications, we
have the Ave Maria and the Messenger of the Sacred Heart.
The School Journals and the Popular Educators, with Our
Times, make files that fill parts of our presses, while the Popu^
lar Science News keeps us abreast of the scientific theories and
discoveries of the day.

The London Tablet is a weekly visitant, and, although it
frequently rouses our ire by its attitude towards Home Rule, its
criticisms of our own beloved country and of France, and its
half-veiled distrust of the people, yet it is welcome because it is
truly Catholic and gives us our most reliable news from Rome.

Perhaps it is not the part of prudence to state what Catho-
lic newspapers we read that are published in the United States,
since we know that there are many which would profit us and
we have time for only two or three.

I have not forgotten that my subject is " A Living Mosaic "
and that I have said to you that this mosaic is a school ; and
I have already, if I do not deceive myself, told the discerning
much of it in dwelling at length upon its teachers and a few of
the present and former sources of their intellectual life.

Allow me now to give you some insights into their work.
I have no intention of telling* you of our "times and places of
silence," although we have both, and know that they are very
excellent means of counteracting the over-talkativeness of the
American girl — I speak of her only because I know too little
of any other to form a well-based opinion.

I will not detail to you our most salutary regulations to
secure " neatness and order," or introduce you among our
pupils in their daily hour at plain sewing ; for you have heard
of all these things ever since you have heard of convent
schools, and you are saying, below your breath, " Nobody
doubts that nuns teach the use of the needle more efficiently
than anybody else, and keep a more minute guard over the
personal habits of their pupils than almost any other teachers
would find it possible to do." The kind critic does not say to
us what he does doubt, but we know it well, and are trying, by
the tens and hundreds, to. make that doubt groundless, were it
once not so here and there.

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X895-] A Living Mosaic. 191

If I were to give a compendium of the criticisms we meet, I
should do so at once in the good Saxon word — narrowness.
Let me make a partial reply.

The curriculum for the school of which I write has an ac-
companying course of reading for each of the seven years'
work, beyond the elementary studies. If I transcribe the
portion assigned to the first and last year you will have suffi-
<:ient data to judge of its value.

First Year. — Ellis's " United States History " ; Books of
Travel; Phillips's "Historical Readers"; Faber's "Tales of
the Angels " ; Miss Starr's " Patron Saints."

Seventh Year. — Chllteaubriand's " Genius of Christianity " ;
Pfere Chocame's " Inner Life of P^re Lacordaire " ; Lowell's
"Among my Books"; "Macbeth," "King Lear," and
''* Hamlet " ; Selections from Gary's or Longfellow's translation
of Dante's " Divine Gomedy " ; Selections from " Paradise
Lost " ; Cardinal Newman's " Dream of Gerontius " ; Aubrey de
Vere's " Alexander the Great " ; Selections from Wordsworth ;
The Catholic World.

We are not obliged to the impossibility of reading all these
in class, or of requiring the pupils to do so outside of class.
We can choose what is suited to the needs and capacity of the
young ladies who are with us at the time.

During the four months that have just passed, the pupils of
the " Fifth Year Class " have made some study of " Enoch
Arden," " In Memoriam," and they are now at work on " The
Lady of the Lake."

" The Sixth Year " have given their time to " Guinevere,"
" The Holy Grail," " Aurora Leigh," and at present they are lis-
tening to the wit, wisdom, and pathos of " The Autocrat of the
Breakfast Table."

Like all other teachers of literature, we give a little time to
acquiring facts about the author whom we are taking. The
cider girls also read the whole or parts of valuable essays upon
this author and his works. We are indebted to the late Brother
Azarias for what we believe is his greatest gift to us Catholic
teachers— -/%^5^^ of Tlumght and Criticism.

I have often thought, as I looked about our excellent library,
that there are very few, if any, collections of books in schools
under the auspices of any of the sees in which so many as-
saults upon themselves could be found as in our own, particu-
larly in the department of history. We use Catholic text-books
as the basis of our historical knowledge, because we know that

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192 A Living Mosaic. [Nov.,

the judgment of sound Catholic writers must be preferable to
any other, since " Faith is the illumination, the elevation, and
the perfection even of the faculty of reason itself"; and "As
in the pure sciences the axioms and demonstrations give firm-
ness, strength, solidity, and onward progress to the scientific in-
tellect, so, in the knowledge of God, of man, and of morals, the
revelation of God gives the first axioms and primary principles
of divine certainty which unfold, elevate, and strengthen even
the reason itself."*

We allow our pupils, however, to freely consult non-Catholic
historians, with whose works, as we have already implied, our
library abounds. Sometimes we ourselves read to them the
animadversions which they contain, but much more frequently
state to them the assertions and interpretations of these same
men and women. I was not a little interested the other day,
when I took Robert Mackenzie's Nineteenth Century into class,
to watch the partly amused, partly amazed, and partly indig-
nant expressions on the faces of my pupils — girls of from eigh-
teen to twenty years of age — while I read to them the follow-
ing passage with reference to the definition of papal infallibility :
" On the surface it seems merely an idle jest that five hundred
elderly gentlemen, after months of agitating debate, should
gravely declare another gentleman, also elderly and conspicu-
ously erring, to be wholly incapable of error. But this view,
however just, does by no means exhaust the significance of the
transaction. The assertion of infallibility is a reiterated declara-
tion of irreconcilable hostility against all enlightening modern
impulses. It is the assumption of a power more despotic than
the world ever knew before, in order the better to give effect
to that hostility. Such a despotism accepted by two hundred
million Christians, and animated by such a motive, cannot be
lightly regarded." t

Such books, in a Catholic school where the truth is already
known, are their own antidote. They are not so in " neutral "
schools, we know from personal experience and observation.

In the last year of our course the text-books in history are
at the option of the teacher. Her plan for some time has been
to take first the church's history in the period to be studied.
For this purpose the teacher has habitually used Darras ; but
this year, as the special attention of the class is given to our

♦ Cardinal Manning's Four-fold Sovereignty of God^ pp. 22 and 23.

t Robert Mackenzie's The Nineteenth Century, A History. Pp. 447 and 448. Published
by T. Nelson & Sons, London, Edinburgh, and New York. Thirteenth edition.

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I895-] A I.IVING Mosaic. 193

own century, they were forced to make use first of as good a
biography as they could procure of Pius IX. They are now
going over the same time in Montgomery's Leading Facts in
French Historyy and will pass over the century yet once more
in the same author's Leading Facts in English History. Finally
they will take historical articles in connection with our age,
from The Catholic World and other sources. Those who
know Mr. Montgomery's series of " Leading Facts " will under-
stand that we are careful to give it to our pupils with many
an exclamation point, interrogation mark, and pencilled note,
though we are well aware of his purpose to be just and even
generous.

" But how about a ' business education ' ? " We respect our
community and ourselves too much to make any claim that we
cannot substantiate. We are confident that we give our would-
be book-keepers more individual attention and practice than
they would have in any other schools, and we have yet to hear
that those who have gone from us have failed to meet the re-
quirements made upon them. Type-writing and stenography are
zealously pursued among us.

Does some one say : " Do you not suffer from the want of
that emulation which comes from rivalry of school with school ? "
We seem to have intellectual tournaments enough among our
sixty, what with the effort to attain first rank in class, and the
still more commendable effort to aid in winning first rank for
one's own class among the seven above the preparatory depart-
ment. So earnest is the struggle that sometimes the rank in
class is changed each month, while the rank of the class is by
no means a fixity.

I have said nothing of our first and highest claim, and the
supreme and ever-present object of every true religious teacher
— to assist to her utmost in preserving and perpetuating a super-
natural life among men. We realize that upon this depends
not only the hereafter but the now, for " If," to again cite Car-
dinal Manning, " there is no such thing as law human or divine,
then there is no such thing as sin or crime, and, therefore, no
such thing as justice ; and if there be no such thing as justice,
there is no such thing as injustice ; and if there be no such
thing as intrinsic right, there is no such thing as intrinsic wrong ;
and if not, then we are in a world which has no more right,
order, sweetness, or beauty, but we are turned back again into
the inorganic state of creation, ' void and empty,' and * dark-
ness rests upon the face of the deep.' "
VOL. Lxii. — 13

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194 . A Triplet. [Nov.

If one thing grieves us more than another, it is the decay
of religious conviction about us — sadder by far than the con-
troversial spirit which some of us recollect so vividly as domi-
nant in our childhood. Thus we aim at giving our pupils no
mere verbal knowledge of the catechism/ but at doing all in
our power to aid appreciation of the glory and beauty of the
faith. Hence a visitor would have found one of our classes
reading The Faith of Our Fathers with their teacher and giving
her written rhutn^s^ another class frequently using Catholic Be-
liefy while the senior class studied and were examined upon
Our Christian Heritage,

Then, as preservers of the morality which alone makes the
earth an endurable abode, we make our second claim to be
recognized everywhere and by all as among " the forces that
make for righteousness." We hope that we have also done some-
thing to prove that we may also claim the lower title of pro-
moters of generous culture, and that we and our pupils do in
truth form a living mosaic whose parts are so tinted, sized,
and combined as to have beauty, in spite of many imperfections
before Him in "Whose pure sight all virtue doth succeed."

A TRIPLET.

BY FRANK H. SWEET.
INCENTIVE.

IS well that when the goal is gained
Of one ambition strong,
There is another, not attained,
That urges us along.

BROTHERS ALL.
Whatever the discords in a land.

When Want unchains its dart.
Then clasp of hand meets clasp of hand,

And heart responds to heart.

SYMPATHY.
When man has reached such wretched throes

That he forsakes his pride.
Then sympathy from whilom foes

Flows in from ev'ry side.

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"THE NORTHERN ATHENS."

BY JOHN J. O'SHEA.

ODERN Edinburgh is a city which, like the city
by the Shannon celebrated in Boucicault's song,
may claim to be ** beautiful as everybody knows."
No traveller need approach it under the appre-
hension that it still deserves the name which
made it more famous than Cologne. It is perhaps one of the
cleanest cities one can find anywhere. But the fact that it is
not yet forgotten as " Auld Reekie " may have suggested to
the poet Moore the charming figure contained in the lines —

"You may break, you may shatter, the vase, if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still."

It is not poetical justice that the name should still pertain
to " Edinboro* Toune," but the historian's business is to note
the fact even though he deplore it. There is evidence indubi-
table, in the pages of Macaulay as well as in local chronicles
and traditions, that Edinburgh was the place par excellence
wherein the laws of sanitation were most openly defied ; and
those who take the trouble to read Mr. Chambers's excellent

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196 " The Northern Athens:' [Nov.,

domestic history of Scotland will find that outraged cleanliness
time and again took fearful vengeance upon Edinburgh and
Leith, in many recurring visitations, of a scourge referred to
indifferently, in the imperfect medical knowledge of the time, as
" the plague " or " the pest," and which in all probability was
either small-pox or scarlet fever. But nous avous chang^ totit
cela. Edinburgh has now a system of splendid wide streets,
in place of the old narrow thoroughfares, and its sewerage
arrangements are, generally speaking, excellent. Only in the
older parts of the town, like the Canongate and the Grass-
Market, can one find any trace of the ancient malodorous capi-
tal. In these regions there are still many of the old narrow
" wynds " or alleys, and despite the most persistent scouring
and flushing the air of such places — many of which are dark
archways — is hot and unpleasant. These " wynds " are regarded,

Street-Corner on the Canongate.

however, with a deep reverence because of their historical asso-
ciations, and unless they were swept away altogether by the
march of improvement they could not be permanently altered
for the better. It is not to see Prince's Street and the park
.that visitors go to see Edinburgh, but the old fortress on the

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1895.]

" The Northern Athens:'

197

ftufftn Ma^yit

Castle Hill, the Canongate, Holyrood, St. Giles' Cathedral, and
the "Heart of Midlothian." Prince's Street is visited because
it contains the Scott Memorial, but we can recall Montrose as
he rides down the Canongate a prisoner with his enemies scoff-
ing at him from the windows of Moray House, and the vision
of fair ladies all along the route later on waving welcomes to
bonnie Prince Charlie as he rides along towards the ancestral
palace of the Stuarts. And along this same Canongate full
many a time,
with courtiers
and falconers,
with hawk and
hound, rode the
brightest gem
in Scotland's
crown since the
days of St. Mar- \
garet, the mar- \
tyr-queen, beau-
tiful Mary Stuart. Who can look
upon this old place, with its tall
old stone houses peering out of
the past like ghosts, and its
quaint inns and narrow closes,
and not forget for the time its
stifling airs and the conflict of
carbolic acid and whitewash with ^
the. immemorial odor of the sod- '
dened soil and stonework ? There
is no place in London or Paris,
or any other European capital,
to compare in interest with the
old Canongate, in elements of romance and stirring memories
of royal and military vicissitude.

In the early days of Edinburgh the main thoroughfare of
the city extended from the Castle Hill to Holyrood Palace,
and was known by different names, one portion being called
the High Street, another the Canongate, and a third the Lawn
Market. The Canongate was more in the heart of the city
than either of the other portions. It was narrow and tortuous
and hilly, and on busy days the reverse of a commodious
thoroughfare. Many of the old houses still remain as monu-
ments of the more historic past. One of those most frequented

* Mtmento Mori '*—(htefn 2ianrsSiluir
'I'ltiic ricif

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198 " The Northern Athens:' [Nov.,

by tourists is the quaint and gloomy den where John Knox
resided — a fitting abode for the hard and sombre fanatic that
he was. The houses are as irregular in height, but not in
architecture, as those on Broadway in New York. Another of
the show houses on the Canongate is that wherein the poet
Robert Burns lived while he resided in the city, but it is much
pleasanter to pass an idle hour beside the bard's rural home in
Ayr, nigh the old brig of Doon and Alloway Kirk, than in the
grimy Canongate.

It is well to go from the Canongate up to the ancient for-
tress on Castle Hill, if one wishes to remain with' the past
before going over the more orderly and debonair modern city.
And here it may not be irrelevant to commend all those who
wish to see the romantic side of the Scottish capital first, to
enter it at night from the south, so that the first view shall
embrace the fortress on the hill with the tiers of houses climb-
ing up its sides, showing rows of illuminated windows. The
mass of rock, with long sloping escarpment, the conglomerate
pile of masonry which crdwns its summit, above it, mayhap, the
wan moon bursting now and again through a wrack of stormy
cloud, like some bright deed in Scottish history through years
of savage broil and murderous fanaticism, are the chief elements
in the first striking picture which greets the traveller's eye.

This Castle of Edinburgh is a place hardly^ less interesting
than the Tower of London, and it is probably as ancient. Its
origin is lost indeed in the mists of time. Here undoubtedly,
before history began to be written, the wild Pictish chiefs set
up a fortified camp, and in later times it was turned into a sort
of inland Gibraltar by the skilled engineers of different epochs.
It served alternately the purposes of a fortress, a palace, and
a prison, but is now used chiefly as a barrack, as its defensive
capabilities are not ever again likely to form an element in the
relations between England and Scotland. The palace portion
includes apartments once occupied by Queen Mary. Here was
born James VI., the future King of England and Scotland ;
and from her apartments the queen could look out on Holyrood
Palace, the scene of her early triumphs and of Rizzio's murder.
A gloomy stone room, with an embrasure for a window, is
pointed out as that which the unfortunate queen used as an
oratory. A strong room in the palace holds the Scottish rega-
lia. Many fine objects are embraced in this collection. Robert
Bruce's crown is among them — a choice piece of workman-
ship in pure gold ; a golden sceptre which belonged to the ill-

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1895.] " The Northern Athens:' 199

fated king who fell at Flodden, and a sword of state presented
to his predecessor, James IV., by Pope Julius II. Here also
are to be seen the jewels of the house of Stuart which were
presented to George IV. by the last of the royal race, Cardi-
nal York. The insignia of the Thistle and the Garter are also
kept here, the former being an especially fine piece of jewelry
in diamond-setting.

A rare collection of ancient arms is stored in another portion

purse

of the palace. These include

the swords of William Wallace

-. . and Robert Bruce, as well as

L o . ^. those Wielded by other famous

iw« 5c«f{o»a ^fv Scottish chiefs. Wallace's sword

k#v..arKcalb;r>«ru jg guch a one as might be ser-

' viceable to a son of Anak. It

is about seven feet in length,

and its two enormous hilts occupy about a foot and a half of

this. Bruce's sword is not quite so large, but it is in better

preservation. Its blade is about five feet long, and it is kept

carefully polished, so that it looks quite new. Some fine pieces

of armor of these and later times are shown in this collection.

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200 " The Northern Athens:' [.Nov.,

In a room beside it are preserved objects more blood-curdling.
They are instruments of torture, of many kinds ; and they in-
clude a couple of curious devices resorted to for the purpose
of bridling the tongue of " the new woman " wherever she
appeared in mediaeval days in bonnie Scotland. The apparatus
was called " the branks," and consisted of an iron arrangement
which gagged the mouth and was made fast behind the neck.
A chair called a ducking-stool was another " resource of civil-
ization " for the repression of village scolds. The horrible ap-
paratus mentioned by Scott, and designated " the boot,*' is also
amongst the specimens of torture implements preserved here.
Some of the objects puzzle the ingenuity of the beholder in
speculating on the manner of their application to the persons
of the victims. You leave the place with a ghastly impression
of the savagery of times not very far back in Scottish history
— an impression not lessened when you descend into the city,
and read on a slab on St. Giles* wall, just beside "the Heart
of Midlothian,** that it was erected to the memory of about eighty
thousand martyrs to religion. These were chiefly Covenanters.
Not far from here, on the Grass-Market, many of those unhappy
people perished at the stake, and the old prison near by, whose
site is now marked by a tesselated pavement forming the shape
of a heart, was the scene of countless judicial murders of the
Covenanters by their Episcopal and Presbyterian fellow-country-
men.

Opposite Castle Hill, and lying quite contiguous to it, is
another bold eminence called Calton Hill. This has been made
to resemble in some degree the Acropolis of Athens. On its
crest is an unfinished monument to the memory of the Scottish
officers who fell on the field of Waterloo. The architecture of
the .monument, which is simple Grecian, aids in the impression
that Edinburgh apes the capital of Hellas, in some degree, in
her buildings as well as in her literary inclinings ; and the Doric
burr of the troops of country visitors to be met in the streets
still further strengthens the fancied analogy.

Before leaving the Castle the visitor would do well to ex-
amine as much of the old fortress as its custodians are inclined
to show. The spot whence the Duke of Albany effected his
escape is one of the most interesting about it. It was a feat
which required the most daring nerve to accomplish, as the
descent from his dungeon had to be made down the face of
the precipice which forms one side of Castle Hill. The duke
was aided in it by confederates within and without ; and one

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i895-] '' The Northern ATHENsy 201

of the acts incidental to it was the killing of the officer of the
guard placed over him. This deed the duke, who was a savage
of the most powerful build, effected by throwing the officer into
a great cooking oven, and leaving him to roast there in his
armor !

To the east lies another bold eminence, called Arthur's Seat,
which affords a fine panoramic view of rolling landscape and sea-
scape to those robust enough to climb it. Half way up the
mass may be seen the cave cell of an ancient hermitage, around
which many quaint legends cling.

A good deal of ordnance is mounted on the parapets at
Castle Hill, and one of the pieces is more than ordinarily note-
worthy. This is the famous gun known as Mons Meg. Much
controversy exists over the patronymic of Meg; and the pre-
dominant theory is that it was so called because it was founded
in the town of Mons in Belgium. This was the view of Sir
Walter Scott, who had an inscription to that effect placed on
the gun. But other authorities claim the gun as a piece of
Scottish manufacture, forged at Carlinwark, and used by James

Court-yard in Holyrood Palace.

II., in 1455, at the siege of the Douglas in Thrieve Castle.
Mons Meg is an enormous piece. Its bore is twenty inches
in diameter, and the immense barrel was made of long strips
of wrought-iron which were held in position by hoops of iron
hammered into shape and welded by hand. Many ancient

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202 " The Northern A thens:' [Nov.,

mortars of vast calibre are also mounted on the parapet, be-
sides long culverins and other curious examples of ancient
ordnance. In this connection one would do well to examine
the specimens of crossbows which are comprised in the Castle

collection, and note the
transition period in mis-
sile warfare, as exempli-
fied in the curious mix-
ture of crossbow and
musket which some of
the pieces exhibit.

Mons Meg may be
said to guard one of the
most interesting spots in
the Castle — the chapel of
St. Margaret. This edi-
fice is more than eight
hundred years old, and
is in a fine state of pre-
servation. It is very
small, and rather bare-
looking, the architecture
being early Norman. St.
Margaret occupies a high
place in our hagiology.

THE GREAT PoRCH IN HoLYRooD Palace church. ^he was a grand-daughtcr

of Edmund Ironsides, and
the wife of King Malcolm Canmore. Her virtues and her
charity place her on a par with St. Elizabeth of Hungary. She
was canonized in 1251.

One is not much impressed with the ideas of Scottish ec-
clesiastical architecture in her epoch from the example found
in the Castle. But this view is altogether altered when the
visitor stands in the ruined chapel of Holyrood. Here indeed
was a building worthy of its purpose, noble in its proportions
and full of elegance in its • decorations. It is not very credit-
able to those who have charge of the historical monuments and
royal palaces in Great Britain that they should allow this fine
church to fall into ruin. The reproach is all the more evident
from the fact that the other portions of Holyrood Palace, of
which the chapel forms an integral part, are all in fine re-
pair. The church is the only portion of it which has been suf-
fered to fall into decay. Gaunt and forbidding, the great walls

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1895.]

" The Northern Athens:'

203

and dilapidated lancet windows tower up beside the palace, a
blot upon its fair surroundings, and an evidence of the vandal-
ism of Scottish sectarian hate. The neglected graves of many
of Scotland's royal and noble sons and daughters which lie in-
side add their testimony to this silent accusation ; but some of
the monuments are still in a fine state of preservation.

Deeply worn are the stairs leading to the hapless Queen
Mary's apartments at Holyrood, and great is the stream of
visitors through the more historic ones. It is a matter of
wonder to 'every beholder how the murder of Rizzio was ever
perpetrated, in the manner so well attested by the historical
records, so very small is the apartment where it took place. It
is in fact a mere closet, close to the secret entrance where
Ruthven and the other assassins stole in. How a struggle in

Ki/' {rom Ucl| L<vc0

rai\^ handle

r^tar^S^uartl hAn^-IWn

which eight or ten persons were engaged could have taken
place in such a circumscribed cubby-house is a marvel. The
queen's apartments, and her bed with its silken hangings, are
preserved, it is said, in the , same state as when she left Holy-
rood never to return. The rooms are all poor in size, but their

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204 ''The Northern Athens:' [Nov.,

painting is tasteful, and the tapestry still intact, though much
faded. The collection of Queen Mary relics in Holyrood, in
the Castle, and in the National Museum is very large.

In Holyrood is a picture gallery, in which there are a couple
of portraits of Mary by different minor painters, and a portrait
of Charles II. by Lely. Besides these the portraits of all the
Scottish kings down to James VI. appear on the walls. They
look very solemn, but the circumstances of their appearance
there are by no means conducive to gravity. It so happened
that some time in the seventeenth or eighteenth' century a
Dutch painter whose name is not amongst those of the great
was saved from shipwreck at Leith, which is the port of Edin-
burgh, and in order to earn a living went up to the capital
and began to paint portraits. A bright idea struck the provost
There was no national portrait gallery, and here was a man
who could make one. He proposed to the bailies that they
employ the painter to do it, and they consented. One difficulty
existed, in the painter's mind : there were no portraits of the
early Scottish kings; but this was no obstacle to the town
councillors. They volunteered to sit for the Ferguses, the
Duncans, the Alexanders, the Davids, and all the rest that were
wanted ; each man taking a double or triple character accord-
ing to requirement. So the visitor's surprise at the extraordin-
ary family likeness observable in this long line of portraits is
easily removed when he learns of this braw Scottish joke. The
pictures are for the most part daubs, and the amount paid for
paint and as daily wage to the artist is still to be found on the
municipal accounts.

The Scottish capital appears to be a model place on the
Sabbath Day, but those who know it best declare that it is not
quite as "dry" as it looks, as there is a large share of whisky
drunk in private. There are no signs of traffic of any kind on
the streets, and even the tram-cars (I write of a few years
ago) are not allowed to ply. A few coaches are suffered to re-
main on the stand in one or two main places ; and the owners
of these salve their religious feelings, wounded by having to
serve the public on the Sunday, by charging double the week-
day fare. Such little facts serve to make the ways of the
people of the Scottish capital no less interesting a study than
the capital itself.

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1895.] A Daughter of Kings. 205

A DAUGHTER OF KINGS.

^HE instant the lines tightened over the pony's
back off whirled the little carriage down the
pike. In a moment the spinning wheels were
hidden from Ned's view by rising dust ; then
the fair driver herself faded into the cloud ;
and when even the bunch of blue silk floating from her shoul-
der was vanished, he turned and walked quickly toward the
lodge. Once inside the gate and around a corner made by
thickly-planted beeches, he had to stop suddenly to avoid col-
lision with a girl hastening towards him, but folded her in his
arms the next moment and warmly kissed her. He was a fine-
looking young fellow, with heavy black mouatache and deep,
honest eyes, that grew very deep and doubly honest just now
because strong love shone out from them.

" Oh, you dear boy, how you did frighten me ! "
" Home again, at last, Sis. You didn't expect me for an
hour yet, I suppose? Got here on the 4:15, and Lucy Blake
gave me a lift from the station."

"You should have let us know, Ned. I ordered the horses
for the 5:20. O Ned ! I'm so glad to see you. We must hurry
up to the house immediately, for mamma is dying to look upon
her darling boy."

Ned's sister put her hand within his arm and they walked,
side by side, along the gravel path toward the house. The
long, dark red hair streamed excitedly from beneath her hat,
for the brisk wind was sweeping sharply over the open lawn —
sharply enough, indeed, even to bend and quiver the leafless elms
beside the drive. The glad face upturned to Ned's and the eyes
that were glowing as she talked^ showed better than a dozen
bonfires could how unmistakable was his welcome to Raghardagh.
"O Ned! of course you'll come to the meet. It's on Tues-
day at Ffrench's. If I only could win a brush, Ned ! Do you
think I can? They say Deabhorghail and I go splendidly
together, but we have nothing to show for it. You'll give me
some pointers, won't you, Ned? There's a dear brother — my
last chance for a year."

" Go away, Jennie, you little witch ! Do you think I am
going to ruin my own chances and lose my reputation?"

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2o6 A Daughter of Kings, [Nov.,

He was stroking the shiny hair fondly as he spoke, and Jen-
nie laughed as though quite satisfied with his unspoken promise.

There came a patter of feet upon the road just then, and
both looked up.

• " Why here's Babs," said Ned, doffing his hat. " Good even-
ing, Baby."

The new arrfval drew herself into as dignified a position as
was compatible with tossed hair, excitement, and want of breath.

" I'm not baby any more," says she, holding up a pretty,
smiling face for the brotherly kiss ; then pouts to conceal her
pleasure. " Papa says you must just call me Kathleen, and
I'm going to take dancing lessons. And you'd better not try to
win that brush from Jennie on Tuesday, or else you can go
right back to college and we won't care a bit."

"Oho!" laughed her brother, "a conspiracy. Well, we shall
see what we shall see. But may we not proceed to the house,
for the present, Miss Kathleen ? "

" Yes," returned that young lady most demurely, " you
may " ; and dropping her assumed sedateness, turned to speed
towards the mansion as fast as a stout and rather short pair of
limbs could carry her, shouting " Here's Eddie ! here's Eddie ! "
in her loudest possible tones.

" Where's my little cousin ? " was the imperious demand, a
few moments later, as* Ned turned from his mother's side in
affected carelessness — for the warm embrace of the soft-voiced
mistress of the manor, who hurried down the veranda steps, had
left his own eyes quite as moist as hers.

" Still in Dublin," replied the young man. " Uncle George
is to express him down in the morning, labeled 'With Care.'
I bought his tag before leaving."

"Now, Ned," interposed Jennie, while the young despot
stamped her foot impatiently and exploded in a doubt — proba-
bly well grounded — of her brother's strict accuracy.

" Fact ! " Ned assured them. " He wears a knife in his
boot, and has long hair and a red shirt. I couldn't begin to
count the revolvers in his belt."

" Make him stop, mamma ! " cried Miss Kathleen, but they
laughed at her vehemence ; and, despairing of reinforcements,
she made a charge at Ned single-handed, only to be received
at the point of the bayonet ; that is, picked up at arm's length
and tossed into a neighboring chair, where she was still franti-
cally struggling to right herself when her enemy escaped to
the upper story.

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1 895-1 A Daughter of Kings. 207

Kathleen's '' little cousin '' made his appearance in person
the next morning, accompanied by Uncle George, and then the
odds went fatally against poor Ned. A quick, bright manner put
the visitor on easy terms with all ; and a couple of harmless
repartees, that Ned unconsciously drew upon himself, served
the double purpose of convincing the latter that a peace policy
was advisable, and eliciting some of the warm sympathy of kin-
ship from the sharp-witted and admiring Jennie. Ned, with his
university self-sufficiency, was prone to patronize the representa-
tive of a younger civilization across the sea, and forgot at first
that his American cousin was his senior in wit no less than in
years, to say nothing of being Irish enough to resent the very
first intimation of even Ireland's excellence over his native land.

Ned supposed aloud that some things must seem very strange
here from a foreigner's point of view, and his cousin agreed.

" I suppose," added Ned, " I should have been very much
like you myself had I been reared on the other side."

" I wouldn't be too sure of that," said his cousin easily, and
Ned didn't exactly know what to answer.

" It's really a great treat for one of us Europeans to visit
the States and enjoy the freshness of things over there," mused
he innocently a few moments later.

"Yes, it proved a very great treat on several distinct occa-
sions, if I remember my history," was the answer, and Ned
began to think his cousin •was somewhat boorish and very
belligerent. He would have made some response suitable — in
his own judgment — to the occasion, but Jennie's laughing eye
-was fastened upon him too closely. Fond as she was, she loved
to see him downed when upon what she called his " stilts." So,
as mother entered the room just then, Ned faded into the
background.

Mother, with her store of family pride, was well pleased with
" Cousin Joe," for though short, he was well and cleanly built,
with good chest and shoulders, pure clear eyes of almost Mile-
sian hue, and a nose that departed from the aquiline — in an
upward direction — ^just enough to make Hibernian ancestry un-
questionable. " Babs," on the momentary withdrawal of Cousin
Joe, became outrageously triumphant over his successful d^buty
and her brother, despite unwillingness to yield, at last con-
cluded it were best to spike his guns and retreat in good order.

"Good seat," says he to Jennie when she inquires how Joe
rides — "very good seat, though he holds his toes out a bit.
He'll do for the Row with a couple of hints, I think."

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2o8 A Da ughter of Kings. [Nov.,

" Don't you dare," is her sisterly warning. " I am sure he
must be very sensitive, and he wouldn't understand your well-
meant suggestions."

" All right, Sis ; spare the sarcasm. Won't say a word until
he wears out his boot-heels, not even if he is * spotted ' for a
Fenian by the police."

Fenian or not — toes out or toes in — the American cousin,
they soon discovered, could stick to his saddle like one of
Buffalo Bill's bareback riders, and great was the kind Jennie's
exultation thereat.

" You are a base deceiver, Ned ! " cries she, as brother and
sister stop by the gate to watch Uncle George and Joe come
galloping home across country on an evening ride. They had
mounted the cousin, at his own request, on big Brian Boroimhe,
and when they saw him fly over the fence and across the
meadow in real Irish style, with Uncle George, at his elbow,
Jennie turned upon her brother with the above remark, and
followed with :

"I never saw a better rider in Rotten Row any day that I
was there, Ned." She waved her handkerchief as she spoke,
and the two horsemen, perceiving the signal, cleared the fence
together and thundered along the road towards Ned and his
sister. I am sure Jennie did not grow nervous as the big cob
charged down at her, for she had lifted sugar to his lips years
ago when he had to bend down nis head to be within reach.
And I am quite certain she would not be foolish enough to
toss her dainty little pocket-handkerchief into the dust of the
queen's highway for no reason at all. Still, however it Hap-
pened, the tiny bit of cambric did slip from her fingers just as
Joe was reining in his horse to approach his cousins at
gentler pace. Brian Boroimhe felt a spur and was off again
in a sudden dash, and as he clattered by the gate Joe's left
knee went up and crooked over his saddle-top, his right boot
swung under the girth, and, grasping the horse's mane as he
slipped half out of his saddle, he picked the handkerchief from
the dust, waved it aloft, and returned in a canter to hand it
with a bow to the astonished owner.

" Begad, nothing could be prettier ! " cries the young lady's
uncle, who had pulled up by her side.

** Thank you, cousin ; you really must try your hand at
steeple-chasing," says the young lady herself; "though I fear
you will put most of my countrymen to the blush."

" It's a mere trick," Joe declares, blushing himself, and half

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1895.] A Daughter of Kings, 209

afraid they considered him guilty of boyish bravado. " The temp*
tation was too strong for me to resist. I couldn't venture to pick
it up like anybody, nor to hand it you as one would to everybody."

" Here ! " interrupted Ned. " This cousinly exchange of
cousinly courtesies is highly edifying ; however, it must stop some-
where. But the thing was splendidly done, by Jove! though I
do say it who am a cousin. You must have been a cowboy
king for a year or two of your existence at least, Joe."

"Nary cowboy," said the latter, "though I've ridden on the
plains ; but king, nevertheless, an' it please you, sirs and madame."

His hearers seemed mystified, and he continued : " You must
have heard of that countryman of mine who outranked a table-
ful of plenipotentiaries on plea of being an American citizen, a
sovereign in his own right."

" Never did," replied Ned, coolly ; whereat Jennie laughed
and repeated "Never did."

"Too bad!" returned Joe, somewhat conceitedly; "as for
the riding, though, you know we are all born riders."

" Indeed ! " exclaimed Ned, nettling a bit. " By the way
there's a meet here on Tuesday. Now, would your highness
care to ride out with us — all commoners with, perhaps, a peer
of the realm— or must we telegraph for a prince of the blood ? "

"Well," was the calm reply to the rather ruffled young man,
" necessity knows no law, so I shall condescend ; though I cer-
tainly should prefer a member or two of the royal house, if
you keep them handy."

" No condescension, please, cousin mine," interrupts Jennie
just in time. " Behold the representative of good old Irish
monarchs who lived and died .ages before Stuarts or Guelphs
were heard of. If you get Uncle George to show you the tree,
you may verify my pedigree, and you will find that I am myself
of royal stock, a daughter of kings, indeed — and of six or seven
at the very least. So, if Ned choose to retire to the ranks of
the vulgar, give me your glove and I shall do battle in person
for the honor of our fathers. Am I persona grata ? Good !
Come on then, Ned ; it's time to go, and we must reach home
before his Majesty of New York."

"See here, my young buck," cautions the older man as the
two ride off along the pike, while Ned and Jennie are disap-
pearing through the woods ; " you must not be so confoundedly
cocky, or these people will *get their dander up,' as you say
across the water."

" I heard my young cousin there say * colonist ' yesterday,"
VOL. Lxii. — 14

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210 A Daughter of Kings. [Nov.,

•
is Joe's quick answer, "and have a vague idea he referred to

me. As we can't have him out in the * Phoenix,' we must needs
use other means to set him down."

" O Joe ! " says the other, laughing at his earnestness, " don't
be a * bosthoon.' "

"I won't," promises Joe. "Wait until Tuesday, Uncle George."

Uncle George did not wait until Tuesday — not at Raghardagh
at any rate — for a cablegram called him up to Dublin, where he
was detained a week by his American correspondence. But
Tuesday came all right, though he hadn*'t waited for it, and with
heavy, spiteful morning clouds that threatened at first to deluge
the sport, but finally lowered just enough to make the air raw
and chill and keep the scent clinging to the grass. By eleven
it was an ideal day for a run, and a little after that hour the
hunters began to gather, some on the level stretch of lawn
down a hundred yards or so from Squire Ffrench's drawing-room
windows, and some at the hall door of the house itself. Jennie
and her cousin drove over in a smart little trap. behind the
roan mare, leaving the horses to follow in the care of a couple
of "boys" — one of whom was hearer to fifty than his comrade
to fifteen, but a " boy," all the same, in Ireland. The Leavy
girls and their father were in the act of dismounting from their
wagonette when the Raghardagh people appeared, and a mo-
ment later two of the Blakes came up in an ancient family gig,
with a couple of attendant squires on horseback." Their cousin,
the Blake of Marron, followed shortly, dashing up on a tax-cart
that held several college companions a trifle more handsome
than himself and at least equally swell.

" Who comes in the tally-ho ? " asked the young American
as the group to whom he had been introduced turned toward
a crowd of fine-looking, moustached young fellows, laughing,
jesting, and guying each other as they tumbled out of a big
four-in-hand and ran up the steps into the hall, where the cou-
sins were standing just within the door.

" A detachment from the Thirtieth Royal Irish " was Jen-
nie's answer, and as the wave of soldiers rolled toward them,
acknowledging her bow, and evidently wondering who the boy-
ish-looking fellow in buckskin and leggings might be, what does
my lady but calmly step forward and present him as "my
cousin, a young American who has set his heart on winning to-day.*'

Naturally he felt a bit uncomfortable and hoped his cousin
would say nothing about their little international challenge,
which, of course, being an Irish lady, she had too much grace to do.

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1895.] A Daughter of Kings. 211

" Been out with the dawgs befaw ? *' asked Captain Desmond
in a tone of friendly interest, checking his progress toward the
breakfast-room.

" No," said Joe, surveying the monocle and the blond mous-
tache unmoved.

" What, never chased ? " cried three or four of the military men.

" Nothing but anise-seed," replied the young stranger, more
modest now and thinking that perhaps he had cut out quite
an unusually large task for himself.

" Our chances are good for a hard run, you see, cousin,"
said Jennie a moment later, as the sabreless heroes pressed for-
ward undauntedly through the crowd towards the distant buffet.

"I shall do my best to sustain the national honor," was the
response in confident tones, unshaken hy the inner qualms that
had begun to agitate Joe's bosom ; and Jennie said :

" Bravo ! I almost feared you were about to weaken."

All this time the crowd outside the house and inside had
been growing in numbers. There were country gentlemen galore
now, several young professional men, and quite a sprinkling of
farmers, to say nothing of unclassified stray contingents coming
in continually on cobs and ponies and cars innumerable. Young
people were very nearly in the majority, and when Ned of
Raghardagh rode in a great body of his old playfellows had
swept up to carry him away from his own party the minute he
set foot on the ground. Jennie was quite right in thinking, as
she did, that he wasn't by any means least handsome of
the group that surged around him, handshaking, chaffing, and
welcoming him back again. ^The young hero was one of the
few " in pink "; which is to say he was togged out in velvet
cap, red coat, white scarf, breeches, and top-boots. Even young
Lord Ashborne — the promised peer — who wheeled up in his
drag just in time to take his splendid hunter from the groom
before the horn sounded, could make no pretence of being more
glorious than Ned — at least so thought Ned's sister; and being
herself attired in tall hat, neat-fitting waist, and long, flowing
black skirt — her first hunting habit — walked out from luncheon
to the mounting block, quite assured that thus far the reputa-
tion of Raghardagh had been well enough sustained.

It was very near noon when the master of the hunt gave
the word, the huntsman sounded a call, and the hounds, driven
into cover, gave tongue and began the chase. Out from the
low, scraggy bushes on the west side the fox broke, and went
scurrying over the grass straight towards a sunk fence that

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212 A Daughter of Kings. [Nov.,

bounded the lawn, while the pack in full cry went speeding
after him — thirty or forty, or maybe half-a-hundred, smooth-
haired hounds, long-eared, sturdy, and crooked of leg. The
hunt was under way, and two or three dozen horses sweeping
down to the jump ; Ned well to the front and Jennie at his
side, first among all the ladies at the very start. The boy's big
chestnut gathered himself and fairly strode over the fence,
second only to the master of the hunt ; but his feet were hardly
planted upon the sod when over came Jennie's soft-skinned
black mare, Deabhorghail, in a splendid leap and raced away
for the front in a manner that was bound to test every
thoroughbred of the lot. To watch brother and sister rise at
the jump one would have thought it quite a small affair and
easily taken, but nevertheless two or three riders stayed on the
hither side of the fence, and one or two Melton coats were
well plastered with the mud their wearers plunged into, while
several men and most of the girls were timid or wise enough
to ride down some distance and pass through the gate. Joe,
who had wisely decided to play a waiting game, watched his
leaders, sent Brian over in ninth or tenth place, easily and
prettily, and kept as nearly as possible in the middle of the group.

The pace became very, very fast at once, and within five
minutes not more than a baker's dozen were in the first bunch
of riders, while even these were often strung out sufficiently
well to leave a couple of fences between last and foremost.
Jennie was close to the hounds, and though Ned was not by
her side, she felt quite confident he was not very far behind.
A hard push up a small rise, with a jump into a ploughed
field, and some stiff running over the soft, uncrusted mould, told
on the weaker horses and thinned out the ranks a trifle more.
Jennie's big-panned mare came well to the fore in such work,
and when she cleared a hedge at the farther end of the field
only the master of the hunt was on her side the jump. The
old squire look admiringly at her, and shouted a " Bravo, Jennie ! "
as the girl came skimming over the grass, pushing him hard for
first place. It was smoother running now, though, and the blood
of some of the thoroughbreds back yonder began to tell in their
favor. Young Ffrench and one of the Blake girls were closing
up upon the leaders, and Ned, Lord Ashborne, and Major
Bell, the gentleman-rider who always won the "Corinthians" at
the Curragh, sailed over the hedge almost simultaneously and
charged away after the flying hounds.

Now it was pasture land. The hunt swept in a gallop over

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1895.] A Daughter of Kings. 213

the smooth, soft grass, each horse striding easily and steadily,
each rider feeling new courage and hope and exhilaration as
the wind flew by and brought new blood to cheek and temple.
Ned was by his sister's side, Lord Ashborne and the major at
their heels, while Joe, to whom the smooth ground was all
American prairie, could not resist the temptation to send Brian
up among the leaders. Over a tiny brook and into a wide,
smooth paddock, up again over a demesne wall, across a road
and along more firm, grassy ground. Was there ever such a
chase ? Jennie's cheeks • were blushing rosily and her eyes
sparkling as she turned for a moment's look at Joe, who was
riding neck and neck with her, and only a scant length behind
her brother.

" Watch sharp, Jennie ! " he cried warningly ; they were
tearing at an awful pace right down upon a " rasper " — a hedge
and ditch, the former high, the latter both deep and wide.
Ned faced it first ; the chestnut cleared it lightly as a doe, and
was off like a shot upon the other side, followed almost
instantly by Brian. Deabhorghail felt her mistress's guiding
touch, rose bravely, barely cleared the ditch, plunged clumsily
into the bushes beyond, and tore her way madly through them,
spurred by whip and voice. The mare herself came through all
right but for some long, red scratches on her glossy chest and
shoulders. Jennie's lower skirt was torn into ribbons and a long
strip of dark cloth left waving upon the hedge as a danger-
signal to those behind.

Over some bottom, then across a road — there were only
eight of them that crossed in sight of the hounds — and into
more pasture ground that led towards uplands. Here all was
smooth and firm, and running was fast again. The fox veers
round to westward into a long stretch of level country. Per-
haps it will be his last " spurt." The old squire, with a loud
" holloa," steers diagonally across the field and soars triumph-
antly over a five-barred gate. Lord Ashborne and the major
follow without a wink, and Jennie is upon their flank. Joe
comes charging boldly up to it, rises, the hunter toes the top-
bar, and crash ! both come heavily to the ground as the rest go
sweeping by. Jennie and Ned, far in the front, are both un-
aware of the accident.

The horse stoops with damp nostrils close to his master's
face. Joe's lips are white and his eyes closed, and he lies
silent and unconscious for several minutes, while the poor brute
alongside seems trying to acknowledge his fault. He pricks his

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214 A Daughter of Kings. [Nov.,

ears at the sound of a far-distant horn, looks in that direction,
then gives a delighted whinny as his master rises slowly and
leans upon the saddle. Another instant and they are off again,
and Joe is brushing back the thick hair that must now do duty
as riding-cap, for his hat is lying back under the gate flat as
a griddle-cake. Away off on a distant rise he sees a straggler
bob up against the sky-line and vanish again. Still farther
away he hears the winding of the horn and an occasional bay
from the hounds. He takes his chances of heading them off,
turns sharply to the left, after crossing a field or two, and
pegs away along the road at a slapping pace, big Brian putting
in his best work in an effort to retrieve the mishap.

The chase was not so easy as expected after Joe had been
left sleeping by the gate. Fences were very numerous along
the level stretch, and Reynard had taken to one or two big
ploughed fields that helped to make work heavy and slow. And
then came a check; he had crossed a wall — at least every one
had seen him leap upon the top ledge on his way over — and
the dogs stopped suddenly on the other side, ran around dis-
tractedly and silently with noses to the ground, saying as plainly
as man could, " check." For several moments the halt was con-
tinued, and all moved about uneasily conscious that the fox
was making the very best of his respite, and rapidly putting
safe distance between himself and his pursuers.

The knowing ones stayed close by the wall, and Jennie did
as she saw Ned doing to his own horse — pulled up within a few
yards of the wall, patted Deabhorghail's nostrils and spoke
soothingly to her, very well contented to enjoy a short rest.
But she wanted it very, very short, and the instant the cry came
and the hounds gave tongue and swept down on the scent once
more — the sly fox had not crossed the wall, but jumped back
into a water-course on the hither side and made off toward the
valley — she gave an impatient brush to the mare's flank with
her little ivory-handled riding-whip, and followed right on the
heels of the pack. They were gaining on the fox again; he
could be seen from time to time making his weary way across
the open, conscious that his little game was discovered and his
future chances of invading the homes of helpless chickens grow-
ing very slim. But there came another check to delay the
ministers of justice hastening upon his trail.

The hounds were some little distance ahead of the foremost
rider — the squire, as usual — and wheeled toward the east. Old
Ffrench saw a closed field, something like a large paddock, lying

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1895.] A Daughter of Kings. 215

in his way and rode boldly in at the open gate. Jennie fol-
lowedy and a crowd of others had galloped pell-mell after her,
before any one discovered that the farther entrance was impas-
sable, and a six-foot wall surrounded every part of the field.
There was nothing for it but to go back, and they were re-
tracing their way when the gate slammed to unexpectedly, and
a grinning countryman shouted in that they could make their
exit only upon payment of a half-crown tax per head.

"Pounded, b' Jove," says Lord Ashborne with a grimace,
diving at a trouser-pocket.

"Hanged if I let him chisel me!" cries Ned angrily, and
sends the chestnut at the wall.

Every eye is on him, for the jump is really terrific. Now,
Ned, for the honor of Raghardagh ! Alas ! poor Ned is too wild
to do his prettiest, though he needs every jot of skill he has.
He drives madly at the very nastiest part of the wall, where
great round cobble-stones lie on the ground, half-hidden in weeds
and heather. As Ned's fingers tighten on the rein, and the
chestnut gathers himself for a mighty spring, up jumps a wretched,
old, toothless shepherd dog from under the horse's very feet
with a sudden howl. The hunter balks, paws a smooth, grass-
covered stone, slips, and comes to the ground in a heap.
When he is pulled up it is with a slipped shoulder, and Ned is
out of the race.

The squire had run to the gate in a furious rage and struck
at the red-faced peasant with his long-lashed hunting "crop,"
but succeeded only in making him retreat to safe distance.
There is an instant's hesitation. Nobody fancied being fleeced,
but an alternative seemed impossible. There was the pack van-
ishing three fields away, with only the huntsman and one of the
" whips " upon their trail. It was maddening, and the squire's
blood rose higher. With the discharge of a volley of adjectives
and a couple of powerful nouns substantive, he headed his hunter
at the six-foot wall and cleared it splendidly. No one offered
to follow. Jennie was trembling with impatience and doubt,
and then, as some one went to the gate to open a parley and
pay the toll, she suddenly rushed Deabhorghail at the rocky
barrier with a " Now, girl, come ! " I think she shut her eyes
tight as she felt the mare rise, but Deabhorghail went over in
a flying leap and raced after the astonished squire, who nearly
broke his neck by attempting simultaneously to watch Jennie
and to take a fence himself.

Squire Ffrench, Jennie, and the huntsman, in the order named.

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2i6 A Daughter of Kings, [Nov.,

Joe came up with them as they crossed a road, and turned in
from the highway to follow. Before long they had got well
up on the heels of the dogs, while the rest of the party were
several fences behind. A long sweep round to the right by the
chase, however, and a nicely calculated detour by Lord Ash-
borne, Major Bell, and one of the whippers-in, brought these
latter up among the leaders again, and the group of eight, well
bunched, cleared fence after fence in fine style and at racing
speed, leaving all the remaining riders hopelessly distanced with-
in another thirty minutes. It was open country; they kept go-
ing at a terrible pace, and the horses at last began to show
signs of punishment. The hounds were inclined to straggle
a bit, too, but the long lash of the whippers-in on either side
flew out curling, and twisting, and writhing, to sting the aston-
ished dogs with a sudden bite on shoulder or hip, and send
them forward with sudden energy.

The huntsman gave out at last, tossing his bugte to Joe,
who was speeding by when the former's nag stopped, head
down, completely winded, and refused to proceed. The rider
did not try spur or lash, for the horse was clearly pounded ; and
he was not long alone, for a field further on a whipper-in gave
up the struggle, and when another fence was crossed, his
brother whip joined him. Bigger game was to go down before
Master Reynard, too, for ten minutes later the old squire's
charge balked at a quickset hedge, the rider flying over his
head and the hedge also, to come to the ground doubled up
and conscious of a broken arm.

Joe and Jennie, Lord Ashborne and the major, were fol-
lowing the pack alone. The country was still flat and open.
Up they rush at a double bank ; the four horses top almost
simultaneously; down again and off on the other side they
gallop, their speed apparently increasing. Across a wide brook
with a dashing leap. Jennie's mare falters on the farther bank,
but clings and scrambles and climbs to the top with the cat-
like agility of an Irish hunter, and is well over. The maj6r*s
horse is almost played out, but the major is game, and cool
and confident besides. As they breast a rise he goes up zig-
zag to save his horse a bit and crosses the wall at the top
successfully, while Lord Ashborne, who charges straight and
furious, cracks his hunter's knees upon the wall in going over
and comes rolling to the bottom. Deabhorghail and Brian take
it splendidly, the mare slightly in the lead; and on they speed
again after the hounds disappearing behind the crest.

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1895.] A Daughter of Kings. 217

It is a question of moments. The fox is a bare hundred
yards in front, his brush hanging low and trailing upon the
grass. The hounds gain new strength at the sight. They are
racing along stern high and head low, straining every last inch
■of nerve and muscle, and so close together that a sheet would
cover them. They enter a long, level field now, out of which
the fox will surely never get alive. Jennie and her cousin, run-
ning shoulder to shoulder, pass the major. He is keeping his
horse well in hand, riding his best ; but what can he do against
such bone and sinew as Brian Boroimhe has, or such staying
power as Deabhorghail's ? Joe is noble enough to pull a bit on
his horse, but Jennie sees him.

" No you don't, Joe ! " she cries. " Play fair. Ride your
prettiest, if you love me. On your honor, cousin mine.**

And Joe strikes spurs into Brian's side and is answered with
a mighty bound. Neck and neck, they are skimming the
ground. Joe's long " crop " is coming down in a rain of blows
upon his horse's flank. He gains a trifle.

" Ho-ho ! " cries Jennie. Her hair is tossed and rumpled by
the wind. Cheeks are flushed, and eyes flash, and lips are
trembling. " Ho-ho ! Come, girl ; come, Deabhorghail ! Come,
dear ! one more effort ! Ho-ho, girl, up there ! Come ! Come ! "

No wonder the mare could not resist that winning voice.
Major Bell, struggling along manfully in the rear, looks and sees
the black body stretch forward and the flying feet spurn the
ground. With a dash she was past the toiling Brian. With a
sudden rush of deathJike vigor she gained three times her
length. The nearest hound gave the fox a sudden nip ; he turned
— the furious pack fell on him tooth and nail, and there was
Jennie standing among them when Joe came up to whip away
the dogs.

" I'm proud of you, Di Vernon ! " cries Joe, helping her from
the saddle, though his own feet are unsteady and his knees
trembling. " Such a defeat we call a victory across the water."

And Jennie has hardly crimsoned when the major comes up
to her with the brush in his hand, and " I've ridden, man and
boy, for twenty years. Miss Jennie, and I vow I never saw a
prettier finish."

Jennie laughs delightedly. " Royal blood will tell," she says,
and the major joins poHtely in Joe's laugh, though he knows
not its reason why.

" * Et vera incessu patuit Dea," declares Joe. " Come, cousin,
we must think of getting home."

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2i8 A Simile. [Nov.,

A SIMILE.

BY LILIAN A. B. TAYLOR.

sea-beach glistening lay
zxy pink-lipped shell:
iming with the spray

as it fell.

iming crest

to land ;
s to breasty
\ sand.

-tt. poiisnea sneii, mat tapered fair.

With many a spiral curl,
That flashed in radiant colors where

The red had dyed the pearl;

As if, from glorious sunset skies
That glowed with brilliance rare,

The rosy cloudlets' crimson dyes
Were caught and mirrored there.

The soul is but another shell.

Where on the shores of Time
Eternity's vast waters swell

In majesty sublime ;

That mirrors in its crystal deeps

God's truth and light and love,
As in the shell reflected sleeps

The sunset's glow above,

But tinged with beauty far more rare

Than mortal eyes may see :
Not less, O God ! but yet more fair,

That 'tis but known to Thee.

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I895-] The Wonders of Old Ocean. 219

THE WONDERS OF OLD OCEAN.

BY F. M. EDSELAS.

'HAT which we know is little; that which we
know not is immense/* were the dying words
of La Place, that greatest of French astrono-
mers and mathematicians. Doubtless when ut-
tering this truism he had in mind the starry
world above and its wondrous mysteries, the end and aim of
his deepest thought and most earnest research. ^ Yet we will
find this saying of the great savant not less true when applied
tp other realms of nature's works, since God is also there, mar-
vellous in all his ways.

Only within a comparatively recent period has much been
known of the wonders in sea and ocean, far exceeding any-
thing dreamed by poet, or pictured as in fairyland. The Chat-
lenger expedition made the first of these most important reve-
lations, leading the way for other scientists eager to learn the
secrets so long hidden in Old Ocean's depths.

" You have never had the good-fortune to take such a trip ?
Then you have certainly missed half the real pleasure of a life-
time. Here and now is your chance, which may never come
again, if you will accept my escort on one of our government
steamers, specially fitted out in the interests of science."

Such was the bluff and cordial invitation of an old friend
and son of Neptune; no sooner received than accepted. Less
than a month later found us in mid-ocean, fairly salted, with
our sea-legs on and ready for business.

The dredge used first attracted my attention, being the
invention of Professor Alexander Agassiz. It consists of a net
with a cone-shaped opening, similar to an inverted eel-pot ; into
this the fish easily find their way, but once caught, escape is>
impossible. As the net is lowered from the vessel into the sea,
more line is paid out when it touches the bottom to give the
dredge full play, weights being added at regular intervals.
When properly adjusted, the steamer is slowly backed for
a quarter of a mile or so along the ocean's bed, the cable
meantime being held down by the weights, thus scooping in
the fish, etc., found at the sea bottom. Suddenly brought from

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220

The Wonders of Old Ocean,

[Nov.,

such great depths, but few are tremulous with life ; the effect
being similar to that produced upon a man dragged up in a
net to one of the planets through the airless spaces above our
atmosphere.

Devil-Fishing off Jamaica.

The colors of those we dredged usually varied from silvery
white to dark brown or black, although noted exceptions were
seen at times, as will be mentioned later.

It is the bizarre shape and peculiar development of their

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1895.] The Wonders of Old Ocean. 221

organism that mark these new visitors to our laboratories and
cabinets. The dredge sometimes revealed specimens with huge
heads and tiny bodies ; others were there having small skulls,
and ravenous-looking mouths apparently riveted to their stom-
achs, while tigerish teeth added greatly to their fierceness of
expression.

The Chiasmodus, although one of the smallest, is yet among
the most remarkable of these deep-sea fauna. The top of its
head is a veritable light-house for its neighbors of the finny
tribe, being the main source of a brilliant phosphorescent light.
More marvellous still is the formation of its body. The mouth
can be so expanded as to swallow fish twice its own size ; and
the stomach being equally elastic, will then stretch to an enor-
mous size, appearing like a gigantic pouch or balloon hanging
under the body, serving as a store-house for its prey.

While dredging in the Morocco waters a fish was brought up
from the depth of a mile and a half, chiefly all head and
mouth ; the latter measured four-fifths of its entire body. One
of the savants on board told us that it moved very slowly
through the water, continually scooping up the ooze with its
capacious mouth, and draining out all but. the animal food.

Each day brought occasion for ever new delight and admir-
ation as still more wonderful specimens were hauled up on
deck varying in beauty, color, and brilliancy ; while others, with
strangely hideous expressions and curious formation of body,
challenged not less our astonishment at the almost infinite
variety daily pouring in upon us.

Our attention was specially called to the wide structural dif-
ferences between the deep-sea fish and those remaining near
the surface or shores; attributable, of course, to the nature of
their surroundings. Almost total darkness, with the tremendous
pressure of water, require special adaptation to exceptional
needs. Verily, in no department of nature's work-shop do we
find more delicate mechanism, more consummate skill, than in
these dwellers of the deep, deep sea. All on board were full
of enthusiasm whenever a fresh haul was dumped on deck ;
seldom did we fail to find something new and strange, at least
to those of us who were making their first acquaintance with
this branch of science.

When brought to the surface the catch seems mainly soft,
pulpy masses, with bones and muscles but slightly developed ;
the tissues are so thin and frail as to be easily ruptured, mak-
ing this muscular weakness hardly compatible with .the power-

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222

The Wonders of Old Ocean.

[Nov.,

CHiETODON.

fully-shaped jaws and ravenous-looking teeth of many of these
predatory fishes. Let us not, however, lose sight of that never-
failing law of compensation by which the Creator so admirably

adapts means to the
end in view.

In no instance is it
more strikingly mani-
fest than in these very
specimens. At the
depth of a thousand
fathoms the pressure
equals a ton to the
square inch. If, then,
we could see in their
native haunts those pul-
py-looking creatures,
that can easily be tied in a knot when brought to the surface^ we
would find them vigorous and firm-bodied. The cause of this
phenomenon will be readily understood when we consider that as
the fish ascends this great

pressure gradually diminish- — -^

es upon the surface of the
body, while the gases with-
in, expanding proportional-
ly, cause a frightful disten-
sion. When opening a net
we often found the bodies
ruptured and the eyes pro-
truding — evidences of a
frightful death. Could a
fish be suddenly popped to
the surface from the depth
of a mile or more, it would
doubtless explode with a
terrific noise.

The absence of light at
the* lowest depths causes
many wonderful peculiarities
in the fauna found there.
Sunlight does not penetrate
below two hundred fathoms;
faintest glimmer possible at

CHiETODON.

at least there can be only the
that limit. Some of these deep-

sea fishes have no eyes at all, or mere rudimentary organs of

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1895.] The Wonders of Old Ocean. 223

sight ; others have little pin-points of vision, while here and
there are seen some having huge staring orbs, adding not a
little to their ferocious appearance. The latter have probably
a freer and
higher range
of habitation
than their less .
fortunate neigh-
bors, their eyes
being so organ-
ized as to colle
light-rays as possi
The absence o
mirably compens
development of r
tentacles or feelei
sist their owners
about in search Oi i^^v/v^. xjui.

more marvellous still is the Ch^todon.

provision of a special organ,

which otherwise would be useless for those favored with eye-
sight in this region of darkness. Although living in an eternal
night, many of these deep-sea fishes furnish their own light by
means of an organism emitting a phosphorescent gleam.

CHiETODON— " Shooting fish."

Some may well be called *Lamps of the Ocean, since they
carry little luminous tentacles which rise from their heads, or
have regular rows of brilliant spots along their sides, and as

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224 The Wonders of Old Ocean. [Nov.^

they go flashing through the water look like a veritable torch-
light procession. Even when brought to the surface the glim-
mer of their light can still be seen.

It is a never-ending subject for wonder that with so frail
and flabby a body these deep-sea dwellers can move with such
lightning rapidity while sustaining so great a pressure. As a
proof of this tremendous force, even at the depth of two miles^
a sealed glass tube was enclosed in one of perforated copper
and lowered to the depth just mentioned. When drawn up the
glass was reduced to fine powder, and the copper tube twisted
out of shape.

Examining these strange creatures more closely, we found
that while osseous and muscular development is but partial, the
bones themselves being permeated with pores and fissures, they
are able to resist this great pressure far better than if the
frame-work were more solid, as with land animals or those near
the surface of the water.

But little calcareous matter is found in the bones, and those
.of the vertebrae are fastened so loosely that they often separ-
ate, as is the case when larger fishes are brought to the sur-
face. And although the muscles are so very thin, and the con-
necting tissues almost wanting, yet these delicate creatures are
ever darting about in search of prey, as if sporting with and
defying the mighty waters rising mountain high to crush and
engulf them.

But let us go back to our Ocean Lamps, for they are well
worthy of more than a passing notice. The contents of a
dredge seen at night are far more beautiful than when viewed
by day. If you have never seen them it is not yet too late,
for here is a haul fresh from the very depths.

There are the lovely star-fish, though you would hardly
recognize them, so little resemblance do they bear to their
straw-like skeletons treasured in our cabinets. Fresh from their
native haunts, what a transformation ! Seemingly heated to
white heat, with gleams of light running up and down their
arms, they are truly marvels of beauty.

Those known as the Ophinerans give out a peculiarly dazzling
light, the smallest sparkling like the rarest gems. Once when
dredging among shoals of them, in deepest waters, our net fairly
overflowed with these curious specimens, although but a glimpse
of the wondrous beauty concealed in old ocean's bed. Ane-
mones and certain species of coral in more shallow water emit
a very brilliant light.

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1895.] The Wonders of Old Ocean. 225

Here we come upon a marvellous group of polyps, which, as
you know, like the star-fish, belong to the Radiates. They are
growing upon a stem three or four feet long, reminding one of
candelabra well lighted, only more intensely luminous. It is
called the Umbellularia ; the first dredge containing specimens
was taken at great depth off the Greenland coast in such quan-
tities that one could easily surmise the myriads swarming below.
Looking at the specimens before us, with their sparkling cor-
uscations of light, it was easy to hazard a guess at the won-
drous beauty of their home-life.

Some one has aptly compared it to a corn-field, a mile or so

Combat between Spearfish and Swordfish.

below the surface, having stalks four feet long, with ears emit-
ting a golden-greenish light of wonderful softness. Then think
of them as covering a surface acres and acres in extent, the
lights continually flashing and waving in gentle undulations, while
the fishes ever and anon dart between these stalks, with their
gleaming head-lights ; others are outlined as it were in fire, and
far above are seen great globes of light, with softly radiant
aureolas! A wonderfully brilliant scene ; surely the work of some
VOL. Lxiiw— 15

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226 The Wonders of Old Ocean [Nov.,

magician ! you involuntarily exclaim. Indeed it is, and that
magician is nature's God. So dazzling is the light that no mod-
ern lens, with gas, electric, and the . new illuminant, carbide of
calcium, or acetylene, as it is named, all combined, could " hold a
candle to it " ! Among these polyps we find the Sea-pens, won-
derfully luminous, varying in length from short to long and
slender, the latter being termed in science Virgularia ; a third
variety has a graceful, plume-like form, and is dubbed Veretilium,
If a number are enclosed in a glass, one can easily read by the
light emitted at the distance of a foot.

While skirting the Patagonian coast at low tide a shoal of
these Sea-pens was exposed to view, making night radiant with
their phosphorescent glow ; later on they reminded one of a
large army disappearing in the sea as the tide came in. The
jelly-fishes, or Mcdusce, seem the most delicate and, with few
exceptions, the most luminous of all these light-givers. They
are only five per cent, solid matter, the remaining ninety-
five per cent, being liquid ; their formation is most exquisite.
Shoals of them swarm near the Pacific coast, giving that pecu-
liarly brilliant phosphorescence often seen from decks of vessels.
Some of the species are only partially luminous, others, as the
Pelagia, entirely so ; with many the condition is variable, with
others constant.

The almost infinite variety of colors, revealed as they flash
through the waters, ever changing like those of the kaleido-
scope, only add to their wondrous beauty. Here are some
emitting a golden light, there is one with a delicate green and
azure, while not a few show a combination of tints ; but in each
and all the effect is a marvel of beauty.

The most dazzling display is in autumn ; it is then that these
lamps of old ocean seem to hold a family reunion, clustering
in shoals around the rocks, lashing the foaming billows into a
seething whirlpool. Among these we often met the little Bom-
bay Ducksy as they are called, which are entirely luminous ; they
were among our special favorites of these deep-sea dwellers, and
we never tired while studying their strangely varied forms and
structure.

They take the shape of bells and disks, tubes and spheres,
besides others equally wonderful. One, discoidal in form, was
strikingly beautiful, having deep purple and orange bands radiat-
ing from the centre, while on the circumference were suspended
delicately transparent tentacles. As they became luminous after
nightfall, the effect was beautiful beyond description.

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1 895-] The Wonders of Old Ocean, 227

The organs giving sight, as well as those affording light, are
arranged in the oddest, most fantastic ways. The former may
be well named accessory eyes, being arranged in rows on their
ventral surfaces, seeing only what is beneath, unless convenience
should allow them to turn upon their backs. Near the visual
organs are luminous spots giving the needed light.

One of these light-bearers was unusually large, measuring
six feet in length, furnished with a tall dorsal fin running along
the entire body. The tips of this fin are luminous, as well as a
broad place on its head, besides a double row of brilliant spots
on either side of the body. A similar arrangement also marks
the Chanliodus, one of the most ferocious torch-bearers. Its
mouth fairly overflows with teeth, which protrude in anything
but an attractive manner. The flaming spots that tip the fins
also extend along the dorsal surface, like so many windows re-
flecting light upon the fish.

We have thus far noted the external appearance of these
dwellers in the ocean depths ; not less wonderful and interest-
ing will be the study of their curious structure.

Taking, the bell-shaped jelly-fish, we find the mouth is usually
beneath, in the centre of the bell, at a convenient distance from
the tentacles fringing it, upon which the creature depends to
procure its food. Stinging cells are added, which they use not
so much to kill as to paralyze their prey.

These zoophytes, or animal plants, are indeed well named,
as will be seen by their curious modes of reproduction, varying
with different species. Sometimes a bud-like appendage devel-
ops, which, when fully formed, drops off and is left to care for
itself; after passing through various singular changes, it takes
its place with other perfectly developed jelly-fish. Again, the
parent body actually separates, splits open, each portion becom-
ing a perfect animal ; so much for the economy of nature !
The budding method of reproduction seems very common among
different classes of zoophytes, as the sponge, coral, etc.

It is well known that half of the world lives at the expense
of the other half. This truism may be applied with equal truth
to our new acquaintances in the deep sea, where parasites are
found in every form and where least expected, making themselves
equally at home with the most harmless as with the most for-
midable of their neighbors.

While examining the curiously formed, bell-shaped jelly-fish an-
other species was found lodged in the arch of the bell, and strange
though, it be, was never seen elsewhere. In such good fellow-

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228 The Wonders of Old Ocean. [Nov.,

ship do these comrades live, that the little visitor seems in no
way affected by the stinging cells of his friendly host, which so
quickly paralyzes others within its range ; this parasite is even
so sure of position as. a guest that it eagerly seizes for food

Walking Fish of Seychelles.

the prey secured by the sting of the jelly-fish, even at the lat-
ter's expense. We were not certain how these favors were
returned, but doubtless, as is the case with other parasites, the
lodger gives warning of the approach of danger.

Sometimes a small fish is found burrowing in the side of
a larger one ; again we see them holding on by means of suck-
ers to the sides, even assuming the color of this adopted home,

Tazzard, or " Bulldog of the Ocean."

from which they easily catch their food, as shoals of tiny fish
are continually swept along by the rushing waters. *

An interesting transparent animal, called the Salpa^ appears
structureless ; but on closer examination we see a mouth,
stomach, and other organs found in the higher invertebrates.

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1 895-] The Wonders of Old Ocean. 229

They usually have an odd-looking blue parasite within the
wall of their body ; indeed very few dwellers in the sea are
free from parasites, being more abundant in true fishes than in
any others — that is, in those breathing through gills ; they make

LoPHius, OR Angler (Walking Fish).

themselves at home in any external nook or corner of the
body, besides taking lodgings in the gills and roof of the
mouth. Even on sharks they are often found, having punctured
the flesh an inch in depth.

Human beings with parasitic tendencies usually degenerate
in habits, inclinations, and whatever makes individualism and a
worthy character. This degeneration is also very marked in
the structure of the marine parasites. Organs once essential

Angler, or Sea Devil (Lophius Piscatorius).

become useless and gradually disappear altogether, so that the
animal bears little resemblance to its former self.

On this account naturalists have sometimes been misled,
taking these abridged specimens for some new or unknown
member of the animal kingdom.

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230 The Wonders of Old Ocean. [Nov.,

The parasite Penella is a good illustration. Once allied to
the shrimp, we find the little creature so changed by the loss
of its feet and other organs as hardly to be recognized as hav
ing been once a worthy member of the higher crustacean family.
This demoralization, if we may so term it, is even more marked
in those worm-like animals found in the stomachs of sharks and
other fishes. Finding their food ready for digestion, without
the trouble of preparation, the organs needed for this purpose
being useless, the mouth, eyes, etc., have disappeared, leaving
the outer walls of the body to absorb all needed food.

While drifting through the Gulf Stream we found curious
and variegated little fishes among the seaweed. One, called the
file-fish, carries its weapon of defence upon the back. It con-
sists of a long, sharp spine usually folded upon the body so as
to be scarcely perceptible. But -the little creature is ever on •
the alert, for at the slightest approach of danger, like a soldier
on guard, the weapon springs up, and will at once be. so firmly
fixed in an upright position as to resist all efforts to bend it
down again. Examining its anatomy more closely, we find a
little bone at the base of the movable spine, holding it in what-
ever position the animal may desire. Indeed thus might we go
on giving numberless proofs of the marvels revealed to every
earnest student of nature's secrets in the ocean's depths; our
limits, however, will admit the mention of only one more. It is
that of a very curious crab — indeed a creature that would win
the prize in a collection of natural eccentricities. Its head
might be regarded as almost wholly eye, including numberless
lenses. Furnished with this wonderful organ of vision, it was
able to remain at a considerable depth during the day, coming
to the surface only at night. Quite as remarkable were its
organs of motion. Besides five pairs of good legs, there were
also three pairs of false or rudimentary ones lower down, but
for what purpose we could not determine ; in addition to these
were two pairs of appendages, which we called foot-jaws for
want of a better term, since they seemed to answer the double
purpose of locomotion and mastication. To crown this wonder
the entire body was so transparent that muscles, nerves, and
other internal organs could be easily traced out. Occasionally in
some crustaceans the peculiar structure of two genera would be
found combined in one specimen.

Temperature on sea as well as land has much to do with
the anatomy and habitudes of animals ; from the surface to a
mile below it gradually lowers to 40*^ Fahr., being just above

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1895.] The Wonders of Old Ocean, 231

the freezing point. At the lowest depths it is much colder ;
but in the intervening space, say of five or six miles, the aver-
age temperature is found invariably the same in all parts of
the world.

Animals remaining at the lowest depths probably represent
the oldest and lowest types of their class, linking them with the
earliest forms of marine life. These have a wider horizontal
range, the same species being found in both hemispheres, and

Whale attacked by Orcas.

in widely separated parts of the sea-bottom. Those limited to
the same habitat from age to age show an almost unbroken
persistence of form, and hence of successive generations ; we
thus have the remotest past made vividly present in the living
prototypes of their ancestors.

Exceptions not infrequently occur, as among the deep-sea
fishes are found those formerly belonging to higher orders,
some even allied to the crustaceans. Lack of food or other

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232 The Wonders of Old Ocean. [Nov.,

unfavorable conditions doubtless drove them from the shore or
to lower depths, working the needed transformation. This
seems to be the destiny of our well-known halibut, which is
passing below its former latitude.

Its new physical surroundings will of necessity develop
special organs, so that in time it will have joined the torch-
bearers and others found near the sea-bottom.

Not the least of the advantages derived from these researches
is the discovery of what may well be termed missing links in
the great scale of life, and therefore, zoologically considered,
of no trifling value. Each newly-discovered specimen of marine
fauna, whether sponge or sea-urchin, coral or crab, fills a gap
which verifies more surely that wondrous plan of creation, old
yet ever new, hoary with age while still blooming with the
freshness of eternal youth.

It is not possible to give more than a few illustrations from
the multitude of the denizens of the deep ; the bare enumera-
tion of* their names would fill volumes. Yet some help will be
found in the formation of ideas on the subject in the pictures
we present. The extraordinary creature called the devil-fish,
for instance, has often been heard of, yet few have any notion
of what the monster is really like. Its singular shape and un-
couth mass are well shown in the picture of a scene from the
Jamaica waters, showing a boat's crew engaged in the danger-
ous task of capturing one of these creatures. The many
varieties of the species called Chaetodon deserve study also, as
showing the delicate task which naturalists have, in many cases,
in classifying and grouping the different natural orders, wherein
minor deviations might often be mistaken for organic differ-
ences in structure. But the real place to study these subjects
is the aquarium, and what is written here will be mainly ser-
viceable if it lead to a closer study of the great marine organ-
isms wherever the advantages of a large aquarium can be en-
joyed.

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1 895-] Madame Garnier and Her Work. 233

MADAME GARNIER AND HER WORK.

BY ANNIE BLOUNT STORRS.

BEAUTY, ei'er ancient and ever new!'' O Chris-
tian Charity! pity so tender and benevolence so
generous, mother of the young, nurse of the
starving, advocate of the oppressed, faithful lover
of the leper ; thou who, sharing the varied for-
tunes of the church, remainest as fruitful as her dogma is
immovable ; immortal companion of the poor, who never die ;
thou wilt be yet standing to succor the last unfortunate in the
horrors of the last day; thou canst neither weaken nor be
extinguished, for that which thou seekest under the ragged gar-
ments, in the depth of the weeping eyes, of the bleeding
wounds, of the mourning hearts, is divine love ! "

With this eloquent apostrophe of the greatest of all virtues.
Charity, and to illustrate the fruitfulness of Divine Love, Abb^
Chaffanjon, the Director of the Work of the "Women of Cal-
vary" in Lyons, in his book. Widows and Charity 1^ recently
translated into English and published by Benziger Brothers^ in
this city, gives the unbroken chain of illustrious Christian
widows from Mary, Mother of Jesus and of men, through the
ages, to Madame Garnier, the foundress of the "Work of the
Women of Calvary," which he truly calls " one of the most
sublime manifestations of charity in modern Catholicity."

The work of the Women of Calvary is to receive into their
houses indigent women suffering from cancer, lupus, or any
other living, bleeding wounds, non-contagious, whom the hospi-
tals can no longer retain, for non-paying patients may only
remain six months when declared incurable ; and the singularity
of the work is that the "Women of Calvary" are not religious,
but women of the world, who enter the association without
renouncing family, fortune, or liberty ; widows, who seek to
sanctify their lives by the practice of charity ; which is offered
for the conversion of sinners, the perseverance of the just, the
deliverance of the souls in purgatory.

Madame Garnier lived but a few years after the foundation

» The Work of the Women of Calvary^ and its Foundress, By AbW Chaffanjon, Direc-
tor of the Work at Lyons. Translated from the French.

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234 Madame Garnier and Her Work. [Nov.,

of the Work, only long enough to see her dear incurables hap-
pily established at La Sarra, a beautiful estate in the vicinity
of Lyons. Her life was short, but her ardent, impassioned
nature gave the stamp to the Work which still distinguishes it,
that of untiring devotion to the cause for which it was institut-
ed. No women in the world have ever surpassed the French
in heroism ; witness the Sisters of Charity on the battle-field,
in times of epidemic ; the Little Sisters of the Poor ; the num-
erous religious communities called into existence by their won-
derful desire to minister to every want of suffering humanity;
and now this appeal of Madame Garnier, not to the virgin, to
the lily of the sanctuary, but to women who have loved and
lost, who have passed through life's conflict, to bury the past
with all its sorrows and bitter memories, to repair the broken
links by assuming new duties, has met with a generous response.

The house in Lyons was a success from the beginning, but
for thirty years it remained alone until 1874, when a founda-
tion was made in Paris by Madame Jousset, the widow of the
well-known publisher, who still directs the Work with consum-
mate tact and prudence, assisted by Madame Philippon, the
widow of a general in the French army. There are five hun-
dred widows in the association in Paris; not more than fifteen
or twenty are resident, but among the panseuses^ those whose
duties may detain them at home, and only come for certain
hours, are many distinguished women ; one of the most con-
spicuous is the famous Duchess d'Uz^s, as remarkable for her
charities as for her eccentricities. It was she who, during the
Boulanger craze, contributed three millions of francs to the
fund to assist the cause which so many fondly thought might
bring back royalty to France ; and no one, to see her in her
dashing equipage in the Bois de Boulogne in the afternoon,,
would dream tnat she had spent the morning dressing wounds
in the Calvary. There her gentle, loving words and skilful
hands have helped poor women to bear their sufferings more
cheerfully ; for it is marvellous the good moral effect this daily
advent of fresh faces has upon the sick. It seems to bring
them into semi-contact with the world they have left, to infuse
new life into their failing hearts.

Madame de Mont^age, Madame de Vaublanc, and many
others too numerous to mention, are all good workers ; but in-
comparably the best is an American, Madame de Forrest, to
whom the surgeons always confide the most difficult cases. To
perfect herself in her noble mission she studied in the hospitals.

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1895-3 Madame Garnier and Her Work. 235

andy after passing her examination before six of the best sur-
geons in Paris, received her diploma, of which she is justly proud.

The next house founded was in Marseilles, in 1881, where
the work was admirably lodged in a large and commodious
building, especially suited for the purpose, the walls of the dor-
mitories for the sick being of porcelain. A foundation soon
after was made in Saint-Etienne, and in 1886 the work was
established in Brussels, Belgium, where a beautiful house, sur-
rounded by extensive grounds, was donated by a wealthy
woman. By a singular coincidence the house had been vacant
for ten years ; the wife of the owner had died of a cancer, which
made him leave it, as he could not bear to live where he had
seen her suffer so intensely, and yet from a tender sentiment he
would not sell it, until the offer was made for this good purpose.

The president of the association in Brussels is the Countess
Louis de Merode, who invited Madame Dainez, of the house in
Paris, to assume the charge, which she has ever since retained.
It was some time before the Belgians entered into the spirit of
the Work, so that Paris furnished most of the workers, and sent
Madame van der Hecht, a most intelligent and remarkable
■woman in many respects ; Madame Boutilly, Madame Blin ; and
finally Madame de Forrest thought she could be more useful in
Brussels than in Paris, and came to the assistance of the new
community. The association has now become very large, and
among the more notable women are the Duchess d'Arenberg,
the Countesses Henri and Auguste d'Ursel, Madame de Kon-
drioffsky, a Russian ex-ambassadress, Madame Langhens de Lasca,
Madame Symon, Madame Le Tellier ; and, although not a widow,
her Royal Highness, the Countess de Flandre, has signified her
approval of the Work by endowing the dispensary of the
Calvary, founded in her parish.

In 1892 the Archbishop of Rouen, France, founded a house
of Calvary, and invited two ladies of Rouen, who had been for
some years in the Calvary of Paris, to take charge of it ; and
there as elsewhere great good has been accomplished.

It may be asked. What is the necessity of this new work
while there are so many hospitals and institutions of every kind
for the poor? The necessity is proved by the numbers that
seek admittance wherever a house has been opened; the neces-
sity arises from the unaccountable and deplorable increase of
cancer in every condition of life. In a recent report of the
Cancer Hospital in London it is stated : " Cancer is increasing ;
the doctors cannot stem its advance. All that they can pre-

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236 Madame Garnier and Her Work. [Nov.,

scribe is to cut, without even a promise that the knife will do
more than postpone for a little time a torturing death. Thirty
thousand die every year by cancer, and as the disease takes
from two to four years to torture before it slays its victims,
there must be one hundred thousand persons upon whom can-
cer has laid the mark of death." The rich have their comfort-
able homes and devoted attendants to sooth their anguish and
mitigate their sufferings by all the appliances science can afford ;
the poor women — for the most numerous patients are women,
and of women more especially mothers — have only the hospital ;
and if after six months they are declared incurable, they must
leave. Where are they to go ? Even though the husband may
have been able to keep the family together when the mother,
the centre of unity, has disappeared — for alas ! the case is rare-
ly found — can he receive her? In the little rooms of the
crowded tenement-house, can the poor sufferer's wounds be
<lressed, can she ev^n be tolerated?

In Brussels a poor woman in a hospital had been operated
upon four times for cancer, which had nearly destroyed the
lower part of her face ; the surgeons wished to operate a fifth
time ; she would not consent, and then she was told to leave.
She went home; her husband, a shoemaker, refused to admit
her ; he said her hideous appearance would drive away custom-
ers; and the forlorn creature, turned away from her own door,
was fortunately directed *to the Calvary, where she lingered four
months, attended with the most loving care.

In this great city of New York, so noted for its splendid
charitable institutions, the same necessity exists as in the large
cities of Europe. The same rule holds in the hospitals ; it is
just. Why should the incurable be retained when many are
clamoring for entrance who may be cured ? So, by the eternal
rule of the survival of the fittest, the incurable must give way
to the curable. But should not some refuge be provided for
these miserable outcasts of humanity ?

The question of establishing a House of Calvary in New
York has been agitated, and we trust the movement may be
successful. When it is considered that from Bellevue Hospital
alone in 1894 there were eighty-nine cases of cancer discharged
as incurable, the necessity cannot be doubted.

It may be suggested that there are so many different foun-
dations recently made for the relief of the poor : the Little
Sisters of the Assumption, the Helpers of the Holy Souls, and
others who nurse the sick poor in their homes. All praise and

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1 895-] Madame Garnier and Her Work. 237

honor to their admirable efforts ; but they cannot do the work
of the Calvary, which is the dressing of wounds; they cannot
go around from house to house with antiseptics and the neces-'
sary appliances. In Europe they go hand-in-hand ; the visiting
orders attend the poor in their homes, and when they find cases
that should be cared for in the Calvary they seek admittance
for them.

A case in point which occurred here four years ago was that
of a young French girl, sixteen years old, an orphan who had
been for several months a patient in the Cancer Hospital. The
ladies of the French Benevolent Society were interested in her,,
and as, owing to her frightful appearance, she had been unable
to be prepared for her first Communion at the parish church,
they wished to give her the necessary instruction. Every facil-
ity was accorded to them in the hospital ; but the limit of time
had passed, and she was obliged to leave. Her position was
heartrending ; the disease had destroyed her hearing, the palate
had been eaten away so that she could witH difficulty articulate,
the nose was gone, only one eye was intact ; the surgeons de-
cided the diseased eye should be extirpated, and she was re-
moved to the Eye and Ear Infirmary, where the society paid
for her. The operation was successful, but she could only re-
main there during her convalescence. Meanwhile, every Catho-
lic hospital and institution was visited to try to find a place
for her^ the society promised to pay her board, to furnish every-
thing necessary for her complete isolation ; all in vain, no one
would receive her.

The poor child had manifested the best dispositions for her
religious instruction, and wept bitterly when she was taken to
the Charity Hospital on Blackweirs Island. The ladies promised
to visit her, which greatly comforted her, and told her they
would try to find a home for her in some good French family.
At last a woman was found who consented to receive and care
for the lonely girl, as her board would be paid ; but when the
ladies went to the Charity Hospital she was gone, and no tid-
ings have ever been heard of her since. The register was searched,
but there was merely the date of her departure ; the nurse who
had charge of the ward said she believed it was the agent of
some institution out of the city who had taken her. Of course
she is lost to the faith in which she was baptized, and she
may be but one of many. If there had been a Calvary to re-
ceive her when discharged from the hospital, how different wolild
have been her fate !

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238 The Little Cripple of Lisfarran. [Nov.,

THE LITTLE CRIPPLE OF LISFARRAN.

BY KATHARINE ROCHE.

" I remember the black wharfs and the slips,

And the sea-tides tossing free,
And Spanish sailors with bearded lips,
And the beautj and mjstery of the ships.

And the magic of the sea." — Longfellow,

N the sunset glow of a bright June evening a girl,
one or two and twenty years of age, was walk-
ing rapidly along the chief street of the little
sea-port town of Lisfarran. She was clad in a
faded print gown, with a dark plaid shawl worn
over her head in lieu of a bonnet ; but the shawl fell in soft
folds round her slender figure, and framed her pale face and
golden-brown hair in a way that would have gladdened the heart
of a painter ; while the brightness and color lacking in both face
and dress were supplied by a large bunch of roses and gera-
niums, interspersed with green fern-fronds and dark ivy sprays,
which she carried carefully in her hand.

Steep streets, quitting the main thoroughfare, crept up the
hill-side, while farther down were to be seen the masts and
shrouds of the ships lying in the large dock-yard that furnished
occupation and support to a considerable portion of the inhabi-
tants of the little town.

The girl paused at the open door of one of the tallest and
oldest of the houses, and after listening for a moment entered.
The house had formerly been a good one, but it was now let
in tenements, the ground-floor having been turned into a little
shop. A tall, fresh-looking young woman stood inside the coun-
ter gossiping with a neighbor, while her husband, whose flat,
straw tool-basket showed him to be a carpenter just returned
from work, guided the tottering steps of a sturdy child in its
promenade up and down the counter.

" It's a fine evening, Maggie,** he said to the girl as she en-
tered.

" *Tis, indeed,** she answered. " Thanks be to God for that
same 1 "

" Don't go upstairs, Maggie,** said his wife ; " tea will be
ready this minute.**

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1895O The Little Cripple of Lisfarran. 239

" I want just to put these flowers in water. . Where's John
nie?"

" In bed ; his back was very bad this evening, so when Jim
come home I just made him carry him up at once. He'll be
glad to see the flowers, Maggie."

" ril take them to him." And she passed swiftly up the
stairs.

" How fond she is of that boy, to be sure," said the neigh-
bor.

" Indeed then she is, Mrs. Shea. 'Twas a lucky day for
Johnnie when she come to lodge in the house, for, between the
shop and the baby and everything else, it's little time I'd have
to spare for amusing him ; but Maggie, sitting there quiet at
her work, can talk to him an' tell him stories by the hour to-
gether."

Meantime Margaret had mounted to the topmost story, where
her own room was situated. ' She did not enter it, howeVer, but
turned to another door close by, through which were audible
the notes of a plaintive air, warbled in a sweet, childish voice.
At sight of her the singer broke off with a glad cry.

" Margaret ! I was afraid something must have happened to
you."

The speaker was a little boy of about ten years of age. Ly-
ing as he was upon a low pallet bed, his face only was visible ;
the features were pretty, lighted up as they were by a pair of
large blue eyes, and surrounded by soft, fair curls, but they
wore the indescribable look seen only on the faces of the
deformed, while a little pair of crutches propped up against
the bed gave further evidence of the poor child's helpless-
ness.

Beside the window was a low bench on which stood a little
earthen pitcher containing a plant of hart's-tongue fern, and
near it a small drawing-board to which was fastened a pencil
sketch of the graceful, curving fronds. A few rude drawings of
plants and ships were pinned against the whitewashed walls.

" I was afraid something must have happened to you."

" What could have happened to me, Johnnie ? Don't you
think I am big enough to take care of myself? See what I've
brought you."

" O Madge ! what lovely flowers. I never saw anything like
them. Where did you get them ? "

" Mrs. Darcy gave them to me. Shall I put them in water
for you?"

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240 The Little Cripple of Lisfarran. [Nov.,

" Do, please. Put them where I can see them, Madge, please.
I want to look at them when I wake in the morning. Now,
Madge, look out of the window before it gets quite dark. Look
down towards the docks. Do you see a tall mast, right over
the roof of the big store?"

" A mast with yards across it ? Yes."

" That's the mast of Carlo's ship. She'll be going soon now,,
so I must try an' get down there to-morrow. I must see Carlo
before he goes. O Margaret ! if you only heard him sing."

" Was it he that taught you the song you were singing when
I came upstairs? "

" Yes ; only I don't know all the words yet. I must get
them perfect to-morrow."

" Will you have a cup of tea, Johnnie ? Nellie says it's ready
below."

" No, thank you, Madge. Jim brought me an orange when
he come home, an* I've no mind for anything else. Go down
to your own tea."

" Will you sing yourself to sleep ? "

" If I can ; do you go down anyway. Felicissinta notte^ Mar-
gherita^

*' Is that French, Johnnie ? "

" No, Italian. Carlo's teaching me. Oh ! I know lots of
words. I'll teach them to you if you like."

" Thank you, Johnnie ; some day when I've time. Now,
good-night, an' go to sleep soon."

But when, some two hours later, Margaret passed up again
to her own room she heard the little voice still singing the plain-
tive Italian hymn.

Poor little Johnnie was Jim's brother ; he had been a cripple
from his babyhood, and since his mother's death he had always
lived with Jim, who was very kind to him in his own rough
way. Margaret Hayes had come to lodge with them when
the death of her parents obliged her to leave her country home
and seek employment in a town ; she and Johnnie had taken a
fancy to each other from the first, and her stories and songs
beguiled many a weary hour when his pain was too bad to
allow of his even sitting up to draw, which was his favorite oc-
cupation. She it was who had taught him to write, and who
had so far improved upon the foundation laid by Jim's pains-
taking efforts as to make reading a pleaisure instead of a labor
to him.

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1895.] 'J^^^ Little Cripple of Lisfarran. 241

11.

" It's a very beautiful picture, Giovanni. If you work hard,
you will one day be a great painter, ^^AV? mio''

. Johnnie was seated upon a coil of rope on the deck of the
barque Bianca, while his friend Carlo, leaning against the
bulwark close by, was. examining a pencil sketch which Johnnie
had just put into his hand. Carlo was a picturesque figure with
his blue shirt and crimson cap, and dark, bright-eyed Italian
face ; altogether a contrast to the pale little cripple in dingy,
worn clothes who sat beside him.

The sketch which Carlo held was an attempt at Margaret's
portrait.

" It's like a Madonna," said the sailor presently. " Is she
as beautiful as you have made her Giovannino?"

*' I think she's much more beautiful," answered Johnnie ;
" but do you know. Carlo, Jim says that she's quite ugly be-
cause she's so pale and thin. That's why I like her. I like
pale faces best."

" And I also," said Carlo. " I would wish much to see this
Margherita of yours, Giovanni."

" Couldn't you come down to our place ? You could buy
something in the shop ; we've good tobacco I know ; an' then
maybe Nelly would ask you to tea."

Johnnie gave this very guarded invitation with considerable
hesitation, being by no means clear as to the extent of his
privileges in his sister-in-law's house.

"I cannot come this time , figlio mio ; we sail this evening at
the turn of the tide. Next year, perhaps, I will come."

"Will you be away a whole year?" asked Johnnie wistfully.

" Perhaps not quite a whole year, but it will be summer
again before we come. We go to Melbourne this voyage. I
will keep this picture to remind me of you and of Margherita,
and you must not forget me, Giovannino mio."

" Forget you ! " sobbed Johnnie ; " I could not do that, not
if I tried ever so hard."

About a fortnight after the departure of the Biancay as
Margaret was sitting at tea with Jim and his wife, the former
said suddenly :

" By the by, Maggie, that foreign chap that Johnnie's so
fond of is back here again."

" Back again ! " said Margaret. " I thought he was to be a
yearjaway."

VOL. LXII.— 16

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242 The Little Cripple of Ljsfarran. [Nov.,

" So he thought himself ; but some of the crew of the ship
mutinied, an* tried to shoot the captain, an' they had to put
back. But for Johnnie's friend the captain would have been
killed. 'Twas he that saw the fellow taking aim, an' struck up
his hand, so that the ball went into the captain's shoulder in-
stead of through his heart. He contrived to get hold of the
revolver then, an' shot one of the fellows, an' frightened the
rest until help came an' they were put in irons."

** Shot him ! " said Margaret ; " was the man killed ? "

" No, only lamed for life ; an' serve him right too ; what
business had he to shoot the captain ? "

" Them foreign sailors are very treacherous," said Nelly.

" But this wasn't a foreigner at all, but a man from this
very place. Delany his name is, and he was the ringleader an'
set the other men on. It's all in to-day's paper."

Taking the paper, Margaret went upstairs to Johnnie's room.
The poor little fellow was worse than usual, and had remained
in bed all day, so that he had not seen the Bianca^ although
she was at anchor in the river directly opposite. Now, however,
Margaret managed to move his bed close to the window, thus
affording him ocular demonstration of the truth of at least a part
of her news, which he had at first been inclined to consider too
good to be true. Then, sitting down beside him, she read the
newspaper report aloud, becoming as much interested in the
narrative of Carlo's heroism as was Johnnie himself. The latter
being familiar with every nook and corner of the Bianca^ was
able to realize the whole scene and to add many graphic
touches from his own imagination to the somewhat meagre news-
paper report.

" I shouldn't wonder if Carlo was to be made first mate
now, Madge," he said. " O Madge ! I must get up to-morrow
whatever way I'll be, an' try to get aboard of her. I want to
hear all about it from Carlo himself."

But the following morning found poor Johnnie worse rather
than better; the excitement had told on hifn, and a sleepless,
feverish night left him totally unable to rise. It was a bitter
disappointment to him, and his grief resisted all attempts at
consolation.

One morning Johnnie awoke, according to his usual custom,
very early, and propping himself up in his bed, which was drawn
close to the window, amused himself by studying his little
world in its morning aspect. Very beautiful it looked in the
fresh, bright childhood of the day, undisturbed as yet by human

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1 895-] The Little Cripple of Lisfarran. 243

cares or sorrows. The only sounds to be heard were the shrill
cries of the sea-birds, and the splash of the little waves as they
broke against the steep sides of the railway embankment.
Presently, however, Johnnie saw a little boat put out from its
shelter under the black hull of the Bianca^ and full of the hope
that it might be bringing Carlo ashore, the little boy. watched
it eagerly as it made its way across the water, the sunlight
gleaming on the shower of drops caused by each dip of the
oars. At last it reached the shore at a distance of about a
hundred yards farther up the river, and a tall, red-capped figure,
whom Johnnie recognized as Carlo, sprang out, and, stooping
down, began to secure the little boat to the side of the em-
bankment. As he did so another figure, hitherto concealed by
some bushes, crept stealthily forward and dealt the sailor a
heavy blow which felled him to the earth.

Johnnie's piercing scream summoned Margaret, who had risen
early in order to finish some work, and who was already
dressed. She found the little boy almost in convulsions ; he
could only point in the direction of what he had seen, and
gasp out Carlo's name. Margaret looked from the window, and
perceived a tall, powerfully built man dragging an apparently
lifeless form up the embankment.

" What's the matter, Johnnie ? Is that Carlo ? Is he hurt ? "

"I saw the man kill him," gasped Johnnie. "He knocked
him down as he got out of the boat."

" My God ! ** exclaimed Margaret, who was looking out of
the window, "he is laying him right across the rails."

"O ^Margaret!' run, save him; maybe he's not dead,"
screamed Johnnie.

" I'm going, Johnnie ; don't be frightened ; there '11 be no
train for an hour yet."

" But there will," said Johnnie wildly. " Jim said last night
that a special was to come down from Marshport this morning
with men to unload that corn vessel that came in yesterday."

Margaret waited to hear no more, but flew down the stairs.
No one else in the house was stirring; she presently found
herself standing, breathless and somewhat bruised, in the midst
of the rails and sleepers on the line. She made her way along
the rough track with all possible speed, looking anxiously to
the right and to the left in the hope of seeing some one from
whom she might obtain assistance. But no one was stirring at
that early hour ; the assailant even had disappeared, and noth-
ing human was to be seen save the inanimate form lying mo-

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244 The Little Cripple of Lisfarran. [Nov.,

tionless across the rails. Presently she reached it ; it was that
of a dark, foreign-looking young man, dressed in the blue shirt
and crimson cap so often described by Johnnie. His face was
deadly pale, the eyes half closed, and the parted lips wearing
an expression of pain. Margaret thought at first that he was
dead, and that all she could do was to save his body from
mutilation by the passing train. She tried to lift him to a
place of safety, but he was a tall, powerfully-built man, and
Margaret a slight and fragile girl. She called loudly for help,
but no answer came ; but instead she heard a shrill whistle,
and looking up, saw the dreaded train rounding a curve at
some little distance.

Margaret had not lived for three years close to a line of
railway and in constant association with porters and signal
men without having picked up certain bits of information con-
cerning their rules and customs. Keeping her place in the
middle of the line she raised her arms high above her head
and stood there, steadily facing the oncoming train. A succes-
sion of shrill whistles soon told her that she had been seen by
the engine-driver ; the steam was shut off, and she could dis-
tinguish the creak of the brakes amid the tumult of sounds
which filled her ears and added to her terror. But still the
pitiless monster came on and on, and still Margaret held her
ground, knowing by instinct rather than reason that were she
to move to a place of safety the driver, thinking that the
obstacle had been removed, and not seeing, perhaps, the pros-
trate form on the rails, might cease his efforts and allow the
train to proceed. It was close upon her now ; she had lost the
power to move by this time, and stood gazing straight before
her as if fascinated, until her limbs failed her, and she sank
with a cry of terror to the ground and fainted. A dash of
cold water on her face at length restored her fully to herself,
and sitting upright she found herself surrounded by a little
crowd of workmen, wondering, compassionating, and speculat-
ing as to the origin of the present state of affairs. Some were
busying themselves about Carlo, while half a dozen of the
strongest kept guard over a slouching, hang-dog figure, that of
the author of the mischief, whom they had unearthed from his
hiding-place among some bushes.

Many and eager were the questions which Margaret had to
answer, and loud and deep the execrations lavished on the
would-be murderer, who was now recognized as Delany, the
brother of the mutineer shot by Carlo, and whom the evidence

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I895-] The Little Cripple of Lisfarran. 245

of the latter would undoubtedly go far to convict. It was now
clear that the object of the crime was to put Carlo out of the
way before the trial. A doctor had been summoned, who, after
having examined Carlo, declared him to be still alive, although
suffering from concussion of the brain caused by the blow.

III.

The next few weeks were trying ones to Margaret, John-
nie's condition being very precarious. As day by day the
reports of Carlo's condition became more reassuring, Johnnie's
anxiety merged itself in a fear lest he himself should be unable
to attend at the trial of Delany for the attempted murder of
Carlo. Both he and Margaret had been subpoenaed, and he
had set his heart, with all the feverish impatience of a sick child,
upon hearing the trial and contributing his share of the evi-
dence that was to bring Carlo's enemy to justice. As the day
of the trial approached, however, the danger and difficulty of
moving him became mbre and more apparent; his presence in
•court was not absolutely necessary, his deposition having already
been taken by a magistrate, while Margaret could bear witness
to everything save the actual striking of the blow. A doctor's
certificate that he was unable to attend was therefore obtained,
and Johnnie, to his extreme disappointment, was compelled to
remain at home.

, Margaret's preoccupation and anxiety about Johnnie pre-
vented in some degree her realizing what would have caused
her considerable annoyance had she been conscious of it, the
sensation created by her appearance in court. Her perfect
simplicity and a certain quiet dignity carried her safely through
the ordeal, enabling her to repel almost without being aware of
them all insinuations that her heroism had been inspired by
Carlo's beaux yeux. She might not, perhaps, have been quite so
self-possessed had she known that throughout her evidence
those same brilliant dark eyes were fixed upon her with an
expression of intense and passionate admiration.

On reaching home she found Johnnie much worse ; that
day's disappointment, added to the terror and anxiety of the
past weeks, had been too much for him, and the doctor whom
^he hastily summoned shook his head and declared that in his
opinion the child had not many days to live.

Johnnie himself seemed conscious of his approaching end,
and many a chance word of his during the day went to Mar-
garet's heart. His great wish was to see Carlo once more,

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246 The Little Cripple of Lisfarran. [Nov.^

and Margaret promised that Jim should go to Marshport
early next morning, find Carlo, and tell him of Johnnie's wish.
Of Carlo's readiness to comply with it Margaret had no doubt.

Towards evening the child's restlessness increased, and on
Margaret's return to his room after a short absence she found
him with his face buried in the pillow, his fragile little frame
shaken by convulsive sobs.

" Johnnie, Johnnie, don't ! " said Margaret, kneeling down
by him. "Tell me what is the matter, darling."

" Will nobody find Carlo ? " sobbed the poor child. " I catv-
not die without seeing him."

" He'll come to-morrow, Johnnie, never fear."

" To-morrow won't do ; I must see him to-night. Go and
find him for me, Margaret — ^you never refused me anything be-
fore."

"I'll go," said Margaret, rising; "but you must be very
good and not cry while I am away, Johnnie."

Margaret's search for Carlo was not unsuccessful. She
met a policeman who knew the Italian, and who undertook to
convey the message to him.

When his voice was heard in the shop Johnnie sat up in bed ;
and, as Carlo entered, he stretched out his arms to him with a
glad cry. The sailor knelt down by his side, caressing him
and speaking soft words in his own tongue.

" I am so glad," said Johnnie. " I was afraid that I'd hjve
to die without seeing you. Carlo. I was beginning to think
that you had forgotten me."

" I only came out of the hospital yesterday, Giovannino mio^
and no one told me that you were ill. I did not even know,
until I heard it to-day in the court, who it was that had saved
my life."

" It was Margaret," said Johnnie.

" Margaret and you, also. But for you no person would
have come to my aid, and the train would have passed over
me and crushed me to death."

"What's to be done to Delany, Carlo?"

" He is condemned to ten years' imprisonment — what is the
word ? — penal servitude."

" And the mutineers ? "

" One of them, twenty years ; the othersj each fifteen."

" I'm glad they're not to be hanged," said Johnnie. " I was
wishing at first that they would be, but Margaret said it was
wrong to wish that."

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1895.] The Little Cripple of Lisfarran. 247

•

After a pause he continued : " You must take my rosary,
Carlo — the one Margaret gave me ** ; and drawing the little chap-
let of colored beads from under his pillow he put it into his
friend's hand. "You must keep it always to remind you of
Margaret an' me."

" Always," repeated Carlo. " But I need nothing to remind
me either of you or of Margherita, Giovannino."

After a time Margaret went downstairs, leaving them together.
When she returned, after the lapse of half an hour, she found
Johnnie asleep, his hand in that of his friend.

" Do not disturb him," whispered Carlo ; " I can wait."

Margaret seated herself on the stairs .outside, knitting in
hand. The last remnants of the twilight faded away, and Car-
lo's motionless figure grew less and less distinct. Then the
moon rose, shining on the opposite hills, and silvering the river,
and still Johnnie did not stir. At length Carlo beckoned to
her and she went in.

" He is very cold," he whispered.

She touched the brow and disengaged hand, and, startled by
the deadly chill she felt, bent over him to listen to his breath-
ing. None was perceptible. Much alarmed, she brought a light,
which showed her a quiet little, pale face still wearing the
smile with which he had greeted his friend.

IV.

One sultry evening towards the end of the summer Mar-
garet was sitting in the shop. She heard a step, and looking
up, saw a man standing outside the counter.

"What can I do for you, sir?" she asked as she rose. He
paused a moment, and she was about to repeat her question
when he spoke.

" Signora."

She knew the voice instantly.

" O Carlo ! " she exclaimed, " we thought you had sailed."

" The Bianca is in Liverpool, where we remain until the
health of the captain is re-established. He still suffers from
his wounds. I have returned to Lisfarran to say adieu to my
friends."

"I hope you are quite well yourself."

" Quite well now, signora, and fortunate. I am now first
mate, and my employers have promised that when Captain
Marullo retires, as he speaks of doing after our next voyage,
I am to have command of the ship."

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248 The Little Cripple of Lisfarran. [Nov.,

" I am glad/* said Margaret. " How pleased Johnnie would
be if he were alive, poor little soul ! "

" I grieve from my heart that he is not," said the sailor.

They were both silent for a few minutes, and then Carlo
said :

" Signora, I have • never yet thanked you for having saved
my life. I did not know until the day of the trial that it was
you who had done so, and since then I did not wish to intrude
upon your grief. If I might but speak in my own tongue I
could thank you, but I have no words in this stiff, hard Eng-
lish which would express all that is in my heart. My mother
will pray for you, Margherita, when she learns what you have
done for her son."

" Your mother ! " said Margaret. " When I think of her I
always feel so glad that Johnnie was at the window that morn-
ing."

" Is it only for the sake of my mother ? Are you not even
a little rejoiced for my own?*'

" Of course I am, but somehow I think most of your
mother."

" But I want you to think most of me. As I said just now,
I did not wish to speak of my own feelings before ; but now I
must do so, as my time here is short. Margherita, Johnnie has
spoken to me about you, oh ! many times, before I had ever seen
you, and he gave me your picture, a picture that he had made
himself. I put it into my prayer-book — the book that my mother
gave me — and I looked at it every day, and every day I said
to myself *That is the woman I should like for my wife.'
And when I had seen you, and knew what you had done for
me, I said it a hundred times a day. And now I say it to you,
and I ask if you will not try to love me."

Surprise and terror, and something wonderfully like joy, kept
Margaret silent. Carlo took both her hands in his and held
them fast, as he leaned across the counter, trying to read
her face in the fading light.

" Will you not try ? " he said.

** Oh, no no ! I cannot."

" Why not ? I would take you away from this cold, sad
land; you would sail with me in the Bianca ; the captain per-
mits it. I would bring you to my own Italy, where the sun
always shines, and my mother would love you as I do."

The picture thus presented had its charm for the lonely girl.
Carlo saw his advantage and followed it up.

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i895-] The Little Cripple of Lisfarran, 249

" Will you not come with me to my mother ? "

" Your mother and I would not understand one another,"
said Margaret, half laughing. "I don't know your language."

" You will soon learn it. I will teach you. Say this after
me : Buona sera''

" I know the meaning of that," said Margaret. " Johnnie
taught me."

" Say it ; try to pronounce it." She did so.

" That is good. Another : Felicissima notte.'' Good again.
** Now, try once more : To tiamoy carissinto mio'* She repeated
the words, quite unconscious of their meaning.

^^ Bene ; benissimo. You will soon speak it better than I do,"
cried Carlo joyously. " And, now that you have said you love
me, it is all right."

" I did not say that ! " exclaimed Margaret.

" But you did ; you did say it to me now, in my own
tongue."

" I did not know what I was sayings. You ought not to have
done that," said Margaret, much confused.

" But you have said it, and it is true. Is it not so ? "

" I don't know," said Margaret slowly. " You were always
kind and good to my little Johnnie, and he loved you."

" And you will love me for his sake ? "

" I will try," whispered Margaret.

When Nelly returned from her tea-party she was met by a
new Margaret ; a bright, happy-looking girl, who threw her arms
round her friend's neck, saying :

" Nelly, Carlo has been here ; his ship has not really sailed
yet. She is in Liverpool. Carlo has been made first mate — and
I have promised to marry him."

" Well, to be sure ! " said Nelly. " Promised to marry him !
Then I'm thinking, my dear, that you'll have to keep your
word."

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250 A Study of the Sunday Question. [Nov.^

A STUDY OF THE SUNDAY QUESTION.

BY REV. PATRICK F. McSWEENY, D.D.

EMEMBER that thou keep the Sabbath Day/'
The precept of God himself is, of course, the
highest motive for the preservation of the glori-
ous Christian Sunday which as a memorial of
Christ's Resurrection has taken the place of the
Saturday of the Old Law. What can be more edifying than-
the spectacle which is presented on the Lord's Day? Where
the din and bustle of commerce and toil were to be heard and
seen during six long days, there is now no sound but that of
the church-bells calling men to prayer. From early morning to-
afternoon the silent throngs can be seen wending their way to
God's House, whence they emerge again refreshed and fortified
in spirit for the battle of life. As a consequence there are
equality and brotherhood and peace among men for one day at
least in the week, since they are brought into the presence
of God, before whose majesty all the distinctions of class, of
power, and of wealth pale away so as to become trifling. In
his church the pomp and pride of the great excite our con-
tempt quite as much as that of the man of whom Sydney Smith
speaks, who, being in possession of two pence, despised his
fellow for having only three half-pence. Thus, since the Sunday
is the great equalizer, it is especially in place in a democracy,,
and, of all lands, in the United States. It may be compared to
the day as distinct from the night. Some stars are brighter
than others before dawn, but when the sun rises in the east
they all alike become invisible. Hence the Sunday is the
poor man's day especially — his day of freedom from toil and
from servitude. Take it away and there is no oasis in his des-
ert, nothing to cheer him in the monotonous routine of work.
" All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Give up
the Sunday, and he will be changed into a dull and hopeless
brute ; or, if his spirit be not entirely smothered, he will be-
come an enemy of the society which will have turned him into
a discontented slave.

Now, this day of rest is lost if the liquor-stores be opened,,
for then the other businesses will follow suit, and New York will

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1895.] A Study of the Sunday Question. 251

become another Paris. Principiis obsta ! Stop the leaks in the
dam.

How ludicrous, then, is it not to hear the abolition of its
observance advocated in the name of " liberty " for the toiler ;
and by whom ? By some of the keepers of saloons. These
gentlemen, who can make a day of rest whenever they choose,
and who extend their hospitality to the laborer for six days in
the week, cannot forsooth abide his absence even on the sev*
enth. They are lonesome without their beloved guest, and like
jealous lovers, their affection is so great for him that they
cannot bear that even his wife and children should have any
share in it. It is said that love is seldom lost, so the toilers
reciprocate with a generosity which is almost beyond belief.

A great manufacturing company in Massachusetts recently
paid their workmen on Saturday evening seven hundred ten-
dollar bills, each bill being marked. By the following Tuesday
four hundred and ten of these marked bills were deposited in
the bank by the saloon-keepers of the town. Four thousand
and one hundred dollars had passed from the hands of work-
men on Saturday night and Sunday, and left them nothing to
show for this great sum of money but headaches and poverty
in their homes. Well might these men cry out to the state :
Save us from ourselves ! and their hapless wives and children :
Save us from our husbands and fathers on the Lord's Day, at
least !

Saturday night is a time of joy to the wearied toiler, for it
is full of anticipation of freedom and rest on the morrow; but
the open saloon turns it into the most melancholy evening of
the week. The children, who under other circumstances would
run to meet him, quake with fear when their father's step is
heard upon the stairs. The saloon-men talk of liberty, but it is
liberty to be brutal to those whom men love, liberty even to
murder the wives of their bosoms. To show that this is no
exaggeration, it is only necessary to glance at the newspapers
on any Monday morning.

All praise, then, to Theodore Roosevelt, who has had the
grit and courage to grapple with this apparently all-powerful
monster — the saloon — in the big city of New York. Here there
is not question of politics ; there is question of religion and
' public decency. What nobler cause could any man champion
than that of the helpless women and children of the poor? It
is no wonder that he was cheered to the echo at the great
Catholic Total Abstinence Convention of last August. When

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252 A Study of the Sunday Question. [Nov.,

we think of the curses loud and deep which, as is well known
to the missionary priest in New York, are called down upon
the destroyer of domestic peace and happiness, it is hard to see
how he has the hardihood to open his mouth at all, when there
is question of closing his den of villany on the Lord's Day, and
how he does not fear to be struck by the lightning of an
avenging God. I have known saloon-keepers who are in the
business much against their will, as they landed in this country
without art or trade, or even physic^ strength to make a living
in any other way — and they were good men too — to be ashamed
to j>ut their names over the door, and to denounce it themselves,
warning their children never to enter into it. These men, I am
happy to say, are not seen in the vulgar and disgusting parades
which are made in our streets ; they feel that until, to use the
words of the Third Council of Baltimore, " they can abandon
the dangerous traffic and embrace a more becoming way of
making a living,'' they should at least make no opposition to
the enforcement of the Sunday Law.

This circumstance methinks accounts for the apparent apathy
of many Catholics at a time when zealous co-operation with the
upholders of the right would seem to be demanded more of
them as children of Christ's Church than of any others. They
naturally regret that friends and even relatives of theirs, other-
wise good men, should be in the enemy's ranks, and they fear
to shoot lest they should fall.

If some who are not of the faith were similarly placed, they
also would probably be somewhat less demonstrative. It re-
minds one of* the magnificent generosity in which men some-
times indulge when there is question of the property of their
neighbors. But as to the doctrine and the principle no man
worthy of the name of Catholic has any doubt in his mind, and
none will be more ready to make sacrifices in its behalf, a trait
which we might say, without being accused of partiality, is
characteristic of the children of the church.

As we are making apologies, we may attempt to answer the
reproach, which is often hurled at certain classes of citizens, that
they seem to be less public-spirited and to vote and to work
less for ideas than other citizens — to put it in plain words : that
they seem to think, talk, and work more for material comfort,
food, drink, etc.; if you choose, political offices and political
jobs. They seem to be so intent on improving their individual
positions that they turn a deaf ear to talk about the interests
of the country, and of the people in general, more especially for

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1895.] A Study of the Sunday Question. 253

the future; asking, like the famous Sir Boyle Roche, "What
has posterity done for us that we should trouble ourselves about
posterity ? " In fact they seem to be oblivious even of the fu-
ture life.

Well, they are in the position of the parched and famished
shipwrecked mariners who, having finally reached land, rushed
frantically for the nearest spring to quench their burning thirst.
Were even the greatest thinkers and the unselfish patriots, who
work only for the public good, in such a strait, would human
nature, common to us all, permit them to do otherwise ? At the
other side of the Atlantic many of these good citizens or their
parents were accustomed to eat no other food than boiled chest-
nuts, and had no other drink than water. Not long ago, as we
read in the papers, whole communities of European men and
women went out into the fields and ate grass, like Nabuchodo-
nosor, for want o^ better food.

Is it any wonder that, when they reach this Promised Land,
they seem to make a god of their bellies, so that drink and
good food seem to them the one thing necessary? The hard-
worked negro of ante-war times placed the sum-total of happi-
ness in having plenty of watermelons, and in having nothing to
do but to swing upon a gate.

These things will be remedied in time. When these people
shall have been finally fed up to their satisfaction, they, or at
least the survivors not killed off by gluttony, will raise their
heads out of the trough — " exaltabunt caput '* propterea ; that is
— to use a very liberal translation — being finally filled^ and will
then give their minds to higher thoughts. We have heard of
one case which will serve as an illustration of the present rage
for sensual enjoyment. One gentleman was visiting a few others
in a certain town. When he entered the place his friends were
all engaged in fortifying and comforting the inner man with
food, drink, and tobacco smoke, although it was not long after
dinner. They very kindly invited the new-comer to partake also
of their pleasures.. When he respectfully declined, one of them,
with astonishment depicted on his countenance, addressed him
thus : Will you drink something ? No, thank you. Will you
smoke ? No, thank you. Will you have something to eat ? No,
thank you ; I dined not long since. Well ! exclaimed his inter-
locutor, what do you do anyhow ? — implying that there could
not possibly be any other oqcupation for a man of sense.

This natural effect of conditions antecedent will explain, I
think, the seeming indifference with which that class regards

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254 A Study of the Sunday Question. [Nov.,

the abolition of the glorious American Sunday, and even their
tacit acquiescence in, not to say silent sympathy with, the
efforts of the Sabbath-breakers. They and even their children
often are not yet at leisure to think. The memory of old times
still haunts them and they can as yet scarcely realize that they
are safe from starvation, and look with suspicion upon all efforts
which are made to cut off the supplies on Sundays or week-days.

But there are indeed, I fear, others who, while claiminif.to
be Catholics, distinguish themselves by trying to defeat both
church and state, and in their " grasping avarice would not spare
even one day to God *' (Council of Baltimore). Such men, I have
no hesitation in saying, should be compelled to adapt themselves
to the salutary customs which they found established in this
country, as an act of mercy to themselves as well as to their
hapless victims, and Catholics should acknowledge no fellowship
with them. ^

Even during the short time in which the Sunday law has
been enforced it has been a blessing to the people of New
York, and I do believe that many of the drinkers themselves
are thankful for it. Their wives and children are certainly
delighted. " Out of the mouth of infants and of sucklings thou
hast perfected praise" (Psalm viii. 3).

We are told by some that, if they cannot enter the saloon,
men will buy liquor and drink more of it in their homes. This,
I feel certain, is not true, as very many of the abuses of drink-
ing are caused by the " treating ** custom. Besides, in his home
the man is restrained by his wife and family. Moreover, even
if he continues his habit of wasting his money at the bar, he
must cease to do so at midnight ; whereas before he had still
all of Sunday in which to continue his lavish expenditures, so
that now much of his weekly wages can hardly fail to reach
his family, and even if they have to take it out of his pockets,
at least there is something left in his pockets. Before this the
barkeeper emptied them completely. Then they tell us that he
will get his beer or liquor outside of the city. Better so ; he
will have farther to go for it and his wife will see that he has
less to spend, even if he does not use some of it for paying
her fare out of the teeming town to the health-giving air of
Coney Island or some other place.

I have perambulated the tenements as a priest for thirty-
three years, and I ought to know something about them.

Let all who love God and the people stand firm for the
Sunday.

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Cloister of Santa Croce, Florence.

A MORNING IN FLORENCE.

BY MARION AMES TAGGART.

E fevered heat of summer was past, and the

Arno was rippled by the revivifying- breeze of

mid-October. .

Two youths who had met, approaching from

opposite directions, stood in the Piazza San
Marco, which thirty years later was to be the heart of Floren-
tine life, vitalized as it then was by the enigmatical prior of
San ftfarco, Savonarola, who, whatever the weaknesses of his
great nature, greatly loved his bella Firenze.

One of these young men, who must have been twenty years
old, rather heavily built, with thick waving hair, and strong,
virile features, doffed his velvet cap with half-serious, half-mock-
ing deference to the other, who was three years his senior,
more delicately formed, his merry smile as he returned the
salutation belying the dreamy pensiveness of the large, droop-
ing eyes. A little boy of ten years, with a long, sensitive face,
clung to the hand of the latter, and shrank back as the first
speaker advanced.

" Ah, Sandro ! have you heard the news from Spoleto ? '* he

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256 A Morning in Florence, [Nov.^

cried. " But I see you . have, and are consoling the master's
little prot/gd, Filippino, here."

"Yes, Ghirlandajo," replied Sandro Botticelli, using the
surname which had descended to the artist from his father, and
was given to him as the inventor of the silver garlands worn
as jewelry by the Florentine women, " Era Filippo Lippi is
dead, on the tenth, now three days ago, leaving his frescoes
upon which he was working at Spoleto unfinished, and Florence
without his equal."

In the Suburbs of Florence.

"Not so think all of us, Sandro, my poet," replied Ghirlan^
dajo. " Some of us say that Botticelli is greater than his mas-
ter, and easily first of us all."

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iSqS-] a Morning in Florence. 257

Botticelli flushed, for though he was accounted a madcap by
his comrades, and his jokes were the delight and torment of the
studio, yet he was sensitive as a girl, and for a moment was at
loss to reply to Ghirlandajo*s
praise. " The frate studied
under Masaccio, and I un-
der the frate — ** he began,
but Ghirlandajo interrupted
him.

" All of which means
nothing. Fra Angelico
painted souls, here in San
Marco. Fra Filippo — rest
be his — " again letting the
wind toss his thick hair as he
removed his purple cap.
" Fra Lippo Lippi painted
bodies, and the common
folks of Florence. You, my
lover of Dante and my poet, ^
you paint souls and bodies g
and minds, and you see what |
we purblind moles have not "
learned of Nature's secrets.'*

" Stop, Domenico ; Til
have no more of this dis-
paragement of your own gen-
ius," said Botticelli, bursting
into a merry laugh. **You
are slow to develop the gifts
you have, but they are there,
and I prophesy that one
day our Florence will be
proud of you. And since I
am beginning to prophesy,
let me add another,** he con-
tinued, drawing the little
boy whom he held by the
hand forward into view.

" Here is Filippino Lippi, and I have discovered in these little fin-
gers a very pretty trick with the brushes. I am going to take him
under my tuition, since Fra Lippo is dead, and I predict that he
will one day stand high among our fraternity of makers of pictures/*
VOL. LXii.— 17

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258 A Morning in Florence. [Nov.,

Little Filippino stood on one foot, hanging back from Ghir-
landajo's gaze.

" Well, he is a lucky boy to be taken in hand by Florence's

greatest painter," Ghirlandajo said, kindly tipping backward the
child's thin face, and releasing it with a farewell pat.

" See, here come Luca della Robbia and Andrea. Did it
ever occur to you what a rich period this is for our art in
Florence ? The Angelical Frate and Masaccio only a few years

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I895-] A Morning in Florence. 259

gone from us ; Lippi scarcely dead, the Robbias very much
alive, and — "

" You and I ditto," interrupted Botticelli, laughing his gay
laugh.

The Loggia di Lanzi.

" Yes, I have thought of it, my Domenico. See old Luca ;
he begins to bend under his sixty-nine years, and he needs his
nephew's young arm to lean upon. He is the master, if you

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26o A Morning in Florence. [Nov.,

will, Domenico. Who but he could have made those wonder-
ful bronze doors of the sacristy in the cathedral?"

" I am not sure that Andrea could not," answered Ghirlan-
dajo. " He presses closely on his uncle's fame, and is not yet
twenty-five."

" Ah, yes ! but those singing boys of the frieze in front of
the organ," exclaimed Botticelli enthusiastically. "They are
old Luca's own, and nobody could equal them ; but . I am glad
to think that Andrea can carry on fame as well as name, for
in the course of nature Luca must soon leave us. Good mor-
row, good Messeri della Robbia ; we are discussing art and
artists in Florence, led thereto by the news which comes from
Spoleto of Fra Lippo Lippi's death, which doubtless you have
heard."

" Yes," answered Luca della Robbia, returning gravely the
young men's salutations, " I have s^en the giants all go : Ghi-
berti, Fra Angelico, Masaccio, and now Fra Lippo Lippi.
There is none left, and Florence's glory is departing."

"You are a wholesome corrective to my possible vanity,
good Father Luca," laughed Botticelli, throwing up his cap and
catching it again like a school-boy. "Ghirlandajo here has
been pandering to it."

" And justly," said Andrea della Robbia decidedly. " Messer
Sandro, to praise is justice, and not necessarily pandering to
vanity. My uncle is old, and it is notorious that to old men
the .past is best — its weather, its heroes, and its glories."

Luca della Robbia waved his hand. "You are young, all
young," he said. " We must leave the question of merit to pos-
terity, to which we shall all be old. Sandro, can you tell me of
the poor frate's circumstances ? What will become of his six
nieces, dependent upon him for support ; and of this little man,
whom I take to be his adopted son, Filippino ? "

" I cannot tell you as to the nieces, Messer Luca," replied
Botticelli, " for the frate has been away, as you know, some
time, and I have heard no one speak of them since I quitted
his studio ; but I fear they are left destitute by his death, since,
as you say, he was their only maintenance. But Filippino here
is to be an artist, as great as his adopted father, and I have
undertaken his instruction."

"You are a queer mixture of gaiety and something like
sadness, my Sandro," said Andrea della Robbia, laying his hand
affectionately on the young painter's shoulder. "All your
geese are swans, and you are as full of jests as Santa Croce of

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1 895-] . ^ Morning in Florence. 261

tombs ; though it's not a very appropriate simile, and must have
been suggested by Fra Lippo's death. Yet in your madonnas
is shadowed forth all the pain and yearning of human nature.

c
o
ae

How is it, Sandro, you who love Dante, and illustrate him, and
know our Boccaccio by heart — are you jester or saint, poet or
painter?"

"A true artist must be a bit of all, I fancy, Andrea,*'
answered Botticelli, smiling. "A little bit saint, and sometimes

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262 A Morning in Florence. [Nov.,

the other. Often sad, yet ready to laughter when in tears.
And as to poet and painter, they are terms interchangeable
and one ; for Dante painted heaven in words, as we with
brushes, and both are comprehended in the true artist."

" Hear, hear Sandro ! '* cried Ghirlandajo and Andrea.

<
(/3

*' Poet and painter, and now orator." While Luca della Robbia
added gravely : " You speak truly, my son, and all mankind, or
the comprehension of it, is bound up, he can never define how,
in the consciousness of the artist."

" Who comes here — the Signor Doctor ? " suddenly asked
Ghirlandajo.

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i89S-] ^ Morning in Florence, 263

"Yes, and in him comes a lover of artists," said Andrea' della
Robbia. " I wonder if he knows that Fra Lippo Lippi is dead/'

" Good morning, Signor Medicus," said the three younger
men, baring their heads,
while Luca della Rob-
bia saluted with a cor-
dial gesture as the new-
comer drew near.

" Have you heard
the news from Spoleto?*'
asked Ghirlandajo.

" Not I ; I have been
beyond the gate,*' repli-
ed the doctor. ** What
is the news from Spo-
leto ? "

" Fra Lippo Lippi
is dead, leaving his f res- a
coes unfinished." g

"Dead! Alas! the o
loss to Florence, and to Jf
art generally," said the n
doctor in tones of genu- §
ine regret. " We are c
growing old, Signor
Luca, you and I, and we
have seen Florence's
greatest painters pass.
Now there are none
save these two young-
sters to carry on the
noble inheritance."

"And here is an-
other, according to San-
dro," said Andrea della
Robbia, touching the
shoulder of the shrink-
ing child, still clinging

to Botticelli's hand. " This is Filippino Lippi, the frate's adopted
son, whom Botticelli is to train, and of whom he predicts great
things, glory to art and to Florence."

The doctor laughed good-humoredly. " Perhaps ; at my age
one believes less easily in prodigies. My errand has been life,
not death," he continued. " I was called out to Suffignano to

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264 A Morning in Florence. [Nov.,

bring into the world a young peasant of the house of Baccio.
I saw him baptized Bartolommeo, for he was not so sure of
living as a young peasant should be, and I came away rather
wondering why I took the trouble to go so far for such an in-
significant person's arrival.**

" The doctor is always surprised by his occasional lapses in-
to Christian charity,*' remarked Botticelli so gravely that they
all laughed, for the doctor*s kindness to the poor was well
known in Florence, and it was not unusual for him to go great
distances to help those from whom he could not hope for the
smallest return.

** I for one must say addio^** said Botticelli, " for Filippino
here is shifting from foot to foot, in a way that suggests weari-
ness of our companionship and approaching hunger.**

" ril go with you, Sandro, as far as my studio," said Ghir-
landajo, " for I hear my canvases calling across the Arno.
Good-day, Messeri della Robbia ; good-day, Signor Esculapius."
And the two great painters walked away with a wave of their
velvet caps, fading down the street from the eyes of their
friends, growing dim, as we see them now through the long per-
spective of five hundred years.

"Your arm, Andrea,** said Luca della Robbia, as he and
the doctor parted. " I shall not trouble you long.'*

Yet for thirteen more years the hale old sculptor was to
walk the streets of his beloved Florence, which delighted to re-
turn to him the honor he had bestowed upon her.

And could they have all seen a little way into the future of
their city, they would have beheld the convent of San Marco,
before which they stood, bombarded by an angry mob, clamor-
ing for the blood of its prior, who was defended by the frail
child that day born in Suffignano, great among the greatest, the
third monk painter of Florence, Fra Bartolommeo. For the life
of the little peasant boy, begun that year when Fra Lippo
Lippi*s ended, was to close in that convent of San Marco, in
fulfilment of a vow made at the death of Savonarola, whom he
deeply revered. His brush has given to the fortunate world ma-
donnas stately, pure, tender, dignified in conception, harmonious
in color. And Botticelli and Ghirlandajo lived to rejoice in the
addition to their Florentine painters of the gentle Fra Barto-
lommeo, whose birth was announced to them as they discussed
the loss of Fra Lippo that morning in Florence.

Note.— Authorities differ as to the year of Fra Bartolommeo's birth ; some giving it as
1469, the date of Fra Lippo Lippi's death, others making it a few years later. For the pur-
poses of this little sketch the earlier date has been accepted, which at most cannot be more than
five years previous to the event.

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1895.] IVi/o IS St. Nicolas r 265

WHO IS ST. NICOLAS ?

BY W. J. D. CROKE.

iOOD St. Nicolas is one of the unforgotten Saints,
and this is a considerable distinction. It is likely,
moreover, that he will long be such, for his glory
has been secularized, and not only is his name
in all the churches, but it is familiar in the least
Christian home. And if this be true of western Europe and
the large regions which are, in some way, its moral dependen-
cies, his fame is even greater among the Sclave peoples, and
he is honored by them with truly religious observance. But
who is St. Nicolas?

Generations have been taught to believe that St. Nicolas
was a Bishop of Myra who, though suffering under Licinius,
survived and was present at the Council of Nice, and that his
body was afterwards brought to Bari in Apulia. It may be that
the fact of his burial in the West was a cause of his devotion
there, but it is most probable that we are indebted to the East
for the current view about his personality as well as for the
origin, at least, of his legendary attributes.

But even this world-wide legend has found its questioner,
and the doubts proposed are made credible by such a show of
reason, and are so interesting and ingenious withal, that they
merit what they have never received before, namely, public ex-
position 'in the English tongue. Father Vannutelli, who has
devoted his life to the study of the East, is the sole author of
the scepticism.* Though certainty does not attach to the new
hypothesis, it has the following negative and positive reasons
militating on its behalf.

First, why should this saint be the greatest patron of the
venerable churches of Sclavonic Christianity? Once, in the first
ages, the Easterns claimed the bodies of Saints Peter and Paul
from the Romans, on the plea that they were their fellow-
countrymen, and they put their claim to a practical purpose by

* Father Vannutelli, the cousin of the two cardinals, and former chaplain of the Pontifi-
cal army, has written a whole library on the East, the result of much travel and thought.
He is a favorite in Russia, even in official and religious quarters, where it might be least ex-
pected, and his opinion on Eastern questions is reputed a loadstar in Rome.

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266 JViro IS St. Nicolas? [Nov.^

rifling the Vatican Catacomb of its priceless relics. Th£ episode
is characteristic. The principle of choice naturally selects the
chief patron of a nation which possesses a hagiography from its
apostles or teachers, or from saints of its own race. And if
this national feeling makes it difficult to understand this selec-
tion of St. Nicolas of Myra, there is a still greater difficulty
in the fact that a nation forming part of the majestic Chris-
tianity of the East should have chosen a comparatively insignifi-
cant bishop-saint for its chief patron. Nor do the facts of his
life or of his early cultus after death appear to offer a more
satisfactory explanation.

Again, the more particularly we examine the case, the stran-
ger the paradox becomes. St. Nicolas has his most ardent
votaries among the Sclaves. He is essentially the great ; his
shrines and pictures are seen everywhere ; his name is one of
the most common among the people ; his invocation is continu-
ally made, in peril, in accident, in success; he is honored with
the perfectly unique distinction of two solemn feasts. So much
for his devotion. As to its cause, this cannot have been his
readiness in answering petitioners, since this presupposes an ex-
isting devotion. He had no relation with the Sclavonic peoples ;
his body had been translated to Italy before the period of their
conversion to Christianity ; that is, during the ravages of the
Iconoclasts. Nor could this extraordinary devotion have been
introduced from the East, since he .does not rank so highly in
the East. This is further borne out by the fact that the feast
of his translation, which is the second among the Sclavonians,.
never found a place in the Greek calendars.* And the singu-
larity of all this is intensified by the fact that the Sclaves have
always been and are still most tenacious, even in trifles, of their
peculiar religious rites.

It must be allowed, therefore, either that the cause of the
singular patronage of St. Nicolas over the Sclave nations is a
mystery, or that it can only be discovered by the help of some
bold supposition. And the supposition, if consistent, is more ac-
ceptable than the mystery.

True, it is not wanting in astuteness ; but then we are deal-
ing with an astute Eastern nation. The author of the doubt
boldly affirms that the cause of the mystery is an equivoque^
intentional on the part of its originators, between St. Nicolas
of Myra and St. Nicolas the Great, pope (858-867).

St. Nicolas is one of the three popes who have received the

• p. v. Vannutelli — Poccia : parte primay page 169.

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1 895-] ^^o IS St. Nicolas f 267

designation of great ; the other two being St. Leo and St.
Gregory. The title is very exclusive, and is so personal that
these saints are distinguished by it, as other popes are by their
number. Pius IX.. once, hearing that his name would be after-
wards joined to those of his predecessors, said that this was im-
possible, for there were but three popes to be designated as
great.* The first indication, therefore, is found in the identity
of nomenclature.

But the relation of Pope St. Nicolas with the Sclaves is
very intimate. His zeal for their conversion is among the best-
known instances of the kind, and the way the hundred millions
of that race came to be Christi<ans is among the most interest-
ing chapters of ecclesiastical history. About the year 857 a
sister of Bogoris, or Boris, King of Bulgaria, was detained as
hostage at the court of Constantinople, and, influenced by the
piety of the Empress Theodora, she renounced her native
paganism and became a pious Christian. The empress con-
ceived the plan of sending her to her brother in the hope of
converting him to Christianity. And so it fell out. The con-
sequence was a deputation sent to Constantinople to beg for
missionaries.

Among those studying at that time in the great capital was
a devout priest named Constantine, who, for his dialectical mer-
its, was surnamed the Philosopher. He was travelled as well as
learned, and, being a native of Thessalonica, which is nearer
to Bulgaria, he had probably made some studies in the Sclave
language. Constantine was a friend of Photius, then distin-
guished for his great learning and his influence at court.

Upon the arrival of the deputation at Constantinople Con-
stantine was designated as the preacher of the faith to- the
Sclavonians. When about to depart he asked his brother, who
was superibr, or igumenos^ of a monastery, to accompany him.
His offer was accepted, and the two brothers, Cyril and Metho-
dius, became the apostles of the Sclavonian peoples.

Methodius was skilled in painting, a common gift among the
monks of that day, and he applied his art to the instruction of
the people in the doctrines of the faith. The success of
their mission was assured by the conversion of King Boris.
The precise date of his conversion is unknown, but it must
have been between 850 and 860.

Like the early preachers of the Anglo-Saxons, Sts. Cyril and

* I think it was on the occasion of a commission being formed to offer him a throne of
gold, which he promptly refused.

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268 IVi/0 IS St. Nicolas? [Nov.,

Methodius showed great zeal for relics. In this way they were
led to seek and find the body of St. Clement, pope, who had
been buried at Odessa in the Chersonese. They afterwards
carried the body of the saint with them on all their journeys,
and the fact lends a strange light to the subsequent schism of
so many of the Sclaves.

Another fact which occurred at the beginning of their mis-
sionary career reveals the action of the See of Rome in effect-
ing the conversion of the Sclaves. A long letter, containing
a hundred and six questions, was forwarded to Pope St. Nicho-
las, to all of which he made reply, thus exercising a direct
influence upon their Christian formation.

The questions are palpably those of a people only half is-
sued from barbarism. Besides other doubts, they were per-
plexed to know if baths were permitted on Wednesdays and
Fridays ; if the cross might be kissed and carried in Lent ; if
Holy Communion might be received in that penitential season ;
whether they had administered a just punishment to a Greek
who had falsely given himself out to be a priest, when they
cut off his nose and ears ; what penance should be performed, if
they had been over-zealous in this respect ; if battle might be
given on feast-days ; if Holy Mass could be heard before going
to battle, preferably to incantations and auguries, which the
pope replied were diabolic. He told them also that the king
might eat alone or in company, so only that hiunility were duly
consulted ; that bigamy was forbidden ; that it is not necessary
to join the hands during prayer; that the girdle might be worn
during Holy Communion ; that trowsers might be worn in the
manner most approved to the wearer, etc.*

But these are the chaff of the answers ; and there were
many regulations of great importance affecting dogma, moral-
ity, and discipline. Thus, the io6th decree was : " That they
should adhere to the Apostolic See, should obey the legates of
that see in preference to all the Greeks, Armenians, etc., and
that in doubts recourse should be had to the Roman See." f

This was the decision of the authority which they had rec-
ognized in putting the questions. The letter was accompanied
with rich presents, and Nicolas meanwhile announced the con-
version of the Sclavonian nation to the bishops of the Christian
world.

Their relations with the Roman See continued, and the pope
soon afterwards expressed a desire to confer with the two apos-

* Migne : Patrologia^ vol. cxix. page 978. f Mign*, loc. cit.

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I895-] ^^o IS St. Nicolas f 269

ties and to acquire the relics of St. Clement ; it being an ancient
tradition of the Roman See to bury all the bishops in or near
the city itself. The two saints readily complied with his
desire; and while they were travelling to Rome, Nicolas set
about the restoration of St. Clement's Basilica. This is the
famous Roman basilica called after its patron the "Basilica
of St. Clement," and after its restorer, the " Basilica Nicolai-
tana." *

Unfortunately Nicolas died before the saintly brothers
reached Rome, but his successor, Adrian II., continued the
work of restoration begun by Nicolas ; and the body of St.
Clement was finally laid to rest in the church which stood on
the site of his ancestral palace.

The restoration of the church being effected, an attempt
was made to perpetuate the memory of the event, and this is
the origin of some of the quaint mediaeval paintings which
enhance the value of the actual lower church of St. Clement.
One of these paintings represents the translation of St. Clement's
body, and it was painted during the life-time of St. Methodius,
since, unlike his companion, St. Cyril, he is represented without
the aureola. The meaning of the picture is set beyond a doubt
by the inscription below : Hue a Vaticano fertur Papa Nicolaoy
etc. ; the honor of translation being assigned to the pope who
was its chief promoter, although it actually occurred after his
death. A conjecture of Father VannutelH would make St.
Methodius, at least in part, the painter of this picture ; in
which case it would be a religious as well as an artistic relief

While the saints sojourned in Rome, St. Cyril, who was the
inventor of the Sclave alphabet, and the translator of the Holy
Scriptures into that language, wished to offer a copy of them
to St. Peter. This gift was placed on the tomb of the Prince
of the. Apostles in accordance with the feeling which causes the
pallia to be placed there.

And here Father VannutelH offers us another plausible con-
jecture. Probably on that occasion, he thinks, St. Methodius
offered to the apostle a painting, which has stood above his
tomb ab immemorabili, and which, bearing a Sclavonic inscrip-
tion, undoubtedly has some connection with that people. The.
picture is called Constantinian, but the phrase may refer to
these apostles, since the words Cyril and Constantine are iden-
tical. Both the saints would seem to be represented ; and a
third figure of a person who is apparently being presented to

* L^er Pontificalts : in vita Nicolai, f Le Rive del Danubio^ p. ii6.

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2^o Who is St, Nicolas? [Nov.

St. Peter may be a king, probably Boris.* It is before this
picture that the Sovereign Pontiff performs the blessing of the
new pallia.

It was the desire of the pope that the apostles should both
return and continue their work, but St. Cyril preferred to pass
the remainder of his days near the resting-place of St. Clement ;
he embraced the monastic state and, dying in Rome a few
years later, he was buried near his holy patron.

St. Methodius returned to his apostolic labors, and received
the title of Bishop of Sirmium, borne in our day by the illus-
trious Bishop Strossmayer.

These suppositions are not only intrinsically probable and
in singular agreement, but are moreover of immense moral im-
portance. Granted their possibility, nothing is more probable
than the suggestion of Eastern craft substituting a popular
Greek saint for the great Roman Pontiff ivho condemned
Photius; and in few parts of the world would the craft of
the governing religious body find so easy an opportunity as in
the simplicity and ignorance of the peoples whom it concerned
them to deceive.

* Le Rive del Danubio^ ^. wj.

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magazine, it is not necessary to give any lengthened notice of
the work he has been kind enough to send us, but the intima-
tion that this volume can be had in Boston, from Messrs. Cope-
land & Day, will, we are sure, be welcome to very many of our
readers. Still some few observations of our own may not be
amiss, especially as since Mr. Lecky's criticism was written some
very formidable comment has been made upon the poet's method
of work, the critic being no less a person than the eminent
Shakespearean scholiast, Professor Dowden, of Trinity College,
Dublin. What he charges against Mr. Thompson is that he is
addicted to the use of such erudite and cryptographic English
— if we may so describe it — as to be in many cases unintelli-
gible to any but the most learned. We take leave to dissent
from Professor Dowden's ruling on this issue. No one objects
to Milton on such a ground, and yet Paradise Lost is written in
a form of English which might almost be described as a new
language altogether. It is the mission of minds like this to
mould and shape a language while enriching it by a noble
literature. This was the service which Dante did for the Ital-
ian tongue and Chaucer for the Anglo-Saxon. Would Professor
Dowden's own idol, the incomparable Shakespeare, be intelligible
without a glossary to the unlettered rustics of Durham or Cum-
berland, whose entire vocabulary might be told on the digits of
a dozen people ? There is far too little attention paid in these
days to the necessity of acquiring a rich and copious vocabulary.
Many words express a whole volume of ideas, and no true
literary artist, be he or she poet or prose-writer, but knows the
value of many words for the meaning of which the ordinary

* Sister Songs : An Offering to Two Sisters. By Francis Thompson. Boston : Copeland
& Day ; London : John Lane.

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272 Talk about New Books. [Nov.,

reader may have to consult his dictionary. We would find our-
selves in accord with Professor Dowden were his charge that
Mr. Thompson overloads his work with such foreign and unusual
forms, so as to make it at times most difficult to follow. But
in truth it must b^e owned, when the work is judged as a whole
and not merely in piecemeal, the effects which he produces by
the use of a crowd of quaint and exotic forms is exceedingly
delightful. Artificial it may be regarfded by many, but there
are certain classes of the art we call artificial which have a con-
^gruity all their own, and which any other scheme of color or
artistic treatment must altogether mar. Take for instance this
example from the Proem to the Sister Songs:

" Next I saw, wonder-whist,
How from the atmosphere a mist,
So it seemed, slow uprist ;
And, looking from those elfin swarms,

I was *ware

How the air
Was all populous with forms
Of the Hours, floating down.
Like Nereids through a watery town.
Some, with languors of waved arms,
Fluctuous oared their flexile way;
Some were borne half resupine
On the aerial hyaline.
Their fluid limbs and rare array
Flickering on the wind, as quivers
Trailing weed in running rivers ;
And others, in far prospect seen.
Newly loosed on this terrene.
Shot in piercing swiftness came.
With hair a-stream like pale and goblin flame.
As crystalline ice in water.
Lay in air each faint daughter;
Inseparate (or but separate dim)
Circumfused wind from wind-like vest.
Wind-like vest from wind-like limb.
But outward from each lucid breast,
When some passion left its haunt.
Radiate surge of color came.
Diffusing blush-wise, palpitant.
Dying all the filmy frame.

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1895.] Talk ABOUT, New Books. 273

With some sweet tenderness they would
Turn to an amber-clear and glossy gold ;
Or a fine sorrow, lovely to behold,
Would sweep them as the sun and wind^s joined flood

Sweeps a greening-sapphire sea ;

Or they would glow enamouredly
Illustrious sanguine, like a grape of blood ;

Or with mantling poetry
Curd to the tincture which the opal hath,
Like rainbows thawing in a moonbeam bath.
So paled they, flushed they, swam they, sang melodiously.

Their chanting, soon fading, let them, too, upraise
For homage unto Sylvia, her sweet, feat ways ;
Weave with suave float their wav^d way.
And colors take of holiday,
For syllabling to Sylvia ;
And all the birds on branches lave their mouths with May,
To bear with me this burthen.
For singing to Sylvia."

The imagery here, it will be noted, is extremely delicate and
subtle, and the words are fitted in as rare bits of mosaic might
be, the effect desired not being attainable by the use of any other
class of materials. Mr. Thompson has struck out a path to
Parnassus for himself. His ideas are singularly graceful, though
at times they may appear singular, perhaps eccentric. Quaintly
beautiful they are at all times, and they are never marred by
that insolent spirit with regard to forbidden things which is too
frequently the accompaniment of poetic gifts in others. Other
poets may attain greater popularity, perhaps, but the true min-
strel will never be swayed from his noble purpose by any such
consideration as this. He does not write for any one set of
men or any one period ; he writes for all mankind, and for
every age of this mundane dispensation.

Those who are in search of truth in religion, and who have
not much time to devote to the literature of the subject, will
be sincerely glad of the help they must find in Mr. William
Richards' little book On the Road to Rome.''' Here is the story
of the great change wrought in the minds and hearts of two
earnest seekers, told in the language of a man writing not for

♦ On the Road to Rome^ and How Two Brothers got There, By William Ricliards. New
York : Beaxager Brothers.
VOL. LXIId— 18

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274 Talk about New Books. [Nov.,

effect,, but simply that plain men may understand as well as
the learned that the truth may be had by all who ask honestly
and with their whole heart. The matter of Mr. Richards' book
was given to the public a few years ago, in the shape of an
address in furtherance of the Brownson monument. It is a
remarkable fact that the highest truths are best stated in the
simplest of terms ; and this will be found well illustrated in the
passages in Mr. Richards' book which deal with the direct
means by which his conversion was wrought. One circumstance
in especial must strike the Catholic reader as a fact of deep
significance. This is that the first agency which appears to
have operated towards the writer's conversion was the line of
thought into which he was led by a remark made by an Epis-
copal clergyman about the blessed Mother of God. No being,
he said, except one of perfect purity could possibly have filled
such a position. Out of that observation sprang the ideas
which culminated in the reception of the two brothers
Richards into the church, in which one of them is now, by the
grace of God, a most distinguished priest. Many other most
remarkable instances of the salutary effects of the common-
sense method, as it may be called, in the testing of religious
propositions, are set forth in this work ; and the conciseness
and simple force of the narrative add immensely to its value.

There is some departure from Mr. Crawford's usual line in
the novel called Katharine Lauderdale!^ It is a story of Ameri-
can life — or, to speak more specifically, of New York life. But
there is very little in the language put into the mouths of the
different characters to remind one that New York has any
individuality in the flow of its ideas, or any particular penchant
for certain idioms of the English language which have been
in use from time immemorial and which are likely to continue
in favor since they spare the trouble of devising other vehicles
of ideas. The English of Mr. Crawford's characters is what
might be looked for in Oxford or Dublin, totally ignoring all
the various shades of differentiation which have been laid down as
the law on this side of the Atlantic ; and the scene, might just
as well have been laid, on this account, in Manchester or
Brighton as in New York.

The book makes a good start, but after a few chapters have
been got over it commences to drag, because of the very slen-
der materials upon which the author has ventured to build his
story. The hammering out of these involves an amount of elu-

♦ Katharine Lauderdale, By F. Marion Crawford. New York : Macmillan & Co.

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I895-] Talk about New Books, 275

cidation of the mental processes of each and every one of the
main characters which becomes painfully wearisome long before
the end is reached. The dialogues show an immense amount
of ingenuity in the presentation of one or two leading thoughts
in a kinetoscopic kind of way ; and the same solemn want of
humor observable in all Mr. Crawford's work is found pervad-
ing this. In this respect it is glaringly misleading as a picture
of New York life in any social grade, as no unprejudiced ob-
server of temperament can justly say that the people of the
Empire City are paupers in wit or bankrupts in vivacity.

The story of Katharine Lauderdale is the story of a theo-
retical contradiction. The author wished to depict a strong
woman — strong in character and strong in devotion where her
heart has been wholly given away ; and he presents us with one
who is strong-minded enough to ask the man she loves to
marry her secretly — to insist that he shall make no promise to
her to renounce his bad habit of drinking, and then when he is
falsely accused of having been drunk, just after he had very
unwillingly complied with her request to become her husband
in secret, condemns him and turns against him unheard. Jack
Ralston, the unfortunate reforming bibulist, is another contra-
diction. He is everything that is noble, except the propensity
to work for his living, being one of the Four Hundred, and
the inability to control a temper as explosive as gun-cotton.
This temper is the only thing human about him ; his virtues
in other respects are those of another sphere. In neither char-
acter is there any real fidelity to nature. Our " strong " women
have not as yet come up to — or stepped down to — Katharine
Lauderdale's level ; and we would be safe in challenging all
the concentrated virtue of the hypothetical Four Hundred to
give an instance where a needy man like Jack Ralston would
bum a note for a million dollars, given him by a rich relative,
rather than eat eleemosynary bread. So both in plan and
technique the whole story is as unlike New York life as anything
that might be imagined by an author residing in the planet Mars.

A different class of work by the same author may be read
with more pleasure by many. We refer to his description of
the city which was once the centre of Eastern civilization and
is now the nucleus of Turkish barbarism.* The sketch origin-
ally appeared in the pages of Scribner's Magazine^ and is em-
bellished by the^ spirited drawings by Mr. Edwin L. Weeks

« * Qmstantinopie, Bf F. Marion Crawford. Illustrated by Edwin L. Weeks. New
York ; Charles Scribner*s Sons.

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276 Talk about New Books, [Nov.,

which accompanied the article. There is a sober picturesque-
ness about Mr. Crawford's treatment of the subject. In the
present conjuncture of political affairs a close perusal of this
article is very useful, if one would gain a clear idea of the
nature of the manifold complications which go to make up the
Eastern tangle. Mr. Crawford has an admiration for the genu-
ine Turk — only he believes that his genus is very difficult to
find. This sentiment is not peculiar to Mr. Crawford ; other
writers have expressed it often; but it is doubtful if it would
long survive had they been forced to live and carry on their
Mterary labors under Turkish rule.

In the eternal " society " question Clara Louise Burnham
finds her theme for her latest novel, The Wise Woman* She
hits off her feminine characters well, and the painstaking way
in which she gets in her details indicates the clever student
of woman's ways and the thousand trifles in dress and social
etiquette which make up the sum of the average society wo-
man's life. Her dialogues are bright and clever, but most of her
characters show an equality of brilliancy in cut and thrust and
that " knowingness " which it seems to be the great aim of
everybody in this age to possess or to seem to have. Dialectic
fencing in this way would appear to be the incessant habit of
society people, no matter what their relations to each other —
mothers and daughters especially so, judging from the pictures
drawn by writers of this school. There are some strong char-
acters, nevertheless, in this book. The milliner, Marguerite, for
instance, is a picture full of forcible coloring, yet not much open
to the charge of exaggeration. The self-reliant, clever woman
who puts her pride in her pocket when it becomes a question
of dependence upon others or braving the prejudices of " society "^
is a type by no means rare nowadays. The mode in which
these prejudices are finally overcome is ingeniously contrived in
this tale. The character of " The Wise Woman," too, is a fine
study. None of the characters in the drama pretend to any-^
thing higher than worldly wisdom and a moral code which is
able to dispense with the idea of a spiritual life and the obliga-
tions of Christianity of any school. The whole story is of the
earth earthy.

A second edition of Dr. MacDevitt's text-book on the Sacred
Scriptures,t issued in a brief time after its predecessor's appear-

* The Wise Woman, By Clara Louise Burnham. Boston and New York : Hou^^hton,
Mifflin & Co.

t Introduction to the Sacred Scriptures. In two parU. Bv Rev. John MacDeritt, D.D»
Second edition. New York : Benxiger Brothers ; Dublin : Seefy, Bryers ft Walker.

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1895.] Talk about New Books. 277

ance, is an eloquent proof of the welcome which the work has
found amongst the Catholic teaching bodies. With the great
impetus to the study of the inspired books which the late
Encyclical of the Holy Father has given since the first edition
was given to the world, it is not to be wondered at that a
work which has been found so helpful as this as a preparation
of the student's mind should be eagerly sought after. Dr.
MacDevitt's position as Scriptural teacher and historical pro-
fessor in All Hallows College, Dublin, made it essential that
his qualifications should be of the highest. His fame as a
teacher has been long established. All that the student must
know and can know, as a preparation for the study of the
sacred texts, is to be found in this admirable work. It will be
used as widely in the United States as in Ireland, in all proba-
bility, as the name of the reverend author is to hundreds of
priests here a guarantee for the highest learning and the most
orthodox teaching.

How to Escape Purgatory^ an excellent little treatise by a
Missionary Priest, author of several other useful works of a
similar character, has now reached a fourth edition. It is a
tract full of admirable matter for meditation. His Eminence
Cardinal Logue, in his note of commendation of the work, says
it is certain to be a source of edification and a means of grace,
in his view, exceeding all others. Besides the arguments the
work so ably presents, it contains at the close a number of
prayers specially adapted to the end which the little volume
has in view. The publishers in the United States are Benziger
Brothers ; in Ireland, Gill & Sons.

A little work that may be regarded as indispensable to all
belonging to the Apostleship of Prayer is the manual entitled
League Devotions and Choral Services. It has been compiled
especially for the League of the Sacred Heart, and nothing is
embodied in it irrelevant to the direct object in view. It em-
braces all the hymns, psalms, and prayers connected with this
most commendable devotion. The work is issued from the press
of the Apostleship of Prayer, West Sixteenth Street, New York.

I. — WIDOWS AND CHARITY.*

In 1843' two widows, who had resolved to devote their lives
to the care of helpless incurables, rented a house in the Rue

♦ The Work of the Women of Calvary^ and its Foundress, By Abb6 Chaifanjon,
Director of the Work at Lyons. Translated from the French.

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278 Talk about New Books, [Nov.

Vide-Bourse, in the parish of St. Irenaeus, Lyons. " The Asso-
ciation of the Women of Calvary" was the name given it by
the Archbishop of Lyons, Cardinal de Bonald, and it proved
the foundation of a work that has branched through many
cities in Europe. At present, after a life and growth of half a
century, circumstances seem to warrant its introduction into new
fields, and the promoters of the. Calvary are trying, with the
approbation of the Archbishop of New York, to secure an
establishment of the work in this city.

It was within a few months of its opening that the hospital
increased the register of inmates from three to seventeen,,
and by the second year of its existence removal to a larger
house was necessitated. Madame Garnier, the foundress, was
joined by other unselfish women, and the Hospital of the
Calvary began to do sufficient work among the poor to attract
serious attention from the citizens of Lyons. Indeed la^bors
multiplied so considerably as to cause the introduction of young
persons who, under the name of Daughters of the Cross, as-
sisted in waiting upon the invalids ; and this new departure was
followed by the adoption of a rule fixing for all the common
obligations and the particular exercises for the several groups
of invalids, lay sisters, widows, and the Daughters of the Cross,
It was only shortly after that the work of the Calvary re-
ceived legal recognition and a council of administration was ap-
pointed for its guardianship. The official schedule of organiza-
tion includes an annual convocation of members, in which a
detailed report of all the work is submitted for examination.
The financial expenditures are provided for principally by the con-
tributions of associate members, increased moreover by legacies,
collections after retreats, etc., and chance donations.

In July, 1853, the' final removal of the institution to La
Sarra, an estate in the vicinity of Lyons, effected its final
independence and it became at last proprietor, no longer living
under borrowed roofs. The same year saw the death of the
foundress, Madame Garnier ; but what seemed at first, and
humanly speaking, a loss irreparable to the little community,
served eventually as a mark of an epoch of unprecedented pro-
gress, and it still remains and grows, a monument to the charity
of widowhood.

To the Christian widows of the new world belongs the task
of furthering the progress of the work initiated in the old.

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her martyrs as well as religion. Pasteur was a true scientist ;
he loved science because it leads to truth, and he pursued it
until he had traced the truth where it lay hid in the centre.
His death was the result of paralysis, brought on by his inces-
sant labor, in the field of scientific research ; and the news of
it was received as a catastrophe affecting humanity all the world
over. There was something of sanctity about the man's char-
acter that deepened the general sorrow. Scientific triumph so
usually inflates the mind and makes men arrogant, that the un-
pretentious, modest simplicity of Pasteur's bearing stands out
in refreshing contrast. The victor in science is too often the
rebel against God. Pasteur took no pride in his intellect, but
what he did he did as a true Catholic, for the honor of God,
who gave him that intellect for the benefit of humanity at large.
And while working thus unselfishly for the benefit of the whole
human race, he was still no universalist when the question of his
country's honor was at stake. He was a Frenchman to jthe heart's
core, as was shown in his refusal of the decoration which the Ger-
man Emperor lately proffered him. The Frenchman who could
accept such things, while the wounds of France inflicted by the
hand of Germany are still uncicatrized, he considered unpatri-
otic. How rare it is to get a character so noble, so sympa-
thetic, so full of filial devotion as Pasteur's; how rare to find
an intellect so transcendent acknowledging the divine touch
that kindled the spark!

Pasteur's funeral may be regarded as the final triumph of
intellect over brute power. Material force, in its most impos-
ing representation, paid homage at his bier. The French Re-
public walked behind it ; the imperial and monarchical thrones
of the Old World were represented by their ambassadors at his
requiem Mass, in the Church of Notre Dame des Victoires.
And never did the posthumous blessing of the church fall upon

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28o Editorial Notes. [Nov.,

a son more sincerely mourned by all nations in two hemispheres
than the son of the humble tanner thus honored by republics,

emperors, and kings.

The Eucharistic Congress is an American idea ; and the idea
may not irreverently be described as divinely inspired. What
results may flow from the historic gathering held at Washington
at the beginning of October may not be measured, perhaps, even
by the eye of thought. The motive of such a gathering sug-
gests an illimitable possibility in the work of grace. Apart
from the daily life of Catholicity, there are great dividing lines
even in the structure of the church and its manifold schools of
thought, the existence of which hinders and retards its powers
for beneficent action. Such rifts and divisions have in other
ages and other climes proved fatal stumbling-blocks ; we in this
land and in this generation ought to show that we have profited
by the lessons of less enlightened times. Co-operation in medi-
tation and prayer, in the spirit of the Holy Eucharist, simul-
taneously over tne land, must certainly bring the grace of uni-
fication. There are mighty problems before the world, and the
Catholic Church is called upon to attempt their solution. For-
tified by the spirit of prayer, she will approach the work fear-
lessly. It is an age to be up and doing, and the church goes
forth to do and dare as her divine commission.

The dedication of the McMahon Hall of Philosophy at the
Catholic .University had an auspicious date on the ist of
October. Philosophy outside the Catholic Church — and some-
times within it — too often led to infidelity, and the month of
devotion to the Rosary was fittingly chosen, that prayer may
avert any such calamity from the youthful University of Ameri-
can Catholicism. Our Blessed Lady was the antithesis of all
philosophical teaching, and yet the sum of the whole of it,
since she accepted the message of God's will as the very source
and origin of the highest truth in any philosophy. For the
church, however, to stand still while science marches ever on-
ward, propounding new theses and making fresh discoveries, is
impossible. In the search after truth in all these things, as the
Holy Father points out. Catholics must lead, not follow.

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1 895-] What the Thinkers Say. 281

WHAT THE THINKERS SAY.

DR. PARKHURST ON THE RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION

OF CHILDREN.

{Dr. Charles H, Parkhurst in the Ladies' Home Journal.)

It is " almost never too early '* to comhiunicate with the mind of a child con-
cerning divine truth. He thinks it may never be possible to state with exactness
where the frontier lies between the related territories of morality and religion, but
that while morality concerns itself with rules of duty, and is therefore apt to
become irksome, religion brings us into relation with a Personal Something which
lies back of those rules and asserts itself through them. In regard to instructing
children about the voice of conscience, he advises :

" Let them understand that the whispered compulsion working within them
that puts its gentle restraints upon them is the still, small voice of God, and they
will feel themselves placed instantly in the divine Presence, and the holiness and
solemnity of their circumstances will, to the degree in which it is experienced by
them, procure in them an obedience which will be both easy and reverent.*'

Speaking now of the remarkable apprehension of children when approached
with religious truths, he continues :

" It is not what we say to them that makes them religious ; it is the religious
instinct already in them that makes intelligible to them whatever of a religious
kind we say to them. The best that a child can become in this, as in every other
respect, accrues front wisely handling and fostering some impulse already con-
tained in the child's original dowry. If the beginnings of individual religion were
not an implant no method of treatment, no ingenuity of culture, could suffice to
establish such a beginning. Religion can be immanent in the child, and even be
a part of his experience, without his being able yet to know it as religion, or being
able to comprehend the allusions made to it by his elders. There is an interest-
ing suggestion along that line in what occurred in the history of littfe Samuel.
Divine influences, we are told, began to be operative in him and to make them-
selves very distinctly felt by him before he was far enough along to be able to
discriminate intellectually between what is human and what is divine. God's
voice he took to be Eli's till Eli set him right. It holds in the twilight of life what
is true in each dawning, that it begins to be morning a good while before there is
sunshine enough in the air for the sun-dial to be able to tell us what o'clock it is."

Dr. Parkhurst says that the initial mistake which parents and teachers are
continually making with children is in withholding from them religious suggestion
until sure that the way has been prepared for it by their mental development. He
then says :

"The fact is that the susceptibility to divine things antedates the apprecia-
tion of things human and finite. Whether in the life of the individual or in that
of the race at large religion is older than science. In all this it needs to be clearly
understood that I am not talking about theology, but about religion — about the
loyal sense of God's nearness to us in all the relations of life, which is as distinct

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282 Wha t the Thinkers Sa y. [Nov.^

from theology as vision is distinct from the science of optics. A remarkable com-
mentary upon the truth we have just now in hand is found in the fact that when
Christ wanted to discourse upon the text, * God is a spirit/ he selected as his-
auditor an ignorant Samaritan water-carrier. He could hardly have chosen a
profounder theme, and hardly could he have chosen a hearer that from an intel-
lectual stand-point would have been more imperfectly equipped for the suggestions-
he had to offer her."

THE DOUAI BIBLE AND THE AUTHORIZED VERSION.

(From St, Luke's Magazine,)

Are we to be contented with the versions of the Scriptures which we have
now and which are the results of private enterprise ? Our forefathers evidently
had no superstitious reverence for the Douai, but they cut and shaped it at their
will. There has for a long time been a feeling among English Catholics that a
new version of the Scriptures is much needed and would be a great boon.

In the Second Provincial Council of Westminster it was decreed : " That an
accurate version of the Holy Scriptures from the Latin Vulgate may be had as soon
as possible ; the bishops are of opinion that this undertaking should be entrusted
to learned men to be selected by his Eminence the Archbishop, care being taken,
however, to observe the rules of the Index, as to the revision of the work," etc.

It is understood that the late Cardinal Newman was asked to superintend
the work. But it came to nothing, and the decree of the Council is still a dead-
letter.

Surely we can't remain much longer in this position. And the only satisfac-
tory solution is to follow Challoner's lead more boldly, and take the Vulgate in one
hand and the Authorized Version in the other, and wherever the latter is true to
the Latin, to use and follow it. " What, use the Protestant Version ! " my readers
will exclaim. " Protestant Version ! " we exclaim in our turn. " We don't know
such a thing. The faults in the Authorized Version are Protestant, if you will,
and these we of course cast aside ; but the version itself, its most sweet melody
and balance of parts, its truly English ring, its very touch of quaintness and ar-
chaic flavor which is so desirable in a sacred book {mutatis mutandis as the use
of a dead language in the liturgy), its phraseology, which has wound itself round
the speech of the English people and enters into all our literature, and has
moulded our tongue, why should this be cast aside ? It is not Protestant ; it is
Catholic. Protestantism never brought forth anything beautiful. All that is
good, all that is beautiful is Catholic ; and if Protestants have originated them,
it is not because they are Protestants, but because they have not got rid of the
influence of Catholicity. We are sure a revision of the Authorized Version,,
made according to the Vulgate by Catholics, would do much to smooth the way
to reunion. . For the Englishman does love his Bible even if he does not un-
derstand it ; and it is a grievous trial for him to lose the version he learned at
his mother's knee for the sometimes uncouth and unauthorized version used by us
to-day. Let us make a start with the Epistles and Gospels for the Sunday. I
have a corrected version for these which I always make use of myself ; for I see
no necessity but a great loss in leaving an accepted, version for another which,
grates on the ear."

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1895.] The Columbian Reading Union. 283

THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.

RESOLVED, That it is the duty of the members of the Catholic Young Men's
National Union to encourage each other in the reading of religious and
scientific works, and to circulate such literature wherever practicable. Such was the
decision made by the Convention representing thirty-five thousand young men
assembled at St. Louis, September 24-25. As the decision indicates an important
duty for young men, and was unanimously ratified by young men, it should have
the force of law. The delegates must not rest content with passing the resolu-
tion. Definite plans should be arranged to meet the needs of various places.
Many ardent defenders of the movement which has encouraged the growth of
societies for young men would like to be able to show more tangible evidence
than is at present available regarding the progress made in literary improvement..
We fear that the advantages to be derived from the Reading Circle have not been
fully considered in many societies. In exchange for two cents in postage a pam-
phlet will be sent by the Columbian Reading Union— 415 West 59th Street,
New York City — to any young man wishing to get information how to make read-
ing profitable for himself and useful for the society to which he belongs. Letters
on this subject are requested for publication in this department of The Catho-
lic World.

In a friendly spirit we desire to gather proofs for minds disposed to be critical
that our young men are really determined to put into active operation the resolu-
tion encouraging the reading of good books, and the .diffusion of the best Catholic
literature.

Fifty-seven Catholic young men's societies are organized in the Archdiocese
of New York, twenty-six of which are affiliated to the Union, and five others have
applied for admission. Twelve of these societies own their own buildings, the
others pay rent. A strong argument in their favor could be advanced, by reliable
data showing the reading that has been done by their members within a year.
Who will furnish this information ?

* ♦ ♦

It is not generally known that to a young man is due the credit of starting the
first publication for " the instruction of the juvenile portion of the Catholic com-
munity " in New York City. His name was Cornelius H. Gottsberger. Largely
at his own expense he established and edited the Children* s Catholic Magazine.
By the kind permission of his relatives we have examined the first and second
volumes, extending from March, 1838, to February, 1840. In the introductory
number the young editor promised that each issue of his magazine would contain
a fine engraving and a biography of some distinguished Catholic, besides moral
and religious tales, extracts of poetry, and dialogues " so agreeably blended to-
gether as to be both pleasing and entertaining, and at the same time interesting-
and instructive." Among other topics he directed attention to the books used in
the schools. A statement found in Woodbridge's and Willard's Geography he
condemned as " glaringly false." This is the statement : " In Ireland the mass of
the people are involved in the grossest ignorance. In some parts not one in five
hundred receives instruction. One of the strongest motives to the acquisition of
knowledge is destroyed by the Catholic priests in Ireland, who prohibit the people
from reading the Scriptures."

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284 The Columbian Reading Union. [Nov.,

A subscriber to the Churchman wrote a letter of warning against the " popish

sentiments" of the Children*s Catholic Magazine, It was also attacked by the

Protestant Vindicator, which stated that " upwards of thirteen thousand copies

were printed every month." Our young men should honor the memory of

Cornelius Gottsberger, and imitate his zeal for the production and diffusion of

Catholic literature.

♦ « *

A Reading Circle should take the name of the Rev. Gabriel Richard. The
following sketch of his remarkable life will have a special interest for many of our
readers, as he was the only priest who ever became a congressman :

The Rev. Gabriel Richard, when superior of the Sulpician Seminary at Issy,
near Paris, little dreamed that he would one day sit in the Congress of the United
States as delegate from one of the Territories. He came to the United States
in 1798, and was, in 1799, sent to Detrgit to take charge of St. Anne's Church, a
parish whose establishment dates back to 1701, and became not only pastor of his
flock, but one of the leading spirits in the development of the North-west. He
gave an impulse to education, and established the first printing-press in Michigan,
issuing several useful books, and the first copy of the Scriptures printed west of
the Alleghany Mountains.

Not only does Father Richard bear the distinction of being the only Catholic
priest ever elected to Congress, but the only one who had the strange fortune of
going directly from a prison-cell to the House of Representatives ; not, however,
with the full powers of a representative, but as a delegate from a then far
western Territory. Lanman's Directory of the United States Congress says of
him : " He was a Roman Catholic priest ; a man of learning. Bom at Saintes,
France, October 15, 1764, educated at Angiers, and received orders at a Catholic
seminary in Paris in 1790. Came to America in 1798, and was for a time pro-
fessor of mathematics in St. Mary's College, Maryland. He labored as a mission-
ary in Illinois and went to Detroit, Mich., in 1799."

During his pastorate at St. Anne's Church, in Detroit, it became his duty to
excommunicate one of his parishioners, who had been divorced from his wife.
For this he was prosecuted for defamation of character, which resulted in a verdict
being given against him for $1,000. This money the priest could not pay. As his
parishioners were poor French settlers they could not pay it for him, and he was
thrown into prison. While confined in the common jail, with little hope of ever be-
ing liberated, he was elected a delegate to Congress, and went from his prison-cell
in the wilds of Michigan to his seat on the floor of Congress. The career in Con-
gress of Father Richard was a remarkable one. He delivered several speeches
on matters pertaining to his Territory which marked him as an able speaker.
He was not only a thorough French and English scholar, but was conversant with
the Spanish, German, and Italian languages, and had learned the Indian tongues
of the tribes of Michigan.

In 1809 he introduced the first printing-press to the West and became the
first Catholic publisher in the North, printing the E^sai du Michigan^ a paper
which gave mortal offence to the English co4ony at Detroit, and for which the
English authorities laid hands on the good priest and dragged him into impri-
sonment. After the surrender of General Hull, in 181 2, he was released, and soon
afterward published the laws of the new territory in French. At that time there
was great suffering among the settlers ; the crops had been taken by the soldiers*
and the good pastor came to the rescue in purchasing and distributing wheal
.among the destitute people.

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1895.] The Columbian Reading Union. 285

In 1800 Father Richard commenced a tour of the lake dependencies, taking
passage on a government vessel June 20, and after a stormy voyage reached Mack-
inaw Island June 29. He remained on the island about two months, teaching and
administering the Sacrainents. He next visited the Ottawas, on Lake Huron ;
visited St. Joseph's Island ; ascended the St. Mary's River to the Sault, and re-
turned in October to Detroit, sending an account of his work to Bishop Carroll.
All the important parishes of the diocese of Detroit, along the water-line from the
mouth of the Detroit River to Lake Huron, were then small settlements, and were
from time to time visited by Father Richard. At Marine City he bought the
tongue of land formed by the St. Clair and Belle Rivers for church purposes, and
was everywhere instrumental in the erection of suitable church buildings. He
was in Arbre Croche in September, 1821, and of the Marquette River he says :
" I was detained there a week by head winds, during which period I frequently
visited the grave of the great Marquette and prayed upon this interesting spot. I
celebrated Mass upon the banks of the river on Sunday, and my little flock went
with me in procession to the cross which I had erected, where I sung the ' Libera '
for the soul of our brother. In all, Ottawas and others, we were fifty members of
the church, and all appeared greatly impressed with the divine providence of the
Great Spirit, our Father who is in heaven. I addressed them with considerable
effect, but under such circumstances it was impossible not to be eloquent."

From the beginning of his pastoral charge Father Richard became a great
educator. He enlarged the small school-house, the first in Detroit ; but not hav-
ing suitable teachers available, he instructed and prepared four young ladies of
wealthy families for teachers, and placed them in charge of a seminary for the
higher branches of education for their sex. Not unmitidful of the intellectual
wants of the young men of his parish, he opened a college in which he and Father
Dilhet, his assistant, taught the higher branches and lectured upon religious his-
tory, literature, and the sciences. In 1807, there being no other minister in De-
troit, Governor Hull invited Father Richard to hold meetings on Sundays in the
new council-house. These meetings were held regularly at noon, and were attend-
ed by the governor and family, by the officers of the garrison and their families,,
by most of the ofificials, and by non-Catholic merchants. The lectures, delivered
in the English language, were upon the evidences of Christianity and kindred
topics, without controversial allusions.

In 1808 Father Richard set up the first printing-press erected in the North-
west Territory, having brought from the East the first practical printer known
in the West, Mr. A. Coxeshaw. The same year his educational establishments
were completed, and comprised primary schools for boys and girls ; a seminary^
for young ladies, under charge of four teachers belonging to the best families of
Detroit ; an academy for young men, under the learned pastor's direction, assisted
by Mr. Sallidre, a young professor of literature, chemistry, and astronomy, whom
Father Richard had brought from France ; and, finally, a school for the technical
education of Indian girls.

In the meantime this pioneer priest, the apostle and promoter of literary cul-
ture in the North-west, edited and published the following works : Tht Penitent
Saul, The Child's Spelling Book, The Ornaments of the Memoty, Epistles and
Gospels in French and English, Historical Catechism, and The Children's
Journal,

At the period of the publication of these works, the preparation of them for
the press, their editing as well as their proof-reading, involved a vast amouMt of
labor, and books suitable for Catholic readers were exceedingly rare in Detroit.

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286 The Columbian Reading Union. [Nov.,

They could only be obtained from Montreal or New York, and wert not always of
the kind desired. Besides, their high prices excluded their use amongst most
families. These books of Father Richard supplied a great want existing in the
old city.

His name was sent to Rome as the choice for Detroit's first bishop, but
Father Richard was not destined to wear the mitre on the scene of his life labors.
His apostolic career was to end in a manner becoming the devoted priest he had
ever been. When in 1832 the Asiatic cholera decimated the Catholic population
of Detroit, Father Richard and his venerable assistant, Father Francis Vincent
Baden, labored among the sick and dying, day and night, until the plague had
ceased its ravages. Worn out with hardships he fell, the last of the distinguished
victims of that fatal year. He was stricken with the plague, and succumbed to it
September 13, 1832, thus crowning his life's work with the martyrdom of charity.
He had been pastor of St. Anne's for thirty-four years, vicar-general of the North-
west under four bishops, and he occupied a leading place in the history of Michi-
gan as a priest, as an educator, as a philanthropist, as a legislator, as a citizen,
and as a patriot.

Fifty years after the death of Father Richard Bella Hubbard placed four
statues on the massive fagade of the City Hall of Detroit. These sculptured
images represented four great French Catholics whom the city is proud to honor,
two great missionaries, Father James Marquette and Gabriel Richard, and two
representatives of the genius and chivalry of France, Chevalier de La Salle and
Antoine de La Mothe Cadillac.

The saintly subject of this sketch was buried in the crypt of old St. Anne's
Church, and his remains were removed to new St. Anne's on the completion of
I hat edifice, where they now lie awaiting a glorious resurrection.
* * *

A writer in the Chicago Times made the claim that Englishmen in general
are not as well read as Americans, and contends that the proof may be found in a
study of the rural people of England. Outside the large cities there is the casual
and occasional reader of fiction, biography, history, travel, and no small amount of
theology in a diluted form. The great middle class read — and trust — ^their period-
ical literature and their newspapers ; the students, the real readers, who feed their
minds as other men their bodies, read with more thoroughness and patience than
our students. . The entrance examination for any college at Oxford, Cambridge,
Edinburgh, or Dublin is trifling compared with the entrance examination for Har-
vard University ; but, on the other hand, both the classical and mathematical men
who take the highest rank here get through an amount of reading that our men
hardly dream of. England has nothing like the number of average well-read men
that one finds in America ; but America has nothing like the number of thoroughly
well-read, widely-travelled, highly-trained men in politics and in all the professions.
In America there is a widespread education of the hare ; in England there is, con-
fined to narrow limits, the education of the tortoise ; and there is a fable that the
world is poised upon the back of a tortoise ! At any rate, England carries a very
heavy proportionate rate of the world's responsibility, and England and America
together would seem to have little to fear from the future, for, after all, what men
read is not a crucial test of their capacity. Who has not known men with enough
university sheepskin to make a wardrobe of who were vacillating incompetents.
Who forgets how small were the libraries and the opportunities of Washington,
Lincoln, and Grant ?

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i89S-] The Columbian Reading Union. 287

The Reading Circle Union, under the direction of the Catholic Summer-School
of America, has arranged a course requiring four years' study. Any person. Cath-
olic or non-Catholic, desirous of truth and self-culture may join by payment of
twenty-five cents. The annual fees for Reading Circles are as follows : Ten mem-
bers or less, $1.00; Ten to twenty-four members, $2.00 ; Twenty-five to forty-nine
members, $3.00 ; Fifty members and upwards, $5.00 ; Individual Fees, 25 cents.

This fee is required to meet the necessary expenses incidental to the work,
viz.: printing, postage, etc., and shall be remitted to the general secretary with
the application. Applications may be sent in at any time.

The required books for 1895-6 are :

History of the Church in the Middle Ages — Text-book will be specially pre-
pared; Roman and Mediaeval Art, Goodyear, $1.00; Political Economy, Jevons,
35 cents; Socialism Exposed and Refuted, Father Cathrein, S.J., 7$ cents; Foun-
dation Studies in Literature, Mooney, $1.25 ; Physical Geography, Geikie, 35 cents ;
Geology, Geikie, 35 cents ; The Catholic Reading Circle Review, $2.00.

All books may be ordered of the Secretary, and will be sent post paid upon
receipt of price.

Supplementary and Post-Graduate courses :

I. — Sacred Scriptures: Heuser. Lectures delivered at the fifth session of
Catholic Summer-School of America. Pubhshed by Cathedral Library Associa-
tion, 123 East Fiftieth Street, New York City. Paper 75 cents, cloth $1.00.;
Science and Dogma: Bible, Science, and Faith, Zahm, $1.25 ; Geology: Geology
^nd Revelation, Molloy. Compendium of Geology, Le Conte, $1.20.

IL — The Divine Comedy, Dante; In Memoriam, Tennyson; Imitation of
Christ, k Kempis ; Present Position of Catholics in England, Loss and Gain, Dream
joi Gerontius, Idea of a University, Newman ; Phases of Thought and Criticism by
Brother Azarias, $1.50.

III. — Ruskin's Mornings in Florence ; Ruskin's Elements of Drawing ; Rus-
kin's Seven Lamps of Architecture ; Ruskin's Modern Painters ; Ruskin's Stones
of Venice ; Architecture and Painting, and Frondes Agrestes, by Ruskin ; Sacred
and Legendary Art, Legends of the Madonna, Legends of the Monastic Orders,
History of Our Lord, by Mrs. Jameson ; Life of Frederick Overbeck, by Margaret
Hewitt; Christian Art in Our Own A^^c, by Eliza Allen Starr; Pilgrims and
Shrines, by Eliza Allen Starr ; Patron Saints, by Eliza Allen Starr.

IV. — The Laws of Thought; or Formal Logic : Fundamental Ethics, by Rev.
William Poland, S.J., St. Louis University. Price each 80 cents.

Books of Supplementary Reading on the several courses will be announced in
the November number of the Catholic Reading Circle Review. Outlines of re-
quired reading, questions, notes, programs, reports of Circles, and articles on topics
supplementary to the required reading will be published monthly.

Address all communications to

Warren E. Mosher, Sec'y,

Youngstown, Ohio.
♦ ♦ *

The Summer-School number of the Reading Circle Review contains a large
amount of valuable information for every intelligent Catholic. Twenty cents will
secure a copy, if sent to the office at Youngstown, Ohio. While the reports of the
lectures arc very much condensed they serve a useful purpose in showing the im-
mense areas of thought which may be explored by studious minds. People other-
wise well informed are still asking what the Summer-School is intended to accom-
plish, notwithstanding the numerous accounts published within the past four years.
Such deplorable ignorance of a great movement will be effectually removed by an
attentive perusal of the official report in the Catholic Reading Circle Review.

M. C. M.

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288 New Books. [Nov., 1895.

MEW BOOKS.

Benziger Brothers, New York, Cincinnati, Chicago :

Mensis Eucharist icus. By Father Faverio Lercari, SJ. Petronilla, and
other Tales. By Eleanor C. Donnelly. Outlines of Dogmatic Theology.
By Rev. Sylvester Joseph Hunter, SJ. The Catholic Hdme Annual for
i8g6. The Sacramenials of the Holy Catholic Church. By Rev. A. A.

Lambing. The Christianas Model (Vols. XI. and XII. of Hunolt Sermons,

completing the work). Christ in TyPe and Prophecy. Vol.11. By Rev. '

A. J. Maas, S.J., Professor of Oriental Languages, Woodstock College. j

The Cathedral Library Association, New York : |

Chapters of Bible Study ; or^ A Popular Introduction to the Study of the ■

Sacred Scriptures. By the Rev. Herman J. Heuser, Professor of Scriptural j

Introduction and Exegesis, St. Charles' Seminary, Overbrook, Pa. !

P. J. Kenedy, New York :

Questions on Vocations: A Catechism principally for Parochial Schools, j
Academies, and Colleges. By a Priest of the Congregation of the Mission.
With an Appendix on How Parishes may establish Scholarships.
Macmillan & Co., New York :

Red Rowans, By Mrs. F. A. Steel. The Men of the Moss-Hags. By S. R.
Crockett. The Diary of Samuel Pepys, M.A., F.R.S.
Longmans, Green & Co., New York :

Daniel Defoe* s Journal of the Plague Year. Edited, with Notes and Intro-
duction, by Professor George Rice Carpenter.
Paul Boyton, London and Chicago :

The Story of Paul Boyton. Second edition.
Catholic School Book Company, New York:

A Brief Text-Book of Moral Philosophy. By Rev. Charles Coppens, S.J.
B. Herder, St. Louis:

The Spiritual Exercises of an Eight-Days* Retreat. By the Rev. Bonaven-
ture Hammer, O.S.F.
Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston and New York :

The Christ of To-Day. By George A. Gordon, Minister of the Old South
Church, Boston.

PAMPHLETS.

Government Printing-office, Washington :

Annual Report of the Operations of t/te United States Life' Saving Service^
1S94.
Convent of the Poor Servants of the Mother of God, Brentford,
London :
A Memoir of Father Dignam, of the Society of Jesus. Revised and with
Preface by Father Edward Ignatius Purbeck, S.J.
Curtis & Co., Boston :

Hand-Book of the New Public Library, Boston. Compiled by Herbert Small.
Fully illustrated.
American Catholic Historical Society, Philadelphia:

William Gaston, First Student of Georgefoivn College. By J. Fairfax Mc-
Laughlin, LL.D.

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' And bowed : for, lo, he saw
O'ershadowing Death,
A Mother's hands above,
Swathing the limbs of Love!'*

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NOV 29 1095

CATHOLIC WORLD.

Vol. LXII. DECEMBER, 1895. No. 369.

She pNGEL'S ^HF^ISTMAS QUES^.

^^ Where ha\?e ye laid my Lford?
iDehold, I find TliiT] not!

jiath jie, in hea\7en adored,
yiis home forgot?

(5(i\?e iT^e, sons of men,
JV|y truant (jiod again!

"A N^oice from spl]ere to sphere —
'A falteririg murniur — ran,
'IDehold, jie is not here!
Fercliance With Jvlan,
I he lowlier made than We,
jie hides pis majesty/"

I hen, hushed iq Woqderiqg aWe,

I he spirit held his breath,
'And bowed : for, lo, he saW

O'ershadoWing Death,
"A JVIother's hands abo\?e,

e)vVatl]ing the limbs of boVe!

^ • ■ John B. Tabb.

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290 The Church and the New Sociology. [Dec,

THE CHURCH AND THE NEW SOCIOLOGY.

BY REV. GEORGE McDERMOT, C.S.P.

PROPOSE to express one or two thoughts that

occurred to me while reading Messrs. Small and

Vincent's manual called An Introduction to the

Study of Society. This work was referred to at

some length in the September number of the

magazine. With certain limitations as regards the phenomena to

be examined by the student of society, the manual will be found

useful. The student must also bear in mind the fundamental

error of the authors respecting the nature of morality. They

fully recognize the utility of good actions ; so does Mr. Mill, so

do all with whom we are at issue with regard to duty.

The difference is not superficial. The obligation of a law
binding upon conscience is one thing, the social utility of such
a law is another. The second view in the last analysis leads to
the disruption of society, the former holds its elements to-
gether. The second accounts for all the extravagant theories
set up to explain social results, and for many oY the mischiefs
that afflict society. It is this second view which regards as the
enemy of human progress the august church with whose his-
tory the entire march of mankind, its whole advance, all its
triumphs for the last nineteen centuries, are identified.

The reckless abusiveness of Professor Huxley, the more re-
fined insolence of Professor Tyndall, the metaphysical intoler-
ance of Mr. Spencer have been all directed to destroy the influ-
ence of the creed that created Christendom and taught the
principles on which rests whatever is wise, beneficent, and endur-
ing in modern civilization.

POSITIVIST VIEW OF HISTORY.

The imaginative history of Comte and his shadow, Mr.
Spencer — shadow of a shade — superseding the " old almanac/'
and the more classical philosophy of history, is that scientific
study of society to which the world is running as to a new play.
Their view of how history should be written was laid hold of
by some men not devoid of belief in the eternal distinction be-
tween right and wrong. When imagination holds the light, pano-

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1895.] The Church and the New Sociology, 291

ramas of the past can readily be exhibited. The " old almanac *'
required the pains of industry for its compilation : the philoso-
phy of history, the labor of study to discover the causes of
movements, their relations, value, and effects.

How much more attractive will the narrative be when the
historian is free from the fetter of truth! We have common-
place characters made demi-gods by Carlyle, bad men and wo-
men winged like angels on the canvas of Froude. Weak peo-
ples have no place in the world. Like the unsocial elements of
positivist ethics, they must die out of the paths of the demi-
gods and angels.

I know of nothing in the range of satire that surpasses the
simple brutal good faith in which Froude asks the readers of
his English in Ireland to believe that the native Irish are an in-
ferior race, destined to perpetual slavery, because Shakspere in
" Henry V." makes Captain Macmorris ready to " imbrue," as an
Irishman would say, under the idea that some one disparaged
his nation. Because forsooth Macmorris was prepared to lug out
his side companion at a fancied insult, the Irish always burst
out into fits of purposeless anger, hence a people so prone
cannot govern themselves. Argal ! Hence their lands must be
taken from them, their societies broken in pieces, their laws
blotted out ; all that the past had sanctified made a mockery,
their present a degradation, their future a despair.

Assuming that Shakspere reported the fanfaronade of Mac-
morris fairly, what does it amount to? If it has any reality
beyond the divine William's truckling to the prejudices of the
" groundlings," may it not be the result of national sensitive-
ness made morbid by English assumptions of superiority? If I
cared to go into this, it might appear that Macmorris was a
Norman of the Pale, loyal to the king indeed, but accustomed
to the sweet rule of his English officials in Ireland. But the
fury of the man is quite a different thing to the magnificent
anger of the great Celtic chiefs, of which we see so much in
their relations with the viceroys — an anger founded in justice
from the nature of the thing, and heroic because it counted the
odds and realized how great they were.

THE DISCOVERY OF TRUTH THE OBJECT IN ALL INQUIRY.

This, however, is the kind of history we are to receive from
the positive philosophy. Everything is perverted. When Messrs.
Small and Vincent say that the method of investigation pursued
in the physical sciences is that to be applied to the phenomena

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292 The Church and the New Sociology. [Dec,

of society we agree with them. It may be thought that we are
forced to swallow the bitter pill of liberality, because men have
shattered the chains that bound them, have flung to the winds
the pretension "of an old Italian man"* to rule their thoughts,
and walk abroad in the dignity of full manhood ; and so on
through any number of dithyrambics with which these latest of
the anthropoids present us.

But it is not so. We very distinctly say that this has been
always the view of Christian philosophy ; but we gently object
to hypotheses being taken for established laws of mind or mat-
ter, and we object to facts being bent, distorted, invented to
support hypotheses.

The fact is that the intolerance of modern science goes far
beyond anything ever attributed to the ancient teachers. Prove
to demonstration that they were honest and successful students
and speculators for their day, and we shall learn from Professor
Huxley, in a lecture to a body of working-men in England, that
the advancement in discovery since Galileo's time would compen-
sate him for the doings of a score of inquisitorial cardinals.

THE CHURCH MADE MODERN PROGRESS POSSIBLE.

And yet the men engaged in these investigations during the
last century or two must have been protected in their property
and leisure by the law of the land. Whence came it ? Under
what vine and fig-tree did the Gothic societies of Europe spring
up ? What was the religion of the men who fashioned the com-
mon law of England, broadening from precedent to precedent
as the ages went down ? Who but the ecclesiastical chancellors
infused the spirit of equity into the hardness or incompleteness
of the statute law, and laid the foundations of that jurisprudence
which more than anything else makes one feel that England
is the most imperial nation since Rome, from the golden mile-
stone of her Forum, sent abroad her strong, just rule to the re-
motest west and remotest east, and from the German forests to
the Great Desert?

The moulding of the nations of Europe was a work at least
as important to humanity as that discovery and use of natural
forces of which modern science is so justly proud. We might
be content with this claim of contributory service on the part
of the past, but something more remains to be said.

... . *V. Carlyle.

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1895.] The Church and the New Sociology. 293

intolerance of agnosticism.

Huxley when elected to the London School Board in 1870 dis-
tinguished himself by the violence of his speeches against the
Catholic Church. There have been from time to time bigots in
Parliament like Mr. Spooner, Mr. Newdegate, and Mr. Whalley
in my own memory. In the last century Lord George Gordon's
appeals to the prejudices of the London mob caused riots which
brought many of his followers to the gallows. Mr. Spooner and
Mr. Newdegate were laughed at by the House. Punch ex-
pressed the degrees of their stupidity by the comparison Spoon-
Spooner and Newdegate. Mr. Whalley was mocked by Lord
Beaconsfield, when Mr. Disraeli, by suggesting that he was a
Jesuit in disguise. In this manner English gentlemen dealt
with fools who outraged the convictions of their fellow-men.

If Huxley were a member of a club — I mean a club of
gentlemen — he would not have been permitted to use a second
time the atrocious language with which he assailed the creed of
the Catholic members of the London School Board. Professor
Tyndall, who was the son of an Irish land bailiff — that is to say,
the son of a person selected for that odious office because he
possessed the qualities of the slave-driver on a plantation —
attacked Mr. Gladstone in the language of Billingsgate on
account of his Irish policy.

PRETENSIONS OF ITS LEADERS QUESTIONED. .

Mr. Herbert Spencer, in the most foolish essay I ever read,
proceeds to tell men who know something about affairs how our
youth should be educated for public life. What does he know
about law or the theory of legislation ? Yet these persons,
capable of any degree of audacity, would tell a great Chancery
lawyer how he should deal with the most recondite equities, a
great statesman how to direct and control social forces in the
fever or tempest of their action, a great general how to change
his front in the presence of the enemy, a great admiral how to
win Trafalgar or the Nile. And yet in the very subjects with
which they are supposed to be identified they do not appear
to stand so high above other men.

Is Tyndall in reality such a giant that he can look down
upon the r^est of the world ? On an examination by competent
judges he is declared greatly inferior as a physicist and mathe-
matician to many of his contemporaries. It is said that no one
except the "popular reader" science-man would dream of com-

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294 The Church and the New Sociology, [Dec,

paring him with J. Clerk-Maxwell, Sir W. Thomson, P. G. Tait,
Sir Gabriel Stokes, and others. The magic of that Irish elo-
quence was the source of his power, and not what he has done
by discovery or invention. As a lecturer he stands unrivalled.
In his hands we realize what a wonderful instrument of thought
and expression the English tongue can be. It is due to that
as much as to his scientific attainments that he was put in the
chair once filled by Faraday and by Davy.

There is one thing by which his judgment can be tested in
view of this very question before us : the application of the ex-
perimental method to questions of morals and mental science.
In his address as president of the British Association, at Belfast,
he made religion the product of the emotions, and because the
Presbyterians and other Protestants were shocked he denied
the correctness of the reporters. The same withdrawal at-
tended his declaration that he saw in matter the promise and
potency of all terrestrial life. The Irish, unfortunately, were
not ripe enough for materialism ; and so this halycon thinker
who bent his beak with each vary of his audience carried his
propagandism to the more congenial public of England. A
similar instance of dishonesty can be charged to Huxley.

TO SUCCEED, ASSAIL THE CHURCH!

As long as these men confined themselves to abusing the
doctrines of the Catholic Church all was right. But there are
certain beliefs cherished among the Protestants of Britain as
well as Ireland. To assail these is likely to impair the mission-
ary success of the apostles of infidelity. The extraordinary
thing about them is, that they desire to lead others into the
night and the wild, or into the abyss of annihilation from
which nature shrinks aghast, instead of being filled with sorrow
at their inability to know God — so far as the faithful since
Adam have known him — infinite sanctity, purity, justice, truth,
mercy, love, of whose nature all that is best in us is the palest
reflection from whom we have come, by whom we are so
marvellously guarded, who has filled this earth with so many
good things for us, and who has reserved beyond it a home in
which the happiness desired by our nature shall be realized.
If all that the generations from Adam believed were false as
dicers' oaths, what advantage is it to the wild, unresting,
jealous, beaten, vengeful hordes of the slums and alleys of
great cities to be undeceived, to lose their trust in God, their
sense of the soul's goodness, their hope that the hard measure

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1895.] The Church and the New Sociology, 295

of to-day will be mended in the overflow of an unfading
morrow ? In times gone by less dangerous enemies of law and
order received their deserts in the only way to silence crimi-
nals.

This is the philosophy of tumults, of Orsini bombs, incendi-
ary fires, of the dagger, the philosophy of men dancing like
fiends round a lamp-post bearing a dead gentleman or a dead
priest. When London is next threatened by more dangerous
Chartists than those of '48, and when after a desperate struggle
society shall have asserted its strength and the hangman be
busy, those who have hearts to feel, heads to think, will regret
that the great leaders of agnosticism escaped him.

The authors of the manual which has caused me to tell
some home-truths in homely language about the coryphaei of
their philosophy acknowledge the influence of religion in de-
termining the wills of individuals to social conduct. I could
expect no less from them. I have said in the last number
that in tone and temper they present a marked contrast to
the writers of their way of thinking. In that number I directed
attention to correcting the assumption of modern social science
that the world was ignorant of it until a day ago, rather than
to the discussion of the method of treating it.

EVEN PROTESTANT CHRISTIANITY FAVORS THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH.

What M. Guizot lays down concerning the philosophy of
history we say concerning sociology. It must be approached
in the spirit now prevailing in the intellectual order in the
search of truth whatever be its object. The authors of our
manual were out of court in laboring to impress upon us the
necessity of taking facts as the bases and rule when penetrat-
ing the sciences of the moral world. We are so pressed by the
delusion which prevails with regard to the attitude of the
church toward science that we decline to drop this part of the
subject just yet. Candor is somewhat necessary.

I may say that nothing has occurred in my time which
afforded more gratification than Lord Salisbury's address at
Oxford to the British Association. The men of science were
astounded. They had a revelation. The fact is that men of
science and professional literary men have a contempt for the
attainments of those who only belong to the better classes. A
man may have gone out the best man of his year. In the
country he may have widened his knowledge of literature or
pursued some branch of science with assiduity. But he is only

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296 The Church and the New Sociology. [Dec,

an ignorant country gentleman because he does not belong to
some critics' club or to some scientific institute, or has not
tried his hand at a dull book of popular science or a far duller
work of fiction. At the same time, for the sake of social recog-
nition, the scientific world and his wife would stoop to any
meanness to be received into the society of that country gentle-
man. If this be so, and I know it to be so, I may be excused
for my way of rating the opinion of such persons with respect
to the attitude of Catholic thought on questions of science.

DARWIN'S SERVICES TO SCIENCE.

What real claim for special veneration can be set up by
the whole materialistic, positive school of science ? It cannot
be on the ground of originality. If we take Darwin, he was
preceded in his theory of evolution by the earliest philosophers
of Greece, and by others since to modern days, when Kant,
Oken, and Lamarck anticipated him. It cannot be on that of
scientific certainty from this, circumstance, if from no other,
that he plainly directs his powers to the establishment of some
a priori theory. He investigates not to increase our knowledge
of nature but to work out his idea of development. Mr. Don-
nelly's examination of the text of Shakspere to sustain his
theory of a cryptograph of Lord Bacon affords an illustration
of how a man of respectable talents and character like Darwin
may be led along by a craze.

The name of Bacon leads us from " the wisest, brightest,
meanest of mankind " to his namesake, the monk of whom our
authors spoke with praise while making his name a rest from
which to discharge their arrows at his brother-monks, and by
necessary implication at their successors in the universities of
the world ; but not only at these, but at all who have control
over Catholic education.

ROGER bacon's SERVICES TO SCIENCE.

Concerning Roger Bacon, Dr. Whewell in his history of
the inductive sciences regards the existence of Bacon's Opus
Magus at the period as an insoluble problem.' He seems justly
astonished, in the light of sciolistic modern criticism, at finding a
writer of the thirteenth century urging the claims of experiment
as a source of knowledge of supreme importance. With a bold-
ness and precision which a writer of to-day with all his advan-
tages could not surpass, he exhibits the "three great preroga-
tives" of experimental science which make her the sole mis-

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1895.] The Church and the New Sociology. 297

tress of speculative sciences. " First," he says, " she tests by
experiment the noblest conclusions of all other sciences; next,
she discovers, respecting the notions which other sciences deal
with, magnificent truths to which those other sciences of them-
selves can by no means attain ; her third dignity is that she, by
her own power and without respect of other sciences, investi-
gates the secrets of nature." Where were Huxley's twenty in-
quisitorial cardinals that this monk should escape?

SERVICES OF OTHER CATHOLICS.

I have said very little of that which I should like to have
said : how Jevons, the greatest authority of this generation — a
Protestant — laughs at the notion that the philosophy of the
Protestant Bacon — the lord, not the monk — is the fountain of
modern science ; how- the work of reform in the methods of
scientific investigation belongs to the Catholic Leonardo Da
Vinci ;* how Galileo, and the priests, his pupilsj used this Catholic
method of investigation ; how the whole realm of the stars was
searched by the ecclesiastical astronomers who for fifteen cen-
turies were the only astronomers ; how since then the same
science owes to priests or Catholic laymen more than it owes to
the men of all other creeds put together ; I should like to say
what Catholics have done for mathematical science ; that in
Venice in 1494 a friar published the first work on algebra, that
another priest developed it ; that a third priest was one of the
inventors of the infinitesimal calculus and solved problems from
which others, including Kepler, had turned in despair ; but if I
were to continue the roll it would be like passing in review
the stars of heaven, and I must pass to considering how the
method of physical investigation is to be usefully employed in
social science.

METHOD TO BE EMPLOYED IN SOCIAL SCIENCE.

The value of statistics of the manifold relations of families
to the land, to industries of all kinds, their value in political

*Hallamf in the Introduction to the Literature of Europe y says that "the discoveries
which made Galileo and Kepler and Maestlin and Maurolicus and Castelli and other names
illustrious, the system of Copernicus, the very .theories of recent geologers, are anticipated by
Da Vinci. ... If any doubt could be harbored . . . as to his originality in so many
discoveries ... 1/ must be on an hypothesis, not very untenable^ that some parts 0/ physi-
cal science had already attained a height which mere books do not record " The italics dive
mine. Hallam bears this testimony in a reluctant spirit, but the value of the concession XTOr
plied in the clause I have marked is of very considerable importance coming from such a
source.

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298 The Church and the New Sociology. [Dec,

or municipal organs of all kinds, their value in watching the
growth of population from one year to another, the value of
statistics of whatever injuriously affects society whether in the
physical or moral health of its members — on all this our authors
lay such stress that they seem to require the statesmen or
philosophers of the future to personally collect the figures.

But this is not necessary. We find in Ireland an organized
body of collectors, the constabulary, with the result that the
agricultural statistics of that country — with the census read into
them — present a history of every family on the land. From
other statistics we may know the condition of people dwelling
in towns and cities. What is true of Ireland is true of Great
Britain in this respect. No one can undervalue such means of
knowledge concerning the society in which all his interests are
involved ; but what I think is of equal importance is the use
to which they may be turned.

The best way 1 can present my meaning and at the same
time test, in one instance at least, the success of our authors
in providing a royal road for embryo social philosophers and
statesmen, is by giving an illustration of the manner in which
an advanced section of British politicians handled certain
figures of public relief.

FRAUDULENT USE OF STATISTICS.

In a pamphlet published by this society of politicians,
under the title Facts for Londoners, it was stated that in Lon-
don " one person in every five will die in the workhouse, hos-
pital, or lunatic asylum." This appalling sentence, in a way
startling as the doom denounced against Nineveh by the
prophet, seemed supported by statistics bearing on the point.
The object of the society in publishing them was not to rouse
Londoners to meet the wolf coming to the door, but, as it said,
to spur the people towards the ** common end — the emancipa-
tion of land and industrial capital from individual and class
ownership, and the vesting of them in the community for the
general benefit." There was no very considerable juggling with
the figures, but they were so classified as to sustain the state-
ment, and if a superficial examiner looked up the sources the
figures would be found to be pretty much as they appeared in
the pamphlet. Yet hardly anything could be falser in effect
than the impression aimed at.

It is time we should conclude. In our last paper we prom-

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ised to show how the method of our authors ought to be
applied. We have not the space ; but as sociology is only the
philosophy of history under a name invented by Comte, we
invite our readers' attention to a few considerations grouped
below.

SOME OF THE MATERIALS FOR THE PHILOSOPHIC STUDY OF SOCIETY.

Possibly it will be recollected that we then stated, with
Aristotle, that the family is the basis of the state. Have we an
account of the growth of the state from the family ? It is
plain that we have such an account in the Pentateuch ; that we
have it with a completeness which no history of modern col-
onization affords, and in a sense which no such history can
supply. A colony is the mother-country in a new situation.
Up to the time of the War of Independence the Virginians
did not difler in the relations of social life and the modes of
thought of the colonists from those of English country families
to a degree greater than would "be explained by the climate
and the institution of slavery. The Greek colonies of Asia
Minor, of Southern Italy, and the Mediterranean islands were
the states across the seas. One saw in each of them the same
enterprise, the same love of pleasure, the same polish, the same
love of man in the perfection of intellectual and physical
strength and beauty as in the little republic from which it
sprang. The colonies of the United Kingdom are parts of it
seen * through a glass colored by the atmosphere. From a
view of all such societies we can learn much, but not the thing
we want. Our authors recognize in a dim way that something
could be learned from the wandering of the nations — as the
great migrations which eventually overthrew Rome are called
with a certain romantic accuracy — about the importance of set-
tlement with regard to the growth of population. We think
that a great deal more than this can be acquired by following
the Barbarians from their first appearance in outlying provinces
or on the frontiers of the empire, until we find them carving it
out into the kingdoms of modern Europe.

THE BIBLE AS A RECORD OF SOCIAL EVOLUTION AND
CONSTRUCTION.

But going back to the family, we find it in Genesis standing
at first alone. We find it again in later generations an aggre-
gate of families round the central one. The appeal is so obvi-

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300 The Church and the New Sociology, [Dec,

ous that no one would omit to make it when considering the
genesis of a nation unless he feared his doing so would endan-
ger human progress by rehabilitating the Bible.

But in fact it is not necessary to claim for it an inspired
authority when we read the account of the families of the first
three ancestors of the Jews for the purpose in view. When
Huxley outrages the feelings of Christian men by asserting
that it is "impossible for men of clear intellect and adequate
instruction to believe," "or to honestly say they believe," the
events in Genesis, from those in the first chapter to the repeop-
ling of the earth implied in the eighth, he says all he can against
the Pentateuch as a history. I am not concerned to prove the
Deluge just now — all antiquity is full of it ; peoples wide asun-
der themselves, and far from the 'alleged cradle of the race and
greatly differing in culture, carried traditions of it — but we have
proof enough that the writer of the Pentateuch was a man of
great moral and intellectual qualities, and that he had the
means of knowing fairly well the story of his ancestors.

There is nothing improbable in the story that Jacob and
his family went to Egypt under the circumstances mentioned.
I do not take account of a side light said to be let in from
Egyptian inscriptions as to the existence of a famine at the par-
ticular juncture. The rise of Joseph is not more extraordinary
than many instances of such fortune that may be recalled from
Oriental nations in twilight history, or than the rise of favorites
of the emperors held up in the strong light of the Roman his-
torians, poets, and satirists, or than the similar fortunes of
persons of most obscure origin in the Turkish Empire or the
Russian, or in other royal and imperial states — but we are satis-
fied to accept the story without Joseph.

Economic reasons brought Jacob and his family to Egypt,
and economic conditions induced them to settle there. We can
readily believe his descendants multiplied, that special religious
traditions and the hopes founded on them kept them apart
from the foul, licentious, idolatrous people among whom they
were planted. Jealousy of this haughty isolation called for
persecution ; and this again reacted on the persecuted in inten-
sifying race passions, and religious memories and aspirations.

We can understand how all these influences could be laid
hold of by a commanding intellect, and hence the events which
led to the " going out " of the Jews from Egypt. We have in
the monograph of this extraordinary man the ordered moulding

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of a nation. It is unnecessary to lay stress upon . the severe
moral and social burdens the law-giver laid upon his people ;
except so far as this gives irresistible force to the intrinsic
evidence of authenticity. Undoubtedly it does this ; but what
is very clear, Moses had a conception of a human society which
in the most important elements of civilization surpassed any
ancient state. He realized it. Nowhere was legal-equity inter-
woven into the national jurisprudence as it was in the Sacred
Books until after eight centuries of experience of law and legis-
lation the jurisconsults of Rome worked the like of it into their
jurisprudence. All the relations of man to the land were ex-
pressed with more than the precision of modern real property
law. The status of the family, its relations to the tribe and the
latter's relation to the state, were all clearer than those of the
families and gentes of Rome were to the commonwealth. So
that we have a continuous history of mankind, heterogeneous as
parts of it may be, from the first family in Eden to the world-
wide societies of to-day ; and in all this — in this diversity of
parts, differences of civilization, worship and ideals — we find a
law of attraction as strong as the law that holds the spheres
in their orbits, and an unity of purpose which proves that
the same power that set the stars in motion set in motion the
forces that work in society.

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AMONG THE BUTTERFLIES.

BY WILLIAM SETON, LL.D.

HE country, is never more beautiful than of a

June morning: the waving clover, the trees

laden with blossoms, the wild flowers, even the

despised weeds — all bring delight to our senses.

But in this beautiful picture we should lose a

good deal if we left out the butterflies. Yet how few of us

realize the many hairbreadth escapes which this lovely insect

makes as it passes through the four stages of its life history —

the egg, the caterpillar, the chrysalis, and finally what we see

it now, the butterfly.

Not many butterflies north of the Potomac winter in the
perfect or imago state. Generally before the first snow falls
the butterfly lays its eggs on the under side of some twig, and
if the eggs are able to resist the cold, the caterpillars are hatched
in early April. But there are exceptions to this rule, and the
insect will sometimes hibernate in its second or caterpillar state.
But our large and distinctly American species, known as the
milkweed butterfly — Anosia Plexippus — passes the winter as a
butterfly, and deposits its eggs in the springtime, usually on the
leaves of its favorite food plant, the milkweed — Asclepias — not
more than one egg being laid on each leaf, and the egg, which
is of a green color and a trifle less than the twentieth of an
inch long, hatches in less than a week. It is no doubt during
the first, or egg state, that the species suffers the greatest
amount of mortality. The eggs are destroyed wholesale by

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i895-] Among the Butterflies. 303

spiders and crickets, and well it is that the first state is the
briefest of the four.

The caterpillars of the milkweed butterfly are about two
inches long, and are not hairy, but naked worms with black and
yellow bands, and they attain their growth in about a month.
During the caterpillar state the same enemies, crickets and
spiders, that fed on the eggs are on the alert to devour the
newly born worm. But now, besides spiders and crickets, appear
igneumon flies, birds, and in some places lizards. And this is,
no doubt, the reason why the young caterpillar eats its own
egg-shell, viz., in order that its enemies may not so readily dis-
cover it. And this strange habit has become hereditary through
natural selection ; the caterpillar that in the beginning showed
a propensity to do this, had a better chance to survive than

the caterpillar that did not eat its own egg-shell. The igneumon
fly, as we have said, now comes to sting the poor creature, and the
worms of the fly, hatching within the caterpillar, pass their brief
existence in this living store-house ; and, strange to relate, these
parasites do not always prevent their host from thriving. Then,

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304

Among the Butterflies.

[Dec,

too, there are the birds and lizards, which devour them by myr-
iads. But defenceless as the caterpillar is, it has, nevertheless, cer-
tain means of protection : the hairy covering which many of them
possess is so irritating that lizards and birds often spit them

out. But even a better
protection than hairs is
resemblance to the en-
vironment and protective
mimicry. Thus, a cater-
pillar resting on a bush
will sometimes assume
the color of a twig, and
when it does, it will pre-
sent also the instinct of
taking the attitude which
makes it look most like
a twig ; while Belt de-

Caterpillar Mimicking
Stem of Currant Bush.

Currant Bush.

scribes a large tropical
caterpillar which bears so
striking a resemblance to a venomous^snake that it terrifies you.
Such curious modes of defence are more common among insects
than among other animals, and Darwin explains this by the fact
that insects, excepting those armed with a sting, are helpless, and
**. . . hence they are reduced, like most weak creatures, ta
trickery and dissimulation."*

Then again, certain kinds of caterpillars are very conspicu-
ously colored, and this fact puzzled Darwin, who saw what
tempting objects they must be to their enemies, and the great
naturalist asked his friend, Wallace, to try and explain it. Wal-
lace studied the subject awhile, and then told him that highly
conspicuous tints were no doubt a positive advantage to these
insects, which would be found to be uneatable ; the plainer such
uneatable caterpillars were to the view, the better it was for
them. This ingenious suggestion soon proved, through experi-
ments, to be correct, and these caterpillars — which are nauseous
to the taste — are now said to possess warning conspicuousness,
or warning coloration ; no bird or lizard will touch one that is
so conspicuously marked, and therefore the sooner they are
recognized the better it is for both parties. And the best au-
thorities hold that the elements out of which protective, resem-
blance and warning coloration have arisen exist in the individ-
ual variability of the insect, which variability is hereditary.

' ' ^ Origen of Species^^. yj-j.

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It is in its third, or chrysalis, state that the butterfly is
safest ; and the change from the caterpillar into the chrysalis
occupies a day or two. Nor is there a more interesting study
in insect life than that of a caterpillar from the time it ceases
to feed to the time when it changes into a chrysalis. Having
taken in a good supply of food and the proper moment having
arrived, it crawls down from its favorite weed or bush and goes
in quest of a safe spot wherein to pass the third, and what we
may call the pupa period. Then, when it has found a spot to
its liking, the caterpillar curls itself up into a ball and remains
perfectly quiet ; and thus it stays for about fifteen hours, after
which it uncurls itself, and dropping head downward, it is held
fast by its last pair of legs, which are now entwined in a tiny
silken thread. In this position the insect hangs until at the
end of another fifteen hours, sometimes a little longer, the skin
along its back breaks open and the chrysalis — for such we now
call it — is exposed to view.

We first see the head and body, then by and by the tail is
drawn out of the old caterpillar skin, from which finally the
pupa manages to detach itself entirely, and so it remains dang-
ling from the end of the silken thread. In its chrysalis state
the insect is in a condition of insensibility and exists without
nourishment, securely wrapped in a horny case around which
it has spun a silken cocoon. And it is most curious how some
caterpillars possess the power to spin cocoons of the same hue
as the environment. E. B. Poulton, who has made numerous
experiments, says : " One of my caterpillars had begun to spin
a brown cocoon upon an oak-leaf. I then removed the cater-
pillar to a white box ; it remained motionless for several hours
and then spun a white cocoon. ... It is very probable the
color of the cocoon was determined during the time when the
caterpillar was motionless in the box."* The physiological pro-
cesses involved in this adjustment of a cocoon to its surround-
ings is a subject well worthy of study; and it is while in this
third state of its existence that there goes on within it the
elaboration needful to provide the organs of the future butter-
fly with their proper development. And Scudder, in his Life
of a Butterfly^ tells us that the chrysalis may be looked for in
the most out-of-the-way places ; he once actually found one at-
tached to the under side of the T rail of a railway.

The chrysalis of our milkweed species is somewhat more
than an inch long and of a greenish hue ; and the chrysalis of

* The Colors of Animals^ p. 145.
VOL. LXII.— 20

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3o6 Among the Butterflies. [Dec,

this butterfly usually hangs for a fortnight. At length the green-
ish tint begins to fade ; then the orange wings of the butter-
fly glinimer through its prison wall, and in another twenty-four
hours the impatient little creature bursts its bonds and flies
away.

We are now come to the fourth and final state of this
interesting insect. And is it not wonderful that the nasty
caterpillar should contain within itself the lovely butterfly?
And here let us say that the butterfly has lived through several
geological periods : we can trace it back to the Jurassic era, the
era of the earliest bird, Archaeopteryx, and of the wonderful
extinct reptiles, the Dinosaurs and Pterodactyls; and this was
scarcely less than five million years ago.

The butterfly, which in the north is frequently, we might
say generally, born in early spring, seems to enjoy more than
any other insect the long summer days which follow. Nor does
it always die when the first winter arrives : it is sometimes
able to live on through the frosty months, and in our Southern
States we may see it on the wing at Christmas. But farther
north it conceals itself in some warm nook, to reappear in
faded colors when spring-time comes again. Students of the
butterfly are not agreed as to how often the four stages of its
life-history — the egg, caterpillar, chrysalis, and butterfly — may
be repeated during a year. Some tell us that the complete
cycle may be rounded within three weeks; while Scudder, a
good authority, says that north of the Potomac we may not
look for the entire cycle to be accomplished oftener than twice
in a twelvemonth.

It may be accepted as a fact that many, probably the ma-
jority, of female butterflies are more beautiful than the males ;
and the better opinion is that it is the preference of the male
for a comely mate that has little by little increased the beauty
of the females. And it is interesting to see them making ^ove.
The male alights and with fluttering wings brushes against the
female. Then a dozen other males come and do the same
thing, until at length the hard-to-please female, in some way
unknown to us, lets one of the males understand that he has
won her heart. Immediately he and she rise up into the air
and commence rapidly circling round and round each other for
a minute or so — an aerial love-waltz — then down the happy
couple drop into the grass.

It is curious to watch a butterfly light on a flower and
begin to feed. The mechanism, not unlike a watch-spring.

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1 895-] Among the Butterflies. 307

which it half uncoils, then plunges down into the flower, is in
reality an extremely minute tube through which it pumps up
the luscious juice; we say pumps up, for it is. by means of a
microscopic sac and valve within the insect's head that the
nectar is made to ascend the tube ; and when the sac in the
head is full, it is squeezed down into the stomach.

Bates, in his classic work. The Naturalist on the Amazons,
tells us that it is in the tropics that the greatest number of
species is to be found. Within an hour's walk of Para,
Brazil, he numbered seven hundred species, while the whole of
Europe contains only three hundred and twenty-one species.
And of all the Brazilian butterflies, the most beautiful is
Morpho Rhetenor. It flies high, so that it is hard to capture ;
the wings are of a dazzling lustre, and to quote Bates, " when
it comes sailing along, it occasionally flaps its wings, and then
the blue surface flashes in the sunlight, so that it is visible a
quarter of a mile off." *

A feature peculiar to the male of the milkweed species are
the membranous pouches hidden beneath the folds of the hind
wing, and which are filled with exceedingly small scales. . But
these well-nigh invisible scales are to be found on every male
butterfly, if not in a pouch, then scattered over the surface of
the wings ; and Scudder tells us that owing to their being
attached solely to the male, they are sometimes called male-
scales.

It is only recently that entomologists have begun to study
these minute appendages, and the better opinion is that it is
through them that the various aromatic odors — musk, milkweed,
crushed violet, honey — are given forth by the male insect, to
captivate the female ; and no doubt natural selection has car-
ried the function of these scales to a degree of perfection
beyond anything man can imagine.

It is- also believed that the sense of smell plays a most
important part in the union of the sexes among all insects; for
experiments seem to show that the compound eyes of insects
are very imperfect compared with the eyes of vertebrates, and
the sense of smell must with them largely take the place of
vision. .

In regard to seasonal changes, we have . already observed
that some butterflies hibernate as butterflies, while others pass
the winter in the chrysalis state. But it is an interesting ques-
tion whether our milkweed species does not regularly migrate

* Naturalist on the Amazons^ p. 53.

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3o8 Among the Butterflies. [Dec,

like birds. Scudder tells us * that once, "... between nine
and ten o'clock in the morning of September 2, ... at
Hampton, N. H., a continuous stream of these butterflies passed
before me toward the south-west, following the line of the sea-
coast, with the wind about north-west. ... In the hour
that I watched them, I calculated that at least fifteen hundred
passed me, and without exception in the same direction." And
further on he adds: "... It seems highly probable that
the southern movements may extend over the entire United
States." Scudder also quotes from Dr. John Hamilton, who,
writing from Brigantine Beach, New Jersey, and alluding to the
milkweed species, says : " The multitude of this butterfly that
assembled here the* first week in September is almost beyond
belief. Millions is but feebly expressive — miles of them is no
exaggeration, etc." To which Scudder himself adds : " This
gathering of the clans is but the first step in the southward
movement, which has also been observed in numerous places."

As we know, our milkweed species is quite a large insect,
from four to five inches between the tips of the wings, colored
black and orange, and of a gentle, easy flight ; and its range
extends from Hudson Bay to Patagonia. But Scudder holds it
as most probable that while this butterfly may wander so far
to the north and to the south, it must beyond certain limits
— beyond the growth of its food-plant — be looked on as a
vagrant ; and he says that on our Atlantic coast-line the eggs
and caterpillars of this species have as their northern boundary
latitude 40^. As we might expect from its size, it has a
remarkable power of flight, and where the milkweed goes there
it goes. The milkweed was not known in the Sandwich Islands
— two thousand miles from the Pacific coast — much before
1850, and as soon almost as this weed appeared there, the
milkweed butterfly appeared also. It is more likely, however,
that an impregnated female was carried this long distance on
some vessel, instead of trusting to her wings. Nevertheless,
Anosia Plexippus hdiS certainly been seen on the Pacific Ocean
five hundred miles from land. But even in this instance may
not the insect have flown off some passing ship ?

We have already spoken of conspicuous tints or warning
coloration in caterpillars, and told how Wallace explained this
mystery to Darwin. Let us now speak of mimicry among but-
terflies, which wonderful fact in nature was first made clear by
Bates. By mimicry is meant the — of course unconscious — imita-

* Li/e of a Butterfly^ p. 51.

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1895.] Among the Butterflies. 309

tion in color and form of one species of butterfly by another
species, which is thus able to share in some advantage which
the imitated kind enjoys. In Brazil, for instance, there is a
large family of these insects — the Heliconidce — which are not
only very abundant, but also very conspicuous by their varied
and beautiful colors.

They have a slow, even a weak flight, and the laziest bird
would have no trouble in getting a meal off them at any hour.
But no bird will touch them, for these elegant butterflies have
a pungent, medicinal odor, which is no doubt disgusting to their
enemies ; hence it is to the interest of the Helicotiida to fly slowly
and to be of showy tints, in order that birds may easily recog-
nize that they belong to the sickening kind. Now, along with
the Heliconida is found another group of butterflies of the genus
JLeptalisj which so closely resembles them externally that the
most sharp-eyed bird mistakes them for the Heliconidce^ and con-
sequently does not molest them ; and let us add that the mimick-
ers number about one to fifty of the mimicked. But while these
two kinds of butterflies are outwardly so alike, their inward,
structural characters are just as different as the differences be-
tween the ruminants and the carnivora among mammals. It is
interesting, too, to know that mimicry is much more common
among female butterflies than among males, for the reason that
they need its protection more. Wallace, in his paper on the
Malay butterflies, says : " Their slower flight when laden with
eggs, and their exposure to attack while in the act of deposit-
ing their eggs upon the leaves, render it especially advantageous
for them to have some additional protection.'* And Belt, in his
charming book The Naturalist in Nicaragua^ adopts the same
view ; adding, however, the ingenious suggestion that one rea-
son why the males have not undergone a similar exterior modi-
fication, is owing to the females evincing a preference for males
which have retained the ancestral tints.

But now it may be asked how this close outward resemblance
has been brought about. We answer, through Natural Selection.
But it has been gained by infinitely slow degrees. In the be-
ginning the insect which ever so slightly varied in tint in the
direction of safety — and as a precedent fact we are bound to
assume that the actual tints found in the mimicking butterfly of
to-day were found in a certain minute degree, sufficient for
natural selection to act upon, in the ancestral form — would
naturally have a better chance to survive, and its progeny
would, through inheritance, tend to perpetuate and increase

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3IO

Among the Butterflies.

[Dec,

this beneficial variation, until after perhaps many generations
natural selection would make the external — not the structural-
resemblance perfect. And here we again quote Scudder:* **So

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long as there is the slightest advantage in variation in a defi-
nite possible direction, the struggle for existence will compel
that variation. Knowing what we now know of the laws of life,
mimicry of favored races might even have been predicted." And

* Li/e of a Butterfly^ p, 38,

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i895-] Among the Butterflies. 311

to quote Romanes : * " ,. . . It is impossible to imagine
stronger evidence in favor of natural selection as a true cause
in nature than is furnished by this culminating fact in the mat-
ter of protective resemblance, whereby it is shown that a species
of one genus, family, or even order, will accurately mimic the
appearance of a species belonging to another genus, family, or
order, so as to deceive its natural enemies into mistaking it for
a creature of so totally different a kind."

And we may add that it is held not. only by Romanes, but
with few exceptions by all scientists, that protective coloring,
warning colors, and mimicry are the strongest evidence we can
give of natural selection being the main factor of organic evo-
lution. No theory but Darwin's theory can plausibly explain
the above phenomena, and as evidence of the truth of natural
selection they amount almost to a demonstration. Nor is it
at all correct to say that Huxley ever changed his views of
the Darwinian hypothesis; for proof of this see Huxley *s last
public address, delivered before the Royal Society on Novem-
ber 30, 1894. And Scudder, whom we have more than once
quoted, speaking of mimicry in butterflies, very truly says.-f
"The more we contemplate so strange and perfect a provision,
and the means by which it is accomplished, the more we are
impressed with the capabilities of natural selection, and begin
to comprehend how powerful an element it has been in the
development of the varied world of beauty about us."

* Darwin and after Darwin^ p. 327. f Li/e 0/ a Butterfly^ p. 95.

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Dominican Convent in Armenia.

ARMENIA, PAST AND PRESENT.

BY REV. HENRY HYVERNAT. D.D. (Catholic University).

T is a huge mountain island, bounded on the north
by the Caspian and the Black Seas, on the south
by the Mediterranean Sea and the low plains of
Mesopotamia and Assyria. Its altitude averages
to five and six thousand feet above the level of
the sea ; it is crossed in every direction by deep valleys and
high mountain ranges, and contains innumerable lakes, some of
which are amongst the largest sheets of water on the old con-
tinent. From its many high, snow-capped peaks flow some of
the most famous historical rivers, like the Araxes, the Tigris,
and the Euphrates. Of these three rivers the Araxes is the
most important in the* eyes of an Armenian ; as from the
mountain of the Thousand Lakes, where it rises, to the Caspian
Sea, it flows in Armenian soil. It is in its valley that
Echmiazin, the Rome of Armenia, lies ; also the ruins of Ani,
the capital of the Bagratide dynasty, the greatest and most
beautiful city ever built by Christian Armenia ; and it is there
again that, according to the ethnographists, we must look for
the cradle of the old Armenian race.

THE SUPPOSED SITE OF PARADISE.
Not less interest attaches to the large basin of Lake
Van. This wonderful lake is situated five thousand feet above

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i895-] Armenia, Past and Present. 313

the Mediterranean's level. The high, steep, and often snow-
capped mountains which closely gird it make its scenery
amongst the most striking in the world. The deep blue of its
waters, combined with the clear atmosphere of Armenia, gives
to the eye the illusion of a portion of the Mediterranean Sea
transported by the magic wand of a wizard into the highest
regions of Switzerland. Like a genuine sea, it has no outlet ;
its depth is such that it could be crossed in all direction by
our heaviest iron-clad vessels. It is a small sea rather than a
large lake, and is therefore called the Armenian Sea. The
climate of the basin of Lake Van is pleasant ; its fertility is re-
nowned far and wide. From the remotest antiquity its shores
were bordered by important cities, and it seemed quite natural
to the Armenians to suppose that their beautiful country must
have been the site of the terrestrial Paradise as we find it
mentioned in the second chapter of Genesis.

SACRED ARARAT.

Between the low valley of the Araxes and the high plateau
where lies Lake Van rises the famous mountain, Ararat, the
king of the volcanic cones of Armenia, and doubtless the most
celebrated of mountains in the history of the human race, it
being supposed to have been the spot whence the children of
Noe dispersed through the world ; a scriptural fact which, say
the Armenians, is confirmed by the remains of the Ark still visi-
ble on the summit of the gigantic volcano. Though Ararat is
only seventeen thousand feet high, and consequently consider-
ably lower than several of the Himalayan peaks, yet I can say,
speaking from observation, that none of the .latter presents such
an impressive appearance as the Armenian giant viewed from
the low valley of the Araxes, as it rises perfectly isolated, so
regular and symmetrical in its shape that the eye follows with-
out any obstacle its bold ascending slope from its sunny and
warm base to its snow-capped summit. The farther one stands
from it the more he is impressed by its size, as all the other
mountains around it look like insignificant mounds, whilst
Ararat towers alone and grand above them ; an impression very
much like that which the tourist receives when, standing on the
Alban hills, thirty or forty miles from Rome, and looking
towards the Eternal City, he sees clearly with the naked eye
the gigantic cupola of St. Peter's, though he has to use a field-
glass to discern the other monuments of the city.

Armenia was inhabited, within the historical period, by two

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314 Armenia, Past and Present, [Dec,

different races, the ancient and what we may call the modern
Armenians. The ancient Armenians, whilst they had all the
anthropological characteristics of the white race, belonged to
the Mongolian family by their language. They were a strong,

Convent of the Seven Churches, near Van^

robust, energetic people, the most dangerous enemy of their
powerful neighbors, the Assyrians. Eight centuries before our
era they had reached a high degree of civilization, and the
monuments their kings left to posterity are still the admira-
tion of all.

ARMENIAN ETHNOLOGY.

The modern Armenians belong entirely to the Aryan white
race. They are designated in the Holy Scripture by the ethnic
name of Thogormah, third son of Gomer. Formerly established
in the plains north of Caucasus and the Black Sea, they
migrated, after centuries of wandering B. C, into Armenia,
where later on, by a slow infiltration of new ethnic elements,
under the Persian dominion, they grew into a new people,
presenting all the chief characteristics of the Armenians of
to-day. Unfortunately for this active and intelligent race, they
took possession of their new home under most unfavorable cir-
cumstances. They passed immediately under the sway of the
Assyrians, whose boundless resources and skilful strategy had

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I895-] Armenia, Past and Present, 315

finally got the better of the old settlers of Armenia. When, half
a century later, Nineveh fell under the combined blows of the
Medes and the. Persians, they werd still too young as a nation
to resist the new masters of the world. They were only freed
from this dependence by passing under the dominion of Alex-
ander the Great and the Seleucides, his successors. Armenia
was then administered by native governors appointed by the
Seleucides. The last of these governors, Ardavatz, was driven
away by the Parthian, Arsace the Great, or Mithridates, who
established his brother Valarce as King of Armenia, a century
and a half B. C* Thus commenced the Armenian dynasty of
the Arsacidae, which kept itself, as well as it * possibly could,
upon the throne until the middle of the fifth century A. D.,
when it perished under the attacks of the Sassanians.

EARLY INTRODUCTION OF CHRISTIANITY. \

It was under this, dynasty that Armenia first became Chris-
tian. The country was evangelized, according to the traditions,
by four Apostles, Sts. Bartholomew, Thaddeus, Jude, and Thomas,
They wrought there many conversions, founded churches and
consecrated bishops, and so on. Sts. Bartholomew and Jude
died in Armenia. It was not, however, until the dawn of the
fourth century that Armenia became as a whole officially a
Christian country, when King Tiridates, the reigning monarch,
was baptized by St. Gregory the Illuminator, who may well be
considered as the true Apostle of Armenia ; the country was
covered in a. few years with churches arid monasteries, and a
powerful hierarchy, depending upon the patriarchal see of
Echmiazin, was established. It was towards the end of the
same dynasty that a learned monk, by name Mesrob, invented
the Armenian alphabet, thus enabling his countrymen to obtain
a liturgy in their own language instead of the Greek or Syriac
which up to that period they had used owing to the lack of
their own letters.. It was then that the Bible was translated
into Armenian, and Mesrob became the founder of numerous
schools of literature, to which Ave are ' indebted for translations
of important Greek and Syriac works, some of which cannot be
found either in original or any other language but Armenian.
Unfortunately, in the year 428 the dynasty of the Arsacidae fell
under the assaults of the Sassanians of Persia, who ruled the
country for the two next centuries, and endeavored to uproot
Christianity. While we rejoice that many of the literary trea-
sures escaped their devastating fury, we have to deplore the

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3i6 Armenia, Past and Present. [Dec,

loss of all the architectural monuments of that early and inter-
esting period. After the Sassanians came the Arabs of Bag-
dad, who were the rulers of the country during the seventh
century, and did not prove more partial to Christianity than
their predecessors ; whatever the latter might have overlooked
was destroyed by these fanatical followers of Mohammed.
After this long period of persecution the Armenians remained
unmolested, though still dependent on the caliphs, and were
permitted the free and public practice of their religion. It was
the dawn of an era of independence. In the ninth century

Bishop, with Armenian Inscriptions.

they finally succeeded in getting a dynasty of their own, under
whose government they developed into a robust nation, and
reached rapidly a high standing in the culture of arts and let-
ters as well as in the civil and military institutions. This
dynasty, called Bagratide, after Bagrat its founder, lasted nearly
three hundred years, and must have lasted much longer but
for the political mistakes of the Armenians. Instead of remain-
ing united under one government, they quarrelled among them-
selves and divided into numerous small kingdoms, each of which
pretended to control exclusively the politics of the nation, just
when they most needed to be united against their many ene-
mies. The Greek emperors of Byzantium, who since the end of

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1895.] Armenia, Past and Present. 317

the fourth century had been masters of the Armenian provinces
of Asia Minor, were always on the lookout for a pretext for in-
terfering in the politics of Armenia. Naturally they profited by
the' dissensions of the petty kingdoms to annex them to their
already too extensive empire. Both by main force and by
treachery they relentlessly labored to attain their end. Repeat-
edly did the Armenians defeat them ; but feach victory left
the nation weaker before an enemy of superior resources, until
it finally succumbed. The last Bagratide king, kidnapped by
his cunning adversaries, was compelled to exchange a crown
too heavy for him for a castle on the Bosphorus. This took
place in the year 1045. Armenia then became a province of
the Greek Empire, and was treated in the most cruel way by
her new masters. The headmen of the army and all the 'influ-
ential citizens of the nation were banished to distant provinces,
and whatever of the population had escaped destruction or
exile were taxed far above their means. It seemed, indeed,
that nothing worse could befall the Armenians ; but these
atrocities were but little in comparison with misfortunes still
awaiting them.

MOHAMMEDAN INVADERS.

The Seljukide sultans, not less bigoted and far more cruel
than the Arabs, had just snatched the military power from the
weak hands of the caliphs, whom they pretended to protect.
Their ferocious hordes soon invaded Armenia. A number of
flourishing cities were burned to the ground, after the popula-
tion had been put to death with the exception of such as could
adorn the harems of the conquerors. Many Armenians took
refuge in Cilicia, which from the remotest antiquity had been
one of their colonies — the kingdom generally known as Lesser
Armenia. Whilst the Greeks were making desperate but use-
less efforts to defend Greater Armenia against the Seljuks,
the new kingdom developed rapidly under the wise administra-
tion of the Roopenian dynasty, and when, in 1097, the cru-
saders came to Cilicia they found the Armenians strongly
established in their new home and most willing to help them in
every way in their war against Islam. For two centuries
Armenians and Franks fought side by side against the ever-
reappearing heads of the Mohammedan hydra, and there is no
doubt that their joint efforts would have had more enduring
results but for the short-sighted policy of the Greek emperors,
who could never understand that the existence of a strong and

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3i8 Armenia, Past and Preseni. [Dec,

flourishing Christian kingdom on the east of their dominions
was the best protection against the invading Asiatic hordes.
Instead of helping them • in their struggle for indepen-
dence against the Mohammedans, as Christtari spirit ahd even
mere worldly prudence suggested, they attacked' them them-
selves repeatedly when they
could not excite the sultans
of Konjieh to- do so. If the
Greeks had received the Cru-
saders with the same cordiality
as the Armenianis, there is no
doubt but the crescent would
have been driven .back to its
sandy deserts. It is true that
the unexpected start taken
by Egypt under the famous
Saladin, and after him by the
still more famous dynasties of
the Mamelukes, had brought

new resources to the enemies
One of the Kurds who carried a portion ^f ^^j. f^i^j^ . ^^^ ^j^^ fl^Q^ ^f
OF A Vase with Cuneiform Inscription. , , , , ,

the Mongols was advancing

rapidly. from the steppes of Northern Asia.

Unlike the Arabs and the Turks, the fiew-comers ' brought no
creed with them. Christianity and Islam were novelties to
them, which did not correspond to anything in their traditions;
they would have embraced the one as well as the other; nay
they seemed at first to have a decided inclination towards
Christianity. The Armenians of Cilicia, like the pontiffs of
Rome, understood this, and received with every mark of friend-
ship the new conquerors, who soon became the protectors of
the Christian faith. It is not improbable that if the Greeks
had followed the same policy the Mongols would never have
adopted the tenets .of the Koran. But the narrowness of their
views made them miss this last opportunity of saving their own
empire and Christianity. In 1300 the Mongols became Moham-
medans, and as such the enemies of the Christians. This was
practically the end of Armenia ; her independence was lost for
ever. She became a province of the empire of the sultans of
Egypt, and her last king^ Leon de Lusignan, died in Paris,
where he had taken refuge towards the close of the fourteenth
century.

During that time a little Turkish tribe, fleeing before the

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I895-] Armenia, Past and Present. ,,. 319

Mongols from its original home in Central Asia, settled in
the western portion of Asia Minor on the Byzantine fron-
tier. They took the name of Othmanlis from Othman, their
leader. Early in the fourteenth century they i;ilierited their
provinces from the Seljuks of Asia Minor, on whom they
•depended and who had been swept away by the Mongols.
They soon developed into an irresistible conquering- ps^tion,
to whose prowess the Greek Empire finally^ succumbed in

1453. .. , !■■

Since that time Armenia has been the great battle-field
between Turkey, Persia, and Russia, and it is hard to tell
which of the three is most unfavorable to her claims.,

No doubt the political misfortunes of that country, may, to
some extent, be accounted for by its geographical position.
For this reason an absolutely independent kingdom of Armenia
neither has been nor will be ever possible. Besides it was
not, nor will it ever be profitable to any European power to an-
nex Armenia as an ordinary province, since its remoteness from
the centre of such a power will always make it impossible to
defend it for any length of time against a powerful invacjer.
But between these two extremes a middle course could be pur-
sued, namely, to establish Armenia as an independent state,
governed by lotal princes, under the protection of one or other
of the civilized na-
tions of Christen- -
dom. The Roman
emperors understood
the situation very
well, and therefore
always favored the _
political indepen-
dence of Armenia,
which policy proved
most profitable both
to the latter and to
the Roman Empire.

I have already in- an Armenian House.

d.icated how the

Greek emperors, taking another course, lost both Armenia and
their own dominions. But independently of that great poli-
tical mistake, the Greek emperors committed another, religious
in character, and which proved far more fatal to Armenia, no
matter how considered.

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320 Armenia y Past and Present. [Dec.^

RELIGIOUS TROUBLES OF ARMENIA.

So much for the historical and political aspects of the
question. The more important consideration of the spiritual
interests involved in it remains to be dealt with briefly.

The conversion of Armenia under King Tiridates was so
complete that centuries of cruel persecutions could never uproot
the tenets of the Gospel from the hearts of its inhabitants.
The whole of their religious history shows that they wanted to
keep their faith in all its purity, as they boasted to have re-
ceived it from Rome. They consequently rejected with horror
the error of Nestorius, admitting two persons in Christ. When
the Council of Chalcedon condemned Eutyches, who sustained
the contrary error, maintaining one person, but only one nature
in Christ, the Armenians were absorbed in a desperate struggle
for their religious and political independence against Persia ;
and were easily deceived by the cunning partisans of the
heretic, who made them believe that the council had approved
of the error of Nestorius, and strange to say, whilst they
anathematized Eutyches, they anathematized also the Council of
Chalcedon. The Armenian bishops in the course of time
understood the question and willingly accepted the decrees of
Chalcedon. But the Greeks, who wished, in the interest of their
political ends, to separate Armenia from the rest of the Chris-
tian world, were not satisfied with this acceptation. They ob-
jected to the Armenian ritual, which they represented to the
Roman authorities as teeming with heretical practices.

Being surrounded by enemies of a different faith, the
Armenians, like other nations in similar circumstances, had soon
identified their own religious rites with their nationality. The
Greeks, who desired the annihilation of the latter, attacked the
former per fas aut nefas. They claimed besides for the See of
Constantinople the right of appointing the patriarch of Armenia,
who had the political as well as the religious control of the
nation. From one point of view their efforts failed complete-
ly ; the Armenians clung always more tenaciously to their ritual
and privileges. Yet the Greeks succeeded in their ultimate
end, the isolation of Armenia from the other Christian churches,
to the great injury of Christianity, and especially to the injury
of both the spiritual and political interests of Armenia.

The spiritual and intellectual benefit that Armenia could de-
rive from her union with the old Roman See, the corner-stone
of the Holy Church, as it is still styled in the Armenian liturgy,

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1895.] Armenia^ Past and Present. 321

is but too clearly demonstrated by the flourishing condition of the
United Armenian Church, and by the unceasing and successful
eflforts of the Papacy to ameliorate the temporal condition of her
subjects. Unfortunately, the prejudice against Rome is still so
deeply rooted in the mind of the Armenians that very fiew can
think they can join the Catholic Church without losing their
nationality. The Greek Empire has been extinct for many
centuries, but its works have outlived it as far as Armenia
is concerned. And strange to say, the latter looks now towards
its successors, the Russians, for protection. Under Russian
government they might, perhaps, find temporal advantage, but
they would lose the control of their religious affairs. All their
bishops must be what their patriarch, the Catholicos of Echmiazin,
has been for some time, the humble servants of the Czar, who
would see that no religious denomination excepting the orthodox,
so called, shall come in contact with them. The mode in which
Russia would administer Armenia may be surmised from this in-
stance of my own personal experience. Journeying through
Asia lately, I was permitted to travel freely through Russian

A Family Group.

Armenia as long as I had nothing to do with the Armenian
hierarchy, but when I manifested my desire of visiting the
monastery of Echmiazin, whither I was attracted by a number
VOL. Lxii.— 21

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322 Armenia, Past and Present. [Dec,

of cuneiform inscriptions, the aim of my scientific mission, I

was prevented from doing so by an order which emanated from

St. Petersburg, and was seen safely off to the Persian frontier.

No wonder that Armenians, persecuted and oppressed by the

** I WAS SEEN SAFELY OFF TO THE PERSIAN FRONTIER."

masters of their native land, seek elsewhere freedom and justice.
Closely resembling the Hebrews, they display an extraordinary
vitality as well as a great aptitude in settling among Other
nations, adopting their mode of living without losing their own
nationality. Like the sons of Abraham, again, they show won-
derful business tact, and in the Orient they may be called their
superiors. Hence the Oriental saying: "Where the Armenians
have settled, the Hebrews need not come ; it takes three
Hebrews to outdo a Greek, and three Greeks to outdo an
Armenian."

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I895-] Armenia, Past and Present. 323

KINDLY CHARACTER OF THE KURDS.

A few remarks on the probable cause of the recent troubles
which have so engaged our interest and sympathy may fitly
close this paper. Some laiy the blame on the Kurds, whom they
represent as a blood-thirsty people who revel in taking the
lives of Christians just because they are Christians ; others place
the blame on the Sultan himself, and say the slaughter of the
Christians was not perpetrated by the K^urds, but by the regu-
lar military force of 'Turkey. On the other hand, the Sublime
Porte pleads that the facts have been considerably exaggerated
^nd entirely misrepresented ; that it' is not true that thousands
of Armenians have been murdered in hatred of their faith, but
it is true that some of them were put to death for having tried
to excite their co-religionists to rebellion against the lawful gov-
ernment of the country. Biit what amount of. "truth may be
contained in these various contradictory reports no one can tell,
nor will ever be able to tell — not even the Sublime Porte itself ;
so inaccessible is the scene of the troubles, so unreliable are
the different rumors on account of the many interests at stake.
Because of the lack of evidence, we cannot see where, of what
kind, and on what side was the first wrong; nor how an inci-
dent, in itself insignificant, such as the theft of a horse or a
gun, could develop into a political imbroglio that stirs the gov-
ernments of Europe and America. I can tell you, however,
from similar events which have taken place in the past, whom the
chief actors in this sad tragedy must have been — not only the
actors, but, what is more important and more desirable to know,
the authors. First of all, what share of responsibility rests on
the Kurds ? I do not hesitate to say very little, in spite of the
very serious charges brought against them by misinformed lec-
turers. Of course the Kurds are not exactly types of Christian
meekness ; they do not deny that they are thieves — they are
even proud of that title. Amongst them a thief is equivalent
to an independent man, a gentleman. They justly consider
themselves as the only true masters of the mountains where
they live, having the right to levy a tribute on the caravans
that go through their territory. Occasionally they will plun-
der a village, Armenian or other ; but very rarely will they kill
those whom they rob, unless resistance be offered ; which is very
seldom the case, inasmuch as the Kurds do not deem it wise
to attack a caravan or village that can offer them resistance.
Besides, by killing people they would destroy a precious and

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324 Armenia, Past and Present. [Dec,

durable source of revenue — a dead sheep cannot be fleeced
twice. Occasionally they have murdered people, but in almost
every case they seemed to have been the instrument of some
other party. I lived five months amongst them, not in one
place only, but in the Russian as well as in the Persian amd

Turkish portions
of Armenia — nay,
in the environs of
Lake Van and
Mount Ararat,
where they are
most dreaded on
account of the fa-
cility with which
they can flee from
one country into
the other, and in
that manner es-
cape oflicial pun-
ishment. I always
found the Kurds
Armenian Women Spinning. kind and hospit-

able. I can say-
that my life was never in real danger amongst them. I won-
der, indeed, whether I could go through the mining camps
and ranches of our Western States with as much safety and
comfort.

HELPLESSNESS OF THE PORTE.

As far as the Sublime Porte is concerned, I do not think it
deserves more to be blamed than the Kurds. Neither the Sul-
tan personally, nor his advisers, have anything to gain by the
shedding of Christian blood in those remote portions of the
Empire. The walis, or governors, although appointed by the
Sultan, are independent as to their administration. They are
never molested, provided they pay to the Sultan the yearly sum
of money which is supposed to be equivalent to the taxes levied
in the country, minus a competent salary for the governor him-
self. You can, therefore, easily understand how widely the doors
are open to corruption and injustice. From the lowest up to
the highest, the officers of the local administration impose on
the helpless population in the most outrageous way. The vic-

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i895-] Armenia^ Past and Present. 325

tims, when tired of that play, will, of course, try to appeal to
the Sultan. Maybe, also, some dissatisfied inferior officer will
bring accusations against the governor in Constantinople, where
the accusers will find the support of some intriguer who aspires
to the governorship of the province. The governor is then in
danger of losing his situation, and even his life. His usual de-
vice then is to represent himself as the discoverer of some
conspiracy against the government. To find witnesses among
his favorites is easy for him, but he wants more than this; he
must have the testimony of the Armenians themselves. Inno-
cent men will be seized, thrown
into jail, and tortured until they
reveal an imaginary conspiracy.
As soon as the conspiracy is
discovered, the governor wires
to the Sultan the good news
announcing that he is at work
repressing the rebels. Then be-
gins a series of persecutions of
every description on the Arme-
nian people. Sometimes the
victims will resist ; who will
blame them for that ? The gov-
ernor finds in resistance a pre-
text for additional vexations

and cruelties. What he does typical Kurd.

not do himself he will pay the

Kurds to do ; and of course, in spite of their good qualities, the
Kurds when well paid can easily be coaxed to plunder and kill.
The whole province is then in insurrection. The governor sends
to Constantinople for more troops ; and when, after long delays,
they come he starts to put out the fire he kindled himself.

RUSSIAN INTI^IGUES.

The governor is not always the only one to play that game.
There is another party who generally takes a hand in it, and
plays it well too; this other player is Russia. You all know
that Russia owns a large portfon of Armenia — very nearly half
of it. It is no secret in political circles that she wants more,
and watches very anxiously every opportunity of interfering in
the political affairs of Turkish Armenia. The fact that Echmia-
zin, the Armenian Rome, is in their hands gives the Russians a

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326 Armenia, Past and Present. [Dec,

great prestige in the eyes of the ignorant Armenians of Turkey,
who have no one to guide them but their priests, who in turn
are guided by the patriarch, who is himself the humble aervant
of the Czar. The Russian consul of Van has, therefore, con-
siderable influence, which he uses in the interest of his govern-
ment. Either he or his chancellor are constantly travelling
from, one end of the country to the other. He is everywhere.
Every Armenian knows him and welcomes him as the represent
tative of a powerful and friendly Christian neighbor, of a pro-
tector, maybe a liberator. Of course the governor hates him,
but he fears liim too much to act directly against him. He will
take his revenge t)ut of the Armenians, some of whom, will be
arrested ahd'made confess a conspiracy. —Officially both the
governor and the consul complain. of and throw the blame on
one another, 'SecretW both rejoice and expect a reward from
their, respective igovei^nients. I need hardly add that one of
them only has a righ| Hfo it. The governor plays the game for
himself, to thciidetriov^t of the Sublime Porte, whilst the con-
sul play^ f^hTpliy for thel Czar, whose ever-growing empire will
soon extend '^'down to the plains of Mesopotamia, and that, I
am aftaid; to tli6' great injury of Christianity.

Ctftholic UnHtersify, IVashington^ D. C.

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1895.] Home at Last. 327

HOME AT LAST. •

BY WALTER LECKY.

[ASSENGERS coming to pur town came by the
stage ; whenever any other conveyance was used,
it became noteworthy a.nd a subject of talk.
When, then, one fine summer morning a spank-
.ing pair of bays, drawing a fashionable carriage
containing a lady and a child, drove up to the " Hunter's Para-
dise," there were. few of us that did not take a stroll in that
direction.

I cannot deny but curiosity was at the bottom, nor am I
going to condemn myself for giving way to a feeling which has
prompted our race. in all ages to marvellous adventures. With-
out it how wanting would our lives be, especially in a mountain
town ! So curiosity keeps away dulness. By the time I had
reached the hotel the lady and her child had alighted, and were
superintending the transfer of their baggage. I took a seat on
the piazza, interested in the new-comers.

The lady seemed to eye the hotel curiously. As her gaze
rested on the piazza I had a fairly good shot at her face,
which was young and beautiful. There was something in the
face known to me, that set me rummaging amid old memories.

" Well," said Buttons, who had joined me, " Weeks is going
to have some trade. That's an elegant rig. I wonder if she
wants a guide ? Things are dull in the lettering business ; I could
leave it for a couple of weeks to one of the youngsters if I could
get a soft snap. I ain't as young as I used to be, that's sure ;
but I am spry enough to guide any lady, no matter how active
she be. It's no harm to be ahead for the job, so I'll ask Weeks."

" Billy," said I, " does she remind you of anybody you have
ever seen ? Her face is familiar ; yet who she is, or from whence
she comes, I can't collect myself enough to know. Well, there
goes Jim, smiling as usual. How he manages to keep so light-
hearted is my puzzle."

" It's only on the surface ; the heart's ate out years ago," said
Buttons, ** ay, years ago. How can it be otherwise ; neither
child nor chick left him ? You see only the bark, and the use
of that is for hiding. 'Tis, as P6re Monnier says, the coffin —
the corpse is inside.

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328 Home at Last. [Dec,

" Now I get a good sight on her, yes, that face is power-
fully natural to me, but Tm poking my memory for a name.

" What eyes — black as jet ! regular daggers ! That's as hand-
some a face as ever struck these parts. Well now it does look
like some face that I have seen years ago. It may take a long
time to cipher it out, but I'll get it or lose my night's sleep.
Here she comes ; get a good look at her. Doctor."

The lady, holding the child's hand, was soon in front of lis,
smiling very pleasantly.

" Doctor," said Weeks, " this is Mrs. Minton, from Chicago.
She wishes to be introduced to you and Buttons. She says she
has heard of you ; and who in thunder does not know Billy ?
The lady tells me she has been here before. That beats me ;
I must be losing my memory. Once I was good in remember-
ing faces. Buttons, you know everybody that comes here; can
you guess the lady?"

" Jim," said Buttons, " it's mighty queer, I can't for my life.
Yet me and the Doctor were saying there's something very
familiar in that same face. It's like an old letter you stick away
somewhere. You know of it, but you can't just place it on the
minute. I have seen them eyes in one woman, God rest her
soul ! " — and Buttons raised his hat. " She was a good woman
at that, one of the best ; as Cagy put it ' her likes will nevef be
seen round these diggings again.' She is over there, ma'am,"
pointing in the direction of the little graveyard, "these many a
days, sleeping where we'll all sleep some day."

A large, reeky tear hastily ran down Buttons' cheek. He
was unaware that his simple words had a like effect on the lady.

Weeks, dreaming of his own sorrows, was making a despe-
rate effort to conceal his emotion.

I was not indifferent, but somehow or other the sorrows of
man have long since ceased to draw my tears. Amid such
scenes I am possessed with a gentle melancholy, and not infre-
quently have caught myself muttering these strange lines of
Shelley :

" All things that we love and cherish.
Like ourselves, must fade and perish."

** I am that woman's daughter," said the lady, pressing a
handkerchief to her eyes ; " that woman's daughter come back
to see a mother's grave, and those who were kind in the black,
gnawing days of adversity so long ago."

"It's all like a dream to me," said Weeks, "all like a dream.
To think that little Aily should be in my house, grown big.

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married at that ; ay, what's more, having a youngster of her
own, as like her grandmother as two peas. I'm right glad to
see Aily ; couldn't be prouder if it was one of my own — but in
a kind of a way you are, as I brought up your father. I take
it that you have, as we say, struck luck. It was very hard for
me to see your father going out West, but it was all for the
best. Squidville is a poor place ; we live, nothing more ; but
come in, Aily — pardon my being so familiar, but old Weeks
would like to be close to your father's daughter. I heard you
call the little tot Milly ; do you tell me that's her name ? Well,
well, what memories float into my old skull ! I must take the
tot in my arms and alarm the whole house who's come. While
you stay you'll be boss here, and we'll have a gay old time
dancing attendance on you."

Clasping the eagerly listening child in his burly arms, he
hastened to prepare a meal for the little Aily who had cov-
ered him with kisses and mumbled promises on that dreary day
when her father, broken-hearted, clasped his cabin-door for the
last time, and set out for the West to find a home and fortune
in a new land. Happiness he craved not ; that was buried with
his wife in the lonely little mountain graveyard. As he became
rich and polished, men wondered why some woman would not
find in him a loving partner. They knew him not; nor could
they know that by his Milly's grave on the day of his depar-
ture he had knelt with his child, and in his rough way vowed
that " no woman should lord it over Milly's child." He could
love but once ; and the link broken, he lived for Aily, each day
finding in her something of the Milly he had lost.

At his death he had but one wish : that he should be carried
back and laid by the side of his wife, with a little tombstone
marked " Home at last." It was " to have no other squivering
upon it." In his last battle business friends were forgotten ; his
wish was to lie among the friends of his youth until the
angel's trumpet should wake the Adirondacks.

It was to fulfil this pious duty that Aily returned to her
early home.

As she stood there one could easily dream that it was Milly,
the village favorite.

Buttons was dreaming so as he muttered : '^ Milly, Milly,
and is it you ? "

" Is Aily forgotten ? " asked the lady, rousing Buttons from
his dreams. " Don't you remember your little girl, Billy But-
tons? One of my father's last sayings was, 'Aily, don't let any-

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330 Home at Last. {Dec,

body put me beside your mother but Weeks, Cagy, Buttons,
and the Doctor; they'll do it gently. Before they clay me for
good I want Pfere Monnier to say a few prayers, just a few.
He's pretty old, but as he married me, and shut your mother's
eyes, I want him to do the last turn for me. Then, before
coming away^ get his blessing, and show him little Milly, and
tell him I have lain many a night in the West thinking what
he done for me and everybody else.* "

" Ah, the P^re is old, Aily ! " said Buttons, his eyes becom-
ing wet; "old, Aily; he is not long for us,, but I want to lay
down my own burden before he goes. I have been all through
the war, and didn't bother much; but I'm now a kind of lonely,
so that when I come to fire my last shot I would be a bit
easier if the P^re was around. But. I must hurry up ; the Pfcre
is near the end. I saw him going up to Cagy's yesterday, just
creeping along, holding his stick on the ground to give him a
lift. * My ! ' says I, *• I knew you when you could climb a hill
faster than a deer, and jump at the first go-off any fence in
these parts,' It was mighty sorrowful thinkin'; it made me sit
down on a stump and feel as if I wanted to sink there on the
spot. I'm not much on the tear business — it was always a kind
of soft to a fellow of my turn — but when I seen him hobbling
along like a deer wounded in the hind end, and then thought
of how he used to run, no matter how I squeezed my eyes the
water came fussing down my cheeks, and pretty hot at that."

" Is Cagy sick ? " said Aily.

" Well," continued Buttons, " you can't call him just well, or
he wouldn't be in bed. a minute. Whenever he gives in his
gun deuce a much shot he has left. It's never been his way
to lie down and sputter with a toothache. When he's down
it's a tarnation blow that has struck him, keep that afore you.
Mind, I don't say he's never going to reclaim his gun ; it looks
by his talk as if he would. ' Buttons,' says he, ' this is the first
year in fifty that I haven't loosened up a deer with a bullet,
but we'll soon have a whack at them.' That's not dying talk,
but then Cagy won't say * die ' until he's a prisoner. I wouldn't
wonder but your coming would speed him a bit. If he's alive,
even if he's carried, he'll help to put your father away in his
own lot, and that's the best in the graveyard."

" The best, Billy ! That would be kindness itself. But as
we like to follow father's last injunction, it will be necessary
to bury him with my mother, in her lot, if there is a place
there. I trust there is room enough."

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"Yes, Ally, there's room and to spare; but you and me
are talking of the very same place. When you went West Cagy
bought the plot ; I went with him to do it. ' Billy,* says he,

* Frank's going cuts my heart. I was just a-lopking over the
fence at Milly's grave; it's uncommonly lonely. Buttons.' Just
then I saw him wiping his eyes for the first time in years.

* Uncommonly lonely, Buttons,' he went on, * and what's worse
I don't know what stranger may be planted in it. That's what
makes me thaw a bit. You have your own piece and don't
want this, else I'd give you the first chance ; but I kind of want
a place after my jigs are over to take my long nap, and it
strikes me it wouldn't be bad policy to. buy the lot, and get
my certifier. A fellow like me don't want to sleep nigh folks
he'll have to be introduced to when Gabriel sounds the horn.
Besides, it's next to your hole, so that when the great creeping out
comes, as in old times, we'd shoulder the burden together. At
any rate we could have a quiet word on the situation.' I never
saw Cagy so strange-looking as that day. So up we steps to
P^re Monnier and got our certifier, and Cagy, putting three
thicknesses of brown paper around it, put it in a mink-skin
bag and hung it about his neck, where he carries it to-day.
That give him the title; so he fixed it good and as handsome
as a June rose, put iron rods and chains all around, and that
was not all. One day he says : * Do you know the hardest drive
I ever got ? It was when La Flamme said, " Some day Aily
and I might have money enough to buy Milly a headstone."
It's a good many years ago. \ suppose they ain't on the ups,
and they will never come. Well, I have ordered a bit of stone
to be put there. I wouldn't let them letter it much. Just
Milly's name ; if her own ever come back they can fill it in.'
So up went the stone. He was proud of it, and in summer
evenings after work he would walk out there to weed, train,
or water all kinds of flowers he had growing on your
mother's grave. If there's anything against Cagy lying there
he's not the man to sneak in where he's not in his place, and
he knows he's welcome to the best spot I have — no mistake,
Ally. Cagy will give you his certifier; but if there's room,
better let him nest in the tree of his choosing."

Tears had long been chasing each other on the soft cheeks
of Aily. She had often heard her father in the long winter
nights talk of Cagy and his strange way. One of those stories
came to her bit by bit. She could see her father's face and the
queer curve to his lips. His voice was ringing in her ears saying :

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332 Home at Last. [Dec,

"Cagy felt bad the morning we left. He carried you to the
station, Aily, weeping like a child. Now and then he would
mutter, ' I have been through the mill.' While we were waiting
for the train he told me something that was staggering, if it
had been at any other time. He had been married when but
a youth, but, as he spoke it, * After marriage I had to come
to the States for work. I was to send for Felina, my wife, in
a couple of months. Well, before that time was up, breaking
her heart about me, she went to a better country. I was on
my way home when I heard the news. I returned and never
wanted to see my old home. They had clayed for good all
that was dear to me. Like yourself, I must wait, perhaps for
years, until I see her. That's how I left Canada never to re-
turn. I struck up with Buttons here, so I have been pegging
away ever since, with a big black load on my heart that nobody
could lift, much less make light. I promised to be Felina's,
and when the end comes along I won't be looking around, like
these fellows that marry two or three times, to see which of
the mates Til be tackled with.*"

This story that Buttons had told her made her uneasy to
see the loyal heart, true in love and friendship, strange only to
those who knew it not.

" Can we not see Cagy at once ? " she was going to say,
when Buttons arose and the bell rang merrily out the dinner
greeting of the " Hunter's Paradise."

Milly, holding Weeks' hand, now on the most' friendly
terms with him, was calling her. She went.

That night — news travels rapidly — it was the talk of every
fireside, the death and coming burial of all that was earthly of
Frank La Flamme. His history was passed from mouth to
mouth, and the best in him brought to the surface. Death
brings to us many fine things, utterly ignored in life.

Squidvillites were proud of him, that despite wealth he
had never forgotten them, had their memory green in his
memory, and dying wished to sleep among them in the little
graveyard he had helped as a boy to clear. Nor was his wife
forgotten — the village beauty, the patient wife, who had been
lying all those long, dreary years facing the big, black cross,
waiting for the only man of many who tried to win her girlish
heart. Any failings — and no man is free — were overlooked,
and the young were asked to learn a lesson in true love from
the hearse and bay horses that were to drive through the vil-
lage next morning. Widows who had married again for once

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had little to say. Youth, humming songs of love, scorned any
compromise and spoke only of lasting fidelity. '

It became a saying which took root in the village, and was
often subsequently used by youth with the land of love very
near, and yet not within grasp, " As faithful as La Flamme."
On various occasions it had the desired effect of converting
wavering maidens to cast their fates with ambitious youths.

In a little maple-grove, visible from the " Hunter's Paradise,"
lived William Cagy, better known to fame as Blind Cagy, from
the loss of his left eye — a loss that was his boast, and gave to
his nickname a title of honor. Strange as it may seem, it was
a bit of pure affection in behalf of Squidville that was ac-
countable for the dropping of William and the giving of Blind —
a change, here be it remarked, that was satisfactory to all parties.

When the news was first bruited in Weeks' that a war was
on hand, Cagy, then a mere stripling, was heard to remark " that
he had no personal dislike to Jeff." The names of great men
were all familiarly treated by the Squidvillites.

" But if Old Horace was a-getting hot about it, he feared
there was something in it that didn't just look right ; but any-
how, he would wait for Horace's second toot, which should be
due that night."

The Tribune brought it, and Weeks, sitting on a cracker-barrel,
his hearers on empty soap-boxes, elbows leaning on their knees,
hats brushed back for a better view, faces eagerly peering into
Jim's, heard that spectacled worthy read what was allowed to be
"a tarnation hot bit of writing — chunky and coUopy, and as
gritty as an oak-knot."

" There will soon be the deuce to pay," remarked the reader,
finishing with a knowing head-shake ; " when Old Horace whoops
it in that style it's a gettin' ready for the hunt you ought to be,
boys. There's music a-brewing, and the dance is about to be
called."

" I hear," said Jed Parker, " that they're recruitin' in Ma-
lone, or at any rate they've tooted a call for to-morrow by ten —
that's what I heard ; and seein' Horace a-going it at that gait
makes the thing pretty certain. Well, little I thought their
foolin' would come to this ; but, as Horace says, the die is cast,
flesh will fly and blood flow before the end of this, and many
a woman and child have wet eyes."

Just then Cagy became uneasy and whispered something in
young Buttons' ear. That youngster nodded and winked, and
then both withdrew.

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334 Home at Last. [tiec,

"It's bad policy to read when the youngsters are. around,"
was Weeks' word.

"They're off to the front, I'll bet my life," said old- Jed,
blaming his sputtering tongue, " that blabbed about the Malone
meeting."

Jed was right; the first man to step up at that meeting was
Cagy, young Buttons a close second. In Buttons' homely phrase,
" They wanted to be sent where they could see some game."

They had their wish. Buttons returned unscathed to tell the
valor and grit of the Johnny rebs. Cagy left a finger at York-
towti, and an eye at Vicksburg, uncomplainingly.

With his home-coming his. name was changed. The money
he brought tied up in his deer-skin purse bought a maple
strip, made a clearing, and erected a neat, cozy log-cabin. Time
and patience and a never-ceasing watchfulness had twined
trailing vines in many a pretty design, making in summer-time
the cottage one strange-looking flowering shrub. The garden,
with its useful vegetables, was merrily lit up by bits of phlox,
beds of poppies, and patches of portulaca. Birds, well knowing
the occupant's love for their music, and the perfect safety that
was found in the maple-grove, came early and lingered late.

Even in snow-time one has remarked, " They only changed
their coat to fit the frost, and homed with Cagy."

The cabin was substantially furnished ; the walls decorated
with pictures of Lincoln, Grant ; Sheridan on his charger, right
over Cagy's bed, where he might "have a peep at Phil every
morning"; Sherman, and a strange face in that company, as
Squidville in her ultramontane patriotism was not slow to point
out. It was Robert Lee. No amount of argument or invective
could make Cagy listen to the invitation to " plaster over that
with another picture." To such remarks he had but one argu-
ment, driven home by hitting his closed fist against the near-
est piece of wood-work and spitting through his teeth.

" Plaster Lee's face ! Don't try that, friend. Lee may have
been on the wrong track, as many a one before him, and a lot
behind him will be, but I guess he thought he was as right as
we be. That's neither here nor there now ; we're all one, if them
flabbergasted politicians would leave us alone. As for Rob
Lee, he was a man, and a man's face, in these days of pigmies
and sneaks, is welcome ; so when Rob comes down out of that
it will be the day after they carry Cagy out for good."

Somehow or other, Squidvillites looking at that face soft-
ened in after years.

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1 895-] Home at Last. * 335

On the window-sill was a large Bible, referred to by its
owner as '' the wonderful Book of God, containing a bit of balm
for every wayfarer's ill." It was large, bound in calf-skin, big
type, full of pictures, a treasure from old France brought by
some fighting ancestor and bequeathed to the eldest son in
every family. It was always marked by the owner's "one-
glassed " spectacles, as the neighbors called them.

There were a few other books, yellowish leaved and blotted
from long thumbing, their covers very thick from many coat-
ings made to keep them "in readin' condition."

Their, outside told no tales, but a learning-hungry stepson of
Buttons found in Cagy's absence " that they were the novels of
Walter Scott," and when he bore this information to the
" Hunter's Paradise " there was commotion, and a well-ven-
tilated opinion that Cagy's head " was cracked to be puttering
away his time in such silly stuff."

It was also hinted that the blind-eye pulled on some of his
brain-strings when the folks remembered how often they had
seen him by the river-bank, lying under a maple, with sodded
stone for a pillow, " readin' contentedly one of them books, his
one eye stuck into the print for hours, heeding nothing around,
as if everything was dead."

Even his dog " smelled the rat," and lay at his feet like a cat
by the side of a mouse-hole. The last fireside to hear the
news, which was owing to sickness, was Cagy's. A cold that
came of a wetting while mail-driving had settled on his
chest, and although he had tried to conquer it with a con-
coction of cream-of-tartar and maple-syrup, " drunk as hot as
you could stand it," and fought it with all the grit he had, the
battle was unequal.

The mail-route had to be given to less experienced hands,
while Cagy by degrees was forced to keep within his cabin and
finally forced to bed. He was bolstered up, his candle on a
sconce of his make, his one eye gleaning the adventures of
Rob Roy, his heart pattering with sympathy.

It was characteristic of him to have a kindly feeling "for
dare-devils," as his .expression ran.

The fire burned well, a cha.ttering pine log throwing a
yellowish light over the walls, lighting up the pictured warriors,
and shining on skins of otter, mink, bear, guns, fishing-rods,
etc., things which indicated his life foibles.

The dog that lay in front of the fire, now and then grin-
ning at a flying spark lighting on his body, started to his feet,

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336 Home at Last. [Dec,

shook himself, ran to the door, scratched it, then jumped on his
master's bed and gave a well-pleased bark. Rob Roy was
carefully marked with the one-eyed glasses and gently buried
in the clothes. There had never been a lock or bolt to Cagy's
door. All that was necessary to give it, said the neighbors,
" was a shove and it opened itself."

Soon there was a feet-coming and the accustomed shove, and
the loud, merry voice, so long known to Cagy, of Billy Buttons.

Time had worsted Billy badly, stooped his back, whitened
his head, wrinkled his fac^, stiffened his limbs, but the voice
was as young as the first time it fell on Cagy's ears, capturing
him. That cheery voice was the spokesman of a heart that
every Squidvillite vowed "was as soft as a girl's, as fine as
silk, and when it come to stand up for what was right, the
bravest in the town."

Cagy, in speaking of Buttons' heart, had always to wipe his
eyes when he came to that part of his story where, upon
losing his eye. Buttons said, as he kept on firing, "Cagy, old
boy, I wish it was my eye, or, for that matter, my two, they
knocked out, and let you go ; but cheer up, they couldn't kill you
by putting an eye out. There's more before you."

That was consoling, and on Cagy's part a memory that
did honor to Buttons' heart.

" Man alive ! Cagy, is it in bed ye are, and the whole town
about crazy? Above all the men you're wanted, and it's in bed
ye are. Think of that ! But leaving foolin' go, are you laid up
for awhile, or is it something that's a-working off?"

"Well, Billy," and Cagy pulled himself up, putting his
knees on a line with his head, "it's a cold that I'm trying to
syrup out, but it sticks like a burr, and there's no telling how
long I may be here."

"You'll be up soon," said Buttons, impatient to communi-
cate the strange news he held — " soon, Cagy. But do you know
who's come to town ? Well you don't, or who could, for that
matter, unless they were witches? I'll never say again that
anything is strange. Little Aily La Flamme is down at Weeks* ;.
full woman, married at that, and has a youngster into the
bargain. Why, she's the dead spit of her mother, and you know
what that was — the same nose, same eyes, and the same way
of throwing back her head. Well, your looking at me. I don't
wonder a bit ; and I have more wondering in store for you. She
comes on a sad business " — there were tears in both men's eyes —
" sad business for yoii and me, Cagy. She comes to bury her " —

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1895.] Home at Last. 337"

" Father, Billy ! " said Cagy, clearing his eyes with the sheet ;
" that's the end of us all ; but I'm glad that Frank came back
to Milly. She was lonely, Billy ; so lonely that I thought of
keeping her company; but now that her rightful partner has
come back, I'll be content anywhere you put me — of course the
nearer my chums the better. Perhaps you could spare a bit of
your ground. You and I have been pretty close in life and I
kind of hate to get away from you."

He was fingering a little bag that hung around his neck,
and from it he drew his " certifier " and handed it to Buttons.

'*That belongs to Aily. I just kept it, waitin' for her. Fm
only sorry that the stone is s6 poor. I suppose they will put
in its place something grand, like what we've seen during the
war; but FU never see it, and Fm just as glad. That little bit
— I have seen it so often — it has got close to me, and no big
affair could take its place."

" Man, you're a-talking as if you had given up the hunt.
When you drop, Cagy, we'll plant you beside Milly and Frank.
That's Aily's way of concocting it. But you're not getting any
of those quavers in your skull ? Never say die ; a cold won't
drop you ; it will take a few of them new-fangled diseases that
the doctors spout out, without drawing a breath, to knock you
over. You're good for a hundred.

" Now, the funeral will be to-morrow ; so, if you can, you're
coming.

" Come to my house and have a bit of something early, then
you and I will creep over to Weeks', where there will be a
team and Aily waiting for us. She's full of you ; and maybe I
didn't tell her what you had done ; and you needn't be shaking
your skull, it was right. I don't believe in letting a man die
before I give out my opinion. Well, I wish you could see
Aily ; you would see a second Milly, and if you saw the young-
ster you would have an exact third. My ! how things change ;
it seems only yesterday since Milly was married, and since —
but it's not good to be thinkin' too much. Now get over, Cagy,
early. I will be on the look-out. Try and sleep. Let me fix
the quilts about you. There ; you're as comfortable as a bird
in a nest. Good-night."

When his footsteps could be no longer heard, Cagy reached
for his Bible. His candle was burning low, yet there was light
enough to enable him to read the few lines that his eye had
fastened on by accident.

" The days of man are short, and the number of his months
VOL. Lxii.— 22

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338 Home at Last. [Dec,

is with Thee : Thou hast appointed his bounds which cannot
be passed."

A moth entangled itself in the sputtering light ; the words
were no longer legible. As he closed the book the candle went
out. "Rob Roy" beneath him, marked with the one-eyed glass,,
now broken, was forgotten. The flickering glow of the dying
pine log brought him strange thoughts and long-buried faces.

The morning came, one of great excitement for Squidville.
If the truth were told, it would run that there were few sound
sleepers in the village that night.

Daylight beheld a steady smoke from every chimney-pot,
telling of expectations and bustle within. The " Hunter's Para-
dise," a strange thing in its history, was kept open all night,
and held little groups of villagers, amid smoke-puffs narrating all
that was known of La Flamme, as well as venting a thousand
conjectures as to his life in the far West. In this every man's
imagination was free, and as a consequence there was no end
of talk, so the night unnoticed had worn away and the sun
was feeling his way beyond the pines, scaling the mountains;
the higher up he went, the better was he to be seen. He was
now tipping the chimneys, and throwing a kind of lantern-
light on the roads.

That was enough to set life agog in a mountain town.

It was a saying that "a little light, with a bit of feeling,
was enough for a mountaineer to guess his diggings."

Buttons* sleep was scant and jumpy. The first streak of light
that blinked through the window-pane was a welcome excuse to
jump from his bed and open his door to the morning's freshness.

He could hear the noise and note the lights in Weeks', an
observation which on any other occasion would tickle his feet
to tread in that direction. The present was little to his taste,
bedded as he was in the past. He was nervous and sad. As
he dressed, the years slid past him, each a hideous spectre of
vanished things. He had for the first time in his life fully
awakened to the passing of things.

The thought rushed across his brain of the nothingness of
Billy Buttons.

He went out into the keen air and whistled, giving music
to his dancing brain phantoms.

He looked towards the little graveyard, thought of La
Flamme, and this somehow or other travelled his mind to
Cagy. He but added a new figure.

When his wife called him to breakfast he was in a kind of

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1895.] Home at Last. 33^

dream, where he stood old and raggy by a grave marked the
Past. Strange, he was wishing to be there, not caring to
march when all his love rested there.

As he sat at the table, his dream gone, he was moved to
say audibly:

"There's not much in death,' after all, when love is buried,
and the future is a cold stranger. I rather think Fd like it.'*

This begot strange suspicions in the wife's head, who, wo-
manly enough, remarked that " people ain't supposed to skip
off because their friends do. I suppose you got those ideas
from Cagy last night, who's sick a-cause of Frank's endin'."

"Cagy — ay, wife — Cagy — he should have been here, as he
promised ; he must be right sick in good earnest, so let one of
the youngsters go and see if he can come."

The breakfast went on in silence until his stepson returned
with the news that Cagy had a bad night. He was sorry that
he could not get out, much less sit up in bed, and wanted pa
to hurry over after the funeral. He would be a-thankin' Mrs.
Buttons for a mug of gruel, very weak and a bit tasty, as his
appetite was a-kind of scratchy.

This news sorely depressed Buttons. He had an idea that
when a man of Cagy's fibre came to a mug of gruel, and that
having to be §weetened like a child's meal, the hunt was over.

With big tears jumping from wrinkle to wrinkle, he solemn-
ly announced to his family that " Cagy would never draw a
tricker, and as for me, to keep the gun long after he's gone is
something that I don't expect." There was a family sob to
punctuate this announcement.

Mrs. Buttons and family hastened to prepare the best they had
in the most appetizing way for the sick man. Billy Buttons, sober
and subdued, for the first time in his life keenly conscious of age,
slowly sauntered to Weeks', there to await the little funeral cortege.

The coming was announced by the ringing of the church-
bell. Up the village street came a country wagon containing
a coffin, all that was mortal of La Flamme, drawn by two bay
colts, followed by Squidville. " Just," said a bystander, " a
perfect image of the way his wife went to her long rest."

On went the cortege, the little bell "ringing its three rings,
then takin' a bit of a breathin' spell," until the cemetery was
reached, and the brown-looking clay that told of a new grave
approached. Standing there was P^re Monnier, bent and broken
on the wheel of time, looking in at the open grave with a sor-
rowful look, one that spoke of strange thoughts then tenant-

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340 Home at Last. [Dec,

ing his mind. Soon were grouped around him Aily, worn and
sobbing, linking the past and present; her husband giving re-
jected comfort ; the child full of wonder, not knowing whether
to smile or cry ; Weeks holding its hand ; Buttons with the
shovel that was to put his friend from mortal view.

The P^re spoke a few words of comfort, blessed Aily and
her child, then tottered along the little path on his way to Cagy's.

" Ah, Billy ! " said Weeks, lifting the child in his arms,
" that's farewell to Frankie ; and who'll be next ? It looks as
if the P^re is nearin' the end.

" Where is he going ? My ! how he totters ; but he never
complains. I said to him the other day that he should take a
rest. What do you think he answers me? 'Jim, there will be
a long rest some day, so as long as we can it is better to
keep doing something.' That's him as long as I can remember —
never himself, but his people. I'm not of his way of thinkin',
but that never made the P^re a bit cooler to me and mine.
Well, he's turning up by Cagy's, which makes me think that
this gatherin' is a kind of queer without poor Cagy.

" I'll be a-gettin' that way myself. Come, Billy, we've
crossed many a fence together."

"And I'm going," said the child. "Can't I go, ma, with
Uncle Jim ? "

" Better all go," was Aily's quiet reply. " Cagy, child, was
grandma's uncle. He liked her as much as Uncle Jim likes you."

"And more, ay more, Aily," muttered Weeks.

" He was also your grandpa's best friend, and I was once
his little girl. He kept that plot for my father, attended it,
planted the flowers, and, being part of us in life, in death shall
sleep among us."

" Is that the thing that killed grandpa ? I don't like it ! "
cried the child.

They were at Cagy's house, amid his flowers and song-birds.
The door was open, some one was reading ; they stopped and
listened. These words fell on their ears :

" He that loveth his neighbor hath fulfilled the Law."

Then there was a pause, and they entered and gathered
around the sick man's bed. P^re Monnier closed the Bible and
put it on the window-shelf, rose, whispered something in Cagy's
ear, to which he replied :

" I'm ready, P^re ; I'll go and look over the ground before
you come. Farewell ; everything is left for you to see to."
P^re then left.

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1 895-] Home at Last. 341

"YouVe getting weaker, Cagy," said Buttons, "but rouse
yourself ; here's Aily, your little girl, come back ; yes, Aily and
another little Milly."

'* Do, Cagy, sit up and see this child ; she begs a kiss," said
Weeks.

" Fix me up. Buttons ; pillar me behind, a little sidewise. I
want to get my good eye on you all. Poke over the child
now ; ay ! that's a kiss that ought to make me better — if there
was any betterin' to me. I have been in many a tough corner
in my day, but this ends the hunt. Don't be blurting. Buttons ;
a man's days are numbered, and when the time comes let him
hand in his gun with due reverence.

" I fixed up my account, temporal and spiritual, as best I
knew; so I'm just awaitin' the call. I won't be lonely either;
there's some one on the other side a-keepin' watch this many
a day. I go off content, seein' you, Aily, and the certifier in
your hand ; besides this I want you to have my books. I
stopped on * Rob Roy,' page 243. Take that Bible, given by my
mother ; that's for little Milly. As to my home and belongings,
that's Buttons'; all but my gun, that's for Jim.

" Everything is in tip-top shape, so I'm not complainin'.

" If you pull out the pillars, and let me down easy, I will
be a bit better.

" Turn me over on my side ; I want to have my one eye on
the youngster."

" This is hard lines on me," said Buttons. " I don't see why
I'm left, and Cagy gettin' ready to start."

" I pity poor Buttons," said Weeks ; " it's long they've hunted
together."

" Is there any hope } " said Aily, bending over her father's
friend.

" Not much, I fear," said her husband ; " he seems to be
sinking since we put him down. See how strange his eyes are
straining, as if he wished to see some one."

"He is smiling like a child," said Buttons, holding 'his hand —
" smiling as if he's happy. Listen ; he's going to say something."

They listened ; but one word fell from his lips — " Felina."

The spirit had fled.

On the little grave-stone, a few weeks later, a man came
and chiselled under Milly's name " Frankie : Cagy," and then
La Flamme's dying wish :

" Home at Last."

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342 MONTMARTRE THE HOLY. [Dec,

MONTMARTRE THE HOLY.

BY REV. EDWARD McSWEENY.

NTMARTRE, in the northern part of the most
beautiful city in the world, is so called from the
fact of St. Denis and his companions, Rusticus
and Eleutherius, having been put to death there
for the Faith in the year 272.

During these latter years the French have crowned it with
a magnificent church, built in very impressive style, and of
fortress-like massiveness. It is consecrated to the Sacred Heart,
and is looked upon as a partial expiation of the sins of France,
which brought so many calamities upon that most noble and
most cultured nation.

Not of this great basilica would I tell, however, but of a little
chapel on the southern slope of the hill in a street called An-
toinette, near an ancient Roman road, afterwards known among
the faithful by the name of the Martyrs' Way.

The spot where this modest little temple now stands was
wet with the blood of the Apostle of Paris, and during sixteen
hundred years successive sacred edifices, more or less imposing,
on the site, have continued to witness to the piety of his chil-
dren in preserving the memory of his heroic death.

St. Genevieve, the shepherd's daughter, patroness of the city,
roused the zeal of many pious persons to build a church in
honor of Saint Denis in 512. She had been used to go often
with her nuns to see the holy place ; she watched there every
Saturday night in prayer ; and one night, when she was going
thither with her mates in the rain, the lamp that was carried
before her went out, but lighted again upon her taking it into
her own liands. Dagobert I., in 629, rebuilt this church and
added a stately monastery.

In the changes of time the place fell into the hands of lay
persons, who, however, kept the church still open, aided by the
offerings of the pilgrims from all parts of the country. At
length, in 1096, the then proprietors, it appears, grew uneasy
in conscience about keeping it, and gave it to the nuns of St.
Martin-in-the-fields. Afterwards Louis the Big and his wife,
Adelaide of Savoy, in 1133, wishing to found a monastery of

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1895.] MONTMARTRE TJiE HOLY. 343

Benedictine nuns on Montmartre, induced; these others to go
elsewhere, and the chapel of the martyrs became a dependence
of the new abbey« It was rebuilt by the same king, and con-
tinued to be a centre for matiy pilgrimages.

Among the holy persons who visited the shrine, in addition
to the patroness of the city of whose devotion we have spoken
already, may be mentioned St. Clothilde, St. Cloud .; St. Ger-
main, St. Geran, and St. Hugh, .bishops of Paris ; St. Gerard, a
monk of the Abbey of St. Denis ; St. Bernard, on the twenty-
first of April, 1 147; St. Thomas of Canterbury, October 15,
1 169, a little while before his martyrdom; St. William, Arch-
bishop of Bourgnes, in 1209-

We visited the. holy spot in the summer of 1894, and, aided
by friends in the labor of love, copied the inscriptions of the
bronze tablets which hang on the walls, some of them in Latin,
some in French. As our readers, like ourselves, may like to
peruse these mural legends, we give them in full, though at the
risk of repetition. Love has but one word, and the fascination
of those places where saints have trod makes us to be never
weary of reciting their namesl and glorious deeds.

TABLET NO. I.

is in French, and reads in English as follows :

*' Here, St. Denis, first Bishop of Paris, and his two com-
panions, St. Rusticus and St. Eleutherius, received the crown
of martyrdom. St. Genevieve caused a chapel to be built in
their honor.

"In 1 134 King Louis VL and Queen Adelaide of Savoy,
having great devotion to St. Denis, founded on Montmartre an
abbey of Benedictine nuns.

"On the twenty.first of the month of April, 1147, Pope Eu-
genius IIL consecrated the church of Montmartre ; St. Bernard
being deacon, and Peter the Venerable, subdeacon. On the
first of June the same pontiff consecrated the choir of the nuns,
and the following day blessed the chapel of the martyr, raised
from its ruins by the king and queen, and consecrated its
altar."

Let us stop a moment to think what a great occasion that
was. St. Bernard, the " last of the Fathers "; the theologian,
statesman, poet ! St. Bernard, the Honey-mouthed Doctor, who
charmed his sister and his five brothers, besides thousands of
other noble souls, so that they left all to embrace the poverty
of Christ ! St. Bernard, the victor over Abelard ! St. Bernard,

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344 MONTMARTRE THE HOLY. [DeC,

the great teacher of devotion to the holy Mother of God ! St,
Bernard, the friend of St. Malachy ! St. Bernard, the man
who roused all Europe to hurl itself against Asia in the Second
Crusade ! St. Bernard, who healed the seven years' schism that
rent the Church of God, when two candidates fought for the
Papacy ! St. Bernard, the Speaker of the Truth, who sent to
this Pope Eugenius, previously one of his own monks, the ad-
mirable book Of Consideration^ in which he pressed upon him
the duties of his exalted station, and warned him not to for-
get his own soul in the multiplicity of the affairs of church
government ! If there be anything that moves one to the very
depths of the heart, it is the standing in the very footsteps of
such mighty, such holy, such Christ-like men.

Peter the Venerable*s name recalls, perhaps even more vividly,
the memory of Abelard, whom he took to see St. Bernard, and
having brought about a reconciliation between the philosopher
and his great opponent, carried the penitent priest to his own
monastery of Cluni, where the friend of H^lo'fse spent his last
years in great humility and piety. Peter himself wrote to the
prioress of the Paraclete an edifying account of his death.

The inscription continues :

"In the month of November, 1169, St. Thomas k Becket,
Archbishop of Canterbury, came to this chapel to ask for cour-
age to defend the liberties of his church. On the 29th of
December, 11 70, he received the crown of martyrdom."

Recall the splendid fight made for the rights of the church
against Henry II. by this knightly saint. See him as he orders
the doors of Canterbury Cathedral to be thrown open to his
assailants, and advances bravely towards them, happy at the
prospect of winning the battle for the right by the shedding of
his own blood ! Bathe your soul in the memory of that last
triumphant scene, and bow still lower before this holy shrine,
where the future martyr gathered strength for his own conflict
from the example and invocation of St. Denis.

We read further :

"St. William Berruyer, Archbishop of Bourges, came often
here to pray. He died in 1209.

"In 141 2, in the months of May and June, the parishes and
the religious communities of Paris came in pilgrimage to the
chapel of the martyr, to ask, by the intercession of St. Denis,
the safety of France," who was in danger of being dismembered
by her foes. God at length sent the Venerable Joan of Arc to
save the Eldest Daughter of the Church, and the Holy Maid

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l89S«] MONTMARTRE THE HOLY. 345

defeated the enemies of her country and paved the way for its
complete triumph, A. D. 1429.

"In 1593/* continues the tablet, " Henry IV., having abjured
Calvinism in the basilica of St. Denis, came on the same day to
the chapel of the martyr, which he afterwards repaired at the
request of the abbess, Marie de Beauvilliers."

This is the "plumed Knight of Navarre,'' who is said to
have decided on returning to the faith of his fathers when the
Calvinist preachers admitted the possibility of his saving his
soul in the pope's obedience, whilst the priests insisted on the
necessity of joining the single true Church of Christ. King
Henry of Navarre was the idol of the people, whom he rescued
from the tyranny and rapacity of the civic governors and large
landed proprietors. His proverbial wish was that every French-
man should have his fowl and flitch of bacon in the pot on
Sundays at least.

TABLET NO. II.

isMn the Latin language. It runs thus:

"These, at different times, followed the lead of the ones
first set down. In the year 1604, Blessed Mary of the Incar-
nation." — This holy nun went to Canada in the early days, and
illustrated the " forest primeval " by her heroic labors.

"St. Francis of Sales, in the year 1610." — The "gentleman
saint," as Leigh Hunt calls this holy doctor, was, like many an-
other pursuer of knowledge, a student at the renowned Univer-
sity of Paris, and charmed all by the sweetness of his dispo-
sition, and that easy behavior which Alban Butler ascribes to
his having, in obedience to his father's orders, learned to ride,
dance, and fence. He frequently went to St. Denis, and made
a special pilgrimage thither when starting the Visitation Order.

"St. Vincent de Paul first visited the shrine in 1612, and
often thereafter. The same year came the Venerable Peter Car-
dinal de Berulle." — This holy man, the admirer and helper of
the great founder of the Lazarist Order and of the Sisters of
Charity, aided him in the reform of the clergy, and himself es-
tablished the French Oratory.

" In this place Catherine de Bar, foundress of the Benedic-
tine Community of the Perpetual Adoration, resided for two
years, from August 29, 1641."

"This threshold was crossed likewise by the following of
venerable memory: John Eudes, by whose persuasion the Bene-
dictine nuns of Montmartre celebrated in 1670 the Feast of the

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346 MONTMARTRE THE HOLV. [DeC.»

Sacred Heart." — His life tells us that he induced them to recite
the Office of the Sacred Heart also, staying, himself three months
on the mount.

"John James Olier, the pride and glory of the French clexgy,
who, undertaking that most excellent work, the establishment
of the Seminary of St. Sulpice, came hither twice on a pil-
grimage.**

The case or cause of this venerable priest is, we are happy
to say, making progress at Rome, and soon we may be allowed
to formally salute him with a title often bestowed during his
apostolic career, and place the letter S before his honored and
beloved name.

" Here,'* continues the inscription, " poured out their sup-
plications the first members of the pious and far-famed Society
of the Foreign Missions. Hither, in 1660, came Bishop De
Bourges and his companions before they set out for Siam» and
the superior of their order here addressed them in very fervent
speech.*'

Proper it was indeed that they who were going to preach
Christ in distant lands, and to brave martyrdom themselves,
should come for strength and support to the tomb of him who
left home and kindred to teach their ancestors the truth, and
who sealed his testimony with his blood.

TABLET NO. III.

is in French, and holds part of an account of the "Chapel of
the Martyr" in 1661, from Father Leo, Carmelite.

"The Papal nuncios, on arriving in France, forget not to
visit this holy place.

"The French bishops rarely depart for their dioceses with-
out going to receive, as it were, their internal mission from the
first Bishop of Paris and apostle of the whole kingdom.

"The venerable chapter of Notre Dame comes hither every
year in most solemn procession, and the parish priests of the
city and its neighborhood imitate herein their metropolitan
cathedral.

"Something that affords special satisfaction is the sight of
the many priests who come to say Mass here, especially during
the octave of St. Denis.

" Following their example, the laity of every social rank
make frequent pilgrimages to this holy place, and their numbers
are swollen to a degree incredible to one who has not seen it,
during the same octave, when there is every day a plenary in-

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1 895-] MONTMARTRE THE HOLY. 347

dulgence and a sermon by one of the ablest . preachers then in
Paris."

The devotion of the faithful here described received. a con-
siderable impetus at the time of Henri IV. 's visit. For, as has
been said, he gave orders to repair the crumbling edifice, and
the working-men brought to light a stairway leading to a crypt,
in which were found traces of a very ancient oratory and of
the altar used by the holy martyr. These being duly authen-
ticated, Queen Mary de' Medici went with her royal train, in
161 1, to visit the Cave of St. Denis, as it came to be called,
and all the people doing likewise, the pilgrimages kept on al-
ways increasing. The old abbey, having become uninhabitable,
was reconstructed by the Grand Monarque, next to the chapel,
and the nuns occupied it December 8, 1686.

TABLET NO. IV.

This is in Latin, and we render it as follows : " To God
most good and great.

" Stop, visitor, and in this tomb of martyrs recognize the
cradle of a tried and approved order. The Society of Jesus,
which owns St. Ignatius of Loyola for its father, and Paris for
its mother, was born here August 15, 1534, when Ignatius him-
self with his companions, having solemnly pronounced their
vows and received Holy Communion, consecrated themselves
for ever to God.

"A. M. D. G.

** Venerating the sacred and beloved birthplace of the So-
ciety of Jesus, their children placed this memorial to excellent
parents.

"This ancestral monument, destroyed in 1795, was restored
in 1890 by Fathers of the Society of Jesus."

It were hard to find in all the history of the church a
more interesting event than that referred to in the body of this
inscription. The Knight of Loyola with his six friends, all of
them decorated with university degrees, having, as Bartoli tells
us, " prepared themselves by fasting, fervent prayer, and austere
penance, and observing the most profound secrecy as to their
project, assembled in a subterranean chapel belonging to the
church. They were entirely alone. The only priest among them
was Faber, who celebrated the holy mysteries. At the moment
of Communion, holding in his hand the Body of Our Saviour,
he turned toward them, and each, one after the other, added

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348 MONTMARTRE THE HOLY. [Dec.^

to the vows of poverty and perpetual chastity that of making^
a voyage to the Holy Land, and of obeying the Sovereign
Pontiff. . . . Their vows being pronounced, they all re-
ceived Communion, with such feelings of devotion, and such
ardent fervor, that one of them, Simon Rodriguez, continued to
feel its influence thirty years afterwards, when he wrote the
account of it. The sole recollection still filled him with in-
effable consolation. But nothing can be compared to that
which inundated the heart of Ignatius, whose happiness even
surpassed that of his companion, for on this auspicious day
he reaped the fruit of his labors, and beheld the fulfilment of
his long-cherished hopes. His spiritual family was indeed not
numerous, but, as it was afterwards proved, the superior mer-
it of each member rendered him equivalent to many prose-
lytes.

"After having fully satisfied their devotional feelings, and
offered up fervent prayer and thanksgiving to the Lord, they
passed the remainder of the day seated beside a clear and
beautiful fountain, which springs at the foot of the hill where
the church stands, and whose waters have, according to tradi-
tion, been sanctified by the blood of the holy martyr Denis.
There they partook of a frugal repast. . . . The city of
Paris, in whose bosom the first plan of the organization had been
conceived, took the title of Mother of the Society, and King^
Louis XIIL regarded the event as a personal honor. * Our
kingdom,* he said, * received this honor, that so great a servant
of God should have come to this our city of Paris, to study
the sciences, to collect his followers, and to lay the foundations
of his society in the church of Montmartre.' "

No words of ours can deepen the sweet and holy impression
which this account must make on those who are acquainted
with the history of the religious order alluded to. Heart speaks
to hearts^ and millions have been moved by the recital of this
deed of those admirable men, and will continue to be moved
wheresoever this story shall be told.

A little more will bring this sketch to a close.

In the days of the Terror the abbey of Montmartre was
governed by Madame de Montmorency-Laval. Dragged before
the horrid tribunal of the revolution, despite her great age and
her blindness, she and fifteen nuns, her associates, were guillo-
tined in the Throne Square.

In 1795 those who bought the confiscated convent and
chapel razed both to the ground, and the ancient pilgrimage

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I895-] MONTMARTRE THE HOLY. 349

had ceased for ever but that the speedy passing of the storm
prevented its memory from dying out.

More than one priestly heart was sad, that the people of
the great capital could no more go to pray to their holy patron
on the spot of his martyrdom. During the last siege of Parils
the old chapel was re-established after a fashion by Father Le
Rebours, parish priest of the Madeleine, and the first Mass was
said in the modest edifice, No. 9 Rue Antoinette, on the 3d
of January, 1871., the Feast of St. Genevieve. From that on,
•every year, during the week from the 9th to the i6th of
October, the festival and octave of St. Denis, a pilgrimage
organized by that priest, and his successors, teaches the Paris-
ians the path traversed so often by their ancestors.

The little chapel and its crypt (or basement) has been re-
newed within these later years, as the last French inscription
tells on

TABLET NO. V.

"A. M. D. G.

"The chapel of the martyrs raised through the efforts of St.
Genevieve, on the spot where St. Denis died for the Faith, and
destroyed in 1795, was rebuilt in the same place by those of
Father Le Rebours, Parish Priest of the Madeleine, of the
Fathers of the Society of Jesus, and of the Helpers of the Holy
.Souls. It was blessed August 15, 1887, by Father Le
Rebours, assisted by two fathers of the said Society."

So now the Sisters of the Holy Souls reside where the
ancient abbey stood, and the grateful Catholic traveller feels,
while praying in this most favored place, that he shares the
•company of the Church Suffering in Purgatory as well as of
the Church Triumphant in Heaven. "That my soul may die
the death of the just, and my last end be like to them ! '
{Numbers xxiii. 10.)

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Church of the Pater Noster, Mount Olivet, Jerusalem.

THE PRINCESS DE LA TOUR D'AUVERGNE AT

JERUSALEM.

BY OLIVE RISLEY SEWARD.

ANY of those universal sentiments and ideas which
form the strongest bonds of humanity have sought
expression through architectural forms, in monu-
ments, temples and shrines, and multitudes in
following ages have been animated, by devotion
to the same ideals, to make pilgrimages to the consecrated
places. In so marked a degree have these natural impulses of
the human heart been manifested, that stages of man's develop-
ment in intelligence and aspiration are marked and determined
in posterity's estimate by consideration of the motives which
have, at different periods and in distant lands, found expres-
sion in architecture, and inspired the pilgrimages of devotees.
The pyramids of Egypt bear witness to human respect for
grandeur and authority as it prevailed in ancient thought ; awe
for unseen but recognized spiritual forces built the Parthenon ;
the spirit of consecrated human love breathes in the chastened

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1 895-] The Princess de la Tour UAuvergne. 351

beauty of the Taj-Mahal ; the Church of St. Peter at Rome is
an outcome of universal religious devotion. And we may also
read m the underlying motive of the national Capitol at Wash-
ington that inherent love of freedom which acknowledges the
inborn desire of men and women to concede each to the other
liberty to think, act, work, and worship in such manner as the
disciplined heart and enlightened mind may dictate.

At no period have pilgrimages been so universal as the pres-
ent, and although the eager traveller of the nineteenth century,
enlightened by scientific revelation, no longer bestows on distant
objects and phenomena, mysterious because unexplained, the
same awe which characterized the reverence of past times, he
nevertheless questions oracles and explores remotest regions
with an ardor of research unknown to the ancient mind. He
is actuated by a universal motive kindred to those which fired
the adventurous spirits and inflamed the zeal of his precursors,
Helena, the first Christian empress in the fourth century, and the
palmers of the middle ages — namely, the attraction of the soul
toward the invisible world ; and he seeks, as they sought, to
justify the reality of that desire by actual contact with monu-
ments and shrines which commemorate the birth and illustrate
the life of arts, beliefs, and civilizations that proclaim immor-
tality. The pilgrim of old turned his footsteps toward the
East to search for knowledge of man's true purpose among sym-
bols of the past, while the Christian traveller of to-day presses
westward to question his destiny. Turn where he will, one fact
confronts him as peculiar to the most advanced civilization,
namely, the recognition of woman's equal though dissimilar part,
her individual place and responsibility in the social systems of
man.

The birth-place of the civilization which inspired the crusa^
ders, and which has formed the modern pilgrim, lies sheltered
among the- highlands of Judea and the Arabian mountains, its
surroundings little changed since the day when, from the heights-
toward the sea, the city of Sion burst upon the enraptured
vision of the venerable Empress Helena. To-day, from that
same historic eminence, the mists of dawn reveal a mass of
square outlines, suggestive of Saladin's ramparts, from which
clusters of slender points glisten in the morning's first rays,
sharp and cruel as burnished lances, and disappear under the
noon-day sun, leaving a sombre colony of square towers, flat
roofs, and battlemented walls, cutting hard lines against the clear
blue of the palpitating Syrian sky.

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352 The Princess de la Tour UAuvergne, [Dec,

But, notwithstanding the minareted mosques, the mediaeval
masonry and square tower of David, the traveller beholds in a
first view of Jerusalem neither the sacred city of Judea, the

feudal capital of
the Latin king-
dom, nor a pro-
vincial Turkish
stronghold of to-
day, but pre-emi-
nently the holy
city of the Chris-
tian era ; for, tow-
ering above the
battlements, over-
shadowing the
minaretss and

dominating the
Judean hills, there
rises the dome of
the Church of the
Holy Sepulchre.

Apart from all
other associations,
this wonderful edi-
fice, as the con-
ception and work
of the Empress
Helena, is the old-
est monument in
existence to the
devoted zeal of a
Christian woman.
This first famous
woman traveller,
Augustan Em-
press, mother of

Helena's Vision. Constantine, pos-

sessed characteris-
tics not unknown among distinguished women of modern times,
for history records her as " vigorous, sensible, devout, and irasci-
ble." The prestige and splendor of imperial sovereignty, added
to these forcible traits of character, were all required to insure
her success — a success which opened the ways of travel to Chris-

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1895-] The Princess de la Tour D'Auvergne. 353

tian women in the East, and gave the impulse to pilgrimages
to the Holy Land, resulting in the Crusades and their far-
reaching consequences.

The sainted Helena laid the foundations of the Church of
the Holy Sepulchre about three hundred years after the event
it commemorates. She built another church over the sacred
grotto of Bethlehem, and a third on the summit of the Mount
of Olives, imparting to Jerusalem and its surroundings that pre-
eminently Christian architectural character found there hundreds
of years later by the crusaders, and which served to rouse their
flagging enthusiasm and arm their lances in the holy wars.

The title of their leader, Godfrey de Bouillon, has come down
to us as " Defender and Guardian of the Holy Sepulchre," though
the acclamation of his followers crowned him " First King of Jeru-
salem," in the wild clamor of victory which at last rewarded their
weary marches and fierce combats to reclaim the sacred shrines.

Godfrey, in the early stock of his race, was a prince of the
house of Auvergne. Eight centuries later this ancient name
has been carried back to Jerusalem, identified with the spirit of
our time, by a princess of the house of Auvergne, who jour-
neyed to the Holy Land, rescued the sacred slope from the
Moslem ownership of over a thousand years, and added a con-
secrated monument to the list of Latin shrines.

The Princess de la Tour d'Auvergne, though famous in the
world of fashion, nevertheless sought the city of Christ in the
enthusiastic spirit of devotion which would seem to have be-
longed peculiarly to pilgrims of the time of the Crusades. She
also renewed in our Realistic age the work of preserving and
commemorating sacred Christian localities and events, begun so
long ago by the Empress Saint.

A fair description of this lady will perhaps seem exaggerated,
so great was her beauty and so many her talents. An Italian
by birth, her family was of Piedmontese descent, though for
many years identified with Tuscany. Her childhood was passed
in Florence, in one of those palaces which are monuments of
the genius of cinque-cento art. Here the lovely little Aurelia
Maria Hdo'ise Josephine de Bourg, Contessina Bossi, a light-
hearted, golden-haired child, was educated under the guidance
of very " grave and reverend seigneurs "; the broad, cool galler-
ies of her stately home serving as school-rooms, where lessons
were learned from vellum-bound tomes collected by generations
of earnest scholars, and which seemed as much a part of the
interior as the mosaic floors and deep-embrasured windows of

VOL. LXII.— 23

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354 The Princess de la Tour UAuvergne. [Dec,

the old library itself. She was married in her fourteenth year
from the City of Flowers, and, after the early death of her hus-
band, espoused in second nuptials the Prince de la Tour d'Au-
vergne, Duke de Bouillon, etc., etc. The young princess was
highly gifted as musician, composer, and artist, a poet of no
common order, and a brilliant talker in many languages ; but

Princess de la Tour d'Auvergne.

her gift of gifts was the gentle heart and charming presence which
made her ever welcome to young or old, humble or grand, the sim-
ple or the learned. After her marriage to the many-titled prince
her palaces at Paris or Versailles became the centre of all those
refinements of art and graces of mind that go to make the salon of
a princess and woman of the world whose accomplishments, charm,
and distinction give a royal claim to homage and admiration.
The time came, however, when untoward sorrow oversha-

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1 895-] The Princess de la Tour UAuvergne. 355

dowed her bright days, and the Princess de la Tour d*Auvergne
was then inspired, as the Empress Helena of old was guided in
dark hours, to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

Unlike that of the followers of Godfrey and the early
palmers who wandered from Gaul on foot across the Alps,
finding rest only at infre-
quent hospices, and pro-
ceeding slowly to some '
distant port of Italy to
wait the rare chance of an
embarkation to the East,
her journey was hygrande
Vitesse from Paris to Mar-
seilles, and by Message-
ries-ImpMales swiftly on
to Joppa. The ride over
the mountains of Judea
to the holy city, broken
by a night's rest at the
tower of Ramleh, and
pauses at Lydda and
Emmaus were the only
portions of her way fol-
lowed as in the middle
ages and by the Empress
Helena.

Reaching Jerusalem
in the October of 1856,
the modern princess, still
following in the footsteps
of the ancient saint, has-
tened to the sacred spots
identified by tradition
with the Saviour's life
on earth.

The city of Sion pre-
sented to her view a de-
pressing picture of inertia,
and a disregard for the

comfort and refinement of modern life conspicuous even in a
Turkish town. But searching for some evidence of Christian
influence, with mind and soul uplifted by suggestive thoughts
and the faith to believe that some trace must still exist there.

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3S6 The Princess de la Tour UAuvergne. [Dec,

she recognized in the superior spirit and dignity of its women
the element that makes modern Jerusalem, with Bethlehem, towns
apart and peculiar among Mohammedan communities. Before
many weeks had passed the gloomy ways of the mournful city
were well known to the princess, who identified herself with the
lives of those around her, transforming her own season of sor-
row into one of joy and plenty among the suffering poor. Her
home was with a religious community of French ladies, and
for convenience she assumed a garb like those worn by reli-
gious orders, adopting the head-covering commonly worn by
Christian women in the Orient, consisting of a white tulle veil,
fastened by bands around the head, which framed the fair con-
tour of her noble face in spotless classic folds.

With so attractive a personality and heart dedicated to so
loving a purpose, it is not to be wondered at that grief-stricken
women and desolate children seeking help and protection found
their way in flocks to her convent gate, where they daily
awaited her coming and going.

Shortly after her arrival the Pasha of Jerusalem provided a
milk-white mule for her conveyance through its steep and nar-
row streets, and as the trusty creature bearing his gentle
burden carefully found a path among the flinty boulders,
crowds followed heaping blessings on the head of their bene-
factress, addressing her by a thousand names which their grate-
ful hearts and Oriental tongues easily coined : among them she
was known as " Mother of smiles," " Daughter of hope,** " Sis-
ter of charity," and to the ardent Armenians "Ambassadress
of the angels," for there was no distinction of nation or belief
in her treatment of the desolate beings around her, and in
return the love of all, "strangets of Rome, Jews, Proselytes,
Cretes, and Arabians," was poured upon her.

The Arab dragoman of the French consulate, Hanna Carl6,
having been one of the earliest recipients of her kindness,
became her most faithful servant, and, as the highest proof of
his gratitude, ^sked her to be godmother to his new-born son.
This request, graciously granted, proved the first link in a long
chain of wholly unforeseen consequences.

Shortly after the event of the christening, Hanna Carl6 was
among the retinue of the Princess de la Tour d'Auvergne on
one of her many rounds of charity and exploration in and
about the holy city. On this particular day the princess, rid-
ing her faithful white mule, was accompanied not only by her
own attendants, but by the French consul-general and his

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I895-] The Princess de la Tour UAuvergne. 357

dragoman. Their purpose was to visit Bethany by way of the
upper road, and to return by the road across the summit of
the Mount of Olives to the lower one leading to Jerusalem —
the three pathways which have alone traversed the Mount of
Olives throughout the ages of its recorded history. Their way
led through St. Stephen*s gate, across the pebbly bed of the
brook Cedron, under the shadow of Gethsemani's garden, and
so on to Bethany. This hill-side retreat is no longer a " garden
of figs" embowered in olive, palm, and sycamore trees, nor is

Interior of the Church of the Pater Noster.

it the restful abode of any sort of hospitality or friendship.
The princess found there only a cluster of deserted Arab huts,
the refuge of poor waifs while waiting to beg from pilgrims on
their way to and from the Jordan, or crossing the desert to
Jericho and the Dead Sea.

The road winding directly over the brow of the Mount of
Olives from Bethany passes the site of the ancient Church of
the Ascension, built by St. Helena and described by Eusebius
as the most beautiful of all those erected by the venerable
empress. The original structure has long since disappeared and
been replaced many times. Here the princess dismounted and
surveyed the present small octagonal mosque, near to a dilapi-

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358 The Princess de la Tour UAuvergne. [Dec,

dated Armenian chapel; the custodian of both, a dervish, lived
in the mosque communicating with the dilapidated so-called
Chapel of the Ascension, which, as he claimed, commemorated
a message sent to his order by Mohammed.

Turning from the dervish and his conflicting traditions with
a heavy heart, the princess, at the head of her little cavalcade,
followed a stony path eastward from the summit toward the
valley of Josaphat, and approached the place on Olivet where
tradition declares the Saviour stood while teaching his disciples
" how to pray," So solitary and uninhabited has the Mount of
Olives remained that this site and that of Bethany are the
least questioned of all the sacred places in the Holy Land.

On this hallowed ground the princess found only a miser-
able ruin, in charge of another half-witted dervish, who collected
backsheesh from passing strangers. It appeared, upon inquiry,
that Arabian families who lived in Jerusalem and adjacent
villages had, for many centuries, owned the whole of the area
of the Mount of Olives, and that no price or consideration
would induce them to part with the land to Christians.

Depressed by what she had witnessed in her morning's
pilgrimage, the princess felt her soul stirred to its inmost
depths as she stood on this now solitary and neglected hill-
side, facing Bethlehem and Jerusalem, once the scene of the
most divine instruction which has ever been uttered. From
that moment an apparently hopeless desire to possess the place
in the name of Christianity inspired her heart, and sleeping or
waking haunted her thoughts, until, in a most unexpected
fashion, her desire was fulfilled. •

Hanna Carl6, the silent, vigilant dragoman, was no uninter-
ested observer of the lady's emotion, nor had he failed to
notice her concern regarding the proprietorship of the rugged
soil of this, to him, familiar slope. Many of his friends and
even relatives were among the owners of the sun-baked, arid
farm-lands. The munificent princess was already godmother to
his child. This boy, his idol and son of his later years, was not
his heir, being the child of a third Mohammedan wife, and the
Arab father sought to secure a fortune for his favorite, for
under the Arabian custom boys expect a gift of land from the
godmother. It was clear to Hanna's mind that the distin-
guished sponsor of his son, by some strange fancy or caprice
which he could not fathom, coveted the land before them, and
he determined to gain possession of it, arguing to himself : " I
will resell it to her highness, recover the money that I pay

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1895.] The Princess de la Tour UAuvergne. 359

out, and she will surely give the land to my Hassan." With
this scheme in view, the wily Mussulman set to work with such
oriental persistence and cunning that he had secured, after ten
years, bit by bit, the larger and most desirable portion of the
south-eastern slope of the holy mountain. The Arabs from
whom he purchased had no suspicion of his purpose to resell
to a Christian, and the princess herself was long ignorant of his
design.

The title secured, Hanna Carl6 proceeded to offer his pur-
chase to the Princess de la Tour d'Auvergne, at a price greatly
in advance of that which he had paid for it. The princess lost
no time in accepting the proposition, and, as she realized with
inexpressible joy that the unique estate had actually come
under her control, her purpose concerning it grew in propor-
tion. She determined to create a trusteeship by buying the
land in the name of the government of France. Unlooked-for
difficulties arose in the way of this apparently simple proceed-
ing, owing to a provision of the French law which debarred a
married woman from disposing of real estate. A history of the
delicate negotiations in this matter would make a volume filled
with tales of diplomatic parleys, incidents of travel and roman-
tic situations, directed by persistent determination, energy, and
tact, extraordinary even in a woman with a special genius for
charities, and entirely worthy this modern prototype of Saint
Helena.

The whole transaction involved interviews with the Pasha
of Jerusalem, the Governor of Palestine, and the Sultan of Tur-
key, not to speak of frequent .consultations with the Emperor
of the French and the Pope at Rome. Repeated sea-voyages
and land-journeys became necessary, and the charming French
princess may be said to have walked in the footsteps of the
early disciples from Jerusalem to Constantinople, from Con-
stantinople to Rome, from Rome to France, and back to Jeru-
salem, again and again, before her object was attained.

The purchase was at last concluded, and the Moslem drago-
man, to his surprise and chagrin, was compelled to convey the
land of his paternal schemes to the protection of a powerful
Christian government, instead of to the fairy godmother of his
favorite son.

The Princess de la Tour d'Auvergne in conveying the land
stipulated that she might carry out her own particular object
regarding it, and while carrying out the desire of her heart,
Jerusalem became her home. For many years she inhabited a

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360 The Princess de la Tour HAuvergne. [Dec,

dainty chdlet of wood which was constructed for her in France,
shipped to Joppa, and borne thence by mule-back across the
rocky hills of Judea to be set up on the slope of Olivet for
her abode. Travellers were welcomed to this little chdlet with
the refined and frugal hospitality of a home so rarely seen in
the East, that of an independent Christian woman, and they
found that her sojourn in the desert had dimmed none of the
wit which had distinguished her in the great capital. During
this exile, the beggars of. Bethany and the dervishes of the
mount were her only neighbors and, with the throng that made

" A Cenotaph of Carrara Marble commemorates Her Life and Works,"

their way to her across the vale of Cedron, her constant
pensioners.

Here she achieved the crowning work of her life, and erected
on the spot where the Lord's Prayer was first uttered, as nearly
as it may be known, on the authority of uncontradicted tradi-
tion, a chapel sacred to that divine teaching.

The chapel thus constructed on the Mount of Olives is in
the form of the Campo Santo at Pisa, a rectangular parallelo-
gram, and is built of the pure white limestone of Syria. The
long and beautiful cloisters are divided into thirty-two compart-
ments. On the inner wall of each hangs a porcelain tablet of
gray color, at least four feet high, bearing the Lord's Prayer
enamelled in letters of blue, and in a different language for
each of the thirty-two panels.

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The pillared marble columns of the cloisters enclose a
grassy plot in the centre of the parallelogram, which is the
divinely consecrated place. It is open to the sky, and no foot
ever treads on the holy ground, though reverent hands water
and tend the grasses and cherish every spear of wild bloom
that lifts itself heavenward from the soil.

The most indifferent visitor cannot fail to perceive the at-
mosphere of strength and repose which abides in the cool clois-
ters of this beautiful shrine, accentuating the silence and solem-
nity of the holy mount.

To complete and perpetuate her work, the princess built and
endowed a school for Christian children near to the chapel;
enlarged and improved her own chdlet^ transforming it into a
convent for Carmelite sisters, who are appointed to do a special
work of charity "in Jerusalem.

A cenotaph of Carrara marble, in a small chapel opening
from a quadrangle of the shrine, commemorates the life and
works of the Princess de la Tour d'Auvergne, Another ad-
joining it, erected by her filial love, is dedicated to the mem-
ory of her father.

The chapel is never deserted ; there is always a solitary Car-
melite sister kneeling under the shadow of the wings of the an-
gels orantes, by the altar, who recites the Pater nosier by day
and by night, encircling the months and years in an endless
chain of petitions for those souls in the world who ignore or
reject its power.

It may well be questioned if the universality of the religion
of Christ is not more truly exemplified by the achievement of
this one woman of the nineteenth century than by all the battles
of the Crusades. While pursuing a gentle life, " going about
doing good " in Jerusalem, the Princess de la Tour d*Auvergne
secured this precious oratory to the world, where pilgrims of
every creed, journeying from every clime, rest as in the " shadow
of a rock that standeth out in a desert land "; for here each
one may read in a familiar tongue the petition which all testify
expresses the deepest yearnings of the human soul, as it has
done throughout the ages since its first utterance on the slope
of Olivet by the Saviour of mankind.

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362 A Round Year. [Dec,

A ROUND YEAR.

BY MARION AMES TAGGART.

HE dark silken drapery, falling in heavy folds

from the arch to the floor, made an effective

background for ■ the slender young figure in

snowy white thrown into bold relief against it.

Hartley Bennett and his hostess looked upon

this effect with keen pleasure, though of different kind. To

Bennett, artistic to his finger-tips, the way the glossy brown

hair grew about the girl's broad brow, the classical purity of

the delicately cut features, thrown into cameo against the dull

red, the proud perfection of the way the shapely head was set

upon the neck, gave exquisite delight before he thought of the

owner of these perfections as a living girl.

To Mrs. Harrison, by his side, it was very pleasant that
Honor Middledith should be looking so beautiful in her par-
lor, the result of her wisdom in selecting, and she surveyed
her with the same satisfaction she would have felt in looking
upon a stately palm or graceful statue which she had pur-
chased.

That it was not a well-placed statue upon which he gazed
Bennett soon became aware in the awakening of another,
totally different admiration, in which, if the artist lost, the man
gained. The girl was alive in every pulse of her perfect phy-
sique, listening with eager attention to a grave, elderly man,
and the sensitive variations of the mobile face as she followed
his words gave it an attractiveness superior even to its beauty.

" And she is not in the least disappointing when you know
her," said Mrs. Harrison, laying her hand lightly on Bennett's
sleeve. In her character of sympathetic woman of the world,
diviner of souls, and leader of society, which rSle Mrs. Harri-
son constantly maintained, she often strove to produce the
effect of understanding by intuition, and an intimacy not always
readily honored by those on whom the draft was made.

Bennett started, annoyed, but reflected in time that it was
not only his hostess, but "only Mrs. Harrison."

" Who is she, and where did you find such a perfect piece
of womanhood ? " he asked.

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iSqsJ a Round Year, 363

" Ah, Mr. Bennett, thank you ! You always phrase in epi-
grammatic terseness all one could say," cried Mrs. Harrison, in
soft ecstasy. " * Perfect piece of womanhood ' is precisely what
Honor Middledith is. I did not find her ; she and her father
found me, in a dreadful hotel in the mountains, last summer,
and being found you may be sure I was not so stupid as to
lose her afterward. ' Perfect piece of womanhood ! ' Oh, thank
you, dear Mr. Bennett ! "

** Will you crown your many kindnesses to m« hy taking
me to Miss Middledith, Mrs. Harrison?" asked Bennett; "and
as a reward for so successfully summing up her graces?"

For answer Mrs. Harrison rose, shaking her full skirt into
place, and putting her hand through Bennett's arm for an
effective progress across her parlor. Mrs. Harrison would
never acknowledge to herself that she was flattered when
Hartley Bennett accepted her invitations, for it was part of
her system to be always the grand lady, ignoring, even in her
thought, her grandfather ; but there was always in her inter-
course with Bennett a remembrance of his grandmother coming
to the tiny shop in which she tried to forget she had played
in her childhood, and she patronized Bennett, to his great
amusement, lest he remember too.

Mrs. Harrison's grandfather, actual or potential, was very
far from Hartley Bennett's mind, however, as he found himself
meeting the clear gaze of a pair of gray eyes, under sharply
marked dark brows. Mrs. Harrison immediately engaged in
conversation the old gentleman with whom Miss Middledith had
been talking, and very soon led him away. Bennett fancied the
gray eyes followed him regretfully ; they certainly turned from
him in unflattering indifference.

"I feel that I ought to apologize. Miss Middledith," he
said. " Is old age only desirable ? "

" Oh ! I don't know," she said.

" Nothing very promising in this school-girl answer," thought
Bennett, irritated to add another to the disappointments of
pretty faces. But the girl suddenly shook off her abstraction
and turned toward him.

" Desirable ? Old age ? " she said quickly. " Of course old
age is always sad, but everything in life is a compromise ; one
gives up something to gain anything, and old age has paid a
heavy price for a good deal. The trouble is when one has
made such sacrificial investments one soon gives up life itself,
and it is such a pity."

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364 A Round Year. [Dec,

She frowned earnestly, and he felt an unreasonable desire
to stroke her white forehead smooth ; but he spoke instead,
insisting on a lower key, and the personal note.

" Are you not willing to talk to young men sometimes ? It
is not their fault that they have not had time for acquiring
much," he said.

" But Professor Hibbard is interesting," she replied, and
caught herself up with a delightful gleam of humor in her
eyes, which shut them half, " like Mimsey Seraskier," thought
Bennett, who knew his Du Maurier.

" I mean," she added with heightened color, " Professor
Hibbard is a biologist, and he tells me what I care to hear of
science, evolution, and things that make me forget how small
I am."

" Young men sometimes care for science," remonstrated
Bennett. " Are you a modern girl, and profoundly interested
in philanthropy?"

" Shall I confess ? " she asked. " I don't like philanthropy.
It strikes me as a poor substitute for Christian charity. I feel
that I am impertinent when I investigate cases. What right
have I to pry into any one's private affairs because they need
help, and I can give it ? "

" None whatever," said Bennett decidedly.

"Yes, but modern scientific charity comes forward and tells
me that I am pauperizing the poor if I do not," she said eagerly.
" It makes me feel very guilty ; it sounds wicked, like etheriz-
ing, for instance. But after I get by myself, and think it over,
I see the new way makes them sneaks and liars, and that is
nearly as bad as pauperizing them, isn't it? Besides, how can
I pauperize? Some people are born paupers, and they are not
all pgor. I wonder if the old way of St. Elizabeth of Hun-
gary, going out with a whole apronful of bread, was not just as
well?"

" Just as well, or just as bad," said Bennett, interested at
last in what she was saying. " We have no right to do either ;
the whole social system is wrong. There should not be in-
equalities of fortune, and still less of opportunity."

She flashed an eager look upon him. " You are a Socialist ! "
she cried.

'*Yes, of one school," he answered, smiling.

" I agree with Kidd," she said. " I think there is no logi-
cal escape from the right of socialism, and no practical possi-
bility of its continuance as a social condition."

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i89S.] A Round Year. 365

" I do not agree with Kidd in anything," Bennett said
quickly. " I deny his premises, necessarily his conclusions. I
do not believe religion is the cause of man's social evolution.
I do believe that Christianity, with its hatreds and bigotry
and dogmas, has retarded, not forwarded, man's progress. He
would be better without it, and I believe the growing percep-
tion of interdependence of men upon each other, and the
inherent beauty of altruistic principles would be sufficient
motive to carry on the race to high endeavor and achieve-
ment."

"But surely you admit that the Christian teaching of the
universal brotherhood of man, so opposed to the world to
which it was announced, has had everything to do with the
implanting of these principles, and that all are more or less
consciously influenced by such teachings, the inheritance and
environment of the ages?" she said eagerly. "And is it not
very important to know truth, simply as an end, a possession
unspeakably valuable ? "

He shook his head, smiling a little sadly. "Christian teach-
ing is all very well — to reply to the first part of your plea
— how about Christian practice ? " he said. " And as to truth —
what is truth? Unknowable, found in sure possession of differ-
ent races and ages, all contradicting each other."

" I do not admit that as a whole Christian practice has
fallen so far below Christian precept," the girl cried. " Nor do
I admit your last statement as it stands. You are an agnostic,
then ? "

" As well call me that as anything," he said. " I certainly
only affirm that I cannot affirm."

" Miss Middledith, I am sent to beg you to sing to us," a
voice said behind Bennett, and she bowed her excuse, follow-
ing the young man who summoned her to the piano.

Soon her voice, a deep contralto, filled the room, and as it
ceased Bennett felt a touch upon his elbow, and Mrs. Harri-
son's voice said : " Well ? " Bennett started in annoyance ;
Honor's singing had been like herself, emotional, full of warmth
and life; the whole past hour had left him stirred, excited,
happy and unhappy ; he had never met such an electric per-
sonality. And ifow Mrs. Harrison ! But her " well " had to
be answered.

" She is charming," he said, uttering the truth, yet taking
refuge in conventionality.

" Isn't she ? " cried Mrs. Harrison. " That she is beautiful

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366 A Round Year. [Dec,

you can see, and clever you have probably discovered ; but she
is accomplished besides, with a splendid nature, not one bit
spoiled. I never saw any one with such a healthy power of
enjoying all kinds of things. There is only one out to Honor ;
she is a Roman Catholic."

" A Roman Catholic ! " echoed Bennett, in profound amaze-
ment and disgust.

"Yes, but not like the Roman Catholics we know; she is
an anomaly. Her father and mother were converts, her mother
died when she was born, and her father simply idolizes her.
Perhaps you have noticed a kind of magnetism about her that
would give her pretty much what she wanted, and may imagine
how she coaxes her father. She chose not to go to a convent,
but went instead to a college, with the result that she is not
at all like Catholic girls. I do not think she is at all devout ;
she is like a fine, honest boy. She never has thought of mar-
rying, and she cares only for her books and friends. She goes
to church regularly, for she is very loyal, but her religion is
only a logical affair to her; she says there is nothing else pos-
sible, granting a Creator and revelation. Now, I doubt logical
religion, especially in a woman. I imagine she could be easily
diverted by one who had influence over her. Good Catholics
go to confession frequently, but I happen to know that Honor
does not. It seems queer to think of that noble girl kneeling
in a confessional, doesn't it ? " added Mrs. Harrison.

" Queer ? It is monstrous ! *' exclaimed Bennett fervently.
Mrs. Harrison gave him a quick glance ; his face was flushed.

" Oh ! well ; very likely she'll get over it," she said easily.
Then she laughed. "You are rather an anomaly yourself.
Hartley Bennett. You profess agnosticism, and wide, indiffer-
ent toleration, yet you hate Catholics beautifully. I suppose it
is your Puritan blood."

Nine out of ten of Mrs. Harrison's remarks were folly, but
the tenth time she " struck twelve o'clock," as Bennett said to
himself, in a way that surprised one. Not that he called this
" striking twelve o'clock " ; on the contrary he thought her
unusually foolish, but he felt impelled to defend himself in a
manner not usual when talking to her.

** Not at all," he said hastily. " You don't understand. I
think all Christianity has done harm, but Rome most of all
forms, as the most dogmatic and vigorous. I object to Rome
on principle, and consider it the duty of every American to
resist her advance."

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I89S-] A Round Year. 367

" Oh ! I dare say/' smiled Mrs. Harrison. " Pray don't de-
fend yourself. We are all of us furnished with good reasons
for intolerance, and, after all, why should you be consistent;
who is ? And Honor is young ; under good influence she'll
change her views, especially as they are only founded on rea-
son, not sentiment. You see her indifference is proved by her
being here to-night, Christmas eve; if she were a good Catholic
she would be preparing for her Christmas Communion."

But all the way home, remembering her glowing beauty,
and the look in her beautiful eyes as she said good-night,
Bennett* repeated to himself : " A Roman Catholic — she a
Roman Catholic ! "

Differences in taste and opinions dynamic in their power
to blast peace and affection seem trivial when the circumstances
that are to test their strength are yet unmet, and the friction
of daily contact is seen only through the golden perspective of
youthful hopes.

In the love for Honor Middledith which took possession of
Hartley Bennett with all the force of the passions of slow
natures, he did not forget the melancholy fact of her adherence
to that form of Christianity which he most detested, but he
rejoiced in her emancipation from the countless Catholic practices
which so enthral men's, and especially women's, minds, and
hoped much from the influence of a person whom she should
love. In the meantime he longed intensely to be that person,
and was too enchanted with what the girl was to realize that
he could ever care deeply what she believed.

They were so alike in other tastes, and so supplementarily
unlike in temperament, that every one felt their marriage one
to be desired in spite of their difference in religious views.

Bennett's state of mind, dating from the memorable Christ-
mas eve at Mrs. Harrison's, had been patent to all observers.
Honor was not a girl who lightly betrayed her inmost thought,
but Hartley Bennett himself was almost satisfied with the light
that his coming brought to the beautiful face, and he took care
to call often, permeating her life with his presence and love*
He argued, with considerable knowledge of the Diana-type
with which he had to deal, that in a girl of Honor's extreme
nature, formed for love and hatred, her toleration of his con-
stant devotion argued well for his hope that she was beginning
to love him, too, in the depths of her strong young heart.

It was March, a day full of the suggestion and hope of
spring. The delicious odor of the earth brought subtle pro-

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368 A Round Year. [Dec,

mise of grass and flowing sap ; the pussy-willows waved their
little silver, green, and yellow catkins ; the big willows along
the streams made the perspective joyous with a pale, shimmer-
ing green, the very color of early spring ; under their branches
the frogs piped musically, and the song sparrow warbled from
the topmost point of small spruces, while the liquid note of the
bluebird, as he drifted by, and the gay whistle of the newly-
arrived robins rose from the sunny places. All the promise of
life, all the glad intoxication of its reawakening were in the air.
Honor Middledith's face shone with a new beauty as she listened
and drank in the warmth, corresponding so deliciously to the
new joy that had entered her life.

" If you do not admire her I think I must give up predict-
ing," she was saying, conscious that she was talking for the
sake of saying something. " Pray, if you do not admire that
lovely girl, what sort of a girl do you admire ? " Instantly she
regretted her words. For a long time she had been fighting
off the utterance of what she longed to hear, and as Hartley
Bennett glanced up suddenly, she saw the hour had come.

" What kind of a girl do I admire ? Let me tell you," he
said quickly. Then, his feeling overmastering him as he looked
at her, he spoke : " She is like you, only — Honor, I love you !
I love you ! Don't you think you could ? *'

She was not a girl to dally, trying her lover. One little
space of maidenly fear and joy and reluctance she allowed her-
self, and then she raised her honest eyes to his and let him
read the love that sprang into them.

It was the old story and the old rapture, old as the renewal
of spring, and the bluebirds were singing it then in the sunny
hollows.

When they turned to walk homeward Honor looked back
lingeringly.

" You know the superstition that what one is doing when
first hearing the frogs shall be done all summer?" she asked.

He laughed triumphantly. " Telling you I love you ? " he
exclaimed. " Oh ! the frogs are poor prophets. Not all summer
but all my life I shall do that. Let me see ; I am twenty-eight.
If I live to be seventy, for forty-two years — five hundred and
four blessed months — "

" Oh, stop ! please stop ! " she interrupted, woman-like find-
ing pain where he found joy. " I cannot bear to think of its
ending."

" Hartley," she began, breaking the silence in which they

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I895-] A Round Year. 369

walked for a little while after her outburst, " have you thought
of one thing — religion ? "

He. frowned. "Yes, Honor, I have thought of it; and I am
sorry that you feel as you do. You may not always."

" Oh, yes ! I shall," she said quickly. " Does it matter ? "

" Not one bit, dear," he said, " to me."

" Not to me," she responded. " I think I should be the one
to care, for I believe, and you do not. But I can never be
so stupid as to consider a person's opinions, even — even if I
did not love that person."

He put his hand out toward her, but she made a sign to
wait. " You see," she went on, " I am a pretty poor Catholic,
for I have never felt the need of any religion ; I am so young
and healthy and interested. But I recognize that to be the
case, and I feel that the day may come when I shall turn to
it eagerly. I never could be anything but a Catholic, and I
mean not to be disloyal. So far I have been sufficient to my-
self ; but if it did not sound irreverential, I would say that I
felt as though Jesus Christ were there when I wanted him, and
in the meantime I try not to be bad, and am enjoying my
life. Do you see ? "

Bennett laughed. "You need not be afraid of saying irrev-
erential things to me ; I believe it is all a myth, and it would
only be when your splendid health failed, indeed, that you could
lean on such fables."
- She drew away slightly as she walked. " No, Hartley," she said,
" you must never say such things to me ; they jar. I told you I
mean never to be disloyal. But we can be happy by respecting
each other's opinions, and leaving them alone, can we not ? "

"Certainly, Honor," he replied. " A gentleman will surely be
polite, even to his wife." She blushed at the solemn word, but
came back to his side. " We agree so completely on every other
subject," she said, " and I am so different from most Catholic
girls, being college-bred, and — well, not pious, that if ever what
the church calls ' a mixed marriage ' could be a success ours
would be, would it not ? "

" I regard it as a sublime success insured," he answered
laughing. " And as to mixed marriages, the church has been
pretty wise ; but she ought to understand that the day for con-
trolling men as in past ages is over. People think for them-
selves now, and as far as this question goes, all marriages, or
the majority, are pretty well mixed, it strikes me."

That night Honor knelt by her father's chair, and told him
her secret, begging his consent and blessing.

VOL. LXII.— 24

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370 A Round Year. [Dec,

Mr. Middledith was a man much occupied with other things
than his beautiful daughter, whom none the less he loved very
dearly, and understood better than she knew.

"My blessing. Honor?*' he said. "You have it always.
And my consent — Well, my dear, I have allowed you liberty
too complete to deny it in a matter in which your happiness
were really bound up. But it can be only a consent of tolera-
tion, for I know, my daughter, this is not for your happiness."

" Oh, father ! " she began, but he checked her.

"I know it all, dear," he said, "all you could say. Bennett
is a gentleman, upright, intelligent, clean lived ; but you are a
Catholic, and he will never tolerate that, no matter what he
may say — and mean, too— now. So far your faith has not
meant much to you, but it would if your husband hated it. It
would, or you would give it up."

" Father, I shall never do that, nor would Hartley wish me
to," she cried.

" I am sure of the first part of that, my dear ; I am not
sure of the latter," said her father quietly. " Indifference is not
in Hartley Bennett's line, and you will feel the bitterness of
the greatest separation when you are a woman, and he your
husband. For so far, my little girl, you are only a child — a
precocious child, all brain, the heart dormant. Believe me,
when the woman heart wakes up. your intellectual assent to
Christianity will become a very different thing. I have said you
will not have toleration for your faith from Bennett, but indif-
ference would never satisfy the nature which some day will
arouse in you. Listen, Honor. Your mother died leaving me
a baby, who, until now when she wants to leave me too, could
not even partly fill the vacant place. When she was dying, and
I received with her the Communion which was her viaticum, I
thanked God in my anguish for a union which death could not
break. Can I be willing that her daughter should shut herself
off from such higher joys ? "

There was silence for a long time ; Honor had never heard
her father speak of her dead mother except from necessity,
and she was touched, impressed, in spite of herself acknowledg-
ing the truth of what she heard. But in the silence the new
love, dear and strong, surged up in her breast and drowned
her father's words.

" But you do consent, father ? I love him, you know," she
said at last.

" I consent if I must. Honor, not otherwise," he answered ;
"and only then under the condition that you are not to an-

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1895.] A Round Year. 371

nounce the engagement just yet, and will not marry for a long
time."

" Oh ! I like to keep it a secret, if I may," cried Honor,
springing up and laughing gladly ; " and as to marrying — who
wants to marry for ever and ever so long, father?"

He looked at her glowing beauty, and smiled tenderly.
''You are only a child, as I told you, Honor. I fancy Bennett
may want to, but he must wait."

April and May flew by, sped by the joy of blossom-time
and love. Hartley Bennett felt the silent antagonism of his
future father4n-law, and it oppressed him. He chafed under
the concealment of his engagement, and early in June he made
an efifort to get Mr. Middledith's consent to its announcement.

" Look here, Mr. Middledith," he said, " I don't like it, and
it's not quite square — puts everybody in a false position. I am
able to marry now and give Honor a suitable home. What is
the sense in delaying telling people that I'm going to do it ?
Have you anything against me?"

"There is no sense, looked at that way, in delaying," replied
Mr. Middledith quietly. "And I agree with you that it is not
•quite square. I have nothing against you personally; you are
upright, honorable, straight, as far as I know, yet I delayed
announcing the engagement, hoping that Honor would see her
mistake."

" Mistake, Mr. Middledith ! " exclaimed Bennett, straighten-
ing himself.

" Yes," said Mr. Middledith ; " for it is a mistake for two
people who differ as you do on religion to marry."

" Nonsense ! " ejaculated Bennett Jhotly. " I beg your par-
don ; but it is ridiculous for a girl like Honor to be bound by
such fables — only a sentiment at best."

" You could not have presented my objection more strongly,"
remarked Mr. Middledith dryly. "You consider it ridiculous
for her to be so bound, yet bound she. is. As to its being a
sentiment only, I do not agree with you ; but if it were, you
are old enough to know that sentiments are the vital part of
life. Most people consider love a sentiment, and one to which
there is less reason for adherence than religion ; for though a
man be honorable, virtuous, lovable, he has not a monopoly of
those reasons for being loved, while those who profess a religion
believe it only to teach saving truth."

Bennett made a gesture of impatience. " There is less than
no use in discussing," he said. " The point is this : I am en-
gaged to your daughter, who does not see this matter as you

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372 A Round Year. [Dec,

do, and I have been engaged to her for nearly three months.
You do not intend to forbid the marriage ; let us deal honor-
ably^ and tell the world that it is to be. Do you consent?"

Mr. Middledith sighed, moving the papers on his desk rest-
lessly. "You are perfectly right, Bennett. Yes, I consent."

The announcement of the engagement was speedily followed
by the Middlediths* departure from the city for the summer,
and every Saturday found Hartley Bennett on the train which
took him most rapidly, from the Grand Central station, up the
river to the place where Honor stayed.

It was the year of the presidential election, in which Bennett
was greatly interested, and it filled Honor with pride that her
lover cared so much for his country's welfare that he could not
forget it in his love for her.

It was Saturday evening ; Honor sat a few feet away from
the group of men, of whom Hartley was one, discussing the
convention just closed at Chicago, and the candidates appointed,
together with those to be sent by the State to the next legislature.

Bennett had forgotten her in the ardor of the discussion,
and she had lost herself in happy waking dreams, when she
was suddenly aroused by Bennett's voice, listening to his words
with a passion of resistance of which she had not thought her-
self capable.

" No," he was saying, " I know nothing against the man ;
on the contrary I believe he is a very good fellow, disinterested
and all that, but his religion is enough for me. I would
oppose, with all my strength, any Roman Catholic for any office."

" But that is the Spanish Inquisition, Bloody Mary on the
wrong side, and some years belated," remonstrated the man
whom he addressed. " It's Pilgrim Fathers and Quakers' ears ;
it's rank bigotry, Bennett."

"Oh! I'm not afraid of words," replied Bennett. "Every
man of strong convictions is sure to be called a bigot. I'm
opposed to trusting the American ballot to men who obey
Rome."

"Now, don't be deluded into thinking that is American^'*
said the other earnestly. "I'm a Protestant all right, member
of the Presbyterian Church, and I don't want Romanism to
spread ; but the man who strikes a blow at personal liberty, be-
cause of the person's religion, strikes a blow at civil and
national liberty, and is his country's enemy. There is nothing
more un-American than persecution, and that is persecution.
The day America is false to her trust of religious toleration
and equal rights, that day her doom is spoken. We are made

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1895.] A Round Year. 373

up of too heterogeneous elements, politically and nationally, to
aflford to disintegrate those elements. Washington Gladden
wrote very well on the subject in The Century a few years
ago.

" Gladden wrote folly, and is blinded by specious reason-
ing ! " burst out Bennett. " Rome is an evil ; all priest and
church domination is ; hers most of all because it is strongest.
She has wrought nothing but harm throughout the ages, and
will do it here if we let her get hold. I'm going to take part
in this year's campaign, and Fm going to work dead against
admitting Roman Catholics to influence in senate, legislature,
civic government, and schools."

Honor rose softly, and withdrew unseen by Bennett, but
noticed by the man who had answered him. Her hands felt
like ice, her head burned, and all her latent loyalty and faith
was in arms against what? Her lover? Yes, but the enemy
of her faith. Blindly she found the way to her room, con-
scious that she must face this pain alone, saying over and
over as she sped down the long corridor : " A house divided
against itself, a house divided against itself ! "

After she had gone Bennett's companion turned to him.

" This is rather queer from you, Bennett ; you are going to
marry a Roman Catholic, I hear."

"Oh, no!" answered Bennett easily. "I'm going to marry
a remarkably clear-headed, intelligent girl, whose parents were
Roman Catholics ; I'll answer for her in time." But the other,
who had caught a glimpse of Honor's retreating face, shook his
head.

Just before Bennett went away on Monday Honor spoke to
him of what she had heard, timidly, fearing its confirmation.

" Hartley," she said, " you did not mean what you said when
you were talking politics the other night?"

" What ? " he asked, and looking at her troubled face a light
broke in upon him. " Oh, yes ! I meant it."

She drew herself up, and bit her lip. " I could never marry
any one who was pledged to oppose all I held sacred," she
said so quietly as to mislead him.

" Oh ! look here, Honor, don't be tragic," he said smilingly.
" We agreed to let each other's convictions alone, and you
are too truly Honors you know, to want me to act contrary to
mine. We mustn't talk about things that would make us dis-
agreeable, and I must do exactly what I think right."

She clung to him a moment, and sobbed without tears.
" O Hartley ! I let you think I was indifferent ; I thought so

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374 A Round Year. [Dec,

myself, but something rose up in me like a lion when I heard
you, and it frightens me to feel so to you. I love you."

He smiled. "And love — charity, you know — covers a multi-
tude of sins. I kept you up too late last night, and you are
nervous. It's a new phase in my strong Honor, but she's a
woman after all. It will be all right, my dear. We love each
other, and will follow our consciences, and some day you'll see
more clearly."

" Remember," she said solemnly, " do not mistake. I can
never marry an enemy of the church, though I could marry
one who did not believe in her."

The weeks that followed were not easy to Honor Middle-
dith. She treated Hartley with gentleness such as she had
never shown, like a true woman trying to atone to him for the
pain he had caused her. She grew more devout in small ways,
and went frequently to the little church in the village, where
in silence she tried to learn her duty to the human love, which
had never been so strong, and the Divine, which held her fast,
claiming her to suffer for it, who had never fully delighted in it.

The subject that lay so ne^r her heart was not spoken of to
her lover, who rejoiced in her, feeling sure her emotional out-
burst that morning had been due to tired nerves, and that her
new docility was moulding her to his wishes.

It was the first week in November, long after their return
to the city, when Hartley Bennett came one night to Mr. Middle-
dith's with a roll of papers in his hand. " I have been quietly
working in this campaign. Honor," he began, " and I've been
askecj to go up to Mycenae, in the northern part of the State,
to deliver a speech on Wednesday. I had a feeling that per-
haps I ought to read it to you, because if you saw any allu-
sion to it in the papers you might think I had been under-
handed."

" No one could ever think you that. Hartley," she said
gently, grasping the arms of her chair as she spoke.

" No, I hope not," he said smiling. " Thank you, dear
Honor. You see, one of the candidates for the legislature is a
Roman Catholic, and I'm asked to oppose him, and I'm go-
ing to."

"On that ground only?" she asked.

" Yes," he replied ; " he's a fine fellow, I believe, but his
religion disqualifies him politically to my mind. You are so
broad you \yill not feel hurt at all this."

" Read your speech. Hartley," she said. He glanced at her,
thinking her voice strained, but her face was quiet, only her

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i89S-] A Round Year. 375

gray eyes were black — "which often happens at night," he
thought, and began reading.

" Is that ally Hartley ? '' she said when he had finished.

" Yes ; not a bad speech, do you think ? " he asked, smiling
confidently ; and stopped aghast as he saw her face.

" Bad ! '* she said in a voice low and intense. " Is that the
work you have been doing quietly this fall ? "

"Yes, whenever I could," he answered. "Oh, come,
Honor ! "

" I must deserve some punishment as an unworthy Catholic
if you can come here and read me this, expecting me to toler-
ate such words," she began, trembling, but her voice growing
clear and strong as she continued. " I have not been devout,
but I have been true, after all, to these interests you vilify.
Bad, a bad speech ! It is utterly bad, false, cruel ! "

" Honor, stop ! " he exclaimed, taking a step forward.

" No ! " she cried, rising to her full height to face him.
" There is no excuse for such ignorance as that betrays, if
ignorance it be. I repeat, it is false. I told you I would
never marry an enemy of the church, and I never will. Do
you know who the man is whom in that speech you have pro-
nounced unworthy to represent his land ? My father, my honored,
noble father; and my son, if he ever lives."

She was a woman now ; no young girl confronted him, but a
woman, like all true women, the mother of the race.

"Your son. Honor, will be my son, and will not, I feel
sure, be a Roman Catholic," said Bennett.

"Your son will never be mine ; I shall never be your wife,"
she replied quite steadily.

" Honor ! " he broke forth, with a sharp cry. " My darling ! "

She trembled then. " Don*t make it harder," she said.
" Nothing can alter me. Last summer, and ever since, I have
feared this hour; but if it came I hoped that I should be
stronger than my love, and I am. I should not want you to
be a hypocrite for me, but you might have refrained from at-
tacking all I hold sacred. It — it is bad taste, at least," she
ended weakly, with gathering tears.

" My dear little girl ! " he cried, springing forward to take
advantage of her wavering. But she instantly repulsed him
with a gesture sure and strong.

" No, Hartley ; I love you, and so it is not easy, but there is
no doubt," she said. " Please go, and now — I cannot bear this
long."

" You said once if ever a mixed marriage could be a success

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376 A Round Year. [Dec,

it would be ours," he murmured, scarcely knowing what he
said ; he had never realized how lovely she was till then, he
thought.

"Which shows them to be all failures, for this would surely
be, or else shows me mistaken ; it does not matter," she said.

"Honor, TU not deliver this speech — " he began, but she
interrupted him.

" Pray do not, for it is a tissue of lies ; but the reason for
our separation is not there, but in the mind which believes it
true, and mine. Your not delivering it is right and just, but
could not affect us."

" You never loved me," he said angrily.

" I thought you would say that," she said wearily. She
had grown pale, and black circles were deepening under her
eyes. "Don*t you think it were kind to go, and shorten this
misery ? "

" If you insist," he said sullenly. " Good by." Then, as he
touched her hand, it burst upon him what had come about.

" Honor, it is some comedy; it can't be true — why. Honor !"
he gasped.

But she checked him. " God bless you, Hartley, and give
you all good ! " she whispered. He bent his head, and in a
moment the portiere had fallen over the little twelvemonth
chapter of hope and love.

It was Christmas eve again, and Honor knelt alone in the
twilight ; the sound of quiet feet passing over the stone pave-
ment, to and fro among the confessionals, alone fell on her
ears; the odor of spruce and hemlock brought the reality of
the festival home to her, and an occasional figure in soft black
habit crossed her vision, slipping in and out of the crib to com-
plete the final arrangements.

Those women were safe from the pain which held her, pre-
cluding Christmas joys. The light of the sanctuary lamp be-
came myriad in the dew of tears gathering on her lashes. It
was just a year ago that night since love had found her at
Mrs. Harrison's, and now she was alone again, but never again
with the proud, free solitude of a youth sufficient to itself.

But in her pain a joy arose that would some day conquer
it. She had found her inheritance more precious for the
sacrifice she had made for it than if she had always known it,
and she had not betrayed her God, not for silver, nor even for
the one earthly thing worth having — love.

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1895.] After the Manner of St. Francis. 377

AFTER THE MANNER OF ST. FRANCIS.

BY JOHN J. O'SHEA.

^ANY well-meaning persons are now busy with
brain and pen devising means and propounding
theses for the solution of the all-encompassing
social problem. Methodical investigation of social
conditions has begun in many quarters, and we
must applaud the intention, though we may not be over-sanguine
of an early crop of practical beneficial results. Sociology is
soon likely to be ranked amongst the exact sciences — a prob-
lem determinable by fixed laws and demonstrable in terms. But
the demonstration of a thesis is a different thing from the per-
formance of a duty made obvious by the truth of a demonstra-
tion. We might despair of any ultimate good from the multi-
tudinous discussions and experiments in social science now fill-
ing the air and choking the printing-press, were it not that we
have amongst us minds too generous to be scientific, too un-
subtle to be argumentative, too humane to be philosophic. It
IS the fashion of Catholic charity to act while learning theo-
rizes, when the needs of suffering humanity demand relief and
remedy.

The spirit of Catholic charity has always been manifested in
the United States, ever since Catholicity became a factor in
their building up. But it had been content to work in old-
fashioned grooves. Wealthy Catholics gave generously out of
their resources for charitable objects ; none were more open-
handed. Women of position worked at home for the poor,
besides giving money freely for their relief. They were inces-
sant in promoting fairs and fashionable enterprises with the
same object. Yet many often felt that this was not doing
enough to exemplify the parable of the Good Samaritan, and
this consciousness of insufficiency at length found concrete ex-
pression in the earnestness with which the advent of the French
sisterhood called Les Petites Scetirs de F Assumption^ and the
invitation to co-operate with them in their humane and merciful
work, were hailed by many leaders of Catholic society in New
York.

Under the title, ** The Lady Servants of the Poor," an

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3/8 After the Manner of St. Francis. [Dec.^

auxiliary association has begun operations in the New York
diocese. The work of the Little Sisters is to go out among:
the sick and nurse them, and succor them in their material and
spiritual needs. The Lady Servants propose to carry out the
same programme, as far as in them lies. In this they have the
heartfelt encouragement and approval of his -Grace the Arch-
bishop. It was at his request that the Little Sisters came
over from Paris three years ago. A committee of Catholic
ladies had been got together to prepare for their reception,
and the example of the Little Sisters no doubt inspired some
of these ladies with the idea that the best use to which they
could devote a portion of that leisure which hitherto had been

occupied with social functions was to go out amongst the poor
also, visit them in their humble homes, tend the sick, teach the
hale to make the home clean, bright, and inviting, and infuse
some of that gladness and serenity which make the atmosphere
of home so delicious to the opulent and refined into the
abodes of the less fortunate.

At the outset such an undertaking must seem startling.
Actual contact with the poor, the braving of the dragons of
squalor and disease in their own dens, must appear an ordeal
too trying to women brought up in refinement and elegance ;
women to whom spotless cleanliness of surroundings was the
fundamental condition of civilized living, and whose delicate

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i89S-] After the Manner of St. Francis. 379

natures shrank in loathing from the bare idea of any contact
with the seamy side of humanity. But it proved on actual test
to be an imaginary obstacle. It was only the first step which
entailed any struggle. Upheld by the thought that it was to
cheer and lift up those of the seamy side that He of the seam*
less garment went forth, those elegant and sensitive Catholic
ladies obeyed the call. At first but a few, now the workers
form a pretty numerous band. They do their work in the true
spirit of charity, hiding it and themselves from the world's
gaze as much as possible. The self-respect of the recipients is
carefully safeguarded ; none knows who that quiet-looking lady
who is seen entering a tenement at night, and departing from
it early next morning, may be. Few will imagine that it is the
wife or daughter of a man high in the banking or commercial
world who has passed her night nursing the sick wife or child
of the tradesman or laborer out of employment, coming and
going on her tasks of mercy with steps as noiseless as the
flight of angels' pinions. But such, indeed, is the case. This is
how the lessons of St. Francis are percolating down through
the ages, undermining the granite crusts of selfishness and caste,
and making friable the social soil for the reception of better
seed than that of mutual hatred and distrust between the work-
ers and the men of wealth.

It is impossible to withhold our admiration for such work as
this. When young and tenderly-nurtured ladies devote their
lives to God's service, they have counted the cost. They have
measured their souls' strength with that of earthly ties, and,
sustained by God's grace, they face the protracted ordeal of
self-denial and self-ostracization, the appalling terrors of the
battle-field, and the plague-stricken haunts of the poor with un-
daunted courage. But the woman who is in the world has not
nerved herself for any such sacrifice. Naturally she shrinks in
alarm from the very mention of disease ; to be brought into
actual touch with it in many of its revolting forms must be
horror indescribable. The knowledge that she had actually been
in a fever-den or a place where the horrid spectre of small-pox
had been stalking, must of itself cause her family and friends to
fly from her as from the pestilence itself. She has made no
vow of sacrifice, and she is not, in any religious sense, con-
strained to run a risk in the cause of charity. The mental dis-
cipline which fortifies a woman for such a task, the nerve
which enables her to weigh the chances and make every
antiseptic provision against the risk of contagion, and above

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38o After the Manner of St. Francis. [Dec,

all, the nobility of the motive which inspires the step, reveal
to us a new level of human nature. The women who attain
this level redeem the follies of the race. They show us human-
ity in its highest function, as an agency of unselfish and passion-
less love, and enable us dimly to grasp the motives of God
when he took on himself the human form with all its physical
infirmities.

Amongst many of the poor the objections to hospital aid
are deeply rooted. Disinclination to part from the home and
the family is the most powerful motive; the spirit of indepen-
dence and the too often well-founded belief that hospital help is
merely perfunctory in non-paying cases, are causes which oper-
ate powerfully in making the idea of the hospital repugnant to

the vast majority of the
poorer classes, whether
the sick or the hale. It
was to deal with such
cases of pride in distress,
as well as others which
hospital help could not
possibly reach in any case,
that the Little Sisters of
the Assumption started
on their mission. The
foundress, Mother Marie
de J^sus (in the world
Antoinette Farge), was a
lady who had at an early
age been given charge of
an orphanage by the Do-
minican Fathers because
of her peculiar fitness of
disposition and her sen-
sitively sympathetic na-
MoTHER Marie de j^sus. ture. But the sphere of

her activities was not
bounded by this charge. So conspicuous was her zeal and
activity in the cause of the sick, and the redemption of the
fallen, that some time afterwards the Fathers of the Assumption
conceived the idea of utilizing it to win back souls to God. It
was an age of dreadful infidelity in France. Spurious liberal-
ism was rampant everywhere, the minds of the working-classes
were filled with hatred of religion and its ministers. But with

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i89S-] After the Manner of St. Francis. 381

the sisters it was different. Their quiet, unobtrusive ways and
the sweetness of their manners gave them a passport in places
where a priest's presence would have roused all the savage in
the breast of the French ouvrier. When they were found
steadily braving disease in its foulest forms — cholera, typhoid
fever, scarlatina, small-pox — and fighting the demons of dirt and
despair in their own lairs, for the sake of helping a prostrate
brother or sister, the battle against prejudice was as good as
won.

The success of the Little Sisters in their work of succor
and reclamation was speedy, and contagious by its example.
Other houses of the sisterhood were established, within a few
years, in Lyons and in London. The rule of the order forbid-
ding them to accept any pecuniary reward for their ministra-
tions, and to attend none but the poor who cannot pay for
help, attracted the notice of many outside the ranks of poverty.
Many women oJF the wealthy classes, whose time had hitherto
been taken up in the frivolities and formalities of fashionable
life, grew ashamed of their idleness and flocked to the help of
the sisters, not merely with their purses, but with offers of
personal assistance in their work. A society of these lay
auxiliaries was soon formed in Paris, under the title of " Les
Dames Servantes des Pauvres," and many of these soon be-
came as zealous helpers of the sick poor as the sisters them-
selves. The kindred association in New York, enrolled under
the equivalent title, " Lady Servants of the Poor," embraces
several ladies who show a zeal as great and a devotion as fear-
less as any of their French sisters. They go about their work
with no desire for ostentation or publicity, and we believe their
motives will be respected by the Catholic public. But all
those who desire to know the personnel of the association in
general, can learn of it through the medium of the annual
report of the Little Sisters, which embraces the names of the
Lady Servants as well as a statistical record of the work done
by the two bodies during the past year.

There would not appear to be much proportion between
the agency and the work accomplished, looking at the annual
report of the sisterhood, and we are led to consider the aston-
ishing results that may be brought about by the smallest of
means when the will to conquer difficulties by the help of
divine grace is the mainspring of action. When it is borne in
mind that only seven sisters composed the community in New
York during the year, the fact that they were enabled to nurse

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382 After the Manner of St. Francis. [Dec,

and relieve as many as two hundred and fifty persons in their
homes during that period is one to fill the mind with wonder.
Their labor of love knows no distinction in humanity, either
in age or sex or creed. Thirty of those they tended during the
period mentioned were non-Catholics, and three Hebrews were
among those whom they nursed back to health. Their labors
are chiefly among the poor of the crowded East Side, where
disease of some kind is normally epidemic. One of the devoted
band succumbed to typhoid fever contracted in her heroic mis-
sion, a couple of months after their arrival in the city. They
accept such consequences as campaign risks, and, undeterred by
their occurrence, march straight ahead along the self-chosen
path of duty. It was for this the mission was started ; war
with disease is not carried on with rose-water. The venerable
Mother Marie herself was seized with cholera contracted from
a stricken sister, with whom she had been compelled to share
her bedi so jejune were the resources of the community at the
beginning of their career ; yet the heroic woman would not
yield even to this usually irresistible foe, but, racked with
frightful pain as she was, went about attending to the wants
of the community and tenderly nursing her more vulnerable
patient. We talk of the gallantry of men on the battle-field or
guarding a leaguered wall, but what is the heroism inspired by
a sense of common danger and the contagious force of manly
example to the silent, unnoted fortitude which faces the King
of Terrors in his most revolting and inglorious form, and
grapples with the horrible spectre with the delicate, nervous
hands of tender womanhood? Who can withhold their tribute
of admiration from these types of saintly devotion, who recog-
nize in the stricken pauper, tossing on the fever-pallet, the form
of their divine Lord quivering in agony on the Cross,, and put
into daily practice the sublime lessons inculcated in the Ser-
mon on the Mount? We cannot but feel that whilst the
church continues to put forth fruit like this, the efforts of the
Atheist and the Socialist to undermine her power and thwart
her in her mission of peace must ever prove futile.

It is not with the view of seeking the applause of men that
the Lady Servants of the Poor have banded themselves together
as the allies and co-workers with the noble sisterhood.
Nevertheless, it is our duty to acknowledge our indebtedness
as Catholics to their unselfish services, and to hold their exam-
ple up to others, wherever it can be effectively imitated. Our
well-to-do Catholic people will, we are sure, exhibit their sym-

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1 8950 After the Manner of St. Francis. 383

pathy with their action and sustain them by moral and material
help. The society enjoys the special blessing of the Holy
Pather, and his Grace Archbishop Corrigan has procured from
His Holiness an extension of the indulgences granted the
Lady Servants in France and England to their sisters in the
New York diocese.

Another practical effort toward the solution of the social
problem in New York is the remarkable undertaking known as
the Church Settlement. This is a small colony of Catholic
young women who, under the auspices of the Redemptorist
Fathers, have undertaken to give object-lessons in neat house-
keeping and sociable neighborliness all around the district.
They go out amongst the people and help them in their house-
hold duties, and give lessons in thrift, tidiness, and cheerful
conversation wherever they go. Their example is already find-
ing imitators in other districts of the city. In a densely crowd-
ed down-town region we find another voluntary association of
young women making a practical experiment in philanthropy
by sending out trained nurses to visit the sick, getting up a
circulating library for children, throwing open their house for
social gatherings, and allowing the juveniles* to make a play-
ground of the yard. Facts of this kind are surer proofs of an
advancing civilization than the most astonishing discoveries in
the field of science. The highest aim of science is the benefit-
ting of humanity. Whatever makes for the social betterment of
our fellows makes for peace among men, and we know that such
peace and such diffusion of a broader humanity are primary
conditions for the establishment on earth of the Kingdom of
God.

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384 The Corner-Stone. [Dec,

THE CORNER-STONE.

BY REV. JOHN TALBOT SMITH.

Y friend, the parish priest of Split Rock, is so long
dead that it seems superfluous to tell a story
about him. However, though his ashes are deep
enough in the Adirondack soil, so much of him
still remains above ground, in the church which
he built and the human beings he rebuilt, that he may be re-
garded as a living member of this generation, as one of our
neighbors in fact, and therefore entitled to the honor of being
gossiped about. Anyway, his two best friends, Lorenzo and
Loreena, are still living, and as this tale is chiefly a record of
their opinions, and maybe an insight into their characters, none
can complain that the story is ancient history.

Father Edward Hallan had the power of doing four things
at once, like Julius Caesar, and delighted in it so much that six
tasks were always on his hands to be done at the same mo-
ment. In this way his average came to be four a day the year
round. All his friends had to help him, of course. His bishop
helped him most of all by giving him a mountain mission with
three villages fifteen miles apart. Its territory was defined on
three sides by the lake and the neighboring parishes ; but on the
fourth there was vastness — the parish ran across the mountains
and across the State. Here was the outlet for Father Hallan 's
enthusiasm, and also for his imagination. When he felt the
parish limits pressing on his aspirations he plunged into the
wilderness, and travelled due west until bad roads, dyspepsia,
and backache drained his enthusiasm. These ills he could have
conquered or put up with, and have travelled on ; but the pros-
pect of a return journey — seventy miles, with a rush over roads
too rough for purgatory, confessions after the rush, Mass at one
mission next morning, late Mass at another, sick calls at a third,
and sermons, visits, collections for the new church everywhere —
proved too enticing for one who loved simultaneous labors.

The chief products of his territory were stones and spruce
forest.. His financial policy was based entirely on the art of
extracting money from the stones. The forest yielded nothing,
not even firewood. Its chief office was aesthetic — looking beau-

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1895.] The Cornerstone. 38^

tiful. Experts said its existence was necessary to the rivers
flowing out of the Adirondack water-shed, and the natives re-
gretted their inability to tax the rivers, which, like so many
other debtors, seemed to like nothing better than running away
from their obligations. The north-flowing streams had either an
acquaintance with international law or with New York lawyers,
for they skipped across the line into Canada. When Father
Hallan got tired of playing the Orphean flute to the stones, and
there was not yet enough money for current expenses, he called
his friends out of the neighboring parishes to labor with him
on the stones. And always in the time of winter, when Split
Rock was frozen into rest. One man prepared a lecture, another
loaned his choir, a third sent down his amateur actors, which
one was I, who thus became acquainted with Lorenzo and Lo-
reena. A hall was fitted up, and the local musicians were called
in ; amid evergreens and bunting the Split Rock people danced,
ate ice-cream, and absorbed music, instruction, and the modern
drama for six nights, with a matinee auction to get rid of the
remnants. It was Arcadian, but a trifle arctic too. The snow
lay thick and white on the level, the thermometers went far be-
low zero. Such is the power of suggestion and example, that
to look at one during Split Rock's mid-winter gave strangers a
temptation to freeze to death at once. Yet were we all more
than willing to lend Father Edward a helping hand in any
weather, for a truer priest and finer gentleman than this farmer's
son, nurtured amid the mountains, hardy as a young pine, did
not breathe. He had the pluck and inventiveness of the born
missionary. No man in all that country was a stranger to him,
and not even the public officials worked so hard to make some-
thing of the country, and give it a better standing with tourists
and business men.

With all his friends and neighbors, however, Father Edward
was simply the young priest, the energetic clerical hustler. The
Split Rock people had little active belief in human angels ; but
Lorenzo and Loreena, who had all their lives thought indepen-
dently of their townsfolk, and often against them, were as cer-
tain of his angelic nature as* of their own appetite. The two lived
on a deserted mountain road back of the village, their rough and
cozy shed standing amid wild creepers on the edge of a spruce
forest. Once the little home had a mother and four noisy chil-
dren, with ignorance, incapacity, and poverty as boarders. They
got along by various clever devices, and enjoyed their share of
candy and jugged delicacies. For example, the priest allowed
them a dollar's credit each month at the grocery-store for pork
VOL. Lxii.— 25

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386 The Corner-Stone, [Dec.^

and potatoes, whereas the fond mother spent it in chocolate
creams and canned strawberries. She was evidently a woman
of taste, though these delicacies cannot compare with potatoes
and pork in facing an Adirondack winter. Diphtheria in one
season carried off her and three of the children, leaving Lorenzo
to shift for the best with Loreena for housekeeper. They did
very well. The little girl's mind at ten was as vigorous as her
father's at twenty-eight, for Lorenzo was a wise simpleton, who
had brains enough to begin as other people did, but not enough
to continue. He dealt only in surfaces, and could make a
shrewdly witty remark sometimes on clamorous things, such as
church-bells or stump-speakers. Father Hallan loved these in-
nocents, and rejoiced in them. How often he took the path to
their sljanty, to enjoy the cozy fireside and .the inimitable chat
of father and child ! Dumb, suspicious, terrified before their own
kind, who persecuted them, with the priest they seemed to have
many tongues. It was he who had baptized and named Loren-
zo, some years after his marriage with Loreena's mother. The
fool had been born Ike Pike, and his mother, poor soul ! had
found beauty in the two sounds because her father and her son
bore them ; but Split Rock civilization went hilarious over the
name and its owner. The bad boys sang :

Ike Pike, the rick-stick-stike ;

Cuts his hair with a butcher's knife.

This was one stanza out of three hundred, hence Lorenzo's scorn
of verse. The Indians are said to treat the simpleton with great
respect and consideration. The people of Split Rock made it
clear they were not of Indian blood by heaping ridicule and
reproach on Ike ; until Father Hallan gave him his new name,
took him under his protection, and announced from the altar
his desire that father and child should get treatment worthy of
Christians and suited to their misfortunes. From that time they
became public characters, and Split Rock folk paid mocking re-
spect to Lorenzo and Loreena, and used their dignified names
to point the local proverbs thus: as said Lorenzo to Loreena.
When Father Edward determined to build a fine church in
the mountains, of the very rock which flourished there, and to
build it for a thousand years of use, he made the simpleton and
his little daughter, quite by accident of course, the patrons of
the work. He always consulted them on his plans, for the mere
pleasure of hearing their wise nonsense. One evening he walked
up the lonely road to their shanty somewhat heavy with care.
The foundation walls of the new church had been laid, and his

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i89S-] The Corner-Stone. 387

winter's task was to get stone for the spring building and money
to pay the masons.

"I want you to help me at the quarry all the winter, Lo-
renzo," said he, after taking his place at the fire. " Til give
you twenty cents more than you get doing chores around town ;
but you'll have to work harder, my boy, and maybe you'll have
long hours sometimes. The corner-stone is to be laid in the
spring, and we must be rfeady to work like true sinners after that.'

" I reckon I'm obliged, Father Hallan, for the job ; but what's
the corner-stone?"

"That's what I'd like to know, too," said Loreena.

" Now, what would you guess it to be from the name, little
school-girl ? "

"Why, the stone in the corner," said she promptly; "but
why is it in the corner, father ? "

"You must have a stone in every corner, Loreena, and all
along the sides, and one must rest on the other with mortar
between, or you wouldn't have no church," said the wise parent.

" Oh ! I know all that, Lorenzo; but don't you see there is
something queer about this corner-stone ? It's the only one with
a queer name."

And so they chattered on, to the delight of the priest, who
explained at the right moment the wondrous virtues of the
mysterious stone : its careful cutting, its hollow for documents,
the fine ceremonies attending its tranisfer to the corner ; and
then he went on to show how all great and fine buildings had
such a stone at the corner, how our Lord was the corner-stone
of the church, and indeed of every human heart, until this idea
took possession of every fibre in Lorenzo's brain, and warmed
the inmost heart of Loreena, who looked with envy at her father.

"And oh! but you're lucky, Lorenzo, to have the digging
out of that stone from the quarry," said she, " and the stone
for the walls, and you oughtn't to take any pay for it. And I
won't have anythin' to do with it, because I'm not a big man.
Father Hallan, if I had the money to pay for it, I would give
you enough to build that church."

" I am sure you would, Loreena. But you will have much
to do with it just the same. Your father will help me to dig
out the stone, and you can pray that money will come in to
pay the builders. Your prayers may do more than our blasting
and digging."

"What I've alius said to keep her from choppin' wood, and
hurtin' of herself when I'm away, sence she will try to do
more'n her share," said Lorenzo. " Prayer is better'n work or

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388 The Corner^Stone. [Dec,

money. You begin right off, Loreena. Guns ! you needn't
wait for us to start a-buildin* that church. You begin now,
Loreena/'

Father Hallan nodded approval to . the child's inquiring
glance. Very simply she lit two candles on the old bureau,
where stood the crucifix at whose foot were the colored figures
of the Mother, the Magdalen, and St. John. The two men
knelt behind her while she prayed thus:

"Dear Jesus on the Cross, Father Hallan wants money for
the new church, and will you please get it for him this winter ?
The corner-stone must be put in its corner by spring, and will
you please help my dear Lorenzo to dig out the biggest and
nicest piece in the quarry? Lots of stone must be dug out of
the quarry, and will you please help the men to get all they
want? Blessed Mother at the foot of the Cross, I am sure
Father Hallan needs your help in building the church ; please
pray for him hard. The corner-stone must be laid in the spring,
and after that they must be ready to work like true sinners."

"Amen," murmured the fool.

She turned to the hearers. "Will I pray that you won't
get sick till the church is built ? "

" The very thing," said the priest.

" Dear Jesus on the Cross, keep Father Hallan and Loren-
zo from the dipteery and any other sickness till the church is
all ready for business. Amen."

It can be seen from this incident what diversion the priest
enjoyed in the company of these innocents. More than ever
were they the delight of his heart that winter in the severe
work of quarrying and carting the stone to the site of the new
church. The two fell under the spell of the corner-stone. It
became for them an explanation of every riddle of life, and the
final mystery in every problem. After a struggle with his in-
sufficient brain on some deep question, Lorenzo would say to
the child : " It's all in the corner-stone. If we could git at
that, an* see its shape, an* take out the dokmints from the
holler, the hull thing'd be daylight."

They put a corner-stone at the angle of the shanty cellar
wall with ceremony. The fool brought home the stone from
the quarry, trimmed and hollowed by an obliging cutter, and a
cross and date cut into the face. The child put into it a medal,
a newspaper, a picture, and a lock of her mother's hair, of
which she had enoifgh to cover a wig ; then it was fixed in
place to be Iqoked at every hour on Sundays and holidays,
and to form a subject of endless speculation. Their share

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1895.] The Corner-stone. 389

in the building of the church was new life for I^orenzo and
Loreena. The altar candles were lighted five times a day for
prayer, and the father grew facetious over blasting and hauling
at the quarry. Both were to help also in carrying out the
winter's financial programme, which included a lecture on Rome,
a -play, and a concert, the three events to come off at the an-
nual bazaar in February. For their services Father Hallan
had agreed to give them front seats at each performance, on
the condition that they should dress in their best to honor the
location. With this prospect before them the innocents rushed
about their daily work as if the neighborhood were afire and
they were the fire department.

At this point appeared on the scene your humble servant
with the lecture on Rome and the amateur dramatic company ;
and as these things contributed largely to the laying of the
corner-stone and the happiness of Split Rock, it is only fair
that they should get some notice, if only to understand the
emotions which they stirred in the attenuated brain of Lorenzo
and in Loreena's simple heart. The lecture had been prepared
for a serious audience.- A single glance at the Split Rock au-
dience, whose honest faces looked broad, stolid, and peaceful
as the local mountains, gave me misgivings. While the singers
were performing the first part of the programme, I was chang-
ing the tone of my discourse from grave to gay, replacing
eloquence with jokes, and pointing description with newspaper
wit. The lecture was a " howling " success ; it had not a serious
moment except in the description of an audience with the
Pope; and I have never been sure to this day that the Split
Rock people do not regard Rome as a circus for European
visitors. The mountaineers, you see, take even jokes seriously.
Lorenzo and Loreena looked at me for a week after with ad-
miration.

" I never knowed," said Mr. Pike, *' as there wuz as much
langwidge in the hull world. Guns ! he spouted fur an hour
and a half, an' I kep' a-sayin' to myself, where is it a-comin'
from ? But it kep' on a-comin* like the turnpike spring."

Loreena remembered all the funny stories and curious inci-
dents of the lecture, and told them for months afterward to
her father, who roared over them joyously until the forest rang,
and saw more to laugh at the oftener they were told. Let not
this be put down against me in the circles of the wise ; it is
not every sage can make a wise fool laugh for a year.

The third morning of the week while the bazaar was going on
the amateur dramatic company arrived on the early train, and Lo-

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390 The Corner-stone. [Dec.,

renzo drove them from the station to the rectory. The players
were clear grit, as this account will show. As they dashed up
to the house a hidden rock caught the runner on the turn,
and dumped star, leading man, juvenile, soubrette, high and
low comedians, old lady, manager, and supers into a snowdrift,
one conglomerate mass of dramatic activity and confusion. No
one was hurt ; but the temperature being twenty below zero and
the snow fine and dry, the amateurs did not recover their tem-
pers until the snow had been shaken, like so much salt, out of
sleeves, neck-bands, and other inconvenient places. Split Rock
was excited over their arrival, because a drama was a rare event
in the county, and Father Hallan had royally described what
these actors were able to do in mimicry of real life. He had
guaranteed the company a fitting stage, a fair set of scenery,
music, red fire, and an audience — things as necessary to ama-
teurs as their lines — hence my confusion when I faced the com-
pany in the hall that afternoon for a rehearsal of the play.
Father Hallan had not been able to keep his promises except
as to stage and audience. The latter was a dead certainty
after six o'clock, and so was the stage at that moment, for the
leading lady, out of the depths of her furs, had just pronounced
it the deadest, funeral-like thing she had ever seen. The hall
was a coffin-warehouse, and the stage consisted of heavy planks
laid on a number of coffins. The scenery was a pair of cur-
tains stretched across the back wall ; the flies and wings were
of homely wall-paper; the proscenium was made of thick wrap-
ping paper tacked on a frame ; and the curtain was of green
calico, wound about a roller heavy enough for the mast of a
sloop. This curious structure stood at one end of a hall whose
side walls were as bare of lath and plaster as a skeleton's ribs
of flesh. The naked scantling pressed hard on the spirits. A
lonely stove fought bravely with the frost, and, with the aid of
a small boy, warmed six cubic feet of the neighboring atmos-
phere. All else in the place was chaos or icy air. The leading
lady looked at me as I surveyed the scene, and it was as if a
Split Rock icicle passed through my soul. All managers know
that look, which is ever frostier in proportion to the weakness of
the salary list. But the company was clear grit. They had come
to play, and play they would in spite of fate and temperature.
Night came. The lamps were lit — kerosene lamps with bits
of tin as reflectors. The audience sat down on benches, and
the visiting clergy occupied a box — namely, the bench nearest
the stove. The music struck up — two yokels, an organ, and a
fiddle, and the Virginny Reel. Lorenzo and Loreena, with

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1895.] The Corner-Stoi^e. 391

wildly beating hearts, sat in the front se&t dressed in their best ;
the simpleton in charge of a locomotive reflector, fixed on a
table to act as foot-lights for the stage. The bell rang; up
went the curtain, and on went the play as smoothly and fer-
vently as the chattering teeth of the actors and the melancholy
condition of the stage permitted. It was a story of high life,
and the plot was simple — a high-born mother returning in dis-
guise to the home she had deserted, and watching over her
little boy. The curtains on the back wall stood for a garden,
a road, a palatial parlor, a nursery, and a bed-room ; the ladies
dressed beautifully in summer garments, and had to be wrapped
in blankets while off the stage and toasted near an oil-stove.
But the play went on briskly without a hitch, and the entire
company, acting on my suggestion, played to the sensitive
hearts and erect ears of Lorenzo and Loreena. Did Booth and
Modjeska, in their palmiest days, ever receive so perfect a tribute
from any audience as these two gave the amateur actors ? The
general audience thought it good, and the clergy condescended
to say it was, for the conditions ; but the simpleton and his
child wept bitterly though quietly, and clung to each other in
real horror. Midway in the performance the villain of the play
took an agonizing pain in his stomach, and called for help be-
hind the scenes. Brandy was sent for, which it took a half
hour to get in this temperance town. Meanwhile, he had to
play one act through with his pain, and the villanous malice
of his acting took the audience and his fellow-actors by storm —
it was the pain, not he, that acted. The brandy gave him in-
stant ease, and also, unfortunately, a gracious mellowness of
manner and speech unsuited to the instincts of a dramatic
villain. In fact, a general fear seized the players that he might
become the heroine's friend before the play ended ; for which
reason he was advised, thumped in the ribs, and scolded by
his companions at intervals until the curtain fell on the dying
scene. He was thus saved from further mishap. The leading
lady looked to the scene of her dying to make up for any
deficiencies in her performance, and it was really affecting.
Lorenzo and Loreena wept bitterjy, and the sceptical clergy
grew grave, while the Split Rock people actually sorrowed ;
but behind the scenes all was merriment. The death-bed was
a wire mattress-supporter stretched on two chairs ; a shawl con-
cealed it, and a single sheet covered the leading lady ; the hero
kneeling at the bedside kept actress and bed from overturning ;
and the company stood in the wings and laughed shiveringly
while the hero wept and the leading lady died.

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392 The Corner-Stone. [Dec,

However, the whole company had to turn out when the
audience had adjourned to the dancing-room, and console and
assure Lorenzo and Loreena. His first remark to me was:
" Will they bury the poor lady in this here town ? Ef they do,
lemme dig the grave."

This while the tears streamed down his cheeks and Loreena
sobbed. I introduced the leading lady to him, and mighty
proud was she of the effect of her acting on the fool. It
raised the temperature for the whole company, as with many
voices they told him it was only a story, a play, a dream, and
the villain was going out to dance the Lancers with the lady he
had so cruelly treated, and make up for his wickedness by giv-
ing her a Split Rock oyster-supper for the benefit of the
bazaar. Then Lorenzo smiled, and felt happy; but for many a
day he hugged Loreena with apprehension that some one
might take her from him and leave him as unhappy as the
play-parent.

The corner-stone received great assistance from the mid-
winter 'festival — something like fifteen hundred dollars, a sum
which made the ceremony in the spring a certainty. Lorenzo
said fifty times a day, as he worked in the quarry: "It must
hev been reel to make so much money," mieaning the play;
and " Guns ! when that woman died I did want to fetch a doc-
tor," but he concluded with " she et the oysters anyway, an'
danced an hour, so how do you make thet out ef she was
dead ? " — all this being great diversion for Father Edward as he
tugged and lifted at the great stones for the church of his
dreams. In spite of the remonstrances of his friends, he would
save money by helping in the quarry and driving the stone to
the site on his own team, consoled for his severe labors by
the nightly vision of a perfect and everlasting structure, which
would grace these mountains evermore. Loreena had dreams
also about the corner-stone.

" She says she saw the corner-stone lyin' in a hole," said
Lorenzo, " with nobody a-noticin* of it, an' she is drefiful
a-feared some other stone is going to be cut instid o* that ; an'
she says to me this mornin,' ' Lorenzo,' says she, ' ask Father
Edward ef I may come down an' look after that 'ere stone,'
says she. * Lor* bless ye, Loreena, says I.' "

" Let her come down," said the priest. " Maybe her angel
is directing her in this."

Loreena came down with shining eyes, and told in her
pretty way how clearly she had seen the neglected stone hid-
den away among others, and how it had stretched out its arms

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|89S-] The Corner^Stone. 393

to her, crying, " Please, little Loreena, save me " ; and it was a
beautiful stone beyond all the others in shape and color, and
an angel sat crying beside it because no one had seen it.
They took her into every part of the quarry until they found
a place like that in her dream. There she put her little hand
confidently and joyfully on the projecting end of a boulder of
which no other part could be seen.

" And here's where the angel sat cryinV' said Loreena tri-
umphantly, pointing to a hillock above. The men hauled out
the stone to submit it to the builder, who pronounced it as
perfect a block as the mountain quarry could provide for the
dignity of corner-stone. It was cut accordingly, and the legend
of its choosing was cunningly carved on the inner side with
proper mention of. " Loreena, the daughter of Lorenzo." Then
in the spring it was laid in its corner by mitred bishop and
surpliced priest, with sweet music and fine preaching; and
Lorenzo handled the mortar, the trowel, and the precious stone,
with his mouth open so wide as to cause the neighbors appre-
hensions. After that the walls went up like magic, and by
autumn the stately mountains looked down with pride on this
child of their loins, chosen for the shelter of the King who
had fixed their foundations and supported them through the
long ages. Many admired the solid and beautiful building, but
these three, the priest and his two friends, were alone over-
powered by its charm. Their blood had gone into it in plan-
ning, labor, and prayer ; and only a simpleton and a child could
have listened to the endless talk of Father Edward on the
beauties of the new temple. He was never done, and they
abetted him. They watched each feature of the interior decor-
ation as a mother watches the growth of the first-born ; the
hanging of the stations, the placing of the altars, of the font,
of the organ ; and they stood long before the colored windows
when the sun shone through, drinking in the magic beams.

The first Mass was to be said on Christmas day, and Loren-
zo had the task of providing the cedar for festooning, of mak-
ing ready the twine, and of overseeing things. Again the
innocents went rushing about their work as if the town were
afire. Then suddenly came a woful blank in life's affairs, a
cessation of interest in the day's progress towards night, and
the two looked at each other hourly with frightened and ques-
tioning eyes. The priest was very ill, and no one thought
enough of Lorenzo and Loreena to make explanations of his
danger. The night before a fine moon had lighted up the
colored windows so beautifully that Father Edward had stood

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394 The Corner^Stone. [Dec-,

many minutes with them admiring the mysterious beauty of
saints and angels in the weird light ; to-day a workman tells
them to get away with their mooning, for the priest was on his
death-bed. It was incredible, and they fled to the shanty on
the deserted road horrified by the remembrance of death as it
had once touched their household.

" Can a priest die ? " said Loreena, and the question shook
the fool.

*' Everybody dies — wunst," he answered, and then the two
yelled with sorrow, and fright, lit the candles on the bureau,
and prayed between sobs and whimperings for the life that
meant so much to them.

A man came one day to invite them down to see the priest,
who had sent for them. He was very ill ; it was thought he
would die, and he wished- to give them his blessing ; and he
had something to say to them, he wished to leave something-
in their care. They went down with fear and trembling, and
were overjoyed to see his smiling face as he looked at them
from the pillow. He had just said to a friend that it would
not do to frighten them, and farewell must be said in figures-
He blessed them both feebly and patted their heads.

" I am going a long journey, children," said he, " and it will
be some time before I see you again. The doctor tells me I
must go, so we cannot complain. Now, I leave the church in
your charge, to pray for it, and visit it, and guard it, since
you did so much to help build it. You will always live here,
and so you will always be on hand to take good care of it.
Another priest will come to live here for a little while, and
perhaps he will tell you how I am doing in the fine country to
which I am going. You must ask him about me."

" Couldn't you please write a letter ? " said Loreena cheer-
fully.

"If there were a postal system between the two countries I
might," said Father Edward. "But I think it would be better
for you to find out from the next priest. Good-by, children ;
Tm too tired to speak any more, and the carriage is coming
soon to take me away."

They were led out quite satisfied ; and the servant gave them
cake and tea, telling them how the quarrying had strained the
back of the poor priest, and a cold had finished the work. Lo-
renzo remembered the very day the accident happened. On the
way home he arrived at the conviction that their friend was
dying, that the carriage was the hearse, and that his good-by
was the last from Father Edward ; and telling this to Loreena,

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1 895-] The Corner-Stone. 395

they walked up the lonely road weeping aloud as was their
custom, and carrying a lump of cake now and then to their
mouths ; thus, eating and weeping, they got home and lit the
candles to pray for their friend.

His soul had passed them on the road. Father Edward was
dead; and the first Mass said in the new church was not the
Christmas mystery, but a requiem for the eternal repose of his
honest soul. It was a more splendid ceremony than that of the
corner-stone, and the two innocents, crushed into a corner of
the gallery as nuisances, saw with wonder and awe their friend,
in his glorious vestments, a chalice in his pale hands, looking
up at them from his coffin. He was buried in the lawn front-
ing the church ; the last psalm was sung, the last tears shed ;
then priests and people went home, the church was locked, the
grave-digger ran away to a hot dinner, and Split Rock people
gathered to the midday meal — only the fool and his child re-
mained to look at the grave and worry their eyes with saltier
tears. It wias on this occasion, after wandering about the grave
until the cold drove them home, that Lorenzo enunciated the
greatest truth which his feeble mind had ever been able to coax
from its shallows.

"Loreena," said he solemnly, patting the fresh earth of the
grave, "this was our corner-stone. It's buried, it's gone, an'
down comes our buildin*. We ain't wuth shucks no more."

Disconsolate and cold, they trotted home. Even for them it
Mras hard to fall back into the insignificance from which the
priest had raised them ; and it was real wisdom in Father Ed*
-ward to have given to Lorenzo the charge of the church, for,
after the first shock of horror at the loss of his corner-stone,
the simpleton took up the sacred charge of the new church, and
recovered his spirits in the sense of responsibility. It is the im-
pression of the present priest of Split Rock, and of his sexton,
that the care of the beautiful church is in their hands, and this
impression will pass to their successors. If they but knew the
fine pity lavished on them by Lorenzo for this illusion ! He it
is who cares for, prays for, and guards the structure which he
helped to build ; his criticisms on changes and improvements
are very severe ; and if he submits to them, it is only out of
regard to Loreena, who is now a smart school-ma'am, and might
lose her place were he to quarrel with the sexton. Thus Lo-
reena keeps him in order, and, as they live close to the church
in a pretty cottage, he consoles himself with standing guard over
church and grave when pastor and sexton are absent together.

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396 The Maynooth Centenary, [Dec,

LOOKING BACK AT THE MAYNOOTH
CENTENARY.

BY REV. CHARLES McCREADY, D.D.

the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin,
September 8, 1858, the writer, in company of a
diocesan, a student some years his junior, was
walking in the College Square in eager expecta-
tion of the visit which Cardinal Wiseman was on
that day to make to Maynooth. Here was a treat to which we
had looked forward with intense interest for some days ; to see,
for the first time, a real live cardinal. In our youthful exuber-
ance, and disregarding the proprieties, my companion and myself
actually ran up to the terrace in front of St. Patrick's, to gain
a nearer view of the great churchman as he stepped from the
carriage which brought him from the railroad station. At a
signal from the president all knelt, the senior and junior stu-
dents, to receive the cardinal's blessing. Arising, the venerable
Dr. Russell led the welcome, saying : " Now, gentlemen, now is
your time — hurrah ! " And immediately up from five hundred
pairs of lungs went three cheers such as only so many Irish
young men can give. Perhaps by no one was the scene more
-enjoyed, or the great man more thoroughly admired, than by
my friend from the " Junior House." A few years after, and
ivhen we had come to know each other even better, Provi-
dence so ordained that our ways should, geographically, lie far
apart.

In June last, after an absence of two-and-thirty years, I re-
turned to the college — one of the invited guests to be present
at the celebration of the Centenary of Maynooth. The gran-
deur and glory of the celebration have passed into history, never
to be forgotten by those who had the good fortune to be called
upon to take part in it. On the platform in the Aula Maxima
there were assembled, besides the entire Episcopate of the Irish
Church, several bishops from England and Scotland, with an
archbishop and two bishops from the United States ; the hall
itself being filled with eminent ecclesiastics. Prominent among
the former, from his dignified bearing and his cardinal's costume,
was the Archbishop of Westminster, Cardinal Vaughan, the

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i89S-] The Maynooth Centenary. 397;

second in succession in that see to the cardinal whom we had^
long ago been so anxious to look upon. But presiding over that
distinguished and venerable body of ecclesiastics, cardinal, arch-
bishops, bishops, and priests, sat another prince of the church..
With easy grace and dignity he directed the exercises — now, by
his ready, unaffected humor, causing ripples of laughter in that
grave assembly, and again, by his simple, straightforward state-
ment of facts, elucidating the matter under consideration.

Amid all these surroundings, and though clad in the purple
of a member of the most august senate in the world, I had no
difficulty in discovering the genial presence of my running com-
panion of so many years ago. The modest, unassuming young-
man, Michael Logue, had in the meantime become the Most
Eminent Michael Cardinal Logue, Archbishop of Armagh, and
Primate of All Ireland. He had merited, by his virtues and
learning, not only the great honor of becoming the successor of
St. Patrick, but the not greater but more rare one of being
enrolled among the College of Cardinals. I thus found him
presiding over a meeting of the largest and most representative-
body pf ecclesiastics ever assembled in Ireland, at least since
the Reformation. How well he fitted into the position, and with,
what perfect tact he filled the rSle of moderator, there was but,
one unanimous opinion.

Indeed the whole scene, with its centre figure, was one long
to be remembered. Venerable, intellectual, learned men were
they, bearing the burden of the episcopate, worthy successors
of a long line of saints and martyrs, the history of whose lives-
as they read them in their breviaries, or as they were reminded
of them in the venerable ruins of their ancient cathedrals, was
to them a daily lesson in holiness of life and in earnest endea-
vor to sanctify themselves and those entrusted to their guidance.
Of most of them I had a ten,der remembrance as fellow-student
or classmate ; of many of them I now for the first time made
the acquaintance. I could scarcely realize the fact that, in the
interval since my last visit, the entire Irish episcopate — with
the exception of Archbishop McEvilly of Tuam-r-had passed
away, and their places had been taken by those so much younger..

This is one of the surprises which one meets after a long
absence from a familiar haunt. With everything else in the
surroundings materially unchanged, the buildings and approaches^
just as we knew them in the olden time — the same halls, the
same rooms, the same refectory, even the same old bell in the
tower — one expects to find the same old professors, and the.

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398 The Maynooth CEATEifAi^r. [Dec,

same boyish companions of his student days, just as he left tfaem.
For the moment one makes no note of time, nor of the fact
that the Destroyer beats with equal foot at the gates of the col-
lege and at the doors of the rest of the world. He forgets, for
the time, that much care and responsibility have prematurely
whitened the raven locks, or made furrows in the faces that he
still remembers as boyish and smooth. Thus it is that, of the
entire staff of superiors and professors in 1863, but one remains
to form the connecting link between the old century and the
new. He is now the venerable and beloved President, Monsig-
nor Gargan, who, in 1855, was my first professor in the class of
"Humanity." With him time has been very lenient and spar-
ing, as indeed it is but meet that it should be ; for never was
a more gentle and indulgent master placed over boys yet in
their teens, and with all that good health and good spirits that
accompany these years.

What remains of the others lies in the quiet seclusion of
the College Cemetery, awaiting the realization of the hopes in
which they lived and died. They have gone from the scene of
their earthly labors : Drs. Russell, Whitehead, 0*Hanlon, Mur-
ray, Crolly, Neville, Callan, Jennings, 0*Kane — all of them
as near to perfection as it is given men to be, in their special
departments. Such men are a loss to the community in which
they have lived. But the star of the college has not set for
ever; its light was not extinguished in their graves.

While we may freely accept the invitation of Ecclesiasticus,
" Laudemus viros gloriosos," in giving our tribute of " praise
to the men of renown," we must not forget that in advancing
years we are only too apt to fall into the weakness accompany-
ing old age — of becoming " laudatores temporis acti " at the
expense of being unjust to the present generation.

Acting on this caution, then, we would beg to express
the opinion that the present staff of professors has already
given, and is daily giving, more and more evidence that its
members are not unworthy successors of those who have gone
before them, in the chairs which they have adorned in the
National College. With natural abilities which are, no doubt,
equal to those of their masters they have, in addition, for their
guidance and instruction the rich legacies left them in the tra-
ditions and written works — the result of long study and expe-
rience — of those whose places they have been selected to fill.
They have now easy access to fountains of learning and infor-
mation that were not within the reach of the older professors.

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1 895-] The Maynooth Centenary. 399

They have had the advantage, too, of a more thorough primary
education than most of the older men could have obtained.
With the advance of, and the wonderful discoveries in, the
natural sciences, the study of Sacred Scripture and theology
must be. made more deep and searching, if the professor would
properly prepare the young ecclesiastic to thoroughly under-
stand the theories and difficulties that in these days so engross
and distract the minds of thinking men. To meet these emer-
gencies, and cope with them successfully, the present staff of
professors is thoroughly equipped.

But it has been remarked, perhaps in a spirit of unconscious
disparagement, " They are all of them comparatively young
men." Well, granting this to be the truth, youths if it be a
fault, is after all only a material one, and it would be quite
safe to affirm that it is one which they will be amending
from day to day. But, after all, vigorous youth, other things
being equal, is rather an advantage in carrying on the spiritual
and intellectual conflict in which these "young men" have to
engage. The superiors, too, to whom is entrusted the discipline
of the college, are all men worthy of the greatest confidence.
The best proof of this is in the genuine love which the later
.alumni have for the college. It is a proof that, while the dis-
cipline is maintained with firmness, it is administered with
paternal affection ; that the line separating the student from the
superior is not so broadly marked ; in other words, that it is
now more priestly than military. This was not so in former
years ; with the result, in most cases, that when a student
turned his back on the college after his ordination, he did so
for the last time. It is gratifying to be able to say this, and
to say it with confidence, after several conversations with those
liirho were in a position to know whereof they spoke. One very
potent factor, hinted at as a probable reason for this change
of sentiment, is that the college is no longer the "Royal Col-
lege," with all that that name implied, but the " National Col-
lege " of Ireland. This with brave Irish patriots of twenty-five
years counts for much.

But there is one decided disadvantage, and a very serious
oti^ — one which militates considerably against the teaching staff
of the college. This is the promoting of its more promising
and trained teachers to the episcopate. Just when a professor
has, by unremitting study and industry, become a competent
and experienced teacher, the priests of his diocese, or a neigh-
boring one, in approval of his learning and acquirements,

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4CX) The Maynooth Centenary. [Dec,

immediately set their hearts upon having him for their bishop.
At the first vacancy he is voted Dignissimus for the mitre.
And yet there is no help for it. The bishops of the province,
having no fault to find with the candidate, give their approval,
Rome confirms the choice, and so the gain to the diocese is to
the detriment of the college. So convinced were the trustees
of this drawback, that a resolution was introduced some time
ago, at one of their meetings, we were told, that no professor
should be made a bishop until he should have filled the posi-
tion of teacher in the college for at least fifteen years. This
apparently wise resolution was not, for some reason, adopted.
Among others, here is a case very much in point. Who that
knows Dr. Healy, or that heard his masterly and scholarly ora-
tion in the Aula Maxima, as he eloquently and graphically out-
lined the history of the college's first century, did not regret
that a man of his genius and culture was not retained in his
position as professor, where he could make use of his abilities
and acquirements in guiding the minds of the future Irish
priesthood along the path which he had himself pursued with
such marked success? Instead, he is relegated to the coadju-
torship of a comparatively obscure diocese, in the west of Ire-
land, where his allotted work for the past ten years, and per-
haps for many years to come, consists in the administering of the
sacrament of confirmation, the professing of a nun, the bless-
ing of a church, or acting chaplain to a workhouse. This is
one of the regrets that came to my mind as I sat there
charmed by Dr. Healy's discourse ; though the production of
such works as the Centenary History of Maynooth^ and Irelands
Ancient Schools and Scholar Sy and other literary work, is evi-
dence that . the Most Rev. Dr. Healy eats not the bread of
idleness.

The genuine pleasure coming from attendance at this cele-
bration was somewhat marred by other regrets. The question
frequently recarred to me. Why is it that the Catholic Church
in the United States is not more fully represented at this
grand Te Deum of Ireland's National College ? •

It is true Archbishop Riordan and two bishops are here,
but that hardly expresses the interest which American Catho-
lics ought to feel in this celebration. Of his Grace of San
Francisco we, who were privileged to be present from the
United States, felt justly proud. For at the banquet, where
the most prominent men — English and Irish — cardinals, bishops^
^nd priests, were heard at their best, it was the unanimous

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i89S.] The Maynooth Centenary. 401

opinion that the address of the orator from the Golden Gate
was the speech of the evening. '

Again, the educational establishments of England and Ire-
land had representatives ; and even from the Continent of
Europe the older sister institutions sent delegations. Thus,
the Irish colleges of Paris and Rome, and the time-honored
colleges of Salamanca, Louvain, and the Propaganda, wished to
honor themselves in honoring Maynooth. With what feelings
of joy, then, would not the Irish episcopate and priesthood
have received a delegation coming from such institutions as the
Catholic University of Washington, or Georgetown, or Notre
Dame, Ind., or Niagara, or St. Mary's of Baltimore, or Mount
St. Mary's, Emmittsburg !

It cannot be that the Catholic Church in America is ignor-
ant, or unmindful, of what it owes to Ireland and her great
college. Without disparagement of the other European nation-
alities, that have done their part in building up the Catholic
Church in America, it will not be denied that the Irish immi-
grants have been its greatest factors ; that it has been by their
loyal adherence to the faith, through good and through evil
report, that the wonderful, almost miraculous extension of
Catholicity has been brought about in this country ; that what-
ever shortcomings may have been attributed to them, whatever
vices even their poverty may have brought to them, their sac-
rifices for the church have made them the wonder and admira-
tion of those who are of the household of the faith in all
lands.

Take away from the church in America her adherents who
are Irish by nativity or descent, and the church here will be as
barren of Catholicity as any of the northern countries of
Europe.

In 1846, and the subsequent years — known as the "famine
years " — when the advanced guard of that four million and a
half of emigrants, who have since been driven out and forced,
for the greater part, towards the American continent, went
forth, Maynooth College had reached the first half-century of its
existence. Considering the small percentage of priests who had
been educated on the Continent, or in other home seminaries,
it is safe to say that most of these emigrants had received their
religious instruction from priests who had graduated at May-
nooth. Though the faith of those exiles may not have been
put to such a severe test as was that of their ancestors at
home, still it is true to say that they kept the faith loyally,

VOL. LXII.— 26

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402 The Maynooth Centenary. [Dec,

and that, too, in the presence of temptations to the contrary
which were more calculated to wean them from the profession
of it than even the menace of the rack, the sword, or the
gibbet.

The superior education the people now received from those
who had themselves been more highly cultivated, enabled them
the more readily to give an evidence of the faith that was in
them. Henceforth, it was no longer the " blind obedience ** to
the priests which their enemies reproached them with, but a
" rationabile obsequium " to the truths of the faith, as ex-
pounded to their intelligence by a learned priesthood.

The spirit that animated the men who went forth from the
Island of Saints to reconvert Europe still lived in the priests
of Maynooth. Hence we find many of them becoming volun-
tary exiles, in order that they might still watch over their
people and bring to them the comforts of religion in a land in
which — in the earlier years, at least — they would have looked
for them in vain. We find that Maynooth has given to the
United States two archbishops — still alive — one in St. Louis
and one in Chicago ; and one bishop in Erie, Pa., and two
others deceased. Numbers of its priests, zealous, active, energetic
men, are carrying on the good work in almost all the dioceses
of the country. Here in New York to-day they number seven
or eight. And going a little farther back, even the present
generation will readily recall such names as Vicars-General
Power and Starrs, Archdeacon McCarren, and Fathers Clowry,
Breen, Kinsella, Felix Farrelly, Larkin, Mark Murphy, and
John Murphy, the distinguished Jesuit. These have gone to
their reward. Monsignor McMahon, the benefactor of the
Catholic University at Washington, served in the Diocese of
New York for over forty years.

Fortunately, the church in America is no longer dependent
for her priests on the services of those who come from beyond
the Atlantic. Her ranks are, year after y-ear, being filled with
a native priesthood, men of ability and zeal, of whom any por-
tion of the church might be justly proud. And yet the great
majority of these — except in sections where the German popu-
lation predominates — are of Irish descent. And who may tell
what influence the prayers and supplications of the good Catho-
lic mother may have had in determining the vocation of her
son for the priesthood.^

As I write this the news comes of the consecration of Dr.
Henry as Bishop of Down and Connor. He may well be

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i89S-] The Mayj^ootm Centenary. 403

called the " Centenary Bishop," inasmuch as in this centen-
nial year of his Alma Mater he rounds out the one hundredth
prelate whom Maynooth has given to the church, one for every
year of her existence.

As she has done, so may she go on continuing to do
through the centuries yet to come !

Her alumni have wandered beyond Atlantic and Pacific.
** In omnem terram exivit sonus eorum, et in fines orbis terrae
verba eorum.'* But " her children shall come to her from afar."
The union that was projected for bringing them together, how-
ever far they may be separated, by the forming of an Alumni
Association, was the happy outcome of the centenary celebra-
tion. Hereafter an opportunity will be given all her children
— both at home and abroad — of union in an association which
will bind them to each other, and to her, in the bonds of
maternal love and brotherhood.

We trust that all who have gone forth from her shall hearken
to the fond mother's call, and prove their devotion to her, and
their gratitude for what she has done for them, by joining
hand-in-hand in praying for her continued success, and in
praying for and sustaining each other, so that they may prove
themselves worthy children of such a fair mother.

For myself, looking back at the grand celebration, and re-
calling the meeting with old and cherished friends after
years of separation, the fraternal recognition and hearty wel-
come made me fully realize the truth of the well-known lines
of the " National Bard " :

"And doth not a meeting like this nwike amends
For all the long years IVe been wandering away?
To see thus around me my youth's early friends.
As smiling and kind as in that happy day?

" What soften 'd remembrances come o'er the heart
In gazing on those we've been lost to so long !
The sorrows, the joys, of which once they were part.
Still round them, like visions of yesterday, throng."

Holy CrosSy New York,

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404 Pa QUIT a' s Christmas-Tree. [Dec,

PAQUITA'S CHRISTMAS-TREE.

BY HELEN M. SWEENEY.

AQUITA'S father had quarrelled with his pa-
drone. That was how the trouble began. The
"banker" had received his ten per cent, on
Domenico's passage-money, and had acted as
middle-man between him and the contractor who
handled the "assisted '* immigrant after his arrival in this land of
promise ; but, not content with the handsome commission from
both employer and laborer, had now for the third time caused
his dismissal from the dock where he was working on the city
dumps, in order to obtain another commission. Domenico,
though as tractable as most of his class, resented his interrupted
good fortune. He was making the princely sum of one dollar
and a half a day. He had trusted Fabroni implicitly, with an
instinct of utter helplessness, and when he discovered that his
dismissal was a trick of his to obtain a fresh commission from
his new employer and himself, all the hot blood of the choleric
Neapolitan was roused, and he swore silently, by all he held
sacred, to "fix" his traitorous friend.

For three weeks he had returned empty-handed to the miser-
able tenement that, with scores of others of his countrymen,
he called home, if the sweet word could be applied to Mulberry
Bend equally with the sunny hillside overlooking the Bay of
Naples where he was born. He had been induced to mortgage
his little garden there and his few belongings to pay for his
ticket to this El Dorado, where work was plenty and wages
princely. He had worked well and faithfully for the first year,
and when he could manage to scrape together the few dollars
necessary had sent for his wife and child. ' For a time how
happy they had been ! for now Domenico had a roof over his
head ; whereas before Carmellita and the little one had arrived
he had burrowed at night in the dump where he worked by
day. The exorbitant rent of nine dollars a month for the
two little back rooms left them little margin for enjoyment,
but, with their racial characteristics, they were as gay and light-
hearted as children when Sundays gave them a chance.

Then had come this heavy blow. It was just too much for
Domenico's patience and forbearance, and he bided his time to
"fix" Fabroni.

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i89S-] Paquita's Christmas-Tree. 405

The Italian, like the Chinaman, is a born gambler. His soul
is in the game from the moment the cards are upon the table,
and often his stiletto is in it too.

On Sundays Domenico was sure of meeting Fabroni in the
*^ Battle Axe," round . the corner. The following Sunday he
went there, and was not disappointed. Fabroni was there and
betting heavily. The game of cards, like the game of life,
went against Domenico, and watching stealthily he saw what he
suspected, and in a blind fury, amid a torrent of abusive Italian,
he lunged at Fabroni, striking him full in the throat. Fabroni
was " fixed."

An affair of this kind is not unusual since "the Bend" has
become a suburb of Naples ; but generally the offender gets off
scot-free unless he is caught red-handed, as was Domenico.
That was seven months ago, and he was still in jail awaiting
his trial, while Carmellita was trying to make both ends meet
for herself and little Paquita. She had secured work at sort-
ing rags, and was earning just enough to keep body and soul
together when a new trial was laid upon her.

When walking through the Italian quarter of New York one
feels translated to a foreign shore. A picturesque if untidy
element has been added to our population. Here dark eyes are
flashing, white teeth gleaming, and soft speech falls pleasantly
on the ear. The vivid and nondescript costumes of the women
lend a titige of color to the dark slums they inhabit. Dark-
haired mothers, some of them scarcely out of their teens, stand
with their babies at the breast gossiping at the street-corners ; or,
while tending the innumerable stands, nod and smile at the few
Americanos who pass that way.

But to-day, while every one was happily busy over the ap-
proaching Christmas festivities, there was one who did not
smile, one whose soft black eyes were almost blind from weep-
ing, whose toil-worn hands were forcedly idle while she sought,
sorrowing, the little maid who was the core of her heart.

A little crowd stood around her while she talked to the
officer, the more accomplished among them translating roughly
her fluent speech while she told for the hundredth time of the
loss of Paquita. The little one had been taken away up to
Sixth Avenue by some of the older children to see the sights,
the shops laden with Christmas goods, the brilliantly lighted
stores and streets. Some one, a visiting King's Daughter per-
haps, had opened to her fervid imagination the pleasing fiction
of Santa Claus. Young fir-trees supported by four uprights of
rough pine were inseparably connected with the vision of

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4o6 Paquita's Christmas-Tree. [Dec.^

" Sanata Clausa." That every tree bore as its natural product,
amid its stiff green branches, every conceivable cake, toy,
clothing, fruit, and pleasure ever devised by infantile desire,,
was an article of faith as firmly planted in that little heart a?-

The Vi

was belief in the Virgin Mother whose highly colored lithograph
made gay the dark wall of an " inside bed-room."

For days after her little pilgrimage she had talked of
nothing else but her Christmas-tree. That she was debarred
from that luxury never entered the gay little head. Little
eight-year-old had as yet no knowledge of the grinding neces-

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i89S-] Paquiia's Christmas-tree. 407

sity that compelled the poor mother to pick, pick, pick from
morning to midnight that she might add the sum of thirty-fovir
cents a day to the little hoard that kept the wolf from the
door, and fed the hungry little stomach when her own was
often empty.

But now the busy fingers were idle, while the poor mother
was running about distracted seeking up and down for
Paquita, Paquita !

All she knew was, that the child had not been locked in as
usual when she had gone to her work. She had begged so
hard for permission to go down to Pasquel's to examine the
chimney through which "Sanata Clausa" would be sure to
come if he found his way at all to " the Bend " ; she had spent
an hour there, then had disappeared.

The officer listened as sympathetically as was to be ex-
pected ; then suggested that Carmellita come with him to the
Elizabeth Street station and make inquiries. But no child had
been brought in answering to Paquita's description, and the
mother was going out again, weeping broken-heartedly, when
some one suggested the Gerry Society. A young policeman off
duty, whose heart was touched into remembrance of his own
little one at home, offered to go up with her to the Society's
rooms at Twenty-third Street.

Carmellita had her first ride on the elevated, and her first
glimpse of a life beyond the squalor of the ** Bend " ; but the
novelties did not impress her — all feelings were swallowed up in
eagerness to reach the end of her journey and find a clue to
her child's whereabouts.

When they entered the large, handsome building devoted to
the interests of one of the city's greatest charities they found
trace of the little runaway. A member of the Society had
seen her standing to look in at a restaurant window, gazing
wistfully at the tempting dainties displayed within. For some
little time he had been watching her, and when questioned she
had turned big, frightened eyes to his, but had remained dumb to
the harsh, strange tongue. As the soft brown eyes were lifted
to his he saw another pair of eyes that had once looked with
love into his own, but were now hidden under a low mound
fast whitening under December snows. He offered the little
waif his hand, which she took willingly enough, and carried her
off to the Society's rooms. There, by the help of an interpre-
ter, she told of her long journey to Sixth Avenue in search of
a Christmas-tree, but could not tell the name of the street where
she lived.

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4o8 Paquita's Christmas-tree, [Dec,

All the way home to his place in Tremont Mr. Brownlee
was haunted by Paquita's glorious eyes. He wondered what
his wife would say to the half-formed plan he had in his mind
of adopting the little one so strangely thrown in his path, as if to
take the place of his own. He remembered Anita's, ardent tem-
perament and wondered if it allowed for transference of affec-
tion. He felt he knew nothing of her prejudices, for though
he had married an Italian he lacked the sympathy that could
divine the outcome of her • violent grief at the death of her
child. Whether it would close the door to new affection, or
widen her heart to the acceptance of an adopted child, he knew
not.

But whether, she was agreeable or not, the natural mother
had the first claim. Oh, to have seen her as she stood tearful
and frightened at Manager Duncume's desk! To all her plead-
ings he had but one answer. Faquita would be retained there
until inquiries could be made as to whether her parents were
able to maintain her or not; if they were not, then she would
be placed where she would be brought up in an atmosphere
different from Mulberry Bend. But mother-love flourishes as
hardily in Mulberry Bend as in the more sanitary portions of
the great city, and the mother-heart was aching as she trudged
back again to her wretched home, made doubly wretched now
that the light of the world had gone out for her. Why had
God permitted such a thing to happen? Paquita was her all.
Would he permit her to be childless as well as worse than
widowed ? No ! no ! no !

She turned over and over in her mind all sorts of wild pro-
jects for the restoration of her child. She knew absolutely
nothing of the machinery of the law. She had no one to
appeal to — but stay, there was the padre. She hurried to his
house only to find that he was out. She turned away and
thought of the police captain, who had listened to her before
with kindness even though he had but half understood her.
She found her way to him again, and with a small newsboy's
help told her pitiful little story. With the instinct of her race
she read his sympathy in his face, and, throwing herself on her
knees, she begged and besought his influence in a flood of
Italian in which was mingled wounded mother-love, prayer, and
bereavement, with tears and sobs that moved even that stoic,
accustomed as he was to the daily tragedies of " the Bend."
She, poor mother, saw in him the podesta of her own little
town at home, and when he explained to her that they must
await the investigation made by the Society, her griqf turned

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i895-] Paquita's Christmas-Tree. 409

to anger ; but when he learned that she was the wife of Do-
xnenico Cambrio, he felt that the restoration of Paquita was
impossible. Then her despair was uncontrollable, and she left
him plotting vengeance on the terrible miscreants who had
stolen her child.

To walk again the two and a half miles that lay between
her and the Society's rooms was as nothing to the intrepid
heart of the mother; and there she took up her station until
she would catch a glimpse of the dear little dark head. She
knew nothing, therefore, of the officer, accompanied by Mr.
Brownlee, who was going about among her voluble neighbors
gathering the details of the piteous story of her husband's sad
crime^ her own unavailing efforts to support herself and the
child, and at every step collecting proof of what they were
looking for — that Carmellita, with all her passion of affection,
was incapable of taking care of her child.

But she thought better; and to uphold her argument held
under her skirt an ugly-looking bull-dog pistol she had pur-
chased that morning, and had every intention of using it. It
was well for the officer, who was doing only what his duty
called for, that the poor crazed creature did not run against
him that day.

When it grew dark and everything was closed up for the
night, she found her way back again to the miserable place she
could call her own, and found the padre there waiting for her.
He talked to her, reasoned with her, soothed but did not com-
fort her. What was the use of his telling her that it looked
as if God had a hand in it, that Paquita with her beauty would
be adopted by some rich man perhaps, and educated far be-
yond what her mother could do for her at the best of times?
What did he know of the savage fear gnawing at the mother's
heart? What did he, on the plane above all human passion,
r)eck of the exquisite pain that was making of this poor
woman's life a hell? With sad eyes, full of tears, he could only
bow his head before the storm, and raise his heart silently to
the God above who once gave to his own Mother's heart just
such a pang. By the great common law of maternal instinct,
poor Carmellita was experiencing the depth of anguish that
stabbed that other Mother's heart as she too " sought her
Child sorrowing."

As the great city was waking to life at six the next morn-
ing Carmellita was at her station at the door of the Society's
rooms. Again a gamin came to her aid with that ready tact
and sympathy the poor always have to bestow on each other.

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" She crouched, like some animal at bay, till she heard the sound of wheels.

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1895.] Paquita's Christmas-tree. 411

He soon found out the true inwardness of the case, and came
to Carmellita with the intelligence that constant rubbing against
his neighbors had engendered, and . explained to her that the
man that was going to take Paquita was the one who found
her, that he lived in Tremont, and that she could go there first
and catch him alone on the lonely road, use the bull-dog that
his sharp eyes had discovered, and thus secure Paquita against
all claims on her. That he could not go with her and witness
the grand climax was a great grief; but as he gave her all his
small earnings to pay her fare, there were none left for him-
self, and he was forced, much against his. will, to remain behind.

How she waited that long, cold winter's day ; how she suffered
from cold, hunger, and fatigue, only God knew. But at length
she found herself getting off the train at Tremont, watching the
kidnapper wait for a covered wagon to draw up to the platform,
place a large bundle into it that she felt to be her Paquita,
step back into the depot for something there, and then she fled^
ran like a deer down the straight, narrow road, sheltered by
trees on either hand, and then sank exhausted by the road-
side.

There she crouched, waiting like some animal at bay, till she
heard the sound of wheels ; then dragged herself to her full
height, the bull-dog clutched tightly in her right hand. Nearer^
nearer came the wheels ; closer and closer came the moment
when she meant to send a fellow-being to an unprepared grave^
No thought was in her disordered mind but vengeance, no plan
but to rid the world of the monster cruel enough to steal her
child from her.

As the carriage lamp flashed full in her face she heard a
sound that froze the blood in her veins, a sound that chilled
to the very centre the poor tortured heart that had suffered so.
much.

Paquita laughed.

Laughing! and her mother not with her. Was it true, then,
what the padre said, that Paquita would soon forget her ? Was
it the best thing that Paquita was taken from her?

" O Dio ! Dio ! " she moaned, and the murderous weapon
slipped from her nerveless fingers.

Paquita's laugh had saved her mother's soul, and the life of
her benefactor.

The wagon had gone three times its length before Carmellita
recovered herself. She looked after the fast disappearing vehi-
cle, and then ran rapidly after it. As it toiled slowly up the
hill she gained on it every moment, and when it turned into

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412 Paquita's Christmas-Tree. [Dec,

the great wide roadway, guarded by the heavy stone gate-posts,
she could easily distinguish it among the shadows of the trees,
and followed more closely. What her object was she scarcely
knew now that her heart had been defeated of its terrible in-
tent ; she wanted to look but once more on the little face that
was once all hers before she yielded to the fearful sense of
drowsiness that was creeping over her.

She crept forward to the square of light that was thrown
across the asphalt walk, and looked into the room. It was all
aglow with firelight and the soft radiance cast from a large
shaded lamp with its crimson shade. Its beauty repelled and
attracted her as she felt dimly that in the scale with that scene
of comfort her pallet and crust, irradiated as they were with
divine mother-love, would have no showing with her tiny
daughter.

Still she gazed, fascinated by the alluring interior, when she
saw a woman enter. She was tall and dark — Carmellita recog-
nizing her readily as one of her own race — and moved with a
languid grace that accorded well with the whole air of refine-
ment that clung about her. She held a handkerchief in her
tightly clinched hand and her eyes were heavy with tears. With
a convulsive sob she threw herself before an easel on which
rested a pastel portrait of a little girl of Paquita*s age. No in-
terpreter was needed to tell the watching mother outside the
storm of feeling that was tearing at the other's heart. As in a
mirror she saw her own feelings portrayed, only in this case
the angel of death was the one whose hand was heavy on a
human heart. The bereaved mother outside watched the deso-
late mother within, in a passion of pity ; a wave of conflicting
emotions swept across her soul, and she turned, staggered down
the steps, and almost fell into the arms of the coachman who
had come around to shut the gates. He held her from him
while he sharply scrutinized her tear-stained face, but could
make nothing of her broken speech. His big Irish heart took
in the fact that she was a woman, alone and in trouble, and he
led her around to the servants* entrance, where he saw that she
was warmed and fed. With returning strength came renewed
courage, and she rose to go ; but good Michael knew that his
master would not turn a dog into the streets on that cold night,
and he left her in the hall a moment while he went to acquaint
Mr. Brownlee of the situation.

Through the open door the mother saw and heard Paquita
again. Mrs. Brownlee had her upon her lap, and was trying to
soothe and comfort her. In her own sweet mother-tongue, made

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1895.] Paquita's Christmas-Tree. 413

sweeter by the refined accent of a cultured woman, little Pa-
quita was being coaxed and petted into accepting the good for-
tune that she had fallen into. She held in her arms a large
French doll, that it hurt to the heart for Mrs. Brownlee to see,

"MadremiaI Madre mia!" •

but she had pressed the bambola into its new owner's arms
with none the less friendly insistence. Paquita had examined
gravely the first handsome doll she had ever seen, but while*
holding it close had murmured : " I want my mother \ I want
my mother!" in her pretty patois. She was carried to the

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414 Paquita's Christmas-Tree. [Dec,

table and given food and drink such as she had never dreamed
of ; but still she murmured : " Madre mia ! Madre mia / " She
was told of toys more gorgeous than the wonderful beauty in
her arms, and assured that they would all be hers if she would
be good and stay quietly with her new friends; but still came
that little heart-cry : '* Madre mia ! Madre mia / " that was an-
swered in silent longing ,by the lonely figure in the hallway.
With infinite patience the lonely mother inside went over and
over again the attractions to be found in her new home ; but
always the little pitiful cry answered her : " Madre mia / Madre
mia ! " At last Mr. Brownlee thought of a Christmas-tree, and
hurrying out through the long window and across the porch,
he had Michael cut ruthlessly the young fir growing so tall and
straight near the path.

" Them Dagoes are persistent creatures," said Michael, slash-
ing away, "but the kid ain't a circumstance in queer lingo to
the poor woman in the kitchen "; and he told of the outcast he
had befriended, receiving permission readily enough to stow her
away somewhere for the night.

Once more the same roof sheltered Paquita and her mother.
Poor Carmellita had almost made up her mind to steal away
and leave the child in her new surroundings to heal the wound
in the heart of the woman who, while smarting under the blow
of the loss of her own', could be kind to another's child. But
all night long there sounded in the ears of both mothers : " Ma-
dre mia / Madre mia f " while the little one slept the sound,
dreamless sleep of childhood.

Christmas morning dawned clear and cold. The breakfast-
table, with its snowy damask, its silver and china and glass,
was temptingly laden and wreathed in holly and fir. In a cor-
ner of the room stood the fir-tree bearing a generous load of
its newly-acquired fruit, and Faquita's large eyes grew larger
when she saw the realization of her ambition. She laughed and
chattered like a little magpie this morning, but nothing they
could say or do would induce her to put off the old shabby
frock she had on when she was picked up by Mr. Brownlee.
What her object was they could not divine, but refrained from
questioning her, only too glad to have her apparently reconciled
and happy in her new position.

Breakfast was progressing in the kitchen as enjoyably as in
the dining-room, and Carmellita's heart failed her this morning
^s she heard the prattling in the next room. She stole off
when she could to her station in the hall and looked in again.

Paquita was standing on the hearth-stone, her arms laden

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I895-] Paquita's Christmas-Tree. 415

with toys, her little old shawl over her head, and a most re-
bellious look on her firm young mouth. She was announcing
her intention to go to her mother. Mrs. Brownlee was lying
back in her chair half crying, half laughing at the pathetic
stubbornness of the little waif in whose loyal little heart no
bribe, no creature comfort, no promises could efface the pas-
sionate longing to share all her good, fortune with the " madre.*'

"But you cannot find your mother; she is not here," said
Mr. Brownlee. But she only looked at him with wide-open,
imploring eyes whose look went to his heart, so like they were
to those other eyes.

" Speak to her, Anita," he said ; ** say anything if she will
stay,'* in a tone that betrayed to his wife the hope he had
been indulging in.

"See, little one," she said, leading her to the door, "your
mother is not here."

But she was !

Before either Mr. Brownlee or his wife could realize what
had happened Paquita was in her mother's arms, and the hun-
gry heart was taking its fill of long-denied, passionate kisses.

Carmellita, kneeling, held in her arms the shabby but very
happy little daughter, who in turn never let go of the Parisian
beauty she called her own, and in a seemingly never-ending
stream of fervid patois poured forth the history of her adventures.

So, after all, Paquita had her Christmas-tree ; and Carmellita
found that the seeming cross was a blessing in disguise; for
never again did those two have to breathe the foul air of Mul-
berry Bend. A place was made for the mother in the Brown-
lee household, and Paquita became in fact the daughter of the
house and was sent to school. More than that ; poor Domenico,
more sinned against than sinning, was given an immediate trial,
in place of being left in the Tombs to languish for years as he
might have done. But his life never again crossed Carmellita's.
" Manslaughter in the second degree " was the verdict, and he
went to spend the remainder of his days in prison, where he
shortly died a victim to the " assisted " immigrant trade that,
thanks to God and the well-organized charities of the city, is
fast losing its worst features.

Across the silence of the years Carmellita often looks back
to those dark early days, and in murmuring a prayer for the
repose of Domenico's soul, mingles with it one of thanksgiving
for the blessed chance that led Paquita on a quest for a Christ-
mas-tree.

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Miss Stuarfs Legacy makes no unworthy bid for highest honors
in the front rank of Caledonian contestants. Mrs. F. A. Steel's
new novel, Red Rowans* must certainly add to the fame she
has already acquired as a writer of keen insight and subtle wit.
The " argument/* or story of Red RowanSy is simplicity itself.
There is the usual Scotch laird with his short purse and his
" lang pedigree,'* and there is the equally inevitable soap-boiler
with plethoric money-bags and no ancestry, who has an ambi-
tious wnfe and a good-looking daughter anxious to shine in
society wherein saponaceous odors are killed by eau de cologne
and the wafted perfumes of a royal court. There is the beau-
tiful peasant maiden with whom the laird falls in love, and the
sundry other obstacles to the consummation of the soap-boiler's
ambition and the laird's enrichment, and the other accessor)^
characters in the every-day drama. Incidentally to these rough
outlines come some variations in this well-worn story, quite
naturally contrived so as to work out the author's purpose.
But in a novel of this character one is not concerned a whit with
the material movement of the drama ; it is the psychological
side of the argument and the play which brings out the con-
trasting characteristics of the actors which chain our interest.
If the book were to be taken as a test of the writer's powers
to fashion a tale in accordance with what is termed dramatic
unity, or to fill in a great tragedy with appropriate characters,
the result must be unfavorable to her claims. But the author's
power is in other directions. As a student of human nature,
and as an adept in presenting its infinite foibles and peculiari-
ties in a delightfully bright and amusing way without any ap-
parent malice, she need not shrink from the verdict of the

* Red Rowans. By Mrs. F. A. Steel. New York: Macmillan & Co.

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1895.] Talk about New Books. 417

jury. Red Rowans is, for the most part, a very delightful book;
but its strength lies in its technique, not in the lessons it
teaches. What these lessons are, if any, may only be vaguely
guessed at. They are chiefly concerned with the affairs of the
human heart, and throughout the book there is an avoidance of
the deeper currents of human thought and the noblest well-
springs of human action which argues either a blank on that
subject in the author's own mind or an unwillingness to admit
that there is any higher tribunal for the settlement of disputes
between the head and the heart than an unconscious ethical
force and an immanent perception of truth and fitness in all
things. The close of the story confirms the impression of a
hopelessness about all beyond the earth — a Nirvana, so to speak
— for the spiritual life of man, derived from a casual hint here
and there throughout the book as it speeds on to its tragic
consummation. With the blotting out of the life we have
loved all is blotted out, and love and friendship and everything
that has been are but a name. This lame and impotent con-
clusion is helped on the stage by the fate which overtakes
Margaret Carmichael, the heroine of the tale. She is drowned
on the eve of her wedding, in the heroic endeavor to save a
little, friend of hers, and the man to whom she was to have
been married, after having been stricken with brain fever by
grief, incontinently marries the scheming widow, one of a quar-
tette of women with whom he has been in love more or less
in the course of his tartan-checkered career.

This laird, Paul Macleod, is the weakest bit of portraiture
in the book. He is not a Scot, but a weak vacillating creature
of no land whatever, such as Shakspere makes his Hamlet,
and if Marjory Carmichael, the heroine, were really the true
woman the writer endeavors to make her, she would hardly be
so devoid of spirit as to allow him to confess his love for her
while on his very way, as she knows, to propose to one whom he
intended to marry for her money. The paradox is rendered
all the more puzzling by Marjory's admission to herself that
the laird, Paul Macleod, was not her ideal of what a man
ought to be, so that the idea of the author appears to be that
the sentiment of love in the human heart is a thing bound
by no rational laws, but in its comings and its goings is sure
and irresistible as the flowing and ebbing of the ocean tides —
a thing of fate or destiny.

Many types of Scottish character are presented in this novel,
and their fidelity will be acknowledged by those who know the
VOL. Lxii.— 27

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4i8 Talk about New Books. [Dec,

country and the people. What humor gleams occasionally
through the book may be judged from this excerpt from the
description of a Highland edifice which served the dual purpose
of school-house and post-office. The children are going through
a quaint semi-barbarous Litany of the Prophets :

As the tune rose and fell, there came every now and again
a pause, so sudden, so absolute that a passer-by on the dusty
road might well have asked himself if some direful catastrophic
had not occurred. Nothing of the sort. A glance within would
have shown him everything at its usual ; the scholars in rows,
from the kilted urchin of four — guiltless of English — to whom
school is the art of sitting still, to the girl of fourteen, bliss-
fully conscious of a new silk handkerchief and the admiration
it excites in the bashful herd-boy on the opposite bench. In
the corner, at a table with a slanting desk, the master was
busy sorting the letters which Donald Post, as he is called, has
just brought in ; the latter meanwhile mopping his hot face and
disburdening his bag of minor matters in the shape of tea,
sugar, and bread, and himself of the budget of news he has
accumulated during his fourteen -mile walk ; in an undertone,
however, for the hymn goes on.

" Whair is noo the pro-phet Dan' If droned the master,
followed by a wavering choir of childish trebles and gruff
hobbledehoy voices, " Whair is noo' 4he pro-phet Dan' If -

The exigencies of the tune necessitated a repetition of the
momentous question again and yet again, the tune dying away
into a pause, during which the master's attention wandered to
a novel superscription on a letter. The children held their
breath, the hum of the bees outside became audible, all nature
seemed in suspense awaiting the answer.

"Fm thinking it will be from Ameriky," hazarded the
master thoughtfully to Donald Post, and, the solution seeming
satisfactory, he returned with increased energy to the trium-
phant refrain

" Safe intil the Pro-mised Land,"

The children caught it up con amore with a vague feehng of
relief. A terrible thing indeed, to Presbyterians or Episcopalians
alike, if the Prophet Daniel had been left hanging between
heaven and another place ! So great a relief, that the gay
progress of the tune and the saint was barely marred by the
master's renewed interest in a post-card ; which distraction led
him into making an unwarrantable statement that —

" He went up in a fiery char-yot''

True, the elder pupils tittered a little over the assertion,
but the young ones piped away contentedly, vociferously. The
Promised Land once attained, the means were necessarily quite
a secondary consideration ; and mayhap to their simple imagin-
ings a fiery chariot was preferable to the den of lions.

" Where is noo' the twal A-postles ? " led off the master
again, after a whispered remark to Donald Post, which pro-

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1895.] Talk about New Books. 419

voiced so interesting a reply that the fate of the twelve re-
mained trembling in the balance long enough for the old refrain
to startle the scholars from growing inattention.

" Safe intil the Pro-mised Land''

The sound echoed up into the rafters. Truly a blessed re-
lief to reach the haven after delays and difficulties.

" They went through " — began the master. But whether in
orthodox fashion it would have been ^^ great trubu-la-tion,*' or
whether, on the principle of compensation, the den of lions
would have been allowed twelve saints, will never be known.
The mote-speckled beam of sunshine through the door was
darkened by a slight girlish figure, the children hustled to
their feet with much clatter of the unaccustomed boots and
shoes, and the schoolmaster, drowning his last nasal note under
a guilty cough, busied himself over a registered letter. For
Miss Marjory Carmichael objected on principle to the Litany of
the Prophets.

The rather imperious frown, struggling with an equally
obstinate smile which showed on the new-comer's face, vanished
at the sight of Donald Post.

"Any for me?" she asked eagerly. It was a charming
voice, full of interest and totally devoid of anxiety. An acute
ear would have told at once that life had as yet brought
nothing to the speaker which would make post-time a delight
or a dread. She had, for instance, no right to expect a love-
letter or a dun ; and her eagerness was but the desire of youth
for something new, her expectancy only the girlish belief in
something which must surely come with the coming years. For
the rest, a winsome young lady with a pair of honest hazel eyes
and honest walking-boots.

" 'Deed no, Miss Marjory," replied the schoolmaster, select-
ing a thin envelope and holding it up shamelessly to the light
— a bold stroke to divert attention from the greater offence of
the hymn, " Forbye ain wi' the Glasky postmark that will just
be ain o' they weary circulars, for as ye may see for yoursel',
Miss Marjory, the inside o*t*s leethographed."

" Thank you, Mr. McColl," said the girl, severely, as she took
the letter, " but if you have no objection I should prefer find-
ing out its contents in a more straightforward fashion."

"Surely! Surely!" Mr. McColl, having got a little more
than he expected, gave another exculpatory cough, and looked
round to Donald Post for moral support. Perhaps from a
sense that he often needed a like kindness, this was an appeal
which the latter never refused, and if he could not draw upon
real reminiscence for a remark or anecdote bearing on the
point, he never had any hesitation in giving an I. O. U. on
fancy and so confounding his creditors. On the present occa-
sion, however, he was taken at a disadvantage, being engaged
in trying to conceal from Marjory's uncompromising eyes a
bottle of whiskey which formed a contraband item in his bag;
consequently he had only got as far as a preliminary murmur

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420 Talk about New Books. [Dec,

that " there wass a good mony wass liking to be reading their
ain letters, but that it was James Macniven " — when the school-
master plucked up courage for further defence.

" Aye ! Aye ! 'tis but natur'l to sinfu' man to be liking his
ain. Not that they circulars interestin' reading even if a body
is just set oh learnin' like Miss Marjory. And I'm thinkin' it
will only be from a wine mairchant likely. It's extraordinair'
the number of circulars they'll be sending out ; but the whiskey
is a' the same. Bad, filthy stuff, what will give parral — y— 6es
to them that drinks it."

This second bid for favor, accompanied as it was by an
unfortunate glance for support at Donald — ^who was struggling
unsuccessfully with the neck of the black bottle — proved too
much for Marjory's dignity, and the consequent smile en-
couraged Mr. McColl to go on, oblivious apparently of his bist
remark.

Thus, if this novel be deficient in a powerful conception, its
many excellences as a literary work will excuse that weakness.
Literary martinets may discover that once in a way the
author uses the nominative pronoun for the objective in answer-
ing a question, that the printer makes the Latin atque the no-
tongue alque^ and that the monstrosity " judgmatically " creeps
into the work somewhere. ,In the eyes of some critics such
slips are heinous enough to condemn any work, no matter how
masterly ; but the amenities of the Christmas season may soften
their outraged grammatical feelings.

A different picture of Scottish life is that to be found in
Mr. S. R. Crockett's new book, which he calls The Men of
the Moss-Hags,* Mr. Crockett's fame as a delineator of humble
life in Scotland rests upon a method of presenting it which
differs from that of Mr. Barrie in an important particular. Mr.
Barrie has a broader appreciation of the grotesque side of it,
and makes us laugh as heartily at its assumption of piety or
wisdom or pomposity as he himself perhaps often did. But
Mr. Crockett presents us with people who said and did gro-
tesque things in all seriousness, and shows us that almost in-
comprehensible combination of the hard, practical, and worldly-
wise with the sentimental and superstitious in the Scottish
character, especially in the Highland regions, which forms so
curious a knot in metaphysical study. This mixture of emo-
tionalism, thrift, and mundane sagacity comes out strongly in
the story of The Men of the Moss-Hags^ and the minuteness
with which all the subordinate details and accessories are

• The Men of the Moss-Hags, By S. R. Crockett. New York : Macmillan & Co.

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1 895-] Talk about New Books, 421

handled, together with a certain quaint prosiness and a ten-
dency to repetition and redundancy in the manner of telling,
make the Writer's peculiarity.

It is not by any means a cheerful story. Dealing with the
sanguinary attempts of the Scottish Kirk to put down the men
of the " Solemn League and Covenant," it is full of stirring
adventure. Moreover, as the author has gone over all the
locality covered in his story and consulted all the historical
evidence available, it may be accepted, perhaps, as a picture of
the times whose only defect is that it is an imaginary one.

To most readers, however, a glossary would be an indispen-
sable adjunct to the work, so thickly is it overlaid with the cu-
rious jargon of the southern Scotch. Some of the chapters il-
lustrating the glibness of 'tongue and the grotesque sanctimony
of Scottish old maidenhood relieve the sombre character of
the story to some extent, but there is no striking originality in
these pictures, such as made the charm of The Sticket Minister.
The book contains the drawback of monotony in Scottish
patois, and so becomes at length painfully toilsome to get
through.

Miss Eleanor C. Donnelly, whose poetical work is so much
appreciated by Catholic readers, is no less at home in the
field of graceful prose. A volume of short stories from her pen,
bearing the title Petronilla, and other Tales,* just issued, is
specially suited for the coming festive season. It is a very
charming collection. Several of the tales prove that the writer
possesses not only taste and grace in choice of subject and
style of narrative, but great strength and dramatic verve where
the theme demands powerful treatment. The book is put for-
ward in a very elegant dress by the publishers.

A new edition of that favorite gift-book. Golden Sands,\ has
been ordered out, and will, we are sure, meet a cordial wel-
come. It is a collection of terse reflections and counsels for
young people, selected from French authors and nicely rendered
into English by Ella McMahon, and appropriately illustrated.

Clara Mulholland is a laborer in less ambitious fields than
those chosen by her better known sister, Rosa, now Mrs. John
T. Gilbert. Her metier is, we think, fairy-tales or children's

♦ Petronilla^ and other Tales, By Eleanor C. Donnelly. New York : Benziger Bros,
t Golden Sands, By ElU McMahon. Philadelphia : H. L. Kilner & Co.

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422 Talk about New Books. [Dec,

lore, for her style is better adapted to that fguileless realm of
art than to the more sombre literature of real life with all its
struggles and intrigues, its passion and its tragedy. She gives
us a gift-book suitable to the season, bearing the title A Strik-
ing Contrast* It is the old story of a changeling and the woes
and trials of the rightful heiress, all told in a very artless way.
Power in this style of literature is only the possession of the
great masters of literary art and the result of a lengthened
apprenticeship to letters. Miss Mulholland comes, however, of
good literary stock, and she may yet achieve something higher.
Meanwhile we may commend A Striking Contrast as a proba-
ble tale, with many striking and pathetic tableaux carefully
depicted — a good and wholesome gift-book.

Amongst the books suitable to the season we may readily
commend the handsome volume of tales by Mrs. M. A. Sadlier
and her daughter, embraced in the title Stories of the Proptises.f
They are excellent examples of Canadian genre literature, for
the most part, full of sound Catholic truth, short and pretty,
and to the point, every one. The reputation of Mrs. Sadlier is
a sufficient guarantee of their good quality from a literary as
well as a religious point of view.

" Alethea's Prayer on Christmas Eve " ij: is the leading
morceau in a very choice collection of seasonable tales reprinted
from the St. Xavier's Monthly. There is a fervor in the spirit
of these stories, united to a grace of language, which tells of a
high sense of the purpose for which they were originally
written — the elevation as well as the pleasurable entertainment
of the youthful mind. Some beautiful plates are interspersed
with the different stories.

The children's poet, as Eugene Field loved to be called, has
gone over to the majority. Death came to him without any
prologue or any apology, and he was taken away almost before
any one knew that he had a pang. Widespread, we might
almost say world-wide, is the lamentation over the loss. The
chain which he had coiled around the hearts of millions of
sundered people, young and old, was the magic one of sympa-
thy. It is the privilege of the higher poets to be in touch only

* A striking Contrast, By Clara Mulholland. , Dublin : Gill & Son.
t Stories of the Promises, By Mrs. M. A. Sadlier and her Daughter. Montreal and Toron-
to : D. & J. Sadlier.

X Alethea's Prayer^ and other Tales, Detroit : The Graham Co.

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i89S-] Talk about New Books. 423

with the few who can follow sublimated flights into the spiritual
empyrean ; this dignity is offset by their life above the snow-
line of human feeling. One thing is certain about such poets as
America produces; if they do not climb to the starry heights
where the great lyrists wander in the Elysian fields in proud
isolation, they can reach the hearts of millions where the illtis-
trissimi could only win the heads of a few. Two of America's
greatest poets possessed this heavenly gift of human assimila-
tion ; and Eugene Field, whose place in the temple of fame is
now a matter of warm logomachy, was endowed with it in
much greater proportion than either Longfellow or Holmes.

It may not be consolatory to the thinkers of fine thoughts
to know, but it is undeniable nevertheless, that the poems
which live are those which reach the million. In especial the
children's poems. We do not know the poets* names, very
often. Of all the songs we sung when we were toddling
babies, not one gives the slightest clue to the author's identity.
Eugene Field's poems bid fair to make a break in this long
record of undeserved oblivion. There are songs of his* destined
to live when " Locksley Hall " will have vanished into the
smoke of the past ; for they are songs of the hearth and the
domestic circle, and which touch the fountains of human affec-
tion without having to make any artesian well to get there.

And yet it would not be correct to say that Eugene Field
was one of the great and the gifted in the art of poetical
expression. He occupied a position somewhat akin to that of
Hogarth in English art — telling us truths and interpreting for
us feelings by so simple a process that the great masters looked
upon it all as mere charlatanism. It is wrong to deny that
Eugene Field had the poet's gift beyond the power to rhyme
and put a bit of homespun human sentiment together. His
inclination mostly led him to the latter form of poetical work ;
but he could on occasion take higher flights, as any one can
easily find by looking through A Little Book of Western Verse,*
the last published volume of his collections. Some of his
adaptations of Horace are especially happy, and would have
been fine but for the irrepressible tendency of the poet to
make fun where he should only be cheerful and witty. His
imitations of old English, too, show some clever work, as for
instance the following:

*A LUtU Book of Western Verse, By Eug:ene Field. New York : Charles Scribner's
Sons.

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424 Talk about New Books. [Deci,

CHRYSTMASSE OF OLDE.

God rest you, Chrysten gentil men,

Wherever you may be, —
God rest you all in fielde or hall,

Or on ye stormy sea ;
For on this morn oure Chryst is born

That saveth you and me.

Last night ye shepherds in ye east

Saw many a wondrous thing;
Ye sky last night flamed passing bright

Whiles that ye stars did sing.
And angels came to bless ye name

Of Jesus Chryst, oure Kyng.

God rest you, Chrysten gentil men.

Faring where'er you may ;
In noblesse court do thou no sport.

In tournament no playe.
In paynim lands hold thou thy hands

From bloudy works this daye.

But thinking on ye gentil Lord

That died upon ye tree.
Let troublings cease and deeds of peace

Abound in Chrystantie ;
For on this morn ye Chryst is born

That saveth you and me.

Field, in fine, was a peculiarly American institution, fully
and gracefully vindicating the claims of the American character
to a peculiar and well-defined national humor. We can spare
none of our good literary workers, but if one should have gone
when he was called away, we might well declare "We could
have better spared a better man."

Two excellent little books rolled into one may well be com-
mended to all in quest of the road to literature. They are
Matthew Arnold's essay on The Function of Criticism and Wal-
ter Pater's short treatise on Style* These are issued in handy
shape for the pocket, in stiff paper covers, and at a very popu-
lar price. Matthew Arnold's famous essay was written at the
time when Dr. Colenso's excursion into the realms of what has
since been called " the higher criticism " made men believe he
had sapped the foundations of revealed religion, and when the
French atheists were plunged into a hysteria of delight over M.
Kenan's Vie de J^sus. Of the one Matthew Arnold wrote,

♦ The Function of Criticism. By Matthew Arnold. An Essay on Style. By Walter
Pater. New York : Macmillan & Co.

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i895-] Talk about New Books. 425

*' Bishop Colenso's book reposes on a total misconception of
the essential elements of the religious problem, as that problem
19 now presented for solution "; and of M. Kenan's work, *' It
attempts, in my opinion, a synthesis, perhaps premature, perhaps
impossible, certainly not successful."

We might commend, par parenthese^ what Matthew Arnold,
who was not a Catholic, has to say about the English divorce
court (and the same applies to our own divorce system much
more pertinently), and the Roman Catholic teaching and prac-
tice on the sacrament of marriage, to all who desire light on
the fundamental principle of human society.

Of Matthew Arnold's essay, taken as a whole, it may be
said that it seems to exceed its own scope. Beginning with
the intention to defend the function of the critic from the
taunt of being inferior to the artist who e^cercises his creative
faculty in the service of mankind, it ends by a seeming con-
fusion of the critical and the constructive functions, by making
the exercise of either faculty, in the development of their sub-
ject, common to both. The best critics, he points out, have been
the best in literary and other artistic creations ; and vice versd.

Mr. Pater's essay on style lays down some general principles,
some of which can never be accepted as permanent, since liter-
ary style is a matter of incessant change and parallelism with
the onward processes of science and thought. He takes the
great French realist, Gustave Flaubert, as the nearest approach
to his own ideal in literary style, because Flaubert believed
that in art, which meant everything worth living for to him,
there was an unerring principle of truth by which one par-
ticular thing or thought was expressed correctly by one word,
and one word only — a theory with which some good authori-
ties take leave to disagree. If Flaubert's style is the best, it
does not follow that it is by any means the most delightful;
and if the function of literature be to charm, that which suo-
ceeds best in doing so is, in our humble judgment, the model to
be imitated, whatever the claims of exact science in the matter.

I. — A WOMAN AND THE TRACTARIAN MOVEMENT.*

A Memoir of Mother Francis Raphael (Augusta Theodosia
Drane) is the modest style of a book that contributes so
eminently to religious literature one may well regret it does not

♦ A Memoir of Mother Francis Raphael^ 0,S,D, Edited by Rev. Father Bertrand Wil-
berforce, O.P. London and New York : Long^mans, Green & Co.

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426 Talk about New Books. [Dec,

more directly bid for general circulation. It was occasioned by
the death, in April, 1894, of the some time Prioress Provincial of
the Congregation of Dominican Sisters of St. Catherine of Siena,
at Stone, in England. Claiming to be little more than a memo-
rial, the book is in reality a singularly happy employment of
piety, good taste, and workmanlike skill in a department of
writing where such a combination is hardly more grateful than
exemplary. The volume, of 488 pages, has been handsomely
published. The difficulty alone remains to indicate briefly its
goodly abundance and worth. The contents are divided into
three parts. The first 148 pages are devoted to the Memoir,
much of which, through circumstances entirely unforeseen by the
subject, has the rare merit of being naive autobiography. Part
second contains thirty-one short essays on Gospel texts, and
twenty-five '* Notes ^of Private Meditations." Thirty-six letters,
either private or semi-official, form the third part. At the end
is a bibliography, "The Works of Augusta Theodosia Drane,"
twenty-seven in number, beginning with " The Morality of Trac-
tarianism, a letter from one of the people [Anglican] to one of
the clergy, London, 1850,** and ending with " The Imagination^
its Nature, Uses, and Abuses. Written for the Literary Depart-
ment of the World's Congress Auxiliary, Chicago, 1893." To
scan the intervening book-titles, recognizing many that have wide
renown, and to which are appended, more than three or four
times, notices of German, French, and even one Italian transla-
tion ; to see how varied and yet how special has been this
literary activity, supplies a becoming prelude to the consid^
eration of Miss Drane's life as recounted in her Memoir. For
this nun, who was buried only yesterday in the garb of a
mediaeval order, was also distinctively a modern woman of the
strongest, most human type, at once a noble example and a
mighty encouragement to the leaven of new womanhood that is
stirring mankind.

Here are set forth with exquisite sympathy the intimate
charms of her pure, sweet girlhood, passed at the first in an
old English garden, but later among the heather of the moors
and along the beach of an unfrequented sea. Religious influ-
ences were almost wanting and worldly distractions were re-
ligiously excluded, thanks to the care of her good Protestant
family ; but this somewhat lonely soul was a ready pupil of
nature, who instilled not only the poetic gift, but also laid deep
foundations for a wholesome piety that was finally to attain
little short of the mystic's reward. Miss Drane*s modern turn

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I895-] Talk about New Books. 427

of character developed in the firm grasp she took of the reli-
gious question, when the broadening horizon of woman's estate
forced it upon her attention. She entered bravely into dis-
cussions that carried her even to publication (as is to be seen
above) and drew upon her veiled identity the respectful scrutiny
of Tractarians, pro and con. After many sad combats against
Catholicism, her heart yieldeM to the ardor of the Holy Spirit,
and thence her way to the convent was a truly enviable course
of divine favors.

The life that followed — ^the real life — in the full, strong tide
of generous inspiration, supporting solid achievements, and
rhythmic with the blithe canticle of inward peace; the life of
holy obedience and toil, of literary triumphs modestly received,
of official honors and responsibilities borne with surpassing
patience, humility, and tenderness ; finally, the crown of life, an
heroic death ministered unto by long weeks of severest pain —
these endear to us our modern woman of religion, and exalt
her in our eyes and excite in us a full aspiration of thanks-
giving to God. With such patron souls in heaven as Mother
Francis Raphael — and we know she is far from being alone —
we cannot but think calmly of England's religious future. Nay,
through this faithful convert the world, especially the English-
speaking world, has received an ampler lease upon the heavenly
grace.

And this is to be accomplished in untold hearts through
the medium of the book before us, together with the many
others that came from her tireless pen. Of their character the
essays and letters here printed are a satisfying earnest. Here
learning, common-sense, healthful sentiment, and unwavering
love are blended to illuminate some of the sublimest passages of
our Lord's life, some of the darkest crannies of our own.
Would that every serious girl in America, Protestant and
Catholic, might read this book!

2. — THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE CATECHIST.*
This work is dedicated to St. Cyril of Jerusalem, who taught
the catechism with so much zeal and success in the early days
of Christianity. By means of the catechetical instruction the
teaching of the church can be more effectually brought home to
the minds of children than by the formal sermon. To give

*The Catechisty or Headings and Suggestions for the Explanation of Christian Doctrine;
with numerous quotations from Scripture and an appendix of anecdotes and illustrations.
By the Rev. George E. Howe. Two volumes. Newcastle-on-Tyne : Mawson, Swan &
Morgan ; New York : Benziger Brothers.

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428 Talk about New Books. [Dec,

such instruction in plain language, and in a way to hold the
attention of active young minds, requires careful preparation
and forethought on the part of the catechist.

The author of the work mentioned above has supplied head-
ings and suggestions which are of great practical value in show-
ing how to develop the condensed language of the catechism.
He is to be congratulated on Ms success in explaining the
word-meanings of the Christian vocabulary, and his accurate
perception of the child's point of view. Besides the helpful
anecdotes given in the appendix, he has gathered over a thou-
sand well-chosen texts from Holy Scripture, believing that the
chief events and personages of Bible history should be taught
together with the catechism.

In the admirable book The Ministry of Catechising, by Bishop
Dupanloup — published in English by Benziger Brothers — may
be found many excellent maxims for young priests placed in
charge of children. The most emphatic directions are given to
prepare properly so as to avoid being vague, wordy, and weari-
some in imparting instruction. Indifferent speakers are accept-
able, provided they can talk to the point and stop at the right
time. No instruction for children should exceed fifteen minutes.
Lamps are extinguished by too much oil; plants are suffocated
by too much water; long instructions overburden the m'emory.
The decree of the Council of Trent which binds the pastor to
instruct his people recommends brevity and simplicity of lan-
guage. Would that all could be induced to follow this wise
direction, especially in talking to young minds, which are weak
in reasoning power but strong in imagination.

3. — DOGMATIC THEOLOGY FOR THE LAITY.*

This is the first volume of a work in English in which
Father Hunter, of the Society of Jesus, proposes to present
the general features of such a course of dogmatic theology
as that which is read by ecclesiastical students. It is divided
into six treatises : the first on Christian Revelation ; the second
on Tradition ; the third on Holy Scripture ; the fourth on The
Church; the fifth on the Roman Pontiff; and the last on Faith.
There is an appendix in which he sketches for his readers the
mode employed in Catholic seminaries to test the work in the
classes of philosophy and theology. This mode priests and

* Outlines of Dogmatic Theology, By Sylvester J. Hunter, S.J. New York : Benxiger
Brothers.

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1 895- N^^ Books. 429

ecclesiastical students will remember in their old acquaintance
the " thesis."

The volume must be welcomed as work admirably done,
whether we regard the amount of information conveyed within
the compass of a manual, its accuracy, or the difficulty of com-
pressing clear and accurate information on so vast a subject in
so small a space. It must be useful to the layman who desires
to liave a safe ■ criterion by which to test the historical and
scientific studies to which the age is devoted.

MEW BOOKS.

Fr. Pustet & Co.. New York and Cincinnati:

Suffering Souls : A Purgaiorian Manual, By the Right Rev. Monsignor
Preston, D.D., LL.D.
Abbey Student Print, St. Benedict's College, Atchison, Kansas :

dements of Expression, Vocal and Physical, By Rev. Philip Williams,
O.S.B., and YeneraWe Father Celestine Sullivan, O.S.B.
Descli^e,' Lefebvre & Co., Tournai, Belgium :

Parvum Missale,
Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston and New York:

The Singing Shepherd, and other Poems. By Annie Fields. Anitna Poeia,
From the unpublished Note-books of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Edited by
Ernest Hartley Coleridge.
Charles Scribner's Sons, New York :

Reflections and Comments (from The Nation, 1865-95). By Edwin Lawrence
Godkin.
B. Herder, St. Louis :

Veniie Adoremus, or Manual of the Forty Hours* Adoration, Compiled by
Simon J. Orf, D.D.
Longmans, Green & Co., New York:

Skeleton Leaves, By Hedley Peek. SiUs Marner, By George Eliot.
Woodstock, By Sir Walter Scott. The Adventures of Two Dutch Dolls
and a " Golliwogg," By Florence K. and Bertha Upton.
Charles H. Kerr & Co., Chicago :

American Catholics and the A, P, A, By Patrick Henry Winston.
G. P. Putnam's Sons. New York :

Poets* Dogs, By Elizabeth Richardson.
Benziger Brother^^ New York, Cincinnati, Chicago :

Charity the Origin of Every Blessing ; or The Heavenly Secret, Popular
Instructions on Alarriage, By Very Rev. F. Girardey, C.SS.R. Little
Manual for the Use of the Sodality of the Child Jesus,
Pilot Publishing Co., Boston :

• Making Friends and Keeping Them, By Katherine E. Conway.
John Murphy & Co., Baltimore :

Thoughts and Counsels for Women of the Wot Id, By Monsignor Le^Cour-
tier. Bishop of Montpellier.

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There is no change for the better in the situa-
tion in Armenia. On the contrary, events are
rapidly moving towards such a climax as had been
reached in Bulgaria when Russia stepped on the stage as the
champion of the down-trodden Christians. It would appear that
Armenia is in a state of partial insurrection, and it were little
wonder if the reports which come daily from that country be
only one-tenth part true. Massacre, outrage, and burnings are
general and continuous. The Armenians in many places have
begun to strike back, and they would be more or less than men
if they did not make some stand in defence of their lives and
domestic honor. There can hardly be a doubt that the greater
part of the country is now ia a state. o£ anarchy, nor that the
Porte is unable to extinguish the flame which its own supine-
ness or connivance fanned into fury. The great European
powers have taken some sort of action at last. They have sent
a collective note to the Sultan demanding the immediate institu-
tion of the reforms previously recommended to his government
in behalf of Armenia. The Sultan seems powerless to act, so
bewildered is he by palace intrigues and unreliable counsellors.
Yet he goes on decorating the officials who have been proven
guilty of the Sassoun and other massacres, as if in defiance of
the combined opinion of Europe. He does not appear to
think that he is walking on a volcano.

Many calls have been made for the co-operation of the
United States government in the demonstration of force in
Turkish waters, but it seems to have been determined on
by the Cabinet that abstention from European coalitions and
combinations is a necessary consequence of insistence on the
Monroe doctrine in the affaifs of the American continent. The
government was for long deaf to the most pressing calls for
intervention on behalf of the many American missionaries in
Asiatic Turkey, but at last another vessel has been sent to the
East to reinforce the two already there.

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1895.] Editorial Notes. 431

A wonderful change has come over the spirit of the time in
the religious world, and nothing could more vividly illustrate it
than the reception accorded, and being still accorded, the affec-
tionate appeal for reunion recently sped forth by the Holy
Father. One of the most remarkable responses to that invita-
tion was made by the English members of the Church Reunion
Conference which was held recently at Grindelwald. There
were present at this gathering representatives of the leading
forms of English Dissent. The high Tory Episcopal Church
was there in the person of Canon Farrar, the Queen's Chaplain
and Dean of Canterbury, the Deans of Ripon and Bristol, and
others ; the Presbyterians had as chief spokesman the English
ex-moderator, J. Monro Gibson, and the Scottish professor of
history in Glasgow College, Thomas M. Lindsay. The Metho-
dist, Congregationalist, and Baptist denomination3 were also au-
thoritatively represented. These representatives drew up a joint
address to the Holy Father, in reply to his recent Encyclical,
warmly confessing the spirit of brotherly love which breathed
throughout that epoch-marking document, but indicating the
view of the signers that spiritual union is to be found in the
present state of ^ things, wherein' Chri$t Ms the centre of unity,
but that visible unity was possible only by the conserving of all
the elements of Christian truth which the various sects have
cherished since the separation of Christendom. This address
was carried to Rome by the president of the conference, Rev.
Dr. Lunn. He was received by the Cardinal Secretary of State,
and entertained at dinner at the Irish College. His Holiness
could not receive the address, however, owing to the errors in
matters of faith embraced in it, but was much pleased at the
facts attending the adoption of the memorial and the mission
of Dr. Lunn. It was his Holiness's intention to have received
the reverend gentleman in private audience, but for some reason
not as yet explained the arrangement was not carried out. It
is hopeful in the highest degree to find such a result as this
arising from the fatherly overtures of the venerable Pontiff.
The man who would venture to predict such a rapprochement^
so lately as ten years ago, would have been ridiculed as a fond
dreamer. Marvellous indeed is the spirit of charity and broth-
erly sympathy — for it is to this agency we have to attribute
the calming of the seas of passion and intolerance which up to
this had been beating on the shores of Christendom.

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432 The Columbian Reading Union. [Dec, 1895.

THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.

LITERATURE is the principal subject, and the most attractive, in the pro-
gramme of nearly all the Catholic Reading Circles. Hence our readers will
be interested in the researches of a specialist on this topic. In the Catholic Unt'
versity Bulletin Professor Maurice Francis Egan defends the opinion that the
teaching of the English language and literature is at present largely experimental.
The language is so composite, the literature so varied, that for the purpose of.
serious study there is a wide diversity of opinion. He writes : " It is only of
late — and mostly here in the United States — that the literature, apart from the'
language, has come to be looked on as worthy of earnest consideration." . . .
" There are two sides from which learners approach the study of English — from
the philological side and from the philosophical side — we may almost say, with
Matthew Arnold, from the ethical side."

Professor Egan finds much to condemn in the learned man, sympathetic only
for words, who scorns the spiritual value of literature. He makes a strong plea
for the scientific study of 'the great authors, insisting that there must be reasons
for the greatness of Dante and Shakspere. From the primary school, literature
should be correlated with other studies ; the college student needs to be prepared
to accept the high claims of a language which, a lute in Chaucer's hands, became
an organ in Milton's, to which many later writers have each added a new note.
>ii * «

The Public Library at Los Angeles, Cal., provides for its readers two hun-
dred periodicals. The sixth annual report of the librarian. Miss Tessa L. Kelso,
contains a record of the circulation of these periodicals, which is secured by stamp-
ing date on a sheet pasted to the inside of back covers, and requiring each reader
to sign a blank. Among twenty-two monthlies which were in demand more than
fi\t, hundred times during the year, we are pleased to notice that The Catholic
World had almost a thousand readers. The American Review of Reviews^
edited by Dr. Albert Shaw, was also a general favorite.

Librarians will find in this report the observations of a keen mind in sympathy

with the reading public. Miss Kelso has observed that in most cases an author's

best book in fiction does not appear to be the popular choice. The title greatly

influences the demand, Thomas Hardy's books Far from the Madding Crowd

and A Pair of Blue Eyesdxt, called for oftener than others with a less sentimental

title.

i^ i^ i^

A new book by Miss Katherine E. Conway, entitled A Lady and Her Letters
(the Pilot Publishing Co., Boston), should be known in every Catholic Reading
Circle. It is a most desirable Christmas present for any lady, and contains hints
and maxims that will save the young writer many an awkward blunder. The ad-
vice is g^ven in a kindly spirit. She recommends the literary aspirant never to
send an illegible MS. dashed off in a moment of enthusiasm ; and never to ask an
editor to accept it because her friends are among his subscribers, or because a
large number of acquaintances are clamoring for its publication. An editor looks
for intrinsic merit, and selects contributions that are available.

M. C. M.

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The Presentation.

{From ^^The Teaching of St. John the Apostle^^^ by permission
of the Catholic Book Exchange,)

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CATHOLIC WORLD.

Vol. LXII. JANUARY, 1896. No. 370.

A CENTURY OF CATHOLICITY.

BY B. MORGAN.

^HE end of a century aflfords a favorable oppor-
tunity for making up the great accounts of
the world. Science in all its ramifications
has made great advances, literature and art
have been popularized if not perfected, the
education and amelioration of the people
have thriven apace, and there will be few bold enough to
deny that on the whole the dying century has been a century
of progress. Meanwhile how have the spiritual interests of
mankind fared, and how has the old Church stood the test of
new conditions? The question is an important one in many
respects. The stock argument against the Catholic Church has
been that she is reactionary — the foe to the liberty and en-
lightenment of mankind, she is doomed to wane with the
growth of knowledge and freedom. We accept the criterion
of the nineteenth century and from bald theories appeal to bold
facts.

The religious history of the last hundred years has been
mainly normal. The growth or decrease of the different sec-
tions of Christianity has been in large measure the result of
their own inherent character and activity rather than of any
external stimulus or opposition. There have been, of course,
some exceptions to this rule ; but the rule stands, and as a con-
sequence the epoch that is coming to a close affords a better
illustration of the vitality of the Catholic Church than any
other period of her existence.

Protestantism and Catholicity have emphasized the charac-

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434 A Century of Catholicity. [Jan.,

teristics which differentiate them — each in its own manner.
The reformers sowed broadcast the doctrine of private judg-
ment ; their descendants are now reaping an abundant harvest
of divisions and contradictions. Luther himself would be
aghast were he alive to-day to witness the logical issu<e of his.
principles. His church embraces every shade of belief, from
that of the advanced Unitarian who cannot tell you wherein
he differs from the Buddhist to the High-churchman who
hardly looks askance on the dogma of Papal Infallibility.

The Catholic Church, on the other hand, by this same dog.
ma, which may be regarded as its landmark in the nineteenth
century, has drawn closer its bonds of unity and more than
ever deserves its claim to oneness. The character of holiness
has been maintained by the saints she has bred and canonized
during the century, and by the more than 100,000 martyrs she
has given to God.

We propose to make a short investigation into her claims
to Catholicity and Apostolicity.

Little of importance has been changed in the religious
aspect of Catholic countries. There have been a few spasmodic
but wholly abortive attempts at schism and heresy within
her dominions. In Italy an apostate priest named Gavazzi put
himself at the head of what he called the " National Church,"^
in 1870. For a few years he kept together a small congrega-
tion, but the movement finally collapsed some six years ago,,
when the unhappy founder dropped dead in the street in front
of the Pantheon. A more insidious system is, however, at work
in different parts of the country. The present writer was
astonished some three years ago to come upon a Protestant
orphanage for Catholic children in the wilds of the Apennines.
The hapless little ones were handed over body and soul to the
tender mercies of Protestant teachers. When their "educa-
tion" is finished, they are let loose to do what harm they may^
among their Catholic neighbors.

Within recent years we have witnessed the misguided zeal
of the Protestant Archbishop of Dublin in trying to establish
Protestantism in Spain. But this movement, too, is utterly
devoid of significance. France, which at the beginning of the
century was more or less tainted with Gallicanism and Jansen-
ism, has become more Catholic than ever. Even the undoubted
eloquence and ability of the apostate Pfere Hyacinthe has not
sufficed to keep open the doors of his solitary church in
Paris. The Old Catholic movement in Germany, which began

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1896.] A Century of Catholicity. 435

its career with such a flourish of trumpets after the Vati-
can Council, is dying slowly of inanition. Austria has given
no encouragement to the sects, Portugal has not swerved, Bel-
gium is sturdily Catholic. Ireland deserves a word of special
mention. Her people are as intensely loyal to the old faith as
they have always been in the long course of their troubled his-
tory, but in Ireland alone of European countries the population
has diminished during the last hundred years. Towards the
middle of the present century its inhabitants numbered over
eight millions, of whom seven-eighths were Catholics. At the
last census the total population was less than five, and the
Catholic part less than four millions.

In only one part of Europe has Catholicity met with a
check. The Muscovite dominion has menaced the peace of the
church as well as the peace of Europe. In 1804 the Ruthenian
branch of the Catholic Church counted 650,000 — to-day it has
no official existence, and its followers, scattered through the
Russian Empire, scarcely number 100,000. This unhappy result
has been mainly brought about by the overt and covert perse-
cution of the government, and unfortunately, too, by the defec-
tion of some of the priests. In Poland, especially since i860.
Catholicity and patriotism have suffered together. Now, how-
ever, that diplomatic relations have been permanently estab-
lished between Russia and the Holy See, there is good reason to
hope that the trials of the church will be mitigated if not ended.

Everywhere in Protestant countries the church has surely, if
slowly, gained ground. At the beginning of the century the
Catholics of Switzerland and North Gerrhany were steeped in
apathy, but since then God's great remedy, persecution, has
brought about a sweeping change. Instead of the 6,000,000 of
ninety years ago. North Germany has to-day a population of
13,000,000 of the most zealous and loyal Catholics in Christen-
dom. In Switzerland the animosity against Catholics has been
very bitter, and especially since 1870 the radicals have displayed
an implacable hostility against the church, but the tide of Catho-
licity has risen day by day. In 1880 the Catholic population
was barely one-third of the total — it is now at least two-fifths.

Catholic emancipation in Denmark dates from 1847. I^ that
year there were but three missionaries and 300 Catholics, with-
out school or chapel, in the country. In 1892 Denmark became
a vicariate-apostolic, with thirty-nine priests and a population of
4,000. Sweden and Norway, in i860 arid 1869 respectively,
granted freedom to the church. The work in these countries

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436 A Century of Catholicity. [Jan.,

has been especially difficult and the progress has been slow, but
the Catholics have increased from 440 to 2,100.

Holland, however, may justly claim the honor of showing a
greater proportionate increase of Catholicity than any Protestant
country. In 1840 William of Nassau tried in vain to induce
his Calvinist subjects to consent to the establishment of the hier-
archy. Thirteen years later it was restored by Pius IX., and
since then the church has shown a steady increase. The 350,-
000 Catholics in Holland at the beginning of the century have
been increased by over a million, the present population being
1,488,352. Further still, the apostolic spirit has thriven apace,
many Dutch priests being now laboring in England.

The growth and prosperity of the church in Great Britain
presents many remarkable features. In the year 1800 England
and Scotland together had but 120,000 Catholics, with 65 priests
and 6 vicars-apostolic. They were absolutely destitute of pub-
lic chapels, schools, and institutions. To-day the country wears
a very different aspect with its cardinal-archbishop, its two
archbishops, 18 bishops, and 3,000 priests to look after the spir-
itual welfare of more than 2,000,000 Catholics. The material
advances in churches, colleges, schools, and institutions of differ-
ent kinds have more than kept pace with the numerical increase.
The church has received converts from all classes of society,
though the cultured portion of the . conamunity has furnished
more than its proportionate quota. Some ten years ago it be-
gan to be realized that while the church was receiving large
numbers of converts annually the actual increase of the Catho-
lic population was not as great as might have been expected.
Cardinal Vaughan, the Bishop of Salford, instituted a searching
investigation as to the causes of the " leakage " in his own dio-
cese. It was then found that the losses were traceable to three
sources: ist, the wholesale proselytizing of Catholic children by
Protestant societies ; 2d, the neglect of careless and dissolute
parents of their children ; and 3d, the prevalence of mixed
marriages. The first evil was promptly met by the establish-
ment of the ** Catholic Protection and Rescue Society of Sal-
ford," which in this one diocese has spent over $50,000 annually
in rescuing destitute children from the dangers which threaten
their faith and morals in the large towns. The recent letter of
the Pope urging the people of England to pray for their union
with the church has been very favorably received among a large
section of Anglicans, and there are many signs to justify the
hope that England is on the eve of a great Catholic revival.

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i896.[ A Century of Catholicity, 437

In Turkey in Europe Rome has made considerable advances.
Had it not been for the indiflference of France and the active
opposition of Russia in 1856, 6,000,000 Bulgarians might have
been added to the Catholic Church. Corporate reunion will
doubtless come about some day, but in the meantime the twelve
reorganized dioceses of the Balkans show an increase from
250,750 to 639,785 Catholics — and this in face of the ill-concealed
hostility of the Russian agents.

In Asia Minor the different churches of the Uniate rite
have shown signs of new life. In Palestine the Catholics have
increased tenfold. The Melchite Greeks have abandoned schism
and entered the bosom of the Mother Church, since when
they have increased from 20,000 to 114,000. The total increase
in the Catholic Uniates has been from 401,000 to 657,698.

The progress of the church in the New World during thd
last century has been very brilliant, both in point of numbers
and organization. In 1800 the combined missions of the United
States and Canada hardly numbered 400,000 Catholics. To-day
in Canada alone there are 2,100,000 faithful, with 2,400 priests
and 25 bishops, and a proportionate growth of churches, schools,
and institutions. Hitherto no exhaustive census has been made
of the Catholics in the United States, but a moderate and
mnemonic estimate may be found in the figures 90 prelates,
9,ODD priests, and 9,odd,odd* people. The estimate of the popu-
lation is undoubtedly low, some authorities allowing as many
as 13,000,000 Catholics to the States. Sufficient has been written
in late years on the expansion of Catholicity amongst us, and
the present writer will not dilate further on the subject.

The position of the church in South America is fairly satis-
factory in point of numbers. Some quarter of a million of In-
dians have been received into the church. In the Protestant
Antilles and in the two Guianas the. Catholics have trebled in
the last eighty years.

But the noblest successes of the Apostolic Church during
the present century have been made in Asia, Africa, and Ocea-
nia. The missionaries who went to India in 1830 found little
more than the ruins of Catholicity. The total number of the
faithful was about 475,000, under the charge of some 400 native
and 20 European priests. At the close of the century the
Catholic Church in India claims 26 resident bishops, 1,400 na-
tive and 645 missionary priests, about 3,000 members of religious
orders, and a. population of 1,700,000 souls. Every day the

^ Sadlur's Directory^ 1895, gives Catholic popiilaiion at 10,964,403 ; priesU, 9,754.

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438 A Century of Catholicity. [Jan.,

church, from the Himalayas to Ceylon, is adding to the material
elements of her apostolic mission, and the existence of over
2,200 schools, in which 100,000 scholars are daily grounded in
the great truths of religion, gives bright hope for the future of
the church among the Hindoos.

If the church has made but little progress in Siam, the same
cannot be said of Birmania and Malasia, where the number of
the faithful has sextupled and quadrupled, respectively, in the
last fifty years.

In modern times Annam has taken the place of Japan as
the nursery of martyrs. The persecution, which had been sus-
pended up to 1820, broke out again at the death of Gia Long.
The Cochin China expedition in 1858 and the war which followed
served to intensify its horrors. It is estimated that during the
nineteen years, alone, between 1843 and 1862 it cost the lives
of 3 vicars-apostolic, 119 priests, over 100 religious, the greater
part of the catechists, and at least 45,000 Christians. When the
storm had passed the 500,000 faithful were scattered, and all
their churches, schools, and religious houses in ruins. After a
few years of comparative tranquillity another outburst of perse-
cution began in 1885 in the two vicariates of Cochin China, in
which 50 priests, hundreds of religious, and 50,000 Christians
perished. All this in the second half of the nineteenth cen-
tury ! It will be some time before the young Annamite Church
can recover from such disasters, but, in spite of the deluge of
Christian blood and the ferocity of heathen persecution, the An-
namite missions, which in 1800 counted 310,000 Catholics divided
into 3 vicariates, have to-day 9 vicariates, 573 priests, and a
population of 628,300 Catholics.

At the end of the last century there were in China five
Catholic missionaries, with a population of 200,000. To-day the
church counts 38 bishops, 1,000 priests (of whom about a third
are natives), and a following of 576,440. As recently as i860
Japan presented an appalling spectacle of desolation. The
church that had given God 200,000 martyrs was absolutely
blotted out. Catholicity was represented by one prefect and
one vicar-apostolic, without churches, clergy, or people. The
hierarchy was established by Leo XIII. in 1890, and there were
then in the country 4 bishops, 97 priests (of whom 15 were
Japanese), and 44,505 Catholic souls. The opening of the cen-
tury saw but 6,000 Catholics in Corea, under the care of one
Chinese priest. Persecution has raged fiercely here, as ' in
Annam, and 3 bishops, 9 missionaries, and thousands of the faith-

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1896.] A Century of Catholicity. 439

ful have given testimony to the faith by their blood. The
church claims 19,000 children in Corea to-day, and the late
crisis in politics is likely to prove of immense service to the
growth of Catholicity.

Africa, too, has given a rich harvest to the church during
the present century. The church which was so powerful in the
early ages of Christianity was represented 100 years ago by
about 7,000 persecuted Uniates in Egypt, and some 8,000
convicts in the prisons of Algiers, Tunis, and Morocco. Now
Algiers is divided into three dioceses, with 500 priests, 260
churches, and 400,000 souls. The archdiocese of Carthage has
a population of 27,000. The church of Alexandria, stifled in
the fifth century by the schism of Dioscurus, has begun to
awaken from its apathy, and the Catholics have increased from
7,000 to 80,000, under the care of 140 missionaries. On the
West Coast mission after mission is springing up. There are
now 14, with a population of 39,000.

In the South the Boers kept the country closed against
Catholic missionaries until 1868. Since then missions have
flourished at the Cape, Natal, the Orange Free State, and the
Transvaal. In these states there are now 100 missionaries, with
2S,ODD Catholics, and there is good reason to hope that the
whole tribe of Basutos, numbering 180,000 souls, will shortly
enter the church in a body. In the East schismatic Ethiopia
has shown signs of a desire for reunion with the Mother of
Churches, and there are at present 19,000 Catholics in the pro-
vince. In the centre of the Dark Continent the efforts of de-
voted missionaries have succeeded in establishing six missions,
with about 5,000 converts. The vicariate of the Soudan cost
many a life to the Austrian missionaries and the Franciscans
who succeeded them. The Mahdi annihilated it when he took
Khartoum. The zeal of the White Fathers has made the Great
Lake district a flower-garden of the church. Uganda will be
known to posterity for the Christian heroism of the 100 young
pages of King Mwanga who gave their lives for the faith.

The great island of Madagascar, after thirty-five years of Jesuit
zeal, has now a population of 100,000 Catholics, who are likely
to lie much increased when the missionaries penetrate among the
docile tribes of the South.

A few words will suflSce to show the flourishing condition
of the church in Australasia. In the two provinces of Sydney
and Melbourne there were in 1885 2 archbishops (one of them
a cardinal), 20 bishops, and a population of over 600,000.

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440 A Century of Catholicity. [Jan.,

Fifty years before the infant church began with two priests and
a few hundred convicts. In the Australasian Islands there is now
a population of 100,000 Catholics, with 8 bishops and 163 priests.

Such is a general summary of the work done by the church
in the nineteenth century to establish her claims to Catholicity
and Apostolicity. It justifies the statement made at the begin-
ning of this article, that the vitality of the church has been in
some respects more strikingly evinced in this epoch of her ex-
istence than in any previous one. She has held all her old ter-
ritory, she has made striking advances in Protestant countries
and in America, while in heathen lands her children have given
their blood for her as freely as they did long ago in the days
of Decius.

God's hand is visible in this late triumph of his church, but
he has used human instruments and they deserve their meed of
honor. Poor bleeding Ireland, the ** Island of Saints and
Doctors" of old, has done glorious work in the Apostolate of
England and the Western world. Satholic France deserves the
glory of the Eastern Apostolate. The spread of Catholicity
among the heathens " sitting in darkness " has become almost a
passion with the French people. In seventy years they have
contributed $35,000,000, or two-thirds of the total amount raised
for the propagation of the faith ; two-thirds of the missionaries
and four-fifths of the religious in Eastern countries are French.

Is it necessary to say, in conclusion, that the foregoing array
of facts and figures shows that the old church has nothing to
lose and everything to gain from the continued progress of the
world in enlightenment?

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1896.] The Retreat of St.Etheldreda, 441

THE RETREAT OF ST. ETHELDREDA.

BY J. ARTHUR FLOYD.

'HE great Fenland, that takes up so much of the
east coast of England, stretches over and oc-
cupies that northern half of the county of
Cambridge known as the Isle of Ely, on which
the present city of Ely (originally Elig) is built.
It is necessary for the understanding of our subject to add
that the term " isle " is a misnomer as now applied to this dis-
trict; it was not so, however, in Anglo-Saxon times. What is
now a region of fruitful gardens, orchards, and farms was then
a delta-like district of marshes, meres, and sluggish streams,
with dense fringes, we might almost say small forests of reeds,
rushes, and willows, that luxuriated and throve in the shallow
waters and on the half-submerged lands, and so effectually shut
off from the outer world the retreat chosen by St. Etheldreda
for the carrying out of her vows that only the hardy fenman
could thread the maze or lead the pilgrim to the spot. Scarce-
ly did the first settlements of the Veneti, in their flight from
the Huns, on the small islands at the head of the Hadriac,
differ more from that " proud Queen of the Sea ** that sprang
therefrom — the subtle Venice of latter days — than does modern
Ely from the lone isle on which it was founded. There still
stands the grand Cathedral of St. Etheldreda and St. Peter — a
beautiful memorial of a still more beautiful life, and through
the oft-encircling mist its great western tower pierces the
Fenland vapor and leads the traveller to a spot hallowed by
the holy associations of near on a thousand years.

That division of the Anglo-Saxon Heptarchy which included
in its boundaries the district of which we have been speaking,
known as East Anglia, comprises the North-folk — Norfolk ; the
South-folk — Suffolk; and the people of Cambridgeshire, who
haye sometimes been called the West-folk. From 642 to 654
this principality was ruled over by King St. Anna, who has not
only himself been deemed worthy of elevation to the altarj but
his wife, St. Hereswida, has also merited the same high honor.
The good pair became the parents of a family of saints, their

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442 The Retreat of St. Etheldreda. [Jan.,

third daughter being St. Etheldreda, who was born within sight
of the cathedral that bears her name at Exning, two miles from
Newmarket. Their other children were St. Ethelberga ; St.
Sexberga, who succeeded St. Etheldreda as abbess of Ely; St.
Withberga, the foundress and abbess of Dereham in Norfolk ;
and Aldulph, King of East Anglia from 663 to 713. The
bodies of three of the above holy women remained incorrupt
after death. We have the testimony of William of Malmesbury
to this effect so far as two of them are concerned ; he, writing
in the twelfth century, says : " There are no fewer truly than
five saints of my knowledge, ... to wit, Sts. Etheldreda
and Withberga, virgins ; King Edmund ; Archbishop Elphege,
and Cuthbert the ancient father ; these, with skin and flesh un-
wasted and their joints flexible, appear to have a certain vital
warmth about them and to be merely sleeping." Malmesbury,
as he speaks only of those saints whose bodies remained incor-
rupt in England in his time, does not include in his list the
oldest daughter of St. Anna — St. Ethelberga ; it appears, how-
ever^ from Venerable Bede, that she had retired to a monastery
at Faremoutier in France, of which she became abbess and
there died. Some years after her decease her tomb was
opened, and, as Bede further relates, "they found the body as
free from decay as it had been from the corruption of carnal
concupiscence." Of those five saints whose bodies remained in-
corrupt in England in Malmesbury's time, three came of the
East Anglian royal family — Sts. Etheldreda and Withberga, and
King Edmund. It is also worthy of note that the relics of St.
Edmund escaped destruction at the time of that change of
religion in England known as the Reformation, having been
translated into France three centuries prior to that catastrophe,
and that they are preserved for the veneration of the faithful
to this day in the church of St. Sernin at Toulouse. But, as
if to protest against their expatriation from St. Edmund's
Abbey, nature has been allowed to resume her sway and now
only the saint's bones^remain.

In compliance with the wishes of her parents, St. Etheldreda
was married in 652 to Tonbert, prince of a tribe of Fenmen.
It was by this, her first marriage, that she became possessed of
the Isle of Ely, her husband having settled it upon her as a
dowry. Tonbert died in about three years, and St. Etheldreda,
who had been permitted to lead a continent life in his home,
now retired to her island domain with the object 6f carrying out

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1896.] The Retreat of St. Etheldreda. 443

her religious vocation. The pure and holy life she then led
soon became noised abroad, and attracted the attention of
Egfrid, son of Oswy, King of Northumbria, and drew from
that prince an eagerly pressed oflfer of marriage. So desirable
a family alliance brought into play all the persuasive power of
her uncle Ethelwold, who had succeeded to the East Anglian
throne. Reluctantly she gave way ; the marriage was cele-
brated; and, on the accession of her husband to his father's
kingdom, she became queen of Northumbria.

The Northumbrian throne and a court, of which she herself
was queen, would have satisfied the ambition of most of her sex.
St. Etheldreda, however, was not so easily pleased. What at-
traction could an earthly throne have for this virgin queen,
whose chaste soul soared above the world in its eager desire

General View of Ely Cathedral.

for the court of the " Queen of Virgins *' ? For her neither the
adulation of courtiers, nor, if it were possible, a royal position
that should realize all the luxury and pleasures of fabulous
eastern monarchies, could extract even a passing thought from
her one great desire to withdraw herself from the world
that she might dedicate herself to that Queen of Virgins'
Divine Son. And so, after twelve years, having, as Bede tells
us, "preserved the glory of perfect virginity," with Egfrid's re-
luctant consent she laid aside her royal crown and received the
veil from St. Wilfrid, at Coldingham in Berwickshire, which was

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444 The Retreat of St. Etheldreda. [Jan.,

then governed by an aunt of Egfrid's — the Abbess Ebba. In
672 she returned to Ely, and there founded a double monastery,
which she endowed with the whole of her island estates, and
herself became its first abbess. Seven years after her installation
as abbess "she was taken to our Lord," and by her express
command was buried in an ordinary wooden coffin in the com-
mon burying-ground of the sisterhood.

St. Sexberga succeeded to the charge of the monastery, and,
some sixteen years after her sister's death, she determined to
raise her body from its humble surroundings and translate it to
a more worthy position in the adjacent conventual church.
When disinterred it was found, in the words of Bede, "as free
from corruption as if she had died and been buried on that very
day." Bede*s testimony is no mere statement based on un-
authenticated rumor, he is not retailing a* legend handed down
from earlier generations, but is telling us of an incident con-
temporaneous with a part of his own life, and of circumstances
that he had ample means to investigate at the fountain head,
and in the truth of which he, the most eminent of the Anglo-
Saxon historians, had the fullest confidence.

Time rolls on. Four centuries and more have passed since
the day when Bede recorded that St. Etheldreda's body was
raised sixteen years after burial and found to be unaffected by
its long repose in the soil. Within the walls of the venerable
retreat whence he took his name, another monastic writer,
William of Malmesbury, is compiling a chronicle of the pas£
and of his own times; he declares, as to his own times, that he
has recorded nothing that he had not either personally witnessed
or learned from the most credible authority. Emphatically he
confirms Bede*s testimony, and assures us that in his time (the
eleventh century) St. Etheldreda appeared to be "merely sleep-
ing" and "with skin and flesh unwasted."

Still other ages pass away, the nineteenth century draws to
its close, and to-day it is not beneath the roof of Ely Cathe-
dral that we must seek for what remains of the virginal relics
treasured for so many generations. No ! With humiliation and
the deep flush of shame on our faces, those of us Englishmen
who are by God's grace Catholics by conversion bewail the in-
dignities offered to God's saints by our impious ancestors of the
Reformation era. Having driven our Lord from his altar throne
in St. Etheldreda's cathedral, they at the same time cast out
her relics in whose honor that venerable building was dedicated

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1896.] The Retreat of St. Etheldreda. 445

to God. The work of sacrilege was, however, not quite com-
pleted, as St. £theldreda*s hand was saved and is still preserved
in St. Dominic's Convent, at Stone, in Staflfordshire. It re-
mains incorrupt to this very day.

We are told that our earth's history is written in its stony
crust, and, we may add, that St. Etheldreda's too has been de-
lineated by our forefathers in the same all but imperishable
material. Midway up the elegant clustered columns that sup-
port the central octagonal tower of Ely Cathedral may be seen
a number of niches filled in with sculptured representations of
some of the principal events from the saint's life. There are
eight of them in all, and taking them as they are arranged — in
chronological order — we have

1st. Her marriage.

2d. Having resigned her crown, which is laid on the altar,
she receives the veil from St. Wilfrid.

3d. Resting on a journey she sleeps, and her pilgrim's staff
forthwith branches out and produces leaves to shelter her.

4th. A flood of water miraculously appears and surrounds a
rock on which the saint had taken refuge from those in pursuit
of her.

5th. Her installation by St. Wilfrid as abbess of Ely.

6th. Her death and burial.

7th. By her intercession a soul is released from Purgatory.

8th. The translation of her body into the church.

The double monastery founded by St. Etheldreda in 673
was destroyed in the Danish invasion of 870. Secular clergy
appear to have had charge of Ely till 963, when, according to
the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Ethelwold, Bishop of Winchester,
begged of King Edgar " that he would give him all the min-
sters which heathen men had formerly broken down, because he
would restore them ; and the king cheerfully granted it. And
then the bishop came first to Ely, where St. Etheldreda lies,
and caused the minster to be made." It is said that the con-
ventual church erected by Ethelwold included the ruins of St.
Etheldreda's own church, and that remains of both still exist.
The truth of this opinion has, however, never been satisfactorily
established.

It was in the Isle of Ely that the last stand of the Saxons
against William the Conqueror was made. From 1066 to 107 1
the isle was defended by Hereward ; it was^ a " camp of re-
fuge" to all who would not recognize William's sovereignty,

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446 The Retreat of St, Etheldreda. [Jan.,

and with its fall the Norman conqirest was practically com-
plete.

The oldest part of the present cathedral — the south-eastern
transept^was commenced in early Norman times, twenty-six years
prior to the founding of the diocese of Ely in 1 109. The other
transepts, the nave, tower, and choir, were begun in the twelfth
century, and for four centuries more the work was continued,*

Western Tower of Ely Cathedral.

till the Reformation came and put a final stop to the building
and drove out the faith that had been taught therein.

The last Catholic prelate, that brave confessor Bishop
Thirlby — the only predecessor of Cardinals Wiseman, Manning,
and Vaughan in the See of Westminster — was translated to Ely
in ISS4- His fidelity to the Catholic faith assured his fall under

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1896.] The Retreat of St. Etheldreda. 447

Elizabeth, and led to his imprisonment for the last eleven years
of his life. He was succeeded by a man of very different
calibre, . a gloomy Puritan — Cox by name — to whom on one
occasion Elizabeth addressed the following oft-quoted epistle :
"You know well what you were afore / made you what you
now are. If you do not immediately comply with my request
I will unfrock you, by God. Elizabeth R.** There was noth-
ing of a St. Thomas of Canterbury, a St. Anselm, or a Thirlby
about Protestant Bishop Cox, as he showed by quickly submit-
ting to the imperious supreme governess of the " new church."
Oliver Cromwell came and stabled his horses in the venerable
cathedral, and then the massive nave and glorious choir — that
erstwhile had for centuries looked down on countless thousands
kneeling in adoration before God incarnate on the altar, that
had echoed with a " credo " marred by no dissentient voice, and
re-echoed with the "gloria" and the "sanctus" of the church
militant, that passed upwards to blend in harmony with the
paeans of the church triumphant and the seraphic music of the
angelic choir lowly bending in the Beatific Presence — were dese-
crated by the long-winded harangues of sanctimonious Puritan
divines, or the coarse ribaldry and hypocritical cant of Crom-
well's troopers.

It is encouraging to see that some of the effects of the
" storms which devastated Catholicity throughout Europe in the
sixteenth century " are passing away, and to note the " wonder-
ful drawing of hearts and minds towards Catholic faith and
practice" which is showing itself in a revival of reverence for
the buildings and other memorials of the Church of Old Eng-
land. The semblance of an altar occupies the site of the high
altar of bygone days in Ely Cathedral, and before it earnest
Anglicans kneel with some of that reverence that animated their
pre-Reformation ancestors, and whilst we lament that in grasp-
ing at the substance they have secured only its shadow, "we
do not doubt," as our Holy Father Leo XIII. has said in his
recent letter to the English people, "that the united and hum-
ble supplications of so many to God are hastening the time of
further manifestations of his merciful designs towards the Eng-
lish people."

Once again paintings of the joyful, sorrowful, and glorious
mysteries of our Lord's life look down from the gorgeous win-
dows, the walls, and the roof of Ely Cathedral. Once again
the emptied niches are being filled with the statues of canonized

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448 The Retreat of St. Etheldreda. [Jan.,

confessors, virgins, and martyrs, and tell of an approximation
that has taken place in the direction of Catholic faith as to
that article of the Creed, " I believe ... in the commu-
nion of saints," and of a spirit vastly differing from that icono-
clastic fury that hurled the older statues from their pedestals.
May we not hope that this good work of reparation will continue
and increase, and that the day is approaching when suppliant
England shall kneel at the feet of Christ's Viqar, aixd when " he
to whom were entrusted the keys of the kingdom of Heaven"
shall have once again exercised his prerogative and brought the
stray sheep back into the fold, and when within the walls of
St. Etheldreda's cathedral a people reconciled to our Holy
Mother the Church shall place in honor and reverence a statue
of that cathedral's other tutelar saint, St. Peter, upon whom
our Lord founded his church " for the origin and purpose of
unity " ?

Then, and not till then, will the faith taught within St.
Etheldreda's cathedral be once again identical with that which
she held, and for which she sacrificed the Northumbrian
crown.

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1896.] A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. 449
A STUDY IN SHAKESPEAREAN CHRONOLOGY.

BY APPLETON MORGAN.

fF the papers contributed by me to The Catholic
World during the last eight years have been of
no further service, they have at least served to
prove that the conventional statements, that "we
know nothing or next to nothing about Shake-
speare **; that "we actually know less about Shakespeare than we
know about Homer "; that " of Shakespeare we can ascertain
nothing except that he was born, was married, bought a house
in Stratford-on-Avon, and died '*; and the like, have survived
their usefulness and their cogency. Up to about ten years ago,
I doubt if sentences like the above, or to like effect, would not
be found in seventy-five per centum of the books on these
Shakespearean matters. They were in all the school-books
when I was a lad, and they have done duty as fundamental for
the Baconian and other theorists until they can be exploited'
no longer.

But those who have followed these papers are aware that we
know a great deal about Shakespeare — much more about him
than about any other private subject of Elizabeth or of James,
as to his business career, and immeasurably more about his
domestic affairs, family and household concerns, than we do of
those of his titled contemporaries; his queen, her courtiers and
her noble ladies. It has required diligence rather than credu-
lity, and the exercise of common sense rather than of what is
mostly called " insight," to garner and extract it all. But here
it is ! . We have had to compare old records and assume nor-
mal conditions — to side-track libraries of sentimental rubbish,
and to credit the man with the ordinary as well as certain ex-
traordinary attributes of humanity. But the result has been
that we have found him ! We once heard considerable about
a " cipher " (for instance) in the First Folio, which proved that
no Shakespeare, but a Bacon, wrote those gr^eat Plays. There
is a "cipher" in that wonderful book, but it proves nothing of
the kind ! What it does yield to the careful examiner, is not
subtleties of his own invention, or confirmations of his own
cut-and-dried theories, but, if he will only accept it, a wealth

VOL. LXII.— 29

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4SO A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. [Jan.,

of detail, of curious lore, of circumstantial history. We can-
not open this First Folio anywhere without a revelation. The
very names of the actors who performed in these plays, the
circumstances under which they were mounted, can be ex-
tracted. But we must extract them by honest industry; by
construing and consorting and marshalling items as a lawyer
construes and consorts and marshals evidence for his jury, and
not by aesthetic or subjective or personal processes. At our
point we have found the happy, for us, blunder of a printer
which has given us the names, not of the characters of the play
at thc^t page, but of men who were living at the date the play
was produced, and we know from this that these men were the
actors who took the parts so indicated, and that the play was
printed without Shakespeare's consent or knowledge — from the
parts which those actors secretly disposed of, or from the promp-
ter's copy. At another point we find certain vowels trans-
posed, and a certain constancy of an idem sonansy which advises
us that the compositors ** set up " not from " copy ** placed be-
fore them but by ear, as the copy was read off to them by one
man whose pronunciation had that peculiarity. By running
across puns on local and timely matters ("localisms," as the
stage to-day calls them) in the First Folio text which did not
occur in the First Quarto we may ascertain, if we will take the
trouble, the date at which the play was performed. By study-
ing the " head-pieces '* and " tail-pieces," we are informed at
what printing-houses certain of the sheets were set up. By noting
the tendency of the compositors to overuse capital letters or
italics, we are made aware of the nationality of these composi-
tors. The employment of inverted punctuation points tells us of
the poverty of resource in the printing establishments ; by
studying the construction of the "fonts" then used we see the
tendency of certain types to accidentally fall in the process of
" distributing " into certain wrong boxes — and by assuming such
accidents in the case of certain " cruces " — or disputed readings—
we are aided in, and perhaps succeed in, settling them finally.
Nay, even the "signatures" and the gaps in the pagination of
this First Folio tell us of circumstances and events in the course
of its passage through the presses of the three or four estab-
lishments which were able to jointly issue it. And when we
come to the Stationers* Registers ; and to the entries and re-
entries, minutes of decrees, decisions of courts, and so on in
and about the titles of and the proprietorships of these Plays;
the colophon of the First Folio and of some of the Quartos;'

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1896.] A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. 451

all these — the man who will say that we know nothing about
Shakespeare ipust be fearfully and wonderfully made ; fearfully
hide-bound by his own predilections, and wonderfully impervious
to what is going on about him. Of only one thing are we able
to say that Shakespeare tells us nothing and the plays tender no
testimony. Of Shakespeare's own private opinions not a word
is said, not a hint is vouchsafed. As to these he is as silent
as the tomb. And yet there are commentators in plenty who
know all about what Shakespeare thought and taught, and do
not hesitate to tell us. Nay, who even inform us of the dates
on which he wrote certain of his plays and at which he could
not have written others, from the very sentiments of certain
personages in the Plays themselves ! (As, for example, the
gentleman who assured us that, so poignant was Constance's
grief for her departed son, that the play of " King John " could
only have been written shortly after the death of poor little
Hamlet Shakespeare ; which led me to remark in these pages, I
think, that the play in which Shakespeare says that a dying
beetle suffers a pang as great as a dying giant could only have
been written shortly after Shakespeare had been a beetle !)

One of the most remarkable, and certainly the most curious
aspect of modern Shakespearean criticism and controversy
(much the same thing, apparently), is this almost universal insis-
tence upon a ** Chronology " — " Order in which the plays were
written." I confess that I, for one, have never been able to
see what difference it made, either to an appreciation of the
plays or their interpretation, whether they were composed in
sequence, or irregularly, or at one sitting !

We have Lord Tennyson's " Idyls of the King " — a perfect
gallery as he left them — and we all remember that the first
foyr or five of these Idyls appeared quite a quarter of a cen-
tury before the two or three that came afterwards and com-
pleted the gallery. We give poets their own time to finish a
work, and in their temples, not made with hands, it is entirely
immaterial if they build the dome before the basement, or the
lantern before the plinth, so that the temple is at last finished
and furnished forth. Why, then, should there be this furore and
this fuss about the chronological order of Shakespeare's plays?
this "period" and "group" division, and these analyses of
possible motives, and this discussion of the personal and domes-
tic affairs of the dramatist, in order to maintain that he wrote
his " Macbeth " before his " Tempest," or his " Winter's Tale"
before his " As You Like It " ? What earthly difference d.oesf

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452 A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. [Jan.,

It make to anybody? And yet, of the Shakespearean criticism
of the last fifty years — from the year which followed the down-
fall of the first Shakespearean Society, through Mr. Collier's
unhappy fabrications, down to our own fin de sihle days — ^the
greater bulk has been of the kind which in a former number of
The Catholic World* I ventured to call *'iEsthetic" criti-
cism (and which would justify even a stronger and less compli*
mentary adjective without going beyond its face), and its most
prominent feature has been the forcing of the plays into as
many orders and " Chronologies " of their production as were
drawn from the moods and phases which the personal taste of
each student for himself has been pleased to discover in the
text before him, by these ^Esthetic processes ; that is to say,
as many chronologies as there Were students !

But for all this, there was a certain order in which the plays
of Shakespeare (?) were written — if we could only find it out*
And this order, once we discover it, would be found to be
governed, not by the whims of his nineteenth-century students
but by the theatrical needs of Shakespeare's day : that is, the
appetites of audiences, first ; and secondly, by Shakespeare's own
advance in . stage experience (which led him, for example, to
discard rhymed lines for comedy, and to use the blank verse
which Marlowe had invented for tragedy, or prose, since he
could not fail to observe how much more easily and effectively his
actors could pronounce it). And in ascertaining it we are aided
by three pieces of circumstantial evidence, viz., the title-pages
of the twenty, or twenty-one, plays printed in quarto during
Shakespeare's life-time ; the entries in the Stationers' Registers
and their private diaries ; and the contemporary mention in
books or letters. Of these, the last two — the mentiqn in books
or diaries — are pretty conclusive of the dates at which the
plays were acted. But as to when the plays were written,
that is a different matter. Shakespeare, like every other author,
was a failure until he scored his first success. And as long as
he was a failure nobody would publish him ; while after he was
a success publishers struggled with each other to print what-
ever he wrote — good, bad, or indifferent (which accounts per-
fectly for plays good, bad, and indifferent from the same pen
appearing in the same year; as, for example, the crude and
shocking "Titus Andronicus," and the choice and perfect "Mer-
chant of Venice," being printed in 1600 ; the one almost m*

• •* William Shakespeare and his iEsthetic Critics," The Cathouc World, November,
Z884.

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1896.] A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. 453

possible of stage setting, and the other '' setting itself/' as the
saying is, even to-day in our most extravagant theatres). The
dates of the quartos and the Stationers* Registers, therefore, are
only evidence of the order in which these plays were entered
or printed (that is, they are only evidence of themselves). What
I propose in this paper, however, is — for the first time, as I
believe — to attempt to go somewhat further than these entries,
and by consulting the theatrical records of the date, with due
assessment of the probabilities as to the public appetite drawn
from the appearances and " runs " of other plays not Shake-
speare's, to satisfy this apparent craving for a " Chronology *' from
extecnal' and circumstantial evidence purely, and without any
recourse whatever to the labors of the aesthetic critics.

This external evidence, in the course of the papers heretofore
printed in The Catholic World, has been more or less pre-
sented. It remains to group it by the light of these theatrical
records.

The year 1592 is one memorable in many ways in English
chronicle. The sailing of Raleigh on his voyage to capture
Panama, in revolt since the days when it was captured and
governed by Sir Henry Morgan, which expedition returned
with the principal object unaccomplished, but with large booty,
and, among other things, with the three Indians which Shakespeare
was to utilize ; the licensing by the Bishop of London of a
translation from the French of the "Amadis de Gaul," which
Shakespeare read and Cervantes burlesqued ; and, to rapidly
group a number of still more noted names, Montague dies; the
poet Quarles is born; and this year is also the birth year of
Villiers, the great Duke of Buckingham ; of the Earl of Essex,
whom Bacon was to betray. In this year, too, John Still, an
English bishop, who wrote the first English comedy, died in
the debtor's prison of the Marshalsea, and Sir Edward Coke,
the life-long rival and enemy of Bacon, was elevated to the
attorney-generalship. But, important as these events were from
their after effects, there was one other item of apparently less
importance which dwarfed them all. That item, as it happened,
was only the insertion, in a dull and otherwise unimportant
pamphlet, of a few lines of personal pique and spite against a
young man newly arrived in London whose work had been
preferred to that of an elder and predecessor already upon the
ground. It happened in this year that Robert Greene, a play-
writer, died in a tavern from the effects of a debauch, and on
his death-bed wrote a farewell letter to his fellow actors and

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454 A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. [Jan.,

playwrights, which he called, absurdly enough, " A Groat's
Worth of Wit, bought with a Million of Repentance." Trivial
and unattractive as this letter or pamphlet is, however — for
nobody would think for a moment of reading it — it may be
well pronounced one of the most valuable pamphlets in our
literature. For, from the few lines in question, we are able to
resume the record of the life of William Shakespeare, who,
upon his marriage in Stratford-upon-Avon, ten years before^
had absolutely dropped out of our ken. Up to that record.
Shakespeare and his skylarking days had left their vestiges in
Stratford town, but with a wife on his hands, and arriving little
ones, he had been obliged to go to work. And what he found
to do, and that he went to London to obtain it, we first are
assured by this malicious allusion of poor Greene.

Greene is writing, in the tiresome euphuistic style of the day,
to his fellow-actors much in the tone of Ben Jonson's " Fare-
well to the Stage " of so many years later — which is about the
tone of every disappointed actor or dramatic critic to-day — who
bewails the degradation of the stage instead of doing his little
to make it better. And he says (the time-worn sentence ought
to be let rest, but it is necessary to quote it once more) : " Nay,
trust them not " — especially that " upstart crow, beautified with
our feathers, that, with his Tiger's heart wrapt in a player's
hide, supposes himself the only Shake-scene in a county, and
as able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you."
This sentence is, we say, one of the most valuable, as well as
the most curious, pieces of circumstantial evidence on record.
From it we draw: first, that the Shakespeare we lost sight of
at Stratford-on-Avon years before had come to London ;
second, that he had found employment at the theatre ; third,
that he had not only done menial or mechanical work (as it is
fair to suspect that the country lad must have begun at the
bottom somewhere) but that he had something to do with the
writing of plays ; fourth, that these plays were tragedies (since
they were done in blank verse, and not comedies, for which
prose or rhyme was employed) ; and fifth, that he wrote that
portion of the play of " Henry the Sixth," part third, in which
the line " O tiger's heart, wrapt in a woman's hide," occurs,
addressed by Richard to Queen Margaret. Nor does the cir-
cumstantial evidence give out even here. It happens that the
third part of " Henry the Sixth " is a revision — practically a re-
writing and rearrangement of a play called "The True Tragedy
of Richard, Duke of York," etc., which was a popular one long

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1896.] A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. 455

before. So it becomes to the dramatic critic of these days
almost a fact demonstrated that one of the things young
Shakespeare did was to rewrite this old play (a task, of course,
entrusted to a stage-manager, as we would say to-day, or a
stage reader, or prompter, or adapter) ; whence we conclude that
young Shakespeare had already risen to this position — not an
unimportant one, or one given to mediocre men — in the theatre.

And again, from this malignant allusion alone we are able
to fix not only upon his employment, but upon the theatre at
which Shakespeare was employed as stage-manager and play-
mounter. This theatre was " The Rose," a small house on
" the Bankside '* occupied at that time by the company known
as " Lord Strange's Players." For, while there were sixteen
licensed companies,* happily we are able to fix upon this particular
play-house and this particular company of players in this wise.

In 1586 the particular company of players known as "Lord
Leicester's Servants " had varied their monotony of 'competition
with the other companies of actors by travelling to the Low
Countries with Lord Leicester and Sir Philip Sydney, whence
they had passed over into Germany, playing with much success
before the courts of the countries they visited, and returning
January, 1587, to England had, instead of at once re-establish-
ing themselves in London, continued travelling in the provinces
generally, in the autumn of that year ; playing, as it happened,
in Stratford-upon-Avon. Here the probabilities that a young
man of theatrical tastes who held matinees and made speeches
over his calf-stickings — but who had been driven to look for
remunerative employment by the sudden pressure of matrimon-
ial and domestic expenses — would have been led to seek as a
favor employment of this same company, and been allowed to
accompany them in some menial capacity, come to our aid, and
the not violent hypothesis carries us on until we resume the
record. Soon ^after this company returned to London, in 1588,
their patron Leicester dying, they were induced by Edward
Alleyn, himself a famous actor, to pass under the license of
Lord Strange. Master Alleyn went further, and Lord Worces-
ter, having also died that year and his company of players dis-
banding, he bought up this company's properties and such plays
as they had owned, and carried this company and these proper-
ties over to this play-house, " The Rose," which he leased . of

* Known (besides the Queen's) as, Lord Leicester's Servants ; Lord Notting^ham's ; Lord
Sussex's ; Lord Essex's ; Lord Derby's ; Lord Hertford's ; Lord Pembroke's ; Lord Worces-
ter's ; Lord Strange's ; Lord Howard's ; Lord Clinton's ; The Lord Chamberlain's ; The
Lord Admiral's, and Sir Robert Law's.

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4S6 A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. [Jan.,

Philip Henslowe, a sort of theatrical broker, and reputedly rich
man (whose step-daughter Alleyn finally married). He also, by
one means and another, induced Richard Burbage, Henry Condell,
Henry Cordy, and Will Sly, the principal actors of another
company (the Queen's Majesty's Servants), to join their new
venture, and he also purchased outright from them such plays
as they were able to bring with them, and from among these
so purchased play-books, the first one selected by this company
was this very True Tragedy, now called the third part of " Henry
the Sixth," with the interpolated words which Greene said were
written by a " Shake-scene " — that is, by the clever young
Shakespeare who had supplanted Greene. This play was origin-
ally the work of this very man Greene, of Marlowe and of
Lodge, who had for many years written plays exclusively for
the Queen's Company. "This True Tragedy of Richard, Duke
of York," therefore, rewritten in parts and with the line about
the " tiger's heart and woman's hide," with Greene's statement
that Shakespeare had added this line to his old play ; the
source of it by purchase as aforesaid, and the performance by
a company which had but lately visited Stratford-upon-Avon,
form a chain of circumstantial evidence so flawless and com-
plete that we are able to assert that in 1 598 Shakespeare was the
stage-mounter of plays for Lord Strange's company of players,
playing at The Rose play-house on the Bankside, nearly upon
the site of which Shakespeare himself twelve years later erected
his own play-house, of world-wide reputation, the famous and
never-to-be-forgotten " Globe." It was in rewriting this old
play, therefore, that Shakespeare earned his first laurels. And
the jealousy of poor Greene, who had lost his employment
through dissipation and debauchery, and was starving to death
in a garret, and who saw his own play, revised by his junior
and a former theatre " super " and factotum, restored to great
popularity and drawing in money, while he was suffering for
bread, actually led not only to his Shakespeares in his own
day, but to the accurate recording of his biography in ours !

The disaffection of such famous actors as Burbage, Sly,
Condell, and Cordy to Lord Strange's company — coupled, per-
haps, with some especial favors shown to this new and strong
company, such as being selected to present a play before the
queen on St. John's Day, and the crowning misfortune of los-
ing Greene, their best play-writer, through dissipation — utterly
broke up the company known as the " Queen's Majesty's Play-
ers," so others of that company, and of other companies, joined

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1896.] A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. 457

the rising combination, among them William Kempe, a famous
clown of the day. This accession was of considerable impor-
tance. For the possession of a first-rate low comedian was
not a thing to be despised, and as plays (as the saying is) " to
bring out the entire strength of the company " were what was
wanted, it became necessary to produce a comedy, and so
Shakespeare's attention was turned to a field in which he was
to excel as he already excelled in the field of tragedy — the
field of comedy. Prior to this, instead of writing comedies, the
practice had been to write comedy characters into tragedies
(a practice satirized in " The Return from Parnassus '* produced
at Cambridge University in this very year, by making one of
the characters draw " Will " Kempe upon the stage with a rope,
with the explanation that they had a " clowne," and if the
audience demanded a " clowne,** whether the play demanded one
or not, why he must come in somehow — with a rope, if impos-
sible to get him there otherwise ; a piece of satire which, though
written three hundred years or so earlier, was and is quite as
pungent as Mr. Dickens's order from Vincent Crummies to Nicho-
las Nickleby to write a play for the real pump and wash-tub he
had purchased at a bargain).

Our possession of the Greene-Marlowe play just mentioned,
both in its original form and as rewritten by Shakespeare with
Greene's designation of the so rewritten parts, at once puts us
en rapport with Shakespeare's methods and ideas of play-writing.
It would be impossible, therefore, to suppose that his own taste
and inclination led him to compose what appears to be his next
play, the " Titus Andronicus." But although the " Henry VI."
play was well, even enthusiastically, received, it was as yet not
largely efficient in the takings at the door. Audiences were, as
yet, few and far between which appreciated such fine points as
the changes made in the rewriting to increase the historic ac-
curacy or the perspective ; such as the alteration of Suffolk's
speech,

" Hast thou not waited at my trencher

When I have feasted with Queen Margaret,"
into

" How often hast thou waited at my cup.

Fed at my trencher,

When, etc.,"

(which expresses a step in table etiquette, and that it was the
servant, not the nobleman, who ate from a trencher). The
management's . exchequer called for a play that should really

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458 A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. [Jan.,

be popular, like Marlowe's bloody " Tamburlaine," with murders,
hewings, hackings, and slaughters, with a text to match, full
of bombasts that even in the mouth of roaring Typhon should
seem hyperboles. An actor named Brown, who came into the
company from the Lord Worcester's players, possessed a play
called "Titus and Vespasian," which, as has been lately ascer-
tained,* he or some other had performed with success in Ger-
many, and on the general story of this play, but without in any
sense rewriting it, Shakespeare now produced his " Titus An-
dronicus," with a murder or a rapine or a mayhem in every
scene of the five acts, and ending in a general carnival of
slaughter. But, while all this was to catch the groundlings,
after the style of Marlowe's " Tamburlaine," it is remarkable
that the dialogue was entirely lacking in sound and fury. Mur-
ders though there might be, the dialogue was singularly calm and
conservative and bloodless. In spite of his theme Shakespeare,
while as yet crude and unartificial, was still — according to his
dawning bent — philosophical, pathetic, sententious. Indeed, he
never wrote a play in which his own literary sympathies and
tastes were disguised, and no one can read this first dramatic
composition of a Shakespeare, without being impressed by the
impossibility of an author's efforts to conceal himself, however
young or formative his effort. The pathos and the philosophy
intruded themselves at the most incongruous moments, and it is
interesting to notice how, when the two stalwart brothers Chiron
and Demetrius are to be murdered at the end to satisfy dramatic
justice, they stand up calmly and allow themselves to be butchered
in cold blood by a one-armed old man, who is uttering, in the
sweetest accents, the most Socratic sentiments the while he
does the "business." •

But, although written invita Minerva^ " Titus Andronicus "
succeeded in filling the theatre's exchequer. Whereas the " Henry
VI." plays were only presented about thirteen times, beginning
February 19, 1592, "Titus Andronicus" held the boards for
weeks, carrying the Rose Company up to about July i, when,
the plague beginning to spread over Southwark, the authorities
shut up that play-house and ordered the company to the house at
Newington* Butts. This house, so memorable in Shakespeare
annals, was a house used for Sunday and holiday delectation
only, and rarely resorted to on week-days. Here, however,
Lord Strange's Company now opened three days in a week, with
" Titus Andronicus " and " A Knack to know a Knave " (written

* Introduction to the Bankside Shakespeare, vol. vii.

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1896.] A Study IN Shakespearean Chronology. 459

by more than one author in order to accommodate the clown
aforementioned, Will Kempe). The shutting up of the theatre
was a great blow to the watermen, who lived by the transpor-
tation of the audiences to and from the Surrey Shore and Lon-
don Town, and they petitioned that the Rose Company again
be permitted to open at their own house. Their petition pre-
vailed, but not until December i, the mortality by that time
having subsided to not over forty deaths a week, and thereafter
until February, 1593, when the plague again became virulent,
the company continued at The Rose, with daily afternoon per-
formances. It is said that during the interregnum at The Rose
Shakespeare wrote the " Venus and Adonis "; writing the " Lu-
crece *' and the Sonnets in the second period of closure at the
Globe ; by these poems gaining for the company and the play-
house Lord Southampton's constant patronage. But, as we are
not now discussing the poems, or their Shakespearean author-
ship, or Southampton connection, we may pass oyer the ques-
tion altogether. A little theory of my own may perhaps be in-
truded just here. I think that the mounting of his earliest
entire play, the " Titus Andronicus,** first drew Shakespeare's
attention prominently to the stage inadequacies of his date, and
suggested, if not improvements in the stage itself (movable pro-
perties, " practicable " scenery, etc.), at least that he make, in
his text, less draft upon the theatrical facilities, and, while
calling for less paraphernalia, make his descriptive text richer
and more picturesque, supplying with words the scenic poverty
which he could not supply. Up to the mounting of that play
the stage could get along very well, for there were arms and
accoutrements of war — swords, pikes, helmets, breast-plates, etc.
When actors wore these and carried the weapons, it represented
a battle-field ; when they wore these, but were otherwise un-
armed, it might be a court scene or a council of state. For
other scenes, a table and a few tankards made an inn ; a four-
post bedstead, a bedroom, etc. But in " Titus Andronicus '*
there were forests, pitfalls, caves, market-places, bonfires, and
scenes of peculiar and unusual torture and slaughter, which it
would be very hard to adequately express in scenes to-day with-
out verging upon the ridiculous, and which must haVe been very
hard indeed to manage then. At any rate, there is this much
toward the verification of my theory — that Shakespeare never
again wrote a play calling for so much unusual scenic prepara-
tion ; and in every other play supplied description — as in the
case of Lear's cliff — which brought the scene home in words.

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460 A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. [Jan..

Sir William D'Avenant told Dryden that Shakespeare's first
play was his "Pericles/* I have stated that his first was his
" Titus Andronicus," not on the internal evidence, but because,
as above, it was played at The Rose in the spring of 1592.
It is not impossible, therefore, that the " Pericles," which is of
about the same literary merit as the "Titus Andronicus," and
which shows the same dealing with the startling events of the
old story (the ever-popular story of Apollonius of Tyre) in the
philosophical, deliberate, and stately language from which Shake-
speare was so rarely able to depart, came first in actual point
of time. "Pericles" was, however, not played until 1594, when
its popularity was so great that a publisher named Pavier bribed
some actor from The Rose to sell him the play-book of it, which,
under the iniquitous monopoly (one of the worst granted by
Elizabeth, that greatest granter of monopolies who ever lived)
of the Stationers' Company, Pavier was able to enter and retain
as his own copyright. Indeed he held on to the play — ^he and
his assigns and successor? — so practically, that John Henninges
and Henry Condell (Shakespeare's fellow-actors at the date of
which we are now writing, and his friends and beneficiaries
always) were unable to print it in the collected First Folio
of 1623.

In December, 1592, a play called "The Jealous Comedy"
was acted at The Rose, out of which crude and imperfect affair
Shakespeare took the cue — but very little if anything else— of
his first comedy, "The Merry Wives of Windsor." This play
and the entirely absurd story of its having been written by
direct order of Queen Elizabeth have already been discussed in
these pages.* This play is notable from the fact that, when
it came to be printed in the First Folio, it was found to be
packed with localisms to such an enormous extent f that it was
necessary to leave them there, it being impossible to tell what was
Shakespeare's and what was " Will " Kempe's, if indeed, as it is
probable, he was the interpolator of all the allusions to local trades-
men, to current happenings, and to old jokes and popular airs,
with which the play is stuffed. The custom of players " speaking
more than is set down for them " was one which Shakespeare
deprecated, • in the " advice to the players " which he puts into
Hamlet's mouth about this time. But it had a hold upon the
actor's profession already too firm to be shaken by any remon-

•" Queen Elizabeth's share in * The Merry Wives of Windsor.' " — The Cathouc
World, September, 1886.

t Introduction to Bankside Shakespeare, vol. i.

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1896.] A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. 461

strance, and it is a popular custom to-day, and doubtless will
continue to be, as it has been since those days, coeval with the
stage.

No soorier was " The Merry Wives of Windsor " put upon the
stage, in place of " The Jealous Comedy," than it was stolen by
the publishers for the benefit of the outside public who did not
or could not go to the theatres, or perhaps for a sale to those
who wished to read at their leisure what had delighted them on
the stage. It is probable that on this occasion the play was
stolen by shorthand, rather than (as in the case of " Pericles *')
by bribing the actors for their " lines." Our reason for suppos-
ing this is, that many passages written by Shakespeare are given
by an idem sonansy while many of the localisms above mentioned
are reported exactly, a stenographer being, of course, unable
to discriminate between them, and bound merely to take down
ivhatever reached his ear.

The year 1593 was a memorable one in the history of the
stock company at The Rose. In February of that year Lord
Strange died, and by the rule that companies of actors must
have some noble patron under whose name to exist, the com-
pany solicited to become known as " Lord Derby's Servants."
In April of the same year, however. Lord Derby also died, and
the company again procured their style to be changed to that
of "The Lord Chamberlaine's Servants." This was the first
step of the company, whose material prosperity was unbounded,
to aggrandize itself with the court. The lord chamberlain
was then Sir Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, and, through
this connection, the royal, as well as the popular, favor was
secured. Another notable event, which is of considerable im-
portance in following the history of Shakespeare's play-writing,
was the bankruptcy and dissolution of the company of actors
known as Lord Pembroke's Servants. This company had bare-
ly survived the plague, and bad business and dissensions in its
ranks had reduced it to the point of dissolution.

Its members were forced to pawn their properties and fix-
tures, and even their apparel, and offered for sale their reper-
toire of plays. Our company at The Rose, which was in con-
stantly increasing prosperity, doubtless by Shakespeare's advice,
now purchased certain plays, among which there are supposed
to have been Marlowe's "Edward II.," "Edward III.," "Rich-
ard III.," a play called " Hamlet," written by Kyd, and a play
called " The Taming of a Shrew," which might have been writ-
ten by anybody, as it contains nothing upon which to hang

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462 A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. [Jan.,

conjecture or to found comparative examination in a search for
particular or single authorship. And finally, to distinguish this
year in English dramatic history, in May Marlowe himself was
killed in a drunken brawl in a tavern at Deptford by a fellow-
player named Archer. This latter occurrence had a great bear-
ing on Shakespeare's future career. For so rapidly had he
risen to eminence and popularity that Marlowe was his only
rival to the title of leading dramatist of England, and the
removal of the rival turned all eyes to the survivor.

Nothing whatever is known or can be ascertained of their
personal relations, but from the entire absence of any evidence
that Marlowe, like Greene, was jealous of the rising star it has
been confidently asserted that the two were friends. I cannot
exactly concur in this logic myself. If Greene was unable to
bear the sight of Shakespeare rewriting his and Marlowe's joint
work, and scoring a success thereby, which they themselves had
never achieved out of that same piece as first written, I cannot
see why it should be assumed that Marlowe acquiesced with joy
at Shakespeare's crowding them out of their own field, by assimi-
lating their own piece.

However, both Marlowe and Greene were dead, and Shake-
speare was the leader among their successors. All their plays are
of the greatest importance in our further chronicle. However, as
we are writing not the history of the English drama, but of Shake-
speare's play-writing, it only concerns us to see what Shake-
speare did with the five above-named plays, purchased from the
Pembroke men.

A close comparison of Marlowe's " Edward II.," in which
the horrible death of that monarch (and it is hard to imagine a
horror which it lacked, according to Marlowe) with Shakespeare's
" Richard II.," leads us to assert that Shakespeare, with the
reverence for his predecessor which he showed on many another
occasion, modelled the latter on the former. (Indeed there
seems to me no clearer case of a modelling of one play upon
another in literature, and no more emphatic example of Shake-
speare's tendency to calm and philosophical speech, and inability
to indulge in ranting and hyperbolical mouthings, than in the
contrast, united with the correspondence between these two
great dramatic pieces, the " Edward II." and the "Richard II.")
Kyd's " Hamlet " was probably a dramatized version of the
Belief orest story, although contemporary allusions to it, which
are often supposed to refer to Shakespeare's " Hamlet," prove
that it was of quite another kidney. We know something of it ;

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1896.] A Study in Shakespearean Chronology. 463

as, for example, that the Ghost went around ("like an Oister
wife," as Dekkar says in Histriomastix) crying " Revenge, Re-
venge ! " which we know Shakespeare's ghost does not. But
that it suggested to Shakespeare his noblest play, it is equally
certain. As to the " Edward 11.," there are many scholars who
insist that it is Shakespeare's, and not Marlowe's work; but as
their reasons for so thinking, when given, are always based upon
the same single scene therein — the one which contains the King's
dialogue with the Countess of Salisbury — (and as the rest of the
play does not suggest Shakespeare to anybody) I am inclined
to think that Shakespeare wrote in that scene for The Rose
players when they mounted the play in the spring of 1594. As
to the play "The Taming of a Shrew," Mr. Albert R. Frey* has
been able, by an exact parallelization of it with Shakespeare's
** Taming of the Shrew," to show that there are but five, or at
the most six, lines which can be called identical in the two
plays (although, in spite of his own demonstration, my friend
Mr. Frey does not agree with me in so believing). I therefore
believe that, as in so many cases, the quick insight of Shake-
speare saw the merits of the theme, and the inadequacies of its
treatment in the old play, and himself wrote the new one. Ex-
cept that there is in each an " Induction " — drawn from the
familiar story of Haroun al Raschid and the beggar — few of us
can find any resemblance between the treatment of the story in
the two plays.

We have thus been able to designate four plays prepared and
composed by Shakespeare at the threshold of his great career,
without any recourse to inductive (which is aesthetic) criticism
whatever !

We have ascertained them simply by considering Shake-
speare as a man with the same interests and sympathies and
objects as if he had lived among us and been working, not in
sixteenth-century London but in nineteenth-century New York.
We have discovered him writing plays because his audiences
wanted them, fancied them, insisted upon them. (And where
would our Shakespeare have been to-day, and how much of him
would we have possessed, if he had written plays that his audi-
ences did not want, would not come to hear, would not tole-
rate at any price?)

In other words, Shakespeare wrote his plays, not according
to his own "moods" and "periods" but according to the
^*- moods " and " periods " of his audiences !

* The Bankside Shakespeare, vol. ii.

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464 A Neglected Call. [Jan.,

A NEGLECTED CALL.

BY SARAH C. BURNETT.

** But at last came also the other Virgins, saying : Lord, Lord, open to us. But He
answering, said : Amen I say to you, I know you not. "

LANCHE SEYMOUR closed the book and rested
her hands on its cover. " I don't like that/* she
sighed ; it " seems so sad."

It did not seem strange that melancholy thoughts

should be unwelcome on this beautiful August

day. It was the feast of St. Clara, and everything in nature

seemed to be doing glad homage to the virgin patroness of the

most lovely valley in beautiful California.

Blanche was sitting in the lawn-tennis ground of the Notre
Dame Convent at San Jos6. She had brought her prayer-book
with her, intending to make a meditation on the gospel of the
day, but the story of the Foolish Virgins seemed to displease
her. "But it shall not be my case," she exclaimed confidently;
" my vocation is decided. I have thought long and seriously
about it, and now it is only a question of time."

" Well, Blanche," exclaimed a cheerful voice beside her ;
" so you are going to leave us ? We thought you would stay
to graduate."

"I could if I wished, but I think that I had better make a
home for my father at once. He has been boarding in various
places ever since mother died, and he seems to be so very tired
of it that I really feel that I ought to give up my last year at
school and go to housekeeping. He does not say that I must,
but I think it is the least I might do for him."

"And what about Emily?"

" Emily is to have her choice. She may remain at this con-
vent until she has finished the course, or she may go to San
Francisco with me and attend the Notre Dame College."

" What do?s Father Andrews think of your determination ? "

"I have not consulted him about it. He could only advise
me to do what my conscience dictates, and I think I owe it to
my father to devote a few years of my life to him before I — "
She blushed and broke off suddenly.

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1896.] A Neglected Call. 465

Sister Lucy smiled. " Of course we know what you will do
when those few years are over," she said.

"There is no dowbt of it," said Blanche emphatically; "my
mind is made up to that. I shall not be like the poor Foolish
Virgins of whom we read in to-day's gospel."

About a week after, Blanche and her sister Emily left the
convent and took possession of their new home in San Francisco.
Blanche's first care was to place Emily in the day-school at
Notre Danie Convent, in the mission. Then she devoted herself
to the comfort and entertainment of her father, and, when
occasion required, to social duties.

Like many other girls who have had no experience in the

"Blanche was sitting in the Lawn Tennis Ground."

matter, Blanche had much overrated the dangers of society
life. Her religious books had spoken frequently of the perils
of worldliness, and she, exaggerating and misapplying these
warnings, had grown to regard the company of her fqllow-
creatures, apart from religious or business associations, as a very
pitfall of. Satan. To her unutterable surprise she found, on
entering timidly into the ranks of "the upper ten," that much
good seed might be found growing amid the cockle of this wide
field. Many a "! queen of the ball-room " had reigned all day
over a motherless home or a darkened sick-room, and many an
apparently frivolous belle, appearing to rejoice only in the

VOL. LXIL— 30

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466 A Neglected Call. [Jan.,

number of her conquests, was, in effect, using her powers of fas-
cination only to accomplish silent but solid good in the hearts
of her admirers.

Personal vanity might be said to be the last failing of
which the pious Blanche Seymour would ever be accused.
And, truth to tell, she never knew herself whether she were
good-looking or not until after she left school. Dress, that not-
to-be-despised element in a woman's attractiveness, was given
but little attention in a convent boarding-school. The girls,
absorbed in books and thoughts of premiums and honors, did
not spend much time in admiring each other, and so Blanche's
rare beauty, attracting no notice from her school-mates, never
became for her a subject for self-congratulation. It was not
until she heard herself spoken of as the most beautiful girl in
her circle, till admiration and congratulation followed her every
step — until she realized, in short, that she had become a " social
success," that the evil leaven began to work.

But in a short time the mischief was done. Recollections
of compliments and pleasant speeches would thrust themselves
upon her during the time set apart for prayer and meditation.
The admiring looks that had pleased hep the night before
would somehow follow her around in the performance of her
daily duties. Devotion to her toilet gradually became more
important than devotion to her father. Poor little Blanche's
head, in short, was completely turned in a very short time.

One sunny afternoon, just before Lent, Emily came running
in from school in a great state of excitement. " O Blanche ! '"
she exclaimed, " Mrs. Highup is going to give a musicale some
night this week and you're going to be invited."

Blanche had tried her best to correct Emily's bad habit of
giving nicknames, but had not succeeded. She knew that the
names by which Emily generally chose to call her acquaintances
were not those by which they were indicated in the directory ;
and, consequently, that " Mrs. Highup " in all probability was
known to her by some other appellation. She mildly intimated
as much to her sister.

"Why!" exclaimed the latter, "she's Mrs. Travis, Helen
Travis's mother, and she's the very cr^me-de'/a'Skim-milk of society.'"

" It seems to me," said Blanche, knowing that it would be
worse than useless to reprove her sister's levity, "that a Mrs*
Travis did call on me a little while ago, but I was out when
she came. What is she like ? "

" Didn't you see her when you returned her visit ? "

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1896.] A Neglected Call. 467

" No, I have not been to see her yet. She has only one
reception day in the month, and that has not come around
since she called. Tell me something about her.*'

" The Travis family," said Emily, ** are in every sense delight-
ful people. Their pedigree is as long as from here to New
York, and their pride is something monstrous ! "

" Emily, don't exaggerate so ! Are they wealthy ? "

" No ; delightful people never are ; they don't have anything
to do with money, and money don't have anything to do with
them. The other day, when I happened in with Helen on our
way from school, Mrs. Highup took occasion to tell me that
there wasn't a tradesman in their family all the way back to
Adam. By way of keeping up the interest I told them of
some of papa's funny experiences in the wholesale grocery
business, and ' silence like a poultice came.' "

" I am glad you did not try to sail under false colors,
Emily," said Blanche approvingly. "Was that before she called?"

" No, it was only last week. But still Helen said you were
to be asked to the musicale."

" That is rather strange," said Blanche, " if she looks down
on trades-people so, and knows who we are. Maybe it is out
of pure love of the art."

Emily knew better. Though inferior to her sister in intel-
lectual attainments, she possessed far more penetration. It was
perfectly plain to her that Mrs. Travis might easily draw a line
of distinction between trades-people who had made money and
trades-people who had not, and that the fact of Mr. Seymour's
belonging to the former class might have something to do with
her condescension towards his daughters.

That very afternoon Mrs. Travis called in person to invite
both sisters. Blanche soon found that, making every allowance
for Emily's exaggerations, the lady deserved the title that had
been applied to her.

" I think you will find my young people very companiona-
ble," she said when the invitation had been accepted. " Helen
is always singing the praises of her dear Emily, and Blanche, I
think, will find a kindred spirit in my Theodore, for he is de-
voted to music."

"Like yourself, Mrs. Travis," said Blanche politely.

" Oh, dear no ! " with a deprecating smile ; " he inherits his
talent from his dear papa. His devotion to music was some-
thing extraordinary; I really think it hastened his death.
Well," said she as she rose to go, " I shall expect to see you.

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468 A Neglected Call. [Jan.,

then, on Thursday night. What a pity that I cannot entertain
you on my plantation in old Virginia! Those were the glori-
ous days of old. Oh, that war, that war ! "

She sadly shook her head, bade the two sisters an over-
whelming adieu, and took her leave.

"It would require a pretty good microscope to see that
Virginia plantation," said Emily, again forgetting her resolu-
tions. "They lived in a little house in the suburbs of Rich-
mond with about enough ground to raise three heads of cab-
bage. Helen showed me a picture of it."

" Is Theodore a musician by profession ? " asked Blanche.

" No, he is in the county clerk's office just now ; but there
must be some musical talent in the family, as their father was
a piano-tuner. But they never lost a nickel by the war. They
were living in Oregon when that occurred."

Mr. Seymour was not very well pleased when he heard of
his daughters' new acquaintance. In his line of business the
name of Susanna Travis was not considered as a guarantee of
prompt payment ; and no landlord was ever eager to secure
her as a tenant. But the invitation had been accepted, and he,
knowing that Mrs. Travis was not likely to .remain very long
in one neighborhood, concluded to let things take their course,
for the present at least.

That evening Blanche wrote a letter to Sister Lucy. She
said very little about her own feelings or her manner of spend-
ing her time. She was rather ashamed to let the sister know
how worldly she was growing. So she wrote a lengthy de-
scription of a church dedication which she had attended, ifipoke of
Emily's wonderful progress at school, said a few affectionate words
about old times, and managed, on the whole, to write a very
satisfactory epistle without betraying her altered frame of mind.

Sister Lucy received the letter at recreation time. She was
walking up and down the' long corridor leading to the chapel.
At one end hung the clock which had marked the happiest
hours of Blanche's youth, at the other an open door showed
the study-hall, with its beautiful statue of the Immaculate Virgin.

" The dear child ! " she said, as she carefully put the letter
in her pocket. "No doubt we shall soon have her amongst us
to stay."

"There is another one we will have sooner or later," said
Sister Philomena, "and that is Emily."

" Emily ! " exclaimed Sister Lucy, perfectly aghast. " She
would make life a burden to the novice-mistress."

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1896.] A Neglected Call. 469

Sister Philomena had been Emily's teacher during her last
year at the school, and her record-book bore distressing evi-
dences .of that young lady's wilfulness. For all that, Sister
Philomena seemed to know what she was talking about. " Yes,
I know she is mischievous," she said, " but she has a stability
of character which, moulded by Divine grace, would make her
an excellent religious. Blanche is very mild and tractable, and
I doubt not has a true call to the cloister; but of the two
Emily, I think, will make the better nun.*'

" I do pity the novice-mistress," sighed little Sister Aloysius.

"Everything in Nature seemed to be doing homage to the Virgin Patroness."

She was the teacher of plain sewing, and had been driven
nearly distracted by left sleeves sewn into right arm-holes, and
button-holes made like eyes with magnified lashes. " I pity her
from the bottom of my heart."

While the sisters were thus discussing her character and
prospects Emily was busily preparing her school-tasks so as
to be free to spend the evening at Mrs. Travis's. At eight
o'clock the girls set out, and a walk of a few blocks brought
them to that lady's residence.

Emily and Blanche found Mrs. Travis a very good hostess.
Her stately, condescending ways were not altogether out of
place in her own house, and she certainly took great pains to

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470 A Neglected Call. [Jan.,

give pleasure to her guests, who were of the usual ball-room
types.

Helen Travis was resplendent in light kid gloves which
sorely needed the ministrations of the cleaner. The musical
Theodore was about twenty-five, tall and decidedly handsome.
He was by no means an intellectual prodigy, neither was he
the simpering idiot known as the "society man." His manners
were such as might be expected from his antecedents'and training.

He was considerably occupied during the first part of the
evening in superintending the amateur musical programme ;
but after the artistic tastes of the guests had been satisfied, he
devoted himself mainly to the entertainment of the Misses
Seymour. Emily, while she treated him politely, took very little
pains to make herself agreeable to him. Blanche, being the
older, felt the necessity of corresponding with the efforts of
the hostess, and so entered into a conversation with much
apparent interest. Before the evening was over she could not
help seeing that her beauty and grace had made a deep im-
pression on the young man. Though his conversation could
hardly in itself have been very entertaining to a girl of her
mental superiority, the fact that he admired her made his com-
pany rather agreeable than otherwise.

Time sped on unperceived, until the approach of midnight
warned the assembly to disperse, and she bade him good-night,
after cordially inviting him to call on her next reception night.

Accordingly, on the following Wednesday evening, Mr.
Theodore Travis was ushered into Mr. Seymour's parlor. The
gentleman of the house was not at home, being shut up with
eleven other unfortunates in a jury-room. If he had been there
the young man might have received such a chilling reception
that he would hardly have felt encouraged to call again. But
poor foolish Blanche was her own guardian for the time being,
and in her fondness for admiration fluttered nearer and nearer
to the fatal flame.

After talking very agreeably for an hour or so, she called
Emily into the room, that they might engage in a game of three-
handed euchre. Unconscious of how thoroughly that young
lady disliked him, he tried to make himself very agreeable to
her. If there was one thing that Emily hated more than an-
other, it was to be reminded of the fact of her being a mere
school-girl ; and of course Mr. Travis had to ask her what
school she was attending.

" The convent at the Mission Dolores," she answered, de-

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1896.] A Neglected Call, 471

voutly wishing that he would either treat her like a grown per-
son or not speak to her at all.

" My sister goes there too," he said. " You are one of their
graduates, are you not, Miss Seymour ? "

" No," said Blanche, " I never graduated anywhere, but I
was raised, you might almost say, at the College of Notre Dame
at San Jos^. And you are a Santa Clara student, Mr. Travis ? "

"I was there only for a year," he replied, "but I didn't
like it. Those Jesuits, I think, would play mean tricks on a
fellow if they could."

"You did well to be on your guard," said Emily with im-
penetrable gravity. " I hope you were careful to count the
change whenever you paid your bills."

Mr. Travis suddenly dropped the subject. It was a fact, as
Emily shrewdly suspected, that he had not worried very much
about the payment of his school-bills. Another piece of his-
tory (which he failed to mention) was that the fathers, weary of
his idleness and impertinence, had mildly suggested, at the close
of the year, that he complete his studies at some other institution.

Theodore Travis had a sharp eye to his own interests. His
first attraction towards the lovely girl had been simply an act
of homage to her beauty. Then he began to think. He had
held his position during two official terms, and the next revo-
lution of the political wheel would infallibly turn him out of
employment. He had no ability for business, and, though he
had no vicious habits, his tastes were of that extravagant kind
which renders a large income very desirable. Here was a beau-
tiful young lady whose father's name stood for half a million on
the assessment roll, and who had shown herself pleased with his
attentions. This was a possible solution of his difficulties. He
might at least try to win the fair prize. If she refused him —
well, that was an experience that every man had once or twice
in a lifetime. If she married him, while her father might ad-
vance the American theory that every man should himself
take care of his wife, in practice it would be another thing.
Sheer decency, if not affection for his daughter, would compel
Mr. Seymour to provide his son-in-law with the means of mak-
ing a comfortable living. And in time, when Blanche came to
her inheritance —

So accordingly he proceeded to make himself more and
more agreeable to Blanche.

Blanche's infatuation seemed now to spread through evdry
detail of her life. Her household duties were left to take care

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472 A Neglected Call. [Jan.,

of themselves as best they might. She would sit all day long
idly dreaming, making no effort to be agreeable to any member
of her family. Her religious exercises dwindled down to a half-
hearted compliance with the precepts of the Church. She
ceased corresponding with her old friends in San Jos^, and did
not even take the trouble to go out to the Mission Convent to
see how her sister was progressing.

Unfortunately, her father had not the remotest idea of this
state of affairs. He was repeatedly called away on business ;
and Theodore, for reasons of his own, made it a point not to
call when he happened to be at home.

But if Mr. Seymour was unconscious of the turn affairs
were taking, poor Emily was in a very unhappy state of mind.
It took her a long time to realize that her sensible sister could
be guilty of such a piece of folly. Once satisfied, however,
that the fact existed, she resolved to remonstrate.

" Blanche," she said timidly, one evening as they sat alone
in the parlor, "don't you think Mr. Travis comes here rather
often?"

Blanche blushed to the roots of her hair, but said nothing.
It was rather hard for Emily, whose nature it was to say every-
thing right out, and expect others to do the same, to reopen
the subject which her sister seemed trying to avoid. But she
was in earnest, and her earnestness carried her through.

" I think," she began after a pause, " that he has carried
his attentions to the point where you ought to decide what you
are going to do."

Another silence. A lump rose in Emily's throat.

" You haven't asked my advice, Blanche, and you may not
take it ; but I will advise you for all that. I know you think
a great deal of him, but it would be the worst thing you could
do to marry him."

Blanche still deigned no reply. Emily went on :

" You know he isn't much of a man ; and you know that,
with the exception of a little taste for music, there is nothing
in common between you. You couldn't live together for two
weeks without quarrelling bitterly. And you know how flippant
he is with regard to religion."

" He has a great respect for sacred things ! " cried Blanche
suddenly.

" Why, no, Blanche ! Have you forgotten how disrespectfully
he spoke of the Jesuits the very second time we met him?"

" I don't see why you should have taken him up so sharply,"

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1896.] A Neglected Call. 473

said Blanche, anxious to leave the original subject. " You have
no personal friends amongst the Jesuits."

" I know that ; but I respect them too much to sit still and
hear them abused. Why, if they were so many Protestant min-
isters,** losing some of her enforced calmness, " I would have
nothing but contempt for a man who would talk so impertinently
of his old teachers."

Blanche relapsed into silence. The door-bell rang, and Emily
rose to go.

"Once for all," she said, thoroughly saddened and discour-
aged, "I have warned you. I believe him perfectly capable of
jilting you if it happened to suit him. If he marries you, you
will have a very unhappy life. The time has come when you
must decide whether to encourage him or not. For God's sake,
dear Blanche, do think well before you go on."

Emily left the room just in time to avoid meeting the fasci-
nating Theodore. He brought Blanche a beautiful bouquet,
which she placed in a vase on the mantel-piece. Then, happy
in his company, the clouds passed from her brow, and Emily's
warnings were totally forgotten.

But several months passed, and Theodore showed no signs
of approaching the point. On the contrary, his visits began to
diminish in frequency. But then her father was at home much
more than formerly, and the dear creature may have hesitated
to disturb the privacy of a family party. So Blanche never
once mistrusted the sincerity of his intentions until the over-
whelming truth was rudely thrust upon her.

One afternoon, early in December, Emily was alone at home,
when she received a call from Kate Golden, the daughter of
an old and intimate friend of her mother's.

" We want you and Blanche to spend next Thursday even-
ing with us. We are going to have a little company to meet
a friend from Santa Clara," said she.

'* We would like very much to go," replied Emily, " but I am
afraid that we will have no escort. Papa is on another of those
everlasting juries, and I hardly think that the trial will be over."

" Oh ! never mind about that. You can come very early in
the evening, and then you can stay all night."

" But isn't your friend visiting at the house ? "

" Mary Gibbons ? No. She is staying at the Occidental
Hotel with her mother. In fact," impressively, " she is going to
be married, and she has come to the city to have her trousseau
made."

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474 A Neglected Call. [Jan.,

" Going to be married ? '* said Emily, not knowing what else
to say.

" Yes. And the worst of it is, she is throwing herself away.
She is going to marry an insignificant dude by the name of
Theodore Travis."

"Theodore Travis! Are you sure?" cried Emily, horrified.

" Why, yes, there's no doubt of it ; and if you know him I
am not surprised that you look dismayed. She's a beautiful,
sweet girl, but I think he's marrying her for her money. She
has only known him for six months."

" She is very wealthy, then," said Emily, whose head was
beginning to whirl.

" Oh, yes ! Her father is three times a millionaire. Mr.
Travis hasn't a cent, nor the ability to make one. My brother
says that when he goes to San Jos6 for his license he'll have
to ride on the brake-beam."

" Why does he get it in San Jos6 ? " asked Emily.

" Because, I presume, they will be married in Santa Clara,
and the license has to be issued at the county seat."

" I see," said Emily, almost incapable of thinking of any-
thing. "And of course if he don't get a license, the person
who performs the ceremony will be fined five hundred dollars,"
she added vacantly.

"License or no license," said Kate, "he ought to be fined
five million dollars for marrying such a nice girl to that lazy
fortune-hunter ! " With this suggested improvement in the mar-
riage laws of the State of California Miss Golden took her leave.

Emily was almost beside herself. Delighted as she would
have been that the affair between Theodore and Blanche should
be broken off, everything within her revolted at the idea of her
sister's being thus remorselessly jilted, and by such a man !
She must break the news to Blanche before she should go to
that party, to meet his fianciey and himself maybe, face to face.
But when she at last summoned up courage to speak of the
subject she found, to her dismay, that Blanche positively would
not believe her. Emily was always jealous, she said ; she always
disliked Theodore ; her prejudices would lead her to believe
anything. Kate Golden was mistaken, it was another man of
the same name.

They were hardly a quarter of an hour in Mrs. Golden's
parlor before Blanche began to realize that Emily was right.
On all sides Miss Gibbons was saluted by kind friends, and
overwhelmed with those congratulations which society has ever

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1896.] A Neglected Call. 475

-decreed for a bride-elect, even when her acquaintances are
devoutly thankful that they are not in her place. Mr. Travis's
name was mentioned many times — in accents of praise to his
fiancie^ in somewhat different tone when she was out of hearing.

Pride, that great support of woman's wounded feelings,
carried Blanche through the sufferings of that evening, and
she retired to rest without having shown the slightest sign of
what she had undergone.

The next morning was the 8th of December. The recur-
rence of the holy-
days had been a
matter of very
small moment to
Blanche during
the past two years ;
still she had never
gone to the extent
of actually missing
Mass. She want-
-ed to slip away ;
but it was no easy
matter to do so,
as Kate Golden
was fussing about,
in a violent hur-
ry about keeping
an appointment.
With all Kate's
hurry she man-
aged to find time
to talk. How did
Blanche like little
Mary Gibbons ?
What a goose she

was to marry that ** the quiet hours might pass happily in the

insignificant no- convent Garden."

body ! What notions people will take when they're in love ! and
so forth, until Blanche was almost ready to scream.

But she did not gain much peace by Kate's departure, for
hardly had her footsteps died away in the hall when the break-
fast-bell rang. Hurriedly dressing, she went to the dining-room,
to find the six juvenile members of the family in a great state
of hilarity. Their brother George, a youth of seventeen sum-
mers, was indulging in high flights of wit and humor at the

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476 A Neglected Call. [Jan.,

expense of somebody. Blanche had not caught the name as
she entered the room ; but the boy was an excellent mimic, and
she soon saw that he was imitating the various mannerisms of
Theodore Travis. His way of walking up and down, a slight
squint which occasionally marred his handsome face, the very
looks of love which he had presumedly cast upon Miss
Gibbons, but which Blanche herself had seen too often for her
own good — all these were portrayed with a fidelity which even
their grotesqueness did not efface, and every motion of the
actor went to Blanche's heart like a poisoned arrow. The
young people, while their conduct was not consistent with the
most scrupulous interpretations of the law of charity, enter-
tained not the slightest malice towards even the object of
their ridicule ; but then George was so very funny ! The whole
programme had to be gone over for Blanche's especial benefit,
and was about to conclude with a grand tableau of " Mr.
Travis proposing to the heiress,** when Kate and Emily came
in from nine o'clock Mass.

At the .sight of her sister poor Blanche's heart failed
altogether. Emily had been always inclined to ridicule
Theodore, and now, after her advice had been so rashly set
aside, would she not almost take pleasure in showing Blanche
how very foolish she had been ? But Emily did not seem to
think Mr. George so very amusing. She sat at the table with-
out looking at him, and without seeming to notice the increas-
ing paleness of her sister's face.

"Oh, Miss Emily!" cried every one, " do tell us what you
think of the match."

*' Do wait until I get my breakfast," she pleaded fervently.
" I can't speak of important things while I am hungry."

Here George, whose gallantry was equal to his sense of
humor, rushed frantically out to the kitchen to get her some
fresh coffee, and she managed with feminine tact to keep him
occupied in waiting on her until it was time for Blanche to get
ready for church.

It being altogether too late for Blanche to attend Mass at
her own parish of St. Bridget, she went to St. Francis' Church,
a new building erected for the parishioners of the old Mission
Dolores. It happened that none of Mrs. Golden's family ac-
companied her, and, for the first time since she had learned of
Theodore's perfidy, she found herself alone. She could hardly
realize the weight of the blow which had fallen upon her. In
the course of a few hours she had learned the utter worth-
lessness of the love which she had prized so highly. She had

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.1896.] A Neglected Call. 477

learned, by the unanimous voice of public opinion, how con-
temptible, even absurd, was the man on whom she had bestowed
her whole heart, and — oh ! gall and wormwood to a woman's
vanity — what public opinion would have been of her had her
foolishness ever been suspected. Pride, mortification, wounded
affection, swelled her heart almost to bursting, and in the midst
of the tumult the unerring voice of common sense whispered
to her that she might have foreseen it all.

She entered the church and walked to Mrs. Golden's pew.
The priest came out upon the altar, and Blanche almost mechani-
cally followed the different ceremonies of the Mass. No prayer
for help arose from her parched heart, no word of hope or con-
trition. She had come to Mass because she was obliged to,
and she fulfilled the obligation. But with her unhappy state of
mind religion could have nothing to do. She had acted fool-
ishly from a worldly stand-point, and she must take the logical
consequences. Divine Providence had not led her into this dif-
ficulty, and Divine Providence would not help her to bear it.
It cannot be said that Blanche deliberately followed out this
miserable argument, but such was the philosophy of her sullen
determination to bear her burden without seeking help or comfort.

The Mass over, Blanche found that it was too late to go
home for luncheon, and yet a little too early for that meal at
Mrs. Golden's. She could not bear to go back* to her friend's
house a moment before it was necessary, so she spent the in-
tervening time in the little graveyard adjoining the old Mission
Church. She walked around amongst the tombstones, reading
the inscriptions, but not giving her mind to that occupation.
At last, tired out, she seated herself upon a slab and gazed
vacantly at the cross surmounting the convent on the other
side of the street. . The bright sunshine, such as beams from a
San Francisco sky even in the month of December, streamed
around her, and somehow reminded her of the rays that used
to play hide-and-seek in a well-beloved nook in the convent
garden, where she had spent many, many happy hours.

But how different were the feelings with which she now
gazed upon the cross before her ! The dead might rest in peace
under the shadow of the church, the quiet hours might pass
happily in the convent-garden ; but for her there was no peace
here, and how would it be with her hereafter ? After a few
moments* gloomy reflection the sound of the Angelus warned
her to return to Mrs. Golden's. As soon as luncheon was over,
and in spite of the pleadings of the family, she insisted upon
returning home. Emily had left Mrs. Golden's some hours be-

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478 A Neglected Call. [Jan.,

fore, and no doubt would be very lonesome without her. With
this plausible pretext she hastened to her own home, to be
told by the servant that Miss Emily had only stayed to take
luncheon, and had gone out for the afternoon. Blanche was not
displeased at the prospect of being alone for a while longer.
Giving a few directions to the servant on some domestic mat-
ter, she proceeded towards her own room. In passing the hat-
rack she found an old book lying there, evidently one of
Emily's school-books.

As she opened it her eye fell on the quotation :

*' O Cromwell ! Cromwell !
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king — '*

She felt a consolation she could hardly account for in think-
ing over this passage. In a few hours all traces of wounded
pride and obstinacy had vanished from her heart, and in their
stead had risen a firm resolution that her future life should be
devoted to the service of God.

The marriage of Theodore Travis and Mary Gibbons was
arranged to take place just before Lent. Had the affair been
one of international importance there could hardly have been
more diplomacy exercised than was expended on its manage-
ment. In the first place, the bride's mother wished for a
fashionable wedding at the cathedral in San Francisco. But
Mrs. Travis made up her mind that no such notable event was
to take place. Her dress-maker would give her no further
credit, and she knew that she and her daughter would not make
a very distingu^e appearance before the fashionable throng
who would be invited on such an occasion. So she went to
Mrs. Gibbons, and movingly represented to her the extreme
timidity of Theodore's disposition, and the pain it would give
him to appear as a prominent figure on such a public occasion.
She spoke in poetic and decidedly exaggerated terms of his
affection for the dear little church at Santa Clara, the fervent
prayers he had poured forth between those loved walls, his
deep reverence for the kind fathers, and so on. Mrs. Gibbons
was much moved, and agreed that the marriage should take
place in the bride's parish church, the archbishop officiating.

Whether or not Mrs. Travis knew of the love-affair between
her son and Blanche Seymour, she certainly acted as if she did
not. She called at the house as frequently as ever, spoke of
Theodore if occasion required, but made no special point of

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1896.] A Neglected Call. 479

either seeking or shunning the mention of his name. However,
the time came when she had to come forward.

"Emily," said Mrs. Travis one afternoon, " your sister pro-
mised some time ago to go with me to Oakland to call on
MrSj Desmond. I should like to go some day this week if it
would suit her, as I wish to finish my calls before beginning to
prepare for Theodore's wedding."

Emily had no time to answer before Blanche herself came
into the room, thinking that nobody was there.

** Yes, Mrs. Travis," she said when the lady had repeated
her request ; " I will go with you Thursday afternoon on the
two o'clock boat."

After Mrs. Travis left the two sisters remained alone
together, neither speaking of the subject uppermost in her
thoughts. Blanche had never confided one word of her sorrow
to any one, and the younger sister, though knowing full well the
extent of her trouble, thought it better to offer such silent
sympathy as she could than to intrude upon her confidence.
And so they remained silent, Blanche devoutly praying for
strength to bear Thursday's ordeal, and Emily hoping against
hope that something would occur to save her that painful
trial.

On Thursday afternoon Blanche started upon her journey,
intending to meet Mrs. Travis at the ferry. She had just
stepped out upon the porch when she was met by the latter's
Chinese servant, bearing a letter addressed in Theodore's well-
known writing. Blanche's hand trembled, but she called her
newly-made resolutions to her aid and courageously opened
the envelope. It was a short but polite note to the effect that
Mrs. Travis was suffering from a very bad headache, and would
be unable to accompany Miss Seymour on her projected visit.
She would not think of Miss Seymour's postponing the call
any longer on her account. Would Miss Seymour kindly ex-
press her regrets to Mrs. Desmond ?

In a few minutes she found herself sailing out on the bay
of San Francisco. As the ferry-boat approached the eastern
shore of the bay there was a sudden rumble, a noise like
thunder, and the timbers of the vessel were scattered far and
wide over the water. It was the same old story, too common,
alas ! in the history of American transportation. A spirit of
emulation between the captains of rival steamboats, a little
vainglory on the part of engineers, and human life ruthlessly
sacrificed on the altar of vanity.

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48o A Neglected Call, [Jan.,

Blanche. wjls picked up, unconscious, by a passing tug-boat.
The envelope which she had thrust into her pocket informed
her rescuers of the location of her home, and for many a long
day she lay hovering between life and death. But her strong
constitution rallied back to life, but not to perfect health; and,
after many months, Blanche came forth from the sick-room,
her sight and hearing almost fatally impaired, and her ner-
vous system shattered beyond hope of recovery, but yet with
sufficient strength to live on for many years.

Almost from her first return to consciousness she realized
that her days of active usefulness were over. Her physician

*'The Angelus warned her to return."

spoke kindly and encouragingly. Father Martin whispered
hopefully of the good work which she could do for God on
her recovery, her father and Emily made many loving plans
for her future, but Blanche knew too well that her life was to
be one of passive suffering.

Among the most memorable events in the religious history
of California the golden jubilee of Sister M. Cornelia Neujean
holds a prominent place. This venerable lady, the foundress
and first superior of the Sisters of Notre Dame in California,
has since passed away toia better land, but her memory is still
green in the hearts of many of the daughters of the Golden

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1896.] A Neglected Call. 481

West. On the fiftieth anniversary of her reh'gious profession
the doors of the College of Notre Dame at San Jos6 were
thrown open, and, under the auspices of the former pupils, a
reunion was held which will never be forgotten by those who
were present.

Blanche and Emily, being old pupils, received a cordial invi-
tation.

Two more years passed, and Blanche, supported by a com-
passionate friend, stood by the open grave of her sister. A
few days' illness had sufficed to extinguish that bright young
life, leaving poor Blanche alone in the world. Whether Sister
Philomena's prediction would ever have been fulfilled will never
be known. George Golden had wooed Emily with all the pas-
sionate devotion of a young and innocent heart, but she had
constantly refused to listen to his pleadings. It may have been
her generous devotion to her sister that led her to sacrifice
those hopes and yearnings which make life so bright to the
young, untried spirit. It may have been that she had given
her love to another, more tender Spouse, and,* though she
tftight not dwell with him in the wilderness, she would allow no
cfesLted being to share his throne in her heart. This was
£mily*s secret, and she bore it with her to the grave ; silent as
the white roses that lay on the lid of her coffin, silent as the
bosom of the great God to whom alone her thoughts were
known.

The rest of poor Blanche's history is soon told. After
Emily's death she arranged her business aflfairs, and made her
home with the Sisters of Charity. The sisters soon regarded
her almost as one of themselves, she was so patient, so kind,
and, in spite of her crippled faculties, wonderfully helpful. To
young girls hesitating between the call of God and the voice
of the world Blanche was especially a friend. To these she
would sometimes tell her own sad history. Then she would
depict the poor Foolish Virgins standing by the closed door of
the nuptial chamber, and she would solemnly warn her hearers
never to trifle with the grace of Almighty God. To her many
a hesitating novice owed her perseverance in the life from
which she herself had been so justly excluded ; and many a
fervent nun would remember with deep gratitude the pale, sad
woman who had taught her the important lesson :

" Earth will forsake ; oh ! happy to have given
Th' unbroken heart's first fragrance unto Heaven."
▼OL.LX11.— 31

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482 Old-Time Temperance Societies, [Jan.,

OLD-TIME TEMPERANCE SOCIETIES.

BY REV. PATRICK F. McSWEENY, D.D.

HOSE who have had experience among the poor
of New York must acknowledge that it is very
difficult to induce men who frequent saloons
to abandon them and embrace Total Absti-
nence, and they are apt to give it up in dis-
gust and regard the class to which I refer as a sort of "massa
damnata," which is beyond the possibility of conversion. You can
see those leisurely "gents " standing at the corners at the doors
of the saloons, as you ride up the avenues. Their name is Legion.
Why have they such an attachment for Mr. Saloon-keeper
that the married ones of them are willing to give up their
wives and children and cleave to him ? Is it from mere love
of drink ? It is not. It is mainly because of the saloon-keeper's
good-fellowship. He is generally a jolly, good-natured man
who by his cheerful and genial ways makes them always feel
welcome. There they can escape from the crowded tenement
where they are forced to listen to the squalling babies, not
only of their own household but of their neighbors* as well.
They meet others like themselves and while away the long
winter evenings in a very pleasant manner. Are these fre-
quenters of the saloon really bad, as many who do not know
them are apt to think ? Some are, no doubt ; but the great
majority of them are good men, with one unfortunate vice of
being addicted to intoxicating drink. As Archbishop Ryan re-
marked in his sermon on the occasion of the Total-Abstinence
Convention in New York — and it is, I believe, the experience of
all confessors — when those of whom we are speaking get married
and abandon drink, they lead very innocent lives indeed ; they
are often found to have scarcely proper matter for absolution.

When they join a Total-Abstinence Society and keep their
pledge they are found to be very excellent members of society,
their social class and intellectual culture being, of course, con-
sidered.

They may still have certain low tastes, and they may, as is
often alleged, give some annoyance to their pastors and neigh-
bors by their loud and intemperate denunciations of moderate
drinkers, or by their censorious language about their treasurer,
etc., etc. ; but, after all, they are on the road of improvement.

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1896.] Old-Time Temperance Societies. 483

and the proper way is to remember what some of them were,
not what they ought to be. Their wives and children and
they themselves are no longer half-naked or starving ; they all
go to Mass, and to confession at certain times. They cease to
make a public show of themselves, their race, and their religion
in the streets, the newspapers, the police-courts, and the jails.
If they are not as generous as they might be, they are not
begging nor are they seeking to thrust their families on protec-
tories and asylums; but, as God intended, keep them in their
own more or less comfortable homes, where the parent gently
but surely is held to his duty by love of wife and little ones,
and the children are reared in affectionate attachment and obe-
dience. And so even the pastor is the gainer.

Of course it would be more pleasant for him if they were
to keep the pledge without such noisy demonstrations, and he
would be glad to find them willing to belong to the League of
the Sacred Heart, to the Holy Name Society, or to the Soci-
ety of St. Vincent de Paul ; but what if they are not ready as
yet to crave such perfection? Why then he ought to be glad
that they are willing to keep the pledge and say one " Hail
Mary " per day, even if they insist upon blowing their horns
and beating their drums about it. Till we are ready for bet-
ter things, it is well to be temperate even if some vanity takes
the place of drunkenness.

I once heard of a man whose family on account of his
intemperance were in abject misery for years, so that neither
wife nor children were to be seen in church at any time. One
day he saw the evil of his ways and took the pledge. As he
was a good worker when sober, he soon obtained a place and
things began at once to improve in his home. Soon the chil-
dren made their appearance in church and Sunday-school clean
and well dressed. About a year afterwards the man and his
liappy wife were seen on their way up the aisle of the church,
and, although it was a hot July day, she wore a seal-skin sacque
and he a pair of kid gloves. It seems that through all her
troubles this good woman had kept up her ambition to appear in
church in a seal-skin sacque, and so great was the satisfaction
which this gave her, that she was entirely oblivious of the heat,
and so was he with his gloves. They were both away down no
•doubt in perfection, being full of vanity ; but it was better than
the stuff with which they were formerly accustomed to be filled.

Their God-given intellect, when permitted to do its work,
and the ever-ready criticism of their neighbors, might indeed be
trusted to open their eyes still further in course of time; and

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484 OlD'Time Temperance Societies, [Jan.^

it would not have been wise policy for their pastor to discour-
age their efforts to be decent, by pointing out to them how
much more they would have to do before meriting the full
approval of the church. They were not as yet competent to-
understand this, being but children, and so he treated them as
children who are proud, of their clean bibs.

I once met an African missionary, who told me that in
dealing with the blacks he followed the plan of converting
them to one thing at a time, being well satisfied if he could
succeed in inducing them to observe even the fifth and sixth
commandments at first; and he said that when they had
reached the point of being willing to keep the peace and do-
an honest day's work, he and his companions felt that things
wfcre going on nicely.

The number of men who are willing, or, we might indeed
say, able to be Vincentians or Sodalists, will always be a hand-
ful in comparison with these multitudes. If this class of peo-
ple is to be weaned from drink, they must be permitted ta
retain their vulgar tastes, and to enjoy themselves in their own
way, as long as what they do is not against the decalogue, atid
even their venialities must be winked at, for a time at least. It
seems useless, apart from miraculous intervention, to invite one
of them to abandon the saloon with all its fun, and to find
his delight in the recitation of the Rosary. Men, especially, do
not like long prayers, and we must be satisfied if they say^
short ones and do or rather do not do something, which in* the
case of these men calls for much self-denial. Neither will it be
prudent to lay much stress upon the motives of such converted
sinners, and we should be very glad if they are disposed ta
stop drink even for the selfish consideration that their health
and temporal happiness are destroyed by it. Hence, to return,
to the question, the Total-Abstinence meeting should vie with
the saloon in cheerful hilarity. Let them, if they choose, sing-
merry, innocent songs, make such speeches as suit their taste
and calibre, indulge in all the boasting which may supply the
place of the stimulant which they have given up, etc., etc.

Cardinal Manning was fit company for the royal family of
England, yet he did not disdain to be present at the Total-
Abstinence meetings of the London laborers ; and, as we were
told by one who saw him, he adapted himself to their tastes
and ways, so that one would have thought that he was himself
one of the humble sons of toil. He sat through . their vulgar
songs and listened to their speeches, seeming all the time to be
greatly interested and amused. Indeed, probably he was really

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1896.] Old-Time Temperance Societies. 485

•entertained. A pastor, who was a learned man too, once as-
sured me that he found more pleasure in listening to those
frank children of nature than in assisting at the learned dis-
putations of his fellow-priests, and that even their untutored
-vocal music was not without its attractions. But, whether
pleasant or otherwise, the point is that, if we want to lift these
people, we must come down to their level.

I was told of a Total-Abstinence Society, in times gone by,
which was very successful — there were some three hundred and
fifty men in it. Their meetings were opened with one " Our
Father " and one " Hail Mary," and closed with a short prayer
of thanksgiving by the pastor. The rest of the time was spent in
arguing about points of their " By-Laws," some hot suggestions
and hotter protests about the disposal of the money in their
treasury, etc., etc. Politics were kept out, or they might have
called one another out to settle things by physical force. Some-
times it was necessary for the priest to call a halt ; but they
were always willing to listen to his voice. Some " tenderfoots "
might have been scandalized, but he was not. He was all the
time thinking : " How much better this is than the saloon ? "
The meetings were always crowded, and both interesting and
amusing — perhaps not always to the pastor, but to those whose
good he had at heart, which is the thing to be considered.
The hall was, in fact, a sort of Total-Abstinence saloon ; just
what was wanted, as it seemed. One of the members, a man
of much natural ability and, as the following illustration will
show, not without real humility in spite of his apparent vanity,
went under the name of "the Temperance War Horse," he
neighed so loudly and worked so hard to draw their customers
from the saloon-keepers. He might be seen of evenings arguing
with the loafers on the corners.

At a meeting one night he was talking enthusiastically of
the advantages of Total Abstinence when a jealous rival in
the audience broke out with the following interruption :

" Mr. X. is speaking very hard of drinkers, but I remember
that he was himself the worst drunkard in this place."

The " War Horse " was a little nettled at this cruel refer-
ence to his former career, but after a short pause he conquered
jiis feelings and replied :

" Yes, gentlemen ; and that is why I hate drink so much, now
that God has been so good as to convert me. We are all in his
hands, and I hope that he will help me to persevere. We can't
do anything without him. I hope my friend will pray for me."

This was a complete extinguisher, and brought much deserved

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486 Old-Time Temperance Societies. [Jan.,

applause, and from no one so much as from the pastor. He
then continued : *' If the society wishes to hear an account of
my life I will give it to them. I was, indeed, a great drunkard,
and made my home so wretched that my wife and children
were in an awful state of misery and unhappiness. Things
finally went so far that my poor wife had to put me in the
lock-up, although it was sorely against her grain. One day a
friend of hers, Tom So-and-So, was passing our door with an
empty coal-cart ; he backed it up, and they put me into it by
main force. Two of them had to hold me down in the cart,
and they rattled away, as quickly as they could, over the cob-
ble-stones. The distance was over a mile to the jail, and, al-
though it is now a long time ago, I think my bones are aching
yet from that ride." (Great laughter and then applause.)
"Ladies and gentlemen, I think I ought to know something
about the evil of drinking, and, if I do, I ought to tell it to
others." The pastor here stood up and, going over to the
" War Horse," shook him warmly by the hand amid great cheer-
ing ; so that he came out of the ordeal more respected and
influential than before.

The meetings went on in this way, with a short prayer he-
fore and after. Net results : These men generally kept the
pledge, went to confession and Holy Communion four times a
year, took care of their families, etc., giving much edification
to both Catholics and Protestants.

Some well-meaning ladies in another place tried to rival the
saloon by establishing a sort of reading-room and restaurant,
providing all the illustrated papers, dominoes, cards, etc.; but
it was no go. There was too much propriety about it. The
moral atmosphere was too cold, and the saloon-keepers laughed
gleefully at their efforts.

So it appears to me that the saloon must be combated not
by prayer alone, nor by pious societies alone, but by trying to
make things amusing for these men at the temperance meet-
ings — keeping an eye always to religion ; but it must be solid
and not too much of it at a time.

Let them boast and parade with all the bunting and all the
toggery they choose, if only they will stop the drink. Every-
thing else will come in due course. Their once-neglected wives
and children, seemingly destined with themselves for misery in
this world and damnation in the next, will be restored to comfort
and the hope of salvation, and, instead of cursing their fathers^
memories, will " rise up and call them blessed " (Prov. xxi. 28).

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1896.] A MucH'Needed Book. 487

A MUCH-NEEDED BOOK.*

BY MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN.

:N this country it has never been pleasant to be a
bishop. And a careful reading of Dr. Thomas
O'Gorman's History of the Roman Catholic Church
in the United States certainly confirms this im-
pression. If bishops and priests take the lead in
matters, the responsibility of which would seem better divided
among laymen, and if laymen have come to wait almost too
patiently for them to move m important things, it is because
the brunt of the battle, the fury of the fight, has been borne
by the pastors of the sheep in these new pastures ever since
the fight began.

The princes of the church in our country have resembled
more the exiled duke of Shakspere's "As You Like It'* than
the splendid ecclesiastics of the old world. But, although they
were not spared "winter and rough weather," they had other
enemies than the robust forces of nature. These enemies were
within and without. They were not always wicked or malicious
enemies, but often men wise in their own conceit who identi-
fied their personality with the religion they professed, and looked
on all opposition to their whims and notions as an insult to the
cross itself. And when these men based themselves on the rock
of nationalism, the leaders of the flock had a hard time. John
Carroll was not a bishop, he was not even vicar-apostolic, when
Barb6 de Marbois, the French ambassador, had begun an intrigue
for making the American clergy subject to a superior residing
at Paris — and yet the guardianship of the flock was thrust upon
him. Carroll, and even Benjamin Franklin, did not, at this
time, seem to have had very clear ideas as to what was soon
to be the policy of the Church and State in this country. Frank-
lin probably thought that in so trifling a matter as the super-
vision of an infant church, his country could afford to be grate-
ful to France, and the Prince Pamphilio Doria, the papal nun-
cio at Paris, saw no objection to the plan, doubtless imagining

* A History of the Roman Catholic Church in the United States, By Thomas O'Gorman,
Professor of Church History in the Catholic University of America, Washington, D. C. New
York : The Christian Literature Co.

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488 A Much-Needed Book. [Jan.,

that the scattered Catholics of the new land would be safer un-
der a French rule than if left to their own tendencies. " Frank-
lin," Dr. O'Gorn^an says (page 261), " for a moment forgot his
American spirit, fell in with the scheme, wrote to the prime
minister of France, Count de Vergennes, in the sense of the
nuncio's note, and then referred the matter to the Continental
Congress."

Here was an opportunity for the assertion on the part of
the law-makers of that hatred of the Catholic Church which
certain bigots, who know little of American traditions, fancy
they cherished, and which Benedict Arnold, in a famous letter,
reproached them for not having. Barb^ de Marbois and his
friends, who had represented all American priests as unworthy
of high trust, were answered in this way: "That the subject
being purely spiritual, it was without the powers and jurisdic-
tion of Congress, who have no authority to permit or refuse
it, these powers being reserved to the several States individ-
ually."

It was this calmness of spirit which brought down the wrath
of Benedict Arnold, whose words, written in 1780, find their
echoes among the enemies of religious liberty even to-day. " And
should the parent nation," he said, in an appeal to the Conti-
nental army, " cease her exertions to deliver you, what security
remains to you for the enjoyment of the consolations of that
religion for which your fathers braved the ocean, the heathen,
and the wilderness ? Do you know that the eye that guides this
pen lately saw your mean and profligate Congress at Mass for the
soul of a Roman Catholic in Purgatory, and participating in the
rites of a church against whose anti-Christian corruptions your
pious ancestors would have witnessed with their blood?"

The priests of Maryland and Pennsylvania had sent the name
of the Reverend Mr. Lewis to the pope, after their meeting in
September, 1783, asking that he be made their superior, with
power to administer confirmation. The American priests be-
lieved that no power should stand between them and Rome.
And when Franklin became aware of the danger of the scheme
of M. de Marbois, and understood the position in which it would
put his acquaintance, Carroll, he refused to help in it. Rome,
in the meantime, came to the assistance of the American priests,
and gave the church in the United States a status of its own ;
it ceased, in 1784, to be an appendage of the Vicariate- Apos-
tolic of London.

None of us can read the story of John Carroll's life, and

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.1896.] A Much-Needed Book. 489

that of his cousin, Charles Carroll, without being impressed with
the sincerity, liberality, and manliness of these two champions
of freedom. And yet it comes like a shock to the reader of
American history — that kind of reader who has accepted the
current interpretation of the word " Jesuitical " — to discover that
John Carroll, the friend of Washington, had been a Jesuit ! At
least, he ceased to be a Jesuit only when the society was sup-
pressed, in 1773, by Clement XIV. Dr. O'Gorman tells us that
lie studied for six years at St. Omer, that he was a novice for
two years in the Jesuit house of Wat ten, ecclesiastical student
again in the Jesuit college at Li^e, priest at the age of
twenty-eight, professor in Jesuit colleges at Li^ge and Bruges
for fourteen years.**

John Carroll was very much of a Jesuit, and, because of
this, we find him refusing the ease of Lord Arundel's castle of
Wardour ; he saw that his own country would need him, and he
"went home. The future was not bright ; war-cries were in the
air, and the nation to come had begun to show signs of vitality.
The luxury of study, the companionship of cultivated people,
the leisure of Lord Arundel's chaplaincy, could not hold him
back. He must fulfil his destiny, and his destiny was to disarm
bigotry, to give the tone to the best element in the church in
America, and to show that the highest Catholicity and the
truest loyalty are one. The traditions of such men as John
Carroll and Bishop Cheverus ought to put heart into those who
iear that the church of 1895 is less American than the church
of 1776. And the traditions of these men, and the example
of these men, are so vital and permeative, so much a part of
the traditions of the framers of the Constitution, that they can
hardly fail while Americans are true to God and their country.
The appointment of John Carroll as vicar-apostolic "gave," to
quote Dr. O'Gorman, " the church in ' the colonies ' indepen-
dence from any other centre but Rome, at the very time we had
gained political independence." And Franklin, "the eminent
individual who represents the Republic at the court of the
Most Christian King/* had done his best to bring about this
appointment.

It may be said that Carroll and Cheverus, and the rest of
the men of sympathy, principle, and tact who represented the
church in the days of Jefferson, Gouverneur Morris, Franklin,
and Washington, were exceptional, and that their effect on the
religious prejudices of the time, due to their personal qualities,
was transient. It is true that they knew how to avoid blunders

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490 A MucH'Needed Book. [Jan.,

which might have made the church hated, and apparently have
divorced its spirit from the spirit of American nationality ; but
the regard for the Catholic Church which they created and
fostered survived, among American gentlemen, the mistakes
of lesser men who saw in this Republic only a wider field for
tactics which had brought ruin on the church in Europe.

Neither Jefferson nor Franklin nor Gouverneur Morris was
an idealist ; the supernatural in the church did not attract them
— indeed the severest words that Morris has to say against the
church were drawn out by her regard for chastity — but they
recognized the virtue of the men trained under her influence,
and they were not slow to estimate the value of this conserva-
tive yet plastic training. The Bostonians — the best of them —
dropped their prejudices and welcomed Cheverus as the man ;
but they did not, after all, in their minds, separate the man
from the prelate. A good man who is a priest so commingles
his natural and supernatural qualities, his natural gifts and
his supernatural graces, that both seem one. In the human
mind, a bad man is not separated from his office ; nor is a good
man, without a process of logic too tedious for common appli-
cation. And to the examples of Carroll, of Cheverus, and of
many who have succeeded them, we owe the respect with which,
the sanest Americans — for there are degrees of sanity even in a
Republic — regard the Catholic Church. To the fact that God
gave us in the earlier days such men as Carroll, England,
Kenrick, and Hughes, the position of Catholics in this country
is largely due — not to mere numbers or wealth. And the future
position of Catholics will largely depend on the manner in
which their traditions shall be preserved by priests and laymen.
A time is coming when laymen must take their part in the
leadership and the responsibility, and bear the heat and endure
the blame for the sake of the most essential principles. But,
hitherto, the history of the Catholic GhurehMn America was the
histor man's eyes filled with tears of gratitude and
pleasure ; but he shook his head sadly and slowly, saying :
^* O doctor ! I never shall be better — I feel quite sure of this ;
and I cannot receive so much kindness and assistance from a
stranger, deeply grateful as I am for your offer."

The doctor, however, was deaf to all his objections, and call-
ing the landlady, had Mr. S wrapped in all the warm cov-
erings she could furnish, and a carriage having been hastily
summoned, despite the furious storm which was still raging
without, he carefully and safely removed the sick man to his
own house, and comfortably established him in the guest cham-
ber, treating him in every respect as a dear and honored friend.

When Mrs. returned the doctor was all aglow with en-
thusiasm and pleasure over the prospective surprise he had in
store for her ; so well did he know her kind and loving heart
that he had no fears as to the reception of this unlooked-for
and unexpected guest. He gaily called to her on her entrance,
saying : " Laura, I have your Christmas gift already for you,
and I cannot wait until to-morrow to show it to you. Nor
can I bring it you, as I would like to do. Will you not come
upstairs and see it at once ? "

Upon reaching the chamber-door he took her hand in his :
" Dear wife, I have brought home to you a homeless, desolate
lad ; dying, I fear, with no one to care for, comfort, or assist
him ; and thinking to-night of the dear Child Jesus, who was
also without a shelter or a place to lay his head — in memory
of him I have oflfered a home to this poor boy."

Mrs. pressed his hand, saying only **God will reward

you," passed into the room, and leaning over the bedside of
the young man, whispered tenderly "Welcome home."

For six long weeks Dr. and Mrs. nursed Mr. S

with unceasing care, giving him every comfort and luxury that
money could buy or aflfection suggest ; but death came at last.
Seeing the end approaching, and having by this time learned

the personal history of Mr. S , and that he was a member

of the Anglican Church, Dr. asked him if he would not

like to take the sacrament of the Lord's Supper before he
-died. Mr. S gladly assented, but said : " Let me ask you

VOL. LXII. — 32

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498 A Memorable Christmas Night, [Jan.,

one question, doctor, before I receive it. If I confess to you
the sins of my life, are you sure you have the power to remit
them ? Can you really and truly give me absolution ? "

Dr. stopped and gazed earnestly into the young man's

eyes. He had preached this doctrine scores and scores of times
to his people ; he had read it as many times from the " Book
of Common Prayer," but it was a widely different thing, so
said his conscience, preaching to a congregation of living, active
people, from looking into the eyes of a dying man, who in a
few moments would be in the awful presence of his Maker.
He could not say it — he did not feel it. Withdrawing his eyes

he sadly answered: "No, I am not sure!'' Mr. S turned

his face from his friend with a groan, and never spoke again.

Dr. and Mrs , with streaming eyes, knelt and prayed as

they had never prayed before — prayed for mercy on him who
was going, for mercy and light on those who were left.

Dr. arose from that death-bed resolving never to enter

a Protestant pulpit again.

He wrote at once to his bishop tendering his resignation,
which was accepted with regret. Then came the harder wrench
of parting from his people. The vestry asked that while he
occupied the rectory as a home until he could find another he
should not attend Mass. To this he replied that while he re-
mained he would spend his Sundays in another city, that he
might not conflict with their wishes nor act in opposition to
the dictates of his conscience. He then wrote to the Catholic
bishop of the diocese asking where he might seek instruction.
His wife also having been mercifully accorded the light of faith
they both placed themselves under the direction of a religious
order until sufficiently prepared to be received into the church.

The trials and struggles incidental to the seeking of a new
profession and the establishment of a new home so impaired
the doctor's health that he was obliged to seek the benefit of
a southern climate for a time. Upon the re-establishment of
his health he returned to the North, and to the society of the
dear wife from whom necessity had obliged him to separate.
God crowned his noble efforts with success, and the prominent
minister of a few years ago has become a famous physician of
to-day. Two years after that memorable Christmas night a
little daughter was born to them, and so clearly did they
recognize in her a heaven-sent gift from Him who said, " What-
ever you do to the least of these, you do it unto me," that
they named their little one Dorothea — "a gift of God."

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1896.] The Nicaragua Canal Project. 499

THE NICARAGUA CANAL PROJECT.

BY PATRICK SARSFIELD CASSIDY.

NE of the few important questions before the
present Congress is that relating to the long-
projected canal across Nicaragua to wed the two
largest bodies of water on the earth's surface,
the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. The report of
the commission appointed to make investigations as to the prac-
ticability of the project, the route and the cost, has been quite
a surprise to the public in general. This is especially the case
in that part of the report which hints rather than alleges that the
possibility of the successful carrying out of the enterprise has
not been absolutely determined. The idea of constructing a
canal across Nicaragua is much older than the closing century,
and, although it has been surveyed time and again by compe-
tent engineers, this is the first time that the availability of the
route for an interoceanic water-way has been questioned. No
doubt it will be contended by the more ardent of the support-
ers of the project that this doubt is raised only for purposes of
delay. It will be pointed out that the commission appointed in
1872 by President Grant thoroughly settled that question when
it unanimously reported that " after a long, careful, and minute
study of the several surveys of the various routes across the
continent," the Nicaragua route " possesses, both for the con-
struction and maintenance of a canal, greater advantages and
fewer difficulties, from engineering, commercial, and economic
points of view, than any of the other routes known to be prac-
ticable by surveys sufficiently in detail to enable a judgment to
be formed'' This commission consisted of General A. A. Hum-
phreys, Chief of Engineers, United States Army ; Captain C. C.
Patterson, Superintendent of the Coast Survey ; Admiral Daniel
Ammen, United States Navy, Chief of the Bureau of Naviga-
tion ; Commander E. A. Lull ; and the celebrated engineer, A.
G. Menocal. The commission took four years to consider the
matter. The commission that now raises the doubt about the
practicability of the work spent only six weeks.

But Congress will discuss all this. From a literary point of
view the interest is in a brief history of the project, and, if

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1896.] The Nicaragua Canal Project. 501

carried out, the benefits that would flow from it, not only to
the United States but to the world at large.

I have said that the idea of the canal is as old as the clos-
ing century. It is, in fact, as old as the days of Columbus. It
was advocated as far back as 1550 by Antonio Galvao, the Span-
ish explorer. Baron Von Humboldt, who spent ten years in
exploration and scientific research in the Spanish-American
States of Central and South America at the beginning of the
century, gives special prominence and preference to the Nica-

Dredges, Nicaragua Canal.

ragua route for an interoceanic waterway. In vol. vi. of his
Personal Narrative of Travels he mentions "five points that pre-
sent the practicability of .a communication from sea to sea,
situated between the fifth and eighteenth degrees of south lati-
tude." He places the Isthmus of Nicaragua second in the list,
then the Isthmus of Panama, of Darien, and the old canal of
Raspadura. In discussing these routes he uses the Nicaragua
one as the standard of his comparisons. This was about the
beginning of this century, and soon after the Central American

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502 The Nicaragua Canal Project. [Jan.,

provinces threw off the yoke of Spain, and became indepen-
dent states confederated as the Republic of the Centre. One
of the earliest acts of the government of the new republic was
to empower and instruct Seflor Antonio Jos6 Caflaz, envoy ex-
traordinary to the United States, to call the attention of the
United States government to the project of opening a canal
for communication between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans in
the State of Nicaragua. On the 8th of February, 1825, Seflor
Caflaz addressed a communication to the Department of State,
Washington, upon the subject.

John Quincy Adams was President, and Henry Clay Secre-
tary of State. In his reply Mr. Clay, after stating that the
project was practicable, and would " form a great epoch in the
commercial affairs of the world," gave Seflor Caflaz strong as-
surance of deep interest in the proposed work, and promised
an ofHcial investigation with a view to obtaining exact knowledge.
In pursuance of this promise a survey and estimate of cost were
made under the auspices of De Witt Clinton, Stephen Van
Rensselaer, and Monroe Robinson, the fathers of the Erie Canal,
with whom were associated Edward Forsythe, of Louisiana, C.
J. Catlett, of the District of Columbia, and others. The esti-
mated cost was very inadequate, and capital was not plenti-
ful then in the United States. The project fell through ; and
negotiations were entered into with the King of the Nether-
lands to open the canal.

In 1835 Congress again took up the subject and ordered an
inspection of the different routes, and an agent was appointed,
who, however, failed to comply with his instructions. Three
years later the celebrated Matthew Carey, of Philadelphia, and
others memorialized Congress concerning the matter. A com-
mittee was appointed, a report made, and, in 1839, John L.
Stephens, then on a confidential mission to Central America,
made an investigation and submitted a report. But nothing
came of all this, either.

In 1844, having lost hope in America building the canal, aid
was solicited from the French government in prosecuting the
undertaking, but no valuable co-operation was obtained.

And now England appears upon the scene for the first time,
and has kept her eye on the project ever since. In 1847 Nica-
ragua solicited the intervention of the United States against
the attempts of Great Britain to secure control of the inter-
oceanic canal route. This resulted in the negotiation of the
Hise-Selva treaty, which, although never ratified, appears to

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1896.] The Nicaragua Canal Project. 503

have been an important factor in the negotiation of the Clayton-
Bulwer treaty in 1849, under which the United States understood
that Great Britain relinquished the attempt so objectionable to

Catholic Cathedral at Leon.

Nicaragua. On the ratification of that treaty Nicaragua granted
a concession to Cornelius Vanderbilt and his associates for an
interoceanic canal. A survey was again made in 1850-51, Col-
onel O. W. Childs, of Philadelphia, making the first thorough
instrumental examination of the whole route. But Mr. Vander-
bilt did not build the canal. In 1858 a concession was granted
to Fdix Belly, of Paris, who had spent many years on the
isthmus ; but before he could obtain the necessary funds his
concession lapsed.

The Civil War coming on, the United States took no interest
in outside enterprises. In fact this war had a discouraging effect
upon all large enterprises on this continent. In 1872 Presi-
dent Grant appointed another commission, which reported in
1876. The report was not printed until 1879. The subject oc-
cupied some attention in the House of Representatives during
the sessions of 1879-80 and 1881. General Grant, writing in one
of the magazines in 1880, said: "I recommend to my country-
men an American canal under American control."

In December, 1884, there was submitted to Congress a treaty

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504 The Nicaragua Canal Project. [Jan.,

which had been negotiated with Nicaragua for the construction
of the canal by the United States, and its joint ownership by
the two governments. The treaty, however, failed of ratifica-
tion by the Senate and was withdrawn for further consideration.
On May 4, 1889, the Maritime Canal Company was incorporated
by act of Congress. It succeeded to the concession granted by
Nicaragua in 1887 ^^ the Nicaragua Canal Company. That
necessary adjunct, a construction company, was organized, and
work was finally begun and went on systematically until the
summer of 1893, .when want of funds, after an expenditure of
some $5,000,000, forced a suspension of operations. This is now
the condition of the enterprise, and the question is. Will the
United States help to complete it, by guaranteeing the bonds
of the company, or complete it itself?

San Juan del Norte, or Greytown, on the Atlantic, and Brito,
on the Pacific, are the termini of the canal. Its length from
port to port will be 169^ miles, of which only 26^ miles will
be of excavated channel and the other 142^ of lakes, rivers,
and basins. The summit line is necessarily that of Lake Nica-
ragua, which will form the greater part of the navigation. This
level is no feet above the sea. This summit line begins \2){
miles from the Atlantic and extends to within 3^ miles of the

Railroad Station at Granada.

Pacific, making the summit reach 153^ miles. Three locks at
each end, from the lake to the respective oceans, will lift and
lower the passing vessels. The illustration (p. 500) will show
the route of the canal at a glance. The Hand-book of Nicaragua^

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1896.] The Nicaragua Canal Project. 505

published by the Bureau of American Republics, thus describes
the country along the eastern end of the canal :

"The country through which the course of the canal is laid
for the first ten miles from the coast is a flat, alluvial forma-
tion, the accumulation of centuries, with occasional lagoons and

Ancient Castle on the River San Juan.

swamps covered with zacate and silico palms, or the primeval
forests and a dense, tangled, almost impenetrable mass of
underbrush and vines. From thence its course is through
wooded and fertile valleys between low hills to the divide cut,
and thence to a connection at Ochoa with the San Juan River ;
above Ochoa it receives the waters of the San Carlos. From
the mouth of the San Carlos, the course of the San Juan —
then and thereafter the route of the canal — is through what
may be termed the highlands of the river, the abutting flanks
of the Cordillera. Sixteen miles above the San Carlos occur
the Machuca Rapids ; five and six miles farther on, Balas ; six
miles beyond are Castillo Rapids, the most important of all;
and nine miles farther the Toro Rapids, beyond which, to the
lake, the course of the river is through a broad valley of low-
lands, bounded by remote hills. Above the San Carlos and at
Machuca the forests which clothe the banks of the river are
tropical in luxuriance. The lofty trees are draped with vines
which creep and twine among their branches and droop to the
water's edge in massive walls of verdure.

" Above Machuca there are occasional clearings — where the
lands are cultivated or grazed — through which the distant hills

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5o6 The Nicaragua Canal Project. [Jan.,

appear. At other places the hills themselves rise with steep
and almost precipitous slopes directly from the river. Squier
likens this part of the river to the highlands of the Hudson.
At Castillo is an old Spanish fort, garrisoned by the Nicara-
guan government. It was considered impregnable by its build-
ers, but was captured by a British force in 1780. Post Captain
{afterwards Admiral) Nelson was in command of the naval
corps of the expedition.'*

The capacity of the canal will be 20,440,000 tons, which can
be doubled by duplicating the locks. It is stated that naviga-
tion can open with an assured business of 8,730,000 tons, pro-
ducing a revenue of $16,250,000 per annum. The cost of main-
tenance is estimated at $1,500,000 yearly. A net profit of 14

ed.

»ns,
Ital
ra-

tes

"'"^ii

Market Scene at Granada.

in all respects is such as almost to preclude all question of cost in
construction. First let the political importance be considered.
The maintenance of the Monroe doctrine by the United States
and its acknowledgment by the powers of Europe, is the most

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1896.] The Nicaragua Canal Project, 507

important question of international relations and polity of the
day. The principal nations of Europe are all seized with a
fever for colonizing. With the canal built by English capital, as

NiCARAGUAN RaNCH-HOUSE.— COCOA-PALM AND BREAD-FRUIT TREES.

would soon make her mistress of Central America, whose weak
republics would either disappear or become her puppets, while
South America would become parcelled out by the other colon-
izing nations of Europe, such as France, Germany, and Italy,
just as they have parcelled out Africa among them.

For the maintenance of the Monroe doctrine the unqualified
and absolute control of the Nicaragua Canal by the United States
is a first necessity ^ if the United States are to save themselves
from constant broils^ and even wars, and the maintenance of a
large fleet and standing army.

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5o8 The Nicaragua Canal Project, [Jan.,

Commercially speaking, the importance is inestimable. It
would strike off 10,732 miles of sea-voyage between San Fran-
cisco and New York, bringing the time down to twenty days,
while New Orleans would be only fourteen days' easy steaming
from the Golden Gate. It, and it alone, would be the indus-
trial salvation of California ; which, if a transcontinental water-
way cannot be obtained, can never hope to compete with Ar-
gentina. The soil and climate of both are about the same, and
their products are largely the same. Argentina has already
robbed California of her wheat trade with Europe, and also of
her hide and tallow trade. Now she is entering the fruit-grow-
ing field, and is certain to make short work of California in that
respect ; because, first, she is, by the ocean route, 10,000 miles
nearer Europe than is California, and, secondly, Argentina fruit
has to pass through the tropics only once, while that of Cali-
fornia has to pass twice, and between times to pass through the
cold of Cape Horn. These extremes are, of course, injurious to
fruit. To show the extraordinary growth of the Argentina

NiCARAGUAN WaTER-CaRT.

nia's loss. In the California State Horticultural Convention,
held recently in Sacramento, it was stated that " unless we get
a market for our fruit through the Nicaragua Canal, the fruit
industry will soon be like our wheat industry — nowhere."

Through the Nicaragua Canal the time to Liverpool from
San Francisco would be only twenty-eight days, and to other
parts of Europe correspondingly. By means of refrigerator

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1896.] The Nicaragua Canal Project. 509

steamers the glorious fruit of California could be served up,
fresh and in all the beauty and lusciousness of its natural state,
on the breakfast-tables of Northern Europe, whose markets are
now bare of such luxuries.

Since 1856, the time of Walker's filibustering expedition, Nica-
ragua has enjoyed peace and good government. Life and prop-
erty are secure. The climate, except in the lowlands of the
coast and the forests on the plains, is temperate and agreeable.
The thermometer seldom rises above 85*^ or falls below 70^.
Fever is experienced only at two points on the Atlantic coast,
and then it is only climatic fever. The canal company's sur-
veying party of forty-five engineers, and one hundred negroes
from Jamaica, spent months working through dense forests and
jungle, and sleeping in tents, and did not lose a man or have
a case of serious illness.

The country is rich in all kinds of tropical fruit. Its chief
export productions are cattle, coffee, bananas, dye-woods, indi-
go, rice, cacao, india-rubber, etc.

The religion of the country is declared by the constitution
to be " the Roman Catholic Apostolic ; the government protects
its practice." But freedom of religious worship is given to all.
Eight per cent, of the national revenue is expended on educa-
tion, and there are also municipal and private schools. Nica-
ragua has a great free public library, and universities, fully
equipped' for the teaching of jurisprudence and medicine, are
located at Leon and Granada. The right of haVeas corpus is
fully guaranteed, and the humblest peon's cottage is his castle.
The laws are well administered, and serious crimes are rare.
Old people and children seem especially well taken care of,
and tramps and l>eggars are unknown.

The country is peaceful, prosperous, and progressive. The
laws are very liberal in the matter of granting land to immi-
grants, who can procure a division each on arrival, and full title
to the same on becoming citizens at the end of five years.
The country is rich in minerals, and has a special code of laws
regulating the mining industry.

With the canal open, Nicaragua has a marvellous future be-
fore her. The whole world, in fact, would benefit by it to an
extent beyond computation by any mathematician living.

Will the boastful nineteenth century be allowed to close
without this — now necessary — work being done?

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A SONG OF THE SOUL.

BY MARY T. WAGGAMAN.
** The Lord looseth them that are fettered." — Psalm cxlv,

O God!

To be free — to be free !

From the curse of the clod,

And the duress of Time,

From the thraldom of dust,

And the clamor of crime —
To be rid for ever of phantasy!
To fulfil my Christ-conceived destiny !

To be free — to be free!

Come, swift, bright Death ;

Come, shiver my bars;

Haste, wreathe me with stars !

I thirst for the thrust

Of thy sword-like breath —
Thy breath which shatters all mystery ;
Come, lead me into Eternity, —

Where act and aim.

The Small, the Vast,

The Far, the Near,

Are One and the Same!

Where Hope and Fear
Are lost in celestial symmetry.
Lo ! at last

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1896.] A Song of the Soul, 511

I shall feast on the measureless Whole !
No more shall I know Art's agony —

The sting and the dole

Of a sin-bruised Power !
I shall feel all Beauty and clasp all Truth, —

No more shall I cower
At the feet of the tyrant Utility.

No more will the Fury Fame
Goad my youth
With dreams of a mock supremacy !

Released from the worship of Name,

Aloof from the quest called Life,

Apart from the termless strife
Of Loss and Gain,
Of Passion and Pain,
I shall stand at the heart of Reality.
O God!

To be free — to be free!

Behold ! long have I trod

The great dimness; I pine

For the noontide — I crave

The fruition, divine
And entire, of Love's half-uttered prophecy.

Oh ! soon let me lave
lo the light and the lull of Infinity !

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512 ''A Nun and a — Litterateur?"' [Jan.,

''A NUN AND A— LITTERATEUR?"

BY A. A. McGINLEY.

NTO the land of Acady, the land of the poet's
dream, a New England maid had wandered in
the hot midsummer days. We shall call her
Mathilde.

She had been exercising to her heart's content
that most enviable of the privileges of the American girl, travel-
ling alone ; and was armed only with her native New England
shrewdness and with just enough of that New England diffi-
dence or reserve with which the maids from modern Athens
are specially afflicted, so 'tis said.

We have caught up with her on her travels just as she has
decided to stop over for a few days* rest at one of those rare
little French towns that seem to have been boxed up and
carried here from the mother-land as carefully and completely
as you would transfer a choice potted plant from one soil to
another, bruising not a leaf, breaking not a flower.

Convents are the most hospitable of inns in this part of the
country, and it was to one of these that Mathilde now bent
her footsteps. The gracious sister-portress smiled and bowed
affirmatively to everything said to her -in English, as if her
French courtesy had banished negatives entirely from her
vocabulary for fear the least suspicion of an unwelcome would
go with them.

But when Mathilde had time to look around and began to
realize the infinite difference between herself, a careless summer
tourist, and the unworldly spirits within the same cloistered
walls, an indefinable awe began to creep over her, and made
her tiptoe through the narrow corridor to the small, almost
cell-like room allotted her with a wicked little wish in her heart
that the place had had a summer hotel provided for travellers,
besides this awesome nunnery.

However, among the other guests who had here sought
** housel and fare," an old lady, a veritable fairy godmother in
appearance, had for some reason taken up a permanent abode
with these holy cloistered nuns. Mathilde did not seek to
know the name of this small, quaint old lady with her English

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1S96.] '' A Nun AND A— Litterateur f' 513

accent and her sprightly American ways, but mentally christened
her " Mademoiselle," to distinguish her from the others ; and it
was not long before she discovered that this fairy godmother
seemed to have all the qualities usually attributed to the latter
in the way of good nature and kindliness.

So in a short time they were as great friends as if mademoi-
selle had really presided on Mathilde's natal day in the capacity
above named.

The days glided by, and lengthened out nearly to a week.
Though Mathilde was bound for a city further on towards the
west, she still lingered here, loath to break the spell that had
been woven around her in this little place of old-world asso-
ciations and new-world beauties.

She began to love the gray-stone cloister with its dream-
like chapel, where one could truly **feel alone in prayer what
heaven seems." How unearthly the very air, and the very light
of the place as it drifted in through the crimson-framed
windows and turned ruby-red itself before it laid its long,
slanting beams, like gleaming swords of seraphim, across the
sanctuary floor! And the ruddy flames that leaped and pulsed
in seven great golden lamps around the white tabernacle, how
like to angel censers fanned by their unseen wings ; or human
hearts imprisoned there, caught by the love of the greater
Heart that shared their bondage with them !

Only the voice of the nuns, as silently they glided into their
invisible choir-stalls and broke suddenly into the wail-like chant
of the " Divine Office," would rouse Mathilde at' such moments ;
and then she would glide out as silently as they had entered
and wander for awhile through the tree-arched lanes, or by the
shore of the silvery Yamaska. The fairy godmother must sure-
ly have been weaving charms around Mathilde.

One evening these two had lingered at the foot of the stair-
case to conclude a conversation begun during supper. Mathilde
was leaning against the balustrade, and mademoiselle on her
crutches — for she was an invalid — forgetful of comfort and all
in the interest of their subject. At last mademoiselle grew
weary, being no longer young and strong as her companion,
and exclaimed in her childish way : " How foolish of us to
stand here chatting like two magpies ! Come into my room ; it
is right here, you see. I have to live down on the first floor
near the dining-room because I can't climb the stairs very easily
with my crutches. There, Til just stretch out here on the sofa,
for I feel more weary than usual this evening. You sit over
VOL. Lxii.— 33

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5 14 " ^ Nun and a—Litt£ra teur ? " [Jan.^

there — no, take the low chair, it is more comfortable, and talk
to me."

Mathilde had taken her seat abstractedly, and was gazing
out through the low, vine-covered window that opened with
swinging panes onto the lawn. There had been a storm, one
of those welcome thunder-showers at the close of a sultry day,
and the vine-leaves dropped great diamonds with all the pro-
digality of an eastern princess upon the green-carpeted earth.

" And here you live, and paint, and write ? " — not looking at
the reclining figure on the couch, but still gazing thinkingly
beyond into the golden west. " What an existence ! '* she sighed,
half wistfully.

" Oh ! I don't do much writing," replied mademoiselle prac-
tically ; " only a short story or poem now and then, which I send
down to your part of the country for publication ; as a little
tribute," she added unaflfectedly, " for the faith which came to
me through Catholic reading."

** So you are a convert ? " remarked Mathilde.

^*Yes, I received the precious gift of faith, not here but
home in merry England."

Mathilde was not curious, as has been hinted, but found her-
self almost longing to know the life-story of this sweet old
lady; and to learn how she had kept that childlike face under
the snowy hair of many winters.

Their talk had turned from reading to oratory. " And I,"
mademoiselle was saying, " have among my dearest mementoes
a precious relic' of one of the most famous orators of my
young days. It is a letter written by Lacordaire."

"Oh!" exclaimed Mathilde rapturously, "let me see it, do."
Then remembering the crutches, " No, no, don't mind now. You
will show it to me some other time before I go.

" I have heard my mother tell how the gay butterflies of a
London season would turn devotees for awhile to cross the
Channel and hear the eloquent preacher of Notre Dame. In
fact, as we would say in these days, it was quite the thing to
put this down on the list of the season's events.

" Isn't it a wonderful gift," she mused on, talking more to
herself or to the golden-edged thunder-clouds that swept across
the evening sky, " to be able to sway thousands of hearts like
that with a few spoken words ? I suppose it is one of the
punishments that Mother Eve won for her daughters, never to
know the intoxication that fires the orator's brain and makes his
heart to flow outwards in liquid speech upon the multitude."

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1896.] " A Nun and a — Litt£ra teur ?"" 515

" Well, well," chirped mademoiselle, " we can do lots of
other things if we may not do that."

"In the world, yes," agreed Mathilde ; "especially in our
day woman may find a scope for every talent or inclination she
possesses. But suppose," her voice had grown so earnest that
mademoiselle turned her head on the aofa pillow to get a look
at the averted face — " suppose we want to be out of the world.
Do you think that every Catholic woman of to-day who is given
a religious vocation can find her place and her work in the
orders now existing ? "

"Certainly I do. There are the Sisters of Charity — "

" For those who can do their work," interrupted Mathilde
impatiently. " I know what you are going to say. You are
going to give the whole list of sisterhoods and the work they
do in the world to-day. It is a blessed work too," she added
penitently, "for those who receive the call to do it. But
where shall you put those who do not receive the grace to do
the work, and yet the grace of the religious vocation } "

"Surely," urged mademoiselle, "among our great teaching
orders one can find her place somewhere."

The last was almost lost upon Mathilde, or rather she
seemed to hear it as one hears wearily the burden of an oft-
repeated song. She leaned back in her chair and was silent for
a long time, till mademoiselle, not liking her quiet, spoke up
again cheerily. " For my part I think you^ for instance, would
do beautifully in the cloister beyond ; they want just such
merry little novices as you would make in there." Mathilde
only smiled at this, taking it as meant jestingly.

By-and-by she sat erect in her chair and began to speak with
an emphasis that roused mademoiselle out of the drowsiness
that was creeping over her.

" The qualifications that are necessary, then, in order to a life
among a religious community of women, are, ist, nursing the
sick ; 2d, caring for the helpless and unfortunate, morally as
well as physically ; 3d, teaching the young ; and 4th, the wholly
contemplative life. You might not think the idea of an artist,
a musician, and occasionally a — poetess," she said shyly, " in-
compatible with any of these ; but how would you accept the
idea of a nun and a — litterateur ? "

Mathilde paused before the last word, and turned full around
to her listener as if expecting the laugh that came as a re-
sponse to her question. She did not echo the laugh, however,
but sat looking at the other with a serious and almost comi-

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5 16 ''A Nun and a — Litt&ra teur ? " Uan.,

cally stern expression on her face. *' I knew you would laugh,"
was all she said for a moment.

Then, after drawing in her breath for another attack, went
on rapidly : " But think how in these days the whole mass of
human thought and action is shaped, ruled, tyrannized over by
the press, and how fearful it is looked at from a spiritual side.
It is more dangerous; more life-destroying, than that other
mighty power of our time which modern inventions have wound
almost about our very limbs, the power of electricity ; for this
is bound by physical laws at least, while the other laughs at
all laws, both moral and physical.

" And what have we as Catholics really done to check the
inroads of this evil. It is not," she said emphatically, " that I
consider we have not done enough ourselves to swell the bulk
of printed matter that we are engulfed in to-day. I think just
the opposite of this ; but I think that our efforts to disseminate
what has already been written appear lame, bungling, and inef-
ficient, when compared to the efforts of those outside the church
in disseminating their literature.

" Not that I think we should resort to their methods. That
is the very trouble ; we have tried to mimic their way too much,
instead of using one of our own, and the only one by which
we can do the work.

'* Of course the secular press has money and power, which
we have not ; but we who belong to the church of the saints,
the church of martyrs and heroes in the cause of truth, should
we not have earnestness and zeal enough to combat a merely
earthly power?

** Our failure has been in this, that we have not planted deep
enough. Like children playing at making a garden, who pluck
the flowers already bloomed and thrust them into the loose
earth ; they look gay and fresh for an hour, but soon fade and
die ; they cannot stand the scorching sun or the rude winds ;
the roots are not there to feed them with strength and nourish-
ment.

" What does all this point to but that the institution which
has trained and nourished laborers to work in every other part
of the Master's vineyard, and which has been the cradle of by
far the greater number of the church's sainted sons and daugh-
ters, the religious life, has not been used as a means — that is,
in a systematic and avowed way — for the promotion of God's
kingdom through the power of the printed word.

" Not that earnestness and zeal have been wanting, either.

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1 896.] " A Nun and a—Litt&ra te ur?'" 517

By far too much of both have been wasted on the small results
we have obtained in building up Catholic literature, which many
seem to think can be accomplished by the publication of maga-
zines, periodicals, etc., that at best can only keep up a lame
gait in the wake of their bolder secular brethren, and others
by gathering together in literary societies occasionally to help
dissect writers that the whole German . school of philosophers
and the Browningites with them couldn't solve ; and others still
by putting up penny libraries, and collecting into them anything
that the Catholic publisher has for sale, from the latest pub-
lished sermons to what they still have left of the fossil remains
of the century-back Catholic novel.

*'And then call this Cat Ao/ic Uterditure I As if every truey
great, and beautiful thought were not Catholic ! There is more
true poetry in the germ contained within the heart of a little
Catholic child who has learned its first lessons in the faith than in
the whole lot of pantheistical and purely rational school of writers
put together. It is not the romance of mere earthly lore that
forms the loveliest themes for poet, painter, and musician ; rather
is it the romance of divine love expressed in human ways."

" Don't you think that this work is done greatly by men
both in the religious orders and in the priesthood, besides those
in the Catholic laity, who give their talents to it?" asked
mademoiselle.

** Their talents, yes, and part of their lives ; but it is not
specially done by lany of those you have named," replied Mathilde.
" I think, too, that the work of the priesthood is not for this.
To teach, to preach, and to minister to souls — Christ gave them
this mission. He specially mentioned those three."

"What, then, is your conclusion to all this? " asked mademoi-
selle, pushing her at last to an avowal.

" I think there should be a religious order of women for the
purpose," Mathilde answered deliberately, though it seemed
almost painfully, and then looked at mademoiselle as if challeng-
ing another laugh from her.

Mademoiselle did not laugh this time, however, but shook
herself together on the sofa with a comfortable little shrug,
and remarked lazily : " No, no, my dear, we don't need any-
thing like that ; besides it wouldn't be practicable. Take, for
instance, the question of dress. You know how hard it would
be to do that kind of thing if one were fettered by the con-
ventionalities of dress that religious women wear."

" Indeed, I think it would be impossible," agreed Mathilde.

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5 18 "A Nun and a — Litter a teur ? ** [Jan,,

** Think of sitting for hours and hours trying to mould the un-
spoken thought into words, and undergoing the throes of unex-
pressed eloquence/* she continued laughing, " with your aching
head bound in some of the headgear they have to wear."

" But that would not be the most serious objection on this
point. The peculiar circumstances of this kind of a life would
call for some strange departures, perhaps, from the old forms
in the regulation of dress. * But the old order changeth, giving
place to new, and God fulfils himself in many ways.'

" After all, I do not think that so much importance should be
given to the question of female attire. I think our sex as a
whole are deserving less the ancient slur about woman's vanity ;
either because we have more historians of the feminine gender,
or because we find less time for adorning our persons than our
sisters of generations ago, whose leisure hours were mostly spent
this way."

" It is only natural and woman-like that your first objection
should be made on the subject of dress."

" But it is by no means my strongest one," argued mademoi-
selle. " What you propose seems to me so inconsistent with
one*s idea of a nun."

"Exactly," returned Mathilde. "You cannot get away from
what a nun is and has been to you, and imagine for a moment
what a nun may be. Not, however, with any reflection upon
the other idea," she added quickly. " If the essential thing is
there, the religious spirit, what do the accessories in the way
of clothes, customs, and environments count for? What is the
religious soul as it appears before God divested of all these, un-
clothed, sexless, and alone, but a simple human soul?"

" Those are bold words for a — "

"Worldling," said Mathilde, anticipating the expression.
"Call me rather a 'denizen of the world.* I love not the for-
mer term, and would not have to suffer it were it not for such
"wicked thoughts as I have just been uttering,'* she added some-
what bitterly.

" But,*' she went on, seeming to shake herself free from some
memory, " is not the same word applied to every undertaking
that appears too great in the beginning ? I once heard some
one remark, he thought Father Hecker too bold. Had he been
less So what might we not have lost of the good that he ac-
complished? He said some bold things, it is true; that con-
versation, for instance, between him and a nun — that would make
an ordinary, humble religious tremble. I have never yet met

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1896.] *'A Nun and a — Litterateur?'" 519

with a religious who was ambitious enough. Our hearts are all
so little, so miserable. There is no one who would think of
converting a city ; and America — oh ! that might come to pass
in two or three centuries. Oh ! for a heart as large as that of
Christ's, that we might embrace all within it and pray for all
for whom he died."

" I have often thought," she continued, " that our Purgatory
in the other world will come from our narrow-heartedness in
this. When God*s love really fills our hearts, they will break
from the overflowing. The pain will be our punishment, and
the narrower the heart the greater will be the pain."

" I do not see, either, why natural talent or inclination should
be used in one case in the religious life and not in another.
Father Faber says that * in the kingdom of grace the law which
has the fewest exceptions is the bne which rules ; that super-
natural things shall graft themselves on natural stocks ' ; and he
also says that *it is with spiritual men as it is with poets.

" ' Some delight in the beauties of nature ; others feel more
congenial with her in her darker moods, and get more inspira-
tion from the solitude of her mountains and the silence and
loneliness of her deserts.

" ' Then there are others whose thoughts commingle only
with the tangled lives of men, and the many-sided aspects of
human actions ; the streets of the city become beautiful in their
word-j)ictures, and the trampling of the multitude makes music
in their verse.

" ' Then there are others still, who like to live in echoing
thunder-storms, among the rifted crags of hollow mountains ;
who go far out of the sound of suffering humanity, and are
dwellers with the eagles. It is to these last that we may com-
pare the souls whose attraction in the spiritual life is to the
Divine Perfections.

"*The eagle chooses his dwelling-place with as faultless an
instinct as the nightingale deep hidden in its bush, or the
robin trilling its winter song upon the window-sill.

" ' We must not call such souls ambitious. They are humble,
and therefore they are not deluded. Is it not the men of the
loftiest conceptions who for the most part have the humblest
minds?'"

She looked toward mademoiselle at last, as if for an affirma-
tive to this quotation, and saw that she had actually talked the
old lady to sleep. Feeling somewhat ashamed of her own gar-
rulity, she quietly got up and stole out of the room, putting on

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520 *M Nun and a— Litterateur ? "' [Jan.,

her hat as she went, for the evening air had been throwing soft
hints through the open window for some time that she take a
stroll out-doors before the daylight quite went out.

And the old lady slept on the while, as this worn-out world
sleeps ; rocking itself wearily to and fro, and getting tired of
its own restlessness; and all for want of that spirit of subjec-
tion in which alone true happiness and earthly peace consist.

The old eyes were dim, and soon grew tired of straining
their gaze into that future towards which Mathilde was look-
ing yearningly and with unsleeping sight.

It was the feast of St. Dominic, and presently Mathilde
heard the church bells from the little steeple in the distance
pealing out a summons to prayer in more than usually joyous
tones, it seemed. Remembering then that the church and monas-
tery beyond were in the care of a little band of St. Dominic's
faithful sons — real French Dominicans too, such as the much-
admired Lacordaire — she concluded that there would be some
special service there this evening, so fell in line with the villa-
gers who were flocking, to the church in pleasant little groups,
keeping up the " pitter-patter " of their simple talk till they
reached the door.

Mathilde entered and took her place in a pew beside the
white-washed wall and under the shadow of an overhanging
gallery. She felt alone and almost desolate for the moment
among these simple folk, and then began to wonder what they
would think if they knew some of the dreadful things she had
just been saying to the little old lady in the cloister be-
yond.

She looked up towards the altar where the white-robed
monks were now entering the sanctuary, each shaven head with
just the circlet of hair around it, as in the pictures of St.
Dominic, bent low in holy recollection. Mathilde watched them
till they had all filed in, youth and age, from the joyous-faced
novices to the venerable prior, and taken their places each in
his choir-stall ; then looked above their heads and noticed the
row of Dominican saints in statuary arranged in a semi-circle
above the altar. What a picture it made ! — the unreal ones,
with the same white garb and shaven crown, looking almost as
life-like as the real in the dim light of the altar candles.

Truly a vision of mediaeval piety and monasticism ; and it
struck deeper and deeper into the soul of Mathilde as she felt
rising within her the consciousness of her own insubordinate
spirit, chafing at the old, grasping at the new, breaking its

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1896.] **A Nun and a— Litterateur?"' 521

small strength against the holy, time-honored traditions of thou-
sands, nay, millions of better, wiser human hearts than hers.

Her head went down on the edge of the pew in front of
her for very shame. It almost seemed to her awed spirit that
if she looked again at that white-clad group, the prayerful
hands would unfold and the marble lips open bidding her
depart. And if they spoke to her, what might they say? It
would be something awful, surely. " Go, get thee to a nunnery !
to a nunnery go ! " they might utter in frightening tones.

That night Mathilde felt strangely uneasy when she blew
out the flame of her candle before getting into bed. The pic-
ture of those white-clothed figures seemed to grow more vivid
when darkness wrapped the bed-room in gloom. There was a
row of heavy oak clothes-presses on one side of the wall above
the head of her bed, and Mathilde became uncomfortably ner-
vous as she let the idea creep into her mind, "What if one of
those dbors should open?*' At last she got up, yielding some-
what to these fears, and pushed the little French bedstead
close up against the doors — a very childish. thing for as sensible
a girl as Mathilde to do, for she knew that the doors were all
locked from the outside. She- must have been conscious herself
of her foolishness, for she laughed a little to herself, and
thought " what a cowardly action for one whose name means
heroine, or mighty battle-maid ! ** However, it seemed to have
secured some feeling of safety for her, or else broke another
spell of the fairy godmother's, for she soon fell asleep.

A few days later Mathilde was sitting on a lake steamer in
a perfectly blissful mood. The old lady had become a memory,
though a sweet one withal, and her own unorthodox utterances
had faded into dimness in her mind. Her spirit at the present
moment was evidently not overcast by any penitential shade,
for in truth as she sat here, the centre of a group of merry-
makers, no one would have suspected her of even a moment's
gravity.

But blissful moods, like penitential ones, are not of long
duration. As the steamer neared the port she was bound for
Mathilde seemed to put off some of her gaiety, and would
occasionally steal away alone to the side of the deck out of the
sound of talk and laughter, and her face would assume the
look as of one who had some weighty business on hand that
she longed yet dreaded to transact. To tell the truth, Mathilde
had decided to make a spiritual retreat ; a weighty enough

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522 *M Nun and a — Litterateur?'' [Jan.,

affair surely, when compared to the lighter pursuits she had
been engaged in for some time past.

It was Sunday evening, and only about an hour's sail lay

between the Per and her approaching dock. Right in the

wake of the setting sun she moved along, cutting through the
very centre of the long, golden beam of light that reached from
her prow to the western horizon.

Mathilde wished for eyes in the back of her head too, as
she stood on the hurrijcane deck absorbing the beauty of the
scene before her for one moment, and the next turning her
gaze backwards over the track they were leaving behind. Like
the famous double shield, the lake shone on one side with bur-
nished gold, and on the other sparkled like silver in the pale
white light of the rising moon.

The green shore had now come so near that when she looked
again ahead all eyes were turned that way with the eager,
expectant look that travellers wear when a journey is about to
end.

" It is as beautiful as the bay of Naples ! '* exclaimed a voice
behind her with an emphasis that declared the owner had made
a personal comparison of the two. Mathilde agreed with the
sunbrowned tourist as he pointed to the bay before them,
though she had not had an opportunity of judging for herself.
** Why should one go further than our own dear land to seek
for nature's beauties?" was her mental reflection, and she almost
wished she were a Josue, that for a little longer time she
might hold back the curtain of night before it shrouded the
scene in darkness.

It must have been the blood of Puritan ancestors which
enabled Mathilde to forsake such enjoyments for awhile and
cast anchor among the depths and shoals of that dim sea of
inward consciousness to which she was now steering. Though
there were plenty of the summer hotels that had been wished
for at St. in the city where she now arrived, her deter-
mination carried her again to the portals of a convent where

the same order of nuns as were at St. resided, and after

receiving as cordial a welcome here as their sisters at the
former place had given her, she began the preparations for her
retreat.

It seemed more like a breathing-spell at first — a spiritual
resting upon her oars. It was so peaceful and quiet here all
alone with not a sound to break in upon her meditations. The
meek nun who came in occasionally with a book or a gentle

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1896.] '' A Nun AND A—LlTTJ^RATEURf' 523

inquiry as to her wants, would glide out softly again, hardly
rustling the still air. The latter was supposed to fill the office
of preceptress, as it were, but after the first day had left
Mathilde pretty much to herself. "More sweetness than
power** dwelt in her nature, and an intuition may have made
her shrink from that in her " subject *s ** character which ran
counter to this disposition, though the latter did her best to
dissemble her own erratic nature.

Even when a mild little protest was made against some
scattered volumes on the table, which Mathilde had thrown
there out of a somewhat overstuffed trunk, because the books
had suspiciously poetic titles, and sister had said, with not even
a suspicion of censure in her voice though, "the rules of the
retreat advise that we lay aside secular reading for the time
being, as it might prove a cause of distraction,*' Mathilde
smiled good-naturedly, and, thanking sister for the reminder,
replaced the volumes by a neat row of spiritual books which
the latter brought her.

So the time of the retreat went on uneventfully enough till
Mathilde began to grow conscious of a vague, indefinable dread
shaping itself in her thoughts ; and then by degrees felt her
calmness and peace slipping away from her under the influence
of this strange uneasiness. It was not from anything she had
read or thought, but rather from something approaching her
from without, on which all her thoughts and meditations focused
themselves against her will.

She was kneeling one afternoon in the chapel trying in vain
to fix her fugitive thoughts on one of the points of the medi-
tation she had been reading. The chapel here was not so

beautiful as the one at St. , but just as sweet and holy in

its white simplicity. Mathilde*s eyes wandered from one point
to another restlessly, until at last their shifting gaze became
fixed upon the light of an opposite window ; as one*s sight is
often attracted unconsciously by the brighter object.

Over the window grew a vine whose leaves tapped gently on
the pane as they rustled back and forth in the summer wind.
Was it the vision of the vine-covered window that suddenly
formed itself into a link connecting all her scattered thoughts?
A reverie rather than a meditation stole over her, and the

words that had come to her that afternoon in St. , as she

sat in the low arm-chair before a window like this one, seemed
to shape themselves into living things, and she saw in imagin-
ation the reality of that but half-expressed idea ; and almost

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524 "^ Nun and a — Litterateur?"' [Jan.,

seemed to hear the busy hum of actual life as these beings of
her thought stirred about their daily tasks in perfect order and
well-established custom.

She looked and listened as though she had no part in it all,
only a silent observer, until she thought an inward voice asked
sternly, " And your part among these workers ? '*

** A scullion. Lord,'* she cried, " if I might be only that ! A
keeper at the gates to let the worthy in."

A tinkle of beads with the sound of slippered feet, and then
a fresh young voice chanting forth in chilly tones, " Deus, in
adjutorium meum intende," with the response in the same high
key, warned Mathilde that the nuns were beginning Vespers be-
hind in the enclosure.

" Good-by to meditation while that chanting lasts,'* com-
mented Mathilde to herself, rather irreverently; and, making
simply a humble genuflection, she left the chapel and departed
to her own room. Picking up one of the spiritual books that
lay upon the table she essayed to guide her turbulent thoughts
into a calmer channel, but failed.

Sitting down at last, as though in despair at not finding any
other vent for her feelings, she began rapidly to write the fol-
lowing :

" Dear God, I do not know why I am here ; I cannot even
think ; it is too much for me, and oppresses me with its weight.
I only know that I am here, and that I should and must come
some day to Thee, and be dissolved in Thee — just as the
clouds flitting across the heavens go so far, then melt into
the eternal sky. I do not ask to know — I only want to love."

How can we tell when we are free from illusions, when we
are not thinking the thoughts of others, when we are not feel-
ing those sentiments that have only been borrowed from what
we have heard of others ? What actors we are ! We think we
have received an inspiration, a wonderful impulse to do some
great thing, and it turns out that we have set up a mimic stage
upon which we are going through parts, that have been per-
formed before only God knows how many times, and we are
doing it so much to the life that we forget our own personality
even, and think we are the originators of it all.

If we would only become pure and unselfish, God would
whisper simply to us what to do, and our pride would not dress
us up in these ill-fitting and fantastic garbs and send us out to
play the fool before angels and men.

Conceive, for instance, a creature after meditating upon the

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1896.] ''A Nun and a — Litterateur f* 525

great God, his infinite power and immensity, his all-complete-
ness, and then upon her own infinitesimal size in this great
creation, daring to think that she could do anything with her
puny strength, that she could commence a work that would go
down the ages increasing in power and strength for good to
vast proportions ; making saints, converting sinners, and saving
through Christ's precious blood this dear land of ours from that
blight of unbelief that is creeping over it apace !

Saints,, indeed, have thought these things, and dreamed these
dreams for God's glory — it is their sweet privilege — but Heaven
save a sinner from such thoughts, and make her see only her
own unworthiness !

A little sound at her elbow informed Mathilde of another's
presence in the room. It was the nun, who had entered unno-
ticed and was waiting till Mathilde looked up from her writing.

" I came to remind you," she said, " that you might go out
into the garden and read. It would be more pleasant for you."

Mathilde thanked her, and the other was turning away, but
stopped hesitatingly and then said demurely, with a glance at
the note-book on the table, " I think it would be better not to
write down any of your reflections, as it is apt to make one
insincere."

"Very well," said Mathilde humbly, putting by the pen and
concealing the note-book.

In a calmer mood that evening, while standing at the open
window watching the stars drift silently one by one into their ap-
pointed places among the azure steeps of heaven, this message
seemed to fall from them, not meteor-like but slowly, i«to her
listening heart: " Silence and watching and waiting shall be the
portion which you with us must share.

"These are the best and truest speech."

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526 The Simian Anthropoid. [Jan.,

THE SIMIAN ANTHROPOID.

BY VERY REV. A. F. HEWIT, D.D.

HAT is the Simian Anthropoid ? It is an animal
partaking of the nature of monkeys (simian) and
of men (anthropoid). An ape-man, or a man-ape.
A creature between the ape and the man, which
has reached the highest plane of simian develop-
ment by a long process of evolution, and has become so much
like a man in his corporeal organization that he can be pro-
perly called, though not anthropoSy yet anthropoid.

Such an animal has never been seen, either alive or in the
state of a fossil. At best, it is a " missing link *' between men
and apes. It is a purely imaginary creature, like the satyr, the
centaur, the siren, the hamadryad, and the lepracaun.

What is meant by the hypothesis of the Simian origin of
man, his descent from progenitors which were Simian Anthro-
poids? By what kind and manner of evolution or transforma-
tion is the anthropoid conjectured to have been changed into
a man ?

I speak only of the hypothesis proposed by scientists who
are Catholics, and who intend to sustain such theories as they
suppose to be consistent with faith and orthodox theology.
What these Catholic scientists mean by the Simian origin of
man, in accordance with their evolutionary theory, is: that the
first man, Adam, was made, by the creation of a rational soul
and its infusion as the substantial form of a body which was
the offspring of anthropoid pjirents. They justly argue, that
this hypothesis in no way conflicts with the dogma of creation
or of the spiritual and immortal nature of the human soul.
No matter how long the series and how numerous the links
of second causes, the relation of any effect to the first cause
remains unchanged. If the body of Adam were derived by
generation and evolution from the first germs of life and the
first elements of material bodies which ever came into existence,
it would be just as truly a creature of God as if it were fash-
ioned out of clay or created outright at the same moment with
the creation of his soul.

So also, if his soul took possession of the body of a living

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1896.] The Simian Anthropoid. 527

anthropoid, expelling the animal soul which had hitherto been
its vital principle, the difference, or rather the disparity, between
the anthropoid and the man would be just the same as if the
anthropoid had been left to itself, and the man had been
created outright, in body as well as in soul.

So far, therefore, the Simian hypothesis is certainly not
against faith. The question remains, however, whether it is
reconcilable with the Scripture history of the creation of Adam
and Eve. This is the point on which depends the decision of
the right and liberty of a Catholic to regard it as a free topic
of scientific inquiry and discussion. Of course, whoever is con-
vinced that it is contrary to Scripture must reject it. Still, he
cannot censure any one who thinks otherwise unless the author-
ity in the church which is competent to judge sanction his in-
terpretation of Scripture in an exclusive sense. At present, it
does not appear that this has been done, and the case adjudi-
cated. There is reason to regard the hypothesis in question as
one which is tolerated, and therefore tenable as an opinion more
or less probable by any Catholic without prejudice to faith,
provided always that he is ready to submit to any judgment
which the Holy See may promulgate in the future.

This, however, makes no presumption in favor of its truth
or even probability. The Galilean opinion was long tolerated, al-
though it could not claim a place among doctrines recognized
before their final condemnation as probable. There are opin-
ions which may justly be regarded as improbable, even certainly
false or Absurd, which are not heretical, or erroneous in faith.
The opinion that Moses wrote the Book of Job is improbable.
The old doctrine of four primary elements, earth, air, fire, and
water ; the geocentric theory, the notion that the heavenly bodies
are composed of a fifth and incorruptible matter, together with
many other old and obsolete opinions in physics and philoso-
phy, are false, some of them absurd, without being heretical.
Admitting, therefore, that the hypothesis of the simian anthro-
poid can be held without prejudice to faith, we may examine in-
to its claim to be regarded as a reasonable and probable theory
of the formation of the corporeal part of the specific human
essence.

I will say, frankly, at the outset, that this hypothesis, in my
opinion, is not only, as all admit, without a scintilla of positive
evidence, but also destitute of even a slight probability, on any
other line of reasoning. Moreover, I think there are conclusive
reasons which prove it to be absolutely false, if not absurd. I will

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$28 The Simian Anthropoid. [Jan.,

say nothing of the objections which can be derived from the
traditional and common interpretation of the Scriptural history
of the creation, or from that part of special Metaphysics which
treats of Anthropology. I will simply look the supposed fact
that God infused a rational soul into an anthropoidal body,
thus creating a man, in the face ; and inquire into the validity
of the reasons which can be adduced in favor of this supposi-
tion. I will then adduce some reasons to the contrary, within
the same lines.

In the absence of any experimental facts and scientific in-
ductions to sustain their cause, the advocates of the hypothesis
resort to deduction and analogy. There is a grand and univer-
sal law of evolution, which is traced back in the nebular theory
to a primitive chaos, and forward through the formation of suns
and planets, the progressive phases of the earth from the azoic
period through successive ages of flora and fauna to the begin-
ning and extension of human life. From this law of evolution,
and the analogy of development in all the domains of the
creation, the inference is drawn that the human species is the
product of foregoing and inferior species and genera of ani-
mated beings and of preceding combinations of inanimate
matter.

This is well expressed by Mr. Gordon, in his Witness
to Immortality (p. 20) :

" Man is Nature's highest product, and he is a product of
inconceivable cost. Toward him Nature has been looking
forward from a past indefinitely remote. When she was con-
cerned chiefly with the dance of atoms, with the play of the
primitive fiery mist, she had the thought of him in her great
heart ; when she was elaborating worlds, setting the solar order
on high, forming this planet of ours and preparing it for life,
man was still her darling idea, and in the vast procession of
life, from the barely to the highly organized, he was never for
one moment out of sight. The evolution, running through
countless ages, in innumerable forms, at a cost of energy and
suffering inconceivably great, was all the while aspiring to man-
hood. The whole creation groaned and travailed in pain until
the manifestation of the sons of God. Man is Nature's last
and costliest work."

This language is ambiguous, and I do not impute to Mr.
Gordon the intention of using it in the literal and extreme
sense that man is an effect of merely material causes working in
an unconscious Nature.

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1896.] The Simian Anthropoid. . 529

The nebular theory is not in any way opposed to faith. The
evolutionary hypothesis, even in the shape of transformism, is
regarded by very respectable authorities as tenable.

Still, even supposing that by a constant operation of natural
causes, evolution has gone on successively producing in a genetic
order the inorganic and then the organic bodies in our planet,
it does not follow that the human species is genetically derived
from a prior and inferior animal species. Man is so vastly
superior to all animals, and his rational soul so diverse from
any vital form that can be supposed to be educed from the
potentiality of matter, that he may well be regarded as belong-
ing to a higher order, the term of a special creation not only
as a rational spirit, but also as a rational animal. The recog-
nition of the truth that the human soul is not derived by evo-
lution from any material germ, but immediately created by
God, makes such a chasm between man and all inferior beings
on the earth, that the reason for supposing a genetic relation
between his organic constitution and that of the lower species
and genera is taken away. The theory of transformism sup-
poses that species is generated from species, and genus from
genus, by a continuous differentiation and diversification. Sup-
posing this to be true in respect to all species having a simi-
lar vital force and principle, it does not follow in respect to
man. His vital principle and specific difference are totally dis-
similar, being located in a spiritual, rational soul. According to
the anthropoid hypothesis, as proposed by Dr. Mivart, the ani-
mal soul of the anthropoid is not transformed into a human
soul, but is ousted from the body which it has animated, by a
newly-created soul ; and therefore the anthropoid becomes ex-
tinct as an individual of a certain species. When the anthro-
poid vanishes and the man appears, he is a new individual and
a new species, having no continuous identity of essence and
person with his predecessor, and no specific relation to the
family of anthropoids. It is rationality which makes his speci-
fic difference, and the rational soul which is the vital force and
essential form of his composite organism. There is nothing in
common between the man and the anthropoid, but the corpo-
real mass which the animal soul and the rational soul have
successively animated. Supposing, therefore, that the anthropoid
was a link in an unbroken series of transformations going back
to the primitive elements of chaos, he is the last link, and the
chain is broken when man is created.

This theory of an unbroken genetic series of transformations

VOL. LXII.— 34

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S30 . The Simian Anthropoid. [Jan.,

by evolution is merely hypothetical and conjectural, and there-
fore affords no premisses for anything more than a conjectural
inference. The nebular theory of the first beginnings of evo-
lution in the formation of sui\s and planets is no doubt very
probable, and almost universally admitted in a general sense.
But the particular forms given to it by Kant and Laplace have
been refuted by discovered facts and abandoned. These theo-
ries made a genetic origin of the planets from the sun. M.
Faye, in his new form of the nebular theory, makes the move-
ments resulting in the formation of planets originate from vor-
tices in different parts of the diffused mass of vaporous matter.*
Similar processes in other parts of the universe must also be
conceived as separate and independent evolutions. Again, the
highest and noblest part of creation, the world of pure spirits,
is wholly out of the sphere of material evolution. When we
consider the development of organic life on the earth in the
flora and fauna of successive geological epochs, the theory of
transformism and the genetic connection of all species is purely
conjectural, and open to serious scientific objections. Unity
and harmony in the plan of the universe demand relations and
regular gradations in all orders of beings, from the lowest to the
highest, but not genetic and physical dependence of origin and
activity, except within certain limits. Evolution is only one of
the laws and methods by which the Creator brings the universe
and the various beings contained in it to their perfection and
the attainment of the end of their existence.

The doctrine of the extreme evolutionists excludes the crea-
tive and administrative action of the first and final cause alto-
gether, and denies the existence of any purely spiritual being.
It refers the origin and development of all things to blind,
necessary, material causes and forces, and represents the entire
human nature, without distinction of soul and body, as the effect
of these causes solely. In this system the anthropoid is trans-
formed into a man of low degree, a brutal creature who is only
an improved ape, and who slowly rises, during ages of indefinite
length, up to the condition in which we find him at the begin-
ning of the historic period.

It is not our present purpose to discuss this atheistical hy-
pothesis on its own merits, but to examine the question how
far the theory of the simian anthropoid can be so adjusted to
the doctrines of Theistic philosophy and Christian theology,
that a Catholic can hold it as a probable opinion.

* For an exposition of M. Faye's theory see The Catholic World for December, 1886.

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1896.] Tbe Simian Anthropoid, 531

This adjustment requires that the long intervening process of
gradual transformation from the highest type of ape to the highest
human type should be suppressed. The Christian theology teach-
es that Adam and Eve were created and constituted in a state of
ideal perfection, physical, intellectual, moral, and supernatural.
After they fell, the state of repaired nature was immediately in-
troduced, and the work of redemption begun. There is an un-
broken historical connection in the history of revelation, religion,
the church and civilization, from Adam to Noah, from Noah to
Abraham, from Abraham to Mos^s, from Moses to Christ. Bar-
barism and savagery came from degeneracy, idolatry from apos-
tasy. Moreover, although there is not an exact and settled
system of chronology derived from the Mosaic records, and the
vulgar short chronology is undoubtedly incorrect, an indefinite
prolongation of the periods between Adam and Noah, Noah
and Abraham is totally irreconcilable with the Scriptural his-
tory, as well as incredible on other grounds.

Our anthropoid must have been, at the time of his transfor-
mation into a man, an adult, having all the corporeal physical
perfection of typical humanity, and ready to receive the infusion
of the rational soul with all its natural and supernatural
endowments. Outwardly, as seen by a present angel, he would
have appeared just the same while he was an anthropoid as he
did after he became a man, except so far as his countenance
and manner were changed by the presence of rationality.

Now, the hypothesis requires that he should have had a
long series of simian ancestors who were mere brutes, and who
had slowly developed into anthropoids. But it is evident that
this brute life in the woods and mountains could never have
produced such a delicate, refined, and noble physique as was fit
to be informed by a rational soul. Moreover, even if that were
possible, such an animal would not have been fitted for the
life of an ape.

Let us pass over, all these difficulties, and suppose our
anthropoid conducted into Eden, where he was awaiting the
advent of his new soul. Was he a solitary specimen of his
race, or was the world full of his congeners? If alone, how
came it, that he alone had become evolved into an anthro-
poid ? If he were only one individual chosen out of a multi-
tude for the distinguished honor of being promoted to a royal
dignity, how did Adam conduct himself to his venerable parents,
his uncles, aunts, cousins, and old playmates ? It is laughable
to think of Adam and Eve holding a reception for their

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532 In the Usk Valley, [Jan.

humble relations, and of their children and grandchildren, after
their expulsion from Eden, running about and playing in the
woods with the young anthropoids.

This is more like a pagan myth, than a reasonable interpre-
tation of the simple and dignified history of Genesis. If we
are asked to surrender the obvious and traditional interpreta-
tion of this history, there should be some solid reasons given
derived from science or other historical documents. None such
are forthcoming. The anthropoid is neither a scientific nor a
historical character, but a creature of the imagination. After
playing a few more comical tricks, he will probably disappear
from .the scene, without any need of an anathema to frighten
him off.

IN THE USK VALLEY.

BY LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY.

FOLLOWED thee, wild stream of Paradise,
White Usk, for ever showering the sunned bee
In the pink chestnut and the hawthorn tree ;
And all along had magical surmise
Of mountains fluctuant in the vesper skies.
As unto mermen, caverned in mid-sea.

Far up the vast green reaches, soundlessly

The giant billows form, and fall, and rise.

Over thy poet's* dust by yonder yew.

Ere distance perished, ere a star began.

His clear monastic measure, heard of few,

Thro* lonelier glens of mine own being ran ;

And thou to me wert dearest that I knew

The God who made thee gracious, and the man.

* Henry Vaughan the Silurist.

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Bombardment of Tamatave by the French Fleet.

CATHOLICISM IN MADAGASCAR.

BY THOMAS GILLERAN.

ADAGASCAR is now a French possession. It is
of moment to contemplate the probable effect of
the subjugation of the Malagasy nation by a
Catholic power, not only on the material pro-
gress of the people of this vast territory, but on
the educational and religious conditions existing there. The
better to understand the requirements of the new order of
things in the development of material and spiritual progress, it
is proper to study the history of the Madagascar tribes in their
internal relations, in their dealings with European powers, and
in their acceptance of the elements of civilization as introduced
by Christian missionaries. A short r^sum^ of the history of
the efforts of Catholic missions to gain a foothold in Madagas-
car, as well as the antagonisms not only of paganism and
heresy but of professed Christianity, will assist in explanation
of the comparatively slow advancement of Catholicism. It is
not purposed to state the political history of the people of this
island — so well considered the counterpoise of English posses-

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534 Catholicism IN Madagascar. [Jan..

sions in India — except so far as it affects the introduction and
progress of Catholicism, nor to discuss the customs or condi-
tions of the country except as they bear upon the religious
motives and spiritual actions of the inhabitants.

The first expedition to Madagascar for mission work was
one sent by St. Vincent de Paul in 1648, on demand of the
Congregation of the Propaganda. An effort at introducing
Christianity had .been made by the followers of Pronis, who
landed in Bourbon or Reunion in 1642, and who established
the first European settlement in Madagascar, Fort Dauphin.
Pronis, though a Huguenot, encouraged the labors of his
Catholic subordinates ; but their efforts in the cause of Christ
were futile. It seems that even prior to the founding of the
garrison at Fort Dauphin the Portuguese had visited parts of
the island and left traces of Christian religious training. The
priests of St. Vincent de Paul made little progress. The fail-
ure of their work and the hardships of life on the island so
told on them that in a few years they died. Five missionaries

Views of Tamatave.

sent to reinforce them were shipwrecked off the Cape of Good
Hope. The 'successor of St. Vincent de Paul, Ren^ Almeras,
sent a band of apostles who were equally unfortunate, though
the mission subsisted up to 1674, when Louis XIV. abandoned

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1896.] Catholicism in Madagascar. 535

the island and forbade French vessels to touch there in future.
It is stated by Henrion in his history of Catholic missions that
of the four missioners who were there at this time, one was
killed by the natives, another was burned alive in his own

Village in Madagascar.

house, and two returned to France. Many attempts at coloniza-
tion were afterwards made by the French, more particularly
in 1768 and 1774 and 18 14, but no missioners accompanied the
expeditions.

The Abb6 Rohon, in his History of Madagascar^ speaks of
one Father Stephen, a Lazarist, who in 1664 disseminated
Catholic doctrine and sought to convert the chief Dian
Menangne, a faithful ally of the French.

Though Protestantism was introduced in 1820 by the Lon-
don Missionary Society and flourished somewhat under the first
king of the united Hova nation, Radama I., Catholic mission
work was dormant. Little was done until 1844, when Rev. Mr.
Dalmont, missioner of the Congregation of the Holy Ghost at
Bourbon, who had been appointed prefect-apostolic of Mada-
gascar, called the Society of Jesus to his aid. Father Cotain
and others were at once sent to Madagascar, and landed on
the west coast at St. Augustine Bay. This mission was barren
of appreciable result because of the constant dissensions among

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536 Catholicism in Madagascar, [Jan.,

the natives, and the violent opposition of the Methodist mis-
sioners who had already gained control.

Catholic missions began their active lasting work in 1850, on
the erection of Madagascar to a prefecture under Father Louis
Jouen, but they did not secure a trustworthy recognition until

Martyrdom of Native Christians at Antananarivo.

the accession of King Radama II. in 1861. It may be stated
that nearly all the effects of Christian teachings had been nulli-
fied by the fierce and sanguinary despotism of Ranavalona I.,
one of the wives of Radama I., who succeeded to the throne
on his death in 1828.

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1896.] Catholicism in Madagascar, 537

Radama II. became a Christian while his mother, the queen,
was putting Christians to death because of their faith, and, im-
mediately on taking the reins of government, he abolished the
laws which prevented strangers from acquiring property in his
dominions,, and entered into treaties with France which opened
the way to commercial intercourse with the civilized world.
Prior to i86i the Catholic mission work was conducted at Tama-
tave and other points on the coast, but in that year the fathers
reached the capital, Antananarivo, and established the mission
there. The conclusion of treaties with France created a strong
feeling in favor of the French Catholic missioners, and Catholi-
cism was gaining great force and influence. The king, how-
ever, became a drunkard and d^bauchi ; the English missioners,
with all the prestige of long residence and unlimited funds,
stirred up a violent hatred of French pretensions and Catholic
influences, and the people became hostile to the new ideas and
customs introduced. A popular tumult ensued, led by chiefs
under English influence who had been deposed by Radama on
his accession, which ended in the assassination of the king in
1863. His wife, Rasoherina, was at once declared queen, and
though an idolater, she was in sympathy with the French. A
change, however, was brought about by Rainivoninahitriony,
who forced himself into the position of prime minister and
prince consort, though he had been the arch-leader of the con-
spiracy against the murdered king. His rule was despotic and
arbitrary ; so much so, that a general uprising ensued which
resulted in his exile. He was succeeded by his brother, Raini-
liarivony, who continued prime minister and prince consort to
the successors of Rasoherina.

England secured a treaty with Rasoherina, and the English
influence became at once active. The French demanded in-
demnity under a treaty made by Radama II., and in 1865 the
enormous sum of one million francs was paid by the Hova
government. This tax levied on a very avaricious people pro-
voked most violent threats and indignation, and French resi-
dents in the island appeared to be in danger. In the minds of
the people, the Catholic religion was French, and anything
savoring of the country thus exacting tribute from them suf-
fered the common hatred, \yhich was nourished and excited to
greater activity by the English missioners, whose power and
prestige were growing enormously. The imminent uprising was
quieted, however, by the diplomatic assurances of the French
special commissioner to the queen, and though French interests

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538 Catholicism in Madagascar. [Jan.,

suffered, the Catholic missions were tolerated and in some parts
encouraged.

Christianity at this time was becoming general, and was de-
clared the belief of the people on the public baptism of Rana-
valona II. in 1869. P^re Jouen maintains that, though Rasohe-
rina observed the idolatrous customs of her people the greater

A French Officer travelling by Talika from Tamatave to Antananarivo.

part of her life, she died a Christian, having been baptized a
few days before her death in April, 1868, by M. Laborde, the
favorite friend and adviser of Radama II. Since 1869 Christian
missions in Madagascar have developed wonderfully. It is
claimed that Madagascar has more Nonconformist churches
and adherents than any other mission field in the world, and
the Quakers and Luther Missionary Society have done much to

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1896.] Catholicism in Madagascar. 539

Christianize the country. The French Catholic missioners have
done great work under adverse circumstances, and though in
1 861 there was not one Catholic in the capital, Antananarivo,
there is to-day in the very heart of the city a most imposing
Catholic cathedral.

The Malagasy people have little religion. Their character
is weak. They observe the grossest fetichism, and are goverijed

Rainiliarivony, Prince Consort and Prime Minister.

by the most deeply-rooted superstitions. While at no time did
they descend to cannibalism, like many of the Polynesian peoples,
they were degraded and pagan. They had laws controlling
marriage and the domestic relations, but immorality was the
mle. Even to-day the freedom of concubinage is startling.
Genealogical descent is through the female line, and identifica-
tion of paternity is not important. Children born to a woman
many years after her husband's death are by law the children
of the deceased husband. An instance of these peculiar customs

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540 Catholicism IN Madagascar. [Jan.,

even affecting royalty is afforded by the position of the prime
minister Rainiliarivony. This man succeeded his brother Raini-
voninahitriony, who was exiled, as prime minister and prince con-
sort to Rasoherina. He remained prime minister and became
prince consort to Ranavalona II. and maintained similar rela-
tions with her successor, the present queen, Ranavalona III.
He was recently deposed by the French, who have selected a
successor to occupy all his positions, who is more subservient
and pliable to French direction.

In and around the capital and the trading towns on the
coast, where civilization is leavening the barbarism of the na-
tives, the observance of European customs is general ; but in
the wilder sections, among the Sackalave and Bara tribes, the
old pagan charms are invoked. Interesting accounts of the
" religion of the corpse ** and " ancestor worship," the trial by
tangiuy or "poison-water," are given by Jesuit missioners, as
well as graphic descriptions of the " Satamanga," or tribal dance.
The trial by poison-water is the worst form of trial by ordeal,
and very few survive the test. The worship of ancestors and the
religion of the corpse generate most depraved instincts and be-
come the medium of indulgence in most immoral practices.
The tribal dance presents more bestial aspects than the dances
of any barbaric people. It is the commencement of most dis-
graceful orgies, which are continued in view of thousands of
assembled natives. The Malagash, though professing Christianity,
still pursues his pagan course. He is largely destitute both of
virtue and vice. To him the present is everything. He will
profess with seeming fervor the most abject contrition for faults
committed, and immediately transgress the rule again. While
Christianity is the rule, the teachings of the missioners have
small effect on the methods of life of the natives. The free-
dom of divorce is still availed of even by the most ardent
Catholics. The sister of the queen was educated by the Catho-
lic sisters and became a Catholic, but this had little influence
in holding sacred her marriage tie. She is divorced from her
husband Andrianaly.

These many weaknesses of the Malagasy character show that
the teachings of Christianity, though accepted by large numbers
of the natives, are but a small factor in* their routine of life.
It is said that five-sixths of the people are still pagan.

The prospects of the rapid spread of Catholicism in the
island are now very good. The nobles will at once conform to
the official religion of the dominant nation. It is to be regretted

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1896.] Catholicism in Madagascar. 541

that such conversion will probably not be based on spiritual
grounds alone.

Since the first settlement of white men on the island
European influences have done much to sway public conduct.
The English missioners did a great deal to generate a sentiment
favorable to their country, which was afterward largely nullified
by the French under Lambert and Laborde. Again, on the
conclusion of the English treaty under Rasoherina and on the
levying of the French indemnity, English sentiment gained
favor and control and the English religions dominated the

Native Girl mourning at the Tomb of her Ancestors.

Christian believers. Later, on the withdrawal of England and
the establishment of the French Protectorate a few years ago,
the people adopted many French practices to be in touch with
the governing forces. However, France has been hated and
feared since the time of Radama IL, and uprisings not only of
the Hova race, but of the numerous powerful tribes to the east
and south, may be expected. The humble people will not ac-
cept the religion of their conquerors except in so far as it ap-
peals to their better nature, to be developed by wise teaching
and good example.

The classes who will be the French instruments of govern-
ment will become thoroughly French in sentiment and conduct.

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542 Catholicism in Madagascar. [Jan.,

The official language will be French, and in order to become
familiar with the methods of government as dictated by France,
knowledge of the French tongue will be essential. This will call
for extended teaching of French, to the exclusion of other
languages, and a more general understanding of the teachings
of Catholic doctrine can then be acquired from the Catholic
missioners, who are French. It may be considered wise by the
fathers of the mission to educate in their colleges priests from
among the natives. The people could be reached much better
by one of their own race, with a knowledge of Malagasy
character, than by the more ascetic and civilized French priest.
There is a vast field for substantial missionary work. There is
a great hope of the early conversion of this mighty barbaric
people to the faith of Christ. The greatest difficulties will be
found in the frailties of character of the inhabitants, evolved
through the ages of barbarism and idolatry. Let it be the
concern of France to bring the Malagasy people to a real
recognition of the benefits of civilization, and to a proper
understanding of that faith which has made it the distinguished
home of the purest and best in Catholicism, and which has
secured to it not the least of its titular honors, "Catholic
France."

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1896.] A Ruse de Guerre. 543

A RUSE DE GUERRE.

BY JOHN J. O'SHEA.

Telegram for you, sir — reply prepaid.*'

Dick Baylor was standing in the Hall of the
Four Courts in Dublin, with his hands behind
his back, clutching a scroll of official paper,
which might be mistaken for a brief by the
uninitiated.

Up into the majestic countenance of Sir Colman O'Logh-
len's marble effigy he was gazing, as though lost in admiration
of the sculptor's work, but in reality he was cogitating whence
his next week's board was to come from, as his landlady had
that morning given him a latitat, in the shape of a notice to
quit.

The words of the telegraph messenger roused him from his
reverie only partially. Like Archimedes, he would fain be left
to work out his problem before undertaking any other business
of a disagreeable nature, as he was sure this telegram meant.
Fortune had so long been froward that he looked for nothing
but fresh disaster at every turn of her wheel.

"Telegram for me?" he echoed mechanically as he faced
around. **A11 right; wait a minute."

Dick Baylor was one of a numerous tribe who hang on to
the law in the Irish capital. He was half a lawyer, half a press-
man, with little to do at either profession. He held a junior
barrister's degree, with more than the average ill-luck of that
often luckless army ; his legal education had been costly, and
the return for the outlay up to the present next to nil. The
parental resources were utterly exhausted in the effort to gain
this education, and supplies had long been cut off. Now and
then one of the newspapers would help him to prolong a life
of involuntary asceticism by taking from him a special short-
hand report or a bit of lively description in some famous case,
but his first "brief" had not come to him as yet.

Still he did not despair. He was a bright young fellow, and
the sanguine spirit of youth kept him alive more than his homely
fare. He felt that if his chance ever came to him he would be
able to seize it and stick to it.

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544 A Ruse de Guerre, [Jan.,

The chance seemed to have come at last. There was a gen-
eral election in progress, and the circumstances of the fight in-
volved a good deal of shuffling of the cards. Dick Baylor had
taken sides with the Nationalist party, and this was the chief
reason why his brief-bag had been so long empty. To win the
fight a good many changes had to be made in the popular
press, which was still heavily leavened with the old order and its
hangers-on. Some papers were bought out, and amongst these
an old-established one down in the South.

"We want you to take charge of The Recorder during the
fight. Will you come at once ? Say yes, and fifty pounds shall
be sent on to meet expenses."

This was the text of the telegram. Dick Baylor lost no time
about saying "yes." He pulled off his wig and gown, assumed
his street dress, and rushed off to his lodgings instantly.

When the maid-of-all-work came up in answer to his sum-
mons she found him executing a pas seul on the tattered piece
of carpet in the middle of his room. He told her the cause of
this extraordinary fit of terpsichoreanism, and the poor girl felt
delighted, for she knew that when he got the money her mis-
tress's bill would be paid and then she would get her own
wages.

No time was lost in packing the "Gladstone," and Dick
Baylor, flying off on a jaunting car, was just in time to catch
the mail train at the Kingsbridge, and before nightfall he was
landed at his destination, a country town which we shall call
Knockphail.

On his arrival he was met by the parish priest, the Rev.
Mortimer Daly, and a couple of the leading lay politicians of
Knockphail, and greeted with true Celtic fervor. " We're going
to have a glorious fight here," they cried und voce^ " and you Ve
come in the nick of time. All our hopes are centred on you.
You are the man in the gap."

Dick Baylor's conception of the obligations of a man in the
gap had been derived from metropolitan experiences chiefly.
There, at election times, a good deal of speechifying and cheer-
ing and noise prevailed. Sometimes, too, perhaps a few win-
dows were broken and a few men mobbed in the streets. He
had no idea of the magnificent scale on which the game of
political war was played in the country, or the resources in cun-
ning and audacity which the bucolic politician had at his com-
mand.

He smiled and answered cheerfully that he would do his

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1896.] A Ruse de Guerre. 545

best not to disappoint their expectations, that he felt proud of
the honor conferred upon him, that he was glad to have the
opportunity of seeing their very interesting town, so full of his-
toric memories, and so on. Then the question of lodging came
up. One decent hotel was all that Knockphail possessed, and
this, it was found, was held by the enemy in force. Then the
parish priest, who was a fine example of the old big-hearted,
hospitable race of Irish gentlemen, solved the difficulty by de-
claring that the stranger should take up his quarters at his
house until the election was over.

Although Dick Baylor did not relish this proposjil, because
he thought it seemed to strain the idea of hospitable obligation,
he had no alternative, being a total stranger in the town, but
to accept. " ril hand you over to Mrs. Halloran, my house-
keeper,** said Father Daly, "and 1*11 warrant she*ll take good
care of you."

The presbytery stood on a hill, and the parish church stood
beside it. It was intended that the church should be a bold
and handsome feature in the picturesque environments of Knock-
phail, but this intention had not so far been realized. For the
church had not been finished ; only the stump of its intended
steeple had emerged from the architectural chaos, and the work
on the ornamental portions of the edifice had been so long at
a standstill for want of funds that portions of it presented a
semi-ruinous appearance. It wanted the venerable character of
a genuine ruin, while it fell short of the semblance of a finished
building; so that it marred the effect of the landscape rather
than dignified its outlines.

In the presbytery the spirit of hospitality did not reveal it-
self in luxury. The prevailing tone of the place was simplicity,
together with immaculate cleanliness. Only one of the rooms
had any approach to a carpet. This was the parlor where the
priests received the more distinguished visitors ; and the carpet
was only a square piece large enough to cover the centre of
the floor. An old-fashioned harpsichord piano was the chief
feature in the r6om, whose decorations consisted of a large
colored engraving of the Sacred Heart, a lithograph portrait of
the Pope, and a photograph of the CEcumenical Council.

Three curates had their quarters in the house, besides the
parish priest. This was the entire spiritual force of the parish,
but it was sufficient. There was a steady monotony about the
piety of the good people of Knockphail. Like all rural Irish
places it was deeply religious. Of course there were a few
black sheep in the town, as in all other places ; and it was
VOL. Lxii.— 35

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546 A Ruse de Guerre. [Jan.,

sometimes necessary to refer tp these from the altar to bring
them to repentance. In this process terms were generally used
which outside would have furnished matter for a rousing action for
libel, but in such simple pastoral communities these admonitions
are taken not so much, happily, in their letter as in their spirit

It was over this establishment that Mrs. Halloran had mun-
dane control as "housekeeper." Her duties were not light;
yet they were got through in such a way that none noticed
their performance. She was one of that rare species, a woman
who could keep silence irrefragably when silence was necessary.

A firm, sedate, yet kindly woman was Mrs. Halloran. Her
task in dealing with the many people who called at the pres-
bytery was one that at times required the exercise of all those
qualities. The presbytery is sought by many besides those who
have genuine claims on the priests* time — idlers and ne'er-do-
wells, and mere gossip-mongers. She had learned to differen-
tiate all these with unerring accuracy, so that the good-nature
of Father Daly and his helpers should not be abused. To those
who were in genuine need of help she displayed a motherly
sympathy, but while giving all the practical help in her power,
took care that they should not engross her time to the neglect
of her other duties.

Mrs. Halloran was a widow without any children of her own,
but a niece of hers, her brother's daughter, was almost constant-
ly with her, and the love which subsisted between the pair was
almost that of mother and child. Yet there could be no greater
dissimilarity in tone and temperament than between these.
Nellie Halloran was as gay as a linnet and as elfish as a sprite.
She was the soul of mirth and drollery, and the chief trouble
her aunt had in her regard was to keep her ebullient spirits
from making the housekeeper's quarters at the presbytery re-
markable for hilarity.

Sedate and sober-minded as the housekeeper was, it required
all her self-command at times to refrain from giving the rein to
her latent spirit of merriment in a way unsuited to her position
as she regarded it. The recital of the impish pranks which her
niece had played upon some of the simple swains who beset
her, especially upon a soft-hearted fellow named Mike Donovan,
the priest's " boy," from the neighboring parish of Ballinacrory,
was a thing that few could hear with a serious face. Nellie's de-
licious brogue as she told the tale with all the abandon of a be-
nign little witch, the Spirit of fun dancing in the dangerous
Irish eyes, and the contagious peal of her musical laughter,
forbade all attempts to preserve a serious countenance.

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1896.] A Ruse de Guerre, 547

"Troth, you'd make the saints laugh, you unbiddable hussy,**
Mrs. Halloran would say, as, confessing defeat, she sat in her
wicker arm-chair and took the offending ringleted head on her
lap to try to smooth down its wilful curls. " There, stop your
tongue now, and don*t make me laugh any more, else 1*11 bring
disgrace on the house. Lave Mike Donovan alone and tell me
about the Sodality, and who you saw at the last meetin*. Go
on now; that's me darlin* girl.**

With such artifices would the good woman seek to lay the
spirit of mischief in her niece, but not always with success.
Mike was an institution, apparently, at Ballinacrory, and as long
as Mike lasted the fun was sure to last for Nellie Halloran.

Mrs. Halloran very cheerfully accepted the new charge given
into her hands by Father Daly. Dick Baylor was an engaging
young man, and a diffident, shy kind of manner which he had
at once aroused all the motherly instincts in the good woman's
heart. She judged at once that he was not n>uch of a man to
take care of himself in regard to social comforts, and she deter-
mined that he should be well taken care of while under her wing.

" Do you know exactly how the land lies herfe — politically I
mean?** inquired Father Lavery, one of the three curates,
when the quintette were seated in the parlor waiting for the
summons to dinner.

"Well, I've got a rough idea. I believe a good deal of up-
hill work has to be done to recover lost ground."

"You're not far out there. The paper we have just bought
has been run in the interest of the opposite side for some
weeks. All the effect of this has to be undone.'*

"That may not be easy, but it must be tried. The bold
course is perhaps the only winning one. The people are too
wide-awake to be imposed on by any trimming process. Better
to take the bull by the horns at once."

" It is the safer way,** chimed in Father Dixon, the senior
curate. " But there will be some awkwardness about it. Per-
haps you are not aware that half the paper for this week is
already printed, and it contains some things highly favorable to
Taylor. The former owner is a great friend of Taylor's, but
he was so hard up that he was glad to get the offer from us
to buy the whole thing. He thinks he is powerful enough to
get the sheet run in Taylor*s interest still, although it has
changed owners.**

" He must have a good deal of confidence in his powers of
persuasion,*' remarked Baylor, with a laugh. " But he will find
his mistake pretty quickly."

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548 A Ruse de Guerre. [Jan.,

" You will require all the courage and skill you can com-
mand, I venture to say,*' said Father Timmins, the shrewdest of
the curates. " You see the paper is still printed on his prem-
ises, as we have not had time to get our own prepared, and it
cannot be transferred for some weeks. His sub-editor, whom I
suppose you will have to put up with for the present as there
is no other to be got in the town, is a rabid Taylorite, and
you will have to put your foot down pretty firmly at the be-
ginning to have things done as you want them.'*

" Oh I I can answer for that,** said Baylor. " I have had to
deal with men of that stamp before.**

" Well, you may manage the sub, but Burke is the really for-
midable obstacle. Though he has parted with the paper, he
believes he has some control over it still as long as it is in his
house. He's a sort of bashaw here, and was dreaded by all
while he ran the paper. You will have to watch him.'*

** Oh ! I don't fear for the result by any means. As you
have given me full control, I'll take care that nobody interferes
any further. But how about the general situation outside ? "

" Well, it is simple. The towns-people here are all in favor
of Taylor. He is a clever man and an able speaker, and he
spends money freely. But he has not much of a following in
the county. The man we have adopted is supported by all
the men of any standing. He has the backing of the National
party, and that's enough for us, for we are all with the tenant-
farmers here, and we care nothing for the opinions of the
towns-people, for they are not able to see beyond their own
noses. There is a small section of the poorer class of farmers
who may be in doubt, and it is these we desire to reach
through the paper. Now, do you understand ? "

" Oh, perfectly ! We must insist on the absolute necessity of
supporting the choice of the party, the priests, who are the natu-
ral leaders of the people in this struggle, and the men who are
the backbone of the tenants* movement. It ought to be plain
sailing enough."

In the office of The Recorder Baylor found a very primitive
condition of affairs. The printing arrangements were of the
most backward and antiquated kind. The place was miserably
small, and the printing-staff consisted only, besides the foreman,
of three men and two bpys. There was only one machine, a
crazy thing of the last century, and the motive-power of this
was hand-labor. A strong man was employed to turn the
wheel on the printing nights.

Burke, the former editor and proprietor, was this man's em-

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1896.] A Ruse de Guerre. 549

ployer. He found work for him as a farm laborer and doing
odd jobs, the rest of the week ; for Burke combined the agri-
cultural with the editorial life, besides taking the leading hand
in local and imperial politics. He was a burly, truculent man,
who could use both the suaviter in modo and the fortiter in re
as the occasion suited.

He was seated at the desk in the office writing leading
paragraphs, when Baylor entered and introduced himself. He
received him blandly, and Baylor, producing his credentials,
demanded a sight of all the " copy '* that had been sent in for
the second side of the paper.

Burke handed him over what he had written, and sent a
boy out to the printing-office for the remainder.

" Merely a few squibs," he said, " showing up Molloy's
political antecedents, and some smart hits at the county
* bosses * ; just the sort of thing for election times, you know.*'

** They will not go in," said Baylor calmly. " Boy, tell the
foreman to step in here."

The functionary entered. " Please understand," said Baylor,
" that no * copy * is to be taken in the printing-office in the
future, save what passes through my hands. I take entire
charge of this paper now."

At this point Mr. Muldoon, the sub-editor, who also acted
as local reporter, came in. Baylor lost no time in making
known their mutual relations. " What have you got here ? " he
asked, looking at . some MS. which* Muldoon had taken from
his pocket.

" Notes of a speech of Mr. Taylor's at the assembly rooms
to-day."

" Put them in the fire. Not another word about Mr. Tay-
lor goes into this sheet."

Muldoon looked at Burke, and Burke looked at Baylor.

"We undertook to give this report," he said, "and in the
interests of fair play — "

" I did not undertake it," said Baylor sharply, " and this is
electioneering. I will have no controversy about it."

Burke's face grew purple, but he managed to control himself.
He bounced out of the place without saying a word.

"Now," said Baylor to the sub, "you will please sit down
there and write what I dictate." Then he plunged at once in-
to a rattling "leader" setting forth the change in the paper's
policy and the urgent reasons for it, and 'appealing to the
patriotism of the farmers on behalf of the adopted candidate.

As the slips were written he caused them to be carried to

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550 A Ruse de Guerre. [Jan.,

the printing-office and set up as quickly as could be done. It
was late ere this task was got through, but he went back to
his quarters satisfied with his day's work.

Next morning his troubles commenced. When he arrived at
the office he found the foreman with a very long face. Two
of the printers, he announced, had left the town, and there was
not one to be got to fill the gap.

" Never mind," said Baylor, " I'll see what can be done
without them."

He seized a telegraph form and wrote a message to Dublin
asking a large printing firm there to say if they could set up
three pages of The Recorder and send them down in stereotype,
if he sent on the " copy," by working all night ? In an hour
he had an answer in the affirmative.

In the meantime the town was in a state of commotion.
Bands were out on the streets, and Taylor was addressing
meetings from the hotel windows and other places. Crowds
stopped occasionally before The Recorder office, and hooted and
yelled and groaned. The printing-office was in the rear, and
inaccessible, so Baylor didn't mind. He merely took the pre-
caution of barring the front door and closing the window-shutters.

In due time the stereotype plates arrived frorn Dublin, and
Baylor did not quit the office until he had seen the paper put
to press and made arrangements for its despatch next morning
in the usual way.

What was his astonishment when on going to his office
early next day he found that not a single sheet had been sent
out or even printed ! Two causes were assigned by the
trembling foreman for the miscarriage. In the first place the
laborer who turned the wheel had refused to work, and not
another man in the town could be got to undertake it. All
were partisans of Taylor. In the second, the machine itself
had collapsed throAigh > the breaking of an important screw,
and not a smith could be got to repair it, through the
tradesmen's loyalty to Taylor.

Here was a dilemma indeed! Baylor felt nonplussed for the
moment.

He hurried off with the intention of taking counsel with the
parish priest. He met him a little outside the presbytery.
Burke, the former editor, was just coming out of the assembly
rooms, which were close by, as he came up. On his face there
was a malicious grin.

" This is your doing, Mr. Burke," said Father Daly, when
Baylor had hurriedly whispered how things stood. "Do you

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1896.] A Ruse de Guerre, 551

think it fair to take our money for your property, and then
prevent our utilizing it ? "

" Oh ! this is electioneering, Father Daly," replied Burke in
a tone of sly triumph. " Everything is fair under these condi-
tions. My responsibility ceased when I sold you the property,
you know. This gentleman got full control."

Baylor turned away in disgust. If an argument were got up
in the street, it would be certain to collect a crowd, and this
would lead inevitably to a scene. So, taking Father Daly's
arm, he went with him into the presbytery, and went more
fully into the details of the estoppel.

Mrs. Halloran was a listener while he was explaining the
position of affairs to Father Daly. An eager look was on her
face, but she did not feel herself privileged to speak until the
good priest, noticing the peculiar expression, turned towards her.

" What is it, Mrs. Halloran ? " he said kindly. " I think you
want to say something."

" If I might make so bold, your reverence," she replied, " I
would say that I think that The Constitution people, although
they are Tories, would lend their machine to print the paper,
if they were asked. Mr. Denham. the owner, was talking to
me to-day, and he said they all admired Mr. Baylor for the
courageous fight he's making."

" That's very nice and very good," said Father Daly ; " but
whom can we get to turn the machine? We're completely
boycotted in the town."

" If you please, your reverence, there's Mike Donovan down-
stairs, talking to Nellie. He's as strong as a horse."

" Why, woman, he's the maddest Taylorite of them all ! He'd
rather cut off his hand than do a stroke of work against him."

" Oh ! leave that to Nellie and me," she answered, a gleam
of roguery twinkling in her eye. " You'll find we'll manage
him somehow, your reverence." Mrs. Halloran was as good as
her word.

It was not through any of the arts of Delilah that these
wily women contrived to neutralize Mike's violent political anti-
pathies. Much as he loved Nellie he would not, even for her
sake, be false to his principles. It was simply because of his
defective education. He could neither read nor write, and was
kept in ignorance of the nature of the work he was requisitioned
to do. Thus he was betrayed into the hands of the enemy.

Mike Donovan was a strapping young fellow, and one of
the best wrestlers and hurlers in the county. This athletic
bent of his helped to counterbalance the stooping tendency

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552 A Ruse de Guerre. [Jan.,

which his work in the fields was calculated to give. He was
rough-looking, but by no means ill-favored ; and that his temper
was fiery was easily discernible from his excitable blue eye and
very high cheek-bone, if the tawny beard and still more reddish
hair furnished no clue to it. He was engaged in a wordy war
with Nellie when Mrs. Halloran entered — all about politics.
Mike was vehemently upholding the claims of Taylor and de-
nouncing the system of the caucus which thrust an undesirable
representative upon the people, as he declared, giving them no
choice whatever in the selection.

The more he stormed the more Nellie teased him by her
skilful comparison between the rival candidates, to the disadvan-
tage of Taylor in every case ; and the poor fellow was not sharp
enough to see that she was only disporting herself at his expense.

At the height of the discussion Mrs. Halloran put in an ap-
pearance.

"Give over, children,** she began; "we're tired of politics,
sure enough. *Tis nothing but the one ould thing over and
over again ; weVe heard it so often, troth, we ought to have it
off by heart. Mike, like a decent boy, will you do a little turn
for me ? Have you to go back to Ballinacrory to-night ? "

" No ; not till to-morrow, ma'am. I have to wait for a sad-
dle that the harness-maker beyant is mendin' for the masther;
only for that I'd be goin' to-night. An' what's the turn you
want me to do for you, Mrs. Halloran ? "

"Well, just to turn the wheel up at The Constitution^ for
Mr. Denham, for a couple of hours."

"An' sure that's Dan Brady's job?"

" True enough, but this is an extra job. Dan's usual work
was finished early to-day, an' he's gone home tired an' hungry
of coorse after such a heavy spell of work. 'Twill be a rale
charity for you to do it. There's ne'er another boy in the
town strong enough to stand up to it."

"Yerra, let Mike alone, aunt," interposed Nellie, tauntingly.
" Don't you see that he's ashamed to tell you that he won't do
it because he cant do it ? There isn't another boy in Knock-
phail or for twenty miles round that could turn the wheel up
at The Constitution for two hours runnin'. Dan Brady is the
only one fit to do it."

Nellie knew nothing of the importance of her interference;
it was just a fortuitous piece of good luck that prompted her
usual spirit of raillery just then to assert itself. It was the one
thing needed to the success of the project in hand. Mike's
temper was aflame in a twinkling.

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1896.] A Ruse de Guerre. 553

" This is more of the lies an' the humbuggin' that's impos-
in' on the people here," he exclaimed bitterly. " It 'ud be a
quare day that I coqldn't stand up agin Dan Brady, or agin
any man on this side of Keeper Mountain. I tell you what Til
do, Mrs. Halloran. Til go up now an* turn the wheel at The
Constitution, and whin that's done I'll wrastle Dan Brady fresh
out of his bed, hurdle with him, or throw stones with him — ay,
an' the best man in the parish next to him, afther. That's what
I'll do — an* I'll stake the five shillin's I'm goin' to airn on it.
Now I'm off to The Constitution''

*' Lave us a lock o' your hair ! " cried Nellie, with a taunting
laugh, as the young giant strode angrily from the door. But
Mike, consoled with the thought that he would soon cover his
detractors and disparagers with confusion, vouchsafed no reply,
but went his way.

The astonishment of the town politicians when the paper
came out in good time was only equalled by their rage, for they
had deemed the boycott complete. But the general anger was,
in its entire volume, not half that of the individual bitterness
of Mike Donovan when he found to what base uses he had
been put. He was afraid to trust himself near the presbytery
next day, lest his anger should break all bounds and make him
say and do things to be regretted all his lifetime.

When the polling day came, and the votes were counted,
Mr. Taylor found himself a very disappointed man. Contrary
to what his friends all along assured, him, he failed to get a
single vote outside the town. Dick Baylor's logic decided all
the rural waverers, and there was a great triumph for the Na-
tional party.

It needed all Mrs. Halloran's diplomacy to repair the damage
she had done to Mike's affections. Achilles sulked in his tent
for nearly three months, and would have continued to sulk were
it not that Mrs. Halloran drove over to Ballinacrory one day
and soothed his ruffled feelings in her own irresistible way.
But what clinched the matter was her undertaking to restrain
Nellie from laughing at him when he should come over to see
them at Knockphail.

But Nellie, who was no party to this treaty, tore it to shreds,
and quizzed him mercilessly when he appeared there, looking
rather sheepish and abashed. She laughs at him still, now that
she is Mrs. Donovan, and often tells the story of the discomfi-
ture of the Taylorites, and the unconscious part that Mike had
in bringing it about.

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554 The Winter-School in New Orleans. [Jan.,

THE WINTER-SCHOOL IN NEW ORLEANS.

BY REV. JAMES J. McLOUGHLIN.

EW ORLEANS has from time immemorial been
famous amongst our American cities as a place
sui generis. Unlike her sisters, she has been
content to rest quietly apart, aside from the
hurlyburly of the nineteenth century, seeming-
ly the one quiet, slackwater pool of. that swift stream of pro-
gress that is hurrying the American Republic to its ultimate
destiny.

In the good old days " before the war " we heard a great
deal of this Southern metropolis. Before the fire and steel of
that terrible epoch had wiped out of existence, almost, the
trade and commerce that poured millions into her lap ; before
the genius of Stephenson had stretched glistening strings of
iron rails to drag away her vassals of the States of the Missis-
sippi Valley, she was queen of a broad empire. Her palatial
steamboats drained every capillary of that vast system of water-
ways that sucked the life-blood of trade from every remote
landing to this great Southern heart.

But all that is past. New times, new methods, now rule
her trade and commerce. Like the ancient Creoles of her still
more ancient streets, these new ways found her all unprepared
for change. And for twenty years she sat there amidst her
memories, dazed and bewildered. The Exposition of 1884
came, and she awoke. Since then she has made giant strides
along the path of progress. Factories, commerce, foreign trade,
internal improvements, have placed her once more in the front
rank with her rival sisters.

The old is passing away, the new is taking its place. In a
few years more the quaint flavor of **old New Orleans" will
be a thing of the past. And those thousands of tourists who
now make the old town one of their resting-places each winter,
will soon find the granite and slate of the nineteenth century in
the place where once dwelt the stucco and tile of the eigh-
teenth.

This year there will be inaugurated there a most startling
innovation, in the Catholic Winter-School of America, which it

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1896.] The Winter-School in New Orleans. 555

is hoped and believed will be a most welcome addition to the
attractions of the Carnival season.

Summer-schools are numerous, and thronged — why, therefore,
should not a winter-school be popular? And when to the de-
lightful climate of a semi-tropical town are added the attrac-
tions which the Catholic Winter-School offers, will not
thousands of our Northern friends gladly spend a month in the
Crescent City, combining pleasure with instruction?

To those who have never visited New Orleans can scarcely
be explained the peculiarities of that queer old place. Imagine
a great city, with over ten miles of wharfage-front on a broad
river, with a salt-water lake, twenty miles wide, in the rear,
with not a single hill or slope in all its area. Naught but one
unbroken level, crossed by broad avenues, bordered with open
drains, through which course streams of water.

Midwinter by the almanac, but springtime by the thermome-
ter. Green grass, brilliant flowers, greet you everywhere. A
hospitable people in whom true courtesy is inbred. And above
all a city with a past — yes, and such a past ! We can trace it
in the very streets and houses that we see.

Founded in 171 8 by Bienville, the place was laid out as a
parallelogram, one side the river, a strong rampart in the
rear, another with a broad walk alongside forming the lower
limit. To-day the old boundary lines and colonial buildings
live in the names of the streets that take their place or mark
their spot — Rampart, Esplanade, Hospital, Barracks. And even
yet some of the old houses of that remote period are shown,
ancient and aged-looking relics of olden days. Among the
lectures to be delivered before the school will be a course on
Louisiana history by Alc^e Fortier, of Tulane University, and
it will be interesting to follow him, as it were, through these
old remains of former times which still stand to tell of what
they were, and what scenes they saw, when the lilies of France
floated from the old cathedral spires.

America has so little antiquity that we look on what is left
us of colonial days as something to revere. At Mount Vernon
we reverently inspect the little trifles that, in themselves
so valueless, as once a part of Washington's life are made
so precious to every patriot. In Quebec we pause at the
spot where brave Montgomery fell. But here in New Orleans
we are surrounded with much that brings history near to us.
Just below the busy town, guarded by an unfinished, un-
sightly pile of bricks, lies Chalmette — that glorious field

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556 The Winter-School in New Orleans. [Jan.,

where the flower of the British armies saw their flag go down
in defeat before the rifles of the hardy pioneers. Around are
remnants of the very earthworks that sheltered Jackson's men.
And there, covering much of the ground that in 1815 drank so
much blood, lie fifteen thousand Federal soldiers, from the bat-
tle-fields of thirty years ago.

Along the river-road stretch the neat white buildings of the
United States Barracks, with a sentry pacing at the gate. The
drive from the city to the battle-field is one of great beauty.
On the right the yellow river crawls, behind a levee wall ten
feet high ; on the left old-fashioned plantation houses, embowered
in foliage, amidst which are tall magnolias, yellow-laden orange-
trees, waxen camelias, sombre cedars, and a riot of roses, dah-
lias, and smaller flowers.

In fact in no other city in the United States will the lover
of plants and trees and flowers find so much to admire as here
in New Orleans. A course of lectures on botany, by Rev. A.
B. Langlois, will be of peculiar interest in this connection.

And within easy reach of the city are many pleasant rural
resorts to which excursions can be made. There is the chain
of pretty villages that stretch along the Mexican Gulf, between
New Orleans and Mobile, where the pine-trees fringe the beach,
and where excellent hotels hold forth every allurement ; where
fishing and hunting and sailing are ever in order. And back in
the pine-woods, on the shores of Lake Pontchartrain, is the
Deaf and Dumb School of Chinchuba, where deaf-mutes learn
to speak the marvellous sign language with wondrous ease.

Of course the carnival festivities will in themselves be a
great event. They begin about a week before Mardi-Gras, which
this year is on February 18. There are balls and receptions with-
out number. Illuminated pageants, representing scenes from
history or legendary lore, change night into day as they roll
through the crowded streets.

And the religious ceremonies attendant upon the Winter-
School will in themselves be amongst the grandest ever seen in
America. All the prelates of the country have been invited,
and many will attend. Amongst those who will be there will
be Cardinals Gibbons and Satolli, and one or both of these will
be present at the opening celebration in the old cathedral on
Sunday, February 16.

The roll of lecturers comprises many eminent names. Father
Zahm, of Notre Dame University, has been engaged for a course
on " Science and Religion," which is the same that created so

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1896.] The Winter-School in New Orleans. 557

much discussion last year. The eminent Jesuit, Father Powers,
of Spring Hill, will lecture on " Man as a Free Agent," " Right
and Wrong,'* " Immortality," " Morality and Conscience," and
'* God's Existence." Colonel Richard Malcolm Johnston, Cond6
B. Fallen, Graham Frost, Father Mullany, Father Sheedy of
Altoona, and a number of others equally prominent will be on
the platform. Beginning on February 18 the school will last
three weeks, and it will certainly bring together one of the
most entertaining gatherings of teachers and students ever seen
in America.

It will attract the attention, not of Catholics alone but also
of thousands of non-Catholics, who will come from motives of
curiosity, or desire to know the point of view of Catholics on
many of the questions of the day — on socialism, on the relations
of labor and capital, on theological matters, and to note our
progress in intellectual and literary development.

And from the list of lecturers and their subjects it is safe
to predict that the first session of the Catholic Winter-School
at New Orleans will not only reflect great credit upon Arch-
bishop Janssens, and those who are with him in promoting its
success, but it will also attract to itself, and to the historic city
of the South, thousands of appreciative visitors, of every sect
and creed.

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other city in the world wherein the problem is so complicated
as it is in New York, owing to abnormal local conditions.
Whether the problem will ever be solved there, in a manner
conducive to the welfare of society, or whether it is destined
to remain a puzzle for future generations, it is, at all events,
well to be made familiar with its conditions. This knowledgip
may be gained to some extent by a study of a comprehensive
work on the subject just issued by the Messrs. Scribner.*

New York is not the only city whose tenement-house con-
dition is exhaustively treated of in this book. The status of the
poor in many other great cities — London, .Paris, Chicago, Naples,
etc. — is ably described by writers who have made it the subject
of careful study. In their hands the topic covers a wide range ;
and its treatment often gives it a character of a much more
attractive stamp than the usual run of economical and statisti-
cal treatises shows. The paper on London, for instance, has
been furnished by Robert A. Woods, the head of Andover
House, Boston, and a resident member of the Toynbee Hall
Association for some time. It is entitled " The Social Awakening
in London." Not many people in this country are aware of the
enormous impulse which has been given of late years to the
question of making life tolerable for the masses in the great
metropolis. The hugeness of the city has necessitated a revolu-
tion in city government ; drastic, complete, and radical. Lon-
don under the perfect system of home rule which it has won
after a long struggle with prerogatives as old as King Lud,
has got its own affairs into its hand and is doing right well to
make matters smooth for its millions of toilers. Its different

♦ The Poor in Great Cities, New York : Charles Scribner^s Sons.

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1896.] Talk about New Books. 559

county councils control and administer rates and taxes mount-
ing up close to seven hundred millions of dollars annually.
This money is now all under popular control, whereas under
the old regime it was in the hands of a number of rings whose
methods would never bear inquiry.

Mr. Woods* paper is an exceedingly able one. It is com-
prehensive, and at the same time it i& concise. It gives the
facts, together with sufficient comment to render them fully
intelligible.

The condition of New York is, however, a matter which
comes home more nearly to us. On this subject a paper is
contributed by Mr. Ernest Flagg, the eminent architect. The
picture he draws of the state of the New York tenement-house
population, and the frightful dangers to health, morality, and
life, through the constant risk of conflagrations, is simply ap-
palling. And that which renders it so appalling is the fact that
we know every word of the warning to be strictly true.

The primary evil in the New York system, Mr. Flagg points
out, is the arbitrary division of the city ground into lots, each
of 25 feet by 100 feet. The restriction to 25 feet has been fatal
to health, light, and comfort. On these narrow lots an identical
system of tenements has sprung up, covering thousands of acres.
They have been built in utter defiance of the science of build-
ing, and their defects are irremediable. For these death-trap
structures an enormous rent is charged. Nowhere else in the
world have landlords the power to fleece as in New York, be-
cause of the restricted limits of the city, and nowhere is there
such frightful risk to life and health as in the ill-built, rubbishy
structures which are called tenement houses.

Whether any remedy can be found for this shocking state
of things, under the present legislative system, is a very doubt-
ful problem. Altogether a peculiar condition of affairs has
grown up in and around New York City. It is a subject that
must be studied ; it is certain to compel attention, and that
perhaps in a very unpleasant way. So that the sooner it is
taken up and discussed the better for all concerned.

For the benefit of womankind chiefly Miss Conway's book.
Making Friends and Keeping Theniy^ appears to have been writ-
ten. Its arguments are directed more to the sex which ap-
pears most to need advice on the all-important subject of friend-

* Making Friends and Keeping Them, By Katherine E. Conway. Boston : Pilot Pub-
lishing: Co.

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560 Talk about New Books. [Jan.,

ship ; yet they are such as may be laid to heart with much
profit by very many of the other. There is a maturity of judg-
ment in the dicta of this eminently necessary book, mingled
with a delicacy in the method of conveying advice, which be-
speaks the sympathetic friend much more than the mentor. The
book is not merely useful in a very important sense, but it is
full of literary excellences — a very charming treatise, indeed,
upon a very engrossing subject. There are thousands of wo-
men to whom it ought to prove invaluable in cases where
want of good advice might prove to be a lamentable circum-
stance. It would be easy, perhaps, to get a more attractive gift
book, so far as outward show goes; but for wholesome and
refreshing contents none better, for general purposes, can be
found on the booksellers' counters.

A great increase in size and improvement in style are shown
in the Catholic Home Annual* for the coming year. Some splen-
did photogravures are embodied in the work, so as to make it,
in respect to illustrations, a first-class production. Its literary
contents are no less excellent. They are by the most favorite
Catholic writers, and their range is wide and varied. Poetry,
topography, fiction, hagiology, and other branches of Catholic
literature, are all represented by choice examples. The Annual
has always been a welcome visitor in many Catholic homes;
its claims to a cordial reception in the year 1896 are greater
than ever.

Individuality is the undisputed claim of New Orleans. A
city which preserves many traits of old France, when old France
in the land itself is hardly a memory, may seem an anachronism
on this unconventional continent, but anachronisms are some-
times delightful by mere contrast. So it is with New Orleans.
Miss Grace King, who is racy of the soil, tells us all about the
gay, quaint city in the course of a very charming bookf just
published. The narrative is helped immensely by the many
sketches of famous spots in the city and out-of-the-way nooks
and corners furnished by Frances E. Jones, who wields a cun-
ning pencil.

The story of New Orleans, from its foundation almost down
to our own day, is a record of romance, and the recorder of
the whole fascinating pageant has a very sympathetic pen.

♦ Catholic Home Annual. New York : Benziger Bros.

t New Orleans : The Place and the People, By Grace King. With illustrations by Fran-
ces E. Jones. New York : Macmillan & Co.

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1896.] Talk about New Books. 561

Grace King is a piquant historian — one who is not content to
serve up the dry bones of the past for banquet, but does her
best to clothe them with flesh and nerve-tissue and mind and
spirit.

One of the most charming chapters in the book is that de-
voted to the description of the coming of the Ursulines in the
GirondCy in the year 1727. The mingled piquancy and pathos
of the chronicle of the sisters* sufferings by land and sea, in
that time of tortoise-like and pea-shoed travelling, entitle these
pages to rank amongst the best examples of historical bric-
a-brac.

Longmans, Green & Co. deserve the thanks of teachers for
their admirable production of the English Classics Series.* The
works so far issued are Irving's Tales of a Traveller^ Scott*s
Woodstock, Defoe's Journal of the Plague Year, George Eliot's
Silas Marner, Macaulay's Essays on Milton, and Daniel Web-
ster's First Bunker Hill Oration, {Par parenthese it may be
asked, has the latter work been recognized by the English as
a classic ?) This series is specially designed for the guidance
of teachers, and to that end contains matter not included in
the text, such as analytical introductions, questions for exam-
ination, etc. Some teachers may think it is something like
painting the lily to tack on an introduction to Sir Walter
Scott's work, since that great master considered himself per-
fectly competent to tire out the patience of readers on his own
account. However, this is an age of new ideas, and some peo-
ple may even like to hear it explained how and why S.cott
explains himself.

The chronicle of the Sisters of Mercy is brought to a close
in the volume f which now makes its appearance, which is the
fourth of the series. It is in some respects the most absorbing
of any, inasmuch as it deals with transactions which changed
the current of the world's history, on this soil a§ well as
abroad, and brings the immediate past into touch with the
living present. The story of the part this great order played
during the Civil War and the subsequent plagues in Vicksburg
and New Orleans has often been touched upon, but the details
have not been so graphically or authoritatively presented,

* Longmattrs English Classics, Edited by George Rice [Carpenter, A.B. New York:
LongmanSf Green & Co.

t Leaves from Phe Annals of the Sisters of Mercy, Vol. iv. By a Member of the Order
of Mercy. New York : P. O'Shea.

VOL. LXII.— 36

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$62 Talk about New Books. [Jan.,

we believe, as they are now by Mother Austin Carroll. The
literary garb in which the chronicle is presented is bright,
spirited, and vivacious, reflecting the heroic cheerfulness of the
great souls who devote their lives to the good of mankind ; and
the ripple of gayety which at times runs through the narrative
proves that such a life of sacrifice is for many the true philos-
ophy of existence. Many amusing anecdotes are found in the
pages of this bulky volume, side by side with the most touch-
ing stories of martyr suffering and heroic devotion. This vol-
ume, it should be added, contains a copious index of the
whole work.

Horrors of the Confessional is the ironical title given a little
work on the subject of the sacrament of penance by Dr. Joseph
A. Pompeney, of Kansas City. It is in reality a very able con-
troversial work, designed to meet the sneers and slanders of
calumniators of the Catholic system. The language of the
book is eloquent, and the arguments rest on a sound historical
basis, displaying much erudition. The pamphlet is published in
handy form by Thomas J. Casey, Kansas City, Mo.

Another portable and ready work' for the purpose of com-
bating erroneous belief is one entitled An Hour with a Sincere
Protestant, by Rev. J. P. M. S. It bears the imprimatur of his
Grace Archbishop Corrigan, and is published by the Christian
Press Association Publishing Co., West Fifteenth Street, New
York. In a brief compass it takes up the chief objections to
Catholicism, and deals with them in a plain and forcible way.

" Pegasus in harness " is the thought which springs to our
mind reading a volume of poems by James Jeffrey Roche,
Restraint, not license, is the power that reveals itself between
and in the lines. The volume is called Ballads of Blue Water*
but this does not indicate that they are all redolent of the sea.
There be heroes of the land as well as heroes of the ocean, in
whom the people of this continent take an ever green pride, and
of some of these the praise is strung in terse poetic pearls in
this volume. The cameos, " Washington " and " Whittier," for
instance, are bits of workmanship which illustrate how high
conception may be wedded to simplest form of expression by
fitness of phrase, as power is concentrated in the lightning
flash. But for all that the ocean is the author's element, and

* Ballads of Blue Water ^ and other Poems, By James Jeffrey Roche.* Boston and New
York : Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

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1896.] Talk about New Books. 563

his muse a sea-nymph. He finds joyous inspiration in the
breeze and the battle, and loves to sing of the glorious fights
of 18 12. A couple of the poems which deal with these stirring
themes claim higher rank than the ballad. More of the char-
acter of the martial ode is the piece called "The Fight of the
Armstrong Privateer," and a similar observation applies to the
poem on "Albemarle Gushing." Grace and fire — fire judiciously
handled — characterize these lays of nautical exploit ; and the
spirit of fun which enters so largely into a sailor's life is also
exemplified in the penultimate piece in the book, "A Sailor's
Yarn." A poet's work is, very often, like an editor's — more
conspicuous by what it has rejected than by what it has put
before the world. Mr. Roche's bears the impress of this care
and happy taste in every line. He has a nice ear, too, and
sticks to that quality of distinctness in quantitative enunciation
which it is the fashion with a certain stripe of mystics and
transcendentals of this age to obscure. Much sense of fitness is
shown in the output of the volume. The cover is at once sim-
ple, elegant, and striking.

It is fitting that a handsome book * should commemorate a
golden jubilee ; and the golden jubilee of the Rev. Sylvester
Malone, of Brooklyn, was an event so honored by all, and so
unique, too, in its circumstances, as to call for an especially
appropriate memorial. The task of compiling such a work de-
volved on Mr. Sylvester L. Malone, his nephew, and he has
acquitted' himself of it with credit. No little judgment was
required in this, owing to the multitude of congratulatory letters
which poured in upon Father Malone, the mass of documents
relating to his long and stirring career as a priest and as a
citizen, and the many great historical events with which his
life was interwoven. It does not fall to the lot of many priests
to be associated with one parish, as Father Malone has been,
now for more than fifty years ; nor is it often that any parish
has had priests whose lives have been so bound up with the
growth and life of the place, in its material and moral aspects,
no less than its spiritual one, as Father Sylvester Malone's
has been with that of Williamsburg. Father Malone was
a veritable oak of sturdiness and grace in the midst of
frequent storm and stress, during the long years of his
ministry. As a patriotic citizen he has ever proved in his

♦ Memorial of the Golden Jubilee of Rev, Sylvester Malone, Edited by Sylvester L,
Malone. Brooklyn, N. Y. : D. S. Holmes, 388 Bedford Avenue.

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564 Talk about New Books. [Jan.,

own person how base is the slander that seeks to divorce
the Catholic from the defender of the soil. His courage, his
benevolence, and his progressive ideas gained him the respect of
all good men of whatsoever creed all over Brooklyn. The way
in which this was manifested, and the salient points in Father
Malone's ministerial career, are well set forth in this elegant
souvenir of his jubilee. But the point of note in it all is the
wonderful approval Father Malone has received for what may
be called his life idea. To have lived fifty years of consistent,
integral, priestly life is palm enough for any man ; but to have
worked through all those years with the superadded purpose of
reconciling the Church with the highest aspirations of the age
and best thought of America, is a privilege which makes his
career deserving of the highest praise.

There is "a chiel amang" the Irish colleges, and he has
taken notes of some professors and some systems, and the
course of college life over there in recent times, to some effect.
We have a novel from his pen, whoever he be — for he chooses
to preserve anonymity — which shows not only that his impres-
sions are vivid but that he possesses the power of graphic pres-
entation and picturesque arrangement.

The description of one Irish college outside Dublin which we
get in Geoffrey Austin^ Student ^^ is hardly an exaggerated repro-
duction of what some old-time private establishments, conducted
chiefly by men who had been magnificent failures at the bar or
some other profession, really were — retreats where people who
had rough and refractory or troublesome boys sent them, more
to get rid of them for a time — taming institutions for young
savages rather than academic groves. The pictures of the
tyrannical and atrabilious " Grinder " in Mayfield, and of Mr.
Dovvling, the Latin tutor, who had thrown up a position worth
eight hundred pounds a year because of a difference with the
principal about the proper tense of a certain Greek verb, are
truer than most readers of Geoffrey Austin may possibly think.
The lesson sought to be impressed by the writer is the fatal
folly of the exclusion of a true religious training in the pro-
cess of education. Even in establishments presided over by
clerics — at least nominally — there was too much paganism in th^
curriculum, too much license given the evil-disposed and idle^

* Geoffrey Austin, Student, Dublin : H. M. Gill & Sods.

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and so the spirit of irreverence first and of infidelity afterward
gained a foothold, with disastrous consequences to the pupils.
What these consequences may be is tragically illustrated in the
story of some of Geoffrey Austin's schoolmates. Many strik-
ing truths are well driven home in its thrilling chapters, in not
one of which is there a dull line. The brilliancy and verve of
the work must strike the reader from the very outset — its riches
in image and vocabulary are at times indeed superabundant.
Were it not for this feature and the frequency of classic quo-
tation, we might be tempted to think that Geoffrey Austin is
the work of a skilled and matured literary man.

A new issue of W. B. Yeats's poems * comes out in a hand-
some dress, no doubt in compliment to the season. In this
volume the author has preserved only so much of his former
work as he himself thought worth preserving, and has made
some alterations even in the residuum. The more considerable
works in the volume include an expurgated or revised version of
"The Wanderings of Usheen" and a play called "The Countess
Cathleen." By Usheen Mr. Yeats refers to the mythical Irish
hero-bard, Oisin, or Ossian, as he is sometimes spelled ; and
this spelling of Mr. Yeats*s seems to have been adopted on
phonetic principles rather than on those of orthography. The
play is a weird production. It deals with a supposititious
famine period, , and is redolent of old-time superstitions not
peculiar to Ireland, but shared in by many nations in the past.
But in depicting a peasant so worked upon by hunger as to be-
lieve that God and the Virgin Mother had gone to sleep, and
that it might be profitable to pray to Satan, the poet uses
more than a poet's license. This is no true type of Irish
character, either in the past or in the present.

Mr. Yeats's style is graceful, but his ideas are fantastic. He
is rich in description ; and his erratic fancy leads him into the
creation of beings whose minds are not those of mortals.
The personages in this play of " Cathleen '' are not indeed hu-
man beings, but fantastic creatures of the poet's brain. Mr.
Yeats's traffic with fairy lore has been so absorbing that it
pervades his work out of all proportion to its literary value.
Perhaps by and by he may tune his lyre to something more
masculine and ennobling than those quaint dreams of the exu-
berant Celtic fancy.

♦ Poems, By W. B. Yeats. Boston : Copeland & Day ; London : T. Fisher Unwin.

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S66 Talk ABOUT New Books. [Jan.,

In Bret Harte's latest published novelette, In a Hollow of the
Hills,* there is a good deal of the pristine breeziness of his
style, as well as the proof that working in one particular groove
affects an author's work so that that work becomes after a time
nothing but a repetition of former effort, with changes merely
in names of persons and places, and some necessary variation
in the leading incidents. We have had the bits of mining life,
the broken-down professionals, the gentlemanly thieves, the
cynical philosophers in the garb of highwaymen, the frail but
still attractive women, and all the other accessories of the semi-
civilization of the wild West, so very often before, that only
the firmest belief in the author's power to delude us into think-
ing he was serving up a new dish emboldens us to go beyond
the title-page of anything suggestive of Western life from his
well-known pen. Any one who had never read Bret Harte be-
fore would doubtless be pleased with this work. To those who
are seasoned, however, the perusal of any other work of his
written during the past twenty years would be tantamount to
reading this. The same stage is there, the same actors, the
same costumes, and the same scenery and mechanical effects ;
and, we must in justice add, the same masterly touch in bring-
ing them all before the reader's eye. It is a pity that there is
not a little more versatility about it.

We are glad to find that the address of the Right Rev. Dr.
Keane on "The Catholic Church and the American Sunday,"
as he delivered it at Buffalo recently, has been embodied in
permanent form and is now being widely disseminated by the
Catholic Truth Society of that city. No argument touching
this important question can possibly surpass, if any can approach,
this one in solid reasoning or masterly arrangement of arguments
and illustrations. The polished and scholarly style of the es-
teemed Rector of the Catholic University of America was never
employed to greater effect than in this powerful plea for the
preservation of the sanctity of the Sabbath. The unholy alli-
ance between Atheism and Mammon which seeks to destroy this
great landmark of civilization is laid bare with trenchant strokes,
and the peculiar reasons why Americans should venerate the
Sunday handed down to them by the great founders of this
Republic eloquently insisted on. We hope every thoughtful
man and woman in the United States may have this pamphlet
brought within their reach.

* Ina Hollow a/ the Hills. By Bret Harte. Boston and New York : Houghton, Mifflin
&Co.

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1896.] Talk about New Books. 567

Conformably to the resolution arrived at, at the general con-
vention, the official organ of the St. Vincent de Paul Society
has made its appearance. We give it a hearty greeting, both
as a literary production (which it modestly disclaims being)
and as a certain instrument of development and extension of
beneficence. The first number of the Quarterly contains an ad-
mirable report of the late convention as well as many excellent
editorials. It is embellished with an admirable likeness of
Frederic Ozanam, and a fine grouped picture of the delegates
to the Convention.

The Catholic Family Annual for i8g6 (Catholic School Book
Co.) maintains its established high standard. Its short contribu-
tions are from the pens of the best Catholic writers of the day,
and it contains a number of excellent plates, colored as well as
plain.

♦

I. — CHRIST AND THE SUPERNATURAL.*

We do not know whether Mr. Denison is a minister of any
Christian sect or not, but judging by his title he proposes to
tell us what the idea expressed by the word supernatural repre-
sented in the mind of our Divine Lord. We understand from
him that there are .only two senses in which the word superna-
tural has been hitherto conceived by men, the " common " one,
as he phrases it, in which we have the etymological meaning
"above nature"; the other the idea of the unknowable force of
which all nature is the product. As Mr. Spencer tells us this
last is " unthinkable/' we can dismiss it without further considera-
tion, although Mr. Denison seems to apprehend it as " the most
inclusive natural,*' "speaking in the imperative mood of nature,
. . . alike in the noble sacrifice of the Christ and in the un-
restrained life of Shelley."

All this is very mysterious ; nor does he make himself more
intelligible when he includes in the common meaning " above
nature " the proposition that the tie between us and the super-
natural is an arbitrary one. In other words, that it is the might
of a superior and unconnected will imposing command from its
isolation on slaves with which it has no relation. Now, the very
essence of the so-called common idea includes the relation of
Creator and creature, Father and son. Ruler and subject, and their

♦ Chrisfs Idea of the Supernatural, By John H. Denison. Boston and New York :
Houghton, Mifflin & Co.

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568 Talk about New Books, [Jan.,

manifestations of law, protection, and justice, obedience, grati-
tude, observance, piety, and the rest.

The writer himself assumes all these correlations as he goes
on from his postulate that *'the truth must first be created in
the form of manhood, then comprehended, intellectualized, and
applied." This, if it have any meaning beyond sonorous sounds,
is that truth for mankind must be grouped by some master-mind
and then communicated ; for it surely does not mean, as the
author seems to say in express words, that the Italians for the
first time saw ** that they had a patria " when truth became in-
carnate in Garibaldi.

The application of this remarkable philosophy is that "the
original form of these truths — spiritual or moral — is life, always
life; the man of action, the creator, must come first. To at-
tempt to anticipate his work is, as Jesus expressed it, to be a
thief and a robber." Now, what this means, assuming that it
has meaning, is that no theorizing or philosophizing can take
place before the subject matter has been acted by the man of
action without committing an indictable offence. We respect-
fully demur to the indictment.

The truth is that Mr. Denison only sees the human side of
the Divine Person, and this itself in a manner so marred and
distorted that we cannot recognize him. That there is some dim
conception of the beauty of the Lord's life in our author there
can be no question. He seems in some degree to lay hold of
the tenderness, the fearlessness, the justice, the love of humanity
which encompass him, or rather radiate from him ; but these
are shrouded in Mr. Denison's picture in the attributes of a
Greek Deity. Our Lord upon his canvas is a combination of
Apollo and Prometheus, beautiful and eloquent as the first, and
like the second, the friend and benefactor of the human race,
and finally its sacrifice.

But for all this, in his chapter " the Christ Universe " he
comes near the Catholic note concerning the world of spirits
when he says that it is ''not unreasonable that a spirit in a
more advanced stage of development than man should have ap-
peared " to our Lord in the wilderness and ministered to his
physical necessities. Here we recognize some flickering percep-
tion of the truth that the supernatural is not opposed to rea-
son. They are not on the same plane, there can be no collision
between them. One may reject the evidence for a supernatural
manifestation, but to say that it is unreasonable to believe in
the possibility of such a manifestation is equivalent to saying

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1896.] Talk about New Books. 569

that agnosticism is the knowledge of all things and all possibili-
ties, and that it can even define the powers of its own Unknow-
able and say, Thus far your torturing of blind atoms may go,
but here I break your swelling waves.

2. — THE FOUNDER OF THE ORDER OF THE GOOD SHEPHERD *

The work before us, which is the Life of the first Superior-
General of the Congregation of Our Lady of Charity of the
Good Shepherd of Angers, comes to us with a preface from the
pen of his Eminence Cardinal Vaughan. This is a higher re-
commendation than any notice we could write. He says that
the Sisters of the Good Shepherd have been fortunate in secur-
ing the literary services of Miss Clarke.

We find in the chapter on " The Dark Continent," beginning
at page 265, a significant instance of the spirit which animated
Mother Mary in ruling and using her congregation. , In the
early part of 1843 ^ pressing appeal reached her from Monseig-
neur Dupuch, Bishop of Algiers. The good prelate wrote to
beg her " on his knees " to send some of her religious to his
diocese. Though anxious to extend the sphere of usefulness of
her sisterhood, she never importuned a bishop to admit her
sisters into his diocese, nor a priest to receive them into his
parish ; but when invited she was at once ready to go or send
them forth. It is not wonderful that a government so prudent
would be eminently successful ; the wonder would be if it failed
in becoming a great influence for good.

3.— BIBLE STUDY.f

This very neat and attractive little volume contains the sub-
stance of lectures delivered at the Plattsburgh Summer-School.
It ia not technically scientific, but it is a work which only a
scholar could have produced, the cream and juice of Scriptural
science in a popular form, very useful and also very easy and
pleasant reading. It is to be hoped that Professor Heuser will
give us more reading of the same sort.

* Life 0/ Reverend Mother Mary of St, Euphrasia Pelletier, By A. M. Clarke. London :
Burns & Oates ; New York, Cincinnati, Chicago : Benziger Bros.

f Chapters of Bible Study ; or^ A Popular Introduction to the Study of the Sacred Scrips
tures. By the Rev. Hermann J, Heuser, Professor of Scripture Introduction and Exegesis, St.
Charles's Seminary, Overbrook, Pa. The Cathedral Library Association, 123 East Fiftieth
Street, New York. 1895.

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Delegation at Washington is to be made permanent came con-
currently with the announcement of the dignity conferred by
the Holy Father upon his representative in the United States.
Both facts bear eloquent testimony to the genius displayed by the
Delegate in the discharge of the delicate task entrusted to his
hands. Many irritating troubles lay before him when he came
to the States. A large number of these were tangled ques-
tions of canon law and ecclesiastical jurisprudence wherein
dividing- lines became so obscured by peculiar conditions that
none but the keenest intellectual vision could detect the trend
of the boundaries. Over and above these local issues there
were great considerations connected with the higher principles
of public policy. To the solution of these momentous problems
he addressed himself with patience, zeal, and a level-headed-
ness that no personal arguments could shake. There is no his-
torical precedent which affords a better illustration of the wis-
dom of having an impartial and brilliant alien for arbiter in
vexed questions, and inductively of the far-seeing policy of the
church and its all-competent international character. The rais-
ing of the Delegate to the sacred purple is one of those acts
which reveal at times the tact of the Holy See. It is an
honor to the people as well as the prelate. It is a proof that
the Holy Father's expressions of interest in the church in the
United States are no mere formalities, but the indication of
thoughts which fill his mind as he surveys the church all the
world over in the closing years of a glorious pontificate.

♦
It has been for some time recognized that an auxiliary
bishop was a need of the great diocese of New York. It is
no wonder that, the want being recognized, Monsignor Farley
should have been designated as the proper man to implement
i*. A priest skilled in all the business of the diocese, owing
to his long connection with the present* Archbishop as well
as with the late Cardinal his predecessor, Monsignor Farley

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1896.] Editorial Notes. 571

possessed every official qualification for the post. In addition
to this fitness, there is that in his personal character as a
priest to give him an irresistible claim to the mitre. It was
only recently that a signal proof of the esteem in which the
monsignor is held was given in the celebration of his silver
jubilee. The ratification of those golden opinions by the Arch-
bishop and the Holy Father, in his nomination and election to
the auxiliary bishopric, has brought unbounded satisfaction to
the whole Catholic community.

♦

By the death of Cardinal Bonaparte, which took place at
the beginning of December, the members of the Sacred Col-
lege created by Pope Pius IX. are reduced to seven. There
was very little in common between the deceased cardinal and
the prominent representatives of the gens Bonaparte. He was
all piety and gentleness, and his only ambition was to despoil
himself so that he might benefit the poor. He had been known
to give away even his silk handkerchief in alms, when he had

expended all his money.

♦

Death has also called off another member of the Sacred
College — a man of quite a different stamp. Unlike Cardinal
Bonaparte, Cardinal Persico, whose decease followed in a few
days afterward, had lived a good deal in the public eye. His
Eminence was one of those men of insight upon whom the
Holy See has to rely at important conjunctures for sound in-
formation upon current affairs, and as such he was entrusted by
the Pope with a couple of delicate missions. The latest one
was to Ireland, in order to ascertain the state of affairs there
as between the people and the landlords, and it was upon
Monsignor Persico's report that the Holy See took action
which was construed by the people as antagonistic to their
cause. It could hardly be said that Monsignor Persico took
the best means of obtaining enlightenment on the subject of
his mission, as for much of the time he spent in Ireland he was
the guest of Lord Emly, a Whig Catholic nobleman who had
formerly been a government official. It was entirely owing to
the generally prudent action of the Irish bishops with regard
to the Papal Rescript which followed that a grave misunder-
standing was averted. Cardinal Persico was an American citi-
zen. He was Bishop of Savannah, Ga., for three years, and
had won a host of friends amongst the clergy and laity of the
United States by a charming personality.

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572 The Columbian Reading Union. [Jan.,

THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.

" To use books rightly is to go to them for help ; to appeal to them when our
own knowledge and power of thought fail ; to be led by them into wider sight,
purer conception than our own, and to receive from them the united sentence of
the judges and councils of all time, against our solitary and unstable opinion"

A T the first public meeting for the season 1895-6 of the Ozanam Reading
iJL Circle, New York City, the above quotation from Ruskin was selected as a
leading thought verified by the personal experience of the members. The presi-
dent, Miss Mary E. Burke, briefly announced the course of reading outlined by the
council, embracing church history, American literature, ethics, and current topics.
Among the books chosen by individual members for private study are : Pastime
Papers, by Cardinal Manning ; The Art of Thinking Well, by Balmez ; Phases
of Thought and Criticism, by Brother Azarias ; Data of Modern Ethics, by Ming ;
Ozanam' s Letters ; Chapters of Bible Study, by Heuser; Church in England, by
Allies.

A leaflet prepared by the council of the Ozanam Reading Circle is here given :

Since we organized, in the year 1886, we have had in view the cultivation of
a standard of literary tasle. By associating together in an informal and
friendly way, our individual efforts are intensified ; contact with other minds
awakens new phases of thought. At our meetings we have obtained many advan-
tages from the concentration of attention on some of the best books — Catholic
books especially — from carefully selected literary exercises, and from the vigorous
discussion of current topics.

For the success of our decennial year we invite the co-operation of numerous
friends who have attended our public meetings, and sanctioned our efforts for the
advancement of Catholic literature. A new feature is to be introduced this year.
In addition to the Honorary Members, to whom we are indebted for many favors
in the past, it has been arranged to form an associate membership for well-
wishers unable to promise active participation in our work. Upon the payment
of two dollars, each Associate Member shall be entitled to the privilege of attend-
ing our public meetings once a month. Without binding themselves to the obliga-
tions of active members, many will be thus enabled to assist in the extension of
the work of self-improvement which has been fostered by the Ozanani Reading
Circle.

Some one of the leading magazines is discussed at every meeting of the Oza-
nam Reading Circle. On this topic Miss Helen M. Sweeney read the following
paper :

It is most interesting to trace the art of book-making from its earliest concep-
tion down to its present perfect shape. As the outward form has been evolved from
the huge parchment folios down to the neat little duodecimo of to-day, so the con-
tents that cater to the public were forced to change. In the days when elegant leis-
ure was not at a premium one could read the mass of learning contained in those
" tomes of ancient lore," but in the rapid gait of the present, when one lives, as Ten-
nyson has it, more in " fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay," we demand
condensation. To answer this demand was conceived the magazine, which often

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1896.] The Columbian Reading Union. 573

contains within its covers an epitome of the world's history. Every question
that is agitating the thinking public is discussed there from the best and most
thoughtful stand-point. Therein is found a clear, succinct, abridged r^sum6 of the
world's doings during the past month. In fact, a constant reader of the current
magazines has upon the finger-tips a fund of knowledge that will enrich his every
experience.

To fit this condition to the requirements of a Reading Circle is a task of no
small magnitude, for no woman's life is long enough to read all the magazines,
much as sonrie of us would like to ; so, to bring the greatest good to the greatest
number we of the Ozanam Reading Circle have delegated the reading of one
magazine a month to some one member, who brings to the Circle the result of
her discriminate reading, the special object of our particular Reading Circle being
kept always in view.

Ours, being a Catholic Reading Circle, established primarily for the further-
ance of Catholic thought and opinion, and the disseminating of Catholic literature,
finds its best material in a magazine distinctively Catholic, such as " the noblest
Roman of them all," The Catholic Worlds and that very bright and able monthly
the Reading Circle Review, The latter having as its special object the require-
ments of Reading Circles, is particularly well adapted for our purpose. No one
who has not read this periodical can realize the wealth to be found within its
pages. Take, for instance, the current number. The leading article is one on
"Art and Literature in the Life of the Church," then a paper on the Middle
Ages — " The rise of Universities " — a most opportune bit of knowledge, throwing
as it does on the twilight of the past the strong calcium -light of research, remind-
ing us in these days of mushroom growth of the strong foundations that were laid
for our present brilliancy in the ages miscalled ***Dark." Another fine article is
the " Church and the Republic," by Rev. J. L. Belford, from which I cannot but
quote an illustrative passage : " Down the ages she conjes, a venerable form, bear-
ing the cross of Christ, the symbol of spiritual life and the token of her mission
and authority. She sets up her standard under every flag, for she is not a national
church, but the church universal ; her mission is to all nations as well as to all ages,
but never has she set it up in a nation more friendly than this, and to no nation is
she destined to be of more service than this."

Next in order comes a paper on the project now on foot of establishing a Win-
ter Catholic School in New Orleans on the same lines as the Catholic Summer-
School at Plattsburgh, and to be thoroughly up to date one must know the history
of both these latter-day movements. Then comes a paper on " Current History
and Opinion," by Rev. Morgan M. Sheedy, in which he touches with brilliant,
facile pen everything of note from Lord Sackville's Letter to Bret Harte's Ameri-
canism. Besides these contributed papers, the magazine has a department de-
voted exclusively to Reading-Circle work, entitled " The Reading Circle Union,"
in which is given an outline of required readings and programmes, Reading-Circle
organization, Local Circles, Book Reviews, and notes on the Catholic Summer-
School of America, of which the magazine is the official organ. Of the arranged
programmes, we used one last year on Tennyson which was very successfully car-
ried out.

Now, if I may be allowed one word more as to the Reading-Circle movement.
In the rush and whirl of our very busy lives we are apt to consider as worthy of
our attention only those things that attract and claim the attention of the world at
large. We are likely to forget the splendid heritage we have as Catholics in the

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574 The Columbian Reading Union. [Jan.,

world of letters, art, and science. We have a tendency to keep as part of our
private lives, to be brought out on Sundays only, the bit of piety that may have
come to us through inheritance, instruction, or conversion. We do not read
Catholic periodicals, for we deem them goody-goody ; we rate high the secular
press, and express the greatest surprise when the Catholic press approaches or
surpasses in form the perfect processes of the Riverside or Harper or Century ^rm&
of to-day. Yet the matter contained in the Catholic magazines is of much more
value than that found in those that lure the public fancy by their outward perfec-
tion. If our aesthetic sense demand that the outer husk shall be as attractive as the
inner kernel is sound, in the name of consistent justice, why do we not aid our own
by our support, and allow it to compete with its wealthier and more favored broth-
ers in the literary field ? The establishment of Catholic Reading Circles is the
first step towards the promotion of Catholic literature ; but without the help and
encouragement of the general reading public this small handful can do but little
in the accomplishment of our aims.

Mrs. B. Ellen Burke, President of the Wadhams Reading Circle of Malone,
gave some sound and practical advice, based on her experience in connection with
clubs of this kind. Mrs. Burke was an intimate friend of Miss Julie £. Perkins, a
lady whose memory will always be cherished for the noble efforts she made to
rouse the Catholics of high position to a sense of their duty in promoting the cause
of Catholic literature. Mrs. Burke was one of the first to whom Miss Perkins
wrote in regard to her cherished project of making Catholics know and appreciate
their own literature. She told many interesting facts relative to the correspon-
dence and friendship which sprung up between Miss Perkins and herself as a con-
sequence of that first letter.

The Rev. John Talbot Smith, who has written some charming novels himself,
gave an impromptu review and criticism of Dr. Conan Doyle's recent book. The
White Company, While giving due appreciation to all the fascinating qualities
of that popular writer. Father Smith called the attention of his hearers to one de-
plorable defect in this work, namely, the absence of spiritual life and motives in
the novelist's characters. This, in ^his opinion, is a grave fault in the book in
question.

Mr. Warren E. Mosher, the editor of the Reading Circle Review, sent a letter
of regret, stating that he had been called out of town unexpectedly and could
not fulfil his intention of attending the meeting. The Rosary Magazine was re-
presented by Miss Margaret E. Jordan.

Miss Mary C. Drum, formerly a member of the John Boyle O'Reilly Reading
Circle of Boston, was present at the meeting. In a letter to the Pilot she wrote
as follows :

Like all modern things the Ozanam claims family antecedents. The Circle
traces its ancestry back twenty years before its birth and finds it to be a charac-
teristic one. About thirty years ago Father Hecker, assisted by some of the laity,
established a free circulating library for the scholars of St. Paul's Sunday-school
in New York City. Every class of little folks became a reading circle in embryo.
The teacher guided her pupils in their selection of reading material, and encour-
aged them to talk about the books and papers, given gratis, after they had read
them. The teacher's guidance was subject, however, to the distinguishing men-
tal activity and taste of each child. The aim was the mental and moral growth of
each individual. The prayer-class, who were wont to delight in terrific and impos-
sible tales of adventure, in all due time evolved into the dignified graduates, with

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1896.] The Columbian Reading Union. 575

a cultivated, taste for the best things in literature and a desire to continue their
search for them. Some of these graduates became the first members of a Catho-
lic Reading Circle for women in the year 1886. It was called the Ozanam, in
honor of Frederick Ozanam, who won laurels for Catholic literature at the Sor-
bonne in Paris during the nineteenth century.

The members are for the most part women whose daily lives are well filled
with some restricted mental or physical activity, and they thoroughly enjoy the
weekly meetings of the Circle, where they find kindred souls ready to join them
in their ideal life, their life spent with books. Of course their tastes and opinions
vary. This leads to discussion which has, at times, developed into the regulation
form, and attained the dignity of a debate, in which the poetical member refuted
with flowery eloquence the solid, prosy arguments of the philosophical opponent
who has been studying logic and ethics in a very modest manner.

They have one common aim and desire, that is to increase their knowledge of
Catholic authors and to further the distribution of Catholic literature. They have
found unknown treasures, and are striving to eliminate that tendency, unfortu-
nately only too prevalent among the Catholic laity, of considering anything in
Protestant literature far superior to everything Catholic writers have produced,
and to mistrust the merits of a story that dares to contain Catholic descriptions
and events.

The meetings open with the reading of the minutes of the last meeting by
the secretary. Quotations from all of the members come next. A ten minutes
reading from Spalding's Church History by an appointed member follows these.
Then the particular author under consideration for the evening is presented to the
Circle by three of the members, who treat respectively of his biography, his char-
acter and its effect on his writings, and his masterpiece of composition.

A selection from some magazine is then read. One member has charge of
this department, and she undertakes to make the Circle acquainted with the con-
tents of at least one magazine a month. She accomplishes her end by describing
the contents as a whole, and selecting valuable portions which she reads at the
meetings.

The director. Rev. Thomas McMillan, C.S.P., visits the Circle once a month
and analyzes some particular book.

The individuality of membership is a distinctive trait of the Ozanam. Rheto-
ric, ethics, art, and philology are some of the subjects to which different members
are devoting their attention this year. There is a most delightful air of infor-
mality about the meetings. As in all gatherings, there are leaders in thought and
brilliancy of expression, but the timid and less gifted are urged to express opinions,
even though they differ radically from those of that most august personage, the
president.

♦ * »

A bulletin of two hundred and thirty-four pages has just been issued by the
University of the State of New York as the eleventh of its extension series, under
the title " Study Clubs."

The effort to make education available to all has been so cordially received
that the number of agencies for home study organized in the last ten years marks
the decade as an epoch in educational development ; yet much of the work is
desultory and unorganized, and in many cases has entirely or partly failed for
lack of systematic local efforts. The study club division of the extension depart-
ment aims to aid study clubs, which expect of their members study, reading, and

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576 New Books. [Jan., 1896.

usually some writing between meetings, and Reading Circles whose members are
following a systematic course of reading with more or less frequent meetings for
discussion of the matter read.

A club, or circle of at least five members, pursuing a ten-weeks' systematic
course of reading or study on a simple subject is entitled to registration on the
university lists, and may then fo'r small fees borrow travelling libraries, apparatus,
photographs, lantern slides, and other illustrative material, may take without
charge from the State library books for use at single meetings, and share other
privileges which the Regents offer to organized groups of students. Thus,
through the agency of the central department, clubs are enabled to benefit by
each other's work and to enjoy facilities otherwise out of their power.

The bulletin gives constitutions suitable for such clubs, brief accounts of
administrative organizations for aiding study clubs and of the registered New
York clubs, a selection of the best programmes of study used by such clubs, and
statistics of one hundred and seventy-six study clubs and Reading Circles in New
York and other States. An exhaustive index of nine pages enables one to turn
readily to any topic. The bulletin is mailed post free for twenty-five cents by the
Extension Department, Regent's Office, Albany, N. Y.

Catholic Reading Circles are given a liberal allowance of space in the
reports. We are much pleased to find many ideas and entire passages quoted
with approval from this department of The Catholic World. It is a source
of joy to know that the movement for self-improvement represented by the Read-
ing Circles has deserved official recognition from the supreme educational author-
ity of New York State.

NEW BOOKS.

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Gathering Clouds : A Tale of the Days of St. Chrysostom, By Frederic W.
Farrar, D.D., Dean of Canterbury.
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Selections for French Composition, By C. H. Grandgent.
Benziger Brothers, New York :

Charity the Origin of Every Blessing ; or, The Heavenly Secret. Translat-
ed from the Italian. Letters, Vol. IV. Being the 2ist volume of the Cen-
tenary Edition of the works of St. Alphonsus Liguori. Edited by Rev. Eu-
gene Grimm, C.SS.R. Imitation of the Sacred Heart of 7esus. By Rev.
F. Arnoudt, S.J. New Edition. The Comedy of English Protestantism.
Edited by A. F. Marshall, B.A., Oxon. New Edition. Little Office of the
Immaculate Conception explained in Short Conferences. By Very Rev.
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MuUer, C.SS.R. New Edition.
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An Hour with a Sincere Protestant. By Rev. J. P. M. S.
Catholic Art and Book Co., New York :

De^fotion to St. Anthony of Padua. By Rev. Clementinus Drymann, O.S.F.
The Young Churchman Publishing Co., Milwaukee :

Living Church Quarterly.
Poor Richard, Jr. & Co., Philadelphia :

Love and I in Heaven : The New Order, By a New Reporter.
John Murphy & Co., Baltimore:
Baltimore Ordo for i8g6.

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Euthanasia.

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THE

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General Literature and Science.

Vol. LXII. FEBRUARY, 1896. No. 371.

Articles sent to the Editor for consideration must be accompanied
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But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was, and had compassion on
him. — St. Luke x. jj.

By permission from a new translation of the Gospel of St. John and his other
writings, by Very Rev. Father Hewit, D.D., Superior-General of the Paulists
just published by the Catholic Book Exchange, 120 West Sixtieth Street, New
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The Book is beautifully printed on enamel paper with 36 half-
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Send $1.00 to Catholic Book Exchange, 120 West 60th Street,
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CATHOLIC WORLD.

Vol. LXII. FEBRUARY, 1896. No. 371.

EUTHANASIA.

BY CORNELIUS M. O'LEARY, M.D., LL.D.

HE conditions of living are such
that life is often a burden which
many deem too heavy to bear.
Id gladly get rid of could they do
at reck of the consequences. Nor
uch to be wondered at when we
at the sources of human misery
imerous as our emotions, for the
jibility which imparts a zest to our
es also to sharpen the pang that
1 our breast, and our capacity for
5 even feathers the dart that wounds
fnan passions cloud human lives
human hearts, when we fail to
hem ; and even when we obtain
ery over them, the effort to do so

x...^ struggle so painful that the prophet

has well compared man's life upon earth to a warfare. For this
reason some philosophers have looked upon life, at the best, as an
unmitigated evil, and believe, with Lord Byron, that so deep-
seated are its ills, so thoroughly is wretchedness wedded to it, that
when we have summed up all its joys and counted its days free
from anguish, we find after all " Tis something better not to be.'*
Impressed with this pessimistic view, the Italian Leopardi smote
the chord of hatred of life, and crowned death with the match-
Copyright. Very Rev. A. F. Hbwit. 1896.
VOU LXII.— 37

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S8o Euthanasia. [Feb.,

less diadem of his song. Schopenhauer went farther, and even
fejoiced that there was no light to illumine the darkness of his
soul; while his compatriot, Hartmann, gloried in sayirlg that
hot only is there no happiness, but that the idea of it involved
a contradiction. To such men life is like the poisoned breath
of the jungle, freighted with fever and redolent with the fcetor
of disease. For them the life of the Sybarite has no joys
that can compare with the supreme serenity of non-existence,
and suicide becomes all but a duty. But the apostles of a pes-
simism so extreme and intolerable must necessarily be few, and
are to be ranked in the number of the worst decadents upon
whom the blight of German transcendentalism has fallen.

From time immemorial, however, there have been thinkers
who maintained that, under certain exceptionally and acutely
painful conditions, life may become so undesirable as to be
virtually unendurable, and that then it is but mercy to bring
its troubles to a close. The hopeless misery of those who suf-
fer the pangs of an incurable disease so strongly appeals to our
Sympathies, in the natural order, that we pray for death to
come to their relief, under the delusion that suffering cain serve
no salutary purpose. For this reason even Plato considered it
proper to end the lives of weak and deformed infants, and to
cut short the infirmities of old age by an easy death. No doubt
the practice of infanticide, under those conditions, was univer-
sal among the pagan nations of antiquity, since no provision
was made for aiding sickly children to overcome the disadvan-
tages of their surroundings. Neither was any effort made to
alleviate the sufferings of those who were afflicted with incur-
able diseases, nor to smooth the pathway of old age to the grave.
Hospitals and asylums are the outcome of Christian charity and
found no place in the scheme of Grecian and Roman civil-
ization.

Paganism deemed it a far greater mercy to end a life of suf-
fering than to prolong it. Indeed, a painless death was the sum-
mum bonum of life, in the estimation of the philosophers of those
times, and though the means they employed to produce it were
often clumsy and ineffective, yet we know from the manner of
Seneca's suicide that they were acquainted with one way, at least,
of putting an end to life's troubles far less painful than by
piercing the body with a bare bodkin. We should be the
more surprised at this desire to part with life under any
circumstances, especially in the case of the Greeks, when
we reflect that but little hope of happiness hereafter helped to

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1896.] Euthanasia. 581

brighten their lives upon earth. Death was for them a final
farewell to happiness and the joys they knew in life. Euripi-
des, notwithstanding the intense humanity of his plays, even
hoped that there might be no future state. This sombre view
of the hereafter strongly affected Grecian art, and proclaimed
itself emphatically in the intense sadness of their funeral cere-
monies and the sculptured figures on their tombs. Melancholy
and hopelessness, and a certain ineffable sadness, are eloquently
written on every line of those inimitable countenances that
adorn the tombs of ancient Athens, and what a depth of pathos
is contained in that one pithy and touching inscription, Chaire!
Still, as the uses of suffering were unknown to the ancients,
and the lessons it teaches could not be deciphered by them,
they preferred to regard death as a pleasant escape from the
troubles, trials, and tribulations of life and the sweetest boon
they could enjoy, provided it were robbed of its sharpest sting,
which was its agony.

This heritage of hope that sorrow and suffering would end
in death the ancients transmitted to us in their philosophy, and
those of to-day who build their lives on the shifting sands of
individual opinion have but fallen into line with the Catos and
Senecas of old Rome. They believe that life is but the por-
tal to death, and that, when the latter is free from pain, it af-
fords the easy comfort of a gateway out of this world that
will land us on the pleasant shores of Nirvana. Thus it is
that certain advanced evolutionists go so far as to say that the
means which the church has adopted for the relief of the poor,
the weak, ' and the infirm tend to defeat the purposes of Na-
ture and represent a retrograde step in the process of true evo-
lution. They believe that the struggle for existence, and the
consequent survival of the fittest, is an inexorable law of Na-
ture which we should not attempt to thwart. Nature's process,
they contend, makes for the elimination of the weakly in whom
the germs of an imperfect life are found, and that we should
rather aid than oppose her in getting rid of them. But Chris-
tianity does not do this ; it strives rather to save from the gen-
eral wreck of time those helpless waifs, the jetsam and flotsam
of life's ocean, which would otherwise be engulfed in its waves.
The hardy Indian of the plains stands to-day for the results of
that law of evolution which proclaims that, in the interests of
the race, the fittest alone have a right to survive.

This is Nature's weeding-out process, and should, according
to these philosophers, be imitated by society. In every land

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S82 Euthanasia. [Feb.,

where the conditions of existence have been bitter and severe
the descendants of those who have been able to withstand them
inherit the hardy traits which appertained to their forebears,
and have built up a race of typical men. Thus it is that the
descendants of those who were able to resist and survive the
barbarous conditions of life that obtained in Ireland during
those centuries when the penal laws were in force, represent to-
day the hardiest specimens of the race, noted for their longev-
ity and ability to reach the .highest physical development in
every clime under the sun. Paradoxical as it may seem, the
Irish of the nineteenth century owe a deep debt of gratitude
to the Cromwells and Cootes of long ago for those traits of
hardihood and endurance which distinguish them, and which re-
sulted from their being the offshoot of ancestors who withstood
the careful weeding-out process that those tender-hearted phil-
anthropists of England tried upon the Irish in their day.

Similarly in other countries, as in New England and the
northern nations of Europe where the conditions of life were
particularly harsh, the fittest alone have survived and have be-
gotten a line of hardy and vigorous descendants. It is there-
fore, according to this view, detrimental to the physical welfare
of humanity to nurse and, as it were, to coddle the weaklings
of the human family as Christian charity has striven to do, but
they should rather be allowed to go to the wall in an easy and
painless fashion as far as possible, so that an end may be put to
scrofula and phthisis, and the long cohort of inheritable diseases.
The degeneracy of some of the southern countries of Europe,
if we accept the term in the sense of the late Doctor Draper
and his school, must, accordingly, be laid at the door of the
Catholic Church, which has fostered under the shelter of its
wing the weak and decrepit members of the human family, and
has even provided a refuge for the victims of mental imbecility.
It is true that in other countries the state has done the same
thing, but the task has been very imperfectly accomplished, and
is at best but a feeble imitation of the magnificent charities that
flourished in the bosom of the church before the Reformation.
Had those victims of a depraved constitution, the unhappy prey
of scrofula, tuberculosis, and idiocy, foul blights on the fair
face of humanity, been allowed to perish at their birth, the
mental and physical inferiority of countries distinctly Catholic
would not, according to the apostles of this advanced phase of
evolution, be so marked as it is, nor would the humane ad-
mirers of Weismann and Haeckel have to tell us of the droves

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1896.] Euthanasia. 583

of lazy Lazzaroni dozing their lives away on the margin of
Naples* sunlit bay. Instead they might cross over to the sea-
girt shores of England, and there find still greater crowds of
boys and girls of tender years usefully employed in tugging at
loaded coal-drays in the sightless depths of stifling mines. Had
not a mistaken charity been extended to the weak and puny
children of our common parents, they might have carried with
them out of life, as life began, the germs of their infirmity, and
the world would have been the gainer by their riddance. An
easy death would then, indeed, be a blessing in disguise for
them and for society.

The doctrine of Euthanasia, looked at from this point of
view, is by no means a figment of the imagination, but has its
serious advocates among the advanced disciples of evolution.
Even not many years ago a society was organized in London,
under the very title of Euthanasia, whose object was to aid its
members in shuffling off this mortal coil with ease and despatch
whenever, owing to sickness, business troubles, the infirmities
of age, or the thick crowding cares of life, the burden of
existence had become intolerable. This extraordinary associa-
tion included the names of some men well known in literary
and philosophical circles, among them that of Francis Newman,
but, for obvious reasons, it fell under the ban of the law and
was dissolved.

We come now to a consideration of the subject as it lies
beyond the province of mere sentiment, and trenches on the
domain of the ethical and the practical. At a recent meeting
of the International Medico-legal Congress, held in this city, a
distinguished member, hailing, we believe, from some land be-
yond the seas, startled the conjoint wisdom of that dignified
body by stating that it is not at. all unusual for medical prac-
titioners to take the matter of life and death into their own
hands, and, when having to deal with patients in prey to
excruciating pain, or under conditions precluding the possibil-
ity of recovery, to fall back on the resources of modern medi-
cine, and, by opposing, end the ills they cannot cure. This
aspect of the question is one of decided interest and leads up
to some important considerations. It is true that next to
restoring his patient to health, the modern physician has no
nobler duty to fulfil than to assuage pain and alleviate suffer-
ing. For this reason the world welcomed the discovery of
anaesthetics as one of the grandest boons that was ever

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$84 Euthanasia, [Feb.,

bestowed upon humanity, and has enshrined in its great heart
the names of Simpson and Wells (or, according to some, Mor-
ton). We cannot recall without a shudder the untold suffering
which patients endured in the past, when the knife was
plunged into the quivering tissues of the body while the senses
were keenly alive to what was going on. Ether, then, and
chloroform, together with morphine and allied drugs, constitute
a blessing for which the people of modern times cannot be too
thankful.

But it does not follow that they can be used indiscriminate-
ly and without regard to the consequences they are calculated
to produce. The physician who would administer chloroform
or give a hypodermic injection of morphine for the purpose of
putting a patient out of pain by ending his life, is clearly
guilty of murder and is amenable to the law that has deter-
mined a punishment for that crime. Nor can it be pleaded in
extenuation of his conduct that the patient's life was hanging
by a thread, that he had but a few moments to live, and that it
was better to end his sufferings at once than to prolong them
unnecessarily. Those few moments are his as inviolably as years,
and no one has a right to take them from him. Where-
ever the means employed for the relief of suffering are of
themselves, obviously and necessarily, calculated to produce
death, we must impute the intention of bringing about such a
result to the person employing them, and adjudge him guilty
of homicide. For there exists a proportion between the act
and its consequences, and when an intelligent agent perceives
that proportion he is responsible for the consequences of his
action. A physician, then, is never justified in giving an over-
dose of a drug, even though he may say that he does so only
for the purpose of relieving pain ; for an overdose is of itself,
obviously and necessarily, calculated to destroy life, and the
person administering it becomes guilty of murder in the first
degree. Nor is a physician justified in administering an ordin-
ary dose when the condition of the patient, for one reason or
another, is such that he cannot safely tolerate it ; for then an
ordinary dose becomes equivalent to an over-dose.

Of course it is understood that, in this case, the physician
is fully aware of the condition of the patient which inhibits
the normal dose of the drug. For if any doubt on this point
should exist in his mind, then the means he employs for the
relief of pain are not, of themselves, obviously and necessarily.

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1896.] Euthanasia. 585

calculated to destroy life, and the presumption lies in favor of
administering the drug ; for it is to be supposed, there being no
evidence to the contrary, that the patient's condition, as regards
the drug in question, is a normal one, and so the intention of
the physician, being that of relieving pain, justifies its use.
Should, however, death follow a normal dose, such a result must
be regarded as accidental, and not coming within the scope and
purview of the agent's intention. It is not necessary that death
should be contrary to the intention, when the intention does
not affect the result. What the physician aims at is simply to
relieve pain, and when he employs for such a purpose suitable
means and no others, he can be held answerable for no conse-
quences but such as he had in view. If, therefore, notwith-
standing the suitableness of the means he employs for the
accomplishment of his purpose, a different result should ensue,
it should be regarded as having taken place in a manner not
contrary to the agent's intention, but as a result that lay
beyond the scope and purview thereof. His intention in the
premises was to relieve pain, and his failure to do so would
denote a consequence, not merely that lay beyond the scope
and purview of his intention, but one that was really contrary
to it. This will be better understood when we consider the
language of the casuists, Pmter intentionem agentis. Here the
preposition does not merely mean contrary to the intention of
the agent, but beside it, as having nothing to do with it.

Were a physician to administer a drug in the hope that
thereby the patient's life might be saved and yet death should
ensue, in that case the death might be properly said to have
taken place contrary to the intention of the agent, and not
merely in a manner lying beyond its scope and purview, since
it was his intention to prevent its occurrence. The intention it
is which, in every case, imparts its morality to an action, and
when the intention is absent, the action assumes the character
of indifference as regards the agent. But then the intention
must be really absent, for it would be absurd to proclaim its
absence when the action is inseparable from consequences we
pretend not to intend.

For this reason no physician is justified in using drugs that
are inherently fatal, nor in quantities that lead to fatal conse-
quences, and no subtlety of reasoning can make his course
appear different from that which a highwayman pursues when
he knocks his victim on the head with a bludgeon. The con-

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586 . Euthanasia. [Feb.,

dition between a patfcnt lying at the point of death and that
of a perfectly vigorous person is, in this respect, an accidental
one, and does not affect the issue. Should a physician admin-
ister a drug to the former for the purpose of shortening his
days, he has the explicit intention to do murder ; but should
he administer a fatal dose for the purpose of relieving pain,
then his intention to relieve pain is explicit, while his intention
to murder is implicit ; but murder it is whether the intention
be explicit or implicit.

This, I believe, is the view of the matter taken by all con-
scientious physicians. When, therefore. Dr. Bach made the
statement that it is customary for physicians to hasten death
by the use of powerful drugs, whenever the case is hopeless; or
when the patient suffers intense pain, to administer the coup de
grace^ as it were, he slightly strained the truth. No ! the true
physician, he who is thoroughly faithful to his calling, endea-
vors in the first place to restore health to the sick by employ-
ing the resources at his command, and, when he cannot do
this, to smooth the wrinkles from the brow of pain, and to
lighten that heaviest of all physical burdens, which is incurable
disease. It is a noble mission that, and he who fulfils it
becomes the staunch and sterling friend of humanity.

So painful to the tender heart of the man of feeling is
the spectacle of suffering that he cannot look upon it, even in
the dumb beast of the field, without a pang, and he hails with
delight every new medical discovery that tends to assuage it.
But he is as much opposed to the abuse of anaesthetic agents
as he is alive to their inestimable advantages when rightly
employed, and he cannot approve of the methods of those who
resort to them as a comfortable and convenient short-cut out
of the miseries of life. Nor should we fly to the narcotic on
the occasion of every little pain we are compelled to experi-
ence, for serious danger lurks in the hypodermic needle and the
seductive vial of cocaine. The misery they sometimes cause
is infinitely in excess of the suffering they were used to miti-
gate.

The true philosopher, and above all the true Christian,
beholds in suffering a wholesome and chastening discipline
which draws from life a lesson full of significance, and reveals
to him his true position upon earth. The man who suffers
uncomplainingly the ills he cannot heal robs pain and sorrow
of their sharpest sting, and learns the truth that where life is

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1896.] Euthanasia. 587

there too must be suffering. Pain patiently endured enables us
to appreciate subsequent freedom from pain, imparting to that
freedom a positive, and not a mere negative, enjoyment ; it
helps us to realize how

" Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure.
Sweet is pleasure after pain."

It IS the memory of sorrow and suffering, endured with the
calm composure which the spirit of resignation supplies, that
fills the memory of after-days with sweetness, and flings the
halo of a subdued after-glow round the declining years of life.
Those who " know how sublime a thing it is to suffer and be
strong " have solved the real problem of life. When years
multiply and the snows of many winters have left their white-
ness behind, the recollection of the torture and the pang, both
physical and mental, that seared our lives of long ago comes
to us like a balm, blessing and brightening our present immun-
ity from pain and sorrow. As the shadow no less than the
light lends effect to the artist's work and enhances the delight
we take in it, even so the memory of the wrongs and the sor-
rows of life, no less than its joys and raptures, hallows and con-
secrates the days that are no more.

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$88 The General Convention of [Feb.,

THE GENERAL CONVENTION OF THE PROTEST-
ANT EPISCOPAL CHURCH.

BY JESSE ALBERT LOCKE.

HE last few months of 1895 have witnessed an
unusual number of large denominational
gatherings. The Congregationalists, the Luther-
ans, the Universalists, the Methodists, and others
have held their triennial or annual meetings, aS
the case may be. In the light of the very general discussion of
Christian unity at the present time, all these assemblies are in-
teresting. Not the least noteworthy was the General Conven-
tion of the Protestant Episcopal Church which met in Min-
neapolis in October. Not that the latter body passed any very
important legislation. The revision of the constitution and
other matters of moment were chiefly disposed of by referring
them to the next convention. But the sessions afforded a
glimpse of Anglicanism as it is and the drift of popular opinion
within its own borders. What the convention did not do or
what it declined to do had also significance and suggestiveness.

ITS HISTORY AND ORGANIZATION.

When the war for American independence was over the
adherents of the Established Church of England in the colonies
found themselves in a very disorganized condition. Most of
their ministers had sympathized with the Tory party and many
of them had left the country. The Episcopalian congregations
had been supposed to be qnder the oversight of the Bishop of
London, but it does not appear that he had taken a very p(ar-
ticular interest in them. No Anglican bishop had ever visitjcd
this country. |

The federation of the colonies in the government of ihe
United States suggested a federation of the scattered congrega-
tions in the different States, and a convention of representatives
assembled and Anally adopted a constitution and a revised
prayer-book. As the church could no longer be called the
Church of England, the name Protestant Episcopal was as-
sumed as best descriptive of its character.

Meantime the Episcopalians of Connecticut had sent one of
their clergy, Dr. Seabury, to England to be made a bishop.

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1896.] THE Protestant Episcopal Church. 589

But the English bishops could not act, as the English govern-
ment refused its permission, and so Bishop Seabury obtained
what he went for from the Scottish Episcopalians. Clergymen
from New York, Pennsylvania, and Virginia finally succeeded in
being ordained by English bishops, the differences which
threatened to prevent union were at last overcome, and the
General Convention, which meets once in three years, has been
since 1789 the highest legislative and governing body of the
denomination.

Every parish of the Episcopal Church is a separate legal
corporation. The persons who contribute regularly to its sup-
port are entitled to vote annually for trustees, called wardens
and vestrymen. By a law which has just been enacted in the
State of New York only men can vote in these elections, but
in other States women share the privilege. The wardens and
vestrymen select (or " call," as it is phrased) the rector of the
parish, who becomes ex-^fficio head of their body. Each
diocese has an annual convention composed of the clergy and
of lay delegates selected from the wardens and vestrymen of
each parish. The bishop is the presiding officer. These dioce-
san conventions in turn elect both clerical and lay delegates to
the General Convention. The latter is composed of two houses,
the House of Deputies (clerical and lay) and the House of
Bishops.

POSITION AND POWER OF THE LAITY.

The first thing which strikes a Catholic observer is the pre-
sence and position of the lay element. Though nominally two,
there are virtually three co-ordinate bodies having equal power
of veto ; for the lay deputies vote separately on important
matters and their consent is absolutely necessary before any
measure can be adopted. The idea of the framers of the con-
stitution seems to have been that the lay deputies should cor-
respond to the lower, and the clerical deputies to the Upper
House of the United States Congress, while the bishops should
stand somewhat in the position of the President. They there-
fore copied the national procedure by enacting that any mea-
sure adopted by the House of Deputies and sent to the House
of Bishops must be passed upon by the latter within three days,
and that in default of any action by the bishops within that
time the act should become law.

While this coercive time-limit was removed by the present
convention as being rather disrespectful to the bishops, no dis-
position was shown by the deputies to relinquish any real

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590 The General Convention of [Feb.,

power. On the contrary, the insistence upon the equality of
the two houses and the determination to resist any increase of
the power of the bishops were never more manifest. The
deputies in their speeches referred frequently to what they
might allow the bishops to do or what they would "never per-
mit " them to do. The House of Bishops decided to send a
second bishop to Japan, but the House of Deputies defeated
the scheme, rebuking the bishops for establishing a new mission-
ary jurisdiction without obtaining the consent of the lower
house. The president of the House of Deputies (according to
the correspondent of a leading religious weekly) "declined to
entertain a motion to adjourn, in which the similar action of
the House of Bishops was cited for the purpose of influencing
legislation in the House of Deputies. It was " (he adds) " a
characteristic and delightful assertion of an independence which
always dignifies the debates of the deputies, this year more
than usual."

All this would, of course, be impossible in the Catholic
Church. It would be like standing the pyramid on its apex.
Those whom Christ sent with power to bind and loose, to
teach, to govern the faithful, *. ^., the bishops in succession to
the apostles, would be no longer the solid foundation of the
structure.

The Protestant Episcopal laity have the whip-hand. No
bishop can be elected without their consent. They have an
absolute veto on all legislation affecting doctrine, discipline, or
worship. It is what some one has called " religion by. town-
meeting." The authority, divinely given, which made those sent
forth into the world by Christ teachers, rulers, and shepherds is
replaced by a democratic show of hands. The sheep may lead
the shepherds, or at least dictate the path in which they will
allow themselves to be led. Such a condition of affairs (as one
deputy said most truly) is one wholly unknown to Catholic
antiquity, and found nowhere to-day except in Anglicanism and
in the other divisions of the Protestant world.

The actual power of the laity even goes beyond what is
granted to them constitutionally. As the lay deputies are gen-
erally men of wealth, prominence, or activity in church work,
their personal influence is very great. Many are lawyers or men
of affairs with experience, dialectical skill and cleverness in de-
bate far beyond the average clergyman. A good illustration of
the power and influence of a single layman was afforded in the
recent convention when a well-known lay deputy from New
York successfully accomplished the defeat of a measure which

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1896.] THE Protestant Episcopal Church. 591

the House of Bishops and the clerical deputies by a large
majority had passed, viz., the adoption of the title of Primate
for that of Presiding Bishop.

THE OPENING SERMON.

The opening sermon by Bishop Cleveland Coxe was a gloria
fication of Anglicanism — from his point of view. As one might
confidently have predicted, this Anglican Don Quixote found it
impossible to refrain from his usual gibe at the poor Jesuits,
whose " assaults upon the fortress of truth " he feels himself
ever called upon to denounce. If the followers of St. Ignatius
only were as well-nigh omnipotent and omnipresent as the bishop
seems to suppose them ! How delighted themselves at such
added and superhuman powers for good !

DE MAISTRE AND ANGLICANISM.

Bishop Coxe makes use of a favorite argument for the via
media character of Anglicanism when he says : " The most rabid
of our antagonists, the brilliant but fanatical De Maistre, in
words which are now familiar to us all, recognized the Angli-
can communion as the motive power in Christendom from which
restored unity must proceed." One who had never read De
Maistre would suppose from this that he held with the Protest-
ant Episcopal Bishop of Western New York that Anglicanism
represented "primitive Christianity," and that the restoration of
unity could only come by Rome's lopping off and Geneva's
levelling up until both reached the Anglican standard. What
the brilliant Frenchman did say was something far different.
In fact Bishop Coxe exactly reverses his meaning. De Maistre
did not suggest that the Catholic Church should conform to
Anglicanism, but, on the contrary, that the latter is fitted to
take the lead of the Protestant rebels and to set an example
of laying down her arms and submitting unreservedly to the
authority of the Holy See. After saying that the Anglican re-
ligion is " manifestly false," he adds, " but, restrained by the
hands of three terrible sovereigns," it was not swept so far in
the torrent of the sixteenth century and it retained some Cath-
olic elements of liturgy and ceremony. Therefore, let it lead
the other Protestants in returning to obedience to the successor
of Peter. Will Bishop Coxe favor that method of reunion ?

How far De Maistre was from assigning to Anglicanism any
such character as the bishop would have us suppose he does, is
clear from the following passage in the same treatise : " The
Sovereign Pontiff is the necessary, the sole, and the exclusive

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592 The General Convention of . [Feb.,

basis of Christendom. To him belong the promises, with him
disappears unity — that is, the church. Every chufch which is
not Catholic is Protestant. The principle is the same always ;
that is to say, insurrection against the sovereign unity ; all the
dissentient churches can differ among themselves only in regard
to the number of rejected dogmas." * ,

THE AMBIGUITY OF ANGLICANISM.

When the bishop touches upon the subject of Christian
unity he forces upon our attention the characteristic ambiguity
of Anglicanism. The divergent theories regarding unity of
Bishop Coxe and others of his own communion furnish an ob-
ject lesson. Anglicanism was born of compromise. It came of
an attempt to establish a state religion which should include
all the citizens of a nation, those who looked toward Geneva
and those whose sympathies lay more with the old religion of
Catholic days. All were to bow to the Royal Supremacy which
compelled each side to yield something to the other. Anglican-
ism, therefore, has never been at unity in itself, but has con-
tained warring camps, each contending to represent the true
character of the Reformation settlement.

Added to this state of shifting compromise has been the
naturally Erastian tendency of the communion, shown in Eng-
land by the complete subserviency of the Established Church to
the state, and in the United States by the constitution of the
Episcopal Church on the theory of popular government instead
of on the Catholic conception of a flock ruled by those whose
authority comes from above, not from below — an authority
which is unquestioned because given by Christ himself, the
Chief Shepherd. The Episcopal Church is an epitome of Pro-
testantism, almost every possible shade of Protestant opinion
being represented within its borders. The inevitable result of
such a jumbling together of those who use the same creeds
and forms of worship, but interpret them in widely different
senses, is a confusion of thought regarding the most fundamen-
tal principles — a confusion very apparent in this recent conven-
tion. It showed itself again and again in the speeches and de-
bates of the deputies, clever and able men wholly failing at
times to understand each other because they used the same
terms in entirely different senses.

VARYING IDEAS OF THE NATURE OF THE CHURCH.
This was disclosed especially in the discussions which in-
volved the fundamental conception of the nature of the Chris-

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1896.] THE J^RQTESTANT EPISCpPAL CRURCH. 593

tian Church. Said one clerical speaker : " I fear there is a dif-
ference so irreconcilable between the views of the Holy Catholic

Church entertained by the deputy from and those which I

myself entertain that any attempt at harmonizing the two would
be vain." Again the same speaker : " Why is it that we do
not know what to call ourselves ? Why is it that we sit here
and discussy day after day, what we are and why we are ? You
fiiid the same unrest, the same uncertainty everywhere."

A lay deputy, a member of the convention for many years
and a constant leader in debate, said in reply to another : '' I
know of no such thing as this church belonging to the Angli-
can communion. That is a phrase in very common use, but it
will not bear analysis. This church does not belong to the
Anglican communion, differing, as it does, in creed, differing in
articles, differing in liturgy, and differing totally in its method
of government.

THREE GRADES OF ANGLICAN OPINION.

As far as they may be classified, Anglican ideas regarding
the church fall into three general classes, though there are
numerous subdivisions under each. The view commonly called
" Evangelical " is that any body of scriptural believers form a
church, and that episcopacy is but a convenient and dignified
form of government. The Presbyterian, Congregationalist, and
Episcopalian Churches are all true churches of Christ, differing
only in non-essentials. With Anglicans of this sort reunion
with other Protestants simply means the mutual arrangement
of differences based simply on taste or convenience.

But the Evangelicals, once in overwhelming majority, are
now the minority. The centre of gravity has moved a peg
higher. The " Historic Episcopate " party now holds the lead.
Its adherents believe the historical succession of bishops from
the apostles to be necessary for the constitution of an historic
church. Presbyterians and others are spoken of as substan-
tially at one with Anglicans except for this lack of the historic
episcopate. The latter, however, as an Anglican possession
seems to be looked upon more with a sort of family pride and
as an aristocratic guarantee of ancient lineage than in any sac-
ramental light. The Ckurckman and Bishop Coxe gravely dis-
cuss the easy solution of Christian unity which would come
about if Methodists and Presbyterians would only obtain epis-
copal orders from some source, Moravian or Anglican. Then
all that would be necessary would be a spirit of brotherly love
and slight concessions as to details, and all might coalesce and

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594 'r^^ General Convention of [Feb.,

be one. Unity of doctrine is of no importance or is assumed
as already existing.

This, however, does not satisfy the ultra or advanced High-
churchmen. These Ritualists, as they are commonly called —
Catholic-churchmen, as they prefer to be termed — feel strongly
that such an omnium gatherum^ under the loose bond of an
historic episcopate, could never be other than a fictitious and
unreal unity. They contend, most rightly, that truth is the
only basis for a real unity. Their recipe, therefore, is a some-
what different -one. They would first drive out the Rational-
ists from the Anglican communion and establish doctrinal uni-
formity within their own borders. Then, if the Greek com-
munions will only recognize Anglican orders and Rome "abate
her pretensions," there may be unity — on a High Anglican
basis, of course. But these earnest High-churchmen fail just
where they criticise their brethren of the " Historic Episco-
pate " hobby. Their fancied unity would not be a real unity
either. The history of Christendom shows most clearly that
neither episcopacy alone nor yet episcopacy plus doctrinal
agreement has been sufficient to preserve unity. There are at
least twenty different bodies in existence which Anglicans
would consider true churches, and yet most of them hold no
communion with the others. Besides the possession of orders,
besides agreement in doctrine, there must be a supreme, defi-
nite, and infallible authority, and a consistent, outward oneness
which the world can see, or there is no unity. There is not
now and there never has been any such real unity apart from
the Rock of Peter.*

A NEW JUDAISM.

One of the difficult things to eliminate from the minds of
the early Jewish converts was the racial idea. The heretical
tendencies of those Judaizers who could not comprehend the
Catholic, the universal, and non-national character of the Chris-
tian religion plagued the infant church. Anglicans in modern
times have revived this spirit. Claiming at first the indepen-
dence of "national churches," they assumed a patent-right to
England for the Established Church. Now, however, the claim
is extended to include "the allegiance of the English-speaking
race," as the bishops expressed it in their pastoral letter at the
end of the recent convention. One deputy spoke of "our
English religion." The Churchman uses constantly "The

♦See " Episcopacy No Bond of Unity," V. Rev. A. F. Hewit, Catholic World, March,

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1896.] THE Protestant Episcopal Church. 595

Anglo-Saxon Church," an absurd phrase, presumably of its own
coinage. By what decree of Heaven the English-speaking peo-
ples (there is no English-speaking race), Anglo-Saxon or Cel-
tic, were given over to the exclusive charge of the Established
Church in England and its offshoots, is not recorded.

As a matter of fact the whole idea has its origin in the
Erastian spirit inherent in Anglicanism, which destroys the con-
ception of a world-wide. Catholic religion, and limits the eccle-
siastical horizon by the boundaries of civil allegiance and
racial lines. It is pressed so far by some that those not of
this new 'chosen people seem badly off indeed. Especially does
it seem to be a crime to be an Italian. Bishop Coxe called
the Council of Trent "a lawless conventicle of Italians," and
Anglican writers seldom reach the climax in anti-Catholic con-
troversy without bringing against the Pope the damning charge
of being "an Italian Bishop."

Very unfortunate it must seem to these advocates of " the
Church of the dominant race " that many millions of English-
speaking people have yet to be convinced that the Almighty
has given them spiritually into the hands of the Anglican reli-
gion. The heroic Irish people, in spite of bitter persecution in
their own country, have both there and throughout the English-
speaking world overwhelmingly repudiated it and clung with
passionate loyalty to the See of Peter. In our own country (as
Dr. Huntington pointed out in this convention) of 20,000,000
church-members recorded by the United States census, 19,400,-
000 do not recognize the Episcopal Church as having any claim
upon them.

Yet with characteristic inconsistency this "Church of the
English-speaking race" is providing translations of its prayer-
book in Italian, Spanish, Swedish, etc. Though professing to
believe jurisdiction to be dependent on civil and racial divisions,
and so calling the concern of the Pope — an Italian! — with
English-speaking people an " intrusion," Anglicans maintain
missions in Mexico, Spain, Cuba, and Brazil. What place, on
its own theory, has an "Anglo-Saxon Church" in those Latin
countries? Is it, to adapt a political phrase, "anything to beat
Rome " ?

WORDS vs. REALITIES.

The power of words is great and a correct terminology is
certainly important. But the underlying realities are greater
still. When words seem to stand for these realities but do not?
they are engines in the hands of error. The Arians deceived

VOL. LXII.— 38

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596 The General Convention of [Feb.,

the world (and even themselves) by the use of orthodox terms
in an unorthodox sense. A similar phase of things presents it-
self to-day in Anglicanism.

No word, e. g., was used more freely in the General Conven-
tion by speakers of every shade of theological opinion than the
word Catholic. Judging merely from a casual glance at the
phraseology, one might almost conclude that they all had the
same standard of orthodoxy. In reality the differences were
deep and profound. " Catholic " as applied to the church did
not mean with. one what it meant with another. The one who
repudiated all sacerdotal and sacramental doctrines used it as
readily as the highest of High-churchmen. It is the same else-
where. At the Grindelwald Conference, Dean Farrar, the Arch-
deacon of Manchester,, and other Anglican divines signed an ad-
dress together with Presbyterians, Methodists, and Congregation-
alists, in which they described themselves as all belonging to
" the divided Catholic Church.*' The Historic Episcopate party
and the advanced Ritualists also put together those two incom-
patible adjectives — " divided " and " Catholic " — but their defini-
tion of the terms is radically unlike Dean Farrar's.

Yet the feeling seems to have gained a general prevalence
that words are the important things, that because Low-church-
men and High-churchmen and Broad-churchmen are beginning
to use the same terminology to a great extent, and to call
the church " Catholic," therefore a uniformity of faith is coming
about. In reality, though there is less outward strife in the
convention, the fundamental differences are broader and deeper
than ever. Some are ready to admit this. The Living Church
(October 19) says : " That the battle with rationalism in the
church is not yet over, is evident enough. ... It is the
disguise, the use of orthodox phrase in heterodox significance,
which constantly obscures the issue."

An extraordinary effort was made in this convention to add
apparent strength to the claims of legitimacy as a historic
church by a revision of terminology and titles. This was intro-
duced largely through the report of the committee which had
been appointed to revise the constitution. First, the name of
that document was objected to. A " constitution " is that which
constitutes or establishes, and the world might think that the
Protestant Episcopal Church was only brought into being in
1789. So a little s was put on, and the "Constitutions" of the
church are. seen to be only the laws she enacts and not the
charter of her existence.

" Protestant Episcopal " does not quite seem to smack of

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1896.] THE Protestant Episcopal Church, 597

the primitive church, and so an effort was made to get rid of
it. But the proposition was defeated for the present, partly
because the majority are not yet ready to give it up and part-
ly because no one has yet invented a practicable substitute.
Bishop Doane (High-churchman though he is) characterized the
suggested title of " The Holy Catholic Church '* as " a most
arrogant piece of impertinent presumption." Others scented too
much absurdity in " The American Church " as applied to such
a small fraction of American Christianity.

" Primate " for presiding bishop (the present title) was re-
jected ; " Provinces " and " Archbishops " have not yet come,
but assistant-bishops are in future to be called " Coadjutors."

MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.

Though drawing tighter lines than many Protestants do, the
new canon on marriage and divorce does not, unfortunately,
uphold the absolute indissolubility of marriage, but allows re-
marriage to the innocent party in a divorce for adultery. It
will be a happy day for our Christian civilization when Pro-
testants return to the Catholic position and allow no deviation
whatever from the law of Christ.

THE " QUADRILATERAL " FIASCO.

A backward step was taken as to practical measures toward
Christian unity. A few years ago the convention at Chicago
and the Anglican bishops assembled at Lambeth made overtures
to the other denominations regarding reunion. They would
insist, they said, on only four things (hence th^ popular designa-
tion of " the Quadrilateral *' for this proposition) as absolutely
necessary : i. The Scriptures as the Word of God ; 2. The
two sacraments of Baptism and Holy Communion administered
with our Lord's own words ; 3. The Apostles* and the Nicene
Creeds as the sufficient expression of faith ; and 4. The historic
episcopate. The Anglican communion, the bishops said, "did
not seek to absorb other communions," but to unite with them
on a common basis. Negotiations were begun, chiefly with the
Presbyterians. But the latter soon perceived that the fourth
condition simply meant " acknowledge that you have never
been rightly ordained and become Episcopalians." The ap-
parent willingness to treat on equal terms was delusive.

Meantime the proposition became most unpopular with High-
churchmen of the advanced type. They saw that any practical
attempt to carry it out could only end in adding to the Epis-
copal Church still further discordant elements, making confusion

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598 The General Convention of [Feb.,

worse confounded. So the attitude of the present convention
was "admit none who will not accept our Prayer-Book from
cover to cover." Dr. Huntington, in brilliant speeches, pleaded
hard for the admission of Swedish Lutheran congregations who
were willing to accept the supervision of Protestant Episcopal
bishops, but wished to use their own prayer-books ; but his plea
was in vain.

Anglicans have not yet decided officially whether they will
recognize the orders of the Established Church of Sweden or
not. Some claim that these orders are fully as valid as those
of Anglicans, a statement which is, no doubt, correct. But
many (High-churchmen especially) refuse to acknowledge their
genuineness. The chief argument used is that the Swedish
Lutheran divines have never believed in them themselves. But
if that argument is to be admitted, what a gruesome light it
will throw on Anglican orders ! A long catena of Anglican
divines can be quoted (and especially those concerned with the
first establishment of the church) denying the existence of or-
ders in a sacramental sense. One only shall be quoted here, but
a very important one — Bishop Barlow, the single link on which
the Anglican succession depends. Barlow said in a sermon :
" If the king's grace, being supreme head of the Church of
England, did choose, denominate and elect any lay man, being
learned, to be a bishop, that he so chosen (without mention
made of any orders) should be as good a bishop as he is, or
the best in England."

ATTEMPTS TO FIX A HIGH-WATER MARK.

Along with the rejection of the propositions for reunion ap-
peared an effort to harden the Anglican advance at a certain
point, to stereotype a form for general conformity. The bishops
in their pastoral marked out an ultima Tkule, denouncing the
Ritualism which passes beyond it as an imitation of the "cor-
rupted worship" of the Church of Rome. The reservation of
the consecrated elements in the Holy Communion for purposes
of worship, teaching that fasting communion is a requirement
of the church, the use of the terms " sacrament of penance '*
and "the Mass," too elaborate and Roman-looking ritual, were
all condemned as contrary to the spirit of a reformed church.
The faithful are exhorted to stand fast, neither making "dan-
gerous concessions " to other Protestants, nor " dallying with
Rome by gradual assimilation to her errors." This thunder will
probably not have the least effect. It never has. The extreme
Ritualists have simply laughed at the bishops and gone ahead.

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1896.] THE Protestant Episcopal Church, 599

There is no coercive power in Anglicanism to fix an unaltera-
ble standard at any one point.

WHAT WILL BE THE END?

On the whole the High-Church sentiment is certainly gain-
ing ground, and at this Catholics must rejoice. Nothing has
done more to remove the old prejudices of those who would
never have listened to the Catholic Church herself than the
Oxford Movement. Protestants, as a rule, no longer feel their
old-time horror of Catholic symbolism, and are even beginning
to see the beauty and reasonableness of many Catholic doc-
trines. It is all preparing the way for their return to the
one fold.

But, though the High-Church movement is gaining ground,
it is never likely to establish itself in complete control. The
tradition, the common law, as it were, of Anglicanism has always
allowed theological contradictions to exist side by side, and it
is too late to deny that liberty now« Besides, that which can
make can also unmake, and no matter with what stringency or
by what tests High-churchmen might establish any standard to-
day, a change of popular opinion would sweep new delegates
into the general convention, and all could be changed to-morrow.
Under all the liberal use — in different senses — of orthodox and
Catholic phraseology, and in spite of the assumption of ancient
titles, there exist after all such fundamental differences and such
uncertainty of belief that the end can only be the one logical
end of all Protestantism — negation. The question of faith re-
solves itself into this, is there or is there not an infallible
teacher? If there is, there is no room for Anglicanism ; if there
is not, then the only logical end is that to which so much of
modern thought outside the Catholic Church is rapidly hasten-
ing, and which is clearly expressed by Nordau when he says :
"We strive further for absolute, objective truth. But who can
tell us whether our very premise be not an erroneous one ?
Whence do we derive our knowledge that there is such a thing
as absolute, objective truth ? What if there be no objective
and absolute truth, but merely a subjective truth alone, which
could not be the same truth to two human beings unless their
organisms were identical ? Then every attempt to discover ob-
jective truth would be entirely futile, and we would be more
than ever condemned to seek for all our knowledge in our own
consciousness exclusively, and not outside of it." *

^Paradoxes, By Max Nordau. P. 328.

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6oo A Golden Age and its People. [Feb.,

A GOLDEN AGE AND ITS PEOPLE.

BY F. M. EDSELAS.

F these Reminiscences, in the main purely per-
sonal, should h^re and there bear the mark of
egotism, it will only be so far as to secure
fidelity to truth, with an occasional appeal to the
imagination as an aid in the tinting of a picture
otherwise too sombre for the general reader.

In the eras marking the world's history certain periods
stand out with peculiar distinctness, like beacon-lights glowing
with clear, perennial brightness, and marked by a character all
their own. Men of genius, courage, and virtue, in a sense the
creators of those periods, have made them for ever memorable.
Such a period do we find when our nineteenth century had
reached its golden mile-stone, and which may rightly be termed
the Augustan Age of American Progress, New England, and
notably Massachusetts, seemed its source and centre. What
a galaxy of brilliant men and women ! Famous in literature
and science, art and philosophy, they clustered around the
" Hub," as it was facetiously called, by their magnetic influence
swaying all hearts and minds, leading on to what was greatest
and best in thought and purpose.

The names alone of those forming this gifted coterie, each
a peer in his own realm, indicate the wide range compassed
by their versatile genius. How we love to dwell upon what
they said and did as their faces, like those of home friends,
come before us !

There is Emerson, the sage of Concord and Nestor of the
world's philosophers in this century, crowned with so many
honors at its close. And with him Hawthorne, his bosom friend,
the magician playing with skilful fingers and delicate touch
upon humanity's heart, that marvellous instrument of a thou-
sand strings, himself without a rival in his wondrous realm of
imagery. Then the poets of the nation's, yea ! of the world's
hearts and homes, our own beloved Longfellow and Bryant, with
their confr^res^ the Quaker minstrel of Amesbury and the genial
Autocrat, whose requiems, so lately sung, still echo their plain-
tive melody throughout the world.

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1896.]

A Golden Age and its People,

601

These, and all the rest as they pass in goodly procession,
remind us of a younger generation. What a feast was daily
offered our sires and grandsires at the " Breakfast Table " and

over the " Tea-cups " I Others are now winning their spurs, but
will they fill" the places of those who have passed away ? Nous
verrons.

But now for the reminiscences.

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6o2 A Golden Age and its People. [Feb.,

VOILA. AUDUBON !

My earliest recollections of these and kindred minds, with
whom I was directly or otherwise brought in contact, take
me back to childhood's earliest years at the homes of relatives
and friends. There at a respectful, very respectful distance I
gazed with open-eyed wonder at these heroes and heroines in
real flesh and blood. Earlier than this I had come even still
closer to them, in fact into a little world where we lived to-
gether as the best of friends.

This latter acquaintance, formed through books or from
what my elders told me, both diluted down to suit my weak
digestion, helped not a little to brighten childhood's sunny hours ;
hence my joy was well-nigh full when I caught occasional
glimpses of these celebrities, flashing like meteors across my
path as they passed, guests of the family.

By the death of my parents, almost at the dawn of life, I
was cast from the home nest while still unfledged, only to be
watched over by the kindest of relatives.

Rounding my first decade of existence, I passed through a
siege of typhus while summering with cousins at Brighton, one
of Boston's beautiful suburbs. Reaching the chrysalis stage of
convalescence, that marvellous book. The Birds of America^ by
Audubon, prince of painters and ornithologists, was placed be-
fore me.

Having been told, by way of introduction, a little of the
author and his work, I was soon in touch with this masterpiece of
the great artist. My good, kind doctor — by the way, the founder
and foster-father of the well-known military college at Fari-
bault, Minn. — finding me thus engaged one day, completed my
happiness by telling me that he had long known Audubon, and
loved him as a friend and brother. That was enough for me ;
nothing more was needed ; the doctor and I were one ; my
dream was nearing its fulfilment sooner than I had dared to
hope, for through Dr. Shattuck I felt drawn into personal re-
lation with the famous naturalist, thus bringing me into closer
relation with greatness than I had yet seen it reflected in books.

The reality became only the more vivid as the doctor told
me of a trip actually taken with Audubon through the dense
forests and over the boundless prairies, where, with gun, game-
bag, and sketching materials, he reproduced from life the sweet
songsters of field and forest.

In character Audubon must have been wonderfully mag-

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1896.] A Golden Age and its People. 603

netic. How could it be otherwise since, as I learned from our
mutual friend the marvellous influence exerted over all that came
within its range, whether man or beast, savage or civilized?
And in turn, this was the natural result of the make-up of that
character, which combined an innate delicacy and refinement,
based upon the most unselfish kindness, with courage that knew
no fear, and a patient persistence that ignored failure, however
great the obstacles encountered.

"I would have gone with him to the ends of the earth,"
said the doctor, " if possible, and been the happiest of mortals
to have been so favored."

AH this and much more did I learn of the famous natural-
ist, whom Cuvier said had never been e<!{ualled and could never
be excelled in his line of work, so faithfully had he reproduced
his feathered friends. True to Nature must be the verdict both
in anatomy, coloring, and pose. The description and the pic-
tured form each verify the other. Verily it seemed as if I
could pick the real down and plumage from breast and wings
of lark and mocking-bird, and listen to the melody ready to
gush forth from their almost throbbing throats.

No copies of that Bird Book, as I called it, made from the
author's original plates, or any description that I have since
seen, however vivid, can bring the true idea of those marvel-
lous living pictures in all their perfection of beauty and realism.

The death of Audubon a few years later, followed by that
of my good friend the doctor, left a wide gap which I could
never fill with any other, however great and worthy ; such
niches become sacred to the memory of the heroes who once
tenanted them.

HARRIET HOSMER'S YOUTH.

At this very time a still greater pleasure came into my life
through another physician, Dr. Hosmer, who had long been in
attendance upon this same family of cousins. He frequently
brought his only child Hattie, who later on was destined to
honor both sex and country, as we so well know, by her won-
derful skill as a sculptor.

Then about a dozen years old, delicate and timid to excess,
there was little to indicate her future. Although mute as an
oyster when with our elders, if once by ourselves Hattie be-
came quite another child — timidity vanished, and to my delight
she proved the gayest of the gay, full of fun and frolic. Com-
paring notes, I soon found that we could enter into each other's

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6o4 A Golden Age and its People. [Feb.,

plots and plans for pleasure and a good time generally. She
was, however, considerably in advance of me in many things,
being able to row and swim, ride her fleet-footed pony bare-
back, and, what seemed the greatest achievement, use a rifle with
the skill and coolness of a trained marksman. In fact she
seemed totally different from any and all other girls I had ever
known. There was an impulsive boyishness in her words and
ways that might have been termed rudeness had it not been
toned down by a tender and loving confidence which smoothed
away all roughness in manner and speech, giving an added charm
to whatever she said or did.

This young girl seeijied then, and afterwards at times, though
we were widely separated, somehow to fit into my life as none
other had done. And this not because of similarity in charac-
ter ; by no means, but rather from contrast and deficiency, her
nature and qualities supplying the void and need in mine. They
were to be my complementaries, helping to round out nature *s
defects. Nor was the effect less because we were mere chil-
dren, for even then influences are as strong in their degree as
in maturer years, and far more enduring, the mind being then
so plastic. Hence may not all high and noble friendships, and
their opposites as well, be traced to this magic power of in-
fluence, which continually sways the world for better or for
worse ?

Being naturally in touch with the young artist's mode of
life, as learned by the tantalizing hints she had given me,
our comradeship was soon complete ; consequently a visit to
their home, suggested by the doctor, was only needed to com-
plete our happiness. " It is the best way to dispose of this
puny little chicken," he said to my friends. " Hattie and I will
help to fatten her up, and not with pills or powders either."

Fortunately the powers that held the balance of my fate
proved propitious, and a few days later I found myself the
happiest of children in that pleasant home. A typical New
England house, painted white, with the conventional green
shutters, it looked so cheery and home-like that I felt the wel-
come which I soon found speaking from every nook and cor-
ner of the domain. No part of that bright, sunny place was
too fine or grand to use at pleasure.

A motherly housekeeper and a kind but dignified governess
presided over the establishment, Hattie's mother having died
some years previously. Verily, I believe now that these worthies
found their duties no sinecure, having all they could do to

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keep their charge within reasonable bounds. Indeed her wild,
boyish nature more than once played havoc with them.

I had often heard of Hattie's skill in moulding figures of
animals from common clay, but not being able to credit it,
determined to find out for myself. Strolling through the gar-
den on the morning after my arrival, we came to a mound of
freshly spaded earth, near which stood a sprinkler partly filled ;
here was my chance. I broke the ice by telling her what I
had heard, at the same time adding, with childish frankness,
that I didn't believe a word of it.

That was enough for Hattie Hosmer. To doubt her ability,

Oliver Wendell Holmes.

whether in sports or in art, was at once to put it to the proof :
such a spirit could never refuse a dare. With a shrug of the
shoulders and a look of contempt that seemed to say. Wait,
and you shall see if I can't, she took up a handful of the soft
earth, and moistening it, said :

" What do you want ? "

"Oh! anything; I don't care."

She paused for a moment, as if choosing her subject, or
perhaps waiting for the inspiration sure to come, and that sel-
dom fails at the call of genius ; then with nimble fingers
kneaded the clay into plastic shape. Soon it began to take

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6o6 A Golden Age and its PEbPLE. [Feb.,

form as a bird ready for flight with outspread wings. Breaking
a twig from the tree overhead, to it she fastened the bird and
left it in the sun to dry.

The truth had been told me, conviction had come to stay.
Meantime Hattie was chatting like a magpie, telling me of her
free and happy life. Studies and music with her governess in
the morning, swimming and boating, roaming with pony and dog
through the woods and over the hills, and moulding clay images
between times ; all this seemed to me the perfection of earthly
bliss, and I told her as much. Finding me so thoroughly in
touch with her own ideas and fancies, she at once shared them
freely with me. The house stood upon a terraced elevation
facing the principal street of that little village — Watertown.
Just below flowed the historic Charles River. By a natural
projection of the bank nearest the house a little cave had been
formed. To this place Hattie led me by a flight of rustic
steps.

Here was her studio, if such it might be called, where she
had fixed rude shelves on which were placed clay figures
fashioned with such artistic skill and life-like reality that I gave
more than one start of fear and surprise, much to Hattie's
delight, as she said :

"Then they look like the real things, do they? That's the
way I find out if I've done it all right, by watching people
who see them for the first time. If they can't tell right off
what they are, and ask a dozen questions to find out, then I
whisk them out of sight in a jiffy ; they must be just like the
real ones, all but life, or I won't own them for mine. That's
the only way to do the thing."

Strange and unique the place was — characteristic of its
young mistress, who did the honors in her own bluff way.

" Guess you never saw anything like this before," she said
with a merry laugh, seeing my wonder and delight, not un-
mingled with terror, at the same time donning a loose over-
dress, which completely covered her from neck to heels.

" Now, I'm ready for work ; but say, what do you think of
my ' den ? ' — that's what the folks at the house call it ? "

" I don't know what to think ; but— but what does it all
mean? I thought only boys had such things," pointing to the
motley collection arranged on rude shelves, or fastened to the
walls of the cave, a regular pot-pourri^ including almost every-
thing available from that region in the line of animals. Frogs,
rats, and snakes found there an honored place with birds.

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poultry, and even wild beasts. " Where did you get them, and
what are they for ? "

" Found 'em ; then made others to match the real ones.
Tisn't so very hard if you only try long enough," at the same
time working away upon something, I couldn't tell what, until
she added :

" I've been fighting with this tiger for ever so long, trying
to make him ; you see he's determined I sha'n't do it, and
that's just the reason I will, if it takes a whole year, for I
wouldn't be beaten by a tiger, even though they're pretty hard
to manage sometimes. Made this one over about twenty times,
I guess. Couldn't have a real tiger to keep, so managed the
next best way. One day, as good luck would have it, I found
a big cat out in the woods, striped almost like a real tiger, but
so wild I couldn't catch him ; so papa set a trap, and in a day
or two the poor fellow was mine ; it took lots of coaxing to
tame him only half way, but now I have him all right. We
named him Zebra. " Here, Zeb ! " she called from the cave. In
a minute a magnificent-looking animal came bounding in and
sprang up on a rude bench beside his mistress, purring a glad
welcome.

Hattie then made him go through various manoeuvres show-
ing his beauty of form and grace of movement.

" You see I teach all these tricks and lots more, so as to
make my animals in every shape and attitude as near like life
as can be. There, there ! how '11 that do for Mr. Tiger ? "

" It's capital, but for my life I don't see how you can do it ;
then all these other things, too " ; for side by side with each
specimen, either stuffed, preserved in spirits, or as skeletons,
was an imitation of the original in clay, so perfectly formed
and colored that I was more than once deceived, taking the
copy for the real object.

Thus each day was one of new surprise and pleasure to me
as I saw more and more of the wonderful make-up of my new
friend's life and character. Finding how really interested I was
in her work, she freely shared it with me. I enjoyed the
boating particularly; the more so as her father had recently
given her a beautiful little gondola, modelled on the Venetian
style, with silver prow and cushioned in velvet ; so light and well
made that it skimmed over the water like a thing of life.
Her faithful dog, a noble Newfoundland, decked in ribbons
and bells, was our constant companion, whether on water or
when roaming through the woods.

" What do you think of this ? " she asked one morning as

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6o8 A Golden Age and its People. [Feb.,

we were out for a raid, at the same time showing me a dainty
little rifle cased in ivory and tipped with silver.

Rifles not being in my store of playthings, I gave a start of
terror, much as if an Indian had suddenly swung his tomahawk
over my head. Hattie only gave a merry laugh, and turning
aside a few steps, pointed to a little robin swinging on a vine
overhead, and as she said " I must have that " the click of
the trigger with a sharp report brought the poor little victim
to the ground.

" There, there ! " she continued, giving me a tender caress,
" don't be afraid, little chick ; youVe not killed yet, only the
bird, poor thing " ; and she picked it up still quivering in its
farewell struggle with life. " I don't do this for fun, but I
must have birds for study, or I couldn't make them as they
really are ; it's the only way to do the thing right ; don't you
see ? "

" Yes indeed, I see plainly enough, but I'd never have the
patience."

" It pays in the end though ; and if I haven't made it pay
yet, I will before I'm through, or my name isn't Hattie Hosmer."

And she did, nobly fulfilling her high purpose.

" You'd hardly believe it, but one of the hardest things I
ever made was a frog. The shape wasn't easy ; but to get the
colors, that was the trouble. If I made one guess I did fifty
before I hit it. You'd say it was green if you didn't look
pretty close, but that's only the effect of all the colors togeth-
er. I found that out myself ; and another thing too, that saved
me lots of trouble ; it is, that the same colors put on when
the clay is soft look so different from those used on clay half
or nearly baked. Things I find out myself I don't forget in a
hurry ; it costs too much."

Thus happily the days flew by, bringing my week's visit to
a close ; the last day had come.

" I only wish it was the first, Hattie, for now I must go
back to my humdrum life, moping around till I get well ; then
studies and lessons."

" Never mind, it can't be helped ; come on," and we turned
in for a farewell to the cave, as she added : " My fun is at an
end too ; papa says I must be ready next week to begin study
in real earnest at Mrs. Sedgwick's school. They say she's
great on breaking young colts, and I suppose that's why I'm
sent to Lenox ; but I'll make up for it in vacations."

"What, going on with this work?"

" Yes, to be sure, for I'm only at the beginning of what I

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1896.] A Golden Age and its People. 609

mean to do and be some day. You've found out by this time
that Fm not a bit like other girls, prim and starchy; wouldn't
be either if I could, nor couldn't be if I would ; I'm not made
that way."

** I suppose not ; but what else are you going to do ? "

" Why just this : when I can make these common, every-day
things like the real ones, than I'll try what I see only with my
mind."

"What!— out of nothing?"

" No, not exactly ; but fairies and people that I read about
who said or did some —

wonderful things. I've
made a beginning ;
here are some of them,
though not quite finish-
ed." Then drawing
aside a curtain, I almost
lost breath in astonish-
ment as there appeared
on rows of shelves sets
of puppet-figures, so
real and life-like that
a glance readily iden-
tified them.

There was Cinder-
ella, posing in the dif-
ferent scenes of her
eventful life ; and Red-
Riding Hood as well,
with others represent-
ing incidents wholly or
in part from fabled
story or historic legend.
Crude they were, of

X Harriet Hosmer.

course, yet, as I now

recall them, almost'Iiving types of the originals. Technical know-
ledge of the sculptor's art and finished mechanism were indeed
wanting, yet these, the result of the trained eye and cultured
taste, would surely follow where genius such as hers led the way.
In fact, the earnest life, the high and noble purpose behind
whatever she did then, as well as in her later and more finished
work, revealed the artist nascitur non fit, . . . For this very
reason I may have entered somewhat too minutely upon this
episode of my childhood's days.

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6io A Golden Age and its People. [Feb.,

Although these memory-pictures of three decades and more
ago must be relied on to recall what Hattie Hosmer then said
and did in her dashing, off-hand way, yet none the less clearly
do I see that an irresistible force ever urged her on to the high-
est, best endeavor ; hence that untiring, painstaking effort keep-
ing her on the alert to see and note whatever might serve her
purpose. Nothing was too trivial to be overlooked, or too diffi-
cult to be mastered when there was question of a model to
be reproduced.

Thus we see the successful results attained by the wise
development of child-nature, one of the great, I might add, the
greatest problems of our own or any age. Under wise direc-
tion that nature was allowed to follow out its own instinctive
impulses, without being hampered by a cut-and-dried pro-
gramme, which too often makes of our young graduates little
else than educated machine-puppets of stunted growth.

Dr. Hosmer, with clear prescience, discerned the great possi-
bilities of which his gifted daughter was capable, and as a
wise father removed dangers and obstacles besetting the path
she had opened for herself, and later carried on to an end so
triumphant.

Our paths have widely diverged since my too brief week's
visit ; yet all through these intervening years that great artist
has proved true to the grand ideal which came at her birth,,
and still crowns her life. Else how could she have created
those master-pieces of art symbolizing history and mythology?
How have wrought from " the dull, cold marble " the all but
living, breathing prototypes of those crowned with the laurel of
fame?

Nature's gifts were indeed lavishly poured out upon Harriet
Hosmer, but only to be returned in tenfold measure. Freely
has she received, freely has she given of the best that was in
her. A high niche in the temple of fame will be her exceed-
ing great reward. And we may add, with Chiteaubriand, when
death shall claim her for its own, "There will be made one of
those breaches which the fall of a superior intellect produces
once in an age, and which can never be closed."

Much may often be compassed within a short period ; so it
proved with me. During that brief week of pleasure I woke
to a new and broader life. Its full and deep meaning began
to dawn upon me through the influence .of that young artist,,
earnest, tireless worker as she was. Another .episode in my
experience only intensified this the more.

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THE GOLDEN WEDDING.

BY JOHN JEROME ROONEY.

HEIR heart — I will not say their
hearts
Because their heart is one to-day, —
Their heart is thronged with sing-
ing birds
And all their year is May !

For unto whom if not to them
Does every spring-time joy be-
long ?
Years came, years sped — but silenced
not
golden morning song!

is golden, save the love
rue hearts for each and each,
Stretching beyond the utmost range
Of thought and human speech ?

O morning song of blessed hope,

Soul-thrilling with all tenderness,
Breathes there a heart of mortal mould

To match your soft caress ?

When field and sky were filled with light

And every cloud was eloquent
Did these not prophecy aright

A golden fair content?

Ah, well you saw with lovers' eyes

The river of the years unrolled,
And well you knew with true love's skill

To build a bridge of gold !

VOL. LXII.— 39

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6i2 The Golden Wedding, [Feb.,

A bridge with sure foundations set,

Unshaken by the wintry gust,
Builded to meet the storm and tide

Upon the rock of Trust !

Across the span, the cares of life

Went marching — yet it never swayed —

But thro' the stress and strain of years
Its builders* plan obeyed !

Not Care alone was passenger :

Across it trooped the radiant bands

Of household joys, with pattering feet
And childhood's dimpled hands!

Across it passed the happy groups
Of chosen souls who loved to see

The blessed fruits and flowers that spring
Unbidden from love's constancy!

Ah, bridge of gold — this day we know

How strong you were, how true you stood,

How all unshaken you have held
Thro' evil days and good !

And you, true hearts, across the span
Your fairest, noblest message bring:

All's well, all's golden, golden well
In hearts where Love is king !

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1896.] Brother to a Saint, 613

BROTHER TO A SAINT.

BY HELEN M. SWEENEY.

[NDY McGONIGAL was drunk again.

That sounds as though it were a rare occur-
rence, but it wasn't.

Every one in the Saratoga — for they are as
particular as to names on Eleventh Avenue as
on Fifth — knew that Andy was " at it again," and every one,
from the little toddlers that hung around the stoop to " Blind
Joe" who lived on the top floor back, was sorry for his sister,
Mary. It was only last week that she had boasted that she
had him decent ; but, alas ! for woman's faith and man's unap-
peasable thirst, he was " at it again.** It was not for want of
care or want of prayer that Andy was the wreck he was.
From the first streak of day until midnight Mary sewed in-
cessantly on " pants " — for the bulk of the sweater's work is
done in these tenements — that Andy might have a roof over
his head, a hot dinner nearly every day, and a good, well-
mended coat on his back in which to go to Mass ; but he never
used it for that purpose.

A pretzel, a pickle, and a cup of " calico-tea " was Mary's
meagre meal every morning after five o'clock Mass. The pretzel
" kept so well," the pickle was " so fillin','* and the tea was the one
little luxury that the poor soul allowed herself. Her hard life of
unremittent toil and continual disappointment of reforming the
brother she loved so tenderly left its mark on her shrunken
frame, her hard knotted hands, and large-jointed fingers. Those
poor fingers were kept so busy ! By constant application for
six days in the week she could earn at " finishing " thirty-nine
cents a pair, and could do three pairs a day, thus bringing up
her income to the munificent sum of seven dollars a week. As
for Andy, he was always " looking for a job," but seldom got
any farther in his search than the " Owl's Retreat " next door,
out of which he would be systematically ejected at the timid
questioning of his sister, "Is Andy within?"

There was no mistaking Mary's nationality. Slight as her
accent was, it proclaimed her birth amidst Gotham's teeming

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6i4 Brother to a Saint. [Feb.,

population. Her heart was warmed by the intense glow of per-
fect faith and loyalty to the church of her fathers. There was
nothing, however, of the wholesome Milesian comeliness about
Mary except a perfect personal cleanliness. Her small face was
drawn, and too old for her thirty-seven years; her thin hair
was smoothly parted, drawn tightly back from a too-high fore-
head, and twisted into a walnut at the nape of her neck.

But for all that her face was strangely attractive ; it was so
peaceful, so resolute, so quietly strong. Her eyes were Tenny-
son's "homes of silent prayer." They were her one redeeming
feature, and were large and softly dark, confiding as a dog's,
and, like a dog's, full of a dumb wistfulness.

As she stood now, looking down at the poor, weak creature
sprawled on the little, old, rickety lounge, where friendly though
scarcely steady hands had laid him a few moments before, her
patient eyes were filled with tears. But she did not waste time
sentimentalizing, but set to work at once, loosening his clothes,
covering him with the blanket from her own bed, settling his
head comfortably on the straw pillow, and putting to draw at
once the little brown pot of strong black tea, to steady him
"agin his wakin'." She considered it "tryin' for the nerves "^
to indulge in the stimulating oolong herself, but for him no
trouble nor expense must be spared.

Week after week he promised to do better, and week after
week he failed. She had gone to see Father Ambrose and
had enlisted his sympathy for poor, frail Andy, all unconscious
that it was her own courage and devotion to the scamp that
had attracted the good priest's interest in the case. As each
week went by and it was the same sad old story, even the
priest gave him up as a hopeless case ; but his sister never be-
came discouraged, save momentarily. With a heroic steadfast-
ness she worked still harder, hoped more, and prayed inces-
santly.

Those indefatigable workers in the cause of temperance say
that there are fifty thousand *^ drunks " arrested every year.

Has any one taken a census of hearts ? Does any one know
how many lives have been darkened by the black sin ? Has
any one the statistics of the little children with their fear-
stamped faces? How many saints have earned their canon-
ization in this fertile field of sorrow and suffering?

Only God knows.

Lives like Mary's are the white pond-lilies that flourish

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1896.] Brother to a Saint. 615

above the noisome surface. Her whole long, hard day she made
a ceaseless prayer. Her love for her scapegrace brother en-
dured through years of toil and disappointment. Her one
ambition was to see him a member of the Holy Name Society
and have him receive holy Communion with them on the first
Sunday of the month. But in answer to her pleadings he gave
her nothing but abuse, and sometimes even blows ; for Andy
" in his cups " was a ferocious brute, as Mary's limp middle
finger testified. He had struck the cup out of her hand one
night when she was urging him to take " just one more swallow
of the tea."

" Sure, I'm glad it wasn't my right hand," was all she said
to Father Ambrose when he, roused to indignation at the
thousandth repetition of Andy's wickedness, urged her to make
complaint and have Andy committed to the Island. But no,
while there was a roof over her head, Andy would share it ;
while she could earn a crust of bread, Andy had the larger
part of it.

Father Ambrose and his active sympathy, her daily Mass
and weekly Communion — for she received every Saturday morn-
ing — were the bright spots in her otherwise dark life. She had
all the passionate devotion and loyalty to her pastor that
characterizes her warm-blooded race.

But sometimes for weeks he did not see her ; for a parish of
twelve thousand souls needs a rector's constant supervision.

One day in the middle of the winter word was brought to him
that Mary was sick and had sent for him. He hurried down
there, expecting to find her laid up again from the effects of
one of Andy's sprees; but he found her very ill indeed with
pneumonia.

The flush of fever on her worn, sunken cheek made her
almost beautiful. Her eyes shone like stars as she grasped her
friend's hand in her burning ones. As usual, his very presence
soothed and calmed her. He begged to know if there was
anything he could get for her, anything at all he could do to
lessen her trouble.

"O father! I'd have never a bit to trouble me if Andy
would only keep straight. But then," she went on, her labored
breath coming in great gasps, " God must send me some
trouble. It would be worse if I had nothing at all to suffer for
his sake." Then, after a little pause, " It's Andy's soul I'm
thinking of continually."

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6i6 Brother to a Saint. [Feb.,

" Think of yourself now, Mary, for once. Andy will have to
work out his own salvation."

** Ah, father dear ! if I may make so bold, Andy has no
one but me. And in your sermon last Sunday night you said
that prayer was a bridge from earth to heaven. Sure, Fd
make my body a bridge for him, if he could but walk on it
into that Land o* Promise. What's my pains, and my work,
and my days and nights of trouble, if they won't buy heaven
for my brother ? "

And Father Ambrose, used as he was to the heroism of
poverty, familiar with the pathetic courage of the poor, felt his
eyes fill with tears in the presence of such a noble example of
vicarious suffering.

What could he do but pray with and for her, this lovely
soul that walked on a plane but little lower than the angels.

" I'll offer up my Mass for you to-morrow, Mary," he said
as he rose to go, " for the — "

" O father ! say it for him. No one will think of prayin* for
his soul when I'm gone."

"Where is he now?"

" I don't know, father. But every night the lamp is put in
the window for him ; I'm afraid that he'll want to come in some
night and think I'll not be up to see to him."

" But you may not be here to-morrow, Mary."

For an instant she was silent ; a shadow crossed her face,
and she twisted and untwisted the worn fringe on the clean
but shabby counterpane ; then a light shone in her lovely eyes,
and she said, looking up in his face :

" I don't think God is ready for me yet, for Andy needs
me. This spell of sickness he has sent me was just for a rest;
but, 'tany rate, his will be done."

She was right ; God did not want her yet, and the poor soul
that could look upon a serious fit of illness as a chance to rest
was raised /rom that bed of sickness to take up again the
burden that for five weeks she had laid down. As is often the
case with that terrible scourge, the frail little bodies offering
the least resistance are able to withstand the ravages of the
disease better than a robust frame that would be felled in a
week. Mary lived to work, to pray, to love and hope for her
brother again. Andy, frightened by the nearness of death, wafi
quiet for a month. During those four weeks Mary went about
with such a deep, intense look of happiness on her pooj^,

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1896.] Brother to a Saint. 617

pinched little face that it seemed to glow as with an inward
light. To crown her happiness, Andy, at the solicitation of
Father Ambrose, joined the Holy Name Society. The first
Sunday of March was the red-letter day of Mary's life. All
during the Mass her tears fell silently, and as she saw those
nine hundred men approach the rail she could with difficulty
restrain her sobs. That her brother was among them she did
not ascribe to her own prayers, but to Father Ambrose's. When
she saw the King of Kings enter her brother's heart she felt
like Simeon of old, and could like him exclaim : " Now, Lord,
let thy servant depart in peace."

For days afterwards she stitched away with her accustomed
industry, lightened and sweetened by her holy, happy thoughts.
She sang about her work, raising her thin, old, cracked voice
in quavering melody. " Erin, the tear and the smile iii thine
eye," she piped, till in her own lovely eyes her tears made twin
rainbows of her smile.

For a week he had been working in the big Dressed Beef
house down at the corner, and Mary was looking forward to a
calm, happy future when with one blow her hopes were dashed
to the ground.

Poor thing I she took as an earnest for the future the few
halcyon days of March, and when she heard of Andy's latest es-
capade she felt worse than if it had come in the regular line of
his former delinquencies. It seems that he had a quarrel with
one of the foremen. Andy's temper, not a good one at the
best of times, could not, in his present nervous state, brook the
bullying of the petty tyrant who made the men's lives a bur-
den ; and at the first opportunity he let his irritability get the
better of his little stock of prudence, and with hot words let
the foreman have the full benefit of his pent-up feelings.
That night he was laid off, and to drown his discomfort had
resort to the ^* Owl's Retreat " again. Here he aired his griev-
ances and was loudly applauded for his "grit." Encouraged
by the praise of the bar-room heroes, he announced his inten-
tion to " lay for " his enemy at the first opportunity.

" Where's your gun, Andy," said his host, who was smilingly
agreeable as long as the coin in Andy's pockets held out.

"This is as good as a gun," said Andy, laying bare his. large,
sinewy forearm, that looked formidable enough until it was
remembered that champions do not "train on mixed ale,"
whatever they may do after they have proved their staying

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6i8 Brother to a Saint, [Feb.,

powers in the ring. Andy's flabby muscles offered no menace
to the foreman ; and yet when the latter entered the place,
and after a few hot words on either side Andy let fly from
his shoulder a well-directed blow between the eyes, the fore-
man dropped like a log.

In a moment the excited crowd announced " He's dead ! "

It was fully a minute before Andy could take in the fact,
and when it did enter his dulled brain he dashed out of the
place, turning toward Eleventh Avenue, and just caught
hold of the rear platform-rail of a freight train pulling out, and
was carried off faster and faster toward the West and liberty.

How Mary got through that night she never knew. All' night
long she spent on her knees, imploring the Sacred Heart to
forgive Andy, only to forgive him, and then it did not matter
what the law did to him. Not for an instant did she contrast
her present state of horror and fear with the calmness and
peace of yesterday. She simply thanked God that he had been
brought to a state of grace once at least, and she trusted blindly
to the saving grace of that Communion to reach his sin-stained
heart even yet.

She offered no resistance to the officers of the law as they
entered her two little rooms in search of her brother, and to
their repeated questionings as to his whereabouts, had but one
answer, "Only God knows."

Two days afterwards she would have given her very life to
know herself; for by a strange circumstance of fate the post-
mortem examination brought out the fact, too strange not to
be true, that the foreman had not met his death at Andy's
hands at all. He was found really to have perished of heart
disease, or, as the medical expert termed it, "he died of syn-
cope antecedent by a few seconds to the so-called murder."
Witnesses bore evidence to the fact that the deceased had been
out of health some time. His heart was found to be entirely
empty, thus exonerating from the very serious charge the flee-
ing fugitive.*

From the moment of this announcement Mary spent her
time looking for her brother. Day after day she haunted his
usual resorts, but found no trace of him ; night after night she
spent praying for his return. To help her, though he had but
little hope of its success. Father Ambrose had inserted in one
of the big dailies a carefully worded advertisement ; and even

* Sec The Lancet ^ Aug;ust, 1895.

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1896.] Brother to a Saint. 619

went farther, and interested a young newspaper man in the
story and had him make a stirring article out of it ; but still
Andy did not return.

The constant disappointment, hard work, and sleepless nights
began to tell on Mary's enfeebled frame. When she found that
she could not finish her three pairs of " pants " a day, and
realized that her health, already undermined by the attack of
pneumonia she had had, was ruined by her latest trouble, she
bowed her head to the inevitable, and with her accustomed for-
titude made hers the will of God.

As long as she could crawl about at all she managed to
trim and light the big lamp and put it in the window for the
absent eyes to see ; and when she was forced to surrender and
accept aid from the St. Vincent de Paul Society, oil was all
she asked for. Father Ambrose himself saw to that, and, like
the faithful virgins', Mary's lamp was always ready.

One sultry evening in May, when the hundreds of lighted
windows of the tenements on the avenue began to glow like
dull red eyes in the dusk. Father Ambrose went down to her,
and with him was another guest, the shadow of whose dark
wing lay over the low, mean bed on which a saint was lying.
From behind every door on his upward way through the house
came the sounds of talk and laughter, the clatter of dishes at
the evening meal, and the incessant click of the sewing-
machine ; for the very poor have not time even to eat. But in
Mary's room there brooded a peaceful quiet, filled as it was
with the " peace that passeth understanding," and for the first
time the lamp was unlit.

She smiled up in the priest's face. " I knew you would
come. Light Andy's lamp, father, and pray for the soul of
him."

Late that night Andy came. Far down the deserted avenue
he had caught the friendly glow of the light that was leading
him to more than a home. He was perfectly sober, for travel-
ling in a freight-car, hidden safely in the heap of ill-smelling
hides from the far West, was not conducive to conviviality.
Now, heavy-eyed and chilled, he crept up the narrow, greasy
stair, pushed open the frail little door and walked in.

But there were people there ! Three or four women sat
around and dozed in their chairs.

There was something in the middle of the floor, something
long and narrow and black.

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620 Brother to a Saint. [Feb.,

One step more, and he looked down on a still, white,
peaceful face. Never would those eyes look love into his eyes
again ; never again would the thin, worn fingers let the brown
beads slip through them for him ; never again would the stilled
heart throb in fear as his unsteady step stumbled up the stair.

With a dreadful cry he flung his arms across the coffin,
and implored the dead lips to speak to him, the dead ears to
listen to his promises; for, shocked into perfect possession of
his senses, Andy made vows over Mary's coffin that she would
willingly have died to hear. Like many another, Andy gave to
the dead what the living craved for ; but who shall say that
Mary did not hear his words of penitence, his promises of
amendment ?

Hers was a glorious death, for by it she purchased eternal
life for a most repentant brother.

To-day in an obscure corner of Calvary is a long, low,
grass-covered grave with a simple cross at its head, which
reads —

Mary McGonigal,

AND

Andy,
Her Brother.

Below there is no provisional ^^ May they rest in peace,"
but, with firmer faith. Father Ambrose has written

They Sleep in Christ.

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1896.] WffY Not? 621

WHY NOT?

BY REV. F. G. LENTZ.

FEW friends sat chatting one evening, when a
discussion arose over missions to non-Catholics.

The talk was friendly enough till it was pro-
posed by one of the company that those present
should utilize what time could be spared from
necessary work connected with their respective charges to
begin a series of missions in their own neighborhood.

We were all, however, rather startled by one of the com-
pany who rose and denounced the whole project as "visionary,
ridiculous, absurd." The more we tried to argue with him the
more angry he became. That man once belonged to one of
the noblest preaching orders in the church.

We have often, however, been surprised at the amount of
heated opposition that the mere suggestion of this idea has
produced in some. Sometimes it is amusing, sometimes provok-
ing; more often it is sad. In considering this opposition we
are tempted to ask. What kind of an idea of the Catholic
Church can these men have? Do they regard her as a close
corporation from which all but those claiming an inherited
membership are excluded? Surely, if so, hers is not then the
mission that she has always claimed to have received from
Christ himself, the evangelizing and civilizing of the world.

We do not read in the Gospel, at least explicitly^ that
Christ ordered the people to go to the Apostles, but we do
read . that he said to the latter, " Go ye into the whole world ;
preach the Gospel to every creature." Are the Catholics of
this country, then, alone to be excluded ? Non-Catholics may
liot be disobeying God in not coming to the church to hear her
teaching, but we are absolutely failing in our duty and in
charity, as well as disobeying God's explicit command, in not
carrying to them the saving gift of faith, which alone brings
joy, peace, and life everlasting.

Where is the nation which does not owe its faith to the mis-
sionary work of apostolic men ? Does not the church's history
in the past read like a glorious epic which tells of heroes who

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622 IVj/y Not? [Feb.,

went forth to conquer and to die in a grander cause than ever
knight or warrior of old was sworn to. Did the Apostles or
their successors sit down in the courts of the temple, or lounge
within the sanctuary waiting for the people to come and hear
the word of God ? Did Augustine or Patrick or Boniface wait
even to be asked before they carried the light of faith into
those lands that have since called them blessed?

But we are told, " Oh ! that was different.** Unquestionably.
But the difference lay only in the will of the men who received
this divine commission to " Go and teach a// nations." They
were not deterred by difRculties or unpropitious outlooks. They
did not view the field from afar and pronounce the task impos-
sible. They did their duty. " Paul preached, Apollo watered,
and God gave the increase."

Men who have proposed to take part in this evangelization
have been hooted, scorned, and spoken of by some as if they
advocated something strange, something before unheard of.
However, this is a good sign.

St. Francis of Assisi was scorned, but his work was blessed
of God, and it prospered. St. Dominic went out to preach to
the Protestants of his day and founded a great order of mis-
sionaries for this purpose, but, we presume from want of a field,
his followers Jhave had to seek other employments. St. Francis
Xavier travelled far and wide under the burning sun of eastern
lands to win for Christ, not the flower of the human race, not
the white man with his God-like faculties of heart and mind,
but the darkened souls of those children of the Orient. For
these he left house and brethren and lands for " His name's
sake,*' and thought it worth while doing. Had he lived in our
day we might have taught him an easier way, viz., to build fine
churches, and sit down at the portals to wait for the poor
heathen to seek an entrance there. In our pride and human
respect we cannot stoop to such old-fashioned ways. Is this
the spirit of the followers of Him who was ever kind and
patient to the poor and humble and ignorant? The only
words of scorn He spoke were to those who had the true faith,
but so vilely used it.

IS IT VIS INERTIiE OR IS IT PHARISAISM?

Whence comes this repugnance to the work of converting
the American people ? From whom has arisen this opposition
to the very spirit of Catholicity ?

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18^6.] Why Not? 623

Why is it quoted at us, when the idea of going out to
preach to our separated brethren is proposed : " Charity begins
at home," " I was not sent but to the lost sheep of the
house of Israel," " It is not good to take the bread of the
children and cast it to the dogs."

Verily has the spirit of the ancient Pharisee arisen amongst
us when such texts are interpreted against this work. With
the Jew of old, again the scornful finger is pointed at the
meek Nazarene, with the words, "Can any good come out of
Nazareth ? "

One good mission to non-Catholics will do more good for
the Catholics themselves than all the other kinds of missions,
sermons, or instructions that any priest can give.

This may seem an almost paradoxical statement, but it is
easily explained. The moment this work is begun in a com-
munity the charity of Catholics is on fire. They take a keen
delight in the work, are anxious to do all they can to help on
the good cause. Their amour propre is aroused, and they feel
that they must give good example ; stand by the priest and see
that he wants for nothing. Men who would never come near
a mission to Catholics suddenly awake to the realization that
they are Catholics, and are eager to come to the non-Catholic
mission, to assist, as it were, at the death-bed of Protestantism,
They pay more attention to the sermons, and to the ceremo-
nies of the church, than they have done for years. Their pride
in their faith is aroused. It pleases them to witness the intel-
lectual superiority of their priests ; and the favorable comments
of those outside the church make them love and understand
better the religion they have so long neglected

The youth too will be saved. How often has not this hide-
and-go-seek policy been in vogue ! A poor little church hidden
away in some obscure corner of the town, where low Mass is
said only occasionally ; where, either from neglect or necessity, the
instructions are few and far between ; the priest scarcely known,
never appearing in public to take part in anything concerning
the public welfare either temporal or spiritual, utterly indiffer-
ent to the world outside and the needs of its teeming thousand?
— how often has not all this begotten an indifference which it
is all but impossible to overcome ! Of that ancient and mighty
organization instituted by Christ for evangelizing the world they
know nothing, or at most it is but a figure of history to
them, a myth of the dead and buried past. Presently comes

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624 Why Not? [Feb.,

the non-Catholic mission. Before their wondering eyes, too, are
spread the ever-ancient yet ever-new treasures of the faith
they would have cast away as a worn-out garment. Is this
living, concrete, active thing the religion they were ashamed
of ? Are they indeed members of this mighty organization ?
Is this church, so full of light and love and vigor, theirs —
their very own ? Will they ever more be ashamed of her,
untrue to her? Ah, no! This palpitating, glorious, exulting,
energetic faith thrills them with new life, and under the genial
glow of its charity they are roused into new and supernatural-
ized beings.

Losses to the church are rare in those congregations where
the priest is the foremost man in his community ; having the
weal of all at heart, and showing that enlarged charity which
makes him realize that he will have to answer to God for the
souls of all within his jurisdiction. Catholic and non-Catholic
alike. An inert body moves nothing, neither can priest or
people rise higher or beget spiritual life among the people con-
fided to his care if they be not awake to every uplifting
influence.

THE PREACHERS THE SAVIOURS OF THE CHURCH.

What saved Catholicity in the sixteenth century? The gov-
ernments ? They were a stumbling-block. This or that reform ?
What good would have been all the reforms in creation if this
one had not become all powerful, viz., missionary activity to
combat, overthrow, and destroy the errors of Luther, Calvin,
el aL? Through various causes the church had become inert.
She had not only ceased to carry the torch of faith to others,
but, and on this account, failed to hold her own. Then came the
reawakening. Compelled to fight for existence, the missionary
life within her was revived. Awakened into renewed activity
it encompassed the whole world in its efforts ; and not only
were the ravages of Protestantism stayed, but new nations and
peoples were brought into the fold. Those countries in which
the effects were kept up are to-day returning, and this age is
reaping where it has not sown. It was that work which turned
the tide and saved the rest of Europe.

When all else fails these enemies of non-Catholic missions,
they demand, as a final argument against us, that we show
them results of the work. Have they become blind entirely to
the ways of God ? The sang froid with which they ignore all

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1896.] Why Not? 625

history is amusing when it is not contemptible. Do they ex-
pect the errors and prejudices of three hundred years to be re-
moved in a day? Would any one with the least bit of com-
mon sense, not to speak of justice, expect that people who are
totally ignorant often of the first principles of religion, hay, who
in their conception of it are farther removed from the truth
than the pagans of old, should learn in a few days and accept
unquestioningly those deep and wonderful doctrines which
must be believed without doubting by every child of the
church ?

We take years to instruct children in the faith, and in them
there is no false teaching to be removed, before their hearts are
ready to receive the good seed.

How much patience, then, is there not needed by the tillers
in these neglected fields outside the church in weeding out the
roots of error, and making fertile the soil for the growth of the
precious flower of truth !

The duty of a true religious in this country is not the im-
porting of national prejudices, contentions, and singularities, and
the fostering of sectional differences, for which we have no use
here, but in the upbuilding of the grand, spiritual, united king-
dom of God in this great Republic ; in the elevating of our
civilization and bringing the truth to those who know not God ;
and lastly, in allaying the strifes and harmonizing the differences
of the many and various elements cast upon these shores into
one homogeneous^ religious people.

THE TIMES ARE RIPE FOR THE WORK.

The decay of sectarian influence, the inability of evangelical
Protestantism to any longer hold the masses, the eagerness of
the more educated to ape the forms of the Catholic ritual, the
rapid dissolving and disintegrating of the various sects, the
breaking down of the non-Catholic's belief under agnostic and
materialistic blows, and the eagerness and anxiety of all thpught-
ful men as to the outcome of all this, show us that the time
is ripe for us to present our cause and to display our treasures.
Why then any longer should we leave to feed on husks these
children of a rich and heavenly Father? Why not bring to
them the Bread of Life ? Why allow them to starve for want
of that nourishment which alone gives spiritual life, and hope
and peace ? If you want them in your churches this is the

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626 JV//y Not? [Feb.,

only way to get them there. Remember the parable of the
marriage feast : " Go out and compel them to come in, that my
house may be filled." Go out into the highways and by-
ways and invite these people to the tables of the Lord ; and
many will come who otherwise would feel that they were in-
truding.

You will no longer then complain of decaying faith, of dif-
ficulties in maintaining Catholic discipline, of mixed marriages,
of the falling away of Catholics, of disrespect to ecclesiastical
functions, of the running after strange gods ; but you will wield
a greater influence than ever, your words will reach farther,
you will find less trouble in maintaining discipline ; your influ-
ence over the morals of the community will be stronger, and
even those who do not cross the Rubicon will be elevated to a
higher moral and intellectual plane from which new advances
may be made. It may be a long pull and a strong pull, but
in the end our gain shall be such that at no distant period we
shall see the dawn of a better day, and shall rejoice in the
glorious triumph of our holy Mother Church, who knows neither
Jew nor Gentile, Greek nor barbarian, but shelters them all with-
in one fold, which is in the Lord Jesus Christ.

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PERSONAL REMINISCENCES OF WASHINGTON

IRVING.

BY JOHN MORRIS, M.D.

HE literary life of Washington Irving is little

known to the present generation of readers. A

new order of men and women have come to the

front (not, I am pleased to believe, to stay) who

_ have created new tastes and new sentiments.

Several biographies of Irving have been written, one by his

nephew, but none of them present to us in an analytical way

his true nature as a man or his peculiar gifts as an author.

Irving's early life was simple and uneventful. Like Sheri-
dan, Patrick Henry, and many other great men, he was esteemed
a dunce in his youth. When he was about eight years old he
one day came home from the school kept, or rather ruled^ by the
" school marm " of that day, and said to his mother, " The
madam says I am a dunce; isn't it a pity?" The truth is
Irving never could succeed in mathematics, which, of course,
involved arithmetical problems — a defect very common to men

VOL. LXII^— 40

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628 Personal Reminiscences [Feb.,

of poetical temperament ; but he had a taste for languages and
a great aptitude for their acquisition.

INTRODUCTION TO WASHINGTON.

Irving was but five years of age when he was introduced to
the Father of his Country. He used to describe the interview
in this fashion : " There was some public celebration going on
in New York and the general was there to participate in the
ceremony. My nurse, a good old Scotchwoman, was very
anxious for me to see him, and held me up in her arms as he
rode past. This, however, did not satisfy her ; so the next
day, when walking with me on Broadway, she espied him in a
shop ; she seized my hand, and darting in, exclaimed in her bland
Scotch : * Please, your Excellency, here's a bairn that's called
after ye.' General Washington then turned his benevolent face
full upon me, smiled, laid his hand upon my head, and gave
me his blessing, which I have reason to believe has attended me
through life. I was but five years old, yet I can feel that hand
on my head even now."

The amount of reverence and faith shown by this great and
simple-minded man is pleasant to contemplate. " He laid his
hand on my head and gave me his blessing, which I have reason to
believe has attended me through life'' If a Catholic were to say
this concerning the blessing of some good bishop or priest, he
would be esteemed credulous and superstitious by his Protestant
friends. But the stronger and simpler the mind, the more beauti-
ful the faith. However, Irving never lacked faith — the very na-
ture, the very constitution of his mind forbade such an unhappy
condition. The thread of reverence runs through every line of
his writings. Whilst not demonstrative in his belief, he was ever
mindful of the respect due to religion as well as its forms, cere-
monies, and sacraments. The description of Christmas in the
Sketch Book is a striking and beautiful evidence of this spirit of
reverence. " Of all the old festivals," he says, " Christmas awak-
ens the strongest and most heartfelt associations. There is a
tone of solemn and sacred feeling that blends with our convivi-
ality, and lifts the spirit to a state of hallowed and elevated
enjoyment. The services of the church about this season are
extremely tender and inspiring ; they dwell on the beautiful
story of the origin of our faith, and the pastoral scenes that
accompanied its announcement ; they gradually increase in fer-
vor and pathos during the season of Advent, until they break
forth in full jubilee on the morning that brought peace and

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1896.] OF Washington Irving. 629

good will to men. I do not know a grander effect of music on
the moral feelings than to hear the full choir and the pealing
organ performing a Christmas anthem in a cathedral, and filling
every part of the vast pile with triumphant harmony."

REBOUND FROM CALVINISM.
Irving's religious character and liberal views were the result
of the severity of the church in which he was born and the
nature of his early training under the parental roof. His father
was a deacon of the Presbyterian Church, and most rigid, if
not severe, in his system of domestic government. Irving was
a bright, vivacious boy, full of spirit and given to all sorts of
boyish freaks. The father, a sedate, conscientious. God-fearing
man, with all the hard qualities of the old Scotch Covenanters,
had little sympathy with the amusements of his children and
endeavored in every way to give their thoughts a serious turn.
They had two half-holidays during the week ; one of these was
devoted to catechism. On Sunday they were compelled to at-
tend three services, the remainder of the day being given up
to the reading of Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, the adventures of
which they enjoyed, but scarcely took in the spiritual graces
to be conveyed. This kind of religious training tended to give
a character to their plays and amusements. One of their favor-
ite plays was preaching and taking the sacrament. Irving's
mother was formed in a different mould. Her nature was ar«
'dent, impulsive, vivacious, and she easily won the loving confi-
dence and sympathy of her children. She was an Episcopalian,
and though she attended the Presbyterian service with her hus-
band from a sense of wifely duty, her cheerful nature and
liberal judgment never fully harmonized with her husband's
rigid views. Irving stood in awe of his father, but was tender-
ly attached to his mother. She was oftentimes pained to see
that he did not take kindly to religion (not knowing, poor
woman ! that it was her husband's severity that led to his luke-
warmness). In the midst of his sportive and witty outbursts
she would look at him, half proudly, half reproachfully, and
exclaim : " Oh ! Washington, if you were only good ! **

IRVING AS A YOUNG MAN.

Irving must have been an exceedingly agreeable man in his
youth, for we find him making friends everywhere and min-
gling in the very highest circles of society. He was but twenty-
one years of age when he left America for Europe. At Genoa,

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630 Personal Reminiscences [Feb.,

one of the first cities he visited, he formed the friendship of
Lady Shaftesbury, Madame Gabriac, and other distinguished
people. Lady Shaftesbury became exceedingly attached to him,
and gave him letters of introduction to the nobility of Flor-
ence, Naples, and Rome. An amusing incident happened to
him with Torlonia, the banker, at Rome, to whom he took a
letter. Mr. Cabell, of Virginia, who was his travelling com-
panion, urged him not to present this letter, as he said it would
receive no attention. Such had been Mr. Cabell's experience
on another occasion. Irving, however, presented the letter,
and was received with the greatest warmth. Torlonia invited
him to all the balls and routs at his palace, and presented him
to his noble friends. Irving was delightfully surprised, and only
discovered the secret of this hospitality when he was about to
leave Rome. He called to pay his parting respects to Torlo-
nia, and the great banker, pressing his hand, warmly said :
" fetes vous, monsieur, parent de George Washington ? " A
descendant of Torlonia invited everybody to his palace, but it
is said that his major-domo would call the next day to demand
a napoleon for his services, which honorarium, wicked people
declared, he shared with his master.

Another anecdote is told concerning Irving's name. Two
ladies walking in the Strand, London, were heard discussing
George Washington. The elder of the two, the mother, ex-
claimed, "Who is George Washington?" "Don't you know?"
replied the daughter ; " he is the author of the Sketch Book''

ATTACHMENT TO SIR WALTER SCOTT.

One of the sweetest, tenderest, and most lasting friendships
of his life was formed in his early youth on his first visit to
Abbotsford. Irving loved Scott with almost filial love. He
thus describes him :

" He is a man that, if you knew, you would love ; a right
honest-hearted, generous-spirited being; without vanity, affec-
tation, or assumption of any kind. He enters into every passing
scene or passing pleasure with the interest and simple enjoyment
of a child ; nothing seems too high or remote for the grasp of his
mind, and nothing too trivial or low for the kindness and pleasan-
try of his spirit. When I was in want of literary counsel and
assistance, Scott was the only literary man to whom I felt I
could talk about myself and my petty concerns with the con-
fidence and freedom that I would to an old friend ; nor was I
deceived. From the first moment that I mentioned my work to

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Hawthorne's Favoritk Walk in the Woods.

—A Golden Age and its People.

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1896.] OF Washington Irving. 631

him in a letter, he took a decided and effective interest in it,
and has been to me an invaluable friend. It is only astonish-
ing how he finds time, with such ample exercise of the pen,
to attend so much to the interests and concerns of others;
but no one ever applied to Scott for any aid, counsel, or ser-
vice that would cost time and trouble, that was not most cheer-
fully and thoroughly assisted. Life passes away with him in a
round of good offices and social enjoyments. Literature seems
his sport rather than his labor or his ambition, and I never
met with an author so completely void of all the petulance,
egotism, and peculiarities of the craft ; — but I am running into
prolixity about Scott, who I confess has completely won my
heart, even more as a man than as an author ; so, praying God
to bless him, we will change the subject."

Scott's affection for Irving was almost paternal. From the
very first moment of their acquaintance he showed a deep
interest in his young friend, an interest that never lagged dur-
ing his life. He interposed his good offices in every way to
assist Irving. When the publisher of the Sketch Book failed
and Irving's great hopes from the publication were dashed to
the ground, Scott negotiated with Murray, the then fashionable
publisher, and though he had declined the work before, at
Scott's solicitation he readily undertook it. Murray ever after-
wards remained Irving's publisher, conducting himself, as Irving
says, in the most liberal spirit, and earning for himself the well-
merited appellation of the Prince of Booksellers.

IRVING'S admiration for BONAPARTE.

Irving, like a great many young men of his day, was an
ardent admirer of Bonaparte. At the time Napoleon was
sent to St. Helena he was in London, and thus writes concerning
the event : " I must say I think the cabinet has acted with
littleness towards him. In spite of all his misdeeds, he is a
noble fellow, and I am confident will eclipse, in the eyes of
posterity, all the crowned wiseacres that have crushed him by
their overwhelming confederacy.

" If anything could place the prince regent in a more
ridiculous light, it is Bonaparte suing for his magnanimous pro-
tection. Every compliment paid to this bloated sensualist, this
inflation of sack and sugar, turns to the keenest sarcasm ; and
nothing shows more completely the caprices of fortune, and
how truly she delights in reversing the relative situations of
persons, and baffling the flights of intellect and enterprise — than

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632 Personal Reminiscences [Feb.,

that, of all the monarchs of Europe, Bonaparte should be
brought to the feet of the prince regent.

** * An eagle towering in his pride of place

Was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed.* "

IRVING'S VISIT TO BALTIMORE AND WASHINGTON IN 181I.

" I remained," he writes, " two days in Baltimore, where I
was very well treated, and was just getting into very agreeable
society, when the desire to get to Washington induced me to
set off abruptly, deferring all enjoyment of Baltimore until my
return. While there I dined with honest Coale (the bookseller).
At his table I found Jarvis, who is in great vogue in Balti-
more, painting all the people of note and fashion, and univer-
sally passing for a great wit, a fellow of infinite jest ; in short,
" the agreeable rattle." I was likewise waited on by Mr.
Zezier, the French gentleman who has translated my history of
New York. He is a very pleasant, gentlemanly fellow, and
we were very civil to each other, as you may suppose. He
tells me he has sent his translation to Paris, where I suspect
they will understand and relish it about as much as they would
a Scotch haggis and a singed sheep's head.**

He thus describes his visit to Mrs. Madison*s drawing-room,
the centre of fashion and gentility at that day : " Here I was
most graciously received ; found a crowded collection of great
and little men, of ugly old women and beautiful young ones,
and in ten minutes was hand-and-glove with half the people
in the assemblage. Mrs. Madison is a fine, portly, buxom
dame, who has a smile and a pleasant word for everybody.
Her sisters, Mrs. Cutts and Mrs. Washington, are like two
merry wives of Windsor ; but as to Jimmy Madison — ah ! poor
Jimmy, he is but a withered little apple-John."

This extract shows the strong Federal prejudices of that
day, from which Mr. Irving with all his liberality of opinion on
political subjects was not entirely free. It is true he was then
a very young man, and it was the fashion of the time to speak
of Mr. Madison as Jimmy, and to ridicule his personal traits
for the purpose of bringing him into contempt. On his return
from Washington he was invited to dine with Miss Sprigg, a
prominent society lady of that day. The following letter, never
before published, accepting the invitation, will show the viva-
cious character of Irving*s mind at this time :

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1896.] OF Washington Irving. 633

Dear Madam : My friend General Kemble arrived in town
last evening, to depart to-morrow morning. Presuming upon
the flattering sentiments you have repeatedly expressed towards
him, I have ventured to tell him of your dinner-party, and that
I was sure he would be a welcome guest. If I have not been
too presumptuous in this matter, I should be happy to have my
suggestion ratified by a message from yourself. There is some
magnanimity on my part in this intervention, knowing that the
formidable Miss Sherlock * is to be present, and that through
her charms and machinations I may run the risk of losing my
last and most cherished of old bachelor allies.

Begging every indulgence for the liberty I have taken, I
remain, dear madam.

Very truly and respectfully yours,

Washington Irving.

Miss Sprigg, , Friday Mornings Marchy *i2.

P. S. — Should the addition of Mr. Kemble crowd your
table too much I am willing to take my place at a side table,
provided I may have some young lady to keep me compaiiy.

MATILDA HOFFMAN.

The circumstance that gave most coloring to the life of
Irving, and perhaps in some degree shaped his destiny, was the
death of his betrothed, Matilda Hoffman. This event occurred
on the 26th of April, 1809, in the eighteenth year of her age.
Irving was a pupil in her father's office and they were thrown
together in childhood. She was not a striking beauty, but is
described as being lovely both in mind and person, and united
great sensibility to marked grace of mind and playful humor.
The cause of her death was consumption. Irving never alluded
to this part of his history, nor ever mentioned Matilda Hoff-
man's name. In a memorandum found in his desk after his
death he thus feelingly, pathetically describes her last illness
and the sorrow which weighed upon his heart :

" The ills that I have undergone in this life have been
dealt out to me drop by drop, and I have tasted all their bit-
terness. I saw her fade rapidly away; beautiful, and more
beautiful, and more angelical to the very last. I was often by
her bedside, and in her wandering state of mind she would
talk to me with a sweet, natural, and affecting eloquence that

*Miss Sherlock was the richest heiress in Maryland at that time, and afterwards married
Governor Thomas Swann.

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634 Personal Reminiscences [Feb.,

was overpowering. I saw more of the beauty of her mind in
that delirious state than I had ever known before. Her mala-
dy was rapid in its career and hurried her off in two months.
Her dying struggles were painful and protracted. For three
days and nights I did not leave the house, and scarcely slept.
I was by her when she died ; all the family were assembled
round her, some praying, others weeping, for she was adored
by them all. I was the last one she looked upon. I have
told you as briefly as I could what, if I were to tell with all
the incidents and feelings that accompanied it, would fill
volumes."

The mental anguish that Irving suffered at this time must
have been very great, judging from his own description of it

Irving's Home.

given in the memorandum already referred to. He, however,
plunged into work and endeavored to dissipate his sorrow by
constant labor. Of a nervously sensitive nature, he felt the
need of combating grief by applying himself to literary occupa-
tion. There is no doubt that this early disappointment gave a
saddened expression to the whole of Irving's after-life. That
he appreciated the marriage state and the blessing of family
ties is very evident from the whole tenor of his writings. In
writing to a friend he thus gives his views in regard to matri-
mony :

" Your picture of domestic enjoyment indeed raises my envy.
With all my wandering habits, which are the result of circum-
stances rather than of disposition, I think I was formed for an

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1896.] OF Washington Irving. 635

honest, domestic, uxorious man, and I cannot hear of my old
cronies snugly nestled down with good wives and fine children
round them but I feel for the moment desolate and forlorn.
Heavens ! what a haphazard, schemeless life mine has been,
that here I should be, at this time of life, youth slipping away,
and scribbling month after month and year after year, far from
home, without any means or prospect of entering into matri-
mony, which I absolutely believe indispensable to the happiness
and even comfort of the after-part of existence. When I fell
into misfortunes and saw all the means of a domestic establish-
ment pass away like a dream, I used to comfort myself with
the idea that if I was indeed doomed to remain single, you
and Brevoort and Gono Kemble would also do the same, and
that we should form a knot of queer, rum old bachelors, at
some future day to meet at the corner of Wall Street, or walk
the sunny side of Broadway and kill time together."

matilda's bible.

A visitor to Irving's home thus touches upon this story of
his life. "It happened not long ago," he says, "that during a
visit to Sunnyside while Mr. Irving was absent I was quartered
in Mr. Irving's own apartment, and very deeply it touched me
to notice that upon the table which stood near the bedside,
always within reach, there was lying an old and well-worn copy
•of the Bible, with the name in a lady's delicate hand on the
title-page, * Matilda Hoffman ' ; more than fifty years had
elapsed, and still the old bachelor of seventy-five drew his daily
comfort from this cherished memento of the love of his youth."
This is a tender and pathetic incident, and evidences better than
any other fact the constancy and strength of Irving's affec-
tion.

Afterwards, during his long career, his name was associated
with that of many ladies both at home and abroad, notably
that of Miss Gratz, of Philadelphia; but all the rumors were
evidently idle and groundless. They served the purpose, how-
ever, of employing the minds of the quidnuncs and gossips of
the day.

A very strange story appeared in the August number for
1826 of BlackwoocTs Magazine^ and as the last news from Italy.
This was a report of the engagement between Washington Irv-
ing and the Empress Maria Louisa. It is needless to say that
this wedding did not come .off. The empress evidently failed
by her charms to dissipate the memory of the sainted Matilda,

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636 Personal Reminiscences [Feb.,

and, it may be presumed, in despair married the poor Italian
doctor as a dernier ressort. Next to marrying a poor author a
poor doctor is the best alternative. If Irving's residence in
Italy gave rise to this story his stay in Granada did still more,
for it conferred lasting honor and distinction on his guide,
Mateo Jimenes, and also on Mateo's son, Jos6. A traveller
who recently visited the Alhambra was immediately taken pos-
session of, upon his arrival at Granada, by a youth of the town,
who produced his plenipotentiary powers over English-speaking
strangers in the following card : " Granada — Jos^ Jimenes (son
of Mateo Jimenes, guide to Washington Irving), a native of the
Alhambra, respectfully offers his services to accompany stran-
gers, travellers and visitors to the Palace of the Alhambra and
the environs of the above-named capital ; for which his inti-
mate acquaintance with the antiquities and beauties which dis-
tinguish Granada eminently qualify him." It is scarcely neces-
sary for me to add that Jos^ Jimenes, son of Mateo Jimenes,
guide to Washington Irving, became a very distinguished man,
and proved himself not only a guide but a philosopher and
friend to every American and English tourist visiting Granada.

IRVING AS A LAWYER.

Irving was admitted to the bar in 1806 after a very desul-
tory course of study. Josiah Ogden Hoffman and Martin Wil-
kins, a witty advocate, were the examiners. Hoffman said, turn-
ing to Wilkins, as if in hesitation, although intending all the
time to admit him, " Martin, I think he knows a little law."
"Make it stronger, Joe," was the reply — "df — n little"; an em-
phatic declaration which Irving always said was just and well
merited. Irving's success at the bar was not very great. As a
speaker he was nervous and timid. He was apt to become em-
barrassed and hesitating, though in private he conversed with
ease and fluency.

Referring to this timidity Mrs. Howe says : " I met Irving
at the house of John Jacob Astor, the founder of the Astor
family in New York. The most prominent feature in his per-
sonal appearance ^as a wig, for in those days Balder was not
the god of beauty. I remember very well how he failed in an
effort to make a speech at a public dinner given by some dis-
tinguished gentlemen of New York in honor of Dickens, who
was then on a visit to this country. I was not a distinguished
gentleman, but some of us ladies heard the speeches at the
dinner from an adjoining room, after a custom that was preva-

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1896.] OF Washington Irving. 637

lent at the time. Irving was a very timid man, and he disliked
very much being called to preside over the dinner. When the
speech-making rolled around he started to say something, but
very soon remarked, * I can't go on,* and took his seat. The
trouble was that he had not learned to speak his piece, a trou-
ble that all of you can overcome early in life if you'll only try.
Charles Dickens covered up Irving's failure by getting up and
telling how much the American writer was beloved in England."

THE TRIAL OF AARON BURR.

The only legal case of great importance in which he was en-
gaged was the trial of Aaron Burr. Irving was the assistant
counsel in this remarkable case, and his sympathies were greatly
enlisted in behalf of Burr.

He thus writes from Richmond during the trial :
" I have seen traits of female goodness while at Richmond
that have sunk deeply in my heart — not displayed in one or
two individual instances, but frequently and generally mani-
fested ; I allude to the case of Colonel Burr. Whatever may
be his innocence or guilt in respect to the charges alleged
against him (and God knows I do not pretend to decide there-
on), his situation is such as should appeal eloquently to the
feelings of every generous bosom. Sorry am I to say, the re-
verse has been the fact — fallen, proscribed, prejudged, the cup
of bitterness has been administered to him with an unsparing
hand. It has almost been considered as culpable to evince
towards him the least sympathy or support ; and many a hollow-
hearted caitiff have I seen, who basked in the sunshine of his
bounty when in power, who now skulked from his side, and
even mingled among the most clamorous of his enemies. The
ladies alone have felt, or at least had candor and independence
sufficient to express, those feelings which do honor to humanity.
They have been uniform in their expressions of compassion for
his misfortunes, and a hope for his acquittal ; not a lady, I
believe, in Richmond, whatever may be her husband's senti-
ments on the subject, who would not rejoice on seeing Colonel
Burr at liberty. It may be said that Colonel Burr has ever
been a favorite with the sex; but I am not inclined to ac-
count for it in so illiberal a manner ; it results from that merci-
ful, that heavenly disposition implanted in the female bosom,
which ever inclines in favor of the accused and the unfortunate.
You will smile at the high strain in which I have indulged ;
believe me, it is because I feel it ; and I love your sex ten

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638 Personal Reminiscences [Feb.,

times better than ever. The last time I saw Burr was the day
before I left Richmond. He was then in the Penitentiary, a
kind of State Prison. The only reason given for immuring him
in this abode of thieves, cut-throats, and incendiaries was that
it would save the United States a couple of hundred dollars
(the charge of guarding him at his lodgings), and it would
insure the security of his person."

Irving's description of the meeting of Wilkinson and Burr at
the time of the trial is very graphic : " Wilkinson is now before
the grand jury, and has such a mighty mass of words to deliver
himself of, that he claims at least two days more to discharge the
wondrous cargo. The jury are tired enough of his verbosity.
The first interview between him and Burr was highly interest-
ing, and I secured a good place to witness it. Burr was seated
with his back to the entrance, facing the judge, and conversing
with one of his counsel. Wilkinson strutted into court, and
took his stand in a parallel line with Burr on his right hand.
Here he stood for a moment swelling like a turkey-cock, and
bracing himself up for the encounter of Burr's eye. The latter
did not take any notice of him until the judge directed the
clerk to swear General Wilkinson ; at the mention of the name
Burr turned his head, looked him full in the face with one of
his piercing regards, swept his eye over his whole person from
head to foot, as if to scan its dimensions, and then coolly re-
sumed his former position, and went on conversing with his
counsel as tranquilly as ever. The whole look was over in an
instant, but it was an admirable one. There was no appear-
ance of study or constraint in it; no affectation of disdain or
defiance ; a slight expression of contempt played over his coun-
tenance, such as you would show on regarding any person to
whom you were indifferent, but whom you considered mean
and contemptible."

irving's love of poetry.

In his later days Irving would read no poetry that was not
written by the great poets of his youth — such as Byron, Scott,
Moore. In his early years he had himself attempted verse, but
he soon discovered that this was not his forte. His friendship
for Campbell began when he was a very young man and con-
tinued during the life of the poet. He endeavored to aid
Campbell by having his poems published simultaneously with
their appearance in England, and he also got up a subscription
for a course of lectures on rhetoric to be delivered in America ;

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1896.] OF Washington Irving. 639

but the plan fell through, owing to the fact that Campbell was
unable to make the voyage.

When Irving was in Edinburgh he met at Scott's table, in
Castle Street, the Ettrick Shepherd, Hogg, who amused the
company not a little by the ease and freedom of his manner in
the presence of his social superiors. Quite a number of the
literati had been asked to meet the rustic poet at dinner.
When Hogg entered the drawing-room Lady Scott, being in
delicate health, was reclining on a sofa. After being presented,
he took possession of another sofa opposite to her and stretched
himself on it at full length; "for," as he after said, "I thought
I could do no wrong to copy the lady of the house." The
dress of the Ettrick Shepherd at that time was precisely that
in which any ordinary herdsman attends cattle to the market,
and as his hands, moreover, bore most legible marks of a recent
sheep-shearing, the lady of the house did not observe with
perfect equanimity the novel use to which her chintz was ex-
posed. Hogg, however, remarked nothing of all this ; dined
heartily and drank freely, and by jest, anecdote, and song
afforded great merriment to all the company. As the wine cir-
culated his familiarity increased and strengthened. From Mr.
Scott he advanced rapidly to Shirra (Sheriff), and thence to
" Scott," " Walter," and " Wattie," until at length he convulsed
the whole party by addressing Lady Scott as "Charlotte."

Irving was a great admirer of Charles Dickens. " Dickens,"
he was fond of saying, " is immeasurably above his contem-
poraries, and David Copperfield is his master production " — a
judgment, I think, which will meet with acquiescence on the
part of many people of good taste and sentiment.

irving's humor and pathos.

A story told by Irving to a visitor while they were munch-
ing apples in the orchard at Sunnyside is a happy illustration
of Irving's kindness and humor:

" I was watching the workmen, directing this one and that
one, lest the idea of my fancy might not be realized, when, on
turning, my eye caught this apple-tree, loaded with its fruit
(just as your eye did). It was a day like this, one of our
October days — our Highland October days, such as one lights
on nowhere else in the world, and this apple-tree bore that year
as it does not bear every year, yet just like this. Well, I left
my workmen and my talk (just as you did), and ate one of
those wind-falls (just as you did), and liked it (just as you did),

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640 Personal Reminiscences [Feb.,

and then I tried to knock some down (just as you did). Now,
while I was enjoying these fine apples (it was for the first
time) a little urchin — such as infest houses in building — a rag-
ged little urchin, out at the knees and out at the elbows,
came up to me and said, sotto voce, * Meister, do you love
apples ? * * Ay, that I do,* said I. * Well, come with me, and
rU show you where some are better than these are.* *Ah!'
said I, 'where are they?' *Just over the hill there,* said he.
'Well, show me,* said I. 'Come along,' said the little thief;
*6ut dorCt let the old man see us.* So I went with him — and
stole my own apples."

Many, perhaps all, of my readers have witnessed the play
of " Rip Van Winkle," and the singularly effective acting of
Mr. Jefferson in his personation of the old sleeper of the Cats-
kills. This personation has touched us all ; but to reach the
true tenderness, simplicity, and charm of the story one must
read the tale as told by Irving himself. No one can peruse it
with dry eyes or fail to be moved by its wonderful pathos.
The picture of old Rip, with his long, grizzled beard, his rusty
fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and the army of women and
children that had gathered at his heels — puzzled, bewildered,
confused, crying out in his despair — " God knows, I am not
myself — I am somebody else — that's me yonder— ^no — that's
somebody else, got into my shoes — I was myself last night,
but I fell asleep on the mountain, and they have changed my
gun, and everything's changed, and I am changed, and I can't
tell what's my name, or who I am," is inimitable. The only
circumstance that lightens the melancholy of this scene is the
drop of comfort communicated to him by the intelligence that
his wife was dead — that she had broken a blood-vessel in a fit
of passion at a New England pedlar.

CONCLUSION.

Irving's life was uneventful, and its calm course is reflected
in his writings : smooth, sedate, and serene ; impelled by no
passion, obstructed by no misfortune, and if the inspiration of
those who " learn in suffering what they teach in song " was
wanting, he did not miss and still less did he regret it. His
aspirations in literature were rather simple than ambitious, but
if they were not lofty they were pure. He gave pleasure by
being pleased himself, and he wrote as the lark sings, for the
mere delight of the occupation. He has left us no verses,
while he essayed history ; but he was more a poet than a histo-

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1896.] Of Washington Irving, 641

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642 Washington Irving, [Feb.,

riographer, a chronicler more in sympathy with Froissart than
with Prescott or Bancroft. He was a student, and prepared
himself for his work with conscientious researches ; but to him
tradition was more seductive than statistics, and he would wan-
der out of his course to follow a legend or record a myth. His
genius was epical. He loved to pursue the fortunes of heroes,
and he cared for no history that was not also romance. Isabella,
the Cid, Boabdil, Cortez, and Columbus ; Ponce de Leon, seek-
ing the Fountain of Eternal Youth amid the bright blooms of
Florida — such were the beings he loved to delineate and to
live with. Even his most perfunctory work, the Astoria, had
the same inspiration of adventure and the exploration of the
remote regions.

His Knickerbocker History is in its way a masterpiece, and
its quaint chronicles supply the only poetry in our annals. Its
delicate humor and benevolent satire, its vratsemblance and lo-
cal color, are all equally charming. What a proof of the power
of genius! to give immortality to heroes humble as the simple
burghers of this unromantic story — Wouter Van Twiller, Wil-
liam the Testy, Peter the Headstrong, and the rest. Its might
amounted to royal prerogative almost, and bestowed the only
patents of American nobility. The title " Knickerbocker " ap-
plied to a family is synonymous with aristocratic. Is there not
something of the irony of fate in the fact that the more ener-
getic Puritans, the more gallant Virginians, have been relegated
to the second rank in our social consequence because it pleased
Irving to evolve a commonwealth out of his inner conscious-
ness and dub it history?

But the more fantastic creations of his genius — the naive,
original, and lovable or laughable creatures of his imagination
will remain the most enduring. The warm-hearted host of
Bracebridge Hall will go down the centuries with Sir Roger
de Coverley; pretty Katrina, grotesque Ichabod, and tipsy Rip
Van Winkle will live in literature that is already becoming
classical.

These legends have done for the Hudson and the Catskills
what it has taken unnumbered poets to accomplish for the
Rhine and the Tiber. Their tender witchery — like moonlight —
lends poetry to every-day scenes, and exalts the commonplace
to the ideal, and by the interest they have given to localities
and persons have cultivated the love of humanity and inspired
patriotism.

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1896.] The Church and the Medical Profession, 643

HOW THE CHURCH HONORS THE MEDICAL
PROFESSION.

BY REV. HENRY A. BRANN, D.D.

•HE body is so intimately connected with the soul
and exercises such influence over its develop-
ment and the exercise of its faculties, that the
profession which is occupied with the study of
man's physical nature and its infirmities must
necessarily rank second only to the priesthood instituted for
the cure and safety of man's spiritual nature. The physician,
however, can never outrank the first. The soul is the form of
the body ; the soul is of a higher nature than the body, and there-
fore faith and morals are more important than surgery and drugs.
Yet surgery and drugs are often very beneficial, and sometimes
necessary to man's spiritual progress and to the exercise of
spiritual rights and privileges. The church often looks to the
physician rather than to the priest as a means of carrying out
her laws and her discipline. The physician's authority is re-
cognized in many of her most important laws. She adds her
own sanction to the precept of the Bible to "honor the physi-
cian for the need thou hast of him " (Ecclesiasticus xxxviii. i).
She has honored him from the days of St. Luke the physi-
cian, who wrote one of the four gospels; from the Christian
physician who saved the life of the Emperor Galerius Maximus
and afterwards induced him to withdraw an edict of persecution
against the Christians ; from the physician who helped to con-
vert St. Augustine ; to Alexander Petroni, the physician and
friend of St. Ignatius Loyola; to St. Bordegato, a Roman phy-
sician and benefactor of the poor, who died A. D. 1737. Even
those who have performed acts of heroism in cases of disease,
although they were not physicians, the church has specially
honored. Thus, she has declared John Colombini blessed for
his virtues and kindness to the sick. On one occasion he car-
ried on his shoulders to his own house a half-naked leper from
the door of the Cathedral of Siena. To Peter Claver, the Je-
suit who, as a volunteer hospital nurse, dressed the wounds and
sores of lepers, she has also given a place of honor on her
altars.

VOL. Lxii.— 41

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644 The Church and the Medical Profession. [Feb.,

In her laws the physician is specially honored. It is some-
times impossible for the candidate for holy orders to receive
them without the authority and the aid of the physician. He
who is to officiate as a priest must be free from certain physi-
cal defects which would either prevent him from properly dis-
charging his duties, or which would excite the wonder or the
disgust of the people or be a cause of scandal to them. The
twentieth title of the first book of the Decretals of Pope Greg-
ory IX. speaks of this irregularity or corporal defect which is
an impediment to the reception of Holy Orders, and sometimes
supervenes as an impediment to their exercise after ordination.
This defect may be in the eye, in the ear, in the tongue, in
the hands, limbs, or in the whole face and person, and may be
natural or the result of accident or disease. The bUnd, the one
who stutters or stammers, the mutilated, cannot in certain cases
be ordained, when the defect is substantial or very great. One
whose face is scarred with leprosy or deformed from some other
cause; one who is so lame that he would require the use of a
stick to say Mass, cannot be ordained. A grossly deformed
nose or mouth, or a defect in the thumb and index finger of
the right hand, prevents ordination. Hunchbacks, if notably de-
formed by their hump, cannot be ordained except by dispensa-
tion. Of course the required dispensation is often granted.
But the law is clear against ordaining those who suffer from
irregularity on account of bodily defect, or of permitting them
to say Mass if the deformity arises after ordination.

Hence the physician is of the greatest importance in all these
cases. By his skill and knowledge he may be able to remove
the defect and thus render the aspirant to Holy Orders fit for
the ministry. On the physician therefore, as much as on the
bishop or the pope, frequently depends the right to be a priest
of the Catholic Church.

In her laws of fasting and abstaining the authority of the
physician is a sufficient reason for dispensation or exemption.
The Catholic who has the physician's certificate that observance
of the law of abstinence or of fasting would seriously injure his
health is permitted to eat meat or three meals a day when he
wishes, even on Good Friday. The physician's authority is suf-
ficient to excuse a Catholic from the obligation of going to
Mass on Sunday. The same authority exempts a priest from
saying it on the days when the law orders him to do so, and
even from the daily reading of the breviary. The physician can
often dispense the layman and the priest from the observance

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1896.] The Church and the Medical Profession. 645

of church laws, although they cannot dispense themselves. The
only authority in a diocese which the bishop is bound to re-
spect is the authority of his physician. Even the pope obeys
his doctor.

The church will not canonize a saint without the sanction
of the physician. The miracles of healing alleged as proofs of
sanctity are not accepted on ordinary testimony, no matter how
good it may be. Expert and special testimony is required.
The cures are examined by physicians of the best standing in
the profession, and no cures are accepted as supernatural
which can be shown to be the result of natural causes. The
most thorough examination takes place in all such alleged
cures, and no court is more severe in the sifting of testimony
or in the cross-examination of witnesses than the Court of
Canonization of the Catholic Church. Thus, the physician very
often makes the saint.

The necessity of giving the last sacraments, and the propri-
ety of giving Holy Communion to the sick, are frequently decided
by the physician. Whatever doubt or hesitation the priest may
have in these cases disappears before the doctor's certificate.
The least zealous or the most tardy priest runs to the bedside
of the sick when the physician calls. The magic of his name
signed on a scrap of dirty paper will open the door of every
parochial house at midnight, and send every one of its priestly
inmates flying from comfortable beds out into the stormy night
to -the bedsides of the sick and dying.

In the sacrament of baptism the physician often takes the
place of the priest and gives the sacrament when no one else
could do so with propriety. In this case the physician, as the
representative of Christ and the church, purifies the soul of the
babe from original sin and makes it worthy of angelic associa-
tion. How holy, then, is the office of the physician, how seri-
ous his duty, how noble his work!

In the sacrament of marriage we again meet the physician
as an essential agent and witness in one of the most important
diriment impediments of marriage — the impediment arising from
impotency. As a question of fact this impediment, which nulli-
fies marriage and gives legitimate cause for divorce, is decided
chiefly by the physician. He either removes the cause by his
skill and thus renders the marriage possible, or he declares
that the cause cannot be removed and testifies to the facts
which form the basis of a declaration of nullity by the ecclesi-
astical judge. The fifteenth title of the fourth book of the

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646 The Church and the Medical Profession, [Feb.,

Decretals gives most interesting details on this important sub-
ject. It is worthy of note that a large percentage of the cases
tried in the Roman matrimonial court and recorded in the
Acice SanctcB Sedis deal with this peculiar impediment. The
testimony of the medical profession invoked in this case always
ranks the highest. ^^ Impotentiay* says Grand-Claude commenting
on the above-named title, " plene probanda est exploratione
medicorum et matronarum honestarum, a judice ecclesiastico,
cujus vicem agunt, electarum, suumque testimonium dant jura-
mento firmatum."

Thus the physician is the priest's brother. Both look after
the welfare of humanity. They meet at the cradle and at the
grave. The one gives spiritual relief and strength, while the
other gives physical relief and strength to the sick man. The
physician does not find the soul at the end of his scalpel, but
he finds a mysterious something greater and stronger than mat-
ter in the human being. Reason and the priest call that mys-
terious something a soul, and prove that it is immortal and
was created for eternal happiness. The priest and the physi-
cian work together in the way of benevolence, beneficence,
and courage. When the plague comes all fly but the priest
and the doctor. With courage greater than that of the soldier
who, stimulated by the exciting environment, storms the bat-
tery, they calmly face death in the perils of the pest in hospi-
tal or hovel ; in the dreary hovel of the poor where the sick
arc dying from typhus or cholera ; where there is nothing to
excite courage, but all tends to depression and despair. In
such cases the physician rivals the priest in self-sacrifice. A
good priest never deserts, and who has ever heard of a good
physician deserting his post under such circumstances?

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1896.] A Homeless City, 647

A HOMELESS CITY.

BY JOHN J. O'SHEA.

:EW YORK is a unique city. It lives very much
up in the clouds, in a way for which its very
tall buildings are not entirely responsible. Pos-
sessing the richest class in the world, the density
or indifference of this class to the condition of
the great mass is out of all proportion to the normal stupidity
and callousness of a plutocracy. Of course New York has some
philanthropists among those rich men. Many noble monuments
of their large-heartedness exist in the city. But all this is but
as a drop in the ocean. Compared to the resources of the mil-
lionaires ol New York, what their class has done for the mass
is the merest iota. When we know that there are several whose
millions reckon by the hundred, that there are many whose
millions may be reckoned by tens, and an army of lesser mil-
lionaires, we must confess that they have done little toward
making return to the people by whom their millions were
obtained, speaking broadly, and trying to make the paths of life
less thorny for those who toil.

New York is the one city where the paradoxical becomes
the true. It stands as a city at the head of civilization, and
yet in the veriest elements of civilization it occupies the lowest
plane of any city. Freedom is of its very essence, yet there
is no place on earth where there is more absolute slavery for
a whole working population. A merciless system of extortion,
from which they have no possible means of escape, encompasses
them all around, a veritable wall of brass. At the head of this
legalized mechanism of plunder stands the rent-screw. Search
the whole world over, and there is no place to be found where
the conditions are so favorable for the continuous and inevitable
fleecing of the masses in the name of rent as in this vast
and splendid-looking city. Its size and configuration all
seemed designed by nature as a mountain-fastness for a
feudal robber, to facilitate the operations of a vulture land-
lordism.

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648 A Homeless City. [Feb.,

A VERY HAPPY HUNTING GROUND.

A long, narrow strip of territory, closed in by two great
rivers, and cut off from the mainland by a belt-river — what site
could be less favorable to natural civic expansion than Manhat-
tan Island ? Its advantages as a point of debarkation for the
stream of immigrants from the Old World, whose coming was
as much a matter of certainty as the succession of the seasons,
made it an absolutely reliable investment for the land speculator
content to wait for a few years for his returns. The absence
of any responsible local government furthered the most ambi-
tious schemes. In all urban history there is hardly to be
found any parallel to the case of New York, whose affairs, as a
great trade emporium and the intellectual capital of the Amer-
ican continent, are looked after by a body of legislators sitting
a hundred and fifty miles away, and who for the most part
are conversant not with urban but bucolic life and needs. The
anomaly is almost grotesque in its absurdity.

It did not require the very shrewdest of speculators to com-
prehend the advantages here offered for judicious investments.
The nature of the ground, the tendency of redundant popula-
tions abroad, the law of social gravitation, and, above all, the
peculiar conditions of State constitution in America, affording
a guarantee of permanency in the relations of the cities to the
States, were conditions that offered themselves nowhere else to
the prophetic vision of the land-shark and the usurer. Hence
that tribe settled down in force in New York, as soon as the
direction of the European outflow began to be defined, and
now they have got themselves fixed upon its shoulders as secure-
ly and quite as unpleasantly as the old gentleman whom the
foolish mariner Sindbad was unfortunate enough to pick up at sea.

The old city grew up haphazard, but the modern one dis-
plays the highest science in its maladroit arrangement. To
secure uniformity, the planners of the ground annexed, when
the city jumped over the banks of its canal boundary, parcelled
out the land in blocks of twenty-five feet by one hundred feet
each. This decision proved to be the curse of the people, the
blessing of the land-sharks and speculating builders. It abso-
lutely insured the unsanitary character of the houses to be
erected, and it enabled the builder to crowd two buildings
where it was intended there should be only one. Out of this
monstrous blunder sprang the New York system of " flats " and

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tenement-houses, the worst examples of human lodgment to be
found amongst the great cities which come under the category
of civilized. Yard and playground are unthought of.

AN APATHETIC LEGISLATURE.

It is greatly to be regretted that no means have been taken
by the Legislature either to remedy this condition of things or
to enable public opinion to get light on it. It is only occa-
sionally that the average citizen finds his attention called to it
as by a lightning flash, when he sees a pile of household lares
and penates blocking the sidewalk, and perhaps a weeping
woman and children watching the heap. This reminds him
that there is not only a rent grievance in New York, but an
eviction law as merciless as the shears of Atropos. The sys-
tem of rent is in nearly every case payment by the month,
and in advance at that ; and if the tenant fail to pay this
rent, which is in the nature of a tribute, inasmuch as it is
exacted for no value as yet received, out he goes promptly.
A five-days' notice is all that is necessary to evict him. In the
winter humane magistrates have often interposed between the
landlords and their victims, by declining to grant ejectment
decrees. Nothing could more forcibly exemplify the infamy of
the system than this action. When the hand of Pity is habitu-
ally laid upon the sword-arm of Law, surely there must be
something organically wrong in the system under which the
mechanism of the law is set in motion. If we look into the
causes we shall easily find, in the vast majority of such cases,
how truly applicable to-day is the ancient maxim, "Summum
jus, summa injuria.'*

It is true that in a report of the Department of Labor for
the year 1894, which has just come to hand, some statistics are
given with regard to the housing of the poor. But this is only
a small branch of the subject. The report deals only with the
slum population of New York, enabling us to contrast their
circumstances and burdens with the slum population of three
other large cities — namely, Chicago, Philadelphia, and Balti-
more. It is not those who live in the slums merely who suffer
from rapacious landlordism and ignorant house-building ; all the
working and middle-class population of New York are equally
exposed to the dangers of disease and the danger of fire from
the same defiance of the laws of hygiene and the laws of
architecture, the difference being only one of degree.

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650 A Homeless City. [Feb.,

Two articles relative to this vital subject are to be found in a
book just published by the Messrs. Scribner. One is from the
pen of an eminent architect, Mr. Flagg ; the other by Mr.
William I. Elsing, non-sectarian minister. Both these articles
throw much light on the dark ways of New York tenement-
house life, but Mr. Flagg's is the more interesting inasmuch as
it advocates practical immediate remedies, and describes their
nature. Mr. Flagg is not content with mere principles in the
formulating of his remedy. He goes into the most careful
estimates and details, and shows how by the adoption of his
new style of dwelling a positive gain of no inconsiderable
amount would be effected in the erection of the buildings, while
those advantages of light and air and sanitary accommodations
which are under the present plan of building almost impossible
of attainment, can unquestionably be secured.

ANTEDILUVIAN METHODS OF BUILDING.

Agriculturists are credited with being the most conservative
people in the world with regard to the adoption of improved
methods. It is to the architects of the flat system of New
York that the palm of obstinacy in adherence to ancient ways
really belongs. The stereotyped character of these dwellings is
of a uniformity which defies all rivalry. The vast majority of
the houses are so identical in appearance, dimensions, and
internal arrangements that they suggest the idea of the bullet-
mould. The stupidity of this construction is not the only
thing which amazes the true architect when he studies their
wonderful features. The stupidity is far more costly than a
common-sense plan of construction could possibly be, as Mr.
Flagg clearly shows. A vast deal more building material is
consumed in the exclusion of light and air, and the making of
the buildings genuine death-traps in cases of fire, than the
adoption of an enlightened plan would entail. Mr. Flagg's dia-
grams and estimates prove this fact home.

NO HOME-LIFE POSSIBLE UNDER THE SYSTEM.

Under the present system of construction there can
be no real home-life in New York. What makes -the real
charm of home is the sense of perfect security and seclusion
that hedges it about. The architectural derangement of the
New York flat makes home in this regard utterly out of the
question. With two and three families stowed away on the

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1896.] A Homeless City. 651

floor, there is no privacy such as there should be for any family.
The narrowest of passages and the thinnest of partitions are
the only separation. The arrangements for seclusion on board
an ocean steamship are far better in many cases than those in
a New York fiat. Hence there is no city in the world which
is so. destitute of that most refining of all the influences of
modern life — the charm of the domestic hearth. And as a corol-
lary, there is none where the pernicious influence of the life
which is the foe of the home, that of the saloon and the
drinking club, can at all compare with New York. The evil is
of so appalling a magnitude, and apparently so deep-seated, as
to be well-nigh incurable, so long as the City of New York
is practically cut off from its natural easements, the riparian
lands of Long Island and New Jersey.

PRECAUTIONS AGAINST THE SUNLIGHT.

Mr. Elsing is responsible for the statement that into the
bed-rooms of three-fourths of the inhabitants of New York the
sun never shines. It is difficult at first to grasp the full signi-
ficance of this fact, but every medical authority compre-
hends it perfectly. The sunshine is no less necessary to human
life than it is to plant life ; and when we know that three-
fourths of the people whom we meet in the streets pass their
nights in places which are simply dungeons above ground, we
need not wonder at their ansemic and etiolate looks. But it is
not alone that every precaution has been taken by landlords
and builders that the people shall have no free sunshine ; free
air is equally barred out by a tariff to which the McKinley
scale was only a make-believe. The density of the population
in the tenement region of New York touches the spring-tide
mark ; it is twice that of the most crowded part of London, to
which the high-water record has hitherto been ignorantly ac-
corded.

NO CHILDREN WANTED.

Landlords have a repugnance to people with families.
Children will not be accepted as tenants in most of the better
class of tenement-houses ; hence those who have large families are
driven to the poorer districts, where the landlords are not so
fastidious, but these make up for their easy good nature by their
indifference to the requirements of decency, convenience, and
health in the care of their precious "property." In the hot

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652 A Homeless City. [Feb.,

months of summer and autumn the misery which these hapless
multitudes endure, packed into those sardine-boxes of tenement-
houses, is little short of the horrors of the slave-ship. It is
little wonder that the doctor and the undertaker have a busy
time in such mephitic districts. Were it possible to have an
earthquake like that of Lisbon, or a fire like that of London,
without any heavy reckoning to pay, the extinction of this vile
tenement-house system would be the greatest boon that fortune
could bestow upon New York.

MULCTED FOR RUNNING RISKS.

There is a grim irony in the fact that in proportion to the
danger to health and the danger from fire inseparable from those
barbarously constructed dwellings, so in proportion is the tenant
called upon to pay for incurring it. In no place, says Mr.
Flagg, do the poor pay such high rents as in this city, and the
additional premiums which the insurance companies charge for
dangerous construction are placed ultimately upon the shoul-
ders of those who have to run the risk of injury or loss of life
— the tenants. It is extremely difficult to get statistics on the
general subject of rent, as every street has its own scale, and
every division of a street as well. But it would not be too
risky to say that the average rent for the lodgment of a decent
mechanic in the more convenient portions of the city is fifteen
dollars a month for four so-called rooms. If the family be so
large that it requires a six or seven-roomed flat, he will cer-
tainly have to pay as high as twenty-five dollars. This estimate
is in all probability much under the mark, rather than in excess
of the truth.

IMMENSITY OF NEW YORK'S RENT-DRAIN.

The magnitude of this tax upon the industry of the people
can hardly be realized all at once. It represents an enormous
sum constantly wrung from their earnings — a sum out of all
proportion to the accommodation given, the need for which it
is paid, and the just economical relation of rent-charge to in-
come. There is no justification whatever for the extortion save
the topographical conditions. In the disparity between the
city's dimensions and the residential needs of a great popula-
tion the primary element which makes for successful extortion
is found. A secondary condition is provided in the desire of
the industrial classes to live close to the central portions of the

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1 896 J A Homeless City. 653

city, which is naturally the greatest focus of industrial activity ;
and in the inadequacy of the means of speedy transportation
from the extremities to the centre the most irresistible condi-
tion of all is discerned. In the overpowering need of accommo-
dation, owing to the phenomenally rapid growth of the city,
excuse is sought for the adoption of hasty and ill-considered
systems of domestic architecture ; but no moral justification
whatever can be pleaded for the frightful mulcting of the people
for the right to live in structures which in many cases are but
the preparatory wards of the public cemeteries. Famine prices
in time of dearth are intelligible in view of the natural greed
of mankind, but those who extort them are regarded not as
the friends but the foes of humanity.

PASSIVE AND ACTIVE PATERNALISM.

What is the cause of this evil ? Respect for the much-
abused shibboleths, the principles of freedom of contract and
right in private property, is the sole reason why the landlords
of New York are suffered to practise this monstrous extortion.
Any suggestion of interference with their sovereign will and
pleasure in the matter of rent-tax would be sure to be de-
nounced by the capitalist organs (which are neither few nor
uninfluential) as Socialist legislation. But it may seriously be
questioned whether abstention from such interference is not as
clearly Socialism as protective action would be. The immunity
which is accorded to the classes to fix whatever tribute they
please upon the masses can hardly be regarded otherwise than
as passive Socialism. No one can deny that there is a higher
principle than private right, however sacredly that may be re-
garded — the right, namely, of the community to the enjoyment of
life, of earth, air, and water. Transitory and accidental circum-
stances may be suffered for awhile to impede and curtail the en-
joyment of these elemental essentials ; but wherever it was sought
to make the restriction permanent, wise governments have never
been frightened by shibboleths when called upon to do their
duty by the people.

LONDON SOLVING THE PROBLEM.

We may instance the case of London, which is perhaps
the slowest and most conservative of great cities. Over that
vast human hive an almost magical change has come within
the past few years. It has been found necessary to in-

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654 A Homeless City. [Feb..

terfere for the housing of the people, and the interference
has been on the scale of a revolution. The city has been
wrested from the grasp of the capitalists and speculators,
and its entire public control placed in the hands of the people.
As a consequence wide areas are being devoted to the erection
of proper dwellings for the industrial classes at the lowest
remunerative rents, public reading-rooms, gymnasia, play-grounds,
schools, colleges, and museums are springing up in every divi-
sion. The taxation of the city is now devoted to the buying
up of great tracts of territory for building homes for the
people, providing public parks, and laying down railway and
street-car lines. For these purposes ample powers of borrowing
have also been provided by recent legislation. What a benefit
this means to the people, in the present and still more in the
future, can hardly be estimated. But it may afford a faint idea
of what this quiet social revolution means to state that the
money now handled by the local government of London for
the benefit of the people of London, all raised on taxable
property, amounts to the enormous total of about a hundred
and thirty-five millions of dollars.

We have but touched upon the fringe of a great subject ; in
the near future we may have some more to say upon matters
of closer detail in the same connection.

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1896.] The Story of Consolation Jones. 655

THE STORY OF CONSOLATION JONES.

BY PAUL O'CONNOR.

|T was a standing wonder in the community in
which she lived how she had become possessed
of so inapposite a Christian name, as a more
disconsolate woman never breathed than Conso-
lation Jones. But they had no business to won-
der, as Consolation would have lost no time to emphasize upon
their short-ribs by a vigorous poke of her umbrella — a weapon
of defence with which she could punch and parry with the ad-
dress of a fencing-master.

And what a singular name it was to give to a girl at her
christening ! Consolation, however, was not very much of a
girl. To use her own words, she was " no spring chicken," as
she would demonstrate to your satisfaction with an action un-
pleasantly suggestive of a decidedly vigorous and aggressive
old hen.

This disagreeable woman lived in a sequestered part of what
particular community is of no interest in the ravel and tangle
of this story. Her domicile was a shabby little building resem-
bling herself in appearance, for Consolation went about in shabby
black, suggesting rather dismally the idea of a burned-out sun's
dying eflfort to shine in a sputtering sunset. The house stood
in a scattering cluster of trees, the like of which for libels
upon nature was never seen elsewhere. They had scarcely
more sap in them than could have been squeezed out of Con-
solation's umbrella. The birds were ashamed to sing in them,
preferring the bushy-headed elms in the park of Stephen Gray-
son, across the way — of Stephen Grayson, the money-baron, too
proud to look down, too mean to look up, but staring ahead
between the walls of gold lining the vista of the future, and
ending in the mountain of Mammon which shut him in in the
distance, forbidding him to look beyond.

The cistern-box was the mouth-piece of an assemblage of
imprisoned echoes which never slept. All through the night it
would rumble with noises that might have been a mile away.

Her dog, a starved-looking terrier which slept all day and
barked all night, was a snappish thing with three legs, no tail,

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656 The Stor y of Con sola tion Jones, [Feb.,

and one ear. It had the most villanous-looking eyes that ever
snapped in a dog's head, and was appropriately named "Snarl."

Over a mantel-piece in the front room, and concealed by a
blue veil, hung the picture of a beautiful young woman, whose
face held the gaze by a tender light in almost tearful eyes,
which saddened while they brightened it. The words, " I have
suffered,'* might have been written under the shapely bust in-
stead of the inscription, " Lucy Laine " ; for sorrow wept in the
drooping head above it.

Night looked in at the windows from a fire-dotted sky, and
a smoky lamp burned upon a table, while near by crouched
Consolation. Snarl sat beside her, looking up into her face as
if inquiring what she was thinking about.

She had been thus for some time when she suddenly rose
and went to the picture over the mantel. Raising the veil she
peered at the beautiful face as it gazed sadly yet sweetly down
at her.

What a fascination it had for her ! But what a change came
over her as she gazed up at it, and — yes, smiledj Dropping
the veil, like one stung in a moment of good nature, she
screamed at the picture, while Snarl whirled and yelped about
her to fly up at it.

The storm subsided as suddenly as it had begun, when she
dragged an old chest from under a bed in a corner, and, open-
ing it, drew forth a roll of parchment and a bundle of papers.

These she read at the lamp, pressed them to her bosom,
and, having replaced them, shoved the chest back under the
bed with a look of satisfaction. Then noiselessly opening a
rear door, as if fearful of disturbing the echoes in the cistern,
which would have been sure to have one ready, she stole into
a back room.

Compared with the outer, the inner apartment was a cozy
little boudoir. A lamp hung from the ceiling, its light turned
low, but illuminating the face of a beautiful girl asleep on a
couch, while a double picture of the Sacred and the Sorrowed
Heart looked benignly upon her from the wall. A golden image
upon an ebon cross, encircled with a mother-of-pearl rosary,
hung over a holy-water vase within reach of her hand, reveal-
ing that the fair occupant of the chamber was that most beauti-
ful of human beings, a pious girl — how attractive to angels and
good men !

As the light was turned up one was struck by the close-
ness of resemblance between her face and that of the picture

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1896.] The Story of Consolation Jones. 657

in the outer room. Either she was the lady whose portrait
smiled yet looked sad, behind the blue veil, or she was the
woman's child. A smile played about her lips like a sunbeam
round an opening rose, as she lay dreaming ; and innocence
was so enwreathed with her beauty that the angels, stooping
over her, might have whispered " Sister ! "

Consolation gazed upon the snowy girl, and then, murmur-
ing " Darling," bent over her and imprinted a kiss on her tem-
ple. But this was set apart to be a night of interruptions.
There came a knock at the front door, resounding through the
house like a dead echo returned to life by way of the cistern-
box. Snarl appeared to recognize the coming of a friend, and,
instead of bounding to the door as if fired out of a catapult,
frisked about the room with every canine demonstration of wel-
come.

The next instant the door creaked open to admit a young
man. He had a pleasant, good-looking face, an eye bright with
the light of constant thought, and flashing with that high sen-
sitiveness of soul which poverty so loves to puncture. In man-
ner he was easy and graceful, joyous with the enthusiasm and
hopefulness of youth, and displaying a confidence and courage
which betokened him no mean adversary in a question of either
brain or brawn. That pleasing and sensible combination of
characters, the student and the athlete, stood out all over him.
His hair was brushed from the brow as by a habit of the hand,
and he was neatly, although plainly, clad.

The visitor was one James Morton, a disciple of Blackstone,
reading last wills and testaments in the office of Fidge and Fee,
attorneys-at-law.

" How do you do. Consolation ? " cheerfully saluted the young
man, taking her hands in his, and wringing them as if to hang
them out to dry. And, before she could formulate a protest,
he impudently snatched a kiss from her horrified brow.

" That's how I do ! " she answered, dealing him a slap which
set his ear ringing like a volunteer fire-bell at night.

"Cross, as usual, eh!" he exclaimed, rubbing his ear to take
the sound out.

"Sit down, Jimmie," said Consolation, setting the example
by dropping into a chair, " and tell us what you learned in law
to-day."

"I learned," began Morton, "that there is a flaw in the
deed which conveys to Stephen Grayson the property whereof
he is seized — a very material flaw."

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658 The Story of Consolation Jones. [Feb.,

" Aha ! " What a world of meaning was in the tone in which
that little exclamation was shot from her lips ; and what a look
flashed in her eyes !

" In other words/* concluded Morton, " I learned that the
property is not his."

" Jimmie ! *' almost screamed Consolation, " study hard ; we'll
run the quarry to bay at last. What else did you learn ? "

" I learned," he resumed, ** that there is in existence a will
made subsequently to that under whose provisions Grayson
holds his estates, although where it is, is unknown."

Again that " Aha ! " Again that look flashing in her eyes,
with what a world of meaning ! as she glanced at that old chest
under the bed. "Go on, Jimmie."

And "Jimmie" went on. "I further learned that Stephen
Grayson had been married previously to his wedding Lucy
Laine, by which union he came into possession of his property;
but that his former, as his latter wife is dead."

" It is a lie ! " screamed Consolation, while the umbrella,
half opened, shook like a tree with a gust of wind in it. "She
is no more dead than I, who am only too much alive for him."

"I learned also," said Morton, "that he has discovered little
Lucy to be his daughter, that he is informed as to her where-
abouts, and that he has taken legal steps to gain possession of
her to rectify that flaw in the will."

" Let him dare it," cried Consolation, " let him attempt to
take her from me, and a prison shall close him in for ever ! "

There was a slight appearance of the sublime in the little
woman as she said this — so slight, it might have been, as to
cause Morton to think of the ridiculous in connection with her
declaration, and to smile accordingly. A little woman like her
imprison the mighty man of money — how sublimely ridiculous !

She was about to say more, when the girl within stole into
the room like a moonbeam, the traces of sleep still upon her,
as they might naturally be upon a moonbeam, as it were a ray
from the lamp of slumber turned low.

If beautiful when wrapped in sleep, what was she now when
her eyes were opened from under her snowy temples like win-
dows in the sky? How deeply blue those apertures of light
were ! They were more luminous than those of the picture be-
hind the blue veil, for these had the light of life in them — yes,
and of love, for they glanced tenderly at young Morton, who
stepped quickly toward her with the exclamation :

" God bless you, little Lucy, how pretty you look ! "

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1896.] The Story of Consolation Jones. 65^

" Dear James," said the girl, as drowsily as if but half way
out of her dreams, and with just the faintest appearance of a
yawn about her pretty mouth, " how pale and worn you look;
You must not study so much, dear." And she chidingly patted
him upon the cheek as if proud of him.

Just then, feeling a fit of the ** flares " coming over her, Con-
solation screamed at the girl :

"Get back to bed! Ain*t it enough for me to owl it as I
do, without you ghosting around at this hour ? "

" Now, dear Miss Consolation," pleaded the girl, putting her
arms round the queer creature's neck, " you will not scold me
to-night ? "

"Yes, I will," cried Consolation, in a tone which plainly
said that she would not, although she did. " Miss ! " she ex-
claimed with an attempt at vivacity which a one-legged bird
might have made at a hop, or the dog at a dance on all threes ;
"Stephen won't think me much of a Miss when I hit at him."

" Stop, Consolation," interrupted Morton ; " you must not
speak harshly to Lucy. You know she will be my wife one of
these days. I mean when I shall have ferreted out your case,"
he added ; " although as to just what you are driving at in pit-
ting James Morton against Fidge and Fee in a legal dog-fight,
I confess I am in a dense fog in mid-ocean, with Blackstone
overboard."

"You will know what I am driving at soon enough, and so
will he, fog or no fog, with Blackstone at the helm," she an-
swered, with a mixture of the legal and the nautical which
would have made a marine lawyer sea-sick.

At that moment, startling into active life a few sleepy echoes
among the trees over the cistern, came a knock at the front
door, which was pushed open without further ceremony to
reveal four men in the door-way.

The first was a gaudy gentleman, who had one of those
hard-looking money faces which may be seen in Wall Street,
but never elsewhere, except the bad place. He had eyes of
the color of soapstone, and avarice was enwreathed in his visage
like the garland on a dime. The second was an uneasy little
person unable to rest long in one place. Another was a large
gentleman, who had a habit of working his fingers as if hand-
ling money. These two were the respective members of" the
firm of Fidge and Fee. The other person was an officer of
the law.

" Miss Jones, I believe ? " began the soapstone gentleman,

VOL. LXII.— 42

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66o The Stor y of Con sola tion Jones. [Feb.,

bowing to Consolation, as Snarl, after one glance at his face,
darted under the bed. " And,'* he went on, as his eyes fell
upon the girl, "the young lady known as Lucy?"

"You seem to be well informed," snapped Consolation.

" Miss Jones,*' he inquired, " how long have you had this
girl in custody?"

"She is not in jail, sir," again snapped Consolation.

" I mean, how long have you had her in adoption ? "

" Ever since her mother, whose heart you broke and whom
you robbed, Stephen Grayson, as you had robbed Marion Mount,
died in my arms," answered Consolation, with all the venom
she could throw into her . tone, " when that child was three
months old."

The man recoiled, and stared at her as if his gaze would
have burned her. But the brave little woman was not to be
awed by a stare.

" What do you know of Marion Mount ? " he demanded,
stepping toward her.

" More than may be conducive of good health to your con-
science," said Consolation, pointing her umbrella at him. "An-
other step, Stephen, and I'll poke this into your ruffian ribs.*'

"Woman," said Grayson, clutching her by the shoulder, *'I
am not here to waste words with you, but to take that girl as
my child from your wretched den."

" She shall not stir from this house," said Consolation, throw-
ing his grasp from her as if it had been the touch of a toad.
" Dare but lay your hand upon her to take her from me, and
the penitentiary shall entomb you ! "

" What do you mean ? " he demanded, staring at her.

" I'll show you," she answered ; and the chest under the bed
was dragged out on the floor and thrown open.

"Do you see this?" she asked, unrolling the parchment.
" It is but a piece of scribbling, yet it strips you of all you
possess. It is the last will and testament of Daniel Laine,
devised one year after that which left his wealth to his only
child, Lucy, to be picked and plucked by you."

Fidge moved uneasily, and looked at Fee ; Fee \vorked his
fingers, and looked at Fidge ; both exclaiming — " The missing
will ! "

" Herein," said Consolation, " he wills his property to his
daughter with the proviso that, if she wed you, she is to re-
ceive, for her natural life, but an annuity from the estate,
which is devised, in that contingency, to her issue when of

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1896.] The Story of Consolation Jones. 661

legal age ; she failing of such issue, his possessions, at her
decease, to escheat to the state. He has provided even against
your obtaining control of his property in any manner, by
appointing a trustee of the estate and guardian of his heir at
law, in the person of an old friend of his, Father Bertrand, of
this parish, who has taken care of her soul as I of her body ;
this will to be wierican, rather than an Asiatic town. A
wide, clean, tree-bordered street, with fine comfortable houses,,
most of them embowered in shrubs and covered with flowering
vines and occupied by a decidedly Teutonic-featured race, will
be noticed. Farther on, extensive olive-groves, vineyards, and
well-cultivated fields add to the delusion. These are the prop^
erty of a German colony who settled here some years ago, when,
this place was a barren waste. They have demonstrated that
a country which Mohammedan Arabs have made a wilderness-
could easily be made again ** A land flowing with milk and.
honey."

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1896.] The City of Redemption. 669

the germ-place of christianity.

Ascending the hill — it is the far-famed Mount Carmel — a fine
Carmelite monastery will be found where once abode Elias and
Eliseus and the " School of the Prophets." The cave where
dwelt these holy men, and unnumbered others since their time,
is situated beneath and behind the high altar of the church, in
about the same condition the prophets left it, when, departing
for the journey to the Jordan, which ended for Elias in heaven
and for Eliseus in the possession of wondrous supernatural

Station of the Cross.

powers, inherited with the former's mantle. The blood of un-
numbered martyrs has soaked this soil since and served to sanc-
tify still more a spot always considered, and still regarded,
even by the Mohammedans, as most sacred. Hither even they
come to pray at stated periods, and to carry away whatever
they can lay hands upon — through veneration, of course, for
the place and its possessions. Welcome hospitality is afforded
all pilgrims in the monastery.

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670 The City of Redemption. [Feb.,

What else would a pilgrim find on Carmel to interest him ?
A verdure and richness in variety of trees, shrubs, and flowers
not to be met with elsewhere in Palestine, owing to its being
surrounded on three sides by the Mediterranean Sea; many
hermits* grottoes, amongst them that of St. Simon Stock, which
is now a chapel ; also the one that served for the " School of
the Prophets," wherein the Holy Family is said to have dwelt
for some time after returning from Egypt ; numerous crystal
clusters and melon-shaped petrifactions with which an interest-
ing legend is connected.

If one venture along the top of the ridge, a beautiful grove
of fig, lemon, almond, and olive trees will be noticed in the
valley below, where forty martyrs suffered. A little farther on
is the fountain of Elias, which was found in the year 1238 filled
with their bones. The history of Carmel contains accounts of
the periodical martyrdom of its holy dwellers. God grant that
such another period is not now upon them ! There are those
still dwelling there, both Mussulmans and Druses, as capable as
their ancestors of any atrocity.

SOUVENIRS OF CHIVALRY.

Beyond the beautiful bay on the north, whose shore is strewn
with shells that yielded the famous Tyrian dye, and across
which is a sail of only an hour and a half, is the renowned St.
John d'Acre, the headquarters of the Knights of St. John and
of the Christian Kingdom of the Orient up to 1291. In it and
in Haifa are two Franciscan churches and three other Catholic
churches, in connection with each of which is a school. A little
farther south — eight or nine hours* ride — is Caesarea, and ten
hours more Jaffa. Above Acre is Tyre, ten hours, and seven
hours farther north is Sidon. Every step of all this way abounds
with historic interest ; and, were the Turk but civilized, accom-
modation could hardly be found for the multitudes that would
annually throng hither, and the still more historic and pictur-
esque shore of Asia Minor west and north of it.

A ROUGH ROAD.

• Descending Carmel, and leaving Haifa behind, the traveller
faces eastward for . Nazareth. Unless he can swim with his
clothes on, it is better not to attempt this route during the
" early or later rains," for the Moslems thousand years' posses-
sion has riot enabled them to bridge three little streams that
must still be forded by the ramshackle spring wagon, the only

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1896.] The City of Redemption. 671

available conveyance excepting a donkey, camel, or horse.
Some ruins — they are encountered everywhere in Palestine —
are passed, and four or five miserable native and two Druse
villages, composed of flat-roofed, windowless, mud huts huddled
together, and as dirty within and around as they could be,
where dark-haired, dark-skinned, black-eyed, half-naked little Arabs

Tower of the Forty Martyrs at Ramleh.

gambol in true Turkish n^gligd fashion. They and their mothers
look at you indifferently, and if time will permit approach you
with outstretched hand crying ** Bakhshish ! " Horrid sound ! It
haunts one everywhere, under all circumstances, times, and places.
The babe will let go its mother's breast and lisp it at you ; the
boy's piping voice ejects it at you ; the coy maiden flashes her

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672 The City of Redemption. [Feb.,

jet-black eyes on you — if she be not suffering from ophthalmia,
as most of them are — repeating it whilst you remain in sight ;
the man with whom you conclude a transaction is sure to make
it the last word ; the aged will pass the crutch or stick to the
other hand, to hold one out, croaking this detestable " Bakh-
shish." It means " Give me something ! " — and when you do
they all either turn away thanklessly or begin over again.

On the way Japhia of the book of Joshua, the home of
Zebedee, is passed, where there are two Catholic churches and
an excuse for a Protestant school. Over the plain Kishon,
where barley and wheat are growing, and past many an olive-
grove ; up and down and around many a sinewy turning winds
the neglected road until, after a considerable ascent has been
topped, Nazareth is sighted.

NAZARETH THE TRANQUIL.

There it lies embosomed in hills and surrounded by fig,
olive, orange, and pomegranate trees, a picture even to-day of
restfulness and repose. This quiet that ever seems to have
characterized it — for it was hardly known or heard of until the
Holy Family's residing there made it for ever famous — fitted
it specially for the childhood of Him who "would not contend
or cry out," who was so gentle and unobtrusive that he would,
as it were, so guide his foot as " not to tread even upon the
broken reed." It is as still and as undisturbed by the busy
hum of traffic, or the rattle of machinery, as in the days of
Mary's maidenhood, or when the quiet Boy Redeemer, in her com-
pany and that of gentle Joseph, ascended the hill leading into
it on the sultry summer evenings to inhale the cool sea-breeze
from the Mediterranean, or gaze upon the stars that peeped
out in the cloudless azure immediately after sundown* From
thence they could see, as the modern traveller may notice from
the same spot, the gradual slope leading to the precipice whence
His ungrateful townsmen sought to "cast him down headlong."
On its top are now the ruins of a chapel, with an apse cut out
of the rock and the remains of an ancient mosaic pavement.
Spreading out from its base is the great plain of Esdralon,
which in spring-time is covered over, as far as the eye can see,
with growing crops and little flocks of sheep, goats, and cattle,
in charge of children ; for fences or hedges are unknown in
Palestine. This plain, the greatest and best in the country,
seems bordered on the south by El Touleh, to the left of which
is Lesser Hermon, which is connected by a chain of hills (one

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1896.] The City of Redemption, 673

of which is Gilboa, where Moses died) extending parallel to the
Jordan from Lake Tiberias, a little to the north-east, to the
Dead Sea, south-east of Jerusalem. On the northern extremity
of this range is Great Hermon, and farther north Lebanon, both
perpetually snow-capped. Quite near the town, a little east of
the precipice, is beautiful flower-bedecked Thabor, only two and

♦* The Steep and Narrow Streets."

one-half hours* ride distant. Nairn is only about one hour east
of it.

All these are visible from the hill overlooking and leading
into Nazareth. Descending it and past the Convent of Clarisses,
and the hospitable Franciscan Convent, and into their church,
we perceive in front of the altar three flights of steps, the cen-
tre one descending, the two outside ones ascending to the high
altar ; the former leads to a cave-chapel against which stood
the Holy House, transferred on May, 10, 1 291, by angelic hands,
to Loretto, in Italy. Here it was that Mary and Joseph dwelt ;

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6/4 The City of Redemption. [Feb.,

here the mystery of the Incarnation took place ; here Hved the
Saviour of the world for over twenty-five of the thirty-three
years of his mortal life. How holy must this spot be ! "Verily
this is the House of God.*'

THE HOLY HOUSE.

Three little apartments connected by one wide and one nar-
rower opening, and called respectively the chapels of the An-
gel, of the Annunciation, and of St. Joseph, compose all that is
left now of the Holy House in Nazareth. In the centre one,
beside the altar, are two pillars, one twisted and broken and
depending from the rocky roof, the other, one and one-half
feet distant and two feet high, resting on the ground. The
latter marks the position of the Blessed Virgin Mary when she
received the angel's message ; the former that of the angel.
No power of the Mussulman spoiler, though often exerted, has
been able to wrench it from its place.

It is hard to imagine how a Christian could bid farewell to
this hallowed spot, with all its sweet memories, otherwise than
with regret. Not a little reluctance also is experienced at
parting from the good Franciscans, who keep an open house
for all comers, and who, as the custodians of the Holy Places
in Palestine, are above all praise for their fidelity. Not only
do they lovingly tend them and minister to pilgrims, but con-
serve all the traditions clinging to them. About two years ago
they discovered the exact foundations of the Holy House,
whose dimensions correspond precisely with those of Lorettc —
" Murray '* and " Baedeker *' and all the other flippant guide-
books to the contrary notwithstanding. They also discovered,
about the same time, the foundations of the chUrch built by
St. Helena on the site of Joseph's workshop ; although the
oracles quoted it as merely mythical.

HOLY GROUND.

Heading for Jerusalem, the next noteworthy thing encoun-
tered is "St. Mary's Well,** the only one ever known in
Nazareth, and that from which the Virgin Mother, and, doubt-
less, also the Divine Child, many a tinrl^ drew water. It is
probably, in the same state now it was in their day.

The Lake of Tiberias is left behind to the north-east about
seven hours* journey. The city of Naim, where the first rest is
made, consists of a few wretched clay huts. Passing under
the shadow of Mount Thabor, which rises abruptly from the

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1896.] The City of Redemption. 67$

Plain of Esdralon, like a mighty truncated cone, the journey
to Jerusalem lies through places abounding with interest- for
every reader of the Bible. It is with regret that I feel com-
pelled to pass them by without mention, the Holy City being
the principal subject of this paper.

At last the top of the rocky ridge of Mount Scopus is
gained, and lo ! Jerusalem, once the holy, the lauded and ad-
mired of all the cities of earth, comes into view. Holy of the
holiest was it to the Jew, who still venerates its stones and
weekly weeps over them ; holy is it still to the Christian, for
there were fulfilled all the figures and promises of the old dis-

The Shores of the Dead Sea.

pensation ; holy must it ever be, for it was sanctified by the
life, labors, miracles, preaching, blood-shedding of the Man God.
No wonder that a strange sensation comes over one on gazing
at its two glittering domes, its lofty minarets, flat-roofed houses,
circumscribing walls, and singularly striking surroundings. These
latter consist, except on this northern side, of valleys that have
a significance that no others can have ; Josaphat, on the east,
where one day before all assembled humanity every one's fate, for
eternity, will be decided. Gehenna, now called Hinnom, and Kid-
ron, a part of Josaphat. No wonder that speech fails, and the
long, wistful gazing of part curiosity and part wonder ends in a
bowed-down attitude. The knees instinctively bend, the hands

VOL. LXXI.— 43

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676 The City of Redemption. [Feb.

clasp, the heart throbs, and pent-up feelings find vent in tears
and sighs rather than in words.

Away in the south, on the other side of the city, in the not-
distant horizon and along on the left, are the Mountains of
Moab, of a remarkably hazy blue appearance, owing to the ex-
traordinary evaporation, ever going on, from that hottest of
valleys, whose lowest part is the Dead Sea. The Jordan, like
a thread of silver, may be seen meandering into it, where it is
swallowed up for ever, there being not one solitary outlet for
the escape of a single drop of water ; ominously expressive of
the fate of the wicked inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah and
the other cities of the Plain, there swallowed up after Lot's es-
cape. In the nearer east — to the left, looking south — is Mount
Olivet, separated from the city by the Kidron Valley, through
the centre of which a rivulet flows in winter and in the rainy
season ; south of the city and westward is the Hinnom Valley.
These two are U-shaped and enclose a kind of irregular pla-
teau composed of four hills, whereon Jerusalem is perched.
' Volumes have been written on their names and exact location,
but the city has been so often wiped out that it is extremely
difficult now to decide on either. It will be sufficiently ac-
cui-ate, and in accordance with the general opinion, to state
that Bezetha was on the north-east, Akra on the» extreme south-
east, and Sion between them, on whose norftiern part, called
Mount Moriah, was located the glorious temple of Solomon, of
which there now " remains not a stone upon a stone."

The city and Tower of David were on the lower part out-
side the present city wall, and being cultivated, in verification of
the prediction of Jer. xxvi. 18: "Sion will be turned up like a
ploughed field." Opposite Sion, on the east, and outside the
walls, is Olivet. On the other side of Sion is Mount Gareb, in-
side the walls, with the Tyropoean Valley between them. Mount
Calvary, formerly outside, is now and since the Crusades en-
closed by the city walls. It may be said to be part of the long
hill extending along the whole western side of the city. Much
confusion about the topography of the place results from there
having been so many cities of Jerusalem built in the same
place, the walls of which varied in each. A considerable por-
tion of the present northern part is now included, whilst the
whole unoccupied part on the south down to the valley had
once been part of the city. Another cause of the confusion is
the designating of the four sides by the terms N., S., E. and W.,
when, in reality, the eastern wall is the only one partially true

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1896.] The City of Redemption, 677

to this appellation. The so-called N. wall runs N. E., and the
S. the same. Part of the W. wall turns out to meet the N.
wall and forms an angle pointing due W. It is in the re-
entrant angle of this portion of the wall with the other portion
that the famous Jaffa Gate is situated. If a line were drawn
from this gate eastward, across the city, and it were intersected
by another in the centre at right angles, the four quarters
would mark the location of the four races now inhabiting the

Spot where Jesus met his Mother.

city, Mohammedans on N. E., Jews on the S. E., Christians
(Latins and Greeks) N. W., Armenians on the S. W. There
are two irregular streets thus crossing, and thus, in a rough
way, marking off these quarters. That leading from the Jaffa
Gate eastward is the only orte having any resemblance to a
European street ; the other and all the remaining " streets " are
mere divisions, lanes, alleys, labyrinthine convolutions, without
beginning, and sometimes without end, as they return into
themselves ; but too often also terminating in a dead wall.
This makes it dangerous for strangers to wander from the two

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6/8 The City op Redemption. [Feb.,

principal ones unaccompanied, or without a guide, especially
near or into a portion occupied by a black Moslem colony,
called " Moghrebins."

Of course every race in the world is represented in the
motley crowd now occupying Jerusalem, but never is there any
sign of intermingling either in language, dress, customs, and,
least of all, religion. Excepting in the Christian quarter, inde-
scribable dirtiness and raggedness, and a total setting at naught
of all sanitary and hygienic laws, characterize the habits,
habiliments, and habitations of the others. As to order, the
treatment of the camel who "pokes his nose against your back
or past your cheek to have you make way for him, as he
patiently plods along the narrow thoroughfares, ascending or
descending the ' stair-steps ' sometimes composing them, or
beneath the archways covering them, stopping to rest, if he
cannot crush through, or lying down, if the (too often cruel)
driver that keeps a perpetual sore on his under jaw to torture
him into action will permit, and then, when goaded, rising with
a groan, is fairly typical of that prevailing in Jerusalem.
Whilst there is most rigid enforcement of everything pertaining
to taxes (legalized " Bakhshish ") and whatever can bring them,
all else is *go as you please,' and, of course, sublime adher-
ence to the motto of the other poor beast of burden, the
donkey, * Everybody for himself,' etc.," predominates. But the
limits prescribed forbid reference to a thousand other things of
interest, and necessitates that only the principal, the Christian
associations, be touched upon.

The history of Jerusalem from its foundation by Melchise-
dech (concerning whom letters have recently been discovered
amongst the Tel-el Amarna tablets), in 2023 B.C., to the destruc-
tion of it and of its glorious temple in A.D. 70, and its multi-
tudinous vicissitudes since, would fill many volumes. A descrip-
tion of it even as it is to-day would require one to itself;
accordingly, only to the Holy Places in it can reference now
be made. To see and understand and be persuaded that the
memory has indeed been truly kept of them ; but, above all, to
realize, with a vividness not otherwise to be had, the wondrous
mysteries associated with them,' one must abstract from their
strange and repulsive surroundings, and look with the mind's
eye enlightened by faith beneath all of it. Now, this is impos-
sible in a flying visit of a few days, such as the itineraries of
travelling caterers provide. Leisurely, prayerfully, as well as
intelligently, each sacred spot must be visited, and this is just

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1896.] The City of Redemption. 679

what modern American rush will hardly brook; hence so much
disappointment amongst " tourists," so many contradictory re-
ports of returned travellers ; none such arc found amongst true
pilgrims' reminiscences.

Entering through the crowd of Arab or Bedouin wanderers,
who may be found tenting outside the Damascus Gate, the first

Olive-Tree, Garden of Gethsemani.

one encountered after descending Mount Scopus, or, better still,
going around to the eastern side, to St. Stephen's Gate (outside
of which the first Christian martyr was stoned), one can make
the Stations of the Cross along the Via Dolorosa^ which com-
mences a little way on, after passing the famous Pool of Pro-
batica, which is just inside this gate. A few steps beyond it,
and a few minutes* walk to the left, give a view of the Temple

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68o The City of Redemption. [Feb.,

Area, the court-yard, or great terrace, whereon once stood
man's grandest structure to the living God, Solomon's Temple,
and the others that replaced it. Two infidel mosques now dese-
crate the sacred site — that of Omar, over the very outer court
of the temple proper, beneath whose dome is the rock on
which Abraham was- about to sacrifice his son, and on which
countless hecatombs of victims were offered up, until the Divine
Victim, whom they all prefigured, fulfilled them, by his all-
sufficing single sacrifice of himself on another rock, not far
distant. Behind — that is, farther south — at the extremity of the
terrace, is the mosque el-Aksa, beneath which are vast subter-
rean colonnaded courts, called Solomon's Stables, and strange
caverns not easily described. Than this spot there is no other
on earth so abounding with mysterious underground passages,
vaults, etc. -^

No Christian is allowed beyond the terrace gate, except at cer-
tain times, and with a Turkish official, and 'one from his nation's
consulate. No Jew dare enter under any circumstances at any
time; but, even if permitted, he would not lest4vfe tread on the
site of the *' Holj^ of Holies."

This terrace extends to the south wall 518 yards on east
side, and 536 yard^ on west side ; its boundary on east and
south being part of the city wall. It is 309 yards in width
on the south ^nd 351 yards on the north, where the reader
is supposed to be standing. In the corner, to his right,
stood the Praitorium of Pilate, where our Lord was qMidemned
and where the " Way of the Cross " commences, instead of
endeavoring to describe in words — a very difficult thing — the
various points in our Lord's painful pilgrimage to C!alvary,
illustrations of them are given, which very correctly represent
their present state. The places of the Scourging, Crowning with
Thorns, Ecce Homo are in or near what is now a Turkish bar-
racks. Every Friday the Christians gather near it in the nar-
row street and publicly perform the stations, the various points
being marked by an easily recognized symbol ; for example, the
mark of the stairs our Lord descended is still in the barrack wall.
Again, after descending the hill leading from the arch where he
was exhibited and condemned, and turning a corner, there is a
convent chapel, in which the footprints of his Blessed Mother
are represented in mosaic, indicating where his meeting with her
took place.

No one wonders, going over the ground, that he fell
coming down this hill ; for it is hardly possible that a cross

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1896.] The City of Redemption, 681

sufficient to bear a human body could be carried down it
without the bearer stumbling and falling. Nor is it otherwise
than most likely that he fell again trying to ascend the next
incline, which was much more steep then than now, as exca-
vations have revealed. It is thought that the structure pointed
out as Veronica's house is the identical one the heroic woman
inhabited. A piece of a pillar encrusted in the pavement indi-
cates it. The eighth and ninth stations, are hard to be got at
except by one who knows the way around, owing to the road
being impassable directly leading to them. The last five are
within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

There is no such church in the world as this. Within it
are included the veritable Calvary whereon the Redeemer ex-
pired, and the very sepulchre in which his mangled body
reposed until the moment of the resurrection, when, glorious,
immortal, and impassible, he passed through that very stone
within which and on which — oh, privilege of privileges! — his
pilgrim priests to-day can offer the very same sacrifice he con-
summated on the neighboring height. But to this sacred place
and the many tender memories clinging to it, and the various
sites of great events, whose remembrance his faithful followers
could not possibly forget or be mistaken about, justice could
not be done within the limits of this article.

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682 Catholic Schools and Charities [Feb.,

CATHOLIC SCHOOLS AND CHARITIES UNDER
THE NEW CONSTITUTION.

BY JOHN T. Mcdonough,

Member of the Constitutional Convention,

T is interesting to learn what the legal status of
Catholic schools and charities is since the adop-
tion of the new organic law for the State of New
York. Prior to the year 1894 no general revision
of the Constitution of this State had been adopted
since that submitted to the people by the convention held in 1846.
Although the convention of 1867 was composed of some of the
ablest men in the State, including Horace Greeley, Samuel J.
Tilden, George William Curtis, Sandford E. Church, William M.
Evarts, Charles J. Folger, Francis Kernan, Martin I. Townsend,
John E. Devlin, and William Cassidy, and although they spent
twice as much time as our late convention in preparing their
revision, their work, except the judiciary article, was rejected
by the people.

Because of this failure to revise the Constitution, the elec-
tion of delegates to the convention of 1894 attracted unusual
attention. Those persons and organizations, and they were not
few in number, who contemplated radical changes in the organic
law took a most active part in the campaign with a view of
electing delegates who would be likely to favor their schemes.
-^ . Two associations were noted for their aggressive efforts in
this direction during the canvass, one commonly called the
" A. P. A.," and the other " The National League for the Pro-
tection of American Institutions." The circulars, appeals, and
pictures sent out to voters by the former association were of
the rude and vulgar kind. One of these pictures represented a
fierce-looking tiger, labeled " Romish Influence," apparently in
the act of clawing *' Liberty " and tearing "public schools**
all to pieces, and underneath it the words, ** The pet from the
Vatican jungle makes its own wilderness." Another illustration,
sent broadcast, pictured the fable of the farmer and the frozen
snake. The huge snake was labeled " Catholic Church," and
when thoroughly warmed was represented in the attitude of
swallowing " public schools," *' state money," ** judiciary,'* and
even " Uncle Sam '* himself.

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1896.] UNDER THE NEW CONSTITUTION. 683

These things had the effect, of course, of stirring up religious
prejudice and bitterness, particularly among ignorant and bigoted
voters.

The electioneering of the National League for the Protection
of American Institutions was conducted on different lines, and
while no special appeal was made against '' Romish Influence,"
the alleged facts and figures sent out by the League were so
false and misleading that the majority of those who read them
must have reached the conclusion that Catholics were plunder-
ing the State as well as its principal cities. The League sent
to all the candidates a circular letter asking them to give spe-
cific answers to nine questions — among them questions relating
to separation of church and state;' to the protection of public
schools; to the prevention of payment of public funds to sec-
tarian institutions ; to placing all elementary schools under the
supervision of the State ; to the question as to whether the
words "all mankind," in the provision of the Constitution re-
lating to the freedom of worship, gave convicts the right of
choice as to the form of public worship ; and also as to wheth-
er the candidate thought it wise to pass the law relating to
freedom of worship, and the law providing for the commitment
of juvenile delinquents to institutions of their own faith.

The support of the League depended, as the candidate well
understood, upon whether the answers to these questions were
favorable or not, and this support, in many doubtful districts,
must have been effective.

The League also freely distributed tables of figures purport-
ing to give the amount of money appropriated by the city of
New York for the support of inmates of charitable institutions,
during a period of ten years, ending in 1893. The payments
were divided into four classes, viz., to Roman Catholic, Hebrew,
Protestant, and undenominational institutions. In these state-
ments it was alleged that Roman Catholics received, during
that period, the sum of $5,526,733.06; the Hebrews, $1,106,363;
Protestants, only the paltry sum of $365,467, and undenomina-
tional, the sum of $4,770,809.

The great majority of the people who received this circular
believed it, and must have been startled by the difference be-
tween the sum paid to Catholics and that paid to Protestants.
The statement was taken as a text in Protestant churches ;
stirring sermons were preached on this subject, and many pious
people were worked up to a state bordering on mutiny and
rage. But this statement was false, fradulent, and misleading,
in that the classification was without foundation in fact, as was

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684 Ca tholic Schools and Charities [Feb.,

clearly shown to the convention when the hearing on that sub-
ject occurred. The wrong done was in classifying sectarian in-
stitutions as undenominational. In truth, with few exceptions,
the institutions classified by the League as undenominational
were really under Protestant control and management, and if
the truth had been told and the institutions properly classified,
the statement would have shown that the Protestant institutions
received in those ten years $4,598,330, instead of $365,467.

On account of all this sentiment stirred up by the opponents
of the Catholic charitable and correctional institutions, it is not
surprising that the friends of these institutions were somewhat
alarmed lest injustice should be done them in the convention.

That body met May 8, 1894, and promptly organized by al-
most unanimously electing as its president that eminent and
eloquent lawyer, Joseph H. Choate. In his opening address
Mr. Choate* mentioned many questions of importance to be
acted upon by the convention, among them the school question.
" Gentlemen," said he, *' there is one other subject of universal
concern ; I mean the subject of education : the protection, the
fostering, and permanent establishment of our common schools,
and the discussion and perhaps the decision of that other and
difficult question, whether due protection requires, and how far
it requires, the retention of all public moneys from all rival sec-
tarian institutions of learning."

Shortly after the convening of the convention the commit-
tees were appointed. Seventeen delegates were assigned to the
Committee on Education, and a like number to that on Charities.

Frederick W. Holls, one of the delegates-at-large, was made
chairman of the former committee, and Edward Lauterbach,
also a delegate-at-large, was placed at the head of the Commit-
tee on Charities.

Mr. Holls claimed the honor of offering the second proposed
amendment to the Constitution, and this was the amendment pre-
pared by the League for the Protection of American Institutions.

Here is a copy of this proposition :

**Add to Article VIII. of the Constitution as now in force,
at the end thereof, the following:

**Sec. 12. No law shall be passed respecting an establish-
ment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof ; nor
shall the State, or any county, city, town, village, or other
civil division, use its property or credit, or any money raised
by taxation or otherwise, or authorize either to be used, for
the purpose of founding, maintaining or aiding, by appropria-
tion, payment for services, expenses, or in any other manner,
any church, religious denomination, or religious society; or any

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1896.] UNDER THE NEW CONSTITUTION. 685

institution, society, or undertaking which is wholly or in part
under sectarian or ecclesiastical control.'*

In fairness to Mr. Holls it is proper to state here, that in
conversation with other delegates he disclaimed any intention
of doing injustice to Catholic institutions, and professed not to
see in this amendment any hidden meaning which might be con-
strued as discriminating against them. It is just possible that
he did not then see the "joker," which was subsequently ex-
posed to view.

The thirty-four members of the two above-named committees,
and the seventeen members of the committee on powers of the
legislature, met in the Assembly Chamber, in the presence of a
large audience, on the 6th of June, to listen to the arguments
of Rev. James M. King, General Secretary of the League;
William Allen Butler; Right Rev. William C. Doane ; Rev.
General Thomas J. Morgan ; Rev. Dr. Baker ; ex-Judge Wil-
liam H. Arnoux ; and ex-Judge Henry E. Rowland.

Dr. King opened the discussion by reading a carefully pre-
pared paper, in which he professed to strongly favor the sepa-
ration of church and state, and took the ground that the
Catholic Church was encroaching on the financial and political
affairs of the State, arid therefore that it was the duty of the
convention to adopt the Holls amendment. In support of his
position he reiterated the false and misleading figures and classi-
fication of institutions contained in the circular sent out by the
League.

One of the delegates who had, during the campaign, re-
ceived from the League a copy of this amendment, gave some
attention to its ambiguous wording, and came to the conclusion
that it was capable of, and if adopted would be likely to re-
ceive, a construction which would enable all Dr. King's so-called
** undenominational institutions " to draw public money for their
support, but would prevent Catholic or Hebrew institutions
from receiving a dollar. To satisfy himself and others on this
point, he asked the doctor to explain the meaning and intended
effect of the words " wholly or partially under sectarian or ec-
clesiastical control," and to tell the committees when an educa-
tional or charitable institution could be said to be under such
control. The doctor hesitated as if he did not wish to frankly
give his views on this question, and he finally evaded it by
stating that five eminent lawyers of the League, William Allen
Butler, Wheeler H. Peckham, Henry E. Howland, Dorman B.
Eaton, and Cephas Braina,rd, had prepared the amendment after
examining the constitutions of other States, and giving the

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686 Ca tholic Schools and Charities [Feb.,

matter consideration for a period of a year or more, and that
he would prefer to have one of these gentlemen answer the
question. This reply did not seem to satisfy the committees,
for they took it for granted that the doctor knew what he
wanted to accomplish, and some of the members expressed sur-
prise at his attempt to conceal his real purposes. Fortunately
the next speaker was one of the lawyers who framed the arti-
cle, William Allen Butler. In his advocacy of the amendment
he followed on the lines laid down by Dr. King, false figures
and false classification included, but he was outspoken and
frank where the doctor was silent and evasive ; for, when the
aforesaid inquisitive delegate asked Mr. Butler to answer the
following question, the response was given promptly and con-
cisely.

" Mr. Butler," said this delegate, " I have in mind an or-
phan asylum containing children committed by the public au-
thorities. The trustees of the institution are all laymen of differ-
ent religious belief. Children of any denomination are received.
No particular creed is taught to them. The religious services
consist of readings from the Bible, singing of hymns, and ad-
dresses from clergymen and others, telling them to be good
and they will be happy, or words to that effect. If this pro-
posed amendment should be adopted, would this institution be
prohibited thereby from receiving public money in payment for
support of those inmates?"

" I should think not, sir," was the answer.

" Now, Mr. Butler," said this delegate, " let us go a step
further ; suppose a Catholic priest should enter that institution
and instruct the inmates or some of them in the Catholic reli-
gion, and say Mass for them, would that have the effect of pre-
venting payment ? "

" I should say, sir, that it would."

These answers exposed the duplicity of the amendment, for
they showed clearly, what Dr. King evidently did not want the
committee to know, that if several Protestant denominations
should unite in establishing asylums or schools, having lay trus-
tees chosen from the various churches, receiving children of
every denomination — Catholics particularly welcomed — and teach-
ing only doctrines common to all, such institutions would be
able to draw public money, whereas institutions in which the
inmates received Catholic instruction, or took part in Catholic
worship, would be held to be wholly or partly under sectarian
or ecclesiastical control, and would on that account be pro-
hibited from receiving public money.

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1896.] UNDER THE NEW CONSTITUTION. 687

If any doubt as to this construction existed in the minds of
those who heard Mr. Butler's answers, the doubt must have
been dispelled when they heard his reply to a question asked
by Mr. Roche, a delegate from Troy.

"We have in Troy," said Mr. Roche, "an institution called
the Troy Hospital. It is not a public institution, but receives
the city's public patients. These patients are permitted free-
dom of worship. The city pays the hospital a weekly stipend
for their maintenance. The trustees are all women, members
of the order of Sisters of Charity, who have the care of the
patients and management of the institution. I would like to
know, Mr. Butler, if under the words 'payment for services*
in this amendment the City of Troy would be prevented from
paying for the support and care of its sick poor sent to that
hospital?"

"I should say certainly it would," answered Mr. Butler,
" provided the Sisters of Charity have the exclusive manage-
ment and control of the institution."

This last answer showed that it was not only intended to
cut off institutions in which Catholic worship was allowed, but
also those which were managed exclusively by Catholic women
wearing a religious garb.

Right Rev. William C. Doane, of Albany, was the next
speaker. Dr. Doane is a very able and eloquent clergyman,
and his words were listened to with much interest. He de-
parted somewhat from the beaten track of the other speakers,
but it was evident that he had not paid much attention to the
construction or effect of the language of the amendment. He
urged its adoption for the reason that it would make it impos-
sible for any public money to be used under the direction
of any ecclesiastical body or for the dissemination of any par-
ticular tenets. He praised Catholics for their religious zeal and
their charitable works, but begged them not to put their hands
into the treasury of Caesar. " I am bound to say that if I
were a Roman Catholic," said the doctor, " I should go to the
extremest length that any Roman Catholic in the world goes
in saying that my child, or cripple, or particular sinful relation,
or friend, or my sick shall not be ministered to where the
counsels of religion do not go with mercy to the body. I
respect them for it. But I should be ashamed of myself if,
having these convictions, I do not say I must pay for my con-
victions out of my own pocket and not out of the public
purse."

The doctor's position struck the above-mentioned inquisitive

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688 Catholic Schools and Charities [Feb..

delegate as somewhat inconsistent, in that the doctor himself
was a beneficiary from the public purse, and so he sought light
again.

" Doctor," said he, " you have here in Albany a magnificent
cathedral and a most excellent school — St. Agnes' — for which
you deserve praise, but permit me to ask are these properties
exempt by law from taxation?'*

"They are, sir,*' was the answer.

"Do you favor exempting such property from taxation.^"

" I do, sir,'* replied the doctor.

" Is there any diflference in principle, doctor, in receiving
money from the public treasury for services rendered the pub-
lic, and the receiving an equal sum by way of the remission of
taxes on church or school property?"

" The diflference is this," said the doctor. " The church or
the school is doing police work, reformatory work, and it re-
lieves the State of so much work in punishing criminals by
preventing crime, and therefore I believe it is service done by
the church or school which earns a wage of exemption from
taxation."

" All the parish schools and charitable institutions in the
State are doing that same kind of work, and therefore earn
public money," was the reply of the delegate as the doctor
finished, without explaining the diflference in principle above
mentioned.

Judge Arnoux followed, but said little in favor of the amend-
ment he came to support ; in fact he repudiated it, for he said
that Bishop Doane was wrong on the question ; that there was
no diflference in principle between receiving a given sum of
public money and having the State remit taxes to the same
amount. He suggested an amendment providing for taxing
church property, and paying money to such charitable insti-
tutions only as were owned and controlled by the State.

Dr. King was not pleased with this proposition of the judge,
for he knew that if only public institutions were permitted to
draw public funds his " undenominational " bodies would be
placed on a par with those he called sectarian. This discussion
and the questions and answers caused even Dr. King to admit
that ^" there would have to be some change in the phraseolog}'
of the amendment," and Judge Rowland also stated that the
phraseology would have to be changed.

At this announcement, Mr. Moore, the good-natured dele-
gate from Plattsburgh, remarked to his next neighbor that it
seemed exceeding funny to him that five eminent lawyers

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1896.] UNDER. THE NEW CONSTITUTION. 689

should spend two years preparing an amendment that " hayseed
attorneys " knocked all to pieces in two hours.

Even before the opponents of the measure had been heard,
it was evident that it was badly damaged by the revelations
and admissions of its friends. The veil of duplicity and am-
biguity had been lifted, and the true meaning of the amend-
ment exposed to view.

It was reserved for its opponents to give it the finishing
stroke at the next hearing, June 20. The eloquent and wise
words of Frederick R. Coudert, supplemented by the sledge-
hammer blows of Colonel George Bliss, had the effect of driv-
ing the friends of the measure from every position taken by
them. The colonel not only demonstrated the falsity of Dr.
King's figures, but showed beyond a doubt that, with very few
exceptions, the large number of institutions designated by him
as undenominational were " so far Protestant as to have Pro-
testant officers, Protestant trustees, and a general Protestant
management.''

The final hearing, July 11, was made interesting by the
calm, scholarly, and logical address of Elbridge T. Gerry, in *
opposing the amendment. When he finished it was tacitly
understood that the amendment, as offered by Mr. HoUs, was
dead. But to satisfy the public clamor the majority was con-
strained to take some action. Each committee went to work
in its own way. That on education began to examine the
reports from the departments showing expenditures for schools,
and the charity committee began to visit the charitable and
correctional institutions. This work interested the members
very much. The number, the extent, and the efficiency of the
hospitals, orphan asylums, foundling asylums, correctional insti-
tutions, and houses for dependent children in New York City
simply astonished the delegates from the rural districts. These
wjre hard-headed, practical, sensible men, who desired to do
right according to their best judgment, and it did not take
them long to reach a correct conclusion, when they saw these
institutions, and others like them up the State, and when they
learned that it cost the public about $250 per year for the
care and support of each inmate of the House of Refuge on
Randall's Island, with surroundings nothing to brag about,
whereas in the Catholic Protectory, the Hebrew Orphan Asy-
lum, and similar institutions, the inmates were better housed,
better clothed, better educated, and better cared for at a
yearly cost of only $110 each. The committee speedily and
unanimously reached the conclusion that public instead of pri-

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690 Ca tholic Schools and Charities [Feb.,

vate care meant an increase of millions in public expenditures
annually. This financial argument had more effect on members
than the eloquence of. a Choate, a Doane, or a King. This
personal investigation and visitation had another good effect.
It had been asserted during the discussion of the H oils amend-
ment that Catholic institutions received so much public money
for the support of inmates committed, that they were able not
only to maintain these inmates but also were able to accumu-
late a large surplus, which was used by priests and pastors for
the purpose of propagating the Catholic religion. When the
delegates ascertained that it cost twice as much to maintain a
boy in a public institution as was received for one in a private
institution, the conclusion was inevitable that there could be no
surplus. In justice to Mr. Choate it should be said that he
stated to the convention, a few days before it adjourned, that
he had been misinformed on this point, and that he became
satisfied that no such surplus was accumulated.

Members of the education committee were somewhat sur-
prised to learn, from reports submitted to' them, that, aside
from asylum schools, the only public money paid to sectarian
schools was the small sum of about five thousand dollars a
year, a part of the income of the literature fund distributed by
the Regents of the University among thirty-four sectarian
academies — nineteen Catholic and fifteen Protestant. Thus it
was ascertained that, notwithstanding the alarming statements
sent out by Dr. King's society to the effect that the school
funds were being diverted to sectarian schools, not a dollar of
public money was paid to a parochial school. The charge that
such money was paid to parish schools at Poughkeepsie, West
Troy, Plattsburgh, and Lima was answered by the fact that
those schools were really public schools, leased by the boards
of public instruction, and controlled by these boards.

During almost half a century the law provided for schools
in orphan asylums — Catholic and Protestant. It was believed
by several members that the first draft of the education article,
prepared by the majority of the committee, would have the
effect of doing away with these asylums schools, and so to save
them the article was amended, but not without opposition, by
adding a proviso to the effect that the article should not apply
to schools in institutions subject to the visitation and inspection
of the State Board of Charities.

It was also noticed by a member of the committee that the
prohibition against the use of property or money for sectarian
schools was so sweeping that it would cut off many of the

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.1896.] UNDER THE NEW CONSTITUTION. 69I

academies from receiving the Regents' examinations, and at his
suggestion the section was further modified by prohibiting pay-
ment to such schools other than for examination or inspection.

In August the education committee made its report to the
convention, and when their article was taken up for discussion
it had the closest attention of that body. Little opposition was
encountered until section 4 was reached ; then the provision
exempting schools in charitable institutions from the prohibition
against payment met with earnest opposition from such men as
Choate, Root, Holls, Gilbert, Cookingham, and Durfee, and was
just as earnestly defended by Lauterbach, Peck, Cassidy, E. R.
Brown, and others. Mr. Choate frankly expressed the real reason
of the opposition when he stated that if the inmates of these in-
stitutions were to receive their tuition under the supervision of a
religious body, or if it is to consist in whole or in part of religi-
ous tenets, the religious body that proposes to instil these tenets
into the minds of those children shall pay for their education.

On the other hand, it was shown that it was safer, cheaper,
and better to teach these children in the institutions than to
send them out to public schools ; and that no one wanted pay
for teaching catechism or prayers, but that the State owed
these little ones secular education.

It was also shown that, instead of taking from the people
vast sums of money for school purposes, the Catholics, by
maintaining their own schools, saved the public millions of
dollars each year. The United States census for 1890 shows
that the Catholic parish schools of this State educated that
year 108,152 children. About forty thousand of these received
instruction in the city of New York. The average cost for
each child in the public schools is $30, so that if the city had
to educate those parish school children it would be necessary
to raise an additional sum of $1,200,000, and the interest on
the capital necessary to provide additional school buildings
would be $175,000 more. The 68,000 children educated out-
side New York City at $15 for each child would require
$1,020,000, and interest on the cost of buildings , $50,000 more,
making a grand total saving of $2,445,000 per year to the
public, and besides this the Catholics contributed their share
of taxes toward the maintenance of public schools.

The discussion was continued during two days, and finally
that part of the article which provided for schools in asylums
and correctional institutions was struck out by a vote of J*j
ayes against 60 noes.

VOL. LXII 44

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692 Catholic Schools and Charities [Feb:,

This result, apparently a triumph for those opposed to
asylum schools, did not discourage the minority voters, for,
whilst a bare majority of those voting was enough to pass a
measure through, committee of the whole, it required *8 votes,
or a majority of the delegates elected, to submit the article to
the people*

During the discussions several delegates, who had voted with
the majority on this measure, conceded that some provision
should be made for the education of these children, but they
thought it ought to come from the charity committee. At this
time, however, the charity committee had not reported, and no
one knew what their article would contain. This being the
state of aifairs, it became evident that the proper thing to do
was to compromise, and this was done by a sort of tacit agree-
ment that substantially what was struck out of the school
article should be inserted in the charity article, and, therefore,
when that article came from the committee, it not only pro-
vided for the care, support, and maintenance of inmates of
orphan asylums, homes for indigent children, and correctional
institutions, but also for secular education.

As finally adopted and ratified by the people, the provisions
of the Constitution relating to these subjects are as follows:

Art. VIII. — Relating to Charitable and Correctional

Institutions.

Section 13. Existing laws relating to institutions referred to
in the foregoing sections, and to their supervision and inspec-
tion, in so far as such laws are not inconsistent with the pro-
visions of the Constitution, shall remain in force until amended
or repealed by the Legislature. The visitation and inspection
herein provided for shall not be exclusive of other visitation
and inspection now authorized by law.

Section 14. Nothing in this Constitution contained shall pre-
vent the Legislature from making such provision for the educa-
tion and support of the blind, the deaf and dumb, and juvenile
delinquents as to it may seem proper; or prevent any county,
city, town, or village from providing for the care, support,
maintenance, and secular education of inmates of orphan
asylums, homes for dependent children, or correctional institu-
tions, whether under public or private control. Payments by
counties, cities, towns, and villages to charitable, eleemosynary^
correctional, and reformatory institutions, wholly or partly
under private control, for care, support, and maintenance, may
be authorized but shall not be required by the Legfislature.
No such payments shall be made for any such inmate of such
institutions who is not received and retained therein pursuant

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1896.] UITDER THE NEW CONSTITUTION. 69 j

to the* rules established by the State Board of Charities. SucTi
rules shall be subject to the control of the Legislature by
general laws.

Art. IX.— Relating to Education.

Section 4. Neither the State nor any subdivision thereof
shall use its property or credit or any public money, or author-
ize or permit either to be used, directly or indirectly, in aid or
maintenance, other than for examination or inspection, of any
school or institution of learning wholly or in part under the
control or direction of any religious denomination, or in which
any denominational tenet or doctrine is taught.

The effect of the charity article is practically to continue
payments in the same manner as before the convention met,
except that payments cannot be compelled by the Legislature
against the will of the local authorities. The article provides
for " home rule " in these matters. It was deemed wise to pre-
vent the Legislature from directing any civil division of the
State to pay a gross sum to an institution whether it had in-
mates committed to it or not.

And now, looTcihg over the whole ground, and considering
the excitement and danger which threatened Catholic institu-
tions during the campaign and at the opening of the convention,
it can be safely said that these institutions have not only not
lost by the work of the convention, but have positively gained ;
for after a most thorough examination and investigation, not
an abuse or defect worth mentioning was found in any of
them. One of the delegates said to the writer that he came
prejudiced against these institutions, but went home satisfied
that they were almost entirely free from fault. He said he
found what he considered a gross wrong committed in an insti-
tution in Rochester, but it was not in a Catholic one. He
said he found several Catholic children in a Protestant asylum
or home. He asked the matron if she instructed these little
ones in their own religion ; she replied that she did not, and
would not. He then asked if she intended to send them to an
institution of their own faith, and she said she did not ; that
they were committed to her institution, and there they would
remain until bound out. He next inquired whether she intended
to bind them out to Catholic families, and she promptly
answered that she had no such intention.

So far as Catholic schools are affected, little or nothing is
taken away from them. No money was paid to parochial
schools before the convention met, none can be paid now.

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694 Ca tholic Schools and Charities. [Feb.;

The really objectionable feature of the school article, and one
which seems to affect all churches alike, is Its implied condem-
nation of the Christian religion. It leaves the impression on
the mind of the reader that a school under the control of a
religious denomination, or in- which denominational doctrines or
tenets are taught, is something dangerous to the State — so dan-
gerous, indeed, that it must never be encouraged by public aid.
There seems to be nothing in section 4 of the school article
prohibiting the Legislature from voting millions of money to
the Ingersolls for founding and conducting schools in which
religious denominations and tenets may be reviled or ridiculed,
but not a penny for that religion which has been held to be a
part of the common law of our State. If, however, our Pro-
testant brethren can stand this state of affairs, simply for the
sake of spiting others, Catholics can undoubtedly exist under
them until such time as the good people of this State
discover that the best way to encourage and propagate the
growth of anarchy and nihilism, as well as public and private
peculation, is to exclude religious teaching from the schools.

It was stated above that Catholic schools had lost nothing,
but how about the Catholic academies that had shared in the
income of the literature fund at the hands of the Regents ? The
answer is that the Constitution makes little or no change in the
status of Catholic and Protestant academies. They cannot now
receive attendance money, or money from the library fund, but
they can receive, as usual, the money distributed for " creden-
tials ** earned, owing to the exception in section 4 permitting
payment for " examination or inspection.** At a recent meeting
of the Regents this construction was given to the article, and
the sectarian academies are to share in this fund for 1895, and
future years.

There is undoubtedly much in section 4 needing the con-
struction of the courts. What constitutes a school "wholly or
partly under a religious denomination " ? What is meant by
any "denominational doctrine or tenet'? The scholarly Mr.
Holls gave the convention no definition of these words, although
he did say it was not intended to cut off all religion from the
schools. If this be so what may be taught? Take away the
distinctive doctrine of every religious denomination, and what
is left ? Who is to determine ? The Court of Appeals, of
course; and then we shall have, in the schools, a court-made
religion, a state religion, a sort of union between church and
state, just what Dr. King professed not to* want.

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1896.] Av£, Gratia Plena. 695

AVE, GRATIA PLENA.

BY AUSTIN O'M ALLEY..

HE clinging mist —
Wan smoke from lamp extinct

uprist; —
Drifts thin along the cold dusk

land,
And caught therethrough are

star-sparks flung
Smouldering from the white-
flamed moon.
Night-noon,
And Gabriel slants to the round
world's rim,
Dim face and grave of him
Transfixt in rapt love's stare ;
His rayonnant hair
In sharp lines meshed athwart
Mars' essonite
Behind his shoulder swung.
Beyond brown Carmel the Midland Sea
Quaps jet-silvern ceaselessly.
Comp ! Come ! Come !
Longs yon lone nightingale with upper green of olive leaves

athrill
Against her heart-leaps, — Come, strange Love !

Death-still
The maiden Mary kneels, red lip3 disparted for a questioning
At plaint insistent of the Ghostly Dove.
Then lo! the lit gold air.
And there
A voice made wonderful by old God-converse face to face :
" Hail, full of grace ! "

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genius over many a field that may have before seemed barren,
and spurring on perhaps many a halting worker by his presen-
tations of high incentives and attainable goals. We know him
chiefly as a master of virile prose ; yet our own pages have
often reflected the flashes of the gentler beam of his lighter
studies. What verses he has published revealed a power of ex-
pression in metrical numbers not inferior to that familiar to us
in his nervous prose. We have now a volume of poems from
his pen which confirms the impression.*

In the varied field of German literature the author has found
a delight which he endeavors to impart to xjthers not so con-
versant with the Teutonic tongue as he. We ought to feel
grateful for the boon, for the treasures of modern German
literature are as yet but little known here, except to the very
favored few. There is a crowd of lyrical poets whose works
are full of tender fancy and rich appreciation of nature, yet the
average English reader knows nothing of any German poetry
but that of Schiller, Goethe, Heine, Freiligrath, and a few others.
In the odes and ballads of the multitude of modern German
singers we get a much more luminous view of the emotional side
of the German character than in the loftier epic or tragedy of
the great masters. If that side of the German mind present
to us sometimes views of nature which seem far-fetched and
conceits which appear trivial or infantile, they reveal to us also
an ingenuousness and a healthy natural sympathy far more de-
lightful to contemplate than the polished and perfect produc-
tions of the more classical schools of Italy and France.

♦ Sony's, chiefly from the German, By J. L. Spalding, Bishop of Peoria. Chicago : A. J.
McClurg & Co.

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J 896.] Talk about New Books. 697

Bishop Spalding's work may be. regarded somewhat as that
of the late James Clarence Mangan, who- was perhaps the great-
est master in this field that ever appeared.' His renderings are
adaptations rather than translations. . In somie he has rejected
the rhymed ending, no doubt with a view of imparting the spirit
of the o-riginal with greater effect. His choice of verbal vehicles
l^ads him sometimes to the more intractable and unplastic ele-
ments of English, things that do not readily fall into the drill-
step of the rhyme-master ; but if we can realize the effect, the
seeming irregularity by which it is sometimes wrought must be
accepted as part of the design.

Some of the shorter lyrics in this volume are gems of poetic
crystallization. What could be more tenderly pathetic than this
brief last will and testament of some moribund singer, entitled

"O Friends of Mine, uphang when I am Dead.

" O friends of mine, uphang when I am dead
This little harp, above the altar there,
Where hang so many wreaths just overhead

Of gentle maids who died when spring was fair.

" The sexton then to travellers will show

This little harp with ribbons red entwined.
Which fall and float in peaceful rhythmic flow
Beneath the golden chords in evening wind.

" And oft, so he shall tell, at sunset hour

The strings with tenderest melody do thrill,
And children playing near in fragrant bower

Behold the wreaths tremble and then grow still.** — Holtz.

A piece entitled " A Battle Hymn,*' after the gallant and
gifted Korner, gives an example of a peculiar form of rhyme,
as well as an evidence of the nobility of motive which fired the
heart and nerved the arm of the patriot poet who died so very
young, but not too young for fame. The hymn is a fine com-
panion ode to the "Song of the Sword."

"A Battle Hymn.

" Father, on thee I call !
The smoke of battle rises like a cloud
And roaring cannon make the heavens loud :
Thou battle-leader, thee I call;
Father, lead thou me on.

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698 Talk about New Books. [Feb.,

'* Father, lead thou me on :
Lead me to victory, lead me to death,
Thou art my God, of thee I hold life's breath:

Lord, as thou wilt, lead thou me on ;

My God, thee I confess.

*' My God, thee I confess :
As in the awful rush of the cyclone,
So in the storm of battle's thunder-tone.

Fountain of good, thee I confess;

Father, uphold thou me.

" Father, uphold thou me :
Into thy hands my life I freely give.
Thou may'st it take, as thou alone mak'st live;

Eternal God, uphold thou me;

Father, thee I do praise.

" Father, thee I do praise :
It is no battle for mere earthly good ;
The holiest defend we with our blood,

Then dying, conquering, thee I praise ;

God, thee myself I give.

*' God, thee myself I give :
If death come now to me in battle's storm,
If on the plain be cast my lifeless form.

To thee, my God, myself I give ;

Father, on thee I call."

We would fain go on reproducing examples from this fasci-
nating volume of little-known anthology, but it is better to
recommend lovers of good poetry to get the book itself and
spend a couple of hours in the gracious company of the gifted
bards whom Bishop Spalding knows so well. The typography
and production of the book are worthy of the contents.

The name of Louise Imogen Guiney shows from two title-
pages just to hand. A tiny bundle of sonnets inspired by her
recent travels in England reveals her cunning hand and quaint
taste. The book is all printed in Oxford black-letter, and
therefore looks very mediaeval or Early English. In the poems
the same rich play of fancy and bold imagery with which the
poet's previous work has made us familiar display themselves
throughout.

The other work is a small volume of prose with an odd title
— Lovers' St. RutKs.* It embraces four tales with entirely dif-

♦ Lovers' Saint Ruth's^ and Three Other Tales, By Louise Imogen Guiney. Boston :
Copeland & Day.

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1896.] Talk about New Books. 699

ferent themes. The story which gives the title to the book is
an idyll of English country life — a tragic one too. In other
hands the tale must have seemed repulsive in its main features,
but the author's treatment of it is that of the skilful surgeon
dealing with the boldness of a master with a deadly sore or
monstrous growth of bone or fiesh. The second story, which is
called " Our Lady of the Union," is a wonderful effort to re-
concile the practical world of a soldier's life in the great Civil.
War here with the mysticism of such romance as that which
fired and transfigured the Maid of Orleans. The story is a
great tragic poem, high-toned, solemn, weird, and perfect in its
unity. "An Event on the River," which is the third of the
stories, is a finely conceived domestic drama, with an Italian
youth as the central figure, and a development that would serve
for the theme of a romantic opera of the old " Bohemian Girl "
school. The last of the series is an Irish story called "The
Provider." It is not true to its subject, and is utterly unnatural.
To picture an Irish boy, even though of a poetical tendency,
deliberately planning suicide and the murder of a little sister,
for the purpose of bringing some physical comfort to a suffer-
ing, poverty-stricken mother, is to strain the artistic licenses
beyond all legitimate bounds. There is no Irish boy so dull as
not to know that the suffering such a deed must bring to a
mother's heart would be far beyond anything which poverty
and sickness could ever bring. Besides this false conception of
character, the additional blemish of the outrageous Irish dialect
adopted by Puck and other scoffers at Celtic ways is found in
Miss Gmney's dialbgue-ir-such as the spelling " phwat " for
" what," and the utterly pointless " bhoy " for " boy." Nobody
in Ireland says "toime" for "time," nor "Oi" for "I." These
things are all Saxon abominations. Other grotesque things
occur in the course of this story, such as the locating of ' an
" Anti-Sassenach Bank " in Belfast (the one city in Ireland
where the Sassenach has any real foothold), which must cause
the initiated to smile. No technique^ however skilful, can hide
such blots as these or obscure the glaring radical defects of
the story. But it is amply atoned for by the merits of the
other three.

The style cynical may be tolerated in a tract or a 'story that
may be galloped through in some interval like the mauvais quart
ctheure before dinner, to sharpen one's appetite. But the cyni-
cism which ventures an exhibition in a thirty-four-chaptered

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7QO Talk about New Books. [F^b.,

story, and pervades every sentence in every chapter, is more
likely to banish appetite than intensify it. Such may be said
to be the case with regard to a novel called A Pitiless Passion,
whose author is given as Ella MacMahon. As there is a lady
of that name whose work is well known to Catholic readers,
and admired very justly, it would be well to have the point
settled at once whether or not the author of this book and
another called A Modern Man is the lady known to us or an-
other bearing or assuming her name.

A Pitiless Passion treats us for the multi-millionth time to
the weary story of the love of one person for the wife or hus-
band of another. In this case it is the husband. This husband
has married a woman for whom he thought he entertained a
proper affection, but finds that he has been deceived by her
and her mother about a terrible failing of hers. The young
girl whom he thought all perfection turns out to be an habitual
drunkard, and when he makes the discovery he loaths her,
and then proceeds to fall in love with her cousin, while this
lady has been for years secretly in love with him.

To do the impossible is the task of a fool ; to believe it the
faith of an idiot. Yet this is just what the author of A Piti-
less Passion endeavors to achieve in the chapters devoted to
the excusing of those two unhappy persons for getting them-
selves into this dilemma. Both are altruists in theory, so that
while they are madly impelled to the gratification of their
unlawful passion, altruism urges them to save each other from
such a sinful culmination. There is a dreadful war between
altruism ,and egoism, and the result is a drawn battle, since
only the death of the man puts an end to his misery, after the
woman had heroically made up her mind that to marry another
man for whom she did not care was preferable to becoming a
mistress. This is the whole story which occupies the thirty-
four chapters of this book. It is discussed in the plainest
and most forcible terms, and with a great deal of power at
times. All through there runs a current of cynical sayings,
mingled with scattered texts of Scripture and Shaksperean
quotations, indicating that the writer has at all events made
some study of the two great authorities, whether she (if a she)
had profited by the teaching of the greater one or not.

To make this woman — Magdalen Ponsonby — struggling with
a guilty passion for a man who made no such struggle but did
his best to conquer her, — to make her appear as really actuated
by unselfish motives is what the author in many passages en-

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1896.] Talk about New Books. 701

deavors to do. About the thing which is called love in such
Cases there can be no doubt or confusion in honest minds. It
is the basest of human instincts, and the culmination of all
human selfishness. The discussion of it in the labored analyti-
cal way in which it is treated in this novel reveals a curious
bent of mind. Why such subjects are selected by women as
themes for painstaking expatiation, is one of those inexplicable
things about the sex which establishes it as a contradiction and
an enigma.

The title A Modern Man, which is also a production of
Ella MacMahon's, suggests a type. It is likely enough that
there are such persons as Merton Byng, the character which
the writer has selected — a man whose affections easily travel
from one enchantress to another, and can return just as readily
to his former love when repulsed by the latter. There are
fickle men, and men base enough to lie about their fickleness;
and yet they are not typical men, if we consider the matter
fairly. But even if they were typical, it is hard to discover
what good is to be done by writing about them in the cynical,
jesting way which Ella MacMahon adopts. The book is a
Mephistophelian sort of production — a prolonged sneer at man-
kind, and at some types of womankind too. It does not stand
upon trifles when describing its characters or their acts or lan-
guage. Although there is nothing actually immoral in its situa-
tions or suggestions, its tone is bold, and a spirit of mock levity
pervades it throughout. Books of this class warn us against the
danger of living in a fools* paradise. Some people had thought
that the wave of erotic and decadent literature, to which
women contributed so large a quota, had spent its force. It
would appear only to have changed its color and form some-
what,*and taken a different^ direction.

A republication of Theodore Roosevelt's New York, written
some years ago as one of the "Historic Towns*'* series, edited
by Professor Freeman and Rev. W. Hunt, seems to have been
determined on with a view to enable the author to subjoin a
chapter covering the present crisis in the city's history. There
may not be the best of wisdom in such a determination, if the
new edition be really due to it, as the crisis is by no means a
thing of the past, and little, therefore, can be drawn from it
either as moral or example in the perplexing problem of muni-

* Historic Towns. New York. By Theodore Roosevelt. New York : Longmans,
Green & Co.

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702 Talk about New Books. [Feb.,

cipal government in great centres. In his present official posi-
tion Mr. Roosevelt, though doing a world of good in insisting
on the enforcement of law, is not favorably placed for the ac-
quisition of the " historical temperament," whatever be his facil-
ities for gaining possession of the facts. His postscript deals al-
most exclusively with recent developments in the city, and runs
in the lines of the numerous public utterances of the author $ince
he was called upon to assume the responsibilities of Chief Com-
missioner of Police. While we may give credit to the official
for the public spirit in which he has discharged his duty, we
cannot concede that the historical value as such of his history
of New York is enhanced by a discussion in trtiich he is so
noted a participant. With this reservation, we can gladly bail
the reissue of the volume. Its literary merits are high. He
sketches the early history of the settlers with an easy and pic-
turesque pen.

When the burning questions of religion come forward for
treatment amongst the others he preserves the most evident
desire to be impartial and to treat all parties fairly. His chap-
ter dealing with the acquirement of constitutional privileges
under the Catholic governor, Thomas Dongan, gives every
credit to the liberality of his administration ; but it must be
owned, for one who has rightly laid such emphasis on the ne-
cessity of obedience to enacted laws, that his excuses for the
lawless uprising of the German Williamite, Leisler, and the
Orange partisans, against the lawful authorities of the city in
1689, outstrip the limits of generosity. Furthermore, it is to be
noted that whilst Mr. Roosevelt does not hesitate to classify
James II. as a stupid and cruel bigot, he uses no such; term
toward his successor, whose first present to New York was a
governor who deprived the Roman Catholic citizens of the
liberty of conscience which was granted to every one by King
James. The anomalous position of these two monarchs is thus
clearly illustrated. King James may have been a bigot in
theory, but his practice did not show it. King William posed
as the champion of " civil and religious liberty," but his acts
toward his Roman Catholic subjects were more like those of
the Pagan Roman emperors toward the early Christians than
those of a mere despot blinded by unreasoning hate and child-
ish passion. The constant reiteration of shibboleths is, however,
a strong thing, as we find when even men like Mr. Roosevelt,
striving to be thoroughly fair, are insensibly coerced by them
into sins of omission and commission like these.

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1896.] Talk about New Books. 703

A new work on elocution,* by Rev. Philip Williams, O.S.B.,
and Ven. F. Celestine Sullivan, O.S.B., the professors of that
art at St, Benedict's College, Atchison, Kansas, deserves the
attention of orthoepists and teachers. It is for the class of
beginners chiefly that the work is written and compiled, and
the methods recommended to embryo orators seem to be sound.
A good selection of examples >for recitation has-been made. It
includes some American Catholic writers of the present day,
including Professor Maurice F. Egan, Father Alfred Young, and
Miss Eleanor C. Donnelly; but lest these and others should be
inflated with vanity at finding themselves bracketed with
Shakspere and Milton, it is explained that no offence to such
great names is intended. The book has been produced at the
printing-office of the college of St. Benedict's, and it deserves
unqualified praise for its typography and binding.

Although there is an antique flavor about some of the re-
flections contained in the book, the advice and admonitions of
the late Bishop of Montpellier, Monseigneur Le Courtier, ad-
dressed to ladies in retreat,t and now republished in an Eng-
lish dress, have still as forcible an applicability to women who
are in the world as when they were (irst given out. These sober
appeals to consciences crusted over with worldly anxieties and
social vanities must in their time have stirred some sluggish
pulses. Society and custom are the tyrants of to-day no less
than in the year in which the words were penned. There are
many very estimable persons who imagine that to be "in so-
ciety," and to be a little tolerant of its follies, is by no means
incompatible with the keeping up of a decent show of pious
living. It was to such easy, self-complacent people that the
bishop's words were originally addressed, and the somewhat
pessimistic tone which pervades much of his work shows that
this class formed the stiflfest soil of any for the spiritual plough.
The style of these admonitions has little to remind one that
it is French. It is neither emotional nor exclamatory, but re-
sembles rather good solid English of the last century, and there
is much serviceable and practical suggestion embodied in each
of its chapters.

Of hand-books and manuals of English literature there be
a multitude, and yet to the judicious mind there is room

♦ Elements 0/ Expression^ Vocal and Physical, By Rev. Philip Williams, O. S.B., and Ven.
F. Celestine Sullivan, O.S.B. Atchison, Kan. : Abbey Student Print, St. Benedict's College.

t Thoughts and Counsels for Women of the World, By Monseigneur Le Courtier, Bishop
of Montpellier. Baltimore : John Murphy & Co.

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704 Talk about New Books:: [Eeb^

for, more. The want of methodical arrangement and scieiitific
aim in most of those already existing is painfully apparent. We
owe it to Brother No^ah, of the Chi^istian Schools fraternity^
that some effort has been made to rectify this slovenliness.
He has just published a manual^ which can confidently be
recommended as useful. The grouping and classification o{ th^
authors follow an intelligent system, and the relationship be^
tween literary work and the active life of the various times at
which it was produced is clearly demonstrated. By this method
the student gets practical help in the acquisition of . historical
knowledge, somewhat resembling that gained by the use of .phy-
sical charts in the study of geography. There is room for an-:
other volume of a sinriilar kind wherein the work of American
litterateurs may find adequate recognition, for as yet but scanty
justice has been done them by their own country.

In the Cathedral Calendar and League Annual for 1896 a
pleasing record of work done for the promotion of organized
worship of the Adorable Sacrament will be found, besides much
information of the work of the League of the Sacred Heart
and the Cathedral Library Association. The annual serves a
double purpose — that of an ecclesiastical almanac and a stimu-
lus to pious deeds and increased devotion to the Sacred Heart.

In the annual report of the Catholic Truth Society of Otta-
wa there is an extended account of the fifth yearly meeting of
the organization, from which we gain an idea of the substantial
good effected through its operations. One of the most striking
material results achieved during the year was the immunity
which Ottawa enjoyed from the visits of the professional escaped
nuns and " converted *' priests who had previously found a happy
hunting-ground in the city. The less manifest blessings of en-
lightenment silently but not the less surely flowing from the con-
stant diffusion of Catholic truth, in print as well as orally, furnish
the strongest incitement to the continuation of the work of the
Catholic Truth Society, in Canada and elsewhere. Much stress
is laid, in the report, upon the grievous loss the Ottawa soci-
ety has sustained in the death of Sir John Thompson, who had
been a most active member and promoter of the society.

" Leprosy, and the Charity of the Church to its Victims,"
by Rev. L. W. Mulhane, gives us, within the limits of a pam-

♦ English Literature : A Manual /or Academies^ ^High-schools^ and Colleges. By the Bro-
thers of the Christian Schools. New York : P. O'Shea.

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1896.] Talk about New Books. .705

pfalet» a vivid picture of the ravages of the horrible plague to
which Father Damjen fell a willing victim, and the mighty
efforts of the Catholic Church to mitigate the lot of its unhapr
py victims. There is something profoundly impressive in the
recital. It gives one a new view of things. It . opens < to puf
eyes a realm of hotrbr outside our daily ken, lighted up by the
fires of unconquerable self-sacrifice and noblest charity. The
pamphlet is published at Mount Vernon, Ohio.

Rev. Dr. Zahm's address on "The Necessity of Developing
Scientific Studies. in Ecclesiastical Seminaries," delivered at the
Brussels Scientific Conference, has been printed by Polleunis &
Cruterick, 37 Rue des Ursulines, Brussels. It is a masterful
and scholarly discourse, needless to say, and its tone eminently
hortatory throughout.

" Catholic School Chimes " is the title of a choice collection
of hymns, with music, suitable for little people in parochial
schools. The compiler, G. Fischer, has made a good selection,
and his work has been well helped out by the printer, in
excellent notation and typography. A t^eful collection of
secular songs is embodied in the work, whose publishers are
Fischer & Brother, New York and Toledo, Ohio.

Just before going to press we received a copy of the annual
Report of the Commissioner of Education^ vol. i., for the year 1892-
93. The volume is a massive one, containing 1,224 pages of
closely-printed matter, including many valuable statistical tables.
The report gives not only a comprehensive view of the position
of educational progress in the United States, but deals exhaus-
tively and in a most luminous way with the chief European
systems. Amongst the criticisms embodied in it is the following
on the Catholic Educational Exhibit at the World's Fair, Chica-
go, by Will S. Monroe, in the Boston Journal of Education:

" The Catholics of the United States, England, and France
have made a very large educational exhibit — too large in quan-
tity for purposes of study, the same lines of work being dupli-
cated over and over. Needle and art work constitute a very
large part of the exhibit. The former bears evidence of great
skill, but the latter does not take high rank as art work, the
works being . too often copies and th^se stiff and mechanical.
Most of the teaching orders of both men and women, repre-
senting every grade of instruction, exhibit their work, that of

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7o6 Talk about New Books. [Feb.,

the Brothers of the Christian Schools and the Sisters of Notre
Dame taking highest rank. If the Blessed John Baptist de la
Salle could know the widespread influence of his teachings, and
the reverent consideration of his memory at this time, he would
indeed realize that his great life-work had not been in vain.
The Brothers of the Christian Schools exhibit some very good
work, more especially in English. The altar constructed by
the pupils of the St. Joseph's Orphan Home, Columbus,
Ohio, is a fine piece of work in manual training. St. Benedict's
Academy, Chicago, submits some excellent pen-drawings, as
does also the Institute of our Lady at Longwood. For I3.year-
old boys, the plumbing sent by St. Francis' Industrial School
at Eddington, Pa., is very superior. It is interesting to find in
the Catholic educational exhibit the introduction of elementary
science in the lower grades. The St. James' and the St. Stan-
islaus' schools, Chicago, have done some creditable work in this
line. In the exhibit of the Diocese of Covington, Ky., one finds
a number of pieces of creditable water-color paintings. Some
wejl-written compositions come from Manhattan College, New
York, and the history charts made at the Ursuline Academy,
Pittsburg, show considerable ingenuity. The needlework through-
out the Catholic exhibit is excellent ; it is one of the strongest
features of the exhibit. The garments from the Colored Indus-
trial Institute, Pine Bluff, Ark., are well made. Rock Hill Col-
lege, Maryland, makes an interesting collection of woods, and
the schools of Philadelphia show good wood-carvings."

I. — THE ROMAN COURT.*
It must be evident that much ambiguity and ignorance exist,
even among Catholics, on the subject of the origin, organization,
scope, and procedure of the Court of Rome, in its capacity as
Central Executive of the Church Universal. When the Papal
Delegate first arrived in the United States the confusion in the
lay mind regarding his official status and the scope of his mis-
sion gave rise to some curious misapprehensions. There is no
reason for wonder that such should be the case. Hitherto the
literature on the subject of the Papal Court was to be found
only outside the pale of the English language. English-speaking
Catholics have reason to be grateful to the Rev. Peter A. Baart,
S.T.L., who has removed this obstacle to the acquisition of au-

♦ The Roman Court, By the Rev. Peter A. Baart, S.T.L. Milwaukee : Hoffmann Broth-
era Company.

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1896.] Talk ABOUT New Books, 707

thentic knowledge on the subject. In a single-volume treatise,
which he has just published, we get all the information that is
needed on the growth of offices and titles in the church, the
antiquity of these offices, the sphere of duties attaching to them,
the legal procedure of the various departments of the church
government, the powers of nuncios, legates, ablegates, dele-
gates, and other functionaries on whom power is devolved in
settling questions in which the church is concerned in every part
of the world. We may remark that one of the most useful por-
tions of this valuable treatise is that in which the scope and
design of the Congregation of the Index are set forth, and we
would commend it to all those who have derived their notions
of the subject from the vague immemorial gobetnouche stories
which have come down to us concurrently with the fee-faw-fum
legends about the terrible Jesuits. In the concluding chapter
of the book Father Baart throws light on the origin and etymo-
logy of the officials called protonotaries. In the very beginning
of the church protonotaries were men appointed in the various
dioceses by the bishops to note the proceedings against Chris-
tians, and keep a record of their speech and acts while under
examination before the pagan tribunals or undergoing martyr-
dom. When the persecutions ceased the office was perpetuated,
the duty assigned to it being the recording of all decrees and
enactments affecting the church — an historical registry office, so
to speak. Many changes in the duties and privileges of the
office have taken place in the lapse of ages, and the rules now
applying to it are very exact. They will be found most minutely
set forth in this most luminous work.

2. — MEMOIR OF FATHER DIGNAM, S.J.*

We have very great pleasure in turning to the pages of this
memoir from the hours wasted in reading the inflated puerili-
ties of a book with the absurd title, Chrisfs Idea of the Super-
natural. It is breathing the healthy air from the sea and
mountain or over broad uplands, with an infinite height of sky
above them, after choking in a fog. We gather from the pre-
face, which is written by Father Purbrick, a member of the
same illustrious order as the subject of the memoir, that the
latter is the work of a leading member of the Institute of
the Poor Servants of the Mother of God.

With this lady Father Dignam was associated "in the

* Memoir of Father Dignam^ SJ. Printed for the Poor Servants of the Mother of
Cod, the Convent, Brentford, London.
TOL. LXII.— 45

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7o8 Talk about New Books. [Feb.,

creation, organization, and construction " of a new congregation
of religious women. She therefore had exceptional opportuni-
ties of observing the principles upon which he acted, as well as
of obtaining a knowledge of the various phases of his character.
In turn she was associated with him in the revival and estab-
lishment of the Apostleship of Prayer' in England, and, as
Father Purbrick well expresses it, " in this all-absorbing interest
of his on behalf of the Divine Master she had anew every op-
portunity of knowing him most thoroughly."

We have in the insight of this lady into the character of
Father Dignam means of knowing how he stood in the judg-
ment of a holy woman of organizing and administrative talent.
This insight would of itself afford abundant material for one of
those charming monographs in which we see a living man in
whom we have a vital interest ; and not a bundle of qualities,
or a corpse in process of dissection. But there is more than
that here, for the author of the memoir had before her Father
Dignam 's correspondence with his sister for over forty years.
The bond between him and this sister was the most intimately
perfect we can have on earth. It has conditions which, for the
development of intellectual or spiritual culture, are more ad-
vantageous than those of parent and child, of brother and
brother, as well as being free from certain restraints of these
relationships besides. She it was who had first influenced him
in taking the step to enter the Society of Jesus ; and from the
time of his being a scholastic in the order he poured out to
her his soul until the last moment when the good and faithful
servant was called upon to enter into the joy of his Lord.
We shall transcribe one letter to this sister :

During the Exposition at the Triduum in 1865 he wrote
her : '* I recalled your words, * What a happy year it has been
for you.* Yes, the year had passed, and I knelt before the
same Lord as I did last year at the Forty Hours, and thought
of all he had given me — all he had rescued me from; the
graces only to be estimated in eternity into that one short
year. Oh ! my heart echoed your words, ' What a happy year.^
And yet the year gone is a serious thought." All these chap-
ters breathe the same spirit, and are so natural, with here and
there little characteristic touches telling of the family tie, com-
mon modes of thought, the intricate network of associations
binding heart to heart, soul to soul.

Thank God, we can sometimes inhale a Catholic atmosphere
even in the nineteenth century !

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1896.] Talk about New Books. 709

3. — sermons for all seasons *

The issue of the concluding volumes of Hunolt's Sermons
(vols. xi. and xii.) brings to k close an undertaking of a very
onerous character, and one which reflects much credit on the
publishers, the Messrs. Benzigen The Rev. Francis Hunolt, of
the Jesuit order, was the preacher of the Cathedral of Treves
for many years. In his official capacity he was called upon to
expound the word of God and the law of the church upon
every phase and problem of the religious life. He did so with
a fulness, a clearness, and a harmonious ease of expression
which entitle him to rank among the foremost exponents of
the Christian doctrine, of modern times. The body of sermons
which he has left as a monument is an encyclopaedic work.
The work of translating these discourses into English was
undertaken by the Rev. J. Allen, D.D., a missionary priest
now stationed at Queenstown in South Africa. The labor was
a herculean one ; what it really amounted to may be remotely
guessed from the number and size of the volumes. A dozen
tomes, each containing over five hundred pages of the same
size as those of this magazine, meaning a total of about a quar-
ter of a million of words — a monument of learning and patience
of a verity! Too much praise cannot be bestowed upon the
Messrs. Benziger for the care evinced in the typography of
this great work ; and the excellence of the printing is matched
by the solidity and appropriateness of the binding.

Vols. xi. and xii. are devoted as a whole to the general
subject of "The Christian's Model." This embraces seventy,
four sermons, adapted to the Sundays and holydays of the
year. Many of them contain eloquent panegyrics of the ancient
city of Treves and its glorious army of martyrs.

A complete index of all the sermons, classified under their
different headings, is given at the end of vol. xii.

As models of style these sermons may not be of special
service to the English-speaking student. But as examples of
soundness of doctrine, copious explanation, and heartfelt fervor
of eloquence of another country and a former school and style,
they cannot but afford a profitable result to the diligent stu-
dent.

♦ The Christianas Model ; or^ Sermons on the Life and Death of Christy the Example and
Virtues of Mary^ and other Chosen Saints of God, By the Rev. Father Francis Hunolt.
Translated by the Rev. J. Allen, D.D. New York : Benzis:er Brothers.

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of Mr. McDonough, one of the delegates-at-large to the Con-
stitutional Convention of last year. The delegates-at-large, while
they count but for one vote each at such conventions, when
questions come to a division, represent the general constituency
and not any particular district or locality. It will be seen that
in Mr. McDonough's recital of the convention's proceedings
over the schools and charities' appropriations, the position we
contended for in our article on the subject last year was fully

sustained.

♦

Lurid and ominous indeed was the opening of the year 1896.
War-clouds, conjured up as if by magic in both hemispheres,
seemed ready to burst in several quarters.; But the immediate
danger has passed, although no one can say whether or not it
may reappear at ^ny moment.- The proximate cause of war in
each case was the inordinate rapacity of Great Britain in the
pursuit of new territory.

Mr. Cleveland's message to Congress with regard to the
Venezuelan boundary seemed at one time like the blast of the
war-bugle, awaking martial echoes on both continents. The
appointment of a commission to examine the historical evidence
on the boundary-line gave no assurance of any more than time
for deliberation on both sides. The tone of the press in this
country and Great Britain was in the main warlike, but events
have occurred since then which have moderated the bellicose
mood of Great Britain at least.

Like a bolt from the blue came a war-note from no less a
personage than the Emperor of Germany, Queen Victoria's
grandson. This entirely uncontrollable and irresponsible monarch
startled the world one morning by despatching a telegram to
the President of the Dutch Republic in South Africa, congratu-

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1896.] Editorial Notes. 711

lating him on the victory of the Boers over a Scotch adventur-
er, Dr. Jameson, who had led a filibustering party from British
South Africa into . the Transvaal. The Dutch sharp-shooters
met the band at the frontier and doubled the invaders up, as
they did the British regulars under Sir George Colley, at Laing's
Nek, some score of years previously.

It is claimed by the British that they hold a suzerainty
over the Transvaal, and this is why the Emperor's telegram was
taken as a thunderclap. The words of the message plainly in-
timated that if Great Britain intended to make a grab at the
Transvaal again, she would ^find German needleguns facing her.

This was regarded as unkind and uncalled for in Great
Britain, but Mr. Chamberlain, the Foreign Secretary, for all
that found it desirable to repudiate Dr. Jameson and his raid,
and hasten to assure the Boers that it was all a mistake to
think England wanted the Transvaal. But it is said that since
then the Boer government has come into possession of evidence
showing that Dr. Jameson acted with the connivance of the
British South African Company, Mr. Cecil Rhodes, the Prime
Minister of Cape Colony, and, indirectly, of the home govern-
ment. These discoveries may prove very embarrassing to Great
Britain, but they may have a good result on the Venezuelan
question.

Amidst these various distractions the sufferings of the
wretched Armenian people have been overlooked. Nothing suits
the Moslem better than angry controversies between the
European powers. These enable him to go on in his career of
cruelty unchecked. He is indulging his natural propensities at
the expense of the Armenians, on a scale which seems to sur-
pass all his former exploits in massacre and brutality. Horrify-
ing accounts come in daily, telling of whole districts devastated
and strewn with corpses and smoking ruins, and women and
children carried off by the thousand to become Moslem slaves.
The cry of a martyred people ascends to heaven, and it seems
to fall unheeded on Christian ears.

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712 What the Thinkers Say. [Feb.,

WHAT THE THINKERS SAY.

EMPEROR WILLIAM AS KING OF ENGLAND.

{From the Literary Digest.)

The following communication is likely to create widespread interest. Dis-
putes about royal succession have before now convulsed great nations with
civil war, and as Albert Edward, the present Prince of Wales, is very unpopu-
lar with staid and sober Englishmen, and only tolerated as the Queen's son in
English society outside of the " fast set," it is not impossible that there is trouble
in store for Great Britain when Queen Victoria dies. The Frankfurter Zeitung^
Frankf-iirt, says :

" We receive from a European capital (not London) the following communi-
cation. It has been sent to us in a way bordering on mystification, and its con-
tents have been noted with much astonishment. We would regard the matter as
a belated or advanced April-foolery, were it not that the form and tone of the
manuscript prove that the writer is very much in earnest. Besides, we know that
some most curious political sects in Great Britain and elsewhere uphold the most
remarkable ideas. The Jacobites, for instance, who to this day defend the rights
of the Stuarts against the usurpers of the Hanovenan-English dynasty, are no
single exception. We give the communication as a curiosity, but wish to point
out that it may possibly indicate the existence of a deeply hidden current, whose
aims cannot yet be determined. The communication runs as follows :

" * Many people will be astonished to hear of an English Succession question,
yet it exists. The Prince of Wales was bom in 1841 ; his sister, the Empress
Frederick, was born in 1840. As a rule it is thought that sons have precedence
of daughters in the heirship of thrones. But in England this is not the case.
The laws of succession in the Royal Family, as far as there are any, make no dif-
ference between sons and daughters, but speak of children only. This sensational
discovery must be credited to the late historian Froude, and the most enthusiastic
defenders of this idea are, in England, Lord Lonsdale, Lord Methuen, and last,
but not least, the celebrated writer and publisher, William T. Stead, of The
Review of Reviews. The latter points out that England has ever been greater
under her queens than under her kings, and Victoria IL would be very popular.

" * Curiously enough, however, the Princess Royal is likely to decline the
honor, probably because, after her death, the crown Would go to her eldest son.
Emperor William II., and because she thinks it impossible to unite the two
gigantic empires. She has, therefore, declared that the crown should go to her
younger son, Prince Henry of Prussia. Emperor William IL, however, will insist
upon getting his rights as eldest child of the eldest child, and as such he is the
legitimate heir, and no one else. He is convinced that a union of the two empires
would be of advantage not only to Great Britain and Germany, but to the whole

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1896.] What the Thinkers Say. 713

world. Emperor William is certainly not the kind of man that will allow his rights
to be infringed, but he has tact enough not to mention the matter during the life
of his grandmother. Perhaps it will now be understood what he meant when he
said that the German army and the German navy will one day cross the ocean.
Until recently Froude's discovery was known to few persons, but Mr. Stead will
undoubtedly take care to make the idea popular. At any rate, when Queen Vic-
toria I. dies — which may God prevent for many years — England will experience
great surprises.' "

We have given a verbal translation of this extraordinary communication, be-
cause the English papers have only given an extract which makes it appear as if
Germany and her Emperor intend to threaten Great Britain.. The German papers
as yet choose to apply the principle of totschweigen to this communication ; that
is, they mean to kill it by silence.

THE BURNING QUESTION.

(From the Homiletic Review^

Those who imagine that renewed prosperity will end the labor agitations do
not know what elemental forces of human nature and what fundamental principles
of the social system arc involved.

All classes admit the existence of great evils ; all are willing to have them
removed, provided that their removal does not demand of them personal sacrifices.
Everything is deemed lawful if only selfishness maintain its supremacy. Proper-
ty is sacred, no matter how obtained ; possession is nine points in law, though the
possessor be the devil. The mere suggestion that the present system may not be
best is treated as rebellion. Here is a cardinal difficulty ; the willingness to en-
ter upon a thorough, impartial investigation of the principles involved will yet have
to be created.

While privilege dreams itself secure in its castle, the wildest theories of destruc-
tion and revolution are preached to the multitude. On the commons of cultured
Boston three or four meetings are held simultaneously every Sunday afternoon to
denounce capitalism and to inflame the masses by glowing accounts of their suffer-
ings and wrongs. Nationalists, Populists, and Socialists vie with one another in
their efforts to prove the worthlessness and hopelessness of the existing order and
the need of change. This pessimism is by no means confined to laborers ; it has
affected students and specialists, who are overwhelmed by the magnitude of the
urgent problems.

WINNING TRAITS OF IRISH CATHOLICS.

{From the Literary Digest,)

A French writer, M. Jacques de Consanges, has begun an historical account
of " Catholicism in the United States." In the course of his first article {Revue
Encyclopidique, September) he has occasion to speak of the jealousy of the Amer-
ican bishops for the independence of their church, and as an instance mentions the
failure of Herr Cahensly's plan to give each nationality in this country a bishop of
its own speech. This failure, he says, was laid at the door of the Irish, which

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714 What the Thinkers Say. [Feb.,

leads him to say a word as to the relations of the Irish people to the Roman Cath-
olic Church in America. These reflections we here translate :

" This Irish origin of a great number of Catholics has been thrown in their
faces not only by the Germans but by the native-bom Americans ; it has even
stirred up persecutions by * Native Americans ' and * Know-Nothings.' And,
nevertheless, does it not seem that the Celtic character, when transplanted into
America, gains there the moral vigor and perseverance in which it is generally
lacking, while retaining its robust complexion, its love of danger and of adven-
tures, its brilliant imagination, its somewhat flowery eloquence, its ardor, its ten-
derness of heart, and its generosity ? Are not these the traits of physiognomy of
the American church.^ And is it not this suppleness of intellect that has per-
mitted Cardinal Gibbons to accomplish the work that he has made his own, * of
having made known the church to the American people, of having demonstrated
the harmony that exists between the doctrines of the church and the liberal insti-
tutions of America ? ' "

The peculiar temperament of the Irish prelates, such as Gibbons and Ireland,
has thus, according to the author, aided them in their task of preaching the essen-
tial unity of Catholicism and democracy. Says he :

" Was not democracy born with the church 1 Did not the church teach to
our own age the ideas of equality and of pity that it now claims as its own }

" What they wish, these bishops preach in their lives. It must be confessed
that the church in America finds itself in a particularly favorable situation for this
experiment. It has no antecedents ; in spite of its hundred years of existence it
is in process of formation, it is creating its own traditions, and the Gibbonses, the
Keanes, the Irelands are its ancestors ; but, above all, it is composed of the
people.

" Each day thousands of Irish and Germans land, and they wait only a priest
to form a parish. They are not even peasants ; they are petty shopkeepers, em-
ployers, workmen. The clergy rise from these humble surroundings."

Of the labors of one of these Irish priests, now become an archbishop, M.de
Consanges speaks as follows :

" These (priests) are not only missionaries, but the most active and enlight-
ened of citizens. Father Ireland has done powerful work in the colonization of
Minnesota. In 1878 he bought land and established thereon 900 Catholic colon-
ists. The success of this enterprise encouraged him to repeat it. He acquired
12,000 acres from the railway that leads from St. Paul to the Pacific, and the
results of this purchase were as satisfactory as the former. . . . The Ameri-
can bishops do not shrink from the embarrassments or risks of financial opera-
tions ; Monsignor Ireland has built twelve villages, from which he has not
excluded Protestants. . . .

" Yet again. Archbishop Ireland, both by the authority that he is given by his
office, and by that due to his own character, has several times acted as arbiter
between employers and workmen ; not only the former but the latter have sought
his aid ; he once settled a serious strike on the Manitoba Railroad."

In conclusion, the author recounts the influence of the Irish bishops at the
Vatican, relates how they successfully urged Leo XIII. not to condemn the
Knights of Labor, and closes with Cardinal Gibbons's words to the Pope :

•• The church of the New World must conquer the people or it must itself
perish."

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1896.] What the Thinkers Say. 715

MEXICO AND CUBA.

{From the Mexican Herald^

" Blood is thicker than water and the sentiment of liberty is more powerful
than the tie of blood among a free people. When, eventually, not perhaps by
means of the present revolution, Cuba shall secure her freedom, will she fall like a
ripe plum into the lap of the United States ? We prefer, if Cuba is to merge her
fortunes with any other nation, that she should become an integral part of the
Mexican Republic. It is our belief that the Republic of Mexico has an imperial
destiny, and is to become a great nation among the nations of the earth. Mani-
festly then, Cuba, lying to the eastward and commanding the Gulf of Mexico,
should belong to this country. Cuba would be the forefoot of Imperial Mexico
planted in the Atlantic ! It would be the rendezvous of the future Mexican navy,
and every argument of race, language, and tradition favors Cuba as a Mexican
state rather than as an American territory. As a state of the Mexican Union,
Cuba would have home rule ; her own people would govern in their local affairs.
Some of our colleagues of the native press in this city are of our opinion, notably
La Patria and El NacionaL Bright, progressive, patriotic Mexicans are of the
same way of thinking, for, with us, they believe in the imperial destinies of this
gp-eat country."

{From the Tiempo^

" Those people who speak of Cuban independence do so with malicious intent.
The island is not ripe for autonomy, and if it does not remain Spanish, it will not
be free. It is not strong enough to resist that country which has tried to purchase
Cuba from Spain. Say what you will, the United States will not permit Cuba to
be free. When we examine into the real character of the insurrection and its
leaders, we cannot discover any cause for sympathy, for as soon as the relations
between the revolutionists and the sworn enemy of the Spanish- American countries
became known, we could not believe that patriotism is the moving spring. How
can we believe that tho$e who love Latin Cuba would implore the gross and
humiliating favor of the Saxons of America ? The idea that Cuba might become
Mexican has no foundation but the wish of some Mexicans and the pretension of
the insurgents. Does any one think the United States will make us a present of
the island ? No indeed. It would be very impolitic in our government to favor
the rising."

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7i6 The Columbian Reading Union. [Feb.,

THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.

THE Right Honorable John Morley's article on Matthew Arnold in the Nine-
teenth Century Review will afford ample opportunity for much profitable dis-
cussion in Reading Circles that permit the introduction of current topics. Matthew
Arnold regarded England as a great force in the world, and was convinced that
she could not exert this force effectively or wisely until her educational system had
been widened, and all her standards of enlightenment raised. For this literature
was to be the great instrument, together with organization. He wished to have
the best elements of the Celt and the Saxon combined for mutual advantage. Con-
cerning the present opportunities for women Mr. Morley writes as follows :

" From the fine ladies in great houses, through the daughters of doctors and
lawyers and tradesmen, down to the shop-girl who lives by herself in a fiat, it is
among women that a revolution in ideals and possibilities is working its way, far
exceeding in real significance any mere political changes, and perhaps even the
transformation both in speculative religious beliefs and the temper in which they
are held . . ."

Arnold does not, I think, touch upon this remarkable phase of contemporary
things ; but he gives to a female relative an incidental piece of advice which is
worth pressing in days when women in certain circles are beginning to exercise
an influence, not quite beyond comparison with the influence of women in France
in more than one great epoch of French history.

" If I were you," Matthew Arnold writes, " I should now take to some regular
reading, if it were only an hour a day. It is the best thing in the world to have
something of this sort as a point in the day, and far too few people know and use
this secret. You would have your district still and all your business as usual, but
you would have this hour in your day in the midst of it all, and it would soon be-
come of the greatest solace to you."

« 4t 4>

The Seton Circle of New York City is organized for the intellectual and social
benefit of its members. The members meet twice monthly ; once for the business
of the Reading Circle, and once at the lecture, for which they receive invitations
for friends. The government of the Circle is assigned to the executive committee,
which.consists of the five officers and five members. The members, besides an
initiation, fee of one dollar, pay five dollars yearly dues in semi-annual payments.
Membership is limited to seventy-five for the present year.

The officers are : Mrs. M. J. McDermott, President ; Miss K. Macdona, Vice-
President ; Mrs. G. Steele, Recording Secretary ; Miss M. A. Bracken. Correspond-
ing Secretary; Mrs. J. J. Barry, Treasurer. Executive Committee: Mrs. F.
Oliver, Miss H. A. Whealen, Miss M. Dunn, Miss M. Le Sourd, Miss M. Mead.
Rev. D. J. McMahon, D.D., Moderator.

This list of books selected for the use of the members indicates very solid
reading : History of the Church in England, by Mary Allies, 2 vols. ; Flanagan's
History of the Church in England, 2 vols. ; Dodd's Church History of England,
5 vols. ; Anderdon's Britain's Early Faith ; Ltngard's History of England ;
Pocock's Records of the Reformation ; Burnet's History of the Refomnation in
England; S. Hubert Burke's Historical Portraits of the Tudor Dynasty and the
Reformation Period ; J. Morris's Troubles of Our Catholic Forefathers, and Records
of the English (Jesuit) Province ; Waterworth's Origin and Development of

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1896.] The Columbian Reading Union. 717

Anglicanism; Gasquet's Henry VIII. and the English Monasteries, and Edward
VI. and the Book of Common Prayer; Mrs. Hope's Divorce of Henry VIII.;
Robin's The Argument for Royal Supremacy; Bridgett's Thomas More, Life
of Cardinal Fisher, Queen Elizabeth and Catholic- Hiierarchy; Mrs. Stewart's Life
of Cardinal Pole ; Lee's Edward VI. and Church under Elizabeth ; Hall's Society
in the Elizabethan Age ; Breen and Estcourt on Anglican Orders ; Meline's Life of
Mary, Queen of Scots.

The general subject announced for the course of reading is the rising of the
Anglican Schism. Literary numbers are interspersed relating to the " Idylls of
the King '' and other poems by Tennyson. Among the topics chosen for essays
are the following :

England's continuous Relations with the Holy See until XVIth Century,
against assertion that the English Church was ever independent of Rome —
Stephen Lang^on, Thomas k Becket, Anselm.

Henry VIII. and Luther: the grounds for title Defender of the Faith.
Description of Luther's Revolt and Henry's Defence of Church.

Henry VIII. and Wolsey: proceedings about the divorce from Catherine.
Wolsey's character.

Blessed Thomas More : Erasmus and Cranmer. Royal Supremacy Act.

Blessed John Fisher : number of English martyrs recently canonized. Crom-
well and Spoliation of Monasteries. Holy Maid of Kent.

Queen Mary and the People : difficulty of Catholic worship. Cardinal Pole.
Was the name Bloody Mary deserved }

Queen Mary and the Nobles : Ridley — Latimer. Spoils of the Monasteries.
Reconciliation with Rome.

Elaine, Holy Grail, and Queen Mary.

Elizabeth and Mary, Queen of Scots : character of Elizabeth. Relations with
her unfortunate relative.

Divisions in the English Church : Puritans, Nonconformists. Relations with
Rome.

Queen Elizabeth and Anglican Ordinations : question of Parker's Consecra-
tion by Barlow, Scory, and Cbverdale.

Queen Elizabeth and Rituals : Book of Common Prayer. Different versions
of Missals 1 550-1 552-1 5 59.

Queen Bess and Cardinal Allen : Douay Bible, King James' version.

The Gunpowder Plot : state of Catholic religion under Elizabeth ; calumnies
against bishops and priests.

This excellent programme is to be supplemented by a course of eight public
lectures. We are much pleased to notice that the History of the Church in Eng-
land, by Miss Allies, is accepted for the general use of the members as the most

recent standard work on the subject.

* * *

Some time ago an article in the Cosmopolitan Magazine by Edward W. Bok
elicited many unfavorable comments. The writer contended that all the sermons
which he had heard for young men indicated that the preacher started from a
false point of view ; that the young man is always a prodigal son. The article
showed no knowledge or experience of the teaching for young men in the Catholic
Church. At our request a distinguished graduate of Seton Hall College, New Jer-
sey, Mr. Banks M. Moore, has written a young man's estimate of Successward, by
Edward W. Bok (New York:. Fleming H. Revell Company) :

To whatever fiterary production Mr. Bok's name is attached there is a guar-
antee of excellence ; but in> this first publiished volume he has been fortunate in

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7i8 The Columbian Reading Union. [Feb.,

the choice of his subject and his handling of it. Successward is a book devoted
to the young man's interests. It tells him, if he would make a success out of life,
what he ought to do, and how he is to do it ; and certainly the author is eminently
fitted to give instruction on this matter. After a careful perusal we would wish
to see the work in the hands of every young man, bpth for its high moral tone
and its instructive teaching ; every chapter will strike a sympathetic chord in the
hearts of the majority of our American youth. It is false to suppose that human
nature is as pessimistic as it is often painted. There is good in every heart ; and
if directed rightly, this good cannot but show itself. The evil in the world for the
most part arises from the misdirection of aims and affections. Such is the au-
thor's view of life ; his work is essentially ethical, strongly favoring a delightful
theory of optimism. But there is nothing abstract in any chapter of the book ;
and if we draw inferences of this kind from it, we cannot do so until we have read
the whole, and compared its maxims with concrete cases, whose successes or fail-
ures have come under personal notice.

The author, in the first place, advises the young man to have " a correct know-
ledge of himself," to consider the various avenues which are open to him ; and
then select that one for which he feels himself peculiarly adapted. The one
great idea is to impress upon him the high sense of his own individuality. He
should feel that he stands alone in the world. And by the importance of the young
man Mr. Bok wishes him to understand the great things which his own friends
and relatives, his country and society, expect from him ; that he should regu-
late his actions to meet these expectations, and compass them in their entirety.
True success in life does not necessarily mean " the doing of something momen-
tous ; the becoming known of all men and women ; the being exceptional to the
rest of the human race. . . . Scarcely a more incorrect interpretation of a
successful life can be imagined," says Mr. Bok; and yet, how many are there who
continually seek notoriety in strange ways.

Success, according to Mr. Bok (and we think his exposition of the word cor-
rect), lies in the contentment and happiness of the individual, which can be as
readily attained in the humbler walks of life as in the most exalted. A man cannot
go beyond his capacity ; and if he tries to do so, failure will ineWtably result.
These are the first principles of the author, which arc certainly true to nature the
world over.

To attain success Mr. Bok advances a set of rules which it would be wise for
every young man to follow. Our space will not permit us to examine each one
separately, though we would like to do so ; but we may mentioiii two, which are
the underlying factors in almost every chapter — abstinence from the use of intoxi-
cants, and the question of marriage. He strongly advises young men " to avoid
liquors of all kinds "; and urges that every one start out in life with a principle
from which they should never swerve. But what we like most in his moulding of
the moral young man is that Mr. Bok does not think he is necessarily bound to
" sow his wild oats " ; certainly there is no belief more contrary to our Catholic
teaching than that which requires a young man to be vicious ; and there is nothing
more detrimental to a young man's success than dissipation. We like, too, the
feeling and the sincerity which run through the chapter on religious life ; though
we do not agree that '* religion is a matter of one's own convictions," so far as pri-
vate judgment is concerned, and this seems to be the author s idea. But there is
a fervent Chrisiian spirit breathed through the whole chapter ; a spirit that only
could have emanated from a truly devout heart ; and one which, whosoever adores
the Creator must foster in his breast. The author's advocacy of prayer is as

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1896.] The Columbian Reading Union. 719

masterly as it is eloquent ; and if many of our young men would only pray a little
more earnestly, how much sooner would they realize the fruition of their hopes !

In the question of marriage also we find the author gives this advice : Marry
the girl you love ; and if you do this, life will be a greater success to you than
should you attain the highest rank in the land without it ; but a marriage under-
taken for selfish ambition alone or for money is a despicable act, and one which
makes life miserable for man and woman alike. The picture of happy domestic
life so gracefully drawn at the closing of this volume is one which could be well
read in every home of the land ; and it is a fitting scene, as beautiful in conception
as in description, to end a book which in its every detail, sentiment, and thought
is a refreshing stimulant to energy and to virtue.

There is one thing to regret, and that is that Mr. Bok has given no advice to
guide the young man in the matter of reading — especially of consecutive, thorough
reading. We notice, however, that he is not insensible to its advantages, for he
alludes to reading as a pastime in several places ; but we ask. Is it not something
more ? Should it not be used as an improvement for the mind } Should not the
young man give at least one of his leisure hours after business to tHe pursuit
of some congenial study, which would enable him to pursue a course of con-
secutive reading ? We think it not only an advantage to him, but a necessity ;
and we hope Mr. Bok will find time in the near future to give us another book for
the young man, pointing out the means and rules of a successful self-education
as ably as he has done to a successful career.

« * *

The Public Library of Denver is supported by a special tax levy of one-tenth
of one mill, which is provided for in the statute law of Colorado. Any school
district may levy this tax, but probably East Denver is the only district in the
State -where .the levy would be of much benefit. The tax brings in about $6,000 a
year, which is devoted entirely to the library, salaries, rooms, etc., being furnished
by the school board out of the general school fund. About 12,000 cards have
been issued, and the average daily circulation last year was 533, while 240,271
people visited the reading and reference rooms. It being pre-emjnently a school
library, the books have been largely selected with a view to use by teachers and
students in general, as well as pupils in school. The circulation of books among
children is enormous and has greatly increased since the children's room was in-
stituted.

The Denver City Library, with 28,000 volumes, lends 500 books every day, and
the average number who use the reading-room is 300. The collection of books is
extremely well chosen, as instead of books being donated, as in many libraries,
money has been given, and therefore the best and most recent works could be
placed upon the shelves. The chamber of commerce has collected and disbursed
the money donated, and has furnished room, heat, light, and janitor. For the last
four years the city has appropriated $7,500 a year to help sustain the library. The
books now in the library have cost about $35,000, and this year already 2,000 new
books have been added to the lists. Only the best of management and the
closest economy have enabled the managers of the library to accomplish what they
have, and yet the library does not meet the growing demands upon it. With all
the improvements made by the change last year, there is still no alcove room for
the use of students, and there is no space for a children's room, which has
proved so great a success at the public library.

The women of Denver who have gone so deeply into study clubs during the
last two years have kept the librarians very busy with their demands for books.

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720 The Columbian Reading Union. [Feb.,

One librarian has devoted a scrap-book to the doings and programmes of women's
clubs, and has studied them faithfully in order to know what books are to be called
for and to have them on the shelves. At the City Library a ntew'nile vi^as adopted
recently which allows holders of cards to take out a second card to be used for
solid reading, and the Public Library has announced a similar privilege.

A short time ago a public-spirited citizen of Omaha bequeathed a valuable
plot of land to the city on condition that a free public library be placed thereon.
The city accepted the gift, voted $100,000 library building bonds, and now has
some 50,000 volumes at the service of the people. Topeka has a handsome library
building on State House Square. Chicago is just finishing a library building on
which the city has expended $2,225,000. It has already nearly 300,000 volumes.
Kansas City, Cleveland, Detroit, and many other central Western cities have fine
public libraries under the control of the school boards. In those cities all the
schools are under one board. St. Louis had a good library conducted in this way,
but the demands upon it grew so great that the board could not handle it, and by
a vote of the people it was turned over to the city as a nucleus for a great free
library. It is now housed in a magnificent building, erected especially for it. At
the dedication of this library Rev. Edward Everett Hale said of the libraries in his
own city of Boston : " After thirty years of experience this has come to be the law
and understanding. You may retrench on the right hand and on the left, you may
cut down the salary of the mayor, you may leave the streets narrow, you may have
a bad fire department, you may go to the dogs in any other direction, but beware

how you put your finger on the appropriation fdr the public library."

« « *

A vigorous protest against pernicious literature has been raised by the Si.
James* Gazette, This protest is based on the case of a fourteen-year-old boy in
Plaistow, England, who murdered his mother while she was asleep. He asked
permission to sleep in her bed while his father was away, and took that opportu-
nity to stab her to death. The coroner's jury brought out the fact that he had
been addicted to reading blood-thirsty stories. Whereupon the Gazette proceeds
to score not only the penny dreadfuls of Great Britain, but certain American
publications which have an extensive circulation. It scores Home Secretary
Matthews, who is reported to have said: Don't interfere; leave things to the
moral sense of the community — that moral sense which allows individuals to
collect heaps of dirty pennies by selling stories of infanticide and abortion to
servant girls and permits murder to be made as familiar as cricket to school-boys.
The evil is palpable. The remedy is not so clear. The Plaistow jury thinks
the legislature ought to take steps to stop the sale of these poisonous publica-
tions. But what steps? The difficulties are considerable. We believe that
even now the publishers of these noxious books and newspapers might be indicted^
either under Lord Campbell's act, which makes it penal to publish anything of a
profane or obscene character, or perhaps even at common law. But it would be
for the common sense of the common juryman to decide where genuine literary
romance ended and where incitement to crime and immorality began. That is
the difficulty ; and it cannot be said to have been successfully surmounted in a
country where Zola's novels have been suppressed and the Police Gazette allowed
to go free.

Miss Maria C. Mondy, who is in charge of the young people's section of the
National Home Reading Union, London, in atp^imphlet on School Libraries, has
quoted these words from Sir Walter Scott : To make boys learn to read, and then
place no good books within their reach, is to give them an appetite, and leave noth-
ing in the pantry save unwholesome and poisonous food, which, depend upon it.

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1896.] The Columbian Reading Union. 721

they will eat rather than starve. She has also gathered some powerful words
from Rev. E. Thring on reading as a means of education.

Advantages may be derived from healthy fiction, which contains no poisonous
food for the mind. Speaking at Lincoln, England, of the taste for reading which
distinguished the present age, Professor Jebb observed that regret had sometimes
been expressed that works of fiction . fofmed so' large a proportion of the books
b6h*owed from public libraries. One of the best reasons for reading novels was
that they tended to keep the imagination alive, and the torpor or extinction of the
imaginative faculty was a much more serious evil in practical life than was com-
monly recognized. A dormant imagination meant a diminished power of under-
standing our fellow-creatures ; it involved a narrowing of their human sympathies,
and this, in turn, implied a contraction of their whole mental horizon, with the
consequent loss of efficiency for the work of life. The supporters of a library
should not feel any discouragement if the lighter literature, and especially the
fiction, was found to be very largely in demand.

* * 4t

The new American ship St, Paul has been supplied with a library of 1,200
volumes, a gift from the City of St. Paul. It contains loo works of reference ;
the complete works of Dickens, Thackeray, Scott, Irving, Lowell, Longfellow,
Hawthorne, Emerson, Parkman, Motley, Prescott, Holmes, and Cooper ; nearly
300 miscellaneous writers of fiction ; 50 volumes of poetry, British and American ;
175 volumes of history, besides the historical writings of the authors whose com-
plete works are included; 150 volumes of biography, 100 volumes of miscellany,
including essays, critical, humorous,- and scientific works, and a number of wdrks
on Minnesota. The library is strongly American, especially in history and bio-
graphy. The St. Louis ship has also a library somewhat larger than that of the
St. Paul. Each steamship has in addition a considerable second cabin library,
and from three hundred to four hundred works in French and German. It is
believed that these are the first ships to provide a second cabin library. It has
usually been the custom to leave the matter of a steamship library to accident.
Some companies content themselves with applying a small annual sum to the
maintenance of a library, and requesting passengers to leave behind them such
books as they do not especially value. A specially selected library of standard
works and current fiction is a rare thing to find aboard ship.

While the American liners are thus providing books for their passengers, the
Navy Department is fitting out its new ships with libraries of a size hitherto un-
known. Every ship has usually carried something that was called a library. It
varied from two-score volumes stored in some bit of waste place to, perhaps, 250
volumes, many of them more or less technical in character. The department is
now purchasing about a dozen ship libraries. The size of the library varies with
the size of the ship and its complement of men and officers. The Maine has in
the ship's library between 850 and 1,000 volumes, besides a library of almost 350
volumes for the use of the crew. . The Naval Equipment Bureau at Washington
is charged with the duty of providing libraries for the ships, and is locally aided
in this city by an officer at the Navy Yard, acting directly under the Chief of Equip-
ment. The department issues printed lists of the library that is to be provided
for e^h ship, and these lists are sent to three or four booksellers for bids. The
contract for furnishing the books is then awarded to the lowest bidder. The de-
partment has been thoughtful enough to vary the libraries in the several ships, so
that officers and men, in going from one ship to another, will find something fresh
to read.

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722 Neiv Books. [Feb., 1896.

A sample crew's library contains a few works of reference, many works of
adventure and fiction, a little history, and perhaps a dozen technical works.
Fiction seems to constitute quite two-thirds of the crew's library.

The French navy is notable for the excellent technical library to be found on
board each considerable ship and the many periodicals of a technical or semi-tech-
nical character. The British navy and our own have hitherto been weak in these
particulars.

It is a sort of unwritten law that the doctor aboard ship as a man of leisure
shall have general charge of the library. It has hitherto been almost a sinecure,
but in the case of the new libraries for men-of-war the duty is likely to be more
onerous, for in increasing the size of the libraries the Navy Department has
adopted an elaborate and rather cumbrous system of classification and numbering
that will doubtless vex the souls of the librarians. There has been some criticism
by booksellers of this attempt to classify a number of small libraries upon a system
especially intended to insure large libraries against confusion. It is also pointed
out that the department's method of} charging an officer with the duty of looking
after the purchase of ship libraries, and at the same time requiring him to sit upon
courts-martial and attend to half a dozen other things, is apt to embarrass him in
a somewhat delicate task. M. C. M.

NEW BOOKS.

Benziger Brothers, New York :

^thiopium Servus: A Study in Christian Altruism. By M. D. Petre.
Short Conferences on the Little Office of the Immaculate Conception, By
Very Rev. Joseph Rainer. New edition. Spiritual. Bouquet, By the Sis-
ters-of Charity, Halifax, N. S.
Longmans. Green & Co., New York :

Macaulay's Essay on Milton. With Notes and an Introduction by James
Greenleaf Croswell, A,B. Daniel Webster's First Bunker Hill Oration.
Together with other Addresses relating to the Revolution. With Notes
and an Introduction by Fred. Newton Scott, Ph.D. John Milton's L' Alle-
gro, II Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas. With Notes and an Introduction
by William P. Trent, M.A.
D. C. Heath & Co., Boston :

The Arden Shakespeare : Hamlet y King Richard II. Edited respectively by
E. K. Chambers, B.A., and C. H. Herford, Litt.D. Die Hochzeitsreis'e.
By J. R. Benedix. Edited, with Notes, by Natalie Schiefferdecker.
Columbian Publishing Co., Washington, D. C.

In the Court Circle. By James A. Edwards. Second edition.
P. Lethielleux, 10 Rue Cassette, Paris:

Institutiones I heologicce in Usum Scholarum, Auctore G. Bernardo Tepe,
S.J. Vols. I. and II.

PAMPHLETS.

The Cuban Question in its True Light. By an American.
Relation of the Press and the Stage to Purity. By Josiah W. Leeds. Phila-
delphia : 528 Walnut Street.
The United States and Cuba. By John Guiteras, M.D.
Sursum Corda : Annual Record of the Confraternity of St. Gabriel,
^,Office of the Indian Rights Association, Philadelphia:

Ihe Latest Phase of the Southern Ule Question, By Francis E. Leu pp.
Government Printing-Office, Washington :

Bulletin of the Department of Labor — No. i. November, 1895.

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/* **^ The Organic Conception of the jDhtfrch.

JAMES GOLF.

Legislation as a Cure-All. bobert j. mahon.
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General Literature and Science.

Vol. LXII. march, 1896. No. 372.

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FEB 2? 1886

^^ro.

CATHOLIC WORLD.

Vol. LXII. MARCH, 1896. No. 372.

THE ORGANIC CONCEPTION OF THE CHURCH.

BY JAMES GOLF.

*• Ecclesiology has much to learn from biology." — Mtv, Dr. Uunttngtou^ Rector of Grace
Church, New York,

I WORD organism may be predicated of a plant,
an animal, or a society. It means a living
body. A plant or an animal is called an indi-
vidual organism, and a society is a social organ-
ism. The analogies between the two kinds, the
individual and the social, are thus stated by
Herbert Spencer:

" Societies agree with individual organisms in four conspicu-
ous peculiarities :

" I. That, commencing as small aggregations, they insensibly
augment in mass ; some of them eventually reaching ten thou-
sand times what they originally were.

" 2. That while at first so simple in structure as to be con-
sidered structureless, they assume, in the course of their
growth, a continually-increasing complexity of structure.

" 3. That though in their early, undeveloped states there
exists in them scarcely any mutual dependence of parts, their
parts gradually acquire a mutual dependence, which becomes
at last so great that the activity and life of each part is made
possible only by the activity and life of the rest.

"4. The life and development of a society is independent of,
and far more prolonged than, the life and development of its
component units: who are severally born, grow, work, repro-
duce, and die, while the body politic composed of them sur-
vives generation after generation, increasing in mass, complete-
ness of structure, and functional activity."

VOL. LXII.— 46

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724 The Organic Conception of the Church. [Mar.,

ST. PAUL'S PROPHETIC ANALOGY.

Spencer notes that a perception of some analogy between
an individual and a social organism was early reached, and
from time to time had reappeared in literature. He cites the
comparison made by Plato between the powers of the model
republic and the faculties of the human mind, and also Hobbes'
rather fanciful analogies between the various organs of the
state and the parts of a man. This is an oversight. Even
from the point of view of science, St. Paul's comparison of the
church with the human body is infinitely more remarkable than
either Plato's or Hobbes' reference to the state. It would, of
course, be out of place to regard St. Paul's words as a scien-
tific statement. God's words are not as man's. But it is inter-
esting to examine how far St. Paul did anticipate the conclu-
sions of modern science. "As the body is one," he says, "and
hath many members, and all the members of the body, where-
as they are many, are yet one body; so also is Christ (the
Church). For in one Spirit were we all baptized into one
body, whether Jews or Gentiles, whether bond or free ; and in
one Spirit have we all been made to drink. For the body also
is not one member, but many. If the foot should say: Because
I am not the hand, I am not of the body ; is it therefore not of
the body? ... If the whole body were the eye, where
would be the hearing? . . . And the eye cannot say to
the hand : I need not thy help. Nor again the head to the
feet: I have no need of you. . . . And if one member
suffer anything, all the members suffer with it ; or, if one mem-
ber glory, all the members rejoice with it. Now you are the
Body of Christ and members of member. And God indeed
hath set some in the church, first Apostles, etc. (I. Cor. xii.)
And he (Christ) gave some Apostles, and some Prophets, and
other some Evangelists, and other some pastors and doctors,
for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry,
for the building up of the Body of Christ (the Church), . . .
that by doing the truth in charity we may in all things grow
up in Him who is the Head, even Christ ; from whom the
whole body, being compacted and fitly joined together by what
every joint supplieth, according to the operation in the mea-
sure of every part, maketh increase of the body into the build-
ing up of itself in charity" (Eph. iv.)

INCOMPREHENSIBLE TO THE MODERN "SCIENCE."

St. Paul here had in view the future growth of the church
— that we may grow up in Him who is the Head. It was to be

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1896.] The Organic Conception of the Church, 725

a growth in mass to the extent of becoming world-wide, ex-
cluding neither nationality nor social class, neither Jews nor
Gentiles, neither slaves nor freemen. It was to be a growth in
complexity of structure, . being compacted and fitly joined
together according to the operation in the measure (or need) of
ev^ry part, or, as he says elsewhere, the whole body nourished
and constructed through joints and hands groweth unto the
increase of God. This growth involved mutual dependence of
part upon part — or more precisely, of organ upon organ — the
activity and life of each part depending upon the activity arid
life of the rest ; or, as St. Paul expresses it, when one member
suffers all the members suffer with it. It is a growth from
within by assimilation of material introduced by baptism, since,
we are not only baptized into one body in one spirit, but in
the same spirit all are made to drink; or, as he says more
clearly in Eph. ii., that he (Christ) might make the two (the
Jew and the Gentile) in himself into one new man, making peace,
and might reconcile both to God in one body by the cross. A
new birth ushers the social unit into that one body, and a new
life and work is there developed in each. " In the absence of
physiological science," says Herbert Spencer, " and especially of
those comprehensive generalizations which it has but recently
reached, it was impossible to discern the real parallelisms
between a body politic and a living individual body." Impos-
sible it doubtless was to mere men of science, and St. Paul
shows that he had access to a source of knowledge more
luminous than science when he discerned what science could
not then have discerned, and pointed out real parallelisms.
So deeply did his teaching on this head penetrate the church
that, in after ages, when mechanical conceptions of society
became dominant and men of science classified the state as an
artificial structure, Catholic theologians never ceased to regard
the church as an organism or to antagonize such mechanical
theories of society as that of Rousseau. Protestantism, on the
other hand, has little affinity with the newer and truer scien-
tific view, which will probably sweep away many a Protestant
theory regarding the Church of Christ. In this sense ecclesi-
ology has much to learn from biology.

Scripture has yet another parallelism, and one far more
profound than any of the four enumerated above. A further
5tudy of individual organisms will serve to introduce it. There
is a stage in the growth of every animal when the whole
organism, as far as it can be seen, consists of a transparent
^emi-fluid substance resembling the white of an egg. Professor

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726 The Organic Conception of the Church, [Mar.

Huxley thus describes the first stages of growth in the embryo
of a common animal, as he watches it under his microscope:

" Strange possibilities lie dormant in that semi-fluid globule.
Let a moderate supply of warmth reach its watery cradle and
the plastic matter undergoes changes so rapid and yet so steady
and purpose-like in their succession that one can only compare
them to those, operated by a skilled modeller upon a formless
lump of clay. As with an invisible trowel, the mass is divided
and subdivided into smaller and smaller portions, until it is
reduced to an aggregation of granules not too large to build
withal the finest fabrics of the nascent organism. And then
it is as if a delicate finger traced out the line to be occupied
by the spinal column, and moulded the contour of the body;
pinching up the head at one end, the tail at the other, and
fashioning flank and limb into due proportions in so artistic a
way that, after watching the process hour by hour, one is
almost involuntarily possessed by the notion that some more
subtle aid to vision than an achromatic glass would show the
hidden artist, with his plan before him, striving with skilful
manipulation to perfect his work."

That "invisible artist** is a reality. Call it a soul, or a life,
or a principle of life — whatever the name of it, an invisible
source of growth and action there is in every organism. There
is a visible substance which is organized and an invisible vital
principle which organizes. Starting from a microscopic germ,
the organism builds itself up after a certain type. The exter-
nal organization which we see is the result, not the cause, of
energy in the organism. There is a central life ruling all
organs and assigning them their parts to play. This biologi-
cal fact enables us to speak of societies with greater precision.
Not every aggregation of men called a society can claim to be
a social organism. It may be an artificial social frame-work, an
organization, very useful or very useless, as the case may be,
but still only an organization, not having life in itself. It may
partake of the life in a social organism with which it is con-
nected, like a joint-stock company in the istate or a religious
order in the church ; but that does not make it an organism,

ORGANISM MEANS INHERENT LIFE.

It is sometimes said that the difference between an organism
and an organization is that the former is born and the latter is
made. This is not exact. It is a proper use of the word, for
instance, to say that a horse has an organization, meaning a
structural form with organs adapted to various uses ; and in

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1896.] The Organic Conception of the Church. 727

this sense the organization may be said to be born, and every
organism has an organization. So too may the organization of
a society be said to be born, providing the society is really an
organism ; that is, when it has a complete life of its own. In
this case the organization is developed from within, or at least
appropriated and modified by a vital energy within, not merely
imposed from without. But when a society is merely an or-
ganization, not having life in itself, such an organization is
made, not born. There are at least three different societies
possessing that internal and self-contained vitality which makes
them organisms. They are the family, civil society, and the
Church of Jesus Christ. In the Gospels the word church occurs
only twice, its usual Gospel name being the Kingdom of God,
the Kingdom of Heaven, or simply the Kingdom. The literal
Gospel description of the Church, the one to which figurative
descriptions are referred, is, that it is a kingdom. The parables
of the kingdom make it abundantly evident that the church is
an organic growth, not an artificial organization. Starting from
a germ, she built herself up after ^ foreordained type. The
Kingdom of God is like a grain of mustard seed, which when it
is sown in the earth is less than all the seeds that are in the
earth ; and when it is sown it groweth up, and becometh greater
than all herbs, and shooteth out great branches, so that the
birds of the air may dwell under the shadow thereof. This
shooting out of branches from within was to be, not sudden
but gradual. So is the Kingdom of God, as if a man should
cast seed in the earth, and should sleep and rise, day and
night, and the seed should spring and grow up whilst he know-
eth not ; for the earth of itself bringeth forth fruit, first the
blade, then the ear, afterwards the full corn in the ear. The
source of this organic growth is the subject of the additional
parallelism to be drawn from Scripture. The parallelism
itself may be stated in the words of St. Augustine : " What the
soul is to the body of a man, that the Holy Ghost is to the
Body of Christ, which is the Church."

THE ORGANISM BECOMES AN ORGANIZATION.

The comparison suggested by Scripture is even higher. St.
Paul defines the Church to be the Body of Christ. When our
Lord was on earth he gathered round him a number of disci-
ples, some of whom he called to be Apostles. This society was
not yet an organism. It became an organism on the day of Pen-
tecost. When the angel announced to the Blessed Virgin that
she was to be the mother of the coming Redeemer, she asked :

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728 The Organic Conception of the Church. [Mar

How shall this be done ? The angel replied : The Holy Ghost
shall come upon thee, and the power of the Most High shall
overshadow thee. When the Apostles put a similar question to
our Lord regarding his kingdom (Acts i.), he gave the same
reply : You shall receive power, the Holy Ghost coming upon
ygu. On a former occasion (St. John xvi.), after speaking of
the future mission of the Holy Ghost, he compared the
Apostles to a woman in labor whose sorrow is changed into
joy at the birth of the child. On the day of Pentecost the
joy of the Apostles was complete. The Holy Ghost descended
upon them, as he had descended upon the Blessed Virgin, to
form the Body of Christ. As the body formed in the Blessed
Virgin is a divine organism, animated by a divine life, so the
Body formed at Pentecost is as truly a divine organism, ani-
mated by a divine life. The Holy Ghost came to abide in it
for ever. The Acts of the Apostles is the history of a nascent
organism. There is not at first that evident dependence of part
upon part which fuller organic growth gradually brings. There
may be doctrinal developi^nt in the church : there is certainly
organic development. First the blade, then the ear, afterwards
the full corn in the ear. All necessary powers were provided
in the beginning, as the acorn virtually contains the oak ; but
the exercise of those powers came gradually, according to the
operation in the measure of each part, under the guidance of
Him who, through the Holy Ghost, is still with his church.

ESSENTIAL DIFFERENCES IN THEORIES.

At the basis of Protestantism in all its forms lies the nega-
tive proposition that the Church of Christ is not an organism.
Protestantism necessitates the theory that the Church of Christ
considered as one body is invisible. An organism, on the con-
trary, is necessarily a visible body. Protestantism means an
ever-decreasing dependence of part upon part. An organism
means an ever-increasing dependence of part upon part. Pro-
testantism means individualism. An organism means the assimi-
lation of individuals in the life and through the action of one
body. Protestantism means that truth and grace come directly
from God to the individual, that social action in such matters
is merely subsidiary and subject to voluntary arrangement. A
divine organism, on the contrary, means that revealed truth and
grace are lodged primarily in the whole body as such, and that
through it God enlightens and sanctifies the individual — in a
word, that organic unity is the appointed condition and means
of our receiving the privileges of the Gospel.

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1896.] Legislation AS A Cure-All. 729

LEGISLATION AS A CURE-ALL.

BY ROBERT J. MAHON.

i HE address of Mr. James C. Carter as President
of the American Bar Association is Sprinted in
full in a recent issue of ih^ Albany Law Journal.
It is a review by that distinguished jurist of
the legislation wrought by Congress and by the
several States during the year. Perhaps the most interesting
feature contained in it is pointed out in these words : " The
common notion that somehow laws execute themselves seems
to hold its sway over the public mind, and even over that of
legislators, in the face of a thousand demonstrations to the con-
trary. Multitudes will busy themselves with the work of secur-
ing the passage of laws under the illusion that plenty of human
instruments may easily be found who will undergo the labor of
enforcing them against the passions, the beliefs, and the inter-
ests of other multitudes."

These remarks sharply call our attention to the faulty
omission or wilful indolence of our citizens in dealing with
their public business. A mere glance at the administration of
public affairs within the past few years will exhibit many proofs
of the accuracy of Mr. Carter's pregnant memory. With the
inherent tendency of human affairs to grow awry at times, we
will have in healthy communities periodical agitations and moral
or civic uprisings. When we notice our public business falling
into the hands of corrupt mercenaries, we have a general im-
pulse to do something in the way of cure. If part of the com-
munity seem to be getting some improper advantage of the
rest, public movements are put under way to attempt proper
equalization. Sometimes the majority do not seriously accept
the alarm of the situation and the agitation ends in fiasco.
Even when the danger is actual and imminent, and realized as
such, the results are scarcely more substantial. After much
effort, bitter controversy, and large expenditures of money, such
endeavors seem to end in the enactment of fresh legislation.
This being done, the knights of modern reform return from the
crusade with the self-consciousness of victors, and sometimes
with the spoils of war. Don Quixote assailing the windmill was
scarcely less effective.

The mere multiplication of laws cannot of itself work out

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730 Legislation AS A Cure-All. [Man,

moral or civic reform. As the expressed will of the communi-
ty legislation has but a feeble influence on the average citizen.
In our busy practical day we seem to care little for the moral
influence of legislators so indirectly put in office by ourselves.
Besides, some of our laws are generally violated without pun-
ishment by all who have the inclination to do so. Again, we
give the sanction of law to mere whims or class prejudices.
And the inequality of the Sunday barber-shop law in New
York and Saratoga is an illustration of what can be done in
the way of burlesque legislation. Our Supreme Court has re-
cently passed on the questioned constitutionality of this act and
has declared it valid. Of course this judicial decision does not
put any more sense into this law ; it only shows how really
stubborn and permanent such legislation can be when it deter-
mines to be ridiculous.

CONSTANT VIOLATION OF LAW WITH IMPUNITY.

Occasionally the legislative cure-all modifies its treatment by
increasing the penalty for violation. But the infractions of law
go merrily on without perceptible decrease. The penalty for
official corruption was more than doubled years ago, and the
statute was broadened in context and meaning so as to make
this crime one of the most serious felonies known to our law
and the least open to evasion or technical subterfuge. Yet it is
common knowledge, despite the absence of convictions, that
crimes of this character have shamelessly increased. The penal-
ties for arson and for perjury can scarcely be made more severe,
but there is no very noticeable diminution of these offences.
It may be that recent prosecutions for arson in New York City,
with long and well-deserved imprisonment, will materially limit
the fire-bug industry. As to perjury, it may be said to be a
common fault ; it daily haunts the courts, and is rarely pun-
ished.

THE EXAMPLE OF NEW YORK.

We have recently heard much of dead laws, obsolete or
blue laws, and ineffective laws. But all laws can be put in the
category of dead laws unless some one somewhere puts the law
in motion and continues to guide its movements. There is noth-
ing less automatic than statute law. Its self-compelling or pro-
pelling power against the unwilling is so absolutely infinitesi-
mal that it may be called an inert mass, falsely supposed to
contain self-activity. The Sunday excise law in New York is a
type of law quickened with life. Except in New York, it is
generally disregarded by the officials of every large city in the

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1896.] Legislation AS A Cure-All. 731

State. Yet it is the law of the land and but recently enacted.
In connection with this solitary instance of enforcement, a
curious incident may have been noticed in Brooklyn. At the
last election there the three candidates for mayor, although
claiming to differ with one another on other public questions,
were of one accord that the excise laws should either be not
enforced or only partially enforced on Sunday. And two of
these candidates were lawyers, one of them a distinguished
member of the profession.

It is only when we have the good fortune to put in public
office a man who understands the theory of our government,
and has sufficient personal honesty to apply theory to actual
conditions of public life, that we realize what an active, vigorous
thing a statute may be. In the hands of honest administrators
who will follow their oaths of office, and who can put aside
personal friendships, boss power, and the love of gain, we find
the most effective curative. We have witnessed this when the
new activity became so effectual that some of our deluded citi-
zens thought the administration had made new laws. But the
change was merely in the personnel of the officials, and not in
the law itself. The machinery was old, but a new engineer
was employed who supposed the machine was made to go.

THE PUBLIC WELFARE DEMANDS SLEEPLESS ACTIVITY.

But no one supposes that we are to enjoy the moral or
civic millennium because this or that law is enforced. It is still
necessary to bring home to law-breakers, official or otherwise,
and their friends, that all administrators of law are taking hold
and are earnest in their desire for enforcement. It is only when
this conviction becomes general that we may hope for the
needed relief. The enemies of law and order are keen in their
judgment of remedies. Their very dishonesty makes them alert
in subterfuge, evasion, and wily defence ; and they instinctively
recognize their enemies. For them fresh legislation has no ter-
rors if they feel reasonably certain of a corrupt alliance with
the administrators of the new statute. When it is well under-
stood that the sworn enforcers of law are to do what they
were always supposed to do, the common enemy will soon
think of surrender. The New York saloon-keepers made an as-
tonishingly short campaign against the recent enforcement of
the Sunday closing law, and it is highly complimentary to the
new commissioners.

What is needed much more than legislative activity is a
ceaseless spirit of public criticism over public officials ; a species

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732 Ingratitude, [Mar.

of Public Eye over the administrators of law that will pierce
the cloudy influences making for official lassitude. The press
performs this work of visitation and inspection with sporadic
results. But the community does not take seriously to such
efforts, believing them to be more or less partisan in motive.
The people will eventually have to do this work themselves, if
it is to be well done. If no other result follow, they will at
least know, whether this or that public official ought to be
continued in office.

INGRATITUDE.

BY ELEANOR C. DONNELLY.

ETHINKS the keenest dolor of our Lord
In His dread Passion was, when thro* His

Heart
(Rending well-nigh Its blessed walls apart)
Went black Ingratitude's empoisoned sword !
Betrayed by Judas — yea, with perjured word,

Denied by Cephas — by the rest forsaken —

The vile Barabbas openly preferred

Before the Holy One ! — My soul, awaken.

And to His Sacred Feet, repentant, creep

To wash them with thy tears (all grief-subdued) ;

For this Abandoned One, whose woes we weep.

Hath oft been pierced with thine ingratitude !

Pardon, sweet Lord ! and may Contrition's grace

Repair our treacheries, our treasons base

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Agassiz must have been seen and known as Master, Teacher, Friend.

BOSTON HALF A CENTURY AGO.

BY F. M. EDSELAS.

HE winter season was at hand. Hearing my
elders discuss the topics of the day and the
prospect of entertainment for the winter, it ap-
peared that the chief attraction would be a
course of lectures upon popular topics by some
of the most eminent writers and thinkers of the day. Among
them were the very ones with whom I had passed so many en-
chanted hours in the little world created from what I had heard
or read of them and their works.

My delight at the news was only equalled by my sorrow
when remembering that evening outings were forbidden fruit,
since in those good old times " Early to bed, etc.," was a maxim
most faithfully observed, so that my chance for attending these
lectures seemed very slim. But with me to wish was to will,
and to will was to do — now or never ; thus my point was gained.
But a word, in passing, about these winter entertainments, unique
in plan and purpose.

The plan was to secure the best talent afforded in that region,
to be served up in weekly rations, under the general name of

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734 Boston Half a Century Ago. [Mar.,

" Lyceum." That very word at once recalls the brilliant lights
that made New England in our last half century, as already
hinted, a veritable Parnassus, to which devotees then gladly
came from year to year to gather the gifts of the gods, and
now as pilgrims to that Mecca of our country hasten to pay
reverent homage to those whom genius has immortalized.

The wide versatility of those gifted minds made of their lec-
tures banquets readily adapted to the different tastes and capa-
city of those who nightly thronged the halls of city and village.
An admirable vent was thus given to the suppressed steam with
which the mental motors of the day were heavily charged ; and
this both for host and guest.

Religion and politics, art and science, invention and dis-
covery were in turn on the menu, and served up in the best,
most inviting form. Nor was this all. Each lecture became
the one great topic for discussion, comment, and criticism until
the next was given. In the stores, offices, and shops men
talked of little else : the doctor, lawyer, and clergyman ; the
trades-people — for there was food for all — exchanged opinions
pro and con. at table and by the fireside, at the sewing cliques
and quilting-bees, in the neighborly calls and visits of matrons
and maids-r-everywhere the last lyceum was the vital topic of
the hour. Wonderful indeed was the effect produced, benefi-
cial and far-reaching.

Although the prospect for attending those famous lectures
seemed anything but favorable, yet none the less vigorously did
I besiege the family citadel with entreaties, arguments, and
promises of good behavior, perfect lessons from that time forth
and for ever more. At last, by one of those strokes of good
fortune that come when the tide seems at its lowest ebb, my
point was gained, and all simply as a matter of personal con-
venience to the others ; for being the only child in the house
I could not well be left at home.

In the interim before the lecture I was like one walking on
air; my day-dreams and those of the night were filled with an-
ticipations of the stored-up pleasure awaiting me. I tried as
best I could to tone down my delight, lest at the last my dream
of bliss should prove "only that, and nothing more." But the
night came at last, and with it the lecturer. Dr. Kane, of Arctic
fame.

The sharp, crisp New England air, and a recent heavy snow-
storm, leaving a layer some two or three feet in depth on the
Ifsvel, gave a realistic effect to my conception of a winter at the

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1896.] Boston Half a Century Ago. 735

poles ; still more vivid did it become when so graphically pic-
tured by the great traveller, as in fancy he took us over that
region of almost perpetual winter. In fact, it was to me no
lecture, but a veritable reality, as I found myself in that land
of the midnight sun, scurrying on snow-shoes, or in sledges
drawn by the hardy Eskimo dogs, over trackless wastes, noting
step by step the wonders found, even there.

Then as the brave explorer took us into winter quarters,
where we were literally shut in by walls of ice, which perchance
might become a living tomb, so real did it all seem, verily I
felt my blood congeal with dread of the fate that appeared in-
evitable. Yet even there pleasure was not wanting, to which
each of the company contributed, while thus housed for the
long Arctic winter. Games, dancing, and music, with story-
telling, .of which sailors have an inexhaustible supply ready-made
or " made to order," filled up much of the time, with letters in
journal form to home friends, which, "though not sent by the
fast mail,'* would be none the less welcome.

These, interspersed with familiar instructions by Dr. Kane
upon the geography of that strange land, its animal and vege-
table life, the manners and customs of the almost savage na-
tives, and all the rest, charmed me more than a fairy tale ; for,
with the marvels so vividly pictured, there was the added con-
viction that the whole was " certain true," verified by the chief
actor in flesh and blood ; then what more ?

Still greater was my interest when the famous explorer
touched upon the object of this expedition — the search for that
brave but ill-fated navigator. Sir John Franklin.

Most pathetically did he tell us of his keen disappointment,
and that of his companions as well, when obliged to return after
a long and fruitless search, covering four years and two expe-
ditions, which meant toil and hardship almost beyond belief.
Two years later there was left to Captain McClintock and his
brave comrades the mournful satisfaction of finding certain
proofs that the great English navigator had met his untimely
fate at Point Victory on June 11, 1847. He had, however, ac-
complished the object of his search — the North-west passage —
nearly three hundred years after the first recorded attempt in 1553.

The lecture closed with a touching tribute to the memory of
Sir John Franklin, who left a record for heroic self-sacrifice and
devotion to the cause of science unmarred by a single blemish.

The rest of the week was spent in living over again the
pleasure of that first eventful evening, and in swinging like a

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736 Boston Half a Century Ago, [Mar.,

pendulum between hope and fear lest this first great joy should
also be my last. But as the same reason held good for allow-
ing that precious evening*s outing, my hopes were no longer
doomed to disappointment.

Behold me then, on at least one night of each week, perched

He was at once the King of Hearts and Minds.

upon the hard bench of the village lecture-hall, sandwiched
between my elders, awaiting the feast in store for me. The
entire course numbered twelve lectures, of which I do not
think more than one or two were missed.

Referring once more to Dr. Kane, I cannot forget being

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1896.] Boston Half a Century Ago. 737

brought still nearer the great man, as he lunched with our
family on the day after his lecture. His thin, pale face too
plainly showed traces of the many hardships through which he
had passed, both on the tented field and in the Arctic regions ;
but not less did the dark, earnest eye and scholarly face tell
of the lofty purpose ever marking his career in the cause of
science or patriotism.

In familiar chat he related some amusing incidents con-
nected with his experience in the polar regions ; one possibly
for my benefit — that their roosters crowed one whole day, or
from dawn till sunset, which, however, happened to be only fif-
teen minutes long, the sun then making but that brief stay
above the horizon.

In this connection it will be pleasant to remember that the
Resolute^ one of the vessels used by Dr. Kane in his last
expedition, and which he was obliged to abandon to its ice-
bound fate, was discovered and rescued by Captain Buddington
of the United States, while on a whaling trip.

A graceful exchange of courtesies between this country and
England then followed. The Resolute, being purchased and
refitted by our government, was then presented to Queen Vic-
toria by the President and people of the United States.
About twenty years later, when the old sea-worn vessel was
broken up, from its timbers a large and beautiful open desk
was made and sent by the Queen to President Hayes, "As a
memorial of the courtesy and loving-kindness which dictated
the offer of the gift of the Resolute'' A gilded plate inserted
in the desk records these facts. This historic piece of furniture
has since been in daily use by our chief magistrates at the
White House.

Recurring again to my memory-tablets of early days, I find
that some of those lectures naturally held my attention more
closely than others, as they fell within or without the grasp of
my very limited brain ; much of what I then heard being in a
certain way retained, coming back in snatches ; but still more
clearly the personnel of the speakers.

Among the faces recalled, that of Holmes cannot well be
forgotten, though his lecture not so well ; but the genial doc-
tor, beaming with happiness, looked for all the world as if he
had just fallen heir to a fortune, or was momentarily expecting
such a boon. It was indeed a rare pleasure to see that sunny
nature reflecting its brightness upon all around.

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738 Boston Half a Century Ago. [Man,

Then came Theodore Parker, whose face and theme are
distinctly before me. He was just setting the world in a flut-
ter with his advanced ideas on religious matters, taking a long
leap over the staid orthodox views of the old Puritan common-
wealth, which then held the monopoly in such affairs. And
well that he did ; though perchance the Transcendental wave
thereby set in motion may have engulfed a few, yet beneficial
effects were not less the outcome.

Religion, morality, and kindred blessings had in the main
come to the rigid Puritans and their descendants by way of
legacy, hence accepted and followed as a matter of course,
much as the trades or professions of their ancestors. But
something more was needed — nay, must be, that God's designs
for them be fulfilled. Material things, the goods of earth, may
be ours by legacy, but the spiritual, religion, our faiths can
come only through conviction.

When therefore "The New School of Thought," as it was
called, sent forth its teachers, with their views so directly
opposed to all previous ideas upon such matters, grave, con-
servative New England, from its " Hub," as Holmes first called
the capital, to the farthest edge of its ever-widening boundary
rim, was stirred as it had never been. The plodding, thought-
ful people began to look at the reason of the hope that was
in them. Hence this very awakening evolved the need, giving
birth to the desire for something more tangible, more reliable
than their present opinions and views. Then, groping through
many and conflicting *isms and 'ologies, light began to dawn
and the truth to be revealed, bringing hundreds into the church.

And all this because of those very Transcendentalists, led
an by Theodore Parker and his associates; the results, how-
ever, made a wide curve from the end proposed. Thus, " Man
proposes " but ** God," with wiser ken, " disposes."

In this leader of the New. School there was, however, noth-
ing in personal appearance to indicate the reformer, agitator, or
egotist ; he well embodied the maxim, " Still water runs deep."

Behold him then, with full, oval face, clear-cut features, soft
gray eyes shaded by a noble brow ; his whole mien indicating
that he had something to say, and worth the saying too.

Without even a gesture, and, if I remember rightly, with
folded arms, he held the audience spell-bound for two hours
with his great thoughts and original conceptions, as he mir-
rored by graphic ideals The True Gentleman^ which with the
False formed the evening's discussion.

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1896.] Boston Half A Century Ago. 739

Emerson was, of course, one of the bright, particular stars
in that winter's course. His subject, "The Civilization of
England," however, proved too deep for my limited range of
thought ; but his calm, strong face and gentle mien won even
my childish admiration ; this, confirmed by a later interview,
has left the impression of a mind marvellously gifted and well-
poised ; of a nature pure and simple as a child's ; of a charac-
ter harmonious and symmetrical, full of energy, full of strength.
Alas! that with such rare gifts the one requisite for complete-

Agassiz in His Study.

ness should have been wanting — the recognition and acceptance
of the true faith as the great essential of life.

Following him in that winter's course came Elihu Burritt,
" The Learned Blacksmith," as he was called ; and rightly too,
having mastered some twenty languages or more. Wrestling
as I then was with /«V, hcec^ hocy and some terribly defective
verbs, made even more so by my defective handling, no won-
der that I looked at Mr. Burritt with open-eyed admiration, as
one dropped from another planet.

His personal appearance did not impress me as remarkable;
in truth it was gradually dawning upon me that after all even
the greatest men were moulded in human clay, much after the
fashion of all others ; and the difference between men and
men was rather from within than without.

VOL. LXII.— 47

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740 Boston Half A Century Ago. [Mar.,

But my disappointment was indeed great that the entertain-
ment of this ** Learned Blacksmith " did not include a sort of
polyglot exhibition of his skill as a linguist, wrought out from
his brain while forging the iron on his anvil ; but instead, it
was like that of all the other stars, a monologue in pure and
simple Saxon. Yet none the less truly might we say of him,
as Byron of Mezzofanti, that he was "A walking polyglot, a
monster of languages, a modern Rriareus of parts of speech."

Thus that memorable winter passed with its predecessors
into the dim past, leaving me richer in memories ever more
delightful, as I recall the enthusiasm marking that famous
period of the dawning fifties. I was by no means henceforth a
storehouse of wisdom ; far from it, having only the capacity of
the average beginner, but it was a delight to be brought within
hearing and seeing range of these men "so wondrous wise."

Thus much for that Lyceum. Others there have been and
still will be, but none, I venture to say, that under similar cir-
cumstances can focus greater talent and genius, keener wit and
wisdom, or more versatility of thought and conception, than in
that first Senate of our Republic of Letters. Ave et Vale!

JEAN LOUIS AGASSIZ.

In my early student days it was my good fortune to fall
under the influence of one who by right of inheritance, and cul-
ture as well, held a place which few could have so completely
filled. Admitting that any of his contemporaries, in their separate
line of work, doubtless accomplished what he could have done no
better, yet in rarer gifts^ mental, physical, and social, he will
ever hold a place singularly his own. That man is Jean Louis
Agassiz, to name whom is at once to awaken thoughts and
memories of whatever is good, great, and worthy of all praise.

Although for only too brief a period placed under his in-
struction, yet the influence wrought upon mind and character
by it exceeded that of any other teacher. It was the influence
of greatness itself poured out freely and copiously upon all who
would receive of its fulness.

After all, is not this the measure of real greatness — having
the power to sway and lead others on to the best and highest
aim and endeavor.'* Still more, must not the man exerting
such influence be impelled by this one grand thought, that
whatever he is, or has of wisdom, virtue, talent, or any other
gift, is bestowed only that he may share it with his neighbor,

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1896.] Boston Half A Century Ago, 741

being given in trust for the service of others, rather than for
his own use and benefit ? The earnestness marking whatever
Agassiz did or said convinced you at once that this was the
impelling motive of the great scientist's life-work. Coming into

5
%

H
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o ;

his presence, you felt that you had walked at once into a high-
er, broader, fuller life than any before. But when, still later,
he was more fully revealed to you — then, what a revelation !
You realized that your life, little by little, was ennobled, ex-
panded, responsive to the touch of that great magician.

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742 Boston Half a Century Ago. [Mar.,

Although, as I said, the period of instruction was compara-
tively brief, yet this brevity was more than compensated by
the rich stores of information so freely placed at command ;
the quality being not less than the quantity ; none but the
rarest and best of his gifts were at our disposal.

What a royal welcome awaited every earnest searcher for
knowledge, let his condition be what it might. For those
whose ideas revolved around cigars and fashion-plates he had
no use. Let a poor fisherman come with his " catch " for the
professor, the rustic or simple child with a new specimen — at
least new to them — then no king would have been for the time
more honored. He often said, I owe some of my best "links"
to these very people. Aside from this, he was only too glad
to encourage such eflforts, being mutually advantageous.

The most vivid description, however, can give only a faint
idea of his personality. Agassiz must have been seen and
known as master, teacher, and friend to be fully understood and
appreciated. For those not thus favored a few pen-strokes
must serve the present purpose.

My first acquaintance with the Swiss naturalist took place
while he was giving a series of lectures before a literary association
upon his favorite subject, natural history. These were in con-
nection with those upon physical geography by Professor Ar-
nold Guyot, his life-long friend, thus bringing the two into fre-
quent and intimate relation through a similar line of work.

Other gifted men were also there to share with. us their
wealth of wisdom ; but above them all Agassiz reigned supreme.
It would be far easier to tell what he was not, than fully
and fitly to tell what he was. It will be no exaggeration,
then, to say that whatever qualities rarest and best are in
the make-up of the gifted scholar and scientist, the brilliant
lecturer, the deep and versatile thinker — in brief, the ideal
man — seemed combined in Louis Agassiz, the naturalist.

He was at once the king of hearts and minds, leading them
on whither he willed, as they gladly yielded to the wondrous
power of his master-mind. No picture can ever do him justice,
since the inanimate canvas or ** dull, cold marble ** must fail,
even at their best, to catch that look of inspired enthusiasm
peculiarly his. For a mere print, the one in the Life of
AgassiZy written by his wife, is perhaps as true as any, and far
more so than many others ; yet the alert, the magnetic man, the
Agassiz of the laboratory and lecture-hall, is wanting ; and it is in
either of these places that he should be seen to know him welL

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1896.] Boston Half a Century Ago. 743

But remember, if you please, that for him laboratory and
lecture-hall are not necessarily rooms fitted up with all modern
appliances for scientific research ; far otherwise.

The mere place and surroundings, as such, had little or noth-
ing to do with his grand work ; mind and character were too
high and broad to be thus hampered. As nature's loving and be-
loved child, he was never more at home, in his true element,
than when tented by heaven's blue vault, with the broad ocean,
extended plain, or mountain crag beneath his feet. Such envi-
ronments seemed alone suited to the freer play of his tireless ac-
tivity, of that far-reaching mind and purpose to which each new
discovery in nature's labora-
tory only furnished fresh
motive for further research.

But let us see him in
the lecture-hall. The hour
appointed for him has come.
Promptly he steps upon the
platform and faces his audi-
ence, few of whom had
known the famous naturalist
except by reputation. Eager
expectation greets him from
every eye that meets his as
he glances over that sea of
faces, measuring as it were
the needs and capacities to
be met and filled.

At such a moment the

face of Agassiz was indeed

a study, once seen, could tt ^ *

•^ ' ' His gifted Son, Alexander.

never be forgotten. The

massive, leonine head, crowned with wavy chestnut hair; the
large blue eyes, full of earnest thought, that at every glance re-
flected as in a mirror the emotions of his noble heart and marvel-
lously gifted mind : they were indeed the marked feature of that
expressive face, beaming with so kindly, even cordial a look
that his whole countenance seemed aglow ; all hearts were won
at once and for ever.

There was nothing of the studied mannerism peculiar to the
average lecturer in his appearance ; no striving for effect or to
win applause ; hence no trace of self-consciousness, which in the
last analysis of a man's character is too seldom found wanting.

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744 Boston Half a Century Ago, [Mar.,

The personality of Agassiz, both within and without, so broad
and untrammeled, could stoop to nothing of the kind. Above
and beyond such dead-level aims, so earnestly, tremendously did
he throw himself into the work in hand, that you could at
once see his whole nature absorbed in it — the man merged in the
scientist and teacher. With a brief introduction, by way of kindly
greetmg, telling us that all were learners, he and they equally,
thus bringing us more closely in touch with him and his work,
he briefly outlined the course of instruction and plan proposed.

Then, crayon in hand, his almost inseparable friend, with
firm, bold strokes he outlined upon the blackboard the per-
fect form of an egg; from this, he said, all types of life take
their growth, either before or after birth. Branching from this
as a nucleus, we were led on through the various stages of
animal development, beginning with the simplest and most
familiar, to the more complex, proving by actual facts and the
specimens produced that one general, universal law governs
each form of animal life ; and that any departure from this
great plan of creation, as in unfamiliar growths, was never a
variation in the law itself, but a new stage of life in the same
animal, some of which pass through several before attaining
their perfect state ; this truth being familiarly illustrated by our
common frog.

These changes might be traced to the development of
nature's plan, in which there was a constant advance from age
to age. Thus, climatic changes, the insatiable wants of man, and
other causes led on the true evolution.

I remember he said that in examining over a hundred
species of birds, he had found them so exactly alike in certain
periods of their growth, they Could have been easily regarded
as belonging to the same family.

As a comparatively brief period was allotted for these
lectures, the professor was obliged to give them in a very con-
densed form, somewhat as a skeleton. But so perfectly was the
material prepared and so clearly presented, that the filling out
of the facts thus outlined, the clothing of the skeleton, was full
of interest and comparatively easy.

Before seeing and hearing Agassiz we thought ourselves
something of scholars in natural history, having dipped into a
few works upon that and kindred subjects. But alas for our
knowledge ! At best it was but the thinnest veneering, which
a single question of this great master could quickly reveal.
Charming though Agassiz was in the professor's chair, yet he

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1896.] Boston Half a Century Ago. 745

proved far more so when brought into still closer relations.
At the close of a lecture he usually reminded us to bring any
specimen we could find bearing upon the instruction just given.
These were examined and commented upon, as we eagerly
gathered around his desk and chair, in the most familiar way ;
mutually asking questions to bring out our knowledge or lack
of it, encouraging us to this by kindly suggestion and comment
that proved his interest in our least effort. At such times
hours flew like minutes, and gladly would we have stayed the
hand on time's dial, if so our pleasure could be prolonged.

Constantly dwelling upon the grand plan of creation, which
link by link could be traced back to the time of the ' earliest
geological formation, with hardly a break therein, he clearly

Agassiz Museum at Cambridge, Mass.

proved and often declared that only the consummate skill and
infinite wisdom of a Supreme Being could have produced so
grand a master-piece ; in fact, he ever referred all these things
to their true Source and End — God ; and with such tender,
loving reverence that no one who ever heard him speaking
thus could for a moment doubt his strong, implicit faith, what-
ever carpers may say to the contrary. Making the works of
creation his constant study and research, a mind and heart
such as that of this great naturalist could not fail to be brought
more closely in touch with the Creator of those works.

To see Agassiz at his best, you should be a privileged com-
panion on a scientific expedition, or even excursion. Tireless,

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746 Boston Half a Century Ago, [Mar.,

patient, arid daring, no obstacle, no fatigue checked his course,
whether over rocky heights, through sandy wastes, or even
malarial swamps ; they were all one to him, as if passing
through shady dell and grassy meadow. The means counted as
nothing so the end was attained. Woe to any kid-gloved wight
who ventured to bear him company ; such he counted as less
than a cipher. But even such fops were soon won by his
magnetism to more sensible ideas. The most venomous reptile
or fiercest animal had no terrors for him. When in the swampy
regions of Florida, he plunged his hand into the slimy depths,
fairly alive with those deadly creatures, as if it were the purest,
most lirtipid water ; and, if I am not mistaken, he was never the
worse for the venture.

His Museum of Comparative Zoology at Cambridge, Mass.,
must ever stand as one of the grandest memorials to the
genius, patient research, and wonderful discoveries of our great
American scientist. Its plan and purpose he had already con-
ceived and outlined ; but it remained for his gifted son,
Alexander, upon whom the mantle of his father has so worthily
fallen, to carry on and complete the work ; the greatness of
which can only be realized by one fully understanding the
tremendous difficulties of the task, with a scope so comprehen-
sive that the fauna of earth, air^ and sea, from the earliest
geological periods, alone can compass it.

So perfect is the classification that one can there trace
Nature's footprints, step by step, reading the lesisons written by
the finger of God for all his children. Cuvier, the greatest of
French naturalists, must have seen in prophetic vision the great
. work which Agassiz was destined to accomplish, since he gave
to the young student, shortly before death claimed him, all the
illustrations and explanatory notes upon fossil fishes which he
had taken from the original casts or models in the British
Museum and elsewhere. And well that Cuvier thus honored the
Swiss naturalist, since only three months later he was suddenly
stricken with paralysis, from which he never rallied.

Here we close our memory-tablets, although many other
names as worthy might be added to our list. New England
has given us much of genius, talent, and wisdom which, scat-
tered through our broad country, has proved fruitful in abun-
dant harvests from the Lakes to the Gulf, and from the
Atlantic to the Golden Gate. Let the rich fruitage that is ours
give fair promise of what the future may have yet in store.

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1896.] The Last Mass., 747

THE LAST MASS.

A TALE OF POLISH PERSECUTION,
BY LADY HERBERT.

^T was vesper-time in a beautiful old monastery in
Poland when, one evening, the mother superior
was told by the portress, Sister DomicHla, that
a stranger wished to see her.

"Did he not say who he was or whence he
came ? " exclaimed the superior.

" No, reverend mother," replied Sister Domicilla. " I
asked him, but he said he had a grave message to deliver to
you, which he would tell you himself; and he added, that he
wished to see you alone."

A feeling of fear and anxiety filled the heart of the venera-
ble mother. In those days it was impossible to tell friend
from foe. When she had been elected superioress she was
healthy and strong, but the events of the last few years had
aged her terribly. Two years before a body of police had
forced their way into the convent in the middle of the night,
appropriating not only everything of any value in the church,
but searching every cell, on the plea that the nuns were con-
cealing certain individuals whom they wished to entice into
the Catholic Church. The police found no one whatever, nor
any compromising letters ; but they were brutal in their con-
duct and language, and threatened to close the convent very
soon and to send away all the religious. This fright acted so
cruelly on the superior that she had a sort of seizure and
nearly lost the use of her limbs. After that every message
alarmed her, especially from an unknown quarter ; and so on
this occasion she begged a younger and clever sister to accom-
pany her to the parlor-grating. This Sister Seraphina was not
only a very holy woman, but prudent, sensible, and clear-
headed, so that she was to be depended upon in any emer-
gency.

On their way to the parlor they passed slowly through the
little cloister-garden. The day was at its close ; the bright rays
of the setting sun lit up the old gray walls of the monastery.

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748 The Last Mass. [Mar.^

In the garden everything was green and fresh and bright. The
statue of Our Lady was half hidden by large clusters of beau-
tiful roses. The ivy which covered the arches of the cloisters
was full of twittering, singing birds, who were seeking there their
night's refuge. Under the thick, moss-covered walls it was cool
and very still. Through a large Gothic arch at the end of the
garden the eye caught a glimpse of a beautiful valley, with
green meadows, rich corn-fields, and, a little further on, two
large villages, once the property of the convent. From time to
time a gust of wind brought a gay song or a burst of laugh-
ter to the nuns from a group of young girls who were making
hay. Stopping for a moment to say an " Ave " at the Virgin's
feet, Sister Seraphina rose and, looking at the glorious view^
said, with a sigh, to the reverend mother :

" Forty years ! "

" Forty years only ! " replied the mother superior, smiling.
"That is not very long; I have been here nearly fifty years,
and dear old Sister Coletta sixty-eight." And then she added
softly, as if speaking to herself : " A whole long life of work
and prayer and peace. What a blessing from God!"

** Do you remember," continued Sister Seraphina, '* how
alarmed and distressed we were two years ago, and how we
prayed to God to avert the terrible calamity which then
threatened our dear and holy home?"

"And God did avert it," said the reverend mother, gently.

The nuns were silent ; a sad thought passed through the
hearts of both. They remembered the time when the little
garden, so quiet and deserted now, was full of innocent mirth
and laughter — when a multitude of young, merry girls, in their
gray frocks, flitted here and there amidst the trees and flowers.
They were very happy in their convent school and the nuns
loved them as their own children. And now all was at an
end — the school had been closed, the orphanage dispersed —
even the little hospital, which had sheltered so many sad and
suffering souls, and given ease and consolation to so many
dying patients, had been inexorably shut up by the govern-
ment authorities, and nothing remained, save these poor old
nuns, of this once large and flourishing congregation.

"How long, reverend mother, were you superior of the
school ? " inquired Sister Seraphina, burying her face in a cluster
of roses as she spoke.

"Twenty years," replied the mother, "just when you had
made your last vows."

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1896.] The Last Mass, 749

" Yes, and I was your assistant for fifteen years," answered
Sister Seraphina, "and then I went to the infirmary. But, oh!
how happy those years were, and how much good we could
do ! "

" Yes, dear sister," answered the reverend mother sadly ;
" but remember, our Lord still allows us to help those, pure
young souls by our prayers and mortifications."

" Yes, yes, I know it," replied Sister Seraphina, " and I know
I am wrong to fret about whatever is God's will for us. But
this constant anxiety — if we could only be sure to be left in
peace to live aiid die here, in this our holy and beautiful
home, which has sheltered God's spouses for more than four
hundred years ! " In these sad reflections, however, the mother
superior interrupted her. " Let us go and see our visitor, sis-
ter ; we have kept him waiting too long already," and so led
the way to the convent parlor.

The visitor was still a young man. He seemed troubled,
sad, and anxious, but had a kind and sympathetic face. He
was also evidently timid and shy, which spies never are, so that
the nuns felt confidence in him at once. When he saw them
come in he opened softly the door to the passage or corridor
to look and see if no one was there, and then closing it again,
came back and asked the oldest of the nuns : " Have I the
honor of speaking to the reverend mother?"

She replied in the affirmative. He continued, " To the
Mother Rosalie, m^e Jane B ? "

" Yes," answered the mother, " I have been the superior of
this convent for twelve years."

"Are you sure nobody can hear us?" he again asked anx-
iously.

" Yes, quite sure," she replied. " You may speak freely and
safely." He then said :

" You must first give me your solemn word that you will
never disclose to anybody the fact of my coming to you to-
day."

The superior gave it and was not surprised at his caution,
for how many people in these sad times had been ruined for
life by a single word ! Then he continued :

" Do you know Count M and Father A , in B ? "

" Certainly," answered the mother superior. "Count M

saved us two years ago. He went to B , made use of all

his influence with the highest authorities, and got leave for us
to remain here. As for Father A , he is our greatest

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750 The Last Mass. [Mar.,

benefactor. Since they confiscated our lands, and in fact took
all our means of subsistence, we depend entirely on his
charity, and on the alms he procures for us, to obtain our daily
bread."

" Well," replied the stranger, " Father A sends me to

you with this letter from the count, which please read."

The poor mother took it with undisguised anxiety, but found
it was full of indifferent matters ; ' only at the end was an un-
derlined postscript saying: "The bearer of this note will tell
you all. You may trust him entirely."

She looked at the young man, who, bowing his head, said
with a pained look: ''I am the bearer of bad news, and, alas!
news of which there is no doubt whatever. They have sent
me to warn you and to advise as to your future course."

" Good God ! you do not mean to say we are to be turned
out of our convent ? "

" Yes, its destruction is officially pronounced ; but as yet
the fact is kept secret. The commission will be here in a week's
time, and you must prepare for it."

" But the church ? the church ? "

He bant his head lower still. " Yes, the church is to be
closed too. The dean sent me to tell you that he had received
positive orders to come and take away the Blessed Sacrament

and all your church ornaments. Father A advises you to

put away at once all that is most valuable in your church and
convent, though he knows that the greater part of your treasures
were carried off two years ago. He also begs me to say to
you that, if you are asked, you should choose emigration instead
of transfer to another convent, which would only be a tempo-
rary arrangement ; for all are, more or less, doomed."

He added various details and instructions, to which the poor
nuns scarcely listened ; in fact they remained silent and half-
stunned. It did not trouble them much where they went, if
they were to be turned out of their home. A few old and in-
firm women, if they died a year sooner or later, here or there,
what did it matter? But their beautiful church, their sacred
and holy relics, their graves — oh ! it was heart-breaking. The
mother superior was the first to speak. " May God's holy
will be done ! " she exclaimed, and then hastened to thank
their young guest for the dangerous mission he had under-
taken for their sakes and to offer him hospitality. She knew
he must wait till night to leave the convent walls, for spies
were everywhere, and he must, if possible, escape discovery.

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All was done as she wished, and after half an hour spent m
the church in earnest prayer their unknown guest departed
unseen.

Then the poor mother felt that the worst moment for her
was come — that in which she had to break the sad news to
the community.

" Not to-night,** exclaimed Sister Seraphina, " not to-nighty
dear reverend mother! Let the poor old sisters have a last
peaceful night.*'

The mother acquiesced in silence. In truth, at the thought
of it her heart failed her more and more. The greater part of
the community were so very old and so iniirm ! Half of them
could not come down-stairs to the choir. For three years Sister
Eustachia had been bed-ridden ; Sisters Salitia and Ignatia
could not leave their cells ; others were so old that they had
been dispensed from office and all conventual functions. Even
the younger ones were half their time in the infirmary with
rheumatism, sciatica, and the like. Since the confiscation of all
the property of the monastery by the government no repairs of
the roof or walls could be undertaken, so that' in many places
the rain and snow came in and the cold and damp were terrible..
They were also dependent on the charity of their neighbors for
fuel ; and though their old doctor visited them free of charge
and the chemist sent them medicines for nothing, still they
could not abuse such kindness and rarely sent for them save in
the most urgent cases.

The following morning was one of the Holy Communion
days of the nuns, and after Mass was over the poor mother
superior summoned all the sisters to the chapter-house. This
had been once a beautiful building, but had shared in the ruin
and decay of the monastery. The finely-carved stalls had been
moved into the church to prevent their ruin from the wet which
came from the broken windows, but there was still a fine cru-
cifix, beautifully carved by an Italian master, and the Christ
looked, as it were, sadly and lovingly on the anxious and sorrow-
ful faces gathered at his feet. For none who could possibly
manage it failed to obey the mother's bidding. They felt that
they would not have been summoned to this deserted sanctuary
save for some very grave reason ; so they came in one by one,
shuffling with their poor swelled feet, leaning on one another.
Even poor old Sister Coletta appeared, supported by two lay
sisters. They were fourteen in all, as alas ! for twenty years
they had not been allowed to take any novices.

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752 The Last Mass, [Mar.,

The mother superior did not keep them long in suspense.
" Dear sisters ! " she exclaimed, in as firm a voice as she could
command, " I have sad news to tell you. Our Lord has placed
a heavy cross upon our shoulders. In a week's time we shall
have to leave our dear home — our beloved monastery." . . .
She paused — there was a dead silence — only the heads lowered
more and more. At last one rose and said in a clear though
trembling voice, *' May God's holy and almighty will be done,
ndw and for ever ! " And a fervent " Amen ! " burst from all
those broken hearts.

Then the mother superior entered into details and told them
all that had passed the previous evening and the advice given by

Father A . In an hour's time all was arranged and accepted

by the sorrowing community ; after which the poor mother add-
ed : " Now, let us go into the chapel and thank our Lord for
his mercy, and ask him for the courage and strength we need."

All followed her, and soon the TV Deum echoed through the
beautiful aisles, while a ray of sunshine lit up the tabernacle on
the altar and seemed to give them an assurance of a peace
and love which ho change of circumstances or place could affect,
and the sisters left the church comforted and strengthened and
ready to give up their lives, if need be, for that which no earthly
persecution could take away.

How the following week passed the poor nuns scarcely
knew. Luckily they had much to see to and to do ; they had
no personal treasures left, but plenty of valuable relics of olden
times which had to be saved from falling into profane hands.
There were costly crucifixes, a beautiful chalice given by the
queen, Maria Louisa, after the Swedish War ; sacred vases,
left by the last of the Jagellons ; and a beautiful reliquary
given by the princely house of Radziwill, which had been for
two hundred years the principal ornament of their sacristy.
Sister Salome, the devoted sacristan, took them out one by one,
reverently kissing them and watering them with her tears.
"And this dear old silver crucifix," she exclaimed, "the sacred
reminder of our founder. Prince Mirski. We shall never see it
again ! " Tenderly and carefully were each and all packed and
committed to the charge of a faithful and trustworthy old man
servant, to whom alone they had confided their coming trouble,
and who, at dead of night, conveyed them from the monastery
to a safe hiding-place. Later on they were to be sent to pious
and trustworthy hands, and would serve for the worship of our
Lord in some other sanctuary.

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At last all was ready for the arrival of the unwelcome guests.
Nothing remained but some very old vestments and a chalice
of no value. Everything went on in the convent without change ;
only the choir sisters came in greater numbers, in spite of their
age and infirmities, none being willing to lose one hour of their
common prayers and office.

Then came the 25th of July. At noon, just as the nuns
were finishing chanting the hours in choir, the outer door-bell
rang loudly. The lay sister, Domicilla, came in breathless from
the porter's lodge, exclaiming : " They are come ! " Telling the
sisters to finish their prayers, the mother superior went to meet
their inevitable doom. There were four officers at the gate,
two in military and two in civil uniform. The colonel at their
head was evidently a man of high rank, and his breast was
covered with orders and crosses.

" We summon you to open the gates," he exclaimed in an
authoritative manner, and in a voice which betrayed a strong
Russian accent.

" Perhaps the reverend mother does not wish us to enter the
cloister?" said one of the civil magistrates with an ironical
smile. This was the head of the district, a man too well known
to the nuns.

" Our rule does not permit us to admit persons not belonging
to our community," replied the mother calmly, "but we must
yield to force," and so saying she handed the keys to the
colonel.

The ponderous gate was flung open and the officers marched
in, the clatter of their swords resounding through the peaceful
cloister. A body of soldiers, who had been standing in the
background and who were fully armed, gathered round the
front door. The mother superior summoned the community to
the refectory, where they stood in silence beside her.

** Are they all here ? " asked the colonel sharply, as he
entered with his suite, scarcely bowing his head by way of
salutation.

" All, save three sisters who are too ill to come down-
stairs."

" Send for them directly," he replied.

" But they are bed-ridden ! "

"Then bring them down in their beds, or I will send my
soldiers up to fetch them."

There was nothing to be done. The colonel calmly lit his
cigar, and the poor mother went up to superintend the moving

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754 The Last Mass, [Mar.^

of the invalids. She had said nothing to Sister Eustachia, who
was so old and ill that she had feared the shock would kill
her. But, to her surprise, she found her calm and ready.

" Do not be afraid, dear mother ! " she exclaimed ; " I know
alL The convent is to be closed and we are all to be sent
away, and the officers want me to come down-stairs ; is it not
so?"

The superior replied, " But who told you ? "

" No one," answered Sister Eustachia smiling, her pale face
illuminated with a supernatural glow. " Do you think that no-
messages can be given save by human lips? I cannot walk, it
is true, but I can be brought down." So saying, she prepared
to dr€iss, the mother helping her, and two of the lay sisters lifted
her on to an arm-chair and prepared to carry her down-stairs*
" Take care, in God's name ! " exclaimed the superior as they
stepped on the dark and rotten staircase.

" Don't be afraid, dear mother ! " answered Sister Eustachia.
" Nothing will happen to me to-day and to-morrow is not far off/*^

The poor mother had more difficulty with Sister Salitia,
who would not move. " All this is a farce ! " she exclaimed.
"I will not leave my cell. If this colonel wants to see me let
him come up here?" Not being in her right mind, the
superior left her, pondering anxiously as to what she should
say to explain her absence. But to her intense relief, when
she returned to the refectory, she found the colonel standing
opposite Sister Eustachia with a troubled and agitated face,,
while the sister was gazing at him steadily, with that same
supernatural light on her countenance which she had had up-
stairs. What she had said to him the mother never knew ; but
his manner was completely changed. " If I had known ! "
. . . he whispered, and then, to cover his evident confusion^
began fumbling in his pockets and drew out a paper with the
government seals, which he began to read in a trembling voice.
The paper decreed the closing of the convent and church, and
the immediate dispersion of the nuns. It was added that " out
of extreme benevolence" they were to choose between being
interned in a convent with other nuns of different orders
under the guard of police authorities, or being sent abroad to
another country, with the strict prohibition of setting their feet
again in their native land.

The superior answered : ** We choose the latter course, which
I accept in the name of the community. When must we leave
our convent ? "

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1896.] The Last Mass, 755

" To-morrow at noon,** replied the coloneL

" May we assist at our usual daily Mass ? *'

He hesitated for a moment and then said : " Yes, if it be a
Low Mass. But remember, any infringement of this order will
be visited on the priest and on the dean, whom I ordered to be
here to-morrow morning. So mind, no chanting, no lights, no
bells, no demonstrations ! "

The mother ventured to reply : " But we cannot have Mass
without lights!"

" Very well. Two candles ; not more, remember ! " exclaimed
the colonel, who had resumed his disagreeable manner ; and then
turning to one of the civil magistrates he added: "Send the
chaplain here directly. I must arrange everything with him ;
otherwise we shall have a row. As for you, ladies, I repeat
that I will have no demonstrations, no scenes." His eye
shone, once more, cold and hard as steel.

"We are not in the habit of making scenes," replied the
mother superior with dignity, and would have added more, but
Sister Eustachia interrupted her and, looking at the colonel
steadily, said : " Do not be afraid, my son ; our mother has
spoken truly. No disturbance will arise from us. God alone
may do so; we are in his hands for life and death." She
smiled as she spoke, and the colonel, visibly troubled once
more, rose hastily and left the refectory with the rest, while
the sister murmured, "Yes, the Saviour is always near. What
happiness ! "

The last morning dawned. It was a most lovely day ; never
had the whole place looked more bright and beautiful. But
how was it that the news of the closing of the church and
convent had got about in the neighborhood ? No one could
tell, but the fact remained that from the first moment of day-
light every road and lane and path leading to the spot was
thronged with people. Peasants in their white or brown coats,
Cracow caps or straw hats, women and girls in their Sunday
clothes, people in smart carriages, in one-horse gigs, or in hum-
ble carts, came steadily and slowly on in perfect silence, with
bent heads and sad faces as if to a funeral, and very soon
filled every nook and corner of the great court-yard in front of
the church, although the soldiers, who had been quartered
there during the night, tried to keep them back. At six o'clock
the church was opened, and the flood began to sweep in calmly
and take their places by the confessionals, where the dean,
who had arrived the night before, and the chaplain were sit-

VOL. LXII.— 48

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756 The Last Mass. [Mar.,

ting waiting for their flock. Every one wanted to receive ab-
solution for the last time in the church where their own and
their fathers' and forefathers' prayers had been ofifered for three
hundred or four hundred years. But even in this matter there
was no undue haste or pressure; only when the dean stood up
once or twice anxiously and made a sign to the chaplain to
begin Mass, a sob and a cry burst forth from the kneeling
crowd and the whispered words : " For the love of God, father,
wait ! Oh, wait ! We also want so much to go to confession
— for the last — last time ! " And the poor priest reseated him-
self resignedly and bent his head once more towards his peni-
tents.

So the hours went by. It was near noon when the colonel
arrived, accompanied by the civil magistrates and two younger
officers. Six soldiers marched before him through the crowd,
which retreated in silence. The dean, pale as death, rose from
his confessional and went to meet them. The colonel angrily
pulled out his watch and hung it under the dean's eyes.

** The Mass ought to have been said at nine o'clock," he
exclaimed in a sharp voice. " You are responsible for this de-
lay and for this crowd of people also. Did I not forbid you to
t?ejl anybody that the church was going to be closed, or to
advertise the fact anywhere ? "

" But, colonel ! " humbly replied the dean, who was rather
wanting in moral courage, " it is not my fault. No living
soul heard of it from me. The chaplain only delayed a little
because there were so many people coming to confession that
they really would not let us pass."

•* What ! Not let you pass ? " replied the colonel. " That is
sheer disobedience, revolt ! I will summon my men at once ! "

" No, no ; God forbid ! " exclaimed the terrified priest.
" Only, such numbers came to confession and we had not
priests enough. Would the colonel permit me to send for
another ? "

" What ! make the demonstration greater, the scandal
more wide-spread?" furiously responded the officer. "Is it
not bad enough as it is? You are responsible for the whole
thing. Why did you go into the confessional at all ? Did I
send you here for that ? Your business was to make and sign
the inventory, to take away what was yours, and to shut the
church. But you are all alike, all rebels and conspirators ! "

The poor dean murmured, " Shall I tell the chaplain to be-
gin Mass ? "

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1896.] The Last Mass. 7S7

"You had better, and that quickly!" replied the colonel,
who had worked himself into a perfect fever and was pulling
angrily at his moustache. Then, taking out his watch again, he
cried : " If he does not begin in a quarter of an hour, I will
turn out the people by force and shut up the church as it is."

^^ As it is** meant "with the Blessed Sacrament," which
would be profaned in the tabernacle. The dean flew to the
confessional where the chaplain was still sitting. " Quick,
father, quick ! " he exclaimed. " The Mass ought to have been
said before, and now must be celebrated instantly, or we shall
have terrible trouble."

The old priest turned his head, white with, age, from the
penitent to whose confession he was listening ; and said in a
low voice : " Already ? Is it absolutely necessary ? Look at all
these poor people. There are so many still waiting for their
turn — and it is the last time. "

"I know, I know!" cried the poor dean, "but it is impos-
sible to delay any longer. The colonel threatens to close the
church at once — with the Blessed Sacrament. You know they
did so last year at B ."

The chaplain rose hastily, and began with his feeble feet to
try and force his way through the kneeling throng, who tried
to stop him with tears and sobs : " Father, oh ! do hear me. I
have come ten miles on foot to make my confession," cried one.
" And I was christened by you, and you gave me my first com-
munion," said another. " And you married us," exclaimed a
third, " and our children were buried by you." They kissed
his hands and his cassock, and did their utmost to keep him
back ; but in spite of his tottering gait, for the tears were pour-
ing down his face and half blinding him, he went on toward
the sacristy, the dean supporting him and holding his arm.

" Courage, father, courage," he whispered. " It is God's holy
will."

" I know," mournfully replied the poor old man ; " but it
is a heavy cross. For five-and-forty years I have served this
altar and known all these poor people, and I hoped to have
died amongst them and been buried by them ! "

The poor nuns behind their curtain knew nothing of what
was passing in the church. Everything had been ready for
departure by break of day; their poor little parcels of clothes
were all packed, and they themselves were kneeling in their
stalls for the last time. Even Sister Eustachia was there. She
sat in her arm-chair propped up with pillows, with her white

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758 The Last Mass. [Mar.,

veil thrown off her pale but still beautiful face. Her head
rested on the back of her chair, and her eyes were closed.
One might have imagined that she was sleeping, had not the
movement of her lips and a nervous twitching of her clasped
hands shown that she was still praying. The Office had been
long since said — even Vespers, as before a journey — and then
they waited patiently for the last Mass.

According to the colonel's orders only two candles had been
lighted, and as he had insisted on having the keys of the or-
gan-loft and belfry-tower brought to him, there was no music
and no bells.

Trembling and faint, with bent head and streaming eyes, the
venerable old priest at last emerged from the sacristy. There
were only a few steps from thence to the altar ; but they seemed
too much for him, and he staggered under the weight of the
heavy embroidered chasuble which the nuns had been forced to
include in the inventory and to leave behind, on account of the
fine pearls with which it had been ornamented. Tears blinded
his sight, and he would have fallen had not the dean been at
hand to support him. Two old men of noble birth preceded

him, one carrying the missal. They were Count C and

Count W , neighbors of the monastery, who had implored

to serve the last Mass, and were not afraid of being compro-
mised. The Mass began. A deep and muffled sob burst from
the assembled multitude, but then a solemn silence, every one
being absorbed in prayer. Suddenly, as the canon of the Mass
began, to the amazement of everybody the church was all
ablaze with light. Every candle on the different altars, every
lamp and candelabra, was lighted and burning, so that the church
seemed as if prepared for the feast of Corpus Christi.

Who had done it ? Had the people arranged it among
themselves ? No one knew, and no one spoke. Only the high
altar was in shadow, with its two poor candles, surrounded by
soldiers, and in their midst the colonel, livid with rage, stamp-
ing his foot, biting his moustache, and tearing the cord of his
helmet to pieces.

The Mass proceeded slowly ; poor Father Vincenti could
hardly go on with it, and the dean had to prompt him from
time to time. Then came the Elevation. The venerable priest
lifted high the Sacred Host in his trembling, feeble hands, while
the little bell sounded softly, and a groan and a sob burst from
the multitude of kneeling figures with bent heads and wqeping
eyes. Each one felt that it was our dear Lord himself who

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1896.] The Last Mass. 759

had been shown to them for the last time from that altar where
he had deigned to remain for more than four hundred years
consoling, strengthening, and saving the souls of men ; and who
now was to be banished from that sanctuary for evermore.

Then came the priest's Communion. ^^ Dotnine non sum dignus'*
— he struck with a hollow sound on his meagre breast, as if he
would gladly give his life to save his Saviour from desecration.
And then came the turn of the nuns. Supported by the dean
and the server. Father Vincenti raised the Sacred Host to bless
the people, and then slowly descended the steps to the grating.
In their long, heavy, white mantles and flowing veils the sisters
approached one after the other to receive the Bread of Life.
The four oldest invalid nuns were lifted up to the little open-
ing in the grating, that the priest's hand might reach their lips ;
but his hand trembled so violently that the dean had to hold
and guide it. And then came the turn of the people. Hun-
dredis knelt, one after the other, by the altar rails, to receive
their Lofd with heart-broken prayers and tears. At last the
priest returned to the altar, and bending over it consumed all
that were left of the consecrated particles. It was the end —
" Jesus had left his temple. The tabernacle door, void of the
Sacred Host, was left open. The dean descended the altar
steps, took out the glass from the beautiful hanging gold lamp,
and extinguished the light. Pale as death, the poor old father
finished the Mass, then leant half fainting against the altar, while
the dean and the servers renioved his chasuble and all, and put
on him a cotta and stole. Then the dean, drawing near to the
gratings, opened them wide ; and the poor nuns, with their long
mantles and veils covering their faces, stepped out from the
shelter which had harbored them for so many years, and strove
to make their way through the church. But then it was not a
sob but a loud cry which burst from the assembled crowd as
they realized that they were losing for ever those faithful ser-
vants of God, to whom they had been used to come in all their
troubles and wants and necessities. They gathered round them,
kissing their hands and their clothes. Mothers lifted up their
children that they might see them once more. All were ming-
ling blessings and tears with their farewells.

" O reverend mother ! what shall we do without you ? *'
cried one. " Unhappy orphans that we shall be ! " exclaimed
another. " Who will come to us in sickness or in sorrow ?
Do not forget us ! Pray for us ! " said a third. " Bless me once
more," besought a young mother, " and my little one too.*^

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" John, Franz, children, all ! look well on our good and holy
mothers that you may remember them all your life ! " cried a
venerable old man amidst the crowd. " Alas ! alas ! what have
we done that we should live to see this day? Our dear Lord
driven from his house, his Tabernacle void, his altar stripped
and denuded, and now his faithful spouses turned out of house
and home ! "

The younger men clenched their fists and muttered angry,
furious words.

" Be calm — for the love of God, be calm ! " exclaimed the
venerable mother. " You can do us no good. You will only
bring misery on yourselves and your families. Resistance is
hopeless. We must submit to God's will."

Silence followed this speech ; but danger was in the air, and
the colonel saw it. He was deadly pale, and pulling the dean
towards him by the sleeve of his surplice, said angrily: "You
are responsible for all . this ; you insisted on this Mass ; you
have ordered this demonstration ; now we are on the eve of
open revolt. I shall give orders to fire. End this scandalous
scene at once, or otherwise I will answer for nothing. And as
for you, . . .** "You will probably take a long journey
north," added the district officer, with his cruel smile.

But the dean's courage had come back.

" You cannot frighten me by threatening me with the
longest journey, colonel/' he calmly replied. "God is every-
where, and we are in his hands. I am ready to accept his
divine will, but I cannot take the responsibility for what may
happen here. I knew nothing of the intention of all these
poor people to come to-day ; but it is not I that have filled
their hearts with bitterness till they are ready to burst! It is
not I who have wounded them in all that they hold most dear
— their faith — their church — their conscience . . ."

" Take care what you are saying ! " angrily responded the
colonel. " You dare to find fault with the decrees of the
governor? You dare to insinuate that the government is doing
a cruelty and an injustice to the people ? "

" I only say," replied the dean, " that those who sow the
storm may reap the whirlwind."

"You shall answer for that/' cried the colonel, in a fury.
" You shall be arrested."

The dean turned away and the voice of the crowd xost
menacing as a lion's suppressed growl.

But in a moment there was a dead silence. Father Vincenti,

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1896.] The Last Mass. 761

•
leaning against the altar, spread out his arms to bless the

people, and began to speak.

The colonej sprang towards him, crying out : " I forbid you
to preach ! Be silent, or I shall arrest you at once for insubor-
dination ! "

Vain threat! The moving crowd near the officers were at
once turned to stone and stood round them, menacing in looks
but perfectly silent, only firm and hard as a rock. No one
touched or even pressed upon them ; but they were enclosed
as in a living wall, without the possibility of moving. In vain
the colonel shouted : " Let me pass ! Make room, in the name
of the Czar! Til teach you! . . ." The crowd was mute,
but did not move. " This old priest shall answer for all ! "
screamed he, gnashing his teeth.

" Let it be, sir," said the dean, turning towards him. " Father
Vincenti is above the fear of human tribunals. It would be
better that you should pray to God that it may end as it is.
Do not hinder him — his task is difficult enough as it is." The
colonel stared at him in perfect astonishment at his boldness.

" Yes," continued the dean, " one word more from you may
act as a spark in a ton of gunpowder. Look at the faces of
the -people around you — they are hundreds, you but a hand-
ful ! "

The colonel seized the dean by the arm. " You are respon-
sible," he whispered. " I will do nothing but what you desire.
But try and prevent any rising. ... I feel as if an out-
break were imminent."

" Do not fear," sorrowfully answered the dean ; " there will
be no catastrophe if you will let them alone. I know this peo-
ple well. They are full of faith and love, and have patience
enough ; but do not trespass on it too far. Do not press your
point now ; I could not answer for the consequences ! "

The colonel's face paled and he was silent, feeling that the
dean was right. All faces were turned now towards the old
priest, whose voice at first was feeble but then rose stronger
and stronger till it filled the whole church, while every one
listened in breathless silence. He spoke of the old times; of
the venerable Abbess Dorothea, whom the church had raised
on her altars; on the hundreds of high-born and holy women
who had lived and died in that monastery for the love of
God and of the poor around them ; of the beautiful hospitals
and schools they had founded and maintained ; of the children
they had trained and the orphans they had sheltered ; of the

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762 The Last Mass, [Mar.,

•
Tartar and Swedish invasions, which had been repelled by the
faithfulness of the peasants who laid down their lives to defend
the convent and its inmates ; of the terrible and cruel incur-
sion of the revolted Cossacks, when so many of the sisterhood
suffered martyrdom rather than break their sacred vows ; of the
large sums contributed by the different abbesses for every nation-
al need in their dear native land — in fact, every page of the
history of that monastery for four hundred years was turned
over and dwelt upon with marvellous fire and eloquence by this
white-haired old priest, so that none of his hearers should fail
to remember what they owed to its inmates. And then he
turned to the poor sisters, who had been as his own children
for so many years, and said :

" To you, the last remaining branches of this once powerful
tree, now withered and condemned to death, I give my bless-
ing and my last farewell. May God bless you for your prayers,
your sacrifices, your life-long work ! May he bless and console
you likewise, in this present hour of sadness and bitterness, in
the exile to which you are condemned, in the rending of every
tie which even hearts consecrated to God are permitted to love
Go in peace. Say farewell to this old home, sanctified by so
many generations of saints ; that home which protected -your
youth and was the daily witness of your holy lives of labor,
love, and prayer. This beloved church, where you daily and
hourly met the Bridegroom of your souls, this holy shrine says
farewell to you too ! Strange hands will cover your bodies with
strange clay in a strange land ; no dear sacred national hymn
will be sung on your funeral day. But He who is the Resur-
rection and the Life, He, the Good Shepherd, will take you in
his arms — you, his own beloved and elected sheep ! Your tears
will adorn his crown as the choicest pearls ; and your pain and
your sacrifices, borne so bravely for his sake, will not only
insure your own salvation, but in the balance of his justice
may turn the scales and bring rescue likewise to your perse-
cuted brethren in our native land."

The nuns knelt on the altar steps in silent prayer. A pro-
found silence pervaded the whole church. Then the mother
abbess rose with her sisters and began walking slowly down the
aisle to the great door at the west end. She was struck by
the terrified look of the colonel as she drew near him, who
was evidently staring at something behind her, and also at the
expression of the dean's face who stood by him. She turned
round and in the midst of her nuns, who had suddenly stopped,

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1896.] The Last Mass. 763

she saw Sister Eustachia, seated in her arm-chair, carried by-
two lay sisters as before, with a wonderful brightness round her
head and the sweetest of smiles on her white lips, while her
eyes seemed fixed and glazed.

Before she could go back to her, the colonel had sprung
forward and seized her arm ; the hand fell back cold and
lifeless.

" Good God ! her words have come true,** he exclaimed,
and visibly shuddered.

" What is it ? What has happened ? ** everybody began to
ask. The poor mother superior had now reached the sister*s
chair, and, kneeling by her, softly closed her eyes, kissed her,
and lowered her veil. One by one the rest of the sisters came
forward to kiss her cold hand. The dean intoned the " De
Profundis,'* to which all responded ; and the words of one of
them " Happy Sister Eustachia ! " found an echo in the hearts
of priests and people alike.* It was getting late ; but no one
bade them hurry now. The colonel seemed as one dazed ; the
crowd, awed by that last scene of death, were silently weeping.
The mother, kissing once more the ground of God*s house,
walked calmly down to the church door, supported by friendly
arms and with murmured blessings from all sides. And so she
and her sisters entered the carriages prepared for them to drive
to the nearest station. And in the deserted sanctuary Sister
Eustachia stayed alone.

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764 How THE Celtic Revival Arose. [Mar.,

HOW THE CELTIC REVIVAL AROSE.

BY M. A. O'BYRNE.

MOST as important as Newton's discovery of the
law of gravitation was the discovery by Grimm,
in the year 1822, of his celebrated "law of lan-
guages." This master-key lent an impetus to
philological studies all over the civilized worlds
the force of which is still felt and which seems indeed to be on
the increase as the years roll by. Simultaneously with this
study of comparative grammar has arisen the study of what is
termed "folk-lore/* or the collection of the myths and house-
hold stories of kindred peoples, their comparison with each
other, and their gradual development into the form in which
they exist to-day; and retroactively the tracing of their com-
mon origin back to the primeval stock from whence these
kindred nations are descended. In the prosecution of these co-
ordinate studies and in their application to the literature of
kindred nations, it gradually became apparent to the student of
history that a new and hitherto unexplored field of historical
research was thrown open to him, in which he might see as in
a mirror the form of language and the mode of thought of
the common people ; and, inferentially, the springs of action that
impelled them. Thus, taking an introspective glance as it were
into their very souls, he learned more about their customs and
manners than could be gleaned from the descriptions of the
thousands of battles with which history teems.

Max Muller, in his Lectures on the Science of Languagty
says : " Language reflects the history of nations, and if properly
analyzed, almost every word will teU us of many vicissitudes
through which it passed on its way from Central Asia to India,
to Persia, to Asia Minor, Greece and Italy, to Russia, Gaul,
Germany, the British Isles, America, New Zealand, and back
again in its world-encompassing migrations to India and the
Himalayan regions from which it started."

ANCIENT IRISH MSS. ON THE CONTINENT.

The value of comparative philology, and the study of folk-
lore as a key to the proper study of the history of mankind,

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1896.] How THE Celtic Revival Arose. 765

has gradually become an established fact, and no historian of
any pretensions can ignore it. In the impulse given to these
studies owing to a due appreciation of their value men began to
ransack the great libraries of Europe in search of anything that
might throw light on the past, in the shape of old MSS. or
moth-eaten tomes long forgotten and cast aside because of their
supposed worthlessness. It thus happened that the great Ger-
man philologist, Zeuss, in examining old Latin MSS. contain-
ing interlinear Gaelic glosses, in the libraries of St. Gall and
Milan, written by the Irish monks, and brought thither by
them from Ireland, from the sixth . to the ninth centuries,
discovered that those glosses contained the oldest forms of the
Gaelic language in existence. The oldest MSS. purely Gaelic
of which any previous knowledge existed were the "Leabhar
na h-Uidhre " and the '* Book of Leinster," the former written
about the beginning, and the latter about the middle of the
twelfth century. Here was Gaelic at least four hundred years
older, and what was more important still for the philologist, it
contained all the inflexional endings, thus establishing once for
all what previously had been mere conjecture, the Aryan
character of the Gaelic language, and placing it in the same
category as the Sanscrit, Latin, Greek, and Sclavonic languages.

ZEUSS' "GRAMMATICA CELTICA.*'

With characteristic industry and zeal, begotten of his love
of learning, Zeuss copied and collated all such MSS. as he was
able to find in the libraries of St. Gall, Milan, Turin, Carlsruhe,
Wurzburg, etc.; and with the materials thus at hand, together
with his knowledge of Kymric, or Welsh, he gave to the world
the result of his labors in his Grammatica Celtica, published in
1853. It is no exaggeration to say that the entire literary world
was astounded at the appearance of this work. As a monu-
ment of learning it places ,the name of J. Kaspar Zeuss in the
front rank of the scholars of the nineteenth century, whilst if
we consider the result arising from its publication as an im-
pulse to Gaelic studies, it embalms his memory in the hearts
of all who love the language of the Gael ; and even if we con-
sider merely the practical result, or the gain to philological
study in general, we are driven to the conclusion that Zeuss
accomplished as much for the Celtic as Grimm had some years
previously accomplished for the Teutonic tongues.

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766 Ho IV THE Celtic Revival Arose. [Mar.,

' LABORS OF EARLIER IRISH SCHOLARS.

It is interesting to note the state of knowledge of the Celtic
languages prior to the issue of Zeuss* Grammatica Celtica.
Amongst native Irish scholars the most important work that
had been published was Dr. O'Donovan's Irish Grammar, in the
year 1845. Although this is by far the best grammar that had
hitherto appeared, it is merely a grammar of the modern lan-
guage, and as such was not of much value to the philologist.
Dr. O'Donovan himself, although he was a great scholar of the
modern and middle Irish, did not know of even the existence
of what is now called old Irish — tjie Irish of the Continental
glosses. He knew nothing of the neuter gender or the dual
number, though remnants of both are still to be found in the
modern language. It must not, however, be supposed that there
is any desire on the part of the writer to disparage the invalua-
ble labor of Dr. O'Donovan on behalf of the language and his-
tory of Ireland. It must never be forgotten that his learning
and labors — and the same might be said of Dr. O'Curry — ren-
dered possible the progress made by Celtic scholars in recent
years.

CELTIC LANGUAGE IN EARLY MEDICINE.

Amongst continental scholars, however, considerable progress
had been made in determining the philological value of the Cel-
tic languages. In 1837 M. Adolph Pretet, of Geneva, issued
his great work, De raffiniti des Langues Celtique avec le Sanscrit^ in
which he established the superiority of the Irish language over
the other Celtic dialects, and its comparative freedom from
phonetic decay, in the fact that it alone still preserves to a
great extent the terminal forms. Professor Bopp, in his Die
keltischen Sprachen^ gave to the world a discovery he had made
which, if we consider the dearth of materials on which he had to
work, the Grammatica Celtica not having yet been issued, may
well excite our astonishment at what Dr. Ebel calls " the result
•of a wonderful divinatory faculty." This discovery was that
eclipsis and aspiration in modern Irish are the relics of the
old case-endings arising from phonetic decay. Grimm also, about
this dats, made another discovery which provoked much contro-
versy amongst Celtic scholars, but which was finally vindicated
and acknowledged by his opponents, and especially by Zeuss. It
had been a subject of regret amongst scholars that no monu-
ments or medals or coins containing ancient Celtic inscriptions,
similar to those in the Latin and Greek languages, existed. In

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1896.] How THE Celtic Revival Arose. jCy

this they were for a long time mistaken, as such inscriptions
actually existed, and such relics of antiquity had from time to
time been discovered both on the Continent and in Ireland ;
but there was no one able to decipher them till Grimm brought
the light of his learning to bear on the subject. His object
was to establish the antiquity of Celtic speech, and this he ac-
complished by proving that the medical formulae of Marcellus,
physician to Theodosius the Great, who died at Milan in 395,
in which there is a number of Gaulish plant-names and many
medical remedies, were all written in the Gaelic language. Zeuss,
in his Grammatica Celtica^ ridiculed the idea that those formulae
had any affinity to the Celtic dialects. In 1855, however, Grimm,
after a thorough re-examination of the subject, laid the result
of his investigations before the Academy of Berlin, and triumph-
antly vindicated the Celtic character of the Marcellian formulae.
Zeuss some years afterwards, in a letter to Jacob Grimm, fully
admitted the Celtic character of the formulae. The result of this
discovery, and of many Gaelic inscriptions on medals and coins,
and tablets of stone and bronze which had long lain in out-of-
the-way places, and had never previously been critically examined
in the light of the progress in knowledge of languages, estab-
lished the fact that all over north-western Europe, and the
entire country which was known to the Romans as Transalpine
Gaul, there lived a people who spoke the Celtic languages,
who knew the use of letters, and who had attained to a degree
of civilization which had hitherto been regarded as the monop-
oly of the Greeks and Romans. In recent years the labors of
Whitley Stokes, on the same lines of investigation, have proved
the Celtic origin of the people of Cisalpine Gaul also.

PRACTICAL METHODS OF MODERN STUDENTS.

A second edition of Zeuss* Grammatica Celtica, edited by
Ebel, was issued in 1871. Nor should the labors of other con-
tinental scholars on behalf of Celtic studies be forgotten ; such,
for instance, as Zimmer, Windische, and M. Jubainville, editor of
the Revue Celtique^ who, not content with the MSS. available
on the Continent, make yearly visits to Ireland and spend their
days poring over the MS. treasures of Trinity College and the
Royal Irish Academy, or in the Irish-speaking districts amongst
the peasantry, to learn as nowhere else they can the idiom
and true genius of the language they love so well. Windische
published his Irish Grammar in 1874 and his Irische Text^ in
1880, both colossal works. The names also of Cavaliere Nigra,

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768 Ho IV THE Celtic Revival Arose. [Mar.,

Ascoli, Schleicher, Marcel, Diefenbach, Gaidoz, etc., should be
indelibly engraved on the memory of Irishmen because of their
labors on behalf of the Gaelic language.

EFFECTS OF THE NATIONAL SCHOOL SYSTEM IN IRELAND.

Whilst continental scholars were thus busying themselves on
behalf of the Irish language an apathy almost death-like existed
amongst the Irish people themselves. True, a faithful few were
to be found, here and there, who in the face of all difficulties
•battled against an adverse public opinion, and by unremitting
efforts tried to kindle the fire of a true patriotic spirit, and
arouse the people to an appreciation of the linguistic treasure
they were fast consigning to utter extinction. These few loyal
workers had as their greatest difficulty the denationalizing pro-
cess that had been going on amongst the people since the
establishment of the National Schools. The great Archbishop
MacHale, foreseeing the dangerous tendency of these un-nation-
al schools, never allowed them to be established in his arch-
diocese. He called them, and justly so, as after events proved,
" the graves of the Irish Language." He might have added
" the graves of Irish Nationality " as well. From the books
used in these schools everything appertaining to the history of
Ireland was sedulously excluded, while the Irish language
was tabooed and forbidden.

THE FALSE SHAME OF THE CELTIC RACES.

Simultaneously and prior to the establishment of the
National Schools, and dating back perhaps a century earlier, a
feeling of shame for their language and customs and every-
thing Irish had been growing amongst all classes of the peo-
ple. Indeed the very term Gaodhlach in their native language
was a synonym for everything inferior or commonplace, whilst
the term Galda meant directly the opposite. We have to
this day the expression Nach Gaodhlach an fear e, meaning
" What a common fellow he is,*' and Nach Galda ata tu, meaning
" How polite you are." This, perhaps, is not to be wondered at
when we consider that it is a part of our human nature to
associate grandeur and greatness with those who possess the
goods of this world. The Irish people were robbed of their
riches and lands — they had no existence according to English
law; and they very naturally looked upon the language of their
oppressors as superior to their own. This feeling gradually
gave way to a sense of shame or disregard for their language

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1896.] Ho IV THE Celtic Revival Arose. 769

and literature. Doubtless, too, this influence must have been
something similar to the processes of denationalizajtion which
under the operation of the Roman laws and language produced
a like result in Celtic Gaul, thus Romanizing the people and
gradually producing the conglomerate modified French lan-
guage of to-day.

BRIGHTER PROSPECTS FOR THE OLD TONGUE.

Notwithstanding the difficulties above referred to, it is grati-
fying to be able to acknowledge that the future of the move-
ment for the preservation of the Irish language is encouraging,
and that the home-workers in the cause are making progress
they scarcely dreamed of a few years ago. There never has been
a period during the darkest hour born of Irish history when
there were 'not zealous workers on behalf of the Irish tongue.
True, at times they were few and their efforts were feeble, but
the line of succession of such workers from Keating and Mc-
Curtin down to O'Donovan and O'Curry, and down to our own
day, has been unbroken. Whitley Stokfes, Atkinson, Hennessy,
Dr. MacHale, Dr. Sullivan, Ulick J. Burke, John Fleming, Kuno
Myer, Flannelly, Dr. Sigerson, Father O'Growney, and Dr.
Douglas Hyde has each contributed his share in preserving
that line unbroken. Many valuable publications in the lan-
guage have been issued during the past ten or fifteen years.
The Society for the Preservation of the Irish Language has
sent out hundreds of thousands of grammatical manuals and
easy lesson books, as well as works of a higher grade. The
Gaelic Journal, commenced some ten years ago, and now for
the first time on a secure financial basis, has contributed largely
to the success of the movement. The Journal is ably edited by
Father 0*Growney and Mr. McNeill, both accomplished schol-
ars in ancient and modern Irish. The many publications issued
during the past quarter of a century of portions of Middle
Irish MSS., principally the " Book of the Dun Cow," the
" Book of Leinster," the works of -^ngus the "Culdee," the
" Tripartite Life of St. Patrick,'* ^the " Life of St. Brigid," and
several contributions to the Revue Celtiquey bear testimony to
the indefatigable labor and exalted scholarship of Whitley
Stokes. Professor Atkinson and Rev. Edmund Hogan, S.J.,
are also worthy of note in this connection. The former pub-
lished in 1890 Keating's great work on death, " Tri Biorr-Gaithe
an Bhais," in which he evinces a wonderful knowledge of the
modern language, and by his scientific treatment of the verb " to

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770 How THE Celtic Revival Arose. [Mar.,

be " in Irish has rendered a service to the study of the modern
language analogous to that rendered by Arnold to the study of
the Latin and Greek languages. Father. Hogan's "Cath Rois
na Rig for Boinn/* recently issued as one of the Todd Lec-
ture Series, also bears testimony to the ripe scholarship of the
Rev. Editor. His treatise on " The Irish Neuter Substantive ''
as an appendix to this • work gives proof of his great familiar-
ity with old Irish, and will be of the utmost service to ad-
vanced students who desire to study the language in its oldest
and most unaffected forms.

VALUE OF CELTIC STUDY.

A word here as to the value of the Gaelic language from a
philological stand-point. In the discussion of this subject it is
essential to remember that Celtic is a generic term embracing
the Irish, Scotch, Manx, the Welsh, the Cornish, and the Ar-
moric languages. Of these subdivisions the three first mentioned
are derived from the Low-Aryan tongue, and are called the
Gaelic. The three last mentioned are derived from the High-
Aryan, and are sometimes called the British languages. Their
relationship to each other, and to the old Aryan from which
they both sprung, might be illustrated by a comparison of the
Romance languages with the Latin language. The Irish,
Scotch, and Manx are one and the same language, with this
difference, that the Scotch and Manx have suffered more pho-
netic decay than the Irish, and have lost almost all of the case-
endings. All three bear the same relationship to the old Aryan
as Italian does to Latin, though of course not to the same
degree ; whilst the British group bears the same relation to the
old mother-tongue as French does to Latin. Owing to the
isolated position of Ireland and the high degree of civilization
and learning to which the early Irish had attained, the Irish is
the most perfect of the Celtic languages. The many inscriptions
on bronze and stone discovered on the Continent, already re-
ferred to, bear a nearer relationship to Irish than to 'any of
the other sister Celtic tongues, and this relationship becomes
closer the older the inscriptions are, thus suggesting a proba-
bility that originally there was only one Celtic language spoken
by the Celtic race, and that the Irish-Gaelic.

TOPOGRAPHICAL MONUMENTS OF THE CELT.

In tracing the habitat of Celtic speech we have already seen
that it was the language of Cisalpine and Transalpine Gaul. All

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1896.] How THE Celtic Revival Arose. 771

modern scholars are now unanimous on this point ; in fact the
nomenclature of all the countries in north-western Europe bear
unmistakable proof of the race that originally inhabited theixi.
We have, for instance, Rome derived from Ruadh-Abkan, the Red
River. We have the Alps from the Gaelic Alp, still used in
the modern language, and meaning a peak or mountain. We
have the Garonne from Garbh^Abhan, the Rough River. If we
pass over into England, we have all the names of towns con-
taining the affix or prefix Avon, so many remnants of the
original names given them by their Celtic founders. Whilst
speaking on this subject I may cite here the authority of Gliick,
who made a collection of the names used by Caesar in his
writings and in a very learned work published by him has proved
their Celtic origin.

THE CELTIC ELEMENT IN ENGLISH LAW.

A great deal has been said and written regarding the ety-
mology of the English language. Till within recent years a ten-
dency to deny any relationship of the English with the Celtic
languages existed amongst English lexicographers. In this re-
spect they followed the example of Dr. Johnson and Macaulay,
whose hatred of everything Irish dwarfed their scholarship and
rendered them incompetent judges, at least on this subject.
How much the English language is indebted for its vocables
to Gaelic is a question that has not so far been fully determined.
That it must be very considerable is at least reasonable, when
we consider that the original inhabitants ofiBritain were Celts,
and that the theory that they were all put to death or perished
after the invasion of Hengist and Horsa cannot be adopted, and
is now rejected by all well-informed historians. The late Dr.
Sullivan, President of Queen's College, Cork, to whose profound
scholarship the writer would here testify, and to whose article
in the Encyclopcedia Britannica and his Introduction to O* Curry's
Lectures he is indebted for much of the historical data in this
article, says on the subject of English law and the organization
of society in England and Gaul : " That the great principles of
English law are the gift of the Anglo-Saxons, who not only
borrowed nothing from their predecessors, the Britons, but actu-
ally exterminated them, has so much the force of an axiom
among English writers that no one, so far as I know, has ever
doubted the first part of the statement, and but few the latter
part. And yet it may be maintained that the organization of
society in Gaul and in Britain before the dawn of the Christian

VOL. LXIL— 49

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772 How THE Celtic Revival Arose. [Mar.,

era was substantially the same as in Germany; that ail the
fundamental principles of Anglo-Saxon law existed among the
Britons and Irish ; and that the Saxons of Hengist and Horsa
found on their arrival what we call Saxon laws and customs,
and only effected territorial changes. This is precisely the con-
clusion to which a study of ancient Irish history in the broad
sense of the word inevitably leads." So much for the much-
vaunted Teutonic origin of English law. May not the Teutonic
element in the English language be also equally overestimated ?

RICHNESS OF THE CELTIC TONGUE.

As this article is designed as an answer to. the question
"Should the Irish language be preserved ? " it is necessary that
the objection which we hear to the study of Gaelic should be
here answered. Unfortunately the objection is frequently heard
from Irishmen and their descendants who should be better in-
formed regarding their mother-tongue. When asked to study
the Gaelic language they say " What is the good ? It has no
literature. It is not a cultivated tongue," etc. The writer has
often heard this objection, even from those who from their
position in society and learning he had a right to expect were
not in such dense ignorance on a question of such importance.
I can offer no more apt reply to all such objections than the
testimony of Professor Roerig, at one time of Cornell University,
and perhaps the ablest living linguist, who in his address before
the Gaelic Society of this city, delivered in 1884, says:

"The Celtic ia extremely rich in words which have come
down to us with all their primitive freshness, in their unadul-
terated original form, and that from the remote ages of dim
pre-historic times, when it still presented in Asia something
identical with the primitive Aryan speech and Sanscrit. More-
over the luxuriant lexical growth and richness of the Irish lan-
guage, that brightest flower of the Celtic branch, becomes ap-
parent by the fact that should all the existing glossaries, old and
new, be added together, we should have at least thirty thou-
sand words — besides those printed in dictionaries — a richness of
vocabulary to which perhaps not a single living language can
bear even a remote example. . . . Npne of the other Celtic
tribes or nations have given hs so important and ancient a litera-
ture as the Irish, and the Celtic antiquities and old writings are
to all appearance much more abundant in Ireland than else-
where. But the literary productions in Irish are not only very
numerous — they extend also to a wonderful variety of subjects

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1896.] How THE Celtic Revival Arose. 773

and departments of mental conception and activity, such as
poetry, history, laws, grammar, etc., and it is a well-known fact
that many legends of French and German poets in the Middle
Ages derive their origin from Irish and other old Celtic songs."

Here he enumerates the many MSS. still extant in the Irish
language in the several departments mentioned above, and, again
referring to the extent of Irish literature, he concludes his re-
marks as follows :

"There are very many Irish MSS. — all of ancient date — that
ought to be published and rendered thus accessible to scholars
generally, as well as to the native Irish reader, and it has been
ascertained that for the elucidation of Irish history there are
without any comparison a greater number of valuable ancient
Irish documents extant as manuscripts than either English or
French or any European nation can boast of. It is reported
that some scholar in Germany made an estimate by calculation,
showing that it would take about one thousand volumes in oc-
tavo form to publish the Irish literature alone which is con-
tained in the extant MSS. from the eleventh to the sixteenth
centuries.**

CELTIC CHAIRS IN THE UNIVERSITIES.

The establishment of Celtic chairs in all the principal seats
of learning in Europe is an answer to this question. The estab-
lishment of a Celtic chair in the Catholic University at Wash-
ington is at once an answer to this question and an evidence
of the enlightened scholarship of its management. The Catho-
lic University is to be congratulated on the fact that, though
the youngest university in the land, it is the first that has
shown a realization of the value of modern linguistic progress
in thus taking a step in which the other principal universities
will have to follow, unless they are content to lag behind in the
march of intellectual advancement so characteristic of the pre-
sent age. The Catholic University is likewise to be congratu-
lated on her choice of a professor to fill this chair in the person
of Father Henebry, who, though young in years, has already
given promise of being in time the most thorough Irish scholar
that Ireland has produced since the time of Geoffrey Keating
or Duald MacFirbis.

CELTIC THE MOTHER OF RHYMED POETRY.

Within the limits of a mere synoptical review it is impos-
sible to give more than a passing glance at the influence,

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774 ffow THE Celtic Revival Arose. [Mar.,

universally admitted, of the Irish language on the English lan-
guage and literature. It must suffice to state here that the
English language, as well as all the modern languages of Europe,
owe to the Irish language one of their chief charms, viz., rhyme.
Matthew Arnold and all the recent English writers willingly ad-
mit this fact. Sedulius, who was an Irishman, and who gave to
Catholic hymnology many of the most beautiful Latin hymns
still used in the liturgy of the Catholic Church, first introduced
rhyme into Europe when he produced his " Carmen Paschale,"
the greatest epic poem in the Latin language next to Virgil's
" iEneid." Many of the hitherto insoluble problems of history
are yielding to the light thrown upon them by Irish literature.
When Brennus (Celtic Bran^ meaning a judge or king) in
the year 382 B.C., having defeated the Romans near the river
Allia, led his conquering legions on to Rome and sacked the
imperial city, they called him a " Barbarian," as they did all
who spoke a language different from their own ; but he was
civilized enough to whip and almost annihilate them, and pro-
bably almost as advanced in refinement as themselves, as he
spoke a Celtic language, most likely the Gaelic, which even at
that remote period had attained a high degree of development.
When St. Patrick came to Ireland from Gaul, or, as some hold,
from Wales, his great success in evangelizing the ancient Irish
was due in a measure to the fact that he spoke a language
almost identical with theirs ; and when, later on, the Irish mis-
sionaries carried the banner of the true faith all over north-
western Europe, they preached that faith to kindred people,
speaking a kindred language and possessing the same manners
and customs. All these facts are so many answers to the ques-
tion. Should the Irish language be preserved ? The writer
would appeal to Irishmen and their descendants, by all the
memories that cling around the glorious past of our race, when
Ireland was the home of learning and science, the " Insula
sanctorum et doctorum,'* and when her children swarmed from
their island home to spread that learning amongst the nations,
by the memory of all her struggles to preserve a distinct
nationality, to save from destruction the only tie that binds us
to that past, and the only preservative in the future of our
characteristics as a people — our language.

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1896.] ' An Impression of Holland. 775

AN IMPRESSION OF HOLLAND.

BY BART KENNEDY.

WAS only two days in Rotterdam, but found it
quite long enough to upset the notion I had
formed beforehand concerning the natives of Hol-
land. I had imagined the Dutch to be a dull,
heavy race whose main object in life was the
smoking of pipes at least a yard long. Everything must be
stupid, solemn, and sedate, I thought. Where and how I got
this notion I don't exactly know. It may have been partly
through the seeing of Dutch comedians, who always appear on
the stage smoking long pipes, and partly through the reading
of Washington Irving's' odd tale, Rip Van Wiftkle, in which the
Dutch characters are wrapped in a haze of sleepiness.

As I came up the River Maas on the steamer I thought of
the Hudson and the strange legends concerning the old Dutch
adventurers who had sailed through its waters. My mind was
full of pictures of hardy sailors ; queer-looking houses ; lazy men
dressed it la Rip Van Winkle ; smoking, pedantic school-masters ;
shrewish housewives ; stolid, chubby children, and skittle-playing,
schnapps-drinking goblins. In a vague way I half expected to
see Irving's odd characters standing on the wharf.

But, no ; the people were awake — very much awake. Every-
thing was spick and span new, and smacking of the hurry and
rush of America.

Neither did I find any one smoking* the yard-long pipe that
I had always supposed to be the main and most treasured be-
longing of the Hollander. Indeed I scarcely saw any pipes at
all. To be sure nearly every man I saw was smoking, but he
was smoking a cigar.

The town struck me as being a mixed-up sort of town, with
plenty of water in the mixing. Canals, bridges, and again
canals, were everywhere. They were part of the means by
which the Dutch nad fought their mightiest foe of all — the
ocean — for centuries. Long ago Holland was nothing but a
water-swept salt marsh — a drear waste. The sea was its Iprd
and master, and overran it at will. Now it is a thriving and
prosperous country possessed of many fine cities. A brave race.

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776 An Impression of Holland. [Mar.,

The Drager— Dutch Funeral Officer.

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1896.] An Impression of Holland. 777

indeed, are the Dutch to rescue their land from the sweep and
overwhelm of great waters !

As I was going along the Wilhelmmakade, a fine boulevard, a
small cart laden with vegetables came along. It looked some-
thing like a London costermonger's cart. A man appeared to
be pushing it. He was not, however. He was only guiding or
steering it. The motive power was supplied by a huge, power-
fully built dog that was harnessed beneath it. I saw this as
the cart went by. Indeed the sight of the dog — it was a mastiff
— with its rolling, bloodshot eyes, and lolling tongue, startled
me. There are many of these carts in Rotterdam. They are
called "hundencars." Hundencar means dogear. Evidently the
people of Holland think that dogs should be useful as well as
ornamental.

The laboring class in Rotterdam wear the funniest-looking
wooden shoes imaginable. They call them " klompen." They
seem to be made for the purpose of injuring pavements, and
their name is very suggestive of their character, because of the
fact that you can hear their "klomp, klomp ** a half a mile
away. They are huge in size, and in shape something like a
cross between a small Chinese junk and the shell of a big land
turtle.

Rotterdam is dotted all over with delightful little parks,
where everything is green and fresh, where the birds chirp and
sing, and where the nurse-maids wheel forth the babies for an
airing. Here are tulips the like of which cannot be found even
if one roams the world. As every one knows, it was a Dutch
tulip that fascinated and beggared that erratic and brilliant
Irishman, Goldsmith. This man of genius gave all the money
he had in the world for an especially fine-looking tulip. He
kept it till it was faded ; and perhaps, after all, got his money's
worth out of it, for poets and 'geniuses are a strange sort of
people who have their own peculiar way of getting the most
out of money and of life.

Rotterdam is the cleanest of clean towns. And small won-
der. The water is plentiful. This struck me after I had
crossed at least a hundred bridges during my first day's wan-
dering through it. And you may look over at the chimneys of
the houses in any direction you may please to turn, and see
the masts of schooners, steamers, and indeed all rigs of vessels,
standing almost alongside them. The town is so thoroughly
intersected by canals that the ships may come and unload
their cargoes right into the heart, or into the back streets of

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778 An Impression of Holland. [Mar.,

the city, so to speak. So the people are not forced to go far
to get water for cleaning purposes.

Physically the Dutch are sturdy and straight of figure, red

A Sunday off in Brock.

of cheeks, and bright and keen of eyes. The dominant expres-
sion of their faces seemed to me to be a certain patient cour-

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1896.] Mists. 779

age, an indomitableness the heritage of ancestors who con-
quered, after long centuries of continuous fighting, the storms
and terrors of the great, awful ocean. A people such as this
typify that finest human quality — never giving up — which has
made man king over all, which has enabled him to chain the
lightning, to link together the peoples of the world, to wrest
vast treasures from the bowels of the earth, to build great
ships, to write great books for the advancement of human hap-
piness and liberty.

A grand people, I thought, as I sailed home to America.

OHEAD.

ibroken,
breast ;
cen,
unrest.

he flowers,
mslept ;
Grief unfolding the hours
Heavy with tears unwept.

Gray mists swept by the morning

Into a veil of gold ;
Out from grief's pallid mourning

Visions of joy unfold.

Cling to my heart, O sorrows
Unsought, unloved, unkissed ;

God's love in clear to-morrows
Will glorify God's mist.

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78o His Dr y Sunda y. [Mar.,

HIS DRY SUNDAY.

BY EDITH BROWER.

HEY rented two rooms in the old stone house
on the corner, one up-stairs and one down.
The upper room had a large closet which was
Susanna's pride and joy, for it would hold every-
thing and more too. The apartment below-stairs
was a combination of parlor, work-shop, and dining-room; the
last in bad weather only, for on all pleasant days they took their
meals, like true Germans, under the grape-trellis in the garden.

Sometimes Count Dagobert came and supped with them.
The neighbors knew him as Mr. Wurmser, but he really was
an Austrian count, as anybody who had a quarter of an eye
might tell by looking at him. He was very tall, very erects
very spare, very long-necked, with hollow cheeks, sharp, straight
nose, and a sharp goatee on his chin. He had been all over
the world, knew everything, wore no end of jewelled rings on
his lean hands, and spoke the most beautiful German — so
Heini said — as well as seventeen other languages — so the count
said. His full name was Dagobert Christian Frederick Wurmser^
and he owned a great estate on the other side which included
four towns and several villages. Yet for all this he preferred
to follow the profession of a mining engineer in a new country,,
while for a friend he chose little Heinrich Moller, boot and
shoe maker. How singular in the count, yet how noble and kind !
Heinrich and Susanna had been married ten months. He
was twenty on his wedding day, and she was considerably over
twenty-nine. People said that she had popped the question
and he didn't dare refuse ; which was a calumny, for he had
teased her a whole year to marry him. Susanna truly loved
the pretty young fellow, and hesitated only on account of that
dreadful decade between them ; she was afraid of feeling older
than she did already, were she to take a boy for a husband.
However, the boy had a good trade and an admirable amount
of virile persistence ; so Susanna gave in at last, saying to her-
self : ** What does his age matter ? I can manage him the better."
He certainly got well managed, this darling, curly-headed
baby man, by his mature, strong-minded wife. Her mode of
management was the same that all wise women use in like
cases : plenty of humoring with a show of obedience. When Herr

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1896.] His Dry Sunday. 781

Moller became lordly and intimated that his house — or portion
of a house — was his own, Frau Moller veiled her bright black
eyes with their large lids and said sweetly : " Sckon, sckon,
Heinrich" — which made little Heinrich feel like a tsar at the
very least.

Then when the time came for gaining her own point, it was
" Heinchen " or " Heini," or " Schatzerl '* — for Susanna was a
South-German woman and full of pretty soft diminutives — and
her eyes would gleam so lovingly above her vivid red cheeks
that Heini could no more resist their spell than if he were
actually enchanted. At such times he was no tsar, but only a
lap-dog without a wish that was not also that of his mistress.
These alternations on Heinrich's part betwixt marital assertive-
ness and a gentle, almost filial yielding of his will, might have
furnished Mr. Wurmser — I beg his pardon. Count Dagobert —
with much amusement, had that noble gentleman been gifted
with a sense of humor.

As it was, he often said to himself that Moller was a fool
ever to give in to any woman, and sometimes he said so to
Moller. Then Tsar Moller would reply : " Susi is a good
woman ; she is very clean and a fine cook ; she mends my
clothes well ; she wastes no money. I like to please her once
in a while."

The little shoemaker had for his work-shop the corner
between the two windows. One of these opened on the street,
the other on the garden. The old stone house was very thick-
walled, which gave delightfully deep sills. Heini kept his tools
in the street window, and Susi kept her basket and piles of
sewing work in the recess on the garden side. Under Heini's
window, at the edge of the pavement, stood a long bench.
Here at evening, when toil was over, they used to sit watching
their neighbors or the people that walked past. Susi knitted
everlastingly, with one forefinger stuck out, German fashion,
while Heini smoked. After the stars came forth, Heini general-
ly grew sentimental and put his curly head on Susi*s shoulder ;
though she would keep on knitting and pretend not to notice,
for she wished him to think that she did not appreciate his
demonstrations too highly. " He will keep up the habit
longer," thought wily Susanna, who never for one moment for-
got how young her husband was and that she was growing old
faster than he.

But while pretending indifference, she was very happy on
account of his caresses, having in reality much more sentiment
than Heini himself.

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782 His Dry Sunday. [Mar.,

Whenever Count Dagobert had an idle day he always came
to the Mollers'. He usually sat with them, but if he was in a
sulky mood — which happened every now and then — he would
sit by himself in the grape-arbor and smoke millions of cigar-
ettes. He called these fits " melancholia," but Susi gave them
another name in her own mind. It did not please her that the
count should deliberately come to work off his distemper in her
garden; that was carrying friendship a bit too far.

But she refrained from complaining of him to Heinrich, who
really seemed very fond of him, and who, considering his trade,
owned few acquaintances.

Besides, when the count was not melancholy he was exceed-
ingly agreeable. He told tales galore out of the many lives he
had lived, and if some of these tales lacked verisimilitude, his
listeners were not likely to suspect it.

I love to recall that picture of the Moller interior, with
Susi moving about the clean floor in her neat, quiet way, or,
perhaps, sitting and sewing on Heini's shirt ; Heini on his
leather seat in the corner, the light from the deep window fall-
ing on his yellow head bent over a boot which he cobbled or
made from the new leather ; and the tall Count Dagobert
beside him, looking very much as Don Quixote might have
looked, had that dear crazy saint been both wicked and sane.
The count leans back against the wall, sticking out his feet for
several yards in front of him, playing with Heini's awl or sharp
leather-knife, so that the latter has to be continually asking for
these implements, and talks his fascinating talk. If Susi drops
her scissors, he picks them up for her instantly, for he is
terribly polite and always addresses her in her own South-
German patois.

This was all very pleasant ; Susi liked it well enough ; it
was the Sundays that she could not endure. For six weeks
and more Susi had been going to church alone. Heini was a
great sleepy-head and would never get up in time to go to
either of the early Masses.

Before nine o'clock the count would appear clad in light
gray (which, after the fashion of sallow men, he greatly affected),
with an extra high collar on his corded, columnar throat, and
on his head a rakish, soft, gray hat. Then Heini would say to
Susi, " We're going to the Saengerbund rehearsal," and that
would be the last seen of the two until late at night. Susi
knew that the Saengerbund meeting did not keep in all day.

Formerly Heini would take her to the Sunday evening con-
certs, where she would see people and drink a little beer, and

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1896.] His Dr y Sun da y 783

then come home happy and content. But of late she had dread-
ed the long day of rest with no Heini to cook for or to go
to church with — only her own restless, sad company. For the
MoUers had not been very neighborly and knew but slightly
the people living near by, even the two other families who
dwelt under the same roof with them. Now she would have
liked to make friends; but Mr. Wurmser was for some reason
not popular in the neighborhood, and the Mollers had come to
be looked upon askance for consorting with him. ' Susi did not
know what was the specific gossip regarding the Austrian, but
she began to guess that her husband might have a more profit-
able acquaintance than he, for all his lands and names and
rings and charming ways. Heini was almost sure to lose half
a day's work on Monday after he had been out with the count.
Nothing particular seemed to ail him except restlessness ; but
everybody knows that a man cannot make shoes unless he
sticks to his last, and Heini would stick to nothing. Then he
was sure to be taken with a lordly fit on these Monday morn-
ings, and such fits were very trying to the soul of a high-colored,
black-haired woman like his wife, who had vowed never, never
to lose her temper, but to remain unwrinkled and fresh-colored
as long as possible.

Susi had not ventured to ask Heini where he and his
friend went together, nor had he at any time volunteered in-
formation on the subject. If the count happened in on Mon-
day, he niade not the remotest allusion to anything that might
have taken place the day before ; only he was extraordinarily
polite and attentive to Frau Moller, as if he divined in her a
growing distrust of his relations with her husband. This Sun-
day he had come before Heini was dressed. Susi greeted him
with as much of a scowl as she ever permitted herself, but he
did not appear to notice it. Heini came down hastily and asked
for his breakfast in rather a curt manner.

" We go to Mass first, mein Heinrich," replied Susanna quietly.
She had persuaded him into accompanying her to confession
the night before, hoping to hold him by this means to his
churchly duties.

The count was leaning like a pole against the window, light-
ing an elaborate, curved pipe, which indicated the entire ab-
sence of " melancholia." He laughed loudly at Susi's words.

" Moller and I .are going to Mass — High Mass," he said,
**very High Mass; nicht wahr^ Moller?"

Moller was silent. He motioned Susi to put breakfast on
the table. She obeyed and he sat down immediately. The

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784 His Dr y Sunda y. [Mar.,

count talked cheerily, but Heini made no rejoinders. He ate
fast without looking up.

Susi served him to all he wished, standing by and regarding
him anxiously. In leaning over to hand him something she got
a chance to ask in a low voice : "If Father Langbein wants
to know where you are, what shall I tell him ? " The question
went unanswered. As soon as Heini had finished his breakfast
he hurried off. Susi watched the two men down the streetr as
far as she could see them — tall, lank Count Dagobert in his
fine gray clothes, whom she now hated — yes, hated in her heart,
and little Heini, her pretty Heini, so curly, so blond, so boy-
ish, so dear. She longed to run after him and bring him back,
as a mother would do were her child to disobey and play
truant. Her eyes were full of tears as she went into the house ;
Heini had not kissed her on leaving, nor, indeed, spoken to her
save to ask for his best hat. Mournfully she put away the
table things and mournfully prepared herself for church.
Though the day was hot, she wore a thick veil to hide her
weeping.

The afternoon crept along like a sloth. Late at night she
went out and sat on the bench where she and her Heini used
to sit so lovingly. For many days he had not put his head on
her shoulder. What was coming over him ? Or was the fault
her own? Perhaps she was growing old and ugly. Yet she
had been a kind and faithful wife. And had he not teased
her to marry him ?

It was long, long after midnight when Heini came home.
Susi was still waiting up, sitting on the bench outside. The
two came around the corner together, but as soon as the count
spied Susi he turned back, leaving Heini to make his way to
the door alone. Even by no better light than the stars gave
she knew exactly why the count was such a bad friend for him.
She had only suspected before, though hardly letting herself
suspect.

She got him to bed, but she herself did not undress or lie
down that night.

Heini stayed in bed until high noon on Monday, and made
no pretence of going to his work-bench. Heini was far from
feeling well and his distance from happiness was yet greater.
He dawdled wretchedly about the garden, knocking off the
onion-tops and childishly trampling on the flowers; he shuffled
up and down the sidewalk, gazing at everything yet interested
in nothing; then, tired out, he sat in a heap on the bench and
threw sticks into the street. He had no particular desire to

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1896.] His Dry Sunday, 785

throw sticks, only it was so dreadful when he stopped throw-
ing them.

He did not dare to go inside. Not that Susi said anything
to him — it was because she said nothing. She flounced about
a good deal and kept busy all the time, though Heini could
not tell what she was doing ; and her cheeks were frightfully
red ; it seemed as if the red spot must burn into her flesh.
It was a most uncomfortable thing to have such a wife. Heini
tried hard to devise some means of asserting his superiority,
but his intellect refused to budge.

At last Susi, having apparently done all the work she could
think of, put on her Sunday clothes and went out. Heini fol-
Jowed her with his sleepy blue eyes to the corner around which
^he vanished, and said to himself that he would have it out
with her when she came back. Then he went into the house
and took a nap on the table.

Father Langbein was just putting the key in his door as
Susi reached it. He must have read something in her eyes,
for he led her into the back instead of the front parlor, and
when he spoke to her a certain tenderness colored his usually
jolly tones. Father Langbein was a big old man with an ugly
face, though no one ever thought of calling it so. He had a
hearty, brotherly way that is even piore winning than the
fatherly way. Susie began without preliminaries.

" Father," she said, *' I am going to leave Heinrich, but I
'Could not do it until I had first told you."

" Mrs. MoUer ! What do you mean ? Leave your husband ?
Why?"

She told him the whole tale, from the time when Heinrich
first met Wurmser at Saengerbund Hall up to the present
hour. " I do not know how to get rid of him — Herr Wurm-
ser, I mean, father — he is so bad for my Heini; Heini cares
all for him now — not for me. I did wrong to marry Heini ;
I am too old — he is a boy. A boy cannot love a woman like
me but for a little while. I have done all I can : I work for
him, I keep myself nice, I can do no more. I must leave him."

The priest's ugly good face wore a very troubled expres-
sion.

" You must not leave him, Mrs. Moller ; you must stay by
him and help him."

" I cannot ! " she broke forth ; " I cannot live through an-
other Sunday like yesterday. Another night — it was so terrible !
O father ! I must go."

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786 His Dry Sunday. [Mar.,

Susi wept aloud, wiping her eyes with her bonnet-strings,
for she had forgotten to bring a handkerchief. Father Lang-
bein gave the tears plenty of time before he spoke again.
Then he called her " Susanna," like the big brother that he
always seemed.

"Susanna, listen to me. You must not go away and leave
Heinrich. Just because he is so young, he needs you the more,
now that this temptation has come into his path. What would
he become without you ? Surely he loves you. At least he
respects you, for you tell me that he shows fear and shame
to-day. There is hope for him — but none, or little, if you leave
him."

** But how can I help him, father ? I do not know what to
do that I have not done. I wait on him ; I do not scold him ;
I say many, many prayers for him — it is no good ! "

" Yes, yes, it is good ; it will not be lost. But tell me,
Mrs. Moller, have you done all you can ? "

" Yes, all. Will not you now do something, father ? Send
for Heini and talk to him ; that will do him good."

" I will, Susanna, but not until you have tried further means
and failed. It is better that I should not interfere in such a
matter too soon. Your influence will always be greater if your
husband does not know that you found it necessary to complain
of him. Is that not so ? " Susie bobbed her head. " Now go
home like a good woman, and think it over and see if there is
not some way in which to manage him." Father Langbein's
grave German eyes twinkled playfully as he said this.

"A woman can manage a man, if she set$ about it rightly,
better than a priest even," he added, and his words kept ring-
ing through Susi's head all the way home, and all that week.

Count Dagobert did not pay them a visit for several days.

He had been away — so he said. He treated "Frau Moller"
with such charming courtesy that it was difficult at times for
her to remember what she had against him, though she could
not forget it long. Saturday night he took supper with them
under the grape-arbor, and told stories too remarkable for any-
body except the M oilers to believe. But one of the Mollers
. was growing wiser. After the most startling narrative of all
Susi put a grain of salt by Heini's plate.

"What's that for?" he asked.

" Only a grain of salt, Schatzerl'' He snapped it inno-
cently away with his .finger-nail, but the count looked sharply
at Susi, who was trying to scowl into her tea-cup lest it should
be seen how her eyes were laughing under their great brown lids.

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1896.] His Dry Sunday, 787

As Count Dagobert was leaving that night he said to Heini :
" Be ready early, will you ? " Susi could not hear the reply,
but she cared little, having arranged to be ready early herself.

In the morning she arose softly at seven and prepared a
nice breakfast. Then she sat on the stairs and listened for
Heini to waken. As soon as she heard him turn over and
grunt, she placed the hot victuals on a tray and carried them
up to him. Heini loved to have breakfast in bed, and his wife
frequently indulged him in this luxuriousness. ** I thought I'd
be sure to get you something in time this morning,'* said she,
seating herself on the edge of the bed to watch him eat.

Heini felt very happy. This was the right sort of wife to
have. His dignified reserve of last Monday had brought about
excellent results. Should not a man spend his Sundays out if
he chose ? Man is the master in this world ; a woman is a
woman, let her be old or young. Susi looked young and
pretty to-day ; she always looked pretty enough when she was
behaving herself. Her behavior this morning could not be
improved upon. She laughed and chatted and coaxed her lit-
tle husband to eat up everything she had brought him.

Susie waited about the room while Heini put on his clothes.
** Where is my best coat ? " he asked ; it was generally laid
ready to his hand.

" It's in the closet, Heinchen ; I forgot to put it out for
you."

Heinchen went into the big closet after his coat. As he
was fumbling for it Susie crossed over quickly, closed the
closet-door and locked it. Then she took the tray and went
down-stairs.

The noise that Heini made did not distress her, for the
inner walls of this old stone house were as thick as the outer ;
there was no danger of their fellow-tenants being disturbed.
The doors, too, were heavy and well hung; even his pound-
ings came with a muffled sound. She had taken care to close
the windows up-stairs, and if she could contrive to keep Count
Dagobert from coming inside, he would never suspect any-
thing. The count arrived betimes, and was both surprised and
annoyed at not finding his friend. " He promised to go with
me," said he ; " what does he mean by running off in this
manner?"

Susi had told him that her husband was called away on
business, but the count knew that little Moller had no business
in the world beyond his leather seat.

VOL. LXII.— 50

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788 His Dr y Sunda y. [Mar.,

" Is he coming back soon ? Where did he go ? Why didn't
he tell me he had other engagements ? "

Susi did not reply to any of these questions. She was busy
washing up her breakfast things on a table outside the door
that opened into the garden, and she banged those pans and
dishes well, for she did not intend to give Herr Wurmser — as
she took pains to call him — the slightest chance of hearing
Heini yell and pound..

Besides, she wished to make it as disagreeable as she could
for Herr Wurmser, so that he would go away. He was not
disposed to leave, however ; he lingered around for an hour or
so, fretting because of Heini's absence, walking to and fro rest-
lessly between the corner and the garden door. Several times
he remarked that there seemed to be strange sounds somewhere,
but he was unable to place them.

Susi could not go on indefinitely making a noise, so when
she had finished her dish-washing she lured the count under the
grape-arbor and treated him to clabbered milk, which his soul
loved. While he was eating it a thought popped into her head
which she instantly put out. Back it popped again, and this
time she said to herself : " Yes, it will be better so, for Heini
will never tell him the truth, and only part of the battle will
be gained." Then she spoke aloud — suddenly, for fear of weak-
ening :

" Herr Wurmser, Heinrich is not away ; he is at home — up-
stairs. I have kept him in that he should not go with you.
He is in the closet "; and she pulled the key out of her pocket
and shook it in the count's face. The count was so astonished
that he looked like the caricature of himself. He dropped his
spoon in the clabbered milk, started to his feet, and muttered
a very bad word in Susi's dialect ; then he said several more
bad words in his own beautiful Hoc/i-Deutsck, and last, he broke
into a laugh — not the rich basso-profundo laugh that generally
came out of his long, thin throat, but a hideous hoarse one that
made Susi feel as if this must be a stranger to whom she had
been speaking.

After he had done laughing he pulled himself together, made
his overwhelming Austrian obeisance, and said : " Frau MoUer,
I have no further desire for the acquaintance of such a man " —
very sarcastically — " with sucA a wife ! " Then did Count Dago-
bert Christian Frederick Wurmser take his hat and depart, and
the Mollers saw his face no more.

Susi omitted dinner that Sunday. She could not have swal-

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1896.] His Dry Sunday. 789

lowed a mouthful with Heini going empty in his closet. " He
cannot be quite starving/' she consoled herself. " He ate a very
good breakfast ; I made him eat everything."

Heini had long ago ceased beating the door and calling.
■** He is going to take it like a man, not like a child," thought
Susi, and she loved and admired him more than ever. After
the count went away she nearly relented, and was on the point
of letting her beloved prisoner out. But she reflected that the
count could not be trusted ; all his fine airs might be mere
hypocrisy. He might come back; anyway, Heini would go
straight after him and they would make it up again. There is
small sense in putting your husband in a closet for discipline
and softening before the business is accomplished. It was not
only to keep Heini from evil companionship that she had turned
the key 'on him; it was also to correct his own evil disposition.
The means she had chosen came hard on both of them, but
discipline must be maintained. Had she not promised Father
Langbein to do all she could ? She had prayed and thought
and prayed, and this was the sole plan that the saints had re-
vealed to her. Had there been a better plan, would she not
have been shown it ? Now that she had begun, she would finish.
Heini must have plenty of time to think over his conduct ; in
darkness and silence such thinking is apt to be effective for
good. Heini might lord it all he liked in most matters, but — she
— would — not — have — a — man — coming — home — to — her — be-
trunken I

So Susi sat patiently under the grape-trellis hour after hour,
her heart with poor Heini in his stuffy closet, wondering what
he was thinking of and whether he would ever forgive her.
About four o'clock she went in to prepare supper. She made
several little dishes that Heini was particularly fond of ; many
times had she gotten him out of a bad humor by placing one
of these dishes before him. When all was ready to go on the
table, she took off her gingham work-apron and put on a white
tucked one with a ruffled bib that Heini greatly admired,
looked at herself critically in the small square mirror hanging
on the window-frame, and went up-stairs. It was very quiet in
the bed-room. She listened at the closet key-hole, but heard
nothing. The dead stillness frightened her. Perhaps Heini
had suffocated ! With difficulty she fitted the key in the lock,
and tremblingly turned the knob. Heini lay on the floor, one
arm thrown over a box on which was a pile of clothing,
his head resting upon his arm. He was sleeping like a baby,

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790 His Dr y Sunda y. [Mar.

and indeed he resembled a very big picture of one, with mat-
ted curls hanging low over his eyes, and lips just parted.
Susi leaned forward and listened to his breathing; it was soft
and regular. The pretty boy ! The dear one ! How tired he
looked ! What could he have thought of her for doing this ?
Her heart went out to him more than it had ever done. It is
not only the Divine Chastener that loves the chastened one
with an especial love. Susi was almost bursting with affection-
ate pity for this poor little man who was her husband, and
whom she had dared to punish ! She threw herself beside him,
embracing his beloved head and kissing it all over. He awoke
dreaming that he had been caught out in a shower — a very
warm shower, of salt water. " Heini, Heini," sobbed Susi, " O
Heini!** No other words would come. She hated to have him
look in her face after what she had done, so she buried it in
his neck and poured another salt shower down his back.
Presently she felt his arms around her.

" Susimein, Susimein ! " he said. It was his dearest pet
name for her. She knew now that he had forgiven all and
that he was going to be good.

When a man's wife is ten years older than he and full
twenty years cleverer, it is more than likely that he will be
good and forgiving — unless he is quite a fool, and Heini was
no fool; only very young and very weak.

The earliest worshippers at church next Sunday were Mr.
and Mrs. Heinrich Moller. They had an unusual number of
prayers to say on this day. When Father Langbein came out
before the altar and looked over the congregation and blessed
everybody, Heini and Susi both felt sure he was looking
straight at them and that he meant at least two-thirds of the
benediction for their own two happy hearts.

As they sat down to dinner in the arbor that afternoon
Heini exclaimed roguishly: "Susimein, youVe forgotten to lay
a plate for the great Count Dagobert ! " It was the first time
he had alluded to his former friend.

The bright red spot on Susi's cheeks spread all over her
face ; but Heini was laughing, so she laughed too, and they
giggled together like children over Heini's little joke.

" Tm afraid he's given us up," sputtered Susi, quite con-
vulsed by her giggling. And that was the last time the count's
name was ever mentioned between them.

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The Original School in 1786.

A KING EDWARD SIXTH SCHOOL

BY T, SETON JEVONS.

ROM the year 1509 to 1547, during the reign of
the illustrious Henry VIII. and his chancellors,
Wolsey and Thomas Cromwell, devastation in all
its force swept over the monasteries of England.
Aged priests were turned an;iidst their flocks, and
father abbots strayed outcasts over the land. Beautiful abbeys
were wrecked, and the dwellings of the monks, in times gone
by the alms-houses of charity and the seats of religion and piety,
were devastated, and all to fill the contaminated coffers of the
polygamist king. It was a necessary part of the Reformation,
say those who see no media via, but sympathize with the ex-
tremists ; whether or no, it certainly was the beginning of the
end. Wicklif, the first man of Anglo-Saxon origin to be pointed
at as a socialist — even Wicklif, the prime mover in England of
the Great Reform, would have shuddered at the sight.

Then Henry, when he had buried some half-dozen wives,
passed to the Judgment Seat to answer for his misdeeds, and
Edward VI. of pious memory ascended the throne. Now came
a second stage in the practical part of the Reformation ; if it
was the father's part to destroy, it was the duty of the son to

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792 A King Edward Sixth School. Mar.^

build up. Thus it was that the schools henceforth known as
King Edward VI. Grammar Schools were chartered with that
money which was stolen from the monks and priors in the very
face of the pope.

The particular school of which the following pages treat is
situated not far from the River Ribble in the West Riding of
Yorkshire, and close to the village of Giggleswick, from which it
takes its name.

Early in the sixteenth century one James Carr, being desir-
ous of founding a grammar school at Giggleswick, contracted
with the prior of Durham for the sale to him of a small piece
of land adjoining the churchyard, on which he proposed to build
a school. The quaint and curious conveyance is worth quoting
from ; it begins as follows :

"This Indenture made the I2th day of November, in the
y'r of our L'd Gode 1507, betwixt the right Revd. Fader in
Gode Thomas Prior of Duresme and Convent of the same on
the one p't, and Jamys Karr, prest on the other p't. Witnesseth
that the s*d Prior and Convent of an hole mynd and consent
hath granted devised and to ferme lettyn and by these presents
grant and to ferme lette to the said Jamys Karr, his h'rs ex'ors
and assigns half an acre of land with the Appurt*s latte in the
holding of Richard Lemyng, lyeing near the church Garth of
Gillyswike in Craven within the Co. of York. . . ."

And so on, describing at some length the position for the
site. Then it goes on to state the rent to be paid, by the tenant
holding this half acre, to the priory. It amounted to I2d. a year,
and was to be paid " at the fest of St. Lawrence, martyr. . . ."

It then authorizes, in case of the death of Jamys Karr, " the
vicar of the church, the Kirkmaster of the same, h'rs ex'ors and
assigns to the said Jamys, jointly to elect one p'son being with-
in Holy orders to be sole master of the gramer scole afore-
said. ..."

For three centuries the school established by Carr flourished,
till in 1786 thoughts were entertained of pulling it down and
building a new one.

The picture illustrates the school as it was in 1786. Under
the edge of the roof and to the right of the door is a vacant
niche, under which is the following inscription in old characters :

" Alma Dei Mater defende malis Jacobum Carr
Presbyteris quoq. clericulis hoc domus fit. In Anno
Mil. quint. Cent, d'no D'e I. H. N. Pater miserere
Senes cum juvenibus laudate nomen Dei."

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1896.] A King Edward Sixth School. 793

The stone bearing the above inscription was placed over the
door of the second school, and in the present, the third, build-
ing it may be seen built high up in the east wall.

THE ORIGINAL SCHOOL.

In 1553 the Rev. John Nowell, vicar of Giggleswick, applied
for and obtained a charter from King Edward VI. by which
the school was created a " Free Grammar School of King
Edward VI.," and was endowed with certain property of the
dissolved Priory of Acester. The translation begins as follows:

" Edward the Sixth, by the grace of God King of England,
Scotland, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, etc.

"A MORE BEAUTIFUL SPOT COULD HARDLY HAVE BEEN CHOSEN."

To all unto whom these our present letters patent shall come
greeting, . . . etc

" In witness whereof we have caused these our Letters to be
made Patent. Witness ourselves at Westminster, the twenty-
sixth day of May, in the seventh year of our Reign.

" By writy under our Privy Seal, of the date aforesaid, by
authority of Parliament.

^^ Inrolled in the office of William Notte, auditor, the 9th
day of June, in the seventh year of the Reign of our present
King Edward the Sixth."

A more beautiful spot could hardly have been chosen as a

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794 A King Edward Sixth School. [Mar.,

site, nor one more interesting from history and legend. Situ-
ated in a valley of green grass and green trees nestled the
brown stone building ; over the arched oak door, in a deep
niche, stood a beautiful statue of Edward VI., since destroyed
by the wilfulness of nineteenth century school-boys.

To the east and north-east rise up a line of limestone hills
called the Scaurs, or the Craven Fault. By some enormous up-
heaval centuries and centuries ago the limestone was thrust
upwards right through and far above the sandstone. Parallel
at the base runs the white road past the ebbing and flowing
well, of which hereafter, and over the top of Buck-ha*-brow.
On the top, and swept by the wind, is a tower of stones called
the School-boys' Tower. From time immemorial it has been a
custom for every new boy to place a stone upon it ; but now,
owing to the height to which it has risen, only small stones
can be thrown upon its summit.

At only one place can the steep sides of the Scaurs be
scaled without considerable difficulty ; this spot is called Nevi-
son's Nick, after a famous outlaw who, when pursued by sol-
diers, leaped his mare over the edge and reached the bottom
in safety.

"Curse them! theyVe following yet —
And the mare all lather and foam.
How many ? Three still ! They were five
When they started the fox from his home.

" From Appleby town to Hawes

We never drew rein for a breath —
Full cry across Moughton and Smearside,
They ride to be in at the death." . . .

The leap is made safely :

" They got to the Ribble and over,
They staggered up Attermire side,
The darkness closed round and the wind howled —
Neither moon nor star for a guide.

*' Suddenly stopped the mare —

Ears back, eyes starting in fright.
Reared. Had he spared her the spur,
She had saved him again that night.

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•1896.] A King Edward Sixth School. 795

" But he drove them in to the rowels

With a curse, and the brave little mare
Right over Gordale Scaur leapt, and a terrible cry
Rang for the mercy of God, rang to the desolate air."

Gordale is a steep "cirque" in the hills best known from
^he fact that it is the scene of Kingsley's " Water Babies."

The famous leap over the Scaur was made not far from the
well with regard to which I may quote the following :

" Long before the Hostel was ever thought of, Giggleswick
was famous for its ebbing and flowing well. We ourselves have
Jieard from old people the lines :

" ' Near the way as the traveller goes
There is a well both ebbs and flows,
But nobody knows
Why it procures both salt and gravel.*

^* Which seems to be a free rendering of drunken Barnaby's

" Veni Giggleswick, parum frugis,
Profert tellus clausa fugis ;
Ibi sena prope viae
Fluit, refluit, nocte, die,
Neque novunt unde vena
An a sale vel arena.'

" Drayton personified the well as a nymph who, fleeing from
-a satyr, was changed into a spring, and

" * Even as the fearful nymph then thick and short did blow,
Now made by them a spring — so doth she ebb and flow.*

" In reference to the well Giggleswick has been derived from
A. S. guglian (strepitare) and wick (a settlement)."

North-east of the school and at a distance of about six
miles rise up Ingleborough and Pen-y-ghent, a lofty mountain
from the summit of which the Lake hills are clearly seen on
a fine day. In the south rises Pendle, and on the north-east a
stone-covered road leads past the school playing-fields over a
hill known as High Ridge.

The natural history of the district is of great interest.
Amidst the hills on the east there is one ridge particularly
noteworthy because of the famous Victoria cave which gapes
open on its side ; school-boy legend says that a certain tailor.

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796 A King Edward Sixth School. [Mar.,

by name Jackson, was hunting rabbits in the hills one day with
a dog. One fat animal led him a long chase, and suddenly
disappeared down a hole in the rocky side of the ridge ; the
small dog followed and, though the hunter waited patiently^
did not return. He shouted and whistled, but all to no pur-
pose, and finally descending into the valley came back with
spade and pick. At the first stroke the earth caved in and
revealed the mouth of a cavern. Since this incident scientists
have been busy, and the excavation of the cave is finished
except to the boys who love to scrape round in hopes of dis-
covering some ancient relic. Amongst the objects discovered
are a bear's skull — the largest in the country — the antlers of

The Parish Church of St. Alkelda.

a reindeer, the bones of a jackal, and various trinkets and
pieces of pottery, evidently made by the savage race who once
inhabited the cavern.

An interesting geological section was brought to light in
the school-grounds, in the excavations for the foundations for
new buildings in 1885. It showed clearly the work of glaciers;
a large boulder, worn smooth and scratched in regular lines,
now lies at the corner of the yard.

The memory of the plague which devastated England in
the latter half of the seventeenth century has been handed
down to the villagers of to-day. On few places did the Black
Death fall with more terrible or more wide-spread results or

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1896.] A King Edward Sixth School. 797

with greater persistence. The farmers on the hills were smit-
ten, and the price of labor and cost of food rose, augmenting
the trouble. So terrible was the work of death that a belief
arose in the minds of the people that Christ had deserted the
earth. We may be sure that beneath the sods in the church-
yard lie the bones of victims of the pestilence — a pestilence
only equalled by that of Pharaoh fame.

Going back in history, we can picture dashing Prince Rupert
galloping through the street, or the determined Roundheads
winding in regular order over the hill or chanting in the
church in the twilight. So also we can imagine the villagers
trembling at the inroads of the wild Scots, and further back
quaking at the vengeance of the Conqueror, and still going
back, we can picture the men gathering in arms to repel the
incursions of the Danes.

The parish church of St. Alkelda, in which the school ser-
vices are held on Sunday morning and afternoon, is of great
historic interest and worthy of a long description. The church-
yard is bordered on the north by a path dividing it from the
half acre on which the original school was erected, and on the
south, west, and east by village streets. In the middle of the
street on the south stands the village cross, at the base of
which are the stocks, still in tolerable preservation. They
were used last, it is said, in the eighteenth century, and it is
easy to picture the children of the village tickling with long
straws the ears of some poor wretch in the fetters.

Let us now follow a boy through the work of a day.
Wednesdays and Saturdays are half-holidays, work ceasing at
one o'clock. Assuming it to be summer — for in winter there is
no compulsory work before breakfast — the big bell ringing
monotonously from the roof of the hostel wakes the sleeper.
He turns and goes to sleep again ; by continual practice he
has learnt to a second how long it takes him to dress. Five
minutes elapse and " second bell '' rings, another five and
" third " sounds ; still he sleeps ; an equal interval and " fourth "
and last rings, as though to say " Now I have settled it, you
must come " ; but he is already up and half washed, and in a
few minutes is racing down the long dormitories, slipping on
his coat in his wild career. As he rushes down the stone steps
three at a time he glances across the yard ; the head-master
with slow pace is within three yards of the door, and the yard
is eighty yards long. When once that figure with cap and
gown places his foot upon the threshold, no one may enter ;

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798 A King Edward Sixth School, [Mar.,

the door is closed, and those locked out — they are admitted in
a few minutes — are counted " late " and punished. But it is
not the first time our friend has been in such a predicament,
and he knows to an inch what handicap he can give. He flies
like the wind, and squeezing through the closing door, saves
himself. With regard to this door, I may mention a little inci-
dent. The head-master one morning, being early, was the first
to cross to the class-rooms ; as he neared them he discerned a
writing upon the door ; on closer scrutiny there appeared in
large white chalk :

" Abandon hope all ye who enter here."
The worthy head was dumfounded ; the ominous words

were erased and an
investigation set go-
ing, but all to no pur-
pose ; and the per-
petrator of the mis-
demeanor is still un-
punished.

After an hour's
work a bell sounds,
and our subject, with
the other boys, goes
in to breakfast.
Morning prayers are
not till a quarter to
nine, and the inter\'al
after breakfast is
spent in various
ways, walking, study-
ing, or helping to roll
the cricket-ground.
Till mid-day he is in

school, with the ex-
Dr. Paley, author of "Evidences of Christianity." nfinn nf fiffppn

minutes at eleven o*clock, when lunch in the form of a bun
is given out. The mail, which arrives at ten o'clock, is
received by the boys during recess, or Break, as it is called.
We will assume the boy we have chosen to watch to be in
gymnastic set 2, and so we will have to follow him into the
gymnasium, where he remains till nearly one o'clock. At half-
past one he has dinner in the big hall, and probably grumbles
at the food. From half-past two till four-thirty he is again at

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1896.] A King Edivaud Sixth School. 799

work, and from then till after six we must play with him in the
large cricket-field, and at half after six eat with him a very
simple tea. From seven till eight-forty he is again at work
preparing for the next day's classes or recitations, and after
prayers, at nine, he is free for the rest of the evening. The
interval till bed-time, at a quarter to ten, is spent in various
ways — in attending meetings of the chess club or literary or
photographic society, or, greatest pleasure of all, displaying his
oratorical powers before the august assemblage in the reading-
room.

The school at present educates some few over two hundred
boys, and all are expected to join in the regular games of
cricket and foot-ball. There are also five courts and a very
good golf course. These last two are not counted as regular
games, and are not allowed to interfere with the cricket and foot-
ball. The members of the sixth form, as in all other schools,
have considerable authority over the rest ; they are termed
seniors, prefects or prepostors, and on their character and
behavior depends largely the social and moral standing of
the school. Fagging is extant, but on so small a scale that no
ill-will is entertained by the fags against the seniors. An im-
provement seen in Giggleswick — it is common to all English
schools-^is the absence of bullying. School days such as Tom
Brown's are a thing of the past. To the public spirit of the
boys themselves this improvement is greatly due.

I could hardly omit when describing this school to
mention the name of Archdeacon Paley, the Author of Evidences
of Christianity and other works, and with his name I should
couple that of Thomas Procter, the sculptor. The former's
father was head-master in 1745 and sent his son to the school.
The latter was born in 1753 ; he was the son of an inn-keeper
who settled not far from Giggleswick.

The above description, though imperfect, may serve to give
a general idea of a typical English public school. Much of the
information has been drawn from the School Chronicle^ which is
issued every term. It must be remembered that a public school
in England corresponds to that of Groton in the United States,
and that what are here generally spoken of as public schools are
in the old country called National or Board schools.

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8oo A Moonlight Revhrie. [Mar.,

JGHT REVERIE.

m I was wayfaring nightly

ig as it flowed to the west,

on its wavelets as brightly

moonbeams that played on

ed where a bramble was

That shut from its bosom the moon's pleasant ray,
I observed that, though smiling no more in its flowing.
Still, cheerily singing, it hied on its way;

Till, issuing forth with the old smile of gladness,
It shone in the light of the moonbeams again ;

And so, with a song that gave no note of sadness,
Through moonlight and shadow it sped to the main.

Then I thought how man's bosom when fortune is smiling.

Illuming at times the poor wanderer's path.
Will yield, like that stream, to the pleasant beguiling>

Forgetful the while of the ills that he hath ;

But that stream how unlike — that so cheerily flows on,
Though deep be the gloom that overshadows it all —

With bosom desponding man doubtingly goes on
When shades of misfortune around him will fall.

And I prayed — O my God ! may like this little river
The path of thy child through life's wanderings be ;

May my feet thus unfaltering journey on ever,
In shade or in shine, toward Heaven and Thee.

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1896.] An Acadian Missionary. 801

AN ACADIAN MISSIONARY, AND HIS LAST REST-
ING PLACE.

BY M. A. CONDON.

IN the dead and forgotten past there are heroes of
whom the world has not heard, men whose deeds
live and will continue to live while old earth
goes on its way. Prominent among them, yet
often unknown and unhonored, are the men who
planted the seeds that have blossomed in the garden of faith
and truth — the Catholic Church.

A Catholic missionary in old Acadia. Down here by the
sea, where

" Still stand the murmuring pines and the hemlocks,"

where to-day, notwithstanding the encroaching march of modern-
isms of the dying nineteenth century, the fir and spruce are as
green, the ox-eyed daisies bloom as brightly, and the rivers
roar on, as in the days of the good Abb6 Sigogne, the subject
of the following sketch.

The village of Church Point, situated on the shore of St.
Mary's Bay, in the province of Nova Scotia, takes its name
from the ancient church which was erected by the French Aca-
dians, who struggled back to this picturesque part of Acadia in
the years closely following their expulsion from Grand Pr6 and
the surrounding country in 1755.

The church stood on a point of land jutting out into the
blue waters of the bay, and the village was included in the
large tract of country which was for many years under the
ministrations of the zealous Abb6 Sigogne. Here, where he
labored so faithfully, his remains were laid at rest. A modest
gray stone tablet marks the spot.

The abb6 was a native of France, but nearly half a century
of his life was spent among the Acadians in the province of
Nova Scotia.

A VICTIM OF THE REVOLUTION.

Abb6 J. M. Sigogne was born at Tours, France, in 1760.
His father is said to have been mayor of Lyons. The young

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8o2 An Acadian Misfionary, [Mar.,

Sigogne in his early boyhood was renowned for his intellectual
attainments and ardent piety. It was said of him that "his
talents were of a high order, and in him were united a fine
imagination with a vigorous understanding." In principle he
was a loyalist, and the revolution which deluged his native land
in blood was the cause of his exile from the sunny France to
which he looked in after years with yearning affection, but to
which he never returned. In England, where he sought an
asylum, and remained for several years, he devoted himself to
the study of English literature, enriching his already cultivated
mind with gems of thought that shone the brighter for the rare
setting in which they were encased. It was decreed, however,
that the future of this man was to lie amid widely different
scenes and environments from those of his early life, and with
people who could little appreciate the rare talents and cul-
tured mind of the stranger who came among them, but who
did not fail to recognize his kindness and devotion to their
best interests.

Henceforth his way lay among the simple Acadians and Mic-
mac Indians of the ancient province of Acadia ; a people little
fitted to comprehend or enter into the feelings and tastes most
congenial to the cultivated man from across the sea. But his
task it was to lead them to God, and well and faithfully he
performed it.

RETURN OF THE FRENCH ACADIANS.

In 1797 Abb6 Sigogne came to Nova Scotia, and assumed
charge of the whole of the French settlements lying between
Annapolis (Port Royal) and Yarmouth ; comprising in all three
large counties, in which the settlements were scattered far and
wide, necessitating a vast amount of travel in order to visit
them all at frequent intervals. For several years following the
expulsion of the Acadians, in 1755, a number of those hapless
people came — irresistibly drawn to the scene of their ruined
homes — back to Acadia, and at the time of the advent of the
Abb^ Sigogne among them, they with their descendants and
those of their compatriots who had, by taking refuge in the
woods, escaped deportation, formed the principal portion of the
population of that section of country. The coming of the mis-
sionary — one speaking their own language, and a native of that
fair France of which their grandsires told — ^was hailed with de-
light by the Acadians, and in the quiet settlements of Church
Point, Tusket, Eelbrook, in fact all over that portion of the

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1896.] AND His last Resting-place. 803

province, the abb^ became the wise counseUor and faithful friend
of those people for a period of forty-seven years. At the ex-
piration of this time God called his faithful servant to himself.

THE IDOL OF THE MICMACS.

Father Sigogne was priest, teacher, judge, and counsellor all
in one, and well beloved by all receiving the benefit of his advice
in these respective capacities. No dispute arose among the
people so violent but the word of the abb6 was sufficient to
quell it, and from his judgments there was no appeal. Nor was
there any disposition to resist his decisions, so perfect was the
confidence they reposed in him. That he was worthy of it, the
life he devoted to their service amply proved. By the Micmacs
he was regarded with the deepest veneration, and there were
few warriors among the diisky children of the forest who would
not have laid down their lives for the faithful friend who taught
them to love the Great Spirit. He became thoroughly conver-
sant with the Micmac tongue, and in their own language in-
structed them in the doctrines of the Catholic Church ; to
which their few wandering descendants who may still be found
in this country faithfully adhere.

A TRYING LIFE.

The earlier part of the abba's sojourn in his adopted coun-
try was marked by hardships that would have tried the physi-
cal and mental calibre of many men less accustomed to the civ-
ilizing influences and comparative ease of a European life than
he was, but nothing restrained him from the fulfilment of his
duties. In that far-off time no roads intersected the dense forest
and lonely morasses over which the iron horse now goes swiftly
shrieking and thundering on his modern way through the land
that Longfellow has immortalized. Sometimes on horseback,
but more often on foot, he followed the windings of a narrow
bridle-path that led through dense groves of fir and spruce,
into dark ravines and over lonely morasses, where the surround-
ings would have appalled the stoutest-hearted hunter. Or, more
frequently, the waters of the rivers and bays over which he
paddled in his birch-bark canoe, with an Indian for his com-
panion, were the only means of transit available by this heroic
son of the church. He was ever ready to make any sacrifice,
or suffer any personal inconvenience, in order to bring the
consolations of religion within reach of the scattered members
of his numerous flock. When the winter snows rendered the

VOL. LXII-— 51

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8o4 An Acadian Missionary^ [Mar.,

narrow roads impafssable, and ice lay» over the surface of the
rivers and iqlets, snow-shoes were brought into requisition, and
many weary miifi3 through the wilderness were traversed by
the abb^. On such occasions he was sometimes accompanied
by an Indian guide, but frequently made these lonely journeys
alone, through a section of country where the crunching ot
the crisp snow underfoot, the moaning of the wind through
the trees, or the startled cry of some animal, were the only
sounds to break the silence. In our mind's eye can we realize
the picture? We see this gifted, intellectual man, whose youth
had been spent amid the luxurious ease of the old world ; who
had studied in the centres of civilization and refinement; and
who had been an actor in the glories and sorrows of France —
now an exile, alone in the wilderness. When on some starlit,
summer night he wended his lonely way across a swampy
moor, or up a winding mountain path, where death in many
forms might be awaiting him ; where about him the only living
things were the wild birds and beasts of the forest, what a
sense of desolation must have appealed to the fortitude of this
extraordinary man !

DEATH IN EXILE.

A lowly cabin or a Micmac hut, these were his habitations
by night when journeying from one portion of his mission to
another. But the eager welcome was his. The gladly proffered
if homely fare and all that the hut afforded were at the
disposal of the beloved missionary. No journey was too hazard-
ous, no distance too great, and obstacles that would have
daunted many a native of the wilds were held as naught by
the zealous priest when his ministrations were required. His
half-century of life in Nova Scotia was only too short, and,
amid the inconscrlable grief of his people, the abb^ passed peace-
fully* away at Church Point, on November 9, 1844, at the age
of eighty-four years. Few missionaries have ministered to the
people of this province who inspired as much respect and de-
votion, or who were as universally regretted as was Abb6
Sigogne.

He rests not by the church on the point which gave the
village its name. Time, the ceaseless moth of all things earth-
ly, did not spare the little church of the Acadians, but a larger,
more modern structure, on another site nearer the centre of
the village, has succeeded it. The shadow of this church falls
^over a gray stone tablet, which bears an inscription in memory

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1896.] AND His last Resting-place. 805

of Abb^ J. M. Sigogne, whose remains were laid beneath, and who
is still held in affectionate remembrance by the people to whom
he so unselfishly devoted his life.

A FAITHFUL PEOPLE.

Church Point is now a thriving settlement ; the seat of St.
Ann's College, an institution conducted by the Eudist Fathers,
and which is training in useful ways many a youth descended
from the Acadian French to whom, the good abb^ ministered.
A convent conducted by the Sisters of Charity is also doing
good work here. It is a branch of Moutit St. Vincent Con-
vent, the noble institution situated on the shore of Bedford
Basin, Halifax, N. S., and many daughters of the Acadian
French are numbered in the community by which it is con-
ducted. The whirligig of time has wrought many changes since
the Abbi Sigogne navigated the waters of St. Mary's Bay in
his birch canoe, but the nationality of the scene of his labors
remains unchanged. Still the descendants of the Acadians
dwell here, speaking their own language as of yore, and, un-
changingly, all the services in connection with the observance
of their religion are carried out. The solemn Midnight Mass
in the quiet church, the imposing ceremonies of Holy Week,
the Requiem Mass and Office for the Dead — all are here, as in
the days of the missionary. As of old, the great procession
marches on its flower-strewn way through the village on the
feast of Corpus Christi, and the Catholics of the parish are as
devout in the observance of their religious duties as were their
forefathers under the teachings of Abb6 Sigogne. The seeds
of faith sown by the missionary have yielded a bountiful har-
vest, and one that will endure.

The village of Church Point extends along a considerable
portion of the shore of St. Mary's Bay, where the turbulent
tide from the Bay of Fundy comes sweeping and rushing in
over the great stretches of sand. The rapidity with which this
world-renowned Fundy tide comes surging in is a source of
wonder to one who views it for the first time, and woe to the
stranger who lingers on the sands. He must lose no time in
fleeing before this swift, oncoming wall of water. The little
church before referred to stood near the shore of the bay,
and the humble dwelling of the priest was in the vicinity.
Those buildings have long since crumbled into dust, but the
physical features of the site remain. A beautiful old garden is

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8o6 An Acadian Missionary. [Mar.

among the writer's recollections of this peaceful spot. Here
could be seen great rows of raspberry bushes, long since re-
lapsed to their natural wildness ; a luxuriant growth of ground
ivy, that covered stump and stone and ruined walls with its
green and purple beauty ; bunches of crimson and white " ish-
madale," shooting up wild and luxuriant from what had once
been a carefully trained flower-bed, and looking up, proud in
its abandonment, many an erstwhile cultivated plant, now
growing side by side with the wild woodland and field flowers.
The air was redolent of wild roses and sweet-blossomed clover,
while about and pervading all there seemed a charming sug-
gestion of long ago. A dream of the past was that beautiful,
ruined garden. Close by a lake shimmered and glistened in
the sunlight, great clumps of water-lilies showing their waxen
petals in bright relief against a dark background of leaves.
Farther out a long stretch of pebbly beach, and yet beyond, a
shining expanse of sand, that extended far, far out to meet
the turbulent tide, surging and tossing in from the bay. The
ruined garden, and the shrubs growing about it, have now dis-
appeared ; but in other respects this is the scene that for many
years met the view of Abb6 Sigogne as he looked out from
his humble dwelling. His faithful labors ended many years
ago, but still the grandsires tell their descendants of the Abb6
Sigogne, whose good deeds were legion, and whose name is
still held in fond remembrance by the Acadian French.

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/"^ •?:

Palace of the Captain-General, Havana.

THE CAUSES OF THE PRESENT WAR IN CUBA.

BY HENRY LINCOLN DE ZAYAS, M.D.

HE present formidable strife in Cuba is not an

isolated phenomenon, nor the fitful explosion of

youthful enthusiasm. The analyst of events will

find its roots deep in the colonial policy which

Spain has obstinately persevered in toward her

daughters in the west, and all the revolutionary leaders are

men upon whose brows the chastening hand of time has left its

white impress.

The enormous resources that Spain has been obliged to put
forward ; the fact that her leading statesman and most brilliant
soldier, with 44 generals to carry out his bidding, has just been
recalled in disgrace, obediently to popular clamor, as a result
of his complete failure, and that 200,000 men in arms, occupy-
ing fortified towns, with all the resources of modern warfare,
with all the means of communication at their disposal, with 46
Spanish men-of-war and gunboats to patrol the coast, and the

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8o8 The Causes of the Present War in Cuba. [Mar.,

fleets of the United States and England as allies to capture
Cuban filibustering expeditions, have not been able to crush, or
even to check and circumscribe, the revolution, all attest that
the struggle now being waged in the " fairest land human eyes
ever saw " is not the work of a faction, but a general uprising
of the Cuban people.

At about the middle of the sixteenth century the govern-
ment of Cuba was transferred from the irresponsible hands of
colonizing chiefs to the authority of a captain-general, who
possessed all the powers of a Roman pro-consul. This oppressive
system continued until 1812, when a liberal Constitution was
adopted, which declared *' South America and the Antilles to
be an integral part of the Spanish territory"; provided for
*' the representation in the Cortes of the Ultramarine provinces
on the basis of one deputy for every 60,000 inhabitants " ; speci-
fied " the manner of electing these deputies "; established a per-
manent deputation to be known as "the Council of the Indies,"
and a " Council of State "; the former to consist of

Farm-House.

posed of 40 members, of whom 12 were to be representatives
of the Antilles.

This Constitution opened up a fascinating vista of prosperity

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1896.] The Causes of the Present War in Cuba. 809

and contentment, and although rejected by Ferdinand VII. in
1814; accepted in 1820; again cast aside by him in 1823, it
was definitely adopted by Queen-Regent Christina in 1836.

H
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The Cubans were elated at this, but General Tac6n, at that
time the occupant of the palace at Havana, declared "that not

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8io The Causes of the Present Wak in Cuba. [Mar.,

the slightest change should be made in the island, unless by his
permission as Captain-General."

In spite of this, the province of Santiago (Cuba) proceeded
to elect its representatives, and three deputies duly chosen
sailed for Madrid and knocked at the door of the Spanish Cor-
tes. Their credentials were laughed at ; their right of admission
denied ; and as a result of secret sessions, the Cortes declared,
April 1 8, 1837, that "in virtue of the power in them vested by

MoRRO Castle.

the Constitution, it was decreed . . • that the Ultramarine
provinces of America and Asia shall be governed and adminis-
tered by special laws ; . . . consequently, the deputies for
the designated provinces are not to take their seats in the
present Cortes."

The moment that the Spanish government betrayed its trust
and proved faithless to its Constitution, it alienated the re-
spect and loyalty of its provinces, and fanned their spark of
discontent into an all-consuming flame, terrible in its conse-
quences.

The history of Cuba since then has been an uninterrupted
series of conspiracies and revolutions, more or less protracted
or successful, the universal discontent culminating in the ten
years' war of 1868. In this campaign Spain lost 200,000 men; a
man became a rare sight in whole districts of Cuba ; Spain spent
$700,000,000 in her endeavor to subdue the fairest and most un-
happy region of earth, drenched, alas! more with the blood of
her sons than by the beneficent dew of .heaven.

The war was concluded by the Treaty of Zanj6n, carried to
a, successful completion by General Martfnez-Campos, in 1878.

By its stipulations Spain agreed to abolish slavery, and the

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1896.] The Causes of the Present War in Cuba. 811

Cubans were accorded representation in the Cortes and many-
liberties, the majority of which are still to be found only on
paper.

Again the roseate tints of hope lighted the dark clouds of
Cuba's political horizon ; but years passed, and with them came
disillusion and despair.

The Cuban deputies at Madrid were eloquent and untiring,
but the government turned a deaf ear to their arguments. The
Spanish members made it a point not to attend when Cuban
affairs were to be discussed ; and on a memorable occasion,
April 3, 1880, the Cuban budget was argued in the- presence of
but 30 deputies out of a total of 430 members, and only one
minister, the colonial, deigned to honor the occasion with his
presence ; and yet Cuba pays $96,800 a year to maintain the
ministry of Ultramar at Madrid.

The armed revolt of 1868 had at one blow levelled in the
dust the hoarded treasures bought at the price of colonial de-
gradation and the infamous institution of slavery. The country
had now to face the new economic state consequent on the

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8i2 The Causes of the Present War in Cuba. [Mar.,

abolition of slavery ; but Spain's policy limited itself to making
Cuba pay the cost of the revolution. The budget, for an island
containing only a million and.a half of inhabitants, for the year
immediately succeeding a ruinous war,, was $46, 594,0(X). This

Suburban Villa.

reckless compilation of the budget, without any regard to the
fluctuating currents of trade and the financial pulse of the
country, has resulted in piling up on the shoulders of the Cuban
tax-payer the most onerous debt in the world, in proportion to
the resources and the density of population of the country.

In the matter of his taxation the Cuban has no voice. To
wrest the voting franchise from the Cubans, Spain made the
electoral right dependent on the payment of a high poll-tax,
which barred the greater part of the Cubans, who had been
ruined in the struggle. By this and other means Spain re-
duced the right of suffrage to 53,000 inhabitants, or about 3
per cent, of the population. And the simple declaration of the
head of a commercial house being sufficient to have all the
employees accepted as partners, and possessed, therefore, of the
right to vote, little, miserable firms have been represented as
composed of thirty or more partners, and every Spaniard in
the country has been enabled to vote.

Thus, in the electoral lists of Giiines, whose population con-
sists of 12,500 Cubans against 500 Spaniards and Canar>'
Islanders, there appear the names of but 32 Cuban voters as
against 400 Spaniards registered as voters.

Not a single Cuban sits in the Board of Aldermen of
Havana. In 1887 a Council of Ultramar was created in
Madrid. No Cuban has, as yet, been admitted as a member.

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1896.] The Causes of the Present War in Cuba, 813

The metropolis appoints all the officials of the colony, and
all the influential and lucrative berths, by a singular coinci-
dence, are captured by European Spaniards.

The law provides for the election of the Board of Alder-
men; but the Governor-General has the power to appoint the
mayors of his choosing, and to suspend the Board of Alder-
men, wholly or in part.

Personal safety docs not exist. In times of peace the
Governor-General has been obliged to declare whole provinces
in a state of siege, as brigandage stalked about, defiant and
unopposed ; and at the will of the Governor-General, he may
imprison or deport any person, without trial, whom he may
consider dangerous.

The censorship over the press is absolute, and at the will of
any police-officer an orator must change the tenor of his re-

Grocery-Store on the Move.

marks or hold his tongue. Of late even peaceful associations,
such as the Planters' Union or the Association of Working-men,
have been forbidden, on flimsy pretexts, to hold their meetings.
Cuba groans under the enormous debt of $295,707,264, which
.imposes a burden of $9.79 on each inhabitant of an impover-
ished island against the $6.30 which weighs upon the prosper-
ous French subject. This sum includes items for which Cuba

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8 14 The Causes of the Present War in Cuba. [Mar.,

is in nowise responsible ; as, the expenses incurred by Spain's
occupancy of San Domingo, and by her hostilities against
Peru ; the amount advanced to the treasury to defray the
expenses of the Carlist war, and the debt incurred by Spain in
her attempt, as ally of France, to place Maximilian on the
Mexican throne.

The abuses and thefts of the Havana custom-house reached
such a stage that General Marin, then governor-general, be-

Crushing-Mill of Sugar Plantation.

sieged it in August, 1887, and cleared it of employees at the
point of the bayonet.

The robbery of high army officials in the matter of provi-
sions, during the previous war, amounted to $22,811,516. It
has been proven during the course of a heated debate in the
Cortes, 1890, that the " Caja de Dep6sitos '* (safe for deposits)
had been robbed of $6,500,000 ; the scandalous detail being
made public that it required three keys to open the lock, and
each key had been entrusted to the custody of some high
dignitary. General Pando, during that same session, made the
statement, which has remained uncontradicted, that the rob-
beries committed by issuing false warrants of the Board of
Public Debt exceeded $12,000,000.

The granting of pensions is a source of flagrant abuse. The
names of the dead are retained in the lists for so abnormally
long a period that the Queen-Regent has recently said, in a
state paper, that "it would appear that the granting of a
pension insures immortality ! **

The commercial laws of June 30 and July 20, 1882, have
established that Spanish products pay no duties in Cuba, while
Cuban products pay enormous duties at the Spanish ports. In
order to close the Cuban market to competition and retain it
exclusively for the Spanish trade, foreign articles are burdened
with a tax of, ;in some cases, 2,000 per cent. ! Thus, one hun-

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1896.] The Causes of the Present War in Cuba. 815

dred kilograms of Spanish knitted goods pay $10.95 ; if of for-
eign origin, $195. One hundred kilograms of cassimere, if from
Spain^ pay $15.47; but if it come from a foreign land, $300.

The Spanish government has imposed an export tax of
$1.80 on every 1,000 cigars of the Vuelta Abajo district ; in
consequence of which the traffic has languished, and from 1889
to 1894 the exportation, according to the figures of the Havana
custom-house, had decreased to the amount of 116,200,000
cigars.

Spain grants bounties to the . sugar-planters within her terri-
tory, but by the time that Cuban sugar reaches a Spanish
port it groans under a tax of 143 per cent, of its value. The
Cuban sugar-planter is hampered in every way by the govern-
ment, which taxes the introduction of the required machinery ;
and lays an industrial duty, a loading or shipping tax, and an
import duty of $6.20 per hundred kilograms.

Spain has received $500,000,000 from Cuba since the close
of the last war in 1878, and of the fifty-four ports on the
Cuban shore only fifteen are open to commerce, and all of

Supposed Burial-Place of Columbus, Havana.

them grossly uncared for ; to the point that the harbor of
Havana is in so filthy and unsanitary a state that foreign ves-
sels are forbidden even to wash their decks with its waters.
Cuba is made to pay a subsidy of $471,836.68 to the Span-

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8i6 ,The Causes of the Present War in Cuba. [Mar.,

ish Transatlantic Company ;- but she is allowed only $182,000
for education. Spain is now maiixtaiQijig an army of 200,000
men on Cuban soil ; but the state does not support a single
public library, . I ;

The last budget for: Cuba imposes a burden of $16.18 on
each inhabitant, more than ^double the amount asked of the

Fruit and Flower Vender.

peninsular Spaniard; and dissecting the estimates, we find that
the debt saddled on Cuba absorbs 40.89 per cent, of Cuba's
total production. The army and navy required to keep the
island in subjection consume 36.59 per cent. The remaining
22.52 per cent, are to include all other expenditures, and of
these Spain allows Cuba, for her material advancement and
internal development, 2.75 per cent. !

These intolerable blunders and abuses have precipitated
the present conflict. Cuba is fighting against the Spanish
bureaucracy enthroned on the island ; she bears no ill-will
toward the generous Spanish people. The differences that
exist are political ; not of blood and religion. Both sides have
appealed to the God of Battles.

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1896.] Don Unia and his Lepers, 817

DON UNIA AND HIS LEPERS.

BY E. M. LYNCH.

'HE famous Don Bosco, whose work for destitute
children is well known all over Italy, Spain, and
France, fully shared Cardinal Manning's para-
doxical opinion : " It is quite true we have need
of men and means at home ; and it is because
we have need of men and means at home, and of more men
and of more means by a great deal than we yet possess, that I
am convinced that we ought to send both men and means
abroad." Don Bosco added great: missionary undertakings to
his enormous work for "the heathen at home." One of the
foreign fields of Salesian labor is Colombia. In 1889 a " South
American expedition*' set out from. Turin, from the mother
house of the order, and Don Unia formed one of the company.
Two years later Don Rua, Don Bosco's successor, received a
letter from Don Unia, from Santa Yh de Bogota, saying that
he longed to dedicate himself to the service of a number of
unfortunate lepers, isolated — to prevent the spread of the dread
malady — in a mountain region. " No less," he wrote, " than six
hundred of these poor stricken creatures lie festering in the
Lazaretto of Agua de Dios, a place about three days' march
from Santa F6 de Bogota. Not only are they cut off from
home, friends, and relatives, and almost forgotten by their fel-
low-men, but, worst of all, they have no priest, and are deprived
of the consolations of religion. The arrival of new missionaries
from Turin gave me fresh courage — for it will be easy to do
without me now; so I waited on the rector and broached the
subject to him." At some length Don Unia then recounts his
superior's objections, and his natural hesitation at committing
'* a brother to evident peril of death." " But my tranquillity was
gone," the letter goes on, " and my rector enjoyed very little
peace ; for, day by day, I managed to keep the lepers ringing
in his ears ! " At last, after weeks of debating the matter, the
rector said : " I daresay I ought not to hinder you. I give my
sanction, on condition that Don Rua approves." And the chap-
lain of the lepers says he was forthwith " canonically elected " !
He adds, cheerily, that the news spread fast, and many of his
well-wishers in Santa Fe " kindly took the trouble of calling to
tell me that I was mad."

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8i8 Don Unia and his Lepers. [Mar.,

There is a fine heroic ring about his high spirits. But Don
Unia can be very serious, too, in his correspondence. He as-
sures Don Rua that he will set out in obedience to what he
firmly believes is a call from God; and he promises to "take
all reasonable care of his health/' if permitted to go to live at
Agua de Dios. Should he catch the terrible disease,, despite
his precautions, he trusts that " He, whose voice I obey, will
give me strength to suffer with patience ; and the thought of
having brought some relief to those poor unfortunates will be
my consolation."

Ten days later Don Unia reported himself already at the Laz-
aretto, and " quite happy." He wondered what Don Rua would
say to the step he has taken, and hoped that his plan for re-
maining altogether among the lepers would be confirmed by the
superior-general. He writes : " Whoever comes out here becomes
an object of public terror," on account of the danger of infec-
tion, " so that I believe my return to Bogotk would not be the
easiest thing in the world. Add to this consideration the fancy
morsel of three days on a mule's back, travelling* over rocks
and skirting precipices, with a burning sun overhead, without
speaking of the forty quarantines I should be put through be-
fore I could enter the town-gates ; and then, if you think I
should like to try it often^ you must believe that I am very
fond of ' a constitutional.' " He touchingly describes the rejoic-
ings among the poor outcasts at his coming, adding : " About
a hundred little boys, in Sunday clothes and shining faces, ad-
vanced, with many bannerets fluttering above their heads. These
were followed by white-robed little girls bearing palms and
singing. It was a simple scene, and yet so affecting that it
drew tears from my eyes. But quite another spectacle awaited
me within the hospital. God help those breathing carcasses,
lying in a long-protracted putrifaction ! In this awful condition
they are said often to drag out a miserable decade ! "

The happy-hearted Don Unia confesses that his courage
almost failed him at first. But, when he found that the
afflicted beings in the last stages of the disease brightened
at his presence, he felt that a " ghastly smile " was a great
reward for weakness overcome. Though at th'e outset " stunned
and stupefied," the very misery of his terrible congregation
made an irresistible appeal to him ; and he resolved, more
firmly than ever, to live with and for his lepers. In a letter
to Don Rua he asks: "And what am I going to do, now
that I am here ? First, you must know, between hale and sick,
the lepers muster upwards of twelve thousand souls. I am their

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1896.] Don Unia and his Lepers. 819

only priest. I shall have to look after my twelve thousand,
celebrate holy Mass, administer the sacraments, and do what I can
to comfort the poor tortured creatures by visiting them several
times a day." The children had to be taught their catechism.

Strange to say, the progeny of the lepers live often to an
advanced age without developing the plague, and then betray
its symptoms. Some die old, too, and nroer show the taint.
Don Unia proposed to enlist *'some gentlemen who live in
this village" as catechists, "for, by myself, I should not be
able to get through all the work. Taking everything into ac-
count, I think work won't be wanting, so my life will be a
happy one." Even if he should fall a victim to leprosy, and
cease to be able to say Mass, he consoles himself by thinking
he can still "confess and comfort these creatures, though I
be covered with ulcers^ Meantime he constantly reported
himself "happy," though the temperature was "unpleasantly
high" — 86^ to 95^ Fahr. He described his dwelling as con-
sisting " of a shed divided into two little chambers, and cov-
ered with palm-leaves, through which the rain passes beauti-
fully ; and, with the burning heat one has to bear, a little
water does no harm. A fine little boy has been told oflf to at-
tend to my few wants. He brings me something to eat twice
a day, just as the crow used to do by the old hermit. Bread here
is always stale, for it is carried up from Bogota. The water,
in open contradiction to the name of the village, seems to come
from the other place ! It arrives on donkey-back from more
than two miles away, so that, in this hot weather, it is really
nice to drink ! They are going to add a little kitchen to my
establishment^ and, when that is built, my little secretary will
remain with me in the capacity of ' cook and butler.' Dear Rev.
Father, I place my entire confidence in your goodness of heart !
Will you not confirm the vow I have made, and rejoice to think
that these unhappy lepers are now blessed with the consolation
of religion ? With entire submission to your orders," etc.

From Turin, however, the post takes two months to reach
the South American missions ; and when Don Rua's despatch
for Don Unia, commissioning him to undertake the management
of the Salesian House in the city of Mexico, reached Bogota,
it was interpreted as meaning that the permission to devote
himself to the Lazaretto was refused. As a matter of fact,
Don Rua granted his priest's heroic request as soon as it was
made, "with tears, and a heart full of warm thankfulness."
But Don Unia believed himself under marching orders for Mexico,
and he dutifully made ready to depart. He wrote to his superior :

VOL. LXII. — 52

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820 Don Unia and his Lepers. [Mar.,

"In order to render riiy going away less bitter to these
agonized souls, I will not leave them without hope. I shall
give them to understand that after visiting Mexico, within the
I'apsie of a few months I shall be back again among them, to
remain here for ever. My dearly loved superior, Don Rua,
will not, surely, make me break my word? When all matters
are settled in the Mexican house, I implore you to send a
rector with the necessary staff from Turin, so that I may re-
turn to the care of my lepers. The parting moment will be
heartrending, but holy obedience will give me force to con-
quer myself and surmount every difficulty. From Bogota I
shall go straight to Mexico ; but my thoughts and my heart
will be always with the miserable beings I leave behind me in
desolation. My lepers, my poor lepers \ with them is my mis-
sion. This is the work God has called me to do. Your Rev-
erence cannot find the heart to deny me the consolation of fol-
lowing my true vocation.*'

Six hundred and twenty lepers signed a touching letter to
the superior in Turin, begging that Don Unia might be restored
to Agua de Dios. The charitable Society of St. Lazarus peti-
tioned Don Rua in the same sense in most moving terms.

Letters from Colombia, published during the autumn of
1893, in one of the daily papers of Turin, give an account of a
visit to Agua de Dios and Pon Unia. The writer begins by
praising at considerable length the wild grandeur of the moun-
tain-road from Santa Yt de Bogota ; and continues : " After a
ride of almost three days I arrived at the village of anguish.
The first object that met my gaze was a young woman sitting
by a cabin door. Her deformed face was noseless, and her shape-
less ears were at least four times their natural size. Sad to say
she clasped an infant in her arms — one more victim doomed to the
lepers* lot, and the possible parent of other lepers ! In this re-
public the victims of leprosy are estimated at twenty-five thousand.
It is the imperative duty of the government to fight against
this dreadful scourge, which increases enormously year by year.

" Curiosity impelled the people to pour out of their huts to
see a stranger in their village. And what a fearful popula-
tion to look upon ! All maimed ; many noseless ; some wear-
ing green glasses, which added to the ghastliness of their ap-
pearance ! The swollen ears of one poor man were flapping
upon his shoulders.

"Don Unia, a native of Cuneo, who left Turin about a half
year ago for Bogota and Agua de Dios, offered to take me to
the hospital. The present building is too small. It only con-

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1896.] Don Unia and his Lepers. 821

tains fifty beds ; but another hospital, to accommodate upwards
of three hundred, is in course of construction.

" In this home of horrors my eyes first fell upon a man of
about twenty-five. A doctor, also stricken with leprosy, stood
over him. Two very young Sisters of Charity bent over his
miserable body — a mere skeleton, ulcerated from head to foot
— one washing the fetid sores and the other sister covering
them over with a filament. At the sight of Don Unia the
poor leper cried out : * Father ! ' The priest went up to him,
clasped his extended hand, and found such words of comfort
for the sufferer that his dying eyes sparkled with joy.'*

The writer of this letter was then on the spot in which the
worst cases were collected. Don Unia, on his arrival, described
the inmates as, " one without hands, another without arms ;
others without feet. Here is one whose flesh is dropping off
piecemeal." His visitor of a few months ago " could not
bear the sight of these heartrending tortures. I fled from the
hospital, overwhelmed with horror. Later I ventured to tell
Don Unia it was his duty to use every possible precaution to
keep himself free from this loathsome disease ; but he said :
* Leprosy, you must know, makes the patients extremely sen-
sitive. Were I to show repugnance, they would hate instead
of loving me. A poor creature embraced me, and died in my
arms, the day before yesterday. If I had tried to shake him
off, he might have died cursing me ; and I could never have
forgiven myself for his un-Christian death. Believe me, if we
want to help these poor people, we must love, not loathe them.*
Don Unia's health," the letter goes on, " has suffered greatly.
He is no longer the stalwart mountaineer he used to be, but a
broken man, who, if he remains at his noble post, will speedily
exchange this for a better country. The heat is suffocating
here all the year round."

Don Unia left for Europe on the 14th of October last, by
the imperative orders of his superiors and medical adviser. He
only went home to die. On the 9th of December last he peace-
fully passed away at the house of his order in Turin.

Another Salesian priest is engaged in studying all the known
"cures," or alleviations, for leprosy, including the Mattei treat-
ment ; and, when equipped with all the learning attainable, he
too will join the devoted band of workers in the Lazaretto.

What heroic charity and self-abnegation is shown by these
Salesians — priests, sisters, and catechists alike !

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822 The New Poet Laureate. [Mar.,

THE NEW POET LAUREATE.

BY JOHN J. O'SHEA.

T was surmised by many, owing to the long inter-
regnum in the Poet Laureateship, that the office
was to be allowed to fall into desuetude. What
Lord Salisbury's motive was in delaying to fill
it up, now that he has proved the surmise to be
wrong, is the new topic of much conjecture ; the next, what
reasons impelled him to the choice he has made. He may
have wished to have it said of the selection what another
laureate said about the building up of man :

" Twas not the hasty product of a day.
But the well-ripened fruit of wise delay."

The poet to Lord Salisbury's fancy was perhaps not easily
found. It was all foretold in Astrea Redux, The fateful hour
seemed at hand when

" Roused by the lash of his own stubborn tail
Our lion now will foreign foes assail.**

There were two men in England who might be relied on
to sing of arms and the man when the smell of British salt-
petre was in the air — Alfred Austin and Tracy Turnerelli.
Turnerelli, who has since joined the majority, was not only a
poet after Lord Salisbury's heart, but one who would beg the
world for pennies to buy golden laurel wreaths for the brows
of his heroes. But, then, Turnerelli had made a hero of him
who was Lord Salisbury's deadly enemy through life — the
tinselly Beaconsfield. Hence, Turnerelli being ineligible, the
field was limited. As for such men as Swinburne, Morris,
Watson, Patmore, and Thompson, they had for the most part
pitched their key too high, or committed some indiscretion
which barred them out. The literary tastes of the court are
homely, and the Prime Minister is too good a courtier not to
follow instead of seeking to lead. The temper of the time
was not Augustan, and the muse to match it must be one with
a helmet on her head and the Union Jack crossed over her
shoulders, ready to fight or ready to haggle as circumstance
might demand. There was much astuteness -too in the pre-
mier's choice. Jealousy amongst* the greater poets whom he

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1896.] The New Poet Laureate. 823

has passed over is absolutely impossible — that is, if such a low
passion can have a place in those celestial breasts.

The question has often been asked of late, Of what use is
the Poet Laureateship ? It is preposterous to put such a
query. In a system which makes an institution of grooms
of the bed-chamber, wig-makers to the court, chimney-sweeps

Alfred Austin, Poet-Laureate.

to the Lord Lieutenant, and butchers and green-grocers to the
sovereign ad lib., the post of official gleeman, as the Laureate-
ship seems to be regarded by ministers of Lord Salisbury's
type, comes in quite naturally. It is distinctly of the Norman
cult — that idea of the relation of ipen and things and human
thought out of which grew the vast retrocession known as the
feudal system. Lord Salisbury himself is a direct outcome of
that system. It was a system entirely to his mind, so far as

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824 The New Poet Laureate, [Mar.,

we can judge of him. If he were ever to go into battle, he
would have his gleeman or jongleur tossing up his sword and
singing his doggerel as he went before him, like Taillifer before
the great duke. Exalted poetry was no part of the Norman's
bill of requisites. Blood and iron were quite enough to satisfy
his soul's cravings.

The Laureateship, there is no doubt, had its origin in this
idea of the proper constituents of a court retinue — as the court
jester had. It is little wonder that a low conception of its
functions was met by a poor ambition on the part of the
aspirants to the office, very often, and a still poorer execution.
The very names of some of these degenerate poets have been
forgotten ; no one has thought the works of several of them
worth, not to say preserving but even mentioning. A front
rank is claimed for four of them — namely, Ben Jonson, John
Dryden, William Wordsworth, and Alfred Tennyson. It is
questionable if modern judgment will admit the claim for all
of these. But it is a singular proof of the powerlessness of
the greater gift of song over the Philistine spirit of British
statecraft that the noble strains of Tennyson should be for-
gotten in the choice of his successor. Vulgarity is again en-
throned in high places in Great
Britain, and the taste of the Geor-
gian ages is again asserting it-
self. Even royalty, we believe,
has often been pleased to be
charmed with the martial lyrics
of the Great McDermott, and the
chauvinistic sentiments which en-
abled that eminent minstrel to
reajp a rich harvest are exactly
suited to the tastes of the great
leader of the English Tory party.
As for the new Poet Laureate
himself, he appears to be perfect-
ly at home in the den of the roar-
ing lion with his " stubborn tail"
lashing his a:ngry sides. He was
William Wordsworth. "Ot well warm in office when he

proved his own mettle and justified
the expectations formed of him by the production of a metri-
cal composition on the raid of Dr. Jameson into the Transvaal
which will easily hold its own in poverty of wit and flabbiness

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1896.] The New Poet Laureate. 825

of expression. England has not often produced a Laureate
whose syllables walked with such leaden feet as in this threnody ;

"'Wrong! Is it wrong? Well, may be;

But Tm going, boys, all the same.
Do they think me a Burgher's baby,

To be scared by a scolding name ?
They may argue, and prate, and order;

Go, tell them to save their breath ;
Then over the Transvaal border,

And gallop for life or death !

" * Let lawyers and statesmen addle

Their pates over points of law ;
If sound be our sword, and saddle,

And gun-gear, who cares one straw?
When men of our own blood pray us

To ride to their kinsfolk's aid.
Not Heaven itself shall stay us

From the rescue they call a raid.

"* There are girls in the gold-reef city.

There are mothers and children, too !
And they cry, " Hurry up ! for pity ! ''

So what can a brave man do?
If even we win, they will blame us ;

If we fail, they will howl and hiss.
But there's many a man lives famous

For daring a wrong like this!*

" So we forded and galloped forward

As hard as our beasts could pelt,
First eastward, then trending nor' ward.

Just over the rolling veldt ;
Till we came on the Burghers lying

In a hollow with hills behind.
And their bullets came hissing, flying.

Like hail on an arctic wind ! "

Hatred of the Hollander appears to be a sort of heritage in
the Laureate's office. We find Dryden giving expression to it
more honestly, yet withal somewhat uncouthly, in a poem writ-
ten in 1662 :

" To one well born th' affront is worse and more
When he's abused and baffled by a boor.
With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do ;
They've both ill nature and ill manners too.

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826 The New Poet Laureate, [Mar.,

Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation,
For they were bred ere manners were in fashion.
And their new commonwealth has set them free
Only from honor and civility/'

The broom of Van Tromp had swept the English Channel

then, as the rifles of
Oom Paul's burghers
did Laing's Nek and
Krugersdorp more re-
cently. The vein of
racial antipathy is evi-
dently unfavorable to
the divine afflatus in
any age.

" Rare Ben " felt
that there must be
a mutual dependence
between prince and
poet, to be maintained
by substantial proofs,
in kind no less than
of mind, as he show-
ed when he wrote
JOHN DRYDEN. wrathfully :

" As the old bard should no canary lack,
'Twere better spare a butt than spite his muse.
For in the genius of the poet's verse
The king's fame lives. Go now, denie his tierce."
Monarchs do not appear so prominently now ; it is their
prime ministers who act for them. Lord Salisbury has been
execrated for his callous policy in regard to the Armenian mas-
sacres, and the Poet Laureate feels himself called upon to de-
liver himself as proxy. He chides William Watson, who had
written a poem full of noble indignation about England's shame
in this transaction, in these terms :

" Comrade, to whom I stretched a comrade's hand

Ere Fame found hers to greet you, and whom, still
Right bravely singing up the sacred Hill,
I watch from where the cloudless peaks expand,
Think not that you my love now less command.
If to you, wilful, I oppose my will ;
And pray you not untune sweet voice to shrill
In harsh upbraidings of the Mother Land.

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1896.] The New Poet Laureate, 827

To mock her is to soil one's self with shame,
Nor is the rhyme yet written that can mar

The scroll emblazoned with her fadeless fame,
* Sloping to twilight.* Blinded that you are,

Look, in her hand shines freedom's sword aflame.
And on her forehead glows the morning star.

" But she, not you, nor any child of song,

Must sound the hour the friendless to befriend.
And with unmitigable justice rend

The ensanguined trappings from the Rod of Wrong.

I too cry out, ' How long, O Lord, how long
Shall ghouls assail and not one glaive defend ? '
But God's great patience never comes to end,

And, by long suffering, vengeance grows more strong.

So from unseasonable chidings cease.

Impious to her who bears within her breast •
Wails from the East and clamors from the West.

Nay, should the clamor and the wails increase.
Firm in the faith she knoweth what is best.

Keep you to-night the Festival of Peace."

The delicate good breeding displayed here, in reminding
Watson of the good turn done in the past, reveals one qualifi-
cation at least for the office of official rhyme-maker. Conscious
self-righteousness is a suitable yoke-fellow with national arro-
gance. Our age is opposed to all modesty in self-proclama-
tion, whether of private virtues or sub-celestial gifts, and John
Bull militant is the embodiment of that spirit in the sight of
all mankind. Why should the poet be of any higher mind than
the piper who skirls a barbaric blast to encourage the kilted
warriors of Britain as they bring home lessons of civilization
and good taste to the graceless subjects of King Prempeh and
other unreasonable persons?

There is, indeed, no evidence whatever in any of Mr. Aus-
tin's work that he recognizes any loftier function for any bard,
official or non-official. He regards the English race as the only
one proper for a British poet's theme, and whether that race
do right or do wrong at home or abroad, he has nothing for
it but his good-will and the best thing that his irrepressible
rhyming habit can compel him to do. In a piece of his entitled
" Veronica's Garden " he thus limits the terms of the angelic
salutation, "Peace on earth":

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828 The Ne w Poe t La urea te. [Mar.,

"... unto all of British blood —

Whether they cling to Egbert's throne,
Or far beyond the western flood
Have raised a sceptre of their own.

" Blood of our blood in every clime !
Race of our race by every sea!
To you we sing the Christmas rhyme,
For you we light the Christmas tree."

The " men of good will " to whom the message was origi-
nally delivered was too comprehensive a limitation for Mr.
Austin's idea ; but it does not appear to have entered into his
mind when penning t?he greeting that the British race, as at
present constituted, had not even an existence when the ange-
lic message came. What, then, could be more thoroughly British
than the desire to appropriate its benefits exclusively for the
Britons of to-day?

There is not much hope that the new Laureate will ever do
much better work than he has done. He is now past the
grand climacteric, and if ever he had the true poetical fibre in
him, the strain must have revealed itself long ere this. The
only vestige of the bardic nature which he manifested during
his tolerably long career was the. tendency to attack brother
poets for their literary shortcomings. This he did some thirty
years ago in an essay on " Poetry of the Period." He scored
Tennyson, Browning, Swinburne, Morris, and other would-be
bards, very roundly in that volume, and so cleared the way for
his own advent. He improved his opportunities, in travelling
about the world as special correspondent for a Tory newspaper,
to study the green lanes and pastoral scenes of " Merrie
England," and depict them as though they had not been evolv-
ed from his own inner consciousness. Some carefully jointed
verses of his to the Seasons reveal a diligent telepathic study of
recurrent phenomena, which have not escaped attention even in
pre-Laureate days. He has written tragedies which have found
a place in the British Museum. Those of whom he has striven
to make heroes are presented in such a way as to leave us in
doubt whether we should laugh or weep over their achieve-
ments or their fate. It is for this reason that our sympathies
are perhaps improperly diverted to the side of the unfortu-
nate Dr. Jameson. He ought to have been spared the humilia-
tion of a ludicrous position.

It is stated that Mr. Austin is a Catholic, and some Catho-

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1896.] The New Poet Laureate. 829

lie writers seem to think that his religion ought to atone for
the weakness of his verse. To see the edge of bigotry in Eng-
land so blunted as to allow a Catholic to get an office like the
Laureate's may indeed be a more significant fact than the
decay in literary taste which this particular appointment indi-
cates. There is more good sense in this view than in anything
else put forward in extenuation of the appointment. Trivial as
the position is, it shows how the current of feeling runs in the
highest circles. It is in the nature of poetry that it must have
its epochs, its days of
glory and its days of
abasement. But in the
realm of the soul it is
different ; the interests
involved in it have a per-
manent value. It matters
little whether Mr. Austin
is a good Catholic, as some
say he is, or an indifferent,
a lapsed, or an unortho-
dox one, as others assert
him to be. The fact that
he is a Catholic of any
kind is the only really
significant thing about
the whole proceeding.
But it was neither be-
cause he is a Catholic
nor because he is a
homely-witted poet that

he has got the post. Plus ben jonson.

these facts, he is a Tory politician, a man who has helped the
present government, and a man who will versify Tory deeds
whenever the opportunity serves. The Laureate himself it will
be who will have to bear the penalty of the blunder. Well
might he bear in mind what his brother Laureate, ** Rare Ben,*'
so candidly wrote in his old age :

. . . "welcome Povertie.
She shall instruct my after-thoughts to write
Things manly, and not smelling parasite.
But I repent me : stay. Whoe'er is raised
For worth he hath not, he is taxed, not praised."

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830 Our Africa. [Mar.,

OUR AFRICA.

BY REV. E. L. QU ADE.

is a strange, yet undeniable, fact that, wherever

and whenever the " Missions '* become the topic

of our Catholic circles, we are apt to wander

immediately to the remotest recesses of Africa,

Asia, and of the islands, large and small, and to

conjure up graphic scenes of missionary toils and suflferings.

Rarely ever does it enter our minds to remain at home and

seek for the Africa of our proximity. And yet how real an

Africa may we find beneath the very shadows of our own dear

homes ! Those living in the larger cities need but to glance out

of the window, or into the alleys, to convince themselves of the

fact. It is not indeed the Africa of the Pharaohs, nor that of

St. Augustine, nor of the Caesars in the older hemisphere, but

rather the Africa of Christianity in the New World. Not the

Africa of the Nile and the Congo, but that of the Potomac

and the Mississippi.

Leaving aside the true native land of the Negro, the south- *
em portion of our beloved country justly deserves the title of
" Our Africa.** Our Africa it is, since it is the soil of our
soil ; Our Africa, since the Negro is our fellow-citizen ; and,
finally. Our Africa because upon us devolves the duty of ex-
tending our civilization, moral and civic, to it. We owe it to
the cause of humanity to put into its grasp the means where-
by it may perfect its liberty, enlighten its mind, and dispose it
to become partaker of the merits of Redemption.

For the benefit, therefore, of the uninitiated, let us survey
'* Our Africa,** get a fair glimpse of its people in their most im-
portant aspects, and learn from their condition what we have so
far done, and what we are at the present doing, to ameliorate
its condition.

In area Our Africa occupies fully one-half of the territory
allotted to the principal thirteen Southern States. Its domain,
centring at Alabama, borders along the Atlantic and the great
Gulf, reaching along the Mississippi valley to upper Missouri,
and along the Ohio valley as far east as Pittsburg. All these
vast tracts of land are included within the Black Belt. Out-

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1896.] Our Africa, 831

side of these limits we shall find only about half a million of
Negroes, distributed sparsely among the Western and Northern
States. Thus we may safely say that they inhabit that portion
of our land which flows with milk and honey ; for we all have
learned to wonder at the fertility with which nature has en-
dowed it.

VARIETY OF RACE.

The census of 1890 shows the total number of the colored
population to be 6,996,166. This number, however, is not to
be taken absolutely ; for no race has exhibited such productive
proclivities in this climate, so hostile to Europeans. We may,
without hesitation, put the figure close to 8,000,000 or over.
This is the most probable opinion, and is upheld by many
authorities. Among themselves they vary as do the different
types of the Caucasian race. Olmstead, in hi^ Slave States^
grades the Negro of Louisiana into ten distinct types, ranging
from the full-blooded Negro to the i-64th black ; from the
Negro sine aditu to him sang-mile. Their gradation reveals nine
different species, from the combination of White and Negro,
which results in the Mulatto, to that of the Mulatto and Chinese,
whose offspring are classed as Chinoes. It is not to be dis-
puted that their knowledge of the white man's superiority in
many respects impels a frantic desire to have their issue
approach, at least one degree, that of their envied neighbor.
This vast number constitutes half the population between the
Potomac and the Mississippi. Considering, then, their rapid
and steady growth, it will be only a question of the near
future when the political term given the South, as the "Solid
South " for the party now in office, will become the same for
the contending party.

INTELLECTUAL AND MORAL DEBASEMENT.

As a field of missionary labors it is devoid of all attrac-
tions save to one who has left everything for the sake of Him
who promised a hundred-fold reward. It is difficult to fancy a
people in a worse plight than the Negroes of the South. Liv-
ing amid our civilization, vast numbers of them are yet not of
it ; men by civil law, yet in very great part children ; citizens
by constitutional amendment, yet babes in the exercise of their
rights ; apparently Christians, they are really of no religion ;
free men in the eyes of the world, yet really shackled with
the fetters of superstition ; strong in the exercise of imagina-

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832 Our Africa, [Mar.,

tive power, yet weak in their ability to comprehend real
ideas ; in the sight of the law they are everything, in its
hands they are nothing. For the most part they are ignorant
of the first truths of Revelation and devoid of knowledge of
the Commandments, whilst their notion of our Blessed Lord
seems to go no further than a glib and offensive use of His
Holy Name. Morality may have a name among them, but in
how many localities does it not end with that ! Knowledge,
after a fashion, is becoming theirs ; but of what kind ?

This is, in fine, their present moral, social, and political stand-
ing. In what capacities they combat in the struggle for life is
well known. As house-servants we find them scattered every-
where, poor and hard-working laborers, washerwomen, barbers
and waiters, 'longshoremen and hands coming and going in the
oyster-boats and fishing-smacks. In general, holding their own
in the struggle for life in the teeming streets and alleys of the
colored quarter.

AT THE WHITE MAN'S MERCY.

Treated, as a rule, with fairness and humane regard by their
white employers and white neighbors, in many cases they are
yet made the scapegoats of superior guile. Two causes, oc-
curring frequently, are destined to alienate their affections and
respect for their white neighbor. The one is, the ever too ready
avenging power of the mobs ; and the other, the taking advan-
tage of his illiterateness, through the shrewdness and avarice of
scheming traders, employers, and landlords. To the first the
colored man pays outrageous prices for common goods ; the
second pays him less wages than, for equal work, he is wont
to pay white hands ; the last-named rules supreme over the
homes of these poor people. His house is rented by the
week; and if he is unable to pay his rent in advance, he may
be sure to find his family and scanty belongings on the street
ere the first day of the ensuing week has elapsed. The doors
and pews of most churches are closed against him ; his sombre
hue debars him from the greater number of so-called respect-
able places of amusement ; he is excluded from most, if not
all, beneficial associations ; his political friends strike his name
from whatever ticket he may appear on. Thus left to himself,
he is bidden to enjoy life as his environments may allow, and
his whims and passions dictate. He does not play the rSle of
a beggar, but, like a mute child, he awaits his turn of attention.
All that he has has been brought to him — slavery, emancipation,

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1896.] Our Africa, 833

franchise, and education ; all were brought to bear upon him,
whilst he kept himself in a perfectly passive state. Standing
here alone in a land of strangers, he is too dazed to lift his
dusky hands to the God he knows so little of, and beckon us
to come and supply the void that constitutes his natural draw-
back. He stands at the brink of a chasm which he is unable
to span by his own efforts. Shall we bridge it for him?

OUR RESPONSIBILITY.

What have we been doing, thus far, to elevate his charac-
ter ? And what is our intention for the future ? To every deep-
thinking man it must appear evident that great efforts are
needed to reap any success. He must feel that the combined
forces of church and state are indispensable to achieve it. How
well sectarianism has essayed to solve the problem is exhi-
bited in the methods of procedure. The tables of statistics
show that the various denominations have spent $35,000,000.
To this is added the stupendous sum of $50,000,000 which the
South has contributed to the cause since the days of war.
What is the result? We may summarize it briefly with these
accounts : They claim a total menibership of 2,000,000 ; they
possess schools, normal and industrial, churches, universities,
colleges, seminaries, and charitable institutions in great numbers.
Their pupils number 25,560. What are these figures in compari-
son to those Catholicity can exhibit ? They are as mountains
against ant-hills ; as oceans against rivulets. Catholicity cannot
lay just claims to quite 200,000 of their number; not even one-
tenth of these having any religion, in the true sense of the
term. The annual collections levied from all the churches of
every diocese, for the home missions, has rarely,^ if ever, ex-
ceeded $70,000, amounting to not one cent per capita. This
paltry sum is divided into two portions, the one for the
Indian missions, and the residue for the Negro. $35,000 an-
nually is far too paltry a sum to achieve any lasting good. Yet
it is expected to support 35 missionaries, 30 churches, 103
schools of 8,631 pupils, and 22 institutions. It becomes evident
that the amount, when divided to meet the necessities of all
these claimants, must become an insignificant source of susten-
ance to any one in particular. In point of contributing power
for home missions Catholics are far in the rear and away
behind the mark.

This failure to support the home missions is, however,
counterbalanced by the generosity extended to foreign mis-

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834 Our Africa. [Mar.,

sions, in whose behalf the amount is more than tripled. This
gives rise to the question whether it ought not to be a matter of
equal, if not greater, solicitude to foster the spirit of charity
toward home missions ? Yes, it is natural we should do so ; but
we rather abide with the unnatural, owing to the perversity of
our inclinations, or perhaps through ignorance and want of
reflection. That we are behind the mark is as clear as day-
light, for where are our universities, colleges, seminaries, indus-
trial, normal, and secondary schools — and in such telling
numbers as those of the sects ? They are still in the embryo
awaiting birth and development. But who will give them birth
and development ? Whence this development, if not through
our American Catholics ? From over the sea we derive very
little substantial aid. Nor is it to be expected. We ought to
be able to cope with this difficulty with our own resources, as
indeed it is shown by our princely responses to the appeals
of foreign missionaries that we are, by all means, able to do
so. That we should do so seems almost to be a precept, from
whose observance no Catholic ought to flinch one iota, even
though this duty be complied with to the detriment of foreign
missions. Energy and means spent in the cause of our Negro
are surely not wasted. He represents a veritable missionary
field, waiting for tillers, sowers, and reapers ; he is not to be
elevated politically and socially only, but, to a far greater
extent, morally. Religion alone can claim the power to pro-
duce this effect. Along with the elevation of his moral
standard go hand-in-hand the two other factors of society.

ENCOURAGEMENT FOR CATHOLIC EFFORT.

The religjous disposition of the colored Catholic inspires a
high opinion, and shows that he is made of the stuff that can
bear improvement on all three grounds. The Negroes have
kept the faith with wonderful fidelity, and that under the most
trying circumstances. The Protestants, it is true, have caught
a few here and there, by means legitimate and otherwise.
Some, too, have apostatized out of sheer human respect, but
only in some isolated localities. The dissolving power of the
war and emancipation have scattered them abroad, and thrown
them under the influence of strangers in sentiment and reli-
gion. Many, from the ignorance and vice of their parents, and
a poverty deeper than any known among whites, have been
turned adrift on the streets in childhood, and so into the
clutches of the noon-day demon. Mixed marriages, also, have

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1896.] Our Africa, 835

made dire havoc in the flock. But can it be said that, under
equally adverse circumstances, the white element would
not have proved itself more steadfast ? Instances to prove it
are useless. Every zealous priest has experienced examples of
this kind. Within the last decade a feeble effort has been put
forth, emanating from the spirit of the Second and Third Plenary
Councils of Baltimore ; but it appears that it is destined to fall
asleep, unless aroused by another Blessed Peter Claver, in some
future period. Whilst the fever heat of that spirit lasted,
numerous institutions opened their doors for the Negro, but,
alas ! many were disappointed in the substantial aid anticipated.
Men, women, youths, and priests have volunteered service for
home missions, but in vastly larger numbers we find those who
have done nothing. To acknowledge this fact is a shameful
confession for one who belongs to a religion whose normal
condition is missionary, and to whose members was given the
divine command to go into the whole earth and preach the
gospel to every creature.

Nevertheless true it is, and it will remain so, until our actions
have disproved it ; and may that be soon ! What a dearth
of charity will it be in us to neglect those unfortunate black
millions who, perhaps more than any other race, bear the im-
press of the poverty and rejection of the suffering Saviour, who
'* became the rejected of men, and the outcast of His people "
(Ps. xxi.)

VOL. LXII^— 53

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836 Life of Cardinal Manning. [Mar^

LIFE OF CARDINAL MANNING.*

BY VERY REV. A. F. HEWIT, D.D.

HIS is a very complete biography by a competent
hand, who has fulfilled his task with diligence,
honesty, and to a certain extent with impartial-
ity, but with far too little care and prudence.
My first acquaintance with the works of this
eminent cardinal and his still more illustrious compeer, Cardi-
nal Newman, goes back to the last decade of their Anglican
career from 1840 to 1850. I had the honor of once dining
with Cardinal Manning, in 1867, at his house in London, and
of a much nearer acquaintance with Cardinal Newman.

Those who were not living at the time when the conversion
of these great men took place can hardly appreciate the im-
pression which was produced by their writings and acts at that
momentous period, and the influence which they exercised both
in England and America.

While Newman was leading the catholicizing movement at
Oxford, he was regarded as an almost inspired prophet by his
followers. After his conversion, Manning shared with Puse>r
the reverence and confidence of that party, and his subsequent
conversion made a sensation somewhat similar to the shock
caused by the conversion of Newman.

Manning was not a disciple or companion of Newman in the
Oxford movement. While he was at the university he was not
interested in theological or ecclesiastical pursuits. His ambition
was all directed toward a parliamentary career. He had no
intention or desire to become a clergyman. He aspired to be-
come a statesman, and, in fact, he did become, in the end, an
ecclesiastical statesman.

His father's loss of property made it almost necessary for
him to turn to the clerical profession. Still, as he was con-
scientious and religious, he was ordained with a high ideal of
the clerical state and a resolute purpose to live up to it.

After his ordination he became rector of Lavington, a
country-parish in Sussex, and afterwards Archdeacon of Chiches-

* Life 0/ Cardmal Manning^ Archbishop of Westminster, By Edmund Sheridan Purcell^
Member of the Roman Academy of Letters. In two volumes. New York and London :
Macmillan & Co. 1896.

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1896.] Life of Cardinal Manning. 837

ter. He was married to a lovely young lady, who died after
four years, leaving him for a long time almost inconsolable.

He was devoted and zealous, soon became distinguished, and
had a fair prospect of a seat on the episcopal bench, or even
on the throne of Canterbury.

• At first he was an Evangelical Low-Churchman, but without
any taint of Calvinism. By degrees he became a High-Church-
man, sympathized and co-operated with Newman up to a cer-
tain point ; and yet, sided with the authorities in the condem-
nation of Tract No. 90, and in resisting the movement toward
Rome.

Hk own movement in that direction was quite independent
of Littlemore. His studies brought him more and more upon
Catholic ground, yet without destroying his confidence in the
Church of England as essentially Catholic. The affair of the
Jerusalem bishopric, the decision of the Gorham case, and the
violent outbreak of anti-papal fanaticism on the occasion of the
re-establishment of a regular Catholic hierarchy in England, at
length opened his eyes to the essentially Protestant character
of the English establishment. After long study and delibera-
tion, with great reluctance, and in obedience to the imperative
demands of his conscience, he at length, in 1851, at the age of
44, was received into the Church, and, after the short delay of
ten weeks, was ordained priest. He sjpent, however, three years
in study at Rome, before entering on the active duties of the
priesthood. After his return to England, he in due time founded
a house of the .Oblates of St. Charles at Bayswater, London,
was appointed Provost of the Chapter of Westminster, and was
an active and faithful assistant to Cardinal Wiseman during all
the remaining years of his life.

In 1865 Cardinal Wiseman died, and was succeeded by
Archbishop Manning. He was not one of the three nominated
by the chapter and the bishops, but was directly appointed by
the Pope. His appointment was well received, and proved to
be a wise one and most beneficial to the Catholic Church in
England during his long administration of twenty-three years.
In 187s he was made a cardinal. He died in January, 1892,
and the public demonstration at his funeral was one which had
no parallel except on the occasions of the obsequies of the
Duke of Wellington and Cardinal Wiseman. He was honored
and mourned, not only by all the Catholics of England but by
the whole nation.

The most interesting part of this biography is the descrip-

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838 Life of Cardinal Manning. [Mar.,

tion of the part talcen by Archbishop Manning in the Council
of the Vatican and the definition of papal infallibility. It is
difficult to exaggerate the importance of this great act. Arch-
bishop Manning had a great share in bringing it to a successful
conclusion. Our own illustrious and venerated Archbishop
Spalding had also a conspicuous and influential part in the
same glorious work. Archbishop Manning was always a valiant
and eloquent advocate of the rights and prerogatives of the
Holy See, and of the temporal sovereignty of the Pope. It is
this, more than anything else, which casts a brilliant lustre on
his name and his career.

As the English archbishop his services were invaluable in
making the CathoHc Church known and respected in England
by all classes from the royal family down to the children of
toil and poverty. He was devoted to the cause of temperance,
to the cause of education, to the welfare of the poor, and to
the care of forlorn and neglected children. He was a friend
and lover of Ireland and the Irish people. He was a great
bishop, a holy priest, a worthy successor of St. Anselm, St. Ed-
mund, and St. Thomas in the chair of St. Augustine. The
same eulogy may be pronounced upon Cardinal Wiseman, and
might have been deserved by Dr. Clifford or Dr. Grant if
either of them had been placed in the metropolitan see. But
the extraordinary interest and importance of the career of Car-
dinal Manning accrues to it from the fact that he had been a
prelate of the Church of England. When we recall the atti-
tude of England, and of all except a, handful of Englishmen
toward Rome, in the year 1801, and consider the change which
ninety years had brought about, we would be astounded, if we
had not watched the change going on . for sixty years. That
an Anglican dignitary with still higher dignities in prospect, a
friend of ruling statesmen and of the royal family, should be-
come one of the foremost champions of the Papacy, and yet be
highly honored in life and death by the English nation, is a
singular and striking fact. It is one of a group of events in
the history of conversions from Anglican Protestantism to
Catholicity which form a crushing and overwhelming refutation
of the claim to Catholicity set up by a party in the Protestant
Episcopal communion for their own ecclesiastical connection.
Manning was educated at Oxford, ordained and inducted into
the rectorship of Lavington, without any suspicion that he
was a Catholic or a priest, anything more than a Protestant or
a Protestant minister. As soon as he gained his first insight

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1896.] Life of Cardinal Manning. 839

into the doctrine of the Apostolic succession and the nature of
the church as a spiritual kingdom, his back was turned on
Protestantism, and his face, unknowingly, turned toward Rome.
His mind was logical and statesmanlike. When he once appre-
hended the idea of the church as a spiritual kingdom, he held
virtually and implicitly the truth of its essentially monarchical
and papal constitution, as involved in the principle of Unity.
Those who hold to Episcopacy without the papacy have no
conception of One Catholic Church. For them, there are many
distinct and even separate churches. There is the church of
Russia, the church of Greece, the church of England, the
church of the United States. Properly, there are as many
churches as there are dioceses. Provincial and National churches
are only aggregations, united by human law, civil or eccles-
iastical, and Protestants have no higher conception of the union
of the Universal Church. Their talk of the English or Ameri-
can Episcopal Church being the church of your baptism is the
sheerest nonsense. We are baptized into the Catholic Church,
and not into the Church of New York, or America or France.
All these particular, local, and personal relations are merely
accidental, and entirely subordinate to those which are essen-
tial and universal. So soon as any particular and local society,
or so-called church, is made the object of the final and supreme
allegiance of its members and ministers, it is put in opposition
to the Catholic Church. It is impossible to recognize both and
pay allegiance to both at the same time. The notion, there-
fore, that the church over which the Archbishop of Canterbury
presides in England, and that over which the Archbishop of
Westminster presides, are both Catholic, and both parts of the
one Universal Church, is on Catholic principles absurd. Equally
absurd is the notion that the church of England, the church of
France, the church of Russia, and the church of Rome are
one. Pure Protestantism, although false and irrational, is less
absurd and self-contradictory than the Pseudo-Catholicism of
Greeks and Anglicans. The true issue is between Rome and
Protestantism. Protestantism is virtually pure Naturalism,
which ends at last in Nihilism. Dr. Brownson has proved this
in the most thorough, masterly, and abundant manner in his
great works.

Cardinal Manning brought the controversy between England
and Rome to this true issue in the most conclusive manner.
The cause is finished. There is nothing left of the controversy
except some random talk.

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840 Life of Cardinal Manning. [Mar,,

All Protestants who profess to hold the Nicene Creed be-
lieve in some sort of a One, Holy, Catholic, Apostolic Church.
But it is an invisible church. Their visible church is a particu-
lar and local association formed by believers who are assumed
to belong to the invisible and universal church before they join
it. For Lutherans and Calvinists the bond of fellowship, the
principle of Catholic unity, is supposed to be faith. There is a
partial truth in this conception. For there is a spiritual bond
of faith uniting all true believers, and all who have the justify-
ing faith which is vivified by charity are united in a still more
sacred and perfect communion, even though separated by their
outward ecclesiastical relations.

High-Church Anglicans have in addition a conception of a
sacramental bond uniting all those who are baptized and sub-
ject to bishops possessing sacerdotal authority derived from the
apostles. But even they fail to grasp the idea of the Catholic
Unity of the Episcopate, from which devolves the unity of the
whole body of the faithful. The flock of each bishop is a
complete church by itself. Provincial and National churches
are only confederations, and the Catholic Church, in its most
complete and universal unity, is only a larger confederation.
Any kind of primacy committed to exarchs, patriarchs, or popes,
according to this theory, can only be of ecclesiastical institu-
tion, for all bishops are jure divine equal as successors of the
apostles.

On this theory, although the universal confederation is
broken up, and the church subsists only in several groups of
bishops, holding no intercommunion and even mutually hostile,
all that is essential has been preserved wherever there is an
episcopate which has kept the apostolic succession and so much
of the faith and discipline of the undivided church as these
doctors deem to be necessary.

Archdeacon Manning and his compeers, in trying to fashion
a kind of Anglo-Catholicism, without the Pope, met with two
obstacles. One was, that the Church of England had never
officially taken this stand, and could not be induced to take it.
It was Protestant all through. The other was, that the apos-
tolic principle exacted a recognition of something more than a
mere transmission of sacerdotal power through a line of bishops.
The apostolate was incomplete when separated from its prince,
and the episcopate was a headless body, without its chief, the
successor of St. Peter. The apostolic college, under its head,
was the fountain of teaching authority as well as of sacerdo-

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1896.] To THE Sultan. 841

tal powen The Catholic episcopate, as the supreme Teaching
Church, must be indefectible and infallible. It must therefore
have an indivisible unity. Division would be its destruction.
The notion of One, Holy, Catholic, Apostolic Church, existing
in three grand divisions, is self-contradictory. The Catholic
Church has never lost its unity, and therefore there can be no
question of its restoration. Many bishops have fallen into
schism and heresy, and are cut off from Catholic communion.
But the Catholic Episcopate retains its integrity as perfectly,
since the apostasy of the Greeks in the eleventh century, as it
did after the rebellion of the Arians, Nestorians, and Eutychi-
ans in the fourth and fifth.

It was the great merit of Cardinal Manning that he grasped
the principle of supreme infallible authority, concentrated in
the Apostolic See of St. Peter.

This is the genuine and authentic Catholicism, and Catholi-
cism is Christianity ; the Christianity of History, Tradition, and
the Bible ; the only revealed, and the only rational religion.

TO THE SULTAN.

BY JOHN JtROME ROONEV.

SHAMELESS one ! beyond all shame outshamed.
Who, sitting on thy crimsoned throne of lies,
Dost raise before the startled nations' eyes
The wood * whereon the Christ, the pure Unblamed,
Did Godlike die : what depth of crime unnamed,
Unto what reach of farthest hell's emprise
Hast thou not dared, thirsting for widows' cries.
With childhood's blood besotted and inflamed !
And thinkest thou thus, O despot of the Straits —
Heart-parched and withered as the simoon's breath —
To stay the hand of God's avenging men?
Tyrant, we know thy fiend-engendered hates —
Blacker than night and crueller than death.
Have nailed upon the cross our Christ again !

* DuriDg'the recent diplomatic negotiations growing out of the Turkish massacres of the
Armenians Abdul Hamid II., the Sultan, sent to the Czar a piece of the true Cross.

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it is a topic on which he could expatiate tirelessly and yet ever
easily say something new. Education is the sun of his plane-
tary system, around which revolve

"All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame '*;

but only in so far as it leads the human soul on to that im-
measurably grander sun of divine love, from which springs the
whole majestic universe seen and unseen. There is no living
author who writes more fascinatingly on this great theme than
Bishop Spalding. We can readily fancy how great a solace his
noble words bring to many who, ^engaged in the practical work
of training, the young mind, sometimes find their spirits flag and
their energies fail under the often thankless stress.

One of the best chapters in this book, if we exclude what
in the literary sense is the most charming, is that in which
the author treats of the present public-school system. Accept-
ing the fact that theological differences compel the banishment
of religion from the schools, he pleads powerfully for the incul-
cation of a spirit of reverence — reverence at least for parents,
and home, and country — reverence for truth, honesty, purity,
courage, and similar qualities. It is unhappily too true that
the absence of this feeling is the characteristic of the average
American scholar, and the scoffing spirit of The Innocents Abroad^
together with the sordid desire to get all the dollars and cents
you can out of life, are the chief results of secular training.
Bishop Spalding does not despair of a better state of things,
even under the present disheartening conditions, if teachers be

* Means and Ends of Education. By J. L. Spalding, Bishop of Peoria. Chicago : A.
C. McClurg & Co.

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1896.] Talk about New Books. 843

selected with a view to their moral superiority rather than their
mere technical grading.

These are subjects which perturb the minds and consciences
of good men and women all over the land. To these, as well
as to many others, his fine utterances must prove both illumi-
'jiant and encouraging.

Readers of these pages are tolerably familiar with the
graceful strains of Eleanor C. Donnelly. They appreciate her,
as we do, as a singer who delivers the message she has to
bear with clearness, beauty, and unornate melody. Hence they
will be glad to learn of the issue of a volume of selections
from her poems,* embracing some of her strongest work.
Various are the themes and the climes she sings of, and strong
as is the expression of her idea, the note of Catholicism she
never fails to strike is no less clear and true-pitched. She
loves especially the time-worn legends of the church, and many
of these she decks with flowers of fancy and leads into public
view so robed as to compel even the most reluctant admira-
tion. One of the most powerful of these poetic renderings is
the curious Anglo-Saxon tale of the inspiring of the herd
Caedmon, the dull-witted hind who mourned because he had no
soul for song, and was by supernatural grace endowed with
power to chant the glories of God in terms worthy of the
royal psalmist. The numbers in which Miss Donnelly tells this
tale are bold, beautiful, and graphic to a very high degree.
In ** St. Joseph's Charge," a poem of a different spirit and
measure, we find, also, a good example of Miss Donnelly's talent
in mingling high devotion with noble description. But the
reader had best see the collection as it is presented, for so
excellent is its general character that it is a delicate task to
indicate any individual composition as worthy of special atten-
tion. Admirable typography and finish characterize the pro-
duction of the volume by the publishers.

It is gratifying to perceive that a new edition of Fabiola\
has been placed before the public. The time is auspicious for
such a venture. Catholic literature is in some demand, and there
is a more general disposition to recommend it now than there
was some time back when the position of Catholicism was some-

* A Tuscan Magdalen^ and other Legends and Poems. By Eleanor C. Donnelly. Phila-
delphia : H. L. Kilner & Co.

t Fabiola ; or^ the Church q/ the Catacombs. By Cardinal Wiseman. New York : Benzi-
ger Brothers.

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844 Talk about New Books. [Man,

what t«o diffident. The production of FaHola marked a new
era in literattrre. The world was shown that in the marvellous
realm of fact in connection with the early church there was
more to fascinate the mind than in any field of all those in
which the imagination of the romancist had previously learned ;
that here indeed were to be found real heroes and hefoines,
real sublimity of suffering and sacrifice, real glory and triumph,
and at the same time real villany and monstrosity.

Other romances of the early Christian time have since ap-
peared, but none have held their ground so well as Cardinal
Wiseman's great work. Considered as a piece of literary art,
perhaps it may not be ranked as high as that wonderful work
of an Irish Catholic layman, Dion and the Sibyls— yfhXdd^ by the
way, is now being reissued by the Catholic School Book Company,
and which every cultivated Catholic should read — but to many
minds the solidity and strength of Cardinal Wiseman's concep-
tion, as well as the simple grace and power of his diction, will be
certain at all times to command the admiration of a very wide
class of readers. In his preface the distinguished author tells
us that the work was composed piecemeal, and under the most
adverse circumstances, very often. Very little trace of this op-
portunity-snatching is visible in the narrative, but, taking the
author's own word for it, we are at liberty to conjecture, from
the seeming completeness and literary excellence of this work,
what the product of a more leisurely application, with all the
treasures of a mind stored with historic learning and all the
beauties of a style unsurpassed in its day, must have been.

The Messrs. Benziger, who have produced this new edition,
have turned it out in fine style as regards binding and typogra-
phy. They have given it the addition of several wood-cuts illus-
trative of the story.

While there is much ground for satire in the positions as-
sumed by the various sects which make up the sum-total of Pro-
testantism, there arises, after all, the consideration whether the
religious beliefs, and actions resulting therefrom, of any bodies
of men are a legitimate subject of ridicule. Their proceedings
may appear at times to be mere vagaries, their effect may be
farcical even ; but, after all, is not the conscientious action of
mankind, so long as men are sane in mind and sincere in charac-
ter, beyond the legitimate sphere of satirical levity ? It appears
so to us, indeed. The time has long gone by when there was
either need or excuse for satire in dealing with the proceedings

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1896.] Talk about New Books, 845

of honest dissent. Therefore, we question the propriety or
utility of republishing that exceedingly able work, The Comedy
of English Protestantism.* The cleverer the satire the more
dangerous it becomes in times of political or religious crisis.
We are. not face to face, happily, with any critical emergency
just at present ; but the spirit of the time is conciliation, not
acerbity. Sound arguments and soothing words are the vital
necessities in the situation which has been brought about, and
any other weapons can have no effect save that of frustrating
the beneficent views of the Sovereign Pontiff touching the ulti-
mate reunification of Christendom.

We are reminded by the appearance of The Messenger of St.
Joseph for the Homeless Boys of the potency of good example.
This little publication is the herald of a great work of beneficence
in Philadelphia, after the model of Father Drumgoole's colossal
one in New York and on Staten Island. St. Joseph's Home has
been founded in that city with precisely similar objects — the
rescuing of boys from the jaws of sin and death, and the pro-
viding a home for them where their spiritual development can
proceed pari passu with their body's growth and the care of
their physical frames. This institution is warmly commended to
the Catholic public by his Grace Archbishop Ryan. As for the
Messenger^ which pleads its cause, it may be said at once that
it is a very bright and cheering little magazine. It contains a
variety of facts and suggestions relative to the foundation which
must not alone afford pleasure to all who Ijave the welfare of
our Catholic youth at heart, but prove at the same time of
practical utility in many cases. It is a powerful plea for wider
and more earnest effort in behalf of the friendless and jeopard-
ized youth of a great city.

The Young Men's Manual of St. A loysiusy compiled by a Jesuit
Father (J. Schaefer, publisher. New York), will be found a very
suitable prayer-book for working youths and young students
who have not much leisure or aptitude for contemplative devo-
tion. It embraces, besides, a pithy sketch of St. Aloysius,
which brings into view the virtues of that wonderful youth,
most admirable as examples for general imitation.

A new work of devotion for the month of St. Joseph f has

* The Comedy o/Engiish Protestantism, Edited by A. F. Marshall, B.A., Oxon. New
York : Benziger Brothers.

t Month 0/ St. Joseph^ for People in the World. By Rev. J. T. Roche. Baltimore :
John Murphy & Co.

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846 Talk about New Books, [Mar.,

just been prepared by the Rev. J. T. Roche, of David City,
Nebraska. The reverend author, in presenting it to the public,
explains that it is not from any paucity of similar works on this
cherished devotion that he puts it forward, but as one specially
suited to the needs of the people of his own diocese. The little
book is admirably adapted to its purpose, and cannot fail to
stirnulate the earnest reader to a warm zeal for the virtues of
the spotless spouse of our Immaculate Lady.

Another little book which will readily commend itself to the
Catholic heart is a neat emblematically-bound pocket volume
entitled Short Conferences on the Little Office of the Immaculate
Conception!*' This work, which is presented by the Very Rev.
Joseph Rainer, rector of St. Francis' Seminary, Milwaukee, is
the souvenir ' of a number of meetings and addresses held six
years ago in the Salesian Chapel at the seminary ; and it is
safe to say that it will be gladly welcomed, not merely by all
concerned in the grateful work of those conferences but by
every Catholic reader. It is not only that its ritual of devotion
and psalmody in honor of our Blessed Lady is rich and apt,
but the reflections and explanations which accompany the differ-
ent portions of the office are exceedingly choice, suggestive,
and satisfying. It is a work calculated to quicken the best im-
pulses of the human heart, not merely toward the heavenly
side of our holy religion, but the human side as well, by rea-
son of its powerful pleadings for the succor of the poverty-
stricken and suffering.

In the life of Blessed Peter Claver we have a vivid illustration
of the wide gulf of difference which exists between mere philan-
thropy and the sublime charity of the devoted sons of the
Catholic Church who consecrate their lives to the solace of
human suffering. To break down and stamp out the slave
system was a noble human work ; to devote a fresh young Hfe
to the soothing of the sorrows of the slave while he was yet
unemancipated, as Peter Claver did, was a deed of divine
prompting. Poverty, grief, and misery will be a large part of
the world's portion as long as time shall run ; and these afflic-
tions have in themselves a consolation, inasmuch as our Divine
Lord has assured us that those who mourn and those who are
poor are " blessed,** and shall be comforted. The story of how
Blessed Peter Claver tried to comfort the poor slaves, and raised

♦ Short Conferences on the Little Office 0/ the Immaculate Conception. By Very Rev.
Joseph Rainer. New edition. New York : Benziger Brothers.

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1896.] Talk ABOUT New Books. 847

them from the Slough of Despond, is graphically and sympa-
thetically told in the work entitled ^tliiopium Servus,"* by M.
D. Petre. In the relations of the colored races to the more
powerful whites there are many vast and seemingly inexplicable
social and political problems ; but when the touchstone of the
obligations of Christian charity is applied to one branch of the
subject, as it was in the case of Peter Claver, difficulties disap-
pear as if by magic ; love of Christ makes the true republic
wherein all mankind, of whatever color or race, is one and
equal. We have not the problem before us as it was presented
to the devoted saint, but we have it still under other conditions.
Those who would desire to labor for its solution would do well
to read this record of Blessed Peter Claver*s work and sacrifices.

Although Catholics are counselled by the highest authority
to study the Sacred Scriptures more diligently than they have
been doing, the field of study is so large that many will be glad
to have their studies rightly directed at the outside by skilled
guides. The help to be found in such a book as the Rev. James
H. O'Donnell's Studies in the New Testament \ is precisely the
sort of aid which is wanted. Following the lines of the his-
torical catechism in its plan, it presents every important fact
relating to the origin and genesis of* religion, in so plain and
terse a way as to impress the whole sublime story, stage by
stage, in regular development, upon the receptive mind. There
is not an event or a personage or a date given in the Gospel
narratives that is not set forth, examined, and explained in the
catechetical form, and this excellent referential method is ren-
dered still further serviceable by the use of tabular statements,
chronological and mathematical, on all subjects embraced in the
Old and the New Testaments. Although the volume is a small
one, it is the monument of a vast amount of labor and analysis
and a perfect thesaurus of canonical data. Therefore it is com-
mended to the work-a-day Catholic world most cordially.

Part II. of the annual Report of the Commissioner of Edu-
cation for 1892-93 is largely devoted to the reproduction of re-
ports of American and foreign professors on the educational sec-
tion of the World's Fair at Chicago. These reports are, despite
their great length, worthy of careful study, as they present the

^ j^thiopium Servus : A Study in Christian Altruism. By M. D. Petre. New York:
Benzigfer Brothers ; London : Osgood, Mcllvaine & Co.

i Studies in the New Testament. Compiled by Rev. James H. 0*Donnell. ,With an
Introduction by Very Rev. John A. Mulcahy, V.G., Hartford. New York Catholic Pro-
tectory Print, Westchester.

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848 Talk about New Books, [Mar.,

views of pedagogical experts of the highest eminence in the field
of secular education, on the merits as well as the defects of the
American system. As regards religious education, the Report
reproduces only one complete article on the subject of the Catho-
lic Educational Exhibit at the World's Fair, as a whole. This is
the article written for The Catholic World by Mr. John J.
O'Shea; but, no doubt inadvertently, the Report omits to men-
tion the name of the magazine in connection with the reproduc-
tion. The article on the New York Diocesan Exhibit, by a pro-
fessor of pedagogy, which appeared in The Catholic World
after the close of the Fair, is also embodied in the report. The
Commissioner of Education, Dr. Harris, forwarded to this office
a copy of the report for presentation to Mr. O'Shea, together
with a courteous note intimating the embodiment of his article
in the official history of the World's Fair Educational Exhibit.

I. — RAPHAEL S VATICAN PAINTINGS.

In the pursuit of an artistic profession elevated by the high-
est ideals. Miss Eliza Allen Starr has given us many living
proofs of the rare qualities which fitted her for her avocation.
An additional one is now presented, in the shape of a fine set
of replicas and a treatise on the four great paintings by Raph-
ael on the walls of the Camera della Segnatura, in the Vatican
palace.

In those masterpieces of art the genius of Italy's most
wonderful painter found free scope. Bidden to the Vatican by
that illustrious patron of the arts, Pope Julius II., he found
a great honor unexpectedly thrust upon him, in the guise of a
mandate to decorate the walls of the historical chamber, where-
in a great council of the church had been held, with frescoes
symbolizing the intellectual and spiritual history of mankind.
Fired with the dignity of his themes, the young artist set
about his task at once, and in the works he produced exhibited a
mastery of composition, as well as a beauty of idea, which sealed
his fame for ever. The four pictures he painted on the walls,
together with the four allegorical figures indicating their sub-
jects, contained in the circles between the panels, Miss Starr
has undertaken to reproduce and expound in the fine volume
now before us. In so doing she has rendered a distinct and
most valuable contribution to the cause of art and the diffusion
of historical truth.

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1896.] Talk about New Books. 849

It is the first .time, ive. believe, that a complete ^ history and
key to those marvellous compositions has been given to the
world. Separate pictures have been described and expounded
by able literati from time to time, and all these are fully
referred to by the talented authoress in the course of her intro-
duction to the work.

Theology, Philosophy, Poesy, and Jurisprudence are the four
subjects- which Raphael was • instructed to symbolize. The first
was embodied in the painting known as " The Dispute.** In
the vastness of its conception this painting is the equal of
Dante's " Divina Commedia." The lower portion is crowded with
figures of saints and doctors eminent in their various schools of
thought, and the care which the artist exhibited in giving each
his characteristic marks, in lineament, dress, and attitude,
renders this perhaps the most important of the four frescoes.
It is the first time that a complete key to this wonderful work
has appeared in the English language.

In the second fresco we find the theme of Poesy illustrated
by a gathering of all the world's great poets down to the
artist's time, on the bicephalic heights of Parnassus. The group-
ing of the picture is suggestive of the theme — it is rhythm in
art. The faces of the bards are full of the divine fire.

The picture of Justice or Jurisprudence is suggestive also.
High as the status of judges and lawyers has often been,
Raphael did not deem himself justified in representing Justice
as personified by any of the legal or judicial class. A small
allegorical group conveys his eloquent opinion of the law.

The fourth picture of the series is Philosophy, as represented
by the School of Athens. A stately arrangement it indeed dis-
plays, many of its individual figures being in themselves enough
to fill the ambition of an ordinary student. The same endeavor
to make the individualization of the man accord with his work
and the traditions shows here as in the other two pictures.

Fine photographs, reproduced on stiff and polished paper,
convey a good idea of Raphael's work. They are beautifully
finished ; and an outline picture accompanies three of the repro-
ductions, enabling the observer to identify every figure in the
various groups.

It is an immense help to have Miss Starr for a guide in the
study of these colossal masterpieces. Her treatises on each are
vibrant with her own worshipful feeling and a worthy setting to
a noble work.

To Archbishop Feehan, of Chicago, she dedicates the book.

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850 Talk about New Books. [Mar.,

Its plates, its typography, and its binding do immense credit to
its printers, the Lakeside Press (R. R. Donnelly & Sons Company).

2. — THE JESUIT IN FICTION.* ,

This dainty little volume is not what the title would lead
one to expect, at a first glance. One would naturally expect
to find a description of the life and work of a Jesuit, as a
teacher or a missionary. It is, however, an imaginary sketch of
the college-life of a young man, who gets his vocation after
graduation and finally disappears from view in the novitiate.
The description of the gaieties of the young people at New
Haven, their promenades, balls, and regattas, is lively and
natural, and no doubt will interest them. The imaginary hero
of the story, beginning as an agnostic, becomes an intelligent
and consistent convert, without ceasing to take part in youthful
gaieties. At last, he is mastered by his religious vocation, and
bids adieu to promenades and regattas, for more serious work.
Harvard and Yale have furnished some priests and even Jesuits
from their alumni, and we hope may furnish many more in the
future.

3. — DIFFICULTIES OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES.f

Every scholar knows the high reputation of Father Brucker,
and that all his. writings are well worth reading.

In the present volume, the topic of inspiration is treated in
a very satisfactory manner. So, also, are several questions re-
lating to the interpretation of Genesis.

The most interesting of these is that of the universality of
the deluge. Father Brucker advocates the opinion which is now
common, that the deluge was restricted in its geographical ex-
tent. But he maintains very strongly its ethnographical univer-
sality. He lays great stress on the authority of patristic tradi-
tion. In order that this tradition be made to appear authorita-
tive, it is necessary to class the doctrine of universality among
dogmatic tenets pertaining to faith. For, this learned writer
knows full well and teaches most explicitly that tradition is
obligatory only within these limits. The arguments which 'he
adduces certainly have probability, but they do not appear
entirely conclusive, and for the present the opinion of the

^ A Jesuit of To-day. By Orange McNeill. New York : J. Selwin Tail & Sons, 65 Fifth
Avenue,

t Questions Actuelles D'Ecriture Sainte. Par le R. P. Joseph Brucker, S.J. Paris :
Victor Reteux, 82 Rue Bonaparte.

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1896.] Talk about New Books. 851

ethnographical non-universality of the deluge seems to be
tenable, and it is certainly regarded as probable, by some good
Biblical scholars.

4. — GLORIES OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH *

It seems almost worth while to have waited till the Catholic
taste had become thoroughly sickened by the cheap and
wretched attempts that have been made in the past at illustrat-
ing the art and history of the church, when one receives as a
reward for waiting such a refreshment to the artistic sense as
is presented by this book.

From a pictorial stand-point it is unsurpassed by anything
which our splendid modern photography has given us. Stod-
dard, in his world-famed pictures, has done no better either in
workmanship or arrangement. It goes without saying that his
subjects would hardly be better, for in fact we recognize many •
of his favorite and best known ones among the 264 superb
illustrations here presented.

The work gives evidence of an infinite amount of care, and
taste and judgment in its compilation, not only from its artistic
but also from its literary side. The descriptive text does full
justice to the illustrations.

That innate desire of every Catholic heart to see the glories
of his church as expressed in past ages by her material build-
ing may find gratification here, if not in full at least in a large
degree. He feels himself almost in reality under the majestic
towers of Notre Dame, within the grand mosque of St. Sophia,
with its glorious and bitter memories, or wandering at will
among the hallowed ruins of ancient abbeys.

" From Rome to Lima, from Constantine to Cortez, from the
sanctified pagan monuments of Brittany to the picturesque mis-
sions of California, from Assisi to Notre Dame, from Rheims to
New Orleans, these pictures have come, each the best and the
latest."

That mere love of art for art's sake which they feel who
understand not the thought of the church in erecting these
monuments to the Most High, is not the kind of admiration
which is provoked in the Catholic when gazing upon them. It
is something far above and beyond this. In them he reads the .
Gospel of the unerring faith, and infinite hope, and all-embrac-
ing charity of the church carven here imperishably in stone and,

* Glories of the Catholic Church in Art^ Architecture^ and History. Edited by Maurice
Francis Egan, A.M., LL.D. Chicago : D. H. McBride & Co.
VOL. LXII. — 54

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852 Talk about New Books. [Mar.,

marble. Here he traces the pictured interpretation of her won-
derful dogma and ritual telling in glorious and illumined lines
of a Living God, for ever present with her, truly her own
Emmanuel. Such thoughts does the Catholic feel until his soul
becomes steeped in love and awe and reverence as he realizes
the greatness of the heritage that has descended upon him from
all ages in being born a child of this church.

Through the visible temple one is thus led to the invisible,,
though no less real, sanctuary of the Spirit by remembering
what is the true significance of all this outward expression, and
this is the meaning which is lost to all who know not of the
doctrine of the church, and is why they miss the true spiritual
delight which fills the soul of the Catholic like an inward bene-
diction when gazing upon the material beauty of the church.

5. — THE TRUE SCOPE OF GOVERNMENT.*

In his little work entitled Anarchy or Government? Mr. Wil-
liam M. Salter treats some fundamental problems in politics in
an interesting way. The book consists in the main of an ac-
count of a course of lectures delivered by the author before
the Plymouth School of Applied Ethics. It is by no means
intended to be exhaustive in the treatment of these subjects,,
but as a popular presentation of some of their more important
aspects it is suggestive and can be read with profit by those
who wish to see the first principles of social order correctly
applied. The word *' anarchy," it is hardly necessary to say, is
not used in the sense of revolutionary violence. Between
anarchy in this sense and government, as the author says, there
can be no choice. Anarchy is a term used to designate a
system in which there is the utmost absence of restraint, and
where liberty as understood by the philosophical anarchists
prevails. The main inquiry of the book is. How are the respec-
tive limits of liberty and government to be determined in the
varieties of social activity? Questions of this kind are mainly
questions about conditions. "In a given case the question is
simply. Is there need of government interference or are pri-
vate agencies doing already well enough, and, secondly, are we
sure, even if there is need, that government can help matters?"'
(p. 120).

One who reads this little work will desire to read more on
the same subject.

* Anarchy or Government ? By William Mackintire Salter. New York and Boston :

Thomas Y. Cassell & Co.

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1896.] New Books. 853

6.— sacred heart conferences.

The modest author of this book of 175 pages* has given
a very helpful manual to priests, religious, and to the devout
laity. A difficulty we have sometimes met with in books treat-
ing of this same all-fruitful topic has been either an excess of
sentiment, if we may say so, on the one hand, or, on the other,
a dryness of theological treatment.

But all through these twenty conferences our author has
happily and distinctly blended both doctrine and sentiment.
"With an ever-ready acquaintance both with theology, notably
of St. Thomas, and of our needs, he reads for us out of this
^* Book of Life " in clear, unfaltering phrase the many lessons of
eternal creative, redeeming, abiding, and glorifying love ; he
holds up the Divine Model and gives us a clear and direct ap-
plication of his virtues to our own lives.

The single conferences are short, and all are marked with an
ease and purity of diction, a solidity of learning, a happiness of
division and arrangement, and a glow of piety, which denote a
scholarly, devout, and earnest teacher.

NEW BOOKS.

Benziger Brothers, New York :

The Bread of Angels. Instructions and Prayers for Catholics generally, and
especially for First Communicants. The Child of God. A Prayer-book
for little children. With many illustrations. The Circus-Rider's Daugh-
ter. A novel. By F. v. Brackel. The Outlaw of Camargue. A novel.
By A. De Lamothe. The /following of Christ. By Thomas k Kempis.
With Morning and Evening Prayers, Devotions for Mass. The same, with
Practical Reflections and Prayers. Letters of St. Alphonsus Liguori.
Part II. vol. i.

* The Lender of Souls — Short Conferences on the Sacred Heart, By a Priest. Benziger
Brothers.

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•ange things are happening in Great
Britain owing to the troubles in the field of
foreign politics. Both in regard to Venezuela
and South Africa the course of Lord Salisbury appears to
have filled the minds of straightforward people with dis-
trust of both his courage and his veracity. But a sentiment
of far deeper significance is taking hold of the country with
regard to the Armenian horrors. Official investigation has
proved that the deeds done in Armenia by Kurds and regular
Turkish troops have been worse than any reports gave them
out. No such horrible chapter of history by the bloody sword
of Turkey has been written this century, since the massacres
in Crete and Scio. For all this, it is well known, the English
government is primarily responsible. There is a wild rumor to
the effect that Mr. Gladstone, roused to sacred frenzy by these
barbarities, is about to emerge from his old-age retirement and
again take the lead in the cry for justice against the Turk. If
it should be so, the news would send a thrill through England
such as no Tory government could suppress. All humane hearts
must fervently pray that it may be true.

Many curious developments in the educational systems in
the Old World are riveting attention on the subject. All the
fluctuations in opinion and all the mutations in governmental
policy which have taken place since the adoption of the public-
school systems in the British Isles point to one grand central
fact. This is the failure of the experiment of what is called
mixed education. Every step taken by the English government
of recent years has been a step towards the reversal of that
blundering policy — and taken, moreover, under compulsion.
The mixed system was started with the object of banishing
religious distinctions in the public schools — in other words, to
get rid of a difficulty by the heroic process of running away
from it. Everybody has confessed its utter failure. The ten-
dency to fall back into denominationalism was in the nature of
the system, and could no more be resisted than the magnetic
central power which compels the needle in the compass. After

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1896.] Editorial Notes. 855

struggling for half a century to plant a mixed and irreligious
and denationalizing system in Ireland, the attempt has been
given up in despair by the government, and the denominations
have now everything their own way. So said Mr. Balfour the
other day in a speech at Bristol. His sympathies, he admitted^
were with the denominationalists, and powerfully in favor of
giving help to English voluntary schools. Upon the hardship of
having to pay rates for schools to which they would not from
conscientious motives send their children, while getting no share
of the public money for those schools where they wished to
send them, Mr. Balfour dilated very pointedly. The stubborn
resistance of the Irish people to the imposition of an alien re-
ligion and an insidious system of education has thus borne signal
fruit. It has entailed a long and bitter ordeal upon their con-
stancy and their resources, but it has been not only crowned with
success at home, but its disintegrating influence upon the Godless
systems of other countries is already beginning to threaten

their ultimate collapse.

♦

The wonderful X ray discovered by Professor Roentgen has
awakened the scientific world to curious and valuable possibilities.
A discharge from a large inductive coil passing through a Hit-
torf vacuum tube develops it. Though the retina of the eye is
quite insensitive to it, its results are caught and fixed by the
ordinary photographic dry plate. It readily passes through sub-
stances opaque to ordinary rays of light ; as, for instance, to
photograph by means of this ray there is no need to remove
the slide from before the lens of the camera. Professor Roent-
gen ventures the hypothesis that these X rays are to be ascribed
to the longitudinal waves in the ether, and not to the trans-
verse vibrations. The practical interest from this new discovery
may lead to still greater developments.

The long-standing- differences in the ranks of the Irish Par-
liamentary party have culminated in the retirement of Mr. Jus-
tin McCarthy from the leadership. The thankless post has been
offered to Mr. Sexton, who has kept himself clear from the hail
of mutual recriminations, but he, quite naturally, declined to ac-
cept it. Thereupon Mr. John Dillon was elected at a meeting
of the party, by a vote of 37 to 31. A great convention of
the Irish race is to assemble from all countries next May, to
decide on a policy, and in this seems to lie the only hope for
constitutional agitation in Ireland.

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856 The Columbian Reading Union. [Mar.,

THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.

ARCHBISHOP RIORDAN, of San Francisco, has taken the initiative in pro-
posing to unite the Catholic Reading Circles for the purpose of popularizing
various branches of study, and of increasing the demand for Catholic literature.
As a result of the personal work undertaken by the archbishop, it was arranged
to have a series of midwinter lectures. The combined circles agreed upon the
name of the San Francisco Educational Union. The Union at present has a
membership roll of seven societies : the St. Mary's Cathedral Reading Circle, the
Montgomery Circle of Holy Cross parish, the Faber Circle of St. James's parish,
the St. Thomas Aquinas Circle of St. Peter's, the Archbishop Riordan Circle of
St. Charles Borromeo parish, the Ignatian Circle of St. Ignatius' Church, and the
Junipero Serra Circle of old St. Mary's on California Street.

The object of the San Francisco Educational Union is to promote the educa-
tional features of the various Reading Circles, to encourage the establishment of
Reading Circle Associations, and to provide means for the dissemination of
Catholic truth. It is now admitted that Reading Circles have become a very
powerful factor in the Catholic literary world of the East, and have increased verj-
rapidly as to number, and now form a strong aid to the church in popularizing
Catholic studies and literature.

During the early part of February the Reading Circles of San Francisco held
their first public meetings. These took place at the Metropolitan Temple. Four I

evenings of each week were given over to lectures, delivered by men of promi- I

nence from among the Catholic Clergy and laity. |

The tickets of admission to the course were entrusted to the members of the |

various Reading Circles for distribution. A limited number of season tickets, as
well as special evening tickets, were used. Tickets of admission could not be
obtained by any person under eighteen years of age. The season ticket was
transferable.

The lectures were arranged as follows :

The Temporal Power of the Pope, by the Very Rev. J. J. Prendergast, V.G.

The Church and the Republic, by Hon. J. F. Sullivan.

A Trip through the Holy Land, by the Rev. P. J. Cummins.

The Missions of California, by Mr. Bryan J. Clinch.

The Infallibility of the Pope, by the Rev. P. C. Yorke.

Some Barbarisms of the Nineteenth Century, by Judge Frank J. Murasky.

Church and Civilization, by the Rev. Philip O'Ryan.

Reunion of Christendom, by the Rev. Charles A. Ramm.

Religious Communities, by the Rev. Henry H. Wyman, C.S.P.

English Catholic Literature, by the Rev. James McDonald.

The Church and Architecture, by Mr. Frank T. Shea.

The Church and the Scriptures, by the Most Rev. Archbishop P. W. Rior-
dan, D.D.

The open sessions of the different Reading Circles formed a most interesting
part of the new movement to awaken public attention. A programme was pre-
pared consisting of essays, readings, and musical selections. Some of the topics
chosen for discussion are here given :

Romance, by Miss Elizabeth McDonald of the Montgomery Reading Circle ;

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.1896.] The Columbian Reading Union.\ 857

Cleopatra, by Miss Nora Sullivan of the Thomas Aquinas Circle ; Onward, an
original poem, by Miss Anna Doyle of the Father Faber Circle ; Some American
Women, by Miss Duraind of the St. Mary's Cathedral Circle; Father Ryan and
His Poems, by Mr. Robert Richards of the Archbishop Riordan Circle ; The
Mission Dolores, by Miss May Driscoll of the Cathedral Circle ; St. Catherine, by
Miss Christina Regan, of the Holy Cross Circle; Development of English
Language, by Miss M. Kennedy of the Archbishop Riordan Circle ; Dion and the
Sibyls, by Miss Mary F. Lorrigan of the Thomas Aquinas Circle ; Idealism and
Realism, by Miss Coffey of the St. Mary's Cathedral Circle, and Pre-Christian
Civilization by Miss Nellie Maguire of the Thomas Aquinas Circle. Mrs. A. T.
Toomey of the Junipero Serra Circle presented the Characteristics of American
Home Life. Monasticism, or What the Monks Have Done, by Miss Mary Geary
of the Montgomery Circle. H. Henderson of St. Ignatius Circle read a paper on
Lacordaire. Mrs. Paul B. Hay of the Archbishop Riordan Circle concluded the
series of special essays by a paper entitled A Reading Circle.

♦ It *

The Cathedral Reading Circle of San Francisco, under the direction of the
Rev. Edward P. Dempsey, has selected a course of Bible studies. Very com-
mendable zeal was shown by the members during the past year in the difficult
task of gathering biographical information relating to living Catholic authors of
America. A list of the authors thus far honored is here given, and we cherish
the hope that some one may be induced to complete the list and to prepare a
short biographical dictionary of the authors living and dead who have produced
work of enduring value in Catholic literature. The names selected were : Mrs.
Sadlier, Richard Malcolm Johnston, Maurice F. Egan, George Parsons Lathrop,
Walter Lecky, Christian Reid, Marion Crawford, James Jeffrey Roche, John B.
Tabb, Agnes Repplier, Katharine E. Conway, Mrs. Blake, and Charles Warren
Stoddard, who is claimed as a native of California. The Missions of California
was the title of the paper read by Miss D. Gallagher. Miss Driscoll told the
story of the Mission Dolores. The history of the Santa Barbara Mission was the
topic of Miss A. Gallagher's paper. The subject of Miss Sinclair's essay was the
Mission of San Rafael. Miss A. Sullivan gave the narrative of Father Junipero
Serra's life. Miss Coffey reviewed Desmond's " Mooted Questions." The query-
box proved to be interesting. It was well patronized by the members. Selected
articles from the current numbers of the magazines were read each evening and
were the source of much information. During the next term the history of the
early Church as narrated in the Acts of the Apostles will be treated by the Rev,
. Edward P. Dempsey. •

>ti * DC

Through the kindness of the Rev. Samuel B. Hedges, C.S.P., we have been
favored with the advance sheets of a programme prepared by the Bishop Manogue
Reading Circle established at Marysville, Cal. We are much pleased to notice
the desire to advance slowly but surely in the study of the excellent book Reading
and the Mind, by the Rev. J. F. X. O'Conor, S.J. One chapter is selected for
public discussion at each meeting. The study of poetry is made prominent in the
programme. Adelaide Procter has the place of honor. Her works are to be con-
sidered in contrast with the noted poets of her time, 1 825-1 864. Among the mem-
bers named for a large share of the work are Messrs. W. O'Brien, D. Kertchem,
P. Delay, J. Tomb; Misses Margaret Lowery, Mary Harvey, Mary Tomb, Mary

Kertchem, and Mrs. Wilkins.

♦ ♦ ♦

Under the able direction of its president, Mr. J. J. Mahoney, the Catholic

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858 The Columbian Reading Union. [Mar.,

Literary Society of Lawrence Mass., has made very notable progress. In the his-
torical studies that the society has been pursuing the members have reached that
important period about the breaking up of the Roman Empire ; and as a retrospect
of the past history of the church that was almost coeval with it, and as an explan-
ation of much that is not very well understood in the Papacy, Rev. D. J. O'Maho-
ney, O.S.A., prepared a paper on St. Leo the Great. Other papers that deserve
special mention are, American literature of the Colonial period, as reflected in the
newspapers and the speeches of distinguished orators, by Mr. Thomas F. Carney ;
the origin of the nations of Europe in the fifth century, by Mr. A. De Courcy ;
American literature, by Miss Julia Shea, and the writers of Colonial days, by Mrs.
O'Mahoney, n^e Katharine O'Keeffe. A paper was read by Mr. D. J. Hefeman
dealing with the foundation of the earlier institutions of learning, including Wil-
liam and Mary College, Harvard and Yale. On the committee appointed to lead
in the discussion of these topics were Mrs. Annie Coulson, Misses Mary E.
O'Leary and Annie McDermott. The lecture on the Christian Woman in Socie-
ty, by Miss Helena E. Goessmann, Ph.M., was the most conspicuous event of the

season, and attracted a large audience.

* * m

At the St. Regis House, West One Hundred and Fortieth Street, New York
City, overlooking the Hudson River, a Reading Circle has been occupied with the
study of Mexico. Some of the topics taken for special inquiry were : the so-called
civilization of the Aztecs ; conquest by the Spaniards ; the work of Catholic mis-
sionaries ; the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe ; different races represented in
the present population. The members have derived the greatest assistance from
the book called Catholic and Protestant Countries Compared^ by the Rev. Alfred
Young, C.S.P. No other single volume can be found that gives so much informa-
tion relating to the successful work of Catholic missions in the Spanish colonies

of America.

ii> * *

The Reading Guild of the Catholic Club, New York City, is now in the second
year of existence. The Library Committee announced a new plan of work in Oc-
tober, 1895, which will include these general features : one chapter, which shall
choose a definite topic for discussion ; the placing of the work of each meeting in
special charge of one member appointed at a previous meeting, who is to announce
his topic and his principal authority ; the proceedings to consist of an oral state-
ment on the subject matter by the leader, lasting a half hour, and of a general
discussion following thereon. The committee are assured of the attendance dur-
ing the season of a number of distinguished gentlemen, who will read or lecture
before the guild.

The first general topic chosen for discussion was Socialism. At the opening
meeting Mr. Edward J. McGuire was in charge, and the special topic was Leo
XIIL and the Social Question, based upon the essay by the Rev. J. A. Zahm,
C.S.C, in the North American Review. Other topics of equal importance and
calling for serious deliberation will be presented in the course of the season.
The Library Committee are determined to make this year's work count, and they
will spare no efforts to arouse an enthusiastic and wide interest among the club

members in the work.

♦ * ^ *

Since the publication by the Columbian Reading Union, October, 1895, of the
extensive list of books and pamphlets dealing with social problems, we have re-
ceived many gratifying proofs of interest in the work. Two pamphlets which
escaped notice at that time are now mentioned : The Working-man's Position in

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1896.] The Columbian Reading Union. 859

the Catholic Church, by Marc F. Vallette, LL.D., published by the Nineteenth
Century Catholic Club of St. John's College,'Brook}yn,'N. Y.

The Catholic Church and Socialism, a solution of the social problem, by Cond^
B. Fallen, Ph.D., published by B. Herder, St. Louis, Mo.

A correspondent very much in sympathy with this line of study sent the fol-
lowing quotation from the life of Pope Gregory VII., by Montalembert — no page
reference is given :

" I place the defence of the miserable and the oppressed as much above prayers,
fasts, vigils, and other good works, as I rank charity, with the Apostle St. Paul,
above all other virtues." In order to do the work which the great pope ranks so
high Catholics in the modern world must study the social condition of the misera-
ble and the oppressed. They must seek out the causes of misery, and the pro-
ducers of oppression.

We are again indebted to Mr. Charles Robinson for additional notes to aid
our work of encouraging Catholic young men to study the literature of the social
question. He calls attention especially to Le Socialisme Conteniporain, by I'Abb^
Winterer, who has taken such a prominent part in the social movement in Alsace,
and Le Cardinal Manning et son Action Sociale, by I'Abb^ J. Lemire, two French
. works on the Social question, published by the Libraire Victor Lecoffre, Paris,
not included in former list. The latter is especially interesting. The social ques-
tion was to Cardinal Manning the question of questions, as it is to the present en-
lightened Pontiff. The condition of the people, the improvement of their homes,
the removal of their temptations — all questions relating to the amelioration of their
condition — were constantly with him. He was in hot revolt against the stony-
hearted bureaucratic machinery of the English Poor Law, and was so far a Social-
ist as to lay down in the strongest terms that *' a starving man has a natural right
to his neighbor's bread ; so strict is this natural right' that it prevails over all posi-
tive laws of property." They must know little of life, he constantly reminded us,
** who do not know what ruin of men and women comes from the straits of poverty."
There is an admirable article in vol. iii. of his Miscellanies entitled " A Pleading
for the Worthless," which is imbued with the spirit of Him who came to seek and
save those who are lost. Nor was it only in articles that the cardinal preached.
His whole life was devoted to the same task. In the g^eat dock strike he merely
did on a wider platform, and in sight and hearing of a larger audience, what he
spent his whole life in doing on a smaller scale. As Canon Farrar said in the
notable tribute to the cardinal's memory which he wrote for the Review of the
Churches :

" He has left behind him a great name and a g^eat example, and it would be
well for the Church of England if she had one or two bishops who would learn
from him how a great ecclesiastic may win the enthusiastic confidence of the work-
ing classes and stamp his influence on the humanitarian progress of the age."

Mr. W. T. Stead's close association with Cardinal Manning seems to have
brought him into sympathy with what he calls the " saving energy of the Catholic
•Church." He often writes and speaks in a way that would do credit to any mem-
ber of the church, and his pamphlet on " The Pope on Labor " — published by the
Review of Reviews, London — which contains a comprehensive synopsis of the En-
cyclical Rerum Novaruniy may be read with advantage. " No practical solution of
the social question will ever be found without the assistance of religion and the
church." " That," he says, " is the dictum of the Pope in his famous encyclical
and it has been and is the burden of all that I have said or what I have to say."

Le Fain de St. Anioine: le Solution de la Question Social is published by

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'86o The Columbian Reading Union. [Man,

I'Imprimerie Franciscane Missionaire, i6 Rue de Clamart, Paris. The object of this
work is to show that the noble charitable project known as " St. Anthony's
Bread " can be made an effective agent in solving the social problem. Although
primarily a local French religious conception, this work is rapidly assuming the
proportions of an international economic movement.

" St. Anthony's Bread " comprises not only food, but also clothing and
medical attendance — everything, in fact, necessary for the relief of the poor in
general and of the sick and afflicted poor in particular, for the directors of this
charity wisely hold that with this class one should always " make the good God
. visible." At the same time they do not labor merely to solve the social problem,
important though that work undoubtedly is. Poverty and misery are generally
the result of somebody's sin, and in effecting social amelioration the church does
it indirectly by purifying men's hearts and by making them more sober and indus-
trious. St. Edmund of Canterbury in his Mirror, one of the most popular books
in mediaeval England, lays it down with startling plainness that the rich can be
saved only by the poor ; since the latter are they of whom it is said that theirs is
the kingdom of heaven, and only through them can the rich enter it. This, as Mr.
W. S. Lilly points out — New /*d»7vV7f/, December, 1893 — was the contribution of
Christianity to what we now call the Social Problem. And Christian charities
like St. Anthony's. Bread, which have for their aim the care of the poor and unfor-
tunate, furnish the most effective means for the solution of that problem.
* « *

Those of your readers who are desirous of studying the Social Question
thoroughly would do well to read Professor Thorold Rogers' Six Centuries of
. Work and Wages. The abridged American edition of this book, by the Rev. W.
D. P. Bliss (with an introduction by Professor Richard T. Ely), contains three
valuable charts giving the authentic wage-condition of the English carpenter, in
proportion to the cost of living for a family of five persons, calculated for every
decade from 1260 to 1887. Dr. Bliss gives the following inscription to the indus-
trial life of each century upon his charts :

1 300-1 400 — Struggle for Freedom.

1 400- 1 500 — Golden Age.

1 500-1 600 — Robbed of Land.

1 600- 1 700 — Pauperized Home Industry.

1 700-1 800 — Wage Slavery.

1 800- 1 900 — Partial Recovery.
The " golden age " is the fourteenth-fifteenth centuries, with from $2 to $4
for eight hours' work. The misery commenced with the so-called Reformation,
and ever since 1550 the wages are mostly below the cost of living and the hours
increased up to sixteen and over in this nineteenth century.

The student of the social question will also find the following works, among
others, valuable as proving conclusively that the oppression of the working classes
dates from the Reformation : Hergenroether's Catholic Church and Christian
State ; Ratzinger's Culture, Civilization, and Christian Charity ; Nicholas' Pro^
testaniism and Socialism ; Perrin's Different Writings ; Le Play's Studies ; Hef-
finger's Apology ; Bossuet's Variations ; and Janssen's Glorious History of the
Get man People,

In Motley's Rise of the Dutch Republic too will be found much interesting in-
formation on this point, and as to the social condition of former ages " when the
mission of charity was acknowledged and accepted by all."* Herein he describes

* Address of Leo XIII. lo French working-men, October 20, 1889.

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1896.] The Columbian Reading Union. 86r

"the numerous guilds by which citizenship was acc[uired in the various cities "^
the " many other societies for mutual improvement, support, or recreation"; the
great architectural brotherhood of Germany to which the magnificent works of
Gothic architecture in the middle ages are mainly attributable, and especially the
many splendid and elaborately finished churches in the provinces ; the military
sodalities, whose yearly festivals were always held with great solemnity and re-
joicing," and, lastly, the " guilds of rhetoric which existed in all the principal
cities " and in obscure villages, which were " associations of mechanics, weavers,
smiths, gardeners, and traders for the purpose of amusing their leisure with poeti-
cal effusions, dramatic and musical exhibitions, theatrical processions, and other
harmless and not inelegant recreations." These guilds of rhetoric, which came
originally in the fifteenth century from France, spread with g^eat celerity through-
out the Netherlands, and were of great value in drawing the people of the pro-
vinces into closer union ; they became important political engines, which " the
sovereigns were always anxious to conciliate by becoming members of them in
person." At regular intervals jubilees were celebrated in various capital cities,
when all the guilds of rhetoric in the Netherlands were rnvited to partake and to
compete in magnificent processions, brilliant costumes, and in trials of dramatic
and poetic skill, all arranged under the superintendence of the particular associa-
tion which in the preceding year had borne away the prize. ■

Our historian fails to record that all these festivals and jubilees were invariably
preceded by a devout and magnificent celebration of solemn Mass. He, more-
over, omits to mention that from about the year 750 the Catholic religion had
been the all-prevailing religion of this people. He does declare, however, that
the standard of culture in such flourishing cities as Antwerp, Ghent, Bruges was
elevated compared with that observed in many parts of Europe. He tells us that
" the children of the wealthier classes enjoyed great facilities for education in all
sixteen great capitals. The classics, music, and the modern languages, particu-
larly the French, were universally cultivated. Nor was intellectual cultivation con-
fined to the higher orders. On the contrary, it was diffused to a remarkable de-
gree among.the hard-working artisans and handicraftsmen of the great cities."

With reference to the chief city of the Netherlands, the commercial capital of
the world — Antwerp — we are told that " the condition of her population w^as pros-
perous. There were but few poor, and those did not seek but were sought by the
•almoners. The schools were excellent and cheap. It was difficult to find a child
of sufficient age who could not read, write, and speak at least two languages."

What a refutation of the persistent calumny urged by the enemies of the
church that she had no schools in the middle ages and kept her people in ignor-
ance ! From the universities down to the public schools, both at home and abroad,
history is nothing else but a conspiracy against the church. Balmes has declared
that the history of the last three centuries will be restored and the truth will ap-
pear in its proper light. Meanwhile it is the duty of Catholics to become familiar
with such works as Kenelm Digby's Ages of Faith and Montalembert's Monks
of the West, in which may be found a fine picture of the civilizing influence of the
church in what are commonly misnamed the Dark Ages.

It is interesting to contrast the condition of affairs so brilliantly described by
Motley as prevailing in the seventeen provinces before the Reformation with the
conditions existing in the Netherlands at the present time. If we take Belgium,
which, as every one knows, is only a portion of the Netherlands, we find that in spite
of the fact that her population has increased from 4,064,000 in 1832 to 5,520,090
at the late census, and in spite of her great and prosperous manufacturing indus-

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862 The Columbian Reading Union. [Mar., 1896.

tries, she has a vast amount of poverty within her borders. According to an
official report, out of 908,000 families in a recent year only 89,000 were wealthy,
while 373,000 were in straitened circumstances, and 446,000 families were in a
state of wretchedness.

In the ages of faith, to quote the words of Mr. William Richards, " every man
who appeared in a town or parish was obliged to give an account of himself, and
was not allowed to hang around like a loafer and sponge or swindle his living in-
definitely; every one knew his neighbor; under the influence of the church a
wholesome public opinion was generated which made itself felt upon every indi-
vidual ; beautiful and edifying social and religious customs and traditions were
developed and cherished, and were preserved from decay for centuries by corre-
sponding practices ; every citizen was trained in the town government to practise
his duties and to know his rights, and ' knowing dared maintain ' them. In a land
filled with such local institutions, together with the numerous church and trade
guilds, the magnificent cathedrals, the innumerable churches, and the vast num-
ber of beneficent monasteries, which William Cobbett says dotted England every
six miles, and were equally numerous in Ireland, with their free schools and large
domains, where any poor man could get work and thus be saved from pauperism
and starvation — in such a land it came to pass that for more than fifteen hundred
years of the Christian era a Poor Law was never needed ; the horrid work-house
was never seen ; pauperism as we have it was never heard of, and the land was .
not cursed with godless tramps, or hoodlums, or professional anarchists, or atheis-
tic political economists."

Mr. Richards tells us that when. Henry VIII., in the early days of his reig-n,
while he was yet a Catholic, made a " royal progress " through England he saw
no work-houses, but everywhere comparative comfort and prosperity. Some forty
years later, however, when Elizabeth made another *' royal progress " through the
kingdom, after the monasteries had been confiscated and despoiled, the lands ap-
propriated by the corrupt agents of the crown, when the guilds were becoming
lifeless, the poor were thrown out to shift for themselves, the altars of the churches
were broken down, and the Blessed Sacrament no longer there — the scenes that
met the queen's eyes were so changed that she exclaimed with astonishment, " The
land is covered with paupers ! " Even then the modern gospel of mammon had
begun to show its terrible effects. For this new gospel of individualism and self-
assertion, with its protest against the pope and its rebellion against the divine au-
thority of the church, had removed the grand safeguards of Christian society —
charity and confession. But under the new conditions, confession being abolished,
when appointing watchmen, the old proverb quoted by Froude will arise : " Quis
custodiet custodem ? " — Who shall watch the watchman ?

Gone was the great and salutary custodian. And in place thereof came the
new gospel, and in due time the modern commercial system, which, ignoring all
demands of charity, pitted every man's intense selfishness against that of his
neighbor, thus making the neighbor an envious rival and in most cases a bitter
enemy. Hence, too, has come that school of cold-blooded political economists who
proclaim with unblushing effrontery, characteristic of those who deduce man from
the tadpole, that notions of justice have nothing whatever to do with compensa-
tion for labor, and that all such notions are mere sentimentalism.

He * 4t

We shall be much pleased to get any other practical suggestions likely to as-
sist Catholic young men in making a profitable study of the social question.

M. C. M.

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